silas black’s dormitory was a catastrophe, a spectacle that appeared as though an ogre had swept in and decided to declare the place its permanent residence.

the bed by the window was overwhelmed with a tower of clothes and textbooks. half the contents of the drawers were strewn across the floor. and, bizarrely, a broomstick polish tin that had made its way into a pile of aged chocolate wrappers.

black himself stood upon a pricey leopard print rug in the centre of the room. socks dangled randomly from one of his hands, like an insult to the concept of tidiness. his expression was a combination of exasperation and bewilderment, as though he was wondering whether universe itself had conspired to put him through this.

heaving a forlorn sigh, silas tossed the socks onto the already precarious pile upon his bed, his eyes rolling as he threw up his free hand in discontent. “before you say anything,” he began, words lathered in disgruntlement, “this is not my fault.” he slued slightly, gesturing vaguely towards the storm of clutter that surrounded him. “jaimes decided he wanted to locate the sweater i borrowed—six months ago, mind you. and now it’s come to this.”

he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled histrionically, the sound melodramatic enough to make a second-year blush. a comely hand combed through his inky curls as he elicited another ostentatious groan. “if i didn’t have such a deep, undying love for him, i’d seriously consider leaving him to locate it on his own.”

he regarded the anarchy with scepticism. “it’s probably not even in here, if i’m being bloody honest.” silas rolled his lips together, contemplative.