The Firetah

(part fourteen)

Harry watched in disbelief as Anchoret left Dumbledore's office. Was that it? Had she made her choice? He turned to Dumbledore who looked very sorrowful indeed and said, "What shall I do?"

Dumbledore just looked at him for a few more minutes and said, "Do, Harry? There is nothing any of us can do. Only she can choose. Not you, and not Draco. I suggest you go back to your common room and wait. By tomorrow evening it will be clear....it said in the book that if she chooses the wrong one we won't even get a chance to fight. Hopefully she will listen to her heart, child..."

"Oh, and Harry," Dumbledore's kind voice stopped him at the door. "Since Hermione and George already know...I suppose it's all right that you tell Ron, also. It is clear that you need some support from your friends at this time....Go now, both of you. And please...try to keep this quiet."

Harry and George looked at each other. They could each see the unease and sadness in the other's face. They were both silent as they walked dejectedly to the Gryffindor common room.

*******

Dumbledore realized his mistake as soon as Harry and George had left. He had called Harry a child. He looked at Fawkes, hovering by the window, and said, "No...not a child anymore, is he? Perhaps young in years, but old in spirit and heart. For it is not years that age you... is it, old boy? It's hardships..."

*******

Draco and Anchoret walked out the great old doors of Hogwarts and both of them turned, at the same instant, towards the lake. Starlight glimmered down at them like pinpricks made in a dark ceiling. The moon was no more than a sliver of alabaster in the ebony sky and the breeze was no more than a cool whisper rustling their robes and tugging at their hair.

Draco watched Anchoret as they walked towards the gleaming coin that was the lake. There would be time for words later. Now he just wanted to look.

She was as different from Pansy as morning was from night. He couldn't decide which one Anchoret was, morning or night...but he knew it was strange, and wonderful. Dumbledore's words came back to him on the breeze....spirit of fire....same substance as the fire in your common room...as he looked at her he knew deep in his heart that it was true.

He watched as the wind caught a bit of her hair and pulled it across her face. Gold on white...sunlight on snow. She reached her hand up to brush it away and suddenly he couldn't bear it. He reached over and tucked the strand behind her ear...and she smiled. His heart lurched in his chest and he said, "Anchoret...let's talk."

So they walked around the lake, arms brushing, and talked. Draco learned of Anchoret's fear of flying, and Anchoret learned of Draco's fear of failure. They compared likes and dislikes, moods and tempers, loves and losses....and all the while, they grew closer.

*******

Harry paced worriedly back and forth on the already worn rug in front of the fireplace in the common room. Ron sat on the couch and Hermione was sitting on the edge of a faded brown chair next to him. "Harry....you don't know for sure that she's already chosen...perhaps it's your turn next?" Hermione said haltingly. The look on Harry's face silenced her.

Ron tried next. "Come on, Harry! I mean...if she is...what they say she is...maybe she's just, er...confused. I know I would be. I never realized it before, but she's got a lot riding on her decision. She's got to be careful, you know...she can't just, just choose." This last statement made Harry look up. "And why not?" he blazed, "She just went off with Malfoy and I'm supposed to just sit here and wait?"

The common room was deserted, but they all motioned for him to be quiet anyway. He didn't want to be quiet. Why was this happening? He resumed pacing. George was sitting cross-legged on the rug just a few feet from the fire. It didn't seem to bother him. It was his unusually quiet voice that made Harry stop in his tracks.

"Harry... listen to me. Your pacing is not helping things...it's just making us all nervous when we are already feeling wretched. I want you to sit down and wait. There is nothing you or anybody else can do.... It's her decision, Harry." This last bit was spoken in a whisper so faint he might not have said it at all.

Harry sat down in a worn green chair. His thoughts were whirling and spinning out of control. He thought about George's quiet statement and it all made sense. He stood up and whirled on George. "Why? Why didn't I just go after her? I know if she had just seen that I cared enough to follow she would have known. She would have seen me....loved me."

"It doesn't work that way, Harry." said Hermione, gently. "This is her time with him. If you had gone after her she would only have thought that you were rude. I know her, Harry...in a way none of you do. We've talked. She's my roommate...I know it wouldn't have done you any good."

Harry collapsed into the green chair again, staring into the fire. Hermione broke the sudden terrible silence once more. "Harry...do you hate her?"

The Boy Who Lived turned to his friends and said, "Almost as much as I love her."

After that there wasn't much for them to do. They sat quietly, deflated looks and anxious glances passing between them in the firelight, until Ron stood up and said, "Look, Harry...I'm really tired. I think we should all just go to bed." At the nods of assent from the others Harry stood up and followed Ron to their dormitory, rubbing his scar absently as he made his way up the stairs.

*******

Draco and Anchoret had just finished their second circuit around the lake when the girl stopped and turned to Draco. "Dumbledore said there wasn't much time, Draco. I have to choose."

She sighed up at him and her eyes glowed with the faintest tinge of peach. "I know that whoever I choose will have a job of it. He must be able to fight on my side...he must not buckle under pressure. In short, he must be the bravest man these times have ever seen. This is going to be a battle to the end, Draco. Are you willing to set aside everything you have ever believed in to fight the Dark? I must know. Are you willing to sacrifice certain...family relationships for the cause? Can you handle the look in your father's eyes when you tell him you are going to fight against him and all that he stands for? Are you..."

Anchoret's rush of questions were cut off by the sudden and unexpected sensation of Draco's lips on hers. It was a heady feeling. His lips were so soft, so inviting. So cold. His arms wound their way around her neck. Too cold...can't....

She pulled away suddenly, to Draco's moan of protest. She turned towards the lake, which was shining like a diamond in the velvet of the grass, and sighed deeply. "Anchoret," Draco laughed, "Did that answer your questions?"

She turned towards him then, and her eyes were as grey as the dawn. "No," she whispered. She turned and started for the castle, leaving a dumbfounded Draco staring after her.