Chapter 49: Wherein life returns to quiet. Largely.
Summary: On the last day of the festival, most of the Curtain guests say their farewells and those who remain are doing their thing which, of course, varies.
It was in the middle of farewelling Molly and Arthur that the entire group of them was distracted by the scream of her owl as he flew into the Great Hall. Hermione raised her arm for Postmaster General to land on and neatly caught the letter he released to her just at the last moment with her left hand. She cooed at him for a brief moment and he seemed to revel in her affection before she tossed him back up in the air to give him a boost in his flying. She pocketed the extremely small scroll without looking at the seal. It could only have come from one address.
"I'm so sorry for the interruption," Hermione said, turning back to the Weasleys with a smile. "And I'm so glad you were able to be our guests, and that you were kind enough to be so helpful to us. Thank you."
Viktor thanked Molly for adding greatly to their potions stores. Hermione happened to know that he'd planned for most emergencies, still there was no harm in being very well prepared.
"Well, well," said Arthur Weasley with a grin. "There are others waiting to say goodbye, so I'll just say, well, that is - I'm glad things are turning out well for you, Hermione. Your Majesty. I hope you'll be very happy."
Hermione had already put her left arm back in the crook of Viktor's elbow, so she just smiled and thanked him and expressed a wish that everyone would have time enough now to rebuild and be happy in peace.
And then it was a series of Viktor's friends who were taking their leave, and while each one bowed politely to Hermione, Viktor got solid hugs and kisses on both cheeks from every single one of them and it made Hermione think that they would need be quite intentional about having his friends visit often, especially she had realized, Mikhail, his best friend from school, and Alexi, his childhood best friend.
And, of course, her in-laws, who might be the most sane adults Hermione had ever met. Outside of her own parents, of course.
And then it was Father Michael who was leaving and it was Hermione who initiated the hug, and when he whispered in her ear, "You're going to be okay," that was when she almost couldn't keep a sob inside, a sob that came up from nowhere and then seemed to recede back into the same place again. But she had to take a moment in the midst of the hug, a moment to just take a deep breath and try to get herself under control again.
There were so many people, so many people, and they all left between the hours of two and four.
Augusta Longbottom was brusque and formal, but for all of that Hermione knew there was great kindness and clarity within.
Charlie Weasley was oddly enigmatic and intense in his thank yous and Hermione wished, not for the first time, that she'd been able to spend just a bit more time with the various groups of her guests. Well, most of them, anyway.
When Ron and Hanna - not a couple that looked like they had hit it off particularly well over the weekend, but whatever, it was really none of her business - said their goodbyes for a half a heartbeat Hermione wondered if he'd been about to hug her, but that was about the time when Viktor had quite possessively put his left hand over hers as it lay gently in the crook of his arm. It was an extremely small gesture, but perhaps an extremely effective one, and Hanna, bless her, covered it all over with a quiet but apparently sincere word of thanks.
And that was when Hermione realized that she felt a million miles away, like someone else was standing in her place, sending her a transcript of what was going on, and with only very few exceptions, as when she almost started sobbing in the arms of her priest, she felt rather like all of this was happening to someone else.
In a brief break between people taking their leave Viktor leaned down and spoke very quietly in her ear.
"Not much longer now, Myon," came his comforting whisper. "When all is done, let us go catch our breath by the sea, at the cottage, before dinner, yes?"
She sighed and her shoulders released tension she hadn't realized was there. She nodded silently as another person approached, all smiles. Kingsley Shacklebolt, in politician mode. Or was that too harsh? Perhaps. Perhaps she wasn't thinking quite clearly. Perhaps she did actually need rest from the whirlwind. Perhaps.
Then it was Minerva who, despite that like Augusta was not leaving by floo, still came over to take her leave properly from her hosts.
"Your Majesties," she said with a slight bow. "Thank you for hosting me. It's a joy to reside however temporarily in a castle which doesn't talk back."
Hermione giggled, and though she didn't think much about it at the moment, was completely present and quite happy. Still, it was Viktor who did the talking, who thanked Minerva for celebrating their wedding, and when he was finished, Minerva smirked and it was so much more comforting than all of the twinkling eyes the old Headmaster had ever had.
"You are quite welcome. The pleasure was entirely mine. Now. I will have all manner of academic-" and here her eyes widened dramatically at Hermione, who could barely keep in the laughter, "-and residential thing to discuss with you, so you may expect my owl in a few days' time." Then she bowed again and was off across the Great Hall and out the front door.
But then Hermione seemed to float away again, far from her body standing there with Viktor and even though she was aware of smiling pleasantly and politely accepting peoples' gratitude as they left, she couldn't remember a thing anyone said the moment after they said it. When the flood let up Viktor murmured that they would stay a moment longer for anyone else. Hermione took the opportunity to read the letter that her owl had delivered perhaps an hour earlier. Knowing who it would be from, she tilted it so that Viktor could read it easily and so that he would know she was inviting him to do so.
January 2, 200_
Lyme Cottage
Little Puncknowle-on-the-Sea
Your Royal Majesty,
Please forgive my delay in answering as I was away visiting relatives until this afternoon.
I will be very happy to call upon you and help where I can. Your letter indicated the morning of 3 January as most convenient. I will arrive via floo at 10 AM.
Yours sincerely,
NF Scamander
"Who is this?" Viktor asked quietly, not whispering but not loud enough for the easy echo of the large stone room to pick it up.
"Animal expert," Hermione murmured. "Minerva recommended him."
"Mm. Good. We need a zoo, I think."
"Yes, probably," Hermione answered, trying desperately not to think of the great volume of organization that was going to be required for, really, all of her gifts. Some were fun and exciting, to be honest. And most were just totally overwhelming.
"Tomorrow morning we deal with animals. The fourth we deal with plants in the morning. But the afternoons, we take Elizabeth's advice, yes?"
Hermione sighed. "But there's so much to do," she responded, her tone plaintive.
"And there are many days to do it in," Viktor pointed out quietly. "Does not all need to happen at once. Animals are imperative. Plants only slightly less so. Everything else can wait two days."
Just then, Tampy popped in next to Hermione, holding the tips of her ears in her hands with a distinctly worried look on her face.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked quietly.
"Midnight is being a bad kitty, Miss. Won't stay sleeping by the fire with Morning, Miss."
"Where's he going, then?" Hermione asked.
"To Miss Ginny's room, Miss."
"Large cats are often solitary," Viktor murmured next to her. "If he has bonded with Ginny…"
Hermione nodded and thought for a moment. She had rather liked the idea of two magical tigers of her very own, but if the male had bonded with Ginny, it was probably best the would-be mated pair not be together all the time, lest they be swimming in magical tigers in ten years.
Finally, she decided. "Leave him be for now, and let Trip know and share with him what Charlie Weasley told us about raising them, alright? I'll talk with Ginny later and make sure she's okay with this. And help is coming tomorrow. We'll know more then."
Tampy looked visibly relieved. "Yes, Miss," she said, and left as abruptly as she came.
It was a moment or two more as they stood in quiet and Hermione was left to her own thoughts, which were swirling and quite uncomfortable. In fact, she just felt uncomfortable in her own skin.
"Will you run on the beach with me?" she asked Viktor quietly and was relieved to hear his simple affirmative in reply. Not that she seriously imagined he would say no, but still.
"Come, we go," Viktor said after another moment and the two walked arm in arm up the staircase to their suite. And of course, of course, upon approaching the bedroom, even at four in the afternoon, Hermione rather wanted to climb him like a tree. And yet… And yet, something held her back. She needed perhaps to go for a run more.
Which she never would have imagined likely.
