Questions and Answers


Story Summary:
What happens when the past collides with the present and threatens to cast the Potters' and Weasleys' lives into disarray...

Chapter 59 - Momentary Respite


Daphne slumped in an armchair in the corner of her bedroom, eyes closed when a familiar retching sound made her leap for a basin. She grabbed the front of his pajama top and rolled Draco toward the edge of the bed, positioning the basin under his head. He heaved into it, coughing weakly. As soon as she let go of him, Draco crumpled into the pillows. Daphne set the basin on a table and jabbed her wand at it, Vanishing the puddle of sick, tinged with the remains of the Fever Reducing potion she'd managed to tip into his mouth earlier, pooled into the bottom. She reached for the damp face cloth draped over the headboard and pointed her wand at it murmuring, 'Aguamenti.' Daphne wiped it over Draco's face, dabbing gently over the dark green spots scattered across his cheeks. He muttered incoherently turning his face away from the clammy face cloth. 'We'll try the potion again in just a moment,' she told him softly.

She stretched and folded the face cloth, setting it down on the table next to the basin, sighing deeply, rolling her head slowly around her neck, smiling beatifically as it popped several times. 'That sounds like it hurts,' Narcissa observed from the doorway.

'Mmm-hmmmm,' Daphne breathed. 'Felt lovely.'

Narcissa came into the room and took Daphne's arm. 'Go have a bath,' she suggested. 'And get some sleep. You can use my bedroom.'

'I'm all right,' Daphne protested.

'You've been up for two days.'

Daphne smiled weakly. 'I never had to do this for Scorpius, so I suppose I'm a bit overdue.'

'If you won't sleep, at least go have a bath and put on something clean that doesn't reek of potions,' Narcissa said.

Daphne stared at the figure in her bed. 'What if his fever doesn't go down soon?'

'Hospital,' Narcissa said succinctly. 'If it's not down by morning we'll take him into London.'

Daphne nodded and reached up to pull the elastic ponytailer from her hair, letting it fall around her face.

'Go on, then,' Narcissa urged. 'I'll stay in here with Draco.' She waited until Daphne gathered fresh clothing and stumbled out of the room, reeling with exhaustion. Narcissa perched on the edge of the bed and stroked the wispy blonde hair from her son's face. 'Merlin forbid you make anything easy for yourself,' she crooned. Draco's face turned instinctively into her cool hand. 'It would be very bad form for you to die and leave so many things unresolved, wouldn't it?' She continued to gently stroke his hair, the line between her brows deepening in concern.

Lucius had contracted dragon pox the year Sirius Black had managed to escape from Azkaban. Fortunately, it had been relatively mild - an unusual occurrence for dragon pox in an adult. Sometimes, Narcissa wondered if they would have been better off had Lucius died then. If that had happened, perhaps Draco wouldn't have been chosen to take his father's place in Voldemort's inner circle and the rest of their lives would have played out much differently.

At least that's what Narcissa dreamed at times.


Daphne used her thumb to coat Draco's lips with salve. They were cracked and bled slightly. She used her wand to freeze the water inside the glass next to her bed and with an impatient flick of her wand, broke it into small pieces, then crushed it to the consistency of snow. 'It's not getting better, is it?' she whispered to him, while she fished a bit of the ice from the glass and nudged it between his teeth. Giving him crushed ice came to her last night when he couldn't even sip the water she offered him any longer, and a sudden image of her sister offering her chipped ice during the long hours she'd been in labor with Scorpius came to mind.

Draco verged on unrecognizable. His eyes were sunken, mottled purple and deep green shadows darkening the flesh around them. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, with spots clustered on the eyelids. In contrast, his cheekbones jutted in sharp relief to the gaunt cheeks below. Draco thrashed feebly in his sleep, moaning fitfully. Daphne automatically reached up to smooth the hair from his forehead, but she pulled back, grabbing the limp face cloth instead and pressing it gently to his face. 'I think there's a bed in St. Mungo's with your name on it,' she told him. 'I'm really sorry for what I'm going to have to do to you. I promise I don't derive any sort of pleasure from this...' She flicked her wand at him, murmuring a spell. A stretcher pushed itself under Draco's unresisting body and straps snaked from under the stretcher, binding him snugly to it.


