Disclaimer: The characters, places and situations of the Harry Potter series belong JK Rowling. Mine are the originals.
Author's Note: I would like to claim the writing genius of the West Wing writers, but I cannot. Therefore, I have to admit that the line, "I have such an impulse to knock your heads together right now," is from that show.
Chapter 16
Wherever You Will Go
"And maybe I'll find out
A way to make it back some day
To want you
To guide you
Through the darkest of your days
If a great wave shall fall
It'll fall upon us all
Well, then I hope there's someone out there who
Can bring me back to you…"
The Calling: 'Wherever You Will Go'
"So, are you Harry's girlfriend?" Anni asked as she and Imogen watched Hermione disappear into Flourish and Blots.
"No," Imogen replied simply. She pulled her dress bag over one shoulder and crossed the street after Anni.
"It's a good color on you. But you know it's rude to show up the bride," Anni asked with a raise of her eyebrows.
Imogen smiled an evil smile. "I didn't want to take it off, but I don't think she would let me wear it out of the store," Imogen added.
"So, why are you staying with Harry and Sirius for the holiday? Are you related to Sirius?" Anni asked.
"No. I'm homeless and he felt sorry for me," Imogen replied.
"Right. A homeless girl who just dropped five hundred pounds on an evening gown." Anni favored her with a skeptical look.
"I said I was homeless, not destitute. Besides, you said it looked good on me," Imogen replied. After seeing Hermione to Flourish and Blots, Anni and Imogen decided to return to Muggle London to continue looking around.
"You have amazing taste, Imogen Spencer. You didn't need me to tell you that it looked well on you." Anni turned a corner. "So, has Harry told you about our family yet? And by tell, of course I mean warn."
"No. Is there something abnormal about them?"
"You could say that…just not to their face," Anni began, taking a seat by the window of a bakery. Imogen followed suit, eyeing her warily.
"Best just come out and tell me then."
"Harry's aunt and uncle, my aunt and uncle, do not like wizards. Don't be surprised if you hear the word "freak" a lot. It's Aunt Petunia's favorite. And then there's Aunt Marge. I'm sure she'll have one or two of her dogs in tow. Her particular favorite pastime is bad mouthing Harry's parents. He handles it very well, though."
"And they'll be at the wedding tomorrow?" Imogen asked, wide-eyed. "Why on earth would you invite them?"
"My parents made me," Anni shrugged.
"That's got to be difficult to plan a Muggle-Wizard wedding when half the guests don't like the other half." Imogen shook her head and then smiled, "How did you do it?"
"Well, it was really Mr. Weasley's idea. He's met our Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon before and knows that they dislike his family. He suggested that we meet them on their own turf, so-to-speak. We're having the ceremony on Hempstead Heath. My mother insisted. But the reception will be at the Burrow. A lovely compromise. They don't have to attend the reception if the don't wish to."
Imogen bit her lip, "They sound awful. I guess I never realized that it could go both ways. I never thought that there were Muggles that hated wizards." She shrugged.
"I've never met a wizard that hated me," Anni admitted with a shrug.
Imogen smiled. "I don't imagine that you ever would. You're lovely."
"Thanks. Do you know wizards who hate Muggles?"
"A few," Imogen admitted. "Is that why we're all to wear Muggle clothing tomorrow?"
"No. I just don't like robes. And what I say goes," Anni insisted.
Imogen nodded. "Shall we head back? They must be done by now."
***
"I don't know what it is. But she's got a secret, that one does," Ron said, turning as the tailor pulled and prodded at his jacket. "I look like a prat!" he added with disdain surveying himself in the mirror.
"You look fine, Ron," Fred said in a placating tone.
"You don't like her?" Harry asked, blinking with surprise. He never would have thought that his best friend would disapprove of her.
"She hangs out with Malfoy, Harry. What are you thinking?" Ron said evenly.
"She's not a bad person," Harry argued.
"What sort of a spell has she got you under? She even looks evil," Ron countered.
"Ron, don't be so paranoid," Harry said agitated. He dropped the conversation.
"She's cute, Harry," George offered, glaring pointedly at Ron.
"So, have you two been up to the Astronomy Tower yet, or have things not become that serious?" Fred chimed in.
Harry heard Ron make a noise of disdain. He blushed at the thought. "No. We've been to the roof below the Astronomy Tower."
