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Summary
“You and Nev did Herbology together, right?” Hannah prompts with a smile, glancing between the two of them.
It’s second nature to downplay and deny it after all those years of trying to keep her interest in it under wraps. But just now, the solid warmth of Neville’s thigh presses against hers and she feels the shift beneath her ribs, like latches clicking into place and giving space for her lungs to expand normally for once.
“We did,” she says, letting herself meet his eyes for a fraction of a second.
“He told me you were better at it than him, which I find hard to belie—”
“That’s because it’s not true,” Pansy interrupts, turning to Neville. She raises a brow, feigning confidence when her insides are a twisting, pulsing mess of something with a terribly long wingspan. Pixies? Doxies? A fucking hippogriff? “Are you taking the piss?”
Neville shakes his head, eyes bright with mirth though his mouth stays serious. “No, are you? You’re brilliant. Always have been.”