She was reading, that was a good sign, at least she had some sort of a brain.
He hunched up uncomfortably over his pint, his thin body at odds with the chair as he scooted it in closer away from a rowdy group beside them.
"Padrig. I think I know you. Ravenclaw, no? Prefect?" He seemed to remember her hanging about Percy Weasley, mostly because Marietta had been almost viperous on the subject. It might have had something to do with the fact that she never got to be prefect too.