Neville & Hermione
"No one here should be telling you how to live your life, 'Mione," Neville said with a half eye roll. While yes, he certainly thought she was wound up tighter than a metal spring, Neville knew he wasn't much better, nor did he have any place to go telling her how to deal with her stress. Make suggestions, sure, which is why he had brought her up here to smoke with him several days before. But not rub anything in her face, that was the last thing either of them needed.
Reaching into his pocket he drew out a small silver cigarette case, opening it up and showing her the contents. "Did you... want any? I wasn't sure how you felt the last time, but figured I'd offer." With a shrug he took one, and lit it with the tip of his wand, taking a long drag.
With that last comment though, he couldn't help a laugh, shaking his head at her. "Too good, if you really want to know. Think it'll take far more than a shot or two to get me on a table. Plus, not sure how they'd hold up." Looking over at her he winked, "Was never the best at Transfiguration."