A/N: Another chapter edited and reworked. I feel so good after these edits, however hard they are at the time! Everything feels tighter and more in-character. Hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good …(of course it's not ours!)
)PvsM(
Though neither Harry nor Malfoy were willing to let the kids more than a foot away from them for the rest of the journey, the others stayed separate from them until they'd gone from the underground to a Reading-bound bus and finally, onto a train to Bath at half-three. Harry risked putting his glasses back on but saw no indication that they'd been followed. It was nothing short of a miracle.
They finally reconvened on the train, managing to find a car with eight free seats. Once they'd checked their car and the two in front and behind for anyone suspicious, they really began to relax.
"Can we get a curry in Bath?" Tristan asked plaintively of no one in particular. She rubbed her stomach. "I haven't had a thing to eat since yesterday."
Ginny leaned over the seat and handed her some dried meat, a bottle of water, and a little packet of peanuts. Everyone else looked beadily at her and Dorian, who rolled their eyes and began handing around food.
"Sorry, Tris, we'll have to split up as soon as we get there," Cedric told her around a mouthful of dried apple slices. "Bath's got some excellent pubs, though. However we split up, we'll make sure everyone gets to eat. Here, this ought to take your mind off things." Reaching with his free hand into one of the large bags he carried, he withdrew one of the boxes and, after much unwrapping of plastic and cardboard, removed a silver mobile phone. Tristan's eyes lit with interest.
Hayden, sitting across the aisle, muttered something about Tristan and shiny objects. Ginny said something stern and dusted crumbs off his front. "Mum," he said.
"Hand mine over, Ced," Harry said, leaning over the back of Cedric's seat and taking the box his son offered him.
"Oh, goody, Muggle gadgets," Malfoy muttered, glaring out the window. He looked a little worse for wear after the bus and the train obviously wasn't an improvement for him.
"What are these for?" Ginny asked, unwrapping the plastic and holding the mobile between two fingers.
"It's obviously something pretty for your hair, Weasley."
"Shut up, Malfoy, I didn't see you taking Muggle Studies."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Get used to it," Blaise advised from the seat beside him, glancing across the aisle at Draco. "He doesn't look well and he gets in a foul strop when he's sick."
"That and the fact he's talking to Ginny," Harry muttered. He leaned closer to Blaise so the sound of the train would cover his voice. "I mean, I'm no hit with girls but even I can tell that Malfoy's mucking everything up. If Ginny doesn't kill him before we get back, ten Galleons says she arranges for one of her brothers to off him."
"Draco doesn't recognize he's train-wrecked until he's crawling out of the wreckage," Blaise said philosophically. "Twenty Galleons says he flees to France."
"At least Ginny's interested," Harry pointed out. "Anything could happen between here and Dumbledore." He grinned. "Like Malfoy fleeing to France."
Blaise grinned back at him, her purple eyes full of mischief.
"Yes," she said slowly. "Or they could meet with an untimely love potion . . . "
"You're such a Slytherin," Harry told her. She leaned into his arm and began unwrapping the mobile Cedric handed her over the seat.
"Potter, your flirting is making me sicker than I already am," Malfoy snapped, peeling his pallid face off the window long enough to send Harry a sneer.
"He's doing a right side better than you are," Tristan pointed out. Dorian giggled into his snack.
The others bit back smiles because laughing at the unwell was wrong and they had to set a good example for the children. Malfoy slouched into silence with his arms crossed over his chest. Ginny patted his arm.
"So," Blaise said, pushing herself away from Harry's shoulder and apprehensively picking up the mobile from the box in her lap. "What's this phony-tone thing for?"
)PvsM(
The train ride was long enough for everyone to take turns napping, which was just as well. Cedric didn't like to think of any of them falling asleep in a pub.
He could tell they were getting a handle on mobile phones when Dorian discovered text messaging. His first victim was, to no one's surprise, Tristan.
"Ced, I think something's wrong with my phone," she said, staring down at the little screen and wrinkling her nose. "Ought it to say that?"
"Say what?" he asked absently.
"That," she said, indicating the flashing message on the view screen of her mobile.
Cedric glanced at it briefly, did a double-take, and snatched it from her. After punching a few buttons, while his sister leaned curiously over his arm, he scowled.
"Ian . . . " he said, turning to look at his cousin.
"What?" Dorian sank down in his seat and grinned sheepishly.
"Invite my sister to do anything like that again, and you can be sure that I'll not let you live through the night. Got me?"
Dorian winked at Tristan, who rolled her eyes and took her phone back from her brother.
"Ced, ignore him," she advised. "Look," she added triumphantly a moment later. "I've found 'erase'."
"Honestly, Ian," Ginny muttered. "If her dad doesn't kill you, her brother will." She sighed. "You clearly get your sense of self-preservation from your father."
"Funny, Mum thinks that, too, Aunt Gin," Dorian said, sounding a little wicked.
"It's a wonder he's still alive," Hayden said under his breath.
Cedric glared at him.
"What? What did I do? I'm just sitting here!" Hayden said, leaning away from him and looking mightily guilty for someone who hadn't done anything. Given the way Tristan kept looking at him and turning red, Cedric had a fairly good idea that he had done something, what he'd done, and how dead he was if Cedric ever found out for sure he was right.
"Stop, Ced, he's not worth it," Tristan said testily, stabbing at the buttons on her phone. "What's your – um, number, is it? Phone number," she added experimentally, glancing up from her instruction manual. "I've found the address book."
Cedric knew something had happened when Hayden didn't snap at Tristan for calling him not worth Cedric's anger.
"Cedric." Blaise leaned over the back of her seat and looked him in the eye. "Stop growling at the boys and let Tristan bloody well look after herself. She can, you know."
"Thank you," Tristan said with a pointed look at Cedric. "Mum," she added, biting her lip and looking shyly up at the other girl.
"Help me with my Muggle gadget thing, kid," Blaise said imperiously but with a little smile when Tristan called her 'mum'. She shot a smile at Draco, who was still glaring out at the countryside and looking green. "I, too, found Muggle Studies beneath me."
Tristan giggled, leaning forward to show her phone to her mother. Cedric liked watching them together. Tristan had always resented their mum, listening to their dad go on and on about how horrible she was. It made Cedric's blood boil and a tiny voice in his head constantly reminded him there was no way Tristan would learn to appreciate and value her mum the way Cedric did. Maybe it was a good thing all this time travel business was happening. Maybe now Tristan would stand a chance of reconnecting with her adult mother when Cedric managed to find her.
He felt a hand in his hair and looked up. Tristan smiled. "Cheer up, big brother," she said. "Mum knows best, doesn't she?"
"Except about 'phony tones,'" Harry pointed out. "Ow!"
"Malfoy," Ginny was saying as she poked curiously at her phone. "Do you want some help with your … um …"
"Mobile?" Dorian offered helpfully.
"That's it," Ginny said.
