Chapter Fourteen:
Nevermore
1
Sara groaned as she prepared to open her eyes. It had been months and months since she'd had a hangover like this one. Her whole body ached and she was a little queasy. She felt sick almost, her head heavy and sore. Immediately she scolded herself for drinking so much on a nearly empty stomach.
"Harry?" she whispered and tried to throw a blind arm around him, only it dropped like lead to the neatly made other side of the bed. "HARRY?" she called and opened her eyes, thinking he must have woken early and was fixing tea or something. But there was no answer. She didn't hear the shower running and his clothes weren't laid over the back of the chair. She glanced around for a note, but saw none. Had he ever made up his side before? He had been leaving while she slept for nearly a year now and she couldn't remember him doing it even once. And he didn't leave at dawn on the weekends, ever. He always stayed and they had tea together. If he had an early Quidditch practice he always left her a note and a glass of ice water on the bedside table. It was Saturday and she knew there was no practice today.
"The train!" She said and sat up, moaning as her stomach leapt up in protest of such sudden movement. She heard a yawn from the sofa and turned her eyes to the back of it and smiled. He must have fallen asleep before the fire.
She found she remembered very little of the night. She couldn't recall even seeing Harry after his dance with Ginny. Nor could she recall the later part of the evening at all, or returning to the tower. Had she come with Harry? When had she put on a nightgown? With effort, she held out a hand and said "Accio hangover potion." In a moment she was holding it. She didn't bother with a glass, just lifted the stopper and took a big gulp, finding relief and renewed vigor in the warm glow instantly.
"There, that's better." She said, "Harry! Hey, what are you doing?"
"If you call me Potter again I'll kill you." Mumbled a sleep-laced voice from the couch.
"Severus!" She said in surprise, "What are you doing here? Where's Harry?"
"They found your idiot boyfriend passed out in the library. The Headmaster took him to the hospital wing, but I assure you he's fine. And as for what I'm doing here," he stood, stretched, and came to sit in Harry's chair beside the bed, "I was your sentry."
"How did I get here?"
"Draco brought you. He carried you all the way up those steps."
"Malfoy!" She gasped, the memory coming to her clear and complete. Her hand went for her neck, but found the charm wasn't there. "Oh, God!" She said, "Malfoy!"
"It pleases me to see you spending time with Draco." Snape smiled, "You look so good together. You know Sara, the right girl could change things for him."
"Severus, are you mad?"
Snape said nothing, only smiled in a knowing way and it disarmed her.
"What happened? What do you know?"
"Only that you danced with him all night. After you returned from outside."
"I danced with Malfoy all night? Oh no. Harry!"
"I don't think he noticed. He disappeared with Ginny Weasley and I never saw him again."
"Well it's not like you were watching for him or anything, he could have slipped by without your noticing."
"Actually, I was watching for him. I encourage your... friendship with Draco and wanted to make sure you were undisturbed."
"Severus! I am not interested in Draco Malfoy!"
"I didn't watch for Potter right away, Sara. I came looking for you after Draco led you out. I needed to make sure he was behaving himself after the way he's treated you in the past."
"Earlier you said we were outside. How did you know??" She began to tremble, nervous.
"Let's just say that I found you and leave it at that." He grinned.
Sara threw back the covers, leapt to her feet, and paced the floor in her nightgown. She stopped dead and looked at him. "Who changed my clothes?"
"Madam Pomfrey."
"Well that's a relief at least." She dropped heavily onto the side of the bed across from Snape. "Does anyone else know?"
"I took great care to make sure they didn't. Believe me, I would love to see the look on Potter's face when he found out, but I know that's not what you want. Unless Mr. Malfoy decides to write the Daily Prophet again, it's our little secret. However, you should know Sara, that secrets like this are never best kept."
"Thank you." She sighed, "For the discretion and the advice."
"Would you mind a little more?"
"Of course not."
"Decide what you want to do. Draco has had enough hardship these past months. Don't string him along. A choice should come sooner than later."
"I swear, I don't even have feelings like that for him! The more we drank, the more I seemed to develop them. There's just something about him, I don't really know what it is, but it's endearing, that's all. We're just friends!" she argued, "Besides, he is rather good looking and it doesn't exactly count against him. It makes up for his lack of charm. In my altered state I was lured in by it."
"However it happened, I'm glad of it. A girl your age should not commit herself to one person alone. Detach yourself from Potter for awhile. See other people."
"You really are mad!"
"I give up. Why does it have to be Harry Potter? Of all the young men in the world, Sara, you had to chose him! Draco Malfoy is smitten with you. It's blatantly obvious to me and I've seen changes in him because of it. I think you're wrong to simply discard him over a freak infatuation."
She stood, her anger sparked, but she held it in check. "I have to finish packing. Would you be a dear and make us some tea?"
"Certainly." He sighed and gave her a tired smile, knowing he'd pushed the subject too far. "Just promise you'll consider it."
"I will, if you promise me you'll never mention this again."
He bowed his head and she vanished down the hall.
* * *
Harry opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. He'd seen it before and knew he was still at school, but it wasn't Sara's ceiling, nor his own. His whole body hurt and his eyes ached. His stomach was sour and he moaned, miserable, and let his eyes fall shut again.
"Good morning, Harry."
He knew the voice as well as his own and his eyes shot open again with surprise.
"Professor Dumbledore!" He said, his voice harsh and raspy, like that of a heavy smoker. He turned his head toward the bedside chair and recognized his surroundings at once. He grew alarmed and tried to sit up. "Why am I in the hospital wing? Where's Sara? What happened? Is Sara ok?"
"Well, what to answer first?" Dumbledore smiled, "Most important first, I guess. Sara is fine, at least as fine as you are. She's in her own rooms, but don't worry, Harry, Severus watched over her during the night. As for what happened and why you're here, the answers are one in the same. You were found in a state of unconsciousness, due no doubt to your excesses, and were brought here under my direction as a precaution."
"I was in the library." He recalled, "I must have uh, fallen asleep. I'm very sorry, sir."
"Sorry you should be! You certainly gave Miss Weasley a good scare, and me as well."
"Ginny!" He said and collapsed onto the pillows, "Oh no."
"This sort of behavior I expect from Sara, but not you, Harry."
"Professor, I'm seventeen."
Dumbledore smiled as if he couldn't help himself, then all his seriousness returned. He wasn't angry, that much was clear, but he wasn't exactly pleased, either. "Ginny Weasley said she'd spoken to you earlier and that she'd left you there in the library. Awhile later she returned to check on you and found you as I did, unresponsive. Tell me, Harry, was there a problem? Something that upset you?"
Harry hesitated, remembering his 'conversation' with Ginny. "No, sir. Nothing to be concerned about."
"Is everything alright with Sara? I feel I have to ask, for she was in the same condition according to Severus.''
"Everything's fine." He lied, feeling his world was about to come crashing down. He'd kissed Ginny last night in the library. He'd wanted to and he was sure Sara would know the next time she touched his hand or looked in the Orb. She would leave him then, he was sure of it.
"Harry, there are things you can tell me. If something's troubling you I would be glad to listen, and help if possible. Don't think that because Sara is my niece I am no longer trustworthy. Anything you confide to me would be kept in the strictest confidence."
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your offer, it's just that some things are better left unsaid." He felt sure telling Dumbledore about kissing Ginny in the library would only add to his state of distress. As it was, he already couldn't meet his eyes.
"You're wrong, Harry. I wouldn't judge you. As young girls and boys transcend into adulthood, they do things that make no clear sense, even to themselves, and often go against what they most want. It's a part of life, a weakness not of character, but of curiosity."
Harry sighed, "You know what troubles me, that much is clear." He sat up again and focused on the old man's forehead. "You once warned me. I didn't listen. I'm sorry I disappointed you. I've disappointed myself, as well. Now if you don't mind, sir, I'd like to be alone so I can lay here and wish I was dead."
At that moment Topenga flew into the room and dropped a letter in Harry's lap. He opened it with shaky hands and was surprised by the brevity of it.
I hope you're alright. I'll see you on the train.
"The train!" Harry exclaimed, "We're leaving, I forgot!"
"So you're still going?"
"Well, yes, I guess so."
"Then you'd better get dressed. I took the liberty of having breakfast brought up for you. And you'll find some of Severus' potion on the tray. He was rather unwilling to part with it for you're sake, but I managed to convince him." Dumbledore stood and smiled down at Harry. "Things will work out as they should. Again, if you need to talk, Harry, you know where to find me."
"Thank you, sir."
"Enjoy your trip."
* * *
Showered, dressed, and nervous as hell, Harry stepped onto the platform and looked around. He spotted Hagrid at the far end, near the locomotive, towering over everyone else. He headed that way and saw Seamus leading Susan onto the train, obviously having changed his mind about staying. A group of Slytherins leered at him as he passed, but he ignored them completely.
He pushed his way through a cramped bottleneck of students and came clear on the other side, only to find Sara standing before him and he stopped short. Their easy, comfortable manner was gone. They hesitated to touch each other and didn't. Neither wanted to speak first, and both were visibly anxious.
She knows. Harry thought.
Sara regarded him with slightly downcast eyes, afraid to look at him, and when he said nothing she thought He knows.
Deciding to get it over with, he extended his hand and she took it, relieved. She smiled tentatively, awkwardly, but Harry got the impression the touch had told her nothing. "Are you ready?" He asked, holding his breath.
"Yes, you?"
He nodded.
"Ron is holding our seats."
Harry noticed the platform was rapidly emptying as Hagrid ushered everyone onto the train, which was powering up for departure.
"Hullo, Harry! Hullo, Sara, fine mornin' for travel if you ask me."
"Hi Hagrid."
"You two better board soon, or you'll be left standin 'ere and all your stuff on the way t' King's Cross!" He looked at their faces and saw the tension between them. "You two look as guilty as can be! Somethin' amiss?"
"No!" They answered in unison, then smiled, uncomfortable.
"Come on, Sara." Harry said, "Happy Christmas, Hagrid."
"Same to you Harry, and you too, Sara. You kids have fun, but be careful. You never know who's lurking around Diagon Alley."
"We will." Harry smiled, "Have fun in France!" and led Sara onto the train.
Ron was leaning out of the cabin and smiled when he saw their approach. "I thought you'd missed the train!" He grinned, "Harry, you're always so last minute."
"Sorry, Ron. We were talking to Hagrid."
"Well, come on, we saved you a seat."
The cabin was crowed with Ron and Hermione, Seamus and Susan, and to Harry's dismay, Ginny. He smiled politely at her, but moved on quickly to address everyone else, who peppered him with questions about how much trouble he was in with Dumbledore. No one believed him when he said no punishment of any kind had been mentioned.
Harry ignored Ginny completely, which was hard because she stared at him unwaveringly and he could feel her contempt radiating out at him. She was furious, he knew, and it gave his already frazzled nerves even more of a jump. No matter what he did, no matter how much he let himself sink into the lively conversation, no matter how many good thoughts he forced into his mind, he simply could not relax and Ginny's silent play was pushing him to the edge of sanity. He had no idea how he would endure this situation all the way to London.
* * *
As the sky darkened over the countryside, Harry looked out the window, depressed and trying not to show it. Sara had been silent at his side for quite some time and now she leaned against him, holding his arm and slipping her free hand into his. He squeezed it and brushed his thumb along her fingers. He laid his other hand over the one on his arm, his head resting on the glass, his eyes on the blur of passing nothingness.
