Draco Malfoy and the Disownment Project
Chapter Seven
Disclaimer: See Chapter One
For the next few days, Draco was preoccupied with one thought and one thought only: getting Seamus out of the picture, in any way possible. He had moved beyond trying to act careful—he needed action and he needed it now.
Of course, he would still, on some levels, remain furtive. Lavender couldn't know that their chance meetings were really, in essence, stalwartly planned out stalkings, and he would carefully keep these facts from her. It was sharply evident, however, that things needed to be done about her boyfriend, and quickly. The matter of Seamus was getting increasingly dire and Draco's patience was wearing thin. Desperate times did call for desperate measures, after all, and Draco was more than happy to oblige. His plan was stalling, and he knew it. Without these little unanticipated hindrances from the Gryffindors, he could have been much further along in his Disownment Project than he was presently.
He was thinking of all this with slight trepidation as he spied on Lavender behind a pillar. She was eating by the lake (from Draco's observations, a favorite spot of hers), with Parvati and, to Draco's tremendous revulsion, Seamus. How those girls could possibly keep their food down in his presence was beyond Draco's comprehension. He personally would not have been able to enjoy his lunch with that dreadful bother in such close proximity.
The matter of ridding himself of Seamus caused him a mixture of different feelings. It was vastly amusing to plot out ways to get the Irish idiot out of the picture, though it often led to bouts of unproductivity, as he tended to wander off into fanciful musings of Seamus's demise rather than focusing on the larger task at hand.
Sometimes, when an ingenious (and, harder to come up with, legal) plan was eluding him, he settled into the fits of gloom that had become undesirably and increasingly more common to him. Thankfully, his normally uplifted composure pulled him through these low moments, but despite their temporary nature, they could be disheartening nonetheless.
He shifted uncomfortably behind his column, rubbing his back as best as he could. You would think that after weeks of doing nothing else, he would have built up enough strength to get by without damage. Spying was most certainly not a glamorous activity, and he was not sure he was reaping the proper rewards from his strenuous efforts. A weaker man than he would probably give up, but say what you would about Draco Malfoy, he would not give in so easily.
Though, surely he could take a little break. All Lavender was doing was eating, and that couldn't conceivably help him out in any way, could it? He would just make himself a bit comfortable and rest his aching back. Possibly shut his eyes for a few moments...
Draco woke up with a start, cursing stupid sleep-deprived thoughts that had caused him to make such moronic judgments. Falling asleep in broad daylight and in clear view of a very good amount of people? The indignity of it did not befit a man of his sophistication and stature. What a state his hair must be in, and his robes! He braced himself, then cast his eyes warily over his clothes. He winced. It was just as he had thought. The finest material money could buy, usually kept so immaculate, was rumpled and disheveled. He gave a jerk of surprise and looked more closely at his garments—he looked like Potter! He ran as fast as his legs could carry him to the Slytherin dormitories, earning himself a sharp admonishment from McGonagall as he passed her, though her hardly paid her any mind. He could not bother with such trivialities as school rules at the moment. Draco could publicly humiliate himself by lowering his standards to Lavender Brown if it allowed him to carry out his ends. He could and would not tolerate, however, being bedraggled in public, like some coarse plebeian. It went against the very principles he held so dear. The shame, the aspersions upon his name...
At last, he beheld the lovely sight of his common room, sped to his dormitory, and pulled out a pair of fresh, clean, and to his relief, flawlessly pressed robes. He carefully removed them from the hanger in his wardrobe, tore off the old ones and cast them roughly aside, then shrugged on the new ones. He turned to leave, but his eyes caught on the studying form of Theodore Nott. An image floated in front of his eyes—his Slytherin classmate, beating up a Gryffindor... a very important Gryffindor... a Gryffindor whose fate rested in Draco's hands...
Draco pranced out of his dormitory, light-hearted and frolicsome. He may have just found a place to start.
It was with a much-improved outlook that Draco found himself spying the next day. Lavender, as was usual these days, was at the lake, doing something Draco had never seen her do before—reading. Upon closer inspection, he saw her reading material to be a copy of Witch Weekly. Draco smiled at her dependability. He had chosen very wisely.
Spying no longer seemed to be a chore. On the contrary, it was quite cathartic and soothing. He was feeling very relaxed and peaceful, just watching Lavender mark something in her magazine and enjoying the silence that allowed him time to immerse himself in quiet contemplation.
