"What I did last night?" replied Ron steadily. "First I ate too much of Mum's delicious cooking — she packed me tonnes of stuff, by the way, remind me, it's in the bag outside — then I talked to Dad, played a game of chess with him and tried to chat up Gabrielle who's here for a visit but she's just a snotty French cow — no offence to French cows — watched how Victoire decided it was fun to eat an entire fistful of Floo Powder, watched how Bill and Fleur got wildly terrified and flooed her — I love the irony — to St Mungo's and went to bed. Very entertaining night. Fleur's pregnant again, by the way," he shrugged. "Not half as interesting as your evenings, I suppose."

"She snogged Snape in the hall this morning."

Ron made an appreciative sound and held out his hand towards Harry. "That's another..."

"I will pay up," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Are you putting bets on me and Snape? And how come you haven't told us about the man you...you know."

Harry sighed dramatically and it seemed ever since Ron had come in, that a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "His name is Noel."

"Noel? Like Christmas?" Hermione sniggered — and wished she wasn't so tired. She would have been able to react much more rationally.

"Yeah, like Christmas," Harry seemed utterly put out.

"Don't mind her, she snogged with Snape," Ron waved her off. "Bloke that you did whatever with. Wizard?"

Harry shook his head. "He's tall, taller even than you, Ron, and he's kind of dirtyish blonde and has blue eyes and the longest lashes I've ever seen and he has a...what do you care?"

Hermione poked Ron in the side and grinned at him. "I think our little Harry has a crush."

"I think, my dear, he has," Ron grinned back. "And off to bed with you if you talked the whole night through with Snape. Seriously, Hermione, the whole night through?"

"He's gorgeous," she said exaggeratedly. "Absolutely dreamy and wonderful and I could sit for hours and talk to him because he's just gorgeous."

"Off to bed with her," laughed Harry and took her hand squeezed it in a silent thank you.

"Gran!" Aideen shouted and pushed the door to the kitchen wide open, running in, her cheeks bright red and her eyes brimming with tears and with that happy sheen to them which Severus had never seen before. She seemed to be terribly excited and happy and he, immediately, spotted something on her hand which hadn't been there before.

"Aideen?" Eleanor asked softly.

"Draco asked me to marry him!" she squealed and went to hug her grandmother who stood up without the usual grimace of pain and hugged back enthusiastically.

"Draco asked you to marry him?" asked Severus, feeling rather skeptical.

"I did, Uncle Severus," the boy in question came sauntering in, looking rather excited himself.

"Aren't you..."

"I love her. I want to marry her because I love her," he said steadily. "No other reason."

Severus arched his eyebrows, not quite believing what he was hearing.

"I know what you think, Severus. Seriously, I can see it in your face and I can never seen anything in your face. I love her," Draco said. "Honestly. We're not going to get married now or tomorrow or next week. I just want to marry her one day and before someone else can snatch her away from me."

Aideen laughed melodically. "I doubt anyone can," and she looked at him with so much love in her eyes that Severus was almost — but only almost convinced of his wish.

"But you're not pregnant, are you?" Eleanor asked, and the worry showed in her face.

Aideen shook her head. "No, I'm not and I won't be. We're not...I promised, Gran, and he knows that. But I believe him that he doesn't want to marry me for...that."

"Mrs Callaghan," Draco said formally, "I'd like to ask for your granddaughter's hand. I know I did it the other way around but I love Aideen. I want to be with her for the rest of my life and I know I'm young but you, and her, and of course Uncle Severus, are my family. My father repudiates me and he's possibly ashamed of me and you never were. You and Aideen and, yes, he, showed me what love could be like, what family could me like and I'd love to formalise that."

Eleanor, being utterly convinced by Draco's speech (something Severus wasn't — yet), broke out in a broad smile and hugged the young, blonde man. "You have my blessing," she said so softly that only Draco and Severus could possibly hear her. "You make each other happy or I'll be haunting you for the rest of my immortal life."

Draco nodded solemnly and hugged the old woman back.

That evening, late evening, to be precise, about eleven thirty, to be even more precise, when Severus had taken his heart into his hands and had been rather brave and had called Hermione, when Draco lay in bed thinking about Aideen and when Aideen was in bed staring happily at her engagement ring, Eleanor got ready for bed herself, the book she was reading on her nightstand and not, as usual in her hands. She lay down in bed, her old, serviceable nightgown warming her body and the old hot water bottle warming her feet, smiling to herself.

