"I'm sorry, is there a point to this story?"
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"I'm sorry, is there a point to this story?"
Show me the Sun on a rainy afternoon
He could hear the rain drumming against the window of his dormitory, hard drops of water hitting it in a steady rhythm, dragging his mood down like the droplets that run down the glass and vanished somewhere underneath the wooden window frame. This was neither the time, nor the weather for him to be alone here, sitting on his bed with his head buried in his pillow and his hair turned to a deep shade of purple out of pure boredom. Teddy’s fingers itched for something to do; something that would keep his mind occupied from the storm that seemed to be going on outside and had kept them from having the planned Quidditch training he had been looking forward to all day. Instead, here he was now, trying to think of something to do and not let his mind wander to places he knew weren’t good for him.
Suddenly though, as if a blast-ended skrewt had exploded right behind him, Teddy jumped up from his bed. To sit here and cry over Quidditch training that wasn’t happening and thinking about a past he couldn’t remember much of wasn’t really an option. Not in his eyes. He dragged a hand through his messy hair, making it change back to the bright blue he was sporting lately, grabbed his wand with the other and muttered to himself, “Bit of rain my ass, I’m gonna find someone, and if it’s the last thing I do.”
But before he reached for his cloak, his tie still dangling loosely around his neck, his eyes fell upon the framed picture of his parents on his nightstand, smiling and waving at him. It had been a present of his godfather once, and Teddy had cherished it since then. “Don’t worry,” he grinned and winked at the picture, “I’ll dress warmly enough in case I go outside, and I won’t catch a cold,” he grimaced and saluted playfully, before he stormed outside to find someone to spend this boring evening with.
Finding an empty classroom, Drew cleared a space in the middle of the room and turned on his iPod. Although he only did it for himself, he loved dancing - and especially when he needed a break, like now.
"What now? I'm eating."
"I might as well give up. I'll never finish this stupid essay in time."
"And here everything was going so nicely . . ."
Drew frowned at the letter in his hands, tempted to throw it away but knowing that his mother expected an answer.
"Firewhisky... I officially hate you."