George blinked. "Are you being metaphorical?"
"No, you idiot. He's saying that he was sitting up on the roof holding her hand. Of course Harry hasn't snogged her. She's a Slytherin." Ron stepped down from the stool and the tailor took his jacket.
Harry didn't say anything.
The bell above the door rang announcing a newcomer to the shop. A few seconds later, Anni emerged holding a dress bag.
"Where's Imogen?" Harry asked.
"I traded her to some skeazy man on the street for this dress," Anni replied in monotone. "She went to Diagon Alley for something. She said she'd meet us here."
"Is that her dress?" Harry asked.
Anni nodded. "It's beautiful."
"Well, let's see it," Fred demanded.
"You're such a pouf. What do you care what her dress looks like? Afraid that you'll end up wearing the same thing?" Anni shot, laying the bag over the next chair. "Very sharp, love," she said to George, winking as he emerged in his tuxedo.
***
Imogen had made a hurried excuse when she saw him and ducked into the Leaky Caldron. It was Minister Grey. She followed, confident that he did not recognize her in the form of Imogen.
She grasped at the bracelet in her coat pocket, deciding whether or not she should change or stay this way.
Though he was concealed behind a dark navy cloak, the hood drawn mysteriously over his head, hiding his face, she knew him by his walk.
Keeping what she estimated to be a safe distance, she trailed him until he turned the corner into Knockturn Alley. From the advantageous location of a ridiculous joke shop, she watched him through the front window. Only once had some annoying man with dred-locks and a name tag that claimed he was Lee interrupted her snoop and asked if she needed assistance.
She shrugged him off expertly, setting her bags down at her feet and watching from her stakeout position.
She couldn't have been sure, but she thought that the tall man that had followed the Minister into the small alleyway was not a man at all. Only for one fraction of an instant she caught sight of a ghastly, unearthly hand, looking as if it had been rotting underwater. Was it a Dementor? She had not caught enough of a peek under its hood to be exactly sure.
At the corner of her vision she caught another familiar pair. It was Jill and her son Gabriel, heading for the Leaky Caldron.
As she looked from them back to the Minister and his mysterious partner in the alley, she caught a curious sight. They were watching Jill and Gabriel's progress down the street and into the pub with interest.
Looking back at the mother and her son, Imogen thought that they could have been staring at anyone else in the crowd. Was she being paranoid?
When she turned to look closer at the Minister she was surprised to see that both he and his tall companion were gone.
She blinked. What was he up to?
"Hey, don't you go to school with me?" a boy asked coming to stand next to Imogen. "Who are you spying on?"
"Yes, I believe I do go to your school and it is none of your business who I am or am not spying on. You're in Ginny Weasley's year," Imogen said, picking up her bags.
"I'm Colin Creevy," he said, holding out his hand.
Imogen took it impatiently. "Imogen Spencer." She kicked herself. Her other disguise would have been less recognizable. She should have changed into Ruthie. Only then, the Minister would have recognized her and what would be the point in that? "It's a pleasure. Have a happy holiday. I must be off."
She knew it was rude. But, politeness would have to wait.
She darted out of the store and made a line for Knockturn Alley. The small space between the two crooked shops that the Minister had disappeared down were empty. She cursed and stomped her foot.
***
"It wasn't funny!" George raged as the tailor was taking up the hem around his ankles.
"Oh, yes it was!" Fred countered.
"You have to admit it was," Anni sided with Fred.
"What happened?" Hermione asked, taking a seat next to Anni.
"I was supposed to meet Anni's parents for the first time. I had it all planned out what I was going to say and everything. I was going to go very traditional and ask her father's permission and all," George began.
Fred took the ball and ran with it. "We had Lee make up some excuse, Anni and me, to keep him at the store. I went in his place, playing the gentlemanly boyfriend. Needless to say that when he finally did get to meet Anni's parents they hated him. They still do, I think."
"It was great!" Anni laughed.
"No it wasn't great!" George argued, exasperated.
"What did you do?" Ron asked with a grin.
"They asked him what he did for a living," Anni answered, "and he told them he was a pimp."
Fred grinned.
George scowled.
"Oh come on George, that was ages ago!" Fred raged.
