The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 2: Sandwiches

BPART 1: SEVEN YEARS

Chapter 2: Sandwiches/B

It was a day that felt more like autumn than the end of summer. The air was damp from the night's rain, the sky was gunmetal gray, the wind was whipping in off the channel, and Harry was chilled to the bone. Sara, however, had every window in the place wide open. It was to the clamor of slamming that she awoke.

"Could you possibly be just a little Ilouder?"/I she angered as she sat up to watch him climb onto one sill after another, grabbing the double panes, and yanking them hard into their frames.

"Could you Ipossibly/I open a few more windows? It's Ifreezing/I out in case you didn't notice! You know, you're not the only one that lives here."

Remembering the fact that Harry hadn't returned from his late-night trek until after 3am, Sara threw out her hand, gave it spiteful wave, and all the windows slammed shut with a satisfying BANG!

"There! Now there's nothing left except the awful Istench/I of that cologne. You smell like a dead hinkypunk, you know."

Harry turned his weary, angry eyes on her. "Do you really feel it's appropriate to Iattack/I me just because I shut some windows?"

"It's never bothered you before! And I don't see the point in making Iall that racket/I when youI know/I I'm ASLEEP!"

"Why don't you just sleep in the yard?" Harry fumed, "No windows at all! Then maybe I could sleep in some good old fashioned, warm, IDRY AIR!" /I Harry began to pace the end of the bed, watching her clutch the coverlet in her lap. "And WHO said it's never bothered me? As long as Iyou're/I comfortable, Sara. That's all that matters to you, isn't it?"

Sara flung the covers back and stood, facing him, so she could shout properly, shaking with rage. "FINE! Is Ithat/I how you want to be? IFINE/I then!"

"What do you think you're doing? Those are MY things!"

"You're damn right they are!" Sara crossed the floor with a pace that matched her fury and flung the doors open wide. Harry's belongings rained down the steps to the sitting room and Sara went to the bedside chair (where he tended to pile things,) determined to rid the room of everything Harry owned. Down the stairs they went.

Harry could hardly hold his temper. "Stop Ithrowing/I my things, Sara!"

"I can't Istand/I you!" she hissed as she loaded shirts and trousers onto her arm, "How dare you come to my bed, only to Idespise/I me even before the sun comes up?! I've had enough of this."

"You Iwould/I think that."

"What am I Isupposed/I to think? You sneak out of bed every night, as if you really believe that I don't know you're gone. You can't even ISLEEP/I next to me! And you have the Inerve/I to roll your eyes at me?"

Harry managed a perfect expression of amused incredulity. "Well, you Iare/I acting like a complete Ipsycho, /I after all."

Sara's anger turned sharp and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Get out. Take your things and IGET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" /I

Harry seethed as he glared at her. "Gladly!"

* * *

"I wonder what Harry and Sara are doing today? Maybe we should fly in for a visit?"

Ron cringed. "Do you think that's such a good idea? I mean, after the party last night, I'd prefer to see them one at a time."

Hermione sighed. "Sad isn't it? It's so obvious. They're so unhappy and I haven't got a Iclue/I what to do about it."

Ron watched his wife's index finger run along the spines of books as they stood in theI Pregnancy and Parenting/I section of Flourish & Blotts. "They've got to sort it out for themselves. It's best not to get involved in stuff like that, you know."

She sighed again. "I know. I just feel so helpless is all."

Ron's shoulders slumped. "Yeah. Me, too."

Hermione selected a book and flipped open the cover. Disinterested, Ron looked around the shop to occupy himself. He had no interest in books whatsoever, but a blond head sticking up over the shelves interested him plenty.

Ron's voice dropped to a whisper. "Hermione, look! It's Malfoy!"

I"Malfoy!" /I

"What's Ihe/I doing here?"

"He looks awful! Look at the bags under his eyes, and he's so Ipale." /I

"How can you tell? He's Icolorless/I to begin with."

Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring the question.

"Hey," Ron wondered, "isn't he supposed to be in China?"

"Probably just some lame excuse to get out of the party."

"So what do you think? Did he lie to Christina or did she lie Ifor /I him?"

