The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 4: Questionable Sincerity

BPART 1: SEVEN YEARS

Chapter 4: Questionable Sincerity/B

Harry was sitting at the table when Sara walked into the kitchen, dressed for the day and in search of a quick cup of liquid energy. She was exhausted, but that was no surprise. Her tired eyes met his and he tried to smile, and then shifted his gaze to his fidgeting hands, uncomfortable.

"I made breakfast," he told her, "There's tea ready if you want some."

"I'm going out," she said without a hint of emotion, "I have a lot to do today and I'm trying to be excited about it, so if you're going to be nasty, I'd prefer it if you didn't speak at all."

Harry sighed. "Sara, II'm sorry./I I don't know what gets into me sometimes."

Her mumbled sarcasm was easily overheard. I"I wonder." /I

"Were you going to look at the shop Snape gave you?"

"Yes."

"I know I wasn't very receptive last night when you tried to tell me about it, but I'd like to come along if you don't mind."

"You would? IWhy?" /I

"I'd like to see it. Help out if needs be. After all, you don't know what state it's in, but I understand if you don't want me to."

Seeing him make an apologetic effort to involve himself in her interests prompted Sara to consider the idea. He was still her husband after all, and obviously, something had happened last night that was causing him to reconsider their marriage. Sara didn't like the idea of being made a fool of, or being within a hundred feet of the liar she saw before her, but something in his eyes melted some of the frost around her heart. She still loved him, Iimmensely, /I and it disgusted her that he would take such a precious gift and then turn his back on it. However, the night she'd spent with Draco, no matter how innocent, weighted heavy on her mind. She acquiesced, though there was a part of her that was hurt and angry and wanted to scream at him.

"That would be nice, Harry."

"Sit down. Why don't you have some breakfast and tell me what you have planned for the place."

With something akin to reluctance, Sara lowered herself into a chair.

* * *

Ron paced the kitchen, stopping on every other pass to pull the yellow lace curtains aside and look out the window, searching the skies for any sign of his owl. "I don't understand. Why hasn't he answered yet? You told him it was sort-of important, didn't you?"

"Yes, Ron. I don't know why he hasn't answered except that I told Hemmingway to wait until he was alone to deliver it."

"Alone! Why didn't you just tell Hemmingway to wait until Sara wasn't around? Harry might not get the letter Iall day!" /I

"It's just a bird, Ron. I didn't want to be over-specific and get him all confused."

"If they didn't know Iwho was who, /I we wouldn't let them carry our mail! INow /I what are we supposed to do?"

"We don't need IHarry/I to research fog vials."

"Maybe not, but we could use his take on what Malfoy's up to. What if Azkaban can't waitI all day/I for a bloodyI owl/I to deliver a message? Ever think of Ithat? /I This could all be happening Iright now, /I as we speak, but you don't want to Iconfuse the bird?!" /I

"Really Ron! Please keep in mind that this is just an idea that makes sense. Malfoy hasn't given us any indication that we're right, yet here you are making assumptions and acting like it's proven fact of the most urgent nature!"

"What if we Iare/I right? What if we're Iexactly/I right, but we wait too long? Malfoy bought all those fog vials for a reason, and it wasn't so he could Ihold on to them/I while we prove our theory!"

"Look. I'm going to Diagon Alley to see if I can get more information from that shop where Draco bought the vials. It's bound to look odd after the story I gave him, but he seemed to know what they're used for. Maybe I can at least get us pointed in the right direction. You go help your dad and I'll catch up with you later."

"Well Ithat's/I not fair! You get to do all the snooping around and I get to fix the shed?" Ron protested, but Hermione was already out the door with a bag of books slung over her shoulder.

* * *

"I have to admit, Draco, that smug grin has me wondering. I imagine the change in your attitude can only be a result of Miss Lemke's visit last night."

"Actually, she was still here when I awoke this morning. She slept in my bed, just so you know."

Lucius raised questioning eyebrows.

"I said Islept, /I Father. That's all, unfortunately. I think she had a fight with Potter or something. She wouldn't talk about it."

"A step in the right direction, Draco! These things can take time. You can't expect to tear her away from her Ihusband/I all at once. Still, this must please you."

"It doesn't please me to see her cry, but I'm certainly glad it was me that she came to. I wish I could say I just want her to be happy, but I'm afraid I want Ime/I to be happy, too. "

"She belongs with you, now that I'm dead, and it seems she's beginning to see this for herself. Sara was Imeant/I to be a Malfoy. She even looks the part!"

"Perhaps, but I think she just needed a friend."

"And what would you say if I told you that I may have some knowledge as to what's troubling Sara?"

"And how would Iyou/I know? I have no interest in your misguidance, no matter how well-intended."