"Yes, love. And you really were asking for it when you picked April Fool's Day to meet them. Did you honestly think that Fred and I would leave that one alone?" Anni asked.
"I can just imagine how your father reacted," Harry said, smiling.
"He threw things!" Fred laughed.
"That sounds about right," Harry agreed.
The bell at the front of the store rang announcing another customer. Imogen appeared at the back seconds later looking distracted and pale.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked.
"Hmm?" Imogen said, coming slowly out of her thoughts. "Oh, yeah. It's snowing again."
"Ooh! Lovely," Anni squealed, clapping her hands.
"What's in the bag?" Harry asked.
"Shoes," Imogen said. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to a bag sitting next to Hermione. It was moving. "A Christmas present," Harry said simply, standing in front of it.
"Is it for Fang? It's wiggling."
"Er…yeah…for Fang," Harry said.
Imogen eyed him and then picked up her dress. "I'm going to head back to Sirius'. I'm a bit tired," Imogen announced finally.
"D'you want me to come with you?" Harry asked.
"No, stay with your friends. I'll be fine." She turned to the others, "Have a happy Christmas. I'll see you tomorrow evening. Thanks for your help, Anni."
"Bye," Anni said as they all watched the curious girl leave with her armload of bags.
***
It was nearing nine in the evening, Christmas Eve. Fred and George were thoroughly pissed by now and Anni nearly as bad.
Hermione had wisely cut Ron off and Harry had had none of it.
He had passed the last three hours watching Anni, Fred and George make complete fools of themselves with Tom's encouragement. "It's their special day tomorrow. They have all night to sleep it off," the bar keep of the Leaky Cauldron had said.
Angelina had left only ten minutes ago with the threat, "I have such an impulse to knock your heads together right now." Harry was almost sad to see her go. He would have loved to see her knock Fred and George's heads together. It seemed since they had been out of school, Fred and Angelina had been off and on, but never serious. She walked out in anger after Fred had demonstrated his upchuck reflexes all over her shoes.
"Come on. I suppose I'll have to explain all of this to your mother," Hermione said, facing the fact that someone had to tell Molly.
"Do you need help with all of them?" Harry asked.
"No, Ron's not entirely wasted," Hermione said, smiling. "Goodnight, Harry." Turning to Ron she said, "Take Fred's hand." Ron did as he was told. Harry was soon standing in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron by himself.
He Apparated only moments after that.
"Did you have fun?" Sirius asked. He was playing with a little gray kitten in the front room. Fang was, as usual, asleep by the fire. Imogen was nowhere around.
Harry nodded. "Where's Imogen? She didn't see her did she?" he asked jerking his head toward the cat.
"No. She wanted out. I couldn't leave her in that box, Harry," Sirius said, tugging at a string and watching the kitten chase it. "She's upstairs."
"How's Mrs. Figg?" Harry asked distractedly, looking up the stairs. He didn't see Sirius' grin.
"She's fine. Out of the hospital. You don't want to know about Arabella. Don't be such a coward, Harry. Go talk to her."
"I'm not a coward," Harry said indignantly, stomping up the stairs.
"Who called you a coward, Harry?" he heard rather than saw Imogen, who had asked. She was hidden behind an open closet door.
"What are you doing?" Harry wondered.
Imogen looked down from her perch on a step stool, her arms above her head. She was reaching for a blanket. "Putting an extra blanket on your bed. Honestly, you boys are helpless around here. It's promising to be a very cold Christmas morning."
"Do you need help?" Harry asked.
"No, I've got this."
"Imogen, you don't have to do this, you know?"
She stopped and favored Harry with a surprised look. "Do what?"
"You did the dishes this morning as well. You don't have to work to earn your keep," Harry said.
Imogen stared at Harry for the longest moment. He stared back.
"Harry?" Sirius called from downstairs.
Harry looked away from Imogen reluctantly. "Yes?"
"I've got to go to the office for a while. Hopefully, I won't be long," Sirius called.
Harry went downstairs, leaving Imogen to her task.
"Is there something wrong?" Harry asked, coming into the kitchen. Sirius handed him the kitten and shrugged on his coat.
"No. Corbin wants to go over some notes." He reached for the doorknob, but turned. "Don't stay up too late. Tomorrow'll be a long day."
Harry nodded and watched him go.