"Ha! That's not hard to figure out. I think she probably Iwould/I lie for him if he asked, but I don't think that she did. I think he's up to something."

"Maybe he just got back? We shouldn't jump to conclusions, as fun as it is."

I"Honestly, /I Ron. But you're right. He could just be worn out from traveling."

"Yeah, but I doubt it."

"Me, too."

"What's he doing in Ithat/I section?" Ron wondered, "odd, don't you think?"

Hermione shoved IWizards in the Womb/I into his hands. "Stay here and act casual. I'm going to see if I can get a look at what he's buying."

Ron browsed the shelf before him, keeping one eye on Hermione as she moved with the stealth of nonchalance into an excellent vantage point. Malfoy glanced over both shoulders, and then opened a book and perused its contents before glancing around again. He hurried to the cashier with it held tight to his chest.

"Did you see what it was?"

Hermione sighed her frustration. "Not really. It looked familiar, but I couldn't see the title."

"Well, whatever it was, he didn't want anyone to see him with it."

"He's leaving. Come on, Ron. I'm Idying/I to know what he's got."

* * *

Pictures had always been Harry's favorite link to the past. Even better than a pensieve, he thought. It was through pictures that he visited his parents, or recalled small moments in time, be they happy or difficult, with those he loved - and sometimes those he didn't. On each page of every album were snippets of memory that might have been lost, like smoke in the fog, had someone not clicked a shutter.

He and Sara had Ihundreds/I of pictures. Maybe more than that. Most were carefully placed in scrapbooks, some labeled and arranged in chronological order, like index cards, in boxes. Others were helter-skelter and thrown together, waiting for someone to come along and organize them. It was this task that Harry now set himself.

He had carried all the boxes into the biggest of the seven guest rooms and piled them on the floor around him. It was no accident that this room was at the front of the house, above the library and as far away from Sara as possible. He'd considered moving into the cottage next door, but decided that she would feel the need to come over there just to harass him at every opportunity. This way, he was still in the house, but lost in its vastness. Living together, yet removed from her, separated by the distance of floors and walls. There was no need for her to knock on Ithis/I door and he hoped that she didn't. He wanted to be left alone with their photographs and clinging to what remained of his peace of mind.

The only problem was that Harry simply could not focus on the job at hand. Sara was in Ievery/I picture. Sara smiling. Sara's pretty violet-blue eyes staring back at him with a golden halo of light around her hair and caught in the folds of her odd, yet elegant dresses. Sara with her arms around him. Sara, Sara, and more Sara. Harry sighed and dropped the photos back in the box. He kicked it away in frustration.

Harry found a silken, padded, yet entirely uncomfortable chair wedged between a chest of drawers and a desk and fell into it in the silence of a room so foreign. He had been in here only a few times. He liked the room, all done in azure and sea greens and with a ceiling of the deepest blue, twinkling with stars at all hours of the day or night. On two walls were the rooftops of London, with an image of Big Ben looming over them. On the other two, a strange and wonderful scene. A rolling sea, a pirate ship, and an island high atop a cliff with a sizable tree in its center. Above the bed, there was a great gold frame that held a fascinating mural of Peter Pan and his friends. Michael, he thought, looked a bit like him, with his top hat over dark, unruly hair, and round glasses. Wendy looked just like… IChristina. /I

Harry's heartbeat quickened and his mouth went dry, a reaction he didn't quite understand. The resemblance was uncanny and as he beheld the image, the night came back to him. He felt terrible for her, and hated Malfoy with renewed enthusiasm. It was plain that he had abandoned Chris and was probably up to no good, Iwherever/I he was. The odd behavior she had described wasn't as odd when considered by a wizard as opposed to a muggle, but it was still curious. Malfoy's uncharacteristic quietude bothered him, but did not allay Harry's suspicions. Once a snake, always a snake. That was Ihis /I take on the matter.

