Stars

It’s fascinating, space. The infinite possiblites, just the sheer concept of how incredibly large the universe is, how incredibly lucky we are, to have a habitable planet. Those were the kind of thoughts that filled Harry’s mind. It was tough, to draw himself out of those thoughts, about how microscopic his life is, how tiny and unimpactful anyone's life is-

“Mr Potter?” Harry’s head shot up quickly. His eyes took a second to focus as his mind scrambled to process what was going on. He was caught unaware, distracted by his thoughts during class again. This happened often, especially when it's so interesting to think about the proximity of-

“Mr Potter?” No, not again. Harry rubbed his eyes as his Professor frowned disappointedly but with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Sorry Sir, I haven’t been feeling the best recently-” Harry droned off. And it was true, he was exhausted lately due to his job. He works on and off, at odd hours. Just having work when he accepts a job offer from his agent. He has never felt any real rush or need to work extra, until recently, for he had been taking his job as a way to escape Hermione and Tom’s endless talk of finals coming up. 

“Hm,” The Professor hummed. It was Professor Flitwick, a short man with expectations for his class higher than he could ever reach, Harry thought. The Professor looked conflicted, torn between sending Harry out if he was sick and telling him off for day dreaming. Finally, after a minutes pause, Flitwick frowned very slightly but carried on his lecture. 

Tom scoffed loudly as Harry quickly scribbled a rough version of the notes on the board, identical if you overlook the different spelling, terrible handwriting and a few missed words. 

“Shut up,” Harry hissed playfully at Tom, grinning as Tom looked to and forward  between Harry’s messy notes and Tom’s immaculately written notes, every letter spelt perfectly, no doubt he had written it without even listening to Flitwick’s lecture, or better yet, no doubt Tom could lecture the class in a more efficient and understandable way. Flitwick was a smart man, but Tom? Barely 21 yet already a genius. 

Tom was his best friend of 8 years. They met at high school, Hogwarts. Tom of course, excelling in everything, and Harry trying his best to scrape a pass. Yet here they both are, silently judging the other’s notes.

Of course Harry would rather have his own scrambled, messy notes than Tom’s, for if his notes for one class, he would feel almost compelled to write them all that way for every class. And of course, if Harry spent every class just writing notes perfectly, he would have no time to day dream about the universe’s existence. 

Tom, on the other hand, would rather eat his own eyeballs then ever write in that messy scrall Harry claims to be readable. It would lower his grade, musses Tom, for if he was ever the lecturer, he would have a rule, ‘if he can’t read the words, he can’t mark it,’ and then so, Harry would fail. Not that Harry would care. The only reason he is sitting in class now is because he has money to burn from his deceased parent’s fortune. And of course, it’s a way to hang out with his friend, Tom, in class. As annoying as Harry’s chicken scratch handwriting is, Tom finds it almost worthwhile to be near it because Harry is sitting next to him smiling. 

Almost.

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Hermione groaned as she bashed her head into her textbook. She was told by her parents, teachers, friends alike, that she was ‘smart’, and well, she never doubted them. Till now. It was simple, easy things she had learnt year ago, but she just couldn’t remember. She spent all night revising, yet sitting at her lunch table, staring at her textbook, her mind feels blank. She can’t be like this, no, what if this is what happens on the day of her tests? What if this is it? What if she fails and her parents wasted so much money paying for her education, her 4.0 GPA wasted, her life wasted? 

“Hermione, honestly, aren’t you always telling me off for bashing my books against my head?,” Harry’s voice loudly spoke in a high pitch, terrible imitation of Hermione’s voice, “‘Oh no! Don’t do that Harry! You can damage your brain cells!’” Harry laughs at his imitation. Hermione looks up at him and smiles.

“Well, that’s because you can’t spare any brain cells, you barely have enough to function as it is,” Hermione snorts, watching Harry mold his face to display a playfully humorous look of offended arrogance.

“God, you look like Tom!” Hermione laughs, her textbook long forgotten on her lap.

“Excuse me? Did you just compare me, to that feeble-minded, and excuse my French, geezer?”  Tom sneered jokingly, chuckling when he saw Hermione’s ashen face from embarassment.

Harry snorted loudly, his face blushing slightly pink at Tom’s insult.

“Did you just call me a geezer, you geezer!” Harry retorted as Tom chuckled louder.

“If I am a geezer, then you're a double geezer,” Tom snarked, starting Harry’s howls of laughter off again.

“Okay, okay, enough. You both are geezers,” Hermione said, grinning. 

Tom took a seat next to Harry. 

“You told the Professor that you are feeling sick?” Tom asked, holding his hand to Harry’s forehead. 

Harry huffed but allowed Tom to check his temperature.

“I think I am just tired, from school and my job and stuff,” Harry mumbled, batting away Tom’s hand after he started to try to style Harry’s hair.

“Do you have work tonight?” Hermione asked, pulling out her notebook for quick revision.

“No, thank God, but I do have a really important, um, interview, I guess, on Friday,” Harry said, stealing Hermione’s water bottle and helping himself.

“What do you even do at your job, Harry?” Hermione questioned.

“Um- well, I have an agent, and they find jobs for me and it’s up to me if I accept or not, and-” Harry stopped his rambling at Tom groaned.

Tom was staring at his phone, no doubt checking his emails.

“Damnit!” Tom swore loudly in frustration.

“What’s up?” Harry quickly asked, wondering what has happened.

“Damned job wants me in on Friday this week, and I need the money,” Tom said, texting on his phone. 

“But- you can’t! You have to go to class! It’s very important that you don’t miss anything, for-” Hermione stopped talking as Harry cut her off.

“Hermione, it’s not like Flitwick is teaching anything relatively new to Tom, he won’t miss anything,” Harry says, taking another gulp from her waterbottle.

“Yeah, honestly, not a big deal, on second thought, it’s going to be big money on Friday,” Tom said, placing his phone down. 

Well, at least Tom didn’t have to go lecture all by himself now, for Harry also has work on Friday. Harry quickly checked his phone for his job email. He will be meeting his agent and stuff at a shoot not too far from his flat. He could probably walk there in 15 minutes? Or would it be safer to bike? But if he bikes he could get all sweaty and-

“rry- Harry!” Hermione interrupted his thoughts. “Did you bring lunch? Or do you want to get some on campus?” She asked him.

“My treat, come on Tom, Hermione, we should go check out that new coffee shop, I think Ron’s brother runs it!”