"I'm never touching the bloody thing so no point, really," Draco muttered. He was going from green to grey and looking for all the world like he wanted to pass out and never wake up. Cedric remembered him looking about the same when he'd caught dragon pox from Tristan and Hayden.
"You look dreadful," Ginny said, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Ced, did you see a loo on the way in?"
"I'm not that dreadful, thank you," Draco snapped. No one was fooled.
"I'm just going to get a cold cloth for your forehead, you big baby," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "And if you need a bucket," she added wickedly as she slid from her seat, "you'd better tell me now because I won't be able to conjure one."
)PvsM(
Muggle trains had to be the worst invention of the lot, Draco decided. According to Cedric, they were within ten minute of Bath, but that didn't stop Draco wishing he were dead. He and his stomach were at war over whether to be violently ill all over the place or not. He was afraid he was losing the battle and Ginny was sitting next to him. He swallowed and ordered his stomach to settle.
"An angry camel would be better than this," he mumbled, staring hard out of the window and trying to swallow the sour taste in his throat.
"We're almost there," Ginny said quietly, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead. It did feel nice so he leaned back into his seat and let her. "You wouldn't want a camel, anyway," she added. He could hear her smiling, even with his eyes squeezed shut. "They spit. My brother Bill says they have good aim, too."
"Which one's Bill?" he asked, because her voice took his mind off the lurching of the horrible Muggle train.
"Bill lives in Egypt," she told him, sliding the cold cloth across the back of his neck and letting it rest there. "He's a curse breaker. His wife wants him to retire and be a proper exec at Gringotts but he never will."
"Why?" Keep talking, just keep talking.
"He'd get bored hanging around England all the time," Ginny explained. If she were surprised by his sudden interest in her family, she wasn't showing it. "He's been home a lot more since he and Fleur got married and the war got bad but he won't stay. He wants to move to Cairo but Mum couldn't bear having two sons living overseas." She glanced at him and Draco, who didn't like to risk opening his mouth, raised his eyebrows. "Charlie," she explained. "My next oldest brother after Bill. He works with dragons in Romania. Mum went spare when he said he was moving. Bill doesn't want to upset her but he and Fleur hate being apart, so …"
"Uncle Charlie is my favorite," Dorian said as he fiddled with his phone. "He took me up on a dragon when I was eight. It was bloody brilliant. Course, Mum tried to kill him."
"Funny," Hayden said, slanting a look at Ginny. "The same thing happened to me when I was nine."
"Too right," Ginny said, winking at him.
"You'd let me go now, though, wouldn't you?" he asked, batting his eyes at her. Draco turned his head enough to catch the movement and realized how similar his eyes were to his son's.
"Absolutely not, young man!" Ginny said in shocked tones. "Oh," she added with a smirk, "and you're grounded."
Tristan and Dorian giggled. "Denny's in the cupboard, Denny's in the cupboard," they chanted.
"What?" Potter glanced up from his felly-tone and stared at his daughter.
"Shut up, Potter," Hayden muttered. "Shut up, Ian," he added, smacking Dorian over the head.
"Abuse!" Dorian wailed.
"You okay?" Ginny asked, her attention suddenly on Draco while the three kids bickered in the background. "You're looking really peaky."
"I'm pale," he retorted. "Looking peaky is something that comes naturally."
She gave a surprised chuckle. "My mum's going to love having you as a son-in-law."
"Please don't talk like that, I'm already ill," Draco muttered.
Ginny shook her head at him, running long fingers through her short mess of hair, which was returning to its original red. "If you weren't already ill, I'd slap you, Malfoy."
"You and Hermione," Potter said, smirking across the aisle at Draco.
"Sod off," Draco said, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning back in his seat.
"Harry, just this once, I'm going to ask you to leave Malfoy alone," Ginny surprised everyone by saying. "It's beneath you to pick on the weak."
"Oy," Draco tried but quickly clamped his lips shut.
"Do yourself a favor and stop talking, Draco."
His eyes snapped open and he stared at her.
"Close your eyes," she said softly.
He didn't want to but it was better for his stomach if he did. He felt her pull the cloth from his neck and heard her leave the compartment. A minute later, the door opened and closed and the cloth, cool and soothing again, settled against his neck. Then he felt fingers on his cheeks and neck, ghosting over his forehead and across his nose.
"Try to get some rest," Ginny whispered. "Sleep now."
And somehow, he did.
)PvsM(
Harry was just making last-minute reservations at the bed and breakfast in Bath when Tristan said, "Oh, thank god we're here!"
Harry finished his phone call and looked out the window. He recognized some of the taller buildings from his brief holiday with the Dursleys when he was nine and they couldn't find anywhere to leave him for the week. He frowned. Dudley had not made it a pleasant holiday and now he was on the run from murderers and law enforcement.
He did not like Bath.
"What's wrong, Potter?" Blaise was giving him a funny look.
"Last time I was here, my cousin chased me into a ruin of a church and then locked me out of the hotel we were staying at," Harry said shortly.
Blaise opened her mouth, closed it, and then settled for frowning out the window.
The train pulled slowly into the station. They collected their rucksacks and Malfoy, who looked like he might actually pass out, and stepped out onto the small platform. Harry glanced around. A sign reading 'Welcome to Bath' hung near another sign reading 'Way Out.'
"That's exactly what we need," Dorian said fervently. Tristan grinned, patted his shoulder, and leapt away so he couldn't cop a feel. He gave her the look of a man who could wait but not for long. She slugged his shoulder, he whined piteously to Ginny, and Ginny ordered him to help her with poor "Uncle Draco." Poor Uncle Draco said something very unpleasant to her.
"It's a wonder if we make it out of the station without getting caught," Cedric muttered. "Aunt Gin, Ian, can you manage with Malfoy to the nearest hostel? It's right up the high street and I think you need a kip faster than any of the rest of us."
"No problem, Ced." The three split off and headed up the street, the redheads waving back at the rest of the group.
"Keep your phones on," Cedric called after them.
Ginny gave him a wavering thumbs-up over her shoulder.
"You sent Dad off first to be rid of him, didn't you?" Hayden asked, half-accusing and half-amused.
"Might have done," Cedric admitted. "Anyway, I'm taking you and Tris with me. Can't trust the pair of you, can I?"
"Oy," the pair of them said, glaring at him.
"Fine with me," Blaise said, winking at Harry. He felt himself go a bit red and Tristan actually grinned at him.
"Leave it out, Mum, that's gross," Harry's daughter said, smirking at Blaise.
"Go on, I'm your age," Blaise retorted.
They split up, Harry and Blaise heading uphill toward Queen Victoria Park and the others heading for the center of town.
"Think we'll be all right?" Blaise asked, shrugging her rucksack higher on her shoulders.
"Oh, sure. If Dorian's texting stops and Cedric isn't forced to strangle him or Hayden to protect Tristan's virtue," Harry said, smiling in spite of himself.
