Almost

Chapter 28: Braid

"Do you want me to stay?" Grouse asked Crawley as he helped Katherine through the door to the townhome.

"No," he told her, "I've got it from here. Go get some sleep."

"Thanks for coming tonight, Winnie," Katherine said, her voice as droopy as her eyelids.

"She's going to need a lot of Advil," Grouse laughed. "And even more if she keeps calling me Winnie."

Ezra smiled at her as she apparated away.

"Come on," he said to Katherine, pulling the jacket from her shoulders and leaving it by the door. "Let's get you to bed."

She groaned. Her face was numb and tingly, but her feet felt too heavy to pick up. "I told you—no bed, no hangover."

"I don't think that's how that works. But there is a potion. I'll make it in the morning."

"Hair of the dog?"

"No," he said kindly. "I don't think that's what you want."

"Where are my shoes," she asked suddenly, looking down at her dirty, mud and grass-stained feet.

"Oh, how the tables have turned," Crawley said as he pointed his wand at her feet until they were clean. He went into the kitchen and started fishing around for a glass to fill with water. "They're in my office. By Monday morning, they'll be stuck to the floor."

"Heels are just a symptom of the patriarchy anyways," Katherine muttered, repeating something her mother used to yell every time she had to wear them.

"What?" Crawley asked. He looped Katherine's arm around his shoulder, holding the full glass in his opposite hand, and helped her towards the stairs.

"Heels are... you know they... huh?"

"Yep, you need to get to bed. Let's go, just a few more steps..."

Katherine began humming Mr. Brightside as he guided her into the bathroom. He had her sit on the edge of the tub and began digging around.

"Where is that thing you use to take off your makeup?" he asked. "That towel thing?"

"There's a clean one in the top drawer," she sang, in tune with the song. He laughed as she continued, bobbing her head dramatically when she reached the chorus.

"Look up, Mrs. Brightside," he directed. He slipped her glasses off and wiped the reusable makeup wipe across her face, far gentler than she ever was. "What's next?"

"Moisturizer," she trilled. "Tan tube on the counter."

He handed her the bottle, and she squeezed a dime sized amount into her fingers, running them haphazardly on her face until he pushed her hands away to help.

"Okay. Next?"

"I think I can manage to brush my own teeth."

"If you say so." He walked into her room as she fumbled with her toothbrush, handing her the glass of water and a clean pair of pajamas when she was done.

"I'll be out here when you're ready."

He closed the door behind him, but she could still hear him humming along with her. She carefully slipped out of the dress, which fell heavily to the ground. She used the restroom and then pulled on the navy pajama set he had brought her. It was cozy and something about the laundry detergent made it smell like the cabin.

"Ready," she mumbled, stepping sluggishly back into the room. Crawley was leaning against her desk, the sleeves of his button up rolled up to his elbows and blonde waves now disheveled and hanging in his face.