When the door was closed behind them, though, something shifted and she began to shake, and then to cry. Viktor held her and didn't ask questions, which was just as well. Hermione had no idea why she was crying - she had felt perfectly fine. A little out of it, perhaps, but essentially fine. And yet the tears still flowed until she sobbed so much her head ached. When she finally stopped crying, she groaned.
"Ugh. Headache potion, and then perhaps just a walk on the beach," Hermione said, revising her plan.
"Yes, this is good," Viktor replied softly, still holding her. "And we talk on the beach, mm? Is long overdue."
Hermione looked up at him, wary of the phrase long overdue. "You're not mad at me, are you?"
His little smile down at her was half a grin. "This you would have noticed much earlier, Myon."
Hermione thought briefly of what life was like when Viktor was, in fact, mad at her, and realized whatever it was it couldn't possibly be that. When Viktor was angry there was no confusing that emotion with anything else, and that was true whether or not he was saying anything at all. Recognition of this flitted across her face, she was sure, but she stayed for the moment in his arms before seeking out the temporary relief of the headache potion and the less temporary relief of yet another talk with Viktor as they walked along the shore of the sea and swam in their own metaphorical ocean at the same time.
"I mean, but it's not his fault, you know?" Harry asked as he walked between Helen and William, ostensibly to have a look about as people were packing up and getting gone, but really, as Harry realized, to talk about, well, some things. "And I think he really is changing, I mean, and that's what we want, right? I mean if I woke up one day and realized I'd been a total tosser and then decided, 'right, don't want to be that way anymore,' and changed my tune, well, I would hope people would take me at my word, you know? I might have to make some amends, but he's doing that, too, I think."
"Oh, Harry," Helen said gently, "you have a big heart. It's a beautiful thing to be able to forgive. Eventually. We just don't want to see you get hurt again."
He grinned ruefully and ducked his head. "'S'alright. Not like I'm going back to Little Whinging. Ever."
"Do you miss it?" William asked.
Harry shook his head. "Nope."
"Is there anything you left there that you might want? We could go get it for you," Helen pointed out.
Harry shook his head again, and remembered to answer verbally. "That's… that's a really nice offer. Thank you. But it's not necessary. I'm sure they've already tossed anything I left. Nah, I've got everything I need, now. Mementos of a rotten childhood were best tossed in the bin anyway."
Helen put her arm around his shoulder and half hugged him as they walked. "You're awfully young to be so jaded."
"I'm awfully young to be so old," Harry quipped and then wondered if that even made any sense. Well, it had in his head. But the half hug felt just fine.
"Have you thought about our offer?" William asked as they stopped to watch the calm water of the lake, rather than people packing up and leaving.
Harry nodded, but he couldn't speak past the lump in his throat.
He knew what he ought to say.
He knew what he wanted to say.
He had no idea how to say either one.
"Well, it's better than I thought it would be," Bill responded quietly to his wife as they took their tea and nibbles in the winter garden at the center of the Roman building, and in truth, all alone. But with the hubbub of so many leaving, it was hardly a surprise.
Fleur just smiled enigmatically.
"Nice to have the family around, and yet, be… diluted by others. If you know what I mean," he said.
Fleur nodded. "There was no pressure to be the eldest child. You could just be… you."
He smiled in relief and took a sip of tea. She understood. She usually did.
"I was not sure what to expect of the festival, but it was quite pleasantly full of diversions, no?" she asked.
Bill smiled a bit and prepared a muffin with some butter. There were other things he might discuss with her, but later, after they left in a week. It would be foolish to talk about their hosts or any guests beyond his family while still guests themselves. But there, too, it was better than he'd thought it would be.
Here, with just the smaller houseparty, Bill didn't feel like he had to be always half on guard against other people being stupid about his wife. And he felt less judged here, for his scar. He was hardly the only scarred one here, after all. And the Queen didn't have to show her scar - arguably more painful and humiliating than his own - but she did, during the coronation, and to everyone. You couldn't have missed it. She practically rolled up her sleeves and shoved it under everyone's nose.
If Bill had had a scar like that, he was almost certain he would have never shown anyone.
And Harry's scar - shit. Not the one on his forehead, though of course there was that one. But the one on his arm? Bill had seen it when he was in the Roman Bath with him that first time and had found a moment to ask Ginny about it on the quiet a day or so later. A defence professor had tortured him during a detention.
It blew the mind. Had the Headmaster known about that? He couldn't have known about it. Surely he wouldn't have let it happen. Surely he would have punished and fired the professor in question. Surely…
Merlin. It just hurt to think about it.
And then Fleur caught him up in conversation again, about their next field assignment that they would be preparing for when they returned from vacation. They would be travelling together to Peru to study under a Master Curse Breaker, and working through a recreated set of deadly traps on a funerary temple that Master Loquxti had once broken on behalf of Gringotts. It looked to be challenging work and they were both quite excited for the opportunity.
"Oh. Hello. Didn't mean to interrupt. Looking for the ground floor library. Have I finally found it?" Dudley asked, and then wondered
if he ought to have tacked on a 'Your Grace' in there somewhere. Probably. Probably right at the beginning. Damn. He was quite shite at this, really, and as friendly as they had been, he still wanted to make a good impression on the man who might employ him after all.
And bloody hell, he still needed to learn French. Couldn't let that get caught up and lost in the shuffle of getting back to Little Whinging. There would likely be some good times talking with Mum and some rather more difficult ones with Dad. Oh, well. He could probably avoid most of that. Could shut himself up in his room and claim to be studying. Hell, he could nip out to a book store and get a couple of volumes on learning French and the idiot's guide to making wine and he could actually study, and thus avoid his father, really, until it was time to go back to Uni.
"No, you're in the right place," Draco, who had apparently been made a duke right along with Harry - and God, Mum was going to flip over the pictures - said, looking up from a book which he then closed and put to one side. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"
Well, he hadn't had anything firmly in mind, not really, but now that he was posed with the question, all he could think about was Calpurnia and Carys and Dorentio, those nice centaurs and merfolk he'd met during the reception. He'd learned a lot about their culture during the night but to be honest, he couldn't remember most of the details.
"Um, something about the culture of the other magical sentient beings, you know? Like the Centaurs and the Merfolk. And the Elves," he added belatedly, because Tolkien had obviously gotten everything exactly wrong and Dudley was keen to see what was right.
His Grace lifted his eyebrows. "Good luck. Such books are thin on the ground and while I'm sure Hermione has what's been written on the subject, though likely in her private library... But I'm quite sure it's all so much rot."
Dudley blinked. "What?"
And then his future employer explained that relations were strained, information was not generally forthcoming, even from the elves, and that what he'd seen at the ritual was really quite unique.
Strained relations? Really?
Dudley accepted it as the truth, even as he struggled to process his own experiences of remarkable openness.
"What?" the other man prompted, while waving him to a nearby chair. It was big and squashy and Dudley half wanted to flop in it sideways, but restrained the urge and sat on the edge instead.
Dudley took a deep breath, not wanting to be argumentative, but still so very confused. "At the reception I met two centaurs about our age and a delightful mer-uh-woman and we drank and talked until God knows when. And we mostly talked about the difference in our cultures, I mean, me as a normal person, which they weren't used to, and obviously I had no idea about them. And, I mean, it was fine. Really it was awesome. Not that I remember everything so clearly - there was a lot of wine. But I thought maybe I could fill in the gaps that I don't quite remember, you know?"
Dudley was the recipient of an extremely careful gaze.
"How interesting," Draco commented somewhat blandly, Dudley thought, but then changed the subject before he said anything interesting in return. "You won't find what you're looking for here, my friend. But there are plenty of titles and one of them might interest you after all," he said, gesturing with his own book before opening it back up again with a smirk and apparently losing interest in conversation altogether.
