"Oh," she murmurs when he makes a gesture to indicate that it wasn't exactly his choice. She finishes the last of her wine, as if it will combat the weirdness of the thought of Snape doing as his wife says.

It doesn't work.

He wants a word; well, that can't bode well, but she's inclined to take it seriously. If he's deigning to talk to her, it's probably important, and the fact that he hasn't taken a seat implies that he wants her to get up. There's not really a choice in the matter.

"Privately, I assume?" she asks, getting to her feet and stowing her book in her bag, some slight concern about what he wants to talk about starting, although she suspects he wouldn't be so calm if it was anything incredibly urgent. Nonetheless, she tries to keep her movements quick.