Moonette heard the door to her beach house creak open and then click closed. Was it six o’clock already? She glanced at the clock, then quickly took her arm and swept the several miniature silver credit cards off of her desk top and into the top drawer before....
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Charlie emerged from the bathroom, shirtless and grinning. 'Like the rest of us.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
He shrugged. 'Well, this isn't really my idea of a fun way to spend the afternoon. Besides, what use will I be in a fabric shop? I can't tell acromantula silk from quintaped wool.'
'Of course you can. I'll show you.'
He raised a bored eyebrow. 'This is sounding less and less appealing, you know.'
'It's for Berte,' she told him firmly. 'And you love her too ( ... )
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Put your shirt on
????
Kathleen would never - oh, nevermind. Some things have to be sacrificed for plot, I suppose.
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She and Marcus had spent the last eight hours closeted with the senior Healer from La Ville; the island's equivalent of St Mungo's, the Potion Mistress, and the Légion, as they tried to separate out Sirius from Napier.
The sun was dispersing the early morning mist, wreathing St Hélyi with speckles of flashing colour as they stood for a moment, delighting in the fresh air.
“Many happy returns of the day,” Hazel murmured, glad of Marcus’s arm around her. She hadn’t felt this dead tired in… oh, all of two weeks.
He chuckled. “Mèrcie, ma chiéthe but you’re about eleven months early.”
Hazel relaxed into a smile. “Not you, Amamama. There should be a Portkey waiting for me at home ( ... )
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