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Part Two

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Firenze was still looming over me when I woke up, looking typically intimidating and impassive. I had to put my hand over my eyes to see him properly; otherwise, he just blended into the forest.

"Don't you ever sleep?"

"We centaurs do not require it as frequently as you humans do," he said simply, failing to keep a smidgen of arrogance out of his voice. Then he inclined his head backward, to indicate his body. "Come on, then. Climb on."

"You want me to sit on you? As in, clamber up on your back? I thought—"

He was almost smirking at me. "You thought—"

"Well, really, I thought centaurs were far too proud to act like ordinary horses."

"How do you think I brought you here in the first place?"

"I didn't think about it," I admitted. I felt suddenly embarrassed. I probably looked like a total fool, being dragged around unconscious on the back of a centaur. For one mad moment, I almost asked him if he had a saddle. I'm sure that would have impressed him completely. To avoid any more idiocy, I simply walked up to him and swung myself up onto his back, with a little helpful boost from his hand.

"Ready?" he asked, tossing my blanket and bedroll back to me.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" I asked.

"I would throw you off in an instant if you were," he said, with a faint smile in his voice.

"Did you just make a joke?" I demanded.

"Never," he said blandly.

The ride out of the Forest Ateratra was sort of nice. I attribute it mostly to my own elation at the fact that I was finally getting out of the wretched place. It was a pretty location when I wasn't either lost in it or being trampled by centaurs in it; it was still dark, of course, but the tangled trees and overgrown plants had their own unique beauty when I was safe and clinging to Firenze. We passed one great creature that appeared at first to be a breathing mound of mottled earth. Then I realised what it really was. "Firenze!" I gasped as he sped past. "Was that a—?"

"A dragon, yes. He's quite amiable with us. We once had a bit of a fight, but he's decided he doesn't like our arrows. Wise old beast."

"Geez," I muttered, immediately thankful that I hadn't guilelessly wandered to where the dragon lived. Maybe a centaur-trampling and eventual rescue was lucky, all things considered.

Yeah. I'm such a Mary Sunshine sometimes.

Firenze himself was faster than I had expected. I was gripping him tightly about the waist, careful to avoid the spots where he was injured – I didn't want to hurt him or talk about that – with my things lodged between us. My hair was whipping behind me, caught up in the wind. It was a glorious feeling, like the sort of thing you read about in a story. Except I really am a sorry substitute for a riding princess. And, to be fair, Firenze was hardly a glittering white stallion.

We came to a place where the trees began to thin out, and Firenze slowed to a trot. "Are we out?" I asked.

"Almost."

Not a minute later, we emerged from the Forest Ateratra. The brilliance of the sunlight was a shock; I almost went blind from the whiteness and warmth of it. "Wow," I said. "You really don't realise how dark that ruddy forest is until you get out. How do you stand it?"

"Centaurs prefer the night," he said, halting completely so that I could climb off. I did so, careful not to kick him accidentally or anything. To my great surprise, I didn't.

"Thanks for the ride," I said awkwardly.

His expression was altogether solicitous; it reminded me of his brief stint as a teacher. "Are you able to return home from here?"

"No problem, I can Apparate."

He wrinkled his nose. It seemed a very un-Firenze-ish thing to do. "I have never liked how wizards appear and disappear like that. It is entirely disconcerting."

"Yeah, well, you get used to it. Well, not you – but – y'know – me."

"Right." He was looking at me like I was nuts. I get that a lot.

"And you?" I hated to ask, but I had to know. "What are you going to do?"

"My herd will meet at the council-ground tonight to discuss the movements of the planets. I will return to them then, and make my case. They will decide my fate, along with the stars."

"But – you can't go back to them!" I swallowed and asked another question I hadn't wanted to. "Won't – won't they kill you?"

"They may," he said coolly. "I learned long ago, Miss Brown, that I cannot run from my people. And if they do kill me – well, there are punishments worse than death."

