Oh, Hogwarts! He’d forgotten if it was summer or not here, since even the Zabini cousins here had long since graduated and he couldn’t remember if Incantima’s term times were the same. Nor could he remember if Hogwarts was eight years as well or not, admittedly.
But he didn’t have time to mull on that long, because the young lady had just called the rest of her family intellectually inclined, as though she were the family idiot for liking tarot. He hadn’t expected that. At least not from someone who seemed to enjoy the activity enough to be in the Divination section of the public library in her holidays. He’d heard it from other sorts before.
“Oof,” Savino said out loud, a brief laugh bubbling up at her diminishing it all to a silly hobby, “there’s a brutal assessment of my life.” He pretended to clutch at his heart as if her words had wounded him, his other hand coming to rest on the table to prop himself against it, his curiosity undiminished. “You think it’s that silly?”
But he didn’t have time to mull on that long, because the young lady had just called the rest of her family intellectually inclined, as though she were the family idiot for liking tarot. He hadn’t expected that. At least not from someone who seemed to enjoy the activity enough to be in the Divination section of the public library in her holidays. He’d heard it from other sorts before.
“Oof,” Savino said out loud, a brief laugh bubbling up at her diminishing it all to a silly hobby, “there’s a brutal assessment of my life.” He pretended to clutch at his heart as if her words had wounded him, his other hand coming to rest on the table to prop himself against it, his curiosity undiminished. “You think it’s that silly?”
