Gabrielle doesn't like to talk much, Romilda quickly notices. But she's good at sitting there and looking pretty.

"Aren't you supposed to be a Veela?"

"A quarter," the younger girl corrects softly.

Romilda waves a dismissive hand. "All I'm saying is I saw your sister in action when she was around for the tournament. She opened her mouth, and boys practically tried to kill each other to get close."

Gabrielle shifts uncomfortably. "I do not think I would want boys to do that for me," she says, and the blush that Romilda so loves returns to her porcelain skin.

"Only girls, then?" she teases, resting a hand on Gabrielle's knee, slowly moving towards her thigh.

Gabrielle gasps at the contact, eyes closing.

"Yeah," Romilda laughs, moving her hand away and pulling out another cigarette. "Thought so."