Chapter 1
Day1
Theo woke due to somebody stirring next to him. He opened his eyes trying to figure out how he had landed in the bed he was currently lying in-so obviously not his own fourposter with curtains in Nott Manor. As hard as he tried, he drew a blank-no recollection of alcohol excesses and flirting with unsatisfactorily married women at some function or party, no gathering with friends that resulted in intake of suspicious recreational potions. As far as remembered he had spent the previous evening in front of the fireplace in his study, comparing a Muggle university textbook on quantum physics with Webbster’s Treatise on Theoretical Magic.
His train of thought was interrupted by a hand tentatively touching his shoulder, the person next to him sitting up abruptly and shining a light into his face. Theo automatically reached out for his wand that he usually placed under whichever pillow he ended up resting his head on while realizing at the same time that he was likely dealing with a Muggle- no mumbling of a Lumos, no wand tip illumination, but what was probably a mobile phone torch. Theo felt for a second smug about his deduction skills and his quite up to date knowledge of Muggle technology.
“Sorry, what time is it?” he enquired, keeping to a whisper – longstanding habit from his history of bedding married witches.
“English….who..vhat..vhy? not important..later..let’s get out of here fast-and very quietly.. my husband..” was the reaction-female voice-Germanic sounding accent, that elicited in Theo no recollection of a face - or a body, considering they had apparently shared a bed.
Well, while Theo had no memory of the how he had landed in this particular situation, it was similar to ones he had dealt with before. Just in case she was a Muggle it would be a new variation of an old theme. More likely a Muggle-born, he thought, not for blood-purity consideration, despite his grandfather having been the foremost expert on the topic of wizard ancestry and purity of the same, but more for the fact that he had so far never hit it off with a Muggle woman before, not enough common grounds for conversation, while having to miss out on his seemingly most important attraction to witches of whatever background-being Lord Nott, a name, a fortune.
So Theo picked up his clothing from the floor, put on socks, slipped into his trousers-he was still in his boxers-, pulled over the T-shirt, fastened his belt, and dressed his pullover on top. At last, he slipped his wand that he had indeed found under the pillow in its respective place inside the sleeve of his pullover. There was no sign of his shoes and coat, so he leaned onto the windowsill and waited for the woman to finish dressing.
The room was rather dark, with blinds being still drawn, just some faint light slipping in from their borders - so he could not make out too much detail in the dimness other than that she was rather tall and not really slim, much to what was to his taste in women really, as he was never one attracted to small and fragile-looking girls. Actually, anyone classifying as girl rather than woman was not his type.
This woman’s movements were hasty, moving from the bed to what looked like a chair with a rather large heap of clothing on it to the wardrobe, with deliberate care to the closing of the sliding doors. Then she opened a drawer of what was probably a bedside table, slapped something in her face and then retrieved a container of shape and function unknown to Theo, reached under the clothing covering the upper part of her body and waved it under one and then the other armpit. The movement allowed some fresh, but not identifiable fragrance drift towards the wizard confirming the rather strong Muggle-ness of it all. The woman placed the container pack, closed the drawer picked something up from the bedside table and slowly opened the door. She waved Theo out of the bedroom through a narrow corridor into what must have been the entrance. It was rather easy to move without making any noise as all the floors were of polished stone cold under his soles completely lacking the creaking floorboards common to basically all homes in the UK. They reminded him of the floors in the Tuscan villa of his friend Blaise that he had visited a few times.
The entrance was slightly better lit due to a small window in an adjacent room that was not darkened. Theo found his shoes next to the door that contained several locks and his jacket on the back of a chair opposite to the door, which he sat down onto to fasten his laces Muggle-style. As long as he could not be positive that he was dealing with a witch he did not want to risk the use of magic. The woman waited for him finishing the tying of his laces before opening the entrance door. They sneaked wordlessly several floors down a staircase, slid through a house door till reaching a narrow residential street with cars parked tightly to one side. Theo registered the Italian license plates (why would he be in Italy?) while following closely behind the fair-haired woman which hurried a few semidetached houses down to the end of the street, accompanied by barking of a dog that had noted the presence of humans in the neighborhood, and around a corner, where she slowed and turned to face the wizard.
“Hi, English. I am Agnes. Let’s go to de nearest bar and den you explain me vhy I found you in my bed dis morning.”
