This work is complete at 31 chapters and ~127,000 words. I'll be submitting a chapter a day through March until it's all up.
Chapter 22: Heimdall
When Draco woke up the next morning, he got ready to go right away. Figuring out Dagmar's birthday present was an exciting change of pace from what he'd spent the last couple weeks doing. Loaded with thirty galleons, just in case Dagmar's guess at a price was at the low-end, Draco headed through the fireplace for Diagon Alley.
The Menagerie had only just opened for the day when Draco got there. No patrons other than Draco occupied the shop. The nearest employee that was feeding the rats came over when she saw Draco standing at the counter.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked.
"I'm looking for a specific breed of cat," Draco answered. "You wouldn't happen to have a Norwegian forest cat, would you?"
"Oh. . ." she looked almost taken aback at the question. "No, we normally don't carry specialty breeds."
"Do you know where would?"
The witch could at least confirm to Draco that they were common in Scandinavian countries. She offered to write to their sister stores in Bergen, Stockholm, and Copenhagen to see if anybody could be of help, but it occurred to Draco it would be a lot quicker just to go himself. It would take too long for an owl to make a round-trip to any of the three cities—longer than Draco was willing to wait, anyway.
He didn't expect when he woke up that he would be leaving the country, however briefly. Bergen had left enough of an impression on Draco that he felt nostalgic as he stepped out of the fireplace in Den Sultne Jotunn. His heart gave a painful squeeze.
Draco had done well distracting himself while Dagmar was gone, but being back here, he couldn't ignore any longer just how much he'd missed her. Everywhere he looked was a reminder of her. She'd thrown a knut in the lobby fountain. The doors to the rooms they'd stayed in were visible from down below. The same server that had poured them coffee every morning still did so for other restaurant patrons.
Dagmar was going to be so jealous to learn that Draco had come back here without her. Draco at least had a chance now to experience just how this place made her feel. Despite how much he ached for more than to talk with Dagmar through a book, Draco's mood still lifted as he tried to remember where he'd seen an animal shop in Trollmannsgaten.
"Hallo!" an older witch greeted him inside the Menasjeri. "Hvordan kan jeg hjelpe deg?"
"Er. . ." Although Draco understood what she'd said, his mind blanked on how to reply. He repeated instead a short phrase that Dagmar had taught him: "Beklager, snakker du engelsk?"
The witch blinked, then held up a finger. "Sassa!"
A younger witch that looked closer to Draco's age came out from the back. She exchanged some quick words with her boss before smiling at Draco. "I speak English. How can I help you?"
Draco hardly explained at all what he was there for when Sassa lit up and gestured for him to follow. They headed toward the back of the store where a large enclosure fit with various poles, posts, landings, and houses contained a slew of Norwegian forest cats.
"These are last September's litters," Sassa explained to Draco. "Is there a certain colour you're looking for? Personality? We're all quite familiar with each animal after raising them to homing age."
Draco hummed in thought. "I'm getting one as a birthday gift for my girlfriend. She said she likes males that are cuddly."
"Certainly not a difficult trait to find in this breed," she replied. "They're all very friendly, not overly so to the point of being dependent, but she'll be hard-pressed to keep any of them off her bed at night."
Draco was drawn to one in particular that sat at the front of the enclosure, close to where he talked to Sassa. The cat was mostly a dark smokey grey colour with black legs and head. It had a light grey mane. Its bushy tail swished back and forth in intrigue.
"That's Heimdall," Sassa told Draco when she noticed him and the cat eyeing each other up. "He's a he. Still very kittenish, but certainly affectionate when he isn't being a coy little boy. Ikke deg?"
She bent down to put her finger through the enclosure's fence. Heimdall stretched his neck forward toward it, his yellow eyes narrowing in curiosity. He ran his cheek along Sassa's finger hard enough for his lip to lift and show his teeth. He walked alongside the edge, leaving a line in his long fur where Sassa's finger passed through. His tail twitched.
"He seems like he'd be a good choice," Draco remarked. He stuck his fingers through the fencing and was pleased when Heimdall scratched his cheek next against them. He could feel the vibrations as he purred. "What's your price?"
"The flat rate for each cat is 29 romer."
