A/N: a lot of people requested a sequel, and i happen to really like Emma Knight, so here it is!
so, it might be slightly difficult for you as a reader if you are starting with this story.
if i were you, i would read Love Me or Hate Me, so you understand Draco and Emma's relationship and the things Emma had to face.
^_^ here you go!
fyi, i just edited this. i wanted to change her Patronus at the last minute, haha.
Insanity Tastes Like Vanilla
Emma Knight woke up next to a blonde-haired boy, and promptly fell out of bed.
"Ow!" She rubbed her head gingerly. "If I get one more bruise, it's going to look like you're abusing me."
Laughing, Draco Malfoy rolled onto his side and looked down at his girlfriend, who, despite looking very peeved, was adorably rumpled. He sat up, the covers slipping off of his shirtless chest.
If he's not wearing pants, I'm screaming rape, she told herself, watching him.
He was indeed wearing pants, and she was fully clothed, as was always the case; once they'd begun sharing a bed, Emma had set ground rules. One of them being that lower regions must always be clothed. Always. He walked around to the other wide of the bed, holding out his hand.
"No one would believe I abuse you, baby," he said, smiling as he pulled her to her feet. "They know I'm too hopelessly in love."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Your words say 'love'. Your actions say 'hate'." He raised an eyebrow, and she lifted the hem of her shirt slightly. There, etched on her skin, was a small jagged scar.
Draco burst out laughing. "You're still upset about that? So it was my first time using Sectumsempra. I can't believe you're holding it against me. It's been weeks!"
"It has not been weeks," she protested. "It's been a week."
"Regardless. Potter's first time using Sectumsempra ended in me laying in a pool of my own blood on a bathroom floor. Snape had to sew me up. I think you should give me a little credit."
Scowling, Emma threw a pillow at him. He caught it, and said, "Real mature, Knight."
Summer had started a little less than ten days ago. Sometimes, Emma still found it hard to wrap her mind around the fact that she was finished at Hogwarts. Okay, technically she hadn't finished her education--she'd left at the end of her sixth year and hadn't bothered to return. But anyway, on top of that, she was spending the summer at Malfoy Manor with her boyfriend. She'd contacted her grandfather, told him she was moving out. He hadn't really cared; she'd disappeared for a year, not bothering to try and keep contact. As far as he was concerned, she was dead.
If someone had told her two years ago that she would fall in love with her enemy, live through a Killing Curse, and end up living for two months under the same roof as Lucius Malfoy, she would have had them committed to St. Mungo's. Draco gave her a small kiss, murmured something she didn't quite catch about breakfast, and entered the bathroom with a pile of clothes in hand. Emma smiled after him. She dressed herself quickly, careful to charm her arm so her Dark Mark couldn't be seen, and paused to look for a moment at the navy leather-bound diary she'd hidden in the top drawer of the dresser.
She opened it, reading the words on the inside cover. "For your sixth year at Hogwarts." Her father's handwriting swirled across the page, the ink slightly faded. He'd bought seven such journals, each in a different color, the year she turned ten. She'd thought at first it was an apology for missing her actual birthday, but then she realized it was so she could have a diary a year to document her school life. Underneath the navy blue sat the prettiest of all seven, and the only one that remained completely blank. It was silver, with black filigree sloping on the cover in an intricate E. The inside cover didn't say "For your seventh year." She supposed her father knew that the same inscription would get boring and repetitive. No, it said "Live your life, Em." She had never understood the significance, but it made her smile all the same. She closed the drawer, bounding down the stairs of the manor and practically skipping into the kitchen.
The Malfoy kitchen was surprisingly cozy, considering the spawn of the devil (Lucius) lived here. Of course, on this side of the manor, they weren't in the formal kitchen, which was a much larger room. This kitchen was just off from the side door of the house, with nothing separating it from a small living room with a fireplace and armchairs. A sliding glass door led out onto a small porch, connected to the huge swimming pool in the back. The kitchen was basic, a stove and refrigerator and a few counters and cabinets. It occurred to Emma that possibly the only reason this kitchen was here was for Mrs. Malfoy. Lucius certainly wouldn't have wanted this in his grand house.
Narcissa Malfoy gave her a smile. "Morning, dear."
"Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy," she sang.
Draco's mother had warmed immediately to the young girl, from the moment that she and Lucius had found Draco in the courtyard of Hogwarts, holding Emma in his arms. Draco explained how Emma had bravely stepped in front of the Killing Curse meant for him, strengthening Narcissa's like for her. Lucius had, at first, threatened to "kill her properly", only acquiescing when both his son and his wife immediately turned their wands on him.
Draco, who was following behind her on the stairs, said, "Your hair's really messy, Emma."
She sighed. "I know, I know."
She tried in vain to flatten the insufferable poof that her hair had become. After a particularly destructive sixth year--involving the Cruciatus Curse, breaking into Azkaban, the death of her father, the Dark Mark, and more or less witnessing the death of Dumbledore--she had dyed it brown and streaked it with green and cut a good deal of it off. It now stood in about five different directions, giving new meaning to the term "bed-head".
