“There you are,” Greg gasped as he jogged to catch up with his best friend. “John warned me you were in a bit of a moo- woah!”
“You have two minutes to talk me out of murder, Gregory,” Mycroft hissed. “Starting now.”
Mycroft rolled his eyes, not even bothering to so much as glance up from his notes as he sighed, “Are you done yet?”
“Almost,” Greg cheerfully replied, shooting his friend a wide grin. “Just a little more cackling and I’m finished.”
“Oh how I miss the old days,” Mycroft sighed as Professor Slughorn walked past their table, shooting his companion a bemused but decidedly fond glance. “Snape would have never allowed this nonsense.”
“Don’t be such a sourpuss,” Greg replied, smirking. “I promise to do Macbeth next lesson, alright?”
“It would certainly be an improvement from this blather ” Mycroft sighed. “What is it again?”
“Frankenstein,” Greg replied, grinning. “I’ll lend you the novel, I’ll reckon you’d like it. It’s a classic.”
“You say that about everything you like,” Mycroft retorted.
Greg shrugged.
“What can I say, I have great taste,” he replied, shooting the Slytherin a teasing grin. “Seriously though, it’s Romantics era stuff, mate. I really reckon you would like it.”
“I suppose I’ll give it a go then,” Mycroft replied, shooting his friend a put upon glance. “Now get the cackling over and done with so we can finish the bloody potion, Gregory.”
Greg grinned and promptly hunched over and replied in a breathy voice, “Yesss Masster.”