He took the cat and shut it in Sirius' room for the night and went to his own room further down the hall where Imogen was spreading the extra quilt over his bed.
"Why do you think I'm doing this to earn my keep?" she asked solemnly.
"You just don't seem like the housework type," Harry admitted with a shrug.
"Don't you like me looking after you?" Imogen came to stand in front of Harry. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead.
"Very much," he grinned.
"It's getting late," Imogen observed.
Harry nodded, still smiling.
"Don't get any ideas, Mr. Potter," she warned.
"Absolutely not."
"Tell me something," Imogen said, pulling away from Harry and sitting back against the headboard.
"What?" Harry asked.
"Is your family as nasty as Anni made them sound?"
"Probably," Harry said. "Where did you get that scar?" Harry asked, changing the subject.
"What scar?" Imogen asked, furrowing her brow.
"This one," Harry said, running a hand along her stomach, lifting her shirt slightly. There was a vertical scar running nearly the length of her midsection. "I saw it when you were reaching for that blanket."
Imogen took a deep breath. "A five hour surgery," she admitted.
Harry raised his eyebrows in shock and blinked. "Surgery for what?"
Imogen thought for a moment. Now was the time to tell him. But she couldn't do it. She pulled away from him, shrinking from his touch. She pulled her shirt down over the damning mark and stood. "You should go to bed."
She went into her room and kicked off her shoes.
"I'm sorry if I said the wrong thing," Harry began.
Imogen turned and stared at him. "Are you planning on following me all the way into the shower?"
Harry stood and stared as she shut the door. He heard the tap begin to run and then he turned and left.
He came into the front room where she had laid her bags and her coat. He picked them up and brought them into her room.
As he laid the dress over a chair, fighting the urge to have a peek at it, his hand brushed against something in the pocket of her coat.
He reached inside and brought out a bracelet—a bracelet he had seen on Imogen before, but on another as well, he realized. He had seen it on the wrist of Elena Vassikin as she bound his hands and dragged him out of the room Lucy had died in. She was there. She had killed her. And this bracelet belonged to her.
His mind reeled and he became very dizzy. There had to be a reason that she had Elena's bracelet. How much did he know about Imogen? He couldn't explain any of this. He didn't know what to think.
"What are you doing?" Imogen asked, standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around her.
Harry averted his eyes and she blushed.
"I just need my nightdress."
Harry said nothing. His thoughts, his senses were deadened by confusion. He was made very aware of the pounding of his heart. He desperately grasped for some logical thread of reason. The only thought he could cling to was that she was Elena, she had killed Lucy.
Without feeling, the bracelet dropped from his hand. It made a dull clunk on the hardwood floor.
Imogen, Harry noted with contempt and the most painful feeling of betrayal, saw the bracelet drop from his hands, eyes widening with realization.
After several excruciating moments, neither of them knowing how to proceed, Harry spoke in a distant voice. "It's hers isn't it? Elena's bracelet. I felt the cold sting of it when she bound my hands behind me and drug me from the room, the last place that I ever saw Lucy alive. You killed her, didn't you, Elena? I saw the blood on your hands."
He came menacingly close to her, pinning her against the door. His eyes flashed with something like hatred. Hatred in the eyes of someone who was rarely accustomed to that feeling was a pain all the more acute. Imogen winced.
"Harry, you don't understand. I need to tell you something," she began. Her voice trembled, not with fear of the person that had her trapped but with fear of the situation. This moment had her trapped. She could deny everything, keep her secret and lose him forever. Or tell him and lose his trust forever. A very claustrophobic situation for anyone. Added to that the stress that she had lived with for the past week, the pent-up secrets and plans that she was unknowingly bound to keep for her father, she broke down.
The tears that breached the damn of her sapphire eyes were wasted on Harry. He looked on her cold and unfeeling, unaffected. "Five hour surgery? You fought with her, didn't you? She put up quite a fight. She wasn't as easy to get rid of as you thought she'd be. She gave you that?"
"Yes," was all she could manage between sobs.
"Scars aren't easy to live with, are they?" he asked, staring coldly into her pleading eyes. "That will be your reminder." He walked past her.
"Harry, please wait," Imogen begged. She reached out and grabbed his arm to stay him.
