Valence, Southern France

August 15th, 1943

"Finally," Merissa murmured before crashing her lips down upon his once more. It hadn't been a day, yet still she had been impatient to begin this ritual again, and he responded with equal fervor, wrapping his hands eagerly around her waist as his lips responded.

"Did you miss me?" he teased.

She could just see his grin past her curtain of hair as she leaned over him and she replicated the expression, "A lady never tells," she whispered and made to catch his lips again, eager for the feeling to swallow her.

He evaded her, still joking, "And you haven't asked how I acquired this vessel."

Her eyes passed around the tan interior of the car without real interest in the mundane Muggle object, "Are you borrowing it from a friend?" she asked cheekily.

He only grinned broader, "I guess you could say that."

He raised his head now to oblige her lips and she leaned back over, pleased she had gotten her way.

Tangled up in the privacy of the car they had taken out in search of a nearby village, they were a mass of dark hair, mussed by greedy fingers, reaching lips, hungry eyes. Merissa had lost herself in the sensation easily, the brush of his hand over her leg, the gleam of his dark eyes as they drew nearer to hers, a furious meeting of mouths. Usually they spent these long hours wrapped around each other in the gardening house, but there was some novelty to being together alone like this. She was just glad they had a place to snog that was free of the discomfort of being pressed up against an old spade or having a beetle crawling up her leg - the hazards of their usual haunt.

By this time they had stolen to the back of the car, he sprawled across the long seat and her straddling his waist, with a knee on either side, bent to meet his lips. Moreso, perhaps, to satisfy the persistence of her own. They broke only to both take a shuddering breath and resume with renewed vigor.

Merissa had never put much thought into how good her snogging was, in the past, so put out by Abraxas' near gag flex to them. But he certainly seemed to enjoy them, enraptured by the magic of them by the first brush of their lips this summer, he coveted them. She leaned back slightly, a curtain of her hair still obscuring the pair, to nip lightly at his bottom lip. It was pleasantly swollen already from the ferocity of their movement.

His whole body reacted, his arms ensnaring her closer to him, pushing her hair impatiently away, his lips against hers with a burning need. Under her own fingers, his skin was feverish, beads of sweat forming tiny oases of coolness as her hands entangled in his dark hair. Breathe hitching, he pulled back, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She smiled at him and hoped he couldn't hear how fast her heart was drumming against her chest. When he stared at her like this, as if attempting to reach her soul, she felt nothing short of terror.

Yanking him back in without another breath, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, hoping to chase any thoughts he had from his mind. For a moment, it worked and he returned her kisses with unbridled enthusiasm, but he began breaking away, breathy words scattered between.

"Merissa, I -" he managed, against the insistence of her mouth.

"Don't, Alphard," she begged, a crease forming between her brows, her eyes still closed tight.

The unspoken words between them: Don't ruin this.

He obliged, and they broke apart for breath some time later.

A secretive smile on her face, she turned her head to kiss his thumb, averting the windows he was trying to peer through. As she had hoped, he closed his eyes. She kissed down from the tip of his thumb to his wrist. Tiny pinpricks of gooseflesh appeared on his skin and he shivered. Her eyes flickered down, and there was an ummistably bulge in his trousers.

He noticed her heistance and opened his eyes, quickly catching her.

"I'm sorry," he apologized at once, pulling away as they always did when this happened. He slid from under her and the both sat, now upright in the backseats. The tense silence that followed was also customary. What was not was Merissa leaning back over to him, and placing a gentle kiss upon his lips. He responded, though very reservedly at that.

"It's okay," she murmured. His eyes flashed up at her and she turned a bright shade of crimson, "No I didn't mean . . . just that it's okay that you have such an - er - reaction. I mean I'd be offended if hours of snogging didn't lead to a . . . reaction."

She glanced up to find he was grinning at her, "Bloody hell, if I had known you were even more inelegant about it than me I would have been milking this for ages."

She smacked him playfully, as was customary when he became too overconfident.

