:: :: :: ::
Two excruciating weeks passed before the plan was put into motion. Snape collected Draco from the Slytherin common room on Halloween, long after the feast was over, and Side-Apparated him to a quiet residential street in the middle of London. The street was lined with parked Muggle automobiles, the overcast sky a sickly pink, giving everything a polluted cast, the smell of London. Not a soul was sharing the sidewalk Draco and Snape stood on.
"Sir?" Draco asked, finally.
"Two more minutes, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape.
Draco swallowed his questions, and looked around. The street was not a particularly nice one. Most of the residences showed obvious signs of neglect. Though he suspected that this was once an upscale Muggle neighborhood.
The street lights began to wink out, one by one. Draco looked around for attackers, alarmed as the street grew darker and darker, but Snape showed no signs of worry. Dumbledore melted out of the darkness at their side, and Draco had to bite back a shout of surprise.
"Good evening, Severus, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore, cheerfully.
Snape grunted a greeting, and folded his arms across his chest. His wand was held in one hand, and he tapped it impatiently against his arm.
Dumbledore pulled a silver pocket watch from his robes, and peered at the clock face. "Not long now," he said.
A beat of two, and Draco's parents appeared on the street before them. They stumbled a bit on the landing, but righted themselves quickly. His mother's hand was to his father's cheek, and as she pulled away he saw that she wore a long silver chain with a locket, and was holding it in her hand - a Portkey.
His mother's face lit with relief when she saw Draco, and she wasted no time gathering him in her arms. It had been a very long time since Draco had allowed such an embrace from his mother, but he was too relieved that his parents were finally safe from harm to want to object.
Over his mother's shoulder he saw his father's face transform from confusion to fear and then anger. He quickly drew his wand and leveled it upon Snape and Dumbledore. Snape had his wand pointed at Lucius, ready to duel if necessary. Dumbledore stood by placidly, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Narcissa!" Lucius shouted. "What have you done?!"
She ignored him, and instead kissed Draco's cheek. "My darling boy," she said. "I am so glad."
"You're not angry?" he asked.
"I am relieved," she said. "This was the right choice, Draco."
"Severus?" his father said. "Why are you— what in the hell is going on?!"
"This where you choose your side, Lucius," said Snape. "Life or death?"
"That wasn't what I agreed to," Draco protested, stepping around his mother to put himself between her and Snape.
"Your father must make his own choice," said Snape. "You cannot choose for him."
"And what makes you think I will choose to side with the Order of the Phoenix, you traitor?" said Lucius.
Draco turned to his father, and was very glad that his mother stood by him. He had not been looking forward to this conversation. His stomach churned as though it were full of live snakes.
"Father, I've defected."
Lucius blinked once, and frowned. "Draco, I believe you are confused."
He shook his head. "I'm not."
"These people have bespelled you, perhaps," Lucius said. "I cannot believe that my son would—"
"He wanted me to kill Rose," Draco blurted before his father could say more. "I couldn't— not again. And if I didn't, He was going to kill you and Mother."
Lucius looked at him for a long moment, and another. "We must return before anyone discovers we were missing," he said, finally.
"I will not," said Narcissa. "And anyway, it is too late. By now everyone will know that we have gone."
Lucius closed his eyes and drew in a breath, as if searching for patience. "Why is that, my love?"
"Because the spells will have worn off by now," said Narcissa. "I've spent the past two weeks making magical copies of every sentimental or valuable item in the manor. I shrunk all of the real items, and took the contents of the manor to Gringotts yesterday. The copies will have failed as soon as the Portkey pulled us away. The house will be empty, and they will know the reason as soon as they are unable to find us in our bed chamber."
"Merlin, Narcissa!" his father said. "They'll set fire to the house! It's been the Malfoy seat since the Founders."
"Lucius, I'd sooner set fire to that house than live in it again after this."
They glared at each other for a long, tense moment. Then his father exhaled, and dropped his wand hand to his side.
Lucius looked up at the sky, held his hand up as if the heavens could offer some answer as to why he'd been cursed with such a disobedient wife and child. No answer seemed forthcoming, save the distant sounds of Muggles and their blaring, rumbling contraptions. Lucius drew his hand down his face, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed. "Did you at least think to fetch the items under the drawing room floor?"
