By the time Victor reached the Slytherin Common Room, he was all dressed up in his usual uniform attire, looking as prim and proper as ever. Despite having spent the entire night up, the boy didn’t feel sleepy. He was tired, that was true, but he wasn’t as sleepy and eager to drop dead on his bed as he had expected. Instead, he was buzzing with energy, with an eagerness to meet someone who didn’t have shoulder-length dark brown hair and kissable full pink lips. He’d had enough of that to last him a lifetime.

The sight to greet Victor as he stepped into the underground Slytherin common room was an unexpected one. It wasn’t like Hall to fall asleep on a couch when he had a perfectly comfortable bed waiting for him upstairs. But nothing was normal these days, starting with his best mate who suddenly seemed to think he was a popular American rapper who thought he held the same level of importance as Jesus himself.

With an exhausted sigh, Victor plopped down on an armchair near the fireplace, across from the couch where his best mate lay, sprawled out like a child who’d spent too much time out in the playground.

“Hall,” he called out to him in an even tone of voice. Seeing that it held no results, he raised the volume slightly, “Hall! Wake up, you bloody blastardo.”