Draco had been away from Norway long enough to forget the exact value of a romer. He at least knew that twenty-nine was high. He and Dagmar had paid ten even for their two rooms for the week they stayed here.
"A bit higher than you were expecting?" Sassa ventured.
"Sort of," Draco replied. "What might that be in galleons?"
"Close to fifty, I would say."
When Dagmar told Draco they cost at least twenty, she was technically correct. Draco hadn't brought enough money with him to Bergen, and even if he had, he still hesitated.
"I should probably talk to Dagmar, first," he told Sassa. "Money's not an issue, but it was more than she expected to spend."
Sassa leaned over a little closer and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Consulting your partner on something like this is always a good idea."
The time it took to go back and forth to Bergen, and then the time Draco had spent in Trollmannsgaten, made him hungry. He'd bypassed the truffles that arrived for him that morning in order to get this task done, but now they called to him too strongly to ignore any further.
He wrote to Dagmar in his messenger: I spent the morning looking around at prices for the cats. Your guess was a little shy. . .they're closer to fifty, turns out. The price doesn't matter to me at all, but since you weren't 100% on us splitting twenty galleons, I didn't want to sign you up on spending more than that just for your half. Is it still okay with you?
Draco kept an idle eye on the page while he popped half a dozen of the truffles in his mouth, one by one. Dagmar still hadn't replied by the time he swallowed the final one, so he counted out the extra galleons he would need to make the purchase, should she say yes. Later on, it occurred to him he should set more aside as well for any supplies he might need. Cats as far as he knew could fend for themselves food-wise, but there might be things like a basket or brush that weren't included in the 29R price.
Because Draco had something on his mind he wanted to get done today, he grew restless waiting for Dagmar's reply. Had she changed her mind? After Draco had already gone and met Heimdall, not to mention committing to the idea of getting him price aside, he would actually be quite disappointed if this didn't pan out.
Finally, just before three o'clock in the afternoon, Dagmar wrote back: It's a lot of money.
I know, Draco dashed down. I mean it though when I say I'm not worried about the price. I would buy it outright still if it didn't make you uncomfortable. It's the going rate for those cats so if you want the specific breed, it's what it costs. And I say if you're going to commit to having an animal for fifteen years then you should get exactly what you want.
I guess.
Draco waited for more words to appear, but they didn't. Do you still want the cat?
Maybe we should count this toward Christmas too, Dagmar replied. That would make me feel better about it. We could still exchange small gifts then if we planned on it, but this will be all the money I care to spend for a while.
I'm okay with that, Draco agreed.
Okay.
Draco dipped his quill again, intent to ask Dagmar how her day had gone so far. She'd made it a habit for the rest of her vacation to give him little updates here and there, but she hadn't yet today. While that struck Draco as strange, as well as her inscrutable mood, he had something time-sensitive he needed to do.
He closed his messenger and headed off again for the fireplace. Half an hour later, Draco stood in front of Sigrid at the front desk of Den Sultne Jotunn exchanging his galleons to romer, and forty-five minutes after that he was stacking the brass coins in front of Sassa at the Menasjeri. Heimdall shifted around in the enclosed basket that Draco had bought to transport him in. A bag of toys and accessories sat on top of it.
"Perfect," Sassa said when she double-checked Draco's money. "I'll give you that certification, if you give me just a second to fetch it. . ."
While she rooted around in the back, Draco stuck his fingertips through the gate on Heimdall's basket. Heimdall licked his paw instead.
Sassa returned with a stamped piece of parchment. "This contains all the information you need about Heimdall's genetic background. You'll hear from us if anything needs to be updated. Likewise, if Heimdall falls ill with anything serious please let us know so that we can inform everyone else that has a relative of his, as well as any future buyers."
"Absolutely."
Draco placed the parchment in the bag with Heimdall's accessories and had to suppress a grunt when he pulled Heimdall's basket off the counter. He was a heavy boy, weighing in at an astounding seven kilograms when Sassa did a final inspection of him with Draco in the back room. He'd looked big inside the skogkatt enclosure, but he was even more massive closer to eye level. Draco couldn't remember Grim ever being this big, but then again, he'd never seen Dagmar's old cat up very close.
