I woke the next morning to Draco pounding on the door that joined our rooms.

"Wake up," he called. "Breakfast is in a half hour."

"Uhng," I grunted, and rolled over.

"I've got a pitcher of ice water with your name on it, sweet," he warned me.

"I'm up, I'm up!"

Grumbling, I lurched out of bed and into the shower. After an extremely unsatisfying ten minutes, I forced myself to leave that hot, steamy cocoon of comfort and get dressed. I wrapped my towel (which wasn't nearly as warm or fluffy as Uncle Mac's) around myself and went back into my bedroom to get clothes. I glanced at my bed and nearly dropped my towel in shock.

"Oh, no," I said, backing away. "You stay away from me, you hear? Leave me alone."

"Didn't you miss me, lovey?" the young god asked mockingly from where he reclined (nude) on my bed. "It's been so long since our last chat."

"It hasn't been long enough," I retorted coldly. "What do you want?"

"Oh, tut," Eros said, eyes sparkling with cold amusement. "Most maidens would die for the honor."

"What do you want?" I repeated, remembering vividly my last encounter with the god of love. I'd been thirteen and completely obsessed with a boy named Steven, who didn't notice me one way or the other.

"I just wanted to warn you that there's no use in trying to shield your heart from that walking orgasm in the other room," Eros said lightly. "It's too late. And before you yell at me, it was none of my doing."

"What do you mean, it was none of your doing?" I hissed. "You're the god damned god of love, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, I am," Eros replied with a rakish grin. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"No, I would not," I said flatly. "I would like you to explain to me how it's none of your doing that I'm—and that's supposing that I am—which I'm not, but if I were--"

"Oh, I do love a woman who can speak her mind," Eros commented to no one in particular. "However, to answer the question that you didn't quite succeed in asking—do you honestly think that I'm responsible for every poor schmuck that ever fell in love?"

"You made me fall in love with Steven," I said belligerently.

"First of all, that wasn't love, that was infatuation," Eros pointed out. "And secondly, I only did it because you needed a basis of comparison in order to recognize the real thing. So when you admit to yourself that--"

"There's nothing to admit," I muttered mutinously.

"Keep telling yourself that, kiddo. Anyway, when you admit it to yourself, you'll recognize it for what it is."

"So you dropped in just to tell me that I'm destined to fall in love with a man I really know nothing about, who's four years older than me and apparently engages in illegal boxing, works for a businessman who doesn't seem to have any means of actually doing business, and could charm the pants off a nun."

"That's about it, yes," Eros said, looking pleased that I had caught on so quickly. "But—you know, nuns don't usually wear pants. And he's closer to five years older than you."

"Oh, shut up, you engorged prick," I snapped.

"Such language from my esteemed uncle's favorite," Eros chided. "One other thing before I leave: whatever happens, never doubt him. You have an enemy—several, in fact, but he's not one of them. Lover Boy over there may have engaged in...questionable activities...but he would not harm a hair on your pretty little head. Or elsewhere."

Eros disappeared and I suddenly found myself wrapped tightly in his arms. I struggled madly, trying to kick him. I could feel his erection against my belly. Gross. (As the god of love and horny teenagers, he is quite aptly depicted as a beautiful youth in a constant state of arousal.)

"Until next time," he whispered, and kissed me.

"You pervert!" I screeched, but he was no longer there.

"Ari, are you alright? Who's a pervert? Is someone in there?"

"It's nothing," I yelled. "I was yelling at—at the TV."

"What are you watching TV for? We'll be late!"

I threw on my clothes, fuming. Of all the gods, I hated him the most. That fucking horny bastard. Now, you're thinking, wait. Back up. Why are we talking about gods as if they actually exist? Well, because they do. Duh. But let's rewind a little bit. Ever since I was little, I'd known I was different. I saw people sometimes that no one else could see: tall, shining men and women who dressed funny (or in Eros' case, not at all) and laughing girls who ran with me in the woods or swam with me in the sea. The dryads and sea nymphs I saw only in Greece, but sometimes one of the gods would pay me a visit in America. Like Eros. And once I was visited by Apollo, with whom I was supposedly something of a favorite.

