On Wednesday evening of the first week, Harry – in the midst of yet another cribbage game against Beatrice – startled when the floo went off in the adjoining room. He and Beatrice looked at each other with raised brows, a silent communication – are we expecting anyone? Harry perked up with hope, game forgotten. When Tom walked into the lounge, handsome as always, robes pristine despite a long day of work, his face split into a smile.