Dudley tried to let it go and instead studied intently the various titles until he found one that piqued his interest. Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. He sat down with the slim volume with half a thought that he'd be able to finish it in not much time at all, but he couldn't quite get the Duke Black Malfoy's smirk out of his head.
It meant something, surely?
"I am not one of your spies, Gregor," Sofia said, smirking.
Rarely would they speak so openly about such things, even in Bulgarian, but they both knew that the security threat had just recently been removed from the Roman Bath House, and thus the steam room in which they currently sat, with only towels wrapped around themselves. More importantly, there would have been no opportunity for deep and difficult charms to have been placed back on the area by any enemies of their new daughter. Of course, they still did a battery of twenty-one separate charms each dawn of the festival around the inside perimeter of the enclosure, and there were a few interlopers on a slow creep with a timed release that they did away with the first day, and then informed the Head Elf of Pendragon directly. Of course it was too late for the elf to register an opinion on what should be done, as the Krums had already dispatched Eye for Eye to each of the three senders, which was a charm that rendered the sender of the curse similarly cursed, though only for a period of seven days and to a somewhat lesser degree. This somewhat kindly modification was unfortunately useless in the case of inherently permanent and mono-strength curses, like any variety of killing ones. One was dead, or one was not. One was very rarely mostly dead, and never for seven days.
Ah, it was something they would discuss with Viktor before they left, but it need not happen so soon. They would continue their patrol, and continue to update the Head of Grounds in the Head Elf's absence.
Her husband took up her left hand and kissed the tip of one finger after another, bringing her out of her protective thoughts.
"Sofia, Sofia," he said, his tone placating and full of romance, if not seduction. "I promised never to use my techniques on you, and I am not. I am just plainly asking."
"Yes, but you want me to tell you everything," she complained.
"Mm, yes. For preference," he said with a charming smile.
She rolled her eyes. "I have not yet decided what to tell you and I am unlikely to do so today. Unless of course you can come up with more specific questions, which I may decide to answer."
Gregor laughed and it did her heart good to hear it, short though it was. "Ah! But I did not want you to feel interrogated. Fine. I will ask my questions. Do you have any reason to suspect this Countess of schemes active or passive against our daughter?"
"No. Quite the opposite."
"Explain this please, my blossom," he said.
"She bore the scars of a dark wedding night ritual, and her husband only died within the month, and she is nearly through her mourning already. No, I believe it took great strength to break away before his death and now that she is truly free, there is none of this sort of thing to fear from her."
Gregor made understanding noises, but Sofia kept on thinking quietly as they sat in the blissful heat.
As she stared at the red curtains before her, Sofia thought of many things, but mostly she thought of the fact that Hermione might need a spymaster as well, and that Narcissa, with proper training, might possibly be the best candidate.
"It's okay to say no. It's okay to say yes. It's okay to tell us you're not ready to answer yet," came the soft and loving voice behind him that really was entirely too good to be true.
Harry wrapped his arms a little tighter around his own torso and tried to keep the tears at bay as he looked out onto the placid lake and away from anyone who might be watching. Including his sister's parents. And depending on how he answered, his… own… parents.
And then he couldn't keep the sobs from coming out, from shaking him and so then there was the added level of shame on top of a desperately agonizing situation.
"Oh, Harry, come here," William said and pulled him into his arms, but Harry was torn and tucked his face into Dr. Granger's neck even as he clung to him.
"Reporters," he said on a hitched breath between sobs. And then there was a hand, a softer, smaller hand stroking his head and the back of his neck.
"I'll keep a lookout, sweeting, and seize their film if they try. I promise I can run faster than they can," Helen said, and Harry brokenly laughed at the image of the sweet and kind Dr. Helen Granger assaulting a reporter on his behalf. Well, it was clear where Hermione got it from, that was one thing, a rather detached part of himself thought. But sure enough Helen had shifted so she could easily see behind them now, and had stuffed a handkerchief in one of his fists before she returned to stroking the back of his head and neck.
It felt like love.
Harry cried all the harder.
He was waiting, of course, for the polite distancing, the pat on the back and awkward reassurances that the Headmaster and his Godfather had been so good at the few times Harry had dared to be so honest, so raw. He waited, and waited, and waited. Except in most recent history, that was how these sorts of embraces ended. Ginny had never put him off that way. Nor had Viktor, come to think about it. But still, Harry waited for the inevitable.
And there it was. The pat on the back. Well, sort of. Helen was rubbing his back now and it was actually a bit… well, nice.
"Whatever you need, son. We'll do our best to get you whatever you need," William whispered, his deep voice setting Harry off into another round of crying, because, because…
Son.
"Yes, please!" Harry wailed softly, his voice unrecognizable to his own ears.
And then William's arms were all the tighter around him and Helen was whispering kind and gentle promises.
"I will love you forever. I will do my best to give you all that you need. And when we get angry at each other, I'll love you all the more, not less," she said, whispering directly into his ear. "I told Hermione the same thing when she was born, and it's no less true for you. I'm only grateful I didn't have to deal with pregnancy twice."
And then she kissed the side of his head, above his ear.
Harry looked up and over to her, but his glasses were totally fogged with all the crying. He pulled away from William and blew his nose, but of course he was still sort of crying and now he couldn't breathe and he couldn't see. Helen pulled him into a hug all the same. It was silent for a long moment, but then William spoke quietly to the both of them.
"Just so we're all clear on this, I can't outrun reporters."
It was funny. It wasn't that funny, but Harry found himself laughing a bit, and then laughing so hard he couldn't cry anymore.
Helen was grinning at him as she pulled back and wiped some tears away with her thumb. "Come on, sweeting," she began. "Let's go find that beautiful wife of yours and warn her she's got more in-laws to deal with." She hooked her arm in his and steered him toward the castle.
William was on his other side and plucked his glasses from his face and cleaned them off with a fresh handkerchief before handing them back again. "Now, what's this about eloping? Who's idea was that, then?" he asked, but he sounded amused rather than annoyed.
Harry huffed a little laughter as they walked. "Erm, well, we sort of decided to kidnap each other, really," he began, telling them the story as they walked across the Great Lawn. Ginny might not actually be at the castle yet, but she would be soon. Harry knew that she was taking the day off tomorrow, and he wondered how she'd feel about spending some of it with his parents.
Draco was in a distinctly awkward position. Oh, his parents had taught him exactly what to do in such a circumstance. Naturally. The awkward part wasn't produced from a lack of knowing what to do. It came from not wanting to do it.
Clearly he would need to consult Luna who would know, unequivocally, what he should do.
Still in the library, Draco called out to the elf he had assigned to Luna.
"Shimmy?"
"Yes, Master Coney?" the elf asked as soon as he appeared.
"Has Miss Lovegood called for tea yet?"
"No, Master Coney. Should Shimmy prepare tea for the Mistress?"
"Make it tea for two and I'll join her. Alert me when you've delivered it."
"Yes, Master Coney," he said before disappearing and went about his business in the Pendragon kitchens.
"Um," came a voice from several feet away. Dee had looked up from his book. Dee, the source of the current conundrum.
Draco raised a single eyebrow.
"Why did the elf call you a rabbit? Is that an elf thing? Or a Malfoy thing?"
Draco smirked and shook his head. This, at least, was easy to answer. "When you're nannied by elves, they give you a name. Usually a syllable of your given name, diminuitized."
Dee was nodding, but he still looked confused. "And they got Coney from…"
"My proper name. Draconis."
"Ah. Right. Yeah, my Mum has pet names for me. Never liked them much, if I'm honest."
Draco's smile was rueful this time. "Yes, well, most purebloods have entirely accepted it, as it does mean the elves in question would die to save their lives. Not at war, you understand, but assassination certianly, and in a siege possibly. A bit of indignity is worth it, believe me."