Blaise frowned, throwing a quick look over her shoulder. "I wish she could've come with us," she admitted, kicking at loose cobblestones as the street began to ascend.
"Me, too," Harry told her. "But you two look and act too much alike."
"She and Ced do, too," Blaise said grouchily. "Anyone would know they're related."
"That's why she's better off with her brother," Harry said patiently, as they turned down Manvers Street. "Siblings backpacking together is totally normal in the Muggle world. It's not something that would make someone look twice in a crowd. What if Tris accidentally called you 'Mum' in front of someone?"
"I guess," Blaise muttered, stuffing her hands into her pockets as they passed through the town square, sandwiched between the Roman Baths, the Pump Room, Bath Abbey, and about twenty souvenir shops.
"Got to hand it to British Muggles, though," she said, lip curling. "They do know how to make the tackiest buildings you'll ever see anywhere."
They turned onto the high street again. As they continued to climb upward, the stores began to run more toward books and music, with a couple of touristy museums and a church thrown in.
"Any idea where we are?" Blaise asked, gazing around as they came to the end of street and were faced with several confusing cross streets. Harry glanced at her. She looked especially irritable which meant she was probably nervous. Great – that made two of them.
"We're looking for the Royal Crescent," Harry told her. He remembered the directions from the guidebook and a lot from when he'd visited with the Dursleys. His eyes lingered on a signpost that had several points of interest on it in arrow-shaped blocks pointing in various directions. "Right," he said. "We want to take a left, I think."
"I have absolute confidence in your navigational skills," Blaise said, looking apprehensively around.
"Oh, clearly." Harry threw her a half smile which she returned.
"Sorry," she said, eyes on the street ahead of them. "I'm just …"
"Worried because a madman's on our trail and we're alone in a large city in the wrong time period?" Harry offered.
Blaise chuckled, nudging him a little. "Worried is not a strong enough word, Potter."
After another ten minutes and a near run-in with a passing Tesco-bound lorry, they reached the Royal Crescent. A semicircle of old, handsome buildings that stood across the cobblestone street from a sloping lawn came into view as they mounted the last stretch of the long road. The weather wasn't bad and Muggles were picnicking and playing Frisbee all over the field. "This must be Queen Victoria Memorial Park," Harry said, staring around. "Part of it, anyway. We're supposed to cross this lawn to get to Marlborough Street."
For a wonder, Marlborough Street was where Harry remembered it being on the map. He realized as they made their way down it that it led to the hotel he'd stayed at with the Dursleys. He winced.
"What?" Blaise asked, eyeing him sharply.
"Just – unpleasant memories."
"Your family."
He glanced at her and caught her turning to look ahead again. "Not my real family," he corrected. "But – I have to live with them for a while longer."
"This summer – if we get out of here, mind – will you have to go back?"
Harry could see her chewing her lip.
"Dunno. I thought so before but – " Harry broke off. He liked this girl. Maybe more than he'd ever liked a girl, but … it was the Order. It was too important to be careless about. "Depends on – on a lot of things," he finished lamely.
Blaise frowned at him. "You're not good at sneaky, Potter," she said at last, hefting her rucksack higher on her shoulders. "Just know that."
Marlborough Street led down a hill that was lined on the left with old, stone houses and on the right by an old-fashioned farmhouse. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the sloping lawns and enclosed gardens of Queen Victoria Memorial Park.
"Quaint," Blaise muttered. Harry couldn't stop a grin.
The bed and breakfast on Marlborough Street was a tall, narrow establishment, with a pretty front garden and a cobblestone path leading to the front door. Harry led the way through the hip-high rot-iron gate and up the path to the door, where he pressed the buzzer. He caught Blaise staring doubtfully at it and tried not to smile too much.
"Shut up, Potter," she said, nudging him.
A tall man answered the door a moment later with a smile and an Australian accent.
"Can I help?" the Muggle asked.
"Yeah, I booked this afternoon," Harry said. "One night."
"Ah, the Evans," the man said, nodding. "Welcome. I'm Kenneth Shears. Won't you come in?"
The Evans? Blaise mouthed at him as Mr. Shears led them down a narrow hallway into a sitting room with antique furniture that smelled like a museum. A door straight ahead led to a handsome set of winding stairs. A homely dining room was visible through a door on the right. It seemed to be set for supper.
"I wasn't going to use our names, was I?" Harry retorted. "And it was easier to pretend we were married. Or rather – " He paused, feeling himself go red – "honeymooners."
"Don't Muggles wear wedding rings, too, Potter?" But Blaise tucked her left hand into her pocket and stopped teasing.
"We've cleared the top apartment for you, Mr. Evans," Mr. Shears said, nodding toward the stairs. "It's a good thing your call came when it did – this is a busy season for us."
"That's fine," Harry said quickly. Blaise smirked at him and he felt himself go a touch redder. Charming.
"Right, then." Mr. Shears beamed at them. "Helen's just finishing supper for us – shouldn't be ten minutes. You're welcome to join, of course. Meantime, I expect you'd like to freshen up. Head all the way up the stairs. Your room's on the left and the toilet's attached. Here's your key."
"Thanks," Harry said, taking it and tugging Blaise toward the stairs. Mr. Shears seemed nice enough but in a town like Bath, where innkeepers talked to innkeepers and cleaning staff ran gossip black markets, Harry didn't like to think how much attention they could bring upon themselves if the Aurors and Unspeakables did their investigating properly.
"Expect we should go out for supper tonight," Blaise murmured. "Wouldn't want to make anyone curious but not turning up."
"No kidding." As they came to the first landing, Harry threw a glance out the window at the setting sun.
"Wonder how Ginny's getting on with Malfoy?" he murmured.
Blaise snickered but said, "I feel sorry for her. Between Draco and her bleeding nephew, she's got a full-time job."
"Malfoy's probably making everything as difficult as he can for her," Harry agreed, mounting the next set of stairs. He frowned, suddenly realizing just how unpleasant things probably were for Ginny. "I'll call as soon as we get up to our room."
)PvsM(
Ginny and Dorian drew Draco, still slumped between them, to a halt in front of a large red door and a sign reading "Bath Backpackers" that stood on the step beside it. Ginny exchanged doubtful expressions with her companions. Draco leaned against the rot iron railing on the steps. He still didn't look well, although Ginny imagined that being off that noisy, bumpy train was a help.
Probably food poisoning, she thought. She'd never seen anyone react as badly to public transit as Draco had and it didn't really add up, when she thought about it. Draco took the Hogwarts Express along with the rest of them. That Muggle train hadn't been much different …
In need of a distraction, she turned her attention to her nephew, who was now gleefully hitting the button beside the dark box on the wall, which emitted a loud click every time.
"Stop that, Ian!" she commanded, biting down a sudden desire to laugh hysterically as she slapped his hand away. Rounding on Draco, she added, "I'm not the only adult here, you know! You're supposed to be his uncle."