"Have you forgotten that you hung portraits of me elsewhere? I happened to visit your other home last night," Lucius unleashed a smug grin of his own, "What I saw may very well be the ace up your sleeve."

"I hardly think IChristina/I has anything to do with it! Why would you even imply that she did?"

"I would tell you, but I'm afraid I'm too distracted by whatever it is you have around your neck."

Draco smiled. "What these?" he held up two golden medallions, "These are my Medals of Valor and Heroism. The Minister of Magic gave them to me after we annihilated Voldemort. I told you about them years ago."

"And why, may I ask, are you wearing them around the house?"

"I just felt like it, I guess. After Sara left, I thought of them. I only have them because of her. I became the person who won these medals only with the hopes of deserving her company, and then Icontinuing/I to deserve it. After somehow getting her to sleep in my bed last night, I felt like I'd earned these medals all over again, since getting Sara to sleep beside me was Ifar/I more difficult than defeating Voldemort. Oh, but I also wore them because I knew they would irritate the hell out of you."

"I think the knowledge of your muggle friend will remain with me until that time when you decide to remove those offending medals. After all, in the eyes of a long line of Malfoys, they are medals of shame and betrayal, not of Ivalor." /I

Never one to let Lucius get the best of him if he could help it, Draco grinned and called to the departing image of his father. "Oh, I forgot to mention. If I die without an heir, Malfoy Manor is willed to Harry Potter."

"WHAT?!!"

"You heard me."

"How Idare/I you!"

Draco went on smirking and straightening his medals.

"You'd best produce an heir and Isoon!" /I

"Easier said then done. Have a good day, Father." A flick of his wand draped the portrait in black once more and Lucius' bellows of rage went unheard, muffled.

* * *

Christina knew the portraits moved, Draco had told her as much, but she'd never seen it in person. Only little variances here and there or a shift out of the corner of her eye. Draco had also said that they would remain still if a muggle, like her, was around.

The large portrait of Draco's father that hung in the front room was the exception. One minute he was frozen in time, the next she could swear he was watching her move about the room as she dusted. The eyes seemed to blink. Most of the time there was no expression on his face, sometimes a scowl, and sometimes, like now, a knowing smirk. Sometimes, there was nothing in the frame at all. Today, however, the attractive white-haired man was watching her. She was sure of it.

Since Draco hadn't actually lived in their house for several years, Christina decided it would be ok if she did a little redecorating. The elder Malfoy was giving her the creeps, after all, and it would do her nerves a world of good to relocate him to a nice, dark closet.

Pulling a chair over to the wall, Christina climbed upon it, contemplated the weight of the frame, and wondered if she should get someone to help. Deciding to test her strength, she placed a hand on either side and lifted. It didn't budge.

"What the Idevil?" /I

"I've been called worse."

Christina screamed and fell off the chair, hitting the floor hard. She sat up, unhurt, her eyes wild with fear and surprise. I"Who's there?" /I

A soft, mocking chuckle drifted into the room and Christina looked around, terrified. I"Who is that!?" /I

"And they say muggles are as smart as dogs," Lucius rolled his eyes, "Get up, Christina. You're making a fool of yourself, you know."

"It's you!" she stood, gaping at the portrait, "The picture!"

"Very good. Bravo." Lucius clapped his hands and smiled with amusement.

"I've lost my mind."

"Yes, it appears so. The second you stepped into the wizarding world, fitting enough, as you never belonged here to begin with."

"Draco Iwanted/I me here."

"For a time, I imagine he thought he did. You see, curiosity tends to get the best of pureblood wizards, and some go so far as to test the figurativeI waters/I of the muggle world. Unfortunate, but true, yes, and it seems Draco had developed this particular affliction at one point in his life. You can imagine my disappointment as his father, though he appears to suffer from it no longer."

"Why do I feel insulted?"

"Don't be. Draco has superior taste, thanks to his upbringing, so perhaps you should count yourself lucky. After all, he chose you from all the other muggles, did he not? Certainly, there were specimens Ibetter suited/I to his refinement and sophistication. Better Ilooking, /I too, I assume."

"There's Ialways/I someone Ibetter looking! /I Some determine a person's worth based on character, not social stature or appearance! People like Draco!"

"Is that so?" Lucius snickered, "Then am I to assume that you find no fault with Draco's relationship with Sara Lemke?"

"Sara is a person of excellent character. There is nothing to find fault Iwith." /I

"A person of excellent character who happens to be his equal in social stature Iand/I appearance. Let's not forget the fact that he turns into a drooling baboon every time he lays eyes on her. It's rather sickening if you ask my opinion."

"They're friends. She's married."