Heimdall really didn't like travelling by floo, come to find. He started meowing after their arrival in London and grew even more insistent about his unhappiness when Draco made the jump one more time from there to Malfoy Manor. He was surprised the racket didn't attract his parents' attention. Heimdall at least calmed down in a quieter environment. Draco set his basket down by the desk in his room. Heimdall lowered his head, peering out.
Draco sat down on the floor and opened the gate. "Did you want to come out?"
Heimdall eyed the curled finger Draco offered him, but he wasn't as sure of himself away from the Menasjeri. Deciding to let him figure things out, Draco left Heimdall to his own device. He checked if Dagmar had written him again, but she hadn't.
Draco had half a mind to tell her what waited for when she came back home. He decided against it. He couldn't surprise Dagmar with a cat, but he could surprise her with who she got, as well as when she got him.
Dagmar had only been asleep for a couple of hours upon return from the French Ministry when she woke up for the first time because of her arm. The pain came in waves, like a deep ache that reached the bone. At one point she got up and inspected it in the well-lit bathroom. Nothing appeared wrong with it. The burns had all faded. It felt like they had merely absorbed into her flesh.
The condo remained quiet until past noon. Whenever Dagmar briefly woke after that, she could hear her parents talking in low tones out in the living room. She checked her messenger mid-afternoon and hardly registered what Draco had to ask about the cat. It felt a million miles away and completely irrelevant to her right now. Dagmar wished for the hundredth time that last night had just gone normally. She wished she could be engaging with Draco, but now there was something massive between them again until Dagmar felt ready to tell him what had happened.
Dagmar fell back asleep for another little while. Her arm woke her up again, and since she had to use the bathroom, she figured she might as well give up on getting a full rest before the next night came.
Her parents hushed when Dagmar opened her bedroom door. She couldn't see them around the corner into the living room, but could feel their weighted presence. Rather than go back into her room once she was done in the bathroom, she leaned against the corner by her door.
"Afternoon," her mother greeted her.
Dagmar shrugged. When she crossed her arms and applied pressure to her forearm, it didn't hurt as much.
"Sleep okay?"
"Not really," Dagmar said.
"Come sit."
Dagmar dropped down on the couch opposite the sofa her parents sat on. She yawned. A headache pressed in behind her eyes.
"Where did you learn that curse?" Dagmar's father asked.
"I read about it," Dagmar repeated. "I think in one of Mr. Malfoy's books."
"Which one?"
"I don't remember. I read quite a few while we were staying at their manor. Why?"
"This was a lot of attention we didn't need right now," her father told her. "We were lucky that you have a good record otherwise with not using juvenile magic. Snape could speak on your behalf. Those Muggles corroborated every other bit of the story. You and Draco had the sense not to write down anything about our business. All that luck doesn't leave much room for comfort."
Dagmar played with the end-strands of her hair, gut alight again with guilt. "I'm sorry."
"What were you doing anyway in that Muggle district?" Even though Dagmar didn't look at her, she could hear the curl in her mother's lip. "And so late, at that? Surely you can't have expected you'd be safe, especially unarmed."
"It was just those Muggles," Dagmar quietly replied, vision blurred. "All the rest left me alone."
"So you're going to make excuses for those men, now?" her mother replied. "I've barely slept, thinking what might have happened to you if you couldn't use magic to protect yourself. You might not even be here."
"Who would you tell off, then?"
"Dagmar." Her mother's tone dripped with warning.
Her father cleared his throat. "We've decided that we should go home early. Given last night, I'm sure you wouldn't have any protest, would you?"
"No." Dagmar couldn't imagine walking through Nice on her lonesome again. For now at least, the city had been ruined for her. She was still rattled and in pain.
"Go pack your things, then."
Despite not minding going home, Dagmar still harboured an aching throat and wet eyes as she gathered all her things together in her room. She'd managed to ruin their vacation and their summer as a whole had been wrecked for a second time. She had no idea what kind of fallout her parents might experience from this. To have their manor searched could be a one-off fluke of a hint toward dark activity. However, their underaged daughter using a curse like that would indeed raise a red flag in the British Ministry, just like it had in the French one. Thoughts of the repercussions made Dagmar sick to her stomach to think about. She didn't approve of the things her parents did or believed, but she still loved them. She didn't want to see them in Azkaban or on the run. Dagmar had hoped they'd come to their senses about the Dark Lord before it ever came close to that, but maybe it just wasn't that easy to get out. Maybe they were actually willing to go that far for him.