Narcissa winced. "Do you...like your hair like that? That color?"
Emma grumbled and said, "No, not really. It looks like grass and mud. I meant for it to be black. But I was always terrible at Transfiguration, nearly failed my O.W.L.--"
Draco's mother raised her wand. "What would you like? Blonde like your mother? Black like your father?"
"I like it dark," Draco protested.
Ignoring him, Narcissa flicked her wand. The brown and green faded, leaving Emma's hair the shimmering golden blonde it had always been. After a moment of contemplation, and upon seeing her son's crestfallen face, Narcissa waved her wand again, and several black streaks appeared in the seventeen-year-old's hair. She looked into the mirror hanging in the stairway and squealed excitedly.
"Your father may not love it," Narcissa weakly told her son.
"Oh, who cares what Lucius thinks?" Emma snapped. She clapped her hand over her mouth, looking horrified. "Sorry! Habit!"
"You're apologizing for snapping about my father?" Draco stared at her, wide-eyed. "Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?"
Emma shrugged. "Well, he's your father, even if he is a damn bastard," she grumbled. "And I need to get on his good side so he won't try to hex me every time you're not around..."
"Language, dear," said Narcissa reproachfully.
"Sorry!" Emma repeated, her face coloring.
"Anyway, Lucius won't be back for another month, so you needn't worry about him just yet."
Draco winked at his girlfriend even as his mother continued, "Oh! Blaise and that Parkinson girl are coming over today."
"Really?" asked Draco, furrowing his brow. "Why?"
"They're going to help you watch the house for a few weeks while I meet your father in Scotland." Narcissa waved her wand again, and a suspended silver knife buttered the last piece of a large stack of toast. "Emma, would you like tea?"
"Actually, I'm more of a coffee girl." Emma winced apologetically.
"That's quite alright, I'm sure I can find some coffee."
Emma thanked her, watching as an the Malfoy's owl flew gently in through the open kitchen window. The owl dropped the mail on the counter in front of her, then flew to Draco's arm, where it was stroked softly by Draco's long fingers. Emma unwrapped the large bundle of letters and magazines wrapped around the newest issue of the Daily Prophet.
"Cream and sugar?" asked Narcissa. She frowned when Emma didn't respond. "Dear?"
Emma's POV
I think my heart might possibly have stopped. There, on the counter, were four letters all addressed to me.
Draco came over--the owl had vanished--and looked over my shoulder. "Oh, a new Quidditch magazine," he said with a grin. "And Mum, here's that gossip paper you love so much."
He picked up the two magazines and the Daily Prophet and took them into the other room, sitting on a chair with his Quidditch magazine.
Slowly, I lifted one of the letters. It had a Ministry stamp in the corner. My hands trembled as I opened it.
Dear Miss Knight,
I apologize for the lateness in my writing, but as you must be aware, the wizarding world is still in a bit of turmoil. It is my understanding that you are to be spending the summer at the Malfoy residence. I do hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I would like to set up a meeting sometime soon; there are things that, I am told, are necessary we discuss. As you did not finish your Hogwarts education, your choice of future careers is severely limited. Headmistress McGonagall, however, has personally vouched for you, so the Ministry is willing to let that slide. I also have a friend of yours here at the Ministry who has saved a spot for you at the Auror Training Academy. Please respond promptly.
Yours,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Minister of Magic
My eyes widened. Only one person knew of my desire to become an Auror. Had Harry really pulled strings for me at the Ministry? My lips pulled back in a smile, and I picked up the next letter in the pile. I recognized the handwriting at once. Harry!
I could remember the last time I'd seen Harry. The Malfoys and I had gone back to the Great Hall after Voldemort's death. Harry'd grown taller, his dark hair lengthening and becoming more mussed than before. There was a smudge of dirt on his face, and a few stray pieces of grass clung to his clothes, but the look on his face was one of a triumphant leader. He stood with the Weasley family as they mourned over the bodies of Tonks and Lupin and Fred. Ron and Hermoine were embracing, but they broke apart when Harry tapped them on the shoulder. He had gestured over at me, and suddenly all three were grinning. I had almost cried; they weren't mad at me for leaving. They were just happy I'd been back.
Emma,
How are you? Ron is worried for your sanity; he heard that you were staying with Malfoy all summer. At least try to visit us at some point, alright? You owe us an explanation for the disappearing act you pulled at the end of sixth year. Oh, and have you received a letter from Kingsley yet? Just wondering.
My smile grew. So he had pulled some strings. God, Harry, you're my hero.
Anyway, back to business. Apparently Tonks left you something in her will. I'm still a little fuzzy as to how exactly she knew you, but that doesn't really matter. The Ministry mailed it to me along with what the Weasely's and I were left, so I'm sending it with this letter. It's still wrapped, I haven't touched it. Now you have a reason to write back; I'm curious to see what it is.
