Chapter Four

(Damage Control)

Ayr and Sarah walked through the fourth floor corridors, just having left a meeting with Professor McGonagall. The girls chatted about the O.W.L.s they had taken last year, and the classes they hoped to take, now that they had found out their scores. Sarah wanted to be a healer at St. Mungo's upon graduation, and Ayr wanted to be an Auror. McGonagall had informed them of the scores needed to get into the classes required for their career choices, sending them off with study materials and a smile.

Crabbe a Goyle rounded a corner as the girls neared the fourth floor exit to the Grand Staircase. They stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking the girls' path. Ayr sighed and ran a hand through her hair – she didn't have the patience to deal with this tonight.

"Move," She said flatly, trying to push past them. They didn't budge. "I said move."

Once again, Ayr and Sarah tried to move past them. Crabbe and Goyle moved, seeming to swell and block the entire archway. Goyle reached out and gripped Ayr's arm, and she shouted her protest.

"Malfoy wants to see you," Crabbe started slowly. "Now, in the empty classroom on the third floor."

"Did it ever occur to Malfoy," Ayr snapped, snatching her arm out of Goyle's grip, "That we don't want to see him?"

"Not the two of you," Goyle barked, sneering. "Just you. He said, "Bring Trikk here, alone, and be quick about it."

Ayr snorted her amusement – Crabbe and Goyle were slow with everything they did. She didn't blame them though – if they acted faster than they could think, they might cause themselves a brain aneurism. She looked at the two boys, wondering what Malfoy could have possibly wanted with her.

"Fine," She said before she could stop herself, crossing her arms.

"Ayr…" Came Sarah's soft warning at her shoulder.

"Go back to the Common Room, Sarah," She smiled at her friend, and then turned to the boys in front of her. "I'll be fine. I'm sure Malfoy has more common sense then to pull something when there are still teachers lurking around."

Ayr followed Crabbe and Goyle down the stairs, waving to Sarah who stood staring after them with wide eyes. Her friend finally turned and darted up the stairs towards the Gryffindor Tower, and Ayr turned to face forward, her scowl telling Crabbe and Goyle exactly what she thought of this impromptu meeting.

The classroom came up on their left, and Crabbe held the door open while Goyle pushed Ayr into the room. She heard soft, even breathing, and looked over to where Malfoy was leaning against a long forgotten fireplace.

"Thank you, Crabbe…Goyle," He nodded curtly, stepping away from the wall. "You may go now."

The boys returned the curt nod and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind them. Ayr watched them leave, swallowing the lump that had just formed in her throat. She turned with a start when Malfoy's robes whispered and he pulled out his wand. She grabbed hers, pointing at him. He tilted his head, his brows raised, as he indicated to and empty spot in the room and conjured a couch. He pocketed his wand, holding up his hands as a show of innocence.

"Sit down, Ayr."

Malfoy had never referred to Ayr by her first name and the reference made her stomach tighten uncomfortably. She had seen Malfoy angry before, and it was not a side she wante to see directed at her, so she made her way towards the couch.

Maybe he'll decide to not be a prat, Ayr thought to herself, looking for a reason to stop being nervous. After all – he sent his lackeys away – doesn't he normally keep them around to witness the humiliation of some poor victim?

Ayr nodded to herself, satisfied with her optimism. She settled herself on the edge of the couch, smoothing her skirt out on her crossed legs. Malfoy watched her with an arched eyebrow, and she shivered under his scrutiny.

"Are you cold?"

She nodded, despite herself, telling herself it was better to lie and sweat to death than be honest and have him know he frightened her. Malfoy brandished his wand again, pointed it at the hearth, and muttered an incantation. A moment later, a fire roared to life, the gentle crackling of the wood doing wonders to ease the uncomfortable silence. Ayr relaxed a bit, grateful to be around a Charms expert.

"Thank you," She muttered.