The fact that Malfoy was slowly carting his belongings out of the house told Harry what Christina could not see for herself. That Draco was playing the coward with a slow, painstaking withdrawal. It was clear that Malfoy was giving Chris the house on the hill where he had lived since leaving Hogwarts, and for that Harry thanked him, but to deny her an explanation was unforgivable. Draco had saved her once, and had shown such care for her that it warmed the hearts of all who knew the evil bastard. So what had happened in seven years? Why, in all that time, did Draco never bother to marry her? The fact that he hadn't was dishonorable in Harry's eyes, a disrespect she hardly deserved, and it made his blood boil. Did the fact that Chris had grown into a solid, confident, well-rounded person disinterest Malfoy? Was her need and helplessness her only allure for him? Harry couldn't imagine that Christina was at fault in any way. She was one of the most likable people he had ever met, and he'd warmed to her instantly, the first time they'd met. He remembered it well. She had looked at him from beside Draco's bed with an expression of startled puzzlement and asked IWhy are you pointing a stick at me? /I

Last night they had shared a closeness they had experienced only once before, the night Sara found out they were sending Draco back to the catacombs. Chris had found him alone in the room beside the veranda. They had only just met, really, yet she'd felt his pain and was moved to hug him, even though it was her friend's life that Harry played with. That didn't matter to her. What mattered was that someone needed consolation and she'd given it without reservation. It was an act of kindness that would never leave him.

Harry smiled with the memory and vacated his uncomfortable chair. There were always new clothes to wear, as Sara shopped like one obsessed, and it was from these that he chose with care. Having skipped breakfast rather than share it with Sara, Harry was hungry and thought perhaps Christina might enjoy going out for lunch. She was lonely, he knew, set apart from the world in her house on the hill and, well, he could use a little company. Company that didn't make him feel like loathsome, pathetic, dirt. Company that didn't throw his belongings down the stairs or scream at him. Company that didn't chase the joy out his every waking moment.

* * *

Sara sniffled, found a half-soggy tissue on the table and touched it to her nose. Her sandwich sat untouched and she pushed the plate away. "I just don't understand him anymore, Severus. He was once the mostI wonderful/I person, but now he's a stranger to me. I don't even know how to Italk/I to him anymore. It's hopeless!"

Snape propped his feet on an adjacent chair as he watched her cry from across the table. Something she did so often now during his visits that he was no longer moved to comfort her at every moment. If anything, her tears only made him hate her husband with renewed fervor. "If you ask me, it's Ialways/I been hopeless."

Sara rose from her chair in frustration and carried a glass of lemonade to the veranda's edge, putting her back to Snape and watching the water tumble far below. As always, she ignored his sarcasm. "I know it's horrible of me to say this, but I think we made a mistake, Harry and me. We were young. Foolish perhaps. I never should have come back from Romania."

"No, you Ishould /I have come back. Just not to Ihim." /I

Sara turned to face her old friend once more, hoping for some real insight instead of the usual insults to Harry.

"Has it escaped your attention, Sara, that the person you were destined for was always right in front of you? So Icompletely/I in front of you, in fact, that I'm surprised you never Ifell/I over him."

Sara's hands tightened on the glass she held as she leaned against the veranda's ledge with something akin to defeat. Her voice dropped to just above a whisper "If you're talking about Draco, then no, it has not escaped my attention. It's a mereI possibility, /I Severus, though I'm not so sure I believe in destiny."

Snape tried to hide his smile behind his sandwich. He had waited far too long, nearly ten years, to hear these words from her, and the joy they brought spread within him like warmth.

Sara's brow creased with irritation. "I didn't say anything to warrant that smirk."

"I'm simply Ieating a sandwich/I in case you hadn't noticed."

"I notice more than you think."

"Then why are you always so Iblind?" /I

"Oh shut-up about it already!"

Snape smirked again, though this time it was deliberate.

"Stop mocking me."

Snape gestured at the wilted, bite-ridden bread with its contents half flopped out. His mouth was full, and his reply was muffled by half-chewed food. I"Sandwich." /I

Sara turned her back on him again, stabbing at a lemon wedge with a long plastic stir, then swirling the contents of her glass until the ice tinkled loud enough to serve as a satisfactory distraction. It was embarrassing on some level, to be read like an open book, or maybe Snape had seen something all along. Something that she herself had chosen to ignore. Then again, maybe not. Maybe this was all just guilt over her visit with Draco last night. Either way, a sudden change of topic seemed a like Iwonderful/I idea.

