"Some believe all that parents, tutors, and kindred believe. They take their principles by inheritance, and defend them as they would their estates, because they are born heirs to them." (Alan Watts)
As quickly as she had gone to sleep she awoke, there was no slow drifting back to consciousness, but instead she felt a sharp and clear state of wakefulness. Grey dawn light illuminated the bedroom, and as she quickly glanced around, she saw Lucius sitting on the edge of her bed in the half-darkness looking at her intently. He was wearing the dark pants and shirt from the night before and still had assorted pieces of twigs and a few leaves stuck in his hair from when the cruciatus curse had landed him in the Oswald's shrubs.
"Hecate! How long have you been here?" she asked. "A while," he replied calmly. By the way she could see the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement he seemed to feel much better. "Very sharp sleeping dress," he announced. "Another muggle invention?" She sat up, looking down at her rather hideous pajama top that furiously clashed with her red hair. Trying to summon her anger from the night before, she glared at him. "Have I told you that you look absolutely ravishing when you are just awake and trying to look furious?" he purred.
It would be so easy to fall in with his suggestive banter, but her anger and disappointment were still too strong. She refused to smile and looked at him. "Lucius, I wasn't kidding last night. As far as I know, you established and then abused our relationship to simply obtain information to further your plans. Right now I'm not pretending to be angry, I feel used, and I am pissed off as hell about it. In fact I'm close to thinking that your bastard friend last night made the right choice by sending a crucio your way."
He was looking instantly sobered. "Eleanor, I wrote you before and I attempted to tell you yesterday, that what you suspect isn't true. I did not try and get to know you so I could use you to get to Falco's experiment. Will you listen to me and at least give me the benefit of the doubt?"
She nodded slowly. "This better be good, Lucius," she growled. He took a moment to move so that he faced her. Finally he had pulled his bare feet underneath him and sat cross-legged on the bed, his long hands folded in his lap.
"When I picked out your grandfather's book from my library, I knew nothing more about you than what you had told me a few weeks earlier in Diagon Alley and what is generally known about the Sartorius family. I wanted to see you again, because you intrigued me: pureblood, beautiful, one of the few people who would meet my eyes and not seem intimidated.
Then the night after we parted at Hogwarts I got a summons from the Death Eaters and was told about the recovery of a letter written by Falco, where he explained that he had managed to create a stage one homunculus. He must have put that humus theory of his to the test, and it worked. George Lepidus, the chief Death Eater – the guy with the cruciatus – already knew you were at Hogwarts, so I fed him some lines that you were practically a muggle and would have absolutely no idea what a homunculus even was."
"Very noble of you," she interrupted. "But when we met again you didn't bother to tell me any of that, did you? You just asked me questions about the homunculus, and if I had known more at the time, I would have told you everything. Then, just mere minutes after that, in bed, you had the guts to ask me whether I trusted you. What a fucking mind-job!"
He looked at her, grey eyes studying her face. "Yes, I did, and I recall you saying that you only trusted me for the night – and you still opened you eyes mere seconds after that. Don't tell me that you went into this blindly."
She pulled at the sleeve of her pajama, averting her face. "Maybe not," she said. He continued. "Even then I told Lepidus that you were clueless. I did mention the bookstore, but he figured out the Oswald connection for himself. The idiots at the Daily Prophet had it all over the paper. It was easy to put the pieces together. I actually tried to owl you when I realized he would raid the man's house."
She glared at him. "Prove it, I never got an owl. These people would have been killed if Professor Sprout hadn't shown me the paper, and I hadn't read the auction catalog and the report on the Cologne raid."
Lucius looked down and pulled a mottled piece of parchment from his pant pocket. "Here," he said and handed it to her. She held it up to read it, noticing that the stains had the dark brown color of dried blood. The message was short and anonymous.
'Your past has returned with a vengeance. Old friends of your father's are in danger. There will be a raid on the Oswalds the night of the full moon. Get help and protect yourself. Your enemies are powerful. You may not believe me, but I want to help you.'
She shook her head. "Well, better late then never, I guess. Then again you could have just fabricated that – with some blood for effect." She saw fierceness in the slant of his brows now. "I picked it off my dead owl yesterday afternoon before the raid. He lay on the lawn behind the house with a black bolt from a crossbow through his chest."
