"What in the hell is the matter with you, Anatole?"

Nick's voice startled the man in question out of his thoughts.  He was standing at the window that faced the beach in Nick's apartment.  He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened the other night.  He hadn't been so inebriated as to see things, had he?  No..he'd driven home just fine.  Perfectly clear-headed.

"Nothing…I…" he trailed off, frowning.

"Bullshit," Nick said, balling up a dirty sock and throwing it at him.  "What, did that girl Hermione call you and tell you that you're a horrible person and she never wants to see you again?"

"No," he answered.  "But it does have something to do with her."

"And you're just going to keep it to yourself, hm?"

Anatole stared at his feet for a few moments, oblivious to the sound of Nick hastily packing.

"Have you noticed anything weird about the beach across the street lately?" he asked suddenly.

Nick paused his packing and turned to look at Anatole.

"It's been closed," he said.  "There was a cave-in a few weeks ago, so they closed it down until they can make sure it's stable.  But I guess we should have taken that as a sign, huh?"

Anatole nodded.  The earth had given them a two-week warning in the form of the cave-in, but they'd all been too busy to notice.  He'd been worried about Hermione and Dawn from the moment the earthquake had jarred him out of his sleep.  Were they somewhere safe?  Would they know what to do?  He wouldn't know until he saw them or the cellular phone service was fixed.

Wait a second.  There had been a cave-in on the beach across the street?  Hermione and Dawn had walked right onto that beach!  Suddenly it all made sense.  That was why they'd disappeared from his sight – they had fallen in!

But that still didn't explain his panic attack upon approaching the beachfront.  There was no reason, absolutely no reason at all, for him to have reacted like that.  But he would worry about that later; right now he had to know if the two women were all right.

In a burst of motion, he spun and grasped Nick by the shoulders.

"Nick, please don't think I'm crazy or anything, but the other night when I dropped you off…when I was about to leave, I saw Dawn and Hermione walking on the other side of the road.  I was about to call out to them to ask if they needed a ride, but they turned onto the beach and then just…disappeared!  I can't explain it any other way…it's like one moment they were there and the next, gone!"

Nick frowned for a moment, but then his jaw dropped.

"Holy shit, they could have fallen in!"

"Nick, we have to go over there!"

Nick dropped the box he was holding to the floor, concern written all over his features.

"But…I mean…is it safe?  We won't do anyone any good if we fall in, too!"

"It's not any safer for whoever we might call!  Let's just go over there.  They're probably fine, but…but I have this feeling…"

"All right, we'll go…but if it's wrecked…"

"I know."

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

Draco slouched even lower in the uncomfortable chair.  He didn't understand why he couldn't just apparate to the damned site.  He'd had quite enough of riding rickety old trains for hours and hours back in his Hogwarts days.

"Excuse me, Sir?" an inquisitive voice startled him out of his thoughts.  Finally someone who spoke English…

"Yes?" he replied, looking up.  A portly middle-aged woman in an ill-fitting uniform had stationed herself right in front of him.

"Sir, you needn't wait here anymore."

"Really?" he said, perking up.  "The train is here?"

"There isn't going to be a train."

"Why not?" he demanded, rising quickly to his feet.  He had not been sitting around for the past two hours to be turned away, and he made sure his expression showed it.

"There's been an earthquake, Sir.  The rails have been disrupted.  No train can pass."

"An earthquake?" he repeated.

"Yes, an earthquake," she answered, nodding matter-of-factly.  "You see, the Ionian coast of Greece lies directly on the junction of the Eurasian tectonic plate and the Arabian tectonic plate…"

"So this sort of thing happens all the time," he finished.

"Not all the time," she corrected nervously, wringing her hands together.  "But not infrequently."

Draco felt anger bubbling to the surface, but tamped down on it.  It wasn't her fault.  She hadn't caused the earthquake.  She wasn't that chubby.

He bit his lip hard, restraining both his annoyance and the smirk that wanted to pop onto his face.  That only seemed to make her more nervous.  Why was it that people seemed more relieved when he screamed at them and threatened to kill their firstborn children than when he actually tried to control his temper and be nice?