Harry paged through the file detailing every Muggle-baiting they could attribute to Joel Anderson and his conspirator. He wanted to know where the man had been for every event, and was compiling a list of dates for the interview on Wednesday morning. His office door was half-open, as it usually was when he didn't need absolute privacy during the day, so a soft knock on the heavy door didn't surprise him. 'Harry?' Andre Beauchamp, one of his first trainees, stood on the other side.

Without looking up, Harry idly said, 'Yeah?' But his fingers tightened imperceptibly on his quill. Andre headed the team that kept tabs on Draco and Ian Greengrass' group had become increasingly dissatisfied with mere talk. They wanted action. Ian and Draco weren't exactly what Harry would call best mates, but they spent several evenings a month in each other's company.

'Malfoy's just been admitted to St. Mungo's,' Andre said.

Harry's quill stilled on the parchment. 'Whatever for?' He had heard the rumors from last summer about Draco and Pansy Parkinson. -Has Daphne finally gone and poisoned him, then?

'Dragon pox.'

'At his age?' Harry blurted, dumbfounded.

'Yeah. He's in a bad way.'

'Brilliant,' Harry muttered sarcastically. 'Fetch the trainees,' he instructed. There were only two current trainees right now and both of them in their second year. 'Split your team up and set two of them at the hospital with... Jack, I suppose, and the other two at the house with Dominic.'

'You want to put Jack in the hospital?' Andre said uncertainly. 'Blood kind of spooks him...'

'Needs to get used to it,' Harry huffed. 'Anything changes, you tell me straightaway.'


Ginny left the ward where a one of her old teammates was recovering from a broken collarbone. She walked through the reception area of St. Mungo's, dodging the straggly line of people queuing up to see the welcome witch, when she nearly tripped over someone's feet. Stumbling, she turned to give the offending person a piece of her mind, until she noticed it was Daphne Malfoy, huddled in the hard chair. Normally, Daphne wore tasteful, understated clothing. Every time Ginny had seen her in Diagon Alley, Daphne never looked anything less than well-groomed. It amazed Ginny that someone could manage to look that good on a consistent basis. But today, Daphne was wrapped in an oversized jumper and baggy jeans, ancient plimsolls on her feet, hair swept up carelessly in a ponytail, wispy bits of hair straggling around her face.

Daphne seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to the bustle that surrounded her.

Ginny nearly continued on her way, but the image of Scorpius giggling gleefully when Al's Exploding Snap cards singed off his eyebrows rose before her eyes. 'Are you all right?' she asked, perching on the edge of the chair next to Daphne's.

'Hmmm?' Daphne turned to Ginny bemusedly.

'Is anything the matter...?'

Daphne gestured to the ceiling above them. 'Draco. He's come down with dragon pox...'

'That's not good,' Ginny blurted. 'Has Scorpius had it...?'

'Not yet... I think perhaps I ought to have let him play with my sister, Astoria's, child when he had it,' she said deprecatingly. She scrubbed her hands over her face, mussing her hair even more. 'What time is it...?'

'It's after seven,' Ginny replied, examining the other woman closely. 'Have you eaten at all today?'

'Erm... I had a sandwich from the tea room earlier...'

'I asked if you'd actually eaten anything, not lifted the bread, wrinkled your nose at what was on the sandwich and chucked it in the dustbin because eating it will make you become a patient,' Ginny retorted.

'Then that would be no,' Daphne said.

'Mrs. Malfoy?' A Healer scanned the reception area. 'Mrs. Daphne Malfoy?'

'I'm here,' she said, struggling to her feet.

'Oh, there you are. Your husband's settled and resting and we've managed to bring the fever down a bit, but I'm afraid visiting hours are over, so you won't be able to go up and see him just now.'

'Oh... Of course,' Daphne stammered.

'But we'll contact you immediately if his condition worsens.'

'Thank you,' Daphne murmured. She sank back into the chair, staring at something in the distance.

'Come with me,' Ginny said decisively, standing up.


'Well, you need to get out of here, even if it's just a few minutes,' Ginny said. 'I've spent a lot of time sitting next to hospital beds with Harry doing what he does. And even if you turn round and come right back here afterwards, you could do with a hot meal.'

'I don't know,' Daphne said doubtfully.

'Come on, it'll just be an hour, tops,' Ginny cajoled. 'We can go to the Leaky Cauldron and use a private room if you're not up to the public room.'

