Work Text:
McGonagall glared at the departing ministry standard tawny owl as it swooped through the open window high above the teetering bookshelves in her office. The dreaded scroll of parchment bore the unmistakable deep blue seal of M.I.C.E. - the Magical Inspectorate of Children's Education. This letter could only be regarding an inspection that had been looming on the horizon for the past two years.
It wasn't that she disagreed with the need for schools to be inspected. It was just that in the ten years since the last one she'd managed to push most of the more unpleasant reminisces from her mind. An inspection that had led to ministry meddling in the staff team. Surely whoever they sent this time couldn't be as incompetent. She suppressed a shudder as visions of kitten faces swathed across pink pottery crept into the edges of her vision.
"A child did die, Minerva," Severus sneered from his portrait above the pensieve. Mist rose from its surface casting his already wan face in a deathly white sheen.
"I know, Severus," she replied, still holding the sealed parchment in a clenched fist. "It's just, well you know, it was her."
"Then there was that unfortunate issue with that hippogriff. A Basilisk on the loose. A troll nearly decapitating three of your first years." He sounded almost gleeful as he listed off a litany of the school's previous failings.
"Yes, yes." Minerva held up a hand to stop him. It wasn't that she disagreed with him per se; none of those things should have been allowed to happen, even if they mostly weren't actually the staff's fault. (Hippogriff excluded - there was no reason to let children so close to such a dangerous beast. Hagrid was excellent at many things but judging the relative merits and dangers of magical beasts was not one of them.) She had been one of the main proponents that Professor Snape should have a portrait in the hallowed headmaster's office after all. It was just he was always so blunt about everything and delivered all of his wisdom with that infuriating snidish look.
"Not to mention appointing a werewolf to the staff. I was surprised Dumbledore avoided an intervention for so long," Severus continued.
"Remus was one of the best teachers we ever had," Minerva snapped back. That remark was below the belt. Severus had let petty childish grievances control him in how he'd treated the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And it wasn't as if it was even Remus who was to blame for Severus's childhood experiences with some of her errant Gryffindors - James and Sirius had clearly been the culprits in the admittedly poor treatment he'd suffered.
"Really, could have fooled me. You were always blinded by house loyalties."
"And you weren't? It is just a coincidence that Slytherins always topped the potions scores?" There was no way that Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe had scraped an acceptable in potions without significant help. A niffler claw dug down her throat as the image of the Slytherin teenager who she'd not been able to save flitted through her mind.
"Verily."
"Anyway," Minerva continued, arguing about past students and grievances never ended well; Severus had far too much time available to ever give in first. "That didn't mean they needed to send someone so incompetent to deal with it."
"I don't think that's why they sent her..." He tapped a finger against the desk in his portrait.
"You don't?"
"I imagine it was a convenient method of removing her from the Ministry. Give her a taste of power here, keep her out of causing trouble elsewhere."
"That's a very Slytherin idea." Fudge was unlikely to have concocted it himself, but he always had been easily swayed.
"Doesn't mean it isn't true."
The muttering accompanied her all the way to the staff room. Portraits slipping between frames in search of the latest gossip. Would she be like that? Desperately placing bets on the lives of those in the castle to alleviate the boredom. She sincerely hoped not.
The hubbub of staff chatter died instantly as she entered. They were a diverse group melding experience with youth. Some had been there nearly as long as she had. Dependable Filius had quickly been appointed her deputy in the months of rebuilding following the battle. His charms expertise had been invaluable at eliminating some of the darker curses that had left a hoard of unwelcome surprises secreted around the castle.
Hermione glanced up from her book, she smiled at Minerva before a flash of worry flickered across her face. Professor Binns had finally been persuaded that he might enjoy retirement (as much as a ghost could retire) and Hermione had been the perfect replacement as the teacher of History of Magic.
Most surprising of all was how well Draco Malfoy had fitted into the staff last year following Bathsheda Babbling's decision to relocate to Egypt to advance the academic knowledge of runes from the African continent. He wouldn't have been Minerva's first choice for Ancient Runes professor, but the man that had turned up for interview was a far cry from the egotistical boy she remembered. He'd been an easy appointment to make after his exemplary interview lesson and their subsequent discussion.
