The initial burst of disgust now passed, the redhead's mind scrambled to analyze the details of what she knew and where she was in the hopes of making sense of her current company. Maeve's head felt heavy and her mind as though things were just slightly out of its reach, as she might have after too many drinks. But the auror was sober as a judge, which made her solitude with Barney Skeeter all the more troubling.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

While in truth it was probably imperceptible, she felt the weight of the ring about her finger—much as one might experience shackles about their wrists—as the memory of their nuptials (and what had come after) came flooding back. Her look of rage shifted to one of horror as Maeve realized the appalling truth: she had married Barnabas Skeeter. She was Mrs. Barnabas Skeeter.

Maeve Connolly had never fainted in her life, but Maeve Skeeter did in that moment.