Dagmar hesitated when it came time to put her messenger in her trunk. What should Draco know? What could Dagmar even keep from him?
For now she wrote: My parents decided that we're going to come home early. I guess they're out of things to do. I'm okay with it.
She hated to lie, but hot shame for her actions held Dagmar back on telling the truth. Even if she wanted to, she shouldn't tell Draco everything through her messenger anyway. The last thing she could risk was Marigot or Shacklebolt showing up for some sort of follow-up inspection.
It surprised Dagmar that Draco replied right away. Oh really? Not going to lie, I'm happy for that. The last few weeks have gone on long.
Some kind of good feeling mixed in with everything else roiling inside Dagmar was just too much to handle. She had to wipe her eyes so that she could see the page before responding: I can't wait to see you either.
It scared Dagmar too. She couldn't fathom telling Draco about all this face-to-face. What other choice did she have, though?
Dagmar put her messenger away and then sat with her bags in the living room while her parents finished packing. She could hardly look at them when they finally emerged and ushered her on. Dagmar and her father waited outside the office while her mother went inside to hand in their keys.
Half an hour later, Dagmar was packing her bags up the foyer staircase in her family's manor. She couldn't wait to hole up in her room and not see anybody for a while. Although she missed Draco, she didn't know if she was in the right mood to visit with him. They'd left off on a bad note the last time they actually saw one another in the flesh, and Dagmar didn't want them to come back together like that. She didn't know how it could be avoided, though.
Not bothering with the rest of her things, Dagmar grabbed her messenger to write to Draco: Sorry, I didn't tell the full truth earlier. It's not that my parents ran out of things to do in Nice. Something happened yesterday and we all just decided to come back. I'm still pretty upset about it and I'm not sure if you'd want to spend time with me when I'm like this. I hardly want to be around myself, really.
Dagmar laid down on her bed, waiting for Draco to reply. She tried not to be discouraged that he didn't right away, since unless they were in the middle of a conversation he could be doing anything else.
He wrote back ten minutes later: Of course I still want to see you. What happened?
I'd rather talk about it in-person.
Can I come over?
Dagmar hesitated. Maybe give me an hour. I need to shower and I haven't even eaten yet today.
Just let me know when you're ready.
Dagmar headed into the bathroom, in that case. She'd made the right call to put off seeing Draco until she'd cleaned herself up. Her eyes remained puffy from her punctuated night, her skin somehow pale despite the tan she'd developed from all the hours spent on the beach in Nice. Dagmar frowned and shifted her gaze from the mirror to her right forearm when she noticed something in dim natural light. Deep underneath, as if something had burrowed there, was a dark discolouration. It almost looked like a thin layer of ash had been spread over her skin, but nothing came away when she rubbed at it. As if to punish her for even thinking about the injury, Dagmar winced as it gave an ample throb.
She both looked and felt a bit better on the other side of cleaning up. Dagmar picked some clothes out of her closet before opening the messenger again on her desk. Water still dripped from her hair as she wrote to Draco: I'm just getting dressed. Come whenever. I trust you won't get lost between the great room and my room if I don't beat you down there.
Okay.
Dagmar was in the middle of brushing her hair when a knock came at her bedroom door. Despite how low she'd felt so far today, when her heart leapt at the prospect of finally seeing Draco again it managed to stay somewhat elevated. A smile came on with ease as Draco passed her by where she held the door open for him. He studied her, seeming uncertain, but since she probably didn't look too hard done by in a moment of happiness, he relaxed.
The world beyond the walls of Dagmar's room disappeared as if swallowed by a fog when Draco pulled her into a hug. The tension she'd retained in her muscles bled away. Dagmar's breathing slowed and evened out as her nose rested against Draco's shoulder. She turned her face more into his neck, comforted by his scent. It was something she hadn't really noticed before, but subconsciously it had become something she strongly associated with him. Dagmar felt more at home now than when she'd actually arrived here.
She sighed contentedly. "It's such a relief to be back."