I"Married, /I yes…" Lucius gave her that look of informed amusement that she was quickly growing to despise, "but perhaps you're even more of a fool than I thought."

"What are you getting at, Mr. Malfoy? I'm really getting sick of being insulted."

"Tell me, Christina, when was the last time you saw Draco?"

"Christmas. So what?"

"More than eight months ago? What if I told you that I saw him just this morning?"

"Draco is in China."

Lucius laughed aloud. "Do you really believe everything he says?"

"I have no reason to doubt him, just as he has no reason to lie to me."

"And how, may I ask, do you determine when he does and does not have reason to lie? What if I told you that Draco is not, nor has he ever been, in China? What if I told you that he resides right here in this very city, in our family home?"

"You're lying."

"You'll believe whatever you want, of course, but answer this: what is more likely? That Draco travels the world for some mysterious job, which allows him to come home for a day or two only once or twice a year, or that he is simply avoiding you? Tell me, has the time he spends here diminished gradually over the years? Or has he always been gone for such Iextended/I periods?"

Christina felt tears burn her eyes as she realized everything the portrait was telling her made perfect sense, and played upon her greatest fears.

"What if I told you that Draco did not sleep alone last night?"

"YOU'RE LYING!"

"Sometimes, my dear, those who exhibit Iexcellent character, /I are the ones who make the most convincing liars. Every word I've said is true."

"How would you know? You're just a picture! And you can only see this room!"

Lucius unfurled his sinister laugh. "Silly girl, I am able to enter any room that holds a portrait of me."

Christina was crying now. "And who was he supposedly with? Draco has too much integrity to betray me like that! I know who you're implying but it's NOT TRUE!"

His voice adopted a sympathetic tone. "As much as it Ipains/I me to be the bearer of bad news, I have to admit that Draco has never had the ability to see past his greatest desire. This is something you must have known all along. You've seen the photograph he keeps."

"I don't believe you!"

"Obviously, my counsel is wasted here. Continue living in ignorance if it pleases you. Good day, Christina."

With that, the painted image of Draco's father was gone, and Christina was reeling from all that was said. It simply couldn't be true! It wasn't possible! An idea struck her and she hurried to the writing desk in the room she'd once shared with Draco. The raven awoke when she burst into the room and squawked in annoyance.

Christina ignored it in favor of the quill and parchment.

BIDear Harry,

I have just been given the most disturbing news through a talking portrait here at the house. I can't even begin to explain it in this letter, but it claimed to know where Draco is and, well, there's more to it and it concerns you. It was implication of the most obvious sort, but I thought you would want to know straight away. I will leave it to you to determine if there is any truth to it.

I think you know how to get to the place where Draco is supposed to be. I want to see him, Harry. If he has been lying to me all these years, I want to find him. I can't even begin to tell you how upset I am right now.

I know that, after last night, asking you to come here is a bad idea, but this is information of the most sensitive nature and it really shouldn't wait another minute. I want you to know that I'm sorry about what happened. It was certainly unplanned and I can't shake the guilt I feel, even with all that I have just learned. You are a good friend to me, and one of the only people I trust completely. I would never want something so foolish to ruin that. You have my word that it will not happen again. I hope you will come as soon as you can. I will be pacing the floor until you arrive.

PS: I know this is terrible of me, but please do not share this with Sara. You will understand when I explain.

Christina/B/I

"Here, Raven. Take this to Harry Potter. It's private, so don't give it to him unless he's alone, but it's important, so take the first opportunity!"

Christina held her breath as the giant black bird took flight with the letter held in its beak. At once, she wondered if telling Harry what the portrait had said was the right thing to do, but she was sure Harry would want to know the truth as much as she did. Harry would know if it was a lie. Harry always knew what was best. Besides, the letter was gone. There was no turning back now.

* * *

The shop was in a little cul-de-sac just off a side street, with a wide circle of cobbled sidewalk and white, cast iron café tables in the center. It was a lovely little area that Sara didn't visit very often, but it was nice, quaint, and already felt like home. She was dismayed, however, to see that her storefront, the second door in on the left, was the only one of the lot that was unkempt and in need of paint.

Harry looked around at the mass of witches and wizards, crammed into the narrow street near-by, as Sara struggled with the key in the old lock. "When did they turn Diagon Alley into a circus?"

Sara replied as she twisted and turned the ancient skeleton key. "It does seem overly crowded today. I wonder what's going on?"

A stranger's voice from behind startled them both. "The Witch Weekly Beauty Pageant has been going on all week. Mariah Johnson just won! I was hoping she would."

