Well, shit. Might as well not waste time going over the sticky details. If Hermione is ready to get to work, so is Lafayette. He's the one who told her, after all, that he wasn't interested in theory and all of that bullshit. That he wanted to use his magic in practice if he was going to use it at all.

Putting the rest of his things down on a nearby table, he crosses to the pile of pillows that seems like it's waiting for him. He can figure out what they're for without more direction. Once he's there, he finds that direction might be ... a little more necessary than he'd admittedly considered it when he'd first agreed to come meet with Hermione here for more lessons.

"Ready, I guess," he says, lifting both his arms like a boxer. He doesn't know why; it probably looks stupid as hell. But it makes him feel more confident. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Just gotta protect myself. You go for it. Any advice?"

Other than 'don't get hexed,' really.