"Boo," said a voice from behind him. As quiet as the voice of his accomplice had been, it had been a break in his beautiful calm, and it had made him give a startled jump. He was absolutely furious with himself.
"Blaise!" he said sternly. "What in the world do you think you are doing!?"
She shrugged, then plopped herself on the ground beside him, stretching out her legs, and then folding them neatly beneath her.
"I was bored, my schoolwork was done, and I'd tortured my allotted amount of first years for the day, so I decided to come out and check on you."
"I assure you that I was doing quite fine by myself, thanks," said Draco. "If you would please remove yourself from my two feet of personal space—"
Blaise threw an arm around his shoulders. Honestly, she could not possibly be any more irritating.
"What were you smiling about?" asked Blaise. "Before I interrupted you, I mean. You were grinning like a daft fool. You should consider not doing it anymore."
"I think I've been through this before," Draco said, peering out at Lavender. "It wasn't too long ago that I explained to those terminally stupid fools I call Crabbe and Goyle that it is common for one, when one is feeling happy or some similar emotion, to smile. And, how coincidental! You were there!"
"Oh, save it Malfoy, you have that 'I am such a clever boy' smile on, which means you're up to something. Out with it."
"It almost feels like an invasion of privacy when one's smiles are being named and catalogued," Draco mused.
"If you are looking for me to give you some Lavender-esque compliment, like, 'Your smiles are too stunningly perfect not to be categorized, Draco,' then you can keep on waiting."
"Not least because Lavender probably doesn't know the word 'categorized.' "
Blaise looked at him with mixed exasperation and amusement.
"If you aren't going to tell me, fine," she said, "but you know you'll end up coming to me eventually. I'm the one that takes what is brilliant to you, and makes it into what is not monstrously stupid."
Draco was insulted. He turned his back deliberately on her and continued to watch Lavender, who was now reading with her tongue protruding slightly from her mouth.
"You know," Blaise called lazily from over his shoulder, "the sooner you stop pretending to ignore me, the sooner we can get that mentally defective object of your grand plan's affection where we need her. Must we go through this incessantly?"
Draco turned back to look at her.
"Insulting my intelligence is not the way to get me to open up, Miss Zabini."
"I'm not insulting your intelligence. I'm still working with you, aren't I? I'm merely suggesting that some of your plans are a bit... fantastical."
"So you think that I'm smart?"
"Someone is fishing shamelessly for gratuitous flattery today," Blaise said airily.
"I really want to know!"
Blaise looked as if she were choosing her words carefully, which infuriated Draco to no end.
"Well," she said finally, "I don't think you are piteously half-witted in a consistent manner, though you do have your moments."
"Blaise, you silly girl! I do not want honesty, I want a good answer! Stop rolling your eyes!"
"Okay, Draco, you are not only devilishly handsome, you are also a specimen of genius the likes of whom the world has never seen."
"Why, thank you, Blaise my dear. That answer, at least, was quite satisfactory."
"So what's your latest plan?"
"I'm going to ask Nott to go beat up Seamus for me." He clapped a hand over his mouth—he hadn't meant to tell her that.
"Wait. Start again and explain why that will be helpful this time."
"Listen, Blaise, when Nott goes and knocks Seamus around a bit, I can rush over to Lavender all righteous and Gryffindor-like, and proclaim disgust over the violence that had so unfortunately befallen her boyfriend."
Blaise blinked and sat back, looking a bit stunned. Draco was pleased—he knew it was a good idea. She just sat there and gaped in silence, which was why her outburst came so unexpectedly.
"You're WHAT?"
"I'm going to have Seamus beaten up."
"Oh, please tell me you're joking."
"Of course I'm not joking. Joking at a time like this would be vulgar."
Blaise closed her eyes and looked like she was counting to ten. Draco gave her a minute, then looked over at her, confused. Surely it didn't take her that long to count to so low a number. Maybe she was repeating it. He listened closely to the muttering noises she was making. It seemed that she had gone beyond counting to ten in English—it now sounded as if she were counting to one hundred, under her breath, in Italian. Draco stared at, slightly in awe.
"I didn't know you were bilingual."
Blaise opened one eye. "I'm trying very hard not to come over there and knock some sense into you."
