"Not interested, Astoria." He could probably be nicer about it, but fuck if he was very much not in the mood to deal with her or her most recent attempt at bedding him. It had been this way since she had moved into the Manor in April. He had tried, after the engagement was announced, to get to know her, seeing as he hardly had the opportunity to get to know her before the deal had gone through. It had become quickly apparent that Astoria, while pretty, was vapid and vain. Prone to outbursts of anger at what she called "slights from her lessers" and very much firmly entrenched in the old pureblood ways, bigotry included. As if that weren't bad enough, she had made it very clear at their first meeting that she was interested in his money first, his body second, and him personally dead last. Such proclamations hardly inspired lustful feelings, he had found. He'd been able to keep her at arms length (both literally and figuratively) for the first two months of their sham of an engagement. But then she had insisted on moving into the Manor, "as was proper." The midnight visits to his bedroom clad in dainty bits of silk had soon followed and, in an effort to avoid her, he had started switching rooms at random, and warding them for good measure. Most wizards (actually, he was fairly sure that all wizards) would call him mental for going to such lengths to avoid his very willing fiancé. And perhaps he was. However, he quite frankly was not interested in her or what she offered him, at all. He knew, eventually, he would have to respond more positively to her advances. Would have to beget an heir with her. But that day was not today. Not after the bullshit he'd just walked in on. With a weary sigh, he gripped her wrists and pried her arms away as he turned to face her, intending to step away and find some peace (and space) somewhere that she wasn't.