They're not convincing anyone but themselves, sitting here together with binders and index cards and open textbooks. In the dark. Reading by wandlight. But, boy howdy, do they have themselves fooled.

Danny leans lazily toward Rosy, hands falling into the book in his lap. "I told you they weren't worth it," he says, leveling his gaze on her over his glasses. "You had perfectly reliable highlighters here, already. And now I'm going to get a better grade on my Transfig final than you."

He clucks, bumping lightly against her. "That hubris must be genetic."