The Alkahest
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Super Draco World!
…
That same Monday, Hermione began trying to find some sort of proof as to Blaise's accusations.
She didn't tell anyone of what she was trying to do, not even Harry, although she sorely wanted to. Harry might have an idea of how to go about investigating this sort of thing. So far, the only idea Hermione could come up with was 'ask a bunch of annoying questions', which was just about the least subtle thing she could possibly do in this situation. She'd looked up the date of Lucius Malfoy's donation to the courtroom restoration, and it was four days before the announcement of her match to Draco.
Hermione wasn't sure if that was evidence for or against Blaise's accusation. Ministry bureaucracy was ridiculously sluggish, on the one hand. On the other, money was an excellent fire to put under arses. It was possible that Lucius had only parted with the money after receiving confirmation that her match had been tampered with to his satisfaction.
Harry probed her a bit whenever he came by her cubicle, but she could see from the exasperation on his face that he merely thought she was overworking herself again.
Against all odds, an entire week passed with her keeping her little dirty secret. Her mornings with Draco went well enough, for the most part returning to their prior subject matter (mostly concerning his morbid fascination with the poor state of the Muggle world; she'd even started bringing him Muggle newspapers to take home and read, although he complained once that the pictures were 'broken'). Once he'd relaxed a bit, he returned mostly to his old self. He even reminded her, with a cheeky smile, that she owed him a trip to Thorpe Park again, and she'd been so overwhelmed with anxiety at the thought of the rollercoasters that she briefly forgot about the allegations Blaise had laid at his doorstep and had spent the entire morning trying to wheedle out of the promise. Thursday morning, he'd asked if he could watch another film with her, hastily adding that maybe it could be at a Muggle theater.
She could tell he knew that she wouldn't want him in her bedroom for a bit, and for a moment, her heart was full of gratitude to him for not trying to weasel his way back into her home. In fact, he hadn't popped by at all since she'd kicked him out, in an amazing show of restraint. For the first time since Blaise had shocked her in that hot spring pool, Hermione allowed herself to think that even if Draco had somehow been involved with tampering with her matching, maybe she could forgive him. If it was true, that still didn't necessarily negate the ways he'd changed just in the last few months they'd been engaged, right?
And he'd even shown an interest in Muggle things, against his old prejudices. He wanted to see more Muggle films.
She'd agreed to making a date with him the following Monday, since she'd already promised to meet Narcissa on Sunday and she was supposed to babysit James and Albus Saturday night (Harry had wasted literally zero time before cashing in on her promise). She wasn't sure if she should meet with either Narcissa nor her son until her investigation was done – it was getting harder and harder to just pretend everything was normal – but in the end she decided to frame it as a bit of a challenge to herself.
One that she'd know she won if she managed to successfully keep the secret from Harry. Her best friend had started watching her with a hawk-like expression.
He knew something was up.
0o0o0o0o0o0
Which may have been why Draco was already at Grimmauld Place when Hermione arrived on Saturday to babysit. If that wasn't shocking enough, both Ginny and Harry were laughing at something Draco was saying.
Hermione stared at the scene before her, frozen in the fireplace.
Draco was on the couch, Albus standing on his knees as he balanced him upright. The toddler was giggling non-stop as Draco tilted him back and forth. James was bouncing on the couch to his right, squealing 'Draco, Draco, Draco' in a desperate bid for the blonde man's attention, waving his stuffed dragon in Draco's face. Ginny was on the other side of James, her arm hooked around the four-year old's waist to keep him from outright pummeling the poor man with the toy.
And Harry was in the recliner opposite, chuckling warmly, as though it were perfectly natural and ordinary to have Draco Malfoy in his house, playing with his small children.
"What..." Hermione sputtered a bit. "What is this? What's going on?"
Ginny smiled up at her. "Oh, Malfoy and I saw Andromeda again today, bringing the boys over for a play-date with Teddy." Hermione just stared, blankly. Since when did Ginny and Draco make plans together of their own accord? Were they talking, now? Without her? What in Merlin's name was happening. Oblivious to Hermione's uneasy thoughts, Ginny continued, "And we started talking about parenting and he confessed he wasn't sure he was ready, so I told him he should try it out for the night with his future wife. Not a bad plan, hey?"
