**Trigger warning: angst & reference to character deaths**
Chapter 64
Saturday 22 March 2003: AM
Blaise double-checks the apartment number against the one he's had memorized for the last four days. His fingers rub at the cool steel of the badge nestled in his palm, as he inhales deeply to settle his uncustomary nerves.
I'm not being a stalker; everyone knows that misplacing your Auror identification is a huge no-no. I'm simply being a good friend. I'll just hand over her badge and leave… no big deal.
Right. No big deal. Blaise quietly knocks twice on the scarred door of the council flat, conscious of the fact it's now past midnight. His eyes travel down the narrow corridor, marvelling at how many separate apartments seem to be crammed onto the one floor. The Slytherin dungeons were the very height of elitist 'communal living', compared to this crowded environment.
He cocks his head as voices sound from behind the shoddy (yet scrupulously clean) door.
"I'll get it! I told you Mrs Green would find my triceratops!" a high, clear, young female voice announces.
Have I knocked on the wrong door? Blaise scans the number again, just as the entryway swings open. He shares a glance of mutual befuddlement and curiosity with a small blonde girl wearing thick-lensed spectacles.
"Tavi! How many times have I told you, you don't answer the door until you're certain who is on the other side, and even then– " Gus's exasperated admonishment breaks off as she stares incredulously at Blaise.
"Zabini?! What on earth are you doing here?" She firmly but gently pulls the little girl behind her. "Tavi, go to your room, please."
"But I want to know who this man is," Tavi argues, poking her head around Gus's scarlet Auror robes. "He's a wizard, right? He's dressed like one."
Blaise silently opens his palm as Gus continues to glower at him, revealing the badge she'd dropped as she'd jumped into the elevator a short fifteen minutes ago.
"I thought you'd prefer me to hand this back to you directly, Gus. It must have fallen from your pocket as you were leaving," he replies.
Gus looks horrified as she realizes the trouble she would have been in, had someone else found her Auror badge and reported its absence. "Oh, sh–shiver me timbers!," she hastily adjusts her profanity, swiftly plucking the shiny metallic star from Blaise's outstretched hand.
Tavi smugly clicks her tongue. "I know you were going to say 's-h-i-t', Gus – unless you're suffering from a weird pirate curse," she snickers. "Are you a friend of Gus's?" she addresses Blaise directly. There is a faint hitch to her bright, inquisitive speech.
"I'd like to be," Blaise smiles down at the child. The familial resemblance between the two females is obvious; they share the same shade of dirty-blond hair, topaz eyes, and stubborn mouths. But surely, she can't be Gussie's… child? He rapidly assesses the age of the girl: she must be at least seven or eight years of age. For the first time, he notices the black-strapped elastic and moulded plastic orthotic braces splinting the back of her spindly, jeans-clad legs.
He looks back at Gus; she is regarding him with a narrowed, shrewd expression. Keeping her hands on the little girl's shoulders as she stands in front of her, she clips, "Tavi, I'd like you to meet Mr Zabini – he's a Very Important Person in the Ministry of Magic… or so I'm told. Blaise, this is Tavi… my little sister." Gus sweeps back Tavi's thin fringe affectionately, even as the child bristles in aggravation.
"I'm not 'little' – and my full name is Miss Octavia Felice Gilmont. How do you do, Mr Blaise Zabini?" She holds up a dainty little hand; Blaise carefully shakes it, smiling into her intelligent eyes.
"Charmed, I'm sure, Miss Gilmont. Do call me Blaise – and I'm only a Mildly Useful Person at the Ministry, most days. Your sister does far more important work," he acknowledges, grinning widely as Gus harrumphs with light scorn.
"You'd better come in," Gus grudgingly invites. "I was about to make us a cup of cocoa; would you like one?" She throws the offer over her shoulder, steering Tavi ahead of her with a firm hand. "Close the door behind you, please."
Blaise feels like a bull in a china shop as he follows the sisters down the skinny hallway. It is but a matter of a few steps before they enter the lounge/dining/kitchen. The entire apartment could likely fit in his master bathroom; the thought doesn't sit easily with him.
