Samantha tapped her foot impatiently and checked the elegant diamond watch on her left wrist. Ten minutes before they were expected at Malfoy Manor. From her right side, Professor Snape cleared his throat with a touch of annoyance.

"Where the hell is he?" she muttered under her breath.

She turned back towards the hallway that led to the Slytherin dungeons in time to see her brother casually walking up the short staircase.

"Way to be right on time, Draco," she said sarcastically.

"We still have five minutes," he said, unconcerned.

She shook her head and hurried up the stairs to Dumbledore's office. Snape gave the password and they entered single file. Dumbledore nodded and smiled at the three smartly dressed people temporarily invading his office and turned his attention back to the book open on the desk in front of him.

"Malfoy Manor!" Snape said in a loud clear voice. He stepped into the flames and disappeared. Draco followed suit, and as Samantha called out the name of her family home, she caught Dumbledore staring at her. The look on his face was hard to decipher, but he looked as if he were gazing into the past. She shook the uneasy feeling off and let the emerald flames whisk her home.

Professor Snape and Draco were brushing the dust from their robes as she stepped out of the fireplace. Thankfully, she had thought ahead and worn her school cloak over her new robes, so they remained pristine. Draping the wool cloak over the back of an armchair, she took her brother's arm and followed Professor Snape into the main entryway of Malfoy Manor.

The soaring ceiling caused the volume of the growing crowd to seem louder than appropriate. Discreetly, she searched for her parents. Finding them just inside the doorway, she gently steered her brother over to them. Samantha lightly embraced her mother and kissed her father on the cheek. The Malfoy siblings took their places beside their parents to welcome their guests. Within minutes, Samantha had tired of her duty. Every witch and wizard was the same, groveling to her father and humoring her mother. They all fawned over Draco and barely cast their eyes on Samantha. Keeping the smile pasted on her face, she allowed her mind to wander.

"And my daughter, Samantha," she heard her father state.

Shaking herself slightly, she put her hand out to shake. A tall wizard bowed his head to her hand and lightly kissed her fingers.

"It's a pleasure, Miss Malfoy," he said with a lilting Irish accent.

Charmed by his voice, she let her gaze settle on his face. A shock of nearly black hair fell into his bright blue eyes and a smattering of freckles dusted his otherwise pale cheeks. He was handsome, with distinctly sharp features and a broad grin that she returned easily.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name," she said, slightly embarrassed.

Her father let out a 'tut' of disapproval and shook his head, but the young man waved off her apology.

"Fintan McDonald," he said with a slight bow.

Samantha gave a small curtsy.

"Samantha Malfoy," she said.

"Well, yes, of course you are," he said, winking.

Lucius Malfoy shifted his gaze from his daughter to his guest.

"Samantha, perhaps you could show Mr. McDonald into the reception room, offer him a drink?" her father said sotto voice.

"Yes, Father," she said.

Fintan offered his arm and she rested her hand in the crook of his elbow.

"This way, please, Mr. McDonald," she said, inclining her head.

They made their way through the crowd and under the archway of the reception room.

"Please, call me Fintan, or better yet, Finn. Mr. McDonald is far too much, and makes me think my father is behind me," he said teasingly.

"Then you must call me Samantha," she replied.

"So, what is it you do?" he asked as they joined the line at the bar.

"I'm in my last year at Hogwarts," she answered. "And yourself?"

"I work at Gringotts. Also a proud Hogwarts alumni, though I graduated nearly almost eight years ago," he said, reaching for two glasses of champagne.

"So that would make you twenty-five?" Samantha asked, the bubbles in the champagne tickling her nose.

"Correct, Samantha. And you must be seventeen?"

"I am."

"Any thoughts on what you'd like to do once you've graduated?"

They paused by a small settee and sat.

"I've thought about it. Perhaps something in the Department of Mysteries, or International Magical Co-operation," she said, smoothing the heavy satin of her robes over her knees.

"Ahh, a future Unspeakable, perhaps?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Perhaps," she said, smiling.

"Then you must be a member of my house, a Slytherin. We seem to be the ones who aspire to work in that field."

"Of course I'm a Slytherin; I'm a Malfoy," she said, draining her glass.

"Ah, I guess I should have assumed that, but I never like to assume anything," he said. "I prefer to find out for myself."

Samantha glanced at him. His eyes scanned the room briefly but then turned back to her.

"What's your favorite course at Hogwarts?" he asked.

"I quite like Potions and Herbology. I like Transfiguration as well."