Green eyes fixing Theo through glasses. He must be in Italy for sure, there, he knew thanks to his friend Blaise being half-Italian, the places called bar doubled as coffee shops. Typical for him to be in Italy and have ended up with a Nordic type he mused upon seeing the rising sunlight reflected golden in the fine fair hair of the probably German, - and Agnes is quite a witchy name after all, but what he said was “Hi Agnes, I am Theo. And indeed, you are correct, I am English.”
The warm smile was all over her face that was sufficiently wrinkled to have Theo guessing her age – despite absence of grey hair- being in the mid 40s, around his own age.
“You must be an educated man considering de crisp vay you talk-.. something I enjoyed to hear vhen I used to live in London. So vhat is it you do?”
the pronunciation she used was “Lunden”, like Londoners do. She ushered Theo across another residential street and a sharp wiff of decay hit his nose when they passed some wastebin containers.
“For how long did you live there, in London, I mean?”
”for almost 10 years”
She answered with a slight sadness in her voice not looking in his face.
“So you must have liked it there.”
This insight got a reaction, she lifted the head and looked at him in surprise.
“Why did you leave?”
“Oh I loved living dere”, her enthusiasms was palpable. “you don’t feel a stranger, because everyone is. but vith the second son born and fresh out of job it vas time to leave.”
She clarified, slowing her pace, face and shoulders turned towards him, studying him.
“But you haven’t answered any of my questions yet. -the bar is just down dese stairs, around the corner.”
Theo took advantage in the change of subject to postpone talking about himself, instead amused about the polyglot jumble performance of the woman talking English with Germanic accent while waving emphatically her hands like Italians do, he stopped and had a look around. The top of the staircase at the end of the street they just had walked along allowed for a view on a piazza with a church and a park, the open bay of the Mediterranean sea on the right side horizon.
"The sea is to the west" he remarked, but this doesn’t look Tuscany, nor anywhere more to the south..“Where are we?”
“You don’t know?” She looked intrigued.
“Dis is Trieste. You are looking at de Adria. Straight ahead to de south is Istria.”
Theo had only a faint recollection of Italian geography details, but if the Adria was to the West, so had to be Venice. He had not been aware that there were parts on the East coast of the Adriatic sea that were Italian territory.
“Come, Theo, let’s have a coffee.”
Agnes descended the stairs with a light spring in her steps that made Theo smile and sped up towards the bar recognisable by the chairs and small tables on the sidewalk in front of it. She was walking briskly and Theo enjoyed not to having to temper his walking speed, something he was used to doing when in company as he was taller and with longer legs than most.
Equipped with two cappuccinos and two croissants they made themselves comfortable. Theo stretched his legs, closed his eyes for a moment to drink in the light and warmth of early morning sun in his face before opening them again and taking a sip of his coffee. Agnes, he noticed was observing him critically.
“So, how comes that you were in my bed this morning?”
“You don’t know?”
“No. yesterday evening I prepared dinner, checked de homework of my younger son, spent some time vorking on de computer, den cleaned up de kitchen and vent to bed. To find an Englishman dere a few hours later. who seems not even to know in vhich city he woke up in. Please explain.”
She was focusing on him with interest.
“It is a mystery to me as well.” Theo confessed. “Magic?“
He tried to sound jokingly. Agnes however seemed to consider this.
“Seems to be de most reasonable explanation. As crazy as it sounds. Maybe I have to discard my notion dat magic does not exist…as a working hypothesis it fits best.”
“Working hypothesis?” asked Theo.
“Sorry for de vocabulary, I am a scientist.” she offered as explanation.
”A scientist?”
“Yes”
“May I ask you another question?” Theo ventured and continued when she nodded affirmatively “Why did you react so calmly to finding unexpectedly a man unknown to you in your bed? Should you not have screamed or threatened me with a wan..- gun or knife or called the police?”
That got her chuckling.
“Not to insult you or anything, but I did not for a second feel threatened by your presence. There vas nothing in your… let’s call it for lack of vords ‘emotional spectrum’ dat suggested that you are a danger to me.”
“Emotional spectrum. Spectrum as in aura?”
Theo was intrigued. He had been slightly disappointed on her confession to being a scientist, as interesting as it was that she accepted existence of magic as a hypothesis, he still hoped for her to turn out more than a Muggle.