Despite its limited space, the apartment is more welcoming than his own grand pile, he notes. The living space consists of a sagging, brown floral two seater couch and an old armchair, facing a small television set situated on top of a basic bookcase. Books and toys bulge from the shelves, and a wicker basket (filled with more toys) groans at the seams in the corner. A lidded ottoman sits before the couch, serving as a coffee table. To the right is a miniscule kitchen, with a short breakfast bar demarcating the boundary between the two rooms. Blaise assumes that the two closed doors they'd passed on their journey down the short hallway must be a bedroom and bathroom.
The furniture is old and tired, but Gus has beautified it with pretty quilts and squashy cushions. Laminated posters of famous artworks decorate the dull-coloured walls; Blaise recognizes Vermeer's 'The Music Lesson', and 'The Grand Canal of Venice' by Manet.
He hovers awkwardly until Gus points to the small fold-out sofa.
"Have a seat, Zabini. Tavi – I'll bring you your cuppa in bed, lovey," Gus urges.
Tavi wilfully parks herself on the small armchair instead, flapping her hand dismissively. "Gus, you've always told me it's rude to not entertain your guests; I don't want Mr Blaise to get bored," she smirks. "I slept for ages while you were at the Gala, just ask Mrs Green if you don't believe me."
Rolling her eyes and muttering something cranky beneath her breath, Gus sets about preparing a pan of milk, pulling out the hot chocolate ingredients from their tiny kitchen.
Blaise seats himself on the well-worn couch, feeling as though he's being grilled for a job interview as Tavi leans forward; her fawn brown eyes glint with mischievous intelligence. She drops her voice, the clatter of the pan and crockery masking her interrogation from Gus.
"Do you have romantic designs on Gus, Mr Blaise? She needs a nice, strong, reliable boyfriend – not a nasty, selfish one," Tavi declares, peering critically at him.
"I– um– I'm generally considered to be a nice guy?" Blaise offers weakly, wondering if the kid is enjoying the fact he is blushing furiously. "Gussie– Gus told me she's not interested in dating me, Miss Octavia."
Tavi blows a raspberry. "Fffffft – Gus tells everyone that. She thinks I require more parenting than I really do, you know," she pronounces authoritatively. "I love her, but she needs to get a life – even Mrs Green says so."
"Mrs Green?" Blaise echoes, hoping to change the subject and perhaps shift the girl's oddly wise eyes off his visage. "Is she your nanny? Governess?" he hedges, feeling slighted as Tavi roars with laughter, clapping her delicate hands onto her knees as her entire slender form vibrates with mirth.
"What's so funny?" Gus calls. "You're not harassing Mr Zabini, are you, Tavi?" she warns, momentarily ceasing stirring the heating milk.
"He asked if– if Mrs Green was my n–nanny! Or my governess!" Tavi howls. Blaise is aggrieved when Gussie also starts to snigger.
It's a perfectly valid question, he crossly assures himself. It's not that funny.
"Remind me to let Mrs Green know of her elevation in status tomorrow, Tavi," Gus cackles. "Don't make fun: Mr Zabini is not used to mixing with humble commoners, such as we are," she drawls.
"Don't pout, Blaise: Mrs Green is our dear widowed neighbour – she minds Tavi when I'm at work. We'd be lost without her, isn't that right, Kiddo?".
"Gus! Don't call me that – I'm almost eleven," Tavi hisses, looking thoroughly scandalized at the term of endearment.
"Eleven?" Blaise parrots, trying to mask his shock at the girl's true age. She looks so… little… though she talks and acts as though she's forty going on eighty, he smiles to himself.
"Practically grown up – you'd better get a job and find your own place, huh?" Gus teases, before turning her attention to pouring the warmed milk into three mismatched, well-loved mugs.
"As if," Tavi scoffs. "You'll miss me like crazy when I leave for Hogwarts, Gus Gus." Swinging her head back to Blaise, Tavi misses the tense, pensive look that crosses her sister's face.