She regretted her harsh remarks immediately. "Your beautiful eagle owl was shot? Lucius, I am sorry." She had grown to like the strong and powerful animal, messenger of his letters and so like his proud and independent owner. To her relief he shook his head. "No, I did not send Hermes. I used an old barn owl I've had for years. Hermes would have been recognized as mine immediately. Not many people use eagle owls. They are hard to tame."
They both fell silent. Finally she spoke. "Lucius, you could have told me some of this before. You could have told me the evening we met at your house." He looked at her. "Yes, I could have," he finally admitted, looking tired. "I guess I was too busy planning to get laid. Now I have Lepidus in a murderous fury at me for giving away out plot and refusing to harm you. He must have watched me and shot the owl. If the aurors haven't got him, he'll be after us. And you've decided to sit on your high horse, because I am not as good, honest and forthright as you wanted me to be. By Azrael! Who do you take me for?"
He watched her as she lowered her head, then faced him. She did not seem mad any more, but somehow cooled and closed against him. He found that he preferred her anger. "You are right. You are Lucius Malfoy. I knew that when I first decided I would get myself involved with you. I was stupid enough to allow you to increase my expectations – particularly when you stepped in front of me to take the cruciatus in my stead."
"You could have left me behind," he said. Her eyes narrowed. "You are better in bed than that. You'd be wasted in Azkaban," she replied coldly. He realized the calculated cruelty of the remark could have come from his own lips. It hurt. "That's why you did it?" he asked.
For a moment her face softened. Her voice sounded brittle as she answered him. She had always been honest with him, and even now she would not hide behind a lie, just to inflict pain. "In all the time I've known you I have not met a single witch or wizard who had anything good to say about you. As a matter of fact, your ability to piss everybody off seems to be legend as I can now say from personal experience. Yet I knew I wanted you. I still want you. It's hard to want someone you cannot let yourself care about. If I was better at that sort of thing, I would not be angry with you right now. I would realize that I had got exactly what I came for, no more, no less, and that you were blameless for being who you are."
His ears rang. That was as close as her pride and sense of self-protection would probably ever let her get to telling him she cared about him. It soothed some of the wounds her angry letter that had accompanied his returned gifts had caused. She continued. "Then again, maybe you are not too good at this either. Or you'd have stood aside and let Lepidus take me apart. It would have protected you with the Death Eaters. That's why I took you with me last night."
"Thank you," he said quietly, and she realized he was grateful for the rescue as much as for what she had just told him. "There may not be a single witch or wizard with anything good to say about me, and they are probably right, but for all it's worth I will not allow anyone to hurt you." She met his eyes. "I will hold you to that," she said.
He sat up straighter, ran his hand through his hair and absentmindedly picked out a twig. "So, what do you plan to do now?" he asked. She took a deep breath. "I need to get the homunculus back in order to destroy it and undo the damage my grandfather has done. I know you want to find it for the Death Eaters and for Voldemort." He flinched at the mention of the name. "So I guess we will be opponents. Our truce will end once we leave this house." He tilted his head. "Do we have to be?" he asked her. "As I asked you before, why won't you join us? We don't have to be enemies, actually I much prefer you as a lover."
She smoothed her hand over the sheets. "I can't, Lucius. You have always maintained how important it is to meet the demands of your family, to be aware of your ancestry and preserve the honor of the bloodline. So you should understand my motivation. The Sartorius are enemies of Voldemort. I cannot make a decision that will render meaningless the sacrifice of my uncle's family. I will not be branded, and I will not be commanded by someone like Voldemort or, worse, by his stand-in Lepidus. How can you have scum like him for a leader? Hell, you have compromised your own loyalty already. If anything leave the Death Eaters and help me instead. I'd much rather have you as a lover as well."
He shook his head. "Same as you, I have made commitments to my family. I swore to my father, I swore to the Dark Lord. You don't know some of the oaths we Malfoys have and swear. I have too much invested in this. You are right, I have stood up to Lepidus and I intend to fight him and replace him if he is still at large. I have hated him for a long time, but I cannot betray the Dark Mark that I bear."
She looked at him. "Will you fight me over the homunculus, then? Would you kill me to save it, to take it for the Death Eaters, for your master? What of your promise not to let anyone hurt me?" "I will not and no one else will touch you, as long as I can protect you," he said forcefully.
