The relief on George's face was, mercifully, obscured by the low light.

Thank Merlin, the Ravenclaw thought as Thomas agreed to leave once she was situated. Quietly and carefully, George threw a dressing gown over her nightclothes, nerves still abuzz—sure, Thomas wouldn't linger, but the troubles at the core of this interlude had not been eased in the slightest.

A deep breath and then the Ravenclaw murmured, "Let's go."