"Whoh, that got deep," Dee said, eyes wide.
"You did say you wanted to know their culture," Draco pointed out mildly before returning to his book, but honestly not thinking about it. He was thinking about the fact that he had highly sensitive, indeed blackmail material on Dee Dursley now and he wasn't entirely certain he actually wanted to use it as such.
He worried the problem back and forth in his mind as his eyes scanned the page before he turned it to the next. He wasn't exactly reading, per se, but he gave a good impression of it.
His father would have had the boy working at half-wages for the rest of his life for this, but Draco had no desire to be like Lucius. And Lucius had no ground to stand on when it came to extravagant love affairs, either. Not that he'd crossed the species line, to Draco's knowledge, but still. They were sentient. That had to count for something.
And really, Mother seemed to be having a fling with a snake and Draco was not at all convinced it was entirely platonic at this point, but there was, of course, absolutely no way to ask without getting his ears boxed, and once was enough to be on the receiving end of that maneuver. Besides, Lucius used to say that his lovelife was none of Draco's business, so the same undoubtedly held for his mother as well.
Not that he wanted to think about that.
Luna in a sarong. Luna in the bath. Luna in nothing but lacy pants and heels.
Draco took a deep breath and went back to actually reading. Where the hell was he? Right. The Nineteenth Dynasty of Egypt and whether or not certain pharaohs ever died, or were just wizards with longer lifespans.
Draco looked at the page number and the chapter heading at the top of the page. He was twenty pages advanced of where he'd been when Dee dropped the firecracker in the volcano visavis an Interspecies Orgy.
Damn. He'd missed the conclusion of the argument and now they were on to the efforts of the late Ptolomies in safeguarding the Library of Alexandria.
Bugger. He'd have to pick up the book again later.
The young Duke was handsome and delicious, Luna thought, looking at the second teacup. And apparently he had every intention of distracting her for a bit during teatime. Luna grinned and capped her pen, but when she got up and went to pour the tea she could feel something else entirely. A wave of sadness and confusion washed over her and she knew it wasn't hers.
So, this wasn't a seductive visit, then. Just as well she'd poured the tea and not disrobed on the bed.
When the knock came she was already at the door and pulling the heavy iron ring to open it. She didn't have to raise herself far onto her tip toes because she was wearing her favorite heels, but all the same she kissed him swiftly on the lips in greeting in an otherwise silent entreaty for him to enter.
He burbled on politely about her work and her morning so far, and that was kind of him to inquire, but not to the point at all.
She had considered, when she got up from her work originally, looking deeply into his situation to see what was bothering him, exactly, but then something held her back. Knowing wasn't always the most helpful way, after all. And her knowing wasn't the point in the least.
She silently handed him the teacup and settled on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace which was, currently at least, much more comfortable than the ancient bench that did duty as a sofa. When he paused speaking to join her, she just stared at him. Oh, he'd asked her little questions here and there, but she'd only smiled or murmured wordlessly because none of it was to the point.
So she stared at him. She'd ask actual questions in a minute, if she needed to, but the staring might be enough on its own.
"I never know what you're thinking," Draco pointed out quietly, and finally leaving off pleasantries for the sake of being real.
"I'm not thinking. I'm waiting," she pointed out, honestly. Her face was clear and open, she knew, but that was exactly the sort of face on which others liked to project their own emotions, which was always so interesting to Luna. What emotions of their own would they assign to her? Sometimes she played it like a guessing game, but not just now.
"For what?" he asked, a gentle eyebrow arching up. He took a sip of tea, but she waited until he'd swallowed completely.
"For you to tell me why you're upset."
"Who said I'm upset?" he answered in what had to be an automatically defensive manner. His features were still mild, but he was very clearly lying. His whole being cried out with it.
Luna went ahead and answered honestly. "You did." Then she drank some tea, which was very welcome, as breaks went.
The quiet was long and deep. It was the sort that needed a clock and some whirring noises, Luna thought.
The silence went on and on.
"I don't know what to do," Draco eventually said, his voice so quiet that had there been a clock and some whirring noises, they would have provided stiff competition.
"Tell me what happened," Luna said simply.
Then he poured it out and it was fascinating, really, the look into how he was raised, what sort of training Lucius had given him, and what he therefore took for granted.
For instance, Lucius apparently had very strong rules about drinking to excess. It was absolutely not allowed unless one was entirely alone and completely secure.
Drinking to excess, in Lucius' opinion and he was perhaps not wrong about some of this, led to indiscreet conversation and random sexual encounters that one could only just barely remember, and most importantly, apparently, that one could easily downplay in importance, thus providing blackmail material for anyone who could remember.
This, to Lucius, was a chain of events that was absolutely inevitable every time one drank to excess in the company of others, which was apparently something her betrothed avoided, nice to know.
Unless of course one was hosting a party, encouraging others to drink to excess, pretending to do likewise, refraining from outre encounters - as a host, it's only right - and largely remembering as much as possible and always verbatim, with the memories and a written account in a locked safe, duplicates in the Vault at Gringotts in Paris. This Lucius had done frequently and to great effect, which neatly explained his hold over the Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet for so many years.
When finally his tale was complete, she took his cup and got up and refilled both of them before returning. This was accomplished in silence.
Handing his tea back to him, she spoke.
"First, I want to honor how insightful you are. You really don't give yourself credit for this sort of thing, Draco. Well done," she said sitting down and silently thanking the fur.
He blinked back at her. "I… oh. Thank you. It's just that Mother-"
Luna cut him off. "Your Mother is an expert. She grew up in a family of deep paranoia and intrigue and then came to fruition half-supporting the Idiot King. And she's had thirty years worth of dreadfully painful learning experiences more than you. Please stop comparing yourself unfavorably to your mother. I daresay she wouldn't want you to do so. You could of course compliment her. That she might welcome."
Luna watched as Draco took this in quietly and with some difficulty. After an entire cup of tea had passed, Draco got up and got them refills. When he sat back down he seemed to have regained some of his equilibrium.
"Right. I'm ready for number two," he said decisively, and Luna silently praised his bravery with a smile.
"Second, you have options in this situation, and perhaps many more than you realize. I'd be happy to discuss them with you, if you like."
Draco nodded silently for a moment and then started speaking. "I can see that I could do a soft touch now without definitive proof, but that has downsides and you never get as much. I could go for a hard touch later and seek definitive proof now, but the proof may not be in the offing, given the other participants and so the risks are high and the payoffs equally high. What other options do you see?"
Luna sighed inwardly and outwardly took a sip of tea.
"Option one, with several sub options, you blackmail him. Option two, with several sub options, you do not blackmail him."
"I… what?" Draco stammered.
"You've fleshed out option one," Luna pointed out patiently. "I'll flesh out option two. You forget he ever admitted anything in your hearing. That's one. You use his admission and its vulnerability to become closer friends with him, possibly reciprocating with further intimacy on your own part. That's two. You offer Drunkard's Bane to him before it's too late, possibly staying with him as he takes it, which would involve further vulnerability, etc. That's three, or possibly a subsection of two. You discuss the implications with Hermione, who is desperate to have more information on the beings involved and who might name him ambassador because of this. That's four, or possibly three. Given more time I could come up with more options, but that's enough to go on for now, I think."
Draco had a horrified but somewhat contemplative look on his face that Luna cherished. It was a hard potion to swallow, but he was doing it, and it was changing him. She could see it.
"Talk… to me… about… two… and two… and a half," he managed to squeeze out past his horror, training, and the geis his father had laid on him.