Ginny left the cabin without a word, but then Ron and Hermione were asleep, Seamus was drifting off, and Susan was reading. They only people for her to inform were Harry and Sara.
"I'll be right back." Sara said and was past the curtains before Harry could respond. He'd opened his mouth to detain her and closed it now, fearful and swallowing a giant lump in his throat.
Sara caught up to Ginny, grabbed her arm, and spun Ron's little sister around to face her. Ginny shrunk, intimidated by Sara's anger.
"Leave him alone!" Sara spat, "Can't you see he loves me? He doesn't want you, Ginny, and you're really starting to get on my nerves. He's my boyfriend and you haven't taken your eyes off him since we stepped on the train!"
"What do you know?" Ginny snapped, "You don't know anything, let alone how he feels! I've known him since I was ten years old and you," she stepped closer in challenge, "you don't know him at all."
Sara angered at Ginny's audacity. "Don't tempt me, little girl, I could reduce you to ashes with a flick of my wrist."
"Then do it! I'd prefer death to your presence."
"And why are you so angry?" Sara asked, "Was I not polite to you at all times? Did I not try to be your friend? But no, you always had to cause a scene. Do you really think Harry found that nonsense endearing? He cares about you, Ginny, he calls you family, but if you think for one moment he'll ever reciprocate your little adolescent crush you're an even bigger fool than I thought. Stay away from him. And don't come back to the cabin unless you care to test my patience."
Sara left her standing there, glowering after her as she returned to the cabin and slid onto the seat next to Harry. He still sat in the same position, head tipped against the window, dejected and troubled. Sara inched closer and put an arm around his waist. His arm went around her shoulders and she lay her head on his chest.
"Harry, I love you. No matter what, I always will."
He turned to her, held her eyes for a moment, then pulled her into a slow, but fierce embrace.
* * *
"Has Severus Snape checked in yet?" Sara asked as they arrived at The Royal Wescott, a fine and very expensive hotel just down the street from The Leaky Cauldron.
"Yes he has, Miss Lemke, and he's left a message for you."
Harry looked around at the lobby as she read it, marveling at the rich and exquisitely tasteful decor, heavy with marble and brass.
"Harry," She said, recapturing his attention, "He's made a late dinner reservation at one of the hotel's restaurants. Angelico's. He'll meet us there." She thanked the clerk and lead him swiftly to the elevators. "We'd better hurry. There isn't much time and we'll need to dress."
Twenty minutes later they were back in the elevator. Harry wore the Versace suit from Harvey Nichols and his favorite tie. Sara wore a pretty blue sweater with one of her many longish black skirts and comfortable shoes with a low heel. She held Harry's arm as they stepped into the lobby and he escorted her deeper into the hotel. They spoke to each other awkwardly and infrequently and both felt the distance that had been between them since they'd stood on the platform of the Hogwarts Express.
Snape stood as they approached the table, for Sara, not Harry, and she smiled brilliantly at him.
"Severus, you look great!" She kissed his cheek.
Harry had to admit, Snape looked sharp with clean, neatly trimmed hair and wearing a handsome Armani suit. He didn't doubt for a second that Sara had bought it for him, and felt less guilty about his own attire.
They sat and Harry grew perturbed as Snape relentlessly smirked at him. He got the feeling Snape knew something about him that he found mildly amusing. That meant that Snape probably knew he'd kissed Ginny in the library, and if so he would have told Sara the first chance he got. It would explain Sara's reluctant manner and his guilt and shame threatened to swallow him whole. He lowered his eyes and studied the menu.
Since they'd eaten a few hours before on the train and Harry's stomach was twisted with anxiety, he ordered only a bowl of soup and a small side salad. Sara ordered the same and Snape got a big sirloin steak with a baked potato, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, a Caesar salad, and a bottle of Bordeaux.
Their salads and Snape's wine came right away, along with water for Sara and Harry and some fresh-baked bread with garlic butter. Harry ate his salad half-heartedly, not really hungry at all, and Sara also considered her food with lack-luster disinterest.
Suddenly there was a sickening smell beneath Harry's nose and his stomach turned and he almost gagged. He pushed away the glass and glared at Snape, who delighted in torturing him with the strong red wine.
"Alcohol anyone?" He grinned, enjoying Harry's lethargy and Sara's grimace of distaste. "Actually, I'm sure they would have some very fine rum in a place like this."
Sara gave him a slightly amused, but stern glance. "Shut-up, Severus, or I'll zap you with lightning right here under the table."
"You know, the two of you are extraordinarily dull tonight. One would think you'd just left a funeral."
"It's been a long and trying day, Snape." Harry said, "Let's just have a quiet dinner and go back to our rooms."
"Fine."
Sara hung her head in overpowering shame. It was clear that Harry knew, but was gentleman enough to not speak of it. She thanked him inwardly for his silence, but was eaten up by it as well. She needed desperately to confess her indiscretion, but needed equally to leave the subject verbally unapproached. She needed to understand fully what she'd done before she could even begin to explain herself to Harry.
She thought of Malfoy, alone in the Slytherin dungeons, and wondered what he was thinking. Did he think they had a chance? Probably not, Draco was level-headed and realistic, but he was almost certainly hopeful and for this she felt bad. His affection for her was easy before because she always let him know where he stood with her and never failed to show unwavering dedication to her relationship with Harry. Now, after confessing her attraction for Lucius to him and sharing emotional moments with Draco in her tower, then of course, kissing him madly like she'd wanted to do once or twice before, the walls that separated them had fallen and all the lines were blurred.
She glanced at Harry and saw he was miserable, staring into his soup and stirring it absentmindedly, obviously lost in thought. She recalled her confrontation with Ginny and felt even worse for him. It must be hard, to have such animosity between two people he loved and she hoped he hadn't heard what was said in the train's corridor. True, they had kept their voices low, but they hadn't exactly been whispering. She felt wrong for what she'd done to Ginny. She'd behaved as if Harry was a possession of hers, someone she'd laid claim to, when really Harry was with her because he chose to be, not because she had some right to him. She made up her mind to write to Ginny and apologize later in the night, not that it would do any good. What was done was done and would never be smoothed over, forgiven or forgotten. Still, the apology was completely necessary.
When she looked up again, Harry had finished his soup and was looking back at her, a hint of a smile on his face for her benefit, his expression morose. He took her hand and held her eyes.
"I think I'll go lay down if you don't mind, Sara."
"Not at all, Harry." She tried to smile for him, "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm just tired."
"Then I'll go with you."
"Stay as long as you want. Really, I don't mind. Don't let Snape's impossibly clean appearance go to waste." At this he smiled wider.
"I won't be long." She smiled and he stood and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Professor." He said, forgetting to be snide. He left, managing to look rumpled in his impeccable suit.
"What's his problem?" Snape asked when Harry had gone.
"He knows. He hasn't said anything, but it's obvious. I can't believe he's still speaking to me."
"I have to admit," he said, cutting the last piece of steak, "I did get that impression. I swear I didn't tell him. I can't imagine Pomfrey would have done such a thing, either, not that she knows anything about that part. Or the Headmaster. He knows I think, but he would never betray you, even to his favorite student."
"Draco would never. Perhaps we weren't alone."
"Perhaps."
The server arrived to clear the empty dishes and Sara asked for a white Russian. She wanted totally to separate herself from the desperation and self-loathing she had been wallowing in all day long. Severus was surprised she'd ordered a drink, but it was heavy with cream and the strong taste of the liquor was muted by it. She knew it would sit well and drank it quickly when it came. She ordered another and talked with Severus as he enjoyed his expensive Bordeaux. She had never seen him have more than one drink and relaxed in his company as his words picked up the slightest slur and his eyes took on a cloudiness that could only mean he was getting drunk. His manor was easier, his sarcasm wittier, and as she slipped into an altered state she was grateful for his presence.
She ordered drink after drink until she felt she could have no more and the restaurant was showing signs of closing. Her anxiety diminished and feeling that her fear and betrayal were surreal, from a dream she'd had, she felt whole again and gave in to her laughter when he made jokes and slipped naturally into a more normal mood.
They were having a great time, neither of them wanting the night to end quite yet, so they moved to the bar at the back of the room.
Two glasses of wine later, Snape excused himself and went to the men's room and Sara was left to amuse herself, but without Snape's mirth to distract her, her misery came back full force and she slumped in her seat.
Summoning the bartender, she got them each another drink and asked for a cigarette, which she took out onto the restaurant's deck.
The icy London night air enveloped her immediately and she let it sober her a little as she smoked. Snow drifted lazily down from the trees and she tried not to cry. Struggling with her emotions, finally managing to swallow the lump in her throat.
It was the last thing she expected to see, the Raven flying toward her, but she wasn't surprised by it. She ripped the letter from it's beak and swatted it away, but it returned and lit on the railing.
"Haven't you tormented me enough?" She hissed at it, "You dare write to me while your son spends the Christmas holidays alone and abandoned! I hate you, Lucius, you miserable cradle-robbing Deatheater! You're poison even to your own family! And what do you expect from me? Twenty years my senior! Like your wrinkled old face is appealing to me! If you were half the man your son is perhaps it would, but you're not and you make me sick."
The raven squawked and spoke. "Read the letter." It said in it's strange bird voice.
Sara laughed, incredulous. "That's not how the story goes. Poe never said anything about a letter." She laughed again, realizing her level of intoxication, but not caring. "Quote this!" She raised her middle finger in the most well-known of universal signs and waved it in front of the raven's face. "Gives a whole new meaning to flipping the bird." She giggled, flicked her cigarette away and walked back to the doors. "Quote the wicked raven." she muttered.
It spoke again as she laid a hand on the knob, it's voice low, menacing, and with a frightening and ethereal human quality. "Nevermore."
* * *
Snape kept her steady on her feet as he led her back to the rooms on the topmost floor. She held fast to his arm, the raven heavy on her mind, until they stopped before her door. Snape bent and kissed her cheek, something she couldn't remember him ever doing before. She smiled up at him and he smiled back.
"I had a wonderful time, my dear." He said, "Thank you. And don't worry about Potter, Sara, you'll be fine."
"Don't be so sure." She whispered, wishing he hadn't mentioned it, "Goodnight, Severus. I'll see you at breakfast."
She stumbled inside and closed the door.
Harry, she saw, was fast asleep, the television on and tuned to the BBC. The noise was unbearable and she turned it off. There was a little clock-radio on the nightstand and she turned this on and found a classical music station, turning it up, but not enough to wake him.
Rummaging through her unpacked suitcase, she found Harry's old Oxford, the one he'd given her at the end of last term, which she always kept with her wherever she went, and carried it to the bathroom where she was violently sick. She brushed her teeth and put on the slightly graying white shirt. Sitting down on the edge of the tub, she let her head fall into her hands, and cried long and hard into them. She could hear the raging blizzard outside, could feel it radiating from her, but was powerless to stop it. Thunder crashed and she found it satisfying, a loud and passionate testament of her overwhelming misery.
Finally, she crawled beneath the covers and turned on her side to stare at Harry's back and suddenly she needed him desperately. She wouldn't wake him, not that he wanted to comfort her for her indiscretions, so she curled up to him, not daring to put an arm around him.