Once, a long time ago, I made the mistake of asking my Sunday school teacher why she believed in God if she had never seen him. They all told me that she had a heart attack and died because she was old and fat and that it wasn't my fault, but I always wondered. In any case, I was never a very good Christian. It wasn't that I believed God didn't exist; it just didn't matter much to me. I had more faith in the ancient gods—after all, they had considerably more impact on my life.

Now, it may have occurred to you to ask why, if I can talk to gods, I threw such a fit over becoming a werewolf. Well, to tell you the truth, it was kind of silly of me. It's just that I had always thought of the gods as part of nature. They were no more remarkable than the sunset or a storm. And besides, the fact that they exist had never meant I was supernatural or magical or whatever. Now, of course, I could see the connection.

Draco was rather cross with me as we sat down to breakfast. I glowered right back at him, still in an extremely bad mood. What did He of the Perpetually Perky Penis know, anyway? If he hadn't made me fall in love, what made him think that I had? Because I hadn't. I glared at Draco harder, as if to underline this fact in my mind.

"I thought you were all sunshine and smiles in the morning," Draco said grumpily as he helped me with my coat.

"Yeah, well, not today," I replied. "Where are we going?"

"Wherever you like," Draco said unhelpfully.

"Right. Because I definitely know London like the back of my hand," I said waspishly. "What with all the time I spend here and all."

"What's gotten into you?" Draco demanded. "Did you not get your beauty sleep or something?"

I glared at him. "Are you implying that I need beauty sleep?"

"Females," Draco muttered darkly, and led the way down the street. He stopped at a store a few blocks away and held the door open. "After you," he sneered.

"Thank you," I said coldly, and swept past him.

The fact that the store was stuffed with the most gorgeous gowns I had ever seen was not enough to improve my mood. If anything, it made me angrier because I would have enjoyed it immensely if I wasn't so pissed off. So I took out my anger on Draco by constantly changing my mind and making him run all over the store bringing me dresses. Ha. See if he fell in love with me after that.

I was fully cognizant of the fact that I was being a raging ho beast, but to tell you the truth, that kind of worked for me. For a while, anyway. Then I just got tired and kind of cranky with myself as well as Draco. I was trying on a pale, shimmery white-and-gold dress with multiple hooks in the back and grumbling to myself when I suddenly realized that I was stuck. I tried reaching behind me a few different ways, but I couldn't find the hook. I banged my elbow with a muffled curse and twisted my head around, trying to see where it was in the mirror.

"You haven't broken anything, have you?" Draco asked tiredly. "Because I've got to buy it if you have."

I opened the door and stuck my head out. "I'm stuck."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Stuck?"

"Stuck."

"Well...that pink dress was nice..."

"No, I mean I can't get the dress off," I hissed. "I can't reach the hook."

The eyebrows crept higher. "Are you asking me to undress you?"

"I'm asking you to undo a hook," I snapped. "There's a difference."

"Fine," he sighed. "Come out, then."

"I'm not coming out there! I'll be half-naked."

"Then how--"

"You'll have to come in here," I decided.

"Why don't you ask the sales clerk to do it?"

"Because he looks like a lecherous old man!"

"Nonsense. I'm sure he's a very nice person."

"He's a complete stranger!"

"And I'm a randy devil barely out of my teens. I might lose control and ravish you on the spot."

"Draco, please?"

"Ravish you? I'm sorry, but I can't do that in good conscience."

"Draco."

"Alright, fine." Scowling, Draco stepped gingerly into the dressing room. "Where is it?"

"Draco, let's think about this for a moment. I need you to undo the hook because I can't find it. That's a rather significant piece of information, don't you think?"

"One more word out of you and I'll fetch the lecherous clerk here to do it," Draco growled, fumbling at the dress.

"Ouch," I yelped. "You pinched me!"