I was desperate to keep him from turning back into the forest. "What's your case, then?" I asked quickly. "What are you going to say to them? You know – in your defense?"

"I do not know."

"God, Firenze!"

"I appreciate your concern, Miss Brown," he said. His eyes had suddenly gone typically centaur-icy, and I missed the little spark of humour in them. "But this is not something to do with you. The affairs of centaurs are not important to you. I have returned you to the outside of this forest, and now you must go back to where you came from."

"Uh-uh. I can't just do that."

"Why?" he demanded.

"Because I'll wonder what happened to you. I know you believe that everything that happens is dictated by the planets and whatnot, but I –personally – am feeling more than a little guilty here!"

His teeth were gritted. "Then what do you suggest?"

"I'm going to stay here," I said firmly. "I'll camp under the stars and wait." It was a warm day, and the place where he had left me was bright and very un-scary, with zero percent chance of murderous centaurs. "I want you to come back and say good-bye, just so I know you're okay because otherwise I'll just worry about you."

The anger had drained away; instead, he looked bemused, as though thinking, Oh, Lavender, you batty sentimental human. "Worry?"

"Yes, worry! It's not such a foreign concept!" I said furiously. "You did save my life, after all – I think I've a right to be worried if your own gets snuffed out because of it."

"Very well. It is acceptable. I will return, if your mind demands to be set at ease."

"There," I said smugly. "Was that so difficult?"

"See you in the evening, Miss Brown."

"I hope," I murmured, but he didn't hear me. He had already melted back into the blackness of the forest. I clutched my blanket and bedroll and stood staring at where he had been, wondering what to do.

My pack and tent had presumably been destroyed by the stampeding centaurs, so I had nothing to eat, and the rumble in my stomach was quite irritating and swishy. Still, I didn't want to Apparate home and come back; it would take a good half-hour to get all the way back – that's how far away I was. And I didn't want to leave in case Firenze came back early.

I pulled out my wand and snorted at it. If only I'd taken that Kwikspell correspondence course in culinary magic my neighbour Sara had suggested! I could have conjured myself a snack.

Instead, I laid the blanket and bedroll out on the ground and lay back with my arms tucked behind my head. The sky was clear and blue, but it grew dark just over Ateratra. "What a strange place," I whispered, once again grateful to be out of it. I was fully intending to give Fran a piece of my mind. I remembered the expensive telescope, and decided that I would be damned if I let her dock it from my salary.

In truth, I was letting my mind ramble on and on to avoid thinking about Firenze. I loathe guilt, and it had settled like a heavy stone in my stomach, and I tried very hard to Not Think About It, which only meant that I knew it was there but I was covering it up with more frivolous things.

The hours before he came back were long. What if they had killed him? There. There it was, the question I was suffocating. I couldn't imagine what I would do. I've never been too good with guilt. I wish I could be more evil or unfeeling or something. Lavender the Intrepid Slytherin. I like the sound of that. It became night again, and the Ateratra skyline blended into the ordinary one, and still Firenze did not return.

By the time the quietest bit of night rolled around, I was positive that he was dead, and I turned over, pressed my face into the ground, and cried – my fist jammed into my mouth so nothing in the forest would hear me – until I was exhausted. I could not bring myself to leave, and every once in a while, when I thought about finally Apparating away, I told myself to wait another fifteen minutes, another half an hour. Slowly, endlessly, the night passed.

When dawn was just rising, just as I was actually preparing to go, he came stumbling back to where I had camped. He careened around, not knowing how to walk, and then he saw me with shell-shocked eyes. He lurched forwards, almost as though he were drunk – I could not speak, I only gawked, my mouth wide open and disbelieving; the horror of it was too enormous – and fell at my feet.

He was bleeding, brutalised, purpled – and human.

I could scarcely believe my eyes.

I don't know how, but I managed to contain myself. I dropped to my knees. "Firenze?" I whispered, shaking his shoulders. They were more darkened than flesh-coloured. "Firenze!"

