daily drabble

The floor of the sixth year boys' dormitory was not a bad place to be, all things considered. Aside from the usual school related flotsam of broken quills, confetti of torn parchment, and half eaten bags of crisps, the sixth year Gryffindor boys had covered the common space between their beds with extra blankets and pillows nicked from the laundry, the Slytherin Quidditch robes they had pinched from the changing rooms at the beginning of term, and most of Sirius' wardrobe which was piled about haphazardly in a complex system of clean versus not-so-clean versus rank which only Sirius understood. The house elves blatantly refused to come within ten feet of the door, which was exactly how the boys liked it.

From The White Hart, a work in progress

(Actually, I didn't write this today, but the more I read it, the more I like it, so I thought I'd flaunt it.)