"My favorites were Arithmancy and Runes. I was absolute rubbish at Potions," he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "In fact, I had to beg Slughorn into letting me sit for my N.E.W.T.."

Samantha laughed.

"Was Slughorn the professor before Professor Snape took the position?"

"Yes, I think Snape took the post shortly after I was graduated."

A discreet bell chimed, calling the guests into dinner.

"Do you imagine we're sitting together?" Finn asked.

"I could always arrange it so we are. I do know the host," she said flirtatiously.

He laughed loudly and led her into the dining room.

Samantha quickly re-arranged the place cards, removing hers from between an elderly wizard friend of her father's and a gossipy witch that tried to emulate Narcissa's every move and putting herself next to Finn. As she stood beside her chair, waiting for her parents to make their entrance, a slight chill washed over her. What was she doing? She was flirting, flirting with this Irish wizard who was a stranger to her, but she found herself strangely comfortable with it. She had never flirted before, as Oliver was the only one she had ever been interested in, and she found it quite easy. Her parents entered the dining room and took their seats. Narcissa shot a surprised but not displeased look at her daughter when she realized that she had switched seats. Her pale grey eyes found her husbands and they both smiled. It was about time that Samantha had gotten over that Gryffindor that had broken her heart, and Fintan McDonald was a fine wizard.

Course after course was served and although the food was delicious, Samantha found it hard to stoke her appetite. Between the richness of the food and her conversations with Finn, her stomach was quivering and she felt giddy. By the time dessert was served, she felt ready to burst from her skin. The last of the cake was scraped from the plates and the dregs of the coffee drained from the cups. Her father rose, a silent signal for the wizards to join him in the study for brandy and cigars. Her mother followed suit, and the elegantly dressed witches followed her from the dining room into the formal sitting room. Draco retired to his bedroom and Samantha found herself alone at the table with Finn still seated next to her.

"You're not joining Father and the others?" she inquired, biting her lower lip.

"No, I really have no interest in what they plan to speak about," he said, setting his coffee cup down.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" she asked in a rush. "With me? To see the gardens?"

"I don't think there will be much to see in the dark, do you?" he asked.

Her stomach clenched and she twisted her napkin in between her fingers.

"Oh, well...um," she stuttered.

"Samantha, I was teasing. I would like nothing more than to see the gardens. With you," he said, smiling.

She laughed nervously and stood.

"Well, then follow me," she called over her shoulder.

The grounds were peaceful, the sound of crickets echoing in the night. The moonlight gleamed off of the water in the fountain and the pond shimmered. They strolled companionably, not speaking but at ease with the silence.

"You have a beautiful home," Finn said, gazing around the silvery grounds.

"Thank you. It's been in Father's family for centuries."

"You were lucky to grow up here," he said.

"I was," she affirmed. "Where did you grow up?"

"I'm from County Antrim, in Northern Ireland. My mother was French, though," he said.

"Was?" Samantha asked, without thinking. "Oh, I'm sorry, that was pretty forward of me."

"Not at all. My mother passed away when I was three. I was raised by my father and grandparents at their home."

"I'm sorry about your mother," she said softly. Narcissa might not have been the most loving mother, but Samantha knew she would feel lost without her.

"Oh, thanking you, but it's fine, really. I don't have memories of her, but my father tells me she was beautiful. And I think she was rather difficult, to be honest. I don't think she was ever happy in Ireland."

"I've never been to Ireland," Samantha said.

"Oh, you must go. It's a beautiful country, especially the North," he said with a hint of wistfulness.

"You miss it," she observed.

"Every day. London is, well, London, and it's a grand city, but it's not home," he said.

They walked on through the perfectly maintained rose gardens. After a while, Samantha spoke.

"You said you had no interest in what Father was going to discuss. What was to be discussed?" she asked curiously.

He glanced at her out of the side of his eyes and was silent for a few minutes.

"Nothing that should be brought out from behind closed doors," he finally said.

Samantha rolled her eyes and came to a halt.

"I'm not a child, Finn. I'm aware of what my father believes, and what his friends believe. I'm sure I can handle whatever it is."

"Very well. The meeting is about You-Know-Who, and it's between his former followers, and how they should proceed with 'the cause'."

Samantha swallowed a gasp but managed to speak.

"But You-Know-Who is dead. Gone. He has no followers any more."

Finn looked down at her, staring into her eyes.

"You don't really believe that his followers have abandoned their cause, do you?" he asked carefully.

"But, my father..." she managed to say.

