Chapter 20:
Melancholy Nights
Harry pounded on the door a second time before noticing a little yellow note stuck to the inside of the window. It said in sloppy print "Use side". He found the side door, black electrical tape covered the button for the bell, so he hammered on the door and waited, hearing no movement inside.
"Sanders!" He yelled, "It's Harry, I need to talk to you!"
He waited again for a response, then moved to a nearby window. Cupping his hands around his eyes, Harry peered in. He saw a tiny living room containing a couch, a recliner, a TV stand, and a coffee table. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at this last item, on top of which was a half-empty bottle of Finnegan's Swill and a teacup.
He glanced around at the neighboring houses, wondering if the rowboat he had tied to the roof of the SUV would be safe if he went inside. Sara either was here or had been in the past, so his mind was easily made up.
Harry had found a holster for his wand in Hogsmead, since the only inconspicuous place to hide it was under his shirt in summer. The holster clipped onto his shorts and he carefully drew the wand and did a quick Alohamora, letting himself into Mr. Sander's flat.
It took only a moment for him to check the three tiny rooms. Sara was not here and, judging from the spot of mold on the little pool of dried tea at the bottom of the cup and the layer of dust that covered an otherwise immaculate space, no one had been here in weeks. He had not heard from Sanders lately and had seen no sign of him having been at the cottage. It became evident that Sara had taken him with her. Harry found he was glad of this. Sara was not alone and even though Sanders was a muggle photographer turned care-taker, Harry trusted him as Sara did and knew the man's heart was always in the right place. If there was trouble, he could never protect Sara, but Sanders would try, of this Harry was sure and it helped ease his worries.
Something Sara had told him came into his memory, a vision she had shared many months ago. Sara had said that when she shook Sanders' hand on the front walk of the Criterion that she'd seen herself in the future, shaking his hand again and thanking him. This made Harry smile, thinking it meant that Greg wouldn't be getting himself killed while he was with Sara, and that he would be good to her.
Harry sighed and climbed back behind the wheel. If he was to intercept the new housekeeper, Elizabeth, he would need to get on his way. The letter from Sara's lawyer, Brad Silverman, had said she'd be arriving at 6pm and London was a long way from the cottage.
Harry had written to Brad, asking him to rent an SUV, but Brad had simply told him to look in the garage. Harry couldn't believe he had never thought to do this before. Of course Sara would have thought of muggle transportation ahead of time and he'd found a big silver Lexus SUV and a gorgeous black Jaguar convertible. He'd wanted to drive the car, of course, but needed a truck for the boat, to his dismay, and decided to take the Jaguar for a little spin later that night. Perhaps he'd even take Malfoy, who was acting more and more unlike himself and grew more depressed every day. His presence in Sara's tower was getting on Harry's nerves, watching him touch her things, turning photos face-down, his expression dark and troubled as he did so.
Draco rarely left the tower, unless it was in Harry's company. Snape had been planning to leave the day before and postponed when Malfoy showed up at the castle, but Draco barely spoke to him. Snape had come during the day while Harry was training with Dumbledore, and Harry had overheard him telling the Headmaster that Malfoy had grown distant.
There was a very good restaurant about ten minutes from the cottage, at least he'd heard it was good while in the little sea-side village earlier, so he stopped and got some fish and chips to-go. He had no plans of going back to Hogwarts for dinner.
Elizabeth was getting out of her car when he pulled up, right on time. He pulled around and parked in front of the garage, leaving the boat for later.
Elizabeth was a stout, quiet woman in her forties or fifties and Harry liked the sight of her. She had her grayish hair in a tidy bun on the back of her head, she was short, and had an agreeable air about her. Her head had a proud lilt and she wore a clean, pressed gray uniform with what appeared to be nurse's shoes. He showed her inside and offered her a Coke, which she declined, and he set the bag of take-out on the dining room table.
"There are only a few things I need to ask of you." Harry explained, "Never clean that mirror." He indicated the entwined hearts and she nodded her understanding. "Also, this might seem strange to you, but don't move anything, no matter how out of place it may seem. Especially on the kitchen table. Never touch anything on the kitchen table. " Again she nodded. "I guess all you'll need to do around here is basic dusting, vacuuming, stuff like that. There shouldn't be many dishes to wash and there's a dishwasher anyway. Clean the bathroom and the kitchen. Sweep and mop. The usual. No one lives here, but I pop in now and again. My, uh, my fiance stops by on occasion, too." It felt strange to be calling Sara his fiance. They were hardly "together" at the moment and it seemed like a lie to say it out loud. "I don't really know where anything is, you'll have to find what you need. Sorry." He said, his voice hushed with the painful thought of Sara, "I'll be taking my new boat, so if you finish up before I get back I guess I'll see you next week."
Elizabeth was already going about her work as he emerged from the bathroom in his swimming trunks. He gathered the things he had gotten from Hogsmead during his trip with Malfoy in a large box, threw in an old shirt in case he got cold, as well as his dinner, and carried it all out to the driveway. Standing on the other side of the Lexus, Harry used his wand to remove the cords and levitated it off the roof, pretending he was lifting it with his hands and pretended to carry it over his head to the cliff where he was hidden from view. If he had to lie, he would say he'd lowered it down with a rope, which he could conjure if needs be, but all he really did was levitate it down to the water.
Using the skills he'd learned this morning, he apperated into the boat, the box in his arms, bags of hardware from London thrown on top. He used magic to direct the boat through the arch , wand alight, but decided to row his way through the vast cavern at the end of the tunnel. Veering to the left, he got out his piece of chalk and directed it to draw a large square, broken by the outline of pillars. He pointed his glowing wand at this and recited the carving spell, adding the depth it should be at the end. Once again a great cloud of rock particles zipped through the cave and left behind a landing, fifteen feet deep, ten feet high, and supported by 4 rough, square columns of solid stone along the front. For these, he scanned the sheet of paper, coming across what he wanted near the bottom. Soon, they became intricate Roman pillars, entwined with rose vines and scrolled at the top and bottom.
Carrying sconces he'd found in Hogsmead, Harry stepped onto his landing and attached them to the wall, then dropped a few Never Ending Fire pellets in each before returning to the boat in the warm glow they produced. Now that the landing existed, he would touch it up later. For now, he ate his fish and chips as he squared the walls of the cavern and added a sconce every few feet. Eventually, he no longer needed his wand for light and pulled it from the hole he'd created to hold it.
"Nox."
The cave was suddenly alive with firelight and Harry loved the effect, though it was rather dark in the middle and the water was jet black. He found he loathed not being able to see what was swimming around beneath him and Harry got a brilliant idea. Setting the fish aside and standing up in the boat, he aimed his wand and charmed the sand at the bottom to sparkle and glow like blue diamonds. Brilliant it was, as the whole pool lit up like it was made of pure light, but it was also quite blinding and Harry threw an arm over his eyes and toned it down until it was just a faint glow that didn't overpower the warmth of the sconces. A hint of moonlight, caught in a drop of rain.
Rowing over to the center of the cave, Harry surveyed the area, decided what he would need, then set to carving the stalagmites, all of which had fused with it's partner underneath many, many years before. The first time he's seen them, they had reminded him of tree trunks, so that's exactly what he transformed them into, their branches covered in intricate leaves, spreading across the ceiling. As he finished every other one, Harry used his wand to attach a bracket on two sides and placed in them Never Ending Torches, high above his head.
Checking his watch, he found he had been eating this same piece of fish for 2 hours. There wasn't much left of it, as he had lifted it in between projects, dipping it in sauce, then taking a bite or two. The cave looked like a different place, part room, part castle, part forest, all of it petrified.
Finishing the fish, he rowed back over to the landing and cut three sets of steps between the four pillars. The lowest step was perfectly even with the edge of the boat, and Harry stepped out once again.
Over the next two hours, he focused totally on creating large and small recesses where they would display certain things, maritime figures, and their crest in the big center one on the back wall. It was work that took heavy concentration, with all the detail he included to frame these spaces quite spectacularly, and found he was tired at the end of it.
Harry smiled around at his achievements before rowing back to the tunnel and securing the boat near the ledge, which he climbed unnecessarily.
Elizabeth was gone and the house smelled of lemon and pine. The bathroom shone and he found his clothes folded and set aside when he went in. Checking his watch again as he dressed, Harry decided Malfoy would be alone in the tower, expecting him to return soon. He would take Malfoy in the car, but how to do it without showing him where the house was?
That, he would figure out eventually.
* * *
Sara wandered a small Roman shop that held the most exquisite things, and her hand happened upon a shiny brass replica of a lighthouse and she lifted it for closer inspection. It was more than she would expect to pay, but liked it so much she thought she might buy it anyway. Her eye had wandered to other such nautical items throughout the evening, though she didn't know why. That type of decor had never appealed to her, but perhaps it had something to do with her palazzo in Naples being so close to the sea.
Out the window Sara caught a glimpse of a man she had seen at dusk in another section of Rome, and later browsing in an open market. There he was again, watching her through the window from the other side of the crowded street. He was tall with shoulder-length brown hair and he wore dark glasses to hide his eyes, but she could feel them on her all the same. His clothing seemed an afterthought, mismatched, and out of place. With her new determination, she set down the lighthouse and left the store, searching the opposite walk, but the stranger was gone. He had vanished in a moment's time.
She felt on guard. There was a sense of danger on the air, not necessarily intended for her, but certainly formidable and the hairs stood on the back of her neck. Something felt out of context and Sara gave up her search of the crowded street. Mr. Sanders came through the door behind her, laden with bags containing a few gypsy-ish outfits, mostly black, and some handmade scarves she'd found a few stores back. The rest of it was mostly little maritime trinkets she'd found and felt the oddest inclination to buy.
She pondered this as Greg led her down the street, not speaking much as he had, thankfully, learned to do. In fact, Sara realized she had never even liked the seaside motif and still couldn't imagine putting these things in the cottage or in the house they might someday build.
These were not things she herself wanted, she was sure of it. She was reading someone else and it was Harry she thought of, as she had at every purchase and she smiled despite the sorrow it brought her to think of him. Lifting the locator from it's long chain around her neck, she saw he was "Home". Yes, she thought, our little home by the sea.