Something worrisome lurks behind that expression, Blaise muses.
He focuses on the little girl as she importantly asks, "Did you go to Hogwarts, Mr Blaise? Is it as wonderful and exciting as Gus says it is? Which house were you Sorted into? Can you really ask the Hat to be put in the one you prefer? What if it disagrees? Where do the house elves live? Did you ever do anything really naughty there?". Tavi props her chin on her hands, staring at him intently as she eagerly awaits his answers.
"Tavi! That's impolite – feel free to tell her to mind her own beeswax, Blaise," Gus huffs, bringing over their cocoas. She hands Blaise a mug illustrated with a red-haired mermaid wearing a purple shell bra. Tavi is given the cup featuring a sharp-toothed reptilian monster; Gus's own mug sports the Ravenclaw logo. "Don't burn your tongue, Zabini – you'll need it to answer Tavi's endless curiosity," she teases.
Wedging his big body as far into the corner as he can to make room, Blaise is disappointed when Gus instead sits on the far arm of the couch to sip at her sweet beverage.
"Thank you, Gus – it smells delicious." Blaise takes a quick gulp and scalds his mouth. "Yargh!"
Tavi remonstrates, "You didn't blow on it, Mr Blaise." She puffs carefully concentrated little breaths over the surface of her own drink, by way of demonstration.
"Good advice, Miss Octavia," Blaise wryly accedes. He balances the mug on his thigh for the time being.
"Now, as to your inquisition: I did attend Hogwarts; it is probably much more exciting and wondrous than your sister admitted (she tends to err on the side of caution, have you noticed?); I'm a proud Slytherin; you can ask the Hat to put you in the House of your choosing; to the best of my knowledge, it will respect your decision; the house elves live on their own floor, just below the dungeons; and you'll have to wait until you're a little older before I tell you of my naughtiest deed," he laughs.
"You're a Snake!" Tavi exclaims. "Gus says I'm cunning enough to be Sorted into Slytherin; but I want to be a Gryffindor… I'm going to be a Gryffindor," she affirms, with feeling. "Do you have a house elf, Mr Blaise? I'd love to meet one, but Gus says they're only affordable for the filthy rich," she sighs, before enthusiastically slurping at her drink.
"I do – her name is Gelsy, Gelsomina. She's Italian, and very smart and talented." Blaise sips appreciatively at his hot drink. He flicks a sly glance at Gus, who is brooding into her own mug.
"You know, Miss Octavia… I could introduce you to her tomorrow, if you'd like to meet her? Plus another four elves… we're all going to a brunch in St John's Wood. Harry Potter will be there… and Hermione Granger: perhaps you've heard of her?" he innocently asks, as Gus's head whips up to glare daggers at him.
"'The Brightest Witch AND the Real Harry Potter AND house elves?!" Tavi's shriek of pure delight makes him wince a little.
"You bet I would!". She bounces on the edge of her chair; the remaining skerrick of cocoa sloshes dangerously. "Gus, can we go? Please? I've already done all my homework for the weekend… and you promised we could have a fun outing… pleaaaase?" she wheedles excitedly.
"I meant a picnic in the park, or a ride on the Underground… not a crowded brunch with people we don't know," Gus grumbles. "I already told Auror Potter we wouldn't be attending, Tavi."
The little girl's face crumples; Blaise isn't sure how much of her reaction is genuine and which percentage is emphasized for dramatic effect; but he awards points for the undeniably heart-tugging effect. Her lower lip wobbles and real tears spring from Tavi's amber eyes. She hides her sad face by holding up the almost-empty mug, dropping her glistening eyelashes onto her soft cheeks.
"You're a sneaky git, Zabini," Gus cavils in a low aside, before bowing to the inevitable.
"Alright, Meryl Streep – can the ham and finish your cocoa, we'll go to the ruddy brunch, alright? But only because I did promise you an outing of your choice, understand? I won't be swayed by emotional blackmail, Tavi," she sternly advises.
"Thank you, Gus Gus! I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise," Tavi squeals, almost clobbering Gus in the head with the swinging mug as she clumsily stands and rushes to hug her sibling. Blaise plucks it from her hand before it smashes.