Hermione continued to stare vacantly, her usually brilliant and constantly whirling mind finally at a full stop.
"By the way, you were right about him suddenly developing a sense of humor over the past seven years," Ginny added. "Also, you will not believe the things he knows about the Who's Who list of the pureblood party circuit," she added, in a stage whisper.
Oh, dear God. "I knew I should have never left you two alone," Hermione said, in a hoarse voice full of horror. "No gossiping, either of you."
Draco laughed, and Albus mimicked him, laughing merrily along. "Nothing doing. There's finally one person in your group of friends who appreciates my hard-earned gossip, and I do not intend to squander that gift."
"Hey, I was appreciating!" Harry defended.
"All you did was go, who? Who? Who's that? at everything I said," Draco corrected. "You're a disgrace to gossips everywhere, Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes, getting to his feet to stand beside Hermione. "Fine. I don't want to be in your stupid gossip clique, anyway. Hermione and I will form our own clique. A better clique."
"Yeah," Hermione agreed, a little huffy, herself. She nodded along with Harry, crossing her arms.
"We'll be the Rational Rabbits."
Hermione's head-nod turned into a head-shake as she shot Harry a look. "No," she said, softly.
"No? What?" he asked, in an undertone.
"Don't... Don't name us. That makes us sound like losers," she whispered.
"That was a good name," he defended, also in a whisper.
"Rational Rabbits?"
He paused. "Okay, so the noun needs a little work, but you try coming up with an alliteration like that on the fly!" he hissed. "It's a lot harder than it looks. Go on. Do it."
"Logical Lions," she murmured, promptly.
Harry stared at her for a long moment. Then he cursed, softly. "Damn you. Alright. That's good."
Draco and Ginny were watching the whispered exchange with half-lidded eyes, amused and a little disdainful. It was weird, seeing them sit together making the exact same facial expression. "Well, that was the saddest thing I've ever seen," Ginny declared, eyebrows lifting sardonically. "And what does that make Malfoy and I, then?"
"The Gossiping G- Ganders," Harry blurted out, before Hermione could stop him.
Hermione shook her head at him, again. "Just stop," she whispered, embarrassed.
Harry placed his hands on his hips, biting his lower lip as he scrunched his nose, nodding. "I froze up on that one," he admitted, also in a whisper. "Sorry. That makes the whole group look bad. I'll take the blame for that one."
Ginny laughed, plopping James on the floor as she stood up. "Well, if the Rabbits don't mind breaking apart for a few hours, this Gander's going to take one of them out," she said, smiling as she approached Harry and pressed her lips into his for a slightly-too-long peck. Harry grinned brilliantly as she pulled back.
"Farewell, fellow Rabbit," he told her.
"Don't," Hermione said, firmly. Harry shot her a wink as Ginny threw the powder into the Floo, pulling him along with her. Hermione stared at the green flames for a second, and then turned back to Draco and the boys. "I can't believe Harry's trusting you with his children."
"Me, neither. I should take this opportunity to teach them dirty words," he said, thoughtfully.
"That's brave. You've seen Ginny's hexes, right?"
Draco closed an eye as James 'flew' the stuffed dragon right into his face. "Yes, and that is a very good point. I'll save it for their teenage years, then, when I can blame it on school."
Hermione paused a moment, realizing for the first time that he really was planning to stay in this for the long haul. Sure, the marriage was going to be ten years, most likely, and both boys would be teenaged then, but it hadn't really hit her until he'd said that. Not only was he thinking about their marriage, he was thinking about how he was going to relate to her friends for all ten years of that marriage. And he'd said it so casually, too, like it was simply a given that he would be in Harry's family's lives over the next decade. Hermione felt her heart stutter a bit.
She pulled out her wand, and charmed the dragon, watching as its wings flexed and it wriggled in James' grip.
The little boy's eyes went wide with delight and shock as he dropped the dragon, and it pulled itself into the air and made a lazy swoop around the room as he chased it.
"Thank you," Draco said, with a soft sigh of relief.
"And you think you're ready for fatherhood," Hermione scoffed, shooting him a wry look. Her scoffing turned into a smile, though, as Albus twisted in Draco's hands and reached for her, shouting Hermy! "Oh, hello, Albus, sweetling," she cooed, picking him up and hoisting him high as he screamed in laughter. She grinned up at him and let him "drop," right into her waiting hands. "Oh, was that fun?" Considering that the boy was still laughing, she knew it was. "You're going to be a little Quidditch player, like your parents."
