Who: Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein (and maybe a couple of younger year NPCs). What: Rounds and chat. When: Monday February 21st, after curfew. Where: The corridors and classrooms of Hogwarts. Rating: Low.
Anthony walked casually and tried to appear more manly than was possible as he braved the cold of a Scottish February. He'd smiled in his usual bookish way and put his coat around Padma's shoulders as they strolled up from the Owlery to make sure no one was using it was a late night spot for a rendezvous.
He gave her a slow smile, stifling that need to shiver through his school robes. He just flicked his wand at himself and with a dull flash of light he was at least able to protect himself with a wind buffering charm. As a result his curls seems strangely unmoving in the headwind as they closed the last couple hundred yards to the castle.
His hands were tucked firmly into his trousers and he could barely feel them, but he'd been dumb enough to leave his gloves somewhere not on his nightstand. That was normally unheard of, which only perturbed him more. Either he was more stressed than usual and wasn't thinking, or one of his mates might have knicked them as a joke. Anthony wasn't sure so he was going with option A.
"I am very brittle," Anthony drawled with his Londoner. "No sooner spoken than broken. What am I?" His eyebrow raised the question and he looked at the Head Girl. It must have been a riddle Anthony was playing at.