It had been weeks since her infamous box of Chocolate Cauldrons had gone disastrously wrong, leaving Weasley love-struck instead of Harry. But Romilda Vane was nothing if not persistent. At the crowded warmth of the Three Broomsticks, she slipped the last drops of the potion into a butterbeer with careful hands, her dark curls framing a sly smile. Spotting a classmate talking with his friends, she strolled over, the drink in hand.

“Hey, hope I'm not disturbing something?” she asked sweetly, sliding the butterbeer across the table. “I just thought you might enjoy… since your glass is empty. A treat. On me.”