Harry didn't quite know how to respond, as he was taken off guard. Sara was usually better with small talk of this sort, he was more in tune with Quidditch and the weather than beauty pageants, but the woman was looking at Ihim/I, not Sara, and clearly expected some sort of response. "Oh. Um… do you know her? That girl that won? Mariah…?"

"Mariah IJohnson. /I She's friends with one of the neighbor kids. We've had them over for tea a few times," the woman clasped her hands in front, which reminded Harry instantly of Draco Malfoy, "They just graduated from Hogwarts this past June. Mariah with top honors."

The woman, who carried a serene smile with ease, was attractive in the simplest of ways, with a hint of olive in her skin tone and hair a shade lighter than his own. He guessed she was in her early to mid-thirties, though her face didn't show her age. Instead, it held a natural kindness, a benevolence, which Harry immediately liked. The sun caught in her shoulder-length, wavy hair, and glinted off her glasses.

Harry fell silent for a moment, turning to watch the float come down the street, with none other than Mariah herself standing on top with her tiara sparkling and a sash draped over her shoulder. Harry had expected yet another Veela for some unknown reason, and smiled a bit when he saw that she wasn't blonde. Mariah was a pretty girl, that was for certain, but something in his gut warned him not to voice the fact in front of Sara. The hovering parade float drifted closer and Harry noticed that one hand waved to the many spectators; the other held the arm of a tall, athletic young man. "Is that…"

The woman grinned. "It's IBrock Landry!" /I

"From the England Quidditch team?"

"He'll be escorting the winner to the gala they're having tonight."

Sara gave up on the lock and turned to get a good look at Mariah and her escort before they turned the corner. I"Brock Landry? /I The Quidditch star?"

The woman nodded. "They say he's the-"

"The best chaser in Europe," Harry mumbled, "Are all these people really here just for a beauty contest?"

"Sort of. I think most of them are here for Brock Landry."

"I see." Harry's attention faded as his eyes wandered over the crowd, catching glimpses of Mariah's red evening gown. It didn't occur to him to find this odd, even though it was barely noon.

The woman gave him a quizzical look, unused to being dismissed in such an odd manor. She turned to Sara, seeing Harry was preoccupied with his own little world. Sara also glanced at Harry, thinking he was being a bit rude and that his sudden 'drifting away' was unlike him.

"Forgive my husband. He's got a short attention span when a beautiful girl and a sports legend go floating past. I'm Sara."

"Lisa Rene. Nice to meet you, Sara. Would you like some help with that door? I've gotten the hang of it since Irma's arthritis set in. She couldn't get it open Iat all /I in winter." Lisa Rene took the key from Sara and demonstrated the quirky manner in which it must be unlocked. "Hold the key like this, tilted just a hair clockwise, push up on the base, hold it there, now Iturn." /I

Sara smiled as the door swung open. "Thanks!"

"Anytime. It might take a few days before you get it right, so if you need a hand, I own the shop next door." She indicated the neat and tidy brick-faced store they had just passed, right on the corner.

Sara's interest in Lisa went from passive to full curiosity. "You know, I'm not very familiar with this section of Diagon Alley. I'm afraid I don't know what you sell."

"Books and assorted supplies. Mostly for home schooling."

"Are there a lot of home schooled wizards? I assumed they all went to Hogwarts."

"They used to, but ever since all the problems with You-Know-Who, more and more people are keeping their kids at home. Especially after the um… Isecurity breaches. /I Now, with Dumbledore gone..."

Harry bristled at the mention of Dumbledore's passing and finally rejoined the discussion. "Voldemort is Idead." /I

"You don't know how much I want to believe that, but last time everyone thought he was dead, he wasn't. We simply can't take chances with our children's' lives based on rumors and hope. People are still scared."

"I assure you that Voldemort will not be returning."

"Not to argue the point, but I will always have my doubts and so will many others. Nothing is for certain. They say that he can't die, but you say that he can. How can you assure anyone of that?"

"Because we're the ones who killed him."

Lisa hesitated as she took a closer look at the man before her, beheld the intensity in his eyes, and the thin silver scar that tried to hide behind a wisp of dark hair. "Harry Potter. I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you."

Sara sighed, exasperated. "No more talk of ugliness! No more Voldemort!"

Harry became flustered. Annoying Sara was the last thing he wanted to do today. "Sorry."

Sara's expression softened when she saw that he really was. "It's ok, Harry. Hey Lisa, looks like you have a customer waiting. Perhaps we'll see you again before we leave."

"See you later and nice meeting you both." With that, Lisa Rene hurried away to greet her customer.

Harry followed Sara into the front room of the shop, which was littered with broken candles, spilling out of sagging, inadequate boxes that had split a seam or simply collapsed. They looked to be even older than the peeling, dry-rotted paper hanging off the far wall. Every surface was worn, dirt-stained.