Two weeks hadn't been long enough for Draco to change much, but it was enough time for Dagmar to look at him anew with fresh eyes. Her stomach fluttered when Draco pulled back enough from their hug for their gazes to meet. Objectively he was as handsome as ever, but something had ineffably changed during the fortnight they'd been apart. Whatever it was weakened her at the knees when their foreheads touched. Dagmar wrapped her arms back around Draco's shoulders as he kissed her. She couldn't suppress the full groan that rose from her to have such close physical contact with him again. The little bit of it that managed to escape died instead against Draco's lips.
Dagmar fell back into a hug. She felt like so long as she stayed right here nothing could possibly be wrong anywhere else in her life.
They had to let go of each other eventually. Draco stayed close behind her on her way to the couch. Dagmar had tossed her brush there before answering the door, and she hadn't thought how silly her hair must look when half-tended to. If Draco had even noticed, he certainly didn't care.
"So how are you?" he asked after taking a seat. He studied her—or just looked at her, Dagmar couldn't completely tell if there was a specific motive behind his gaze.
"Honestly, it feels better just to be in good company again." Dagmar stood in front of him. It was too hard to brush the full length of her hair while sitting. "And it helps to be away from there. Now everything just feels more surreal, like maybe I only imagined it."
As if on cue to remind Dagmar otherwise, her right forearm throbbed. She didn't have enough warning to suppress her reaction, but even if Draco noticed, he might have just attributed it to her brush hitting a snag.
"What happened?"
Details had already started slipping away from Dagmar's memory. She could remember clearly the scarier moments, like when Marc's mate had jumped out at her while she sat on the steps and then when he grabbed her, but a lot of it felt more like a dream. Her entire stint at the French Ministry didn't feel real at all since Dagmar had been so exhausted.
"Before I tell you, just know it was more scary than actually harmful," Dagmar prefaced the story with. "I was followed on my way back to the condo by some Muggles. They wouldn't leave me alone until I stunned one of them."
The ghost of a wrinkle appeared in Draco's forehead. "What did they want?"
"I'm not totally sure." Dagmar put her brush on the corner table and sat down next to Draco on the couch. Turned toward him, she swung one leg over his and rested her cheek against the back cushion. "They were quite drunk. They mentioned something about going with them to a club to meet their mates. I don't think they realized I'm underage. Well, if I was a Muggle, I'd be really underage. One of them I'd seen earlier that day in a café. He was a little too friendly, I told him thanks but no thanks, and I figured that'd be the end of it."
While Dagmar spoke, Draco's eyebrows slowly rose. They'd gone as far as they could by the time she finished.
"What?" she asked.
"The way you tell that, sounds to me you're maybe playing their intentions down."
Dagmar shrugged. Draco didn't say that in an accusatory way, but she was still feeling quite sensitive about the whole thing after her parents had had their say earlier.
"I just don't want to think about what might have happened if I couldn't defend myself." Dagmar preferred to look down where she played with Draco's hand rather than meet his gaze.
"I don't blame you," Draco said. "I don't either."
"My parents think it was my fault," Dagmar replied. "They said I had no business being in the Muggle parts of the city anyway. As if that was a problem when they went there."
That more than what had happened with Marc and his mates bothered Dagmar right now. It might be that her mother only said that as a means to channel her anger about other things the two of them didn't discuss.
"Yeah, that's bollocks." Draco squeezed her hand. "Don't listen to them. You never asked for that."
Dagmar shook her head. Her emotions had touched on the matter again, bringing a heavy blurriness back to her eyes.
Draco pressed his lips to her forehead. "Is there anything I can do?"
"This is nice," she told him. "I don't feel as alone as I did after all that happened."
Draco's eyes narrowed keenly, his lips pursing in thought.
"Did you have a chance to eat?" he asked.
Dagmar shook her head. She hadn't felt any pressing need for food yet, despite knowing she should have some anyway.
"Why don't you come to my place for dinner?" Draco suggested. "My parents were gearing up to leave when I was heading out. We'd have the manor to ourselves."
"Sure," Dagmar agreed. "Honestly, I could stand to get out of here. I don't want much to do with my parents at the moment."
