You tell the clerk the house is still active and the three of you require an extension.
He writes it down without looking up. Ministry men have signed worse.
The house, listening, turns every lamp up and unlocks every door and puts a fire on in the parlour.
Malfoid is already on the stairs when you get back in, dressing gown half open, one hand out.
MalfoidIt's not subtle, is it.
MioneNo. But it's honest, and it's warm, and nobody in it is pretending.
Thirty days becomes winter. Winter becomes the year the three of you stop leaving.