At length Daphne nodded and pushed herself to her feet.

Ginny led her to the entrance. 'So how bad is it?'

'Pretty bad,' Daphne told her. 'It's taken most of the day to bring the fever down.'

'How long has he been ill?' Ginny asked.

Daphne mentally counted to herself. 'Five days...' she said, slightly shocked at how much time had passed.

'And he's sill this bad?' Ginny said in surprise.

'Yes,' Daphne said shortly. 'It's what killed his grandfather, you know,' she added.

'What have the Healers said?'

Daphne smiled grimly. 'You know as much as I do at this point.' She looked around the street outside St. Mungo's. 'How are we getting to Diagon Alley...?'

'Do you mind if I Side-Along you?' The last thing Ginny wanted was to be condescending.

'Not at all. I'd probably leave half of myself here if I tried it on my own right now.' Daphne took a handful of Ginny's coat sleeve. She stumbled a little when they reappeared in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron and followed Ginny inside to a small table in a corner. 'I don't suppose you have teapots large enough to bathe in?' she asked the barman.

'Sadly, no.'

'I guess I'll have a normal sized pot of tea, then. And the tomato bisque.' She picked up the glass of water the barman had left on the table and sipped it, while Ginny ordered her own meal.

'Does Scorpius know about all of this?' Ginny asked, as soon as the barman had left.

'Narcissa's writing to him. I sent her home after we'd been there for several hours.'

'You might want to alert Neville, erm, Professor Longbottom, as well. He's Scorpius' Head of House, and the more Neville knows, the better prepared he'll be in case...' Ginny trailed off uncomfortably.

'I hadn't thought of that. I'll do that as soon as I get home,' Daphne promised. She was beginning to visibly droop.

Ginny toyed with her fork and gazed at Daphne. She seemed rather distracted by something. 'Do you mind if I ask you something rather personal?' she asked.

'I don't actually have to answer you, do I?' Daphne said. 'Go ahead...'

'Is there a certain, erm, outcome you want for Draco...?' Ginny knew she was being frank to the point of rudeness, but she didn't care.

'I don't know,' Daphne confessed. She glanced at the barman, bringing their tea and fell silent, waiting for him to leave. 'I imagine you've heard from Scorpius about... his father and me...' She couldn't bring her self to say the words, not to another person. It was one thing to consider the prospect of leaving Draco in her own mind, but quite another to actually say it to someone else.

'A bit,' Ginny allowed. After Al had asked them if Scorpius could stay with them, she'd managed to rabbit more information from him about why Scorpius might need to run away to them.

'If he died,' Daphne began, 'it would negate the need to make any sort of decision about that.'

Ginny blinked. 'True.'

'But the thing is, I don't even know him well enough to decide whether or not I want to stay or leave...'

'How long have you been married?'

'Fifteen years in March.'

'How does an arranged marriage work?' Ginny asked.

Daphne gave her a wry smile. 'Most of the families that indulge in arranged marriages form a rather small social circle. So the children all know each other and when our families are together for parties or the like, the children are sent out into the garden to play. So we know each other on that level. If you're lucky, like my sister was, you marry someone you already like and respect. I wasn't so lucky. I didn't know Draco that well, and he's always been somewhat aloof and reserved with me. And that house is quite large; we can go through our entire day and only see each other at dinner.' She saw the question forming in Ginny's head and added, 'And we don't sleep in the same room...' Their meals arrived and Daphne idly stirred the large bowl of soup. 'It's just...'


'Lately, he's been trying to at least talk to me and not at me.'

'That sounds like a good thing,' Ginny said helpfully.

'It does,' Daphne agreed. 'But...' She poked at her soup. 'What if he really is the cold and distant person I've lived with all this time? And what if I'm never able to find out what he's really like?'

'Is that what you want?' Ginny asked shrewdly.

Daphne sighed and reached for a bread roll. 'Yes. I think so. Because if he recovers, and I do decide to leave, I can do it with a clean conscience...' She tore the roll in half and buttered it. 'I don't usually talk like this to people I don't know very well,' she said apologetically. 'Ordinarily, I'd talk to Narcissa about something like this, but I couldn't very well do it this time. And well, Scorpius seems to like you a great deal...'