She let herself into the big black Ford as Mr. Sanders loaded the bags in the back, then joined her for the long journey back to Naples, sliding silently behind the wheel. Sara's mind turned back to the stranger who was surely following her and wondered about the strange vibe she'd felt outside the shop. Danger! it told her, but she hadn't felt threatened. He was no muggle, of that she was certain, but what strange wizard would merely shadow her and keep his distance? She got the idea the man might be frightened of her, or hesitant to approach while she was accompanied. Whomever he was, he would have a hard time finding her again, she thought, as the Ford sped farther and farther away from Rome.
Sara looked out at the dark Italian countryside, her head resting against the window, remembering the night she'd fled England, her eyes somber, her thoughts on Harry.
* * *
Draco was laying on his bed, next to Harry's on the roof, fully dressed and awake. He was staring up at the moon, the Muggle Music Player on the bed beside him, blasting chaotic, angry music. An image of the album cover floated and slowly twirled above it and Harry saw it was Marilyn Manson. He thought it was horrible and flipped the lid closed, cutting off the sound and nearly frightening Draco half to death.
"What do you think you're doing?" He bellowed, annoyed and embarrassed at having been caught off guard. "I was listening to that if you didn't notice."
"I never said you could borrow it. I swear Malfoy, is nothing sacred to you?"
"Stop whining, Potter. I know she gave it to you for Christmas. I was there, remember?"
"How could I forget?"
"Who cares. It's not a personal item or anything. You act like I'm standing here reading your love letters."
"I'm sure that's somewhere near the top of your list."
"Did you disturb me for a reason? Or are we late for insult hour?"
"Just get up! And comb your hair. You're really starting to look like a hippie, you know."
"You should talk! I don't think you've had a haircut in months, Potter. Looking a little sloppy if you ask me. Why am I getting up, anyway? It's late."
"It's only ten!"
"We're going out?"
"Yes, but not drinking. There was a car in our garage. Thought you might want to ride along while I tested it out."
"I have ridden in a car, you know. My father keeps one."
"Does he have a convertible Jag, jet black, with chrome wheels and a killer sound system?"
"I'll just be a minute." Draco said and hurried off to the dressing room.
Harry started flipping through cds, looking for a few they both might like. He choose Oasis, The Beatles meets Modern Rock. There was no better compromise.
Harry collected his Lightning Mach 2 from the hall and yelled "I'll be right back!" before lifting off from Sara's bedroom and flying through the doors, leaving the roof behind.
He returned only minutes later and Draco was waiting, holding the Oasis CDs Harry had left on the table. "Can we bring these?" He asked.
Harry smiled and nodded. "Well go on, grab my arm."
Draco did and Harry flipped open the little gold box.
"Hmm. It smells better." Draco announced as he crossed the living room, looking around in the moonlight. "Less dusty. I abhor dust."
"Dust abhors you, too, I'm sure." Harry switched on the light and walked to the kitchen, leaving Malfoy to whatever it was he was doing. He saddened when he saw his note still where he'd left it on the table, untouched, unread, unanswered. He dragged his eyes from it and found what he was looking for, the keys to the Jaguar, which he'd hidden earlier in a drawer. Draco brushed past him, threw open the doors to the patio and started the fires with a wave of his wand. He fell into a chaise lounge and loudly wished they had some steaks for the grill. The smile fell off his face when Harry appeared over him, his expression furious, his voice low and controlled.
"You certainly have your nerve! How dare you make yourself comfortable here after the things you told me? Get up." Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and jerked him out of his seat.
"What the hell did I do? You can't just go around ripping people's arms out, Potter!"
"Get off Sara's patio!"
"You brought me here." Draco scowled and stormed back into the house. Harry walked casually back inside, extinguishing the flames and closing the doors. Draco waited in the kitchen, watching as Harry secured the doors too slowly, his eyes downcast and painfully sentimental.
Draco's voice was calm and had lost it's edge when he addressed Harry again. "I don't know what you want me to do. It's ok for me to stay in her tower at Hogwarts and I can touch her things." He indicated the cds, "I can come to your house, but then I walk out on the patio and you lose it."
"I'm sorry." Harry said, his eyes still on the brass handle, though he was finished with the locks, "Things are different here."
"Do you want to go back?"
"No." He looked up and stepped away from the doors, "I want to go get the car and see what it can do." He gave Malfoy a little half-smile and led the way to the front door, turning off the lights and digging the muggle key out of his pocket. To his surprise, Draco's hand fell on his shoulder when he stopped to turn on the alarm.
"Let go of her, Harry. Sara moved on. It's time you did, too."
The hand slipped away and Harry heard Draco walk out onto the landing. He stood for a moment, looking at the palm of his hand, then closed his fingers around the lines there and went out.
Malfoy's eyes lit up when Harry pulled the car out of the garage. He climbed casually into the passenger seat, trying to hide a delighted smile and not look impressed.
"So, Potter. Where are we headed?" He asked as he shuffled through the three cds, deciding on one and handing it to Harry, realizing he had no clear idea of how to operate the complicated player in the dash.
Harry smirked at Draco's ignorance and got the music working effortlessly. "London."
"But we're on the coast! Wherever we are, it will take hours to get there!"
"That's why I went to Hogsmead before we left and got this." He pulled a little wooden box from his pocket and held it up. "It's a port-key. It will take us to some town a half-hour from the city."
"I was just going to suggest that."
"Gee Malfoy, I don't know what I'd do without you. I'd be lost."
"Shove off, Potter. Where the hell are we anyway?" He looked distastefully around at the new, boring surrounds, which included a pasture containing several cows and an old work horse that looked ready for the slaughter house, even in the dark. The dumpy little town was visible just up the road. Except for an occasional moo, it was dead quiet and a bit unnerving.
"I have no idea."
"Well let's get out of here. I hate cows."
"Yeah, cows are pretty gross." Harry laughed and started the engine. Taking out his wand and laying it on his open palm, he said "Point me. London."
Maneuvering off the shoulder, he headed down the road and Draco figured out the volume. As soon as they passed through town and were headed through the cow-dotted countryside, Harry pressed his foot on the gas pedal and exploded along the pavement grinning, his hair flying in the wind. Turning Oasis up to a deafening pitch, he pushed the Jaguar the way he pushed his Mach 2 and sang along to Live Forever, doing his best Liam Gallagher and soon forgetting Malfoy was in the seat beside him, singing, unnoticed.
* * *
Sara stared into the box, not understanding what she was seeing and frightened by what it might mean. She passed her hand over the brass lighthouse, reciting a word in the old language that Mr. Sanders could not comprehend, and was relieved to find there were no spells cast, no charms or curses. He wondered at her as she pulled it out of the box and sat down at the table with it.
The box had been left at the main entrance to the palazzo and Sara was sure it was the very same brass lighthouse she had looked over in Rome just a few hours before. It was what she'd been doing when she'd spotted the stranger, watching her through the window. In fact, she'd been about to buy it.
Earlier, during the ride home, the locator said that Harry went from "School" to "Home" . He'd spent most of the day at the cottage and she could only wonder what he'd been doing there. Or why he'd gone back to Hogwarts for what appeared to be only a few minutes and had returned at such a late hour on a Sunday night. She knew he would never sleep there. Perhaps he'd forgotten something, she thought.
Mr. Sanders had taken her purchases from their bags and set them out on the table as she ran a finger over the smooth metal of the lighthouse, considering it, wondering why she had wanted it so much. The notion that her proximity to water was a valid explanation was ludicrous. It had to be Harry somehow. She would give it to him, then. All of these things. She would take them to the cottage and leave them on the table. It was all she could think of to do, she just hoped he didn't put them in the living room.
"Greg, help me put these back in the bags." She asked and stood, "I think I bought them for someone else."
Mr. Sanders asked no questions, just set to the task.
Another check of the locator said that Harry was still "Traveling", which meant he was either on his broom or he'd taken the car. Either way, he was not currently at the cottage and Sara made a quick decision to go now. She gathered up the bags and the lighthouse, back in it's box and locked herself in her bedroom, just one door down from Greg's.
It was risky, going to the cottage while Harry was around somewhere, probably close by, but she reasoned she could be gone just as quick as she'd come and would keep the port-key in her hand while she was there.
Pulling a black robe on over her clothes, she raised the hood, gathered the packages, and flipped open the key.
The lights were still on in the kitchen so she went there very cautiously, even though the locator still said Harry was elsewhere. When she found herself alone, Sara dropped the bags and the lighthouse on the table and sat down heavily in front of the note. Tears fell from her eyes as she read his words, dotting the paper and making the ink run in places. The rain came down outside, splattering the windows and tapping rhythmically on the roof. He knew about Lucius. She didn't know how, unless Malfoy had spilled the whole story when he'd found his father murdered. Her brief encounter with Draco's psyche left her convinced that he knew it was her, so it stood to reason he'd tell someone and as much as she wanted to be angry, she found she didn't blame him.
Sara opened the little bottle of ink and picked up the quill, dipping it and brining the tip to the page.
I'm glad you don't hate me, Harry. Someday I'll explain everything, but right now I can't come home. I miss you, too. You have no idea. Mr. Sanders is---
An engine roared passed and headlights bounced in through the windows, throwing streaky squares of light on the walls and Sara leapt to her feet. She grabbed the port-key and ran to the window. Two figures in the rain sprinted toward the house, one reflecting the moonlight in his glasses, the other gossamer blond. Panic seized her, she fumbled and dropped the key.
* * *
"Sara!" Harry called as he burst through the door with Malfoy right on his heels.
"Where is she?" He yelled, drawing his wand, his face twisted in anger.
Harry ripped the wand from Draco's hand, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him hard into the wall. One look at Harry's eyes was enough to scare Draco half to death and he was relieved when Harry swung the door open and shoved him outside. The locks slid home and Draco stood helpless on the step, listening to Harry call to her, his voice desperate and near hysterical. He lowered his head. For what was probably the first time in his life, he felt real compassion. It twisted something in his stomach and amplified his hatred of Sara. The bringer of misery, ruining lives in her wake. The small part of him that still loved her wanted to break down the door and do exactly what Harry was doing, but he couldn't. He refused.
