Draco crossed his legs with his ankle on his knee and looked over the balcony at the city below.
Despite the early hour, he could see the hustle and bustle of people below, a mix of tourists and locals. He heard a gentle squeak from the door opening behind him and he picked up the white box from the small table, lifting it up into the air as an offering.
He couldn't help but smile at Granger's excited gasp.
"Beignets!" she exclaimed, appearing at his side to grab a pastry from the box. "When did you get beignets?"
"When I went out for coffee," he replied, making a show of taking a sip from his cup.
She held the largest beignet in her hand with the other beneath it to catch any fallen crumbs. "Wait, when did you get coffee?"
"When I went out for beignets."
With a shake of her head, she plopped down on the seat next to him. "I should've known you'd answer like that. I'm surprised you purchased coffee when we have tea here. What's the occasion?"
"Ah… no particular reason," he fibbed, setting the box back down. Just had the strongest orgasm of my life watching you last night and now I can barely look you in the eye because I'm so wracked with guilt.
Not to mention that he hadn't slept well this entire trip and the extra boost of caffeine was desperately needed.
She took a bite off the corner and icing sugar spilled everywhere but, from the look of it, she couldn't have cared less. Her shoulders wiggled in happiness with each bite. She opened her mouth for another bite, but that quickly transformed into a wide yawn that she tried to stifle.
"Am I boring you?" he teased. Her reaction made him want to try one as well. He selected a pastry for himself and nibbled at the side. It was almost too sweet for the morning, but it helped offset the bitterness of his black coffee.
"No, sorry! I was just up late last night and now I'm a bit tired."
A memory of her glistening pink cunt and trembling thighs took him by surprise and he choked on his inhale.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her brows pulled together with worry.
He coughed again and again, patting his chest while trying to maintain a semblance of composure. "Icing sugar," he wheezed, pointing to the beignet in his hand. "It was just the sugar."
"Oh. You should really be more careful. Wouldn't want you to die before you can heroically save my life from an invisible threat," she quipped.
After he was able to collect himself, he scoffed. "I'm hardly afraid of a Demiguise; they're herbivores."
"I didn't think it would eat me!"
"I don't know, you're practically covered in sugar. You would be a tempting meal for anyone," he said matter-of-factly, gesturing to her.
Don't stop.
Please.
Malfoy.
Draco was already losing the battle against his own anatomy to suppress the blood flow currently directed right to his cock, and this certainly wasn't helping.
"Is that for me?" Granger asked shyly, her eyes fixed on the second cup of coffee on the table between them.
"Yes, but I wasn't sure how you took it so I guessed." He shifted his ankle slightly to cover up the visible tent to his trousers.
She leaned forward and snagged the cup with a grin. "Thank you, Malfoy."
He didn't think he'd ever hear his name the same way again.
"Feels almost like school again, don't you think?" Granger asked, collecting her notes from the last session. "Only instead of Professor Binns droning on, we get to listen to the top experts in their fields present their findings on cutting-edge research."
"It does, only I don't have to help my friends finish their assignments anymore."
She slung her bag over her shoulder and the pair followed behind the crowd to the exit. "Crabbe and Goyle?"
"No, they couldn't care less about their grades. Half of their work was completed by terrified first years, anyway. I did, however, spend countless nights working with Theo," he said, thinking back to their late nights covering Potions and Astrology in the Slytherin common room.
"It's mostly nice just to be able to study whatever we want now that we are out of school rather than a predefined curriculum."
A smile pulled at his lips. "I remember how much you hated Divination."
She didn't deny it.
"You know, I considered a Mastery of Defence Against the Dark Arts right out of school," he added, lowering his voice despite the white noise of the chatter around them. He couldn't help but keep an eye out for any unscrupulous characters as they walked.
Granger looked intrigued at that and instantly brightened. "Did you really? Why didn't you?"
He remembered the pile of rejection letters arriving one by one, creating a stack as unstable as he was in those days. It was the first time in his life that he'd looked at his own name with disdain, and he couldn't blame others for doing the same.
"Timing," he said, dismissing the conversation. "I'm woefully behind on my itinerary reading. What's on the agenda for tonight?"
She smiled. "Dealer's choice. I picked last night so tonight you can choose."
It only took him a moment before he had something in mind. "I know just the place."
