I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder, and asked him if we could go home now. He tensed a little bit and looked down at me: "Actually, we can’t go home. Our new one will be ready in a couple of days, but I’m afraid the Manor is completely destroyed." In his eyes, I saw how sorry and ashamed he was, and also that some grief was still there, casting a shadow over his beautiful features. "I did it, the moment I came back home after seeing your dead body - well not yours, but you understand. I read your letter and I broke down, and my magic did the rest. The only room that was left intact was the library: every day I’d sit on my chair in front of your portrait and just look at you, sometimes I’d reread the letter, other times I’d talk to you and apologize, on and on and on." He shrugged heavily like he was trying to physically get that feeling off him, and then commented: "So that’s why we can’t go back home. I’m afraid we’ll have to spend a couple of nights here."