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Jamming a wad of toast into his mouth in what could be considered a slightly undignified manner, Scorpius proceeded down the hallway. It was half-past eight on a Saturday morning, the birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and he really couldn't think of any other words to describe a brilliant day. Satisfied with that, at least, he proceeded down the hallway. Homework beckoned from far below, in the Slytherin common room, but Scorpius had no intention of going back into the gloom of the dungeons.
He paused, wondering what next to do. It was unlike Scorpius to even consider what to do next – his life had always seemed so planned out, but he revelled in the ability of him choosing his own path instead of someone else choosing it for him. Unfortunately, this morning, it seemed fate had already dealt him a set of cards, and whether he liked it or not was definitely not up to him.
Something – or someone – tapped him on the back, and Scorpius coughed, almost inhaling his toast. He turned, defensive.
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