Harry tore through the house, but felt himself pulled to the living room again and again. He begged her to come out, to see him just for a moment. He pleaded with her not to leave him like this, when they were so close. He said he would go insane if she left as he bellowed through room after room. Finally, his heart thundering in his chest, his breath coming fast and deep, he collapsed to his knees in the middle of the living room.
Sara held a black lace scarf over her mouth to muffle her sobs as the other hand snaked around under the couch she hid behind, searching for the port-key. She felt it, but in her haste, sent the little gold box skidding down by her feet, out of reach.
Harry could feel her near him, he knew she was there without the locator. That she wouldn't come to him frustrated him to madness and his face fell into his hands, his glasses falling to the floor and he was sobbing helplessly. "Sara please!" He begged her, "How can you do this to me? Don't you love me at all? I'm going crazy, I have to see you! I don't understand! How can you be this close and still turn your back on me? What did I do to deserve this? I love you, Sara, I need to see you. Please come out, you can leave again if you want but do this before you go. Please, I'm begging you."
Thunder shook the house as rain like he had never seen flooded the ground outside the window. Hurricane winds rattled the glass and Harry heard trees being ripped from the ground under the force of it. Malfoy was hammering on the door and screaming to be let in as a blinding flash of lightning tore the old oak in half, igniting it as it crashed. Harry turned back to the couch, to which he was unconsciously focusing his attention, his words choked with emotion.
"Sara, do you still love me? Say yes and I'll wait forever."
Sara dropped the scarf and choked back tears, the port-key open in her hand, fighting the need to run to him, end his suffering and her own. To let the sheer agony of this moment become one of the happiest of her life just by putting her arms around him, feeling the warmth of his skin, his breath on her neck as he rested his head against hers. Her fingers hovered above the port-key, and her sobs finally broke her silence. "I love you more than anything." She cried as he lunged forward, hitting his head on the wall trying to find the source of her voice, but he found only a black scarf, wet with tears.
The storm tapered off quickly and Draco hammered on the door again, demanding Harry let him in. He was very wet, cold, and frightened by the intensity of the event. He'd had to hold tight to a wooden post to keep from being blown away and was anxious to get back inside. Relief came when the locks were slid back and the door opened a crack, Harry having already walked away. Draco let himself in and retrieved his wand from the floor where it had been dropped.
He found Harry in the kitchen, his head low, sniffling, and working intently at an ink spill next to the table. Evidently, Sara had been writing a note and their arrival had caught her off guard. The chair was overturned and he could see a black streak across the paper where the quill had been whisked away mid-word. Draco sighed as Harry wiped at his eyes every few seconds and sniffled continuously. Respectfully, he turned his back and stared out the window at the dark. "I wouldn't have done it, Potter."
"Leave me alone" Harry whispered.
Draco hung his head for a moment, then grabbed a towel and knelt by Harry's side. Silently, he helped clean the spill.
* * *
Snape was at his desk in his private chamber when he heard a pop from behind, coming from the fire place, then a sobbing girl called to him.
"Severus!" She cried, "Severus please be there!"
"Sara!" He said and hurried to the fire, only to be shocked by her hooded appearance, not to mention the extreme emotional state she was in. "Sara, are you in danger?"
"No." She said, bringing a tissue to wipe her eyes, her head and shoulders greenish in the flames. "I need to see you, Severus. I made a serious misjudgment tonight and I fight every second not to go home. Just say you'll come."
"Where are you? Of course I'll come."
"Thank you." She whispered and visibly relaxed, "Naples, Italy. A palazzo on the sea. Think of me and you should find the right one."
"Don't do anything until I get there."
"Tell no one."
"I wouldn't."
In the blink of an eye, Sara was gone and Snape was gathering a few things for the trip, then hurrying out the door with his broom. He flew to Hogsmead, then set to concentrating on Sara, in her palazzo by the sea. Apparating had never been one of his strong suits and he'd never gone so far at once, but he suddenly found himself standing amidst a furious storm, waves crashing on some nearby beach. He spotted the lights of a single level house, sprawling and open. He hurried toward it at once.
A muggle led him in and took him to the door of Sara's room. They could hear her crying inside, a horrible and wretched sound and Greg lowered his eyes. "It was all of a sudden. She's been like this for nearly an hour now. She won't tell me what happened."
"Well," Snape muttered, "it could only have something to do with Potter."
"I'm not supposed to speak of him, sir."
"If you care to help her mister..."
"Sanders. Greg Sanders."
"Mr. Sanders, you will discourage her from anything that might possibly summon any sort of remembrances of Harry Potter. Do you understand?"
"Yes, but what happened with them? They seemed, well, very much in love. It doesn't add up. I thought there was something wrong with her the last few times---"
"If Sara wanted you to know I'm sure she would fill you in. Now if you don't mind, there is a young girl in distress on the other side of this door, in case you hadn't noticed."
"I'm sorry, sir." Greg mumbled, his eyes on the floor. Silently, he walked away.
Snape rapped lightly on the door. "I'm here, Sara." He called in to her.
"Alohamora." Came her unsteady reply. "Come in Severus." Her voice was hoarse and full of tears.
She stood with her back to him, staring out a long bank of tall windows at the Mediterranean, thrashing against the coast in the storm. The rain painted her with streaks of gray. She wore an old gypsy style dress, a strip of black around her throat. She wore a black satin cloak, the hood pulled down to shadow her face. There was no light in the room, but the moon cast a silvery glow and he saw her reflection in the window with every flash of lightning.
His voice was hushed in the dark, but conveyed his unease. "Sara. What's happened to you?"
She turned to face him, her eyes hidden in shadow. She untied the cloak in one liquid movement, and pushed back the hood, where it fell softly to the floor. Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks as she trembled in the moonlight.
Snape froze at the sight of her. "My god." He whispered, his fingers touching his chin, alarmed and frightened for her. Suddenly, she was traveling across the floor and threw her arms around him and he held her as she cried on his shoulder. He couldn't really understand her words, but a name came up over and over again as she spoke.
Harry.
* * *
Harry climbed into bed and turned his back on Malfoy's side of the roof, the covers pulled over his head. There was a letter from Ron on the pillow, but he had tossed it away, overcome with misery. To be so close, to hear her voice, telling him she loved him more than anything, it was pure agony. He thought nothing could be so horrible or hurt so much as when she'd left him the first time, but this cut deeper than anything he'd ever felt. He clung to the scarf she'd left behind, breathing her perfume and remembering the sound of her voice, choked with tears from behind the sofa, only a few feet from where he'd been.
He heard Malfoy climb into bed, no sarcastic remarks tonight. He actually thought Malfoy might feel sorry for him and that was the most depressing of things. He felt pathetic and held the lace scarf tighter.
He laid there a good half hour, listening to the wind in the trees, to the far away splashes of the lake. Once in a while he heard the low voice of Fang, barking at something moving about the Forbidden Forest. Then he heard Malfoy, standing beside him.
"I know you're awake." He said, "Care to drown your sorrow, Potter?" Malfoy left a glass on Harry's stand, walked around the bed to what was once Sara's side and climbed onto the blankets, tossing the pillow against the headboard. He settled back with a glass and a bottle of Finnegan's Swill from a case that had arrived while they were gone.
Harry pulled the blankets off his face and turned onto his back, his eyes wet and red-rimmed, his face pale in the moonlight. Reluctantly, he reached for his glasses and put them on, his hair standing up in confusion. He pulled himself up as Malfoy poured straight alcohol over ice and reaching thankfully for his glass, he held it out.
"Your hair is frightening, Potter, or are you going for that wild-man look?" Draco asked as he poured.
"Oh shut-up." Harry sighed.
Draco took a deep breath. "Did you see her, Harry?"
"No." Harry lowered his eyes, staring into his glass. "But I heard her voice. She spoke to me."
"What did she say?"
"None of you business."
"Do you want to talk?" Draco felt stupid, even as the words left his mouth.
"No."
"Then shut-up about it." Draco took a sip, "Besides, I'm sick of hearing about her. I hope I never see her again. Well, sort of."
"Malfoy?" Harry looked up at the stars, "I really hate you, you know."
"Sure you do."
Harry ignored him, glad of his company, but he didn't want to talk and didn't have the energy to match Draco's insults. "Accio Muggle Music Player." He said and opened it when it came. He picked the most depressing thing he could find and set it to a moderate volume, then lowered it to the floor. He sipped his drink as they watched the sky, Malfoy having fallen silent beside him.
* * *
Around three Malfoy had crept back to his own bed, but Harry was restless and drunk, finally crying himself to sleep just as the sun was coming up. He awoke now to find Dumbledore in a chair by the bed, watching Harry as he came out from under the covers, his eyes red and sore, his body aching and hung-over. Immediately he checked the locator, still on his wrist, and saw that Sara was "Sleeping".
"What time is it?" Harry asked while trying to focus on the tiny numbers of his father's watch. He gave up and reached for his glasses.
"Eleven." Dumbledore answered. "You missed your lesson this morning. I thought I'd come by and see that everything was in order."
"I'm sorry, Professor." Harry sighed, "I didn't realize it was so late."
"It's alright, Harry. Just tell me what happened last night."
Harry sat up, reliving it all again and swallowed a lump in his throat, a dull pain twisting in his chest. Malfoy, he saw, was still asleep.
"Sara was at our house." He lowered his eyes and spoke to the blankets, "I never saw her, but she was right there in the room with me. She talked to me before she vanished."
"Why do you think she was there?" Dumbledore wondered, stroking his beard.
"She leaves me things sometimes. Things that she buys for the house. I don't know what she brought last night. I forgot to look, but she left some stuff on the kitchen table."
"Harry, I know how difficult all this must be for you," he lifted the bottle of rum, "but this is no answer."