She slipped on some shoes in her closet and grabbed a hair tie. While taking a slow walk down the foyer staircase, she braided her hair back into a plait. Draco kept walking ahead, then had to stop so Dagmar could catch up. Dagmar thought it sweet he seemed so eager to spend the evening together. She definitely was too. In a way they had been doing this for the last two weeks, but while being able to remain in contact was great, it could never be as good as this. Just because she could, Dagmar took the opportunity in the great room to pull Draco back toward her for a swift kiss.
He waited in the great room of his own manor for her as she came in behind him from the fireplace. Leaving her place definitely made Dagmar feel better. Coming back to Malfoy Manor was almost like revisiting the part of the summer prior to when that mess in France had happened. Sure, Dagmar was stressed back then about what was going to happen with her manor being searched, but now that she knew that had turned out fine she could focus more on the positive parts of that turbulent period. She couldn't stop herself from touching Draco while they stopped in the kitchen to make dinner requests, even if it was just one of his hands in both of hers.
They didn't make it up the dining room stairs before Dagmar brought them to a halt. The fleeting concern that she might be annoying Draco with her clinginess died when he pressed her up against the wall, having caught the same spirit. His weight holding her in place invoked a sense of helplessness, but it wasn't at all similar to what Dagmar had experienced in Nice. It was comfortable and exciting. She trusted Draco that, no matter how carried away they might get with one another, he wouldn't push her for more than she was ready for.
Right now, Dagmar was having a hard time telling where exactly her boundaries laid. Draco's hands left a trail of fire wherever they went. While his mouth was equally greedy, his tongue somehow remained soft in the way it grazed hers. Dagmar exhaled heavily whenever she could in attempt to burn off the excess heat coiling within her, but it was no good. It settled as a throb in her core, pounding to the beat of her heart.
With a laboured exhale, Draco rested his head heavily on Dagmar's shoulder. Dagmar smoothed his hair down where she'd mussed it up. She felt just as flustered and overwhelmed.
"All right?" Dagmar murmured in his ear.
He nodded. "Just need a minute."
The amount of restraint he showed impressed Dagmar. In a way too though, she felt guilty that he had to exercise it at all. Dagmar could feel exactly where their feelings for each other would eventually lead, and surely Draco knew too. He probably wouldn't forget in the meantime what it felt like to be with someone like that, and Dagmar would be lying if she said she wasn't feeling extremely curious and tempted in the moment.
Draco lifted his head again. Dagmar's cheeks burned hot enough when their gazes met that she was sure he could feel it when he stroked her cheek and placed a chaste kiss to her forehead. His shoulders rose and fell under the weight of a stabilizing breath.
"Come on." His voice had turned a little raspy. "Before we get to my room, just a heads up. I have a surprise for you."
"Oh?"
Draco wouldn't say anymore about it. Dagmar followed eagerly, her hand in Draco's, and looked around the room when he let them in. Her eyes widened and her lips parted as her focus fell on the window ledge beside Draco's bed. A beautiful black smoke Norwegian forest cat sat there looking back at her, its bushy tail swishing back and forth.
She looked at Draco for confirmation. He smirked with his chest puffed, clearly proud of himself.
"This is Heimdall," he said.
"I didn't think you would've already gotten a cat," Dagmar replied. It had fallen so far away from her mind that she was genuinely surprised to see one here. She walked over to the end of Draco's bed, where part of the window ledge carried over. "Wow, just look at him. Du er en kjekk gutt, ikke deg?"
Heimdall meowed in response, a high-pitched noise that melted Dagmar even further toward him. He walked down the window ledge toward her, making a noise in his throat before pushing his head into her hand. That he responded so positively to Dagmar unintentionally speaking Norwegian made her think.
"Where did you get him?" she asked Draco as he took a seat nearby on the bed.
"Bergen," he replied. "The Menasjeri in Trollmannsgaten. Why?"
Dagmar chuckled. "I don't think he understands much English, if any at all. I guess that settles it. You have to learn Norwegian now so that the cat will like you."
"He's warming up to me just fine." Draco reached up to run his fingers over Heimdall's bushy side. "Can't he just learn English?"
"The cat learn English," Dagmar guffawed. "Honestly."
Draco shrugged, a smirk coming on. "What was that you just said to him, then?"
"'You're a handsome boy, aren't you?'" Dagmar told him. "Clearly a winning first impression."