"Um, Malfoy, where are we?" Granger asked, her eyes trailing upwards and along the row of vines growing on the large trellis above them. Her expression shifted slowly between surprise to delight as she took in the aged brick building and perfectly manicured flowers at the entryway.
Draco didn't break his stride. "This is one of the oldest vineyards in France. We're attending a wine tasting tonight."
"This looks really expensive…" Her voice trailed off with unease.
"It's my treat," he added quickly. The last thing he wanted was to cause any distress on her finances. He wasn't sure of the annual salary for a Potioneer, but he was convinced that she had to be underpaid for her talents. "It's just an experience I wanted while we were here."
Her lips pressed into a thin line and she followed him up the cobblestone path. "You know, you don't have to keep treating me to dinners and activities. I doubt John included such a generous food stipend."
"Of course he did."
He didn't, but Draco didn't want her to think she owed him anything.
Draco led her past the main entrance and around the corner to the outdoor patio. There was a full service bar on the patio with several patrons enjoying drinks at it. The hostess seated them at a small round table with a view of the French countryside. Other couples and groups were already leisurely tasting their wine and talking amongst themselves.
"What is that for?" Granger whispered, her eyes fixed on the silver bucket on the centre of the table.
"Is this your first wine tasting?" he asked with obvious amusement in his voice. "You spit the wine into the container after you taste it."
Her gasp was so sharp that it garnered attention from nearby tables. "I am morally offended that anyone would spend what I can only assume is hundreds of pounds on this wine just to spit it out instead of drink it properly."
"It's because—"
She cut him off with a raise of her hand. "I don't need to know the reasoning of the pretentious wealthy elite. I will be drinking my wine happily and that is that."
"I know better than to argue with you," he mused. "I am limiting my alcohol for obvious reasons but you can drink as much as you'd like."
"I wasn't asking your permission." She smiled sweetly.
The hostess returned with two glasses and a bottle of dry white wine. "This has won several awards," the hostess explained as she portioned out the wine. "It is a dazzling blend of Sauvignon Blanc and Sémillon, which gives it its full-bodied flavour. The stars of the wine are the notes of fresh-cut orange and nectarine, with a hint of wild honey."
Draco lifted his glass and inspected the colour, swirling it once before taking a sniff and sipping gingerly. "Is that coconut that I taste?"
"Oui, monsieur. You have the palate of a wine connoisseur," she murmured, her eyes lingering on him. "Are you a collector?"
In an instant, Granger's shoulders tensed and her lips twisted; her change in body language was so quick that if he hadn't been watching her, he would've missed it.
"Yes, we are. This is not our first wine tasting and we have no need for theatrics. Would you mind bringing out the samples and we will let you know what we are interested in ordering to take home?" Draco asked, using the same tone he'd heard his father use a thousand times before.
"Of course, monsieur." The hostess nodded and hurried away.
Granger visibly relaxed as soon as the woman left. "You didn't have to send her away."
"I'd like to enjoy my wine and my company," he said, taking an exaggerated sniff of his glass. "I don't need someone hovering over me the entire time, trying to sell wine. It would've been a long night, trust me. They usually start with samples of white wines and move to dry reds before finishing it off with dessert wines."
The hostess returned with a selection of wines and placed them on the table along with slices of a baguette before dismissing herself. "Please enjoy."
"The bread is our palate cleanser between wines," he explained, his voice just above a whisper.
"I know," she replied haughtily, turning her nose upwards. "I know the basics of wine tasting at least. You have the five S's: see, swirl, sniff, sip, and savour."
The second and third wines were particularly good, ones that Draco would gladly purchase to bring back to England with him to enjoy later. The fourth wine was a deep red that tasted strongly of plum.
Granger's lips warped the moment the wine touched them, holding back a stronger reaction.
"You don't have to drink it all if you don't like it," he laughed into his glass.
"It's the principle of the matter. If my parents found out I wasted perfectly aged wine, I would be disowned."
In lieu of a response, he simply slid a piece of bread over to her.
"Thank you," she said with her mouth half full.
The hostess returned with a round of petite port glasses and cleared away the used wine glasses. In the background, a group of men boisterously laughed over pints of beer.
Draco watched the way Granger swayed slightly in her seat as she took a small sip of port. "This one is sweet!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol.
