The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 7: Nox

BPART 1: SEVEN YEARS

Chapter Seven: Nox/B

IB ~

I will leave the light on.
I'll never give up on you.
Leave the light on for me, too.

John Mayer – Back to You/B/I

"We Ihave/I to do something, Minister! She's getting worse and there's no hope as long as that charm is around her neck."

I"I know, /I Charles, but I have to admit, I'm at a loss in this situation. Our spell-breakers have been working since before she arrived and they just can't figure it out! Miguel says it's very old magic, and a very old necklace, and is likely some derivative of the Dark Arts that has been lost over the years. He's done everything short of asking around Knockturn Alley for ideas. They need more time."

"She doesn't Ihave/I more time. She's fading fast. There is lung damage that we cannot heal. Internal bleeding, head injuries. Broken bones at the very least! You told me she was familiar to you."

"Yes, but I really have no idea who she is, Charles! I've been thinking on it non-stop since I first saw her in the Manchester hospital, but I'm no closer to remembering."

"Obviously she has wizard affiliations."

"I agree."

"Have you sent anyone to examine the car she was driving?"

"I have and they've only just now reported back. It seems she went off the road in the dark and struck a tree at a high rate of speed. Silly muggle contraptions. Charles, sometimes I wish we could share magic with the world. Maybe then senseless things like this wouldn't happen."

"Admirable sentiments. However, the report the muggle doctor sent states that she was intoxicated at the time she was admitted. They were able to analyze her breath, as crazy as that sounds. They were also able to do some sort of body scan, which is surprisingly quite detailed and easy to read. They could see all the injuries, but this charm kept them from doing anything about them. We now face the same challenge and I must tell you this with all seriousness, Julien. This girl is Igoing to die, /I and it will be on our watch."

"What is your suggestion? I can see that you have one."

"Were there any personal effects in her car?"

"I was told that there were indeed a few. Photographs, clothing, not much else. But we have learned her name. Unfortunately, I doubt it will help us much."

"Don't be so quick to despair! If there is a clear photograph of her, along with her name, we can get a front-page article in the Daily Prophet's evening edition if we act quickly. Someone, somewhere, is bound to know who she is. We find that person; we may be able to get that necklace off before it's too late.

"I'll get my men on it right away."

* * *

"Look, in the window there."

"Beautiful couple," Mariah smiled, "They look so happy."

"That's my wife."

Mariah took a closer look. "Tell me that's her Ibrother/I she's dancing with."

"It's IDraco Malfoy." /I Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked a stone with lackluster disinterest, watching it skitter across the walk. "I assume you know who Ihe/I is."

"Oh my," Mariah sighed, "That's some Iheavy/I competition." The dreamy look on her face melted into something sad and apologetic.

Harry caught her eye and tried to smile a little. I"Heavy competition/I is a rather mild way of putting it. I've never been jealous when it comes to Sara, but Malfoy has always kicked the legs out from under that sort of confidence. Of course, it doesn't help that I can't stand him." Harry watched his impossibly good-looking, dangerously charming and intriguingly dangerous, arrogant, blond nemesis twirl his beautiful, radiant, smiling wife around the room amid the glow of romantic candlelight. The love he'd once felt for Sara flooded him, immense and unbearable, as thoughts of a long ago September night full of enchantment and laughter loomed in his mind like a painful ghost. Sara's seventeen-year-old violet eyes peered up at him through a halo of silver roses and Harry shut the memory out until the warmth of recollection was replaced once more by bitterness and resentment for Draco Malfoy.

"He's always had it for Sara. He'd go around in frilly knickers if he thought it would please her. He'd lob off his ownI head /I if she asked him to."

"But would she lob off hers? That's the question, really. Any guy would fall in love with a woman like your wife, Harry. It's how Ishe/I feels that matters, don't you think?"

"I don't know how she feels about him," Harry whispered, "But I trust my intuition and he worries me more than he should. A great deal more, actually."

"Why would you worry? You're Ibetter/I than he is and you're crazy if you think otherwise. I'm sure your wife is of the same opinion. She Imarried/I you, after all."

"HeI suits/I her is why. They're exactly alike," Harry's shoulders slumped, I"Exactly." /I

Mariah indicated the scene behind the window. "Does that bother you?"

"Yes."

"Then walk in there and chase him off."

"I can't police her like that. Sara will do what she wants."

I "Harry Potter! /I March right in there this instant and show that boy what it means to mess with another man's wife!"

Harry didn't move, aside from fidgeting with the galleons in his pocket. "They're best friends," he explained, "She'd never forgive me if I was wrong."