Sighing and running a hand through his hair (which, he noted, had lost some of its luster and perfection during this whole ridiculous debacle), Draco tried to be patient.

"Is there any way I can get to Preveza today?  Or in the near future?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not, Sir.  The few roads that aren't damaged are reserved for use by rescue and aid vehicles," she replied, cringing slightly, as if she were afraid of what his response would be.

Rescue and aid vehicles…?  Draco blinked.  Of course, there had been a bloody earthquake.  He had heard her say it, but it didn't process until now.  An earthquake, and his father had been right in the thick of it.  Merlin, he could be hurt, or even…

"Do you think—" he started, and then shook his head, "what I mean is, is there any way I can hitch a ride on one of those rescue vehicles?  My father is down there, I'm supposed to meet him..."

The woman's nervousness broke at the mention of family.  Her face softened, and she put a hand on his shoulder.

"There's no way you can reach him?"

He shook his head and lowered his eyes, suddenly feeling bad for his earlier mocking.  This situation wasn't any easier on her than it was on him.

"There are a few trucks leaving the airport in less than an hour.  I'm sure if you just explained the situation and offered to help them out, they wouldn't mind taking you."

Draco gave a grateful, if strained, smile and chewed his lip.

"Um…the thing is, I don't…I can't speak Greek…"

The woman smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

"I'll talk to them for you."

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

A roar and a sharp crack pulled her halfway to consciousness.  Stuck in the ether, she could hear shouting, but the words were dull and garbled.  She could process only pieces of the panicked conversation.

"---…bleeding!"

"…you doing?"

"…insane?"

"…just a little girl!"

A nauseating lurch, two warm pillars that could only be arms lifting her up.

"…wakes up…tear out your throat!"

"…responsibility…other children…!"

"…it's almost dawn, she needs…"

"…nothing you can do…"

"…I won't!"

A low moan escaped her as she was jarred slightly, causing pain to ripple through every inch of her body.  She turned her head, wanting to curl up and escape the piercing voices, and her cheek met a warm, sticky barrier.  A barrier that smelled sweetly of blood…

Another moan rose, unbidden, from her throat, and suddenly her body wanted to awaken.  She squirmed, but the arms held her tightly.  Then came the only complete sentence she understood, in a deep, gentle voice.

"I'm sorry, little one, but you must go to sleep."

Then there was something cool against her lips, and before she could react she had swallowed whatever he had given her.  She fought its effects for a few moments, her mind clinging feverishly to the scent of blood.  But no matter how hard she tried to maintain her tenuous grip on consciousness, her body was too weak and exhausted to obey.  Succumbing to the lull of darkness once more, Lilith slipped back into a near-comatose state.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

Lucius glanced up from his breakfast when a pair of legs entered his peripheral vision.  By now, he recognized the feet as Severus's.

"Good mor—oh."

Clearly Severus was not having a good morning.

"Hermione had another nightmare.  I tried to wake her up, and got a fist in the face for my efforts."

"Looks like she got you good," Lucius said, waving his wand absently.  A cold pack appeared next to his plate, and he held it out to Severus.

"I can't really blame her," Snape said, placing it gingerly over his blackened eye.  "I suppose it might be a bit frightening when this – " he gestured at himself with his free hand, "is the first thing you see when you wake up."

"Oh, shut up, old man.  You aren't half as ugly as you think you are."

"Ah, then you admit that you think I'm ugly?"

"Honestly, Severus!  I meant nothing of the sort.  Although I must say, it is a pity she didn't get you in the nose; one well-placed punch might be the answer to all your olfactory woes," Lucius jested, smirking.

"I should have known better than to come to you for sympathy," he said, sitting down across from the blond wizard.  "Where's Dawn?"

"With some of the others assessing the damage."

"Is it as bad as it seemed last night?"

"Yes and no.  The stability of the original entrance is questionable, but they found a new corridor."

"Oh?  Where?"

