(Untitled)

[padmavarne]

The woman of every day, the one with her head held high and with a stony gait, did not arrive, but an old woman of supernatural beauty with a yellowed ermine cape, a crown of gilded cardboard, and the languid look of a person who wept in secret. Actually, ever since she had found it in Aureliano Segundo's trunks, Fernanda had put on the moth-eaten

Comments

[pelvis]

I like that book, a lot.

[padmavarne]

It's beautiful, isn't it?

How are you, Michael?

- Padma

[pelvis]

Yes, quite beautiful.

I'm all right, Padma. How are you?

Michael.

[padmavarne]

The same as you.

- Padma

[nott_expected]

You obviously have good taste in books.

Theodore

[pelvis]

If you say so.

Michael.

[nott_expected]

Mmm.

Do you have good taste in anything else?

Theodore

[pelvis]

Quite a lot of things, I'd say.

Michael.

[nott_expected]

That's self-confident of you.

Theodore

[pelvis]

There are far worse things than being a little self-confident, surely?

Michael.

[nott_expected]

Of course.

It gives more opportunities for people to stroke your ego.

Theodore

[pelvis]

I wasn't after my ego stroking, particularly.

Michael.

[wreakinghavoc]

No, you were after Nott (or Patil!) to stroke something else entirely! Corner, you whore.

Adam Worthington

[pelvis]

Yes, because it's me who has the tag "Whore of Gryffindor" attached to him, isn't it. Grow up, Worthington.

Michael Corner.

[wreakinghavoc]

Jealous, are you? Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find another pity-fuck.

A.W.

[pelvis]

Jealous? Of you? Don't make me laugh. As for a pity-fuck, from what I hear you couldn't even get that much out of her. So who's the jealous one?

Michael Corner.