At the stroke of six, Draco and the others exited the building they'd made their unofficial base camp, and headed for the north side of the mansion. Potter muttered the whole way, keeping up a running commentary on every woman he spotted on the streets, wondering if they were Domina or Muggle or maybe magical and on the lookout for the Domina, perhaps? It made Draco's jaw clench, made him want to haul off and pop scar-head in the forehead, but he refrained. Potter's way of stressing was external - he voiced it all. Draco's was all internal (as was proper), and Blaise and Theo oscillated between both extremes. Mercifully, Potter shut his gob as they rounded the final corner and came face-to-face with the north side of the building. Draco's heart shot to his throat as he noted the wide, golden double doors that had been entirely invisible before. Weasley'd done it. The wards were down. Now they needed to be spotted, by Cecily, and brought into the building. Once inside, Weasley would (hopefully) reactive the wards, to keep whatever occurred inside contained. They'd agreed to give it until half past six before the wards came back up, allowing Draco and the others ample time to be spotted and gain entry.