"I clearly interrupted your plans," Jo replied coldly, her annoyance over him removing her opportunity for an easy escape obvious. Rather than face him and have to confront the reasons that led her to his flat she focused elsewhere — on the threadbare carpet, on the stack of packed crates, on the fucking expanse of wall where most of the maps were once displayed. She hadn't known when she was last here to enjoy them for the final time, or had she? Jo knew that day that he was going to choose. That the time would come and their friendship would have to draw to a natural end. This was that, wasn't it?

Unable to flee through the floo as intended, she remained awkwardly fixed half in the chimney and half out. Her skirt would be covered in soot and dust by the time she actually managed to leave. "Don't do this, Alfred." Jo warned. "Just give me the floo powder and we'll just continue on with our lives."

She wasn't above walking out through the front door, but didn't believe he would allow her to get that far before magically sealing her in. What a ridiculous mistake this had turned out to be.