"Beneath the cabins.  The only problem is that we can't explore it until all the debris is cleared."

"Beneath the cabins, hm?  I wonder if that has something to do with Hermione's nightmares?"

"An intriguing possibility.  Are you hungry?"

Severus knew better than to say no.  It wouldn't have mattered, anyway; Lucius was already preparing a plate of food for him.  A moment later it was pushed towards him.

"The whereabouts of the silverware is currently unknown," Lucius chuckled, "so you'll have to use your hands."

"I'm surprised you didn't stomp away in righteous fury at the uncivilized manner of dining."

"Righteous fury won't fill my stomach.  Besides, it's not all that messy."

Nodding, Severus began to pick at his plate.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

Anatole slowed as they crossed the cracked pavement towards the beach.  Nick looked back, confused.

"What are you doing?  Did you change your mind?"

"No.  I…it's just…when I was here the other day, I felt weird."

"Weird?"

"It was like I had a panic attack or something."

Nick frowned.  Anatole was a fairly laid back person; he was not the type to experience anxiety like that.

"Do you want to go back?" he asked, feeling a small surge of apprehension.  What if Hermione and Dawn had fallen into the pit?  It had been a few days; if there was no water, they would probably be dead, or close to it.  He wasn't prepared for that, but he didn't think he could turn back.  He had really liked Dawn, and Hermione, too, and if there was a chance that they were in trouble, he felt obligated to do what he could to help.

Anatole hesitated for a moment, his eyes focusing on anything but his friend.  He took a deep breath, and then clenched his jaw.

"No.  We're not going back."

"I'll go first," Nick said with a strained smile.  Anatole nodded, and Nick took the last few steps toward the bent guardrail. 

Anatole tensed as he lifted a leg to step over the crumpled metal.  But Nick seemed unaffected; he turned around on the other side and beckoned him forward.  Perhaps it had just been his imagination the other night, or the alcohol…

He stepped forward, ignoring the sinking of his stomach and the alarms going off inside his head.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

"Cyrus!  CYRUS!!"

The dark-skinned head excavator looked up from the stack of scrolls on the table.  Dharvish was running towards him, waving his hands frantically.

"What is it?  What's wrong?" he called, shooting out of his seat.

Dharvish stopped in front of him and leaned down with his hands on his knees and panted.

"Muggles…we've been breached!  The wards…no one checked them!  Muggles on the beach!"

"Shit!  Where are they?  Who's responsible for the wards?!"

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

"What…what is all this?" Nick stammered, his eyes wide.  "You can't see any of this from the city!"

Anatole was speechless.  There were people everywhere, people of all races and ethnicities.  There was a row of cabins far to the right, and another across from them, most of which had collapsed into the fissure that had opened along the beach.  The people were in clusters, huddling around objects he couldn't recognize.  The shoreline was bustling with activity.  From Nick's window and from across the street, it had looked completely deserted.

As they gaped, a short dark-skinned man turned in their direction.  His eyes widened as he noticed them, and several others nearby rose from their work to stare.  The dark-skinned man took a few halting steps backwards, and then broke into a full sprint towards the row of cabins.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

"I think we're in trouble, Nick," Anatole whispered, swallowing heavily.  They were surrounded now, and the mysterious group did not look very happy.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Nick answered.  His eyes darted from person to person.  They were looking at the two men as if they had never seen human beings before; there was only a shared look of stony determination.  Determination to do what, he couldn't say; that was probably what scared him the most.

"Should we try talking to them?"

"It can't hurt," he said, cringing at his choice of words.  Raising his hands in a surrendering gesture, Nick said cautiously, "We're sorry if we've trespassed in some way."

There was no response, but some of the people exchanged glances.

"We were just looking for someone," Nick went on.

At last someone responded to them.  He was a dark-skinned, imposing man with a deep voice and a stern face.

"Why would that someone be on this beach?"

"It's two people, actually," Anatole said, encouraged by the man's attention.  "I saw them walk onto the beach a few nights ago.  I didn't realize that there had been a cave-in until today.  We thought maybe they had fallen in."

