A/N: Thank you for the wonderful reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)
Disclaimer: See chapter 1.
–..-..-Chapter 7: Scandals-..-..-
Hermione walked quickly as she could out of the dining hall and into the main entrance. She still had work to do, but it could wait. Right now, she needed someone to yell at, and Malfoy was very good at listening to her yell. It was one of the reasons she came to enjoy his company.
As she made her way to the apparation point, there was a huge commotion near the lifts. It didn't seem to have anything to do with her, so she ignored the crowd of people all bustling to see what was happening. Just as she pushed passed a rather large man, she heard Ron's voice.
"We should have left you in the Room of Requirement, you know that?" she heard him yell.
Sighing, she started pushing her way towards the lifts to see who he was yelling at. When she was finally able to break free of the throng of on-lookers, she saw Ron being held back by two wizards and glaring ahead of him. She followed his gaze and let out a soft gasp of surprise. Malfoy was leaning on shoulder against the nearest wall, sporting a bloody lip. Miraculously, he was still managing to smirk at Ron, who Hermione was sure would have given him more than a bloody lip if the two wizards hadn't been holding him back.
"What's going on?" she rushed forward to stand next to Malfoy, checking to see if Ron had perhaps given him more than just a bloody lip. From the looks of it, he hadn't.
Draco wiped the blood with his thumb, and stood a bit straighter while still remaining against the wall. "Weasley came after me."
"You snaked my girlfriend you good-for-nothing git!" Ron fumed, struggling to free himself from his captures.
"Ron!" Hermione shouted, still very aware of the amount of people watching them.
"True isn't it?" he rounded on her. "I saw you just now! Running to his side all because of a bloody lip!"
Draco let out a derisive laugh. "As usual Weasley your brilliant mind has arrived at a rather ridiculous conclusion. It's a wonder you ever became an Auror. I suppose Potter cleans up most of your messes?"
"Malfoy!" Hermione yelled. Ron strained harder against the two wizards.
"Just became chummy over night then did you?" he growled.
Just as Hermione opened her mouth to retort, she stopped. Malfoy was laughing as if Ron had told a highly amusing joke. When he looked at Ron, he was smiling, the amusement still sparkling in his eyes even though he was no longer laughing.
"You're thicker than you look, Weasley," he said, laughing again as he pushed himself off the wall to walk towards Ron, so that he was now barely out of arms reach. "Do you really think it would take me a whole year to steal Granger from you?" He smiled evilly at Ron.
"MALFOY!" Hermione yelled, as Ron nearly managed to throw off his captors. Luckily for Malfoy, they managed to hold on land drag Ron a few feet away from Malfoy.
"Really, Weasley," Malfoy continued, as if nothing had happened, the evil smirk ever more prominent. "Are you really so dim to think Granger would cheat? Even on the likes of you?" Slowly, the smile and amusement slid from his face, and he was fixing Ron with a more serious stare. A few of the bystanders shifted, as if they were considering holding back Malfoy in case he decided to jump Ron. However, they thought better of it. Malfoy's calmness was much more intimidating than Ron's explosive temper.
"That's enough, Malfoy," Hermione said firmly, giving him a very angry look.
He stared back at her for a few moments before grabbing her wrist and dragging her through the crowd, which seemed to part automatically.
"What are you doing?" she protested loudly, trying to wrench her arm out of his grip. It didn't do much good; he was much stronger than her and had a very firm grip on her arm. "Let me go!" she tried pulling away again. "Draco!"
At the mention of his name, he finally stopped, and looked at her. They were near the apparation points, where the crowd was significantly smaller.
"What are you doing?" she asked again.
He pointed over her shoulder. When she turned around to see what he was pointing at, she saw two security wizards pushing their way through the slowly dispersing crowd, towards Ron. "Didn't want to get in trouble," he said, sounding almost as if he was making a joke.
She looked back at him, and he was smirking. Apparently he was joking, but that didn't keep her from being irritated at him. Not only had he provoked Ron, but he had left him to deal with security, and took Hermione with him. In her mind, that was three strikes, and that meant, she was sure Malfoy was going to get a whole lots worse than a bloody lip next time he crossed paths with Ron. Part of her wanted to let Ron have at it. Malfoy was turning his pain into sport.
"You shouldn't have said those things," she told him disapprovingly, taking back her wrist.