Severus was happy. Draco was marrying Aideen and wasn't doing anything to her favourite granddaughter which shouldn't be done before marriage. Severus was happy and in time, he would see that Miss Granger was someone worth keeping forever. He would marry her as well. Draco and Aideen would have beautiful grandchildren.

Eleanor Callaghan smiled and closed her eyes, the book forgot on her nightstand. She smiled and had her eyes closed and took a deep breath. And that was the last breath she would ever take.

92. The Indicated Object Coordinate

What does it mean to specify, for instance, the indicated object coordinate? We could identify a person by name. We could report Ellen Blair said she'd like to come. This might be adequate to identify the speaker, indeed the expression Ellen might be sufficient. If, however, you do not know how this person is, or might be, it would be more helpful if we were to give some indication of why we have introduced her into the conversation. So we might say my friend Ellen Blair, or the former chairman Ellen Blair, or a nurse in the ward called Ellen Blair, giving, in some sense, 'credentials' for her existence, and for her relationship to the speaker who is responsible for introducing her to the conversation.

(Brown, Yule, 1983)

Aideen slumped into the kitchen, like she did every day. Her hair was an adorable mess and her feet seemed to barely leave the ground at all. She wore a lovely bathrobe with a flower-pattern on it, most likely borrowed off her grandmother but she smiled so sleepily and so divinely.

"Morning," she said hoarsely. "Tea?"

"Good morning, fiancée," replied Draco happily and put a cup of the tea he had made on her place at the table. "Did you sleep well?"

"Hm. I think so," she answered grumpily sniffing her tea. "Did you make that?"

"Yes," he said, feeling mildly put out.

"Should have known. Gran never makes Earl Grey in the mornings," she remarked and took a sip nevertheless.

"Since I made it...I just assumed...you like it, she likes it, I like it, why not do it for breakfast?" he asked with his little-boy-smile.

"Hm. Where is Gran?" she asked groggily, pushing the adorable mess she called hair from her face. No wonder she needed this long in the bathroom every morning, Draco mused. Delectable mess of hair that she had to tame into straight...redness.

"I haven't seen her this morning," he answered honestly. "Maybe she has a lie-in?"

"Gran? A lie-in?" Aideen seemed to be wide awake now. "Gran never slept longer than seven. Never. Not since I can remember. It's nine now. Did she go out? When did you get up?"

"Seven thirty," he said. It was true though. Mrs Callaghan never got up later than seven. Most days, even earlier than that. Most days, she knew how to wake people without actually shaking them awake just by clattering enough with dishes and cutlery.

"And you didn't see if she left the house? Or is she still upstairs?" Aideen's eyes went wide and she shook her head. "No. No. No. No. No."

"What?"

"No," she jumped off her chair and bolted out of the kitchen, Draco hot on her heels. She kept chanting her 'no, no, no' all the time and no, it couldn't be. She wouldn't be in her bed. She wouldn't be laying there unconscious or — Merlin forbid — dead — she would be out, shopping. Or with Severus. Or somewhere with her church friends. She was fine. Of course she was fine. Mrs Callaghan was made of terribly stern stuff. She couldn't just...not leave the bed in the morning.

Aideen stood in front of the door to her grandmother's bedroom. Door which was fully closed and she shot Draco a look which was part fear, part hope, part...he didn't know what exactly.

"Let her be okay," mumbled Aideen. "Just let her be okay." She pushed the door open and immediately rushed to the bed.

There she was, laying very straight underneath the covers, both her hands tucked underneath them, a smile on her lips and her eyes closed, the wrinkles smoothed from — sleep. Death. He didn't know which and he rushed to his girlfriend's — fiancée's — side.

"Draco, she can't be," said Aideen, holding the lifeless, limb hand of her grandmother.

"Is she...?"

"She's cold," the girl next to him sobbed, shoved the dead hand back underneath the duvet and threw herself into his arms. "She's dead," she whispered, clawing at his back, digging her fingernails into his skin.

Draco wasn't faring much better than her. He knew he hadn't cried when his own grandparents had died. He knew he would not be shedding a single tear over his father or mother but this woman, there, lying there in her bed, she brought tears even to his eyes. His vision swam and was blurry and unclear. This woman couldn't be dead. She just couldn't be gone.