Minerva clapped her hands together and all eyes turned to her. She flicked a sonorous at her throat to ensure the message carried even to Horace who's hearing had deteriorated with age much to his consternation (and vehement denial).
"As you are likely aware, we have been expecting an inspection from M.I.C.E. for some time now." A few groans echoed off the stone walls. "I've today received an owl that they will be with us in the morning. Just keep doing everything that we are already doing. We will show them what a great and safe school we are. We are fully prepared to be entrusted with the next generation of UK based witches and wizards."
"Two galleons that they are next," Damara Dodderidge said, slamming the glittering golden coins onto the painted table. She snagged a cauldron cake from the plate that Edgar Stroulger had brought with him. Hufflepuffs always managed to secure the best food.
"You really think that one of my Gryffindors would get with a Slytherin," Elizabeth Spriggs (she hated being referred to as the Fat Lady) replied, adding her two galleons to the pile from a pink gloved hand.
"House rivalries are all in the past. Didn't you listen to her talk?" Damara asked. Crumbs tumbled to the table as she took another bite from the delicious cake.
"I'm sorry, it's just, even though she is much more engaging than Cuthbert," Elizabeth started.
"Not like that's difficult," Edgar interjected, running a hand through his auburn hair.
"It's still history and magic. And when you've lived through it once, do you really need to listen through it again?" Elizabeth finished.
"So you think the new Ancient Runes professor has a thing for the History of Magic professor?" Edgar prompted. He added two galleons to the pile. "I can see it, but it'll take time to mature. I don't think they'll act on it until at least Yule."
"They hated each other at school!" Elizabeth snapped. She slammed her hand down against the wood.
"Time has passed. Things have changed. I used to hate you too, you know," Damara nudged Elizabeth in the arm. "Gryffindors are far too brash for my tastes."
"But now…"
"Now I'm stuck with you, so best make the best of it."
"They are still very different though," Valeria Myriadd pondered. She tugged on one of her long braids. "His family would never approve."
"I doubt they approve of him teaching at Hogwarts either. But seeing as his father is in Azkaban I don't think he's got much say," Edgar said.
"Exactly! Just what I was saying. If he's willing to teach here against his family's wishes, a little elicit romance could happily bubble from that cauldron." Damara swept the gathered galleons together and deposited them in an envelope.
"What are you doing?" Hermione demanded. She'd found herself a nice quiet corner in the restricted section of the library away from staff and students alike. She needed to get this lesson perfect; the billywigs having a party in her stomach increased their intensity at the thought of a M.I.C.E. inspector criticising her carefully planned lesson. She did not need irritating blond professors interrupting her hard won preparation time.
"What does it look like I'm doing? We are in a library! I'm searching for a book." Malfoy continued to slowly stalk the shelves, peering at each title over the rims of an, admittedly very attractive, pair of wire spectacles.
"In the restricted section?"
"Yes, Granger, in the restricted section. I can read." He gestured at the large sign above the gates entrance declaring this section off limits to students without express permission from a professor.
"Why would a book on Ancient Runes be in the restricted section?"
"Maybe I'm not searching for a book on Ancient Runes." He had the audacity to wink at her.
"But, but…"
"I'm not up to anything nefarious if that's what you are worried about. Don't get your knickers in a twist."
"I wasn't worried about that," Hermione huffed.
"You wouldn't be the first." For a moment the scared boy that she remembered from the room of requirement, ashen face surrounded by flames was back. Just as suddenly, he was gone, replaced with a stern expression. "If you must know I'm researching potions ingredients."
"But the inspection? Your classes?"
"All prepared. Unlike so many others I do not leave my lesson preparation until the last minute." He ran a finger along the shelf and then plucked out a book. "Potions is how I relax. The gentle simmer, counting the rotations, systematically chopping ingredients. It's the monotony of it all, very calming."
"I have not left my preparation to the last minute!" Hermione protested, warmth creeping across her cheeks.
"And yet here you are… reading…" He flicked the book onto the cover. His pale slender fingers brushed hers as he moved the pages. "…A History of Magic. Granger, surely you've read this before?"
"Of course, fifteen times in fact. But I happen to find reading relaxing."
"And annotating lesson plans?" Malfoy stared pointedly at the parchment in disorganised flurries beside her covered in her untidy scrawl.
"I like to be in control."
"Do you now?"