Gus returns the embrace, running her hand lovingly over the girl's dark blonde bobbed hair. "You're my favourite sister, you know that, Kiddo?".
"I'm your only sister, Gus – you have to say that," Tavi chides, winking at Blaise.
"Off to bed with you, Missy; go brush your teeth and change into your PJs, I'll come tuck you in as soon as I've seen out Mr Zabini," Gus informs.
"Goodnight, Mr Blaise – and thank you very much for the invitation," Tavi states, beaming at him as though he'd just let her loose in a well-stocked toy store with an unlimited budget. Cute as a button.
"Goodnight – and you're very welcome, Miss Octavia. I'll come by in the morning to escort you both; shall we say, quarter to eleven?" he turns to Gus, who nods curtly. Tavi untangles from her sister and skips away; her gait is a little unsteady.
Gus waits until the bathroom door has closed behind the child before she begins to speak. Her voice is monotonal, pitched slightly above a whisper.
"Tavi was born prematurely; the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck, and she suffered oxygen deprivation," she abruptly explains. "She has a mild form of cerebral palsy, which affects her speech, muscle tonality, hand-eye co-ordination, and vision. You probably noticed the orthotics she's wearing?".
"Yes." Blaise opens and closes his mouth, finally deciding to stay silent and listen.
"My parents were murdered by Death Eaters, a few days before the Battle of Hogwarts," Gus continues. She is gripping her mug tightly, staring unblinkingly at the floor. "They were both Muggles, and a corrupt Ministry worker noticed the 'anomaly' when they were poring over Hogwarts admission records, you see. Mum and Dad had pulled me out of Hogwarts weeks earlier; they were preparing for us all to flee abroad when the Death Eaters paid a visit in the dead of night.'
"I shared a room with Tavi; I heard them smashing through the windows on the other side of the house. I grabbed my wand, and I was about to rush in when I heard my Mum screaming at me to take Tavi and run. Two flashes of green light, and they were dead. Just like that," Gus tells him bleakly.
"I grabbed Tavi and Disapparated to the first place I thought of – our local library. I kept Disapparating to various random locations – hoping to throw them off the scent – until we made it to London. I Transfigured our clothing, and we spent the next few days on the run, hiding wherever we could."
"Wait – you Disapparated – but you were only, what, sixteen?" Blaise can't help but interrupt.
"Fifteen. I'd been secretly studying and practising Apparation ever since I'd returned for Fifth Year, in the Room of Requirement. I had a feeling – a hunch, I get a few of those, and so far they've not led me astray – that I needed to be as prepared as possible, for the coming storm. Admittedly, I'd only successfully Apparated from one side of the Room to the other – but I had no other choice. I was terrified I was going to Splinch my baby sister," she admits, her face blanching. "And of course, I still had The Trace – we had quite a few sticky moments before Voldemort was defeated and things started to return to normal," she shrugs.
Blaise's heart aches at the thought of the two young orphans, on the run from evil Death Eaters and Snatchers, terrified and alone. Forget 'amazing' – this witch is an unequivocal legend, he fervently decides.
"What happened then?" he hoarsely asks. "Did you have family you could go to?".
"I have an auntie in Canada, whom we've never met. I ended up fudging some ID documents to accelerate my age, and applied to be Tavi's official guardian. We waited six months for a council flat – Mum and Dad weren't well off, and we'd always lived in rentals. Their murderers burned down the little house we'd been staying in, before they left." Gus smiles joylessly. "We turned up here with a small bag of donated clothes, books and toys. Scrounged the unique décor from throw-outs and Oxfam.'
"Moved in here, met Mrs Green – she's been an utter godsend and a lifesaver – her late husband Roger was a wizard, she recognized our magic, even though we went to great pains to hide it – and she loves Tavi to bits. Treats her like a beloved granddaughter and refuses to take payment for looking after her when I'm at work. All our quilts are her work, she's forever giving us new ones."