"No one has been here, and no one has fallen in."  The man's voice was sharp and unyielding.

"But…but I saw them walk onto this beach!" Anatole protested, ignoring the elbow that Nick jabbed into his side.  "What is going on here?  Who are you people?  Why can't we see all this from the city?"

"Anatole, shut up!" Nick hissed, elbowing him again.

"No!  Something isn't right here, and I want an explanation!"

"You want an explanation?" the man said, his voice full of a cloying amicability that made both men uncomfortable.  He lifted his right hand, in which he held a slender piece of wood.  "Just look right here and you'll get it."

His tone was so strange that a sudden surge of fear filled the two men, but even as they turned to run, two of the strange folk caught them and twisted their arms behind their backs.  It wasn't painful, but it was enough to keep them from struggling.

"Now," the man said, coming closer, "just hold still and everything will be all right."  He raised the polished stick in his hand and waved it. 

"Obliv—"

"Cyrus, no!  Stop!"

The high-pitched cry stopped him in mid-gesture, and everyone, Anatole and Nick included, looked towards the source of the voice.

"Dawn!" Nick nearly shouted.  He had never been so happy to see a familiar face in his entire life.

"For Merlin's sake, let them go!" she demanded, storming into the circle.

"They're Muggles!" Cyrus shot back, looking dismayed.  "I have to alter their memories!"

"I know them, Cyrus.  I won't let you," she said, planting herself in front of them and crossing her arms over her chest.

"How do you know them?" he asked incredulously.

"Alter our memories?" Anatole murmured to no one in particular.

"Hermione and I went on dates with them earlier in the week," Dawn declared.  That set the small crowd whispering, and Cyrus made a sound of frustration.

"Dawn, if we don't obliviate them we're violating the International Wizarding Laws regarding Muggles!"

"They can keep the secret."

"I'm glad you think so but I'd rather know for sure."

"I vouch for them.  If they reveal us I will take full responsibility."

"It's not that simple!"

"Yes it is.  Put the wards back up.  I'll take care of them."

With a dark look of consternation, Cyrus jerked his arm toward Essah, the wizard in charge of the anti-Muggle wards.

"We will all discuss this at dinner.  For now their memories may remain intact, but I'm not making any promises."

With that, Cyrus stalked away, muttering to himself.  The crowd dispensed slowly in small clumps, quietly discussing this latest development.  At last Anatole and Nick were left alone with Dawn.

"What…the hell…was that?!" Nick demanded, rotating his arm to work the soreness out of it.

"Yeah, what were they talking about?  Altering memories?  International laws?  Muggers?" Anatole added, his face contorting comically as he tried to make sense of it all.

"Muggles," she corrected absently.

"What in the hell is a Muggle?"

"You're a Muggle."

"I'm a Muggle?" Anatole said, looking anxious.

"So is Nick."

The two men exchanged glances, even more confused than before.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

"…so then she says that she and that English girl Hermione went on dates with the Muggles earlier in the week…"

Lucius and Severus had been eavesdropping with some interest for a few minutes, but now their attention had most definitely been captured.  Both of them turned their heads toward the conversation in unison, the same expression on their faces.

"Dates?" Lucius said, one blond eyebrow rising austerely.  The gossipers glanced over at his interruption.  Some of them looked faintly alarmed, doubtless knowing of his tumultuous relationship with Dawn.

"Y-yes," the speaker stammered.  "She said she had gone out with them…"

"Really," Lucius practically purred, in that way of his.  Any alumni of Hogwarts would have recognized the tell-tale signs of Slytherin intimidation; he looked, for all purposes, like a cobra ready to strike.  The fact that Severus was wearing the same look was telling.

"And where are these Muggles now?"

"Last I saw, walking on the beach with…the American witch."

"Thank you for this valuable information," Lucius stated, standing and striding over to pat the informant on the shoulder.  He did a little more than pat, though; Severus bit back a smirk at the wizard's pained expression.  "Shall we, Severus?"