He shrugged. Malfoy never did seem to care much about what he said to people, she thought to herself. It was one of those things she both loathed and liked about him. At the moment, she was leaning towards loathing.
"Don't you shrug at me!" she snapped. "He may have hit you, but you have no place telling him those things!"
"The truth hurts, Granger," he replied. She glared at him, but he ignored it. "Lunch?" he asked lightly.
"Already ate," she replied stiffly, turning to go back to her office. After seeing him taunt Ron, she felt like hitting him as well.
"I haven't." He stood in front of her so he was blocking her escape.
Much to her annoyance, he was still smirking. It was like a permanent fixture on his face today.
"Then eat by yourself," she replied sourly, trying to force her way passed him, but to no avail. He simply grabbed her by the arm again.
"I'll tell you what Astoria said today..."
She gave him an unfriendly look, not completely trusting him. She wouldn't put it passed him to lie just to get his way. "Why don't you tell me now?"
"Then I would have no one to eat lunch with," he replied.
She really wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. But, instead, for whatever reason, she decided to join him. He took her to the small sandwich shop in muggle London that she and Harry often ate at. It wasn't until they placed their orders that Draco realized he had no muggle money. After a good, long argument that lead to many of the busy customers giving them impatient looks, Draco finally allowed Hermione to buy his lunch. As she only ordered tea for herself, the argument took longer than the actual food preparation.
Draco was sitting silently, brooding over his sandwich as Hermione sipped her tea and teased him. It was the first time since they had been meeting that she had to pay for a meal. Draco always picked up the bill.
"Just because you didn't buy it doesn't mean you shouldn't eat it," she said, watching him with an amused expression, her earlier annoyance fading away.
He looked at her, scowled, then took a bite. When he didn't make a face, she continued, "So..." she sipped her tea. "Besides accusing you of adultery-"
She was interrupted with Draco choking on his food. He managed to recover quickly and look up at her, his eyes watering a bit. "W-what?" he coughed again and took a gulp of tea. "Is that why Weasley attacked me?"
"He only punched you..." she replied dryly. "And quite frankly after what you said-"
"Granger, come off it," he cut her off, waving his hand at her, as he always did when something he deemed unimportant was just said. "If he really believes you would cheat on him you're better off without him-"
"What?" he cut in. "Not true? Not the point? Come on, Granger, even I know, pathetic as Weasley is, you would never cheat on him."
Struck by the sudden statement, Hermione felt her cheeks go slightly pink. Somehow, even coming from Malfoy, knowing her honesty and integrity were not in question from someone other than Harry, meant a great deal. It made Ron's accusations seem less upsetting.
"If you ask me," he continued. "If he's so determined to believe you're sneaking around, just give him what he wants...it's a right lot easier than denying it."
She gave him a horrified look, the feelings of appreciation disappearing in an instant. "What?"
"You heard me. Just tell him you've been sneaking around with me, or whoever you choose, and let him believe what he wants...after those pictures Astoria I am sure showed you, it wouldn't be hard to make it believable." He was giving her a mischievous look, as if he were imagining all the different ways he could torment Ron by pretending to have an affair with Hermione.
"Are you mad?" she nearly yelled, causing several patrons to look at her reprovingly. She gave them an apologetic look, and turned back to Malfoy, glaring.
He just shrugged at her. "Not as mad as you for dating that guy for six years, I'm sure of that."
"There is nothing wrong with Ron!"
"Ah right, I didn't realize being a jealous possessive prat was a desirable trait," he replied sarcastically, sounding every bit of condescending as she knew he meant to be.
At this, she stood up very quickly, her tea already cold and long forgotten. She was giving him a furious look, but he just stared back.
"As much as I hate Potter, I will tell you this much, he's about twice the friend Weasley has ever been, or has he started accusing you of adultery too?" he asked.
"Harry has never-!" she stopped, angry at herself, for realizing Malfoy was actually right about Ron. He wasn't a bad person, but the jealousy and possessiveness were two traits that were very tiring after a while.
"You never were as clever when it comes to matters not found in your books," he sighed, motioning for her to sit back down, which she did, albeit grudgingly.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
He just shrugged, which didn't help her mood. She was angry again. Angry at Ron for thinking she would ever cheat on him, and angry at Malfoy for being the one to point out that Ron was being a jealous git.