"I know." Harry whispered, sinking back down into the soft pillows. He summoned his wand and conjured a canopy to keep out the intense sunlight and the heat it brought. "I won't miss my lesson again. I'm sorry I kept you waiting."
"It's alright, Harry. As for apparating, I've opened the door for you and can do no more anyway. The rest will come only with practice."
"Then what's next?" Harry wondered.
"Do you remember performing wandless magic the morning we found Sara gone?"
Harry wrinkled his forehead, trying to recall such an event. "No, I don't."
"When you thought Severus was going to read your letter, you summoned it without your wand."
"I guess I did." Harry agreed, reminded of Snape lunging for the envelope and his own fear of it being read. "I did it the night I got Voldemort's cloak as well. I'd left my wand across the room, so I had no choice. I was shocked when it worked."
"It worked because you desperately wanted it to. That will be our next project. Wandless magic. Is tomorrow morning alright with you?"
"Certainly."
"And where are you and Mr. Malfoy going today?"
"To London. He needs some things from his house. He wants to go shopping, but I'm just not in the mood."
"Understandable." Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder as he rose to his feet. "I'll have lunch sent up for you both."
"Thank you, sir." Harry muttered and let the bed swallow him again. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.
* * *
Snape had never been to Italy and even though he had been up very late with Sara, he had risen early and spent the hours wandering the grounds, surveying the damage from Sara's storm, appreciating the perfect warmth of the day and the postcard view of the Mediterranean. He'd made himself breakfast and was now preparing lunch, no thanks to the worthless muggle Sara referred to as her assistant, who was still very much asleep at noon. He had thought to bring a change of muggle clothes and was glad of the fact. The climate was a little much for the heavier robes he wore in the dungeons, which were cold even in summer.
To his surprise, Sara hadn't had a single drink during the night, even in the worst of her misery. He'd expected to find her inebriated upon his arrival, but she'd been stone sober and remained so. It almost made him smile, knowing she was really dealing with things now, not just drowning them out or ignoring them as he had watched her do for so long, suffering all the more for it. But the truth was, he had never seen a human being as morose and emotionally shattered as Sara was now. She shouldn't be alone, with just a muggle who could never comprehend what she was or what it meant to be who she is.
The worst part of it was, it was Potter that she needed to see, of this he was certain and he found it infuriating. Why Potter couldn't have ended up with Ginny Weasley, or anyone else for that matter, was beyond him. He had to adhere himself to Sara, who was so easily hurt, so trusting and so endearing. She would do anything for Harry Potter, even torture herself in this manner, surrendering whatever sense of self she had left in order to save his feelings. Snape scowled at the tea he was brewing, despising Potter with renewed enthusiasm. He couldn't even kill him now, because Sara would hate him for it. He found he wanted to grab Sara and shake some sense into her, but somehow he believed her when she said she knew what she was doing. He hoped she was right, for her sake.
She was sitting up in bed when he went in and she smiled when she saw him, carrying a big tray, loaded with food and fresh flowers. He smiled in return as he set it down beside the bed.
"You look good." She said, her voice hoarse and quiet, "Grey, the new summer black."
Snape grinned, looking down a gray button down shirt and black trousers.
Sara pointed her finger and turned his shirt blue. "There, that's better. A little color suits you, Severus."
"Thank you, my dear. How are you this morning? Or shall I say afternoon"
"Better. I do believe that last night was the most horrible night of my life. I never knew such lows existed, that anything could be so painful. I'm glad you were here. I don't know what I would have done without you." She accepted the cup of tea he offered and sipped it. "How is Harry?"
"He's wretched. He's the Headmaster's new apprentice and has accepted the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Snape's brow furrowed at this and his eyes grew dark. "Last time I checked, dumb luck was not a requirement for Hogwarts employ."
Sara smiled and leaned back against the pillows. "A professor at Hogwarts. No wonder he couldn't decide what to do. It's perfect for him."
"If you say so. Personally, I think Mr. Potter is highly over-rated."
"I know what you think. We all do."
"Don't worry. The Headmaster will take good care of him. He wouldn't let anything happen to his famous pet wizard."
"Did I actually say I missed you?"
"My apologies." Snape conceded, "Actually, Potter is doing better. He was beyond reach for awhile, but now Draco is staying at the school, in your tower as a matter of fact, and the two of them are miserable together. They go out drinking every night and sleep on the roof."
"Draco and Harry? They were together last night, but I never would picture them well, doing much of anything together."
"They bicker constantly, of course, they despise each other. I can't understand why Draco would subject himself to Potter's company to begin with."
"Because he knows." Sara said, her face going sullen. "They understand each other's pain."
Snape fell silent as Sara reflected, silently sipping her tea, wearing a white shirt that was far too big, the light covers pooled around her waist. Her hair stood out in stark contrast. Black. Every bit of it. Her eyebrows, lashes, everything. Not even a single blonde streak remained and to look at her was unnerving. Her face was pale, her skin dull and missing it's satin sheen. "I'm glad he has someone." She finally said.
"I will stay with you, Sara. Now that I know the extent of your despair, I don't see how I can leave."
"I wish I could say yes. It's nice to have someone to talk to, especially you, Severus. You always listen. But I think what I like most about you is the way you're so brutally honest. I respect and appreciate that, even when you're infuriating." She smiled a little, "Stay a few days. If you leave now I think I'd crawl into a dark corner and never come out again."
"On one condition. You will summon me for absolutely any reason. Long before it becomes too much to bear."
"If I need a friend, Severus, I'll summon you. Your very presence makes me feel better. It's been so long since the night I left and I've spoken to no one but Mr. Sanders. Well, until last night. I spoke to Harry. And then I spoke to you."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the closest thing I have to a parent. I love you and I knew you'd be the least likely to drag me home. Like I said the night I left, you're the only one who would understand."
"Least likely to drag you home? Maybe, but you're wrong. As much as it kills me to say this, I think your Mr. Potter understands perfectly. He would try, of course, but if you said you wouldn't go he wouldn't make you."
Sara's eyes filled with tears. "I can only hope he understands, but if I saw him, even for a moment, there would be no convincing. I could never say goodbye to Harry again." she dried her eyes before the tears could fall and got control of her emotions. When she spoke again, there was a numbness to her voice, a distance. "I almost died last night, Severus. I thought my heart had been torn from my chest as I laid there behind the sofa, listening to his voice, calling my name as he pleaded with me to show myself. I can't see him again after that. I wouldn't survive it."
Snape handed her a tissue and smiled. "I would gladly do away with him if it would solve the problem."
Sara laughed out loud as she sniffled. "Come on, bring that tray onto the veranda and I'll be right behind you. Have lunch with me."
Snape handed her a black robe from the bedpost and lifted the tray.
"Oh and Severus?" She called after him, "Don't duel with Harry. Unless you want to get yourself hurt."
* * *
Harry awoke around twelve-thirty to Malfoy standing over him, wearing Harry's clothes and fresh from the shower. "Well? Get up!"
"Go to hell, Malfoy." Harry mumbled and tried to duck back under the covers. He'd dreamed of Sara, as he often did, and wanted to be alone with his depression. Wallow in it for awhile. Think of her. Malfoy pulled the blankets away.
"I'm bored! That old goat woke me up and I've been waiting half an hour. I swear, there's nothing to do in this place! How can you stand it?"
"I don't need to be entertained. Now go away."
"No. Get up or I'm taking your port-key. I'll find my own way to London, perhaps in a fancy black car."
"Touch it and die."
"Nice mood you're in! Why don't you drink some of Snape's potion? It came with lunch."
Harry sat up, sliding on his glasses. "Accio lunch." The tray came flying at him and he caught it with one hand, but a glass of pumpkin juice kept it's momentum and left the tray, it's contents ahead of it. Harry threw up a hand to protect his face. "Stop!" he said and suddenly the liquid froze, the glass dangled in the air.
"So that's what the old geezer was talking about! You can do wandless magic!"
"Evidently."
"Now get it back in the glass." Draco smirked.
Harry sighed and summoned his wand. "Reverso." The glass settled onto the tray, the pumpkin juice flowing back into it. He smirked half-heartedly at Malfoy.
"Show-off. Now drink the potion so we can go. I'm bored."
An hour later Harry parked the car on Knightbridge in front of Harvey Nichols. Shopping was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, except maybe shopping with Draco Malfoy. There was no worse punishment and he wondered what he had done to deserve this.
They shopped for hours. Draco took his time and chose very carefully, comparing fabrics and cuts and colors. He tried everything on and gave the over-courteous staff a hard time. He was demanding and somewhat impossible.
Harry, on the other hand, chose what appealed to him, he knew his sizes and assumed everything would fit, which it always did. He declined help and wandered about the store, waiting for something to catch his eye. Harry was waiting in a chair, surrounded by bags and starving to death by the time Draco decided it was time to go get dinner.
They ate at the Savoy hotel and by the time they made it to Malfoy's mini-mansion, it was passing twilight. Draco hesitated before unlocking the door and Harry could see he was nervous. He checked the locator, but found they were not currently in peril. "Come on, Malfoy." He urged, "This place gives me the creeps. Let's get in and out."
Harry was on edge, watching the door of the enormous master suite as Draco quickly got what he needed, neatly piling clothes, shoes, and necessities into a dragon hide travel bag. He quickly took a framed photograph off the head of his bed and stashed it away before Harry could see what it was. He could only imagine who Draco might have a picture of. Miniaturizing his ridiculous silk bathrobe so it wouldn't wrinkle and laying it across the top, Draco finally shouldered the bag and together, they hurried down the hall.
Draco did his best to keep Harry's pace, who seemed intent on practically running out of the house. He didn't blame Harry, for being here after dark was nerve-racking enough after last time, with someone lurking silently as they drank daiquiris with no inkling of danger. Maybe it was his fear of Voldemort, but his unease was mounting.
"Something doesn't feel right." Harry whispered, slowing his pace.
"I've got a bad feeling, Potter." Draco replied, his voice hushed and shaky, keeping close to Harry as they moved cautiously down the hall.
Suddenly Harry stopped. "Draco." He said, swallowing a lump in his throat, "I think we're surrounded."