"That doesn't look like Ifriends/I to me. I might be younger than you, Harry, but I know what I see."

"And you would be correct. Come on."

"Just Ileave? /I You're not going to do anything?"

"And what would it prove if I did? They're dancing, Mariah, not snogging."

"They're Itoo close. /I You're upset and they should know it. I'll tell them if you won't."

"I think I've chased the joy from her life long enough." Harry hurried away with his head down and his hands curled in his pockets.

Mariah stole one last glance at the laughing, dancing couple on the other side of the glass before falling in beside Harry, who led her straight out of Diagon Alley and to the Jaguar, parked on the busy London street outside the Leaky Cauldron.

Soon, Harry led Mariah through the front door of the house he shared with Sara.

Awestruck wonder and delight lit her expression as they stepped from the atrium. "Would you Ilook/I at this place!"

"I did most of the designs myself and had it built while Sara was away."

"It's beautiful!" Mariah looked around at all she could see, "I mean, it's so much Imore/I than that!"

"That's because this house was built on dreams. TheI loveliest /I of dreams." Harry's face grew dark and his tone quiet. "They've all faded now. This house is all that's left."

Mariah turned to face him and her heart fell to pieces as she looked in his eyes, so full of sadness and pain that she could barely understand the apathy she saw in him. "I'm listening, Harry."

Harry walked Mariah through the rooms downstairs, and as he did, he told the story of how he'd met the lonely girl in the tower, how they fell in love, and how the darkness had come between them. He told her about Draco, and Lucius, and Sara fleeing in the night. He led her through the courtyard, full of lilacs and roses in bloom and sat with her before the fountain in the center, looking up at the statue of Frodo Baggins that would forever remind him of the greatest heartbreak any man had ever known. It was there that he told the story of her absence, and the thread of hope he'd clung to all those years ago, of how he'd waited on the balcony on the anniversary of her departure, and the despair he'd felt when she did not return. He ended with the sad tale of the ring, and of painting the doors black in the moonless night.

"It was then that she returned to me. Later that night. She read the journal I'd sent, and we were married the day after the great battle with Voldemort, which took place right here in our yard. It was the happiest day of my life, when I married Sara. Only now, after seven years, do I see how foolish we were, clinging to the past and to the perfect memory of what we'd known before, but little did we know that we were strangers to each other, no longer the hopeful innocents we'd once been, and that we were no longer meant to be. Everyone tried to tell me. Even ISara/I tried to tell me, but she said that she loved me, and that she'd made a promise she intended to keep. She swore to never leave me and I have a feeling it's the only reason she's still here. Sara has kept Iall /I of her promises. I can trust in her word, and in her sincerity, but I can't trust the darkness that still harbors inside of her. I want to, but there is a part of me that can't forget, and above all, can't forgive."

"What are you going to do?"

Harry said nothing as his eyes lingered on the stone image of Frodo Baggins, remembering how he'd once drawn strength from everything it stood for.

"I can't give you advice, Harry. Only you can decide what you should do in a situation like this. It's between you and Sara. You need to Italk/I to her, and after what I saw through the window, I'd suggest you do it soon."

Harry sighed. "I know."

"I wish I could help. I understand how alone you must feel."

"The greatest help you could give me was to listen, so thank you."

Mariah looked at him for a long moment, and then hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"Come on. I'll take you back now. There are just a few things I want to bring back to the shop, if you'll give me a minute."

* * *

As the sun made its way across the western sky, Sara and Draco made their way back to the shop with a box full of shrunken, antique furniture that had been in storage in Malfoy Manor for many decades. Draco had thought of it when she mentioned having to buy furnishings, he knew there would be at least a few items that would catch her fancy and he was right. Sara had fallen in love with practically Ieverything/I crammed into three unused rooms at the back of the house and had a hard time choosing the few pieces her small shop could hold.

"Tell you what, Draco, I'll enlarge this stuff. Why don't you run over to the café and get us a couple of sandwiches and some of that chai latte Warf was talking about. It's about dinnertime, isn't it?"

"It must be," he checked his watch, "Sara! Can you believe it's nearly six o'clock!?"

"You're kidding! What have we been doing all this time?"

"Absolutely nothing!" Draco laughed, "I'll be back in a few minutes. If you need help with something, just leave it until then."