"Come to my office tonight," he said, making her look at him suspiciously. "Astoria decided she wants half of my inheritance now," he scowled. "Emotional damage compensation for being cheated on."
"Fine." Angry or not, she did agree to help him with the divorce. Not that she was particularly happy with him at the moment, nor did she like the idea of being seen at his office so soon after being accused of an affair. However, the idea of being interrogated by Harry when she returned home, kept her from refusing. She was sure Ron had already told Harry everything by now. In fact, as she made her way back to the Ministry, and returned to her office, she fully expected to see Harry waiting for her at her cubicle, ready to give her the third degree. Much to her relief, he was not.
The rest of the day, she tried to continue working on her elf proposal, but couldn't seem to concentrate. She tried putting it away to work on another report dealing with a Japanese water demon that was illegally smuggled into the country, but found she couldn't concentrate on that either. In the end, she ended up staring, defeated, at her elf proposal. It seemed as if the clocks were running at half-speed, and by the time it was ready to meet Malfoy at six o'clock, she was ready for a drink, or several. Maybe if she found a way to end the whole divorce by tonight, she would never have to see Malfoy or Astoria again; it would certainly make her life much simpler. She gave a sardonic smile. Never see Malfoy again? Even she had to admit, that probably wouldn't be possible. She enjoyed his company more than she wished she did, but denying it was pointless. Plus, without Malfoy, she had no one to rant to. In due time, Harry and Ginny would be busy with the baby, she didn't see Ron speaking to her any time soon, and everyone else had better things to do than listen to her problems.
With these things in mind, she left for the Falcon's headquarters, feeling no better than she had at lunch. The rainy weather that seemed to be covering all of England today, didn't help much. When she arrived inside, she noticed the first floor seemed unusually crowded for that time of night. There were several reporters milling around, as if waiting for someone. A player, most likely. She ignored them as she usually did when there were reporters around, and made her way to the lifts. Coming in and out of the office so often, she became accustomed to players and reporters roaming the building. She was not, however, used to the stares she was currently receiving. Just as a few reporter began walking towards her, the lift arrived, and she got in quickly. Thankful that the gate shut and the lift jerked upward before any of them could get close. They had that "potential scandal" look.
The situation on the third floor was no better. As soon as she stepped out of the lift, a bright flash temporarily blinded her, just as she was able to make out a few figures amid the bright dots still obscuring her vision, there was another flash, and she was blinded again. She heard a series of other flashes, before she finally stuck her arm in front of her eyes in an attempt to regain her vision before she became completely blind. After a few moments, she was able to squint passed the lights, and saw the flashes were coming from only two photographers. With the furiousness in which they were snapping shots, there may as well have been fifty.
"Is this her?" A woman asked excitedly, as Hermione made it passed the photographers.
"Is this the girl?" another asked.
She heard another witch say, "Mistress of Falcon's Owner Revealed! Sounds like a promising headline, don't you think, Frank?"
The photographer closest to Hermione, with a bushy ginger beard and grizzly hair, nodded enthusiastically, and took another picture.
She stared around the room. There were about six reporters, all standing, looking excitedly at her, as if Christmas had come early and she was here to deliver the presents. Malfoy was no where in sight.
"Um..." she spoke uncertainly, very aware that they seemed to be hanging on every word. "W-what's-?"
"Don't say anything, Granger," Malfoy appeared behind her.
More flashes from the two photographers came, even longer, and more furiously than before, as if any second missed was a story lost. Malfoy's appearance seemed to have made the reporters beside themselves with excitement.
"Mr. Malfoy, what do you have to say about the pictures sent to the Evening Prophet?" The closest witch asked, her quill poised for jotting notes.
Malfoy didn't answer, and instead grabbed Hermione around the elbow, dragging her back to the lifts.
"How is your wife taking the news?"
"Does this in any way effect your divorce?"
Hermione fought the urge to turn around and tell them to shut it, and go find important news to report. However, before she could, Draco pulled her into the still open lift, and punched the button for the basement. The players dressing room was there, as well as a state-of-the art medical wing, work out area, and offices for equipment staff, coaches, and managers. It was also off limits to the media. Any reporter who managed to sneak their way down there would find themselves greeted by a very intimidating security wizard, whose desk sat right next to the lift, waiting for unwelcome intruders.
