Ford looked up at his mother a little sharply at the question. How could she have guessed that? He didn't want to tell her it was. Even if he was lying about what had actually happened last night (or only telling a small sliver of the truth, which was sort of the same), it felt like a violation of Cash's trust to admit that they'd spent the entirety of last night together. If his mother had guessed this much, was she going to keep poking at it and needling him until she figured out how to put more of the story together?

His instinct was to lie, but he couldn't think up another name in the moment. He was friends with Sayid Weber, but he was a professor at Hogwarts now and wouldn't be meeting up for dinner on a school night. Nemo Fisk, but the last thing he wanted was to have his mother start asking him about Fisks. He popped a slice of orange into his mouth so that he would have a moment to compose himself and think of an answer, and took his time to chew and swallow.

"I lost touch with Lestrange after dinner," he said with a shrug — also not technically a lie. Ford had more or less written him off by the time he got Cash's letter out of the blue yesterday morning. He didn't need to tell his mother that they'd reconnected — and he certainly didn't need to comment on him being a nice sort.