Harry lay there in the dark, eyes wide open, wishing he knew what to say to comfort her and knowing it was his own fault she was drunk again and sick from it, and it was because of him and his fractured affection that she cried in the bathroom. He'd heard her, unable to go to her, and despised himself for it. He needed her now as he thought of Ginny and how foolish he'd been and he could feel Sara shaking as she pressed so close against him, but he didn't deserve to have her so near. In fact, he thought, he didn't deserve her at all.
* * *
As Sara woke to the sounds of the shower and the bright glare of winter sunshine, her spirits were darker than they were the previous night. She felt positively ill and reached for the potion before she could be sick with nowhere to go but onto the balcony. It rose in the back of her throat and she kept it down with difficulty, hoping for a single moment when she might knock back the potion and cure the unrest in her stomach. Finally, the moment came and she was glad of it, thinking she could avoid being sick no longer and would never have made it onto the terrace.
The potion went to work right away, but she laid back against the pillows to gather her thoughts. Kissing Malfoy seemed in the distant past, though it had been only the night before last. It seemed unreal, blurred around the edges like a dream, but she had done it, of that there was no doubt, and the worst part was that she had wanted to.
Before she could slip into yet another bout of self-loathing, there came a light knock at the door and she rose to answer it, pulling on a robe that Harry had thoughtfully laid across the foot of the bed for her.
It was a hotel employee, who smiled at her disarray and apologized for waking her.
"You dropped this in Angelico's last night." He handed her the dreadful letter the raven had brought to her on the deck. She turned white at the sight of it and remembered with a shudder the raven's dark and terrible voice. "Nevermore."
"Thank you." She said and tried to smile, then hurriedly grabbed a handful of bills from the purse she sometimes carried and shoved them into the man's hand.
She fell back against the door, her legs like jelly, threatening to drop her on the floor as she read the envelope. Sara Lemke, The Royal Wescott Hotel, London.
"How does he know?" she whispered aloud, "How can he be so quick?"
She folded it, hiding it away in the pocket of her robe as Harry emerged from the shower, his hair wet, but combed, and smelling of the cologne she'd bought him last summer. He still looked wretched. His eyes the same sad story as last night. Any bit of happiness she'd felt was dashed, her sin struck her heart anew.
"Morning, Harry." She said, barely above a whisper, overcome once again by shame.
"Are you alright?" He asked, staring at her, looking suddenly shocked and fearful.
She didn't understand this unspoken reaction, but had noticed it as everything Harry felt always showed on his face. "I'm ok." She tried to force a smile, but it slipped easily away. Harry looked at the floor and went to the bed. He turned on the BBC and sat, but she could tell he wasn't really watching it.
She wanted to sit down beside him, hold his hand, lay her head on his shoulder, but she knew she shouldn't expect such welcome from him, not after what she had done. And here she stood, wearing his shirt and with a letter from Lucius Malfoy hidden in her pocket. She grabbed an outfit from her suitcase and headed for the shower.
Immediately she started the water running and sat down to read the letter.
Dearest Sara,
First, let me tell you I thoroughly enjoyed your performance at the Yule Ball. You have a tremendous talent, though I can only hope to someday hear you in person. You look irresistible in black. I could choose no better color.
Also, I couldn't help noticing your newfound attraction to my son. Of course I know he is taken with you and who wouldn't be, but I was under the impression, by your own words, that the feeling was not returned. My, but you are a cunning and manipulative girl! Either you are a liar, or perhaps you are trying to draw my attention away from someone else. Could this be the third of your little trio? It leads me to wonder if this person, the coward I seek, is the same that showers you with affection and dances so close?
As for you, my devious one, my belladonna, you will not disperse of me with your false play with Draco, and you will not discourage me from my pursuits. And as for Draco, you will discontinue your curious liaisons or you will find him cold as morning breaks. Come to me soon, beautiful one, for I lose patience with every passing day.
L.
The letter fell to dust between her fingers. She looked at the remnants of it on the tile, horrified. She could prove his threats to no one. She could no longer bring this letter to Uncle Albus as evidence of Lucius' treachery. All the others he'd sent had been cryptic and gave away nothing. She sat in disbelief. If she touched Draco again, his father had plainly said he'd kill him. And he had called her his belladonna. A striking word with a twisted meaning. "Beautiful lady" in Italian, or another name for deadly nightshade, an aptly named plant with berries of midnight purple, fatal if taken in any dose. She wondered what it meant.
She swept the dust into her hand, dumped it in the trash, and prepared to undress. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped dead at her own reflection. What she saw explained Harry's shock and produced a similar feeling in her. The black in her hair, which just two days ago had been a strip about three inches wide, now wrapped around the back of her head, almost to the center, and had moved forward as well, leaving only one tendril of gold in front, just enough to frame her face. "Oh God," she whispered, "It's never been this bad."
* * *
Harry held Sara's hand as they left the hotel for the rental, an SUV just in case snow and ice became a problem at some point during their stay. After all, winters could be brutal in England and freak storms seemed to follow Sara around. Plus, they had things to cart out to the cottage and the spacious vehicle was just the ticket. Harry had brought his old Beatles CD and they played it loudly in lew of talking. Sara took to singing along and Harry listened.
They found it easier to talk once they had something to talk about, and wandered countless furniture stores, discussing colors and patterns and eras, something Harry knew little about. After awhile, he let Sara do most of the choosing and simply said whether or not he liked it. It seemed wrong in both their minds to be furnishing a home after what had happened, but it had been their plan for weeks and so they were going through with it because it was easier than not doing it at all.
Sara had flipped a good deal of blonde hair over the black side of her head and it helped, but only to a point. It troubled Harry to his very core to see it so profound. Even when they'd met and she'd spent several months alone and locked away with her grief, her parents dead and Voldemort tormenting her, it was nowhere near this bad. He didn't think he could feel any worse, but managed a nod in reference to a low velvet couch of scarlet and brass in the Greek revival style for the bedroom.
After selecting furnishings for the living room, big fluffy couches in dark purple velvet and chairs in silk a lighter shade of the same color, Harry was all shopped out, but Sara's mood was steadily brightening with every purchase. Instead of suggesting they break for lunch, he simply escorted her and shared what he could of her building enthusiasm. They chose beautiful handmade rugs from the Orient and the Middle-East, sleek Egyptian torchiers that Harry agreed with completely, sturdy mahogany tables for the kitchen and dining room, wardrobes for both bedrooms, elegant brass tables with glass tops for 'here and there' as Sara called it, and any number of odds and ends along the way. Sara arranged for everything to be delivered, and paid handsomely to have it done right away, as she explained they were only away from school for a few days and had to arrange everything now. Her money was met with no resistance whatsoever. Not one store said they'd have to wait.
All that was left was beds. As it was, Harry thought they must have visited every furniture store in London, but they drove to yet another, which Sara said had a huge selection of the finest England had to offer. She wasn't kidding. The store was immense and had every style of bed imaginable, and some no one would ever imagine at all. They were shown around after Sara produced Mr. Sanders' photos and described the other things she'd bought for the room. After only twenty minutes, they were in total agreement on the bed they would someday share. Harry hadn't acquiesced as he'd done so many times already just because her eyes lit up at the sight of it, he agreed because it was gorgeous, all brass and Greek in style with tall and beautifully ornate posts and rails for curtains, which Sara ordered in white silk.
The guest bed was easier, since it didn't have to be so very grand as the master bed itself, and they picked out something nice quickly and left for a late lunch. Fast food was in order, since they still had more shopping to do and then they would finally be off to view the cottage for the first time.
They ate in the truck as Harry drove them to Macy's, which they tore through, getting bedding and curtains and towels and a big stereo. Plus a few clocks and a laundry hamper that caught Sara's eye.
Next they visited a discount department store, where they loaded up on light bulbs, toiletries, soap for the dishwasher, soap for the laundry, a bunch of cds and several cases of soda, which was a muggle luxury sorely missed at Hogwarts. A lot of the things a new home needed had already been ordered by Sara and Mr. Sanders had graciously taken delivery, so the time they spent in the store was relatively short. Before long, they were on their way to the coast, the excitement of it having finally embraced them both.
* * *
The drive had been plowed and the snow cleared from the walk, and Mr. Sanders met them on the front step with a smile and an enthusiastic handshake for each of them. Harry noticed right away he didn't look so down- trodden as when they'd met, his clothes were new and his appearance neat. All signs of poverty having vanished from his person and Harry assumed Sara paid him handsomely for his loyal assistance.
He showed them in and they wandered the rooms as a trio, Mr. Sanders pointing out the washer and dryer which had come last week, the stainless steel dishwasher that had been installed, their new refrigerator and he opened every cupboard to reveal the dishes, the pots and pans, the silver, and all the other utensils Sara had ordered and explained that a chef had been brought in from London to place them properly.
As Sara examined everything Harry surveyed the back yard through the French doors off the kitchen. Sara's patio was knee deep in snow, but he could see a large storage shed off in the distance, presumably to hold all the outdoor furnishings until spring. Yet another addition she'd failed to mention.
Harry moved to the living room where he found a good supply of seasoned wood and set to building a fire. The heat was on and it was comfortable, but he wanted the glow and the added warmth. He felt happy, wandering the new house with Sara, preparing it for their future together, and the thought of Ginny faded like an old memory, or a stain that has been bleached, but still remains, a faint representation of what it used to be.
With the fire crackling away, Harry donned his boots and headed back out to the truck for the stuff they'd bought. He was halfway down the walk when Mr. Sanders came running after him and calling out frantically.
"Mr. Potter!" he yelled as he cautiously jogged along the cement, "Mr. Potter! I'll get that, don't trouble yourself!" Finally, he'd caught up. "I'll unload the car, you go back inside and enjoy your new house. As for me, I've already seen it."
"Then you can help me. And please call me Harry. If you continue to call me 'Mr. Potter' I'll end up calling you 'Professor'." Harry laughed, opening the back of the truck.
"It sure did turn out nice, Harry." Mr. Sanders said as he loaded his arms with shopping bags, "Sara has impeccable taste for a girl her age. And I have to say, you're quite the lucky young man. I hope you know that."
"I do," Harry smiled sadly, "believe me, I do."
Three trips later they had emptied everything but the stereo, which was enormous and they carried it in together, then set to hooking it up in the living room, in place of where a TV would go at Sara's instruction. A truck engine rumbled closer and closer down the driveway and Sara ran out to meet it, ignoring her coat in her excitement.
"I wonder what it is?!" She exclaimed as she threw open the door.
It turned out to be the living room furniture, the scroll-like couch for the bedroom, and the glass tables, which was nice because at least the front room could be filled and they would finally have someplace to sit.
Falling into the big sofa, Harry's arm went around her and he kissed her head. Her fingers entwined his.
"It's perfect, Sara. Really perfect. I love this room!"
"So do I, Harry. I can't wait until the rugs and the lamps come. And everything else we got! Can you believe this? Our own house! And it's so very lovely and quaint."
"It's almost home." He smiled, "And soon it will be. Sara, don't let anything come between us. Don't let anything stop this from happening."
His eyes had saddened again and her guilt burned away her euphoria. She turned her eyes to his, for the first time really, since the Yule Ball. "Harry? Do you still want to marry me? I'll understand if you don't or if you're not sure. Really, I will."
"Of course I do! If I don't I swear I'll go to my grave a bachelor. The question is, do you still want to marry me?"
