would be accounted for in terms of the feature ANIMATE. The verb sleep would require a [+ANIMATE] subject. Man would be marked [+ANIMATE] and so would qualify; salami would be marked [-ANIMATE] and so would not qualify.

McCawley has argue convincingly that selectional restrictions are semantic and not syntactic in nature. Consider:

[2]

(a) *The corpse is sleeping.

(b) *The dead man is sleeping.

[3]

(a) The man who was killed yesterday but was magically brought back to life is sleeping.

(b) The man who will be killed tomorrow is sleeping.

The well-formedness of these sentences depends on semantic properties of the entire noun phrase rather than on syntactic properties of the head noun.

(Lakoff, 1971)

Eleanor wore a deep, worrying frown on her face. Draco had pulled Aideen out of the house, right after breakfast, to go to the shops and they hadn't returned yet, and it had been two hours. She was very worried. Yes, technically she knew that Draco would do his damnedest to protect her and that the woman who had abducted her was locked away but it didn't stop her from worrying. It was only some milk they needed and two hours for that seemed a bit long. Draco knew well enough that she would go after him with her dressmaker's shears if he and Aideen indulged in, well, that sort of thing.

But quite honestly, she didn't believe he was up to that — something had happened with his father the morning before. She couldn't quite put her finger on it and Draco hadn't seemed to be ready to talk about it yet. He had emerged, without his father, from the kitchen a while later, and had then gone over to Severus's house, his face pale and pinched. He had come back quite late, after lunch (and she hadn't been able to coax either one out of Severus's house), after her afternoon tea, and just before supper. Had still been pale. Had picked at his food and had then excused himself and gone to bed early.

And to be frank, that was the last thing her granddaughter needed — a boyfriend who was withdrawn and unhappy and had something on his mind and would only talk to Severus.

Who, in turn had left his house just after Draco had returned to hers. Odd, all of that.

Her money to explain his weird behaviour was naturally on his father. It had started then at least and there must have been something which he had said that had greatly disturbed the boy. She couldn't form an opinion on the man. First, he had almost killed her, then there had been silence and absolutely no interest in his child, even though he had been injured (she had to give him that, but even an invalid could write a letter). Now he had obviously returned for something which had broken Draco's equilibrium so quickly after Aideen's abduction. But Draco's father was so...she didn't know. He had seemed perfectly pleasant, very polite and nothing like the Muggle-hater Severus and Draco had both told her about.

Worst was though, that she hadn't even been able to ask Severus. He had still be gone at about nine in the evening when she had knocked on his door. Without telling her where he went. Didn't they understand that she worried more now? That she hadn't been able to sleep until she had seen him return home in the dim light of the street-lamps? Of course they didn't understand. But it was still inconsiderate of Severus to return at two at night and being gone all evening long without telling her that he would be gone or that it would take longer. Whatever 'it' was.

She didn't care, really. But she was still glaring at him now that he sipped a cup of tea on her table. Had come over on his own, she hadn't even had to drag him; she would have. Didn't want to worry about them anymore, wanted to know where they were at all times. And now she only knew that Severus was at her kitchen-table. She could keep an eye on him. Not on the other two.

Yes, yes, it was wrong and controlling and almost all of them were almost grown up but...it had been hell. She didn't want to go through with it anymore. Her heart couldn't take it.

She bit her lip and sat down as well, looking at him, then rubbed her hand over her face. Her eyes hurt.

"My husband fought in the second World War," she began.

"I know," replied Severus, looking bewildered.

"We were bombed during the Blitz," she swallowed, "my husband went to fight the Germans after that and I remained in London. We lived in London at the time and came up here after the war. But that's beside the point. I was in a constant state of worry. We were newly wed, I didn't want him to go somewhere and wanted to know that he safe and alright and preferably sleeping next to me at night. I loved him so." She shook her head sadly, tiredly. Severus still looked bewildered — and puzzled and she softened her features into a smile. "I never knew from day to day where he was, and of course he sent postcards but every time the door bell rang, I thought it was someone telling me he had fallen. I don't think it was rational but you just thought he might just...the chance was there and it was a big chance."