And before she could say another word he tucked the book under his arm and flitted from the library. Neither noticed the flicker of movement from the huddle of people crushed together in the portrait partially obscured by one of the book shelves.
"I'm telling you, they like like each other," Damara declared gleefully as the assembled group filtered into a larger frame and settled around a table laden with sweet treats.
"One slightly flirty conversation does not a relationship make," Elizabeth snapped.
"He's toying with her," Edgar said. "You saw the effect his parting words had on her, there's no denying the depth of her blush."
"You think he'd risk his job? Who do you think the headmistress would side with - her former star pupil or a Death Eater?" Valeria asked.
"Former Death Eater," Damara replied. "And shhh don't let Minerva hear you call him that, you saw what she did to Phineas."
"Is your appointment wise, professor?" Phineas Nigellus asked, casting an imperious glare at her from his portrait above the fireplace.
"It's Headmistress, and yes, I know what I'm doing," Minerva snapped back. She understood the wisdom in having all of the expertise of the past generations of headmasters and mistresses of Hogwarts to call upon, but some had an unnecessary tendency to stick their wand where it wasn't required.
"I wouldn't have thought you'd have wanted a Slytherin on your staff, particularly one like him," Phineas sneered.
"What is that supposed to mean? I've worked with plenty of Slytherins I respect." Although her respect for this particular former Slytherin was wearing thinner by the minute.
"Well with the imminent inspection. Do you think M.I.C.E. will take kindly to the appointment of a Death Eater? Not very progressive, is it?"
"He is not a Death Eater. And we need a range of backgrounds on the staff team. We can't just sweep all purebloods away with the same broomstick."
"Have you checked his arm?"
"I don't need to! I would remind you that I am the headmistress here and you are not."
"Just giving my wisdom, some of us were better at taking advice from our elders."
"And your advice would be to base everything on prejudice?"
"My advice would be to appoint reputable professors. What is this place coming to, first getting a mu… muggleborn to teach History of Magic of all subjects. And now a Death Eater to teach Ancient Runes."
"That is quite enough!"
Phineas wasn't quick enough to avoid her voiceless silencio. His mouth opened and shut like a gulping plimpy.
"Was that quite necessary, Minerva?" Severus asked from his vantage point on the opposite wall. A solitary raised eyebrow the only change to his usual demeanor.
"Have you come to tell me how to run my school as well?" Minerva huffed. "I can subject you to the same treatment."
"I wouldn't dream of it. It's not like I was ever the headmaster in more than just name."
"You did enough, Severus."
"You are both right about the boy though. He bears the mark upon his arm, but he was never a true Death Eater."
"He's a man now. And I guess you both have that in common."
"He wasn't then. And no, we don't have that in common, not really. Draco was never a Death Eater. Even the day he was marked he didn't truly believe in it. And I… I made a mistake, one I will continue to pay for until the paint finally flakes away from my portrait."
Hermione paced the halls, part night-time patrol and part dissipation of tension. She'd stared at her lesson plans for hours after Minerva's announcement and Malfoy's interruption. But, finally, she'd admitted that there was nothing more she could do.
A burst of hushed giggling emanated from behind one of the tattered tapestries. She raised the lit tip of her wand and drew the fabric back.
Six wide-eyed students stared back at her. A cluster of first and second years from across the houses. The boy at the front's hair rapidly cycled through a range of colours before settling on a dark brown.
"Teddy," Hermione chided. "What in Merlin's name are you doing out after curfew huddled in an alcove?"
"We were playing a game."
"It's called sardines."
"We didn't realise the time."
"Sorry."
A chorus of voices chimed in broken explanations of what they'd been up to. She let out a sigh. "Right, well it's long past bedtime so you all need to go back to your dormitories. That'll be ten points from Hufflepuff, five points from Gryffindor, ten points from Ravenclaw and five points from Slytherin."
The students let out a groan, but they dutifully clambered out of their hiding place and departed towards their respective house dormitories. Hermione allowed a smile to form on her lips. It was nice to see that house rivalries were now limited to the house cup and Quidditch; friendships across houses had become common place.
Their departing footsteps echoed off the stone walls as she continued her patrol. Nearly Headless Nick startled her as he drifted into view through the wall, a forlorn expression on his face.
"What's wrong?" she asked, recovering herself.