"You didn't go back to Hogwarts? Sorry, stupid question," Blaise corrects himself immediately.
"I couldn't – there was no way I was giving up Tavi… I'm all she has left, Blaise." Gus scrubs restlessly at her forehead before finishing her tragic history.
"I got a job working nights in a Muggle supermarket – stocking shelves – and studied for my external N.E.W.T.s during the day. Passed the Auror entrance exam, finished my training… and here we are." Gus stands, reaching for the two empty mugs loosely clasped in Blaise's hand. He rises, following her to the sink.
"Gus… what I said to you before, in the Ministry – well, I just want you to know that I am completely in awe of your strength, and your fierce devotion to your family," Blaise breathes, gently wrapping his hand around hers in the lightest of holds. "Thank you – for sharing your story… for trusting me with it."
Standing stock still, Gus emits a faint tremble at the touch of Blaise's hand on her own. She pinches closed her eyes, tipping down her chin, shoulders slumping.
"Here's the thing, Blaise – Tavi is a witch… but her magic… it's unpredictable. Sometimes it flows through her as swiftly as a country stream, but at other times… it's like trying to turn on a rusted tap and only a thin dribble of dirty brown water comes out. The cerebral palsy– I've done everything I can to improve her physicality, but brain damage isn't reversible, not even by magical means," Gus babbles, her words thready and quick.
"I'm– I'm bloody terrified that she's not going to receive her Hogwarts letter, because of it – and she will be absolutely devastated. It's all she thinks and talks about – well, other than books, dinosaurs, science experiments, Lego, house elves, and Barbies," her chuckle turns to a choked-off sob.
"I don't know what to do – should I prepare her for the worst, or just keep my fingers crossed? She gets so frustrated by her limitations sometimes– I can't blame her for that, she's incredibly smart and gifted, and I know she feels trapped and betrayed by her own body– I don't know what to do…" Gus wheezes.
Oh, Salazar's stinky socks… my poor, stoic, stubbornly strong Gussie… Blaise's generous heart constricts as he reflects on Gus's suffering, and her selfless fortitude. I can't begin to imagine what's she's gone through – or the sacrifices she's made. And she was just a kid, herself… his eyes grow damp.
Acting on instinct (and hoping he doesn't get hexed for it), Blaise shuffles forward to carefully wrap his arms around the distressed young witch, gently guiding her chin to rest atop his shoulder. "Is this OK, Gussie?". He is vastly relieved when she remains passive in his arms, giving a minute nod of assent.
"Hey – I understand your fears – you've been a single parent to Tavi for five years, and you're doing a bloody marvellous job," Blaise soothes, keeping his voice calm. "But you're doing all this alone, apart from Mrs Green, yeah?".
"Well, Kolt knows about Tavi – he's a good friend to us – but he has his own family worries, and work is full-on for him, too," Gus clarifies.
"Have you spoken to Professor McGonagall about your concerns?" Blaise enquires.
"No… I mean, she knows I have a little sister. It was cowardly of me, not to just bite the bullet and ask about Tavi… I didn't want to be told that she couldn't be accepted into school – and I figured that I had plenty of time to help train and control her magic."
Gus speaks drearily. "Life got busy, you know? And then… I turned around the other day and it's less than six months to Tavi's birthday – she'll be eleven on August 23rd…" She trails off, her words muffled against Blaise's neck.
"Gus, being strong doesn't mean doing everything yourself. You need to let people help you – and Tavi," Blaise holds his breath, almost certain that Gus is not going to react happily to his unsolicited advice.
"It's been me and Tavi against the world for so long… I'm not sure if I even know how to ask for help, much less accept it," Gus mumbles. "I feel like I've failed her – I should have done more, in terms of helping her find ways to channel her magic– "
"Hey, hey – none of that. Tavi's not even supposed to use magic outside the home until she gets to Hogwarts… it's a Catch-22, Gus," Blaise points out. "Cut yourself some slack. Seriously."
