Post by ophelia on Jun 6, 2011 4:42:35 GMT -5
he was a sweet and tender hooligan, hooligan...
Ophelia breezed along the corridor and gave the password to the Fat Lady, glaring until the portrait consented to open for her, and then hoisted herself up through the portrait hole and clambered out into the common room. She gazed about herself in contemplation, trying to see if she could spot anyone she knew. There didn't seem to be any other sixth years about, unless they were sitting in some of those high-backed chairs that she couldn't see around.
Curiously, she crossed over the room and leant over the top of one of the chairs, but found herself face-to-face with a couple of first years.
"Hey," she said in a casual tone, not willing to bely that she hadn't meant to find them, "I don't suppose you've seen my cat anywhere? Black, fluffy, bad-tempered? No?"
Of course, she didn't actually have a cat, but that seemed like a small and relatively insignificant detail at the time. Grinning brightly to the first years, she moved back across the room and threw herself into one of the comfortable armchairs by the fire, turfing a second year out of his seat so she could enjoy the warmth. Although she was unwilling to admit it, she was secretly really hoping that Freddie would turn up.
tagged; Fred, open.
outfit:
lyrics: sweet and tender hooligan, the smiths