"The Bloody Baron has had a conversation with Peeves," Nick explained.
"And that's a problem because?"
"He's deposited himself in the Gryffindor common room and has been teaching the third and fourth years an inappropriate rhyme about me."
"I'll sort it," Hermione told him. She'd not been back into the Gryffindor common room since her sixth year. Some parts of the castle still held memories that felt too difficult to process. She headed that way, the staircases obligingly swinging to grant a quicker route.
Or at least, she thought that's where they were taking her. But instead she found herself on the seventh floor corridor. The tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy still hung across the blackened walls where the Room of Requirement had once been.
She paced outside it, willing her bludgering heart to abate its thudding rhythm. The tinge of smoke hung in the air. An acrid dust caught in the back of her throat.
And then, the door was there. Or at least, a door was there. Small and blue, pristinely painting and incongruous with the charred stonework of its surroundings.
She reached out a hand towards it. Could the castle have healed it? Was it safe?
Only one way to find out.
The silver handle was cool under her fingers; no trace of fiendfyre heated the metal. She twisted it and pulled it open before she could change her mind.
Inside, a crackling fireplace was surrounded by shelf upon shelf of books. Two armchairs faced away from the door. The room has not lost its touch, a quiet space away from students and staff had been exactly what she needed.
She allowed the door to swing shut behind her. Stepping towards the books, she traced her fingers along the ancient spines. She sucked in a deep breath of the comforting book smell.
A throat cleared behind her. Wand immediately in hand, she whirled round. A curse formed upon her lips as she focussed on the intruder in her space.
Draco Malfoy sat in one of the plush red armchairs, a book held open with one hand and his pair of wire spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. He raised the other hand in surrender.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione snapped as she lowered her wand.
"I could ask you the same question," Draco replied mildly. He raised the book he was reading, showing her the title - Pride and Prejudice. "As you can see, I'm reading."
"But that, that's a Muggle book."
"Is it?" Draco clapped his hand over his mouth as if shocked, then he laughed. "I was informed it was a classic, the room provided it for me. It's really quite good, you should read it."
"I… I have."
"Even the castle seems to think they should be together," Damara said. She slipped into her usual chair around the table in the picture hanging in the Great Hall.
"Were you watching them?" Edgar asked.
"If the room provides, who am I to refuse such an opportunity?" And it had provided bountifully.
"So what happened then?" Valeria asked.
"They talked."
"And…"
"And nothing. They just talked."
"A civil conversation does not mean they fancy each other. I've had several civil conversations with you," Elizabeth stated.
"Are you trying to tell me something?" Damara batted her eyelashes and smiled.
"Absolutely not!"
The morning of the inspection dawned in a haze of oppressive fog billowing off the Black Lake. Minerva stared out of the study window at the barely visible trees through the damp mist.
A sudden burst of green sparks erupted from the fireplace, accompanied by the whoosh of an impending floo arrival. Minerva straightened her cloak and turned to greet the visitor.
The wizard that emerged through the flames was a tall, thin man. His greying beard contrasted with his deep brown skin. He stooped to avoid the stones of the mantelpiece. With a quick flick of his wand he removed the dusting of ash from his neatly pressed trousers.
"Dugald, here on behalf of MICE," he said, offering his hand with a smile.
"Minerva, Headmistress of Hogwarts," Minerva replied as she returned Dugald's firm handshake. "I hope you'll find everything in order."
"I'm sure I will," he replied. "I have fond memories of my time here. I was named after a former headmaster of course. And then I was in Gryffindor, but either a little before or after your time depending on how you look at it."
"I never expected to come back as a teacher," Minerva admitted. In the ten years that had passed between her NEWTs and her return as a member of staff she'd enjoyed her work in spell discovery. "But the opportunity arose and it seemed too good to pass up."
"I'm sure it was. How about we get the boring part over with first. Do you have all the paperwork to hand?"
"You need to eat something, Granger," Draco said, pushing a bowl of porridge towards the agitated witch.
"The insurrection was in 1607… the main points… the victory…" Granger continued muttering under her breath her eyes fixed on the table in front of her.
"Granger!" Draco tried a little louder.
She tapped on the table with her fingernails.
He touched her hand lightly and she whirled to face him, wand tip directed at his chest. "Oh!" The wand slipped to her side. "I'm sorry, Malfoy, I was a million miles away."