"Little runt's just having some fun," Draco returned. He gave his stomach a rub and winced.
Ginny raised her eyebrows.
"I'm fine!" he muttered.
"Obviously." Ginny examined the box for a moment, recalling their time in London. At Kendal's, she'd seen Cedric press the little button and hold it down as he spoke, so she thought that might be worth a try.
"Er – hello?" she said, feeling rather foolish.
The answering click made her jump and release the button.
"Can I help you?" came a harassed voice from the other end.
"We – we have reservations," Ginny said timidly.
"Come on through, then," the voice said impatiently. "And was one of you playing with the switch a moment ago?"
"No!" Ginny said, too quickly, glaring at Dorian when he giggled. "We – ah – just arrived ourselves."
"Right, well, come in," the voice ordered. There was another click, and the door popped ajar.
"Friendly, aren't they?" Draco mumbled, taking an unsteady step toward the door. He didn't complain when Dorian offered him a shoulder.
"You need a lie-down, Malfoy," Ginny returned.
"Only if you join me, Weasel," he drawled.
"When hell freezes over, perhaps," Ginny retorted. "You're not, as such, a sex god just now."
"Whose name did Ced reserve this under?" Either Dorian was ignoring the banter or he was oblivious, it was hard to tell.
"No idea … bugger," Ginny swore, stopping just inside the door.
"Let's narrow it down, shall we?" Draco said, his jaw rigid. "Who in their right mind would use my name in the Muggle world?"
"So that leaves either me or Ian and we're both Weasley," Ginny murmured. "And Ced wouldn't trust Ian to hide from a blind elephant so – "
"Hey!"
" – it's probably under my name," Ginny finished.
"Is that always the way your brain works?" Draco wondered, swallowing. "It must be mad in your mind, Weasley."
"I'm going to bat-bogey your brains out, Malfoy," she snapped.
They emerged into a small alcove on their left that looked like a reception desk. A grinning young man met them. He was clearly not the one in charge of the door.
"Good-day!" he said, in an accent that was obviously foreign. Australian or New Zealander, Ginny guessed. "Got reservations?"
"Yeah," Ginny said. "Should be under Ginny?"
The young man rifled through a stack of papers for a moment and Ginny held her breath.
"Ginny … Ginny … ah! I've got three for one night under Ginny Wesley."
Ginny glanced at the boys, but they just shrugged.
"That's it," Ginny managed. It made sense for Harry to change the name, after all.
"Something the matter?" the Muggle asked, pulling more papers out of a drawer and still grinning.
"Yeah." Dorian nodded. "We were worried they'd put it under Dorian or suchlike and the friends used to call me 'Dora.'"
The young man laughed.
"Right," he said, handing Ginny a pen. "Could you just sign here? It'll be sixty pounds fifty for the night. And are you paying by credit or cash?"
"Er – cash," Ginny said, pulling out their wallet of Muggle money.
"Great." The young man glanced at Draco, who Dorian had propped up in a chair. "Your friend all right?"
"Tired from the journey," Ginny said hastily as she carefully counted out pounds and pence onto the counter. She glanced back and caught a look at Draco's expression. "Do you have a loo?" she asked hastily. "We drank so much water on the way here."
The Muggle pointed and Draco vanished. The Muggle looked surprised but didn't comment. Ginny finished counting out her money and handed it over.
"Great," the Muggle said again. "Here're your room assignments and here's the lock combination for the front door. Make sure you don't lose that." He punched some buttons on an unfamiliar black machine and put their money inside.
"So," he said, coming out from behind the counter and leading them toward the stairs at the back of the lobby. "Just vacationing?"
"Er – yeah," Ginny said, tucking the money pouch back under her shirt as they went. "Backpacking," she added, experimentally. The word was on the sign and Harry had used it a few times.
"Gonna be in Bath long?" the Muggle asked as he led the way up the staircase, which was covered loosely in faded green carpet.
"No, not long," Dorian said cheerfully. "We're off tomorrow."
"Where you headed?" the Muggle asked.
"Wherever fancy takes us," Ginny broke in quickly, worried her nephew would say too much. "We're on an adventure."
"Sounds brilliant," the young man said, stopping before a door labeled 'Divas.'
"This is your dorm, love," he said to Ginny, handing her a key. "Don't lock yourself out."
"Thanks," she said, taking the key and biting back a nervous sigh. She'd been hoping she'd be in the same room as the boys, but in a dorm situation such as Cedric had described it was understandable why they'd be separated by gender.
"Don't worry," the Muggle said, patting her shoulder. "Your boyfriends are just up the stairs from you."
Ginny cursed herself for wearing her every emotion on her face as the Muggle led Dorian to a door at the top of some adjoining stairs.
"I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes, all right Au – uh, Ginny?" Dorian called, taking the key the Muggle offered him. The Muggle nodded genially and headed off down the stairs, with an over-the-shoulder "just ring up the front desk if you need anything."
She opened her mouth to reply but suddenly, metallic orchestral music blared out of nowhere, making her jump. A moment's consideration made Ginny realize after two run-throughs that it was coming from one of them.
"Oh, hell, it's one of our felly-tones," Dorian said. They fished around in their pockets a moment.
"It's mine," Ginny groaned. She held it up to her ear, as Harry had instructed her. "Hello?"
"No, no, Aunt, you've got to turn it on first." Dorian laughed. Reaching out, he pushed a button and then pressed it to her ear, with a "Now talk."
Glaring at her nephew, she said uncertainly, "Hello?"
"Hey, Gin!" It was Harry's voice and the unexpectedness of it made her jump. "You guys okay?"
"About how you'd expect." She was still trying to adjust to the bizarre sensation of talking into a little black box. "I think," she added wearily, "that Draco's getting worse."
"That prat," Harry muttered. "I'm so sorry, Gin. How're you doing?"
"I'm fine," Ginny said, hoping she didn't sound too pathetic. "Have you heard from Cedric yet?"
Or Hayden, she added silently. Concern for her child was uppermost in her mind all of a sudden.
"Not yet," Harry said. "But look, don't worry. I'd say Cedric's the best at this sneaking about business. He's setting them up in a youth hostel that's almost in the center of town. They're hidden the best."
"They'd better be," Ginny said. "Remember, the reason we came here was because they wound up dead."
"I'm sorry, Gin." It must have been the millionth time he'd apologized.
"Never mind, Harry."
"So," he said into the awkward silence. "How's your place look?"
"Er – I'll have to get back to you on that," she said, glancing at the door marked 'Divas.'
"Do that," Harry told her. "Dorian told me earlier he's figured out three-way calling, so why don't you have him give me a call around nine tonight so we can discuss how to get out of town tomorrow morning?"
"Sounds fine," Ginny said. "Look, I'd better go. Malfoy went into the loo ten minutes ago and hasn't come out."