Why would it make a difference?
Because he felt extremely at ease in her presence, no pressured to try to behave however he, a Nott, was expected to, no past, no unsavory family connections, no sacred 28 prestige, no Nott fortune, just enjoying the sun in his face, an Italian coffee and having a pleasant chat with a passably attractive woman, who not aware of the baggage that comes with being a Nott, was just keeping him company for the sake of the curiosity of their situation and on grounds of his unthreatening ‘emotional spectrum’ rather than with some ulterior motive in mind.
Theo could not remember when he had been so relaxed -ever. And Agnes explained with lots of handwaving and mispronouncing consonants w and th how as a child she had developed a theory about people interacting with each other with emotion waves and that some people had strong ones and others basically none and how she tried to tune in into people’s wavelengths to make them like her and how you (well she) could change the wavelengths of others to her will.
Well, if this is not a witchy thing to do- what is, Theo mused, contemplating suddenly if she was doing that to him too and if that was why he was so comfortable in her presence. When he asked, she grinned, eyes glittering with amusement. There were some amber specs in the green.
“I do not have to put any effort” she confessed “your vaves are quite in harmony with mine, no vavelength tveaking necessary.”
She seemed totally serious. But then she gave him a wink and a cheeky smile.
“Or maybe this is because I enjoy talking to an attractive young Englishman with crisp pronunciation.”
“Well emotional wave harmony statements are an unusual flirting tactic.. and I doubt that I am much younger than you.”
She gave him an approving smile.
“But really enough me talking. Who are you, Mr Theo, de Englishman?”
She leaned forward, all curious, eyebrows raised and hands cupping the coffee mug. Large, long fingered hands, that covered the mug entirely. And Theo wondered for a moment how much contact surface they would be able to provide when on him. He raised his gaze back into her eyes and cleared his throat.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After his morning coffee with the unusual muggle woman, Theo apparated to the Florence branch of the Embassy for British Wixen, the one he always used for his visits to Blaise, although the Venice one was probably nearer, but he had never used it before and therefore no coordinates or pictures in mind to aim at for apparating. From Florence he flooed to his London apartment. An owl from Draco was waiting for him.
>>Theo,
>>I hope your crazy research did not let you forget that we have a lunch appointment today. I might be half an hour late.
>>Draco.
A glance at the clock on the mantelpiece told him that he had ample time to get out of his muggle clothes, take a shower and shave. He was contemplating on what exactly to tell Draco of the unusual happening of this morning. He had confessed to the woman that he as well had no idea of how he had ended up in a different country than he had gone to bed the evening before, and had tried to keep information on who he was in general as close to the truth as possible (I am writing a thesis in the field of quantum physics…which he dared mentioning only after Agnes informed him that her research field was in biomedical sciences) without giving away the Wizarding World. Luckily, Agnes had to leave early to return to her home and children (she did not mention the husband) before leaving for university, but not after exchanging mobile number contacts with the intent of meeting up soon to puzzle out the strange event of the morning.
A lot had changed in the last 20 odd years since the defeat of Voldemort. Quite a few magic Wixen, especially the younger generation, that was either raised with enough contact to the Muggle world or had been taught with a completely overhauled curriculum (thanks to the efforts of none other than our own famous Muggle-born war heroine Hermione Granger) up-to date muggle studies, had recognized the convenience of a mobile phone over owl post. Of course, Purebloods like the Malfoys would never switch from Wixen tradition to Muggle technology…
When Theo adjusted the silk tie of his favorite set of traditional robes- elegant, but not too formal gave himself an appraising look in the mirror (that was charmed to silence-Theo could not stand mirrors commenting on his appearances), it was already time to apparate to the French restaurant he was meeting Draco in.
Theo had just ordered an aperitive when Draco arrived. He settled into the chair opposite Theo with a sigh.
“Merlin, I do not have a lot of time, in less than an hour the preliminary meeting on funding of Magical primary schools starts..By the way, could you please move your ass into the Wizengamot and vote for a change? I really think it is wrong to have the primary school exclusively publicly funded. I am trying to negotiate requiring a minimum of 60% of total funding from private donations.. It is very important that us on the top have a say on how education is handled.”