His eyes fluttered open, glossy blue and half-mad; they darted around for a moment before focusing on my face. "Miss Brown – I told you – that there were – punishments worse than death."

And then he lost consciousness. I think I must have sat there and gaped for a good half-hour. Well, first I took the blanket from my bedroll and covered him with it; I'm not a voyeur or anything. Sheesh. Then I allowed myself some time to take it all in. I felt pretty guilty and very much like vomiting. It was my fault that he'd been thrown out of his herd. He had no obligation to save me.

This whole thought pattern was really becoming like a mantra.

I'd known that centaurs had powers – divination, healing, the textbook stuff. But to make him into a human, and permanently? That was a pretty impressive feat of transfiguration. The centaurs must have had powers that I didn't know about. Hell, I doubt anyone knows. Centaurs aren't exactly forthcoming with information about themselves.

With a heavy heart, I sat there and watched the rise and fall of his chest, afraid that he would stop breathing if I looked away. I took the time to examine his face as I mopped it free of blood with the sleeve of my shirt. Parvati and I had been wrong in our school days; he was not fantastically handsome, only gently good-looking. Perhaps it had been the very exoticism of a centaur that had fascinated us, or the not-so-inconsequential fact that his naked torso had been ours to ogle every Divination class. His nose was perhaps a little too big for his face, and his mouth too long and too generous. His hair was floppy, fine, and messy.

I reached out to move his uneven, choppy fringe from his eyes. "Oh, Firenze, you poor thing," I whispered. I did as much spellwork as I could to heal up his wounds, but I would probably be the worst Healer in the world, because it took me ages.

When I was sure he would live, I began to think of ways I could get us out of there. Apparition was again useless, as I was fairly sure that Firenze didn't know how. We certainly couldn't walk our way out, and, from the way he had teetered on human feet, I could tell that they pained him. We would have to fly.

I needed my broomstick. I Apparated home as quickly as I could without splinching myself, cracking and popping my way through half of England in less than fifteen minutes. I knew it was an unlikely fear, but I was afraid that the centaurs had followed him and would come charging out of the forest while I was gone.

It was not the world's best broomstick. I don't particularly like travelling by broomstick, and I only play Quidditch if someone browbeats me into it – I don't like all that flying and sweating – and so I all I had was a dusty old Comet One-Eighty. Still, it had to do. Gripping it tightly, I followed the same Apparition trail back to where he lay, praying that he was still unconscious. For some reason, I didn't want him to wake up alone and grieving.

He was exactly as I'd left him. Tossing the broom on the ground for a moment, I pointed my wand at his prone form. "Mobilicorpus," I chanted. His ghostly body rose up into the air; his bare, split-looking feet hovered slightly above the ground. I shuddered, then sat on the broomstick and grabbed him round the waist, holding on as tightly as I could with one arm, and steering the Comet with the other.

We launched into the sky. It was still dim enough for us to fly without being Disillusioned. My hands shook the entire time; Firenze's lifeless head lolled back on my shoulder. I concentrated on listening to his laboured breathing; there was something very strangely comforting about its rhythm and consistency. I still couldn't believe it – how could the centaurs be so cruel, to turn one of their own into something they despised?

I managed to land in my own garden with no one seeing me. It was still early in Godric's Hollow, and a Saturday to boot, so most of the town was asleep. The Mobilicorpus spell carried Firenze along behind me as I unlocked my door and quickly darted inside. The first thing I could do was rub my eyes and gawk at the bizarreness of it all – having a transformed centaur floating ever-so-slightly in my front corridor. I hated the way his head rolled around his shoulder, like it didn't have any bones.

Creepy.

I took him to my bedroom, ended the spell, and tucked blankets around him. I found a draught on my dresser that was meant to ease pain, and so I uncorked it, tipped his mouth open, and poured it down his throat. His feet were cut and bleeding from his trek through the forest to me, and I found a basin to soak them in. Carefully, using a rag from the kitchen, I wiped them free of blood and tried to bandage the sores as best I could. There were a few thorns in there, and these I managed to pull out, figuring it would be better to do it while he was unconscious. Would there be a way to get him to St Mungo's without all the horrible questions that would accompany such a visit? Firenze obviously had no identification, nothing to point him out as a person, and nothing that could get him treated. There was nowhere we could go.

