They met later. Rose wasn't surprised to find him in the living room. The door was open, and she entered without announcing herself. Draco sat in an armchair, facing the lit fireplace, with a glass of liquor in his hand and the usual almost-empty crystal bottle on the damp-ringed table. She approached tentatively. He was drunk and in a bad mood, so he might have thrown her out. He looked up tipsily at her and breathed in her scent. She had taken a shower, so she smelled clean, and her hair was more voluminous than ever. She sat in front of him on the table, like a barrier that separated him from the Firewhisky.