Miles knew it would have been churlish not to attend Rosmerta's funeral, but he really was going to miss her. He knew it would have been wrong to let Liam stay at home, yet no little boy should have to go to funerals. Two in six months was two too many.
He'd held Liam's hand the whole time, feeling the small and warm fingers clutching to his. Liam was getting far too big to carry now, although he did run a hand over the back of the boy's head when he turned to cry into his robes.
It had been a simple, yet sombre affair, and Miles was actually quite grateful for Daphne's presence there. He really did need a drink after that, but he was careful only to have one - he really didn't need to get drunk again.
The Creevey git. Who could have thought he'd had it in him to do such a thing - and a vampire now. Miles remembered the pathetic little wizard who had been groomed by his brother. No doubt he'd harboured bloodthirsty tendencies after that, although Miles regretted not snapping the twat's neck once he managed to get himself back into the manor.
Nursing his drink, his wife and the boys there, he pondered the thought, along with the fact that his son was named as Rosie's next of kin. The boy now owned a pub, and Miles had the responsibility of keeping it running profitably until he was of age. He didn't know whether to curse or thank Rosmerta, as it was already a hell of a lot more work.