She looks at him. "Didn’t you?" She takes little sips of her cocktail while Harry gulps down his water. "You know," she says, folding her napkin in half and setting it beside her empty plate. "When I first met Neville, I was ten years old. I liked him right away. I thought he was funny. Maybe a little unintentionally funny, of course—the way he is." She smiles fondly. "Anyway." She waves her hand. "That was Draco’s birthday party, the summer before Hogwarts. His parents were doing their slimy due diligence by inviting the children from the Families, you know." She laughs sharply. "To show their support for Hogwarts, they said! We all know it wasn’t that, of course, it was never about that for them. Support. It was about control." She shakes her head, pressing her lips together, her gaze hovering somewhere above Harry’s head for a moment. 