"But Blaise, that is exactly what Nott will be doing to Finnigan, don't you see?"
Blaise groaned. "Could someone please explain to me why I have gotten myself involved with this?" she asked, her head thrown back and her hands reaching heavenward. "What have I done to deserve this? Is it the years I spent tormenting first years, Muggleborns, and the entire population of Hufflepuff House? Am I being punished for it?"
"Blaise, calm yourself, your display is simply ignominious!"
"Five syllables, Malfoy, I'm impressed."
Draco glared at her. "I see you're done making a fool of yourself."
"Whereas you are clearly never done."
"Really, though," Draco said, ignoring her slight, "what's so wrong with my plan this time?"
"For one," said Blaise, "Nott will never agree to it."
Draco smiled at her condescendingly. "And yet, Nott has beaten up Finnigan at least one time before."
Blaise looked up, surprised. "He has? When was this?"
"The day I formulated my plan, of course," said Draco proudly. "He inadvertently helped me with the idea."
A look of dawning comprehension covered Blaise's face, along with an evil little smirk. Draco was not encouraged.
"Tell me, Draco, sweet," Blaise said in a patronizing tone, "this wouldn't have been the same day you asked for my help with your lovely little plan, would it?"
"Yes," Draco muttered.
"Ah, yes, then Nott was thrashing Seamus on my orders. I had to cause a distraction so that one of my henchmen could put one of my own plans into order, under the teachers' noses, without being seen. Though considering the sheer size of Snape's nose, not to mention Dumbledore's, I think I might have gotten by just keeping in their shadows."
"Blaise," Draco interrupted, "you are off on a tangent. Stop digressing and get on with it. What does Nott have to do with it?"
"Nott only agreed because he had a substantial investment in my plot, an attachment he does not have to yours. So, again, he would never agree to it."
Draco looked at her pleadingly. "You could get him to do it, couldn't you?"
Blaise sighed, running a hand over her forehead. "Surely you know by now that Nott is far too clever to involve himself in something like this, especially with no evident reward in sight for him."
"How did you get him to help you then?"
Blaise smiled. "Well, when I said he had a substantial investment in my plot, perhaps it would have been better to explain it as this: I blackmailed him until he was forced to do it."
Draco gasped. "You blackmailed Nott?"
Blaise nodded. "Sure, why wouldn't I?"
"Then why couldn't you do it again?"
Blaise looked at him curiously. "I suppose I could," she said, thinking. "Though, of course, I don't know if I could get by with what I had last time."
"And what was that?" Draco asked eagerly.
"Malfoy, you are such a frightful gossip. No wonder Lavender appeals to you so much."
"Shut up, Blaise. What did you have on Nott?"
"If you must know, I caught him cheating on his Transfiguration exam."
Draco slumped, feeling the disappointment of a thoroughly anticlimactic story. "That's it?"
Blaise shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Hey, I didn't say it was exciting blackmail, but it got the job done. Nott didn't want anyone to find out, particularly McGonagall, so he had to do what I said or risk the consequences."
"So tell me again why using that wouldn't work another time?"
Blaise picked at the bark of a nearby tree and yawned. "Well, it's like you said, isn't it? It's not very exciting."
Draco threw himself spread eagle onto the ground. "What am I going to do?" he said with despair.
Blaise bit her lip, pondering, as he gazed up at her. "Give me a few days, Draco. I'll follow him around and dig up something good."
"You mean it?" Draco asked, hopefully. Blaise's mouth curled slowly into a smile.
"Sure, why not. No one ever said working with you was uninteresting."
"Of course not," Draco said smugly, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. "Now, get to work, Agent Zabini. I'll stay on Lavender-tracking detail, and I'll expect a report from you in three days' time. You are dismissed."
"I don't take orders from anyone, Malfoy," Blaise said.
"Oh, come on Blaise, giving out orders is half the fun! Don't kill my joy! I get precious little of it nowadays."
Blaise looked as if she were trying not to laugh.
"All right, just this once, I'll humor you."
She gave a chipper, exaggerated salute. "Yes, sir!"
Draco smirked, then waved her away impatiently. "I said you were dismissed, Agent Zabini. We both have serious work to do. I'll be expecting that report!" he called to her retreating back.
He returned to viewing Lavender's lakeside perusal of her magazine, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. It was good to have a friend like Blaise.
