His eyes met hers and she held his gaze. She debated in her mind if she should just lie or actually tell him the truth. He was of age. And probably not going into the potioneering business anyway. The truth couldn't hurt.

She looked down at his arm and coated it one more time with ice, "Yes, and no." She said raising her own sleeve again, exposing the scar. "I have steps in place so I don't feel the pain." She showed him, her sleeves were loose. "I charm my sleeves so the fabric doesn't touch it. If it did, I would be in quite a lot of pain." She pointed at the raised marks, "I need to lance the raised portion once a month to drain it of the fluid, that accumulates. Although the process itself is painful, it alleviates the throbbing."