He nodded, and the two of them sauntered off toward the shoreline, a study in opposites.

The gossipers sat silently, gaping at each other.  Rubbing his shoulder, the loose-lipped wizard mumbled,

"Always was something a bit off about those two…"

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

"So…let me recap," Anatole said, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief.  "You're a witch."

"Correct."

"And all the men here are wizards."

"Mm-hmm."

"And you have wands and can cast spells."

"Yes."

"And…you expect us to believe that?" he said.

"Would you like me to prove it?"

"Yes!" both men said in unison.

"What do you want me to do?" Dawn asked, twirling her wand absently.

"What can you do?" Nick asked, looking interested.

"A lot," she replied, grinning.

"Well, if you're a witch…then shouldn't you be able to turn me into a frog?" Anatole said, sarcasm seeping into his tone.

She gave him a sideways glance and flourished her wand.

"Amphibious!"

Nick started badly at the flash of light that accompanied the spell, and scrambled away from the bulge-eyed frog that now sat next to him in the sand.

"Holy Jesus!" he nearly shouted.  "Turn him back!"

"Oh, I can't.  Not for twenty-four hours, anyway," she said casually, shrugging.

"What?!  Twenty-four hours?!  He could get eaten, or stepped on, or…" Nick sputtered, gathering the dazed-looking frog between his palms.

"I'm just kidding, Nick.  Put him down, I'll change him back."

Hesitantly, he placed the frog back on the sand. 

"Finite incantatem!" she said, and the slimy green skin paled, stretched, and became a man once more.  A frightened, panicked, and badly confused man.

"What? Why?" Anatole croaked, looking at his hands.

"You asked me to turn you into a frog," Dawn answered, completely unrepentant.

Unable to think of any response, Anatole slumped back onto the sand.

"So it's true," Nick said, his eyes wide.  "You're a witch, and you can do magic!"

Dawn nodded, smiling.

"Wait!" Anatole exclaimed, surging up into a sitting position.  "Then Hermione…?"

"Hermione is a witch, just like me."

"So…this is your job?  This is where you work?"

"For the time being, yes."

"What is it?  What do you do?" Nick questioned, his face rapt with interest.

"Well, you know there was a cave-in on this beach, right?"

Both men nodded.

"The cave-in revealed an ancient school of witchcraft and wizardry beneath this beach.  We're working to excavate it."

"There are schools for magic?" Nick asked, leaning forward.

"Of course there are.  We aren't just born knowing how to do everything the right way.  It's a learning process, like everything else."

"How do you know that you're magical?"

"Well, most of the time you come from a magical family, so you know right away that you're a witch or wizard.  Sometimes, though, regular non-magical people can have magical children.  If that's the case, at first it's just a feeling…a strange little tingling of your senses that tells you there's something more.  Then you start to be able to do unexplainable things when you're experiencing a very strong emotion.  That's usually sometime around your ninth or tenth birthday.  Then you get your letter."

"Letter for what?" Anatole asked, beginning to look just as enthralled as Nick.

"For school.  You have to learn how to focus your magic, or else you'll have no control over it."

"How on earth can you keep all of this hidden from normal people?" Nick asked, shaking his head in awe.

"Spells or wards, usually.  There are spells that can render something invisible unless you're looking for it, spells that misdirect the Muggle mind…"

"What are wards?  That…angry man said something about them."

"They're magical barriers put up to prevent entrance to something."

"Then how come we were able to come onto the beach?" Nick questioned.

"The earthquake disrupted the wards.  We were so busy making sure everyone was all right to even think about them."

"Is that why I felt like I was about to have a heart attack the last time I tried to come onto the beach?" Anatole asked, frowning.

"Most likely," she nodded.  "So, any more questions?"

"Not at the moment," Nick said.  "But I'm sure I'll think of more eventually."

"I'm sure you will," Dawn said, smiling.  A moment later her smile diminished, when her eyes fixed on the two figures moving rapidly in their direction.

"Brace yourselves, boys," she murmured.