Harry tried to smile at Sara's expression. "It'll need a bit of fixing up, I guess."

I"Fixing up? /I Harry! It's a Idump!" /I

"Um…" he grinned, "It's worse than that, actually."

Sara was incredulous. "It's about to Ifall apart! /I Didn't the Toadbuckets care Iat all/I about their property? I can't believe how Ibad/I the let this get!"

"They didn't have much money, but I don't think it's even been Ipainted/I since they built it."

"I don't think it's been Icleaned/I since they built it! The Iwhole place/I needs to be gutted! The ceiling is covered with water damage and mildew. It's bowed in the middle. The floor will need to be replaced. The walls, too. They're buckling, look, you can see every stud. It's all under an inch of Idirt/I anyway."

Sara appeared so disappointed by the extent of disrepair, that Harry felt the need to put the spark back in her sense of adventure. "Let's go home real quick and change clothes. We'll rip the walls out right now. Come on, Sara, it'll be fun! It's not everyday that one gets to demolish something."

"Plaster dust in my hair? Broken fingernails? It certainly Idoes/I sound like fun. We've got plenty of clothes if we ruin these. No need to go home. Did we bring hammers?"

Harry smiled with delight. "I believe we have a couple of hammers with us."

"Where will we put the walls? We can't just throw them into the middle of the floor with the rest of this… Igarbage." /I

"I'll see what I can do," he offered, "While I'm out, I'll drop by the post office and send a few owls. See if we can get a contractor or two in to look at this. I don't suppose we should rip the ceiling down ourselves unless we want to wind up in the hospital."

"Thanks, Harry. See if they can come today for an estimate. And they need to be available immediately." Sara's face fell with sadness as she thought of Greg Sanders, who was Ialways/I available immediately.

Harry stepped closer and put his arms around her. "He crossed my mind, too. It's like our parents, you know. It never really goes away."

"They jump straight into the middle of my thoughts at the slightest association. Harry, Greg would haveI loved/I this. I can see him bustling around, trying to do everything himself. All he ever wanted was to make us happy. I never understood his loyalty."

"His loyalty, at first, came from the fact that you gave him a chance when no one else would. It was gratitude for the most part. It grew to be friendship. His loyalty became Iour/I loyalty. We loved him, Sara, and we will remember him forever. I know that's worth more than money to a person like Mr. Sanders."

"He was the most unselfish person I had ever met."

"And the Igoofiest." /I

Sara smiled and finally put her arms around Harry. She didn't want him so close. Something inside her rioted against his touch, but she knew his embrace was meant as comfort and was not romantic in nature. The pain of remembering Greg Sanders was wiped away with a single word, drifting through her thoughts. ISnogging. /I

Harry kissed the top of her head, an old habit he'd practically forgotten, and guilt nearly overwhelmed him. The familiarity of her, the love he still felt in her touch, and the memory of her tears the night before, trampled his heart where it mattered most. "Sara…" he hesitated, "If you think I don't love you, you're wrong."

Harry pulled away and smiled before hurrying through the door.

Sara watched him go as the riot of anger and revulsion inside her turned to confusion. IWhat was he doing? /I Why did she have her husband back, without explanation, and so suddenly? Did he feel sorry for her? Some stupid guilt over his affair with who knows who? Harry had been neglecting their marriage for more than three years and the longer it went on, the worse it got, and Sara had been on the verge of walking out this morning. It was always at these times, when she had been pushed to the edge, that he would turn into the husband she needed and missed. She both loved and hated these little moments of his. They only served to remind her of what they'd once had, and what he would again take away when the spirit moved him. The problem was, she had become so starved for his attention, that she took the smallest kindness and held it for as long as it lasted. Sara found she was incapable of pushing Harry away, no matter what he did, no matter how much he hurt her. That is, until one word had ruined everything. ISnogging. /I

There was no sense in standing around the shop. After surveying the small office/storage room in back, the tiny kitchenette, and the most frightening bathroom she'd ever seen, Sara went out for some fresh air. For the first time in many years, she wished she had a pack of cigarettes stashed somewhere. Her nerves were a mess. It was difficult spending time with Harry after all she'd gone through the night before. The sense of betrayal was acute and overwhelming, as was her guilt over spending the night with Draco. It wasn't guilt over the act itself, as she had upheld the vows of her marriage. Sara felt guilt because she didn't feel one bit bad about it. What she'd done was vindicated, innocent, and without regret, but she knew Harry wouldn't see it that way. Sara wasn't sure if she cared. She loved Harry, of that she was certain, but she didn't love the cold, nasty, lying cheating, bastard he'd become.