Afterall, it was his gaze, not anything else that made her feel uncomfortable. She would have been halfway-interested with doing more than snogging in this backseat if she didn't worry about him so much. Why did he have to look at her like that? She didn't want him to stare into her soul, and see the tattered thing it was. So, instead she tempted him with a kiss he could not resist. Again, caught in the sensation they did not break until the air around them had grown less scorching and the sun lowered just beneath the distant horizon.

"It's getting late," she sighed, tapping the face of his ornate watch that decorated his wrist. It was barely visible in the twilight's dimming light, "They'll want us back for dinner soon."

"Hmm," he sighed as if there was any consideration to be made, "What do you think the Malfoy's would do if you didn't come back?"

She snorted and began squirming back into the front of the vehicle, "Send out a search party, contact the French ministry - worse still, contact my parents."

He kissed her and hummed again, caressing her cheek, "I'm not sure, that still seems like it might be worth it."

He was joking, she knew, but she still pulled away and flicked the dashboard, "C'mon, bring this monstrosity to life and get us back. I still can't believe you actually learned to drive these."

Alphard shrugged as he pulled the keys from his pocket and turned them to start the loud rumble of the engine, "It's easy; I'll teach you sometime."

As they began down the lane, Merissa leaned her head around the windshield to enjoy the breeze the movement created. She was still damp with sweat and she knew the villa she was heading to would be no cooler.

If Merissa had to use one word to describe Southern France during the summer, it would not have been one of the romantic words people usually used like passionate or scenic or stimulating. In fact, the place was hardly any of these things anymore. While the equine center and surrounding villas (the largest of which the Malfoy's, with her their guest, had taken up for the summer) were magically protected and therefore untouched by Muggle war, everything more than a few miles out was a barren wasteland full of noxious gas and rubble. It was quiet here, perhaps because the soldiers could see nothing else to destroy, but it was still a rather gruesome sight, well-kept green croquet lawns giving way to grey mounds of ruined buildings. In this bubble of perfection, even, Merissa felt more nauseated rather than wonderstruck. The smell of horses and their droppings, reached even into the heavily aromated rooms, and the only time one could get away from these two offenses of the nose, they were met with the smells of strange concoctions, burnt flesh and dust. This place smelled of horse sweat, strong perfume and war.

But the sights and smells of this place were no match to the revulsion Merissa held for the feeling of it. Nothing, not even the deepest shade from the patio or the coolest drink prepared for her could ward off the furious rays of the sun, beating their judgment down upon the vacationers. During the days, she sook out the shadiest trees she could find, and by night she tangled herself in damp sheets on a fine goose feather bed, the wide open window never gifting her a gust of cold air, only trickling in what seemed to be hotter still breezes until she became furious enough to slam them shut with a wave of her wrist. Hot. That was the only defining factor she could tact to this place, and not even the weak wind from this Muggle automobile seemed to have a solution for it.

She sighed and retracted her head as Alphard slowed just before the entrance to the resort. There were several villas up for vacation rentals this year, as left vacant this year, even those in the wizarding community preferring to avoid wartorn places. The windows of these apartments stood empty and dark, reflecting only the sweep of the car's headlights before Alphard cut the engine.

"You're not returning it tonight?" she asked as accepting the hand he offered as he pulled the car door open for her, her feet meeting the pavers.

Alphard's teeth shone in the darkness, "You said we would be late for dinner. I'll slip out after desert and be back before Malfoy finishes his first cigar."

Merissa didn't doubt this and they began padding up the drive, her shoes tapping against the cobblestone and joining the musical sound of a fountain splashing at the end of the entryway. The largest of the houses was lit, almost in caricature of the dark empty buildings, brimming with dazzling lights from every window. This was where the Malfoy's were staying and it demonstrated such grandeur. Demetria, Abraxas's mother, had outdone herself this particular evening to welcome a visit from the Montague family.

Though not entirely uncommon to have important guests given the patriarch of the family, Manon Malfoy's, position in the Wigzemont, Merissa was still not fond of it. She guessed Alphard had become aware of this and that was the purpose of him surprising her with the car, to entertain her before an undoubtedly dull evening.

