Iris stared at Chandler. Did he just? ... What the heck?!
"Did you just call me 'Miss Beaumont'?" the Head Girl asked, frowning. She didn't like that. She wasn't a professor.
"Don't. I don't like it."
And according to this one, chocolate doesn't grow on trees. Well.
"Actually, it does." ] She eyed the boy for a moment.
"Are you SURE you've not eaten something dodgy?" 12, 15... Same difference to a Seventh year.
"Does that really matter? You're acting like a twelve year old." Smiiiiirk.
As she sat down on the floor, She looked up at the French boy. They had a lot of similarities. Both were French...ish. Both were blonde. Both were very cool. Okay. Maybe that one was pushing it a little. Then she was being hugged. By some one she didn't know or recognise. WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN?!?!
"What was that for?!" She asked, but the kid was already running away from them.
"Oi!" ... Eugh. Nevermind.
...
Chandler was lay on the floor.
"Um... How'dyou manage that??" she asked, pursing her lips together and trying not to laugh. She stood up, flattening down her skirt. Then she poked the boys arm and offered him her hand.
"Get up, Montague; you dopey git."
Montague.
Montague. MONTY! Oh my goodness.
Iris's northern accent made it sound like they had the same nickname.
