Well, hel-fucking-lo to you too. Gemma thought as Claire greeted Patrick. Although they were housemates and in the same year, she didn’t know the fellow Gryfinndor all that well… or as un-well as you could with someone you’ve nearly lived with for the past six plus years. She and Patrick have had probably only a few one on one conversations in life, but she knew him his reputation of sorts. And, truth of the matter was, she wasn’t really keen on those who were more bark than bite.
With little subtly, Gemma scratched the side of her face with her middle finger as her other digits rested under her jaw. The slag comment didn’t phase her – after all slag, wench, tart, whore, bitch were practically endearments. But, she did take offense to being spoken to as if they were defiling his private property by simply sitting there. Last time she checked, the Astronomy tower belonged to no one… even those who shagged here on a regular basis.
She inwardly cringed. Bad thought to consider while seated on the floor, Gem.
Claire’s movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn and watch as the older girl tried to bum a fag. Gemma doesn’t smoke, but she was around enough of them that she figured she had a good chance of catching cancer anyway. Sometimes she wonders why she bothers resisting.