"–but there’s that ridiculous tariff on any imports of magical anthracite from Estonia–" Neville is saying to a nodding Draco. He steps in front of her and shoves a foot between her knees, kicking them apart. His work boots are dirt covered and he uses one to push at the inside of one thigh, then the other, "til she spreads them wide. With the side of one toe he taps a little at each leg to get her to make minor adjustments, spread just a little further, until he’s satisfied.