His face broke into a wide grin as the door opened to Hermione, eyebrows threaded, but looking far lovelier than he recalled. Of course, the last time he saw her was at the Battle, and he wasn't thinking of women at the time. His face burned a bit; he shouldn't be thinking that in times like this, especially about a girl who was taken and whom he knew precious little about. "Don't be daft," he thought to himself.
He rubbed his arms as she led him inside, and was delighted when she asked him for a drink. "Firewhiskey, if you've got it, I could use some warming up. If not, a bit of tea could work." He looked around-her flat couldn't be any different from his own if he tried. His looked and smelled like a Quiddich locker room. Hers like a cozy library in comparison.
"I'm glad you could see me today. As soon as I saw the headline, I knew I had to do something. You're clever to have come up with a way to bond the D.A. together. I want to be ready, to come when needed. I have uses apart from a pitch," he said. Why did he came making Quiddich jokes? He was exhausted with himself. "Sorry for barging over without hardly knowing you. I hope that changes soon. You know, with all this..."