"Up! Fly!" Albus demanded, and she hoisted him up and let him drop into her own hands again as he squealed in pure joy. She laughed, pulling him close and pressing a few kisses to his laughing face.
She noticed Draco staring at her, and flushed a bit. "What?" she asked, embarrassed.
He shook his head a bit, blinking a bit as he came out of his daze. Slowly, a smile formed on his face, soft and sweet. "I don't care what you say, I can't wait to have babies with you," he said, softly.
She felt her face heat spectacularly, dropping her gaze to the relative safety of the toddler in her arms. "Well... promise you'll wait a little bit," she finally murmured, in a dry tone. "Trust me, you haven't seen me after spending the week here with these guys. Anyone can be good with children for a few hours."
Draco's smile widened. "Okay. I promise."
0o0o0o0o0o0
She was surprised, first and foremost, by how gentle Draco was with both of them. Even James, who was a little hellion on his best days, got nothing harsher than a firm, No, James, put that down from her fiance. In turn, the boys were obsessed with their new "Uncle Draco," constantly demanding his attention and even ignoring Hermione to get it.
Which she was definitely not a little annoyed about, or anything.
"What makes you so special?" she huffed, when Albus once again waddled past her to beg Draco to pick him up. She crossed her arms a bit, looking a little peeved.
He couldn't help but laugh at her expression as he picked the toddler up. "I'm just new, Hermione, not better. Although, I do find your jealousy very fetching."
"Oh, shut up."
He glanced at the clock, and said, "It's almost time for-"
"No, don't!" Hermione tried to cut him off, grimacing a bit as she waved her hands at him to try and stop that last word from coming out of his mouth.
"-Bed?" Draco finished, blinking in confusion.
James' eyes went wide as he gasped, and then ran. Soon, his pudgy little body was out of sight as he galloped through the kitchen and around the corner.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Hermione grumbled, jogging after him. "James, come back here!" Silence met her demand, and she groaned, turning back to Draco. "He'll be in one of his hiding spots. Can you put Albus in his crib? Oh, change him again before you do?" He just nodded, dumbly.
Hermione was already striding away, after James, when she realized that Draco hadn't even complained about being given nappy duty, something Ron had always steadfastly refused to do after trying once with James and getting peed on.
Blinking a bit, she ushered the thoughts away, and started hunting for the four-year old, her wand out. She murmured a charm to it, and the wand spun in her palm, pointing.
She followed it.
Five minutes later, she was pouncing on James as he screamed in protest from behind the couch in the drawing room. "No!" he wailed, thrashing. "I don't wanna go bed! Noooo!"
"James, don't you want a story?" she tried, plaintively.
"No!"
"Are you sure? I had a really good one for tonight," she wheedled. "About a dragon." James stopped thrashing as the word permeated his screams, looking at her with a suspicious squint. "But, if you don't want to hear it, then..."
"I want to!" he quickly assured her, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. "What kinda dragon?"
"A Norwegian Ridgeback," she said, naming his favorite. "Are you sure you want to hear it? You're only allowed to listen to it if you're under your covers. You know storytime rules." He still looked hesitant, but when she held out her hands and smiled winningly, he only put up a token grumble of misery before walking into them, letting her pick him up.
Exhaling with relief, she made her way back to the stairs, climbing them and bringing him into the bathroom to brush his teeth. She turned off the faucet when he was done, and stepped out into the hallway after gathering him in her arms again.
Although she stopped dead when she heard it.
Singing.
Her eyes went comically wide, her mouth falling open in pure, unadulterated shock as she registered Draco's quiet voice, singing some lullaby she'd never heard. He was keeping quiet, but the house was even quieter, and his voice carried through it.
"What's that?" James asked, loudly, and the song stopped abruptly.
She walked down the hallway to the boys' room – which they shared not because Grimmauld Place had a shortage of rooms, but because having the companionship seemed to keep James from trying to crawl into his parents' bed at night – and peeked around the corner. Draco was sitting on the bed, looking through a storybook with avid disinterest, pretending for all the world like he hadn't just been singing a lullaby to a toddler.
