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He didn’t know why he had kept the locket. As a trophy, perhaps. A reminder of his duty and the sacrifice he had made, the life he had left behind. The love he had left behind.
Gods, no. That surely wasn’t why the werewolf was here? What on earth had he missed? Where the bloody hell was his house-elf?
“And which of them is her father?” he asked tightly, placing the photograph back on the mantlepiece and turning his body fully towards her. “My brother, or the werewolf?”
“I take it all back. Her father is an idiot.”
Another pause, and then in a voice so quiet it might have been carried away in a breeze, “What if I can’t forgive you?”
“Well,” she said, clearly attempting to stop her voice from trembling. “Well. That is… that is quite unfathomable.”
“But fathom it we must."
six: in vino veritas
“I see you’ve been spending my fortune in my absence.”
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