Narcissa smiled. "Of course, darling."
Lucius nodded. "Very well. We'll do this your way for now." He kissed his wife, and clasped Draco on the shoulder. They exchanged a look that said Draco was not quite out of hot water yet. His father would surely have much more to say when they did not have an audience. Then Lucius turned to Dumbledore and said, "Well? What now? Will you clap myself and my family in irons?"
"In binding charms, perhaps," said Snape.
"Severus," said Dumbledore, chiding. He turned to Lucius. "Not at all. We would offer you safe harbor, in return for some information."
"Of course," said Lucius, sneer returning to his face. "Information."
"Anything we know about the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters are yours," said Narcissa. "I will tell you everything, if you will keep my son safe." Lucius sighed once more, but Narcissa ignored him.
Dumbledore nodded, satisfied, and pulled a slip of parchment from his sleeve. "For now, let us get you settled. Read this, and memorize, please." He handed the parchment to Draco.
Draco unrolled it and read, 'The Order of the Phoenix is located at no. 12 Grimmauld Place, London.' And before his eyes, the street changed, and a whole building appeared in front of where they were standing. It was a large, dark house in the gothic style, with sharply peaked roofs, many gables, and narrow windows alongside large dark ones, which gazed down upon them like fathomless eyes.
"Ah," said Narcissa. "Walburga and Orion's London residence. Of course."
"You've been here before?" said Draco.
"Not since I was a girl," she said. "It was a dreadful place."
"It's worse now," said Snape.
The group walked up the stairs, and through the front door. It was quite cheerless, Draco thought, for the Headquarters of the side of light. He couldn't imagine Rose in this place. He huddled with his parents in the foyer, while Snape stalked down a small set of stairs and through a swinging door. Draco briefly saw a kitchen when the door swung open and closed again. Snape returned in a moment with Remus Lupin in tow.
Remus Lupin. Former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, werewolf, and scariest of all, one of Rose's beloved godfathers. What was a young man supposed to do when he met the godparent of the love of his life when that young man was responsible for said girl lying near death in a hospital? Draco thought the best option would be to run away.
Lupin looked how Draco felt much of the time - tired from sleeping poorly, and worried, from thinking about Rose. There were bags under his eyes, and he carried an air of exhaustion.
"Hello," he said, smiling blandly. "Welcome. I'll get you settled in then."
He started up the staircase, and gestured for them to follow. Draco wondered if they would be put into squalid servant housing, or perhaps be left to bunk all in one bedroom. They walked up two flights of stairs, and down a hallway before coming to a stop before a closed door.
"It's the master suite," Lupin explained. "It's unoccupied, because, well, it was Sirius's mother's room, and… anyway. It's rather nice, all things considered. One of the only rooms the house elf kept up with after she died."
Lupin pushed the door open, and led them into a cavernous space. There was a wide window that looked out over the garden, and beside the window was a sitting area with two chairs and a settee done in matching dark brocade. There were two doors that led off the room, one to a spacious dressing room, and the other to a bedroom, the bed set up on a raised platform. It was a dark, dreary sort of space, but not terrible, all things considered.
Narcissa peered into the dressing room. "Is there a bed for Draco?"
"Oh, I thought he could take Regulus's old room," said Lupin. "No one is using it, and I thought he might like to have his own space. It's just down the hall."
Draco could have kissed the man.
Narcissa nodded, reluctantly. She would likely prefer to keep him close, but Draco was not going to turn down having his own bedroom. Away from his parents.
"This will do very well, Mr. Lupin," said his mother. "I thank you."
"You're welcome," he said, politely. "The kitchen is on the ground floor. You're welcome to join us for meals. The house elf is called Kreacher. He's been ordered to assist you, so long as you don't ask him to do anything, er, questionable."
"No need for that," said Lucius, and called, "Dobby?"
Dobby appeared with a crack, looking more harassed and jumpy than usual. Draco wondered if the Death Eaters had tried to question him regarding his missing parents. "Master called Dobby, sir?"
"Dobby, we shall be living here for the present," said Lucius. "Please see to it that our schedule is kept to, and to restrict your cleaning to these rooms. There is no need to return to Malfoy Manor for the foreseeable future. In fact, I order you not to do so, no matter who may call for you."