'He's a lovely young man,' Ginny said. She studied Daphne for a moment. 'It wouldn't be such an odd thing if you and I were friends,' she finally said. 'Since Al and Scorpius are so close...'

Daphne's eyes widened for a moment, and she hastily swallowed some of her soup. 'I'd like that,' she said quietly. She set the spoon down and pushed the chair back. 'I should go. I told Narcissa I'd be home as soon as the Healers had any news.' She rummaged in her coat pocket for some gold but Ginny waved it away.

'Don't worry about it.'

'Oh... Well, thank you.' Daphne walked to the fireplace and dropped a handful of Knuts into the box next to an urn of Floor powder and vanished in a swirl of bright green flames.

Ginny finished her meal and slipped outside to Apparate to Godric's Hollow. She could see Harry through a kitchen window, leaning against the counter, a glass of milk in one hand, while he dug into the biscuit tin with the other. She walked into the quiet house and went directly to him, tugging the glass from his hand and setting it on the counter behind him. 'Oh, hi!' Harry said, just as her mouth landed on his. She wound her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. 'What did I do to deserve that?' Harry said, slightly breathless.

'I love you,' Ginny said, wholly aware of how lucky she was.


Scorpius prodded the now-cold casserole on his plate. He'd started reading The War Against the Dark Lord during a free period earlier that day. It gave him chills and he wondered if he'd have nightmares later. The chapter he'd managed to read detailed the life of Tom Riddle. By the time Scorpius had reached the section regarding the physical changes Riddle wrought on himself, Scorpius was nauseated by the idea someone would willingly undergo such obviously painful transformations. 'Are you going to eat that?' James asked, indicating Scorpius' still-full plate with his knife.

'No, you can have it,' Scorpius said, pushing his plate across the table.

'Brilliant.' James pointed his wand at the plate. 'Fervefacio.' Steam rose from the casserole and James forked a bite into his mouth. 'Mmmmm. So much better when it's reheated...'

'Isn't that your mother's owl?' Al pointed to a tawny owl winging through the Great Hall.

'Yeah...' Scorpius gazed at the owl in bemusement. His mother wrote to him on a fairly regular basis, but her letters usually came during breakfast on Saturday. To receive a letter on a Tuesday evening did not bode well. Cherise landed on the table in front of him and held her leg out. 'Thanks,' he told her, and offered his goblet of pumpkin juice. She dipped her beak into it for several long moments, then nibbled his fingers and launched herself from the table, soaring between the floating candles. He broke the seal on the envelope and let the parchment fall into his hand. 'This isn't from Mother,' he muttered. 'It's from Grandmother.'

'That can't be good,' Rose commented.

Scorpius scanned the short note quickly. His lips compressed and he stuffed the parchment back into the envelope and shoved it into his schoolbag. 'It's not,' he told Rose shortly.

'Your mum finally do your dad in?' Al said jokingly. He flinched when Madeline smacked his arm. 'Ow... I'm not a Quaffle, Maddie...'

'That wasn't funny, Albus,' Madeline said reprovingly.

'She hasn't yet,' Scorpius told Albus, picking up the thread of the joke. 'But it's only January,' he quipped in an attempt to defuse the tension. 'It's just dragon pox.'

'Who's got dragon pox?' Parker asked, plopping at the Gryffindor table, peering at his cousins. 'I thought you lot already had it.'

'We haven't,' Hugo piped up.

'That's because Aunt Hermione's Muggle-born,' Parker told him. 'If you have Muggle parents or a Muggle-born parent, you won't get dragon pox.'

'I haven't had it,' Scorpius said.

'How'd you manage that?' Al asked.


'Scorpius' dad has it,' Isabella murmured to Parker.

Parker whistled through his teeth. 'He's kind of old for it, isn't he?' He yelped and jumped, glaring at Isabella while he rubbed his ankle.

'What's wrong with getting it when you're older?' Scorpius asked.

'It just takes longer to recover,' Isabella said smoothly, patting Scorpius on the back, shaking her head at Parker.

'Oh...' Scorpius swung his feet over the bench. 'Don't wait up,' he said to Al. 'Got detention with Williams tonight.'

'What'd you do?' Lily asked in surprise. Scorpius rarely got detention.