Love,
Harry
P.S. If you can, meet Ron, Hermoine, Ginny and I at George Weasley's joke shop in Diagon Alley on the 18th.
"Emma?"
I turned my head. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. Cream, please."
She set my coffee cup next to me on the counter. "Did you get a letter?"
"Four of them, actually," I said, delving into the third. Nymphadora Tonks left me something?
The sting of her death was still fresh; she had been, after all, the closest thing I had to a friend after I left Hogwarts. She'd kept me informed of the goings on, told me about the Order being summoned to Hogwarts for battle. At some point, we'd grown close. To be mentioned in her will, though...
The next letter began:
To Miss Emma Knight,
I hope you're doing well. I realize the last few years may have been hard for you, and, while I do not support your decision to drop out of school, I wish you the best of luck. I didn't see you at Severus Snape's funeral last weekend. I hope you have been informed of his true intentions, but in case you haven't, I shall reveal them to you.
I read the words slowly, hungrily. Severus was always Dumbledore's man; everything that had happened had been planned, the letter explained. Tears rushed to my eyes as I remembered everything I had called him, everything I had accused him of. I hadn't even attended the man's funeral.
"Emma, what's wrong?" said Draco, suddenly alerted to my crying.
"Nothing," I said, shaking my head. "I'm just a bitch, is all."
"You bastard!" How many times had I screamed that at him, when he hadn't even deserved it?
"Why do you say that?"
Wordlessly, I handed him the letter and took a sip of coffee. Reaching over, I plucked a piece of toast from the plate in the middle of the counter, nibbling on it. For five years, I was one of his favorite students. He'd taught me in private lessons, teaching me complicated potions and new spells, and trained me into becoming a full-fledged Animagus. Then everything had exploded. He'd stopped me from escaping when I had been abducted by Malfoy and Voldemort. He'd stood back and watched as Voldemort had given me a freaky Dark Mark that, as Draco told me later, had had the possibility to kill me in a split second. He'd killed Dumbledore. I hadn't looked between the lines. I'd resented him with every fiber of my being. And then he'd been killed.
Draco's mouth suddenly dropped. "Did you read the rest of this?" he asked, waving the letter at me.
I frowned. "No, why?"
"The letter's from McGonagall!" Draco exclaimed. "Snape left you something in his will!"
"What?!" I snatched the letter from him, scanning the words quickly. "Holy hell! Snape mentioned me in his freaking will! When did he even write his will?"
He glanced at the other two opened letters. "What are those two about?"
"Oh, Harry wants me to visit, I'm meeting them in Diagon Alley on the 18th, that's this weekend I think..." My eyes strayed to the fourth and final letter.
"What about this one?" Draco pointed to the one from Kingsley.
"Ministry scolding me about my education," I said, shrugging. I folded the letter up, shoved it back in the envelope. Why I wasn't telling him about Kingsley's offer to let me be an Auror, I didn't know.
The final letter was also from Kingsley. He had written an apology, babbled about protocol--
My eyes stuck on one line.
As stated in Flynn Sterling's will, his every belonging, including house and property, goes to you, his daughter, Emmie Sterling.
I must have been swaying, because Draco gripped my arm and the world stilled.
"My dad," I choked out. "They finally dug into my dad's will." I looked into Draco's worried, blue-grey eyes. "I own everything."
Draco's POV
I had Emma sit in a chair with breakfast while I went outside to find the packages that had supposedly been delivered. Three letters regarding wills in one day? My mind was racing. I didn't doubt that Emma wanted to go see her house, the house she'd grown up in, the house she now owned. I was a little worried about her emotional stability; she'd probably burst into tears the second she even saw Sterling Manor. And I was a lot worried about that letter she'd gotten from the Ministry. If it was no big deal, why did she hide it from me? I was probably overreacting, but I wanted her to trust me.
Just outside the door were two small packages, both addressed to Emma. I wondered briefly how so many people knew she was staying with me this summer. Then, my attention was diverted elsewhere.
"Draco!" squealed a high-pitched voice. I kept myself from visibly flinching as Pansy threw herself at me. Blaise stood a little ways back, hands in pockets, smirking as always.
"Hey, Malfoy," he said. "Where's Knight?"
"Inside," I replied, detaching myself from Pansy, who was suddenly scowling.
"That stupid Ravenclaw's here?" she asked, hands poised on her hips.
I didn't respond. "Breakfast is on the counter in the kitchen." I lifted my wand. The packages floated into the air, gliding gently into the front room. The two followed behind me, setting their luggage down. Emma walked in, smiling nervously.
"Wonder what I got," she said uneasily. She saw Blaise and Pansy and immediately glowered, taking in their appearance. "Whore," she whispered, glancing poisonously at the super-short skirt Pansy wore.
Blaise eyed the packages with suspicion.