"There are pros and cons," she pointed out. "Pro, it's very likely you'll have a closer, better friendship with him, which will bode well for working closely with him in the future. You'll also, in case you're curious, cut off a karmic cycle. This is especially true, I think, if you discuss the implications with him and then immediately reciprocate with vulnerability so he doesn't feel so embarrassed or possibly ashamed that it cripples his emotions. Then if you top that with the offer for Drunkard's Bane - and do discuss all the effects and side effects with him - and then walk through the process with him if he wants it… well, I'd say he'd probably follow you into hell of his own free will after that, not that at this point you would ask him to. But if you're looking to forge alliances and not create minions with resentments or puppets who have to constantly be manipulated in order for your interests to be served, this would be a way to do it."
Draco was nodding and his look was now more contemplative than horrified. "Now that you mention it, I've watched what damage resentful minions can do and I'm certain that I don't want that. And Father mentioned often enough how difficult it was to constantly be on top of all the people he was blackmailing. Puppets, like you say." He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Alliances. Father called those the most dangerous and the least controllable. And if he's against it, I could be for it. Though I'll grant you, I think he was right about the drinking."
Luna smiled gently. "If absolute power is what you need and you plan on doing dreadful things that no sane person wants to have happen to their own family, then yes; alliances are dangerous. But let's consider why they are dangerous.
"Alliances are inherently vehicles that invite you to change your perspective. Yes, they do other things, too, all of which you already know. But when you walk the path with someone who is just similar enough to you that you can walk the same path for a while, you are offered time and time again the opportunity to see the world as they do, and the same goes for them and your world view. Most of us make our decisions believing we are right, or at least that we have made the best decision we could in the moment, and most of us are capable of looking back on a decision, whether it's immediately or years later, and regretting it. And if you're capable of regretting your decision, you're capable of changing your mind - and most everyone is. An alliance offers you an intimate look at a different perspective and the opportunity to adopt some of what you see so that you can make even better decisions in the future - and the same goes for the other members of the alliance. It's not perfect, of course. And it's not as good as a close friendship with a wise person in whose presence you can grow and blossom, but any opportunity can be taken, and an alliance is dangerous for someone with absolute power on the mind because they cannot afford to change for reasons of their own."
But then Draco was putting down his cup and crawling over to her side of the rug until he was over her on all fours and she was half leaning back on her arms, smiling.
"Thank you for being my wise person."
And then he kissed her thoroughly and it was just delightful. He tasted like tea and himself, and for a little moment Luna lost herself in it. When the kiss ended she slowly opened her eyes and smiled at him.
"But what on earth makes you think that Drunkard's Bane would even work on him?" Draco asked, now kissing the side of her face and down her neck to the tops of her standard work robe she was wearing over a sweater and trousers.
She grinned. "It's hard to know for sure," she said on a sigh. "But his aunt was a witch and his first cousin is a wizard. He and his mother might be entirely non-magical, or of course, they might be semi-magical and not realize."
Draco sighed against her neck and paused in his kissing, just nuzzling there. "Thought I saw some in one of the ground floor potions cabinets. Wouldn't have thought they'd stock that here."
Luna giggled. "Oh, Viktor wouldn't have, and Hermione wouldn't have even thought of that. But Ginny's mum was brewing the other day, and I bet she did it."
And then the talk ended and the rest of Luna's tea break was productive indeed, just in an entirely different manner than the first portion of it. It was filled with soft sighs, mutual vulnerability, a deep and growing fondness between them, and one orgasm apiece.
Draco was trotting down the stairs in a highly satisfied manner, intending to go back to the Library and see if Dee was still about when he came upon one Harry Too Many Names Potter, who was hailing him. Hermione's kind and totally guileless parents were flanking him.
"Oi. Draco. Do you have a moment?"
An instant calculation told him he did, whether or not he did. He walked toward the grouping even as they came toward him, the Drs. Granger greeting him fondly.
"Got a moment to witness a contract?"
Draco did not betray his interest. "Of course. What sort of witnessing?"
"Um, signed in blood?"
Draco did not do a double take. He did not raise his eyebrows. He did not, in fact, betray his interest.
"Do you have all the equipment ready?"
Harry's eyes darted around briefly. "Ah, no."
"Would you like me to do that, as witness?" Draco asked, thinking that Luna would be proud of him. His mother would be, too, he thought.
Harry looked relieved. "That'd be great, yes."
"Shall we do this in the Library? Your cousin may still be in there."
"That would be perfect, don't you think, Harry?" Mrs. Granger answered and Draco wondered why it would be perfect.
"Yes, alright," Harry answered and Draco did not stare when Mr. Granger put his hand on Potter's shoulder in a rather familiar fashion.
"I'll meet you there, then," Draco said and bowed slightly before heading back up the two flights of stairs to fetch his standard writing kit, or at least the pertinent parts of it.
Now, for blood-bound documents, he reviewed mentally, each signer needed a separate quill, quills to be first cut during the signing with wands down. Better if everyone used their own knife and quills, of course, integrity can be guaranteed, then, but that likely wasn't going to happen, and as witness he would be trusted… which was an odd feeling. ...And then knives cleaned by elf and quills burned at the end of the signing. Healing paste applied, wands reacquired, and the deed is done.
Right. Right. He could do this. And as witness, he would be required to read the document, and thus satisfy his own curiosity.
Easier to simply bring down his entire writing case, Draco did so and found himself walking into a scene of odd tension, which while not entirely unusual wasn't what he'd anticipated.
"Mum's coming around," Dee was quietly saying. "Dad's a prick, I'll grant you." And then Draco watched as his future vineyard manager apologized for his language to Mrs. Granger. who didn't actually seem much to mind.
"Hey," Harry said and caught up his cousin in a hug that seemed to surprise both of them. "It's cool. I just also want this."
Draco watched this heartening moment keeping his own shock inside. Everyone was just so… so emotional.
Draco set up at a table and Mr. Granger wandered over to him, thanking him for helping out.
He murmured the appropriate replies and then asked how many signers there would be.
"Just Helen and I, and then you as the witness."
What the fuck kind of contract was he witnessing?
Wand out, placed gently at the top of the table next to his writing kit. One sheet of stationery - his best for this moment, cream colored linen, the Malfoy crest embossed with a gold leaf overlay - pen and ink, a blotting pad, penknife, three tiny quills good for single-use blood signing. He sharpened each quill quickly and carefully first, and then laid them aside, careful to put absolutely no pressure on the fragile and extremely fine nib he'd managed. He filled the pen with the dark green ink and put it carefully back in the holder.
"You can dictate, if you like. I'll be happy to take it down," he said congenially, the curiosity eating away inside of him.
"Perfect," Mr. Granger replied. "It's not a long statement."
Draco picked up the pen and nodded his readiness.
"We, the signers below, do hereby and with full consent and legality on this day, January 2, 200_, adopt Harry James Granger Black Pendragon Peveril Potter to be our son and second-born child and grant him all the rights and responsibilities he is entitled to therein."
Draco did not choke. He kept writing steadily and in his best hand. The statement was a short one and Draco did his best to keep even breathing as he put his pen aside and gently put a piece of blotting paper over the statement and let it lie there for a moment, also allowing him to consider…
...But Potter was an adult, now… Did he need parents at this point?
...Was there such a fine and large legacy the Grangers had in the mundane world that they needed two heirs?
After a suitable interval, he removed the blotting paper and put it aside. He would use it again on the blood signatures and then burn it with the rest. He got up from the chair and offered it to William Granger. When the man just sat there looking at things, Draco took his cue and walked around to the other side. He put one of the tiny quills just next to the document and picked up the penknife.
