Will/Prisca
"You're the feckin' Head Girl. You are the one of all of us that shouldn't be starting the bloody gossip! Do us a favor, yeah? Grow up."
Prisca's icy stare narrowed at the fifth year but she didn't say a word. Instead she flicked her wand at the spare classroom door and it snapped shut, the lock clicking.
"Take off your slacks," she said flatly.
Will blinked several times and crossed his arms over his chest. "Excuse me?" he asked testily. She was already approaching and had let her school robes fall to floor behind her.
"When we shag on the table behind you?" she replied dismissively, though her tone was little muffled from pulling her jumper up over her head. Will mouthed a few soundless words as her haughty face appeared once more and she tossed the jumper aside before flipping locks of her slightly mussed hair out of her face.
"It'll go easier without the slacks," Prisca finished as she gave him a hard look while undoing the buttons of her collared shirt one-by-one.
Oh. Oh, Christ.
Will finally found the ability to speak. "Well, when you put it that way..." he muttered and reached down to fumble with his fly.
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