Rose accepted the comment about her height with a good-natured eyeroll, comfortable enough around Seamus to let it slide and know that protesting would only lead to more jokes until she caved and laughed. “You should be banned from the kitchen, I’m surprised Dean hasn’t tried to do that. ‘Sides, I heard tell that you’re a walking one-man explosion magnet; things around you go boom without warning.”
She’d missed this; missed the simple act of spending time with Seamus and Rose felt some of the stress leave her just at his presence. Comfortable enough around him, she slipped off her shoes and wriggled her bright toe-clad socks, tucking them neatly under the sofa before doing the same with her legs. “Me?” The look she shot him was perfectly innocent as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “I know about it because I was a good student and read my books thoroughly at school.” It was the truth, almost. A good locking charm was essential in the girls dorm when bathroom time was at a premium and lotions and potions had a habit of wandering.
“Could I have a butterbeer, please?” Rose hoped to distract him enough that he wouldn’t ask more questions about her sort-of love life or why she’d needed him. Patting the sofa beside her, she motioned for him to join her. “How have you been? Broken any hearts, saved the day, a usual day in the life of Seamus Finnigan, exploder extrodinaire?”