"I do, Harry. What an honor it would be to be 'Mrs. Potter'. Only maybe you should reconsider your choice of brides."
"Reconsider! Sara, whatever do you mean?"
"Maybe we're wrong. Maybe we're making a big mistake. Maybe, Harry, this is all just some grandiose dream and someday we'll wake up from it."
"Does this look like a dream? Sara, look where we're sitting! In our house!"
"No matter what we'll still own the property. We'll still build our palace, I'll do it alone if it comes to that, even if it's nothing more than a monument to broken dreams."
Harry looked desperate and on the edge of tears. He looked about ready to shatter and Sara was instantly sorry for being so blunt. "Sara," He asked, "Do you want to break up with me? Is that what this is about?"
"Break up with you? Are you mad? I'm scared, Harry. I'm afraid of not doing things right. That I'll make some stupid rash decision and lose you completely."
"Never. I would forgive you anything."
She reached out and touched his face, a tiny spark of reassurance in her smile. "I never want to hurt you. Remember that, as long as you live."
He kissed her for the first time in two days.
"I got a little surprise for you guys!" Mr. Sanders called from the kitchen, clanging around in the cupboards, then coming closer. "A christening is in order!" He came into the room and set down two glasses and a bottle of Dom Perignon on ice, which he placed before them on the new glass table.
Harry smiled brightly. "But you didn't bring Sara a glass!"
"Yeah, Greg Sanders, go get me a glass!"
"The glasses are for you and Harry." He grinned, "I thought this should be a private moment."
"Nonsense!" Sara said.
Harry headed to the kitchen and brought back a third glass, then set to opening the champagne.
After a quick toast Mr. Sanders brought them out on the step for a photograph. They slung their arms around each other, Harry dangling the bottle of champagne over Sara's shoulder, they held up their glasses and grinned at the camera.
* * *
The next two days were spent at the cottage, with Harry spending most of his time at the bottom of the cliff with a piece of chalk, drawing the grand archway for the watery tunnel. He'd noticed bubbles escaping from the bottom of the wall, beneath the water and had an idea there might be a little cave behind it. That would certainly make things easier, as there would be less to be removed. If he was lucky, it might even be a few feet wide. He couldn't wait to get to work on it.
The morning of Christmas Eve was spent in Diagon Alley, shopping for last minute gifts for the guests they would have later that evening. Plus, Sara opted to buy a new broom, since she didn't own one, for the trip back to school. She got a Lightning Mach 2, the newest broom available, of course, and Harry was green with envy. He loved the sleek brass handle with a grip that warmed or cooled the hands, depending on the weather, as well as the little etched lightning bolt on the end that looked curiously like his scar.
Having seen an antique serpentine armband in the display window on their way past Forgotten Treasures, Sara stopped to gaze at it through the glass. Her face lit up, then she smiled softly and backed away. About a block later, Harry suddenly announced that he'd forgotten to pick up Ron's gift and would Sara mind going along without him. She gracefully acquiesced and walked off alongside Snape in the crowded holiday street, glancing back once to give him a sweet smile and a wave of her hand. Of course, he went directly back to Forgotten Treasures.
"I thought he already got Ron's present?" Sara asked Snape.
"I don't exactly keep track. Sorry." He grinned, "Who knows what Potter's up to. Probably sneaking off to Knockturn Alley for all I know."
They were stopped short by a whirl of black, blocking their path in the blink of an eye. Snape already had his wand out.
"Now now, Severus, there's no need for hostility."
"Lucius." Snape growled, putting away his wand. He felt Sara's hand wrap nervously around his arm. "Speaking of Knockturn Alley..."
"Hello Sara." Lucius turned his eyes to her and her breath caught in her throat. A hint of a smile touched his lips.
Her face was emotionless. "Hello Lucius." She said, thinking he looked fabulous, better than that, actually. His clothes were so discriminating and all in black. His cloak was lined with jet black fur and the clasp was a platinum snake with a ruby eye. The asp that topped his cane shone brightly, and his hair was long and flowing over his shoulders.
"Severus, might I borrow Sara for a moment? There was something I wanted to discuss with her about Draco, but it's a private matter. You understand."
Snape was all set to protest when Sara squeezed his arm. "I'll speak to him." She said, "I won't be long, Severus. Why don't you head into the store and get what you were after. Mr. Malfoy and I will be right across the street getting a drink. I'll find you."
Snape nodded hesitantly at Lucius before entering the little shop that sold very obscure potion ingredients, though he stood in the window, watching him lead her across the cobblestones to the little pub on the corner, his hand on the small of her back.
"Nice letter, Lucius, does it tell you anything that you've had to resort to threatening me? Obviously, I'm not interested."
Lucius gave a soft laugh and said nothing, his winter eyes, alight with mild amusement, focused on her as they ordered their drinks.
"I already know the person you are, and you're letter only confirms what you've denied."
"Does the person I am really matter to you? After all, we're not getting married."
"That's a fact." Her brow furrowed with anger, "Besides, we all know what becomes of your wives."
"Why all this hostility? Sara, have I ever been unkind to you? Have I ever hurt you in any way?"
The drinks came and they moved to a dark corner and stood, facing each other, Sara sipping hers as if trying to draw strength from it. "You know the answer to that. Don't play sly with me, Lucius."
He brushed a gloved hand across her cheek, "Belladonna. The perfect name for you. Beautiful, cloaked in midnight purple, and easily the death of any man."
"Were you planning to throw yourself off a building?"
"I had someone else in mind, actually. But let's not linger on sore subjects." Suddenly his hand snaked around her waist, pulled her close against him and something exploded down her spine. Sara took in a sharp breath and he gazed down at her, eyes smiling.
"Don't think I'm kissing you." She said, her voice unconvincing.
"I could if I wanted to." He bent his head to within an inch of hers. "But I'm afraid I won't. Sorry to disappoint you."
"And why not? Isn't that what you want? But no, not you. You would rather play with me, see if you can force me to surrender my will, is that it? That's not going to work and I'll tell you why. Because I despise you."
"Or perhaps your resistance is out of loyalty to someone else?" He lowered his voice to a whisper, "Much more of your hostility and that someone may get himself hurt. Men will fight amongst themselves, after all, and I don't like competition."
"How dare you threaten me! And for the second time this weekend! What is wrong with you that you think this is ok? I'm seventeen, Lucius, less than half your age. I go to school with your son. Don't you think there's maybe something wrong here?"
"The only thing wrong here is a goody-two-shoes little girl who plays with the hearts of boys and isn't mature enough finish what she started."
Her voice grew nervous, "I didn't start this."
"Did you not set out to distract me, my dear Sara, hold my attention while your friend rooted through my house?"
Sara bit her lip.
"Well, my attention you have."
"I don't want it."
He smiled with a bit of the devil, "We both know otherwise."
Sara sighed. She was still pressed against him, trapped in his arm while his other hand brushed the hair away from her face. "Don't do that. Your gloves pull my hair." She tried to sound annoyed, but it sounded more like she wanted him to remove his gloves, which he promptly did. She jumped from his touch and instinctively his grip on her waist tightened. Images, mostly dark, flew across her mind like a flock of ravens and she saw him sitting in a chair in his house, looking up at her with a blank expression, then it was over, all the images gone quietly into memory.
"Let me go."
"I think not." he stroked the side of her face, her eyes falling closed at his touch. "I've missed you, Sara. You've stopped writing to me."
"I can't, don't you see? Lucius, I'm in love with someone. And I have morals. I'm not a betrayer." Instantly her mind swam with guilt at the thought of Draco.
"I'm not so sure your little Gryffindor friend would agree with that, do you?"
She sighed, defeated. "You don't have to kill Draco over one kiss. I care for him, I respect him, and I guess I even love him in some strange way. In case your raven was too far away to hear, I was telling him it was never going to happen."
Lucius smiled and Sara felt a huge weight lift from her conscious. Hopefully, she'd just prevented Draco's death with an honest confession.
"A rather affectionate way to let the boy down. Pity, I seem to warrant only the worst possible treatment from you. We're cut from the same fabric, Draco and I. If only you could see in me what you see in him, a letdown might come a little easier for me." His hand slipped into her hair and tangled at the base of her head, the simplest immobilizer, and Sara was jerked forward, her head slightly tipped back. Suddenly his face hovered so close to hers Sara could feel his breath tickling her skin and her nerves all came pleasantly alive. Her eyes drifted shut and she found it hard to breath. She rested her hand on his cheek, forgetting who and what he was, knowing only the thrill of his vicinity and the dark energy that radiated from him.
His voice was a harsh whisper and she thought she could feel him trembling as he held her against his chest with a dangerously strong arm . "You, my dearest Sara, you are my only weakness." he brushed his lips against hers, "Return to Malfoy Manor and let us finish what we started. I can't let you deny us this over a fledgling boy who will still be there when all is said and done."
"But I would no longer deserve him." She whispered as her hand slipped into his beautiful long hair, "Can't you see, if I give in to this it will destroy me."
"No, Sara, it will destroy you if you do not."
She felt his lips again, like an electric feather. "How can you be so cruel to me?"
"My patience grows thin." He kissed the corner of her mouth and she shuddered inwardly.
"Lucius," she whispered, almost breathless, "Lucius, let me go. Please let me go."
The arm that held her fast loosened, coming to rest casually on her hip and the hand in her hair slipped away. "I have something for you." He said and reached into his cloak, withdrawing a small box, which he gave to her. "That's a portkey. It will deliver you to Malfoy Manor. You could come and go as you please and no one would be the wiser, although you need use it only once. You know, I have a little divining talent myself, and I know you would never tell him."
She put the little box that held the portkey into her pocket, once again feeling the anger of having been manipulated by him emotionally. "That may be true, but how could I ever forgive myself for dirtying him with your kind of loathsome Slytherin betrayal?"
Lucius stepped closer and spoke in a low growl, "You will not speak of your little love interest to me, understand me well, or you find out what cruel really is."
"Well, Lucius, which is it, kisses or threats? All this bouncing back and forth is really quite exhausting."
Instantly she was back in his grip, his face hovering only a breath away, his arm so tight she could hardly breathe. His voice purred, as it so often did. "You know what I prefer."
She sighed and found herself moving toward him, though a muted voice in the back of her mind demanded she stop. Her eyes slipped shut and she felt his lips on hers, then he pulled away, releasing his arm, his hand brushed her face. "The portkey," he said, "come to me soon or I will come to you."
He went a few feet away, straightening his cloak and called back to her, "Come Sara, I will return you to your escort."
* * *
Snape used a Reducto charm on their luggage, which then fit nicely into Harry's backpack and together, they set off for the long journey back to school. Sara had to keep slowing down because the broom was so fast and she didn't have the skill to handle the speed. Finally, she spotted a clearing below and headed down to it. Harry and Snape followed.
"I hate this broom!" She said, exasperated, "I'm going to get killed trying to ride this thing! Harry, switch brooms with me. Give me the Firebolt."
Harry made the swap and grinned sheepishly, "We'll switch back when we get home."
"Keep it if you like it. I certainly don't like it. A muscle twitches and you're suddenly doing loops or something. Besides, going that fast makes me sick."
"You can't be serious! Sara, this is a very expensive broom!"
Sara shrugged and climbed onto the more familiar Firebolt. "I don't like it." Off she went, leaving Snape and Harry scrambling to mount their brooms and catch up.