"My father as well," he said, reaching for her hand. "I want nothing to do with that crowd."

She felt the warmth of his hand and instinctively tightened her grasp on his fingers. Encouraged by her reaction, he reached for her other hand and pulled her slightly closer.

"Neither do I," she finally said. "I abhor their cause. It's awful and judgmental and backwards."

"It's quite terrible, so it is," he said, still holding her hands. "However, you bear much the same burden that I bear. Our family names will be our curses."

She shook her head and loose strands of hair fell into her face.

"They don't have to be. We can change that," she said fiercely.

He looked at her approvingly.

"I had a feeling you were a bit feisty. I'm glad to see I was correct," he said. "But it's alright, Samantha. You-Know-Who is dead. This is just the remnant of his minions and they can't accomplish much without him. At most, they're a small group who will push their old fashioned ideas on a small part of society."

He spoke with such certainty that Samantha felt reassured.

"You believe that?" she asked.

"I do," he said firmly. "I think that that part of our history is over and done, and won't be repeated."

Samantha smiled slightly. She wished she could agree with him, but she couldn't help but think his overly positive outlook was naive.

"I hope you're right," she said simply.

"I hope I am, too," he said. "Let's speak of happier things, shall we?"

"Such as?" she said with a hint of playfulness.

"Such as when I can see you again. I've enjoyed spending time with you this evening, and I'd like to do it more often."

Samantha's mouth opened slightly in shock.

"You'd like to see me again?" she said stupidly.

He laughed loudly.

"You seem absolutely stunned by this. I assure you, I'm serious. I would very much like to see you again," he repeated.

"But how? I mean, I'm still in school, and Hogwarts is fairly far from London," she said.

"Did you forget that we could use magic? And you're seventeen, so I'm sure you will be able to sign yourself out of the castle," he said.

"I'm Head Girl, so I would think I can do what I like," she said, a slight hint of brag in her voice.

"O ho, Head Girl?" he teased. "You'll be able to write your own ticket!"

She blushed slightly.

"I'm sorry, that was awfully conceited of me, wasn't it?"

"Not at all. I rather enjoyed your boasting," he said. "So? What do you think?"

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend next," she said. "I don't know if that's something you'd want to do, though."

"Samantha, I would like nothing more than to come to Hogsmeade to see you," he said. "That is, if you want to see me?" he said hopefully.

Samantha looked into his bright blue eyes and resisted the urge to delve into his mind. She needn't have bothered, the truth was obvious on his face.

"I would love to see you," she said truthfully.

Relief flooded his face, but he quickly resumed his calm expression.

"Until next weekend, then," he said.

He paused and she realized they were still holding hands. She looked up into his face and her breath caught slightly at the desire she saw there. Slowly, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and gentle, a promise of more to come. He pulled away and smiled at her.

"Good night, Samantha. This is the first dinner that my father has dragged me to that I've actually enjoyed," he said, grinning.

"Same," she said, her heart racing.

"I await our Hogsmeade weekend. May I owl you over the week?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Of course you may," she said.

"Thank you," he whispered, and leaned down for another kiss.

Later that night, Samantha was methodically pulling the pins from her dark hair. A soft knock at her door caused her to turn.

"Hi, Daddy," she said happily.

"Hello, yourself. Did you have a good night?" he asked.

"I did. I enjoyed it very much," she said, running her brush through her hair.

"You seemed to hit it off nicely with young McDonald," Lucius observed, slightly ill at ease in his daughter's bedroom.

"He's a very nice young man," Samantha said.

She set her brush on her dressing table and turned to face her father face on.

"He's asked to see me again. I said yes," she said.

Lucius smiled.

"I most definitely approve. He's a fine young man."

"Good. I'm exhausted, Daddy. I think I'll go to bed now," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Good night, my dear," he said, exiting the room.

"Well? Did they get along?" Narcissa prodded when he reached their bedroom.

"Yes, surprisingly well. He's asked to see her again," Lucius said, pulling his shoes off.

"Good. I'm glad that she's moving on from that Gryffindor boy. For a while, I thought..."

"As did I, my dear. Hopefully she has come to her senses," he said, leaning over to kiss his wife.

While her parents congratulated themselves on a successful set-up, Samantha stretched luxuriously in her bed. Earlier this week, she had thought that Oliver was all she ever wanted. Meeting Finn had given her hope that a different love was possible. Maybe there was too much bad blood and negative history between Oliver and herself to ever hope to move on together. Maybe Finn was exactly what she needed.