Sara smiled as he left and began unloading what looked to be dollhouse furniture from the box she held and placed the tiny pieces around the front room after returning a few Moroccan rugs to their former size. An exquisite velvet sofa from a long forgotten era went next to the front door, where her customers could sit in the event that they had to wait, along with two brass tables with fine marble surfaces and an ornate candle stand in the shape of a wicked tree that Sara simply couldn't pass up. She used a quick cleaning charm on some old velvet draperies and hung them from the windows, and then hung more across the room as a divider. These she tied back and hung hand-made lace panels behind them so she could still see the front area from the parlor. Back to the waiting area she went, with a shelving unit that was hand-carved from a single piece of mahogany, where she would place divination items for sale. At last, she enlarged all of these things and stood back to admire the beauty of them and the warmth the front area now held. She had certainly achieved the desired effect and she decided she couldn't be happier with the way it looked. A few plants, mirrors, and a little art on the walls was all it needed to be complete.

* * *

Mystic gave him a demure smile of recognition and Draco smiled back. IHere we go again; /I he thought and placed his order as he mentally flirted with the attractive young woman who owned the café. She was Spanish, he thought, or maybe South American and he like the exotic look of her olive skin. There was something very pretty about her, though he couldn't put his finger on it, and her dark hair held streaks of gold. She still hadn't said anything, just sent his order to the back and kept staring at him with that shy little wisp of a smile, so Draco decided to entertain himself.

"Even better looking in person, aren't I?"

"If you think it's attractive to be conceited, then yes." As soon as she said it, he could see her bite her tongue and wonder why she did. He knew the feeling well.

"Well, you keep looking at me as though we know each other, so I can only assume that you're an avid subscriber to that silly magazine that girls everywhere seem to read."

"If you mean IWitch Weekly, /I then I have to admit, guilty as charged," Mystic giggled and wondered why she was acting so girlish, "Back in school, my friend Slyth and I used to argue over which one of us was going to marry you."

"Yes, I believe I met your friend earlier today. The girl over in the pub, right?"

"That would be her."

"So who won the argument? Since I'm still single, I have to wonder."

Mystic grinned. "Who do youI hope/I won?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet. Come here."

Mystic's heart started racing. Her steps were slow and uncertain as she made her way to Draco's side, wondering what he could possibly want with her.

Draco stood and kissed her.

He smiled as he sat back down and although Mystic grinned, she also blushed scarlet and spilled the chai she held on his trousers.

"I'm so sorry!" she said and grabbed a dishtowel off the counter. She tried her best to clean the stain, but Draco smiled and looked to where she knelt on the floor.

"Keep Ithat/I up and I hope you plan to stay down there awhile."

Mystic turned even redder, became flustered, and burst out laughing. Draco grinned, pointed his wand at the stain, and it disappeared with a few whispered words. He offered his hand and helped her up. "My order is ready."

Mystic was still smiling when she returned with his sandwiches. "Strange dayI this/I is. Two of Witch Weekly's favorite men just happened to wander into my café within hours of each other. Tell me, did you and Harry Potter send each other owls this morning?"

"Potter was here? When?"

"Around lunchtime. He never even ordered anything, just dropped into that booth over there and looked like he'd just lost his best friend. That girl who won the beauty pageant went over and talked to him. I just left them alone. When I came back from the kitchen they were gone."

Draco filed this information away for later. "I see. Well that's just like Potter, always moping around, crying Ioh woe is me. /I I swear I've never met a bigger whiner in my life."

"I met his wife last night, Sara. We had a few drinks together at the pub. She didn't have much to say about him."

"Sara's a close personal friend of mine," Draco bragged, "I've been helping with her shop today."

"And Harry isn't a friend? Witch Weekly published photos of the two of you together a few times. I guess I thought--"

"He's a personal wet blanket, that's what he is. Always up for spoiling a good time. You can always count on Potter in the event you want to be bored half to death, but as far as hopeless gits go, he's tolerable at times."

Mystic smiled and said nothing more. She handed Draco his order, wrapped in paper.

"As for who I hope won your argument," Draco grinned, "I still haven't made up my mind."

"I wouldn't mind helping you out with your decision. Stop in again! It was nice to meet you Draco."

"The pleasure was mine." Draco was in such a good mood this day that he did something very uncharacteristic. He took Mystic's hand and kissed it, and winked as he went out the door.

He'd barely reached Sara's shop when he saw Mystic running from the café, straight over to Slytherin Spirits. He laughed to himself and realized how much he missed having a life outside the cold and unforgiving walls of Malfoy Manor.

* * *

"Sara! It looks fantastic!"

By now, Sara had arranged and enlarged all the furniture in the parlor where she would do her readings, which looked similar to the front area, except there was a low table, big enough for the tarot, with an upholstered chair on either side at the center of the room, and on it sat the Orb of Arassel. Candles glowed in antique holders all around the rooms, and she had even affixed the candle chandelier on the ceiling. All Ihe'd/I managed to do in that time was flirt with a cute girl and get a couple of sandwiches.

