The cottage in Cumbria was nothing compared to his parents' home in London, but this was his. His father had allowed him the space to live in and call his own since he'd retired from quidditch, and he was protective of it. Having her here had him on edge—and more more reasons than one. He didn't want her opinions on the wallpaper or the décor choices, and certainly didn't want her comments about the portraits of him and his family that lined the wall along the staircase. It would be best if she remained silent altogether.

But that was impossible, because this was Yaxley. As he led the way up the stairs he threw a glance over his shoulder, trying to gauge her expression. "I never know with you," he replied dryly, pausing as he came to the top step to give her a moment to catch up.

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