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Terence wasn’t entirely sure why he agreed to attend this last year of Hogwarts like a madman. His grandparents knew of the impending danger to come after the events of the Triwizard Tournament and sent him away to ‘safety’.
Of course, he left because he trusted their judgement; they had been his parents since he received his letter to Hogwarts. Now some years later with the assurance of the Dark Lord’s passing they wanted him to return.
Perhaps it was because it was their final wish before they passed on.
Nevertheless, Terence was a Slytherin once more for a final year like he was supposed to two years ago. One of his only comforts while attending the Slytherin gathering was the fact that he wasn’t the oldest in the room. Marcus and Adrian has returned as well, which suited the bloke just fine.
Yes, the rest of the school was attending the new year and reconstruction celebration in the Great Hall, but the allegiance of majority’s family in the room still had wounds too fresh to look their fellow classmates in the eye; his loyalty and distaste to be around so many unknown people was just fine with that.
As he leaned against one of velvet, dark green chairs, Terence took it upon himself to elevate the atmosphere just a bit, seeing as the sophistication in the room was nearly suffocating.
He held his champagne flute—no amount of school rules would keep them from bringing in the new term and year without alcohol—and cleared his throat.
“To Slytherin,” Terence announced proudly. “A new year is upon us. Let’s show the rest of the world that we don’t cower. We adapt and prosper!”
There was a stream of murmurs and agreement, and the blokes and ladies that had some glass in their hands raised them high.
Feeling satisfied with the increasing lightness in the room, Terence began to sip from his flute. Though his focus shifted to the raven-haired witch approaching him in a form fitting, navy dress with a slit raising up her leg. She couldn’t any older than he was if she were here yes?
“Quite the party booster you did there,” she drawled, a smirk curling up her face. “Short yet uplifting, I’m impressed, Higgs.”
He raised a brow, keeping his obvious curiosity to a minimum visual. “You know me, yet I don’t seem to recall who you are, darling.”
“You wouldn’t remember me,” she said. “You left before we could become more acquainted with one another.” She brought her flute to her full, red lips. “Pansy Parkinson.”
He was familiar with her surname obviously, but Pansy herself was two years unde him so she never bothered. Now seeing her grown and matured at least in her figure, how could she not keep his attention.
Feeling confident in himself and her approach, Terence leveled a meaningful look towards the witch. “I take it that you’d like to make up for the lack of acquaintanceship with me.”
Pansy approached him slowly, a hand pressing lightly on his black tuxedo—robes were too much for him. Her lips lightly touched his cheek as she said, “I didn’t come all this way across the common room for nothing, Higgs.”
He licked his lips, not one to pass on an opportunity like this. “Cheers to that, Parkinson.”
She moved her hand to grasp his and guide him towards the dormitories. “Please. Pansy will do now.”
He’d had countered with her referring to him with his given name, but he knew she’d be mewing with it soon enough.