She turned her eyes to the fire, staring into the flames. She was trying to ignore the feeling of Malfoy's eyes on her, and it took all she had to suppress a shudder. She finally turned to him, ready to either tell him off or demand he tell her why she was here, but the look in his eyes stopped her. The ice was gone, and replacing them was a heat that bothered Ayr much more than his frosty glare did.

"If I asked you something," He began whimsically, as if telling a joke. "Would you answer me truthfully?"

Ayr was slightly aware that her mouth was open in shock, but she quickly recovered by sneering. She snorted her disgust, and then answered him bitterly.

"If it will get me out of here quickly, then yes."

His brow furrowed, as if he were searching for the right words to say. Ayr turned away from him, scoffing slightly in bemusement. Her eyes watched the flamed, and something touched under her chin. She jumped, thinking it was Malfoy's wand, and when she turned to face him, she saw that it wasn't his wand at all. His finger had touched her chin in an attempt to turn her to face him, and it had worked – somewhat.

His lips touched hers, and she stiffened at the uncharacteristic action. She waited a heartbeat, and then two, and when she realized she wasn't dying, in pain, or being threatened, she closed her eyes and let herself relax.

Something tickled Ayr's stomach, and she would have passed it off as butterflies if the sensation weren't moving. She lifted her hand to find the cause, and realized that Malfoy's hand was wandering along her torso, moving under her shirt and towards her chest.

"What are you doing?"

Ayr jumped up with her exclamation, straightening her shirt and making a beeline for the door. Malfoy jumped up and blocked her way, reaching behind him to lock the door. He stalked towards her, backing her up step by step until the back of her knees hit the couch, and her legs gave out. She landed hard, wincing as the pain shot up her spine, momentarily paralyzing her. The breath rushed out of her lungs as Malfoy pressed his mouth to her ear.

"Poor Ayr Triik," He hissed, his hands gripping the couch by her head and trapping her. "Not so mouthy when you're by yourself, are you?"

She spat on his cheek, and he wiped it off with a slow, deliberate movement before gripping her shoulders, forcing her to lie flat on the couch. She tried to hit him, but Malfoy laid flat on her, holding her hands above her head with one of his. His knee slid up between her thighs, and he placed three fingers between two buttons of her crisp uniform shirt. He pulled, and Ayr's body jerked with the force as the button popped, exposing her chest. She sobbed softly, but Malfoy swallowed the sound with his mouth.

His tongue darted out to catch the tears, and Ayr sobbed harder. Then she stiffened – she could hear footfalls in the hallway, growing louder and heavier. Someone shouted a spell, and the door burst open. The Marauders fell into the room, their wands ready and pointing at Malfoy, who looked over his shoulder with a sneer.

"You have two seconds to get off of her," Potter hissed, "Or I take away your ability to reproduce."

Malfoy sneered again, pulling out his wand and pointing it at Potter. Ayr shrieked as a beam of white light left the end of Malfoy's wand, sending Potter flying backwards before landing with a sickening thud against the wall. Sirius and Remus shouted in unison, one of them knocking Malfoy's wand away while the other sent him flying into the ceiling. Ayr watched with wide, vacant eyes as his body fell, limp, to the floor.

She bolted upright as soon as her body unlocked itself, straightening her skirt and pulling her top closed. Remus rushed over to her, taking off his school robe and placing it over Ayr's shoulders. She nodded her thanks, not trusting her voice to speak. Sirius touched her shoulder softly, and when she saw the concern in his eyes, her walls broke and she cried, leaning on her friend for support.

Ayr's eyes flew open, and the ceiling seemed a perfect screen for the images still in her head to play out on. Her face felt odd – tight and dry – and she lifted her fingers to it. They came away wet, and she realized she had been crying. She tried repeating her mantra of the past six months – nothing happened – but it wasn't working this time. She shoved her fist into her mouth to keep her from screaming, but she could feel the bile rising in her throat.