"What's going on?" she demanded as they exited the lift, ignoring the leer from the burly security guard. "Why are there reporters everywhere?"
"C'mon..." he replied, gesturing her to follow him. "This way goes to the pitch..."
He lead her down a wide, brightly lit hallway, lined with Falcon's memorabilia dating all the way back to the year they were founded. There were doors leading to various rooms and two hallways branching off the main one. Draco took her down the corridor on the right, and, despite the darkness outside, Hermione could see the Quidditch pitch just outside the glass doors at the end of the hall. It was still raining, and she gave Malfoy a quizzical look, wondering if hew was really planning on making her stand outside in the rain.
He apparently understood her apprehension, because he said, "We can't apparate in the building. It keeps fans and reporters from barging into the office and dressing room."
She let out a small "oh" of understanding. "Where, may I ask, are we supposed to be going, then? And why are we being forced to go there in the first place?"
"You'll see..." he replied shortly, grabbing her arm again, before pulling her outside and disapparating.
They now stood inside a spacious sitting room that overlooked the River Fal. Hermione could see lights from fisherman boats and ferries. Even with the dreary weather, the view was quite beautiful.
"What is this place?"
"My second home."
She gaped at him as he strode across the room into the adjoining kitchen, which was just as glamorous was the sitting room. It, like the rest of the house, was very modernly decorated, with black cabinets and glass counter-tops. The round dining table was also glass, and surrounded by four black chairs. The whole look of the kitchen contrasted quite nicely with the brown and white sitting room. She notices the wide stairs leading to the second floor were also white, and very simple, with no fancy design or cut.
"You didn't tell me you had a second house!" she exclaimed.
Malfoy shrugged as he pulled out a few pots and pans, then proceeded to the pantry to retrieve a can of tomato sauce, and a large, hand-made Italian jar he used to keep spaghetti noodles. "Dinner?" He asked, holding up the tomato jar.
"You made all that fuss about losing your house to Astoria when you already had this one?" she rounded on him angrily, ignoring his question. They had just wasted weeks arguing pointlessly over his main residence, when the entire time, he had a second home. "And why didn't you tell me about this place?"
"I told you. Jasmine only serves the owner of the main house," Malfoy replied carelessly, now pouring the sauce in a pan and setting it on the stove. He prodded the burner with his wand, and a fire burst to life. It took a few curses and prods before Malfoy was able to lower the flame to a reasonable level.
"And I told you to free her! Then you could have properly employed-"
"A free house elf is considered a disgrace and will not go back to work for the wizard who freed it," he replied, now pulling a package of ready-made meatballs from the small ice box Hermione thought had just been another cabinet. "And as I told you, house elves don't want to be paid."
"Was a complete nutter," he finished, dumping the meatballs into the sauce and covering it.
She glared at him, but he just stared blankly back, leaning against the counter, with his arms crossed.
"We didn't come here to argue about house elves, Granger," he reminded her.
The reporters from earlier flashed across her mind, as she remembered why she was forced to come here. Her expression must have reflected this, because Malfoy smirked and pushed off the counter to grab the Evening Prophet laying on the kitchen table. Wordlessly, he tossed the paper at her.
She didn't have to flip through to find what she needed to needed. It wasn't front page news, but Malfoy had left it open on the article that was located in the gossip column. The article, titled, "Young Falcon's Owner's Scandalous Dilemma," was relatively small, but the picture of her and Malfoy sitting across each other at a restaurant covered half the page. It was little consolation to her that her face had been blurred out. It read:
Draco Malfoy, 23, young, handsome, owner of the Falmouth Falcon's Quidditch team, has seen his share of publicity in recent years, as the youngest Quidditch owner in known history. However, even the young owner seems to have his own closet of skeletons (not including, of course, his family's association with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) that has been fully revealed by a source who wishes to remain anonymous. While Mr. Malfoy appears a responsible young man, focused on bringing a dwindling franchise back to its glory days, his personal troubles beyond the Quidditch pitch seem to have some asking whether he is indeed the right man for the job. "He is currently going through a rather nasty divorce with his wife, [Astoria], at the moment..." one staff member comments. When asked whether this was a distraction for Mr. Malfoy, the staff member declined to comment. The untimely demise of the young couple's marriage did not come as a surprise to many. In fact, it is well known that Astoria Malfoy (formally Greengrass), 21, has recently launched a high-end robe business that deals in only the finest quality fabrics and latest styles. Those closest to the Malfoy's speculated it was the demanding jobs of the two young entrepreneurs that lead to their separation, but now, the real reason seems to have come forward. Mr. Malfoy has reportedly been seen frequently in the company of a young brunette woman. Could this be the true reason behind the divorce? Rumors that the illicit couple were once classmates at Hogwarts have yet to be confirmed.
