"Certainly better than from all the snow and rocks." He shrugs. "Well, you left me to get rid of it, so I turned it into bread and went to St. James under polyjuice to feed it to the ducks. I ran into Pettigrew there."
"Yes, that's what I meant."
He looks slightly abashed. "Nothing of import. License to change this week's brewing around for my own personal comfort. He was," Severus insists stoutly. "And I didn't want another drink." He considers this. "Although I do now."
He snorts. "I possess no wobbles and would not know how to colly them."