To avoid being eaten alive by acid confusion, Sara glanced around at the other shops in the cul-de-sac. Her eyes landed on one in particular and she set in motion.

She almost didn't see the man on the bench outside Slytherin Spirits and she nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke to her. She wasn't exactly sure what he said, but he had a pleasant smile on his face and his eyes were kind, as they tried to look upon her without menace. Without Ifocus. /I

"You're drunk, sir."

The man looked at the bottle of Dragon's Fire beer he held and gave her a dazed smile. "You're kidding! I'm so embarrassed."

Sara laughed. "Can I get you some lunch? You'll be asleep within an hour if you don't eat something."

He gulped down some beer. "I'm on a diet. It's a very strict diet."

"You wouldn't happen to have any cigarettes, would you?"

"Wizards don't smoke cigarettes, that's a muggle thing."

"I was raised in a muggle setting, so I picked up a bad habit or two. I quit a long time ago, but I'm a little stressed out at the moment."

"Lucky for you I'm half muggle then."

The man called to a woman with long blonde hair who was walking away from the café with a cup of steaming something. She headed over to where he sat.

"My ex-girlfriend," he explained, "She's a muggle, but I still let her into Diagon Alley."

"What would a muggle want with wizarding shops?"

"She wants that spiced tea. She said it's just like the chai from Starbucks, except way better. Mystic makes a hell of a cup of tea."

"Warf!" the girl shook her head in disbelief, "What did I tell you about drinking during the week!"

"It's Saturday!"

"Oh. Go ahead and drown yourself then. You got beer? Why didn't you get some wine or something? I frigging hate beer."

"I thought you were getting chai?"

"I did!"

"Well then since you have chai, I got beer."

"Fine then. I have to leave anyway. I'm meeting Marty for lunch. Same time tomorrow?"

"This nice girl here is out of cigarettes."

The drunken man's ex-girlfriend turned to Sara, who must have looked as uncomfortable as she felt. "I Ihate/I running out of cigarettes. It frigging Isucks. /I Here," she handed Sara most of a pack of Marlboro Lights, "You can have the rest of these."

"I can't take your whole pack! One is fine."

"There's another pack in my purse. Plus I have about twelve more packs in the car."

"Thank you! At least let me pay you for them."

"If you want to pay me, keep an eye on my buddy Warf here. He's trouble, this one is," she smiled at Warf, "And he's fond of skinny-dipping."

Warf grinned at the girl and Sara laughed.

"I don't think there're any fountains near-by, so he should be ok."

The woman turned to Warf and sipped her chai. "Put your hat on. Your head will get sunburned." She took the hat from the seat beside him and handed it to him. "Do you want me to come back after lunch?"

"That's ok. I'm meeting some friends in awhile. We're playing polo."

"You shouldn't be flying around on a broom and swinging a mallet after twenty beers. I'll meet you in the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow at noon."

"Ok." Warf said and the girl hurried away after smiling at Sara and giving a brief wave.

Warf took his hat back off and tossed it aside. "Want a beer?"

"Ok," Sara said and took a seat. She lit a cigarette and accepted a bottle. "She seems nice."

"She is. Little Ibossy, /I but nice."

Sara burst out laughing and nearly choked on her beer.

"Ever watch Star Trek?"

* * *

Two birds, one yellowish-brown and one sleek and black, took flight to follow Harry through the streets. The birds were out of place in the daylight, but not out of place in Diagon Alley.

"HEY!"

Harry turned to see a woman in a raggedy old green dress, matching worn out cape, and with shoulder-length reddish hair bearing down on him. The two birds veered away and lit on a near-by rooftop. "Yes?"

Her tone was angry and demanding. "What are you planning to put in there?!"

"I'm sorry?"

"The shop! What are you Idoing/I with it?"

"Oh, um… it's my wife's actually. She's a diviner."

The woman's face turned sour. "I knew it! I saw it Idays/I ago!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Diagon Alley is not big enough for two fortunetellers, mister whatever the hell your name is, so bugger off! You tell that Iwitch/I to find another use for that store or sell it to someone who will!"

"I'll tell her nothing of the sort!"

"Then I'll tell her myself." She turned away, meaning to stalk off, back the way she'd come.

"Wait!"

"WHAT?!"

Harry was exasperated. "Who are you?"

I"Hawthorn, /I you idiot! The fortuneteller in the shop directly across from you!"

"I will speak to Sara. And I'd appreciate it if Iyou/I didn't."

"Fine, just as long as the sign in front of her store doesn't affect Imy business!" /I

Away she went in a fury and Harry sighed. It was turning out to be one problem after another and, even though she didn't know he'd kissed Christina last night, Harry needed to see Sara smile, if only to ease his own mind. He would need to be quick and get back to her straight away. He didn't need a jealous, rival merchant wrecking her day.