"For what?" Anatole said, tensing and glancing around nervously.

"You're about to meet two of the most fearsome wizards of our time, and one of them just happens to be my…er, boyfriend."

"Don't let them turn us into anything!" Anatole begged.  Nick just frowned.

"I won't, I promise.  Don't be afraid.  They won't do anything to hurt you."

A moment later Lucius swaggered up to the trio, his hands in his pockets and his chin high.  Severus skulked behind him, his face blank.

"So, Dawn, what's this I hear about you going on a date with these Muggles?" Lucius queried a trifle disdainfully.

"Honestly, Lucius, what kind of girl do you take me for?" she shot back, her tone playful.

"The kind of girl that I know you are," he baited, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So what if I had a bit of fun with these gents?" she said, wrapping her arms around Anatole and Nick and pulling them against her.  Anatole shook his head, and Nick made a choked sound of negation.  Clearly, they were already terrified of Lucius.  "It's not like we were together at the time," she barbed, her voice full of false innocence.

"You are pushing it, dear girl," he said softly.

"Will you relax, Lucius?" she said, rolling her eyes and releasing the horrified men.  "I only went so that Hermione would have someone to double with."

"It was Hermione's idea?" Snape interjected, his face as unreadable as ever.

"Actually, Sir, it was my idea," Anatole spoke up.  To his credit, his voice barely quivered.  "Don't blame Hermione."

"Oh, rest assured, I won't," he said darkly.  "It's not as though I have any claim on her, anyway."  With that, he turned and stalked away.

"Severus!" Lucius called after him.  The dark-haired man ignored it and kept walking.  With an exasperated sigh, Lucius turned back to the group huddled on the sand.  "You just had to say it like that, didn't you?" he groused.

"You're the one who wanted to know the circumstances of the date, Mister Jealousy.  If I hadn't said it you would have hexed these two into oblivion!"

"Well now they don't have to worry about me, that's for sure."

"Stop it, Lucius.  Snape won't do anything and you know it."

"No, he won't, and that's exactly the point."

"He would have found out eventually."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Lucius sighed.

"Yes, I suppose.  Well, I'd better be off after him, then."

"I'm sorry," Dawn said.

"It's all right," he replied, waving a hand.  "It's my purgatory."  He turned and trudged across the sand, following the footprints Severus had left behind.

"He's…pleasant," Nick said at last, making a face.  Dawn laughed, amused by Nick's attempt to find something good to say about Lucius.

"You can say it," she chuckled.  "He's perfectly awful when he's jealous."

"He's got nothing to be jealous of.  You seem pretty enamored of him," he replied, looking somewhat glum.

"I suppose I am…" she said thoughtfully, burrowing her toes into the sand.

"That other wizard," Anatole piped up, "does he like Hermione?"

Dawn nodded regretfully.  It was clear to her that Anatole liked Hermione just as much as Snape did, if not more.

"Isn't he a bit old for her?"

"He's only forty-three."

"Only forty-three?!"

"Wizards and witches live longer than normal people.  Age doesn't matter to us.  As they say, love doesn't heed the calendar."

Anatole sighed and slumped down onto the sand.

"I guess I don't stand a chance against a wizard."

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

Draco had quickly become frustrated by the fact that he couldn't use his wand.  He knew there were people trapped beneath the rubble, and one spell would do more to free them and ensure their survival than all the dogs and the bulldozers and the human hands.

He did what he could, walking through the ravaged streets and handing out rice and oats to tired mothers and grubby-faced children.  They wouldn't let him do much else.  If he ever found a moment where no one was looking, he'd cast a few spells here and there; nothing too major, since he couldn't risk drawing attention to himself.

As he rounded a corner, something ran right into him, nearly knocking him backwards.  It was a little boy, and he'd bounced right off and landed on his back in the dirt.  He was up and clinging to the hem of Draco's shirt before he could even extend a hand to help him.  He tugged insistently, saying something over and over.  Draco couldn't understand it, but from the look in the boy's eyes, he wanted help.

