"You're right," Marcus agreed on the subject of who to put in. "Longbottom's been involved in politics, s'not a bad choice. Potter..." he sneered, because fuck, they were talking about Potter. "He's not a pureblood. Longbottom's both sides of it. He's a pureblood, but folks love him, and he's not an idiot like Weasley. The question is how the fuck to get him in there without someone else dying."
He sank down onto the bed as well, not all that close to where Isaac sat. "S'your fault s'more than just mates who fuck," he grumbled. "You started with the fucking kissing and touching and now--" He growled irritably. "Don't even fucking want to pull at a club. Same time, m'so fucking horny can't think straight."
Elbows on his knees, he put his head in his hands, eyes closed. "Fuck," he muttered. "Can't think m'mum doesn't have an idea. Don't think she gives a fuck as long as it's not gossip. Fuck, she guessed I was bent when she made me get married in the first place. Just don't fucking talk about it. Who else knows? Bulstrode and Pans know, and Lavender fucking well knows. Somehow Chambers found out. Don't think Bulstrode or Pans would've told him, even though he gets on well enough with Pans."
The painful shaft of jealousy that Marc felt when talking to Chambers, because the other bloke had it so fucking easy, made his mouth twist, but he didn't bring it up. He'd already acted like enough of a girl for one night.