"It makes sense that they should be a sheltered group, perhaps. Either way - all the better for us. And if you can't think of things to keep them sufficiently occupied indoors, I'll be happy to offer my suggestions. I'm sure Horace has plenty of beetles that need crushing." He always had. One could never hand out too many detentions. "If you can convince them to keep the vitriol to the Quidditch pitch, I would very much appreciate it."
He glanced down at the bottle, considering trying to foist the rest of it off on her so that he wouldn't be expected to drink any of it - and out of the corner of his eye he saw that she was looking at him, and it took a moment to register exactly what was happening. Even when it did, it seemed ... unlikely enough that he pushed the thought away for a moment. That was not the sort of thing that happened to him of an average evening. When he met her eyes, he pulled the bottle over and tipped it a little in her direction, offering the last glass. He took the opportunity to look a little more closely than he had before. She was very soft, although there was something sportive there that made her seem sharp, in a way, and -
And he really should not have been letting himself head down that path. "You ought to finish it," he said, with a quiet little smile. "Gossip's not the only thing I'm out of practice with."