"Tell me, Severus, have you heard from Sylvia?"

"Of course not. She despises me, remember?"

"Maybe you should pay her a visit and apologize before you Isandwich/I yourself into obesity."

"I beg your pardon!"

"That third button will pop off when you mount your broom."

"Ha! So much for your divination skills!"

"And how embarrassed will you be when I'm right?"

"This button is not going to pop off. I've wearing this robe for years and it still fits Ijust fine, /I thank you!"

This time it was Sara's turn to smirk. "I think we'll have tea now if you'd like. The scones should be ready."

"What kind are they?"

"Raspberry."

"As long as they aren't orange again."

Without another word, Sara left the veranda and abandoned Snape to the last bite of his sandwich. He was surprised to see a moving black span of wings fluttering toward him, but grew excited when he saw it was his owl. "Spooky! I've been waiting Iall day /I for you! It's Iabout time/I you returned!"

Spooky gave a muffled hoot and threw the letter in Sara's uneaten bowl of soup. Snape swatted her away with an annoyed growl. "Miserable, Iungrateful/I wretch…"

A few swipes with his napkin and the dripping letter was as close to clean as it was going to get, so without further hesitation, he broke the seal. Snape had found it hard to sleep last night after sending Spooky off to Diagon Alley, but he finally had his answer and his eyes almost betrayed his delight at what that answer had turned out to be.

Sara's heels sounded her approach, so Snape hid the soup-stained letter beneath his soup-stained napkin and waited.

* * *

"Ron! You're standing on my robe again!"

"Well if it wasn't hanging on the ground!"

This earned a disapproving glance from Hermione. "It won't be for long."

"True," he grinned, "You're going to look funny, you know."

I"Funny! /I Really! I'm glad that's what you think!"

"Shhh, he's coming out."

Malfoy emerged from a potion shop with his eyes set dead ahead, his face expressionless. Hermione fell silent and did her best to be inconspicuous as she and Ron pretended to be deep in discussion across the way. Hermione wore her hood against the miserable London drizzle. Ron wore his as well, but mostly to hide his bright ginger hair.

Hermione exhaled. "He didn't see us."

I"Us? /I He doesn't see anything at all! He's practically out to lunch, don't you think? I mean, Ilook/I at him!"

Hermione turned to follow Malfoy through the half-busy Diagon Alley street. "He Idoes/I seem rather preoccupied. I mean, look! He just bumped right into Mr. Snivel and he didn't even Iglance, /I much less apologize!"

"Did you really expect him to? More likely he'd tell Snivel to watch where he's going!"

"Either way, he didn't even notice! "

"I say there's something on his mind and, whatever it is, it's big."

"I agree. Remember back at Hogwarts when Lucius had Narcissa locked in the basement?"

"Yeah, and Malfoy acted totally normal."

"He's not acting normal now."

"Maybe it's just that he thinks no one's looking."

"Maybe," Ron conceded, "but what's he got in that bag? That's what II/I want to know! Looks like a Ilot/I of things, actually."

"I'm going to find out. You follow Draco. I'll catch up in a minute."

Hermione hurried away.

"Ok, and then can we get a sandwich?"

* * *

Hermione removed her hood and breathed the overwhelming scent of the common potion ingredients that filled an entire floor to ceiling wall of the small, immaculate shop. Another wall displayed various cauldrons of cast iron, copper, and gold. In stacks on the floor were three sizes of the more standard pewter, like the ones they'd used at Hogwarts. A third wall held an array of potion-making supplies, jars, vials, measuring devices, and paddles. Hermione noticed one small section of the shelf was completely empty.

Feigning irritation, she asked the clerk what had been on the shelf.

"Fog vials. That's what goes there. Funny you should ask. Young fellow just bought them all. Odd thing to need a lot of, if you ask me."

I"All/I of them! But that's what I needed!"

"Not a very popular item. After all, they're only good for a few obscure potions and rather Iboring/I ones at that."