"I can buy a bottle if you want to take one back to the hotel," he offered. He tried some as well before using the silver bucket between them.
"That would be delightful! Do you usually drink wine? Since you have the palate of a wine connoisseur," she quipped, repeating the hostess' words back in a mocking tone.
He shrugged, thinking of his overflowing wine cellar back at his home. "Sometimes I have wine with dinner because that was what my mother and father did. Blaise and I have high-end whisky for clients at the office on occasion as well."
"Your parents probably had three hundred-year-old Malfoy family wine for casual dinners. I can't imagine what cheap wine must taste like to you after growing up with that."
"They did, but that doesn't mean it tasted good to me as a child. One of my earliest memories was attending some Pureblood socialite party and being served particularly foul tasting wine." He chuckled to himself at the memory. "My mother used to scold me for being impolite and unable to control my facial expressions from the bitter taste, but she would still spell the drink into something palatable when Father wasn't looking."
"My first was champagne at Christmas. I liked the bubbles," she shared in a stage whisper, seemingly too inebriated to control the volume of her voice. "I didn't like it much at first but it grew on me after my first glass." She giggled and lifted her glass of red, the wine sloshing around with her movements. "A bit like this, I suppose!"
"I'm not surprised that you were a champagne at Christmas sort of girl," he teased.
"Hey, I'll have you know that I drank nearly half a bottle of Firewhisky in Gryffindor Tower during sixth year," she informed him very matter-of-fact.
Draco leaned back in faux shock. "The scandal!"
"Oh hush, I heard all the rumours of the Slytherin parties. You couldn't have been so innocent."
"You misunderstand. I'm not surprised about the parties, I'm surprised that you went," he corrected with a sly grin.
She wiggled a single finger in front of her face. "It was just the one party."
"What was the occasion?" Her face fell and the pieces fell into place. Sixth year. The air left his lungs in one fell swoop. "Oh."
They'd been having so much fun he had nearly forgotten.
"I never understood why—why after all that time you"—she took a deep measured breath—"no. It's all in the past. It's easier on both of us to pretend that I don't still—" She hiccuped and covered her mouth with her hand. "I wasn't s-supposed to say that part out loud."
"You're drunk, Granger. I tried to warn you not to drink all the wine," he said, his voice soft.
"Oh, sod off, I'm not a child! I can handle my alcohol," she growled, her eyes losing focus on him. "I certainly deserve the drinks after being blindsided with a week full of my—with—" She lost her balance and teetered out of her seat, coming to a wobbly standing position.
Draco lunged forward to help her balance and stand up but she simply pushed his hands away.
"I need some air."
"We're already outside."
She glared daggers at him. "I'm going to the loo—by myself."
"Granger."
"You're not allowed to come with me to the loo," she huffed, brushing her loose curls off her neck. "We've established that's the rule." She stormed off and disappeared into the building.
The night had turned so quickly that Draco's head spun trying to keep up.
Several minutes later, he finished his port—not bothering to spit out any of the drink—and looked up just in time to see Granger laughing loudly with a dark-haired man at the bar. She touched his arm and batted her lashes up at him. The man offered Granger a fruity-looking drink and she accepted it with a smile.
Draco was halfway to the bar before he even blinked.
"Granger," he hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"
Without even looking at him, she twirled the small straw with her finger and stared up at the man.
Something fierce roared in his chest at the way the man's hungry gaze settled on Granger. Draco snatched the drink from her hand and set it on the empty table behind him.
She whirled around to face him, the plastered smile dropping from her face. "Just what do you think you are doing?"
"It's probably poisoned!" he declared, trying to hold back the urge to hex the man standing two feet away. "Do you have a death wish?"
"Poisoned?" the man exclaimed in a panic but they both ignored him. "It's not—"
"Now you're just being an arse! If you haven't forgotten, I'm single and can do as I wish." Granger shifted her attention back to the man. "I bet it wouldn't take Tomas five minutes to come up with a compliment about my body."
Tomas blinked and looked from Granger to Draco and back. "Is this a trap?"
"No, and any compliment will do."
"Your arse is divine," Tomas murmured low, extending his hands out in front of himself. "Artists would clamour to paint it."
"It is, isn't it?" Granger announced smugly. "See? I didn't think that was so difficult."