"I was mentioned in wills," added Emma by way of explanation. She leaned down and opened the first package. There were three bundles, wrapped in brown paper. "This is the one from Snape."
"Snape? Didn't he die?" asked Pansy stupidly.
"Well, technically it's from McGonagall, but it's the item Snape set aside for me in his will." She closed her mouth suddenly, as if wondering why she was explaining anything to Pansy.
Frowning, Blaise said, "Snape left you something? You?"
"Yeah, I'm a little confused at his choice, too," she snapped. She gave me a look to say, Can't you get them to go away?
I flinched, shaking my head a little. Emma sighed.
She unwrapped out a small corked bottle, holding it up to the light. She snorted suddenly.
"What?" I asked.
"Ironic, isn't it?" she murmured. "After everything he did, the man gives me a bottle of the Draught of Peace."
Emma's POV
I would have preferred not to open the packages in front of Blaise and that idiot Pansy, but I didn't have much of a choice now. There was more in the box, and I gently set the potion back. The next object I pulled out was a medallion on a black ribbon. Behind me, Draco frowned.
"What the..." he said. "Snape left you a Metamorph-Medal?"
"A what?" I stared at the medallion, turning it over in my hand. One side had an engraved S, the other side a pattern of twisting ivy.
"They're scams. The Ministry collected all of them years ago. They're supposed to help the wearer change appearance at any time, but they just turned people orange," Draco explained.
"How do you know that's what this is?" I rubbed my thumb over the metal. It felt strangely hot to the touch. The S was probably for his last name or his first. Or for Sterling.
"You see how the ivy's moving?" I turned it over, peered at it carefully. "That means it's enchanted."
I shrugged. "Maybe it's just enchanted to make the ivy move."
I reached into the box a third time, grabbed a small, square mirror. It was cracked.
"He left you a cracked mirror?" scoffed Blaise.
Will you all stop asking me that question?! He left you this? He left you that? Well obviously he did!
"It doesn't even show reflections," Pansy jeered.
I looked into it carefully. There was a tall, blurry figure in the mirror. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "It's a Foe-Glass."
"What?" Zabini looked into it, his eyes narrowed.
"Foe-Glass. It's spelled to show a person's approaching enemies. I thought they'd all been destroyed."
"So, that little mirror is spelled to show you where your enemies are?"
"Not where they are, just who they are. The closer they are to you, the clearer the image."
Blaise snorted loudly. "Lot of good that does you."
Snape had enchanted this specifically for me? Why go to so much trouble?
"That's it," I said, pulling the box from Harry closer. "This is what Harry sent. It's from Tonks's will."
"Tonks?" Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Your cousin. Nymphadora Tonks." I opened the box carefully. There was only one wrapped bundle. I ripped the paper off and my eyes lit up. "Oh! A Time-Turner!"
"What? I thought Potter destroyed them all on his little rampage through the Ministry in our fifth year," Blaise peered over my shoulder to get a good look at it.
Evidently not, you idiot.
I held it away from him, glaring. "Back off, Zabini." I looked around suddenly. "Hey, where's Parkinson?"
The two boys shrugged. I walked into the kitchen to make sure she hadn't pried through any of my letters. Pansy was there, stuffing her face with the scrambled eggs Mrs. Malfoy had made. She eats faster than Ron. She took a gulp out of a filled coffee cup sitting on the counter. There were two other such cups. Mrs. Malfoy, however, had mysteriously vanished. Pansy choked suddenly.
"What is that?" she said, holding her cup out at arm's length.
"Coffee," I responded blandly.
"Coffee? That's a Muggle drink!"
"You drink tea, don't you? Tea's a Muggle drink!" The volume of my voice was slowly rising. Pansy matched it.
"Tea is sophisticated! Coffee is...is...American!"
"Tea isn't sophisticated! It's so tasteless! It's basically colored water!"
"Coffee is liquefied dirt!" she countered.
"Is not!"
"That's what it tastes like!"
"That's because you're drinking it black, you idiot!" Behind me, I heard the boys entering to find out what all the yelling was for. I ignored them, whipping out my wand and flicking it in the direction of the creamer that rested on the counter. I directed it at Pansy, and the contents of the creamer bottle exploded onto the Slytherin girl. She spluttered unattractively.
"This is insanity!" snapped Pansy, slamming the cup on the counter and trying unsuccessfully to wipe off the liquid.
"Actually," I said with a smirk, "that's vanilla."
Blaise and Draco erupted into muffled bouts of laughter. Pansy, her face a brilliant shade of red, stalked up the stairs.
"You know you're a witch, right?" I called after her. "You can just use your wand to clean up."
From the swear words she threw at me, I guessed that thought hadn't occurred to her. I smiled, sipping my own coffee. Blaise came up behind me and slung an arm over my shoulder.
"So," he said, "how about you be a good hostess and show me up to my room?"
I scowled at him. "First, I think you're talking to the wrong hostess. Second, you do realize you're touching a half-blood, right?"