He allowed the boy to tug him forward, checking with one hand to make sure he still had his wand.  The boy led him to a small cabin that looked as though it was ready to collapse; upon stepping inside, it was clear that it had already started to.  The boy's mother was there, pacing and crying.  When she saw the Red Cross t-shirt they had given him, she began pointing frantically to the back of the house.  He could hear the thin cry of a baby; it was coming from the pile of wooden beams that had given way.

He examined the mess of wood and plaster, his heart pounding as the baby's plaintive cries echoed in his ears.  He could barely see the outline of the crib; maybe if he could get himself in there, he could lift the beam free?  Crouching down, he put his shoulder against the board and pushed with all his strength.  It moved a few inches, but so did all the other rubble.

It was trapping the baby in, but the precarious arrangement of boards was also holding the rest of that portion of the house up.  Draco chewed his lip, looking for any way he could possibly get to the child without causing any more damage.  There was none, or if there was he didn't have the time to think of it.  He had no choice.

Furrowing his brow, he swished and flicked and shouted the levitation spell.  The beams rose up, linking together and forming a barrier to hold the rest of the house in place.  He gestured toward the mother with his free hand, and she ran to the crib and snatched the infant out of it.

Once both were clear, he released the spell, and the boards fell heavily to the floor.  Breathing hard, he leaned against the wall.  Levitating one object was simple enough, but levitating several and holding them up against a downward force was entirely different.

After a moment, he turned to face the small family.  The child had quieted the instant it found its mother's arms.  She was preoccupied with making sure the baby was all right, but the little boy was staring at him openly, his eyes wide with awe.

Smiling, Draco brought his pointer finger to his lips and winked.  When the mother saw that her child was unharmed, she handed it off to the boy and enveloped Draco in a crushing hug.  Then she pulled back, only to move forward again and kiss him right on the lips.

A moment later she released him, tears in her eyes.  Just when he thought he was free, her husband appeared and he had to endure the same crushing embrace, kiss and all.

Finally he managed to slip away, giving the little boy one last wave.  He rubbed his sore ribs as he walked back towards the trucks.  One of the men helped him up, smiling and patting him on the back.

As they started moving, Draco leaned over to Gerard, who, he'd discovered earlier, spoke French.

"Combien du temps jusqu'a Preveza?"

Gerard clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"Il y a douze villes avant Preveza."

"Douze?" Draco asked, incredulous.  They had been on the road for at least three hours already, and they still had twelve more villages to go?

"Oui.  Avec tous les arrets, nous n'arriverons pas avant la nuit."

Sighing, Draco leaned back and tried to get comfortable.  With a chuckle, Gerard gave him a pat on the shoulder and said,

"Votre pere sera la."

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

As the sun began to sink over the sedate ocean waves, Lucius began to fidget.

"He should be here by now."

"I'm sure Draco is fine," Hermione said, looking up from the potion bottle she was cleaning.

"The rail system was probably disrupted," Severus added quietly.  His companions glanced at him, surprised; it was the first thing he'd said since that afternoon.

"Severus is probably right," Hermione agreed.  She was mystified as to why he had cooled so much toward her.  At first she thought it was the black eye she'd inadvertently given him, but now she wasn't so sure.

"Why wouldn't he just apparate here?" Dawn asked around a mouthful of her dinner.

"I told him not to."

"If he's anything like you I doubt that would stop him."

"Point taken, but he doesn't know where he's apparating to, so he couldn't even if he wanted to."

"Then I suppose we'll just have to wait," Hermione said.  "Shame."

Lucius gave her a half-hearted dirty look and drummed his fingers on the table.

"What's apparating?" Nick asked.  Anatole had been quiet thusfar, but Nick had been full of questions, prompting Lucius to make a remark about curiosity killing the Muggle.  That had earned him a stinging punch in the arm.

"It's when you magically transport yourself from one place to another," Dawn answered automatically.

"Draco doesn't know where he's going, but you do, Lucius," Snape said.

"That's true…I suppose I could apparate to the train station to see if he's there."

