“I really am sorry about Sanya, Mr. Dolohov,” Maura said politely as she laced her fingers behind her back, wondering if she should try to explain the fact she thought of Sanya as a friend, tried to explain how angry she’d felt that Sanya hadn’t obliviated whomever found them covered in blood, angry at herself that maybe Sanya still wasn’t good enough to do it successfully. It was upsetting all around.
“If I can do anything to help clear their name or at least help keep a spot off your name, please let me know.” She’d made the same offer to Mrs. Dolohov, but it seemed important to tell Mr. Dolohov as well. “I don’t think Sanya did it and I don’t think someone should use this to come after you.”Â
She wasn’t just being nice, Maura was being reasonable. She was angry and she wanted to do something and cleaning up the fall out from what made her angry seemed like the tidiest solution. She couldn’t be the only one that was angry, and Maura tipped her head before asking, “Have you been having any problems, Mr. Dolohov?” @antonintheviper