He winked. "You're the special kind of half-blood, Knight. After all, you are dating my best friend."
"Just go upstairs," I grumbled, shoving his arm away from me. When he was safely away, I rounded on my boyfriend. "Why did they have to be the ones to show up? I'd rather have Voldemort come back to life than have those two babysitting us!"
"I'm not sure what my mom was thinking," Draco admitted sheepishly. "Pansy's barely been here ten minutes and you already fought with her--"
"She started it! Who doesn't like coffee? And worse yet, who argues about coffee?" I threw my hands in the air, exasperated. "It's just so...Argh!"
I huffed agitatedly, folding my arms across my chest and facing away from him. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered in my ear. "Mum thinks we need chaperoning."
"Has she even met Pansy? She should know that if anyone needs to be kept an eye on, it's that chick." Draco nuzzled my neck, but I kept my face in a scowl. "These walls are paper-thin; if she and Blaise start going at it in the middle of the night, I'm going to hex them both."
"They'll have separate rooms."
"So? Unless we tie Pansy to her bed, she'll sneak over." My eyes widened as my mind formed a mental picture that I really didn't need. "Wait, no, bad idea, then he'll sneak over. No tying or chaining or...oh God, ew."
"Don't picture it," scolded Draco, an amused tinge to his voice.
"And wait a second, there's more rooms? I thought the reason I had to share a room with you was because there wasn't a spare!"
Draco pulled back a little, and I turned my head to look him in the eyes. "You don't like sharing a room with me?" He sounded hurt.
"You tricked me! You slimy--" I untangled myself.
"Hey, no name calling," he said, taking a step toward me. "If I had just asked, you would have gotten all embarrassed and started spouting off nonsense--"
"I don't 'spout nonsense'."
He gave me a pointed look. "You're too innocent for your own good sometimes, baby."
"Don't call me baby just because you think it'll soften me up," I snapped, angry because that was exactly what was happening. "And I'm not that innocent, remember?" I raised my left arm, allowing the Dark Mark to shimmer visibly.
His face hardened. "Put that down," he hissed, lowering my arm forcibly. "He may be gone, but you can still get in trouble for having that mark. The only reason I'm not in jail right now is because of Potter." He winced as he spoke.
"Did you ever thank Harry for that?" I asked. Finally, a change of subject.
"No," growled Draco. "I don't thank people. Especially not Potter."
"You'll have an opportunity to this weekend."
"Huh? You can't expect me to go along with you when you meet them," he said incredulously. "You know how much the Trio hates me. That's walking into enemy territory! I'm not going!"
"It's not 'enemy territory', you drama queen."
"I'm not going."
"If you don't go," I said, "then I'm moving out of your room."
Draco stiffened. "You wouldn't."
I raised an eyebrow. He cursed under his breath and I grinned victoriously.
"I should at least get a kiss for that," he demanded. "Putting up with your PMS isn't the easiest thing in the world--"
I swatted his arm. "I'm not PMSing!" I pressed my lips to his for a split second. "There."
"Oh, no you don't." He pulled me back, kissing me deeply. His hand trailed down my spine, making me shiver. He tangled his fingers in my hair, holding me tightly, as if afraid I'd fade away if he loosened his grip even a little. I pulled away from his hungry mouth, but he retaliated by kissing down my jawline, caressing my neck.
"Draco," I whispered, albeit a little breathlessly. "What did I tell you about wanting to stay a virgin until after school?"
He chuckled, one hand slipping under the hem of my shirt. "In case you hadn't noticed, love, school is over."
"Ugh! Must you snog in the kitchen? People eat here, ya know!"
Pansy stood on the stairs, a look of disgust on her pug face, Blaise behind her. She looked like she'd eaten something rotten; he was struggling not to laugh. My cheeks flamed, but Draco wasn't embarrassed. He simply seemed annoyed.
"It's my house," he said. "I can snog in whatever room I like."
Pansy gagged. "Just try not to do it in front of me."
"You're just jealous he's not snogging you," I muttered under my breath. I'd never like the word snog--
Having not heard me, she turned to Zabini for support, but he just grinned.
"Fee free to do it in front of me," he said cheerfully.
I rolled my eyes. "Speaking of doing it, if you go into her room," I said, "or vice versa," I glanced at Pansy, "then both of you will wake up missing parts of your body you just might need later on."
"I thought this was Malfoy Manor," snapped Pansy.
"It doesn't matter to me whose manor it is." Blaise pushed past an indignant Pansy. "As if I'd ever sleep with that strung-up little--"
"Hey!" Pansy followed him as he walked down the hallway, their arguing voices slowly fading.
This is going to be a peaceful summer, I thought sarcastically.
Draco's POV
From the look on Emma's face, I knew she wouldn't last long in the same house as those two. I took her hand.
"When do you want to go to Sterling Manor?" I asked gently.
She worked her jaw. "Now."
"What? Now?"
