He stares back at her over the rim of his glass as she allows her gaze to run over him. He’s grown—certainly more rugged than he had been at Hogwarts. His wide shoulders are taut beneath his suit jacket, but the polished gentlemanly appearance does little to hide what lurks beneath the surface. He is coiled tight, a wire ready to explode from its confines, and she smiles into her whiskey, allowing the biting warmth of it to wash over her tongue and down her throat. It settles in her stomach before she allows herself to speak.