Slapping his forehead, Harry groaned, thinking that Oliver must have had an account of that night from his brother. "I forgot Faelan was there. What a fool I made of myself."
Thinking of that dance, the way his body had come alive, how good it felt to know he was wanted just for his body because he had been in a costume -- Harry felt one side of his mouth lifting at the memory. The man had certainly known how to get a rise out of him. He leaned over on the sofa and mock-whispered to Oliver, "Between you and me, that guy was a brilliant dancer. Had to Apparate right off the floor to take care of m'self after he disappeared."