"Oh, brilliant," Harry said. Ginny heard an audible snort from somewhere on his end of the connection and assumed Blaise had heard her.
"Be safe," Ginny ordered him, her voice more serious. "I'll call tonight."
"Take care, Gin." There was a click.
Ginny pulled the felly-tone away from her ear and stared at it for a moment. There was a red button in the shape of a felly-tone and a similarly shaped one in green. Taking a wild guess, she hit the red one and a little message reading "call ended" appeared on her screen.
"Meet you out here in ten and if Uncle Draco's not out of the loo, we'll go in after him," Dorian proposed.
"Right." The idea was not appealing but Ginny waved her nephew away, pushing the key into the lock and entering her dorm. It was as shabby as the rest of the place, with six sagging bunk beds, a grungy carpet, and violently yellow walls. Ginny glanced at her dorm assignment and saw that she was in the bed labeled "Kylie Minogue." It was the bunk right by the door and was fortunately up-top. It gave her a window view of the walls of old buildings across the street and a bit of the high street itself.
Fortunately, the dorm was deserted. Ginny dumped her rucksack on the floor at the foot of the bed and kicked off her shoes. Hanging her jacket on the bedpost, she climbed onto the bunk and flopped backward, covering her face with her hands. She couldn't ever remember being that exhausted.
She lay absolutely still for what she judged to be ten minutes, eyes shut and mind so overcrowded it felt empty. When she couldn't put off the end of her ten blissful minutes any longer, she sat up and climbed off the bunk. Pulling on her shoes, she made sure the room key was in her pocket and her rucksack was tucked as far under her bunk as it would go. Then she left to meet Dorian.
Her nephew was sitting on the stairs just outside, waiting for her.
"No Uncle Draco?" she asked, sitting down beside him.
"He's still being violently sick in the loo downstairs," Dorian said with a sigh. "Dunno what's wrong with him. When Ced finds out that his favorite shirt might be covered in – ah, that's sick making! Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah – the Muggle – "
"Keep your voice down," Ginny admonished.
"Sorry." Dorian's ears went a bit red and Ginny bit back an impulsive grin. So much like Ron . . .
"Anyway, the bloke at the front," and Dorian made large quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "keeps coming round and asking if Uncle Draco's sick."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "No one's kicking us out," she said firmly. "I'm too bloody tired."
"What are we going to do about Uncle Draco?" Dorian wanted to know.
"It's not like we can use magic," she murmured, jogging her foot restlessly against the faded stair below. "Maybe . . . there must be Muggle remedies for upset stomach."
"Maybe you should ask the front desk bloke."
"Yes, but what will we ask him for? I don't think Muggles use apothecaries." But Ginny couldn't think of a better idea and Draco was still not out of the loo. So she took her nephew by the elbow and they went back down to reception.
"Our friend's a bit sick from the bus and train we took to get here," Ginny told the bloke at the desk. She hesitated but he didn't look as though he was going to throw them out on account of illness, so she carried on. "Where could we get – er, something for him?"
"Oh, there's a chemist right up the road," the Muggle said. He even looked sympathetic "Walk through the Abbey courtyard and take a left. It's just as you reach the high street."
"Right – uh, thanks," Ginny said. She and Dorian retreated back toward the stairs and met a shaking Draco as he came out of the loo.
"Not a bleeding word, Weasleys," he said hoarsely. He coughed and Ginny noticed his breath smelled strongly of mint. He'd clearly had his toothbrush in there with him. Ginny silently put an arm around him to help him back up the stairs. He didn't say another word but leaned dispiritedly on her.
"I'm going to go find the chemist, whatever that is," Ginny said in his ear as they mounted the stairs. "Apparently, there's a Muggle remedy that might help."
"You're not going on your own," Draco said weakly. "And you're not feeding me Muggle swill," he added, though his heart wasn't in it.
"Bleeding am," Ginny told him succinctly. "You'll be fine in no time."
"You're not wandering around the Muggle world on your own," Draco insisted, the arm gripping Ginny's shoulders tightening. "Red Robes and the Unspeakables are roaming around somewhere and you don't know the first thing about Muggles. Ian's going with you and I'll just have a lie-in. I'll be fine."
"I doubt that," Dorian muttered, stopping beside their dorm door and turning the key in the lock. Poking his head in, he said, "Come on in, Aunt Gin. It's empty."
Ginny led Draco in and helped him down on his bunk. He sank back with a groan that might have been grateful. "Bloody uncomfortable," he muttered a moment later, shifting restlessly about.
Ginny sat down on the edge of the bed and helped him straighten the pillows under his head.
"You're hopeless, Draco Malfoy," she said, shaking her head with an expression that she didn't know was very reminiscent of her mum. She went to the foot of the bed and tugged his boots off.
"I'm not, either," he grumbled as she pulled the battered comforter over his long frame. He slanted a look at her. "Stop fussing, Gin."
She ignored him, tucked the blanket in around him, and adjusted the pillows again. She decided that she liked Draco this way, when he was softer around the edges and let her take care of him. He obviously enjoyed it and Ginny liked not having her guard up all the time.
"Try to get some sleep," she said, pushing his fine, blond hair off his damp forehead. He tried to keep his eyes open but soon his eyelids drooped. The creases in his forehead relaxed under her fingers. She trailed her fingertips down one cheek, then the other, suddenly not wanting to move away. He looked so much younger when he slept. A bit like Hayden.
Abruptly, his hand snaked up to catch hers and he brought it to his lips with the gentlest kiss.
"If you're going, go now, Weasley," he said, his eyes still closed. "The sooner you're back, the sooner – " He paused.
"The sooner you can stop fussing like a mother hen?" Dorian suggested from the bunk above his uncle's, wither he had retired with boots still on. "I'll go with her, Uncle."
"Honestly, it's not – " Ginny began.
"Never mind arguing with him, Aunty," Dorian said, hopping down from the bunk and holding the dorm door open for her. "I know what he's like – remember, he's gonna be my uncle."
"Sod right off." Draco dropped Ginny's hand. "Get going, Weasleys."
"We're going, we're going," Ginny retorted. Impulsively, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead. "Try to get some sleep."
Dorian was giving her a funny sort of smile as she turned to go.
"Not a word," she warned, striding passed him out the door.
In wasn't until they were standing on the pavement outside the hostel that Dorian pointed out that neither of them had the faintest idea what a 'chemist' was or what it might look like.
"You know how to use a felly-tone better than I do," Ginny pointed out, glancing apprehensively up and down the street. "Give Ced a call."
As they set off toward Bath Abbey, its towering spire already visible, Ginny threw a glance up at the window she assumed connected to Draco's dorm.
And wondered for the thousandth frustrating time whether they'd ever really become anything more than whatever they were now.
)Pvs.M(
"Ced, is that your felly-tone?" Tristan asked her brother, who led the way up a steep cobblestone street at a breakneck pace. The sound was something unfamiliar and orchestral and seemed to move with Cedric.