"Why is that so important to you," she asked. "You have just confirmed your commitment to the Death Eaters and to Voldemort. That must mean murder, torture, rape should be routine for you. Why the sudden restraint and nobility?" He glared at her now. "You don't know what you are talking about! You don't know me at all!" "Come on," she goaded him. "You're telling me you can serve your Dark Lord and never…" "Shut up!" he exploded. "You have no idea what I am capable of and where my boundaries lie. How dare you…" She interrupted him. "That's all bluster, Lucius. Come on, how far would you really go?"
He stared at her. "Let me tell you about how far I'd go." She felt cold fury in his voice. "I was 17 years old. The year before my father had presented me to the Dark Lord and I had been given the mark. I was the youngest of our group and my father was proud, because of the trust that the Dark Lord had placed in his house.
Finally it was time for me to participate in my first raid. It was summer and we were attacking the Lentings, mudbloods, who had crossed us in some matter I did not know about. We surprised them in the early hours of the morning and rounded up the whole family. My father and Lepidus led the mission, and while they went off with the parents and children they threw the oldest daughter to us youngsters who had joined them. I still remember Lepidus looking at the five of us, Crabbe, Goyle, Mulciber, Lestrange and myself as he held her and invited us to have some fun. Her mother kept pleading with him and with us, until he struck her down."
Eleanor shivered. She was not sure if she wanted to hear the story, but Lucius continued with angry, stubborn determination. "Lestrange, who is now my sister-in-law's husband and who was a bit older than us and something of a leader of our group took the girl and marched us off. I could see that Crabbe and Goyle were excited, looking forward to taking her. Mulciber seemed pretty quiet and I watched them as I followed.
When we reached a small clearing behind the house the other boys got to work. The girl was crying and begging them, but Lestrage kept hitting her until she was just wailing and sobbing. I hated the noises she made. He had her first with Crabbe and Goyle holding her down. Then they switched round. I sat to the side of the clearing trying to shut out what was happening. In the distance I could hear screams from the other Lenting family members. I knew the girl. She was a Hufflepuff, one year below me in school. We had actually fooled around a couple of times under the stands of the quiddich pitch before the summer holidays. I had not given it much thought, as she was a mudblood, but she was pretty looking."
"Lucius, please," said Eleanor. "You don't have to…" He lifted a hand. "I want to, I need you to understand. After a while Lestrange came over to me. 'What's up Malfoy?' he asked me. 'Mulciber is a real faggott, couldn't even get it up. You going to sit here and mope? Come on and get some before she's completely messed up.' He was about nineteen at the time, a good head taller than me and stronger, and he simply lifted me up by the collar of my cloak. The next moment he had walked me across the clearing and had thrown me to my knees next to her.
She was clearly visible in the moonlight, but didn't look anything like I remembered her. They had destroyed her face. Her white nightgown was ripped apart down the whole front and mottled with blood everywhere. Crabbe still made a show of holding her down, even though she seemed half unconscious with craziness and pain by now. Goyle was taunting Mulciber who was on his knees off to the side puking his guts up.
I pulled off my mask, stretched out a hand, bent down to her and touched her arm. 'Marcia,' I whispered. She tried to open one of her blackened, swollen eyes and seemed to recognize me. She could barely talk as she quietly said my name. Then her hand tried to pull me towards her by my robes. Crabbe hit her. Lestrange gave me a lazy kick. 'Are you going to make polite conversation or are you going to fuck her, Malfoy? Some of us are waiting, you know!' I had my face right next to hers now and I heard her try to whisper to me. 'Kill, me Lucius, please. Just kill me.'"
He watched as Eleanor bit her lips. Her hands were balled to fists over the bed sheets, her knuckles outlined in white under her skin. "I knew what would happen, but I felt under my cloak and secretly got hold of my wand. Then, before anyone could stop me I sat up, pointed my wand at her and spoke the avada kedavra curse. She shuddered once and lay still. She was my first kill.
When the others had finished beating the crap out of me they dragged me back to the main group. Lestrange told my father and Lepidus exactly what had happened. I remember Marcia's mother scream and faint as she heard. She was barely alive herself at that point. My father was furious with me for disgracing him in front of the others. When he put me under the cruciatus, it carried so much force that I convulsed hard enough to break my own arm."
As he finished his story, she looked at him pale and wide-eyed. "Lucius I…" He cut her off, trembling with the anger of his memories. "Don't you dare pity them, or pity me! They were stupid, idiotic mudbloods daring to stand up to us and dooming themselves to death. I knew exactly what I was doing and what my punishment would be. I never took a woman against her will after that, because of what I had seen, because of the way Marcia Lenting died. So don't you dare pass judgment on me and question me on what I would and what I would not do. You have no idea!"
