 Lil' gooz | Sarangel | Junior Dweeb
Norah, who had been quite pleased with how Henric and Brady's interaction had worked out, smiled at Professor Moxley as she stood up, took her steps and things, and sat down again. That was a GOOD speech. And Professor Pretty Face of DADA had a name and everything. So that was exciting. What was less exciting was that a HAG was teaching divination, but once she'd reminded herself three times that maybe she was a nicer Hag Lady than she seemed to be, Norah managed to keep her smile on. The food also helped, of course.
Okay. Most food. Norah was halfway through a bite of mashed potatoes when SOMETHING. Hit her SMACK IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD. Well. WELL. Her hand instinctively flew up to meet bits of steak and kidney pie embedded in her curls and dripping down her neck. Heh. For one of the first times that evening, her face broke in to a genuine, beaming smile as she spun around in her seat to find ickle Blaise (who she called ickle, but was most certainly a much better writer than she could ever be) looking awfully guilty of food throwing. She grinned at him, making no move to get rid of any of the food she'd been hit with. Did he think she was a STRANGER to food fights? Or getting dirty? This kid would fit in nicely with her brothers, who were ANNIHILATED every year when they somehow broke into a mud fight. "You've got an awfully nice throw there, Blaise." Throwing food back was not allowed. Not. Allowed. She threw a look at the rest of the Hufflepuffs just so they'd be SURE to know it was NOT ALLOWED, before smiling at Blaise again and sticking her hand deep in her robes pocket to pull out a chocolate frog. "Y'can sit with us if you want. Food throwing won't be necessary." She placed the chocolate, which she'd been saving as a celebration of surviving but could be forfeited for good reason, at the seat next to her and gestured to it as a peace offering, completely convinced that if he could deny it then he was most definitely a robot, because chocolate frogs were the very best things. With one last smile, she turned to her food so he wouldn't see her giggling, and took another bite, hair still smothered with pie and who knows what. See that? That was...non-awful prefecting. A GOOD prefect would probably tell him off, but nobody ever said she was at that level yet. At least she hadn't THROWN anything, right? That'd been awfully tempting.
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