Sara called from the back of the shop, so Draco found her in the kitchenette, where she had set up the small dining table they'd brought from his house. He laid their sandwiches and drinks on it and took the chair across from her. "So what are you doing tonight? Will you visit me in your nightgown again?"

"I don't know. Now that you're feeling better, maybe I should stay home before Harry jumps to the wrong conclusion."

"To hell with Harry. Throw the cheating bastard out, that's my suggestion."

"Stop, Draco. I'll deal with him in my own way as I always have. You're welcome to come back to the shop tomorrow if you'd like."

"I would like that."

"Good. So would I."

* * *

"HARRY!"

Harry stopped short as Hermione emerged from the doorway of his shop, arms crossed and glaring.

"You send us an owl, inviting us to come see your new shop and you don't even have the courtesy toI be here?" /I

Ron came to stand beside her. "Yeah Harry! Where the bloody hell have you been? We've been waiting nearly an hour and I was starting to get a little hungry, to be honest!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be gone so long. This is Mariah."

Ron's face changed expression. "Hello."

"Nice to meet you." Mariah smiled, but her attention was on Hermione, whose hand she hurried over to shake. "Hermione Granger! I've wanted to meet you for so long! I've heard all about you, of course!"

Ron screwed up his face. "You've heard all aboutI Hermione?" /I

Hermione showed him an indignant air. "What's the matter, Ronald? Does it bother you that someone actually knows who I am?"

Mariah still hadn't let go of Hermione's hand. "I was Head Girl, too! Professor McGonagall told me that you were the last person before me to get all O's every semester. She had only the highest praise for you, so you can imagine how hard I worked to rise to the standards you set! I think my proudest moment was when she said that I reminded her of you."

Harry and Ron groaned in unison as Hermione and Mariah fell into animated conversation.

Harry dug the key out of his pocket. "Come on, Ron."

"Yeah, before they start talking about Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."

The two of them passed through the door with the girls behind them, who paid little attention to anything except each other.

Ron looked around. "I hate to tell you this, mate, but there's nothing here! There isn't even anyplace to sit!"

Harry led them through the back and up the narrow stair that led to the flat above, where he spilled the contents of an over-stuffed backpack onto the floor. "Places to sit, coming up."

"Really, Ron! Did you actually think Harry would leave us with no place to sit?" Hermione looked at the pile of miniaturized furniture and luggage. "Harry? Isn't most of that stuff from your house? Sara's going to have a fit when she sees that you emptied an entire guest room!"

"And isn't that the couch from the atrium?"

"And the rugs from the solarium!"

"Harry! You took the patio set?"

Harry grew frustrated. "It's my stuff, too! Sara hasn't gone in that guest room since it was finished, she can always buy some new rugs, and this is the patio set from Imy side /I of the yard! She isn't going to miss any of this stuff, and even if she does, it'll just give her another reason to Ishop." /I

All present caught the animosity in his tone and fell into awkward silence. Finally, Ron offered a few apologetic words. "Sorry Harry. You've got every right to take your own things. Besides, you've got about Iten/I of those couches."

"Eight, actually, and no one ever sits in them. I don't see the point in buying anything new when we've got all this extra at home. Now let's find a good spot for this couch, Hermione. You should sit down. I'm sorry you had to stand for so long."

Hermione smiled and gave his arm an affectionate pat. "It's ok, Harry. We came right away is all. We've been trying to contact you since yesterday morning!"

"Yeah," Ron added as he followed Harry and the tiny couch into the main room, "Why didn't you answer us?"

Harry's eyes widened with remembrance. "Oh no! The letters! The doorbell was ringing and it was Nikolae, so I just stuck them in my pocket." His mind focused on the other letter he'd received. The one from Christina. He would need to cut this meeting as short as possible. Harry couldn't imagine what Chris must think after getting no reply.

Hermione settled on the couch, returned to its full size. "Mariah? Would you mind going for some drinks while the boys set everything up?" she laid a hand over her distended stomach, "I'd go myself, but Ron will have a fit if I'm running up and down the stairs."

Mariah said she'd be happy to go, so Harry handed her a few galleons and whispered something in her ear. As soon as she'd descended the stairs, Hermione snapped her attention to Harry. "How long have the two of you known each other?"

"We just met, actually, a few hours ago at the post office."

Ron brightened. "I like her."

Hermione shot him a warning glance and the grin dropped from his face. She turned back to Harry. "Do you think ISara /I would approve? She's Inot/I the sort of friend a married man should have, after all. She's rather pretty, and entirely too young!"