He stopped her before she could reach for the ornate handle of the front door, "I've just realized, this will be the third time this week we show up at the same time for dinner. They'll know we've spent the evening together."

"And?" she raised her eyebrow, "We're allowed to be friends, Alphard. If they had any inkling we were running off to snog, I would hear about it. Abraxas is covering for me."

He shook his head, "I'll just take the car back now. It'll look better anyways."

"Suite yourself, I'm starving," she shrugged.

He nodded and dashed off. Her fingers meeting the brass of the knob, she took a long breath before she opened the door, saturating herself in glimmering light as she stepped into the highly polished foyer.

"Merissa, darling," Mrs. Malfoy cooed, rushing to greet her. She placed a kiss on each cheek, staining them red with her lipstick and grasped her hand, beaming like a school-girl, "Come, let's get you dressed before our guests arrive. You do look so fair, darling, I could never tell you've spent all summer here."

Merissa followed her dutifully up to her room and into the spacious closet where the blonde woman began assessing her gowns with a careful eye. Demetria was a great admirer of the arts, none more than fashion. Her favorite expression of this was using Merissa as a China doll. They had taken many day trips to Paris and Milan these last few months, but however much Demetria spoiled her, Merissa could find little diversion in the activity. Still, she wouldn't deny the woman her fun. Merissa took a seat on one of the plush white ottoman, settling patiently into position.

The woman mused over the collection, pulling hanger after hanger as if inspiration might suddenly strike her, and admittedly, it undoubtedly soon would. Merissa watched her, long delicate fingers running over the fabric in deep thought. Demetria was lovely, though not in the regal, detached way that was typical for someone of her station, or perhaps this impression was more due to the fact of her softness than any tangible physical feature. Here, in the reflected glow from the chandelier, she had hair as light as cornsilk, offset by her almost golden tinted skin. Her makeup was already immaculately done, brows arched in a subtly harsher line than they really sat, a clear sign of a perfected art. Suddenly, her fingers stopped on a shimmering midnight skirt and pulled the gown out with a flourish.

Merissa admired it for her benefit, "It's lovely," she smiled.

"And it will look even more so on you. Come, come," the blonde insisted, handing her the garment.

Merissa obediently shed down to her slip and began drawing the dark fabric around herself as Demetria mused about jewelry, sharp attention on the glittering collection that was neatly laid out on display. An elf was just fastening the final button in the back of Merissa's dress when Demetria returned with her selections. The woman's eyes traced down Merissa's neck and she looked to see what had caught her attention.

The ring from Abraxas she wore on a chain around her neck was caught on the fabric, a gargantuan diamond eyesore. The woman's silver eyes were equally stuck, not seeming to realize their own stare.

"Oh," Merissa exclaimed and quickly attempted to free the gem.

Demetrias soft touch ended her attempts and she allowed the woman to unclasp it from around her neck. Demetria examined the glittering mass and spoke gently, "I hadn't realized you wore it after all. That is very sweet of you."

Merissa wasn't sure what to say. She knew Abraxas wasn't capable of romantic feelings towards her in any way, yet she still felt a twinge of guilt for her transgressions with Alphard - not to Abraxas who was fully aware - but to Demetria. The woman was a second mother to her, and in many ways a superior one, yet Merissa could never love her son in the way she was intended to.

"Abraxas picked this out last summer to give to you. He does have such beautiful taste. Some of us were born admirers of the arts, some artists. He is both. It fills my heart. Mon petit prince."

She smiled warmly and took Merissa's favored hand, "And you, before long, ma petite princesse."

The ring slid onto her finger, an impeccable fit clearly made for her hand. It looked beautiful there, not the least bit gauche when placed on elegant fingers. Still, Merissa couldn't help feel nauseous as she watched it throw tiny rainbows around the room, as if trying to outshine the sparkling chandelier that illuminated it.

"I do love it," she agreed and it was not a lie, "I can hardly wear it to dinner tonight though. I'll leave it up here for safe keeping. It would look strange to have a chain with this neckline anyways."