"No problem, Granger. Just eat."
Granger glared at the mound of food piled on his plate. "How can you eat at a time like this? You are just like Ron!"
"I'm nothing like a Weasley! And I've eaten through far worse. As have you."
She stared at him a moment. Then, she nodded once, picked up her spoon and began to eat.
"Did you see them at breakfast?" Edgar shuffled back around the table.
"Yes, we were all here, as usual," Valeria replied.
"He touched her hand." Damara beamed.
"And she threatened him with her wand," Elizabeth snapped.
"But then she did listen to him. He got through to her where others have failed. Do you remember last year when that parent complained, she didn't eat for a week?"
"Even Minerva couldn't persuade her."
"But he succeeded."
The fifth year students dutifully traipsed into her classroom just before nine o'clock. A couple stifled yawns as they gathered their quills and parchment from their bags. Hermione had done many things to make the class more engaging, but the early morning slot was still a slog for this group of fifteen year olds.
"Today," she announced. "We are going to start a new topic looking at the first wizarding war."
The students straightened in their chairs as she'd expected. Few topics brought as much interest as those of the recent past. The first lesson with a new class always brought with it a barrage of questions, mostly about Harry.
"Professor Granger!" The Slytherin student was almost out of his seat with his hand raised high in the air.
"Yes, umm, Appleton," Hermione replied, flicking through the seating plan in her mind to recall his name.
"Is it true you were at school with Harry Potter?" he asked.
"Yes, that's quite true. But…" She held up a hand. "… That is not what we are focussing on today."
A collective groan echoed off the stone walls. Appleton's hand was raised again.
"Yes," Hermione said, looking at him.
"And Professor Malfoy, was he there too? I heard he was a Death Eater."
"Yes, Professor Malfoy was in our year too. But he wasn't a Death Eater, just a student in Slytherin like you."
"That's not what my dad said," a slight girl sitting at the side muttered.
"Five points from Ravenclaw," Hermione snapped. "I suggest you end this discussion now unless you wish to see how few gems can be left in your house jars by the end of the lesson."
The classroom door thudded against an errant chair as it swung open. All eyes spun to see the visitors. Hermione tugged at her cuff as the headmistress strode in accompanied by her guest.
"Continue as normal," Minerva instructed.
Hermione sucked in a breath and attempted to do just that. "Although the first wizarding war happened in the twentieth century, the statutes that brought about the conditions that allowed it were first implemented in 1606 following the Erkstag insurrection…"
Across the hall and down a winding flight of stairs, Draco surveyed his newest group of attentive third years. Ancient Runes was an optional subject and generally favoured by students in Ravenclaw house. Last year numbers had been down, he suspected due to parents warning their children away from him and his past. But today, he was pleased to find he once again had a full class with students from all houses represented.
"Welcome, wands away," he instructed. "Today we begin our delve into the art of Ancient Runes. This is a unique course amongst those offered at Hogwarts. It does not teach you to cast spells or brew potions, but instead gives you access to the rich history of how those spells and potions came about."
"It's not unique then," a female Ravenclaw student muttered to the Hufflepuff sat beside her.
"Marchby, do share with the class if you've got some insight," Draco said with a plastered on smile.
"Sorry Sir," the girl replied, looking suitably contrite. "It's just you said history, we do that with Professor Granger."
"Ahhh, now that is true. The study of the History of Magic and Ancient Runes are inextricably linked, you are quite right. It's just a shame you decided to mutter it whilst I was talking."
"And in here we have our new class of Ancient Runes students with our newest Professor," Professor McGonagall's voice drifted through the open door.
Draco ignored his heart bludgering against his ribs and continued to teach. He tried not to focus on the mercifully unknown wizard who'd accompanied McGonagall through the door; the possibility that the visitor from the ministry would be a former friend of his father's had swept across his nightmares last night like the cold wind from a dementor's presence.
"She defended him in class. She has to like him." Edgar huffed out as he landed back in the larger picture.
"And he said that their subjects are linked, how perfectly romantic," Valeria said, shuffling back into her seat.
"Maybe they just need a bit more of a push," Damara mused."
"Absolutely not!" Elizabeth slammed her hand on the table. "A bet is a bet, if we interfere then that makes a mockery of the terms."
