Author Notes: Hello, everyone! My apologies for the delay. Writing came to a complete halt when my muse died midway. It took the re-reading of JD's 77 masterful chapters followed by this continuation's 35 chapters, and 2 weeks' rest just to revive her. This continuation has now passed its 5 year mark, making it the longest running fanfic I've ever written. Its also eaten up almost all of my spare time, but... I don't want to give it up.

So - thank you all once again for your kind support! Your wonderful reviews and comments remind me of how much we all want a resolution to JD's epic tale. More on that later, enjoy this chapter first :)

Appreciation: Thanks a billion to my co-author and beta, Vine Verrine. She's kept the TMS and Snarry torches burning bright even when I was whining and churning out nothing but insipid mediocrity. It's largely thanks to her that this chapter is ready at all. Thank you, girl! :)

- Chapter Start -

Behind his eyelids, Harry didn't stop seeing things, from white sparkles to swirly impressions of sand and buildings, and when he opened his eyes, the spinning motion of the stars above him, as if they were dancing merrily around him.

It was clear he wasn't sleeping well throughout the trip back to Severus. Perhaps his exhaustion had carried him beyond the point of being able to simply fall asleep. His dizziness and the visions were keeping him in a state of lazy nausea, like he was on a rolling ship instead of a magical barge. He recognised bits of time where he had nodded off, but those were short, much too short to count as meaningful rest.

"Harry. We're almost there."

Trust Dumbledore to know he wasn't sleeping right at the moment they were descending.

Harry raised his head only to blink at what looked like a shining tower in the distance. Blinking a few more times, he saw it was the Lighthouse of Alexandria, burning like a beacon in the dark, ablaze with lights from top to bottom.

The sight, even more majestic now, gave Harry the smallest energy boost to sit up in his stretcher. He did it gingerly, with a great deal of pushing and grunting, only to feel a giant invisible hand at his back, helping him up. He stared as the building came closer and closer, uniformed guards approaching his barge as it slid to a silent stop in front of the courtyard.

Queen Nitocris was amongst them, dressed in the same white robes and gold collar she had worn earlier, her pretty face anxious. When Harry's stretcher was lowered onto the ground, she rushed forward, rippling robes like waves behind her, and crouched down beside him, grabbing his hands in her own, trembling ones.

"Harry, I am so glad you are safe," she declared before getting up to greet Dumbledore in the same manner. She was a cyclone of silk, looking around and assessing things. Her pale green eyes widened when she looked behind them. Turning, she quickly motioned two of her female servants forward.

"Please, go with them. Excuse me, I need to see to my grandmother," she told Harry and hurried off in another swirl of sparkle to the next barge.

Squinting after her, Harry saw Lady Heka's stretcher being lowered under the watchful eye of Bill Weasley, his vision still holding an afterimage of the shiny jewels from Nitocris' glittering collar. Despite his legs feeling like jelly, he insisted on getting up from the stretcher, Dumbledore offering a steadying hand and steadying magic as he stood up. Seeing Bill still occupied with his mentor while fighting off his own exhaustion, Harry and Dumbledore followed the waiting servants into the brightly lit courtyard. A Healer in light blue robes hurried forward and ran diagnostic spells over them before handing them vials of ruby red liquid from his satchel.

Harry downed his without further thought. It tasted like sweet wine, sliding smoothly down his throat and into his stomach where it exploded in a burst of energy, sending warmth to every part of his body. In seconds, his legs felt stronger and his mind more alert. The first thing his rejuvenated brain told him was that Severus would surely call him out for ingesting unknown potions from strangers.

Oops. Pursing his lips, Harry turned to see Dumbledore - as if cementing Harry's naivete - holding up his own vial and peering closely at it, his expression cautious yet impressed. He then sniffed it and nodded to himself before drinking it down.

Harry blew out a relieved puff of breath at that reassuring sight.

Dumbledore handed his vial to the Healer and conversed briefly with him in what Harry assumed was Egyptian. He then turned to Harry, smiling as he plucked the empty vial from his fingers and handed that over as well.

"Thank you again," he said and Harry suspected he was now speaking in English for his benefit. "This tastes remarkably similar to a potent rejuvenating potion I was fortunate enough to try once."

