If I tell you, you must promise not to tell a soul. Not even your husband. We still have to speak with my father but the fog has thrown an awful kink in any plans. He was going to speak to my father a couple of weeks ago but wasn't able to and now we're stuck in London. I am, of course, staying in my own rooms thanks to my father though.

And it's unlikely he'd know him unless he works closely with Quidditch players. He plays for Puddlemere. And it's been a whirlwind of an adventure, I must admit, to us getting to the point we are. Hopefully this fog clears soon and we can meet for tea and I can tell you everything in person!