By the end of the article, Hermione found herself gripping the edges of the paper so that it was nearly tearing. "What is this rubbish?" she seethed, throwing the paper on the table angrily. "And I'd like to know where they got those photos!"
"Isn't it obvious?" Malfoy asked, much calmer than she thought was appropriate.
"Astoria would have nothing to gain by doing this!" She snapped impatiently.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I know. I talked to her shortly after the article was released. She nearly destroyed the new robes she was making, she was so angry." He appeared amused at the last part.
"So who would?" she asked.
He shrugged and moved to stir the sauce to keep it from burning. "Probably whoever was following me. We may be picking pieces of him off the sidewalk once Astoria's gotten through with him." Again, there was an air of amusement as he spoke. Hermione couldn't find the humor in the situation.
She watched as he filled the larger pot with water, and placed it on the stove, this time successfully creating the correct sized flame. He could have made the water boil instantly with a simple spell, but he either didn't know it, or wanted to give the sauce more time to cook.
When he was finished, he turned back to look at her. "Astoria has decided to drop the inheritance nonsense, though. Said with this article, she wants nothing more to do with the divorce." he nodded at a stack of parchments sitting on the island counter. "Practically threw the divorce finalization at me."
Hermione gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise, and quickly grabbed the papers to read them over. Sure enough, all that was needed was his signature, and he would officially be divorced. "That's great, Draco!" she said, turning to him, smiling.
He did not smile back, but instead, sighed in a tired sort of way. "Yeah. We're heading to the Ministry tomorrow..." He looked relieved, but the tired look never disappeared. Once again, Hermione was struck by the maturity he never seemed to have in school. Then again, she reminded herself, running a Quidditch team and constantly worrying about players, staff, and reporters, he probably had to mature a bit. If he was the selfish little snot he was in school, his team would not be nearly as successful. Not to mention, dealing with the aftermath of Voldemort wasn't easy. She remembered all the criticisms the Malfoy's faced once the Death Eaters and other Voldemort supporters were being rounded up and tried. Harry had managed to convince the Wizengamot to keep Draco and his mother from going to Azkaban, but, as she understood it, Lucius still had a few more years to serve. She had a feeling Draco had no idea Harry was the reason he was not currently sitting a cell with his father.
"What?" Malfoy's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He was giving her a curious look. She was staring at him without even realizing it.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Suddenly taken with my irresistible charm?" he asked sarcastically, grinning at her. "I always heard women get all soppy over a man that cooks," he teased, making her flush.
"W-what?" she let out a forced laugh. "Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy!" she was glad her voice sounded as it used to when she would speak to him at school.
"It's okay," he continued, grinning even more broadly, as if he were on the verge of laughter. "After Weasley, I wouldn't blame you. You're just moving onto better things."
"I was not staring!"
Malfoy started laughing. It was that uncharacteristic boyish laugh she involuntarily found herself liking.
"What?" she demanded.
He just continued to laugh, making her feeling very frustrated. At last, he managed to regain control. "I never said you were staring." And he was laughing again, causing her to turn a deep shade of pink, and glare at him. She hated, hated, that Draco Malfoy, of all people, could make her feel so embarrassed.
"Might I remind you, there's a hoard of reporters in your office trying to follow up on this ridiculous story?" she asked loftily, jabbing her finger at the newspaper.
But Malfoy merely waved his hand at her. "If we do or say anything, it will only get worse." He stirred the sauce again, before tossing a handful of noodles in the now boiling water. "I thought you would know that by now, being Potter's friend."
He had a point. Not that it made her feel any better about the situation. "Ron-"
"Gets what he wants, doesn't he?" he raised an eyebrow at her. "Face it, Granger, it doesn't matter what the Daily Prophet writes, until you go crawling back to Weasley, he would rather believe you're a lying, cheating, harlot."