"If you would just hold still--"

I tripped over the hem of my dress and fell forward into the mirror. Draco grabbed my waist to steady me just as the door opened to reveal the sales clerk and two customers. Everyone froze for a minute. The two women looked as if they were torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to puke. The sales clerk was clearly horrified and seemed to be seriously considering murder—or suicide. I suddenly realized what, exactly, they were seeing: me, bent over with a man behind me and clutching me about the waist. I turned my head toward the wall and closed my eyes as if they would all just go away if I couldn't see them. Draco released me and straightened.

"Would one of you ladies help my friend with her dress? She can't reach the hooks, you see," he said smoothly, and stepped out of the dressing room.

"Of course," the older woman said kindly, and took his place. "There you are, dear."

"Thank you," I whispered, face flaming.

"You're quite welcome. But I'm sure you can wait until the wedding for that sort of carrying on," she said tartly.

"Oh—it's not—we weren't--"

"Of course not, dear."

I hurriedly pulled on my pants and jacket and brought the dress to the front counter without looking the sales clerk in the eye. But I could feel his eyes boring holes in the top of my head. Draco payed and we left the shop without speaking. Once outside, I heaved a deep sigh and looked up. Draco caught my eye and suddenly we were both laughing so hard that people were hurrying past us as if we might be dangerous.

"Did you—see—their faces--" Draco gasped, dabbing at his eyes.

"I've never been so embarrassed in my life," I moaned, clutching my stomach and laughing.

"I have," Draco told me, still chuckling. "But this is a close second. I think we should seriously consider getting another dress. I'll start laughing every time I see you in it and then I'll have to explain why..."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Well...no, you're probably right," Draco agreed, and grinned. "I wouldn't dare. This stays between us, agreed?"

"Definitely," I replied fervently.

"Well, then, shall we carry on?" Draco asked, and offered his arm.

"Of course."

We strolled down the street arm in arm and continued raiding various shops—but only ones with female sales clerks. By lunch, I had forgotten my bad mood and even forgiven Eros for his mistake. But that didn't mean I believed him. I tried to remind myself that Draco was an illegal boxer who might or might not be in league with my uncle who might or might not be a crook or a phony or something else, but it was useless. There was plenty of time to worry about it later, after all.

But then I noticed that the cut on Draco's cheek had disappeared. I didn't know how serious it was, but there wasn't even a mark. Nothing but smooth, pale skin. Soft, I wonder? I abruptly slapped myself to keep such thoughts at bay. Draco stopped chewing and stared at me in surprise.

"Ari, did you just slap yourself?"

"No, of course not. What makes you say that?"

"But you just--"

"Oh, there was a bug. I got it, though."

And the Lamest Excuse of the Century Award goes to...Ari Metaxas! Congratulations, Ari—that was a doozie. But how had the cut disappeared? Modern day medicine wasn't that good. I frowned, thinking of the mysteries at my uncle's house, and then came to an abrupt conclusion. Draco and my father must be sorcerers or wizards or something. I was a werewolf—if werewolves exist, then why not wizards? Magic was the only explanation for my uncle's house. But how did illegal boxing and my uncle's business fit in?

Then I realized how ridiculous these thoughts were and had to force myself not to slap myself again. Wizards? Honestly. Yes, I could talk to gods, and yes, I was a werewolf, but...wizards? What next, the tooth fairy? Dragons?

"Ari, are you alright?" Draco asked me, jerking me out of my ridiculous thoughts.

I smiled wanly. "I just didn't sleep very well last night, that's all."

"Are you sure? You've been acting strangely all day."

"How do you know what's strange for me?" I pointed out. "You've known me barely a week."

"That's true," he admitted. "But compared to the last week or so, you have been acting oddly."

"I'm fine," I assured him, and smiled. "Thank you."

"All right," Draco said, giving in. "You can trust me, though, if any thing's bothering you."

Unfortunately, these words of comfort were less than comforting because they called to mind my 'chat' with Eros earlier.

"Well, your wardrobe seems to be—er, fleshed out," Draco said, eying the massive bags next to my chair. "Christmas shopping next, do you think? We're to meet my mother and Severus at six."

"Your mother and who?" I asked, thinking I had heard the name wrong.

"Severus," Draco repeated. "He was a good friend of my father's."

