Open to a NEWT-level student who takes DADA!
It had taken him seven years at Hogwarts to grasp why the words "Nastily Exhausting" had found their way into the NEWTs acronym, and even then it hadn't dawned upon him until he'd woken up in the hospital wing after a particularly tiresome Charms exam. He'd found himself surrounded by an empty wing, no people, and no books — which, surprisingly, was what he was most concerned about. A few seconds of muttering "shit, shit, shit" had drawn the attention of the nurse, who'd insisted that, no, he hadn't missed the next day's examinations, and no, he couldn't have his textbooks at the current moment. He'd apparently been admitted for passing out in a fit of exhaustion, but he tried convincing the nurse that he'd get no rest for the remainder of the morning if he knew he was missing studying.
(He supposed, in hindsight, talking three thirty-minute naps over the span of a seventy-two hour time period wasn't his brightest scheme of exam week.)
But, alas, she wouldn't budge.
After a few minutes of her absence, Handsome began to go into his own form of panic, his eyes flickering restlessly around the room before settling on the clock every minute or so. The only thing capable of knocking him out of that, it seemed, was the sudden whack against his side with what seemed to be — a textbook?
A Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, and a NEWT-level one at that.
Rather than thank the student, he turned to them with wide eyes and an agape mouth. "How did she let you have this?" he questioned, somewhat offended by the nurse's obvious prejudice against his success.
May 15th, 1888 — Hospital Wing
It had taken him seven years at Hogwarts to grasp why the words "Nastily Exhausting" had found their way into the NEWTs acronym, and even then it hadn't dawned upon him until he'd woken up in the hospital wing after a particularly tiresome Charms exam. He'd found himself surrounded by an empty wing, no people, and no books — which, surprisingly, was what he was most concerned about. A few seconds of muttering "shit, shit, shit" had drawn the attention of the nurse, who'd insisted that, no, he hadn't missed the next day's examinations, and no, he couldn't have his textbooks at the current moment. He'd apparently been admitted for passing out in a fit of exhaustion, but he tried convincing the nurse that he'd get no rest for the remainder of the morning if he knew he was missing studying.
(He supposed, in hindsight, talking three thirty-minute naps over the span of a seventy-two hour time period wasn't his brightest scheme of exam week.)
But, alas, she wouldn't budge.
After a few minutes of her absence, Handsome began to go into his own form of panic, his eyes flickering restlessly around the room before settling on the clock every minute or so. The only thing capable of knocking him out of that, it seemed, was the sudden whack against his side with what seemed to be — a textbook?
A Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, and a NEWT-level one at that.
Rather than thank the student, he turned to them with wide eyes and an agape mouth. "How did she let you have this?" he questioned, somewhat offended by the nurse's obvious prejudice against his success.
— set by MJ —