She stood and stumbled, making her way blindly into the bathroom. The floor rushed to meet her as she collapsed, and the toilet was in front of her face just before the vomit left her stomach. All of the contents had vacated her stomach, but she still couldn't make herself stop. First, the bile burned her throat, and then the dry heaves made her body ache.

Ayr stood and went to the sink, rinsing her mouth out repeatedly before looking at herself in the mirror. She looked as bad as Potter had yesterday at dinner – her skin was pale and waxy, and her eyes looked bruised and swollen. She groaned, trying to remember the concealer spell that her older sister had found in Witch's Weekly. Wracking her brain, she reached behind her and turned on one of the showers; she felt dirty and slimy, and there was a thin coat of perspiration that made her feel grungy.

Once the water was the right temperature, she shed her clothes and put them in the house keeping basket. She stepped into the stream of water, hissing as her body adjusted to the heat. She shampooed and conditioned her hair, and scrubbed her body three times. She still didn't feel completely clean, but it was better than being covered in grime and memories of good-for-nothing prats.

She grabbed a towel off of the shelf outside of the stall, wringing her hair out first and then patting her body dry. She wrapped the towel around her and made her way into the bedroom. She dug through the trunk at the foot of her bed, scowling when she came to the two pictures she had thrown in there yesterday evening. She ignored them, pulled out a fresh uniform, and dressed, towel drying her hair one last time before running her brush through it. Figuring enough time had passed to be safe, Ayr went to the bathroom, and brushed her teeth. As she entered her bedroom again, she groaned to herself – the sun hadn't even started to rise yet.

Knowing that sleep was beyond her now, Ayr left the girl's dormitory and then the Common room. She had no destination in mind, but when her feet stopped moving, she was in front of the Great Hall. Shrugging to herself, she pushed the massive door open – easily, to her surprise – and entered the expansive room. Making her way over to the Gryffindor table, she ignored the bench in favor of lying in the middle of the table. Her eyes locked on the enchanted ceiling, and she smiled softly – the stars were beautiful that night.

Ayr wasn't sure how much time had actually passed – the ceiling was turning that steel gray color that only occurs before the sun rises. A soft groaning pulled her attention away from the ceiling, and towards the opening door of the Great Hall. She seethed when Malfoy entered, and swung her legs around so that she was sitting on the table.

"Must you ruin every moment of peace I ever have?"

Malfoy looked up, his eyes wide as if she had caught him off guard. He composed himself, forming his face into his normal mask of arrogance, and walked easily into the Great Hall. She watched him warily, still shaken from the dream that had broken through her defenses. His eyebrow jumped up towards his hairline, and Ayr narrowed her eyes.

"I was under the impression that Hogwart's only housed one insomniac," He called, his voice light as if she should be honored that he would speak to her.

"I would be sound asleep if I weren't having nightmares about you, you insufferable rat," She hissed, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

Malfoy stopped suddenly, and Ayr could have sworn she saw first surprise, and then pain, flash through his eyes. Whatever it was she thought she had seen was quickly replaced by mock amusement, his lips curving into his signature smirk.

"Don't you get enough of me during school hours?" He asked – Ayr wanted to smack that arrogant smirk off of his face. "Now you have to dream about me as well?"

Ayr stood, and neared him. Show him no fear, she commanded, deciding to make it her new mantra. He sneered down at her, but there was something in the depths of his eyes that Ayr couldn't name. He was almost a head taller than her, but that didn't stop her from meeting his eyes with determination.

"I don't like you, Malfoy," She spat, dangerously quiet. "I despise you and the very ground you walk on. The fact that you are Head Boy and I am Head Girl changes nothing – it just means I have to restrain myself from slapping you in front of the others."

Malfoy's eyes darkened and he lost his smirk, anger painting his features dangerously.

"That was a onetime only free pass, Trikk." He spat her last name, making her want to wince. "I'll advise you to not let it happen a second time."

"Or what?" She hissed back at him. "You'll catch me in a dark classroom all alone again?"

