It’s a small consolation to watch Draco adjust himself in his oh-so-precious trousers. To see Neville press the heel of his hand against his crotch. It’s just one moment, though, and then Draco is leaning forward to pour them both another glass, saying something about Quidditch scores, and Neville is smiling and answering. Both of them ignoring her, a diversion that’s done with, as she sits and drips and waits.