Dobby sagged in relief. "Thank you, Master. Very good. Dobby will see to things."
"That will be all, Dobby."
The elf vanished with a crack.
"Right," said Lupin. "Didn't think of that."
"You need not worry, Mr. Lupin," his mother said. "There is nothing left for us there anymore. We have made our choice."
Lupin looked at his mother, and then his father, and though Draco could tell that he was dubious, he didn't put up a fuss.
"All right," he said. "If you two don't need anything further, I'll just show Draco where his room is then."
They closed the door behind them, and Lupin led him down the hall to another door.
"The room once belonged to Regulus. He was Sirius's brother," said Lupin.
"Rose told me about him," Draco offered. "She said he was an arse."
Lupin nodded, and smiled wryly. "She's not wrong. But we thought it appropriate, because he was also a Slytherin." He opened a dark door onto a moderately sized bedroom. Not as grand as the one his parents had been put in, but there was a bed, two windows, a nightstand, a writing desk, and a tall wardrobe. The walls were decorated in green brocade. There was a Slytherin crest in a frame, as well as a Slytherin banner and a Quidditch pennant. Draco liked it, for all the wallpaper was faded and peeling a bit, and nodded.
"It's good. Thanks," he said.
"Rose is usually in charge of sorting out the bedrooms," he said. "But well… I'm sure she would have put you in here."
Draco couldn't speak, and wouldn't have known what to say. He was suddenly very aware that he was with one of Rose's godparents, and that he was responsible for her being in the hospital. Lupin must hate him.
"I don't know exactly why Rose had that necklace," said Lupin, and Draco's stomach fell to his feet. "I'm willing to bet she wasn't an innocent bystander, but Sirius isn't quite as open minded. I'd try to keep out of his way if I were you."
Draco nodded. Wonderful. Sirius Black wanted to murder him. Lupin made to leave, but Draco couldn't leave it like that. Rose adored her godparents, and it showed every time she spoke of them. She would hate it if she knew that they were thinking poorly of her. If they were in doubt as to whose fault this was, then Draco had to put it right.
"It wasn't her fault. It was mine," he said. "It was my idea, and I convinced her to go along with it. She nearly died because of me."
Lupin was silent as he considered him.
"She may die yet."
Draco flinched.
"If you would tell me the whole story, I should like to hear it," said Lupin.
Draco nodded, and though he was exhausted, he wondered where to start. "I guess it—"
"Tomorrow," said Lupin. "It can wait."
:: :: :: ::
Draco was awake with the sun, but wasn't eager to leave the safety of his room behind, so he dressed and then peered out the window. His room looked out onto the street.
It was very odd that a Black family property should be laid smack in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood. Draco watched the Muggles drive their odd automobiles up and down the street. He watched them leave their houses, carrying umbrellas, or bundled up to guard against the misty London morning. There were people walking dogs, and chivvying children into cars. Muggles, Muggles, everywhere, he mused.
Rose, he knew, actually liked the Muggle world. She saw little difference between a Muggle and a magical person. She was likely more comfortable in the Muggle world than she was in the magical one. Odd creature. Just the thought of going out amongst the Muggles made Draco afraid. Whatever Rose thought, they were different. What if the Muggles could tell? He'd grown up on horror stories of the Burning Times. True, so long as a witch or wizard had their wand there was little a Muggle could do - but Draco still didn't fancy coming up against an angry mob. Muggles did that. Perhaps it had been awhile since anyone had been burned for magic, but Draco still thought it would be a bad idea to test them.
A knock sounded at the door, and Draco's heart jumped in his chest.
"'Allo? Draco?" said Fleur, from the other side of the door. "There is breakfast if you are hungry."
Draco's stomach gave a growl. He'd been up for hours now, and was starving. He threw open the door to see Fleur, and his parents down the hall. They stood by their bedroom door, and looked as awkward as a Malfoy ever did - which was very little. Still, it was clear none of them were comfortable in this place.
Fleur smiled at him, a brilliant flash of white teeth, and she turned to lead them down the stairs to the kitchen.
It was occupied, unfortunately.