Chapter Seven
Disclaimer: See Chapter One
For the next few days, Draco was preoccupied with one thought and one thought only: getting Seamus out of the picture, in any way possible. He had moved beyond trying to act careful—he needed action and he needed it now.
Of course, he would still, on some levels, remain furtive. Lavender couldn't know that their chance meetings were really, in essence, stalwartly planned out stalkings, and he would carefully keep these facts from her. It was sharply evident, however, that things needed to be done about her boyfriend, and quickly. The matter of Seamus was getting increasingly dire and Draco's patience was wearing thin. Desperate times did call for desperate measures, after all, and Draco was more than happy to oblige. His plan was stalling, and he knew it. Without these little unanticipated hindrances from the Gryffindors, he could have been much further along in his Disownment Project than he was presently.
He was thinking of all this with slight trepidation as he spied on Lavender behind a pillar. She was eating by the lake (from Draco's observations, a favorite spot of hers), with Parvati and, to Draco's tremendous revulsion, Seamus. How those girls could possibly keep their food down in his presence was beyond Draco's comprehension. He personally would not have been able to enjoy his lunch with that dreadful bother in such close proximity.
The matter of ridding himself of Seamus caused him a mixture of different feelings. It was vastly amusing to plot out ways to get the Irish idiot out of the picture, though it often led to bouts of unproductivity, as he tended to wander off into fanciful musings of Seamus's demise rather than focusing on the larger task at hand.
Sometimes, when an ingenious (and, harder to come up with, legal) plan was eluding him, he settled into the fits of gloom that had become undesirably and increasingly more common to him. Thankfully, his normally uplifted composure pulled him through these low moments, but despite their temporary nature, they could be disheartening nonetheless.
He shifted uncomfortably behind his column, rubbing his back as best as he could. You would think that after weeks of doing nothing else, he would have built up enough strength to get by without damage. Spying was most certainly not a glamorous activity, and he was not sure he was reaping the proper rewards from his strenuous efforts. A weaker man than he would probably give up, but say what you would about Draco Malfoy, he would not give in so easily.
Though, surely he could take a little break. All Lavender was doing was eating, and that couldn't conceivably help him out in any way, could it? He would just make himself a bit comfortable and rest his aching back. Possibly shut his eyes for a few moments...
Draco woke up with a start, cursing stupid sleep-deprived thoughts that had caused him to make such moronic judgments. Falling asleep in broad daylight and in clear view of a very good amount of people? The indignity of it did not befit a man of his sophistication and stature. What a state his hair must be in, and his robes! He braced himself, then cast his eyes warily over his clothes. He winced. It was just as he had thought. The finest material money could buy, usually kept so immaculate, was rumpled and disheveled. He gave a jerk of surprise and looked more closely at his garments—he looked like Potter! He ran as fast as his legs could carry him to the Slytherin dormitories, earning himself a sharp admonishment from McGonagall as he passed her, though her hardly paid her any mind. He could not bother with such trivialities as school rules at the moment. Draco could publicly humiliate himself by lowering his standards to Lavender Brown if it allowed him to carry out his ends. He could and would not tolerate, however, being bedraggled in public, like some coarse plebeian. It went against the very principles he held so dear. The shame, the aspersions upon his name...
At last, he beheld the lovely sight of his common room, sped to his dormitory, and pulled out a pair of fresh, clean, and to his relief, flawlessly pressed robes. He carefully removed them from the hanger in his wardrobe, tore off the old ones and cast them roughly aside, then shrugged on the new ones. He turned to leave, but his eyes caught on the studying form of Theodore Nott. An image floated in front of his eyes—his Slytherin classmate, beating up a Gryffindor... a very important Gryffindor... a Gryffindor whose fate rested in Draco's hands...
Draco pranced out of his dormitory, light-hearted and frolicsome. He may have just found a place to start.
It was with a much-improved outlook that Draco found himself spying the next day. Lavender, as was usual these days, was at the lake, doing something Draco had never seen her do before—reading. Upon closer inspection, he saw her reading material to be a copy of Witch Weekly. Draco smiled at her dependability. He had chosen very wisely.
Spying no longer seemed to be a chore. On the contrary, it was quite cathartic and soothing. He was feeling very relaxed and peaceful, just watching Lavender mark something in her magazine and enjoying the silence that allowed him time to immerse himself in quiet contemplation.