* * *
Harry pounded on the door a second time before noticing a little yellow note stuck to the inside of the window. It said in sloppy print "Use side". He found the side door, black electrical tape covered the button for the bell, so he hammered on the door and waited, hearing no movement inside.
"Sanders!" He yelled, "It's Harry, I need to talk to you!"
He waited again for a response, then moved to a nearby window. Cupping his hands around his eyes, Harry peered in. He saw a tiny living room containing a couch, a recliner, a TV stand, and a coffee table. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at this last item, on top of which was a half-empty bottle of Finnegan's Swill and a teacup.
He glanced around at the neighboring houses, wondering if the rowboat he had tied to the roof of the SUV would be safe if he went inside. Sara either was here or had been in the past, so his mind was easily made up.
Harry had found a holster for his wand in Hogsmead, since the only inconspicuous place to hide it was under his shirt in summer. The holster clipped onto his shorts and he carefully drew the wand and did a quick Alohamora, letting himself into Mr. Sander's flat.
It took only a moment for him to check the three tiny rooms. Sara was not here and, judging from the spot of mold on the little pool of dried tea at the bottom of the cup and the layer of dust that covered an otherwise immaculate space, no one had been here in weeks. He had not heard from Sanders lately and had seen no sign of him having been at the cottage. It became evident that Sara had taken him with her. Harry found he was glad of this. Sara was not alone and even though Sanders was a muggle photographer turned care-taker, Harry trusted him as Sara did and knew the man's heart was always in the right place. If there was trouble, he could never protect Sara, but Sanders would try, of this Harry was sure and it helped ease his worries.
Something Sara had told him came into his memory, a vision she had shared many months ago. Sara had said that when she shook Sanders' hand on the front walk of the Criterion that she'd seen herself in the future, shaking his hand again and thanking him. This made Harry smile, thinking it meant that Greg wouldn't be getting himself killed while he was with Sara, and that he would be good to her.
Harry sighed and climbed back behind the wheel. If he was to intercept the new housekeeper, Elizabeth, he would need to get on his way. The letter from Sara's lawyer, Brad Silverman, had said she'd be arriving at 6pm and London was a long way from the cottage.
Harry had written to Brad, asking him to rent an SUV, but Brad had simply told him to look in the garage. Harry couldn't believe he had never thought to do this before. Of course Sara would have thought of muggle transportation ahead of time and he'd found a big silver Lexus SUV and a gorgeous black Jaguar convertible. He'd wanted to drive the car, of course, but needed a truck for the boat, to his dismay, and decided to take the Jaguar for a little spin later that night. Perhaps he'd even take Malfoy, who was acting more and more unlike himself and grew more depressed every day. His presence in Sara's tower was getting on Harry's nerves, watching him touch her things, turning photos face-down, his expression dark and troubled as he did so.
Draco rarely left the tower, unless it was in Harry's company. Snape had been planning to leave the day before and postponed when Malfoy showed up at the castle, but Draco barely spoke to him. Snape had come during the day while Harry was training with Dumbledore, and Harry had overheard him telling the Headmaster that Malfoy had grown distant.
There was a very good restaurant about ten minutes from the cottage, at least he'd heard it was good while in the little sea-side village earlier, so he stopped and got some fish and chips to-go. He had no plans of going back to Hogwarts for dinner.
Elizabeth was getting out of her car when he pulled up, right on time. He pulled around and parked in front of the garage, leaving the boat for later.
Elizabeth was a stout, quiet woman in her forties or fifties and Harry liked the sight of her. She had her grayish hair in a tidy bun on the back of her head, she was short, and had an agreeable air about her. Her head had a proud lilt and she wore a clean, pressed gray uniform with what appeared to be nurse's shoes. He showed her inside and offered her a Coke, which she declined, and he set the bag of take-out on the dining room table.
"There are only a few things I need to ask of you." Harry explained, "Never clean that mirror." He indicated the entwined hearts and she nodded her understanding. "Also, this might seem strange to you, but don't move anything, no matter how out of place it may seem. Especially on the kitchen table. Never touch anything on the kitchen table. " Again she nodded. "I guess all you'll need to do around here is basic dusting, vacuuming, stuff like that. There shouldn't be many dishes to wash and there's a dishwasher anyway. Clean the bathroom and the kitchen. Sweep and mop. The usual. No one lives here, but I pop in now and again. My, uh, my fiance stops by on occasion, too." It felt strange to be calling Sara his fiance. They were hardly "together" at the moment and it seemed like a lie to say it out loud. "I don't really know where anything is, you'll have to find what you need. Sorry." He said, his voice hushed with the painful thought of Sara, "I'll be taking my new boat, so if you finish up before I get back I guess I'll see you next week."
Elizabeth was already going about her work as he emerged from the bathroom in his swimming trunks. He gathered the things he had gotten from Hogsmead during his trip with Malfoy in a large box, threw in an old shirt in case he got cold, as well as his dinner, and carried it all out to the driveway. Standing on the other side of the Lexus, Harry used his wand to remove the cords and levitated it off the roof, pretending he was lifting it with his hands and pretended to carry it over his head to the cliff where he was hidden from view. If he had to lie, he would say he'd lowered it down with a rope, which he could conjure if needs be, but all he really did was levitate it down to the water.
Using the skills he'd learned this morning, he apperated into the boat, the box in his arms, bags of hardware from London thrown on top. He used magic to direct the boat through the arch , wand alight, but decided to row his way through the vast cavern at the end of the tunnel. Veering to the left, he got out his piece of chalk and directed it to draw a large square, broken by the outline of pillars. He pointed his glowing wand at this and recited the carving spell, adding the depth it should be at the end. Once again a great cloud of rock particles zipped through the cave and left behind a landing, fifteen feet deep, ten feet high, and supported by 4 rough, square columns of solid stone along the front. For these, he scanned the sheet of paper, coming across what he wanted near the bottom. Soon, they became intricate Roman pillars, entwined with rose vines and scrolled at the top and bottom.
Carrying sconces he'd found in Hogsmead, Harry stepped onto his landing and attached them to the wall, then dropped a few Never Ending Fire pellets in each before returning to the boat in the warm glow they produced. Now that the landing existed, he would touch it up later. For now, he ate his fish and chips as he squared the walls of the cavern and added a sconce every few feet. Eventually, he no longer needed his wand for light and pulled it from the hole he'd created to hold it.
"Nox."
The cave was suddenly alive with firelight and Harry loved the effect, though it was rather dark in the middle and the water was jet black. He found he loathed not being able to see what was swimming around beneath him and Harry got a brilliant idea. Setting the fish aside and standing up in the boat, he aimed his wand and charmed the sand at the bottom to sparkle and glow like blue diamonds. Brilliant it was, as the whole pool lit up like it was made of pure light, but it was also quite blinding and Harry threw an arm over his eyes and toned it down until it was just a faint glow that didn't overpower the warmth of the sconces. A hint of moonlight, caught in a drop of rain.
Rowing over to the center of the cave, Harry surveyed the area, decided what he would need, then set to carving the stalagmites, all of which had fused with it's partner underneath many, many years before. The first time he's seen them, they had reminded him of tree trunks, so that's exactly what he transformed them into, their branches covered in intricate leaves, spreading across the ceiling. As he finished every other one, Harry used his wand to attach a bracket on two sides and placed in them Never Ending Torches, high above his head.
Checking his watch, he found he had been eating this same piece of fish for 2 hours. There wasn't much left of it, as he had lifted it in between projects, dipping it in sauce, then taking a bite or two. The cave looked like a different place, part room, part castle, part forest, all of it petrified.
Finishing the fish, he rowed back over to the landing and cut three sets of steps between the four pillars. The lowest step was perfectly even with the edge of the boat, and Harry stepped out once again.
Over the next two hours, he focused totally on creating large and small recesses where they would display certain things, maritime figures, and their crest in the big center one on the back wall. It was work that took heavy concentration, with all the detail he included to frame these spaces quite spectacularly, and found he was tired at the end of it.
Harry smiled around at his achievements before rowing back to the tunnel and securing the boat near the ledge, which he climbed unnecessarily.
Elizabeth was gone and the house smelled of lemon and pine. The bathroom shone and he found his clothes folded and set aside when he went in. Checking his watch again as he dressed, Harry decided Malfoy would be alone in the tower, expecting him to return soon. He would take Malfoy in the car, but how to do it without showing him where the house was?
That, he would figure out eventually.
* * *
Sara wandered a small Roman shop that held the most exquisite things, and her hand happened upon a shiny brass replica of a lighthouse and she lifted it for closer inspection. It was more than she would expect to pay, but liked it so much she thought she might buy it anyway. Her eye had wandered to other such nautical items throughout the evening, though she didn't know why. That type of decor had never appealed to her, but perhaps it had something to do with her palazzo in Naples being so close to the sea.
Out the window Sara caught a glimpse of a man she had seen at dusk in another section of Rome, and later browsing in an open market. There he was again, watching her through the window from the other side of the crowded street. He was tall with shoulder-length brown hair and he wore dark glasses to hide his eyes, but she could feel them on her all the same. His clothing seemed an afterthought, mismatched, and out of place. With her new determination, she set down the lighthouse and left the store, searching the opposite walk, but the stranger was gone. He had vanished in a moment's time.
She felt on guard. There was a sense of danger on the air, not necessarily intended for her, but certainly formidable and the hairs stood on the back of her neck. Something felt out of context and Sara gave up her search of the crowded street. Mr. Sanders came through the door behind her, laden with bags containing a few gypsy-ish outfits, mostly black, and some handmade scarves she'd found a few stores back. The rest of it was mostly little maritime trinkets she'd found and felt the oddest inclination to buy.
She pondered this as Greg led her down the street, not speaking much as he had, thankfully, learned to do. In fact, Sara realized she had never even liked the seaside motif and still couldn't imagine putting these things in the cottage or in the house they might someday build.
These were not things she herself wanted, she was sure of it. She was reading someone else and it was Harry she thought of, as she had at every purchase and she smiled despite the sorrow it brought her to think of him. Lifting the locator from it's long chain around her neck, she saw he was "Home". Yes, she thought, our little home by the sea.
