"Well, I wouldn't say that," he hedged, not really comfortable with the concept of confiding in Potter and Weasley and refusing to entertain the notion that he might have been. "They asked what the hell had happened that had upset Pansy, I told them, and they expressed some obligatory sympathies over a few glasses of alcohol on the deck. Only a few," he added when her dark brows scrunched together in a little frown of disapproval. "Anyway, I'd hardly call that confiding."