"What are you talking about?"

The utter desolation in her voice, the look in her eyes and the fact that he had always - always - been able to bare his very core to her had him on the verge of turning back to her, taking her into his arms and telling her the whole truth of what he'd done. The mark he'd taken. The blood that now he was responsible for. And he may have done so had the House Elf not barged in bearing food.

His shoulders slumped in defeat then. He would stay. Of course he would stay. Did he have any choice? No.

"The bed's fine. Just like old times," he forced a laugh and a smile, though both felt oddly out of place and oddly fake to him. He was sure, though, that the House Elf wouldn't note the descrepancy between his outward agreement and the haunted look that had fallen into his eyes.

Charlotte would see it. How could she not?

Relieving the House Elf of the tray and telling it to leave, he kicked the door shut behind the creature before moving to the bed and setting down the tray lifting the cover to reveal a sumptuous meal.

"Shall we?" he asked even as he sat and stoicly picked up a plate to shovel food into his mouth not even really tasting it. It worked as a good enough measure at the moment to keep him from having to speak.