HE HAS ARRIVED.

“I heard the word party.”

“New year’s bash, who’s goin’?”

“Come on, Sage! It’ll be a blast.”

Furiously shaking his hands about like a rogue bird, Pip prayed that the fresh nail polish would dry soon. He himself is also dressed on the more extravagant side, the biggest statement piece being a leopard print shirt unbuttoned aaaaaall the way down to just below the sternum.

Already perched at the bar, he’s already on his second fruity cocktail. This was the life.

“Barman, another, please.” God, look at this poor boy — he’s practically floating at this point. But how could he not be? Good music, good people, it was heavenly.

At least ( someone’s ) having the time of their life. How did he get covered in glitter? Who knows. This is the wildest party he’s ever been to.

By about 2:30am, Pip’s shirt was ( all ) the way unbuttoned, hair littered with glitter and confetti, and he was dancing, carefree, with a bunch of Gryffindor girls. Best. New Years. Ever.

. . . He may or may not be standing under a shelter outside, smoking a cigarette to avoid class. Don’t mind him. Just move along.