He looked at her and she took his hand across the table and held it in hers.

"When Aideen was taken, that old fear came back. I didn't think I could bear it, I was so worried..."

"Do you want me to look where Drac..."

She shook her head. "No. I know he will take care of her. But when you leave the house before supper and return at two at night, I worry," she said steadily. She had to address this. He would probably dislike it — or hate it — but she had to get this out. Had to explain that she worried about him. That she loved him. And that yes, she was an overbearing person who loved too much and worried too much.

The tips of his ears were bright pink and he stared at her. "I worry about you. That man was here yesterday morning, Draco's father, and I don't trust him. I know Draco went over to yours and he probably poured his heart out to you. But this man tried to kill me and I know you had dealings with him in the past. I thought you'd...I don't know what I thought, maybe that you'd gone after him because Draco was so depressed, I don't know. But I was worried, more than you can imagine because...I can't lose you, Severus. You've grown so close to me and I love you as if you were one of my own. And they're all so far away and then you take off at night and with Aideen..." she pulled her hand from his and hid her face in both of them.

She sat, her elbows on the table, her face buried in her hands, not wanting to cry because this was really no crying matter.

"Eleanor," whispered Severus and warm fingers touched hers after a moment. "I was with...someone and not with Malfoy. I wasn't in any kind of danger."

Her head shot up from her hands — and she stared at him, wondering if he had really just said what he had said.

No, the toddler didn't annoy her. Teddy played happily on the carpet, babbling whatever was on his mind without caring if someone heard him. She had left the Minister absolutely dumbstruck, had achieved what she had wanted to achieve and Ron and Harry had gone out to buy food without her nagging. That it left her to babysit little Ted — oh well. He was happy enough on the carpet and it was spelled so he couldn't pull pieces out and shove them in his mouth. Apart from the bright coloured hair, he was a normal boy, really. Sweet, when he smiled at her from time to time and babbled.

She couldn't quite bring herself yet to talk to him. It was just strange talking to a child and what did she know about children anyway? He was happy enough and Harry and Ron provided all the conversation he needed for the time being. Until she got used to having to talk to a child. She would, eventually, since this truly appeared to be permanent and the boy, honestly, needed someone serious in his life. Yes, it was fun to teach Ted how to make a mess of his egg for breakfast but that wasn't all he needed to know in life. And knowing the boys, she would have to be the sensible one even though...Harry had scolded him when the messing had gone out of hand. And then Ron had scolded Ted and Harry and she had been the one to wave her wand and clean it all up. Boys.

And now she didn't only live with two but with three. That, she hadn't signed up for. But uni was close and she could spend her days there. And check up on Aideen and Draco and Snape and see that all of them were alright. And yes, she had for the second night in a row, dreamed about Snape and his hand on her stomach and his leg...well. She should think about Aideen and about what was done to Mrs Tonks. Poor woman should be given help instead of being Kissed. Had probably never had the chance of talking about her losses. Of getting over the unbearable pain of mourning. Someone should have talked to her or should have offered professional help. Not letting her deal with it on her own. Irresponsible.

The entire Wizarding World and their leaders acted irresponsibly. She almost wished Shacklebolt would try to obliviate Aideen and then she, and probably the Weasleys as well (Harry had said that Arthur Weasley wasn't too happy with the way the Ministry had dealt with the entire thing and many other things). Or, even if he didn't, a coup d'etat wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

"My-Oh-Neeee," the child cried out loud and Hermione looked up from her musings. Next to Ted, an owl sat on the carpet and her eyes widened. She hadn't paid attention and the owl could have...she sprang up from her chair and snatched up the toddler from the floor and held him tight to her chest.

"My-Oh-Neeee," he wailed and pointed at the owl.

She grimaced, "Did the owl hurt you, Ted?"

The boy began to cry and pushed his head against her shoulder, buried his face deeply there and his little sticky fingers tangled in her hair and pulled — painfully.