A brief sideways wink was directed at Harry who just nodded in bemusement. He hadn't tasted Severus' potion, having given his vial to Aventine in the Ministry of Magic after returning from Stonehenge. The utter disbelief on Severus' face when he caught him in the act was one Harry wouldn't forget anytime soon; it made him want to squirm and smile each time he remembered it.

Dumbledore motioned him forward and they entered the main hall, also brightly lit and a hive of activity with people hurrying to and fro under the loud orders of two of Nitocris' uncles. Harry paid them no mind as he and Dumbledore followed the servants down a long, vaguely familiar corridor. His entire being was focused on only one thing - seeing his Severus again, mindless of the yearning, possessive strike inside him. But underneath that anticipation lay the thick, heavy guilt over tonight's many deaths. He couldn't help glancing up at Dumbledore beside him as if seeking reassurance from those wise eyes and snowy beard.

Dumbledore glanced back at him with twinkling blue pools, a million words encased in them, all of them of comfort, but the sight only added to Harry's guilt. Removing the Dark Mark was his responsibility yet he had still needed Dumbledore to duel Voldemort. He didn't want to think how the outcome might have been if Lady Heka hadn't restrained Voldemort with that curse.

"Your Majesty." A soft voice startled him from his thoughts and he looked to his left. A very handsome man, tall with golden skin, had joined them and was smiling at him. His name was Bahman, and he was one of two Healers who had been given the task of attending to Severus earlier. He was pleased to report that they had cleaned him up, given him restorative potions and put him to bed.

Harry exhaled, part elated, part weak and trembling with relief, both feelings raging a war against his guilt. When he smiled in gratitude, he felt it came more naturally than he thought it would. There was a tiny part of him that wished he had been there, to care for his Severus the way Severus had done for him before. It was irrational, and capricious even, but he felt that way.

They kept walking. It must have been minutes at most, but the anticipation had apparently won the battle, because when they rounded the next corridor, Harry's heart started beating faster. Behind that single door up ahead was the opulent bedchamber he had shared with Severus last night. Quickening his steps, he reached for the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open.

His breath caught in his throat.

Severus lay sleeping in the enormous four poster bed, jet black hair and pale features against a backdrop of plump pillows, framed by the feather duvet and tasselled bed hangings, all of it in white Egyptian cotton. He looked like a rupture of time and space, black against all that pristine white, and Harry felt compelled, like a tiny moon, to gravitate towards that force.

It was only at this moment that he realised it was something he still needed to see despite knowing Severus had survived the ritual. He just stared at his bond mate, the bed hangings and soft glow of the few lit candles sending a whisper of that famous fairy tale through his mind. He was senseless to everything else until a warm hand clasped his shoulder and he turned, startled.

"Have a good long sleep, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "I will see you and Severus in the morning."

Harry stared up at him, seeing for the first time - in spite of the rejuvenating potion - the lines of exhaustion on that old face that spoke of the toll all those powerful spells had taken. And yet, not once did Harry doubt Dumbledore could hold his own against Voldemort.

"Thank you, sir," he said, his voice unsteady. "I don't want to imagine what would've happened if you hadn't been here tonight."

Dumbledore just smiled and patted Harry's shoulder.

"We are none of us alone in this, my boy. Fighting Voldemort isn't your responsibility alone."

Harry nodded, that gentle reminder easing something deep inside of him. He stepped inside the room and turned around, nodding at Bahman and the two female servants patiently waiting there.

"It would be our pleasure to assist King Harry to get ready for bed," Bahman said with another warm smile, showing very white teeth.

Harry was about to nod assent when a 'ping' sounded inside his head.

"Oh! No, that's... not necessary," he quickly said. "Thank you for your help and goodnight," and turning back to Dumbledore, added, "goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Harry."

Alone at last with Severus, and the door firmly closed and locked, Harry turned and walked up to the foot of the bed, resting his hands on the foot rail, the knowledge that he should wash up overruled by the need to stare at Severus for a few minutes more. His eyes traced those familiar strong features before dipping to monitor the slight rise and fall of that muscled chest, now hidden beneath a thin white cotton shirt. Irreverent thoughts were chasing one another through his mind, one of them the memory of Severus saying that if Sirius could wake Remus up with a true love's kiss he would be ill.

A wistful smile touched Harry's lips. He walked around to the side of the bed and bent down to press his lips against the thin pale ones. Severus didn't respond, either too exhausted or under the influence of a sleeping potion.

