Post by Ferris on Aug 22, 2009 15:14:46 GMT -5
((Because the actual class is going terribly slowly))
Ferris, the ever jittery sandy haired Gryffindor had been told to remain behind after the first herbology class of the year. He had done so obediently, but that wasn’t to say that he was willing. More than anything Ferris wished that he could have slipped out along with the rest of the students, nice and anonymous. Sadly, his earlier entrance had brought him slap bang into the eye line of a certain French professor; a teacher, it seemed, that delighted in punishing latecomers both during and after his lessons.
A ruddy flush colouring his cheeks, the meek seventh year packed up his things as slowly as he could, hoping to escape Professor Follet’s attention for as long as possible. Even seconds counted as far as Ferris was concerned, and as he piled his personal belongings into his rucksack he ducked his head, trying to avoid any kind of contact with the Frenchman.
Eventually, however, he knew he had to face the music. Drooping his head and hunching his shoulders in a way that made his rather large body seem much smaller than it actually was, Ferris slipped off of his chair and made his way to the part of the greenhouse where the professor was currently standing.
“Y-Y-Y,” he stammered, his voice barely more than a murmur, dreading whatever was to come. Wasn’t experimenting on him enough of a punishment? “You wanted to see me, s-sir?”
Ferris, the ever jittery sandy haired Gryffindor had been told to remain behind after the first herbology class of the year. He had done so obediently, but that wasn’t to say that he was willing. More than anything Ferris wished that he could have slipped out along with the rest of the students, nice and anonymous. Sadly, his earlier entrance had brought him slap bang into the eye line of a certain French professor; a teacher, it seemed, that delighted in punishing latecomers both during and after his lessons.
A ruddy flush colouring his cheeks, the meek seventh year packed up his things as slowly as he could, hoping to escape Professor Follet’s attention for as long as possible. Even seconds counted as far as Ferris was concerned, and as he piled his personal belongings into his rucksack he ducked his head, trying to avoid any kind of contact with the Frenchman.
Eventually, however, he knew he had to face the music. Drooping his head and hunching his shoulders in a way that made his rather large body seem much smaller than it actually was, Ferris slipped off of his chair and made his way to the part of the greenhouse where the professor was currently standing.
“Y-Y-Y,” he stammered, his voice barely more than a murmur, dreading whatever was to come. Wasn’t experimenting on him enough of a punishment? “You wanted to see me, s-sir?”