Immediately he wrenched himself out of her grasp. "I saw the blood on your hands!" he raged. "There's nothing you could say to convince me." He took the stairs two at a time, eager to be as far from her as possible. He stormed through the front room and threw the door open.
"Where are you going? Please stay and hear me out," she called after him as he retreated down the busy Muggle street. The snow was coming down harder now but neither seemed to heed it, Harry without a coat and Imogen standing on the front steps in a towel. Several passersby stopped to stare at the scene. She made a hasty decision, the truth or lose him for good. "I killed Elena. It's me, Lucy."
She noted with a trembling heart Harry's pace slowing and then, finally, he came to a stop. Please, turn around and hear me, she pleaded silently. A moment later he did.
It was like a vice grip of hatred that was squeezing his heart, finally ceased. He stopped, unsure if this were just a cruel torture or, even further off than that—the truth. Unable to decide his next move, he acted without thinking, as logically as he could manage. He turned and favored her with a discerning glare. He knew, as he saw her standing there, her shoulders rising and falling with deep anticipatory breaths, tears streaming down her face, wide fearful eyes, bare feet; that she was telling the truth.
The realization almost knocked him off of his feet. He searched for words. None described the thoroughly confounded, off guard feeling that seized him in that instant. "Go back inside. You'll freeze to death out here," he managed in a more hollow tone that he would have liked.
He heard a small sob come from her as he turned and continued down the street. He couldn't sort this out on his own. He needed friends, dependable and honest friends. He Apparated to the Burrow in search of Ron and Hermione.
***
"It's absolutely extraordinary," Corbin concluded, shuffling through Lucy's Polyjuice notes. "If she can actually get a patent for this…well, she'll be one very famous little girl."
Sirius was nodding impatiently. "And…did you find anything that would help?"
"Well, from my understanding, she's only ever tested it on herself. There are two different forms. That's important to understand."
Sirius nodded again. "I'm with you. Keep going."
"The first is a strict pill form of the Polyjuice Potion. Once mixed with the DNA containing item of the subject you wish to become, it can be stored with that specific DNA and changing capability indefinitely."
"What does that mean?" Sirius asked.
"It means that it has a shelf life of basically forever. And it's handy because it's not in potion form. Miss Malfoy is a brilliant chemist and at her age…" Corbin eyed the notes appreciatively. "Do you know what we could do if we had this sort of spy capability?"
"Get to the point," Sirius begged.
"Right. That's the one she used to become Elena. I guess she somehow got a few strands of her hair or something. The next form is an entirely new potion. It works on the principles of Polyjuice…but also has some slight implements of Dark Magic," Corbin continued cautiously.
"Dark Magic?" Sirius asked, rubbing at his temples.
"Only a bit. Real old stuff. There are hardly any laws restricting this type of study as it hasn't been used really for decades. She has basically created new people. Imogen Spencer and Ruthie James fall under this category, among who knows how many others. I really don't see how she could keep it all straight."
"You said yourself," Sirius sighed, "she's brilliant."
"Yes. So, you said that Lucy Malfoy is paralyzed from the waist down. This would present a big problem for someone who would want to disguise themselves, especially in the wizarding world."
Sirius agreed. "There can't be many people in the wizarding world that are wheelchair bound."
"One out of every ninety-three," Corbin stated authoritatively. "And that's for the whole of Europe."
"How did she do it?" Sirius asked.
"It wasn't a big problem where she wanted to use an entirely made up identity. They have their very own DNA. Imogen Spencer had never had damage done to her spinal column and therefore, neither has Lucy in the form of Imogen Spencer. The same goes for Ruthie, etc." Corbin took a breath. "The traditional Polyjuice Potion had to be tinkered with." He smiled. "Do you want to know how?"
"That's why I'm here on bloody Christmas Eve, isn't it?" Sirius shot impatiently.
"Salt. Sodium Chloride. It reacts with the unstable acids in the mugwart. She was able to mix this one (because it needs an element of the subject you want to become) with the other one that doesn't and voila! She can walk!" Corbin finished with a flourish and Sirius blinked.
"You're serious?" he asked.
"Of course," Corbin stated simply.
"Then if she were able to walk…maybe…if she fought Elena and by some miracle of a chance survived, she could have escaped using Elena as a disguise." Sirius' mind was reeling as everything seemed to fall into place.
