"Oh!" Hannah cried, setting the half-full bottle down with a muffled thump on the kitchenette's small table, covered with a soft paisley cloth. She scrambled for her wand, carefully banishing the shards of glass into the bin and trying to siphon up what she could of the wine. "It's alright," she said, crouching down to closer inspect the floor. "The wood's already stained all over the place, that's the benefit to a pub flat that's been around for five hundred years."
Hannah pushed herself up to standing again, stooping first to kiss Neville's cheek and ruffle his hair before turning to find a replacement glass. "Neville, don't freak out," she said in her best nurturing voice. "It's only wine."