Lilia had enjoyed a quiet breakfast with Vana, Fred and George after the dawn had broken the horizon. It had been difficult to know where to look, whether she was looking too much at George, or not enough to maintain the illusion of polite courtesy. He had smiled at her, and she’d felt her face flush crimson, as though their intimate actions of the night before had once again been written on her features. If they suspected anything though, Vana and Fred said nothing and appeared oblivious.
George had insisted on walking her home, back Cotte House and the Baroness. At first they’d walked in silence, barely making a noise as they tramped over the ice-crusted cobbles towards the Main Street leading through the centre of the city back to the nobler and more elite houses. His arm had brushed