With a long sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, Harry straightened up and shrugged off his own heavy robes. He draped them over a nearby cushioned armchair, sparing a guilty thought for the grains of sand they harboured before stepping into the adjoining lavishly appointed bathroom to strip off the rest of his clothes. The warm water felt very good, cascading over his skin which was gritty with dirt and sand. He washed his hair and showered quickly, not wanting to waste a minute more than was necessary.

Hair toweled dry and dressed only in a pair of clean boxers, he emerged from the bathroom and slipped between the soft sheets with another sigh. He curled up next to Severus, leaning up on one elbow and indulging in several more kisses to Severus' face. Some were chaste, light like hummingbirds feeding from a flower, bestowed upon his forehead, his temples, his eyelids and the tip of his nose. A few others were the tiniest bit firmer: to his cheeks, and his jawline, and finally his dry, soft lips.

After a minute or two, Harry carefully felt for Severus' magic. The spark of that familiar, intoxicating magic was faint, but it was there. Ignoring the sting in his eyes, he gave Severus a final kiss before settling down. He pillowed his head on one broad shoulder and closed his eyes, one hand resting over the slowly beating heart of his bond mate.

- o -

Having forgotten to take his Dreamless Sleep potion, it was not surprising that Harry dreamed of the dead. There were new faces joining the ranks, their expressions morphing from fearful and desperate, to ashen and lifeless, all very close to his face, looking at him with hollow eye sockets that pierced and prickled his skin. They revolved around him, brushing up against him and touching him with cold hands, while the pungent, acrid smell of their rotting bodies entered his nose, an acute and overwhelming feeling of betrayal and disgust. They looked at him without speaking but it felt like they were condemning him, blaming him for ending their lives when he should have freed them instead.

It was the soft yet insistent sound of cawing that pulled Harry away until those dead faces blurred and he was no longer subjected to their accusing gazes or their clinging, icy claws. With guilty relief, he let those images recede into his subconscious and opened his eyes, not without difficulty.

Raising his head, he groaned. The muscles at the back and side of his neck protested, letting him know he hadn't moved from this position for some time. The cawing sounded again, louder now that he was awake.

Slowly, Harry sat up, his body tired and aching as if he had come down with the flu sometime during the night. His limbs felt weak and his mind like it was stuffed full of cotton. That brought a vague memory to him, like he had felt a similar way before but couldn't remember when. Shaking his head which only made him feel nauseous, he saw the two ravens perched on the foot rail of the bed, their black eyes gleaming in the dim light of the lanterns on the bedside tables.

Harry stared at them. After a second or two, his mind cleared enough to let in a horrifying thought which made his heart lurch.

"Is it Voldemort? Is he planning something else?"

The ravens shook their heads. They didn't appear to warn him about an impending disaster, but to remind him that tonight's deaths - or rather, last night's - weren't his fault. He frowned, a part of him wondering how they even knew what he had dreamed about.

"But so many of them died," he protested. "Some of them were barely older than I am. I... I wasn't fast enough."

The ravens shook their heads again. Those Death Eaters had known the risks, they insisted, their voices not unkind, but firm. Harry now vaguely remembered hearing distant cawing during the ritual, especially in those long tense moments when the Dark Mark had almost overwhelmed him. The ravens had grounded him, helped him to focus better.

"Thank you," he said, and they cawed some more, a different kind of feeling to those sounds, like they were both soothing him and feeling smug about it.

The faint rustle of the sheets caught Harry's attention. Severus was stirring, a look of discomfort crossing his face, his breathing growing shallow as if he was starting to wake up.

Harry reached out to touch his cheek. It felt hot, but maybe his own fingers were cold because he could see a faint sheen of sweat on Severus' forehead.

"Severus?"

Severus' eyes blinked open, but he looked a bit disoriented.

"Harry?" he asked, his deep voice rough with sleep. "Are you alright?"

That simple question shot towards Harry's heart like a hot, sharp spike of metal. He chuckled and the sound was one part relieved sob and one part heartbreak.

"You are the one who almost died, and you are asking me if I'm fine. Which I am, better than you are, I reckon," he replied, his voice unsteady as another worry - one he hadn't wanted to admit to himself - fell away. Seeing Severus looking around, he added, "We're at Nitocris' home, the Lighthouse of Alexandria."

Severus' throat worked as if he swallowed, or tried to.