This was too rich, and Hermione couldn't keep the smile fully off her face as she walked towards the bed, bending down to move the blankets before dropping James onto it. Draco took one look at her expression and scowled, flushing lightly.
"Alright," she said, after tucking James in. She took a seat on the bed, beside Draco, and leaned over James so that her hand was planted on his far side. "Are you ready for the story? Are you completely under the covers?"
"Yes!" he promised, wriggling a bit.
"Are you sure? I think I see your hand out," she said, feeling her way down the blankets.
"No, they're here! Here!" he said, pressing them up against the underside of the blanket.
Hermione poked them both. "Oh! There they are. Alright, I guess you are all snuggled in," she admitted, grinning at him. "Alright, here it goes. Once, there was a dragon who lived all by himself on the top of a mountain in the middle of a vast forest..."
James was dead asleep before she even finished the story, his mouth falling open as he breathed. She paused, letting the silence sink in a bit to see if he was awake enough to notice, and then stood gingerly when he didn't rouse.
Draco followed suit, and they both crept out of the room, extinguishing the light as they went. Draco stared at the Lion King-themed nightlight as they closed the door most of the way, leaving only a crack. Slipping quietly down the hall behind her, he didn't break the silence until they were back in the living room. "Did you make that story up?"
She was picking up the toys the boys had strewn about the place, collecting them in her arms. "Hm? Oh. No, not really. I sort of borrowed quite a bit from other fairytales I'd read when I was little."
Silence reigned for another moment as she straightened, her arms overflowing with toys, and walked to the little chest beside the couch and lifted her foot to nudge it open. Then she dumped her armful of toys inside, clapping her hands a bit and brushing the front of her shirt. The toys were always filthy.
Draco sat down again, looking strangely at a loss for what to do without the boys demanding his every waking brain cell.
She sat beside him, and said, "So. You sing."
Watching him blush was fascinating. It crawled up his neck, leaking onto his face in big blotchy patches, making his hair look nearly neon in comparison. All in all, Draco did not have a pretty blush. "No," he said, scornfully. "I was just humming-"
"Singing," she corrected.
"Humming a tune-"
"Singing."
"That my mother used to sing," he finished, glaring at her.
Hermione started to laugh, but at his furious look, she bit it back, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. "I've never heard that song. Is it popular among wizard children?" she asked, when she finally got her chuckles under control.
"Yes," he muttered.
"It's cute. Is the entire thing about unicorns?"
He closed his eyes. "Yes," he grit out.
"Sing it for me?"
"No."
"Oh, come on, Albus gets to hear it but your fiancee doesn't?" she pressed. "Besides, I think I should know what you'll be singing to our future children, don't you?"
"I'm not singing it, so you can just forget it," he informed her, crisply.
"But you have such a pretty voice."
"That's it." He stood. "I'm leaving."
Hermione burst out laughing, grabbing the cuff of his shirt as he tried to march to the Floo, tugging on it. He tugged back, and she warned, "It might rip." Scowling, he stopped, glaring down at her imperiously. "Don't go," she said, softly, her grin still wide. "I'll be bored without you."
That seemed to soften him, and he allowed himself to be coaxed back onto the couch. "So what film are we seeing on Monday?"
"I want to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," she said, promptly. It was the only thing out at the moment that had caught her interest – except for maybe March of the Penguins, but she thought Draco might be bored by a documentary. "It's based on a very popular children's book."
She expected questions, like what's it about and all that, but he just nodded. She had to remember that he was still very used to plays – what was playing was what was playing, and you didn't fuss about what the play was about when you bought tickets to it. When it came to wizarding theater, there wasn't a whole lot of options, so it was either go to whatever was playing or stay home and stare at the carpet.
"You realize," she said, slowly. "That I will not be able to not tell Harry and Ginny that you sang."
"Do not."
"I just told you, I can't!"
"You will hold your tongue, Hermione, or I'll hex it out of your head," he promised, and right on cue, the Floo roared to life and Harry and Ginny stepped out of it, smiling and looking quite pleased with themselves. Draco narrowed his eyes at her.
Hermione looked between them, seemingly about to burst. Then she blurted, "Draco sang a lullaby to Albus!"
Ginny, who had been in the middle of saying hello, stopped short and stared at them, the smile frozen on her face as she struggled to accept this fact as reality.
