A small—very small—part of Desdemona wished she were the sort of young lady to swoon. One, because she was very uncomfortable right now, but two, and more importantly, was because she had completely forgotten to breathe because oh Merlin Mama had said yes she could be Mrs. Pettigrew by year’s end MERLIN HELP HER.

“Oh,” was all that the chaser could manage on her greatly limited supply of oxygen.