'Nothing, really. Just left my bag where Geoffery could trip over it. And he landed face-first into Rosie's perfectly brewed Swelling Solution...' A beatific smile spread over his face. 'It was brilliant...' He drifted through the door, waving energetically at Geoffery, sitting at the Slytherin table, his nose still several times too large.

'Why'd you kick me?' Parker demanded, giving Isabella a hard shove.

'Because he doesn't need to know it could kill his father,' she retorted, returning the shove.

'Because you think he might actually want it?' James said through a mouthful of beef and mushrooms.

Madeline rolled her eyes. 'Did you and Al misplace your tact this morning?'

'Why deny him something that might make him happy?' James muttered.

'Shut it, James,' Lily hissed. 'That's not nice.'

'Well, neither is his father,' James said, pointing his fork at his sister. 'Not everybody's like Dad or Uncle Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, or Ron.' Neville happened to walk by, handing out a few detention notices to some fifth years, Eric clinging to his back, chattering happily in his ear. 'Or Neville,' he added.

'I know that,' Lily huffed.

'Well,' James said with a shrug, returning to his dinner. 'It might not be a bad thing if his father doesn't recover...'


Harry left the conference room, trailing three burly Hit Wizards and one confused elderly man. 'It's not Calvin Houghly,' he told Carolina.

'But you haven't even looked at his memories,' she said, pointing to the vial in Harry's hand.

'He told us to use Legilimency,' Harry said. 'And when we asked for his memories, he didn't even raise a fuss about it. Told me he was an open book. There's nothing that I could see that would indicate his memory's been tampered with. But I'll look at this later, just to make sure,' he added, tucking the vial into his shirt pocket. He walked down the corridor to another conference room and opened the door. 'Good morning, Mr. Sampson,' he said genially.

'Would you mind telling me why these fine gentlemen dragged me out of bed at the crack of dawn?' Kieran Sampson growled.

Harry set the files on the table and took a chair across from him. 'As I'm sure you're aware, there's been a rise in the number of Muggle-baitings the past few years,' he began neutrally.

'Been all over the papers,' Sampson grunted. 'Could hardly miss it.'

Harry's eyes narrowed as he met the older man's gaze. 'I'm going to need to ask you a few things,' he said levelly. 'If you choose to cooperate, it will make this go much more smoothly. If you choose to resist, it won't be pleasant for you.' He nodded at the three Hit Wizards surrounding them. They each had their wands trained on Sampson.

'You don't have any proof,' he objected.

'That's why you're here,' Harry said calmly. 'If you are innocent, then you shouldn't have a problem letting me see it.' He set a tiny vial on the table. 'Now, we can do this one of two ways. You can take the Veritaserum or I'll use Legilimency on you.' He set an empty vial on the table next to the Veritaserum. 'And we'll also want your memories.'

'Don't want much do you?' Sampson scoffed.

'Not really,' Harry replied.

'You can't make me do this,' Sampson stated.

'No,' Harry admitted. 'But I've got all the time in the world. I can wait for you to comply voluntarily. Or I can go to the Minister and have him order you to. Your choice.' Under the table, he jerked his wrist once, shaking his wand from his sleeve. It slid into the palm of his hand, and he closed his fingers around the handle. He leaned back in the chair, the picture of repose.

Sampson crossed his arms over his chest and glared unblinkingly at Harry. Harry waited, tamping down his impatience. He could hear the minutes tick by softly on his watch. Harry felt a small smile play on his lips. Go ahead... Try to intimidate me... I've had Darker wizards than you try and fail...

Sampson suddenly lunged for one of the Hit Wizards' wands. Under the table, Harry's wand sliced through the air and a Stunning spell slammed into Sampson's knees. He fell forward across the table. 'Sorry, Harry,' one of the Hit Wizards murmured. 'Moves pretty fast for an old bugger...'

'Happens sometimes,' Harry said, flicking his wand at Sampson. Ropes bound him to the chair. 'I'm going to revive him,' he warned. 'Ennervate.' Sampson's eyes opened and Harry nudged the vial of Veritaserum toward a Hit Wizard. 'Could you help Mr. Sampson swallow that, please?'

'Can't make me swallow it,' Sampson ground out between clenched teeth.

