A/N: It's been a while, I know, but you love me anyways. I gave you all a bit of a scare last chapter, you'll be happy to read this, then. Quick note: Batsy wrote the first part of this with me, the rest is all me.

Thanks to Simply Paranoia, TheFremioneGirl, Batmarcus, Sisi, espe9, Nitrogirl, Darth Kobra, AnAddictedReader and Annabelle4.0 for reviewing.

Chapter 10: Mistress

"Umbridge?" Harry asked, shivering at the thought. Ollivander started – which was odd, that man couldn't possibly be startled… could he?

Umbridge certainly disgraced the name of wizardry, but from what Harry'd gathered, the toad had been thrown into Azkaban and the key thrown away.

He was certain there were other witches that smeared wizards everywhere… the question was: who?

''Are you quite sure she was the only one that tortured you?'' The aging man asked, raising a grey eyebrow, almost tauntingly, playfully. Apparently he couldn't be startled for too long either. Harry glanced to his hand, remembering a woman who'd grabbed his palm in an attempt to read it. Perhaps that was why the scars on the back of his hand had tingled.

"Well, she's the only who truly tortured me. I suppose you could count Trelawney...''Harry hesitated, thinking Umbridge more likely for Zia's maternal party. They both tended to be slightly violent and bias. But there was no way Umridge could've helped in the making of Zia! Zia was just too beautiful to be possibly related to her, and Zia had a bit of kindness that Umbidge never possessed.

''That's it.'' Ollivander said triumphantly, raising a withered hand, his second finger in the air. "She disgraces the name of wizardry too – having false prophecies and such. Of course, there are those that think highly of her." Ollivander didn't seem to think highly of her, but he tried to hide it from Zia. The young girl unnerved him – and he was normally the one doing the unnerving. Her eyes were dark, as if they were permanently thrown into shadows, never knowing the sun or daylight. Then again, there could be no shadow without a day, or sun, or light.

Harry spluttered, unbelieving. ''What? Trelawney? Her mother is Trelawney?" It wasn't possible! Was it?

''Who is Trelawney?'' Zia asked, her brown-green eyes wide, flicking between Harry and Ollivander.

"She is my former Divination teacher.'' Harry explained, then added in a whisper, ''Also the reason my life was hell..." He remembered how frequently he'd died in her class, whether murdered with an axe or choking on a marshmallow. Or beheaded by said marshmallow.

Zia stared. She took her new wand and walked out in a daze, her eyes not registering anything. Harry paid for the wand and followed her.

"Are you all right?" He asked when he caught up to her, grabbing onto her arm.

''Fine.'' She smiled tightly, her lips becoming white as she stopped, looking at his hand on her arm. She knew she'd practically slept in his arms, but that didn't mean familiarity was in order.

"Come on, I know your lying. What's wrong?'' He said calmly, removing his hand at the look she was giving it. She might curse it off now that she had a wand.

''Is she alive?'' Zia asked, her eyes moving to his.

"Trelawney? I think so. She was last time I saw her. Why?" He asked, returning her gaze.

''He lied to me.'' She said softly, looking away from him, her eyes clouded immediately, she strode away from him. He hurried after her.

"I'm sorry. If I had known, I would have told you." He said sincerely, catching up to her.

''My father lied to me... Why am I surprised?'' She laughed bitterly, her voice laced with poison, shaking her head as if in denial. ''I wonder if she knows about me.'' She added in a whisper. Harry heard it, and a familiar pang hit Harry's chest. He missed his parents and his godfather, and Remus. He sometimes wished he had someone to talk to. In hindsight, he did have Draco to talk to. But Draco was as sensitive as a cactus or hot oil.

"Well, I'm not sure... there is magic that can erase memories. I almost lost my memory once… So, who knows? She's a bit scatterbrained, so it couldn't have been all that hard." He immediately regretted his words, because Zia slammed him into the nearest wall, her new wand at his throat.

"Don't you dare say a word against her!" She threatened him. "And don't underestimate me with this new stick – Ernie did let me borrow his, after all."

Harry took a deep breath, knowing she wasn't just kidding. He had to get her new fir and thestral wand away from his face. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her waist, catching her off guard entirely. He smirked, taking a page from Draco's book.

"Now, Zia, I can respect your wishes, but don't you ever threaten me with magic – got it?" He breathed, his breath playing across her lips. She smirked in return, and something cold hit his stomach. She'd brought a gun with her, and the mouth was now trained on his gut. He wondered where she got it.

"How about I threaten you with something non-magic then?" She teased, not lowering the wand or the firearm. It was hidden from the view of the public eyes. All they would see was a young couple, probably on the point of snogging one another silly.