She let go of my hand, walked to the open kitchen window. "I'm not the greatest at Apparating, but if I transform I can be there within an hour."
"I'll go with you, I can Apparate us both there--"
"No."
I stepped back, feeling vaguely as I did when Granger had punched me those years ago. "What do you mean, no?"
"This is something I need to do alone, Draco."
"Like hell it is!" I grabbed her arm. "You need to stop thinking you can handle everything on your own!"
"I've been doing a damn good job in the years since Dad was taken," she snapped back.
"You didn't have anyone to lean on then, Emma. Now you have me."
"I'll be fine going alone."
"Look at me." Her eyes moved to mine obediently. "You cannot honestly say you're perfectly fine visiting that house alone."
"Honestly, I can. Trust me." She smiled softly.
"Trust? We're bringing trust into this now. How about this: I'll trust you when you trust me."
Her smile vanished. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know what it means," I snarled, immediately wishing I could take it back as she ripped her arm from my grasp.
"This is about the letter I wouldn't let you read?" she asked. "You're ridiculous! That's not about trust, Malfoy, that's about privacy!"
She only calls me Malfoy when she's really mad. Hell.
"If it was a big deal, I'd tell you! But obviously," she flung her arm wildly as if to punctuate her point, "you don't trust me enough to think that!" She shook her head, laughing slightly. "You are unbelievable!"
She turned away from me, and a small white-and-gold owl flew out the kitchen window. I stared after her for a long time.
"Trouble in paradise?" asked Blaise's voice.
I looked over my shoulder numbly. Zabini leaned against the counter, a piece of toast with jam in one hand. He gestured out the window with it.
"She seemed quite ruffled." He chuckled at his own joke. I didn't say anything. He took a large bit of toast. "All I've ever seen you two do is snog and fight." I stayed silent while he chewed. "So, why aren't you chasing after her?"
"She can fly; I Apparate," I said finally. "I can't follow her unless I know where she's gone. I don't know where she's gone."
"Bullocks." I jumped at my friend's language. I'd never heard Zabini say that before. He pushed off from the counter. "You know bloody well where she's gone. Now why don't you tell me the real reason. Is it because you're stubborn? Because you're scared?"
"I'm not scared!" I said, voice rising. "What have I to be scared of?"
"You're scared of her," said Blaise, eying my evenly. "You're scared because when you're with her, she has complete control."
"You don't know what you're talking about!" I spat.
He regarded me calmly. "Don't I, Draco? I seem to have been right about everything before this."
"She's nobody."
Zabini leaned against his bed and observed me quietly for a moment. Finally, he said, "If she's nobody, why are you in love with her?"
"For the umpteenth time, Zabini, I'm not in love with her. I detest her."
"She said the same thing about you, actually. I don't believe either of you for a bloody second."
"Lucky guesses."
"Is your fear why you keep ruining things with her?" he asked.
"I'm not ruining anything! Over half of these fights have been her fault! She always overreacts to every little stupid thing--"
"That's because she's afraid, too." Blaise grinned, the grin I disliked so extremely because it was the grin he got when he knew he was right. "When one of you waves that little white flag of surrender, everything will settle the way it's supposed to."
"Well, don't you sound philosophical today," I sneered sarcastically. "Going Dumbledore on me?"
Blaise snorted, chewing the last of his toast and grabbing another off the plate. "Please. Like Dumbledore knew squat about relationships."
3rd Person POV
Emma's Animagus form failed her halfway to Sterling Manor. She plummeted from the sky, casting a spell from her wand moments before she hit the ground. She thumped her fist in the grass out of frustration. Of all the times for her magic to skip out on her! She took a deep breath, knowing that her weakening power was because of her emotions. She turned her head, shivering suddenly. The grass was...was that frost? She bolted up, her wand out in front of her. A dementor floated toward her across the grassy hill.
It's hopeless, spoke her mind suddenly, gloom invading her thoughts.
She tried to shake it off. Happy thoughts!
Memories surfaced in her mind. Her father, being taken away by the Aurors, dementors all around her house...
It was closer to her now.
Her father, dying as she held him, dead as she screamed...
Too close.
She racked her brain, desperate for a happy memory. Something. Anything. She took an almost-unconscious step back.
Lucius torturing her...the burning Dark Mark...Snape killing Dumbledore while she tried in vain to make it in time to save him...
"No!" She stepped back again. "Expecto Patronum!"
A faint silvery mist leaked out of her wand tip. She choked back a sob. Think of Draco. Think of Draco!
"Expecto Patronum!"
The mist solidified into a silver butterfly, which fluttered in place between her and the dementor. A butterfly? she thought. It used to be a raven. A butterfly is so...tiny. The dementor threw its hands up in front of where its face should be, and fled the way it had come. Slowly, she sank to her knees with another dry sob. It was a long time before she stood and continued on her way to Sterling Manor.