I wished there was something more I could do. Helplessness is such a wretched feeling.

I went into the lavatory, and only then did I realise what a fright I myself looked. There were brambles in my hair, scratches on my face, and bruises up and down my arms. The skin under my eyes was tired and puffy and darkened to a rather unattractive violet colour. I splashed some water on my face, pulled out some of the larger brambles, and used a clip to put my hair away from my face. It would have to do.

I crept back into the bedroom, where Firenze was still out. My stomach was still rumbling, so I went to the kitchen, made myself tea and toast, and then went back in the bedroom to sit in my reading-chair so I would be there when Firenze woke up. For all my hunger, I could not eat without feeling queasy, so I merely sat there, drinking the tea without tasting it. Mr Peabody hopped into my lap, purring madly and starved for attention, but I barely noticed him.

I could only watch Firenze, hoping there was some way I could make this mess right again. It was pretty much the worst situation I'd even gotten myself into – and that included the whole me-Parvati-Seamus fiasco. In fact, I wished to be back in that ruddy mess, for all its different horrors, and that's pretty bad.

Poor Firenze. Not only was he human, but he was stuck with one of the most insane people imaginable.

……………

I was there – half-asleep and weary, yes, but there – when he opened his eyes.

He sat up bolt-straight, his expression wide and darting, as though he expected something to start attacking him. Then he moved his head swiftly and glared at me. "Where am I?" he demanded.

I spoke cautiously. "My house. Godric's Hollow."

"In the wizarding world?"

"Of course."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I said, feeling unfairly annoyed. "Was I supposed to let you die?"

"Yes," he croaked, flopping back down onto the pillows. His eyes were squeezed shut, and it took me a long moment to realise that he was trying not to cry.

"Firenze?"

"Leave me, Miss Brown."

His tone allowed for no resistance. Heavily, I stood up and went into my living room, where I simply plunked down on another chair and waited for him. I could hear his sobs – quiet at first, then rising. It's tricky business, when men cry. I never saw Seamus do it; he was the sort who was always way too macho to show his emotions. Even when the prat came crawling back to me, begging my forgiveness, he hadn't cried, and that, really, had been the clincher. Lavender Brown demands crying and begging, not just simple begging.

Firenze came out after a while, the blanket wrapped round him like a toga. His eyes were wet, but he had finished sobbing. He looked like a fallen god. I noticed that he clung to the doorframe as though it was sustaining his very life. "You can't walk, can you?" I asked softly.

He closed his eyes. "No. Last night – it took me hours to get through the forest – I kept falling."

Wordlessly, I stood up and took him by the arm, slowly guiding him like you would a blind person, determinedly not looking at how his feet slipped about or how he cringed whenever he ventured to take a step. I stole one short glance at his face; his jaw was set and determined, as though he were steeling himself for this invasion of his precious pride. It must have been so hard to suddenly have half the amount of legs you were accustomed to. His hands were raw from gripping the walls and doorframe – and probably the trees from the night before – so tightly.

On the way, he tripped and knocked into a vase, which fell and shattered all over the rug. The sound was the most startling thing; both of us had been painfully quiet until then. "Miss Brown, I—" he began, his voice trembling.

"It's okay, it was cheap anyway. And I got it on sale." I pulled him up and settled him on the chair opposite me. "Would you tell me what happened?" I asked.

He looked me in the eye. "I received the appropriate punishment."

"That's rubbish, Firenze, and you know it. They didn't have to do – do this to you."

"It was the decision of the council and of the heavens."

"Do you truly believe that the heavens have dominion over every last bit of your life?"

"I have learned the punishment one receives for defying the stars."

"Like being turned into a human?"

