The evasive maneuver seemed to accomplish something, but Ida couldn't place what exactly caused this subtle shift in the current of their conversation. Just that she felt it. She decided at that moment that she was absolute garbage at this social business. If only she were a man, then she could at least punt off her poor personality as just being ‘eccentric’ like Professor Foxwood. If only she were rich, then she would not need to worry about “meeting people” at all. She thought she would rather enjoy a life of a gentleman of leisure, and might purchase a cottage in the mountains, and spend all her days reading and writing and being a bit like Keats herself, minus the dying young bit.

In any case, what Mister Greengrass said now made her feel a little bad. She even winced somewhat, eager to correct any misunderstanding – “Oh it’s not that he’s a Muggle,” she clarified hastily. “It’s just that I’m – er, not very poetic? Or romantic, for the matter. And as a scholar I am quite good at writing what’s on my mind, less-so what’s in my heart.” Speaking of her mind, the wine at least gave hers a nice level of effervescence to cope with the fact that she was blundering through this conversation. But she felt bad if he felt bad, so she felt compelled to make up for it.

“Oh, well…” She didn’t think she was really indulging him, the conversation just ran that way, even if he never really answered her question about how to convince ghosts. She understood more about it now. “It did fit, so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Not that he was worried. “I suppose what I mean is, thank you, for introducing me to Keats. I’d like to read his work now.” Thank Merlin, at least reaching for nice-sounding words helped fade some of her blush.

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