"Boo," said a voice from behind him. As quiet as the voice of his accomplice had been, it had been a break in his beautiful calm, and it had made him give a startled jump. He was absolutely furious with himself.
"Blaise!" he said sternly. "What in the world do you think you are doing!?"
She shrugged, then plopped herself on the ground beside him, stretching out her legs, and then folding them neatly beneath her.
"I was bored, my schoolwork was done, and I'd tortured my allotted amount of first years for the day, so I decided to come out and check on you."
"I assure you that I was doing quite fine by myself, thanks," said Draco. "If you would please remove yourself from my two feet of personal space—"
Blaise threw an arm around his shoulders. Honestly, she could not possibly be any more irritating.
"What were you smiling about?" asked Blaise. "Before I interrupted you, I mean. You were grinning like a daft fool. You should consider not doing it anymore."
"I think I've been through this before," Draco said, peering out at Lavender. "It wasn't too long ago that I explained to those terminally stupid fools I call Crabbe and Goyle that it is common for one, when one is feeling happy or some similar emotion, to smile. And, how coincidental! You were there!"
"Oh, save it Malfoy, you have that 'I am such a clever boy' smile on, which means you're up to something. Out with it."
"It almost feels like an invasion of privacy when one's smiles are being named and catalogued," Draco mused.
"If you are looking for me to give you some Lavender-esque compliment, like, 'Your smiles are too stunningly perfect not to be categorized, Draco,' then you can keep on waiting."
"Not least because Lavender probably doesn't know the word 'categorized.' "
Blaise looked at him with mixed exasperation and amusement.
"If you aren't going to tell me, fine," she said, "but you know you'll end up coming to me eventually. I'm the one that takes what is brilliant to you, and makes it into what is not monstrously stupid."
Draco was insulted. He turned his back deliberately on her and continued to watch Lavender, who was now reading with her tongue protruding slightly from her mouth.
"You know," Blaise called lazily from over his shoulder, "the sooner you stop pretending to ignore me, the sooner we can get that mentally defective object of your grand plan's affection where we need her. Must we go through this incessantly?"
Draco turned back to look at her.
"Insulting my intelligence is not the way to get me to open up, Miss Zabini."
"I'm not insulting your intelligence. I'm still working with you, aren't I? I'm merely suggesting that some of your plans are a bit... fantastical."
"So you think that I'm smart?"
"Someone is fishing shamelessly for gratuitous flattery today," Blaise said airily.
"I really want to know!"
Blaise looked as if she were choosing her words carefully, which infuriated Draco to no end.
"Well," she said finally, "I don't think you are piteously half-witted in a consistent manner, though you do have your moments."
"Blaise, you silly girl! I do not want honesty, I want a good answer! Stop rolling your eyes!"
"Okay, Draco, you are not only devilishly handsome, you are also a specimen of genius the likes of whom the world has never seen."
"Why, thank you, Blaise my dear. That answer, at least, was quite satisfactory."
"So what's your latest plan?"
"I'm going to ask Nott to go beat up Seamus for me." He clapped a hand over his mouth—he hadn't meant to tell her that.
"Wait. Start again and explain why that will be helpful this time."
"Listen, Blaise, when Nott goes and knocks Seamus around a bit, I can rush over to Lavender all righteous and Gryffindor-like, and proclaim disgust over the violence that had so unfortunately befallen her boyfriend."
Blaise blinked and sat back, looking a bit stunned. Draco was pleased—he knew it was a good idea. She just sat there and gaped in silence, which was why her outburst came so unexpectedly.
"You're WHAT?"
"I'm going to have Seamus beaten up."
"Oh, please tell me you're joking."
"Of course I'm not joking. Joking at a time like this would be vulgar."
Blaise closed her eyes and looked like she was counting to ten. Draco gave her a minute, then looked over at her, confused. Surely it didn't take her that long to count to so low a number. Maybe she was repeating it. He listened closely to the muttering noises she was making. It seemed that she had gone beyond counting to ten in English—it now sounded as if she were counting to one hundred, under her breath, in Italian. Draco stared at, slightly in awe.
"I didn't know you were bilingual."
Blaise opened one eye. "I'm trying very hard not to come over there and knock some sense into you."
