Christ, she didn't think she could manage a grin, but he's playing it up so well that she can't really help it. Just tugs the bottle from his hand and settles back in the grass on her elbows to take in the scenery for the first time this evening. Which, coincidentally, is the first time that it looks about as lovely as she'd hoped. The wine becomes less of a distraction, more of a compliment to it all.

And with Elena off being seen to by Henry, she doesn't feel so guilty for smiling.

"Thanks, Harry." The words aren't said directly to him, just quietly while she keeps her eyes fixed on the horizon. The last person she'd expected to prove a comfort, the one she'd done her best to keep at arms' length, is the only person capable of it. How impossibly ironic.