Hermione let her false frustration blossom. "I can't believe it! That Iscoundrel!" /I

"I beg your pardon, miss?"

"You see," Hermione stepped closer, "we're having a scavenger hunt and a fog vial is worth ten points! Malfoy bought them all so the other teams couldn't collect one. ItI must/I have been him. I just passed him on the street on my way in!"

"Young blond chap?"

"That would be the one," she rolled her eyes; "He alwaysI cheats!" /I

"Could have one for you by the end of next week if it helps."

"The game will be over by then. Thanks anyway."

* * *

Harry didn't know why he'd taken Chris to a small, out of the way, muggle café in the south of London, except something about what he was doing seemed wrong and he felt the need to keep a low profile. He had no idea why, as his intensions were good and it was the middle of the day. There was nothing despicable about having lunch with a friend, was there? Still, the more he tried to reason the guilt away, the stronger its presence became. He needed to relax.

Harry ordered a bottle of wine. It cost a mere twenty-five pounds and was sure to be less than what he was used to, but he didn't mind, so long as it wasn't IRiesling./I Pinot Gregio was what they'd selected, with plenty of input from Christina, who looked at him with a hint of smile.

Harry smiled back. "Were you going to share or do I have to start guessing?"

"It's nothing really. It's just that Draco Inever /I asked me what kind of wine I wanted and I want you to know that I absolutely Ihate/I merlot."

Harry laughed, incredulous. "Are you telling me that you drank merlot for Iseven years/I and never told him?" Harry was reminded of Draco once asking his opinion on daiquiri flavors, and then deciding on his own before Harry had a chance to answer.

"Well, it's not like I told him I hated it and he ordered it anyway. He simply never Iasked." /I Christina looked at him for a moment, the corner of her mouth twitched, and they both burst out laughing.

The waiter returned with the bottle and poured two glasses. Harry lifted his. "Well, here's to finally voicing your opinion."

Christina laughed again and raised her glass as well. "I will definitely drink to that!" she took a small sip and returned her glass to the table. "but really, Harry, I can't tell you how refreshing it is not to feel like I have to lie."

"Missing dear old Isilver britches/I already, are you?"

Christina erupted with a loud bellow of laughter. "Harry, you're Iterrible!" /I

"Oh, so you find him humble, do you? You're right. There's nothing snooty and obnoxious about him. Not Ione thing!" /I

"You, Mr. Potter, are not yourself today!"

"If you mean that I'm in a good mood for once, then guilty as charged."

"And why should today be any different?"

Harry smiled while he considered the question. "I guess maybe I needed a little change of scenery."

"Likewise."

"Yes, I'd have to say you're in a much better mood than you were last night. I'm glad. I didn't like seeing you upset."

"I want to thank you again for coming so late and on such sort notice. I still haven't gotten the hang of the bird thing."

"It's not hard. All you have to do is hand the letter to the bird. They do the rest."

"I guess I'm still a bungler in your world. Draco taught me things, but mostly I think he was reluctant to."

Harry was enjoying this outing more than he'd expected to, and didn't want to spoil it with further talk of Malfoy. Thankfully, their meals came, and the subject changed. However, he wasn't thankful for long.

"So what's Sara up to?"

Harry's hands started to shake. "Snape was over when I left."

"She didn't mind lending you for an afternoon?"

The guilt leapt up the back of his throat and the thoughtI I didn't tell her /I came to mind, but he shoved it back and tried to smile. The lettuce shook right off his fork. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Harry noticed her spoon was causing a tremor of ripples in her soup and she touched her hair at least once every 2 seconds. "Well, it's not like we're on a date or anything." She laughed and it was blatantly unnatural.

Harry returned the creepy, forced laughter. "No, of course not."