Harry seethed with anger. "I Idon't care/I what Sara thinks! She's too busy dancing with IMalfoy/I to care what I do!"

Ron and Hermione shared a worried glance. "Well, it's actually Malfoy we wanted to talk to you about."

Hermione set her eyes on Harry. "What do you know about fog vials?"

* * *

"Why'd you put all this furniture in here? We can't dance anymore, there's no room and I'm quite sure I'd trip and fall on top of you."

Draco grinned and Sara laughed. "And then I'd be dead."

"At least you'd die happy."

Sara didn't answer, just took another sip of champagne.

A long moment passed as Draco reclined in his chair and watched her watching him, wondering if she really knew how special she was in his eyes. How happy it made him just to be near her, to hear her voice, to make her smile.

"Thinking about it, aren't you?"

Sara nearly choked, and turned bright red because she really Ihad /I been thinking about whether or not having Draco fall on top of her would make her happy. Thankfully, he'd caught her at it long before she'd reached a conclusion. "No I wasn't."

"WellI I /I was," he admitted with a grin, "I decided it's a good way for Iany/I female to die. Most pleasurable, I assure you. Lay down, I'll give you a demonstration."

Sara finished her champagne, set the empty glass beside the empty bottles, and smiled as she lay back on the couch and lifted her feet onto the cushions. "Well?"

Her smile widened as Draco made no move to leave his chair and turned quite pale. He pushed his hair back with one visibly shaking hand, one of his oldest nervous habits, swallowed hard and tried to say something.

Sara grinned and sat back up. "You're right. That's IexactlyI how I want to die. Lying down. It'sI perfect." /I

Draco grinned in return. "Lay down again."

Sara laughed and it carried through the rooms as she rose to gather their things. "Not a chance, Malfoy. Being rejected once was enough for me."

I"Rejected?! /I You're fully mad!"

"So I've been told."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I, unfortunately. I really Iam/I mad, I think."

"I'm talking about you saying I rejected you! That's nonsense! Give a guy more than five seconds to get over the shock of his life!"

Sara patted his head as she passed his chair with the empty bottles, on her way to the kitchen. Her voice again trailed away through the rooms. "No, it would only be a shock if I just walked over, threw you up against the wall, and gave you a snog you'd never forget. I think Ithat/I might qualify." Sara emerged through the kitchen door and ran smack into Draco.

He gripped her arms with both hands. "Like this?"

Sara struck the wall, Draco crashed hard against her and the room dissolved in a kiss she'd been waiting a Ilifetime/I to experience for the second time. Her arms went around him, pulling him closer, her hands tangled in his clothes and his hair and all the candles went out, painting the room with the ink-and-silver shadow of night.

It had been so long since he'd felt this way, so many lonely years since the night of the Yule Ball, that it was new all over again. Yet the power of what he felt in this moment had only grown since then. Blossomed into something else, something more integral, focused, more necessary. He wondered if Sara felt the same electric fulfillment that never ceased to want for something more, the same for-keeps desire, the same passionate awakening? It was hard to say as her hands pressed against him and her heart thumped hard against his chest, where his own heart raced with hers in perfect rhythm.

Draco knew that, eventually, Sara's senses would return and her married-to-Idiotboy conscious would finally jump up in protest. It took Imuch /I longer than he thought it would, but, little by little, the madness behind her kiss fell away. Her arms loosened around him, but Draco wouldn't wait to be pushed away. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of being the righteous one. Not anymore. Draco had decided, right there in his chair as she gathered things, that he was all done tiptoeing around and waiting for Sara to finally realize how much she meant to him. If he was ever going to get what he wanted, he would have to become ruthless in his pursuit. Her actions told him everything she could not. She wanted him, he knew that she did, but Sara simply couldn't make that kind of decision. Not in her position. Draco could see it when she looked at him, the need she felt, for him to take that control out of her hands.

He showed her the sweet-yet-devilish smile only he could manage and stepped back, letting his arms fall to his sides. "You're right. If you did that Iexact same thing/I to me, I'd be shocked. Good call."

Sara said nothing. She still leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath and wondering what just happened.

"Actually, Iyou/I look rather shocked right now, so I guess it works on anybody. Good thing to know, I guess. Might come in handy."

"You shouldn't have kissed me."

"Shut up or I'll do it again."

Sara laughed, despite the many thoughts that were currently stampeding through her head. "I just… I don't know. You shouldn't have."

"Hey." Draco lifted her chin and gave her his most caring smile. "That's one snog you'll never forget. If you don't want it, feel free to give it right back to me."

Sara put her arms around his waist and he drew her into a close embrace. "If it made you happy, even for a few moments, then you didn't do anything wrong."

