Name

A sea of strangers. Inaudible voices and rustling papers and scampering feet engulf the hallway. And then the heavy panting and loud heartbeat of one blonde haired, green eyed boy standing in the midst of it all.

Clarke stood awkwardly, his long lanky figure swaying with the incoming crowd. The crowd brushed by him, parting like water where he stood. Now and then among the many one would clumsily collide with him, sputtering apologies. The blonde would catch his footing, glare in no particular direction, and regain his composure. Others begin to pass by, whispering and staring. He remained unfazed.

Then there he was. The messy bob of brown hair emerged in the crowd. In a fleeting moment, their eyes met. The brunette’s eyes widened, a frown apparent on his face. He was clutching his astronomy textbook tightly against his chest. Clarke stepped forward as the brunette turned a full one-eighty and strode in the other direction.

What the fuck?!

“Hey! You! GRYFFINDOR!”

His voice boomed.

Many clad in red and orange glanced in his direction.

“Who?”

“Are you talking to me, Slytherin?”

The brunette paid no heed and walked deeper into the crowd.

“Hey! GRYFFINDOR COME BACK!”

The blonde broke into a desperate run with his robes flying, arms flailing in front of him, shoving anyone and everyone in his path. Briefly he lost sight of the mass of brown hair. He pushed by a group of his brethren who cursed at him. He turned the corridor and was greeted with a mass of hair bobbing up and down in the crowd. He reached his arm out and turned the boy violently around.

“What on earth are you doing, Slytherin,” shouted the distraught victim. Clarke glanced down to see the blue and bronze badge of an eagle pinned upon the boy’s cloak. The boy groaned and threw his arms up in a defensively.

“Please! Don’t hurt me!”

“Goddamit,” the blonde muttered before dropping the Ravenclaw to the ground. “Where the fuck did he go?!”

The blonde bit his lip.

He should really find out what the boy’s name is.