Shock, or surprise, blanched Malfoy's features, and his mouth opened as if he were about to argue with her. He snapped it closed again, his jaw tightening and his temple swelling with the pressure. His face finally conformed back into his normal cynical sneer, but the surprise didn't leave the depths of his eyes.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about," He deadpanned.

Ayr snorted her disgust, and debated on stomping on his foot. Instead, she met his eyes again, matching his sneer with one of her own.

"Of course you don't, you loathsome prat."

Seething, Ayr stormed out of the Great Hall, marching up to the Gryffindor Common Room. She looked around and then groaned – she had made a complete circle. She sighed, climbing the stairs to the girls' dormitory. The soft snoring of her friends greeted her, but did little to better her mood. Flopping on her bed, Ayr rooted through her shoulder bag until she found the bundle of letters. Eyeing them warily, she snorted and pulled the next one off of the pile.

"Alright, dad," She sneered to herself. "Show me that you're different."

Darling Snake;

The hour is late, and I cannot sleep. This evening was the first night you told me of your love for me. I apologize, for saying nothing in return must have seemed quite inappropriate, but I do hope you understand in lieu of the circumstances.

You see, my mind is not full of rainbows and unicorns, though I imagine it would be a more pleasant world if it were. In fact, at this moment, I am tossing your words over in my mind, and I am wondering how I should be reacting. Part of my heart wants to leap from my chest in joy, for your love is undoubtedly returned. There is another part, however, that insists on reminding me why our affair is kept secret in the first place.

For the past year, this hump-backed witch has served as our literary rendezvous point. We refer to each other only by our House lest our letters be intercepted by an unwanted third party, and you worry so about appearances. My heart wants to love you, darling, but my mind must question your motives.

Your house works for power, which it gains through fear and threats. You yourself long for this power – don't think I don't hear about the things you say, the things you do when I'm not around. I cannot blame you – that is why you were put into Slytherin to begin with, after all. But try to see this from my eyes – I am a good enough woman for you to love, and write secret letters to, and meet secretly in the Forbidden Forest. I am not good enough, however, to hold your hand in the hallway, to kiss you goodnight after dinner, or to smile at you from across the classroom.

A year, Snake, you have asked me to be patient while your sorted out your personal affairs, to make it easier for our affair to become a public one. A year I have waited.

I cannot wait anymore.

Ayr stared at the letter in her hand, and almost forgot who she was reading about. She felt as if she were reading one of those American romance novels, and felt like yelling at the writer to take the Snake back. Then she remembered that the writer was her mother, and that the Snake wanted to hide their love for status purposes.

She sneered, and was glad her mother had put her foot down. Ayr then noticed the rest of the letters on her bed, and sighed. Apparently, her mother's foot hadn't stayed down. She folded the letter in her hand, returned it to its envelope, and tucked the letter in the back of the pile. Shrugging, she pulled the next letter off of the pile, opened it, and began to read.

This letter will be delivered to you by way of owl, for I did not know whether you would feel compelled to return to our usual drop-off location.

My beloved Lioness, I have been blind to your feelings and insensitive to your thoughts. I would like, very much, to tell you that you have changed my mind, and that I will immediately declare my love to you publically, but I cannot. Before you stop reading, however, please know that there are many reasons I cannot allow our love affair to become public. There are forces at work, much greater than either you or I, and I cannot risk you getting involved. Please do not ask what these forces are, for I'm afraid that I cannot answer you honestly at this time.

Please believe, my Lioness, that everything will be revealed in due time. It is then that I can claim you as my own, and no sooner. The question remains, however, of whether or not you shall want to claim me as yours when this time comes. You have won my heart, though I question how, every day. How did a cold, power-hungry Slytherin legacy become so enraptured by a fiery, compassionate Gryffindor such as yourself? It has made me feel weak, vulnerable, soft even – but above all, it has made me feel very blessed.

Awaiting your response,

Snake.