He is more disappointed that he cares to admit when she disengages from their careful hug. "I guess. Sorry, I didn't mean to dump all my crap on you – I bet you wish you'd just handed my badge back to Harry, huh? Thanks for bringing it over… how did you get my address, anyway?" Gus demands, brows knitting.
"I might have… uh, stumbled across it after Theo got hauled in," Blaise prevaricates. "I apologize, I realize I overstepped."
"I'll forgive you this once, since you've done me a massive favour; losing your badge is an automatic written warning, and bloody embarrassing, to boot," Gus yawns.
"I'd better get going – you're exhausted, and you've still got to settle down one excited little moppet," Blaise indicates to the closed doors.
"Yeah – thanks for conning us into the brunch, by the way," Gus pretend-punches his arm, though her smile belies her aggression. "Reeled in my baby sis, didn't you? Hook, line, and sinker."
"You're both going to have a great time, I promise," Blaise avows. He looks about the room as a thought strikes. "Erm… you don't have a Floo? Would it be alright if I Side-apparated you both to the Granger-Malfoy townhouse, tomorrow?"
"Sure. Nah, no fireplace, I'm afraid. Just a poky one-bedroom council flat – but we're very grateful to have it, believe me. Beats the hell out of living in hostels and emergency accommodation."
"You have to share the bedroom with Tavi?" Blaise wonders aloud.
"No, it's her room. I sleep on the sofa, it folds out," Gus elucidates, chortling at Blaise's horrified expression. "Boy, you really aren't used to poor people, are you? And we're much luckier than most, trust me."
Gus reaches for his hand, beginning to tow him down the hallway. The casual touch fires Blaise's nervous system instantly; he has to stop himself from twining together their fingers in a possessive hold.
Easy, boy. She's barely accepted you as her friend – don't throw a spanner in the works by coming on strong. He schools his face into tranquil amiability as Gus opens the door and nudges him outside, their bodies brushing in the tight hallway (though he makes a valiant effort to compress his bulk).
"G-Goodnight, Gus," he stammers, still fighting the urge to press a kiss to her sensual mouth. He knots his hands into his robes to ensure they don't reach out of their own accord.
"Goodnight, Blaise." Gus gives him a funny little finger wave, her big cork-brown eyes blinking rapidly before she snicks shut the door.
He is left gazing dumbly at the closed portal, heart jumping about like a startled Puffskein.
Blaise doesn't realize how widely he is smiling until he catches sight of his goofy reflection in a slow-moving passing car (once he's exited the apartment block and is headed for the secure Apparation spot a few blocks away).
His confident steps slow as he briefly considers he is swimming in heretofore uncharted waters… and it's getting a tad deep.
Nah – I'm cool. I love helping my friends – everyone knows that.
And Gussie is my friend. My friend… Gussie.
He whistles, pleased to have resolved any lingering doubts.
Brunch is going to be awesome.
Saturday 22 March 2003: AM
Slipping back into bed as quietly as he can, Draco gladly cuddles into his sleeping girlfriend; he stills as she somnolently mumbles, "Draco… did you talk to Mum?"
"I did – she was greatly relieved to hear from us, as they'd just read the Prophet headlines. She sends all her love, plus– " Draco smooches Hermione's cheek, and gently squeezes her drowsing form – "a kiss and a hug. Delivered."
"Also, your father even risked sticking his head in the Floo flames for a few moments. He relished the details of how you and Pansy brought down Cormac, though he was starting to spout Macdolas-like schemes of bloody vengeance before Jane talked him down," Draco replies. "I invited them both to brunch – I hope you don't mind, I thought you might like to see them in person, ma petite."
Wiggling in his arms until they are lying face-to-face, Hermione opens her sleepy eyes, smiling tenderly into his. "Mind? You guessed right – thank you, mon amour. You're a very thoughtful, generous, kind-hearted man, you know." She nods decisively, as he shifts a little, shaking his head.
"No, you are," she insists. "You've opened your home and your heart – not just to me, but to our friends and families. Thank you, Malfoy."