The Weasley's mother was furiously tossing about bowls and frying pans. Food floated through the air to land in the pans, eggs cracked themselves over bowls, and were whisked with dashes of milk. Worst of all, Sirius Black sat at the kitchen table, his head hanging low, clutching a cup of coffee between his hands. He looked up as Draco and the others entered the kitchen, and groaned.
"Dear Merlin, I can't handle this today," he said, and got to his feet. To Draco's relief, it looked like he was going to leave.
"Sirius Black!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Sit down this instant. You haven't had a proper meal in days, and I intend to feed you."
"You don't have to do that, Molly. I'll get something at home."
She glared at him, and a pan of bacon banged onto the stove top. Draco flinched.
"Rose wouldn't thank you for what you are doing to yourself," she said. "She'd tell you to stop being such an idiot, and to eat some breakfast, and get some sleep. Now sit down."
He glared back for a moment, furious, and then seemed to wilt. He sank back into his seat, and pressed his fingers to his closed eyelids. "Fine, you win. But that's the last time you get to invoke Rose to make me behave."
"I'll do whatever it takes to make you take proper care of yourself," said Mrs. Weasley. "You won't do the girl any favors if you fall ill as well. Do you think she'd thank us if we allowed you to drive yourself into the ground?"
Sirius shook his head, like he couldn't believe her gall.
"I'm making enough for everyone," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sit down, all of you. Fleur, dear, could you check on the bacon?"
Fleur sniffed, and approached the stove cautiously.
Sirius glared at Draco and his parents, but Lucius took it as some kind of a challenge, and gracefully drew out a chair for his wife, before taking the seat directly across from Black. Draco was grateful to have an excuse to sit so far away from him, and took the chair next to his mother. He kept his eyes resolutely on the table top, and very carefully did not make eye contact with Sirius.
"Malfoy," said Sirius, after a moment. "Narcissa."
"Black," Lucius replied.
"It's lovely to see you again, Sirius," she said.
"I'm sure," said Sirius.
"Has there been any change in your god-daughter's condition?" his mother inquired.
Sirius's face darkened. "No. Thank you for your concern." He made it sound as though the idea of a Malfoy showing concern for Rose was a joke, and not a funny one.
"Your daughter means a great deal to my son, Sirius," said Narcissa. "I would not see her harmed."
Sirius blew out a long breath. "It would have been nice if your kid had thought about that before he nearly got her killed."
"I didn't want this to happen," said Draco, unable to hold his tongue. But he wasn't able to say he would never hurt Rose, because this was just the worst of all the times he had done so.
"Well, then you fucked up big time, kid."
"I'll thank you not to speak to my son in that manner," said Lucius.
"If he can nearly kill a girl, he can handle a couple of curse words, Malfoy."
It seemed for a moment that they would fly across the table, and try to choke the life out of each other.
But Mrs. Weasley appeared with several floating platters and sat them all down with a clatter. "No violence at the breakfast table," she scolded. She floated plates and cutlery around as well. Fleur appeared with pitchers of beverages on a platter, and set a glass and a coffee cup at every place.
Mrs. Weasley sat on Sirius's side, and Fleur sat across from Draco.
They passed the platters around, and filled up their plates. Mrs Weasley had made scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, and toast. There was pumpkin juice and coffee. Draco took helpings of everything, and was determined to eat it, no matter how knotted his stomach was in Sirius's presence.
"What will you do for lessons, Draco?" asked Fleur.
"I hadn't really thought about it."
"You will want your NEWT's some day, no?"
"No — yes," he agreed. Though he didn't know how likely it was that he would ever be able to get them. He might be in hiding for years. That thought lingered in a horrid way, and he thought about years and years of the Dark Lord being in power, and he and his family always hiding from him. He shivered.
"Someone will pass along your 'omework, of course, but you will need instruction to learn your spells."
"Right," said Draco. He couldn't think about this right now.
"Miss Delacour," said Lucius, and the whole table turned to look at him. "You are quite a proficient and capable witch, are you not? You were chosen as the Champion from Beaubatons, after all."
"Oui, Monsieur Malfoy. I am quite capable," she said, and tossed her hair in a distracting arc. Draco blinked rapidly. Veelas were a menace.
