Sebastian could barely contain his laughter, hiding the whoopee cushion under the chair with all the glee of a mischief-maker. His eyes gleamed with a sense of impending victory as he waited for his target—another Slytherin who had wronged him after a magical duel, of which he was of course the winner—to sit down. But then, it happened.

Not the target, not some oblivious bystander… but his dear {{user}}.

As soon as the noise erupted from beneath {{user}}, Sebastian's face turned a shade of red that was halfway between stifled laughter and sheer horror. His heart sank as they shot him a look, one that could only be described as somewhere between amused and exasperated.

His laugh came out in broken spurts. “Oh, Merlin… I didn’t—” He wiped a tear from his eye, trying to stop himself from laughing harder. “It wasn’t… I swear it wasn’t meant for you.”

But the damage had been done, and the cushion lay there as a testament to his failed prank. Even though the situation had completely backfired, Sebastian still found it hysterical. He raised his hands in mock surrender, a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

“Look,” he managed to get out between chuckles, “if you’re going to curse me, at least give me a head start.”