John is hanging out in the Owlry! He is sending a letter. His once-a-month letter to his parents saying 'hey I'm still alive no worries.'He is also giving his own treats.
Donna is about to stick her hands in John's pockets when she remembers she's marrying Quill, and so does it to him instead.
John is quite alright with that. He gets enough harrassment for just hanging out with them.
Quill is unaware of this harassment! He really is slacking in the whole 'rule the school through gossip and rumour' thing.
Probably because the two of them are so distracting. When they reach the room of requirement, Donna thinks very hard about the room they were in last time.
John gets poked at all the time for hanging out with the Hufflepuffs. Houses stick together, see.
Oh pish. Quill sees other house members 'hanging out' all the time. When he finds out about this harassing, he'll have to put a stop to it.
The room! Donna kicks off her shoes and curls up on a cushion. She is likewise unaware of the harassment, and would pout if she knew about it.
John's friends aren't really fond of Quill. And kind of think the two of them are stuck up.John promptly flops down beside Donna.
Quill isn't particularly fond of John's friends, it must be said. Then again, he's not particularly fond of anyone, aside from John and Donna. They should feel very special.
Donna is a snooty little creature. Also, she is very fond of Quill, and does feel special. She sticks one foot over John's leg, and between his feet.
He rests a hand on her leg absently, getting comfortable.
Quill beelines for the bar, snagging a bottle of old-fashioned goldschlager instead of the tingly blue stuff this time. "Either of you want anything?"
"...I want that blue stuff again. I shall have, however, white wine if there's any."
"Are we avoiding the blue stuff, then?" He grins, looking between them.
He smirks. "Not in the mood for it, that's all. And there is a lovely German white here, Donna. '73, in fact. John?"
"I would not have behaved like that ordinarily." The fact her hand is sliding up John's leg kind of ruins what she's saying.
He snorts. "Wiskey'd be good."
"Whiskey it is." He meanders over to the cushions, juggling three bottles and three glasses, and sinks down to the ground between their feet. Legs make fabulous backrests, after all, and this way he can stick his feet out and toast them in the fire.
Donna leans forward to kiss the back of Quill's neck and steal the appropriate bottle and glass.
John foregoes a glass. He never drinks from a glass. He is not all high class like these two.He leans against Donna comfortably.
Well, now what's Quill supposed to do with the extra? He can't very well drink from two glasses at once! ...At least not easily. He glances out the corner of his eye at Donna and grins slyly, surreptitiously stashing his bottle out of the way, then grabs her foot, tickling the back of her knee.
Donna happens to be extremely sensitive behind her knees!...Not in a strictly ticklish manner! She bites her lip and thwaps his shoulder. "Bad!"
John smirks a little.
He smirks, unrepentant, but relents and stops tickling. He does, however, pull her shoe off and start massaging her foot. And he does have wickedly clever hands.
She leans against John, sipping her wine with her eyes closed. "Quill, you have the most fantastic hands. I adore you."