"Of course," Demetria smiled, "It will be soon enough as it is. I am only impatient to call you my daughter in name and celebrate your love."

The woman took the ring and the chain and placed it carefully upon the glass top of the cabinet. Merissa bent to adjust her skirt and begin strapping on her shoes.

"He is good to you, isn't he?"

Demetria asked the question suddenly and with distress as if the idea had never occurred to her before. Merissa was hardly going to worry her without cause, however. How Abraxas acted was irrelevant, she was promised to him and her father was very particular with his word.

"Of course," Merissa assured her easily, "Abraxas is every bit the gentleman you raised him to be. He is very patient with me, even when I test him - which is often, I'm afraid."

Mrs. Malfoy beamed, relaxing again at once, "It is because he loves you. I only worry sometimes he cannot express it as openly as he should. He has so much of his father in him."

Merissa thought there were many other more significant factors keeping him from expressing his love, but she kept them to herself. It wasn't even a lie - Abraxas had been incredibly patient and gentle with her all summer. He seemed to realize early on she was in no state to be treated with anything less than the utmost consideration.

Her hands shook ever so slightly as she descended the stairs to the party. It would take several glasses of champagne before she could make them still.

/_\

London, England

August 16th, 1943

The chamber echoed as Tom stepped inside, the sound of his footsteps coming back to him in accompaniment with the dripping of water into the pool at the very end. His eyes were on the hewn floor, watching carefully as he avoided the skeletons of rats and larger vermin. He finally came to the pool and watched his reflection on the mirror-like surface. At first it was fixed as his own form, and then a ripple seemed to break the link between himself and the shadow of a reflection. It moved separate from his body and he suddenly leapt into the pool to try to grab it. The water roared around him as he plunged, hands making contact with the edge of something at the bottom just before another dark creature came from above him in the water and pushed him down further into the depths.

Tom awoke, sitting straight up in his bed, wand pointed at the empty flat as if the figures of his dreams were likely to follow him there. He groaned and crashed back down onto the thin mattress, wincing as the movement strained the rickety metal bed frame it was lying on. Though he had left the orphanage in the beginning of the summer, the flat he had managed to rent was not more comfortable than the room he had previous, but still, this one had the significant advantage of being in wizarding London, and for that he reminded himself to be grateful.

It was freezing nonetheless, and he drew the worn blanket that covered the mattress around himself, though it did little to ward off the chill. He still felt as if he had been immersed in the freezing pool, and he was annoyed at his dream self for doing something so ridiculous when he had to pay the apparent consequences.

Leaning over, her scowled at the remaining concoction on his bedside stand. He had already swallowed down the majority of the potion before going to sleep that night.

"Dreamless sleep indeed," he muttered and chucked the remaining mixture in the bin.

Dreamless sleep was obviously not working anymore, and he dreaded having to find a more complicated solution to his sudden onset of insomnia. Of course, he was fairly confident of his own brewing, but then he knew someone who would have much to say about the way he chopped his dandelion root or squashed his fairy wings for the brew.

He could imagine exactly what Thorpe would sound like if explaining something like this to him: The dreamlessness comes from the moonstone dust, and since you obviously didn't stir it in enough at the proliferation phase of the potion, you were bound to have a weaker brew when you ended . . .

He clenched his jaw at the thought and turned over his pillow, punching it to soften the cushion. He had been trying very hard not to think of her lately, yet it seemed she always slipped into his mind when it was vulnerable and fatigued. It shouldn't have been a labor at all to forget her - he hadn't wasted a moment wondering about any of the rest of his classmates.

But then he had an excuse this week, he was reminded as he glanced at the wastebin. Under the vial he had just discarded was a bright periodical with a familiar smiling face peering out. She had been on the cover of witch weekly Sunday, apparently an impromptu interview from Paris, where she had been for the day.

Pretentious he reminded himself, however it seemed there was a good amount of interest in her family with her father's bid for minister. He had also promised himself he would not read the interview because he was sure it would be vapid and uninspired as the person it was based around. Still, when he had spotted a copy lying about, he hadn't been able to resist his curiosity.

