Justin walked up, wind blowing his hair in little eddies and swirls around his face, a pretty boy who knew he was pretty but still with an undercurrent of friendly playfulness, though the past year had hardened that. He had similar feelings about the cold, no doubt similar experiences as well.
"Dennis," he called with a graceful sort of wave, and folded himself down at the base of the tree next to the Gryffindor. He remembered him and his brother, of course. An odd sort of bond he'd shared with Colin, poor Colin, that affair with the basilisk had caught him up as well. "A rather chill day, no?"