Between the splinching incidents and the fainting and the vomiting, Freddie had dismissed the apparition class in somewhat of a dazed state. The realization that many of those girls would likely be debuting (and that meant his mother would likely force him to dance with them) did nothing to soothe his nerves as he watched half a dozen future debutantes get tended to by the mediwizard periodically. There was still the incident with Miss Gretchen Lestrange, too, which he'd managed to block out of his head for the majority of the remaining time—at least until Miss Seneca Lestrange reappeared and reminded him that he hadn't seen his Miss Lestrange after her first attempt.

The class had gone their separate ways. Some students lingered in groups, chatting about the class (and hopefully not about him, although the way he caught some of their glances did nothing to soothe that worry) while others left immediately. His co-instructor was currently chatting up another professor, leaving him to his own devices temporarily, which is when he caught Miss Lestrange's eyes. There she was.

His breath caught in his throat, and he managed a nod. He tried to make himself look busy for the moment, although his eyes followed her as she disappeared through he doors and into the entrance hall. He waited a moment, maybe two, for the echos from the door closing to fade before making his own move.

"Miss Lestrange," he greeted once he found her, keeping his voice low. There were a few students in the entrance hall, but their backs were facing away from them and it seemed as though they might walk away any minute... "In need of special instruction?" he asked, struggling to keep the smile off his lips, "I did not see you for the rest of class—and I looked."

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