They both fell silent for a while, and when he spoke again his voice was calmer. "I offer you a fair competition instead of hostility. That is more than I have ever given anyone who would not join me and dared to openly oppose me. I'd rather you were with me, but I can respect your reasons. I will never forget that you rescued me and I will protect you against any other who would harm you. I do not make this promise as a Death Eater, but as a Malfoy."
She nodded slowly, sobered by what she now knew about him. "A fair competition it will be. And a truce while we are here. And if you need help with Lepidus, let me know. No one calls me names to my face, defiles what is mine or threatens my friends. I would take pleasure in aiding you with him." He gave her an appreciative look. "Spoken like a witch of the old houses," he said. "I will enjoy joining your revenge on him."
Again he pulled a piece of the Oswald's garden from his tangled blond hair and looked at it with a brief twist of his upper lip. "How many are there?" he asked testily before dropping it on her comforter. "Too many," she said. "And stop leaving them all over the place. This is a muggle house without house-elves. I need to clean up my own messes." He looked at her. "How inconvenient. So your parents forced you to be your own servant, even though they could have provided better? That's rather perverse, wouldn't you say?" She shook her head at him. "Let's not do this, Lucius. You just told me your father took you out raping and pillaging and put you under the cruciatus. I don't think we should start to compare notes." He inclined his head to concede that she might have a point. "At least it seems we're back on speaking terms," he finally said.
She thought about it and found that while she was still somewhat disappointed and certainly more cautious, she realized that her anger had evaporated. He could have been more forthcoming, but she believed him that he had not plotted to deceive her from the start. She was surprised at the amount of relief she felt at that thought. He must have seen some of her emotions reflected on her face, for he stretched out a hand. "Can we pick up where we left off the Friday before last?" he asked, looking actually a little anxious now.
She exhaled, realizing that she wanted to do nothing more than that. "I'd love to," she finally admitted. "But if I find that you are abusing the situation again in any way, I will not be so forgiving."
It was fully light in her bedroom now and through the curtains she could see that it would be a clear and crisp day. She pushed her hair back and looked at him as he still sat cross-legged on her bed. His face looked much better than she remembered it from the evening before, his pale skin had some color again, and the whites of his eyes were clear.
However, she pursed her lips as she took in how disheveled he still appeared compared to his usual tastefully dressed and groomed self. His shirt and pants were spattered with mud and creased from having been slept in. His hands and face still showed streaks of dirt and tears, and his unkempt hair needed probably not just a good brush, but a wash as well. "We should get you cleaned up," she suggested, "before this place starts to look like my backyard." He raised his eyebrows. "Only if you join me," he challenged her. "Muggle invention or not, I need to get you out of this weird red thing you are wearing. It is hideous."
She made a mock bow to him, then pushed back her covers and hunted for her slippers in front of the bed. "Look who's speaking," she grinned. He followed her as she led the way to her bathroom, a rather modest affair compared to his own. The bath would never hold two people, but whoever had built out the original Victorian set-up had decided to put in a rather generous shower.
She turned back to him. "How about a shower?" she suggested. He gave her a puzzled look. "It's not raining," he objected, and she realized that a shower was probably both too novel and too much of a muggle invention for Lucius to be aware of. After all, Malfoy Manor seemed to have no electricity or gas, either, despite the fact that some wizards, especially those related to muggles, had adopted it for many years. So she walked over and opened the door of the large glass stall in the corner with a flourish.
"May I introduce another muggle invention: the instant hot shower. No magic at all involved." She twisted the taps and closed the door again to give the water a chance to heat up. "Interesting," the blond wizard admitted. "I assume the etiquette is similar to bathing." He moved up to her. "As in undressing first…" His grey eyes narrowed suggestively. She nodded as his fingers started curling around her buttons that fastened her pajama jacket and he pulled her to him for a kiss. Great Isis, she had missed him!
Without breaking their kiss they each battled with the other's buttons and clothes until he had got the red flannel top off her and she had pushed the black silk of his shirt from his shoulders. She ran her hands over his naked chest while he slipped out of the cuffs and then encircled her with his bare arms to crush her to him. She could feel his greed in every movement as his hands roamed all over her and his lips moved across her face only to return again and again to her mouth.
