Setting: Their brand new, not reeking of death, flat in suburban London
This week had clearly sucked. I had to take an extra week off of work in order to pack up and move all the stuff that had been in our little flat. There was all of Fabian's stuff too, and I had sat down and cried and cried while I packed all of that away into cardboard boxes. All those things were now in Molly and Arthur's attic, just sitting there waiting until they're forgotten and dusty. I kept a few things for me and Kingsley, because I think we both needed that forced sentimentalism in our lives. Even if I sometimes still stopped to sob by myself.
Now we were in the new flat. Mostly we were unpacked, though I hadn't bothered cooking and our kitchen was left in disarray. Boxes upon boxes. I was using one as a footrest while I drank a glass of wine in our new living room. I had to put up the Dali print. That was the first thing I did when everything was moved in - after I had cast all those wards and charms and spells over and over again on the grounds of our new building. Kingsley was in our room, and I had meant to join him a lot earlier, but the settee was comfortable and soon I was lost in my glass.