Despite having been abandoned for nearly seven years, Sterling Manor was the same as when she'd left it. She entered the front door, removing the Protection Charms that had been set there by a thoughtful Ministry worker. A thick layer of dust covered the chandelier over her head, making the once-brilliant crystals seem dull. She raised her wand; the chandelier lit, filling the front room with light. She walked through the home slowly, taking it all in.
There was the antique table her mother had received as a wedding gift, placed in a haphazard part of the hallway, where she'd knocked it over numerous times. There, in her father's office, was the collection of Muggle music both her parents had enjoyed. She picked up a dust-coated vinyl record and wiped at the sleeve with her thumb to reveal that it was by an artist called Led Zepplin. There, third door from the stairs, was her old bedroom. She pushed open the door, hearing the hinges squeak slightly. Hardly noticing anything else in the room, she strode over to the small bed, its pink sheets now faded to a light peach color. The box that she pulled from underneath it let loose a heavy poof of dust when she pried the lid off.
A faded black-and-white photograph was the first thing that caught her eye. She picked it up gingerly, afraid it would simply fall apart.
Her mother smiled up at her, hands clasped behind her back.
Emma replaced the photo, lifting the wand, eleven-and-three-quarter-inch ash with a fairy wing core. The wand was proof of her mother's Sight; fairy wing and ash were materials drawn to masters of Divination. Beneath the wand was a small book that was an exact clone of the silver journal in her dresser drawer back at the Malfoy's. The cover, however, was blank. Under the book, a small gold gun with a mother-of-pearl grip. A Muggle device, the gun had probably been inherited from her grandfather. She slipped the lid back onto the box and used her wand to shrink it, placing it carefully in her pocket. Tears stung her eyes abruptly.
I don't know that I want this house, she thought. She exhaled slowly, noticing with wide eyes that she could suddenly see her own breath...
Emma's POV
The first thing I thought when I felt the chill was that the damn dementor had followed me. I turned, mentally arming myself with cheery childhood memories. The dementor just stood in the doorway of my old bedroom. It was not advancing; it probably knew it was blocking my only exit. I raised my wand, startled to find my hand was steady. The sense of utter hopelessness and despair wasn't nearly as strong as before in the field. I barely had time to frown before something happened that completely floored me. With a sound like wind rushing during a storm, the dementor spoke.
Draco's POV
Emma had been gone for three and a half hours. My leg twitched horribly while I sat in an armchair in the small drawing room, staring down at a Quidditch magazine my eyes didn't register. Pansy was lying on her stomach on the floor with a fashion magazine, complaining every ten minutes or so about how bored she was. Zabini was nowhere to be seen. My knee was bouncing, and I watched it with growing agitation. Finally, I stood, tossing the magazine in the chair I'd been sitting.
Pansy looked up at me as I stomped out. "Draco? Where are you going?"
"Air," was all I grumbled in response.
I went around to the back of the house, pulled my broomstick out of the shed.
"Finally going after her?"
Merlin! I nearly jumped, catching myself just in time. Zabini wasn't smirking, I noticed. He just looked curious.
"Where've you been?" I asked. "Haven't seen you in hours."
"I've been busy." He shrugged, arms crossed.
His clothes were covered in a fine blue powder, and his hair stuck up a little. I frowned. Blaise usually paid very close attention to how he looked. Busy with what exactly?
"What were you busy with that involves dust?"
"Dust?" He glanced down at his black short-sleeve shirt. "Oh, hell."
Zabini brushed himself off roughly, releasing a cloud of the powder.
"Oi!" I said, waving it away with a cough. "Do that somewhere else!"
He shot me a withering look as I coughed again. Throwing me a water bottle, which I drank out of gladly, he said, "Look, if you go after her now, she'll just get pissed."
"I want to see her," I said. "I miss her."
I scowled at myself. What the hell was I doing? I don't tell Zabini my feelings. I keep it safely hidden. That's when I noticed the devilish grin on his face. I groaned.
"What'd I drink?" I asked in dismay, examining the water bottle.
"Veritaserum," he said with a chuckle.
WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!
"Take your broom, get out of the house for an hour," he continued. "When Emma gets back..."
"I don't want to be spouting off 'inner truths' when Emma's around!" I seethed. "Oh, Merlin, I don't want to be spouting inner truths when Pansy's around!"
"You aren't angry at me, are you?" He smirked.
"I only get mad at you because I sometimes think you're better-looking than me." The words came before they registered in my mind.
I clapped two hands over my mouth as Blaise burst out laughing.
"DAMN YOU, ZABINI!"
Emma's POV
It said, and I quote, "Patronus weakened me."
The dementor's voice echoed a bit, sounding more like whistles and whooshes than actual words.
"What do you want, an apology?" I snapped.
This is crazy. Dementors don't talk.
"Without, you would die. No apology."
I froze, wand ready to cast another Patronus. "You shouldn't be able to talk. You aren't supposed to be able to talk."
"Not talking." It lifted a hand, stretched it towards me as if demonstrating something. "Link."