All focus was quite suddenly concentrated on their sandwiches and Harry didn't dare look up. The truth was; he had no idea why he had asked Chris to lunch without telling Sara. She was his wife after all, fight or no fight, and he was feeling dishonest. Half of him begged to go home; the other half didn't care and felt it served her right after this morning. She'd thrown his things down the stairs! Besides, he reminded himself, there was nothing wrong with taking a friend to lunch in the middle of the day. Chris was such a nice person after all, and she was all alone in Malfoy's house on the hill. Why did Sara have to ruinI everything? /I She wasn't even Ihere, /I yet she'd spoiled every good feeling he'd had so far. But that was Sara. His own personal monkey wrench. Harry's brow furrowed in anger.

* * *

"Severus, I have to tell you about something."

Snape was busying himself with The Daily Prophet, sipping his fifth cup of tea since the end of lunch. "I'm all ears."

"You remember how you were saying that Harry and I might be having so many problems because we're bored?"

"I believe I said you lead worthless lives, but that's close enough," Snape folded the paper and set it aside, "Funny you should mention that at this moment in time, though." He smiled and glanced at his soup-stained napkin, now dried stiff in places. "Go on."

"Well, I was reading the paper the other day and I saw there were some storefronts up for auction in Diagon Alley."

Snape went white. "And?"

"And… I just got a response saying that I've won the bid on the old Toadbucket Tool store!" Sara nearly came out of her chair with excitement.

Snape's heart sank. "So tell me, Sara, what exactly you were hoping to do with Toadbucket Tool?"

"That's the thing. I may need some help, but I was planning to remodel it and set up a business for Harry."

Snape straightened in his chair. "What sort of business?"

"A private auror business. You know, people could hire him to look into things for them." Sara was becoming uncomfortable and wondered if telling Snape had been a good idea. He seemed less than pleased.

"Believe it or not, Sara, I think that's a rather good idea. Not only will it occupy Potter, but it might give him some sort of purpose in the world besides Itaking up space." /I

Used to ignoring his slights against Harry, Sara continued. "It's in his nature to get to the bottom of things, you know, to uncover the truth."

"To be nosey and snoop around in other people's business, you mean."

"There hasn't been much for him to do with Voldemort gone, and he's bored to death with the Swill factory. I thought, maybe, if he had an office to go to everyday, he wouldn't be so restless." Sara bowed her head and sighed. "Severus. I can't take it anymore. Something has to change and it has to happen soon. I can only hope this helps."

"Well, even if he's a professional flop, which I'm sure will be the case; at least he'll have a prime social hangout."

Sara said nothing, just sighed again.

"So, what about you? Do you require no distraction?"

Sara shuffled her feet. There was so much that she wanted to say to that, but her petty wants and desires were trivial at the moment. Actually, she thought, they wereI always/I trivial. "Fixing up the tool store will keep me busy for awhile."

Snape smiled, seeing the depression in her eyes, the need of something more than what lay ahead of her. He tossed the napkin, covered in dried soup, aside and held the letter in his hand until Sara's gaze fell upon it. "It's a bit early, but you are now the proud owner of Toadbucket Torch & Candle. Put your divining talents to good use." Snape smiled at the delight in her surprised expression. "Happy birthday, my dear."

"Severus!"

"You aren't going to get all sappy on me, are you?"

Tears spilled down Sara's face. "I can't believe anyone would do such a thing for me. This must have cost you years of wages!"

"Yes, my dreams of buying a time-share in Florida are dashed."

Sara pulled Snape out of his chair and threw her arms around him.

* * *

Draco sat staring at the portrait with little expression, the turmoil he felt inside invisible to the untrained eye. The oil paint eyes that looked back, however, were all too familiar with his moments of duress. "Come now, Draco. You must know what I'm saying is true."

"It's Iludicrous, /I if that's what you mean."

Lucius sighed. I"Consider/I it at least. You haven't many choices, now do you?"

"If that is the only thing you can come up with, then I have no choices at all."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "You've always been impossible. I thought by this age you'd have come around a trifle more than this."

"Come around? I'm lucky not to have gone insane by now."

"You asked for my counsel as your father. I gave it. I was right about the muggle, wasn't I?"

"In that case, you confirmed what I already knew. You counsel by your own standards, not by what you feel is best for Ime." /I

"The point is; I wasI right." /I

Draco sighed and fell back into the sofa. "Yes, but for all the wrong reasons."

