"There have been.... hangovers. I just don't like to advertise them. I was young once too." Rolling his eyes and shaking his head after yet another shot at his age, he raised an eyebrow. "I can handle my drink Minerva, I just have some self-control."
Neville wrinkled up his nose and put his tea down. "Thank you, for that lovely mental image. I won't wear the jumper... ever. Happy now?"
"Gods Minerva..." He didn't think he'd sighed out of exasperation so many times in one morning, even when she gave it a rest and stirred her coffee. "...no, your mother doesn't know that I'm going into London with Ariana. Again, I don't think it's a date." at least he was a bit sure it wasn't a date... it might be, or, might not.