"You're right handed?" he murmured quietly, aware of another conversation going on on the other side of the room and wished he was able to fully track both. "Then give me your left hand. When the blood wells up you're going to immediately and very gently put the tip of the nib at the bubble of blood and quickly and lightly begin to sign. You'll need to refill the pen and possibly more than once. Keep your left hand to the side of the document so you don't bleed on it. The nib is very fine and very fragile, so you can sign quite small and use a smaller amount of blood, if you choose to. Got everything?" When he answered in the affirmative, Draco pressed the tip of his knife into the tip of his left forefinger. He stepped away slightly and wiped the tip of his knife on the blotting paper.
When he was finished, Draco took the used quill and put it aside as Hermione's father called his wife over and explained the process to her. When she sat down in the chair next to where he was standing, she thanked him for handling the details and he politely accepted it. She made quick work with a second quill, and then it was Draco's turn.
He had never done this before, the Idiot King requiring much more than a minute amount of blood on a document. It was nice to be doing it for something so… gentle. He had been an official witness before, but to torture and a rather different sort of bloodshed.
A deep breath and he was signing at the bottom, below the other signatures.
Witnessed in Cair Paravel, Pendragon Stronghold of the Northwestern Crossing, this 2nd of January of the year 200_ by Draconis Adonis, 23rd Comte du Malfoi, Duke Black Malfoy.
"It's done?" Harry asked, having come up to the table when Draco's attention was elsewhere.
"Not yet," Draco murmured. He emptied his pen and blotted it before putting it away and capping the ink and putting that away as well. "Tipsy?" he called out to his personal elf.
"Yes, Master Coney?"
He held the knife up between them, bloody point to the ceiling. "Clean this for me?"
Tipsy snapped his fingers and it was done.
Draco gathered the quills atop the blotting papers and held them out with all due care. "Hold these for me?"
Tipsy held out one hand toward the materials, not touching anything, but answered positively. The blood-touched materials floated in the air.
Draco took his wand from the desk and murmured a quiet incendio, and as the materials were burned to ash, and with a heinous smell from the feathers, the ash all wafted only so far and was held stationary in the air by the elf. When there was no more flame, Draco murmured a quiet evanesco and the ash was gone.
"Is it done?" he asked the elf.
"It is done, Master Coney."
"Excellent. Put three bottles of champagne to chill for the company after dinner, and alert the Head of Kitchens that we have much to celebrate this evening, will you, Tipsy?"
"Yes, Master Coney!" Tipsy said with a grin and disappeared.
"So, now it's done?" Harry asked, and Draco looked up seeing that everyone had silently witnessed his interaction with the elf, which was… odd. He was far more used to people ignoring such things.
"Not exactly. Now you must go to Gringotts and have them make you five official copies of this original, which must remain uncharmed and uncreased and otherwise unbesmirched, so do cover it if you go through the floo. One copy must go on file with the Ministry here in Britain, one copy to the Ministry in Australia, one to Gringotts for their genealogical charts, and one each to your vault and Hermione's. After the official copies are made, you can charm this one against theft, fire, water, and so forth, and the original remains with the Grangers, as signers."
"No time like the present," Mrs. Granger said. "Shall I fetch a large envelope for it? I've got one upstairs."
Draco watched as Harry grinned. "Yes, alright." But then Potter turned to him as he was finishing putting everything to rights in his writing kit. "Hey. Thank you. I wouldn't have known the ins and outs and probably would have gotten blood everywhere."
Draco shook the proffered hand in silence, quietly taking in Dee's less-than-celebratory look as he stood just outside of the happy bubble.
"Well, my part is finished here and you're off. Dee, feel like a quiet moment in the steam room?"
The man perked up a bit and gave him a lopsided grin. "Yeah, alright. I'll go get changed and meet you there."
As Draco walked up the stairs many moments later, both alone and silent in the stone castle, he wondered exactly how to phrase what he was going to say. A hard or soft touch of blackmail was easy. This alliance building, though… It was trickier.
Dudley was feeling… well, a bit torn. A little off. It wasn't that he didn't want nice things for Harry - if anyone deserved nice things at this point in their lives, it was definitely Harry. He was onboard with that idea, certainly. But somewhere rather deep down inside of him, Dee felt like Harry was leaving him behind, just as they were beginning to maybe become friends.
Intellectually, of course, it all did make sense.
Harry's parents were dead. His relatives raised him, but not with love and they certainly never became anything like surrogate parents. Dudley himself was never like a brother, at least, not a good one.
And really, Harry had already done the bonding thing with the Queen months ago, and Dee still had a good relationship with him. Which just went to show you could have more than one sibling-like-person in your life.
And yet somehow this whole adoption thing hit harder. Deeper. Or maybe just differently. And on the surface level, Dee just didn't know. He felt bad and that was about as far as he was aware things went. And so… sitting in the steam room with Draco would be nice and relaxing and bound to make him feel better. And Harry could go off and run errands with his parents and meanwhile, Dee had no parents around, no errands to do… and he could just relax.
By the time Dee had made it down to the steam room in his hawaiian print board shorts and his I WAS THERE t-shirt and thongs, he was content once more. He was having a great time, he was making new friends, Harry had parents again, and all was right in the world.
"So, I've been thinking about something you said," Draco said as they both got comfortable leaning back on two of the individual reclined stone beds of the room. They couldn't exactly see each other easily, but there was no one else around and it was so comfortable. The stone beds were heated.
"Yeah?" Dee prompted, shifting and cracking his back.
"The memories you lost the night of the coronation, due to drinking. It sounds like they were pretty valuable to you, and portions of the conversations you had, the insights you could bring to the culture of the beings present, that could even possibly be helpful to the Queen, if it was something you would be willing to share, provided you could remember, of course."
Dee sighed. Well, shit. Really shouldn't have drunk that much. "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure they're gone. I mean, it's been more than twenty-four hours and it's still pretty hazy past a certain point. Just snippets, you know?"
"Well, there is a chance you could regain those memories, if they're important enough for you. There's a potion. It's got drawbacks, one of which can be mitigated somewhat. There's a chance the potion won't work on you, of course, but there's a chance it would."
Dudley was suddenly quite alert, despite the relaxing situation, because he was pretty sure that he'd maybe kissed Carys. He'd sort of remembered something like that, her complaining about his kissing, but he couldn't remember kissing her.
Which meant he couldn't remember his first kiss.
And apparently he'd gotten to kiss a mermaid first of all his kisses.
And he couldn't remember shit.
"I'm in," he said immediately. "What are the drawbacks and why might it not work?"
"Well," the aristocrat drawled, "tackling last first, if you are entirely a non-magical person, the potion won't work on you because no potion will work on you, so we can test something minor in a bit, if you're still interested. Pepper-Up or somesuch. And if it does have an effect on you, then that means you're not actually a muggle, you're a squib. A semi-magical person, you know?"
"Whaaaaa-" Dee said with wide eyes.
"Yes, well. Welcome to the magical world. You may belong here even more than you realized at first. Shall we discuss detriments or do you need a moment?"
"-aaaaaaaat?" Dee said with wide eyes.
Other things happened. Draco said things. An elf came and went. And Dudley Dunstan Dursley's brain had stopped on 'Maybe You're Magical', because what the fuck?
What the fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuckerson?
Could you actually put enough 'fucks' in the sentiment to make it real?
An elf with long ears and a starched pillowcase was holding out a bottle to him and he downed it without thought. It wasn't a big bottle. Quite small actually.
He pulled a face. For the love of fuck! What the fuck was that? Essense of fucking ghost peppers? How much capsaicin was in that shit? Could he breathe fire now? Was that the point of the potion? Why did his ears feel so bizarre? Were they burning off, along with his tongue?
"I said a sip," a dry voice sounded through the wet room and resonated in his brain when his hearing came back and his tongue was no longer on fire. "That was at least six doses and you're going to be bouncing off the walls for the next three hours. Brought that one on yourself. Congratulations, Dee. You're a squib. And the other potion will work on you as well, should you choose to take it."