Cedric stopped so suddenly that Tristan, who was right behind him, walked into him, and Hayden into her.
"Sorry," they both said. Tristan rubbed the back of her head and glared at her godbrother, who clamped his mouth shut sharply enough that his teeth clicked. Cedric, Tristan noticed with some disappointment, was too occupied with the felly-tone to biff Hayden for touching her.
"Hello?" Cedric had the silver box pressed to his ear. ". . . Ian! Is everything alright? . . . Good – and you found the hostel? . . . Sorry, there wasn't much choice, was there? . . . Well, you three look too rough to show up at a nice B and B . . . Look, what do you need? . . . Uncle Draco – what's wrong with him?"
Tristy glanced at Hayden. He chewed at his lip, eyes fixed on Cedric. However much of a twit the younger version of Uncle Draco was, Hayden was clearly getting attached.
"What do you mean, food poisoning? . . . What could he have eaten that we wouldn't have? . . . Oh, forget it – look, a chemists is like an apothecary . . . yeah, you're probably looking for a place called Boots . . . the high street, right. We saw one across the square in front of Bath Abbey . . . yeah, now a left . . . good, do you see it? . . . Excellent! Now just go in and ask the assistant for a remedy for indigestion . . . actually, let Aunt Gin do it, she's better at acting normal than you are . . . oh, don't get touchy . . . all right, call if you need anything else. Best thing would probably be to let him toss whatever else is in his stomach . . . okay, later then."
Cedric hit another button and blew out a long breath.
"Uncle Draco's got food poisoning or something like," he said unnecessarily, rubbing a hand over his face. "Ian and Aunt Gin are out hunting for some Muggle remedy."
Tristan snorted. "He's a git. Poor Aunt Gin!" She gave Hayden a pointed look.
"Is Mum okay?" Hayden asked, surprising Tristan by ignoring her.
"Dead tired," Cedric countered. "But she'll manage, I reckon." His eyes twinkled, just a little. "Not to worry. I'll never forget when you and Tris got Dragon Pox at the same time. Aunt Gin had you both because Dad couldn't handle the simplest thing and Aunt Gin's a healer anyway. She was awake for three days fixing you both up properly."
"I don't remember that," Tristan murmured.
"I do," Hayden said, glaring at her. "We had to share a bed because Mum set up a quarantine in my room. You kicked."
Tristan felt herself go unaccountably red and snapped, "I hope I did!"
Cedric, meanwhile, had started walking without them. Tristan hurried to catch up. "Are we nearly there, Ced?"
"Thankfully," he muttered.
"I'm hungry," Tristan grumbled, sticking out her lip.
Cedric made the mistake of looking back at her, sighed gustily, and caught hold of her hand. "Little monster," he accused, pulling her along.
They found the hostel several minutes later, between a bookstore and a small museum.
"Ced," Tristan began as they crossed the open courtyard. "I'm still hungry." When he turned, looking annoyed, she gave him a big grin.
"Right, stop that," he said, unable to stop a grin of his own. Somehow, Tristan had always felt she knew just how to manage her brother. "We'll just get settled in here and then go for a bite somewhere nearby. I don't want anyone staying out for too long in case Red Robes or our legal guardians are lurking somewhere."
"They're Unspeakables and we know Red Robes has got a Time-Turner," Hayden pointed out, striding along on Cedric's other side and scowling with energy at nothing in particular. He was also scratching his scalp, out of which his normal platinum hair had reappeared an hour ago.
Tristan giggled.
"What?" Hayden demanded, glaring around Cedric at her.
"Imagine if you woke up bald one morning," she said.
"I'd still look a right side better than you do," he muttered.
"You couldn't dream of being half as gorgeous as me," she taunted. "Right, Ced?"
"No, Hayden will never be as beautiful as you," Cedric said, winking at Hayden.
"I hate you, Potters," Hayden muttered.
"Oy, what did I do?" Cedric demanded.
"Older brothers are nice," Tristan said cheerfully as she followed hers into the Bath YMCA. She listened with half an ear while Cedric negotiated with Stan, a friendly old man who buzzed them into the dorms after having them all sign the reservation form.
"And whenever you want in, just give us a shout and someone will buzz you up," Stan told them with a toothy grin.
"Is there a pub nearby where we might grab a bite to eat?" Tristan asked as her stomach gave a sudden, distracting grumble.
"Sure is, love. Across the courtyard and take a left. The Saracen's Head is the oldest pub in Bath and they've got excellent food."
"Thanks," Tristy said, rubbing her stomach. A faint noise made her look up. Hayden was staring at her torso, his eyes unfocused. She gave an experimental rub, watched Hayden's gaze follow her hand for a moment before the mysterious spell broke and he went red. He also sent a rude gesture her way.
"Brilliant," said Cedric, who hadn't noticed any of this because he was already at a door across the lobby. "We'll grab a bite once we're settled."
They climbed a long set of steps. The place seemed oddly empty to Tristan, though she was pleased to see that the checked carpet and white walls were clean.
"Tris, you're on this level," Cedric said at the first landing. "Girls' dorms are down the hall, Stan said. Hayden and I are on the next floor up. Come up when you've dumped your stuff."
"Sure." Tristy crossed to the hall and, after a moment's search, found a door labeled 'Girls dormitory – females only beyond this point.' Well, that was something anyway. She wouldn't have to sleep anywhere near Hayden (though apparently they'd slept together before, she remembered as her cheeks warmed).
"Painters must be on the way in," she muttered balefully, pushing open the dormitory door. "I'm clearly emotionally unstable."
The dorm room was empty of any other luggage or people. "Must be off-season," she murmured, wandering over the window and peering down into the bustling street below. A sudden memory of the near-disaster at Kendal's flat in London made her back quickly away and choose the bed nearest the door. Kicking off her shoes and cracking all of her knuckles simultaneously, Tristan dropped her bag by the bed and flopped backward onto the lower bunk, closing her eyes and relaxing into the blankets. She hoped they swallowed her up and she'd never have to leave again …
It took perhaps several moments of music blaring from somewhere nearby for Tristan to realize she'd fallen asleep. Another moment's confusion before she recognized her felly-tone's ring. Fortunately her glasses were still on, and she was able to dig the thing out of her pocket and identify the 'answer' button. "Er – what?" she said intelligently.
"How bleeding long does it take to dump your rucksack?" Hayden's irritable voice jolted her fully awake.
"I'm tired," she snapped. "Just nodded off, that's all."
"We would've left without you, but Ced actually minds if you starve to death," Hayden grumbled. He yelped. "Oy, you arse!"
"Hope he broke your useless arm," Tristan said, yanking the felly-tone away from her ear and throwing it at the door.