Draco buries his face in her bountiful chestnut curls, needing a moment or twenty to compose himself after her sweet words. When he is able to speak around the emotional boulder lodged in his throat, he mutters, "You brought me out of my shell – you dragged me out of exile, Hermione. I know you don't see it, but you're the centre of our group… of our families. You bring so much light, and joy into the world… such goodness, and love.'
"Fuck, I sound like a proper mushy sap, don't I? Don't answer– I see you grinning," he nips at her little ears, as she squeaks and giggles.
"You're MY proper mushy sap," Hermione firmly announces, aping his cut-glass accent. "Wanna fool around?". She curves her arms around his neck, leering comically.
"Minx – I'd love to, but you've barely achieved five hours of rest, darling. And I'm still dog-tired myself," Draco concedes.
"Oh – I also called Mother… she's coming to brunch, too. Wants to tell you how proud she is of you, and assure herself of your good health." Draco edits the part where Narcissa referred to Hermione as her 'magnificent future daughter-in-law' (though the memory makes him smile in both pride and exasperation).
"Excellent! We still need to plan Mac's birthday bash – we'd best distract him at some point, so Narcissa and I can confer with Ruibby," Hermione decrees.
"Lucius expressed his best wishes for your health, and has offered – of his own accord – to be reinterviewed by Harry, in regards to anything else he might recall about Walden McNair," Draco divulges.
"He did? Go, Lucy!" Hermione says, with some astonishment. "That's great news."
"It is." Draco snickers as he adds, "Wirey and Gelsy slept through all my calls; I shudder to think how much peach schnapps they each imbibed. There's no doubt they're alive, though – their combined snoring is horrific. I had to chase away Macdolas, he was prodding at Wirey with a wooden spoon when I first went downstairs. Claimed it was a 'welfare check'… I think we need to set limits as to his television habits, Granger.'
"One last thing – Blaise owled us, he asked if he may bring Auror Gilmont – and her little sister – to brunch. She's due to start at Hogwarts this year, and is mad for all things house elf, apparently. She wouldn't be, if they ate her special dinner mints," Draco grouses.
"You said yes, right?" Hermione blithely ignores his carping about stolen sweets. "Ohmigod – Blaise is actually pursuing Gus – they'd make such a lovely couple– " Draco can practically see the starry castles Hermione is merrily building in the air.
"Wait, wait– before you start planning their wedding, Blaise was adamant that Gus is coming as his friend, Hermione. Refrain from pushing them together, please: Gus strikes me as extremely resistant to that kind of blatant machination, OK?"
All he gets by way of response is a non-committal "Mmmm."
Draco tries again. "I can hear your canny brain scheming, ma petite – truly, please don't pressure them. Blaise mentioned that Gus only agreed because Tavi was so excited about mixing with wizardly folk; they come from a Muggle background, and have had a tough time of it – he didn't say anything else, so I can't be pumped for more information. Go back to sleep, please."
"It's not interfering if they are already attracted to each other, Draco," Hermione argues. "It's just… 'creating opportunities for relationship growth and encouragement', and that's a supportive role to take, for our friends." She doesn't bother to mask her self-satisfaction at her wily approach.
"I still wonder that you weren't Sorted into Slytherin. Sleep, sweetheart. You can conspire and connive later – Merlin knows, my mother thrives on it." He kisses the tip of her nose, moving slowly onto her forehead, brows, and eyelids, as she hums softly and nestles back onto the pillow.
"I'm going to wake up before brunch… then look out… I'm going to have my wicked way with you, Draco," Hermione avers. "It's going… to be… epic…" the last word fades to a snore.
Tired little goose. Draco gathers her against his chest, fussing at the bedcovers until he is satisfied Hermione is toasty warm. He savours the pervasive feeling of relieved, relaxed contentment.
We're finally free of the dark shadows that brought her to my doorstep… and no one will ever hurt my Hermione again, not while there is breath in my lungs and blood in my veins.
Draco unconsciously tightens his grip on his slumbering paramour, as their new reality sinks in.
Free to be together without fear… free to love her as I've always dreamed.
He is still smiling with the sheer joy of that realization as he follows Hermione into the Land of Nod.
We're free.