The post office was just up ahead, so Harry headed to it. The two birds attempted again to deliver their letters, but just as they were within delivering distance, Harry was joined by Padma Patil.

"Hey Harry, have you seen Parvati anywhere?"

"No," he replied, "Sorry."

"If you see her would you tell her we're leaving?"

"Sure. Nice seeing you."

"Thanks! Bye Harry!"

Off she went, but the birds were too far away to reach Harry before he went into the post office.

* * *

"You don't look like a beer drinker. Wouldn't you prefer something else?"

Sara looked up at the pretty young woman who had come out of Slytherin Spirits and now stood over her, with shiny black hair hanging over her shoulders and a hint of a smile on her face. She swiped her blunt-cut bangs out of her eyes. "Warf, put your hat on. Your head will get burned."

"This is good beer," Sara said, not wanting to sound ungrateful, "But what else do you have?"

"You look like a wine drinker to me. I just got a shipment of a nice German Riesling."

Sara's smile widened. "My favorite!"

Warf, good natured as always, protested. "Hey Slyth, get your own friends! This one's mine."

Slyth rolled her eyes. "Like she wants to drink your cheap beer and hear about Star Trek."

Sara was surprised. "You don't like Star Trek?"

"How do I know? I've never evenI seen/I a muggle telley, much less watched one. Come inside. I'll get us a couple of glasses."

Sara followed Slyth inside and introduced herself. Slyth, as it turned out, had inherited the pub/liquor store from an old aunt who was too tired to run the place anymore. She had also been a student of Harry's, back when he was still teaching at Hogwarts. As Slyth talked and poured them each a glass of wine, Sara decided that she liked her very much. Slyth was fun and easygoing and she spoke to Sara as though they'd known each other for years.

Slyth handed Sara a glass and came back around the bar with her own and the bottle as well. "I suppose we should go back out. He's my best customer, and since I don't have many during the day, I don't want him wandering off to another pub. Besides," she laughed, "I rather like having him around."

* * *

Harry returned to the shop with a bewitched trashcan that transported trash to wherever it was the trash was handled. Fred and George insisted he bring it back before closing, so Harry thought they should get straight to work on the walls. The problem was, Sara was not inside the decrepit rooms. He ventured outside with Seamus Finnegan in tow, who had been visiting the Weasley brothers, having come to catch a glimpse of Brock Landry. He now wanted to see Sara's shop and, like Harry and Sara, was shocked at the amount of work it needed.

Seamus looked around with one hand shielding his eyes from the brightness. "Look Harry, there she is!"

They crossed the cul-de-sac and found Sara sitting on a bench with a slightly tipsy girl with long black hair and a visibly drunk man who appeared to be getting quite a sunburn on his head.

Sara was a little dazed as she showed Harry and Seamus a goofy grin. "Hey guys! This is Warf and Slyth. She owns this pub."

Warf teetered in his seat. "Hey, want a beer?"

They didn't have time to respond as Slyth jumped out of her seat. "Seamus Finnegan! You rotten git, I've sent you THREE owls in the past week and haven't heard a word in reply!"

Seamus stammered for a moment. "I'm sorry, Slyth! We've been so busy rounding up that last batch, that I haven't had time to get back to anyone. About aI hundred/I angry customers sent me three owls in the past week!"

Harry looked surprised. "We have angry customers?"

Slyth spoke up again. "You certainly do! I got three cases of Swill last week and they weren't what they Isaid/I they were! You try to cheat me, Seamus, and you'll be the sorriest git in Great Britain!"

Seamus turned to Harry, flustered. "I've been dealing with this all week! It seems I did the spell wrong and the whole vat was nothing but water!"

"Are you telling me that we shipped Iwater/I all over the country and we Icharged/I people for it?"

"Hence, all the owls. I've had our employees out all week, rounding it up, but, well; let's just say that we've got a few dissatisfied customers."

Slyth was livid at this point. "And what do you suppose I serve my patrons? You're not the only one with dozens of dissatisfied customers!"

Seamus was turning red he was so flustered and Sara got the impression he'd been getting yelled at all week. "We're short on supply! We've got to replace everything and half of the production line is out collecting cases of Iwater!" /I

Harry was now flustered as well. "Seamus, you git, I've got a million cases of Swill dating back years! Why do you think I asked you to stop sending it to me? And you kept sending it!"

Are you telling me you've got a huge store of Swill under your house Istill?" /I

"Yes, so come over tonight and we'll start transporting it." Harry turned to the girl he vaguely remembered. "You'll have your Swill in a few hours. I'll bring it to you personally."