Sara sighed and pressed her head against his shoulder. "It Idid /I make me happy and it wasI very/I wrong. That's why you shouldn't have done it."

"Say that one more time and you'll be sorry." Draco released her when she lifted her head, before she had the chance to back away. "Now stop standing around. I can't be waiting kept all night, you know. I've got better things to do."

"What!?"

"I haven't stared at my bedroom wall since yesterday. I'd better go make sure it hasn't moved." Draco smiled again and led her back to the front rooms. "Come on," he said, "Let's get you home."

* * *

The house was quiet as Harry entered and the silence was a welcome sound. He wasn't ready to face her yet and there were still a few things he wanted to do before he talked to Sara. Harry climbed the stairs with a heavy heart and entered the room he both hated and loved. The room was a private haven where he could be alone with his thoughts, but it was also the most obvious symbol of his exile and everything that was wrong with his rapidly failing marriage. After all, this wasn't his bed, or even his room. It was a guest room, simply the one he'd chosen when his wife had closed the door to him.

His eyes fell on the portrait above the bed, the one that would forever remind him of Christina, and it served as a reminder of the reasons he he'd come in here. He lifted last night's filthy, dust-covered shorts from the floor where he'd thrown them before collapsing, pulling the forgotten letters from the pocket in which they waited.

The one from Ron and Hermione was cast aside as he already knew why they had sent it, but he read Christina's letter twice. It was a mess of half-formed, looping handwriting that was hard to decipher, but the message and the sentiment were clear. Malfoy had done something rotten again, Chris knew where he was, and there was a secret she needed to share with him. Something she wouldn't put on paper, and Harry thought what she would tell him had something to do with Sara. IMalfoy and Sara. /I Harry was glad he'd already made up his mind about Draco because he couldn't take another blow. Not today.

A quick glance at his father's watch told Harry he still had enough time to visit the house on the hill, as long as he didn't linger. He had to talk to Sara and he wouldn't allow himself to put it off another day. Mariah had been right about that. Actually, Mariah had been right about Ieverything. /I

Headlights bounced across the face of Draco's impressive second home as Harry pulled into the drive. With a sigh of resignation, he turned off the engine, walked to the entrance, and rang the bell. The house, he noticed as he waited, was dark inside the windows. Nothing stirred and no sounds issued from within.

Harry knocked, waited, and then knocked again, louder and with impatience.

INothing. /I

Being that he had warded this house himself years before as a favor to Draco, Harry drew his wand and let himself in. As he stepped into the blackness, a sinister voice chuckled through the lobby and echoed in the empty rooms.

I"Lumos!" /I

As light filtered through the shadows from the tip of his wand, the chuckle turned into a loud, amused laugh. "Did I scare you, Potter? I certainly hope so."

"I don't scare that easily, Lucius. Besides, I recognized your voice."

"Yes, it is rather distinguishable, isn't it?"

"Annoying is more like it," Harry mumbled, "Where is Christina? She sent me a letter."

"I assumed she was with you, Potter. IClose/I as the two of you have become."

"We aren't Iclose, /I Mr. Malfoy. At least not in the manner in which you imply. We're Ifriends." /I

"Funny. That's Iexactly/I what Sara claims is her relationship with Draco," Lucius gave Harry his most contemptuous smirk, "But then I think we both know otherwise."

"What have you told Christina? Obviously, you're the portrait she referred to when she wrote to me. What sort of Inonsense/I have you filled her head with?"

Lucius' tone grew quiet, laced with the venom of his own secret amusement. "Oh come now, Mr. Potter. You know me better than that. I Ialways/I mean what I say."

Harry felt impatience seeping in to mingle with his mounting irritation. "Where have you sent her?"

"I sent her nowhere, of course. I didn't intend for her to run out the door with luggage in tow. I find it rather inconvenient, actually. She did leave a note. Behind you, in the foyer. Unfortunately, I've been placed too far away to make out what it says. I do hope you'll fill me in."

Harry muttered again, finished with Lucius, now that his eyes found the parchment on a small side table near the entrance. He lifted it and adjusted his glasses. It took only a moment to read and Harry placed it back on the table with care.

"Come here, Potter. There is something you need to hear."

"I don't want to hear your lies."

Lucius' signature purr returned to his voice as Harry turned to face him. "Suit yourself. After all, your Iwife/I has no problem enjoying that very attitude."

"You know nothing of Sara. You haven't seen her in ages."

"You always were a Istupid/I young man, Potter, stumbling your way through false triumph after false triumph by means of wise old fools, clever friends and dumb luck. Now it appears your lack of intelligence has invaded your personal life as well. Pity."