"Thirsty," he muttered.

There was a jug and glass on the nightstand. Harry poured out some water and turned back to see Severus leaning up on one elbow. He looked like he was about to collapse just from that movement alone, so Harry threw caution to the winds, and left the glass of water on the nightstand. He managed to help Severus sit up and slid behind him so that Severus' head was now pillowed on his chest. When he reached for the glass, it was with a tingling feeling when Severus, still half asleep, muttered something about being manhandled. Or perhaps that feeling was because Severus' hair felt so soft against his bare chest.

"Here." Harry held the glass to Severus' lips, almost, almost feeling a tired, brooding pout. After Severus had drunk some water, Harry drank the rest himself before setting the glass back on the nightstand.

Severus looked uncharacteristically weak as he rested against him with his eyes closed, long thick lashes against pale cheeks. Then he shivered.

"It's cold."

Harry pulled the sheets higher over him, but Severus still shivered as he turned onto his side and curled up, pressing closer to Harry without hesitation, almost nuzzling into his chest. Harry was torn between feeling even more tingly and worried, because Severus was still unusually warm. He wrapped his arms around him, head coming up when the ravens cawed again. He had all but forgotten their presence.

"What's wrong with Severus?" he asked, but they didn't answer.

Severus stirred.

"Who are you talking to?"

"The ravens," Harry told him. "And what's wrong with me? I don't feel good," he continued, addressing the ravens. It still felt like he was missing something here, he just couldn't put his finger on it with his mind frustratingly slow and fuzzy.

When the ravens cawed again, he stared at them in shock.

"There's a dark imprint inside my mind? But what is it? And how-" Then he stopped short. There had been a dark memory inside his mind after he had banished that Elder Demon from the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. He had felt like he was walking around in a fog the whole of the following day until Severus realised and removed that memory from his mind.

Did this mean he now had a part of Voldemort's Dark Mark inside his mind after last night's ritual?

Harry shuddered, feeling sickened at the very thought. Voldemort's magic was cold and evil, utterly repulsive after committing so many cruel acts over the years.

"How do I get rid of it?" he asked the ravens desperately. They didn't seem unduly worried when they said it would dissipate on its own. It wasn't a part of the Mark per se, but an afterimage of it after having touched so many Dark Marks last night. Their meaningful glances at Severus, however, said something else.

That was when Harry registered the soft but insistent movement against his chest. He looked down to see Severus shifting restlessly, long strands of black hair sticking to his forehead and neck, thin lips drawing back in a grimace.

"Severus, are you alright?"

Severus peered up at him, eyes glassy as if with fever.

"Feel cold," he mumbled and closed his eyes once more.

Harry grabbed his shoulders, just managing to keep from shaking him.

"Severus! What's wrong?"

The ravens cawed again, telling him to calm down.

"I can't!" he said. He could feel Severus' magic without even reaching for it this time. It was a tiny bit stronger than earlier, but wild and out of control, churning inside him as if desperate to escape.

Not knowing what else to do, Harry scrambled out of bed, accidentally pulling the sheets with him and almost tripping on them when he turned back, realising too late he had left Severus to flop back down with a painful sounding thud against the headboard and a muffled 'Oof'. Wincing at his thoughtlessness, Harry hesitated before rushing to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open.

"Hello! Is anyone there? My bondmate is ill!"

Much to Harry's relief, Bahman and another Healer appeared almost at once. They hurried inside the room and began casting diagnostic spells on Severus. Harry stood at the foot of the bed, hands gripping the foot rail once more, only half listening to the ravens as they flew to his shoulders and cawed softly.

When they finally lowered their wands, Bahman turned to Harry.

"We would like to put Potions Master Snape into a light Magical Sleep, Your Majesty."

"Why? What's happening to him?" Harry asked in alarm.

"It could be a side effect of removing the curse," Bahman explained. "A not uncommon occurrence."

Harry's eyes went to Severus who was shivering harder, curled up tightly under the covers.

"Isn't there a potion you can give him? Something to relieve his symptoms?"

Bahman shook his head regretfully.

"Potions will not help at this time. The only relief we can offer is to put him in a Magical Sleep and bring him to the Healing Temple in Cairo."

"Healing temple?" Harry repeated, feeling completely out of his depth. He wished Dumbledore was here. Or Hermione. Or Ron. Or Sirius, or Remus.