She stared at him, feeling both upset, and taken aback that the word "harlot" actually came from Malfoy's mouth. Somehow, the term seemed a bit old fashioned, coming from him. However, once again, he did have a point. And again, it didn't make her feel much better. In her mind, Ron was perfectly entitled to be upset with her. After all, the break up was a shock to everyone but her. She didn't even think Ron was completely wrong to suspect her relationship with Malfoy; they were spending an unusual amount of time together. She just wished he would let her explain before storming off and turning her into some kind of villain.
She was too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice Malfoy draining the spaghetti noodles, dumping them in a bowl, and setting them on the table, before doing the same with the sauce. That he put the sauce in a bowl instead of leaving it in the pot, was another one of those signs of his upbringing: it was improper to place pots and pans on the dining table. It was an old fashioned kind of etiquette, but he didn't seem to even think about what he was doing, as he also pulled one of his favorite wines from the wine cabinet, and poured it into the decanter he always kept out on the counter. Some may think he was trying to impress her, but she knew better; this was just how Draco was. Whether or not he used the decanter when he was alone, she wasn't sure, but she knew he would have done the same even if Harry were the one visiting.
"Not staring again?" he asked, handing her a glass of wine, and taking a seat at the table. He was smirking at her again.
"Thinking," she corrected sternly, also taking a seat.
He motioned for her to help herself first, which she did with surprising enthusiasm. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. Despite the rather simple meal, it was rather delicious. "I told you, you would manage without a house elf."
Draco took a sip of wine before tucking into his own plate. "Spaghetti from a jar is hardly much of an accomplishment," he replied, curling a few noodles around his fork and taking a bite.
"Well, regardless, it's quite good."
A small look of self-satisfaction flitted across his face, but was replaced quickly with his usual nonchalant demeanor, and he shrugged. The look, however, was not missed by Hermione, who grinned a bit, amused that he had been pleased with such an ordinary compliment.
"I know you saw we should decline to comment on the article," she said, halfway through the quiet dinner. "But we can't avoid the reporters forever...they'll be hanging around until they get something." Malfoy remained silent, but watched her carefully over his wine glass. She took his silence as a cue to continue. "If we just think of something to say to keep them busy..."
"We could just confirm the rumors," he replied, with a mischievous smirk. Hermione gave him a terrified look, her eyes widening so they took up about twice as much of her face than was normal. "It certainly would get them off our cases quicker."
"I am not telling the Daily Prophet we are having an affair!" she said shrilly.
"Worried about Weasley?" he asked, sounding a bit grumpy.
"He's still my friend!"
"Right," he replied, leaning back in his chair, and looking at her, still with a grumpy expression. He was giving off the impression that Hermione was denying him a great treat. Lately, tormenting Ron seemed to be his favorite pastime. "What do you suggest, then?"
She sat, thinking, not entirely sure. In an effort to give herself more time, she drained the rest of her wine. As usual, when she finished a drink, Draco poured her another.
They drank while cleaning the kitchen, before moving to the sitting room, throwing out ideas of how to handle the reporters. It didn't take long before they started throwing out the most outrageous ideas, none of which made any kind of sense, but always ended with a good laugh each time, as they thought of the media reaction. Neither really knew how late it had gotten by the time they finally started to get serious again. They sat next to each other on the couch, hunched over some parchment that had many scratch outs and scribbles, where each of them had scratched out ideas they didn't like. Every time one of them would write something, the other would shake their head, ink out the idea, rewrite what they wanted, then argue over whose idea was better. Each time this happened, they sat in a huffy silence until another idea was thrown out.
After another one of their periodic silences, Draco felt a weight on his shoulder. Hermione had fallen asleep and slumped sideways onto him. He stared at her for a few moments, before sighing and looking at the clock. It was close to two in the morning. He decided to cross a few things off the already thoroughly marked-up parchment, and added a few of his own ideas, a smirk creeping onto his lips. If Hermione was going to fall asleep, she would have to face the consequences.
At last, he, at least, was satisfied with the statements, and leaned back against the couch with his eyes closed. A few moments rest, and he would get up to get Hermione some blankets so she could sleep on the couch. However, before he could really finish the thought, he too, fell asleep.
A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this. I hope it was worth it though :) And I'm sorry if there are more typos in this chapter than the previous ones, I only proof-read it once.