But now, consumed with worry at his infirmary bedside, she finally accepted, on an emotionally conscious level, all she'd once cautiously skirted where Harry was concerned. He had done it for her, years ago, if she believed the elves and the witches of the house. She couldn't wrap her mind around how he came to that conclusion, but she was deeply fascinated by the scenario. One day, she would make him tell her all about it. It might become her favourite bedtime story ... when they were tucked up in bed, together, hopelessly and endlessly tangled together.