“Us?“
Theo sighed. Malfoy was constantly crusading for the Pureblood agenda, subtly so, of course, and he seemed not to understand that Theo could not care less. He would never understand how the relationship between Draco and Granger could work. They were actively pursuing opposing political agendas. Petition against each other's bills, trying to outsmart each other in every Wizengamot session. Did they just drop politics at home to transform on command into a sweet romantic couple, or did they fight all the time, including in bed?
Although the Ministry of Magic had confiscated more than half of the Nott assets as reparations for the active contribution of his father to the losing side of the war, he had still access to such a fortune that he could afford living the rest of his life comfortably inside one of the secondary Manors that had belonged to his family, dedicating himself to reading and studying. He even had a few house elves in service. He liked to stay under the radar – a strategy he had already rather successfully employed as a student at Hogwarts- and outside of Society gossip columns. Quite a feat considering that he should have been one of the most sought-after bachelors in the country. He might have started a rumor in his midtwenties when he despaired of the increasingly aggressive courting attempts of female and male Purebloods of all ages - the younest suitor had been nine, the oldest 87 - that he was infertile and that the Nott fortune was cursed to disappear with the demise of the last Lord. This way, all his romantic relationships were short-lived and with no expectations to be otherwise from the set-go. Given his rather unhappy childhood he had also no urge to reproduce and having to deal with fatherhood.
Draco, on the other hand, was the opposite of staying under the radar – always in the center of action drawing constantly attention to himself. Maybe it was this difference in character that kept the childhood friendship alive over decades. Draco had also married young, had a son that was now in the probably last year in Hogwarts, Theo never remembered how old the offspring of his friends and acquaintances were and barely could recall the names of the brats. Astoria had died from a blood curse a few years after the birth of the baby. Draco had first been a dedicated stay at home dad, but when his son had entered Horwarts, he had taken up politics. Enter Granger. And the front pages of the Daily Prophet.
“Anything new from your life?”
Draco asked in the midst of the main course. Theo wiped his mouth with the napkin and took a sip from the wineglass.
“I woke up this morning in a small town in Italy with no recollection whatsoever of how I had arrived there.”
Draco nearly dropped the fork with quiche.
“What? Are you hurt? Have you alerted the DMLE and made an appointment with St Mungo’s to check for possible obliviation?”
“Draco, how often do I have to tell you that one cannot obliviate a Nott?”
“As long as you don’t tell me how this is possible, I do not believe you.”
“For the hundredth’s time, I cannot tell you- well guarded family secret.. And no, I am completely fine. I think it was a very unusual magical accident.”
Draco raised his eyebrows waiting for further explanations.
“I woke up next to a Muggle and we both remembered having gone to bed alone.”
“Aaah, that is different. Highly attractive female Muggle?” Draco smirked. “And recreational potions or muggle equivalent in a club before? You lucky bastard. Let your poor faithfully married friend have at least the joy of listening to the saucy adventures of his friend’s bachelor live.”
“Draco, as I said, we each remember going to our respective beds alone the evening before, so no drug induced amnesia.”
“But attractive female Muggle, at least? In Italy you say… so petite, olive skin, dark curls, sultry eyes,..”
“Stop it Draco. No, quite tall, pale skin, blond hair.”
“A Nordic type for the Nordic Nott? Eye color?”
“Misty green with amber specs.”
The words were out before Theo could stop them.
“Misty green with amber specs?” Draco drawled, “that is rather specific. So you were not only waking up in that bed.”
“No, stop the direction of your thoughts immediately.” Theo commanded. “Nothing happened. We sneaked both out immediately after waking early in the morning and had a rather pleasant chat over a coffee trying to figure out the situation we found ourselves in.”
“A pleasant chat with a muggle, you say? Are you the real Theodore Nott? Do I have to check for Polyjuice usage?”
“Well, at least I think she is muggle.”
“What means you think so?”
“Well, she was talking about emotional wavelengths and manipulating them and I am wondering a bit, because I felt so at ease in her company..”
Draco looked thoughtful and suddenly stiffened.
“How near to Hungary were you?” He demanded.
“Hungary? Why? Oooh. You mean a Szeged witch? But do they exist for real? But why would she tell me about the emotional manipulation? Does this not defeat the purpose? And she was not that attractive, late forties I would say.. I mean not unattractive, but if the myth is to be believed, a Szeged witch would be able to make her appearance really striking. Also, she said that she had two sons. According to legend, Szeged witches eat their male offspring.” Theo argued.