"Like being turned into a human," he agreed, in a scratchy sort of voice. He was studying his hands, turning them over and over again. I felt an insane urge to go over and hug him, but the fact that he probably hated me kind of stopped me from that.

"You don't really want to die, do you?" I admit it, I was scared that I had a possible former-centaur suicide case on my hands, and I really wanted to avoid that entirely.

"No. Else I would never have come to you." He was chewing on his lip, distressed. "I apologise – I must have seemed rather ungrateful, a few moments ago."

"Don't worry about it. You're stressed." I was struggling for something else to say – preferably not another stupid understatement – when someone abruptly rapped on my front door. Both Firenze and I nearly jumped out of our chairs.

"Lavender? Hallooo?" called a very thin voice from outside my front door.

"Who's that?" Firenze looked around, alarmed.

"It's just Sara Barnes, my neighbour – listen – could you, er, hide in the bedroom?" Before he could say anything, I turned my head to call, "Just a minute!" and awkwardly helped Firenze back into my room – he really couldn't walk, and had to lean his heavy frame mostly on me – where he sat on the bed, sad and obedient.

"Halloo, Lavender?" came the voice from the door again.

I swallowed a lump in my throat – the sight of Firenze was almost too much – and stalked over to the front door. Sara was standing on my front stoop, looking nosy and bright as usual. She was a small woman with springy black hair, probably a good six or seven years older than me, and she wore a perpetually interested expression, probably due to grossly overcharmed eyebrows.

"You're back a day early," Sara said excitedly. Then she took a good look at me and her mouth dropped open. "My, Lavender, you look like you've been run ragged. That work trip must have been something else. I have this excellent potion for that darkness you've got under your eyes—"

"What are you doing here?" I asked distractedly.

She frowned. "I came to feed Mr Peabody, remember? We arranged it when you left two days ago."

"Oh, right. I forgot. Well, I can do that now."

I started to swing the door closed, but she stuck out her foot and caught it before I could. "Lavender!" she cried. "What's wrong with you – you look frightful, and you seem distracted – I'm coming in." She forced her way through the front door.

Busybody.

She stood in the middle of my living room and of course her little eagle-eyes spotted the shattered vase in an instant. "What happened?" she asked, leaning down to pick up one of the little blue shards.

"You know me, Sara, I'm clumsy as anything – listen, I'm not feeling too well, could you maybe come back another—"

But Sara was appraising me shrewdly. "You're hiding something."

"I am not!"

"Sure you are! Come on, out with it, now." A sudden, horrible thought hit her. "You're not potion-abusing, are you?"

I was scandalised. "Sara!"

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You are such a bad liar." A devilish smile lit up her little face, and, before I could stop her, she darted to the bedroom door and flung it open. "A-ha – oh! Whoa!" she exclaimed.

Did I say she was older than me? I only meant that physically. Whereas mentally, she was approximately sixteen years old.

Firenze only looked at her blandly, confusedly, still wrapped in just the blanket. Then he shifted to give me a bewildered glance. I moved in front of Sara and slammed the door closed, barring it with my arms spread wide. "It's not what you're thinking," I said instantly.

"Like hell it isn't," Sara said, delighted. "He's gorgeous, Lavender. You cunning little vixen! Where'd you pick him up? I mean, he looks like the cute-but-stupid sort, doesn't say much, but that's not always bad – work trip to the forest, indeed! Where did you go, really? Paris? Rome?"

"Sara, please. I'll explain later."

"Oh, don't be a spoilsport. Who is he?"

"Nobody you know. Sara—"

"Well, now I know why you look so exhausted – if I were you, I'd bring him round that awful Seamus bloke, that'll fix the bastard right up—"

"Out!" I hollered, pointing at the door.

"I'm just saying is all—"

"Out, Sara! OUT! Now!"

"Okay, okay. Holy hell, Lavender."