"No, I didn't," Draco said, swiftly, but his flush was too telling.
"What was the song?" Harry asked, blinking, while Ginny remained stunned.
"It's about unicorns," Hermione said, with glee.
Ginny inhaled, deeply, and then exhaled. Then she walked calmly over to the loveseat opposite the couch, laid down facefirst on it, and proceeded to laugh so hard she probably wet herself. The cushions muffled the booming noise, keeping it from carrying upstairs.
Harry was chuckling, himself. "Malfoy, I didn't know you had it in you," he drawled, putting his hands on his hips. "Unicorn lullabies. Hermione, I hope you're not too disappointed. I know how you like the 'bad boys.'"
"What?" she huffed. "I do not."
"You do, too. You had that crush on Snape in third year," he retorted.
Hermione's mouth dropped open in horror.
Harry's smirk was slow, but spread wide, and even Ginny stopped laughing herself sick to jump up off the loveseat, staring at Hermione in tandem with Draco. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Draco's open expression of unmitigated disgust. There was silence as they all stared at her. Then Harry said, smugly, "You didn't think I knew, did you?"
Frozen, Hermione could only stare at him.
Draco whispered, "No. Professor Snape?"
She jumped to her feet, stepping up to Harry with narrowed eyes. "How did you know that?" she hissed. She'd never told anyone.
"Haven't I told you, before?" Harry said, with delight, tapping her on the nose. He managed to pull his finger back before she could slap it away from herself. "I know you better than you know yourself, Hermione Granger."
"It's true?" Ginny gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Hermione started to flush, stuttering a bit.
"Oh, dear Merlin, it's true," Draco intoned, from behind her.
"I was just a third-year!" Hermione defended, shrilly. Ginny rushed to shush her, pointing at the stairs, and she dropped her voice even as she bloomed bright red. "He saved us from a werewolf! You have to admit, that was pretty dashing."
"Do me a favor, Hermione, and never use that word in regards to Professor Snape again," Harry huffed. "It gives me the worst feeling. You can't imagine."
"I really did not think this night could get better," Ginny said, wonderingly. "Who do I have to thank for this? Santa Claus?" She looked up at the ceiling. "Thank you, Santa. Happy Christmas."
"That's it, I'm leaving," Hermione said, in a cranky tone.
As she tried to walk to the Floo, Harry held his arm out, catching her about the neck and whirling her about, laughing softly. He gave her a gentle noogie and she squawked, trying to stomp on his foot. "Don't be a poor sport. You just sold out Malfoy's songbird tendencies and we all had a good laugh."
"You didn't have to bring that back up," Draco muttered. "You could have left it on Snape."
"I'm never going to forgive you, Harry Potter," Hermione promised. "Also, I'm taking back my other nineteen nights of babysitting."
"Oh, no, you're not," Ginny told her. "In fact, I'm only counting this as half of one, since Malfoy helped."
"You can't do that."
"Yes, I can," Ginny said, serenely. "Now, I'm going to bed, because I have training tomorrow, and we've already shagged quite thoroughly-" Draco pulled a face as the mental image forced itself into his head. "So you two go down to the basement and play plumbers if you want, but whatever you do, you better keep it quiet because I'm not getting up to deal with James if you wake him."
"Plumbers?" Draco asked, eyebrows shooting up. Ginny declined to answer, heading upstairs.
Hermione elbowed Harry in the ribs, making him bowl over with a grunt and release her. "It's a video game Harry and I like to play." She saw the next question forming on Draco's lips. "It's a game you can play on the telly."
"And I call Mario," Harry wheezed.
"I'm not playing with you! I'm mad at you," Hermione reminded him.
"You just don't want to be Luigi."
Hermione glared at him, lips pursed. Then she elbowed him again, viciously, making him blanche with pain as he collapsed against the recliner. She sprinted for the basement door, throwing it open and disappearing down the stairs.
"No fair," Harry choked, clutching at his solar plexus.
Draco looked between Harry and the door, utterly perplexed. "What in Merlin's name are you two going on about?"
0o0o0o0o0o0
Hermione had claimed the first controller and had refused to cede it to Harry, which they argued about venomously for upwards of twenty minutes. Draco had simply watched them fight over the hunk of plastic like a pair of actual children, and he found himself gazing in awe at the two of them. Both of them largely came across as somewhat mature and a little more serious, at least compared to their red-headed buddy, so watching them squibble like eight-year olds was truly fascinating.
