After speaking to Pansy last night, I've made the decision to return home once more this weekend. I haven't spoken to my father for a while; this should give us the opportunity to catch up once more.
I'm in the library at the moment, and a small group of first years are giggling very loudly over on the table next to mine. If I had my way, I'd be
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I can come and shoo them off if you want?
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That would be very much appreciated.
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First years, you say...?
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Yes, first years. Hufflepuff first years. Their robes are currently unspoilt and their schoolbags are bigger than their actual bodies.
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My father, however, would demand to know everything I'd learned in school over the past term, and then tell me to go and get ready for the party at so-and-so's house that evening - reminding me, of course, that I have to look my best becayse the Parkinson Reputation is always under scrutiny.
However, you're not a girl, so I wondered genuinely what you and your father talk about, if that's not too much of a bother.
By the way, you're such a fucking tease. Are the Hufflepuffs still there? Fuck it, I'm on my way anyway.
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And then there's always the option of politely telling them to shut their pie holes. Politely, mind you.
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