"The baths at our Healing Temple are therapeutic for victims of dark curses."

Harry swung around to see Nitocris entering the room with one of her female servants, Bahman and the other Healer greeting her with deep bows.

"Nitocris!"

"Do not worry, Harry," she replied with a reassuring smile. "My grandmother told me that Bill Weasley also spent a few days at the temple when he first started mentoring under her. The water there is sourced from an underground spring spelled with Water Magic, and thus contains magical properties."

As she spoke, Bahman went to retrieve a plain black robe from a nearby cupboard and helped Harry into it. Blushing at his near naked state, Harry quickly belted the robe tightly around his waist.

"A dark curse, even a simple one, or one cast recently, can affect the victim in different ways," Nitocris continued. "They range from fever and weakness, to more serious convulsions and hallucinations. Even one who has come into contact with a dark curse is affected in some way. I am quite sure you too would feel much better after a bath in our temple waters, as you had repeated contact with the Dark Mark in last night's ritual."

Harry nodded.

"The Dark Mark itself, however..." Nitocris hesitated before continuing, "I believe it was given with consent which had allowed it free access to the witch or wizard's magical cores."

Harry felt his stomach knot with dread.

"Severus... and many of the others have had the Mark for years. Decades," he said, his voice sounding numb even to his ears.

Nitocris nodded, her light green eyes glittering.

"With it being so powerful, their withdrawal symptoms would be quite extensive. Added to the number of years it has resided in their bodies..."

Here she trailed off, her eyes going to Severus before she looked back at Harry, her expression turning apologetic.

"Even my grandmother has not dealt with a dark curse of this magnitude."

The two ravens were cawing their agreement so Harry nodded, unconsciously squaring his shoulders.

"I understand. Would you please bring us to the temple, and inform Professor Dumbledore as well?"

"Of course."

- o -

One of the doors in a bright, sun washed corridor opened, creating a big rectangular shadow on the wall. Amelia Bones emerged from behind the door, looking rather worse for wear. Once the sunlight hit her eyes, she squeezed them shut, grimacing as the piercing sting made her eyes water.

Blinking a few times, she raised a hand to block the light and saw sunlight streaming in from several open windows set in the walls, forming squares of gold on the blue, flower patterned carpet. Were she feeling better, she would be able to appreciate the stunning contrast in colours. She looked all around and then up at the sky outside the windows, already a bright blue despite the early hour, and took a deep breath.

A movement drew her attention to the tall figure coming towards her, the combination of long beard and shimmering green robes making her smile.

"Good morning, Albus," she greeted as she walked over.

"And to you, Amelia," Albus returned, eyes twinkling brightly. "What a lovely morning it is."

"It is indeed. Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thank you. A few more hours' sleep wouldn't go amiss, but I wouldn't want word to get out that the Headmaster of Hogwarts sleeps half his day away." Albus' chuckle belied the lines of weariness in his face. "A cup of tea and I will be right as rain."

"As will I," Amelia returned, which wasn't true at all, and she could tell Albus knew. "Shall we go look for that tea now?"

"An excellent idea."

Amelia matched her steps to Albus', the two of them going down the corridor leisurely as if they had nothing better to do than to enjoy the warm sunshine, bright chirping of birds and the faint sounds of the sea coming from the open windows. If their footsteps lacked the purposeful briskness of their walk at the British Ministry of Magic some twenty four hours ago, neither chose to comment on it.

A smiling servant stood at the end of the corridor, bowing and greeting them in polite Egyptian. When Albus and Amelia returned her greeting in the same language, her smile widened and she requested for them to follow her. She led them down the length of the main hall, deserted now except for one or two servants who bowed as they passed, out another door and then down a short corridor that led outside.

They were in a verandah beside a garden full of trees and flowering plants. Small round tables and chairs were arranged on the flagstone floor and a long table along the wall had been laid out with a full tea service and several covered chafing dishes, kept warm with flickering tealights.

"A delightful place," Albus remarked.

"I've never seen such flowers," Amelia added, looking out at the beautiful garden.

The servant poured them tea and began uncovering the dishes. Albus and Amelia helped themselves to traditional offerings of shakshouka, an egg and tomato dish, and ful medames, an egg and fava beans dish, together with the more familiar sausages, bacon and toast. After the servant bowed and left, Albus cast a wandless privacy and muffling spell around their table, his expression turning solemn.

