“You were with her for two years?” Too young, too young to experience sex; she’d been seventeen when she’d been with someone for the first time and at fifteen had been distracted as much by boys as by schoolwork back then. Speaking to them still required an interpreter and a great deal of cooling charms; sticky palms and sweaty upper lips were far from the look she’d been aiming for in those days. “I didn’t know that about you.”
Her eyes followed the flex of his fingers; she knew how they felt tangled in the weight of her hair or sliding down her skin and the memory made her swallow hard. This was why they didn’t meet in public in the world they shared; it was too dangerous and too much of a temptation.
“Percy wasn’t all bad. The Weasley’s are lovely but rather,” she paused, waiting for the right word choice. “Intense. Molly Weasley terrified me even back then.” Talking about her ex wasn’t something she wanted to bring up with him but instead she splayed her own finger and let them brush up against one another. The briefest, lightest of touches. “That you slept with someone at that age?” Pursing her lips. “Our fathers are a bit different then; mine nearly broke the hand of the first boy I ever brought home; he ah, could be scary even without a wand.”