Dudley, now strangely energetic, sat up and then got up and started mindlessly pacing. He rubbed his hands over his face. Hard to think like this, like he had ants in his pants or something. He rubbed his tongue over the roof of his mouth - not sensitive now. He wiggled his ears. Nothing wrong with them, now. He bounced on his heels for a moment, oddly wanting to do pull-ups, except of course there was no convenient thing to hang off of at present. Maybe he needed to go for a swim? Hm. Not energetic enough. Ah! Push ups.
He dropped to the stone floor and started doing just standard push ups, glad to burn off some energy. Now he could think.
"We'll come back to me being a semi-magical firecracker in a moment. Let's discuss the detriments of the other potion, shall we?" he prompted, his mind whirling and his words much faster than normal.
It wasn't long until Draco responded, but in the space of four heartbeats, Dudley thought many things, because really, being a semi-magical person would only help him in the future, provided the future did not entail his father ever, not ever finding out, because then he might get kicked out, actually, and he wasn't done with school yet and that would be both inconvenient for himself and rather hard on his mother.
And really, his mother wouldn't take it too hard if he maybe made an effort to include her in on things, which could totally happen, and maybe if he gave her some useful magical gifts, just small things that his father would be able to overlook. Not, like, an owl or anything. Probably.
"There are two main detriments to Drunkard's Bane-"
Hell of a name.
"- the first being the amount of alcohol you could safely consume in the future, and the second being the quality of the memories you'll have from the moment you take it back to the moment you hit the level of drunkenness that memories couldn't normally form."
"Okay. Following you," Dee said, switching to a few one handed push ups.
"You can only ever take the potion three times," the other man continued, and it was like sitting a lecture, really, but way more interesting. Now, taking double firsts in vitaculture and magical studies, that would be brilliant. "If you drink to oblivion, you can take it the first time, and then ever after you won't be able to drink that much. You'll be able to get mildly drunk, but anything more than that and you start projectile vomiting on everyone around you. Very specifically on people, you understand. If you get that drunk again and take it a second time, you'll only be able to have a single drink a day after that, if that. You go farther, vomiting. On people. For hours. If you do get that far and take it a third time, no more alcohol, ever. Or vomiting, same thing."
Dudley was trying to smother his laughter. So far, the potion actually sounded awesome, hilarious, and like a really great party trick. And if he took it the one time, he'd still be able to have a drink or three at the pub, just not six or seven, and maybe, well, maybe that was just as well. Better on his budget, that's for sure. He switched hands again and kept doing push ups.
"As far as memories are concerned," Draco continued and as long as Dee was actively moving and pushing himself he could pay attention very well, so he continued to do so. "You can take the potion up to twenty-eight days after your last night of heavy drinking, and every single memory, everything you've seen and forgotten, read and glossed over, thought in a fleeting fashion or felt even slightly becomes permanent and unalterable in your mind. There is a way to remove discreet memories that are just too overwhelming to keep, but that can't be done too much. And if you have more than several hours of unpleasantness in that time, it will haunt you until you die."
Dee switched to his back so he could do stomach crunches and considered maybe going for a run in a bit. After the present conversation about a magically induced period of photographic memory that apparently wizards loathed. What the hell did they regularly get up to that they couldn't stand remembering, anyway?
"Yeah, alright. And if everything is wonderful and you've just had the time of your life?"
His companion seemed hesitant in his answer. "The texts don't say much about that. The dire warnings rather harp on negative experiences and emotions."
"So it's probably the same, except you'd keep reliving the awesomeness until you die, constantly providing a place of joy and peace to return to, huh?" Dudley asked, his voice somewhat stilted every other word as he crunched himself up into a semi-upright posture.
"Possibly," Draco hedged.
Dee snorted. "So, what if I spent the night sipping that potion I just had and skimming every book in the ground floor library, then? You know, before taking Alchy's Bane after breakfast, or for preference, just after you dropped me off at the train station in London, after the winery tour. Even if I retained almost none of the reading at the time, I could take the potion and then have instant recall on all that information?"
"Uh-"
Dee waited, shifting to crunch more on the right side. He wasn't counting his reps, but it felt right, so he went with it.
"Well?" he prompted, glancing over to see that Draco was sitting up, looking at him with a plainly stunned expression on his face. Dee smirked. Briefly. Then went back to crunches on his right side.
"It's... never been used that way on purpose, I don't think, but yes, that would be a more positive spin on the most dreaded side effect."
"And I've got twenty-seven days to take it," he said, his mind spinning quickly and his words matching in both speed and velocity. "Could do a crash course in French in that time. And in agro and vineyard management. Or of the magical world. Of course I'd have to be in a calm environment, so that rules out home once my parents return. Not calm. Not anything I'd want to remember forever, thanks. And I do have to get back to Uni on time. When would that be? Let me see."
Dudley shifted to do crunches on his left side as he tried to remember when he was due back in the dorms. Ah! January twentieth, in the evening. Classes begin again the twenty-first.
"Right, so I'm due back on the twentieth of January, but I'd need a day or two to get myself together, so that's the eighteenth, which is ten days less than ideal, but I'm fairly good at cramming and I bet I could cram a shocking amount into my head in the next sixteen days, if I had a quiet calm place that involved food delivery and coffee. Hotel or something. Not that I can afford that, but there you go.
"You know," he continued in his energetically musing fashion, "a person could make a packet on this sort of thing. Host a resort kind of thing. Peaceful place, out in the country. Catered experience. Nice suites. Get them roaring drunk and then let them do deep language immersion and intense study for the next twenty-eight days. Drink the potion. Bam. Fluency in twenty-eight days instead of years. Small price to pay, really, missing out on hellish hangovers and being fall-down drunk. And maybe it takes a few months afterwards to kind of sort out all the memories and things in your head, since language isn't just about memorizing, but of course other things are, and the study options are almost endless. But think of the harder languages, like Chinese and Hebrew and Arabic and Greek. And what if all the basics, all the grammar, all the rules and all the vocabulary could be skimmed in a month? I mean, heck. Just read the dictionary. Bloody brilliant. And no one's thought of this before? Really? How dim is the magical world, anyway? Or am I missing another major downside you haven't mentioned yet, like sporadic erectile dysfunction or something?"
Draco had a coughing fit. Probably inhaled a bug or something. Happened to Dudley, sometimes.
"Yep, hold that thought," Dudley said, pausing in his workout and in his whirlwind tour of innovative ideas. "A bit warm. Going to go take a quick lap in the cold pool. Be right back."
Dudley trotted through the rooms, waved to Bill and Fleur who were in the hot pool, and dove into the cold pool which while momentarily shocking, felt subsequently amazing. He ended up doing several laps, just the front crawl, the only thing he could do really, but it was just brilliant.
Then again, everything was brilliant.
Dee hopped out of the pool, took a quick stop in the lavatory and then decided to run around the building, rather than through it, and went ahead and did so. But the stone was a bit hard, so he just ran in the grass outside. The air had a bit of a chill to it and his feet were bare, but it felt quite nice, actually, and when he got back into the steam room Draco had gone. Probably for a bit of water and ice or something. Standard in the steam room, to nip out and very shortly be back again.
"I have a proposition for you," Draco said as he walked back into the room and seated himself down on one of the flat benches where it was easier to talk.
Dee continued to do jumping jacks. "Whatever it is, my answer is yes."
Draco's eyebrows rose but he wasn't silent for long.
"I have a chateau in Champagne that stands largely empty. Stay there for the next sixteen days. Cram, as you say. I'll have a house elf cater for you. But isolate yourself in every other way so that you can have a largely neutral experience. Just studying and the occasional walk outside so you don't go mad. And if you're right about the language immersion, I'll see if I can test it on a fully-magical person to see if it works for them as well. And if it does, and I can make a go of your resort idea, I'll give you ten percent of the profits."