Despite the distractions they finally managed to get the rest of their clothes off them, and as she took a step back to disentangle her feet from her pajama bottoms pooling on the floor, she looked at him. Even without the enhancement of vorax the sight of his body quickened her breath, but then she reached out a hand and ran her fingertips over his heart. Just above, where the full force of Lepidus curse had hit him, his skin was bruised and mottled with purple and black.
"That should be on me," she said quietly. He grasped her tentative fingers with his and pressed her hand flat against his ribs looking at her. "You know, it's fine the way it is. Otherwise I would not be able to do this without you complaining." Before she could ask what 'it' was, he had moved in and started to kiss and caress her breasts. As she gasped under the force and pleasure of his attentions she decided that perhaps someone like Lucius, who seemed to have been weaned on violence had learned to put up with it and to take from life what he could, despite of it. It still beat the attitude of someone like his leader, Lepidus, who seemed to actively seek out violence and pain for others, because he enjoyed inflicting it.
The bathroom was getting steamy now. Eleanor blindly fumbled for the shower door and opened it. Without actually breaking contact they felt their way over the lip of the basin and into the hot, stinging jets. For a moment Lucius turned into the full blast of the water. She watched him as he let the shower hit his face, eyes closed, breathing through his mouth, his blond hair slicked down his back, drops drumming on his chest. She grinned at the pure animal enjoyment he seemed to take from it. Then his left hand felt for her again while he dashed the water from his eyes with his right. "Well, what you think of this invention?" she asked. He grinned, pulling her close and stepping back into the water with her. "Ties with the thong," he announced as he began to kiss her again.
She lost count of time as their water-slicked bodies moved and slipped against each other. At one point, impatient at having his erect cock stand as a barrier between them, she had reached down and pushed his tip between her legs, so he now lay enclosed between the soft skin at the juncture of her thighs, her lips rubbing over his top every time she moved her hips against his.
She teased him this way until he threw his head back and she licked and nipped his Adam's apple and the tendons at his neck. Finally, when he looked down again and his grey eyes came to focus on her, she read purpose in them. For a moment he cast a searching glance around the glass stall now shrouded in billows of steam, then she felt herself being backed up against one of the walls until her ass and back made contact with the surprisingly cool tiles. She gasped, but he pressed on. His face moved to her ear.
"I'm not asking for trust this time," he murmured. "But I need your cooperation." She nodded, one side of her getting cooked right now, the other frozen. Still she found that the different sensations served to arouse her even further. She was quite certain that cooperation should not be a problem at this point.
"Hold on to my shoulders," he directed her. When she had a firm grip his hands reached down and parted her legs. He moved is arms between her thighs, then curved his wrists so his hands grasped her hips. For a second she felt him relax his knees in a slight crouch, and the next moment he had hoisted her up against the wall with a grunt. She bit down on a squeak of surprise as she now found herself halfway up the stall, her thighs supported by his forearms, feet dangling off the ground and her center spread and open for him. She knew from before that he could carry her, but this seemed to be a challenge of a different sort. Her face was now slightly elevated above his and he looked up at her with an amused curl of his lips.
"Comfortable?" he asked. "Asking me, or your knees?" she gasped, peering down. He shook his head. "Now here is the cooperation part," he continued, trying to breathe evenly. "I seem to have my hands full at the moment, so as I lower you, you'll have to help me. Ready?" She felt her back slip down the tiles, reached down between them and placed the tip of his cock at her entrance. From then on, she realized, Lucius controlled the game.
To feel him slowly, sensuously slide into her the first time was simply delicious. She closed her eyes and savored the sensation. Hot water enveloped her, streamed over her in breathtaking sheets, contrasted with the cold hardness at her back. Lucius' body consisted of the hard bone and muscle of his supporting arms, the light touch of skin where his body made contact with hers, the insistent pressure of his fingers on her hips, his lips on her mouth and the solid length of his erection filling her.
He gave her and perhaps himself a few moments to adjust. Then she could feel him pull back his hips and move forward into her again, harder this time, faster and more insistent. She opened her eyes, blinking water from her lashes. His face was mere inches from hers, his grey eyes looking into hers, his lips parted over clamped teeth.
As he started fucking her in earnest, he never broke contact, and she felt his insistent gaze almost as a provocation. Soon she found that she had to let go of his shoulders and lay her arms flat against the wall by her sides to give herself some leverage as she pushed against him and met each of his thrusts. They were both panting with exertion in the saturated air. His rhythm became even rougher and more insistent.