"Perhaps we could retain your services as a tutor for Draco while we are present in this house," he said. "You would be paid very handsomely."
Fleur considered him, fork poised in mid-air, and asked, "'Ow 'andsomely?"
Lucius quoted a frankly outrageous number of galleons for tutoring services, and she looked thoughtful. Fleur quoted a higher number. Lucius attempted to talk her down, but in the end she fleeced his father out of fifty galleons more a week. Draco was impressed.
"Thank you Monsieur Malfoy. I shall have a very grand wedding now."
"And perhaps a down payment on a nice cottage," Lucius murmured, bemused at being out-negotiated.
"Oui," she said, shameless. "Somewhere on the coast."
"Not too far away, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "What about your job at the bank, Fleur? Can you do both?"
"I only work three days a week at Gringotts," she said. "That leaves plenty of time for teaching Draco." She stared into space for a moment, thinking. "I will have to find my old studying guides. We have a much different way of doing things at Beaubatons. You know, we have none of these problems with ghostly professors, and curses on positions. It is much better. More thorough."
"Right," said Draco, after a moment. "Thank you, Fleur."
"Thank you, Draco."
"Well, this has been lovely," said Sirius, rising from the table. "But I'm going back to sit at my kid's bedside, and hope she doesn't die in her sleep."
Draco's stomach clenched, and he looked away. Shame swept through him once more, and he felt ill with it.
"Oh, really, Sirius," said Mrs. Weasley, looking distressed at the very thought.
"Give Rose my love," said Fleur, and waved Sirius away. "Tell her I will visit this afternoon."
Sirius blinked at her. "Sure thing, Fleur."
"You're meant to be resting now, Sirius!" said Mrs. Weasley. "You ought to go home and get some sleep."
"I'll sleep in the hospital chair," he said, and held up his hands to halt any further badgering. "Don't bother arguing with me, Molly. You've gotten me to eat. You've done your job."
"I'm sending Remus to collect you this afternoon. He'll force you to at least go home to shower!"
"I'm clean!"
"A real shower, Sirius. Not just a cleaning charm."
Sirius sighed. "Let's just save this argument for tomorrow morning, okay?"
"If that's the only time I can get you to eat something substantial!" she retorted.
He growled audibly, and threw Floo Powder into the fire with unnecessary force, calling out, "St. Mungos!" He was gone in a flash of green fire, and Draco relaxed for the first time since he had come into the kitchen. At least Sirius hadn't actually tried to kill him. Draco would have in his place.
"Draco, would you like to come with me this afternoon to see Rose?" asked Fleur.
"He can't leave the house," said Narcissa. "None of us can. It's not safe."
Fleur waved her worry away. "We have Polyjuice Potion, and I have Bill's hair brush. We will turn him into a Weasley for a few hours. No one will know the difference. Bill and I visit Rose quite often."
"I don't know, Fleur," Draco said.
"I think it is important to talk to people who are in stasis spells," she said. "There are studies that say people dream the whole time they are under. Others recall conversations they heard while under stasis. I would not want her to think she was alone. And I know Rose. She would like to hear you speak to her."
"I don't know," said Draco. "She's probably pretty mad at me."
"Then let her be mad," said Fleur with an elegant shrug. "Let her be furious! Maybe she will heal faster if only so she can wake up to yell at you." She smiled at him, sad but hopeful. "Besides, it might make you feel better to see that she is still alive."
Draco couldn't deny that, and he agreed to go along with her to St. Mungo's.
:: :: :: ::
Fleur had uncanny timing. She and Draco Flooed in to St Mungos just in time for him to see the backs of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin walking out the front door of the reception room. Draco had been especially anxious at the idea of seeing either of them with Rose lying still in between them, and was relieved that would not be his cosmic punishment today.
He had been Polyjuiced into Bill Weasley, and was wearing his clothing. It was rumpled, soft with wear, and worn thin in places. Draco felt sloppy. Bill's long hair kept getting in his face, but Fleur wouldn't give him a tie to hold it back.
Fleur led them into the lift, and up to Rose's floor. She waved hello to nurses, and before he knew it, before he was ready, she had pushed open a door, and there was Rose.
