She lets a small, sad smile slip at that - this is what fills his time with joy? Cleaning an old and definitely cursed (in places) house after work?

She has to bite her tongue not to give him the same spiel of how he doesn't have to keep saving the world, and how he's done enough for wizarding Britain and doesn't owe them his inner peace even now.

He's giving her a look that he might not realise reaches deep, has the flutter in her belly startle into a frenzy all over again.

She clears her throat.

"Get some pen and paper." No quills in this house, they die like men - men with a loyalty card to Paperchase.