"Are you okay, Granger?" Draco asked, sitting down next to her on the battered sofa in the staffroom.
"It was 1607, not 1606," she mumbled.
"Granger, it's done. Finished, a slight difference in date really doesn't matter."
"Whatever will they think? Will Minerva need to sack me? All my preparations and I can't even get a simple date correct."
He tapped her lightly on the arm. Her head jerked up to look at him.
"Malfoy, what are you doing here?"
"This is the staffroom, I work here."
"Oh yes, sorry, I was just…"
"Just worrying about the inspection? It's over."
"It's over," she repeated.
"Perhaps it would help to get out of the castle. Take your mind off it a bit."
"Ummm…"
"We could go and get a drink in Hogsmeade? I could do with a tot of fire whiskey."
"But the results?"
"Won't be today."
"Fine, I wouldn't mind a quiet corner in the Three Broomsticks."
It was Draco's turn to shift uncomfortably in his seat. "I, um, I'm not welcome there."
"Oh. That's okay." The flicker of understanding almost looked like pity, but Draco was grateful that Granger made no further comment on the reasons he might not be welcome in that establishment. "We can go to the Hog's Head then."
"Great, let's go."
"Everything seems quite in order here," Dugald said. "It's been lovely to return and see the castle again."
"Do we get our results today?"
"I'll need to write up the report, but I think it's safe to say that I'm very pleased with what I've seen. Since you've taken over there haven't been any of those most unfortunate incidents that plagued your two predecessors, your paperwork is up-to-date and the teaching has been commendable."
"Thank you," Minerva replied, escorting him towards the floo.
"Well it's been quite the delight to wander the halls once more." Dugald scooped up a handful of floo powder. "Hopefully I'll be able to visit again soon." And with that he threw the powder into the fireplace and disappeared in a shower of green sparks.
"Not too soon, I hope," Minerva mumbled to herself as she sank into the red leather armchair and took a deep breath.
"Unfortunate incidents is one way of putting it," Severus drawled as the green flames died down. He'd slunk into his favoured picture and was watching her across the room.
"It would have been much more unfortunate without you in charge, Severus."
"I wish I'd been able to do more."
"You did enough."
"Did you manage to get in?" Damara asked.
"Yes, for a bit until Ariana noticed and kicked me back out," Valeria replied, a russett, reddish-brown spreading across her usually tawny cheeks.
"I thought you were friends?"
"We were, but then there was a bit of a disagreement. She still hasn't forgiven me for not protesting when her brother's portrait was relegated from the headmistress's office."
"I see, nevermind. You still got in for a bit. And?"
"And what?"
"What happened? Did they kiss?"
"I don't know, they were in a corner and I couldn't hear anything. The air was shimmering, I'm fairly sure one of them had cast a muffling charm."
"That'll have been Hermione I imagine," Elizabeth said. "She was a dab hand at them from third year onwards."
"You don't need to be able to hear them to know if they kissed though!"
"They were in the corner, far away from the pictures. Their heads were very close together, but I don't think… actually, there was a moment, just before I had to leave."
"What happened?" Edgar has reappeared in the picture too.
"He definitely had hold of her hand."
"Aww, that's very cute, and means this is mine." Damara held the envelope of galleons aloft.
"I really don't know why you want them, it's not like we have anything to spend them on," Elizabeth muttered.
"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy my win!"
"I've had a lovely evening," Hermione said, looking down at their entwined fingers. Neither had moved their hands since they'd inched them together.
"It doesn't have to end here," Draco suggested.
"I guess it doesn't." Hermione nodded at Ariana and she bustled over to the staring portrait, ushering her out of the frame. "Perhaps we could go somewhere without as many onlookers."
"Onlookers?" Draco peered round at the almost empty pub.
"The portraits. I think they've been following us."
"And why would they do that?"
"Boredom." Hermione shrugged.
"We could give them something to talk about?" He raised his hand towards her face, but then it fell away.
Hermione forced a laugh as the thudding of her heart intensified. "I guess, but if I'm honest, I'm done with being the subject of gossip." Drawing on her Gryffindor courage, she suggested, "Let's go back to the castle. I've not got any picture frames in my accomodation, but I do have a very nice bottle of wine."
Draco responded by pulling her to her feet.
They departed. Their hands remained linked together until they reached the castle once more.