Ups! Gambar ini tidak mengikuti Pedoman Konten kami. Untuk melanjutkan publikasi, hapuslah gambar ini atau unggah gambar lain.
. . .
ENOCH IS STILL burning with annoyance at lunchtime, as he and Gee sit at the Hufflepuff table and eat from the platters of sandwiches. Gazing around, the brunet notes the slightly more casual setting of the Hall compared to the first dinner: he spots a Ravenclaw further down the table, chatting with a Hufflepuff friend, a Gryffindor on the other side. Gazing around the room, he spots similar seating arrangements at other tables-though Slytherin has far less variety amongst their silver and green. While gazing at the table of snakes, Enoch spots the familiar blonde chatting amongst his friends; there's a smile on his face now, but that coldness still rests behind it, proud and detached. The fire burns in his stomach again. While he tries to justify the cold actions of the boy with the emotions and the cause of them, he can't stop the annoyance from bubbling away.
"So what exactly do you want to be?" Gee cuts through his stewing with her question casually, following it with a large-but still somehow refined, as though by magic-bite of her sandwich and the clarification, "After school. What job?"
"Magizoologist," replies Enoch, trying to sound confident in his choice though, really, he isn't. He didn't even know what that occupation was until a few years ago, at a gathering where he was introduced to a famous Newt Scamander. He really should have clued on then, as he met his mother's many famous friends, that she herself would have a reputation. (But Enoch has never really been known for having a clue). The male, a writer of one of the book's the brunet had been studying, had signed the younger's copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them and, while doing so, inspired him. If this rather awkward male could find a career with animals, then surely Enoch could as well. "What about you?"
"Well, I want to be an Auror." The dark haired girl grins, a slight calculating glint entering her expression. "I heard the pays good, and I don't mind fighting a few bad guys. Only problem would be Potions." The girl shrugs, as though this is no big deal, something she can easily get around. "I'll figure something out. I've heard some doctors get paid decently too."
"Y'know there's more t'life than how well ya get paid?" A male with a thick accent sitting in front of them, who'd been openly listening to their conversation, speaks up. The boy's uniform betrays his house: another Gryffindor. His hair is a mess, as though he looked at it when he woke up this morning and thought to himself, 'Y'know, that'll do'. And, somehow, it works. His eyes sparkle, softening his features.
"Well, yeah, obviously. But money is power, and that's what I really want."
The Gryffindor raises an eyebrow, "Sounds ambitious, Gee." There's a teasing smirk travelling across his lips-the sugary taste in the empath's mouth tells him this is only a joke, clearly about something he lacks the knowledge on. It takes mere seconds for Enoch to feel lost. His gaze travels between the two, head moving like he's watching a rather slow tennis match, brow furrowing deeper and deeper.