Heimdall purred away, pushing his head up every time Dagmar made to pet him. He tried to turn on the window ledge, but he was just too large. He jumped down onto the bed with another quick meow, tail upright and quivering as he let Draco pet him next.
"So friendly too." Dagmar picked him up so that she could sit down where he'd stood. "And heavy. How old is he?"
"Eleven months, or so."
Dagmar let out a low whistle. "He'll probably end up around ten kilos, is my bet. Hva en stor, kjekk gutt!"
Heimdall meowed again in happiness of the compliment, making Dagmar laugh. "I see why you were drawn to him. He's got a little ego too."
Draco scoffed, but softened when Dagmar rested her head on his shoulder. "You like him all right, then?"
"Ja." Dagmar nuzzled him. "Thank you. I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time about the whole money thing."
"It's okay." Draco put an arm around her. "I get where you're coming from on that. Out-of-hand spending isn't a habit we should get into right when we turn of-age, although that's almost irrelevant anyway if being responsible with money is just something you value."
"It's just what I was taught." Dagmar shrugged. "It only takes one bad generation to wipe out a family fortune."
"We can square up whenever you're ready. I don't mind just making him a birthday gift, though."
"Nice try."
Dagmar kissed Draco's cheek before he turned his face enough to catch another one on the lips. She'd thought after being restricted to only talking while she was gone to Nice that it would be hard for them to find anything worth discussing now that she was back. There were details about her trip that Dagmar hadn't thought worth putting into written word, but she wasn't overly keen to stay on that topic as they visited. Their dinner came, which clued Dagmar in on how Draco and Heimdall had bonded without a common language. Heimdall was quite content to eat a chunk of Draco's turbot for dinner. He licked his chops loudly when his little plate was clean, and then spent a good amount of time cleaning his paws and face before falling asleep on Draco's bed.
After finishing her dinner, Dagmar laid down beside Heimdall to pet him some more. The only sign he showed of waking from being touched was a twitch followed by purring. Draco joined them when he too was done.
The sun set, and then the sky faded to black as midnight approached. Dagmar wasn't tired at all since she'd slept for most of the day. She was starting to see signs of it in Draco. He grew quieter for short stints, yawned, and laid down more than sat up. Although Dagmar doubted she was overstaying her welcome, she still felt bad.
Her stomach dropped when Draco took what looked like a finalizing stretch. "I might have a shower and turn in."
Dagmar nodded where she laid on her back, fingers running through Heimdall's fur. "Okay."
"All right?"
"Ja. . ." Dagmar shrugged. "Sorry, I could tell you were getting tired. Tonight's been really nice, and it doesn't help that I couldn't care less about going home."
"You're welcome to stay here, if you like," Draco replied. "My parents wouldn't care if you slept in the room you stayed in before."
"So long as I'm not imposing."
"I doubt my parents will even realize you're here."
Dagmar appreciated the hospitality, but it wasn't exactly where she wanted to sleep tonight. She was too shy to invite herself into Draco's bed. At least she didn't have to go home, which was a decent middle ground. Dagmar wrinkled her nose enough at the prospect of going there just long enough to grab what she needed for the night while Draco showered.
Her manor was dark and quiet. Dagmar listened carefully when she arrived in the great room that she hadn't stirred her parents, but nobody called out or came to check on her. Since Draco was still in the shower when she returned, she just changed quickly in his bedroom and put her clothes and toiletry bag on the chair. She laid on the bed again with Heimdall underneath the open window, wondering how she could weasel her way into Draco's bed for the night. It probably wouldn't be hard, but she overthought it anyway.
Draco emerged from his bathroom in just a pair of boxers. His combed hair already lost its slick form, thanks to the fingers he ran through them. Whether or not he noticed the once-over he received from Dagmar was up for debate due to the double-glance he took toward the bed.
"I didn't expect you to still be here," he said.
"Sorry." Dagmar sat up to slip off the bed. "I wanted to say good night first."
She ran her nails lightly over Draco's back as they held each other. His lips were minty from brushing his teeth. Dagmar was having a hard time letting him go. She started to worry again that she crossed the line on being clingy, and that she should just wrap this up before Draco grew annoyed.
Draco held her by her upper arms when she pulled away, eyes narrowed in deliberation as he studied her. "Do you want to stay in here?"