Even more so when he realized (after asking and getting an impatient answer) that the two characters they were fighting over playing were literally the exact same, except different colors. Neither of them had any advantages against each other. They didn't even look different.
He would never understand Muggles.
Once the game started, Draco watched in fascination as they started playing through the levels. The game made no logical sense and he couldn't see anything that counted as a narrative. It seemed like the point was to jump around and kill things and hit blocks that spat out Galleons. Despite this seeming like a pretty straightforward premise, both of them found something to snipe at each other with every few seconds.
It wasn't until he checked the time and realized how late it was that he stood. "Hermione, it's half one," he said, softly. "You're supposed to meet my mother at the manor at eight."
"Oh! Bugger," Hermione hissed, tensing a bit as though she were getting prepared to stand, but she remained sitting, her eyes locked on the screen. "This level's almost over. Give me a second."
"You've replayed that level several times," Draco said, firmly. "You should go home and sleep."
"We've had to do it over a million times because Hermione playing Mario is bad luck," Harry muttered, for the fortieth time that evening. "I told you I should've been Mario. Give me back my controller."
"You can have this controller over my lifeless, desiccated corpse."
Draco walked casually over to the outlet that the telly and the 'console' (or whatever it was called) was plugged into, and considered it for a moment with his hands in his pockets. He seemed to recall Hermione explaining that without these outlets, none of these crazy Muggle inventions would actually work. He bent over to inspect it, and pulled. The plug slid out, and the screen went black, and the two fully grown adults behind him erupted into screams of outrage.
He turned back, regarding the black screen innocently. "Oh, you're done," he said, with a slight smile as he ignored their twin glares. "Well, let's head off, then."
"We could have beat that level half an hour ago if you hadn't insisted-"
Hermione shoved Harry to the ground and he yelled, throwing his arms over his head as she began slapping at him indiscriminately. "Say it again!" she threatened, as she slapped. "Go on, say it, if you're so brave."
"Malfoy! Get my wife!" Harry pleaded, curling up into a little ball.
Instead, Draco reached for Hermione, hooking his hands under her armpits and hauling her to her feet. When she moved to drop back down on Harry again, he quickly hooked an arm around her waist, waiting with a resigned sigh for her to stop swinging her arms at her friend like the lunatic he was beginning to suspect she was.
Harry quickly scooted out of reach, grimacing as he rubbed at the spots where she'd managed to land a blow. "Bloody hell, Hermione, you have hands like hammers."
She kicked at him, but he was well out of the way. Draco steered her towards the stairs, and said, in the exact same tone he'd used with James earlier in the evening: "Up the stairs, right now." When Hermione looked like she was considering going after Harry again, he planted his hand in her back and walked her to the bottom step. Although she remained surly when she prepared to Floo home, she did bid Harry a terse "Good night, I suppose" before she disappeared into the fireplace.
Draco prepared to use the Floo himself to head back to the Manor, when Harry spoke. "Hey - you know," he said, a little awkward now that they were one-on-one. When Draco looked at him, he finally offered a crooked smile. "You're not too bad, these days. Maybe you should come over a bit more often."
Snorting softly, Draco said, "Will that offer stand if she and I are fighting?"
Harry shrugged, thoughtful. "As long as you don't do your arguing here... If you and Ginny end up friends, you know, Hermione won't have the right to bar you from the house. Same for us."
He couldn't help the automatic sneer that touched his face. "Do you think we could be friends, Potter?"
"Yeah, probably," Harry said, without hesitation. He smiled at Draco's stunned expression, and waved as he headed for the stairs. "See you next weekend, maybe." Then he headed up them, leaving Draco behind to stare after him.
He thought about what Hermione had said before, about Harry being too tired to hate, these days. For a moment, he looked at the Floo powder in his hands and then around the room he'd spent the evening in, and huffed an incredulous laugh. His life was turning out to be very odd, indeed. He supposed that was the trick of it, though: adapting to whatever the world decided to spit up on your shoes.
He tossed the powder in the fire, and went home, feeling strange - anxious, but in a good way. He slept brilliantly that night.
TBC...