I stared at it uncomprehendingly and it clarified. "Mind link."
It dawned on me then. "Oh my God," I whispered, horrified. "Get out of my head. Get the hell out of my head!"
Draco's POV
I'd been flying in circles for what seemed like forever, but my watch told me it had only been twenty minutes. I scanned the tree tops blankly, my jaw clenched a little. I could do this for an hour. She would be back by then...I hoped.
Emma's POV
"Needed to communicate," said the dementor. "Only way."
Can't this thing 'speak' in full sentences?
"Can only hear if said out loud," it added.
"How the hell is this possible?" I wasn't lowering my wand anytime soon; at least not until Mr. Floating-Faceless-And-Creepy moved away from the doorway.
"Too complicated," the dementor protested in its whistling voice. "Not important."
"Then what is important?" This is crazy. I'm talking to a dementor!
"Patronus."
It didn't say anything else, so I asked, "Why don't you do this with everyone?" My shoulder ached, starting to stiffen. Yeah, like the wizarding world is ready for mind-melding with creatures of despair. I'm going to need therapy for this.
"Painful for you."
"Me?" I pointed at myself with my free hand. Of course it is. Isn't it always?
The dementor shook its cloaked head. "Humans, general. Patronus weakens, makes possible." It pointed one long, knobby finger at me. "Butterfly Patronus, rare." The finger moved to point at the wand I held in my hand. "Chimaera scale, rare." How does this thing know what's in my wand? It dropped its arm back to its side. "Rowena Ravenclaw descendant."
"I'm sorry, huh?" I stared at it as my disbelief overflowed.
"Rowena Ravenclaw descendant," repeated the dementor firmly.
"Rowena Ravenclaw only had one daughter, who died with no children," I said slowly. I've completely lost my mind.
"Wrong," stated the creature. "Second daughter. Changed name. Married Sterling."
Come to think of it, Dad was always saying I was the first Sterling girl to be born in generations...all the previous Sterlings had been male.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Dead."
My eyes widened, an image forming unbidden in my mind. The flash of green light, the darkness that followed, the slowing heartbeat...
The dementor pointed at me again. "Dead. Slow heart. No blood."
Could you sound a little creepier?
"What do you mean 'no blood'?" I demanded. "I bleed!"
Actually, I haven't bled since then...Well, that's just because I haven't hurt myself recently!
"No blood," it said again. "Slow heart. Dead."
"What the hell are you talking about?!" I screamed at it.
I felt the chill go with it as the dementor suddenly glided away. I chased after it, taking the stairs two at a time as it slid out of the open front door.
"Get back here! Explain!"
It said one last thing before the connection, whatever it was, was broken.
"Your soul is not for us. We do not harm the Four."
The only full freaking sentence that thing utters, and it's a damn mystery. It couldnt explain in a full sentence, no, it had to sound like a freaking mental patient. Who's 'the Four'?
I unshrunk the box suddenly, pulling out the mother-of-pearl gun. I turned it over in my hand.
What did it mean when it said I was dead?
I checked it; it was loaded. My heart pounded in fear, but...
My heartbeat is slower than it should be. Oh God. A knife. I need a knife. I need to check!
I put the gun back hurriedly, my hands fumbling with my wand as I aimed it shakily at my left hand. "Sectumsempra."
A slice appeared on the top of my hand. It's going to start bleeding like crazy any time now. But it didn't. No blood flowed from the cut. I pushed, I poked, I clenched my teeth through the pain and sliced myself again, but it still didn't bleed.
Oh God, oh God...I had always suspected there would be consequences for somehow living through that Killing Curse, but this?
Oh God. If I can't bleed does that mean...I swallowed, staring at the cuts in my hand. Does that mean I can't have kids? How is my heart still beating if there's no blood? What's the point of it beating? Does this mean I can't ever die?
Not stopping to think about it, afraid I'd lose my nerve, I grasped the gun for a second time, pressing it against my temple and pulling the trigger. There was a click. I opened my eyes slowly, looking down at the gun. It was loaded, wasn't it? I aimed away from me, pulled the trigger again. Click. BAM! The bullet flew into the distance, scattering a group of birds.
Why didn't it shoot me? Am I...Am I not human anymore? How can I go back to Draco now? I can't give him children, I won't die with him. Will I even age?
Calm down, said a small voice. You've watched too much Muggle science fiction. There's a reasonable explanation for all of this. The gun probably stalled. And you just got your period a few weeks ago, didn't you? So what you don't bleed when you're cut? That doesn't change you.
I took a deep breath, beginning to relax, and an even smaller, quieter voice said, And Draco never has to know.
A/N: alrighty then.
it's a bit sad that i've already got a sequel going and it's only been like, what, a week since i finished the first one?
this proves just how horribly i need a life. but i guess i should finish this before school starts, when i won't have time to continue anything.
review.
^_^
or no second chapter! that's right, i went there.