Late to sleep, early to rise—it was the worst type of day, and one that he'd expected to not have to deal with until September's end. He was used to being carried through the first few weeks of school with unrealistic optimism and adrenaline, but it seemed fifth year was the cutoff for that boost. Maybe he'd gotten too used to being back at Hogwarts, which was a strange enough thought in itself.

Upon second thought, he may have managed another hour of sleep, if not for the startling pain he'd awoken to that morning. He'd made it to the bathroom quick enough to see the streak of blood down his cheek from rubbing his face, and within ten minutes he was cleaned up, dressed with a list of complaints.

"Biiiixbyyyy," he called from the down the hall, spotting the tiny brunette in the group of students that were headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast. "Sloane Biiiiixby," he called again, just as she slowed and the group of students carried on down the corridor without her. As he approached, he gave her a serious look that was quickly broken by a half-smile.

"Look at my face. Look at it." He pointed to the red streak down his cheek with a raised-brow expression that said you should know what this is.

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