Lydie’s shock was gratifying; it felt that at least this was a reaction appropriate to the magnitude of the situation, even if the situation itself … hadn’t. She sat down on the bench and placed her hands on her knees primly. Her smile grew wider. “Mr. Joseph Steighton,” she said; he was a seventh year and would leave her world forever within a few months, which made him the ideal candidate. And, of course, his being interested in kissing her. “He offered to review some of my potions essays so we’ve been meeting up in the library some evenings — and then today he offered to walk me back to the common room,” she continued. This part of the story had all been exactly what she wanted; she could still recall how the excitement had been building in her the entire walk, waiting to see what he would do or say next.

“Then he was telling me about his project for Muggle Studies, and of course I knew nothing about it, but he seemed quite animated and he offered to show it to me. So we ducked into the classroom, and he showed me this — I believe he called it a telephone. And he was showing it to me and describing it and then he asked if he might kiss me,” she continued. She paused for effect. “And I said he might.”

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