"Go on. Do it."
Basil nudged him, nearly upsetting his balance, as they were both peering around the corner at the approaching sixth year and her entourage. Vera Rukovskaya, the beautiful, the domineering, unchallenged goddess of Durmstrang Institute. The Vera Rukovskaya.
"C'mon, Igor, you promised..."
"I can't!" He blanched. "She'll hex me!"
Basil snatched for the back of his robes, but Igor was too quick – a blur of terrified twelve-year-old pelting down the corridor.
"You said you'd do it!" he hollered, following.
Igor grimaced. Like hell he was actually going to ask Vera Rukovskaya what color her bra was today.