"I don't care what Draco has told you. Whatever it is, it isn't true. Sara saw him today for the first time in months."

Lucius laughed aloud. "You really Iare/I a fool, aren't you?" Lucius rolled his eyes as though he was dealing with an ignorant child. "Where do you think Sara goes when she leaves the house at night? To the market?"

"She doesn't leave!"

"Oh really? Are you sure? She's been within your site every night this week, has she?"

Harry said nothing, but ideas were starting to seep into his mind against his will. Listening to Lucius' poisonous lies was poor judgment, but Harry had found a hint of truth to what he'd heard and now the part of him that jumped to conclusions had grasped that truth and was running away with it.

"Tell me Potter, does Sara not have a port key to Malfoy Manor? I happen to know that she does, as I gave it to her with my own hand. Did it never occur to you that she still uses it? She's even slept there more than once, at least that I'm aware of. I'm not always there, you see."

In Harry's mind, he saw a bedroom door, locked against him, and replies of only silence. His heart started to hammer in his chest.

"I have to admit, when an attractive young woman arrives at the home of an attractive young man at such a late hour, night after night, in secret, and wearing only her rather Iincendiary/I bedclothes, I assume to know what she's there for."

Harry looked at the portrait for a long, intense moment. "I really don't care."

Lucius watched him leave, puzzled and without a word of protest.

I"Nox," /I Harry yanked the door open, hurried through it, and slammed it behind him.

* * *

Draco sat up in bed, holding the evening edition of The Daily Prophet. He had yet to open it past the front page. What he saw there, in bold headlines, left his mouth agape and sent the numb chill of shock running through his veins like ice water. It was a long moment before he climbed from the bed, shed his pajamas, redressed, and made his way out.

St. Mungo's was a bad memory, but he entered anyway, with his "visitor" badge clipped to his shirt and his heart empty of emotion. The medi-wizard who greeted him held a solemn expression for Draco's benefit, but his eyes were excited to see the missing link they'd so hoped for walking toward him.

"She's asleep, Mr. Malfoy, but you are welcome to enter."

Draco said nothing and did not acknowledge the man. He walked through the door and stood at the foot of the bed. For a long moment, a great ache swelled in his chest as he looked at her. His eyes absorbed every cut, every deep, bluish-purple bruise, until they lingered upon the charm around her neck. He remembered the day he gave it to her, on holiday that first year in Haiti. It was a vile, loathsome place that he dared not visit again in his lifetime, as the Dark wizards in Haiti were frightening creatures never to be tested or crossed. He and Christina had spent only one night and left on a ship the next morning, but a long evening out and about had afforded him the necklace, and many new enemies.

With the greatest care, he removed the charm and bent to kiss her check. A warm, bittersweet smile touched his lips as tears stood in his eyes, an expression Draco had never before been capable of, a secret emotion he would show to only one other person in his life to come.

When he straightened, a heavy, compassionate hand fell on his shoulder. Draco turned around. The eyes he found were lower than his were, and attached to a rather large, bald head. It was the Head Medi-wizard, he remembered, the one who took care of him after the battle with Voldemort.

"Mr. Malfoy. We have to stop meeting this way, under dreadful circumstances. It's unfortunate that we couldn't have owled you as soon as she came in. You must have been beside yourself with worry."

"I haven't seen her since last year. I had no cause to worry."

"Oh… I just assumed…"

He was interrupted by Juilen Smidgeon, who breezed into the room, looking tired and over-extended. I"Malfoy! /I Why couldn't I recall before now? IOf course! /I I met this young lady at the Ministry's Christmas ball just a few years back. We spoke of moving your father's portrait from the lobby to the second floor corridor, oh I remember it so clearly now!"

"What are you prattling on about?"

"Forgive me; it's been a long and trying day. This girl was so familiar to me, yet I could not remember with whom I had seen her. It's a trifle frustrating when one can't summon his own knowledge."

The medi-team bustled about the room now, moving Christina onto a stretcher and disconnecting magical devices from her arms and head and chest.

Draco saw they were about to levitate her away and he came to life. "Wait! Don't take her anywhere."

"Mr. Malfoy, this girl needs to go straight to a Healing Room faster than I can explain. We must take her at once."

Draco turned back to Smidgeon. "Erase her memories."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Take the wizarding world from her mind, Minister. She doesn't belong among us."

"I'm not certain if—"

"I'll give her my house. A sizable bank account. Anything she needs. Just make her forget all the things she never should have known. Let her forget Ime." /I

"Agreed. She does not belong among us."

Draco walked to the door and hurried away, with the necklace clutched in his fist.