"That's absolutely right!" Corbin confirmed. "I asked Kirin at the Ministry. He was with Arabella when she did the final scan of the ruins. He confirmed that they fished Elena out of the water. Not twenty minutes later, she was Lucy. That's when Arabella cut her a deal." Corbin shrugged. "If I were a scared, fourteen-year-old girl, just killed two people and escaped barely with my life, I would be likely to accept."
Sirius nodded. "Why would Arabella do it though?"
Corbin shrugged again, visibly pleased to have all of the answers. "She hates Lucius Malfoy. She must've hated Lucy for her part in Peter's conviction as well."
"That was his choice to turn himself in. Not Lucy's. If she needs someone to blame, she should blame me. I couldn't get him off. Lucy just gave him a conscience." Sirius stood to leave. "Thanks again. You've been a big help."
"Give my love to Arabella. Tell everyone, happy Christmas for me." Corbin began to pack up his stuff and head out as Sirius was doing.
"I will. Happy Christmas, Corbin," Sirius offered before Apparating.
"Happy Christmas to you too," Corbin smiled and disappeared.
***
"Harry?" Ron asked, opening the door with some surprise.
"Who is it, Ron?" Hermione's voice called from behind the door. She emerged, looking at Harry with concern. "You look frozen to death. What are you doing out there?" she asked in a shrill voice.
"I need to talk to you two."
Ron nodded and shut the door behind Harry as he entered.
Hermione was busy at the stove putting a kettle on to boil.
"What is it?" Ron asked, as Hermione came to sit next to him, across from Harry.
Harry looked miserable, confused. His friends were unsettled and visibly worried for him. "You were right, Ron," he said simply.
Ron blinked. "About what?"
"About Imogen."
"Ah, evil incarnate," Ron said with a superior nod. He lurched and then whimpered a bit, which could only mean that Hermione had dealt him a hard kick to the shin under the table.
"No. The opposite, actually." Harry hesitated, wondering if his friends would think him as crazy as he was about to sound. "She's Lucy Malfoy."
Ron blinked. "You're joking?"
"Of course he isn't, Ron," Hermione chided. "Actually, that makes sense. Did I ever tell you two that it was Elena that saved us?"
It was Harry's turn to stare this time, but as always, Ron stared too. "What?" Ron asked in disbelief. "That woman is a snake. Why would she help us?"
"Think about it," Hermione continued patiently. "It was Elena that killed Lucy. If she somehow managed to overtake Elena," Hermione said, moving toward the stove and removing the kettle, pouring three cups of tea. "How else could she have escaped and why else would Elena have helped us?"
"I liked Lucy too, even though I don't care much for the rest of her family," Ron said slowly. "I didn't want her to die any more than you did, Harry. But, something's not right here. I think it's got to be Elena."
Harry stared at him, apparently not convinced one way or another. He sipped his tea.
"How did you find out? Did she tell you?" Hermione asked.
"No. I found her bracelet. It was one that Elena was wearing the night she killed Lucy. I've seen Imogen wearing it a few times, but I never made the connection." Harry stared at the grain of the table and thought things out slowly.
"She is Lucy. I know," a voice said from somewhere behind him. Harry turned to see Ginny standing at the bottom of the stairs staring frankly at the three of them.
"Go back to bed, Ginny," Ron said, not unkindly. Ginny turned to leave.
"No, wait!" Harry said. He stared at Ginny who held his gaze for a long time. Hermione and Ron shot questioning glances at each other. "Sod it! I've messed up thoroughly, haven't I?" Harry asked with much alarm.
Ginny merely nodded.
"Do you know if she's still there?" Hermione asked urgently.
"She was there when I left," Harry said, standing.
"Boys are hopeless idiots," Ginny stated blandly. "You should have heard her out. She could be long gone by now and it would serve you just as well." She favored Harry and Ron with twin expressionless looks. "But you two are a special breed of idiot, aren't you?"
Harry ignored her and stormed out.
"Yes, thank you, Ginny. That was very insightful." Hermione smiled, sipping her tea and watching the door swing shut behind Harry. "But, for his sake, I hope she stayed to wait for him."
"She did," Ginny answered decisively, turning to climb the stairs and shut herself back in her room.
***
Harry pushed past Fang who had gotten up from his place by the fire to greet him. Ignoring the dog he bounded up the stairs and threw the door to Imogen's room open. She was not there.