"Hah!" Dudley exclaimed, now running in place even despite the stone floor. "Deal! Now that I think about it though, it might be best for me to go home tomorrow for a day and a half. Do some things. See if I can call my Mum, or maybe just leave her a note. There's some books I'd want to buy, or borrow, and any books you can loan me on magical history and culture, I'd love to read those, too. I'll pack up for Uni, and then go to the Champagne Chateau, and then go directly to Uni from there afterwards, you know? Avoid confrontation with my dad, is the idea. Parents are still in Majorca right now. House is still empty."
"Right," Draco responded, though Dee was amazed at how slowly he spoke. He'd never really noticed it before just now. "Tipsy? Have Trix prepare the Blue Suite in the Chateau for a guest through January twentieth. He'll need full catering, four meals daily to be served in his suite. Please have all acceptable books on history, culture, viticulture, and any acceptable books written in French delivered to the sitting room there. Please also include all the vineyard journals, bring the gramophone up, plus all the LPs, and make sure there's a radio in the suite as well. That is all."
Dudley laughed. "When you do a thing, you do it!" And then he started doing squats. "Right, so if you can get me to London I can get a train back home no problem, and likewise I can get a train back to Uni when the time comes. Where should I meet you on the fourth? And at what time?"
"Five in the afternoon? King's Cross Station? Have you been to Platform 9¾?"
Dudley snorted. "Yeah, no. I mean, I've been to King's Cross, and the train for Uni leaves out of St. Pancras, but whatever. I can meet you at King's Cross at either Platform 9 or possibly 10, or if someone tells me the secret password, 9¾."
Draco explained how to walk through the door to the platform. Dudley burst out laughing.
"And you've done this, yeah?"
"Not as such, no," the other man admitted.
"Yeah, no offence, but I'm going to want to talk to someone who has actually walked through the wall before I crack my head on it, yeah?" Dee pointed out, snorting even while squatting.
"Fair. Talk to Harry when you get a chance. I've seen him walk through the barrier at least once."
Dee started doing lunges across the room. He was pouring with sweat, but that was one of the major selling points of a steam room. He'd need water soon, though.
And soon enough he'd be able to speak decent French and remember his first kiss.
2 Jan 200_
Magical Castle in Wales
Dear Mum,
I'm writing you this letter just in case I can't get you on the phone in your hotel tomorrow. I'll be home tomorrow afternoon until the afternoon of the next day, but then I'm off again! I didn't want you to worry, hence this letter. I'm going to be spending the time before I get back to Uni (on time, I promise) doing an intense language immersion course in France at a private chateau (owned by an English Peer and French Comte - he's both) in Champagne. But that's not the biggest news. I'm doing the immersion course because I've got a great option to intern with that same aristocrat at one of his vineyards, and by the way I'm changing my major to agro. But I need to learn French, and I figure this is better and cheaper than hiring tutors for the next several years.
Anyway, I'm going to get my pictures developed and leave you a complete set of doubles, you know, minus the blurry ones, and the present I got for you at the Festival. I'll put them all on my desk in my room (I promise to clean it off first) so that you can go in there and get them when you feel like it. I'll also leave the newspapers I've got and read so far there in case you want to look them over. The announcement about Harry's elevation is in one of them, and I did get a picture with me and him and Prince Charles and QEII. I hope it's not blurry. I had a friend take it for us.
Tell Dad I never did go quail hunting or fox hunting, but I did see some brilliant Shakespeare with Jean Luc Picard in it, and it was just as amazing as you would have imagined, and live! We had great seats in the royal pavilion - I sat with Harry and his new wife, Ginny, and right behind all the royals. I also was introduced to Prince C & QEII on the day they spent with Harry as their escort and interpreter. They seem like very nice people, Mum. Also you can tell Dad that I don't think I met my future wife, but you never know about these things, of course. I did make loads of new friends, most of which I'll keep in contact with, writing, you know.
During the immersion course I'm going to be pretty focused, so I won't be able to write then, but I promise, Mum, I promise I'll write more when I get to Uni and have a bit more time. I'll tell you all about every picture I took, I'll tell you all about all the people I met and all the crazy wonderful experiences I had, the weird and amazing presents the Queen of Avalon got, and everything. I met some really great people, Mum. Some of them were witches and wizards, and some of them were non-magical parents and siblings, you know? I'm personal friends with a professor at Oxford and the owner of a medical device manufacturing plant (non magical, both of them, each with non magical wives and one wizard son and one non magical child) but also most amazingly, I'm friends with this aristocrat who went to school with Harry, but who just graduated like normal and isn't going back for an eighth year - he's the English Peer and French Comte (his family's been here since the revolution) and he owns vineyards in Champagne and Burgundy, and it's the one in Burgundy that I'll do the internship with. It's crazy, but Harry is now sort of related to him - I mean, his wife and Draco (that's his name) are really super distant cousins, but Draco is the other brother of the Queen of Avalon, which is a longer story and I'll tell you that one later, but Draco and I hit it off like a house on fire! Anyway, I'm really excited and he's been very clear that if I'm keen, learn French, and do well during the internship, there's a job for me at the end of it. He's a wizard, but the whole winery is non magical and always has been. (Grapes and magic don't mix, apparently.) And he's always had squib managers and non magical everyone else working for him. I guess the label isn't widely available in the non magical world, but it's popular enough in the magical world. I'll see if I can't get you a bottle, at least by this summer, and he says that he wants to break the label into our world, and I might get to help with that process! He's also interested in the innovation I know is going on in the world of agriculture from conversations with my friend Clair (I've mentioned her from Uni, haven't I? She's the agro major that's three doors down from me in the dorm.)
Anyway, I'll definitely be home for the Easter break, and let's spend lots of time together then, okay? Maybe pop into London for the day kind of thing.
Anyway, Harry's doing well, more on him later if you want to know. His wife is very nice. A year younger. Sporting type, but also very entrepreneurial - she ran the whole souvenir operation for the Festival. They got married over the anvil at Gretna Green! I promise not to do that, Mum. Still. He seems a lot happier and a lot calmer.
Love to you and Dad,
Dudley
PS - I almost forgot about excalibur! I mean, I saw it during the coronation - Queen Hermione took it out of the scabbard at her waist and handed it hilt first to Queen Elizabeth II and then knelt down and was first knighted in the Order of Merlin, and then she handed it back and got on with the rest of the coronation, and then at the end of that there was this ritual where the sword was placed back in the stone (THE STONE) and it was amazing, Mum, I could feel it even where I was seated (VIP family section, row eight, excellent views) it was like this burst of pure joy. It happened at sundown on the last day of the year. Brilliant stuff, Mum. And then later, yesterday, I got permission and was just there. With the sword and the stone. Alone. It was like a holy moment or something, Mum. I took a picture for you. It's kind of amazing to think that the stories are true, and it makes me think, Mum, that really our history is their history and their history is our history. I understand why they have to keep things secret. There are people like Dad after all, who'd probably want to kill all the merfolk and dragons and magical tigers and things, and want to put the centaurs into zoos or something, and that would be terrible I now realize. But there's something good and pure and beautiful about people, about life, and I'm not sure it really matters, you know? If you've got magic, or you've got technology and innovation, there's still something really beautiful about life. It's worth knowing, Mum. It really is.
PPS - Wow, this has been a super long letter. Sorry about that. Or not? You've always wanted me to write longer, so here you go. Also, I'll be buying a bunch of books for my immersion course when I get back tomorrow - the stay in the chateau is free, so I figure I'm going to not worry about the cost of the books, right?