Hestia gingerly stepped over a pile of things and very carefully jumped over a stack of books before placing her cloak over the back of the sofa. Then, with a soft whoosh of breath, she plopped down on the couch, suddenly feeling that she didn't know what to do with herself. Should she be helping? Or sorting? Or preparing the fire for which they toss the stuff in? She had usually put Tonks in this situation, it wasn't usually the other way around.
"I doubt the patrons of Hogsmeade will mind a little display of lights," Hestia mused with a dark sort of smile on her lips. She stopped. Then she frowned, mostly at her own idiocy, of course. "I'm sorry."
She was going to add something meaningful or something vicious enough to feed the anger in Tonks but Hestia just wasn't sure if anything she could say would cut it.