Teatime

It was surprisingly chilly in their common room that evening, which was no doubt the reason why a group of Slytherin asked Adrian to fetch them something to drink. On the way to the nearby cabinet which housed the tray - two of the older students walked past and pushed their shoulders in to the shorter boy. Even if the regular cheerleading practice helped maintain the toned shape of his body, as well as a sense of balance - it was still hard enough to bring him to the floor. After biting back a pained grunt from the impact he cast a glare at them, but as usual - no futher retaliation. And hearing their fading chuckling as they carry on made him flush with a mixture of anger and shame, so anything he'd said would've just been made further mockery of. In his peripheral vision he noticed James, Haitham and Artie discussing something with Penthesilia and the French girl.. Ioni? Adrian smiled, the Quiddich team tended to treat him nicely, maybe he should go over and-.. The tray rattled and he remembered what he was doing.

Returning to the task, Adrian's sore arms struggled a little as he carried the tray back. Lined with empty mugs, a full, warm teapot, as well as some condiments like milk and sugar. By the time he'd returned to the group the aforementioned pain in his limbs meant he'd shook the tray to the point of spilling a bit of the milk, something that went unnoticed by the blonde Slytherin for the moment.

"About time, there's really not much you're good at, huh." It hadn't even been a question, just a flat out statement. Adrian mumbled out a quiet apology and set the tray down on the nearby table before stepping away, hoping he was free. Alas.. as one of the taller boys in the group grabbed his cup, he suddenly cursed under his breath. A bit of the spilled milk having splattered the mug-handle which now coated his fingers. Damn it.. Maybe if I hurry-.. "Look at what you've done, you damn Halfblood." No escape, the boy stepped close and used his free, clean hand to grab Adrian by the front of his robe, creasing the fabric. ".. Clean it off."

The humiliation continued as the rest of their little group snickered and huffed their amusement. One of the Witches shook her head in disbelief. Adrian knew her, Heather Mason. In the past she'd tried to explain to him how you couldn't give them any excuses to bully if he wanted it to stop. Yet she clearly had no intention of stepping in to stop them either. She sighed out a bored: "Hopeless.." before returning to her drink.

As Adrian reached for the napkins on the tray the taller boy shoved his hand away. "No, I said.. clean. it." At first the blonde cheerleader just looked puzzled, but his expression slowly morphed in to a frown as those milk-stained fingers were presented. Most of the group continued watching, and much to their amusement Adrian leaned in, eyes averted as best he could - and drew the residual drops away with his tongue. It was a strange mix of salt and sweet - and fortunately there wasn't that much. Not that it helped the embarrassment, his cheeks burned so hot Adrian thought someone may as well have used incendio on them.

"Next time don't spill my milk, Addie." A hard swallow later he was carelessly shoved away as they all turned their backs to him - resuming their conversation. He felt a few eyes on him still from other students in the vicinity, and a panting, embarrassed Adrian briskly stumbled away out of sight.