"When are you leaving, Amelia?"

"In an hour. Darmut is waiting to update me on how things were at the Ministry last night and then we will meet with Kingsley, Mad Eye and Stark. They should have an estimate of last night's deaths by now, including those from other countries."

Albus nodded, his gaze pensive as he stirred a heaping spoonful of sugar into his tea.

"An estimate is right since some of the Death Eaters may not recover from their ordeal. Or some that we thought would not survive could end up pushing through magnificently."

Trust Albus to be almost annoyingly chirpy about this, Amelia thought with a suppressed smile.

"It could be closer to two weeks before we have a final tally on who survives and who doesn't," she conceded.

"My thoughts exactly. By the way, my portkey is scheduled for noon, together with Severus and Harry's, but if I may ask a favour?"

Amelia's gaze turned shrewd.

"Do you wish to stay longer?" she asked. "I can easily send over another portkey if that is the case."

"Thank you, you read my mind," Albus replied, his eyes regaining a bit of their usual twinkle. "Harry woke up a short while ago. Neither he nor Severus are feeling well, especially Severus, so the Healers will bring them to the famous Healing Temple in Cairo shortly. Nitocris and I will accompany them. Do excuse me if I gobble down my superb breakfast."

Amelia frowned.

"Something to do with last night's ritual?" she hazarded a guess. "What about Lucius Malfoy? He spent the night here too."

"No one knows," Albus replied. "Bill took him back very early this morning. He has to go into work today, to make up for taking time off yesterday."

Amelia raised an eyebrow at the work ethics of goblins - it was Sunday! - but didn't comment on it. When she realised her mind was already busy planning the next few days, she acknowledged that she too was keeping goblin hours, at least for today.

"I will find out the situation at St Mungo's and abroad, and keep you informed," she promised Albus. "Do keep me updated on Severus and Harry, won't you?"

"Of course, my dear."

- o -

The Healing Temple was dim and quiet, the almost complete silence broken only by the ever present hum of magic and the softest lapping of water against marble.

Harry sighed and turned his head from contemplating the high ceiling to staring at the sunken bath in the middle of the medium sized chamber. He was lying on a soft thick mat on the marble floor, dressed in nothing but a pair of white cotton trousers which a temple aide had given him. The trousers were still damp from when he had soaked in one of the baths for an hour or so. He felt better now, as if he had left some of his flu-like symptoms and the fuzziness in his mind in the warm, silky water.

Despite being underground, the temple was stuffy and humid. Harry sat up, absently wiping at a drop of sweat going down the side of his face. His gaze remained on Severus, lying half submerged in the water with his body unmoving and his eyes closed. Severus was also dressed in white cotton trousers.

Harry knew it was not the moment. Here he was, just out of the Healing Bath himself, still feeling like his head was inside a bubble, and yet he couldn't help the completely irreverent thought of how those trousers would cling once Severus came out of the water.

As if asked, his eyes moved lower, to the blurry shape of Severus' white clad legs, looking on and on, with a carefully blank mind that threatened to jump over the brink of sanity and land straight on his libido. It was such a shame he was still so tired, Harry thought, almost mournfully. He laid down again, trying to think of safer things.

Turning his head the other way, he looked at Dumbledore snoozing in a colourful and overstuffed armchair which looked out of place against the pale gray marble, and cringed at his own daring thoughts. The soft sound of padding made him turn back to see a sphinx standing at the entrance to their chamber. Harry got to his feet without realising it.

"Harry Potter," she said and bowed her head. "We meet again."

"Hello. Are you the sphinx Lady Heka helped two nights ago?"

She nodded and entered the chamber, her eyes flashing in the light of the lit candles.

"The Withering Curse was not put on me for long, but it is a painful and fast spreading curse. That I am still alive and fully recovered is thanks to Lady Heka's skill. And I thank you too for waking me and my kind from the Great Sleep."

"Oh. You're welcome," Harry replied, casting about in his mind for a suitable topic of conversation to have with a sphinx. He came up with nothing.

"You have met her even before that, Harry," Dumbledore said from behind him, a slight amusement in his voice. "Two years ago in fact."

Harry swung around to look at him and then back at the sphinx.

"So you're the one I met in the maze? In the third task of the Triwizard Tournament?"