"Thanks, Professor! I don't know what I would have done, with the crowds here for the pageant and all, and this being the busiest night of the week for pubs, I'd have cursed Seamus straight into next year!"

"Professor? I don't hear that very often anymore. I knew you looked familiar. Didn't you used to be blonde?"

"Yes, but I got sick of it."

Sara, who was well on her way to drunk, finally spoke up. "I love your black hair. It suits your look. You've got the most Iinteresting/I style. We should go shopping sometime!"

Before Slyth could get into an animated discussion about shopping and clothes, Harry jumped in. "Sara, if we're going to tear the walls down, we need to get it done. Seamus and I have to take care of this as soon as possible, and you should stop drinking. You've asked contractors in to look at your shop, remember?"

"You don't need to stay, Harry. You and Seamus should tend to business before you no longer have one. And if I may suggest, give them all an extra case of swill if there's enough. A Ifree/I one, that is. If there isn't, give them a coupon."

Seamus saw the brilliance of this and brightened considerably. "Hey! Great idea!"

Harry looked to Sara with apology. "You don't mind if I leave? I would rather stay if it makes any difference, but we really need to take care of this."

"Go, Harry. The walls can wait. I'll see to the contractors."

"Thanks," he said and bent to kiss her.

Sara recoiled, and then gave him a little peck.

Harry looked to her with hurt eyes. "I'll see you later. We'll draw up some plans for the shop and I'll make dinner. I promise."

Sara sighed. "Ok Harry. See you later then." She rose and kissed Seamus on the cheek. "You'd best get going."

As soon as they were gone, Sara turned to Warf. "How are you with a hammer?"

* * *

As Christina paced the floor on one side of London, Hermione came through the door of the house she shared with Ron on the other. She was excited, animate, and dropped her bag on the floor.

"Ron! Are you here? You're never going to believe this!"

"Did you find Harry?"

"No, but I think I found what we're looking for." She bent and rummaged through her bag.

"You spoke to the owner of that potions supply?"

"I did, and he pointed me in the right direction. I don't think we're wrong about Malfoy. Here it is!" She pulled a scroll of handwritten notes and a new book from her bag. Ron followed her to the careworn kitchen table. Hermione flipped through the pages of the thin manual she'd purchased and stopped on a section marked "Bottling and Storage."

"Fog vials. Ok now listen! Very few potions require the fog vial, which keeps any liquid at a constant temperature of one degree above freezing. These vials are carefully calibrated by skilled craftsmen; therefore they are usually quite expensive."

"Malfoy had a whole bag of them!"

"Shh! The most common uses for fog vials are for those few potions that must remain in stasis until they are ready to use. There are currently three classifications of potions that require them.

BGasses:/B ITwo types of gasses are best stabilized by a fog vial. The common smoke bomb, which poses no risk to those who come in contact with the thick, fog-like mist most often used for theatrical effects. The other is Noctris, an illegal substance which will send anyone who comes in contact with its fumes into a deep sleep for several hours. Any wizard found to be in possession of Noctris will find him or herself in front of the Gamut, as mere possession is considered premeditation of a high crime. /I

BIncendiaries:/B IExplosive mixtures require special handling, and a fog vial is ideal. Molecules in such potions are slowed by a cooler temperature, but freezing is counterindicated, as extreme temperatures may damage delicate molecular structures, resulting in unplanned detonation, a weakened result, or total ineffectiveness. A fog vial keeps potions such as Aquadrite, which is used for underwater excavation, and the difficult and unstable Incedtrite Nitriculys, stable enough for long-term storage. /I

BMedical:/B ITwo medical uses make wizarding hospitals the main consumers of fog vials. The first is the handling of blood for study or for short-term storage before a transfusion is performed. Since wizards rarely require such primitive medical procedures, blood storage is mostly utilized in medical education. One disease-treating potion requires a fog vial, though even these are not always successful in stabilizing the volatile serum used to stave off symptoms of the fatal Mortis Myalgia, an ailment of both blood and of human tissue cells. It is the rarest of magical afflictions, making its medicinal counterpart equally as infrequent. /I

Hermione slammed the book closed. "You see? Since I doubt Malfoy's taken up a career in medicine, he's making smoke bombs, sleeping gasses, orI real/I bombs!"

"What are we going to do about it?"

"I don't know. Really I don't. We need Harry, Ron. What on Earth could be keeping him? I sent HemmingwayI hours/I ago!"

"Maybe we should send another owl?"

"Don't be silly. Of course he's gotten it by now. I'm sure Harry will reply when he has a chance."

"But Hermione! This is too serious to just sit around and wait!"

"I agree. We'll just have to determine the best course of action without him."

* * *

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