Miles really didn't think his week could get worse. (and he thought his last one had been bad). Married to Daphne, indefinitely, it seemed (he was still thinking of how many lawyers they could put onto the Russian bureaucracy to get this annulled) and now there was nothing to stop her from moving into the manor?
The strong coffee and headache potion he downed wasn't helping, and as much as he wanted it to go away, reality was being bloody nasty. Well, apart from the fact he now had control over the Three Broomsticks on Liam's behalf, reality was just pretty much turning him into it's whipping boy. Miles wasn't used to sharing anything with anyone, although at times he saw that things couldn't really be that bad. But as he headed out to see if Daphne had come up with her own list of lawyers, he couldn't find her. That's when the raven came flying into the dining hall at the manor, and he cursed a the letter that landed in his lap. He didn't have time for this. He had a wife to get rid of. But seeing the brevity of the owl, he knew the urgency of the call. Fuck.
He didn't bother to leave any sort of note for Daphne - she could wait. If she wanted to bitch and moan about it, he'd remind her that he actually had work to do. Thank Merlin he wasn't going to have to explain the whole Death Eater thing to her. He'd done that once already. He didn't bother to even change his robes as he stuffed the letter in his pocket and apparated to Upper Slaughter.
Within five minutes, an elf was showing him in to see Rodolphus. He stood there, waiting to be addressed, and hoping this wasn't just a call to gloat over his stupidity in finding himself married. Merlin, was he going to ask for an update about the Hooch's broom? Damn. He swallowed hard as he waited. "Sir," he said quietly, nodding.