"Please – you don't have the guts or the motives. Why would you kill me?" He asked, relaxing. He still had his arms around her waist. He could kill her, it would only be easy. He'd done it before, and he could do it again. He'd done it facing people who fought back and who begged for their lives.

Only she wasn't fighting his attempts to kill her, she was being defensive on her mother. And, he hated to admit it to himself, he could understand it. He knew how defensive he was of his own father, seeing as he blew his Aunt Marge up back in third year, and the way he and Snape had bumped heads over it, more than once.

She also wasn't begging him to kill her. So that left Harry dumbstruck and uncertain.

She clicked the gun and pressed it tighter.

"You sure?" She asked, her face mere inches from his. He was unable to say a word. A shiver ran through his body. But not one of fear – one of excitement. This enthralled him. It was so intoxicating. His body was excited by the forbidden nature of what they could do right there, not even worrying about the public's eyes.

Zia saw the look on his face and drew back, satisfied.

He drew her back, pressing their bodies together.

"I'm sure." He sneered, taking the gun from her. "Shall we continue?" His one hand lingered on her waist. "I'm certain you don't want to live in my clothes."

She nodded, slapping his hand away. "Don't you dare, Mr. Potter, just because I slept in your arms doesn't mean we really are that familiar."

The two were separated, and Harry knew the look. It was a determined look - one that clearly stated she was not backing down. He had to calm himself down first before they could go on.

She'd returned, the brooder was back and the giddy Zia was gone. As much as it made him a horrible person, he preferred this side. She was easier to talk to, easier to understand and more predictable than a happy Zia. Even if this Zia was unpredictable, he knew to expect the unexpected.

They continued in silence. Harry took her to Madam Malkin's to get some robes. They also visited the bookstore, where Zia recognized some of the books. He bought some magical history and fantasy tales books. Cleverly avoiding books that had himself in it. He managed to avoid the people he knew.

Lastly they ventured into muggle London – knowing the danger, though Zia really did need clothes.

They were done quickly, as Zia had a simple style of clothes. Jeans and T-shirts with the odd dress thrown in for good measure. She remained painfully silent, her face and impassive mask. He took her back to the Burrow, where she didn't speak to anyone, she didn't even go inside. Harry left her on a swing outside, not knowing what to say.

. . .

Zia hated him. David Stine had lied to her, time and time again, so why was she surprised that she'd been lied to again?

Her whole life she'd been made to believe her mother was either dead or had abandoned her! Now she learned her mother was a scar on the face of the wizarding world. She didn't how she was supposed to feel. Angry? Yes. Betrayed? Yes. Surprised? Yes! But why? She should've seen it coming! Her father was a prime liar, after all.

She's alive, and that was all that should matter. She would like to meet this Trelawney person one day. Perhaps she'd like her. But not now. She was too used to a nanny and a tutor. No loving parent, no loving gestures from said parents.

She missed her nanny. So much. She wasn't a person for embracing others, but she'd been the exception.

"Zia? Darling, where are you?" Vicky called from the kitchen, clapping her hands together. A puff of flour filled the air. Zia poked her head in through the door.

"You called, Vicky?" Zia grinned. "Ernie just got here – he promised me that I could use his wand again today." She was excited, two books clutched to her chest

"Yes, dearie, here." She pushed a tin of cookies towards her ward. "They're that nutty sort you like so much."

Zia grinned, helping herself to some cookies.

"Just take the tin, love, there are more in the oven. And I'm sure Ernie would like some too." Vicky smiled fondly as Zia's cheeks grew a dashing scarlet.

"Thank you, mother." Zia pressed a kiss to her nanny's cheek. Vicky chuckled.

"Now, shoo! Don't keep him waiting!"

Zia danced out with the tin of cookies and the books, stretching herself.

Vicky just went on making cookies, humming some long-forgotten tune to herself.

Zia smiled at the memory. Vicky always made cookies. The house permanently smelled like baked goods. Zia didn't have a sweet tooth, but she still appreciated it.

"Procrastinating?"

She jumped at the voice behind her.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, couldn't you have pretended to clear your throat?" She swore, willing her heart rate down.

"I apologize, madam," Draco said, sitting down on the swing near hers, "Potter told me."

"Did he now?" She asked in mock awe. He rolled his eyes at her.

"Listen, Trelawney is not that bad," He said earnestly, "I think you'd like her."

"You don't even know me, Malfoy." She scoffed.

"I know enough." He said firmly. "I'm sorry about your father, Stine, if I'd known; I would never have become an employee."

Draco was lying. He knew it, and he knew Zia could sense it, but he didn't say anymore. After all, he was still on David Stine's payroll.

"Enlighten me about your story, Malfoy?" She wasn't asking, she was telling him. He sighed, quite dramatically, and nodded.

"Potter is the golden boy, that you should know." He started. "A few years ago, the wizarding world was run by the Dark Lord. Voldemort, and I can only say the name because Potter forced it into me."

