"Mm," he says, with just the faintest dreamy tinge. "Matches or acids?"
"About the Dark Lord," he reminds him. "About whom you are qualified to write."
"No," thoughtfully, "I don't think so. They were considerably better at smug suggestion than manufactured innocence. And they were pressed to sell outright beyond the point where anyone but a Gryffindor would have, in sanity, persisted in refusing. They had only to give in."
He looks at him for another minute, letting the very strange statement pass, and then decides he might as well verbalize. "It wouldn't have been Lockhart," he muses, as if to himself, giving Q a piercingly leisurely scrutiny. "He would never have thought he needed a potion. In that case..."
He blinks. "Binns doesn't have pheromones to suppress," he says blankly. "Or receptors, if that's what you mean."
Boo! Cheesecake ice cream would taste like semisolid guilt, and I don't even like cream cheese that much...