He needed her. He needed her to show him how to love. He wasn't done learning at all. He wanted to do it right and only Mrs Callaghan could show him. She was the only one who had ever pulled on his ear. She was the only one who had hugged — just because. She had turned him into the person who had worked selling clothes and without her, he would have never met Aideen. She couldn't be gone.

Time didn't matter when he held Aideen and she held him, both in the bedroom, the sanctuary of Mrs Callaghan, and he couldn't tell if they had stood there for five minutes or five hours and he frankly didn't care. It was her that pulled back and looked at him with wept-out eyes and a red nose.

"I need to call Dad," she said shakily. "And Severus. We need to tell Severus."

Draco's eyes widened.

"I'll do it. Could you call the...I don't know? Who do you call? The doctor? But she's dead. I...I was too young when my grandfather died. Nobody else did since then. Who do we need to call? The..."

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Your father should know."

"Right," she nodded, and he could see how much she was trying to pull herself together. "So, could you call Dad? I'll go over to Severus? No, the other way is better, don't you think? You should talk to Severus and I'll talk to the family. Funeral, right? She needs to have a funeral. And I know there was a list somewhere she wrote about hers. Can you...No, go to Severus and I'll talk to Dad and ask him to come up. Okay?"

Nodding quickly, he pulled her back into his arms.

"It's okay, Draco. We need to do this now. Severus needs to know and so does Dad and his brothers and sisters. They have to know. And Severus. Go and tell Severus now," she told him again and he nodded, looking at her as she disentangled herself from his embrace and looked at her dead grandmother, biting her lip — hard. He walked backwards slowly, dreading what was coming, not believing what had happened. "And Hermione," she added, softly, not taking her eyes off Mrs Callaghan. "Call her before you go over. I suppose Severus will need her now. We will al need someone now."

Something was making a dreadful noise. Worse than any alarm clock and worse than any fire alarm. It shook her deeply to the core and she felt herself sitting bolt upright. The mobile. On her nightstand. Vibrating, ringing.

"Shite," she muttered sleepily to herself. Had forgot to switch the tone to silent after Severus had called the night before. "Yes?" she mumbled into the phone.

"This is Draco," Malfoy's voice rang from the other end of the line but while it sounded like him, it didn't sound like him at all. Worried and anxious. Not something he usually associated with Draco.

"Draco. Did something happen?"

"You could say that," he answered slowly and her eyes widened. Severus. Something had happened to Severus.

"What?" she barked — and barking sleepily did sound rather curious. "What happened to him?"

"Who him? No, oh no, not Severus. Erm, Granger, listen...Mrs Callaghan..."

"Oh no," Hermione whispered and didn't even have to hear the end of the sentence. It didn't matter if the woman was hurt or...something unspeakable. Whatever had happened to her — Severus would be devastated. She knew how he trusted her, admired her, adored her, possibly loved her. Severus had only ever spoken highly of her. Not one derogatory remark. Nothing but kindness about Mrs Callaghan from his mouth. "What happened?"

"Aideen and I found her only a few minutes ago. I think she passed away in her sleep."

"Oh dear God, no," she whispered voicelessly. "Does he know?"

"I'm going over now," Draco said. "Aideen said it would be good if you could come on up some time soon? I don't know what's happening between you two but..."

"I'll need fifteen minutes or so to get ready," she said rushedly, surprised, and then not so surprised at Malfoy's kind tone.

"Make it a bit longer. I have to tell him and...I...sorry, but..."

"I'll be there in an hour," she nodded viciously to herself. "Give you a little time."

"Thanks. See you later."

She clicked off on the phone, staring at it. He would, definitely, try to push her away. If her theory was correct and Mrs Callaghan had grown into a person Severus had loved, had seen as a kind of mother figure, he would ultimately think that everyone who loved him (and she didn't have a single doubt in her mind that Mrs Callaghan had told Severus that she loved him — though she didn't know why she didn't have a single doubt in her mind) left him in the end, died or left him. Not that she was ready to admit that she loved him — not even close to it — but she did admit that she liked him and was fond of him and yep, alright, was in love with him, but...he would push her away. He would shield his heart and he would pull himself back into himself and try to be...no matter. She wouldn't let herself be pushed away.