* * *
1
Sara groaned as she prepared to open her eyes. It had been months and months since she'd had a hangover like this one. Her whole body ached and she was a little queasy. She felt sick almost, her head heavy and sore. Immediately she scolded herself for drinking so much on a nearly empty stomach.
"Harry?" she whispered and tried to throw a blind arm around him, only it dropped like lead to the neatly made other side of the bed. "HARRY?" she called and opened her eyes, thinking he must have woken early and was fixing tea or something. But there was no answer. She didn't hear the shower running and his clothes weren't laid over the back of the chair. She glanced around for a note, but saw none. Had he ever made up his side before? He had been leaving while she slept for nearly a year now and she couldn't remember him doing it even once. And he didn't leave at dawn on the weekends, ever. He always stayed and they had tea together. If he had an early Quidditch practice he always left her a note and a glass of ice water on the bedside table. It was Saturday and she knew there was no practice today.
"The train!" She said and sat up, moaning as her stomach leapt up in protest of such sudden movement. She heard a yawn from the sofa and turned her eyes to the back of it and smiled. He must have fallen asleep before the fire.
She found she remembered very little of the night. She couldn't recall even seeing Harry after his dance with Ginny. Nor could she recall the later part of the evening at all, or returning to the tower. Had she come with Harry? When had she put on a nightgown? With effort, she held out a hand and said "Accio hangover potion." In a moment she was holding it. She didn't bother with a glass, just lifted the stopper and took a big gulp, finding relief and renewed vigor in the warm glow instantly.
"There, that's better." She said, "Harry! Hey, what are you doing?"
"If you call me Potter again I'll kill you." Mumbled a sleep-laced voice from the couch.
"Severus!" She said in surprise, "What are you doing here? Where's Harry?"
"They found your idiot boyfriend passed out in the library. The Headmaster took him to the hospital wing, but I assure you he's fine. And as for what I'm doing here," he stood, stretched, and came to sit in Harry's chair beside the bed, "I was your sentry."
"How did I get here?"
"Draco brought you. He carried you all the way up those steps."
"Malfoy!" She gasped, the memory coming to her clear and complete. Her hand went for her neck, but found the charm wasn't there. "Oh, God!" She said, "Malfoy!"
"It pleases me to see you spending time with Draco." Snape smiled, "You look so good together. You know Sara, the right girl could change things for him."
"Severus, are you mad?"
Snape said nothing, only smiled in a knowing way and it disarmed her.
"What happened? What do you know?"
"Only that you danced with him all night. After you returned from outside."
"I danced with Malfoy all night? Oh no. Harry!"
"I don't think he noticed. He disappeared with Ginny Weasley and I never saw him again."
"Well it's not like you were watching for him or anything, he could have slipped by without your noticing."
"Actually, I was watching for him. I encourage your... friendship with Draco and wanted to make sure you were undisturbed."
"Severus! I am not interested in Draco Malfoy!"
"I didn't watch for Potter right away, Sara. I came looking for you after Draco led you out. I needed to make sure he was behaving himself after the way he's treated you in the past."
"Earlier you said we were outside. How did you know??" She began to tremble, nervous.
"Let's just say that I found you and leave it at that." He grinned.
Sara threw back the covers, leapt to her feet, and paced the floor in her nightgown. She stopped dead and looked at him. "Who changed my clothes?"
"Madam Pomfrey."
"Well that's a relief at least." She dropped heavily onto the side of the bed across from Snape. "Does anyone else know?"
"I took great care to make sure they didn't. Believe me, I would love to see the look on Potter's face when he found out, but I know that's not what you want. Unless Mr. Malfoy decides to write the Daily Prophet again, it's our little secret. However, you should know Sara, that secrets like this are never best kept."
"Thank you." She sighed, "For the discretion and the advice."
"Would you mind a little more?"
"Of course not."
"Decide what you want to do. Draco has had enough hardship these past months. Don't string him along. A choice should come sooner than later."
"I swear, I don't even have feelings like that for him! The more we drank, the more I seemed to develop them. There's just something about him, I don't really know what it is, but it's endearing, that's all. We're just friends!" she argued, "Besides, he is rather good looking and it doesn't exactly count against him. It makes up for his lack of charm. In my altered state I was lured in by it."
"However it happened, I'm glad of it. A girl your age should not commit herself to one person alone. Detach yourself from Potter for awhile. See other people."
"You really are mad!"
"I give up. Why does it have to be Harry Potter? Of all the young men in the world, Sara, you had to chose him! Draco Malfoy is smitten with you. It's blatantly obvious to me and I've seen changes in him because of it. I think you're wrong to simply discard him over a freak infatuation."
She stood, her anger sparked, but she held it in check. "I have to finish packing. Would you be a dear and make us some tea?"
"Certainly." He sighed and gave her a tired smile, knowing he'd pushed the subject too far. "Just promise you'll consider it."
"I will, if you promise me you'll never mention this again."
He bowed his head and she vanished down the hall.
* * *
Harry opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. He'd seen it before and knew he was still at school, but it wasn't Sara's ceiling, nor his own. His whole body hurt and his eyes ached. His stomach was sour and he moaned, miserable, and let his eyes fall shut again.
"Good morning, Harry."
He knew the voice as well as his own and his eyes shot open again with surprise.
"Professor Dumbledore!" He said, his voice harsh and raspy, like that of a heavy smoker. He turned his head toward the bedside chair and recognized his surroundings at once. He grew alarmed and tried to sit up. "Why am I in the hospital wing? Where's Sara? What happened? Is Sara ok?"
"Well, what to answer first?" Dumbledore smiled, "Most important first, I guess. Sara is fine, at least as fine as you are. She's in her own rooms, but don't worry, Harry, Severus watched over her during the night. As for what happened and why you're here, the answers are one in the same. You were found in a state of unconsciousness, due no doubt to your excesses, and were brought here under my direction as a precaution."
"I was in the library." He recalled, "I must have uh, fallen asleep. I'm very sorry, sir."
"Sorry you should be! You certainly gave Miss Weasley a good scare, and me as well."
"Ginny!" He said and collapsed onto the pillows, "Oh no."
"This sort of behavior I expect from Sara, but not you, Harry."
"Professor, I'm seventeen."
Dumbledore smiled as if he couldn't help himself, then all his seriousness returned. He wasn't angry, that much was clear, but he wasn't exactly pleased, either. "Ginny Weasley said she'd spoken to you earlier and that she'd left you there in the library. Awhile later she returned to check on you and found you as I did, unresponsive. Tell me, Harry, was there a problem? Something that upset you?"
Harry hesitated, remembering his 'conversation' with Ginny. "No, sir. Nothing to be concerned about."
"Is everything alright with Sara? I feel I have to ask, for she was in the same condition according to Severus.''
"Everything's fine." He lied, feeling his world was about to come crashing down. He'd kissed Ginny last night in the library. He'd wanted to and he was sure Sara would know the next time she touched his hand or looked in the Orb. She would leave him then, he was sure of it.
"Harry, there are things you can tell me. If something's troubling you I would be glad to listen, and help if possible. Don't think that because Sara is my niece I am no longer trustworthy. Anything you confide to me would be kept in the strictest confidence."
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your offer, it's just that some things are better left unsaid." He felt sure telling Dumbledore about kissing Ginny in the library would only add to his state of distress. As it was, he already couldn't meet his eyes.
"You're wrong, Harry. I wouldn't judge you. As young girls and boys transcend into adulthood, they do things that make no clear sense, even to themselves, and often go against what they most want. It's a part of life, a weakness not of character, but of curiosity."
Harry sighed, "You know what troubles me, that much is clear." He sat up again and focused on the old man's forehead. "You once warned me. I didn't listen. I'm sorry I disappointed you. I've disappointed myself, as well. Now if you don't mind, sir, I'd like to be alone so I can lay here and wish I was dead."
At that moment Topenga flew into the room and dropped a letter in Harry's lap. He opened it with shaky hands and was surprised by the brevity of it.
I hope you're alright. I'll see you on the train.
"The train!" Harry exclaimed, "We're leaving, I forgot!"
"So you're still going?"
"Well, yes, I guess so."
"Then you'd better get dressed. I took the liberty of having breakfast brought up for you. And you'll find some of Severus' potion on the tray. He was rather unwilling to part with it for you're sake, but I managed to convince him." Dumbledore stood and smiled down at Harry. "Things will work out as they should. Again, if you need to talk, Harry, you know where to find me."
"Thank you, sir."
"Enjoy your trip."
* * *
Showered, dressed, and nervous as hell, Harry stepped onto the platform and looked around. He spotted Hagrid at the far end, near the locomotive, towering over everyone else. He headed that way and saw Seamus leading Susan onto the train, obviously having changed his mind about staying. A group of Slytherins leered at him as he passed, but he ignored them completely.
He pushed his way through a cramped bottleneck of students and came clear on the other side, only to find Sara standing before him and he stopped short. Their easy, comfortable manner was gone. They hesitated to touch each other and didn't. Neither wanted to speak first, and both were visibly anxious.
She knows. Harry thought.
Sara regarded him with slightly downcast eyes, afraid to look at him, and when he said nothing she thought He knows.
Deciding to get it over with, he extended his hand and she took it, relieved. She smiled tentatively, awkwardly, but Harry got the impression the touch had told her nothing. "Are you ready?" He asked, holding his breath.
"Yes, you?"
He nodded.
"Ron is holding our seats."
Harry noticed the platform was rapidly emptying as Hagrid ushered everyone onto the train, which was powering up for departure.
"Hullo, Harry! Hullo, Sara, fine mornin' for travel if you ask me."
"Hi Hagrid."
"You two better board soon, or you'll be left standin 'ere and all your stuff on the way t' King's Cross!" He looked at their faces and saw the tension between them. "You two look as guilty as can be! Somethin' amiss?"
"No!" They answered in unison, then smiled, uncomfortable.
"Come on, Sara." Harry said, "Happy Christmas, Hagrid."
"Same to you Harry, and you too, Sara. You kids have fun, but be careful. You never know who's lurking around Diagon Alley."
"We will." Harry smiled, "Have fun in France!" and led Sara onto the train.
Ron was leaning out of the cabin and smiled when he saw their approach. "I thought you'd missed the train!" He grinned, "Harry, you're always so last minute."
"Sorry, Ron. We were talking to Hagrid."
"Well, come on, we saved you a seat."
The cabin was crowed with Ron and Hermione, Seamus and Susan, and to Harry's dismay, Ginny. He smiled politely at her, but moved on quickly to address everyone else, who peppered him with questions about how much trouble he was in with Dumbledore. No one believed him when he said no punishment of any kind had been mentioned.
Harry ignored Ginny completely, which was hard because she stared at him unwaveringly and he could feel her contempt radiating out at him. She was furious, he knew, and it gave his already frazzled nerves even more of a jump. No matter what he did, no matter how much he let himself sink into the lively conversation, no matter how many good thoughts he forced into his mind, he simply could not relax and Ginny's silent play was pushing him to the edge of sanity. He had no idea how he would endure this situation all the way to London.
* * *
As the sky darkened over the countryside, Harry looked out the window, depressed and trying not to show it. Sara had been silent at his side for quite some time and now she leaned against him, holding his arm and slipping her free hand into his. He squeezed it and brushed his thumb along her fingers. He laid his other hand over the one on his arm, his head resting on the glass, his eyes on the blur of passing nothingness.
