Who: Dean Thomas, Justin Finch Fletchley When: Forward-dated to Saturday morningish. Where: Great Hall What: Talking, betting. Rating: TBA Open/Closed: Closed
Dean had wandered down to breakfast late that morning, since he'd been up most of the night before. MOstly because he couldn't bloody sleep. Too much caffeine, worrying over his parents. . . and probably thinking about Greengrass loads more than he should.
Most people were already finished and leaving by the time he got down there, and he just grabbed a roll from the Gryffindor table, not really that hungry anyway. He took it with him, turning to wander back out to the hall. He stopped though, seeing a few of the Slytherins drifting out first. Daphne among them.
Dean meant to be circumspect, but he still watched Daphne wandering away, and didn't notice when someone came up beside him and caught him at it. When he finally realized he wasn't alone, he turned, giving Finch-Fletchley a rueful smile, hoping he hadn't been caught, but suspecting it wasn't the case. "Hey," he greeted, darting a last look toward the Slytherins as they vanished before popping the last bite of the roll into his mouth and turning to face Justin fully. "Lazy bloody morning," he commented. Dean was half thinking of saying sod it and crawling back into bed until the match later.