“You can look down you know,” Greg chuckled glancing over his shoulder.
“No thank you,” Mycroft mumbled into the back of his Quidditch jumper, his eyes remaining squeezed resolutely shut.
“It’s not going to make us any higher up, you know,” Greg drawled, rolling his eyes. “You’re being irrational.”
“A little irrationality is good for the soul,” Mycroft promptly retorted. “Or my heart at the very least, considering it would likely give out if I were follow your advice and look down. So no, thank you very much, I’m going to remain like this for the duration of this horrid experience.”
“Drama-queen,” Greg scoffed, shaking his head.
Mycroft promptly retaliated by butting his head into the back of the other boy’s shoulder (without opening his eyes or loosening his hold around the other’s waist, of course) and growling, “I told you I wouldn’t like this. Now just get this over with so the ground and I can reunite.”
“I thought I was supposed to be the Muggle-born here.”
“Precisely. You’re confidence is bought with ignorance, Gregory.”
Greg scoffed again