For Trowa, the morning had been rather leisurely. He'd gotten an owl that morning, bringing news of the dresses that had been sent out that weekend. They'd been received well and the recipient was due to wear the pinky one for a gala during the week. This was fantastic news for Trowa, he understandably needed a few more jobs within Gladrags. He was bored of spending his Saturdays sat behind a counter with a book. It wasn't as if he didn't love reading but he did get bored after a while; not to mention his bum got rather numb.
Today was the day, however, that Trowa had Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was the first class of the week and he was oddly looking forward to the affair. There was a light spring in his step as he walked down the corridor, weaving his way through the first years similarly to the way he sewed the hem of the trousers he was wearing the night before.
Finally, Trowa made it to the classroom. He opened the door and stepped inside, careful to close the door behind him. When he turned around, he found that there was no one in the room bar Professor Wilson and that Slytherin boy. If memory served, he was Viktor Krum's son, not that Trowa cared to remember. Still, it was a rather poor showing.
Then again, looking at his watch, he was early.
Nevertheless, Trowa drifted down the central aisle before picking a seat near the front. He took his bag off of his shoulder and put it underneath his desk before turning and greeting the Professor.
"Good Morning, sir."
And, with that said, Trowa took his seat.