"Indeed you could."

"That's settled, then," Lucius said.  He stood up and stepped a few feet away from the table; and then, closing his eyes and concentrating, blinked out of existence with a quiet pop.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

Lucius had only been wandering around the station for a few minutes when a hand clasped his shoulder.  He spun around and saw nothing.

"Excuse me, Sir."

Adjusting his glance downward, Lucius met the eyes of a short, plump woman in an ill-fitting uniform.

"Yes?"

"Are you looking for your son, by any chance?"

Blinking, he managed to nod.

"Yes.  Yes I am.  Have you seen him?"

"Yes, I spoke with him earlier."

"Well, where is he, then?"

"He left with one of the rescue and aid vehicles.  It was the only way he'd be able to make it down to Preveza in any sort of timely fashion.  Looks like you must have missed each other."

"Thank you so very much, ma'am," he said, smiling.

"Would you like me to see if I can book you a hotel reservation?" she asked, turning to pluck a brochure off the rack behind her.

When she turned around, he was gone.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

"Severus, why are you mad at me?" Hermione demanded.  He didn't pause in his mixing of the Dreamless Sleep potion.

"I'm not."

"Oh, please!  You've been acting aloof all day!  I already apologized for hitting you.  You know I didn't mean it!"

"I assure you, Miss Granger, your apology was accepted."

"See, that's how I know you're mad at me," she said, climbing out of bed and taking the small stirring rod out of his hand.  "I asked you to call me Hermione, and you were actually starting to remember.  And now it's back to 'Miss Granger'.  Why?"

"I had a mistaken notion about you, that's why," he said, taking back his stirring rod and returning his attention to the potion.

"What notion was that?" she asked, her hands on her hips.

He shook his head, his lips pursed tightly.

"Well come on, aren't you going to tell me?" she pressed, anger seeping into her tone.  "You certainly never had a problem telling me what you thought about me in the past!"

"It is childish for you to even bring that up," he said through his teeth.  "Now leave me alone, or else this potion will be ruined and you'll just have to suffer with your nightmares!"

"You know as well as I that Dreamless Sleep potion can be left to sit for up to three hours without any adverse effects.  You're just using it as an excuse not to talk to me!  If you don't tell me what's bothering you, you'll just hold in your anger and end up resenting me, and I don't want that!"

There was silence after her outburst.  At last he spoke.

"I was under the impression that you didn't care."

"Of course I care!  I like you, Severus.  I've never known anyone half as intelligent as you.  I feel at ease around you, and safe.  You've kept me out of harm's way dozens of times, then and now.  You've stood by me when half the excavation crew probably thinks I'm crazy!  You have been the bright spot of this whole experience, so if you think for one moment that I don't care, you are completely, totally wrong!"

He blinked, as if he was taken aback by her words.  But then his brow furrowed, and his demeanor grew cold again.

"You went on a date with that Muggle."

"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked, bewildered.

Severus looked away, unable to answer. 

"Why do you even care about my personal life?" Hermione demanded.  "Don't tell me you've been spending too much time with Lucius and think I'm too good for a Muggle or something ridiculous like that!"

"You may date whoever you wish, Miss Granger."  He returned his attention to the potion, but she could tell that he was angry; his jaw was clenched and his movements were abnormally jerky.

For a minute she simply watched him, trying to piece together the veiled meanings of his statements.  A moment later her eyes widened. 

He was jealous!

She pulled his chair away from the desk and spun it around to face her.

"What in the name of Merlin do you think you're—"

"Do you like me?" she demanded, her face right up in his.

His heart skipped a beat.

"What?" he heard his mouth blurt out.

"I said…do you like me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Draco: "How long until we get to Preveza?"

Gerard: "There are still twelve villages before Preveza."

Draco: "Twelve?!"

Gerard: "With all the stops, we won't arrive before nightfall.  Your father will be there."

Only one gleeful author's note to add to this horrid cliffhanger:  I AM GOING TO GREECE IN JULY!  WOO HOO!!!