She nodded, looking amused and then her gaze went to Severus, the stern lines of her face softening a bit.

"I must go. May your bondmate recover soon, Harry Potter, for I can see he is precious to you."

Without waiting for an answer, she bowed her head again and left.

- o -

The late morning sun shone brightly on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, turning the well kept lawn a brighter shade of green, and transforming the frothy spray from the fountain in the front garden into tiny sparkling diamonds. The slightly ostentatious landscape, which perfectly matched the large stately house in the background, was marred only by a lone figure lying on the grass, long platinum hair spread out like a bright, discarded shawl.

Lucius Malfoy lay on his side, eyes squeezed shut against the bright glare of the sun. The ground was hard and uncomfortable. Individual blades of grass pricked his nose, cheek and ear, yet these superficial discomforts paled in comparison to the overwhelming agony inside him.

Every last inch of him hurt. He had never felt like this, not even during or after the severe bouts of the Cruciatus Curse he had suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord. Like he was burning up and freezing cold at the same time. Sharp needles of blinding pain were stabbing every inch of him on the inside, and a raging headache threatened to split his skull open.

In one of the brief lulls from the agony consuming him, he could almost appreciate the irony that this was what it felt like to be free at last. Oh, he knew it wasn't permanent. He was no novice to the Dark Arts and their withdrawals after all. He should have been better prepared for this occurrence. The only excuses - however weak - he could give himself was that the Dark Mark was unlike any other curse he had experienced, and the promise of finally being freed from it was one so alluring, so unexpected, it obscured every other thought.

Lucius consoled himself, as much as he could with his head pounding away, that at least he had been spared two indignities. One was that he had managed to convince Bill Weasley to bring him here instead of St Mungo's. The other was that he had only been suffering a slight fever then. Being at the mercy of a blood traitor or the inept Healers at St Mungo's when he was feeling this horrible would be unimaginable.

Weasley had Apparated him to his front gates at dawn with a curt 'Take care, Malfoy'. Lucius had responded with a cold 'Thank you' and lost no time in going up his driveway and entering his house. He had ordered his house elves to draw a hot bath for him and prepare breakfast, and wasn't much bothered to learn that Narcissa was away on a short holiday and would not return until two days later. He hadn't informed her of the ritual after all.

The next few hours had been spent ensconced in his enormous four poster bed and keeping the elves at his beck and call - plumping up the pillows, fetching him a hot drink, building up the fire and tweaking the curtains just so. Yet all their care hadn't helped him feel one bit better, nor had snarling at them until his voice grew hoarse. He had felt increasingly ill until even their cringing obeisance were too much to take, and he had ordered them to get out of his sight.

In a few minutes, the heat of the roaring fire in the grate and the closed curtains had given rise to an unbearable sense of claustrophobia and a craving for fresh air. Despite his trembling limbs, Lucius had slowly put on his dressing gown and made his way to the door, moving with tiny careful steps in order not to jar his poor head, one hand lightly grazing the nearest wall for balance.

The corridor outside his room which measured twenty feet long at most seemed unending, its walls and carpeted floor swaying in his bleary vision. He had persisted, putting one slippered foot in front of the other, grateful that he was using one of the guest bedrooms downstairs. Finally, he had reached the front door and after pausing to catch his breath, pulled it open and stepped outside.

It wasn't noon yet, and while the fresh air and slight breeze were soothing on his sweaty face, the heat was not. Steeling himself, Lucius had doggedly made his way across the gravel path and onto the lawn... although towards what, he had no idea. He had managed perhaps ten faltering steps before his legs gave way and he collapsed in an undignified heap on the ground.

A few quiet minutes passed - during which Lucius pretended he was only resting - before he was discovered. A couple of house elves found him lying there and began assaulting his eardrums with panicked squeaks of distress. Lucius opened his eyes to see them wringing their hands and pulling on their ears. He debated if he should get them to take him back to bed, or instruct them to leave him where he was. Since the ground seemed a bit less hard now, he closed his eyes only to open them again when Binky's frantic voice was heard, talking to someone.

"Master Lucius is right this way! He is just lying on the ground and Binky is not knowing what to do!"

Lucius frowned, wondering if Narcissa had returned earlier than expected, when that someone replied. His blood ran cold in shock.

"Not to worry, Binky, is it? I will take care of your master," came a deep and instantly recognisable voice.