She frowned, confused.

"You mean the Wizarding war where Harry's parents died?" She asked. Draco nodded, stumped. "I know all about that. Ernie was part of the rebels, after all, he hid out at Stine Manor while it all went down." She shrugged.

"So you knew who Harry was when you met him?" Draco asked in disbelief, not noting his change to 'Harry'.

"No, there is the possibility of being more than one Potter out there, you know," She said matter-of-factly, "but after today I'm certain of it. He kept hiding from the public eye." Her hand went through her shaggy hair, getting stuck at the bottom. She wrestled with her hair, annoyed, before Draco reached forward and disentangled her hand from her hair.

"That's because after the war he took his wand and the Elder wand and just took off." Draco said loudly. "He felt betrayed by the wizarding world, and to think, he took me in, I was once his arch-rival!"

"And now you're his best friend." She added. Draco started.

"No, no, no, Potter and I function on mutual understanding. I still think he's a git." Draco said quickly, not wanting to think what his life would be like if he decided to be the golden boy's best friend.

Zia smirked at him, as if reading his thoughts. His life would probably be the same, wouldn't it?

"You were saying about your story?" She chose to skip the previous subject and return to the previous one. He was secretly grateful for this.

"At the tender age of sixteen, I was forced into the Death Eaters. I wasn't asked, I was forced. I was to be an example of what happened when someone defied him, or failed him – my father had failed him twice at that stage." Draco explained, not knowing, nor caring, why he was opening up to her. "I was destined to die at the end of that year."

She didn't say anything. Death, to her, was something that stopped the immortality all humans were destined to get one day. Their immortal souls are freed from bodily confinement, and they were free.

That was what death was to Zia: freedom.

"And I would've died too, were it not for my godfather." He went on when she didn't say anything.

"And your parents?" She asked hesitantly, not knowing enough of this man to judge when he was angry. Harry wore his emotions on his face, where Draco had a carefully structured mask. He looked at her sharply, trying to see if she was prying. All he saw was curiosity.

"I left. My father was the reason I got this." He pulled his sleeve up to show her the faded Dark Mark. "My father willingly gave up his only son to make his own name better."

"Peas in a pod, we are." She said cynically, looking at the setting sun, the sun a vivid red. Draco smiled a real smile, shaking his head in silent mirth.

"You continue to baffle me, Zia."

"Miss Stine." She corrected him.

"I thought we'd moved past that point?" He joked, wiping a hand through his light hair.

"We haven't." She winked at him. He shook his head again, standing up. He held his hand out to her. She looked at it as though it might bite her. When he didn't take it away, she took it. He pulled her to her feet.

"It's dinnertime, Zia, and Eugene's been worried."

The pair walked back to the Burrow, unsure of what to say. Her hand immediately left his, and he noticed it. He liked Zia; she was a fascinating character, if truth be told. But she was Potter's. The two of them were slowly starting to care, and the tension between them was hard to ignore.

And, he thought, I do not want to wake up having a gun pointed at my face.

They entered the Burrow to silence. Harry must've just said something shocking, because all eyes were trained on him.

Harry was well aware of this. He'd just been questioned about why he'd left the wizarding world, and he'd told them why. He'd been betrayed by magic, by the wizarding world choosing when he was good enough for them. He grew weary of always having to be the good guy.

"I don't do magic, it's as simple as that." He said after a few seconds, noticing his supposed girlfriend enter the room. He was begging her to release him.

"Harry?" She complied to his wish. She made a small notion with her head, meaning for it to be interpreted as 'let's go talk outside'.

He nodded, excusing himself and following her. Draco was left alone with the Weasleys (and Dean), and it unnerved him. He scratched his neck uncomfortably.

"Look, it's a creepy doll!" He pointed to a couch pillow. When they were all looking away, he dashed outside, running pell-mell into Eugene. He grinned guiltily before slinking away from him too.

Outside Harry and Zia stood, looking at each other in an awkward silence.

"So…" She started, having no idea what to say.

"Indeed." Harry said, his hands behind his back as he danced on the balls of his feet.

"So, we're talking." She went on.

"It seems so." He started laughing. She couldn't help but join in. "Thank you, Zia, for saving me in there. I didn't want to go into an explanation of what I do now."

"Right, that would lead to questions, and you'd feel compelled to answer them truthfully."

"You really are a master of words." He said, relaying one of the few compliments he felt able to give.

"Mistress, sir." She bowed elegantly. He drew her into an embrace as Ginny peered out the door to look at them.

"No worries, just remember that you're supposed to be my mistress."

. . .

A/N: Well, that was a weird ending for a chapter, even for me. Ah well, review, me hearties! (I've had an overdose of Jack Sparrow, okay?)