It wasn't an interesting interview - her answers were to the point if not politely clipped. Simply stated she was out for the day with Mrs. Malfoy, as she was vacationing with the Malfoy's, her own parent's busy touring Britain. Tom wasn't entirely sure as he had no parents of his own and no close friends, but it struck him as odd she was being sent off with another family for the entire summer. After all, from what he had heard, Gregor Thorpe didn't need to do anymore campaigning to secure the vote - it was all but his for the taking.

That was one curious bit of the questioning, when asked what she thought about her father's bid for minister she had said I don't know a lot about politics, but I do know my father. It isn't surprising to anyone who knows him that he's doing well.

That part bothered him. It was not a statement of approval, however it may seem on the surface. What the hell did she mean? What did she ever mean?

He cursed himself, realizing his line of thoughts had caused him to be wide awake. He flipped his pillow again and forced his eyes shut, willing himself to think no more about the matter and go to sleep.

/_\

Valence, Southern France

August 22nd, 1943

It was another blistering afternoon. Merissa had created a bit of schedule for herself on these days to try to avoid the unpleasantness of the heat and scent. No matter how many times her attempts failed she always found herself spending her hours trying to ward off the smell by entwining herself with Alphard's musky one and the heat with iced beverages on the patio. It was never effective, even by a degree, but it was so desperately attempted each day, there was no breaking it.

Today, the same tactics had been employed, now done saturating herself in Alphard's scent, seated in the shade with Abraxas, receiving cold drinks from the waiter. Her long absences could be chalked up to a million excuses, however they did necessitate her playing the dutiful girlfriend from time to time. Truth be told, Abraxas didn't seem to have much time for her this summer, though she guessed she could be more grateful for the purposeful blind eye he had turned on her sneaking around with Alphard. Not that she stuck her nose in whatever he was wandering off at odd hours to go do.

She stirred her drink with the straw distastefully, something tropical with both blended and chunked ice inside. The hibiscus flower that adorned the top had undoubtedly been terribly combersume to import, just for her to flick it onto the cement beneath them and begin drinking it straight from the glass, straw abandoned on the glass topped table. A few gulps in, she realized it didn't have alcohol, rather tasted like light flowery water. Sneering, she took it from her lips.

"What is this?" she demanded, setting the glass back down in disgust.

"Iced hibiscus water," Abraxas replied, his eyes trained to a letter he was writing, too distracted to notice her disgust.

"It's horrible," she snapped, "Are you trying to poison me? Where's my usual? I should call the staff back -"

Abraxas stopped her hand, pulling the silver waiting bell from her reach before she could ring it, his eyes still on his parchment. Scoffing, Merissa tried to stand up, surprised when she staggered slightly, having to catch herself on the edge of the table.

"Quite the opposite actually," Abraxas told her, his eyes flickering up to assure she was sinking safely back into her seat, the world spinning, "Do you recall the last time you drank anything that didn't contain alcohol?"

Merissa groaned. She should have known this lecture was inevitable. Abraxas had allowed her to have her fun this summer, turning his head when she disappeared with Alphard for hours at a time, covering for her with his parents when she was too drunk to stumble back up the steps to her room on her own feet. But summer was dying around them, and he wouldn't allow her to continue to spiral into her sixth year at Hogwarts.

Knowing resistance was futile, she raised the pinkish water back up to her lips and drank. The freezing concoction did feel nice on her rough throat, and before she knew it the glass was empty. Abraxas slid his own untouched drink to her, still busy at his work and she accepted it rather sheepishly.

When she had finished the second glass and had taken to levitating the bright orange flower she had discarded earlier into various potted plants that littered the veranda, Abraxas folded up his letter and tucked it into his shirt pocket. Merissa turned her attention back to the table, the blossom dropping onto a patch of cement in the sun, wilting on impact.

"We should probably establish some ground rules before we go back to Hogwarts," Abraxas began, rather awkwardly.

Merissa swallowed a rather large ice cube she had been sucking on, coughing slightly when it turned out larger than she had thought. Straightening up, they both looked more uncomfortable.