Ginny left the cabin without a word, but then Ron and Hermione were asleep, Seamus was drifting off, and Susan was reading. They only people for her to inform were Harry and Sara.
"I'll be right back." Sara said and was past the curtains before Harry could respond. He'd opened his mouth to detain her and closed it now, fearful and swallowing a giant lump in his throat.
Sara caught up to Ginny, grabbed her arm, and spun Ron's little sister around to face her. Ginny shrunk, intimidated by Sara's anger.
"Leave him alone!" Sara spat, "Can't you see he loves me? He doesn't want you, Ginny, and you're really starting to get on my nerves. He's my boyfriend and you haven't taken your eyes off him since we stepped on the train!"
"What do you know?" Ginny snapped, "You don't know anything, let alone how he feels! I've known him since I was ten years old and you," she stepped closer in challenge, "you don't know him at all."
Sara angered at Ginny's audacity. "Don't tempt me, little girl, I could reduce you to ashes with a flick of my wrist."
"Then do it! I'd prefer death to your presence."
"And why are you so angry?" Sara asked, "Was I not polite to you at all times? Did I not try to be your friend? But no, you always had to cause a scene. Do you really think Harry found that nonsense endearing? He cares about you, Ginny, he calls you family, but if you think for one moment he'll ever reciprocate your little adolescent crush you're an even bigger fool than I thought. Stay away from him. And don't come back to the cabin unless you care to test my patience."
Sara left her standing there, glowering after her as she returned to the cabin and slid onto the seat next to Harry. He still sat in the same position, head tipped against the window, dejected and troubled. Sara inched closer and put an arm around his waist. His arm went around her shoulders and she lay her head on his chest.
"Harry, I love you. No matter what, I always will."
He turned to her, held her eyes for a moment, then pulled her into a slow, but fierce embrace.
* * *
"Has Severus Snape checked in yet?" Sara asked as they arrived at The Royal Wescott, a fine and very expensive hotel just down the street from The Leaky Cauldron.
"Yes he has, Miss Lemke, and he's left a message for you."
Harry looked around at the lobby as she read it, marveling at the rich and exquisitely tasteful decor, heavy with marble and brass.
"Harry," She said, recapturing his attention, "He's made a late dinner reservation at one of the hotel's restaurants. Angelico's. He'll meet us there." She thanked the clerk and lead him swiftly to the elevators. "We'd better hurry. There isn't much time and we'll need to dress."
Twenty minutes later they were back in the elevator. Harry wore the Versace suit from Harvey Nichols and his favorite tie. Sara wore a pretty blue sweater with one of her many longish black skirts and comfortable shoes with a low heel. She held Harry's arm as they stepped into the lobby and he escorted her deeper into the hotel. They spoke to each other awkwardly and infrequently and both felt the distance that had been between them since they'd stood on the platform of the Hogwarts Express.
Snape stood as they approached the table, for Sara, not Harry, and she smiled brilliantly at him.
"Severus, you look great!" She kissed his cheek.
Harry had to admit, Snape looked sharp with clean, neatly trimmed hair and wearing a handsome Armani suit. He didn't doubt for a second that Sara had bought it for him, and felt less guilty about his own attire.
They sat and Harry grew perturbed as Snape relentlessly smirked at him. He got the feeling Snape knew something about him that he found mildly amusing. That meant that Snape probably knew he'd kissed Ginny in the library, and if so he would have told Sara the first chance he got. It would explain Sara's reluctant manner and his guilt and shame threatened to swallow him whole. He lowered his eyes and studied the menu.
Since they'd eaten a few hours before on the train and Harry's stomach was twisted with anxiety, he ordered only a bowl of soup and a small side salad. Sara ordered the same and Snape got a big sirloin steak with a baked potato, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, a Caesar salad, and a bottle of Bordeaux.
Their salads and Snape's wine came right away, along with water for Sara and Harry and some fresh-baked bread with garlic butter. Harry ate his salad half-heartedly, not really hungry at all, and Sara also considered her food with lack-luster disinterest.
Suddenly there was a sickening smell beneath Harry's nose and his stomach turned and he almost gagged. He pushed away the glass and glared at Snape, who delighted in torturing him with the strong red wine.
"Alcohol anyone?" He grinned, enjoying Harry's lethargy and Sara's grimace of distaste. "Actually, I'm sure they would have some very fine rum in a place like this."
Sara gave him a slightly amused, but stern glance. "Shut-up, Severus, or I'll zap you with lightning right here under the table."
"You know, the two of you are extraordinarily dull tonight. One would think you'd just left a funeral."
"It's been a long and trying day, Snape." Harry said, "Let's just have a quiet dinner and go back to our rooms."
"Fine."
Sara hung her head in overpowering shame. It was clear that Harry knew, but was gentleman enough to not speak of it. She thanked him inwardly for his silence, but was eaten up by it as well. She needed desperately to confess her indiscretion, but needed equally to leave the subject verbally unapproached. She needed to understand fully what she'd done before she could even begin to explain herself to Harry.
She thought of Malfoy, alone in the Slytherin dungeons, and wondered what he was thinking. Did he think they had a chance? Probably not, Draco was level-headed and realistic, but he was almost certainly hopeful and for this she felt bad. His affection for her was easy before because she always let him know where he stood with her and never failed to show unwavering dedication to her relationship with Harry. Now, after confessing her attraction for Lucius to him and sharing emotional moments with Draco in her tower, then of course, kissing him madly like she'd wanted to do once or twice before, the walls that separated them had fallen and all the lines were blurred.
She glanced at Harry and saw he was miserable, staring into his soup and stirring it absentmindedly, obviously lost in thought. She recalled her confrontation with Ginny and felt even worse for him. It must be hard, to have such animosity between two people he loved and she hoped he hadn't heard what was said in the train's corridor. True, they had kept their voices low, but they hadn't exactly been whispering. She felt wrong for what she'd done to Ginny. She'd behaved as if Harry was a possession of hers, someone she'd laid claim to, when really Harry was with her because he chose to be, not because she had some right to him. She made up her mind to write to Ginny and apologize later in the night, not that it would do any good. What was done was done and would never be smoothed over, forgiven or forgotten. Still, the apology was completely necessary.
When she looked up again, Harry had finished his soup and was looking back at her, a hint of a smile on his face for her benefit, his expression morose. He took her hand and held her eyes.
"I think I'll go lay down if you don't mind, Sara."
"Not at all, Harry." She tried to smile for him, "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm just tired."
"Then I'll go with you."
"Stay as long as you want. Really, I don't mind. Don't let Snape's impossibly clean appearance go to waste." At this he smiled wider.
"I won't be long." She smiled and he stood and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Professor." He said, forgetting to be snide. He left, managing to look rumpled in his impeccable suit.
"What's his problem?" Snape asked when Harry had gone.
"He knows. He hasn't said anything, but it's obvious. I can't believe he's still speaking to me."
"I have to admit," he said, cutting the last piece of steak, "I did get that impression. I swear I didn't tell him. I can't imagine Pomfrey would have done such a thing, either, not that she knows anything about that part. Or the Headmaster. He knows I think, but he would never betray you, even to his favorite student."
"Draco would never. Perhaps we weren't alone."
"Perhaps."
The server arrived to clear the empty dishes and Sara asked for a white Russian. She wanted totally to separate herself from the desperation and self-loathing she had been wallowing in all day long. Severus was surprised she'd ordered a drink, but it was heavy with cream and the strong taste of the liquor was muted by it. She knew it would sit well and drank it quickly when it came. She ordered another and talked with Severus as he enjoyed his expensive Bordeaux. She had never seen him have more than one drink and relaxed in his company as his words picked up the slightest slur and his eyes took on a cloudiness that could only mean he was getting drunk. His manor was easier, his sarcasm wittier, and as she slipped into an altered state she was grateful for his presence.
She ordered drink after drink until she felt she could have no more and the restaurant was showing signs of closing. Her anxiety diminished and feeling that her fear and betrayal were surreal, from a dream she'd had, she felt whole again and gave in to her laughter when he made jokes and slipped naturally into a more normal mood.
They were having a great time, neither of them wanting the night to end quite yet, so they moved to the bar at the back of the room.
Two glasses of wine later, Snape excused himself and went to the men's room and Sara was left to amuse herself, but without Snape's mirth to distract her, her misery came back full force and she slumped in her seat.
Summoning the bartender, she got them each another drink and asked for a cigarette, which she took out onto the restaurant's deck.
The icy London night air enveloped her immediately and she let it sober her a little as she smoked. Snow drifted lazily down from the trees and she tried not to cry. Struggling with her emotions, finally managing to swallow the lump in her throat.
It was the last thing she expected to see, the Raven flying toward her, but she wasn't surprised by it. She ripped the letter from it's beak and swatted it away, but it returned and lit on the railing.
"Haven't you tormented me enough?" She hissed at it, "You dare write to me while your son spends the Christmas holidays alone and abandoned! I hate you, Lucius, you miserable cradle-robbing Deatheater! You're poison even to your own family! And what do you expect from me? Twenty years my senior! Like your wrinkled old face is appealing to me! If you were half the man your son is perhaps it would, but you're not and you make me sick."
The raven squawked and spoke. "Read the letter." It said in it's strange bird voice.
Sara laughed, incredulous. "That's not how the story goes. Poe never said anything about a letter." She laughed again, realizing her level of intoxication, but not caring. "Quote this!" She raised her middle finger in the most well-known of universal signs and waved it in front of the raven's face. "Gives a whole new meaning to flipping the bird." She giggled, flicked her cigarette away and walked back to the doors. "Quote the wicked raven." she muttered.
It spoke again as she laid a hand on the knob, it's voice low, menacing, and with a frightening and ethereal human quality. "Nevermore."
* * *
Snape kept her steady on her feet as he led her back to the rooms on the topmost floor. She held fast to his arm, the raven heavy on her mind, until they stopped before her door. Snape bent and kissed her cheek, something she couldn't remember him ever doing before. She smiled up at him and he smiled back.
"I had a wonderful time, my dear." He said, "Thank you. And don't worry about Potter, Sara, you'll be fine."
"Don't be so sure." She whispered, wishing he hadn't mentioned it, "Goodnight, Severus. I'll see you at breakfast."
She stumbled inside and closed the door.
Harry, she saw, was fast asleep, the television on and tuned to the BBC. The noise was unbearable and she turned it off. There was a little clock-radio on the nightstand and she turned this on and found a classical music station, turning it up, but not enough to wake him.
Rummaging through her unpacked suitcase, she found Harry's old Oxford, the one he'd given her at the end of last term, which she always kept with her wherever she went, and carried it to the bathroom where she was violently sick. She brushed her teeth and put on the slightly graying white shirt. Sitting down on the edge of the tub, she let her head fall into her hands, and cried long and hard into them. She could hear the raging blizzard outside, could feel it radiating from her, but was powerless to stop it. Thunder crashed and she found it satisfying, a loud and passionate testament of her overwhelming misery.
Finally, she crawled beneath the covers and turned on her side to stare at Harry's back and suddenly she needed him desperately. She wouldn't wake him, not that he wanted to comfort her for her indiscretions, so she curled up to him, not daring to put an arm around him.
