Micky

[maxwell_miller]

Casually, Maxwell slammed his books down onto the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. He was frustrated because Snape had assigned a killer essay due the next day. It was such bull

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[tricky_micky]

"Sure, Maxie," she said with a light shrug, treating Max with a rare grin.

"But how're we going to pay for them, huh?" she added, trying to make him face reality.

[maxwell_miller]

"I'm sure my dad will lend us some cash," he said, almost sure of it.

All Max knew was that he had to go. And he had to have a better time than Nick O'Dannihugh ever would.

[tricky_micky]

"OK then," she said simply, relaxing back a little before she returned to her food.

After a small forkful of potatoes, she turned to him again.

"Wait, this isn't anything to do with Nick O'Danni-whatever, is it?" she asked suspiciously. She thought she'd heard about the Quidditch world cup from someone recently. And not someone she was exactly friends with, either.

[maxwell_miller]

"Him and that Owen prat," Maxwell almost spat out. Their names were foul on his tongue.

"Seriously. Why do they get to go?"