He looked to the chair where he had laid her things. Her coat was still there.
Coming slowly to the spot he had dropped her bracelet, he bent and picked it up guiltily. He'd had the chance to change everything. He had been given back his chance at happiness. And just as he had it, he had thrown it away.
He was unsure if he would ever see her again.
He walked slowly to his room, looking around momentarily, holding out some vain hope that she was here. But there was no such luck.
He looked at his bed disdainfully. He wouldn't be able to sleep knowing what he had done, what he had given up.
Resignedly, he trod slowly back down the stairs and came to the fire where Fang had returned to his rug. He watched the mournful dog wag his tail slowly in a vain effort to cheer him.
By chance only, the small figure on the couch moved, breaking Harry's attention from the dog. A shock of silver blond hair under a thin blanket caused his heart to leap.
"Lucy?" he asked. Remembering the last moments he had seen her alive, asleep just like this on a sofa in her family's home. Her cheeks were stained with tears now just as they had been then. Only this time she was crying because he had left her. He would never make that mistake again. There was another mistake that he never planned on repeating again: silence.
That was what he had regretted the most the moment he knew that she was gone. He never told her anything. He just watched her sleep and wondered if she felt for him what he was feeling for her. He knew now that she had.
He bent and slowly brushed a corn silk curl from her brow and kissed her. Whatever it was that he would have to do, to give to God for such a mercy and unfathomable kindness, he would. He was more than overjoyed to have her back. He was renewed.
Her eyes fluttered open and immediately she tried to sit up. She frowned slightly as she realized that she was Lucy again and incapable of movement below her waist, making it impossible to sit up.
"Don't move," Harry said placing a hand on her cheek, brushing away the tears that he had caused.
"Where did you go?" she asked in a whisper.
"Nowhere. I won't ever leave you again. I was stupid," Harry promised hastily.
"I need to explain something to you," Lucy began, grabbing Harry's hand and pressing it between her very cold hands.
"No. You don't need to explain—," Harry said.
"Yes. Please let me tell you why I lied to you. You deserve to know."
"I deserve nothing. I don't deserve you especially," Harry said, kissing her forehead.
She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, winding her fingers through his hair, cold and damp with snow. Harry kicked his shoes off and lay next to her on the sofa, allowing her to rest her head on his chest. He amused himself with wrapping her curls around his fingers as she endeavored to explain the entirely confusing tale.
"I guess I should start at the point when I saw Elena in my room. I guess she Apparated since the wards were down. I didn't know what to do and, out of reflex, I grabbed for my bracelet.
She came at me and grabbed my collar. She broke the chain of my necklace, the one my mother gave me. I heard it snap."
She felt Harry nod, his chin brushing against her forehead. "I found it on your pillow. That's how we followed you. It was a portkey."
Lucy took a deep breath and continued. "I was there for a long while. I'm not really sure how long. Peter was there."
"Peter?" Harry asked, alarm in his voice. "Did he hurt you?"
"Peter?" Lucy asked in a disarming way. She slid her hand down his arm interlacing her fingers with his. "No, Peter would never have hurt me."
Harry made no effort to contradict again and let her continue.
"Then, my father came in and made some speech about how I was in the way and how he didn't like the way I influenced my brother and how he wanted me to die, blah, blah, blah. But he left. Apparently, my blood was not good enough to sully his manicured hands. He left it to his henchman-woman, Elena. Oh, I forgot to mention, Peter broke a mirror. There were shards of glass on the floor, handy weapon. I struck Elena before she struck me. I used her as a disguise and changed her into me. There always has to be a body."
"How?" Harry asked.
"Oh, I've been working on a form of Polyjuice Potion in pill form. I plan to be the youngest person to file a patent with the Department of Experimental Charms. It's portable and doesn't taste as foul."
"There's a blessing," Harry laughed.
"I keep that bracelet stocked. I'm always spying on one or another of my father's comrades. I've tinkered with it so that I don't have to worry about paralysis. I mean, it's kind of fishy if I'm bound to a wheelchair in every form. The use of my legs comes in handy when spying."
"Why not use that instead of a wheelchair?" Harry asked simply.