Fleur walked easily into the room, and said hello to Rose, though she made no sign that she had heard the greeting. Fleur peered at the arrangements of bouquets that were around the room, and began vanishing and then replacing the water in the vases, giving Draco some semblance of privacy. He was pathetically grateful to her for it.
Rose did not look to be in pain. She didn't look like she was asleep either. Sleeping people look soft, with their limbs in awkward contortions, hair a rumpled mess, and mouths hanging open. Rose looked like she was dead. She looked like someone had arranged her limbs, and her face was a serene, eerily still mask. Her eyes were closed, lashes lying in a heavy black sweep against her cheek. Her mouth was closed, and her lips looked red in her starkly pale face. Even her hair had been brushed, and was smooth, and locks were arrayed artfully on the pillow. One arm was folded, with her hand resting on her stomach, and the other was outstretched on the blankets to the chair beside her bed - as though Sirius Black had been holding it, and hadn't re-arranged her to her perfect symmetry before he'd left.
Draco shuffled up to the foot of the hospital bed and stared down at her. She did not shift, did not murmur in her sleep, did not sigh, or even seem to be breathing. She was perfectly, awfully still.
His knees felt like they might give out, and that would be horribly embarrassing, so he sat down in the chair beside her. He looked at her outstretched hand - at each perfect finger that curled in toward her palm. He kept his own hands fisted in the pockets of Bill Weasley's jacket.
Fleur started to hum as she tended to the flower arrangements. She was now vanishing individual flowers that looked like they were wilting.
A knock sounded at the door, and Draco jumped. A nurse poked her head in, and said, "Fleur, we've got some more bouquets for Rose at the nurses' desk. I didn't want to bother Mr. Black with them. Do you mind?"
"Non!" said Fleur. "You will be fine here?" she said to Draco. He nodded. She smiled at him, and turned back to the nurse. "Have they sent more roses?"
"Five new bouquets just this morning," the nurse said, ruefully. "But I know of some patients who would like to have flowers."
"Excellent!" said Fleur. "I will be happy to deliver them."
The door swung shut behind them, and Draco was left alone with Rose.
She was so, so still. Rose was never still. She had the most expressive face of anyone he'd ever met, and was always smiling, laughing, beaming, or glaring.
He remembered what Fleur had said, about patients in stasis who were able to recall what had been said to them while under the spells. But he didn't know what to say. Hi? Not when he owed her an apology. He would give that to her when he was certain she could hear it.
"I'm not really Bill," he said, and wanted to kick himself. But still, it wouldn't do for him to speak to her with Bill Weasley's voice, and have her wake up thinking that she'd been listening to a Weasley natter on. She'd be more likely to pay attention if she knew it was Draco, right? "I took Polyjuice Potion, so I look like him. Which is only fair, because he's doing the same thing to me right this moment."
She didn't even twitch. He bit his lip, and went on.
"I did what you told me to do. Months ago, I know, but, I did it. You were right. I'm sure you'll be glad to know that. So, they arranged for my parents to be rescued, and now we're all living in the old Black family house.
"I had breakfast cooked by Weasley's mum this morning. It's a wonder he doesn't weigh a thousand pounds.
"It's awkward as hell, but we're safe. So.
"I probably never would have done it if this hadn't happened to you. But he wanted me to do more, and I couldn't… I wouldn't. I won't do anything that hurts you ever again. I promise, Rose. This is the last time I'll ever do anything that puts you in danger. …I know that's shitty. I know I fucked up. I should have listened to you months ago. Years ago. I should have done anything I could to keep you safe."
He couldn't stop himself any longer. He took one hand from the pocket of the jacket, and slowly reached out to touch her curled fingers. She was warm. He'd been afraid that she would be as cold as she looked. But she was warm. By contrast his own fingers were chilled. He carefully held her hand in his, and tried to take slow, even breaths. If they came out a bit shaky, and if his throat felt like there was a lump in it, well. No one else was here to know. Rose certainly wouldn't tell. And she couldn't see when he wiped his eyes with the edge of Weasley's sleeve because he didn't have a handkerchief.
"Please wake up," he said.
She didn't.
