Mondai’s answer didn’t give Victor much to work with (in other words, it made it difficult for him to twist the words around and turn them against her), so he ignored it. Instead, he moved on to her following question, his smile suddenly widening but never quite reaching his eyes. “How adorable. You’ve even inherited his stutter.” The boy reached out toward the girl and took the empty glass in her hand, only looking away when he turned to refill it. Fortunately for him (and sadly for her), it seemed that the decanter magically refilled itself so that it was never running low on firewhiskey.

“Because, Mondai, that’s the key to getting out of here, isn’t it? Asking questions and sharing embarrassing information?” He offered her her glass again, this time full of the magical liquid.

He stared at her for a moment before continuing, “Tell me. How did it feel? Was it as terrible as when I kissed you by the Ravenclaw tower?” he asked, taking a step toward the girl. “Do you plan to avoid him for the rest of the week now?” Before she could reply, he smiled again and shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t do that to MacGhilleseatheanaich, would you? To your hero?” By the time he uttered the word, like it was some filthy disgusting thing, the boy’s smile had faded, and the anger and frustration he’d been feeling for the past couple of hours began to make its appearance in his usually cold and distant blue eyes.