Gerard regarded his empty carton of Dunhills unhappily. Mikey was being passive-aggressively disapproving again and claiming he couldn't transfigure Gerard new ones, a bold-faced lie. Meanwhile Adam and Maja were stretched out on the slate roof tiles next to him, smugly blowing streams of smoke into the cold October night. Unfair. Deeply, deeply unfair. Gerard made wide, hopeful eyes at them and tried to look as pathetic as possible.
It was lovely being outside, sure, away from the smell of rotting house elf and unwashed teenager for the first time in days, but Gerard felt he'd appreciate it much more if he could just get a fucking cigarette. He deserved one, honestly, he'd just spent the last twelve hours listening to students whinge as he cleaned larvae out of their wounds.
"I'll owe you," he wheedled, ignoring the gritty snickering of the nearest gargoyle. "I'll -- substitute for one of your classes! Or, um. Something. Anything!"