Of all the disagreeable, ungrateful wenches he had ever met...!

The evening had been going so well. He had successfully outperformed the fool he was partnered with throughout the month and it had culminated in him being the lone auror present when a particularly aggressive smuggler was caught in the act; his father was languishing in bed with the flu so he would not have to endure his company for the festive season - and there was always the slight chance he might die, which would be a bonus indeed; and to top it off Clara was back at The Painted Lady and he had an appointment with her this very night. An appointment, he was beginning to realise, he might have to reschedule and if she was not free later tonight he would have no young female company apart from his sisters until tomorrow night, which would be unbearable.

Apart from his companion of the last few hours but the only thing feminine she resembled was Medusa.

"You might find Madam," Enoch said tartly, lip turning up in disgust and glancing up at the mistletoe pointedly. "That you have quite the need of my mouth if we are ever to get out of this predicament."