Neville Longbottom was standing in his office, his daughter sitting before him.

Neville Longbottom had spent the last ten minutes shouting at his daughter.

"I don't even get why you're so angry!" protested Daisy Longbottom, staring at her father. "Yeah, OK, so we were kissing-"

"Right in the middle of the corridor!" he interrupted. "You're my daughter, Daisy, and I don't exactly want to see some boy with his tongue in your mouth-"

"Some boy?" said Daisy incredulously, her eyes widening. "Some boy?"

Neville brushed this aside. "Well, I didn't exactly see who it was, did I? Point is, I don't want to walk round a corner and see my daughter and her boyfriend-"

"Not my boyfriend," said Daisy, sing-song.

Neville Longbottom ran his hands through his hair, before bringing the hands clattering down on the table.

"Then that's even worse!" he barked. "The fact that it was some random boy just-"

Daisy laughed, almost pityingly, smiling a little.

"Dad, it wasn't a random boy," she said, more gently.

"Well, if he's not your boyfriend," said Neville defensively. "Then that makes him a random boy in my book."

Neville's daughter sighed.

There was a long silence, both Longbottoms having something to say, but no way of saying it.

"Why are you so sure it was a boy?" asked Daisy at last.