Re: log, Hogsmeade: Victoire W/Sirius B/some James P & Teddy R
Disrupting the conversation of two exiting witches, a path was forced between their chummy closeness, and Teddy spilled through the doorway in a rude and perfectly un-Puff fashion. By now, he was a professional at the clumsy-recovery, and so it was shoulders back and Dead Kennedys t-shirt tugged straight and wrinkle-free, pretending it might have been more proper attire. Although, if the t-shirt wasn't forgivable, there was no hope for the skinny jeans or the grommeted belt of silver glitter. The checkered Vans were classics and required no explanations or excuses, they were dirty and scuffed and pretty much an extension of his body at this point in life, and maybe he'd put them on tonight with the sole intention of irritating his girlfriend to wonderfully, pouty levels -- but now she might not have been his secret girlfriend at all, and he really needed to know what was going on with her, and fuck he was regretting the shoes now.
Maybe he could have transfigured them into some bunny slippers, but there just wasn't time because there she was in all of her disapproving Veela goddess glory! So Teddy rushed and stumbled up to the table, slapping his hands down on the edge like listen here, woman! except like a lot more Hufflepuff-y, so it was more like gently laying his hands on the table while desperately saying, "Vic, talk to me." Then, he had to blink because there was somebody sitting across from her, he realized.
Teddy peeled back, suddenly awkwardly horrified-ly aware of his interruption. His hair was purple and blue and black and in his face like a mortified bruise that he pushed away with his fingers while slowly working out a way to crawl into a hole somewhere. But then, he looked at the face sitting across from Victoire, and Teddy's anxious expression melted into a bit of lip-curl, brow knit what the fuck. It was just vaguely reminescent of a young Remus' disapproval. "Um."