Draco's jaw clenched so hard that his teeth were in danger of cracking.
"Are you here together?" Tomas asked, gesturing between the two. "Is this a swingers sort of thing?"
"No, we aren't together," Granger answered, dismissing him quickly.
Draco took a step forward and declared, "I'm not leaving. You don't know what his intentions are."
"Oh, so you think the only time a man would be interested in me is if he wants to kill me?"
"Kill you?" Tomas squeaked next to them.
"You sure know how to flatter a witch," she spat out with pure sarcasm. "It's a wonder what I ever saw in you."
"Granger, that's not what I meant and you know it. Why are you doing this? He's not even your type."
She finally turned to face Draco. Her voice dripped with irritation when she asked, "What is my type then?"
Draco shrugged lamely, flustered. "I don't know."
"Then how do you know he's not my type?"
Tomas took an uneasy step back. "Maybe I should go?"
"I just do!" Draco exclaimed, drawing attention from the barkeep.
"Why do you even care?" There was a touch of agony in her voice.
"I don't, I just—"
"Of course you don't!" she screamed, half-hysterical. "You don't realise what that year was like for me. I can't do this anymore." Without another word to him or Tomas, she stepped out from between them and ran out the patio exit.
Draco rushed after her, grateful that he had already paid for their night. Though he was only moments behind her, by the time he made it out to the pavement she had already crumpled up on the ground next to the car park.
She held her face in her hands and he approached her slowly, like he would a wounded animal. "Granger, are you okay?" he asked softly, inspecting her for signs of injury.
She lifted her head and looked miserably up at him. "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," he countered, glancing at her ankle which was already rapidly swelling.
She must have twisted it in her hurry to escape, forgetting her lack of balance from the wine.
He settled on the curb of the pavement next to her. "May I look at it?"
"No."
"Granger…" he sighed. "I promise I won't hurt you."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Malfoy," she snapped, her tone harsh and biting.
He winced, feeling the twist of the knife in his stomach.
Granger looked down at her ankle, starting to bruise. "Fine."
Without giving her the chance to second guess her decision, he cast a quick charm to repel the attention of any nearby Muggles and then began working on her ankle as gently as possible.
First, he cast a diagnostic spell to make sure that she hadn't broken a bone, next he healed the sprain with a nifty charm he had learned in seventh year, and finally applied a dab of Bruise Paste that he kept in his expandable pocket.
As he massaged in the paste, he looked up to find tears building in her eyes.
"I have some pain potion if you need it," he offered quietly.
She brushed away the tears and shook her head. "It doesn't hurt anymore. I can barely feel it."
"Good."
"You never did tell me why you know how to do this," she mumbled under her breath.
He continued rubbing her skin with slow circles of his thumb, despite the application being complete. "My mother was ill for many years before she passed away. I wanted to help take care of her so I studied healing as a pastime."
"I had no idea," she whispered, watching him with wide eyes.
"I felt so helpless. I never wanted to feel that helpless again."
Her expression softened. "I'm so sorry. I suppose that was a difficult time for you, too."
They were the darkest years of his life, losing the two people most important to him in the world.
"Did you want to go say goodbye to your new friend?" Draco asked, unable to stop the bitterness that seeped into his question.
Her face scrunched up. "No, thank you. His breath smelled like onions and I didn't like the way he looked at me."
Relief washed over him. "Should we go back to the hotel?"
She nodded. "I might need a full English fry-up tomorrow to help cure what I can only assume will be a wicked hangover."
"I do have a potion for that," he added.
"Thanks, nurse Malfoy," she quipped.
"An English fry-up, you say? Does that actually work?"
She cocked her head to the side. "The results vary. Sometimes all the food just makes the person vomit, which does in turn help with the nausea."
"Muggles sound odd." He stood up and offered her his hand.
She smiled faintly and took it, letting him help her stand. "Just like wizards, the best ones are."
A gut-wrenching scream echoed down the halls of Malfoy Manor, stopping Draco in his tracks.
He was back from school for the summer and had returned to a home that he barely recognised. As soon as he stepped off the train, his mother pulled him aside on the platform in King's Cross Station and warned him of the darkness that had overtaken their home. The Manor had been redecorated to suit the unique tastes of their guests who wandered the halls at all hours and abused the House-Elves as if they were their own.