“According to legend. Theo, please report this to the DMLE. There is something off. You are affected, the way you are defending the woman. Never forget, you are quite a catch, and there might be witches that are able to notice that your infertility is a lie and will try to trick you.”
“How can you be sure that I am not infertile?” Theo asked jokingly.
“Oh please, that and the rumor that the Nott fortune disappears with the death of the last Lord is just too convenient a fact to keep suitors at bay. This is just so you. But don't change argument, there might be people with a grudge because of your father. Oh no, I have to run, - lunch is on my account” Draco called to the waiter.
“Please be reasonable, Theo, DMLE!”
And Draco was off.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Theo entered the library. After Draco’s exit he had not gone to the DMLE, but decided to do some background research. First, he took an atlas, searched for the double page of the political map of Europe, finding Hungary east to Austria, Slovenia and Croatia, the latter two stretching towards the Eastern Coast of the Adriatic sea. Theo found Trieste pocketed into Slovenia, connected to the rest of Italy only via a very slim strip of Adriatic coast. Too lazy to pull out one of the enormous tomes of the self-updating encyclopedia that were part of the rather vast Nott library he opened his latest muggle technology toy – a laptop on which he was writing his thesis on magical theory and which he had also managed to provide with internet access.
He typed “Trieste” into the google search engine which he thought was one of the most magical things the Muggles had ever come up with. The Wikipedia page (the Muggle equivalent to the self-updating encyclopedia, really) for Trieste informed him about the fact that it had been for over 500 years part of the Habsburg Monarchy, first as Holy Roman Empire, than the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. Hungarian, here we go.. Theo had a sinking feeling. He wanted confirmation, so he sent a message to Agnes’ mobile phone.
>>Hi, here Theo. How are you? Just read up on Trieste - now I am curious, as you are not Italian, are you Austro-Hungarian or Holy Roman?<<
Instead of waiting for an immediate return (which he did not really expect, Agnes had for sure other priorities) he made himself on the search for information on Szeged witches. There were some anecdotal references in Children’s story books, basically providing the extend of information he already possessed: about the beauty and allure, the fast-deteriorating mental health status of their selected victims and the ritualistic sacrifice of the male offspring.
When Theo’s phone announced via a soft bing an incoming message he had still not found any serious material, on the line of research studies with cited cases of victims.
He sighed and looked at his phone.
>>All of the above, especially the holy<<
it read, followed by a smiley.
Damn, I should have not asked the question in a playful way, of course she would answer with equivalent sentiment.
A second message appeared:
>>I was raised roman catholic. St Agnes is the achetypical female martyr.<<
This was followed by a link to the Wikipedia page of St Agnes.
Theo followed the link.
Patron saint of chastity, virgins and victims of sex abuse… and gardeners for some reason. Aside of the dying instead of having sex aspect, he also noticed St Agnes described as particularly beautiful, and that when dragged around naked she grew hair on her body during prayer (which in Rome at 300 BC must have been in Latin… damn if this does not sound like using a spell), her striking men with blindness that tried to rape her, and that the wood under the stake they wanted to burn her on did not take fire.
In short, a witch.
>>Raised?<< He answered.
>>I had a major faith crisis at the age of five, deciding that God as portrayed in the Old testament is a capricious tyrant, no matter how often all the adults repeated that he loved us.<<>>Ok maybe I did not call it capricious back then, but you get the idea.<<>>And they had all the time and opportunity to brainwash me- I was in a catholic private school from age 3-18. Did not change my opinion, though.<<
Theo smiled at the last message. That one sounded exactly like the impression of personality Agnes had made on him.
He was however quite concerned about the playful messages; while strengthened his suspicion that he was dealing with a witch thus explaining why he felt not out of his comfort zone (at all) as usually with Muggles, he could not disprove that he had gotten acquainted with a Szeged witch…
>>And the Austria-Hungarian part?<< He ventured.
>>I am a product of the Habsburg monarchy- part Austrian, part Slavic, part German, part Hungarian.<<
>>That sounds like you have extensive knowledge of your family tree. You know my grandfather wrote what is considered "the bible" on a specialized part of English nobility. I had to memorize them all as child.<<
The reply came as voice message.