Harry lay there in the dark, eyes wide open, wishing he knew what to say to comfort her and knowing it was his own fault she was drunk again and sick from it, and it was because of him and his fractured affection that she cried in the bathroom. He'd heard her, unable to go to her, and despised himself for it. He needed her now as he thought of Ginny and how foolish he'd been and he could feel Sara shaking as she pressed so close against him, but he didn't deserve to have her so near. In fact, he thought, he didn't deserve her at all.
* * *
As Sara woke to the sounds of the shower and the bright glare of winter sunshine, her spirits were darker than they were the previous night. She felt positively ill and reached for the potion before she could be sick with nowhere to go but onto the balcony. It rose in the back of her throat and she kept it down with difficulty, hoping for a single moment when she might knock back the potion and cure the unrest in her stomach. Finally, the moment came and she was glad of it, thinking she could avoid being sick no longer and would never have made it onto the terrace.
The potion went to work right away, but she laid back against the pillows to gather her thoughts. Kissing Malfoy seemed in the distant past, though it had been only the night before last. It seemed unreal, blurred around the edges like a dream, but she had done it, of that there was no doubt, and the worst part was that she had wanted to.
Before she could slip into yet another bout of self-loathing, there came a light knock at the door and she rose to answer it, pulling on a robe that Harry had thoughtfully laid across the foot of the bed for her.
It was a hotel employee, who smiled at her disarray and apologized for waking her.
"You dropped this in Angelico's last night." He handed her the dreadful letter the raven had brought to her on the deck. She turned white at the sight of it and remembered with a shudder the raven's dark and terrible voice. "Nevermore."
"Thank you." She said and tried to smile, then hurriedly grabbed a handful of bills from the purse she sometimes carried and shoved them into the man's hand.
She fell back against the door, her legs like jelly, threatening to drop her on the floor as she read the envelope. Sara Lemke, The Royal Wescott Hotel, London.
"How does he know?" she whispered aloud, "How can he be so quick?"
She folded it, hiding it away in the pocket of her robe as Harry emerged from the shower, his hair wet, but combed, and smelling of the cologne she'd bought him last summer. He still looked wretched. His eyes the same sad story as last night. Any bit of happiness she'd felt was dashed, her sin struck her heart anew.
"Morning, Harry." She said, barely above a whisper, overcome once again by shame.
"Are you alright?" He asked, staring at her, looking suddenly shocked and fearful.
She didn't understand this unspoken reaction, but had noticed it as everything Harry felt always showed on his face. "I'm ok." She tried to force a smile, but it slipped easily away. Harry looked at the floor and went to the bed. He turned on the BBC and sat, but she could tell he wasn't really watching it.
She wanted to sit down beside him, hold his hand, lay her head on his shoulder, but she knew she shouldn't expect such welcome from him, not after what she had done. And here she stood, wearing his shirt and with a letter from Lucius Malfoy hidden in her pocket. She grabbed an outfit from her suitcase and headed for the shower.
Immediately she started the water running and sat down to read the letter.
Dearest Sara,
First, let me tell you I thoroughly enjoyed your performance at the Yule Ball. You have a tremendous talent, though I can only hope to someday hear you in person. You look irresistible in black. I could choose no better color.
Also, I couldn't help noticing your newfound attraction to my son. Of course I know he is taken with you and who wouldn't be, but I was under the impression, by your own words, that the feeling was not returned. My, but you are a cunning and manipulative girl! Either you are a liar, or perhaps you are trying to draw my attention away from someone else. Could this be the third of your little trio? It leads me to wonder if this person, the coward I seek, is the same that showers you with affection and dances so close?
As for you, my devious one, my belladonna, you will not disperse of me with your false play with Draco, and you will not discourage me from my pursuits. And as for Draco, you will discontinue your curious liaisons or you will find him cold as morning breaks. Come to me soon, beautiful one, for I lose patience with every passing day.
L.
The letter fell to dust between her fingers. She looked at the remnants of it on the tile, horrified. She could prove his threats to no one. She could no longer bring this letter to Uncle Albus as evidence of Lucius' treachery. All the others he'd sent had been cryptic and gave away nothing. She sat in disbelief. If she touched Draco again, his father had plainly said he'd kill him. And he had called her his belladonna. A striking word with a twisted meaning. "Beautiful lady" in Italian, or another name for deadly nightshade, an aptly named plant with berries of midnight purple, fatal if taken in any dose. She wondered what it meant.
She swept the dust into her hand, dumped it in the trash, and prepared to undress. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped dead at her own reflection. What she saw explained Harry's shock and produced a similar feeling in her. The black in her hair, which just two days ago had been a strip about three inches wide, now wrapped around the back of her head, almost to the center, and had moved forward as well, leaving only one tendril of gold in front, just enough to frame her face. "Oh God," she whispered, "It's never been this bad."
* * *
Harry held Sara's hand as they left the hotel for the rental, an SUV just in case snow and ice became a problem at some point during their stay. After all, winters could be brutal in England and freak storms seemed to follow Sara around. Plus, they had things to cart out to the cottage and the spacious vehicle was just the ticket. Harry had brought his old Beatles CD and they played it loudly in lew of talking. Sara took to singing along and Harry listened.
They found it easier to talk once they had something to talk about, and wandered countless furniture stores, discussing colors and patterns and eras, something Harry knew little about. After awhile, he let Sara do most of the choosing and simply said whether or not he liked it. It seemed wrong in both their minds to be furnishing a home after what had happened, but it had been their plan for weeks and so they were going through with it because it was easier than not doing it at all.
Sara had flipped a good deal of blonde hair over the black side of her head and it helped, but only to a point. It troubled Harry to his very core to see it so profound. Even when they'd met and she'd spent several months alone and locked away with her grief, her parents dead and Voldemort tormenting her, it was nowhere near this bad. He didn't think he could feel any worse, but managed a nod in reference to a low velvet couch of scarlet and brass in the Greek revival style for the bedroom.
After selecting furnishings for the living room, big fluffy couches in dark purple velvet and chairs in silk a lighter shade of the same color, Harry was all shopped out, but Sara's mood was steadily brightening with every purchase. Instead of suggesting they break for lunch, he simply escorted her and shared what he could of her building enthusiasm. They chose beautiful handmade rugs from the Orient and the Middle-East, sleek Egyptian torchiers that Harry agreed with completely, sturdy mahogany tables for the kitchen and dining room, wardrobes for both bedrooms, elegant brass tables with glass tops for 'here and there' as Sara called it, and any number of odds and ends along the way. Sara arranged for everything to be delivered, and paid handsomely to have it done right away, as she explained they were only away from school for a few days and had to arrange everything now. Her money was met with no resistance whatsoever. Not one store said they'd have to wait.
All that was left was beds. As it was, Harry thought they must have visited every furniture store in London, but they drove to yet another, which Sara said had a huge selection of the finest England had to offer. She wasn't kidding. The store was immense and had every style of bed imaginable, and some no one would ever imagine at all. They were shown around after Sara produced Mr. Sanders' photos and described the other things she'd bought for the room. After only twenty minutes, they were in total agreement on the bed they would someday share. Harry hadn't acquiesced as he'd done so many times already just because her eyes lit up at the sight of it, he agreed because it was gorgeous, all brass and Greek in style with tall and beautifully ornate posts and rails for curtains, which Sara ordered in white silk.
The guest bed was easier, since it didn't have to be so very grand as the master bed itself, and they picked out something nice quickly and left for a late lunch. Fast food was in order, since they still had more shopping to do and then they would finally be off to view the cottage for the first time.
They ate in the truck as Harry drove them to Macy's, which they tore through, getting bedding and curtains and towels and a big stereo. Plus a few clocks and a laundry hamper that caught Sara's eye.
Next they visited a discount department store, where they loaded up on light bulbs, toiletries, soap for the dishwasher, soap for the laundry, a bunch of cds and several cases of soda, which was a muggle luxury sorely missed at Hogwarts. A lot of the things a new home needed had already been ordered by Sara and Mr. Sanders had graciously taken delivery, so the time they spent in the store was relatively short. Before long, they were on their way to the coast, the excitement of it having finally embraced them both.
* * *
The drive had been plowed and the snow cleared from the walk, and Mr. Sanders met them on the front step with a smile and an enthusiastic handshake for each of them. Harry noticed right away he didn't look so down- trodden as when they'd met, his clothes were new and his appearance neat. All signs of poverty having vanished from his person and Harry assumed Sara paid him handsomely for his loyal assistance.
He showed them in and they wandered the rooms as a trio, Mr. Sanders pointing out the washer and dryer which had come last week, the stainless steel dishwasher that had been installed, their new refrigerator and he opened every cupboard to reveal the dishes, the pots and pans, the silver, and all the other utensils Sara had ordered and explained that a chef had been brought in from London to place them properly.
As Sara examined everything Harry surveyed the back yard through the French doors off the kitchen. Sara's patio was knee deep in snow, but he could see a large storage shed off in the distance, presumably to hold all the outdoor furnishings until spring. Yet another addition she'd failed to mention.
Harry moved to the living room where he found a good supply of seasoned wood and set to building a fire. The heat was on and it was comfortable, but he wanted the glow and the added warmth. He felt happy, wandering the new house with Sara, preparing it for their future together, and the thought of Ginny faded like an old memory, or a stain that has been bleached, but still remains, a faint representation of what it used to be.
With the fire crackling away, Harry donned his boots and headed back out to the truck for the stuff they'd bought. He was halfway down the walk when Mr. Sanders came running after him and calling out frantically.
"Mr. Potter!" he yelled as he cautiously jogged along the cement, "Mr. Potter! I'll get that, don't trouble yourself!" Finally, he'd caught up. "I'll unload the car, you go back inside and enjoy your new house. As for me, I've already seen it."
"Then you can help me. And please call me Harry. If you continue to call me 'Mr. Potter' I'll end up calling you 'Professor'." Harry laughed, opening the back of the truck.
"It sure did turn out nice, Harry." Mr. Sanders said as he loaded his arms with shopping bags, "Sara has impeccable taste for a girl her age. And I have to say, you're quite the lucky young man. I hope you know that."
"I do," Harry smiled sadly, "believe me, I do."
Three trips later they had emptied everything but the stereo, which was enormous and they carried it in together, then set to hooking it up in the living room, in place of where a TV would go at Sara's instruction. A truck engine rumbled closer and closer down the driveway and Sara ran out to meet it, ignoring her coat in her excitement.
"I wonder what it is?!" She exclaimed as she threw open the door.
It turned out to be the living room furniture, the scroll-like couch for the bedroom, and the glass tables, which was nice because at least the front room could be filled and they would finally have someplace to sit.
Falling into the big sofa, Harry's arm went around her and he kissed her head. Her fingers entwined his.
"It's perfect, Sara. Really perfect. I love this room!"
"So do I, Harry. I can't wait until the rugs and the lamps come. And everything else we got! Can you believe this? Our own house! And it's so very lovely and quaint."
"It's almost home." He smiled, "And soon it will be. Sara, don't let anything come between us. Don't let anything stop this from happening."
His eyes had saddened again and her guilt burned away her euphoria. She turned her eyes to his, for the first time really, since the Yule Ball. "Harry? Do you still want to marry me? I'll understand if you don't or if you're not sure. Really, I will."
"Of course I do! If I don't I swear I'll go to my grave a bachelor. The question is, do you still want to marry me?"