She let herself into the big black Ford as Mr. Sanders loaded the bags in the back, then joined her for the long journey back to Naples, sliding silently behind the wheel. Sara's mind turned back to the stranger who was surely following her and wondered about the strange vibe she'd felt outside the shop. Danger! it told her, but she hadn't felt threatened. He was no muggle, of that she was certain, but what strange wizard would merely shadow her and keep his distance? She got the idea the man might be frightened of her, or hesitant to approach while she was accompanied. Whomever he was, he would have a hard time finding her again, she thought, as the Ford sped farther and farther away from Rome.
Sara looked out at the dark Italian countryside, her head resting against the window, remembering the night she'd fled England, her eyes somber, her thoughts on Harry.
* * *
Draco was laying on his bed, next to Harry's on the roof, fully dressed and awake. He was staring up at the moon, the Muggle Music Player on the bed beside him, blasting chaotic, angry music. An image of the album cover floated and slowly twirled above it and Harry saw it was Marilyn Manson. He thought it was horrible and flipped the lid closed, cutting off the sound and nearly frightening Draco half to death.
"What do you think you're doing?" He bellowed, annoyed and embarrassed at having been caught off guard. "I was listening to that if you didn't notice."
"I never said you could borrow it. I swear Malfoy, is nothing sacred to you?"
"Stop whining, Potter. I know she gave it to you for Christmas. I was there, remember?"
"How could I forget?"
"Who cares. It's not a personal item or anything. You act like I'm standing here reading your love letters."
"I'm sure that's somewhere near the top of your list."
"Did you disturb me for a reason? Or are we late for insult hour?"
"Just get up! And comb your hair. You're really starting to look like a hippie, you know."
"You should talk! I don't think you've had a haircut in months, Potter. Looking a little sloppy if you ask me. Why am I getting up, anyway? It's late."
"It's only ten!"
"We're going out?"
"Yes, but not drinking. There was a car in our garage. Thought you might want to ride along while I tested it out."
"I have ridden in a car, you know. My father keeps one."
"Does he have a convertible Jag, jet black, with chrome wheels and a killer sound system?"
"I'll just be a minute." Draco said and hurried off to the dressing room.
Harry started flipping through cds, looking for a few they both might like. He choose Oasis, The Beatles meets Modern Rock. There was no better compromise.
Harry collected his Lightning Mach 2 from the hall and yelled "I'll be right back!" before lifting off from Sara's bedroom and flying through the doors, leaving the roof behind.
He returned only minutes later and Draco was waiting, holding the Oasis CDs Harry had left on the table. "Can we bring these?" He asked.
Harry smiled and nodded. "Well go on, grab my arm."
Draco did and Harry flipped open the little gold box.
"Hmm. It smells better." Draco announced as he crossed the living room, looking around in the moonlight. "Less dusty. I abhor dust."
"Dust abhors you, too, I'm sure." Harry switched on the light and walked to the kitchen, leaving Malfoy to whatever it was he was doing. He saddened when he saw his note still where he'd left it on the table, untouched, unread, unanswered. He dragged his eyes from it and found what he was looking for, the keys to the Jaguar, which he'd hidden earlier in a drawer. Draco brushed past him, threw open the doors to the patio and started the fires with a wave of his wand. He fell into a chaise lounge and loudly wished they had some steaks for the grill. The smile fell off his face when Harry appeared over him, his expression furious, his voice low and controlled.
"You certainly have your nerve! How dare you make yourself comfortable here after the things you told me? Get up." Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and jerked him out of his seat.
"What the hell did I do? You can't just go around ripping people's arms out, Potter!"
"Get off Sara's patio!"
"You brought me here." Draco scowled and stormed back into the house. Harry walked casually back inside, extinguishing the flames and closing the doors. Draco waited in the kitchen, watching as Harry secured the doors too slowly, his eyes downcast and painfully sentimental.
Draco's voice was calm and had lost it's edge when he addressed Harry again. "I don't know what you want me to do. It's ok for me to stay in her tower at Hogwarts and I can touch her things." He indicated the cds, "I can come to your house, but then I walk out on the patio and you lose it."
"I'm sorry." Harry said, his eyes still on the brass handle, though he was finished with the locks, "Things are different here."
"Do you want to go back?"
"No." He looked up and stepped away from the doors, "I want to go get the car and see what it can do." He gave Malfoy a little half-smile and led the way to the front door, turning off the lights and digging the muggle key out of his pocket. To his surprise, Draco's hand fell on his shoulder when he stopped to turn on the alarm.
"Let go of her, Harry. Sara moved on. It's time you did, too."
The hand slipped away and Harry heard Draco walk out onto the landing. He stood for a moment, looking at the palm of his hand, then closed his fingers around the lines there and went out.
Malfoy's eyes lit up when Harry pulled the car out of the garage. He climbed casually into the passenger seat, trying to hide a delighted smile and not look impressed.
"So, Potter. Where are we headed?" He asked as he shuffled through the three cds, deciding on one and handing it to Harry, realizing he had no clear idea of how to operate the complicated player in the dash.
Harry smirked at Draco's ignorance and got the music working effortlessly. "London."
"But we're on the coast! Wherever we are, it will take hours to get there!"
"That's why I went to Hogsmead before we left and got this." He pulled a little wooden box from his pocket and held it up. "It's a port-key. It will take us to some town a half-hour from the city."
"I was just going to suggest that."
"Gee Malfoy, I don't know what I'd do without you. I'd be lost."
"Shove off, Potter. Where the hell are we anyway?" He looked distastefully around at the new, boring surrounds, which included a pasture containing several cows and an old work horse that looked ready for the slaughter house, even in the dark. The dumpy little town was visible just up the road. Except for an occasional moo, it was dead quiet and a bit unnerving.
"I have no idea."
"Well let's get out of here. I hate cows."
"Yeah, cows are pretty gross." Harry laughed and started the engine. Taking out his wand and laying it on his open palm, he said "Point me. London."
Maneuvering off the shoulder, he headed down the road and Draco figured out the volume. As soon as they passed through town and were headed through the cow-dotted countryside, Harry pressed his foot on the gas pedal and exploded along the pavement grinning, his hair flying in the wind. Turning Oasis up to a deafening pitch, he pushed the Jaguar the way he pushed his Mach 2 and sang along to Live Forever, doing his best Liam Gallagher and soon forgetting Malfoy was in the seat beside him, singing, unnoticed.
* * *
Sara stared into the box, not understanding what she was seeing and frightened by what it might mean. She passed her hand over the brass lighthouse, reciting a word in the old language that Mr. Sanders could not comprehend, and was relieved to find there were no spells cast, no charms or curses. He wondered at her as she pulled it out of the box and sat down at the table with it.
The box had been left at the main entrance to the palazzo and Sara was sure it was the very same brass lighthouse she had looked over in Rome just a few hours before. It was what she'd been doing when she'd spotted the stranger, watching her through the window. In fact, she'd been about to buy it.
Earlier, during the ride home, the locator said that Harry went from "School" to "Home" . He'd spent most of the day at the cottage and she could only wonder what he'd been doing there. Or why he'd gone back to Hogwarts for what appeared to be only a few minutes and had returned at such a late hour on a Sunday night. She knew he would never sleep there. Perhaps he'd forgotten something, she thought.
Mr. Sanders had taken her purchases from their bags and set them out on the table as she ran a finger over the smooth metal of the lighthouse, considering it, wondering why she had wanted it so much. The notion that her proximity to water was a valid explanation was ludicrous. It had to be Harry somehow. She would give it to him, then. All of these things. She would take them to the cottage and leave them on the table. It was all she could think of to do, she just hoped he didn't put them in the living room.
"Greg, help me put these back in the bags." She asked and stood, "I think I bought them for someone else."
Mr. Sanders asked no questions, just set to the task.
Another check of the locator said that Harry was still "Traveling", which meant he was either on his broom or he'd taken the car. Either way, he was not currently at the cottage and Sara made a quick decision to go now. She gathered up the bags and the lighthouse, back in it's box and locked herself in her bedroom, just one door down from Greg's.
It was risky, going to the cottage while Harry was around somewhere, probably close by, but she reasoned she could be gone just as quick as she'd come and would keep the port-key in her hand while she was there.
Pulling a black robe on over her clothes, she raised the hood, gathered the packages, and flipped open the key.
The lights were still on in the kitchen so she went there very cautiously, even though the locator still said Harry was elsewhere. When she found herself alone, Sara dropped the bags and the lighthouse on the table and sat down heavily in front of the note. Tears fell from her eyes as she read his words, dotting the paper and making the ink run in places. The rain came down outside, splattering the windows and tapping rhythmically on the roof. He knew about Lucius. She didn't know how, unless Malfoy had spilled the whole story when he'd found his father murdered. Her brief encounter with Draco's psyche left her convinced that he knew it was her, so it stood to reason he'd tell someone and as much as she wanted to be angry, she found she didn't blame him.
Sara opened the little bottle of ink and picked up the quill, dipping it and brining the tip to the page.
I'm glad you don't hate me, Harry. Someday I'll explain everything, but right now I can't come home. I miss you, too. You have no idea. Mr. Sanders is---
An engine roared passed and headlights bounced in through the windows, throwing streaky squares of light on the walls and Sara leapt to her feet. She grabbed the port-key and ran to the window. Two figures in the rain sprinted toward the house, one reflecting the moonlight in his glasses, the other gossamer blond. Panic seized her, she fumbled and dropped the key.
* * *
"Sara!" Harry called as he burst through the door with Malfoy right on his heels.
"Where is she?" He yelled, drawing his wand, his face twisted in anger.
Harry ripped the wand from Draco's hand, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him hard into the wall. One look at Harry's eyes was enough to scare Draco half to death and he was relieved when Harry swung the door open and shoved him outside. The locks slid home and Draco stood helpless on the step, listening to Harry call to her, his voice desperate and near hysterical. He lowered his head. For what was probably the first time in his life, he felt real compassion. It twisted something in his stomach and amplified his hatred of Sara. The bringer of misery, ruining lives in her wake. The small part of him that still loved her wanted to break down the door and do exactly what Harry was doing, but he couldn't. He refused.