"Touch yourself," he gritted out. She left one arm in place and snaked her right hand between them, teasing her bud above his shaft. He glanced down briefly to follow her movements, but then his eyes moved back to hers. She felt exposed under his stare, but did not back down or close her eyes. The arousal building in her must have shown in her face, because he nodded curtly.
The next minute she had her legs wrapped around him, her heels drumming on his butt, toes curling, hands back on his shoulders, curving herself around him, as her eyes finally slipped shut and she convulsed around him, screaming his name. Seconds later he joined her, slamming both of them into the wall one last time as he shouted in his release.
She came round when she felt herself listing sideways somewhat. It seemed that he was in the process of losing his balance. "Hey," she slapped his back. "Drop me and I'll hex you," she threatened. With a grunt and an effort he managed to get his buckling legs back under him. His eyes met hers once more and she found it hard to interpret their expression. They seemed sated, but she was almost sure she also saw a glow of triumph in their cloudy depths. He moved in for a kiss, then withdrew and gently lowered her to the ground until her feet came to rest on the floor.
She stood slightly shakily, holding on to him for support. "Very inventive," she praised him. "You know you have a real knack for dealing with muggle artifacts." He lightly pinched her right nipple. "Now, now," he chided her. "No need to become insulting."
She gave him a seductive smile. "Time for me to indulge you," she promised. With that she reached up to a small shelf and retrieved a bottle of shampoo. "Turn round," she instructed him. He cast a dubious glance at the brightly colored muggle bottle in her hand that read 'Body Shop', but complied. Seconds later the aroma of chamomile blended with the water steam in the stall and he felt her reach up and lace her hands in his hair.
He held still as she first worked up a good lather and then began to expertly massage his scalp, her hands applying pressure in all the right places. As she alternated between lightly raking her nails across his skin and pushing with the flats of her fingers, her breasts and stomach occasionally grazed his back and ass. He closed his eyes, supported himself against the wall with one arm and drank in the sensuous laziness of her movements.
Finally she stopped and broke contact for a moment. He was ready to turn to see what was keeping her, when she suddenly molded her whole front to his back, and as she slowly rubbed against him, he realized she was slippery with soap. At the same time her hands snaked round his front, covered in suds as she started washing him. He sighed contentedly and gave her roaming hands ready access.
When she was done, she pulled them both right under the jets of water. He moved so he was facing her and kissed her through wetness, soap bubbles and hair washed forwards over their faces until they were both out of breath. She giggled, green eyes sparkling as she looked at him and he found himself grinning at her. It felt disturbingly weird. He could not remember the last time he'd been genuinely happy like this.
By the time he had returned the favor the water supply seemed to have become somewhat unpredictable. After a few intervals of markedly cooler jets, she gave him a shrug and an apologetic smile. "Time to get out of here, I'm afraid. The place is rather old and the water heater somewhat temperamental." He raised a questioning eyebrow, trying to picture what a being called a water heater would look like, but decided that muggle inventions were simply too weird to bother.
She switched off the water, padded out of the shower and over to a small cabinet and threw him some towels. They dried each other, exhausted now in the humid air. As she slipped back into her muggle clothes from the day before he used his wand to restore his shirt and pants to wearable condition. Then she led him downstairs to the kitchen.
He looked around, while she busied herself making some tea. "So this is where you grew up?" he asked, playing with a light switch and surveying the strange metallic objects sitting on the kitchen counter. The whole setup reminded him of some demented alchemist's experiment. She nodded. "I was small enough when we moved in to think this was home." "Did you ever visit your old family house in Cologne?" "Yes, years later during my summer vacations at Durmstrang. The place was already a museum by then."
She had finished her survey of drawers and cupboards. "Lucius, I'm out of everything. I threw all the perishables away when I went to Hogwarts. I'll go out and get a few things. Shop's just around the corner. Have some tea." He heard her put on shoes and a coat in the hallway and then the slam of the front door. He settled at the table, cradling a hot mug in his long fingers and stretching his boot-clad legs under the table.
He still found the corners of his mouth turning in a smile. He had finally made her call his name. He had waited for it during their first night together, but had been disappointed. Just now, in the shower, however, she had come with his name on her lips, just as she had done when he had been skrying on her for the first time.