Jaimes tailed you down the corridors, guilt contorting his face into a frown - he was such a fool, he thought. He'd made a joke that hit below the belt; in front of the whole common room he'd claimed your apparent need for attention was born from your family's lack of providence.

His hands, warm and firm, circled your waist; pulling you back, his warm, coffee breath fanned over your skin. "I'm sorry. It was a joke, I swear— but I know I've been a prat all day." His chin hooked atop your head.