Oh, how she hated him …
)PvsM(
The walk to the Saracen's Head was short and silent. Tristan kept her brother between herself and Hayden. Her godbrother wasn't making it difficult because he was doing the same thing, and Cedric probably enjoyed the quiet enough not to disrupt it by asking what in the name of arse they were doing. They found a table near the door but out of immediate view of it and Cedric ordered a pint of something because, as he said, "I'm coming as close to pissed as I can."
"Can I have some?" Hayden asked.
"Oh, why not?" Cedric muttered, and ordered another pint. "Don't even think about it," he added as the second pint arrived and Tristan opened her mouth.
"What?" she grumbled. "I'm the same age as Hayden."
"Forget it," Cedric said sternly. "You can have a ginger beer if you like."
"Ooh, what a treat," Tristan retorted but she got one anyway and was pleased to see it came in a frosted beer stein, too. She'd never had ginger beer before but tasted nice and settled the hungry ache in her stomach until their Sheppard's pies and fried onion arrived.
"I could eat a hippogriff!" Hayden murmured, digging into his food and keeping a firm grip on his pint with his free hand.
Tristan was too hungry to make fun of him. She thought she'd never tasted anything so good in her life.
"I didn't realize you were that hungry, love," Cedric said after a silent ten minutes, during which Tristan polished off her Sheppard's pie and most of the fried onion.
"Neither did I," Tristan admitted. "Excuse me," she added to a passing waiter. "Tell me what else is good," and she indicated the menu. "I'm starving."
The waiter glanced at her empty plate, up at her, and grinned. "Like a girl with a healthy appetite," he said. "Your next plate, whatever you like, love, it's on me."
Tristan beamed, especially because she was sure Hayden and her brother were glowering at her. "Lovely."
She ate her way through several appetizers and drank another pint of ginger beer. The waiter, Joe, only left off bringing her free things when Cedric's glower became too much for him.
"Shame, too," he murmured to Tristan as he collected her empty plates. "I was going to slip you my number."
"You're sweet," Tristan told him, grinning. "But we have to leave tomorrow anyway."
Hayden seemed in an especially bad mood on the walk back to the hostel. Tristan kept Cedric between them again, although she felt in a much better mood now. A full stomach and the knowledge that some blokes thought she was worth a second look made her smile.
"Oh, damn," she said suddenly. "He wanted to give me his felly-tone number."
"What of it?" Cedric demanded a bit testily.
"Ced, I have a felly-tone now!" she said plaintively. "Oh, I must spend more time in the Muggle world …"
"You're common enough already, don't you think?" Hayden growled.
Cedric gave him a dangerous look and Hayden snapped, "Oh, save it," and stalked on ahead of them.
"No more flirting with Muggles, Tris," Cedric ordered as he followed Hayden into the hostel.
Tristan ignored them both, seating herself on the hostel's front steps.
"Come on in, little girl," Cedric called from the door.
"Just want some fresh air," she called back. "I'm fine here, Ced, I'll be in in a couple of minutes."
She heard footsteps behind her and the hostel door closing. Suddenly, for the first time in days, she felt truly alone. She wasn't sure whether she liked it or not. She scanned the courtyard carefully but apart from a shopkeeper closing up and people passing through the courtyard on their way, presumably, to the Saracen's Head, there was no one around. Tristan tried, for a moment, to imagine what she'd do if the Unspeakables came through the archway into the courtyard. The steps she was sitting on were tucked away under an awning at the doorway of the hostel and she wondered idly if she could make it inside before they spotted her.
Tristan paused. Did she want to be caught?
The door opened behind her but she didn't turn. It was probably Cedric, she thought, come to tell her to get to bed.
It wasn't Cedric.
"What do you want?" Tristan asked as Hayden sat down beside her and glared out into the courtyard.
To her surprise, he didn't say a word.
"Did my brother send you out?" she wanted to know. "Because it's really not a dangerous courtyard. I mean, a group of lads came through and they didn't see me and then this couple came through and snogged for about an hour and they didn't see me – obviously – and – "
"Look," Hayden cut in suddenly "About earlier …" He trailed off, still scowling into the lamp-lit cobblestones.
"What, in the pub?"
"No, not in the pub," Hayden cut her off sharply. "In the bookshop."
Tristan had spent all day blocking that out. She blushed and looked away. "What about it?" she asked so softly she wasn't sure he heard.
There was a long silence. "You going to pretend it was all just to get rid of that Auror bloke?" he asked quietly.
The question caught her so off-guard that she stared at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Hayden said, biting out each word, "that we were so bloody busy snogging that I didn't ever hear the bloke leave the shop."
"Are you saying," Tristan said slowly, carefully, as her heart began to pound, "that you weren't just snogging me for show?"
"I asked first," he said mutinously.
Tristan thought about arguing the point but she was too curious what he might say if she answered him. "It was weird," she said at last, looking away again. "But no," she said, her cheeks warming even more. "I wasn't just doing it for show."
"Is 'weird' good?" The hostility was gone from Hayden's voice, replaced by some new emotion Tristan couldn't identify. When she risked another look at him, he was studying his hands.
"I – I don't know," she murmured, continuing to watch his face. She tried to remember hating him an hour ago and couldn't manage it. "Was it?"
Hayden turned slowly to stare at her. Tristan felt his gaze snare her and she couldn't move or look away. She wasn't sure she even wanted to. It was like the bookshop all over again, only this time it was Hayden who reached for her, hand curving over her thigh and turning her toward him. His other hand reached up, tilting her face toward his as he leaned in. Tristan closed her eyes.
"Oh, is ickle-Malfoy having a hard time using his tongue? Seems to be your only decent weapon, doesn't it?"
"Too bad you'll never know, Potter."
"You promised! You promised you'd be in Gryffindor with us!"
"It's not my fault!"
"No!" she gasped.
"No, what?" Hayden said, his breath brushing her lips.
"No, it wasn't good," Tristan managed, though she wanted nothing more than to lean into his arms. "We should forget it ever happened."
Hayden turned away, and Tristan forced herself to stare straight ahead into the courtyard. He couldn't – wouldn't forgive her. Not now. Not ever. And as long as he blamed her, as long as he denied hurting her more terribly than anyone ever had, she couldn't let him get close. She couldn't ignore the ache.
She was getting to her feet to go back inside when a cold hand caught his arm. Hayden rose beside her, the same unreadable emotion in his eyes. "Don't lie to me," he said softly, his hand sending gooseflesh up her arm. "You started it."
"It wasn't my fault," she said, repeating words from so long ago and suddenly realizing how many different things they meant now. "And I'm not sorry, Hayden," she said fiercely. "About any of it – "
He caught her face in his hands and crushed her lips beneath his. Tristan's knees went weak and she caught his arms to keep from falling backward. His arms slid around her and he lifted her right off her feet. Tristan heart slammed against his, her hips bumped against his, her lips moved with his. She couldn't end it. She didn't know how to walk away anymore. Somehow, she managed to turn her head enough that Hayden's lips trailed away from hers, working a hot path down her neck.