Harry tore through the house, but felt himself pulled to the living room again and again. He begged her to come out, to see him just for a moment. He pleaded with her not to leave him like this, when they were so close. He said he would go insane if she left as he bellowed through room after room. Finally, his heart thundering in his chest, his breath coming fast and deep, he collapsed to his knees in the middle of the living room.
Sara held a black lace scarf over her mouth to muffle her sobs as the other hand snaked around under the couch she hid behind, searching for the port-key. She felt it, but in her haste, sent the little gold box skidding down by her feet, out of reach.
Harry could feel her near him, he knew she was there without the locator. That she wouldn't come to him frustrated him to madness and his face fell into his hands, his glasses falling to the floor and he was sobbing helplessly. "Sara please!" He begged her, "How can you do this to me? Don't you love me at all? I'm going crazy, I have to see you! I don't understand! How can you be this close and still turn your back on me? What did I do to deserve this? I love you, Sara, I need to see you. Please come out, you can leave again if you want but do this before you go. Please, I'm begging you."
Thunder shook the house as rain like he had never seen flooded the ground outside the window. Hurricane winds rattled the glass and Harry heard trees being ripped from the ground under the force of it. Malfoy was hammering on the door and screaming to be let in as a blinding flash of lightning tore the old oak in half, igniting it as it crashed. Harry turned back to the couch, to which he was unconsciously focusing his attention, his words choked with emotion.
"Sara, do you still love me? Say yes and I'll wait forever."
Sara dropped the scarf and choked back tears, the port-key open in her hand, fighting the need to run to him, end his suffering and her own. To let the sheer agony of this moment become one of the happiest of her life just by putting her arms around him, feeling the warmth of his skin, his breath on her neck as he rested his head against hers. Her fingers hovered above the port-key, and her sobs finally broke her silence. "I love you more than anything." She cried as he lunged forward, hitting his head on the wall trying to find the source of her voice, but he found only a black scarf, wet with tears.
The storm tapered off quickly and Draco hammered on the door again, demanding Harry let him in. He was very wet, cold, and frightened by the intensity of the event. He'd had to hold tight to a wooden post to keep from being blown away and was anxious to get back inside. Relief came when the locks were slid back and the door opened a crack, Harry having already walked away. Draco let himself in and retrieved his wand from the floor where it had been dropped.
He found Harry in the kitchen, his head low, sniffling, and working intently at an ink spill next to the table. Evidently, Sara had been writing a note and their arrival had caught her off guard. The chair was overturned and he could see a black streak across the paper where the quill had been whisked away mid-word. Draco sighed as Harry wiped at his eyes every few seconds and sniffled continuously. Respectfully, he turned his back and stared out the window at the dark. "I wouldn't have done it, Potter."
"Leave me alone" Harry whispered.
Draco hung his head for a moment, then grabbed a towel and knelt by Harry's side. Silently, he helped clean the spill.
* * *
Snape was at his desk in his private chamber when he heard a pop from behind, coming from the fire place, then a sobbing girl called to him.
"Severus!" She cried, "Severus please be there!"
"Sara!" He said and hurried to the fire, only to be shocked by her hooded appearance, not to mention the extreme emotional state she was in. "Sara, are you in danger?"
"No." She said, bringing a tissue to wipe her eyes, her head and shoulders greenish in the flames. "I need to see you, Severus. I made a serious misjudgment tonight and I fight every second not to go home. Just say you'll come."
"Where are you? Of course I'll come."
"Thank you." She whispered and visibly relaxed, "Naples, Italy. A palazzo on the sea. Think of me and you should find the right one."
"Don't do anything until I get there."
"Tell no one."
"I wouldn't."
In the blink of an eye, Sara was gone and Snape was gathering a few things for the trip, then hurrying out the door with his broom. He flew to Hogsmead, then set to concentrating on Sara, in her palazzo by the sea. Apparating had never been one of his strong suits and he'd never gone so far at once, but he suddenly found himself standing amidst a furious storm, waves crashing on some nearby beach. He spotted the lights of a single level house, sprawling and open. He hurried toward it at once.
A muggle led him in and took him to the door of Sara's room. They could hear her crying inside, a horrible and wretched sound and Greg lowered his eyes. "It was all of a sudden. She's been like this for nearly an hour now. She won't tell me what happened."
"Well," Snape muttered, "it could only have something to do with Potter."
"I'm not supposed to speak of him, sir."
"If you care to help her mister..."
"Sanders. Greg Sanders."
"Mr. Sanders, you will discourage her from anything that might possibly summon any sort of remembrances of Harry Potter. Do you understand?"
"Yes, but what happened with them? They seemed, well, very much in love. It doesn't add up. I thought there was something wrong with her the last few times---"
"If Sara wanted you to know I'm sure she would fill you in. Now if you don't mind, there is a young girl in distress on the other side of this door, in case you hadn't noticed."
"I'm sorry, sir." Greg mumbled, his eyes on the floor. Silently, he walked away.
Snape rapped lightly on the door. "I'm here, Sara." He called in to her.
"Alohamora." Came her unsteady reply. "Come in Severus." Her voice was hoarse and full of tears.
She stood with her back to him, staring out a long bank of tall windows at the Mediterranean, thrashing against the coast in the storm. The rain painted her with streaks of gray. She wore an old gypsy style dress, a strip of black around her throat. She wore a black satin cloak, the hood pulled down to shadow her face. There was no light in the room, but the moon cast a silvery glow and he saw her reflection in the window with every flash of lightning.
His voice was hushed in the dark, but conveyed his unease. "Sara. What's happened to you?"
She turned to face him, her eyes hidden in shadow. She untied the cloak in one liquid movement, and pushed back the hood, where it fell softly to the floor. Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks as she trembled in the moonlight.
Snape froze at the sight of her. "My god." He whispered, his fingers touching his chin, alarmed and frightened for her. Suddenly, she was traveling across the floor and threw her arms around him and he held her as she cried on his shoulder. He couldn't really understand her words, but a name came up over and over again as she spoke.
Harry.
* * *
Harry climbed into bed and turned his back on Malfoy's side of the roof, the covers pulled over his head. There was a letter from Ron on the pillow, but he had tossed it away, overcome with misery. To be so close, to hear her voice, telling him she loved him more than anything, it was pure agony. He thought nothing could be so horrible or hurt so much as when she'd left him the first time, but this cut deeper than anything he'd ever felt. He clung to the scarf she'd left behind, breathing her perfume and remembering the sound of her voice, choked with tears from behind the sofa, only a few feet from where he'd been.
He heard Malfoy climb into bed, no sarcastic remarks tonight. He actually thought Malfoy might feel sorry for him and that was the most depressing of things. He felt pathetic and held the lace scarf tighter.
He laid there a good half hour, listening to the wind in the trees, to the far away splashes of the lake. Once in a while he heard the low voice of Fang, barking at something moving about the Forbidden Forest. Then he heard Malfoy, standing beside him.
"I know you're awake." He said, "Care to drown your sorrow, Potter?" Malfoy left a glass on Harry's stand, walked around the bed to what was once Sara's side and climbed onto the blankets, tossing the pillow against the headboard. He settled back with a glass and a bottle of Finnegan's Swill from a case that had arrived while they were gone.
Harry pulled the blankets off his face and turned onto his back, his eyes wet and red-rimmed, his face pale in the moonlight. Reluctantly, he reached for his glasses and put them on, his hair standing up in confusion. He pulled himself up as Malfoy poured straight alcohol over ice and reaching thankfully for his glass, he held it out.
"Your hair is frightening, Potter, or are you going for that wild-man look?" Draco asked as he poured.
"Oh shut-up." Harry sighed.
Draco took a deep breath. "Did you see her, Harry?"
"No." Harry lowered his eyes, staring into his glass. "But I heard her voice. She spoke to me."
"What did she say?"
"None of you business."
"Do you want to talk?" Draco felt stupid, even as the words left his mouth.
"No."
"Then shut-up about it." Draco took a sip, "Besides, I'm sick of hearing about her. I hope I never see her again. Well, sort of."
"Malfoy?" Harry looked up at the stars, "I really hate you, you know."
"Sure you do."
Harry ignored him, glad of his company, but he didn't want to talk and didn't have the energy to match Draco's insults. "Accio Muggle Music Player." He said and opened it when it came. He picked the most depressing thing he could find and set it to a moderate volume, then lowered it to the floor. He sipped his drink as they watched the sky, Malfoy having fallen silent beside him.
* * *
Around three Malfoy had crept back to his own bed, but Harry was restless and drunk, finally crying himself to sleep just as the sun was coming up. He awoke now to find Dumbledore in a chair by the bed, watching Harry as he came out from under the covers, his eyes red and sore, his body aching and hung-over. Immediately he checked the locator, still on his wrist, and saw that Sara was "Sleeping".
"What time is it?" Harry asked while trying to focus on the tiny numbers of his father's watch. He gave up and reached for his glasses.
"Eleven." Dumbledore answered. "You missed your lesson this morning. I thought I'd come by and see that everything was in order."
"I'm sorry, Professor." Harry sighed, "I didn't realize it was so late."
"It's alright, Harry. Just tell me what happened last night."
Harry sat up, reliving it all again and swallowed a lump in his throat, a dull pain twisting in his chest. Malfoy, he saw, was still asleep.
"Sara was at our house." He lowered his eyes and spoke to the blankets, "I never saw her, but she was right there in the room with me. She talked to me before she vanished."
"Why do you think she was there?" Dumbledore wondered, stroking his beard.
"She leaves me things sometimes. Things that she buys for the house. I don't know what she brought last night. I forgot to look, but she left some stuff on the kitchen table."
"Harry, I know how difficult all this must be for you," he lifted the bottle of rum, "but this is no answer."
