Spinning Time

“May I sit? There are no other seats available.” A tall man stood before her, cocking his head to indicate the chair Molly Weasley had vacated. He was definitely handsome, dressed in black robes, and she thought he might be about ten years older than herself, give or take a few years.
Nodding, she waved her hand, pointing at the chair. He sat down with a deep sigh, putting a tumbler and a bottle of smoking Firewhisky on the table.
Raising her eyebrows at seeing an entire bottle, she asked: “Rough day?”