Fleur left him alone for a good twenty minutes, and was thoughtful enough to knock on the door before she came in, so he at least had the time to turn so she couldn't see his face. Draco wiped at his eyes again, and tried not to be so embarrassing. Fleur didn't seem to notice, and slid into the chair beside him. She pulled a copy of Witch Weekly from her large hand bag, and began to read it aloud, giving occasional commentary.
"You will be happy to know that Gilderoy Lockhart has won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award for the seventh time," she said, reading off the front cover. "Are there no other men who smile in Britain?"
Draco absently stroked his thumb over Rose's knuckles, and looked over to see Lockhart's smarmy face beaming up at them from the cover of the magazine.
"Lockhart drove Rose mad," Draco said. "He taught us in second year. She hated his guts."
"Then I shall read that article vairy slowly," said Fleur. "Perhaps that will entice you to get better and wake up, if only to shut me up."
Draco snorted. "Be sure to tell her how handsome you think he is."
Fleur tipped her head to one side to consider photo Lockhart, she tipped her head to the other side, and then shrugged elegantly. "He is… all right," said Fleur. "No match for my Bill, of course."
Fleur flipped to the interview with Lockhart, and as promised, read slowly for a paragraph or two. She grew so disgusted with it that she gave it up in the middle, and started to read a piece on the season's 'hottest hats.'
She read for awhile longer, before she decided it was time to go. She leaned over the bed and kissed Rose's cheek goodbye. "Until next week, mon ami," she said. "If you do not wake up soon I am going to fill your lover's head with many lies about you."
Draco smirked, and shook his head, but played along. "Really, Fleur? What sorts of things do you want to tell me?"
"Did you know that Rose enjoys it when men dress up in women's lingerie?"
"I did not know that about her. Do you suppose we could make a stop on the way back to pick a pair of something silky and pink for me?"
"Oui, of course. I know just the place."
There was no reaction from Rose. Not even a hint of a blush. He hadn't really expected any of it to work, but still he swallowed a sigh. Draco guided Rose's hand, and folded her arm so it would lie on top of her other hand, folded on her stomach. Fleur fussed with a lock of her hair on the pillow, until it fell just right, and then they looked at her for a moment.
A wave of sadness, guilt, and despair swept through Draco, and he shuddered. Fleur took his arm, and led him away. The hallway was mercifully devoid of people at that moment. It was quiet in this ward where they were keeping Rose.
"There is a Muggle fairy tale. My sister likes them," said Fleur, as they waited for the lift to arrive. "Snow White is given a poison apple by her stepmother, the Wicked Queen. She takes a bite, and falls into a deep sleep that looks like death. Her friends are going to bury her, and have made her a glass coffin. She lies inside, looking still and perfect in death. Hair black as night, skin white as snow, lips as red as the red rose. Then the prince comes. He finds his lover lying as though dead. He kisses her goodbye. True Love's Kiss. She wakes."
"And they live happily ever after."
"You know it?"
"No." But he'd been going to school with Muggleborn kids for years, and he'd inadvertently picked up some things. Like how all Muggle fairy tales end with living happily ever after.
"You don't want to try it?"
"True Love's Kiss?" he said. "No. In that scenario, I'm the Wicked Queen, not the prince."
The lift arrived, and Fleur made a considering noise. "Perhaps we should get Cedric Diggory to give it a try. Or George Weasley. They are both gallant and princely."
Draco couldn't help the twinge of anger and jealousy he felt at that, and Fleur saw it on his face. Just the reaction she was hoping to prompt. Draco turned his face away. She latched onto his arm again, and put her chin on his shoulder.
"You may think you are the Wicked Queen, Draco, but I promise you, to Rose? You are the prince."
"She deserves better."
"Then be better."
She kissed his cheek, and the lift doors opened on a chime. The lobby was empty, but for the Welcome Witch, and they were able to approach the Floo without waiting in a line.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked. "You don't even know me."
Fleur flicked her hair over her shoulder, and shrugged. "Rose spoke about you often to me. Hermione and Ginny, they don't like you." She smiled wryly. "They don't like me either, so I decided there must be something good about you."
"What if you're wrong? What if there's not?"
"I am never wrong," she said, arching a haughty eyebrow. "You will learn this about me."
With that, she tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fire and whirled away. Draco stared after her, and shook his head.