Dagmar's cheeks glowed warm as she smiled guiltily. "Ja, but I also feel like I've invaded your space enough for one day."
"You must be joking. When did I make you think I was getting tired of you?"
Dagmar shrugged. He hadn't. Her insecurity came from within. Dagmar didn't usually feel so strapped for company. This was new to her. It left her frazzled and feeling like she didn't have control over herself.
"Stay," Draco told her.
"You're sure?"
He nodded, his fingers trailing down to her elbows. "I think it would've been the obvious thing for tonight if it was something we'd done before."
Dagmar felt better that he agreed. They'd been apart for so long, and while Dagmar only experienced the loss in waves while she was in Nice it had all come down on her today. Once her birthday passed, the rest of summer would disappear so quickly before the start of term. Dagmar was already feeling the absence of the freedom they'd found with each other for when they had to return to their normal lives come September.
She nipped into the toilet to get ready for bed. Before her lingering demureness could show itself again, Dagmar crawled up from the foot of the bed to the inside between Draco and the wall. She pulled the blanket up over herself.
"I'm set," she said.
With a quick wave of his wand, Draco extinguished all the torches that lit his room. It was plunged into darkness, spare squares of light where the windows were. A thousand stars lit up the sky, blocked only by Heimdall's loaf of a silhouette on the ledge above where Dagmar laid.
The bed jostled, the blanket rustling. It shifted over Dagmar as Draco moved closer. She stiffened, uncertain, as a weight came to rest on her shoulder. Draco ran his hand down her arm above the covers.
"All right?" he asked her.
"I'm not sure," Dagmar answered honestly. "I'm nervous, but I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe just because there's probably a connotation that since I want to sleep with you, I want to. . .well, sleep with you."
So much as mentioning it when they laid together in the dark in Draco's bed burned Dagmar's cheeks again.
"I mean. . ." she spoke again before Draco had a chance to reply. "I know I'm going to want to eventually. I'm just not ready yet. I didn't mean to say that I don't want to. That's not accurate."
"I didn't expect we would tonight," Draco said. "If you wanted it or was ready, I suspect you would've said something."
"I don't know, I kind of want it," Dagmar admitted, "but I don't think I'm ready. I get really nervous if I think on it too seriously."
"Then you're not ready." Dagmar's eyes had adjusted enough to the semi-darkness to see Draco's silhouette. He shrugged. "That's perfectly fine, so long as you don't think because you're here that we have to do anything at all."
"Well, I certainly wouldn't say no to a good snog."
Draco snorted, which broke Dagmar's nerves enough for her to chuckle as well. Her heart picked up when Draco moved closer again. She was calmer this time, now that she knew what she could expect. Their noses bumped in the darkness before Dagmar found her way from there. They remained careful by it, bordering on lazy. Dagmar slipped a hand under the covers so that she could keep on scratching Draco's back. He'd seemed to really enjoy it earlier, and the same could be said again now.
"Am I leading you on?" Dagmar asked.
"What makes you think that?"
"Things like earlier, when we were on our way upstairs," Dagmar replied. "It didn't lead anywhere. Or like laying here. . .it's not going anywhere."
"Doesn't mean I'm not enjoying it. Isn't that all that should matter?"
"Ja, I guess." Dagmar briefly held her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't want you to be frustrated or anything, is all."
"I'm not."
"You'd tell me if you were?"
Draco hummed in thought, hesitating. "Depends. I wouldn't want you to feel pressured to do anything you're not ready for. The closest I'd probably go to that is just being open about what I want. I can deal with sexual frustration on my own. You don't need to worry about me."
Despite herself, Dagmar giggled.
Draco nudged her. "What, and you don't?"
". . .Fair enough."
"So that doesn't have to be a factor in when we go that way," Draco said. "That said, I'm looking forward to figuring it out with you once we get there."
A thought came to Dagmar. "That's kind of what we've been doing all along, isn't it? Just figuring things out?"
"I'd say so."
Feeling calmer now, Dagmar shifted closer to Draco under the covers. She would've liked to feel Draco's bare skin against her rather than just under her hands, but this would do for now. He still fit nicely against her as they laid flush, enjoying each other in the dark until Dagmar started to sense Draco drifting off.