"If it isn't my dearest nephew," Bellatrix crooned, appearing in the doorway to his father's office. "Off to save your little pet?"
"What are you talking about?" he asked, feeling his heart sink like a stone through water.
"Now, now, is that any way to address your auntie Bella?" she tutted and swished her long black dress around in her hands.
"Help!" The wail was louder this time and he felt his blood run cold.
Granger.
Bellatrix's maniacal cackling faded behind him as he broke into a run, pushing his body to its limit and refusing to stop until he reached the opening to the dining room. Just to his left, he could see the Dark Lord with his wand poised upward towards the centre of the room. Granger's body dangled over the elongated table, propped up as if tied to invisible strings.
"I don't know anything! Please, stop!" she begged, her voice ragged and hoarse. "Help!"
A jagged cut ran from her forehead to her cheek, leaking blood onto the table below her.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The metallic smell of blood permeated the air, burning the hairs in his nose and causing his stomach to lurch. Nagini slithered around on the top of the table, watching Granger with a predatory gaze. Her gasps morphed into wheezing as the invisible bonds tightened, crushing her airway.
Her frantic brown eyes found his, widening in recognition. "Malfoy," she mouthed, unable to speak.
"This is what happens to filthy Mudbloods and Mudblood lovers," his father snarled in his ear, having materialised next to him. "This is your fault."
He could hardly even hear his father; all he could think was how her final words would be his name said in desperation. Even though every fibre of his being screamed at him to do something, anything, he was rendered completely immobile by sheer terror.
An emerald green light blinded him, expanding until it was all he could see.
"Granger!"
His father's hand landed on his shoulder, jostling him back and forth. "Wake up, Malfoy!"
"What are you doing?" Draco pushed at his father's arm, but no matter how much force he used, it was unyielding. "Get off me! Granger!"
"Malfoy!"
Draco's eyes shot open and he was blinded by the light in front of his face, contrasting against the darkness of his bedroom. He instinctively fought against the figure that hovered over him, thrashing wildly in an attempt to escape their grasp. The light formed monstrous shadows on the walls and ceiling around them as they moved.
"Malfoy, it's me!" the figure said desperately, struggling to restrain him.
As soon as his sight adjusted to the dark, he saw Granger standing above him, her face blanched white with fear.
"Granger." Her name came out like a strangled sob.
"I'm here," she assured him, a tremble to her voice. The light flickered as her wand fell to the floor with a clatter. "I'm here."
Before he could stop himself, he was pulling her into his arms. She felt solid and tangible under his touch. The fresh image of her blood pooling beneath her body was waiting for him each time he closed his eyes.
"You're safe," she whispered against his chest. "It was just a dream."
He looked down at her and his breath was stolen from his lungs.
She was cursed.
She was dying.
There was a jagged line bisecting her chest that disappeared beneath her top. He had seen that very mark on half a dozen dead bodies during the Battle of Hogwarts, courtesy of Antonin Dolohov. If he didn't extract the dark magic from her wound before it seeped into her bloodstream then it would burn her from the inside out.
He would rip Dolohov limb from limb while he begged for mercy.
But first, he had to save her.
He scrambled to get out of bed but Granger held him back.
"Stop, Granger, you're cursed! I need my bag! Where is my bag? Where is my wand?" His chest felt like it was in a vise, his head fuzzy with sheer terror.
Nightmare and reality warped together until all he could see was the way the light had faded from her eyes into nothing.
"Malfoy, you're spiralling. You have to stop before you hurt yourself!" she begged, hanging on to the hem of his shirt in an attempt to keep him from leaving. "It's an old curse; I promise I'm not dying!"
He faltered, turning back to stare at the mark more closely. She was telling the truth. The signature angry red colour had faded to a dull pink that blended into her skin at the edges. His hand hovered over it, but his fingers shook so violently that she took his hand in hers and guided him back to sit on the bed.
"What do you see?" she asked, watching him intently.
"What?" He was bewildered by the question.
"What do you see? It's a grounding technique we used for Harry's panic attacks."
His eyes flickered between hers before he answered, "Freckles."
"And?"
"Brown eyes with gold like summer."
There was a slight smile to her voice as she prompted, "What do you smell?"