"Good heavens, Draco, you look affright! I'm beginning to wonder which one of us is among the living!"

"Don't make jokes like that. It's not at all amusing."

"It wasn't meant to be. Have you eaten today?"

"I got a sandwich at the Leaky Cauldron."

"And did you Ieat/I any of it?"

"I ate some. I didn't really feel like it."

"Which is part of the reason why you look like death, I imagine. You Imust/I eat, Draco. Whether you Ifeel/I like it or not!"

"I know."

"You are terribly pale. Worse than usual. Do you feel alright?"

Draco was not used to such a concerned parent, but rather liked having someone worry over him, even if it was just a portrait. "I'm very tired."

At last, Lucius' expression softened. "Go to sleep then. I will send Miss Lemke up when she arrives."

"Her name is IMrs. Potter, /I in case you forgot. She's Imarried. /I How many times must I remind you of this? A million? Besides, I know her well enough to know that she won't come back."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because that's what she does, Father. Sara runs away. Especially from me."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Draco gave the painting a saddened half-smile and headed for the comfort of his bed.

* * *

Sara jumped from her seat at the kitchen table as soon as he walked in, wearing an elated smile and brimming with anticipation. "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you for Ihours!" /I

Harry was surprised by her question and found he had not prepared an adequate response. He somehow stopped his hands from shaking and went on the defensive. "Why?"

"I've got good news!"

Harry pulled out a chair and picked up the Daily Prophet, relieved, and no longer on edge. "Let me guess. Snape is moving in?"

"No!" she laughed, "Snape has given me a storefront in Diagon Alley as an early birthday present! He wants me to be a fortune teller," she laughed again, bubbling over with excitement, having forgotten how mad she'd been earlier in the day.

"I see." Harry sat down and opened the paper, hiding his face from her view.

"I'm glad you're so interested in what I have to say. INice, /I Harry."

His voice issued from behind the newspaper. "I'm not deaf. I Ican/I still hear, you know. It's not like you're being Iquiet/I or anything."

"Forget it. I don't know why I thought you'd care to begin with."

Harry said nothing.

Sara felt her anger rise. It was such a foreign feeling, to be hateful toward Harry. He'd been distant for so long now and she'd learned to live with it, tiptoed around it, but then the fight had erupted this morning. Now, it felt like the dam on her negative emotions had been flung wide. The fact was, she was tired of being his doormat, tired of being taken for granted and disregarded. It was as if she was a trophy he'd won, displayed for a while, and then pushed to the back of the shelf where it was no longer appreciated. Where it simply took up space.

"Do you still love me, Harry?"

Harry issued a grumbled sort of sigh, indicative of his irritation. "Do you always have to pull this nonsense the second I walk in the door?" he threw down the paper and looked at her with angry eyes, "I was in a good mood until I saw Iyou." /I

"Just answer the question."

"Well if you Idon't know, /I then my telling you won't do any good!"

Sara burst into tears, unable to help it, and a crack of thunder sounded in the distance. Rain splattered against the kitchen windows.

"Why are you crying? What did I do Ithis/I time?"

"I'm crying because I was happy until I saw you, too."

"Well I'm sorry to have ruined your mood." Harry instantly regretted the note of sarcasm and insincerity he'd heard come out of his own mouth.

"And now you won't even tell me you love me."

"Sara, I…"

"Don't bother," she interrupted, "You've said all you needed to say already."

"Why do you always have to do this? In case you hadn't noticed, you're not exactly a joy to be around."

"Me?! At least II try/I to talk to you! You're so miserable I can't stand to be around you half of the time! All you do is mope and ignore me and do your best to make me feel as Iunwanted/I as humanly possible, and you have the nerve to fault me for being unhappy about it?"

"If you're so unhappy then why don't you leave?"

Sara's knees nearly buckled, as though she'd been punched hard in the chest and had the wind knocked out of her. She looked her husband in the eye with the greatest conviction she could muster. "Because I swore I'd never leave you and I won't."

"Well, Sara, some promises are made to be broken."

"Do you want me to move out?" Just saying the words felt like a knife plunged into her heart and her eyes fell closed with the pain of it.

