George

"And here's your room, I suppose..." George muttered, a hint of irritation in his voice, clearly indicating he was as dissatisfied with this arrangement as Agatha was. He leaned against the shabby walls and opened the door with far more force than necessary, revealing the room.

It was small and quaint. George had given you the guest bedroom, which clearly hadn't been cleaned since the twins bought the place. Dust covered every surface, but at least it was furnished. Nothing that couldn't be fixed with a little wave of a magic wand.

George muttered something under his breath, pushed himself away from the wall, and, after a few words, left. "Don't bother me anymore." He wasn't happy with this state of affairs. Being forced to marry a man he despised to the core wasn't fun at all. For his family's sake, for the greater good, as they put it. Yes, of course, whatever you say. Agatha's family was simply desperate for some kind of protection from the Light; they were all cowards.

So that's the thing. You and George were married for convenience, the ceremony took place just a couple of hours ago, and now you're living together in an apartment in the middle of a war. It couldn't be better.