With an injured sniff, she left my house. I can't say I was too concerned about having hurt her feelings. I leaned my head against the front door, rubbing at my temples and wishing for the world's most effective headache potion. I also briefly debated the relative merits of becoming a hermit. No nosy next-door neighbours, no Seamus Finnigan and Parvati Patil, no human centaur in my bedroom giving my friends the wrong idea, and all the solitude I could take.

It sounded pretty damn good.

Just to have some breathing time to myself, I went to the kitchen and made up a tray of fruits and vegetables – slowly, as I probably unconsciously wanted to delay dealing with anything as much as possible. It's good to be avoidant.

I almost put together a sandwich and then realised just in time that Firenze was not likely to appreciate animal meat lodged between two pieces of bread. Hey, at least I don't eat horse-meat. I think Mr Peabody might, though. You never know what's in those pasty cat foods.

Carrying the tray, I went back into the bedroom, where Firenze was still waiting patiently. In fact, he was pretty much giving the wall a good old patented Zombie Stare. Anxious to avoid any more conversation about how depressive he was, I merely sat down next to him, putting the tray aside for a moment, careful to avoid touching him in case it startled him. "Sorry about that," he muttered.

"Your friend?" he asked. I nodded to confirm it. "She seemed – needlessly exuberant."

"Yeah, she's just going to be more damage control for later."

"Damage control?"

"Never mind." Through peripheral vision, I took him in, and realised he was still naked under that ridiculous blanket. Like I could have missed that. Suppressing a blush, I said, "We ought to dress you in some clothes." The embarrassment of that one sentence was well worth not having the risk of someone bursting into my house to find a mysterious man draped in a blanket.

Honestly, fate really does have it in for me. Firenze may have been right about some of his star stuff because I sure seemed to have pissed off the entire solar system. Or else Jupiter and Mercury were up there getting liquored and having a great old laugh at my expense.

Lousy scheming planets.

"Dress me?" Firenze repeated, as though the prospect was unutterably horrible.

"Yeah." I got up and started riffling through my closet before he could say anything else.

There was an old over-robe of Seamus' in my closet, black, tattered but still serviceable, and since I could not bring myself to put trousers or pants on him (of which there were also some; why hadn't I tossed them out after Seamus himself?), it was ideal. Strictly speaking, it was the sort of thing you wore with other clothes underneath it, but I was not keen to increase the weirdness of the situation. "Lift up your arms."

He did so, silently, and I pushed the robe over him and watched it pool into place. I arranged the cowl of it for a few moments, like a mother would. He sat stiffly and let me. "I'm sorry about this," I said quietly. "It's immodest."

"I don't have the same sense of propriety that you do," he replied. "Humans are funny, with their shame; centaurs have no need of unnecessary garments."

"I suppose not." But my cheeks were still burning with embarrassment. I felt so sorry for him! The way he looked at me, as though I somehow held all the plans and answers. He was like a very big, very stumbly child. And I wasn't feeling particularly grown-up and all-knowing.

"But it isn't suitable – in a different way." His voice was hollow and disgusted. "Human clothing." He shook his head and stared down at his lap, smoothing out the folds of the over-robe and looking entirely repulsed.

"Firenze?"

"Yes?"

"It's my fault you're in this mess." He opened his mouth, presumably to say some rubbish about stars and fate, but I held up my hand. "No, don't say anything. I am to blame, Firenze, but I promise that I'm going to do everything in my power to make it right. I'll read up on this day and night, I'll forego sleep, I'll cast all the magic I can. We will find some way to make you back into a regular old centaur."

"What if it's impossible?"

"It won't be." I wasn't at all sure of this, but I certainly didn't want to leave him utterly hopeless. I forced out a bright smile. "Hey, we'll have you clip-clopping and shooting arrows and stargazing back in the forest in no time!"

He was ever-practical, but even I didn't miss the slight bit of light that had come back into his eyes. It felt a bit like a victory. "And while we look for a solution? It may take a long time."

"Well," I said resignedly, "I guess you'll have to learn to be human."

Neither of us looked too happy at the prospect.