* * *

"I've been expecting you."

Harry dropped his keys on the coffee table and fell into the chair across from the vampire, too exhausted to appreciate the warmth of the fire. Shadows danced on the ceiling, high, vaulted gold that tossed the flickers of amber light around the darkened room, so that the many shelves of books stood like ghosts in a sea of black. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

"It's no bother, though I have wanted to talk with you since my arrival. Circumstance has intervened as it always does. I've been worried about you, Harry, and your thoughts are especially dark tonight. "

"I'm fine. I appreciate your concern, but things should get better now."

"Is that what you think?" Nikolae uncrossed his legs and sat up straight, pulling the long, ornate pipe, from which he smoked, aside and turned his eyes to Harry. "There is one irrefutable truth I've learned in the short time I've been here, and it's that Ino one/I is fine. Not you, not Sara, not even Draco Malfoy. These three lives are intertwined it seems, bound together in triumph and peril, and especially in misery, Harry. Your lives are Ika-tet/I with misery."

"It never really goes away, does it? Unfortunately, neither does he."

Nikolae said nothing, just held the pipe, which reminded Harry of Sherlock Holmes, and stared into the fire.

"Can I get you anything?"

Nikolae ignored him. "You know that I can see your memories?"

"Yes."

"The night you and Sara met, she read your palm, did she not?"

"It was a bit awkward, really."

"What did she tell you?"

"A bunch of random stuff. Odds and ends about my childhood and finding out about magic, and she said I would lose something a couple of times."

"Tell me more about that part. The prediction."

"She said I would lose what I cherish most on two occasions, seven years apart, but that my love for it would lead me back to it."

"What else?"

"That the second time would be mostly my fault."

"Think about that in the days to come."

Harry fell silent for a moment, realizing that Nikolae knew what he planned to do. "There's more, though, and it has bothered me ever since that day. She said I would lose something I never knew I loved."

Nikolae sighed. "That you will, Harry. That you will."

* * *

Sara shut the bedroom door with an elated smile and a heavy sigh. She was exhausted, having slept so little the night before, and especially after a long, busy day. She was thrilled with the amount of progress she and Draco had made on the shop and thought it might be finished as early as tomorrow, with his help. She could be open by next week!

It occurred to her to simply fall into bed fully dressed, as the effort to change seemed too much to ask. She hesitated in the middle of the room for a long moment until deciding to get it over with, and thought as she undressed. Sara wondered how Harry had managed with the tool store? Surely, it was in bad shape, at least as bad as hers had been, but the tiles and wall coverings must have transformed it into something livable. Perhaps tomorrow she would take a walk over and see how it was coming along.

Draco's surprise kiss also weighed heavy on her mind. It had been ten long years since something like that had happened, and it was every bit as electric as the first time, but this had been different. True, she hadn't made a decision to kiss him. He'd denied her the option and Sara wasn't sure how she felt about him just taking what he wanted. Not when she was married to Harry. Everything had changed since she was innocent and seventeen, all the old enchantments had left her, but the guilt still felt the same.

The whispery fabric floated down around her and Sara's eyes stopped dead on a single object. It was odd that she hadn't noticed right away. She usually did when something was out of place. Her heart raced when she saw the lid of her jewelry chest stood open, and the port key lay out atop the dresser. Sara's breath caught in her throat as she noticed that the port key rested on a letter, her name scrawled across the front in Harry's slanted script.

With an unsteady hand, Sara put the port key back in the chest and unfolded the thick parchment.

I Sara,

Things haven't been good between us for a long time now and every time I try to make it better, I only make things worse. I'm so tired of all of this. You're miserable, so am I, and so I have moved into the flat above the shop you gave me. Being together has become too trying, we only get along for moments at a time, and I don't want to end up hating you. I don't want you to hate me, either.

I know this is probably a surprise, but it shouldn't be. After all, I suspect that the only reason you're still here is because of the promise you made. I swore never to leave you either, but then I remembered something Draco told me once, in your defense strangely enough. He said, "Sometimes, leaving is the only thing that makes sense."

I break my promise today, Sara. I'm sorry.

I love you,

Harry/I

Sara climbed into bed and lay there in the moonlight, with no idea how to feel. Her eyes landed on the jewelry chest and her mind longed to touch the key, but her heart wouldn't hear of it. Sara wiped her tears and realized that the greatest light in her life had abandoned her. Walked out with only a letter after seven years of marriage.I A letter. /I He couldn't even bear to tell her to her face! Didn't she deserve as much? To see the sincerity in his eyes? To hear the apology in his voice? It was cowardly, despicable. IHow/I could it have come to this?

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