I'm doing her make-up. I don't know why. It's not as though I really know what I'm doing but the chance to touch her so intimately proved too hard to resist. Brushing eye-shadow across the delicate skin of her eyelids, light blue, I'm moved by the trust implicit in her face. She has her chin tilted up to me, lips slightly parted. Foundation, power, lipstick. I know spells for this but she insists it's more real done by Muggle-hand.
"I don't really know how to put eye-liner on." I apologise.
"It's okay. Neither do I." She means more than cosmetics.