"Noooo, My-Oh-Neeee," he cried and something wet trickled down her neck. Oh, she hoped he wasn't slobbering. Was it called slobbering with children? But — something kicked in inside and she found herself slowly stroking his back, soothing him while glaring at the owl.

"Shall we see what it brought?" she asked and forgot that she was talking to a toddler, forgot that she had him on her arm and that her neck was probably full of baby-spit. She understood somehow, that he had been merely afraid of the owl or that the owl had scared him and he had called for...well, her. My-Oh-Neeee could be construed at least as Hermione.

She bent down with the child in her arms and petted the owl gently. "See Ted? It's harmless, it only delivers mail. It doesn't hurt you." The boy looked up at her and his hair was adorably brown (like her own hair) and his eyes brown and full of unshed tears and a bit of snot dangled from his nose. She grimaced again, summoned a handkerchief and wiped his nose and earned a watery smile.

"Do you want to pet the owl?" she asked, smiling and brushing a tear from his cheek, brushing his hair back.

"No," he replied simply.

"Then we only get the letter," she laughed and just after she summoned a treat for the owl, she pulled the letter from it's foot. "Oh, Ted, it looks like someone deems it necessary to contact me personally."

Aideen just shook her head over and over again. She stared at him with wide, open eyes and shook her head. She almost looked like she had the moment Severus had brought her down the street — only less tired. She just stood there for long, long minutes, stared and shook her head.

It had been an utterly idiotic idea to take her out for a walk along the old muddy river and to try and talk to her. He should have sat her down with a glass of whiskey or something else and should have told her there. Maybe should have asked for Mrs Callaghan's help. Or Severus's help. He had offered, after all. He had told him to break the news gently and to take care of her nerves. To wait a bit. But no, he had not been able to wait, he had to make sure that she still...liked him, even if he was different.

And she didn't. She stood, stared, then walked away. Just turned her back to him. Left him standing there next to that bloody moody river. He should have just listened to Severus and not himself. His godfather knew better. He had always known better. And he was still so arrogant to think that he knew better. He didn't. He...wanted to run after her but he couldn't. His father had been right. How could he have lived in that bubble?

In that bubble of thinking that he would be better off with kind Mrs Callaghan and lovely Aideen? He didn't belong there. He...

Draco swallowed around the lump in his throat and closed his eyes. He didn't belong there. He didn't.

A moment later, a faint crack could be heard and Draco stood no longer near the muddy, bloody river but felt himself squeezed through a tube and appeared, only a second later, in front of the house that he had once called his home.

"Well?" Eleanor asked and he felt his ears grow hot again. Just because this woman and her nosey streak had a trauma from being a war-wife...but she loved him, he knew. It had been a warm, fuzzy feeling in his stomach when he had realised that particular fact. She was worried because — well — as strange as that sounded — she loved him. She held his hand and she squeezed it tightly and occasionally, she even hugged him. She touched him and she loved him. She loved him like he was one of hers. That was clear. It was just clear. And he couldn't even tell her the truth.

"Gran!" he was interrupted — luckily — by Aideen and Eleanor, with worry at the tone of her voice etched into her features again, stood up so quickly that her chair clattered to the floor and Severus only truly understood at that moment. If he had told that he would go out to dinner with someone and that there was the possibility that he would come home later, she wouldn't have sat up to wait for him.

Sat up to wait for him. Oh, that had happened before but not out of worry. Definitely never out of worry. He shook his head. Aideen sounded aggravated and he could guess why. Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy. That wasn't the sort of news anyone broke just like that. Idiotic dunderhead.

"Severus, is that true?" she was suddenly next to him, her eyes bloodshot and teary. She punched his arm with her good one and stared at him with such desperate viciousness in her eyes that he knew Draco had told her. Stupid boy.

"I don't know what he told you," he said calmly and gripped her wrist to stop her from punching him further.

"He's a wizard and it was his aunt who did this to me?" she cried, wildly.

"Yes," he just replied.

"Because of him? This happened because of him? Wizards?" tears seeped into her eyes, leaked out and her breathing hitched and suddenly, she threw herself at him — not punching but hugging him and crying into his chest and holding tightly on to him.