The room upstairs has a bed the size of a boat and the house has been making it for a hundred and twenty years.

Nobody says anything about what it is for. All three of you have known since day nine.

MalfoidIf it wants a last night it can have one, and then it fucking well closes.

Mione takes your hand first and Malfoid takes the other, and nobody lets go for the rest of it.

It is unhurried and filthy and sometimes funny and it goes on until the candles are stubs.

At the end the house turns every lamp down at once, which is as close as it can come to a thank you.