neville was not used to scrutiny. eyes rarely flashed in his direction
unless he had just broken something or misjudged a charm or walked
smack into a stone wall. then everyone looked. but this bloke was
looking, really looking, at him, and neville was just sitting
quietly. very quietly.
"name's billy," the man said, taking the seat across from neville, who
could only nod.
when
neville found himself following billy out of the pub, he knew why.
billy's eyes were a deep and delicious green that neville could not
help linking back to harry, whom he would have followed anywhere.