sprawled across the opposite bench, boots propped on the seat Five galleons says she makes a move before the welcome feast.

rolling her eyes, though her grin betrayed her Be serious, Theo. Aurelia doesn't make moves. She orchestrates.

finally glancing up her lashes, voice silk Why would I need to make a move on my own boyfriend, Pansy?

snorting from the corner, a half-eaten cauldron cake in hand Boyfriend this week, you mean.

a slow, dangerous smile And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Enzo? She let the pause hang. Didn't you try to get with Daphne's little sister over the summer?

nearly choking That was—it wasn't like that—

cackling He's gone purple, someone get a healer!

grinning lazily Leave him alone, Aurelia. You're worse than Mattheo when you're bored.

her gaze slid deliberately toward the compartment door, then back to the group Speaking of Mattheo… She tilted her head, eyes glittering. Where's he gotten off to, anyway?

shrugging Said he needed air. Probably went to find the trolley witch. Or to brood dramatically in the corridor.

humming softly Brooding's more Draco's thing. She stretched languidly, catching sight of someone passing by the frosted glass. Oh. Her smirk widened. There he is...

raising her voice just enough to carry through the glass Mattheo, darling—are you going to stand out there all day, or are you going to come grace us with your presence?