Author's Notes: Thanks for all the reviews. I can't actually promise anything about Nathalie or Harry, but I can say with a completely clear conscience that Draco survives. Sort of. Damn, I really shouldn't have said that.

Disclaimer: See part one.

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Draco screams as pain knifes through him. Then the pain is gone suddenly, and he looks around himself in surprise. Rachel stands near, watching him carefully.

"Are you alright?" she demands. "Did it hurt?"

"I'm fine," he answers. "Barely hurt at all." He looked around again. "This is the land of the spirits?" The air is thick, foggy - there is a dim light coming from somewhere, but he can't find the source.

"Yes," Rachel agrees softly. "It was better, before. The Others are taking over. I think..." She hesitates. "We haven't told Harry. But we think we know why they have taken Nathalie."

"Tell me." It is no question, and she knows it.

"They want to move into our world, Draco. If that happened..." She trails off, and Draco grimaces. "Come on. We have to find Nathalie." She walks off, and he follows her as quickly as he can. He can barely see two feet ahead of him; her cloak keeps on disappearing, but finally she stops and turns back to him. He almost bumps into her.

"This is the entrance to the domain of the Others," she explains quietly. "I'm not allowed in there, not without another Necromancer. Will you be alright by yourself?"

Draco looks up at the dark doorway wit apprehension. "The Others...what are they like, Rachel?"

Rachel gazes at him in sympathy. "The opposite and equals of Necromancers," she tells him. "Darkness, Draco. But they shouldn't be able to harm you."

She walks off into the fog. Draco is left by the doorway. "That wasn't exactly what I meant," he mutters grumpily. Then he takes a deep breath, and steps through the doorway.

He has never imagined anything like this. Nothing in his world, in the living world, is like this, and now he knows why the Others are spoken of in such hushed voices. He can barely see his hand in front of his face - he understands now what Rachel and Harry have been saying about the pollution of the land of the spirits.

Dead silence. He can hear nothing, see nothing - he tries to cry out, but nothing comes out of his mouth. Something brushes past him, and he whirls, but nothing is there.

He finds his voice. "Who are you? Where's Nathalie?"

A low chuckle - many chuckles - sounds out of the darkness. "You know who we are, mortal. We are the Others." He turns around, trying to see something - anything. They laugh at him again. "Stop, mortal. You will not see us."

"Why?" he demands. "Why won't I see you?"

"Because you are in us," the voices cackle. He starts in surprise. "Ah, the Necromancers did not tell you that, did they? They did not tell you about us, not really." Draco turns and turns, trying to see them still. "Come then, mortal. Come and find your daughter."

And the silence lifts. He can now hear a child crying, somewhere not too far away. It sounds like Nathalie.blindly he stumbles towards where he thinks the crying is coming from. He can find nothing, and now the crying seems to be coming from somewhere else. A shadow looms up out of the darkness, and he stumbles backwards with a cry that doesn't sound, turning and running in the endless darkness.

The crying grows louder, and he hopes that he has found her. Minutes pass - the crying seems to never get closer - and then he almost stumbles over her.

"Daddy!" she cries, and latches onto him, her arms around his neck. He hugs her tightly, then looks her over carefully. She is unharmed - he is thankful for that - but she is frightened, and tired, and hungry. "Daddy, you came!"

"Yes, little bit," he assures her. "Of course I came. Are you alright?"

She nods. "Is Papa okay?" she demands. "He was really upset about the hearing, and I guess me being kidnapped wouldn't exactly help."

Draco stares, then blinks. "Yes, he's fine," he replies, a little dazedly. "He's worried about you - come on, we have to get out of here." He takes her hand and begins to walk. She pulls at him, stopping him. "Nathalie, what is it?"

Her young face is unusually grave. "I can't leave," she tells him. "The Others did...a spell, sort of. I can't leave, it'll...do something."

"Do what?" Draco demands impatiently. "Nathalie, we *have* to get out of here."

She shakes her head adamantly. "No, Daddy. I can't leave. I think it'll let the Others into our world." Draco freezes. "I heard them talking," she continues. "I can't leave, Daddy."

Draco sighs. "And I don't think I can get out without your help. I guess we're stuck then." He sits down - the ground is cold, and Nathalie sits in his lap, still clinging to him. "Oh, little bit. We are in a mess, aren't we?"

She looks up at him suspiciously. "Did you and Papa have another argument?" Draco hesitates, and she glares at him. "Daddy, did you?"

"He couldn't come here, and he didn't want me to either," he admits. "But don't worry, Nathalie. We'll be alright." *I hope,* he adds silently. *And I hope that someone figures out something's wrong before we're stuck here for an eternity.*

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Harry was still pacing the hall when the doorbell rang, several hours after Draco had left with Rachel. He didn't hesitate in opening the door, although he realised a split second later that he probably shouldn't have opened it.

But it was only Rachel. He didn't let her in, his eyes fixed demandingly on her. "Any news? Has he found Nathalie? Are they both alright?"

Rachel shook her head. "Harry, we should have told you this a long time ago. I'm sorry."

Harry frowned. *I really don't like the sound of this. She sounds too much like Dumbledore.* "Told me what?" he demanded suspiciously. "Sorry for what?"

Rachel sighed. "Harry...Nathalie is important. More so than you could ever imagine. She's., well, simply put, she's Chaotic."

"But we knew that," Harry objected slowly. "We're all chaotic, it's part of who we are as Necromancers."

But Rachel shook her head. "No, Harry. She's more. She's...she's named in a prophecy as a link. A doorway between this world and that of the Others."

Harry stared blankly at her. "What does that mean?" he demanded finally. "That it would be dangerous to bring her back? That Draco has gone into even more danger?"

Rachel was gazing at him sympathetically. "Well, if they'd kept her in the spirit lands, there wouldn't have been any problem with bringing her back. But they've taken her into their own domain, Harry. Now it's next to impossible. No, it *is* impossible. If we bring her back, it would rip a hole in the fabric of the world and let them come here."

Harry had turned away during her speech. His eyes were closed; he couldn't quite believe what Rachel was trying to tell him.

"Are you telling me," he said at last, his voice shaking badly, "that there is no way I can get my daughter back?"

"That's what I'm saying, Harry. I'm sorry."

Harry nodded slowly as he considered. Then he pulled out his wand. "*Accio cloak!*" He ran a hand through his hair, pushed his glasses back up his nose, and tugged his earring thoughtfully before his cloak sped towards him. He pulled it on, and fastened the silver skull clasp.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Rachel, alarmed, demanded. She was still standing in the doorway, but she moved aside as Harry stepped out, closed the front door, and took off towards the wood and the graveyard. "Harry, no, don't even think it - Harry, stop, dammit!"

"No," Harry said crisply. "They have my daughter and my husband, and I'll be damned if I let them keep them."

He strode off, but Rachel faltered and stopped. He had almost disappeared into the wood by the time she found her voice.

"He's your HUSBAND?" she screeched.

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To be continued.