( very little about gwenaëlle, even on first impression, could be described as subtle. elegant, yes; understated, perhaps not. this is to say: it isn't difficult to read the beginning of hackles, rising in the way one eyebrow rises, only to smooth and settle as hermione reverses course before she can decide how annoyed she's going to be—

it wasn't going to be none. but she doesn't press it, accepting both apology and explanation and there's a sense of mutual understanding in: )

Well, bad news, there's not none of that, ( with bleak humour, her gaze snagging on the scar. ) But even that...

( a tilt of her hand. )

A few months ago, there were targeted, coordinated attacks. One of the men who died in them was ( my friend ) at the time, the only known, living former Tranquil. Reversing that wasn't sanctioned when we did it. That miracle could have ended with him.

( if there had been no records. if everyone key in doing it in the first place had fallen in the same attacks, a thing not guaranteed not to happen. the same hand she had tilted, thoughtfully, she indicates hermione's arm with, continuing in the same tone: ) Is that from where you learned to move fast and figure it out on the way?

( as if acknowledging that that's a tactlessly blunt way to bring up something that's almost certainly not a happy story: ) I'll show you mine.

( it's not the eye. )