"I do, Harry. What an honor it would be to be 'Mrs. Potter'. Only maybe you should reconsider your choice of brides."
"Reconsider! Sara, whatever do you mean?"
"Maybe we're wrong. Maybe we're making a big mistake. Maybe, Harry, this is all just some grandiose dream and someday we'll wake up from it."
"Does this look like a dream? Sara, look where we're sitting! In our house!"
"No matter what we'll still own the property. We'll still build our palace, I'll do it alone if it comes to that, even if it's nothing more than a monument to broken dreams."
Harry looked desperate and on the edge of tears. He looked about ready to shatter and Sara was instantly sorry for being so blunt. "Sara," He asked, "Do you want to break up with me? Is that what this is about?"
"Break up with you? Are you mad? I'm scared, Harry. I'm afraid of not doing things right. That I'll make some stupid rash decision and lose you completely."
"Never. I would forgive you anything."
She reached out and touched his face, a tiny spark of reassurance in her smile. "I never want to hurt you. Remember that, as long as you live."
He kissed her for the first time in two days.
"I got a little surprise for you guys!" Mr. Sanders called from the kitchen, clanging around in the cupboards, then coming closer. "A christening is in order!" He came into the room and set down two glasses and a bottle of Dom Perignon on ice, which he placed before them on the new glass table.
Harry smiled brightly. "But you didn't bring Sara a glass!"
"Yeah, Greg Sanders, go get me a glass!"
"The glasses are for you and Harry." He grinned, "I thought this should be a private moment."
"Nonsense!" Sara said.
Harry headed to the kitchen and brought back a third glass, then set to opening the champagne.
After a quick toast Mr. Sanders brought them out on the step for a photograph. They slung their arms around each other, Harry dangling the bottle of champagne over Sara's shoulder, they held up their glasses and grinned at the camera.
* * *
The next two days were spent at the cottage, with Harry spending most of his time at the bottom of the cliff with a piece of chalk, drawing the grand archway for the watery tunnel. He'd noticed bubbles escaping from the bottom of the wall, beneath the water and had an idea there might be a little cave behind it. That would certainly make things easier, as there would be less to be removed. If he was lucky, it might even be a few feet wide. He couldn't wait to get to work on it.
The morning of Christmas Eve was spent in Diagon Alley, shopping for last minute gifts for the guests they would have later that evening. Plus, Sara opted to buy a new broom, since she didn't own one, for the trip back to school. She got a Lightning Mach 2, the newest broom available, of course, and Harry was green with envy. He loved the sleek brass handle with a grip that warmed or cooled the hands, depending on the weather, as well as the little etched lightning bolt on the end that looked curiously like his scar.
Having seen an antique serpentine armband in the display window on their way past Forgotten Treasures, Sara stopped to gaze at it through the glass. Her face lit up, then she smiled softly and backed away. About a block later, Harry suddenly announced that he'd forgotten to pick up Ron's gift and would Sara mind going along without him. She gracefully acquiesced and walked off alongside Snape in the crowded holiday street, glancing back once to give him a sweet smile and a wave of her hand. Of course, he went directly back to Forgotten Treasures.
"I thought he already got Ron's present?" Sara asked Snape.
"I don't exactly keep track. Sorry." He grinned, "Who knows what Potter's up to. Probably sneaking off to Knockturn Alley for all I know."
They were stopped short by a whirl of black, blocking their path in the blink of an eye. Snape already had his wand out.
"Now now, Severus, there's no need for hostility."
"Lucius." Snape growled, putting away his wand. He felt Sara's hand wrap nervously around his arm. "Speaking of Knockturn Alley..."
"Hello Sara." Lucius turned his eyes to her and her breath caught in her throat. A hint of a smile touched his lips.
Her face was emotionless. "Hello Lucius." She said, thinking he looked fabulous, better than that, actually. His clothes were so discriminating and all in black. His cloak was lined with jet black fur and the clasp was a platinum snake with a ruby eye. The asp that topped his cane shone brightly, and his hair was long and flowing over his shoulders.
"Severus, might I borrow Sara for a moment? There was something I wanted to discuss with her about Draco, but it's a private matter. You understand."
Snape was all set to protest when Sara squeezed his arm. "I'll speak to him." She said, "I won't be long, Severus. Why don't you head into the store and get what you were after. Mr. Malfoy and I will be right across the street getting a drink. I'll find you."
Snape nodded hesitantly at Lucius before entering the little shop that sold very obscure potion ingredients, though he stood in the window, watching him lead her across the cobblestones to the little pub on the corner, his hand on the small of her back.
"Nice letter, Lucius, does it tell you anything that you've had to resort to threatening me? Obviously, I'm not interested."
Lucius gave a soft laugh and said nothing, his winter eyes, alight with mild amusement, focused on her as they ordered their drinks.
"I already know the person you are, and you're letter only confirms what you've denied."
"Does the person I am really matter to you? After all, we're not getting married."
"That's a fact." Her brow furrowed with anger, "Besides, we all know what becomes of your wives."
"Why all this hostility? Sara, have I ever been unkind to you? Have I ever hurt you in any way?"
The drinks came and they moved to a dark corner and stood, facing each other, Sara sipping hers as if trying to draw strength from it. "You know the answer to that. Don't play sly with me, Lucius."
He brushed a gloved hand across her cheek, "Belladonna. The perfect name for you. Beautiful, cloaked in midnight purple, and easily the death of any man."
"Were you planning to throw yourself off a building?"
"I had someone else in mind, actually. But let's not linger on sore subjects." Suddenly his hand snaked around her waist, pulled her close against him and something exploded down her spine. Sara took in a sharp breath and he gazed down at her, eyes smiling.
"Don't think I'm kissing you." She said, her voice unconvincing.
"I could if I wanted to." He bent his head to within an inch of hers. "But I'm afraid I won't. Sorry to disappoint you."
"And why not? Isn't that what you want? But no, not you. You would rather play with me, see if you can force me to surrender my will, is that it? That's not going to work and I'll tell you why. Because I despise you."
"Or perhaps your resistance is out of loyalty to someone else?" He lowered his voice to a whisper, "Much more of your hostility and that someone may get himself hurt. Men will fight amongst themselves, after all, and I don't like competition."
"How dare you threaten me! And for the second time this weekend! What is wrong with you that you think this is ok? I'm seventeen, Lucius, less than half your age. I go to school with your son. Don't you think there's maybe something wrong here?"
"The only thing wrong here is a goody-two-shoes little girl who plays with the hearts of boys and isn't mature enough finish what she started."
Her voice grew nervous, "I didn't start this."
"Did you not set out to distract me, my dear Sara, hold my attention while your friend rooted through my house?"
Sara bit her lip.
"Well, my attention you have."
"I don't want it."
He smiled with a bit of the devil, "We both know otherwise."
Sara sighed. She was still pressed against him, trapped in his arm while his other hand brushed the hair away from her face. "Don't do that. Your gloves pull my hair." She tried to sound annoyed, but it sounded more like she wanted him to remove his gloves, which he promptly did. She jumped from his touch and instinctively his grip on her waist tightened. Images, mostly dark, flew across her mind like a flock of ravens and she saw him sitting in a chair in his house, looking up at her with a blank expression, then it was over, all the images gone quietly into memory.
"Let me go."
"I think not." he stroked the side of her face, her eyes falling closed at his touch. "I've missed you, Sara. You've stopped writing to me."
"I can't, don't you see? Lucius, I'm in love with someone. And I have morals. I'm not a betrayer." Instantly her mind swam with guilt at the thought of Draco.
"I'm not so sure your little Gryffindor friend would agree with that, do you?"
She sighed, defeated. "You don't have to kill Draco over one kiss. I care for him, I respect him, and I guess I even love him in some strange way. In case your raven was too far away to hear, I was telling him it was never going to happen."
Lucius smiled and Sara felt a huge weight lift from her conscious. Hopefully, she'd just prevented Draco's death with an honest confession.
"A rather affectionate way to let the boy down. Pity, I seem to warrant only the worst possible treatment from you. We're cut from the same fabric, Draco and I. If only you could see in me what you see in him, a letdown might come a little easier for me." His hand slipped into her hair and tangled at the base of her head, the simplest immobilizer, and Sara was jerked forward, her head slightly tipped back. Suddenly his face hovered so close to hers Sara could feel his breath tickling her skin and her nerves all came pleasantly alive. Her eyes drifted shut and she found it hard to breath. She rested her hand on his cheek, forgetting who and what he was, knowing only the thrill of his vicinity and the dark energy that radiated from him.
His voice was a harsh whisper and she thought she could feel him trembling as he held her against his chest with a dangerously strong arm . "You, my dearest Sara, you are my only weakness." he brushed his lips against hers, "Return to Malfoy Manor and let us finish what we started. I can't let you deny us this over a fledgling boy who will still be there when all is said and done."
"But I would no longer deserve him." She whispered as her hand slipped into his beautiful long hair, "Can't you see, if I give in to this it will destroy me."
"No, Sara, it will destroy you if you do not."
She felt his lips again, like an electric feather. "How can you be so cruel to me?"
"My patience grows thin." He kissed the corner of her mouth and she shuddered inwardly.
"Lucius," she whispered, almost breathless, "Lucius, let me go. Please let me go."
The arm that held her fast loosened, coming to rest casually on her hip and the hand in her hair slipped away. "I have something for you." He said and reached into his cloak, withdrawing a small box, which he gave to her. "That's a portkey. It will deliver you to Malfoy Manor. You could come and go as you please and no one would be the wiser, although you need use it only once. You know, I have a little divining talent myself, and I know you would never tell him."
She put the little box that held the portkey into her pocket, once again feeling the anger of having been manipulated by him emotionally. "That may be true, but how could I ever forgive myself for dirtying him with your kind of loathsome Slytherin betrayal?"
Lucius stepped closer and spoke in a low growl, "You will not speak of your little love interest to me, understand me well, or you find out what cruel really is."
"Well, Lucius, which is it, kisses or threats? All this bouncing back and forth is really quite exhausting."
Instantly she was back in his grip, his face hovering only a breath away, his arm so tight she could hardly breathe. His voice purred, as it so often did. "You know what I prefer."
She sighed and found herself moving toward him, though a muted voice in the back of her mind demanded she stop. Her eyes slipped shut and she felt his lips on hers, then he pulled away, releasing his arm, his hand brushed her face. "The portkey," he said, "come to me soon or I will come to you."
He went a few feet away, straightening his cloak and called back to her, "Come Sara, I will return you to your escort."
* * *
Snape used a Reducto charm on their luggage, which then fit nicely into Harry's backpack and together, they set off for the long journey back to school. Sara had to keep slowing down because the broom was so fast and she didn't have the skill to handle the speed. Finally, she spotted a clearing below and headed down to it. Harry and Snape followed.
"I hate this broom!" She said, exasperated, "I'm going to get killed trying to ride this thing! Harry, switch brooms with me. Give me the Firebolt."
Harry made the swap and grinned sheepishly, "We'll switch back when we get home."
"Keep it if you like it. I certainly don't like it. A muscle twitches and you're suddenly doing loops or something. Besides, going that fast makes me sick."
"You can't be serious! Sara, this is a very expensive broom!"
Sara shrugged and climbed onto the more familiar Firebolt. "I don't like it." Off she went, leaving Snape and Harry scrambling to mount their brooms and catch up.
* * *