He took a deep inhale and released it. "Jasmine and warm vanilla. Some sort of hotel cleaner, too."
"What do you feel?"
"My shirt. The dip in the mattress"—he swallowed thickly before continuing—"the softness of your hands."
"Now take a deep breath," she instructed him, mimicking it by taking one of her own.
On his exhale, he loosened his grip on her hand and felt himself slacken. It took all of his willpower to convince himself to let her go. His breathing slowed and he closed his eyes, counting to five before releasing her hand.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice tight.
When he opened his eyes, Granger's eyes shone in the dim light provided by her discarded wand on the floor. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay, Malfoy," she kept repeating, still huddled next to him on the bed. "I thought…" She let out a shaky breath. "Do you want me to make you a cuppa?"
He nodded, unable to form words quite yet.
Draco felt numb as he followed Granger into the kitchen. She raised onto her tiptoes and rummaged through the cupboards until she came back with two large mugs, a container of salted sakura tea, and a spoon.
Her hands shook with a slight tremour as she measured out the dried cherry blossoms; the spoon knocked against the rim of the glass container and spilled blossoms onto the table. She dropped the spoon back into the container and clutched her hands into fists. "I'm sorry—"
Before she could say anything else, Draco took over and quickly portioned out the tea and heated water.
"Thank you." She gave him an appreciative half-smile as she accepted the cup.
They sat across from each other at the table, both holding their tea.
"I'm sorry," he blurted out, still feeling mortified that she was an audience to his nighterror. "I haven't had one of those in years."
"You don't have to apologise. Harry had them every night for months after the Battle of Hogwarts. I've had them, too. There's nothing to feel sorry for," she insisted, but the colour hadn't returned to her complexion yet.
He winced at the mention of the war.
There was a phantom ache in his forearm on the Mark, a harsh reminder of his choices. His stomach plummeted when he saw it was on display for her, visible for the first time this week with his short-sleeved shirt. His plan had been to keep it hidden with long sleeves and suit jackets for the entire week.
He tucked his hands together in his lap with his Mark facing away from her.
"It was from a battle at the end of fifth year," she murmured, tracing the rim of her cup with the tip of her index finger. "In the Department of Mysteries."
His stomach turned, remembering the Death Eaters recall the story when he was home for the summer. "My father—"
"It wasn't him."
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. He took a sip of tea and the familiar taste comforted him.
Her eyebrows moved up and down and she gnawed on her lower lip, as if trying to decide how to answer. "I didn't want you to worry."
Draco set his cup down and looked across the table at her. "That's a terrible excuse."
"I couldn't put you in a position where you had to choose between me and your family," she finally admitted.
"It never would've been a choice," he said firmly. It always would have been you.
"I know that," she whispered, her voice pained. "I was planning on telling you eventually but then—well…"
He never gave her the chance.
"I wasn't there for you and I should've been." The thought made his very soul ache.
The guilt was suffocating. He'd made so many mistakes.
"Do you see anyone for the nightmares?" she asked, her eyes tightened with concern.
"I didn't… not at first, but Theo pulled me out of a month-long stupor of Firewhisky and potions and sent me to his mind healer. He's a squib who operates as a Muggle therapist in London."
Granger looked down at the steam rising from her tea as if trying to muster the courage to speak. "What was your dream?"
"It was nothing."
"You said my name." Her voice was a little stronger now.
"I said it was nothing." He swallowed the lump in his throat and wrung his hands together in his lap. "I started taking dreamless sleep back in school and I can't take it while on the job so they're back for the week—it's nothing I haven't handled before."
Her mouth dropped open. "Malfoy, that potion has addictive qualities. You can't continuously take—"
He stopped her before she could continue. "I know the potential side effects. I've weighed the risks and it's better than the alternative."
"Better than the alternative," she repeated, sounding dazed. "My feet hit the floor before I was even fully awake. You sounded so…"
"Granger?"
She looked up at him. "Yeah?"
"Thanks for coming for me," he said quietly.
"And thanks for the tea." She smiled sadly at the cup, looking far away.
The seconds ticked by on the clock.
"I…" Draco took a shaky breath and tried to chase away the vision from the Manor. "I don't want to go back to bed just yet."
Granger nodded, pressing her lips into a fine line. "I'll stay up with you as long as you need."