'No, but it's better if you cooperate,' Harry informed him, making notes in his file. He nodded to the Hit Wizard, and the man broke the wax seal around the mouth of the bottle, and tipped it toward Sampson's mouth. The clear potion ran past Sampson's tightly clamped lips and dribbled down his chin. He wiped his chin on the shoulder of his jumper.

'I'll give you high marks for trying, Potter,' Sampson chuckled.

'Well...' Harry sighed and shook his head a little sadly. 'Have it your way, then.' He pointed his wand at Sampson's head. 'Legilimens!' Harry felt his wand slip a little in his sweaty palm, and tightened his fingers around it. He could see Sampson in a pub talking to Joel Anderson, modifying the memories of the wizards and witches he'd Imperiused to carry out the actual Muggle-baitings. It made Harry feel filthy and he wasn't even delving that deeply into Sampson's mind. He pulled the wand away and slumped in his chair, panting slightly. He took a deep breath, then touched the tip of his wand to Sampson's temple. When he lifted the wand, several silvery threads were clustered thickly on Harry's wand. He tipped it into the empty vial. 'Kieran Sampson, you're under arrest for the Muggle-baitings that occurred on the following dates,' Harry recited, reading the list of days off his list. 'You are also charged with conspiracy to commit murder, as well as attempted murder. You have the right to receive representation from Ministry legal counsel, if you cannot afford your own. Do you have any questions?' Sampson stared at him, frothy bits of spittle dotting his lips. 'Very well. You can take him to Azkaban.' He let his eyes drop to the top of the table and sat there long after the Hit Wizards had removed Sampson for transport to Azkaban, his mind reeling with the fact it was, at last, done. Harry took a deep breath and let his head fall to the table, his shoulders slumped in unreserved relief.


'What are you doing?' Ginny asked, watching Harry roll a vial between his palms, the bright silvery light throwing shadows over his face.

'Did you know Lucius Malfoy had a sister?' he asked idly, staring at the contents of the vial. 'Lavinia.'

Ginny slid into a battered armchair in front of the fireplace. 'No.'

'She dated your uncle.'

'Which one?'


To his surprise, Ginny burst out laughing. 'You're joking! There is no way a Malfoy would have had anything to do with one of Mum's brothers. The pure-blood and a blood traitor?' She held the stitch in her side and gasped for air. 'Oh, blimey, Harry, that's one of the funniest things I've heard in ages...'

'It's true,' he informed her. 'She's my next case.'

'All right, then, where is she?' Ginny scoffed lightly.

A wry smile twisted Harry's mouth. 'That's what I need to find out.' He set the vial on his desk, next to a row of five others.

'What are those?' Ginny asked.

'Memories. Of the day your uncles were killed.'

Ginny slid out of the chair and went around Harry's desk, perching on the edge of his desk. 'Why is that germane to - Lavinia, is it?'

'She was there,' Harry said pensively.

'Oh.' Ginny's entire body noticeably stiffened.

'What?' Harry asked?

'Did she have something to do with it?' she asked tightly.

One of Harry's brows rose slowly. 'What makes you think she was involved?'

'Because it would have been perfect... She could infiltrate the Order...'

'What sort of books have you been reading lately?' Harry snorted. 'And haven't you been the one that's been telling me for ages to stop judging someone just because they have the last name of Malfoy?'

'Yes, well, but Scorpius wasn't present at the murder of a family member,' Ginny maintained stubbornly.

'That's what I'm going to try and find out,' Harry told her. He picked up the vial containing Lavinia's memory and balanced it in the palm of one hand. 'Something's off about this one,' he murmured.

'What do you mean?'

Harry picked up another vial and held them up. 'This one is Remus'.' He tilted the vial a little, making the contents shift fluidly inside. 'See it? How it flows inside? How clear and bright it is?' His palm closed around it and he tipped Lavinia's to the side. 'See how sluggish this one is? Like treacle. And the light's dim. It flickers when it ought to glow.' He set both vials down on the desk. 'I've seen what a corrupted memory looks like,' he said thoughtfully. 'And it wasn't quite like that...' He sighed and gathered the vials, stowing them in one of his desk drawers. 'Are you hungry?'

'Not really,' Ginny said. 'You?'

'No.' Harry rose from the chair, and took Ginny's hand. He pulled her off the desk and settled in the armchair she'd abandoned, tugging her down so she snuggled against him. 'I think I'd like to stay like this for a while.'

'Before something else comes up?'