Harry saw the damage his statement had done. Even more so, he watched as her black streak grew before his eyes. Guilt invaded him for the millionth time that day and it was Christina's face that drifted across his mind's eye. "I Idon't know/I what I want, Sara."

She watched as he left the room on tired feet, the soles of his shoes dragging like dead weights that scuffed along the floor. Sara fell into her chair at the table, let her head fall into her hands, and cried the way she hadn't cried in months. Her tears splattered the letter Snape had given her. The one she'd been so excited to show to Harry.

Sara stood without thought, sending her chair crashing backward onto the floor with a loud clatter. She ran to the door of the kitchen, and when she shouted after him, her words resonated through the entire lobby. "HOW COULD YOU BE SO ICRUEL/I TO ME??!!"

The only response was the sound of a door slamming somewhere deep in the emptiness.

* * *

The pretty, satin chair was just as uncomfortable as it had been earlier in the day, but Harry sat in it anyway, as the discomfort was somehow in tune with his state of mind. His chin rested on interlaced fingers, folded, with both thumbs pressed under his jaw as his elbows sat on his knees. It was the composure of one deep in contemplation and his eyes fixed on the figure of Peter Pan's Wendy in the painting before him, thinking of the wonderful afternoon he'd spent with Christina. And of the guilt of his deception.

He had been cruel to Sara earlier, she'd been right about that, but only half of him was sorry. The half that remembered the madness of a love so complete, so Iintegral, /I that he would rather die than live without it. The half that loved her still, that forgave her every wrong. The part of him that would fall to pieces if she walked away. IThat/I side of him was Imore /I than sorry. IThat/I side felt like the creep that he was.

The other half of him, however, smiled at the vindication of making her as miserable as she often made him. IThat/I half of him was tired of feeling useless, of living without purpose in a dream he'd once cherished. Tired of pretending he still wanted what he had, when the truth of the matter was that he would trade it all for just a little spark of excitement. To feel the way he Iused/I to feel. On the edge, important, Ineeded/I to some extent. There were no longer challenges to be met. Nothing to be conquered. No skills to master and no goals. All that was left for him now was this stale existence of trudging through day after uneventful day and he hated her for it.

It was hard to admit, even to himself, but Harry blamed Sara for all that was wrong in their lives, even though it was clear that she was miserable, too. It bothered him to know that he was happier out of her sight, when he was away from their lonely home by the sea. It upset him to feel trapped in his marriage and to be able to Itaste/I how good it was to be free, only to come home again. Those little moments of emotional, personal freedom were always tainted by the knowledge that he would soon have to return to the life he'd carved for himself.

He knew it wasn't her fault. It was no one's fault, really, but he punished her for every negative feeling he had. He couldn't help it sometimes. The need to push her away, to be cold to her, or even cruel to her, was sometimes the only thing that kept him together. It wasn't hard to figure out that he'd been spiteful tonight because she'd angered him in the morning, but that was only part of it. He'd been invaded by jealousy as she told him of the shop she was to open in Diagon Alley, and he was jealous of her excitement, of the fact that she had something Igood/I to look forward to. Something that would last. Something he himself didn't have. Harry didn't know why he'd been so rude about the whole thing, it was uncalled for and he knew it, but at this moment, he couldn't bring himself to apologize. His emotions were too conflicted. There was only one thing on his mind that made sense. One thing that brought the comfortable, easy smile to his face that had left him over the years.

Something she'd said over lunch brought Harry out of his chair. He glanced again at the painted image of Wendy and his smile widened.

* * *

The rain and damp had moved off toward the rest of Europe and Harry gazed upon a starlit sky as he waited on the step with his Lightning Mach 5 in one hand. He was still smiling when the door opened and he turned to face her.

She looked cute, he thought, with her long, chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore ripped jeans and a tank top under a long, red jumper and looked completely muggle. Completely Inormal. /I

"Christina," Harry grinned, "I was in the area and I remembered what you said about Malfoy being reluctant to show you the wizarding world, so I was wondering if you might like to go flying."

Christina's smiled and let the door close behind her.

* * *

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