"I know." Harry whispered, sinking back down into the soft pillows. He summoned his wand and conjured a canopy to keep out the intense sunlight and the heat it brought. "I won't miss my lesson again. I'm sorry I kept you waiting."
"It's alright, Harry. As for apparating, I've opened the door for you and can do no more anyway. The rest will come only with practice."
"Then what's next?" Harry wondered.
"Do you remember performing wandless magic the morning we found Sara gone?"
Harry wrinkled his forehead, trying to recall such an event. "No, I don't."
"When you thought Severus was going to read your letter, you summoned it without your wand."
"I guess I did." Harry agreed, reminded of Snape lunging for the envelope and his own fear of it being read. "I did it the night I got Voldemort's cloak as well. I'd left my wand across the room, so I had no choice. I was shocked when it worked."
"It worked because you desperately wanted it to. That will be our next project. Wandless magic. Is tomorrow morning alright with you?"
"Certainly."
"And where are you and Mr. Malfoy going today?"
"To London. He needs some things from his house. He wants to go shopping, but I'm just not in the mood."
"Understandable." Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder as he rose to his feet. "I'll have lunch sent up for you both."
"Thank you, sir." Harry muttered and let the bed swallow him again. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.
* * *
Snape had never been to Italy and even though he had been up very late with Sara, he had risen early and spent the hours wandering the grounds, surveying the damage from Sara's storm, appreciating the perfect warmth of the day and the postcard view of the Mediterranean. He'd made himself breakfast and was now preparing lunch, no thanks to the worthless muggle Sara referred to as her assistant, who was still very much asleep at noon. He had thought to bring a change of muggle clothes and was glad of the fact. The climate was a little much for the heavier robes he wore in the dungeons, which were cold even in summer.
To his surprise, Sara hadn't had a single drink during the night, even in the worst of her misery. He'd expected to find her inebriated upon his arrival, but she'd been stone sober and remained so. It almost made him smile, knowing she was really dealing with things now, not just drowning them out or ignoring them as he had watched her do for so long, suffering all the more for it. But the truth was, he had never seen a human being as morose and emotionally shattered as Sara was now. She shouldn't be alone, with just a muggle who could never comprehend what she was or what it meant to be who she is.
The worst part of it was, it was Potter that she needed to see, of this he was certain and he found it infuriating. Why Potter couldn't have ended up with Ginny Weasley, or anyone else for that matter, was beyond him. He had to adhere himself to Sara, who was so easily hurt, so trusting and so endearing. She would do anything for Harry Potter, even torture herself in this manner, surrendering whatever sense of self she had left in order to save his feelings. Snape scowled at the tea he was brewing, despising Potter with renewed enthusiasm. He couldn't even kill him now, because Sara would hate him for it. He found he wanted to grab Sara and shake some sense into her, but somehow he believed her when she said she knew what she was doing. He hoped she was right, for her sake.
She was sitting up in bed when he went in and she smiled when she saw him, carrying a big tray, loaded with food and fresh flowers. He smiled in return as he set it down beside the bed.
"You look good." She said, her voice hoarse and quiet, "Grey, the new summer black."
Snape grinned, looking down a gray button down shirt and black trousers.
Sara pointed her finger and turned his shirt blue. "There, that's better. A little color suits you, Severus."
"Thank you, my dear. How are you this morning? Or shall I say afternoon"
"Better. I do believe that last night was the most horrible night of my life. I never knew such lows existed, that anything could be so painful. I'm glad you were here. I don't know what I would have done without you." She accepted the cup of tea he offered and sipped it. "How is Harry?"
"He's wretched. He's the Headmaster's new apprentice and has accepted the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Snape's brow furrowed at this and his eyes grew dark. "Last time I checked, dumb luck was not a requirement for Hogwarts employ."
Sara smiled and leaned back against the pillows. "A professor at Hogwarts. No wonder he couldn't decide what to do. It's perfect for him."
"If you say so. Personally, I think Mr. Potter is highly over-rated."
"I know what you think. We all do."
"Don't worry. The Headmaster will take good care of him. He wouldn't let anything happen to his famous pet wizard."
"Did I actually say I missed you?"
"My apologies." Snape conceded, "Actually, Potter is doing better. He was beyond reach for awhile, but now Draco is staying at the school, in your tower as a matter of fact, and the two of them are miserable together. They go out drinking every night and sleep on the roof."
"Draco and Harry? They were together last night, but I never would picture them well, doing much of anything together."
"They bicker constantly, of course, they despise each other. I can't understand why Draco would subject himself to Potter's company to begin with."
"Because he knows." Sara said, her face going sullen. "They understand each other's pain."
Snape fell silent as Sara reflected, silently sipping her tea, wearing a white shirt that was far too big, the light covers pooled around her waist. Her hair stood out in stark contrast. Black. Every bit of it. Her eyebrows, lashes, everything. Not even a single blonde streak remained and to look at her was unnerving. Her face was pale, her skin dull and missing it's satin sheen. "I'm glad he has someone." She finally said.
"I will stay with you, Sara. Now that I know the extent of your despair, I don't see how I can leave."
"I wish I could say yes. It's nice to have someone to talk to, especially you, Severus. You always listen. But I think what I like most about you is the way you're so brutally honest. I respect and appreciate that, even when you're infuriating." She smiled a little, "Stay a few days. If you leave now I think I'd crawl into a dark corner and never come out again."
"On one condition. You will summon me for absolutely any reason. Long before it becomes too much to bear."
"If I need a friend, Severus, I'll summon you. Your very presence makes me feel better. It's been so long since the night I left and I've spoken to no one but Mr. Sanders. Well, until last night. I spoke to Harry. And then I spoke to you."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the closest thing I have to a parent. I love you and I knew you'd be the least likely to drag me home. Like I said the night I left, you're the only one who would understand."
"Least likely to drag you home? Maybe, but you're wrong. As much as it kills me to say this, I think your Mr. Potter understands perfectly. He would try, of course, but if you said you wouldn't go he wouldn't make you."
Sara's eyes filled with tears. "I can only hope he understands, but if I saw him, even for a moment, there would be no convincing. I could never say goodbye to Harry again." she dried her eyes before the tears could fall and got control of her emotions. When she spoke again, there was a numbness to her voice, a distance. "I almost died last night, Severus. I thought my heart had been torn from my chest as I laid there behind the sofa, listening to his voice, calling my name as he pleaded with me to show myself. I can't see him again after that. I wouldn't survive it."
Snape handed her a tissue and smiled. "I would gladly do away with him if it would solve the problem."
Sara laughed out loud as she sniffled. "Come on, bring that tray onto the veranda and I'll be right behind you. Have lunch with me."
Snape handed her a black robe from the bedpost and lifted the tray.
"Oh and Severus?" She called after him, "Don't duel with Harry. Unless you want to get yourself hurt."
* * *
Harry awoke around twelve-thirty to Malfoy standing over him, wearing Harry's clothes and fresh from the shower. "Well? Get up!"
"Go to hell, Malfoy." Harry mumbled and tried to duck back under the covers. He'd dreamed of Sara, as he often did, and wanted to be alone with his depression. Wallow in it for awhile. Think of her. Malfoy pulled the blankets away.
"I'm bored! That old goat woke me up and I've been waiting half an hour. I swear, there's nothing to do in this place! How can you stand it?"
"I don't need to be entertained. Now go away."
"No. Get up or I'm taking your port-key. I'll find my own way to London, perhaps in a fancy black car."
"Touch it and die."
"Nice mood you're in! Why don't you drink some of Snape's potion? It came with lunch."
Harry sat up, sliding on his glasses. "Accio lunch." The tray came flying at him and he caught it with one hand, but a glass of pumpkin juice kept it's momentum and left the tray, it's contents ahead of it. Harry threw up a hand to protect his face. "Stop!" he said and suddenly the liquid froze, the glass dangled in the air.
"So that's what the old geezer was talking about! You can do wandless magic!"
"Evidently."
"Now get it back in the glass." Draco smirked.
Harry sighed and summoned his wand. "Reverso." The glass settled onto the tray, the pumpkin juice flowing back into it. He smirked half-heartedly at Malfoy.
"Show-off. Now drink the potion so we can go. I'm bored."
An hour later Harry parked the car on Knightbridge in front of Harvey Nichols. Shopping was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, except maybe shopping with Draco Malfoy. There was no worse punishment and he wondered what he had done to deserve this.
They shopped for hours. Draco took his time and chose very carefully, comparing fabrics and cuts and colors. He tried everything on and gave the over-courteous staff a hard time. He was demanding and somewhat impossible.
Harry, on the other hand, chose what appealed to him, he knew his sizes and assumed everything would fit, which it always did. He declined help and wandered about the store, waiting for something to catch his eye. Harry was waiting in a chair, surrounded by bags and starving to death by the time Draco decided it was time to go get dinner.
They ate at the Savoy hotel and by the time they made it to Malfoy's mini-mansion, it was passing twilight. Draco hesitated before unlocking the door and Harry could see he was nervous. He checked the locator, but found they were not currently in peril. "Come on, Malfoy." He urged, "This place gives me the creeps. Let's get in and out."
Harry was on edge, watching the door of the enormous master suite as Draco quickly got what he needed, neatly piling clothes, shoes, and necessities into a dragon hide travel bag. He quickly took a framed photograph off the head of his bed and stashed it away before Harry could see what it was. He could only imagine who Draco might have a picture of. Miniaturizing his ridiculous silk bathrobe so it wouldn't wrinkle and laying it across the top, Draco finally shouldered the bag and together, they hurried down the hall.
Draco did his best to keep Harry's pace, who seemed intent on practically running out of the house. He didn't blame Harry, for being here after dark was nerve-racking enough after last time, with someone lurking silently as they drank daiquiris with no inkling of danger. Maybe it was his fear of Voldemort, but his unease was mounting.
"Something doesn't feel right." Harry whispered, slowing his pace.
"I've got a bad feeling, Potter." Draco replied, his voice hushed and shaky, keeping close to Harry as they moved cautiously down the hall.
Suddenly Harry stopped. "Draco." He said, swallowing a lump in his throat, "I think we're surrounded."
* * *