"I could," he argued, then chuckled. "And then I'd have to take her home, and I'm really not sure that's what I'm interested in." He turned his hand over, catching hers inside it, just holding it for a moment.
"I'm not sure I'd want to share you if it was dinner here. I mean, what if you get sick of her? What if I do, for that matter? I have got dress robes, though. Tagging along to one of your fancy things might be fun, and if she's a loon, I'll just make up a reason to leave. Explosive diarrhea's always good. Nobody ever asks for proof."
He grinned, tipping the drink again, swallowing appreciatively. Nothing like Ogden's to warm you from the inside out. He hadn't missed the Gryffindor comment, and it felt particularly warming as well. "You know, I really do love it here. Even if we're just sitting. Drinking. Having potatoes," he added, giving her a glance. "My mind's been in a thousand places this week, and it's nice to not have to focus on anything but this."
He traced her finger with his thumb, then looked over at her again. "I hope potatoes is still okay..."