"I don't have to - I mean we don't have to do this once we get back - Alphard and I mean . . ." Merissa tried to explain eyes trained to his tapping fingers on the glass top table.

But truthfully, it didn't make any sense. The greatest risk surely had been taken, doing this under the Malfoy's noses, yet the notion of continuing to see Alphard like this was strange. Without Joseph keeping track of her at Hogwart's this year, she could likely get away with snogging any number of people around the castle, as long as they were careful.

Abraxas raised his eyebrows, "Why not?"

She didn't have an answer for that so she closed her mouth.

Abraxas cleared his throat, becoming more serious in expression, "If it is to continue, you would need to be sober to pull it off without anyone noticing."

Merissa smiled wryly, "I'm sure my sobriety is a term either way."

"It's not something I plan on negotiating on," he agreed, "Though I hoped that phrasing it like that might give you some incentive."

"I . . ." Merissa looked at the empty glasses again and blinked. She felt like she was immersed in an ice bath, her lungs being crushed down, scream caught in her throat. Then all at once it was gone, just as quickly as it had come.

"Merissa?" Abraxas asked.

Her eyes flickered to his face to gauge how bad she had just been. He looked mildly curious and she was grateful, it meant she hadn't reacted much. Merlin knew Joseph thought she had lost her mind from witnessing these episodes those first few weeks of summer. Perhaps, she thought, she had.

"Sorry," she said quickly, "You're right, I'll stop drinking now, I swear. I'll see you at dinner, I'm going to lie down early."

He nodded, easily appeased. She had thought there might be some limit to how early she could escape for her afternoon naps, however Abraxas didn't seem focused enough to realize her habits were becoming rather odd. He didn't suspect her like Joseph or her mother would have. In a way, their absence helped her get away with far more than she might have otherwise.

She had seen very little of her own family this summer, something she appreciated in some sense and begrudged in another. It felt rather like she was a very special show horse that was rented out to the Malfoys on holidays. Though it was true they treated her with perfect kindness and esteem, she was performing the entire time. Her roles were various, between a perfect future daughter-in-law, loving girlfriend and doll for dress-up, however the show was dragged far beyond enjoyment and it was hard to believe anyone bought it.

When her mother had informed her they would not be vacationing with the Malfoys, she had been initially confused.

"What, I'll stay here then?" she asked, "Won't you both be off touring then, for the campaign? Or will I come with you?"

She was almost hopeful. Her father's race for minister was the reason her mother had just given for their absence in France and she knew his route would lead him to many interesting cities she had never visited around Britain.

"Heavens no, that is no way for a young lady to live," her mother reprimanded her, "You will spend the holiday with the Malfoy's, just not your father and I. Demetria couldn't be parted with you if I begged, besides."

Her expression made it clear she did not approve of the woman's doting over her daughter. So Merissa was sent dutifully, and although she was glad to be rid of them for the summer, she couldn't help but begrudge the interest touring would hold, at least, over this place.

Sneaking away proved more difficult than usual that afternoon, the Malfoy's taking a while to return for their afternoon retreat. Merissa climbed carefully down from her room, careful not to wake any of the sleeping members of the house. When Merissa finally made it to the village, the sun was at its peak and she was exhausted. No one would miss her for hours though. If Demetria even saw the blisters she got walking to this place every day, she surely would have fainted on the spot, but the pain in her feet and the pain in her lungs was nothing compared to that in her chest when she didn't make the pilgrimage.

The afternoon light was streaming inside, covering the pews in multicolored light from the stained glass windows. Merissa walked down the center, the maroon carpet soft under her shoes. Once she reached the altar, she knelt before the idol of Mary, murmuring a prayer before she went into one of the rooms beyond. There, she tucked herself behind a heavy velvet curtain, seated herself in the soft pew before the grate slid open, giving her a small window to speak through.

The shadowy figure murmured, his voice familiar, "Speak my child."

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned."

And we're back! Please tell me what you think of this installment so far, there is much to come. Thank you for reading, as always.