"Hayden," she whispered against his ear. "Hayden, listen to me."
Slowly, his lips trailed into the curve of her shoulder and he stopped, his face pressed into her neck. "Tris …" he began, and another shiver ran down her back when his breath tickled her skin.
"When are you going to stop blaming me?" she went on, determined to say what needed saying before they went any further. "And when are you going to ask my forgiveness? You hurt me so much."
He was so surprised that he let her go and she stumbled away, leaning against the brick wall. She felt tears pool and slide down her face. "I can't be with someone who misjudges me and resents me and blames me for things I could never control," she said, wiping angrily at the tears. "However much I love him," she added, her voice so low she hoped he couldn't hear because the words shocked her. She'd never let herself hear that before but it was true.
When she looked into his eyes, they were so wide and black she could hardly see the silver irises. Without another word, she ducked into the hostel and went straight to her room.
)PvsM(
"The bus station was right across from the train station – I swear I saw it, Ced," Ginny insisted.
"Check the guidebook again," Harry suggested.
Night was falling, though the moon cast a bright glow across the room that mingled with the pools of light from the room's few lamps. Harry sat in an old rocking chair by window, trying to focus on his plans for the next day and not on the room's one bed or the sound of Blaise singing in the shower.
"She's right," Cedric's voice said, calling Harry's attention back to their three-way phone call. "Well, that makes things a bit easier."
"Or maybe a bit too easy," Harry said. "I still say we should take different buses and meet up in Glastonbury."
"Should we risk splitting up again, though?" Ginny said doubtfully. "Suppose whoever takes the later bus gets caught by Red Robes? Or suppose the first group arrives in Glastonbury and the Unspeakables are waiting?"
"That could happen whether we're together or not," Harry began.
"She's got a point, Dad," Cedric said slowly. "Plus, waiting around for each other is a waste of time. We'd have to spread out so we wouldn't look suspicious huddling at a bus stop for hours . . . "
"But whoever gets there first can have a head start poking around Glastonbury," Harry insisted. "When the next group arrives, they start on a new area of town. Look, this is why we got these ruddy phones. We'll cover more area and be less conspicuous in small groups. When the last group arrives, we can meet up for sandwiches or something and talk about what we all found."
There was a pause while Cedric and Ginny thought this over.
"All right," Cedric said at last. "I don't like it, but you're right. The portal to Avalon could be anywhere within the town and the sites are all kind of spread out. The less time we spend looking for the entrance, the better."
"Now that's settled, I'd better get back to Malfoy," Ginny said.
"How's he doing?" Cedric asked, while Harry felt guilt settle like a brick in his stomach.
Ginny sighed. "I can't imagine there's anything left in his stomach to toss, so I think he'll start feeling better soon," she said. There was an odd note in her voice that reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley. "The Muggle healer at the chemist's told me to wait until he hasn't been sick for at least two hours and then try him on some Muggle drink called Coca-Cola. If he holds that, he gets crackers and sips of water." Ginny sighed, although Harry heard a faint smile in her voice as she added, "It's gonna be a late night, I expect."
"Wow!" The guilt settled a little heavier. "Anything we can do? Should I come round to help?"
"Let the three of us leave Bath last tomorrow," she suggested. "No, don't come round, I can manage. Ian's helping. And it's funny, but Malfoy's much more bearable when he's arse-backward sick."
"That's good to hear," Cedric murmured. "If you think of anything, call one of us. If that's all, then let's plan on my group leaving first. The further ahead I get the kids, the better I'll feel. We'll leave at seven. There're buses to Wells that connects with the Glastonbury bus every two hours. Dad, you and Mum follow behind us, and Aunt Gin, you lot aim for eleven."
"Got it, Ced."
"Sounds good."
"Be safe, you two."
"Ced?" Ginny's voice was soft. "Tell Hayden good night and I love him, will you?"
Harry heard the smile in his son's voice. "Course, Aunty."
"To you and Tris as well," she added.
"From me, too," Harry added quickly. "Kiss Tristan good night for me."
There was a short pause. "Sure, Dad." Harry couldn't quite read the emotion in his son's voice, but he sounded pleased.
When Harry at last rang off and set his mobile on the window sill, it was with a heavy sigh. He knew sitting around feeling bad wouldn't help Ginny, but he couldn't help it. He could only hope that she'd get some sleep before her group left tomorrow morning. His thoughts turned to his daughter with a wave of worry and affection that helped distract him from his guilt for a short while.
The loo door opened behind him and Harry threw a look over his shoulder. Blaise had emerged from her long shower, looking refreshed and, to Harry's alarm, wrapped in nothing but a towel.
"Oh, stop looking at me like that," she said as she drew up beside him and glanced out the window. She smirked down at him. From where Harry sat, he had a spectacular view of her long legs, just covered by the bloody indecent towel. "I'll wait until you're gone to change."
"That's big of you," Harry said, grabbing the clean towel draped over the baseboard of the bed and diving into the loo. He thought he heard her laugh before he slammed the door.
His shower took even longer than Blaise's because it began very, very cold and only ended when he was sure he could enter the room composedly. He took a little extra time toweling his hair dry. As he was pulling on his shorts and soft sleeping trousers, he realized he'd left his tee shirt in his rucksack. Growling under his breath, he left the loo and came to a sharp halt.
Blaise lay sprawled across the bed, moonlight blanketing her pale skin and dark hair in a gentle glow. She was on her back and Harry could see her chest rise and fall in easy rhythm. He could see the movement of her eyelids as she dreamed and after a few moments, she moaned a little in her sleep and rolled over, now effectively in the middle of the bed.
Oh, he thought helplessly. Lovely.
Skirting the bed, Harry moved about the room turning out lights. He tried to find his shirt in his rucksack but it had mysteriously vanished. Muttering under his breath, he thought about the chilly night ahead as he returned to the rocking chair and settled in.
"Potter, what are you doing?"
Harry turned reluctantly toward the bed. Blaise blinked sleepily at him. In the moonlight, Harry could see that she was wearing his shirt. He couldn't help smiling.
"Go on, I'm not going to bite," Blaise said sleepily, sliding over and patting the bed beside her. "Who knows when we'll get a good night's sleep again."
Harry pushed himself out of the rocking chair and crossed the room. He hesitated.
"What's wrong?" Blaise asked softly. When he didn't answer, she reached out a hand. Harry took it, staring down at their interlaced fingers. He sat slowly down.
"You're exhausted," Blaise said, reaching soft hands out and pressing him back into the pillows. "Sleep now." She leaned down and kissed him, so gently it made his chest ache. He pulled her down beside him and she curled into him, wrapping her leg over his and tugging the blankets over them both. Harry felt torn between kissing her until the sun rose and sinking into sleep.
Blaise made the choice for him, pressing a kiss to his heart and running gentle fingers across his face. "Sleep now, Harry."
And he did.
)PvsM(
TBC