"Pretty much since before Narcissa issued those decrees. I've actually been thinking about it for a few years now, but you get stuck in one spot for so long it's hard to pull up the roots," Mal said, stretching out his legs onto the coffee table, crossing his ankles.
His hands rested on his stomach and he leaned his head on the back cushions of the couch, looking up at the ceiling.
"Don't you have a cousin who's a Healer? Maybe he would be interested in volunteering," Mal murmured, though a mediwitch he wasn't sure but surely there would be someone interested. "Receptionists are easy to find, but we'll need someone who's competent and reliable. I daresay a Weasley," Mal snorted.
He turned his head, still resting on the back of the sofa. "Well if you don't want to be front and center one of us has to be. I suppose that just leaves me, because I don't trust anyone else." Mal raised his eyebrows.
"When did that happen? I for sure thought to have heard shrieks when your mum found out you were fucking your pseudo-uncle."