Lucius froze, dread and humiliation washing over him in equal measure as two sets of footsteps came closer and closer, a light pattering one that could only be Binky's, and a slow, measured tread. The glare of the sun disappeared and he stared up into a pair of familiar red orbs.

"Good morning, Lord Malfoy." Aventine crouched down on one knee, resting a casual arm atop it.

Lucius wet his lips, aware that his mind was as blank as his throat was dry. He settled for a cautious nod instead.

"As beautiful as your garden is, I fear the sun is too warm for both our comforts right now." Aventine paused to glance around and then he nodded as if coming to a decision. "I trust you would not wish to be levitated so I must beg your forgiveness for my familiarity."

Before Lucius' sluggish mind could begin to decipher those cryptic words or the wary look in those red eyes, Aventine bent down, the needle sharp tips of fangs getting alarmingly close.

Lucius felt an arm under his shoulders and another under his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut, a violent shudder that had nothing to do with his withdrawal symptoms shaking him as he was lifted and cradled in Aventine's arms as if he weighed no more than a child.

"Master Lucius' study is this way, kind sir. Please to follow Binky."

Lucius kept his eyes closed as he was carried indoors and into his study. He was deposited carefully in an armchair, a lock of hair that wasn't his own brushing his cheek and a quiet request for Binky to please light the fireplace before leaving.

A few moments later, Lucius opened his eyes to see Aventine settled in the armchair opposite him, one long leg over the other, his expression quizzical in the flickering firelight.

"I hope the short trip was not too much of an ordeal, Lord Malfoy?"

Lucius straightened up as much as he could, wishing he had a handkerchief to wipe his face and that he was properly dressed. It was near impossible to think, let alone talk through the pain and shivers racking his body, the incessant pounding in his head, and that cold crisp scent lingering in his nostrils.

"Why... are you here?" he managed.

If Aventine was disappointed at not receiving any thanks for his assistance, he showed no sign of it.

"The newspapers, both local and abroad, have disclosed last night's incident in Egypt. Rest assured, the names of the participants were not listed."

Lucius pressed his lips together, torn between annoyance that Draco would know by now, and relief at not having to tell him himself. It didn't matter. He had survived the ritual, and he would survive the next one or two weeks of hell, however long it took for his body to purge itself of the Dark Mark's withdrawal symptoms.

"Was there something you wanted to discuss?" he asked, his voice sounding as if from a distance. He stared at the tiny smile lifting one side of Aventine's red lips and wondered why the sight of a sharp fang aroused only vague alarm.

"You are my champion, Lord Malfoy. It is in my people's best interests to keep you safe and well."

Lucius gave a humourless smile.

"I am sure you are aware that there is no getting around this detoxification period than to ride it out," he said, trying not to slur his words. He had a plethora of alcoholic beverages and recovery potions at his disposal, and the temptation to lose himself in them was overwhelming, but masking the symptoms would only make them worse in the end.

Aventine leaned forward then and there was no mistaking the sudden gleam in his crimson eyes.

"There is another way I can help to minimise your discomfort as much as possible," he offered, his voice deep and compelling.

Lucius stared at him.

"What way is that?" he asked, his voice sounding as faraway as before.

Aventine didn't say anything at first. He only looked at him with that unmistakable intent in his gaze, clear enough for Lucius to interpret it in the only possible way.

- Chapter End -

A/N: Thank you for reading and we hope this lengthy chapter was worth the wait.

Josephine Darcy - we have been informed via reviews and PMs that she passed away in April 2013 from cancer. Unfortunately, we don't have a way to confirm whether or not that information is reliable since we don't know anyone who knows who she is or was in real life.

Lucius Malfoy - JD mentioned before that he is straight but wouldn't hesitate to seduce a male if he would get something out of it. Lucius is one who always looks out for himself. Right now, he is desperate for relief from his suffering and Aventine is as compelling as only a tall, dark and handsome vampire can be :)

Voldemort - he had a bit of help in getting away, but we'll get back to him in one of the forthcoming chapters.

Finally, it may not look like it, seeing as how long we took to even get rid of the Dark Mark, but the end of this story is in sight. My beta and co-author Vine has some crazy, even nasty ideas about that ending that are quite different from mine, so how do you all think it should end? Happily ever after? Or not?

We look forward to your feedback and your reviews for this chapter. Thank you again!