"Because, taking that sort of potion…or pill…makes me someone else. I liked being Lucy, lame and all. It has advantages. You'd be surprised what sort of stuff I can get away with just because I'm handicapped." She smiled up at him as he furrowed his brow.
"That's messed up. You know that, right?"
Lucy shrugged. "People underestimate what I'm capable of and I let them. It allows me…certain freedoms. Anyway, off topic here. I became Elena and Elena became dead. Draco's going to hate me for that…but I deal with the people I've wronged one at a time.
I knew I had to be the one to haul you into the ceremony room. Anyone else would have made sure that you were tied super tight. I gave you enough room to get free. Sneaked around behind the big guy. Slit his throat and took down the wards."
"You did all of that?" Harry asked, thoroughly surprised.
"See. I'm underestimated. That allows me a lot of freedom. Why give that up? Walking is overrated. And actually, Peter helped too. He sabotaged Voldemort's immortality brew. So even if I failed and we all died painful deaths, he wouldn't have survived if he drank that."
"And what happened after that? Why live as Imogen and have the rest of us believe Lucy was dead?" Harry asked.
"Arabella found me and arrested me. I was still Elena, mind you. When she found out who I really was, she wasn't much more lenient. I'm still a Malfoy after all. And I'm a murderer. It was either prison or spying. Since it was my hobby anyway, I chose the latter. It seemed simple at the time. But coming back to school to watch after Draco was torture."
She propped herself up on one elbow and looked Harry in the eye. "That's why I created Imogen in the first place. Draco tried to kill himself the summer after his fourth year. I didn't want to lose him and I thought I might. I enrolled under the assumed name of Imogen Spencer and told them to place me in the house with the most room. There was only one Slytherin girl in my year, most convenient."
She lay back down and took another deep cleansing breath. "So, now that you know, do you miss Imogen?" she asked tentatively.
Harry gave this some thought. There is always a pause when the jury leaves to consider their verdict. He shook his head, "I don't see the difference between the two of you. You are the person I love, both of you are. I can't make the distinction.
Lucy's heart swelled with relief. "You aren't disappointed in that fact that Lucy turned out to be so devious?"
"No. You're still the same. I would love you regardless."
"You would even love a murderer?" Lucy asked, tears forming in her eyes.
"If you can bring yourself to love a murderer," he said evenly, wiping her cheek and kissing her nose. She smiled in relief.
"Oh, we are a fine pair of deviants!" Lucy laughed.
Harry was quiet, in thought. "What about that scar?"
"Five hour surgery," Lucy said.
"What really happened?"
"Would you believe it was a riding accident?" Lucy tried.
"No."
She exhaled and dropped her head again. She could hear his heart beat. It was gently lulling her to sleep. She felt her eyelids becoming heavy. "Internal bleeding," she began.
"What?" Harry said, startled.
"Just after I had come home from my first year, it would have been Draco's fourth year, I had overheard some of my father's plans. Your name came up, actually, in conjunction with the Tri-Wizard's Tournament. I always listened in on his meetings. Sometimes he found out and sometimes I was lucky."
She felt Harry's chest rise as he took a deep breath. "Lucy," he said, apprehension infused in his tones.
"Do you want me to stop?" she asked.
"No," he answered decidedly.
His hand, rubbing small circles on her back and shoulders relieved some of the tension she felt in revealing such a personal detail. She had decided that she would keep nothing from him. She wanted him to be a part of her life and that meant every aspect of her life.
"He never wanted me. I wasn't like him. He hoped Draco would be. But he'd given up on me since almost my birth. That time, I woke up in the hospital two days later. Draco told me that I would never walk again, and that was that."
"I'm sorry," Harry said.
"I'm not." Lucy was decided on this point. "It was the turning point for Draco. His illusions of our father were gone, finally. I would do it all over again for him. He wouldn't be the same person he is today if that hadn't happened. I don't regret it. I would have regretted losing him to my father and his plans."
Harry lay in silence slowly working his way through every piece of information that she had told him that night. He wrapped his arms around her and thanked God for restoring her to him, to them all. He wouldn't have been the same person if she'd never come into his life. He could imagine that there were many other people who would have said the same thing.
"You're an amazing person, Lucy. I'll love you forever. I'll go wherever you will go," he whispered and kissed her head crowned with wild downy curls.
He realized that she was asleep and soon, he was asleep as well.