"But Blaise, that is exactly what Nott will be doing to Finnigan, don't you see?"
Blaise groaned. "Could someone please explain to me why I have gotten myself involved with this?" she asked, her head thrown back and her hands reaching heavenward. "What have I done to deserve this? Is it the years I spent tormenting first years, Muggleborns, and the entire population of Hufflepuff House? Am I being punished for it?"
"Blaise, calm yourself, your display is simply ignominious!"
"Five syllables, Malfoy, I'm impressed."
Draco glared at her. "I see you're done making a fool of yourself."
"Whereas you are clearly never done."
"Really, though," Draco said, ignoring her slight, "what's so wrong with my plan this time?"
"For one," said Blaise, "Nott will never agree to it."
Draco smiled at her condescendingly. "And yet, Nott has beaten up Finnigan at least one time before."
Blaise looked up, surprised. "He has? When was this?"
"The day I formulated my plan, of course," said Draco proudly. "He inadvertently helped me with the idea."
A look of dawning comprehension covered Blaise's face, along with an evil little smirk. Draco was not encouraged.
"Tell me, Draco, sweet," Blaise said in a patronizing tone, "this wouldn't have been the same day you asked for my help with your lovely little plan, would it?"
"Yes," Draco muttered.
"Ah, yes, then Nott was thrashing Seamus on my orders. I had to cause a distraction so that one of my henchmen could put one of my own plans into order, under the teachers' noses, without being seen. Though considering the sheer size of Snape's nose, not to mention Dumbledore's, I think I might have gotten by just keeping in their shadows."
"Blaise," Draco interrupted, "you are off on a tangent. Stop digressing and get on with it. What does Nott have to do with it?"
"Nott only agreed because he had a substantial investment in my plot, an attachment he does not have to yours. So, again, he would never agree to it."
Draco looked at her pleadingly. "You could get him to do it, couldn't you?"
Blaise sighed, running a hand over her forehead. "Surely you know by now that Nott is far too clever to involve himself in something like this, especially with no evident reward in sight for him."
"How did you get him to help you then?"
Blaise smiled. "Well, when I said he had a substantial investment in my plot, perhaps it would have been better to explain it as this: I blackmailed him until he was forced to do it."
Draco gasped. "You blackmailed Nott?"
Blaise nodded. "Sure, why wouldn't I?"
"Then why couldn't you do it again?"
Blaise looked at him curiously. "I suppose I could," she said, thinking. "Though, of course, I don't know if I could get by with what I had last time."
"And what was that?" Draco asked eagerly.
"Malfoy, you are such a frightful gossip. No wonder Lavender appeals to you so much."
"Shut up, Blaise. What did you have on Nott?"
"If you must know, I caught him cheating on his Transfiguration exam."
Draco slumped, feeling the disappointment of a thoroughly anticlimactic story. "That's it?"
Blaise shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Hey, I didn't say it was exciting blackmail, but it got the job done. Nott didn't want anyone to find out, particularly McGonagall, so he had to do what I said or risk the consequences."
"So tell me again why using that wouldn't work another time?"
Blaise picked at the bark of a nearby tree and yawned. "Well, it's like you said, isn't it? It's not very exciting."
Draco threw himself spread eagle onto the ground. "What am I going to do?" he said with despair.
Blaise bit her lip, pondering, as he gazed up at her. "Give me a few days, Draco. I'll follow him around and dig up something good."
"You mean it?" Draco asked, hopefully. Blaise's mouth curled slowly into a smile.
"Sure, why not. No one ever said working with you was uninteresting."
"Of course not," Draco said smugly, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. "Now, get to work, Agent Zabini. I'll stay on Lavender-tracking detail, and I'll expect a report from you in three days' time. You are dismissed."
"I don't take orders from anyone, Malfoy," Blaise said.
"Oh, come on Blaise, giving out orders is half the fun! Don't kill my joy! I get precious little of it nowadays."
Blaise looked as if she were trying not to laugh.
"All right, just this once, I'll humor you."
She gave a chipper, exaggerated salute. "Yes, sir!"
Draco smirked, then waved her away impatiently. "I said you were dismissed, Agent Zabini. We both have serious work to do. I'll be expecting that report!" he called to her retreating back.
He returned to viewing Lavender's lakeside perusal of her magazine, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. It was good to have a friend like Blaise.