“Hi Theo. I don’t know if a phone call vould be disturbing, dat’s vhy a voice message. I really enjoyed de part of you memorizing family trees.”
She was laughing. Somehow the sound reminded Theo of a glockenspiel.
“I mean, sorry for you as child, but I can really imagine it: a large library in a Manor vith dark vooden bookshelf up to de ceiling, very old and massive tomes on de shelfs and you as child dressed like a little lord, you know, adult style with a green tie, pouring over a family tree vith portraits.. a lot of dem vith pointy hats for some reason.. parchment spread out on a massive table vith candles. Funny, candles in a library, less a fire hazard, more a guarantee for a fire I vould say.”
Again laughing.
“Anyvay, it vas fun texting you. I have a meeting in five minutes.”
Then teasing: “Bye, Lord Theo.” More laughter- then the voice message ended.
While listening Theo had grown whiter and whiter in the face. Manor.. green tie… pointy hats.. magic candles spelled to not burn paper.. and she called me Lord. Merlin’s Beard. A witch, 100% certainty. One that was able to scry into the past. And manipulate emotions. And knows that I am a Lord! Ok, maybe she cannot scry, but then had detailed information on him by other means. No, no, no, no, no, no. Draco was right. He had to contact the law enforcement on his -as it seemed now- temporary kidnapping by a suspected Szeged witch.
A further consultation of the online Muggle encyclopedia revealed that Szeged was a town in Hungary with witch trials famous enough to be called Szeged Witch Trials. That settles doubts about the existence of Szeged witches. Even Muggles had noticed them.
But, why does she seem to be astonished about the candles? And the pointy hats? Theo silenced the voice of doubt. Along with the disappointment that he had not made a friend, that the very pleasant company had been fake.
He had to be clever about this, he needed to talk to an Auror that was open-minded enough to consider mobile phone evidence. Maybe Potter. Theo seemed to remember that Potter was Head of the Investigative Unit in the meantime. Blaise will know. After all, Luna worked for the Ministry now and probably provided the latest workplace gossip when coming over. Those two were basically living together.
Theo noticed that it had become quite late. And he was hungry. And he needed a drink. And he wanted to switch off for a moment. Tomorrow I am owling Blaise.He is the best to ask about whom to approach. He is always carefully keeping acquaintances, collecting international contacts, seen at all charity events. Everybody knew him and he knew everybody.
The house elf served a light supper in the dining room, as usual, and despite Theo’s constant insistence to use the tea table in the drawing room which was big enough for one. The Nott house elves, however, systematically ignored Theo’s attempts to change routines established decades earlier by his mother and he had the suspicion they would only be willing to make any changes once ordered by the next Lady Nott.
Which there will never be….
Theo feared that he would have sooner or later resign to the fact that as Lord Nott he could somehow not overrule orders reserved to be given by a Lady Nott.
Maybe I can be Slytherin about it. I order tea in the drawing room and ask to be given food that can serve as supper...It might work.
Theo hummed to himself, content about maybe having found a work-around for a -let's face it- ridiculously unimportant problem. Still his mood was slightly improved.
Later, Theo found himself in his favorite dark green leather armchair in front of the fireplace nursing a whiskey. He was staring into the flames, something that never failed to relax him. Not even when there was the war on and “his” side (well actually his father’s side, nobody ever bothered asking him his opinion) seemed to be winning and when his recruitment and marking had been looming.
He relaxed into the solitude, which he would aways prefer over company-any company. He did not even keep pets for company- he just had Gudrun the owl, and the elves living at the Manor, and he kept interactions with them to a minimum.
A flashback of stretching into the Italian sunshine this morning, a cappuccino instead of the whiskey, and the focus of the blonde woman on him, with emotions humming in harmony. He should have known something was wrong when he was able to relax so much in presence of another being, the more so of a woman. Which he usually categorized into exciting, annoying or boring. Exciting normally turned fast into one of the other two categories. Boring was an absolute no-no and the annoying ones had increased substantially since he had taken up the Lordship.
And the Szeged witch had not really fallen in any of the three categories. Clearly a red flag. He should have noticed. Too good to be true.
Blaise. Blaise would know who could be of help. Theo decided to contact his friend only the next day. He finished his drink and went to bed.