"Oh. Does everyone here have strange names?" I said without thinking, and blushed. "Sorry."

"Many of the people you'll meet may have names that sound strange to you," Draco told me. Something about the careful way he said it bothered me a little. "And who are you to complain with a name like Ariadne, hm?"

"There's a difference," I protested.

"And what's that? Tell me, darling, I can't stand the suspense."

"Ariadne is a beautiful name," I replied, tossing my hair. "A name like 'Severus' makes me wonder if all his limbs are still attached."

Draco laughed. "All his limbs are present and accounted for, I assure you. The ones visible to the general public, anyway."

"Draco!" I squealed. Shaking my head, I stood and picked up my bags. I handed a couple to him. "Let's go, beast of burden. We have a lot of presents to buy."

I had a grand time picking out presents for everyone and made Draco pay with his eyes closed when I found his. Before I knew it, it was time to change for dinner. I took a quick shower and put on the nice dress I had brought and reapplied my make up. I wanted to make a good impression. We set off and I grinned as Draco pointed out the restaurant—The Acropolis. I wondered if the food was any good. It obviously catered to the fairly wealthy, so I had to wonder whether the food had been watered down to suit fragile western tastes.

We entered and were seated by a girl not much older than myself who spoke with an accent. I greeted her in Greek and was rewarded with a delighted grin and a flurry of questions. Where was I from, was I a native Greek or first generation, etc. She left after a few moments but promised to send her father out to say hello. (He was the owner of the establishment.)

"I didn't know that you're fluent in Greek," Draco commented as we sipped out drinks.

I nodded. "I've spent my summers and holidays in Greece since I was little."

"With your father?"

"With his parents," I corrected him. "They live on Mt. Pelion near the shore. My father visited when he could get off of work."

"That must be fun. My parents went on holiday in the Greek Isles before my father died." Draco grinned crookedly. "I wasn't invited. Mother said it was beautiful, though."

"It is that," I agreed with a sigh, thinking longingly of clear blue skies and a warm sea breeze. I hated all this slush and mist. And snow. And winter in general.

"And here she is now." Draco stood and lifted his hand.

I followed his gaze and saw a tall, beautiful older woman with silky blond hair that was so pale it was nearly white. It was easy to see where Draco got his looks. The man accompanying the woman—Severus, I supposed—was tall, with pallid skin and slightly greasy black hair. His nose looked like it had been broken several times and healed wrong each time. Or maybe he just had a really big nose. In any case, he wasn't exactly a looker. And that sneering expression didn't help matters.

"Mother," Draco greeted her, and kissed her cheek. "Severus. This is Ariadne, John MacTavish's niece from the States. Ari, this is my mother, Narcissa, and Severus Snape."

"It's a pleasure," I said warmly, holding out my hand to both of them.

Narcissa took it almost gingerly. "Yes, it is a pleasure. I've heard so much about you—it's so nice to meet you in person."

"Really?" I flicked a glance at Draco and had to stifle a giggle at the indignant expression on his face. "Nothing bad, I hope."

"Only the best," Narcissa assured me. "Draco's letter was positively glowing, wasn't it, Severus?"

"Mother..." Draco's voice was slightly strained.

"I've never heard such a complimentary report from him regarding a young lady," Severus sneered, hesitating the slightest bit on the word 'lady' as if to imply that I were anything but. He grasped my hand briefly and let go quickly, as if it had snot on it or something.

"Why don't we sit down?" Draco suggested hastily. "How have you been, Mother? Are they treating you alright at the retirement home?"

"Don't tease your poor mother, Draco," Narcissa admonished him. To me, she said, "I'm staying with some friends while Draco's away. The Manor is so empty when he's not at home." Narcissa sighed. "I do love them dearly, but they are a bit much sometimes. I look forward to John's Christmas party."

"Ari and I will be singing a duet at the party, you know," Draco told them. "So you'd better be there."

"We will?" I stared at him in shock.

"Didn't your voice instructor tell you?" I shook my head. "Oh—well, we are. A Christmas carol of some sort, I would think."

"But we only have two weeks--"

"Ari, relax," he said soothingly. "You'll do fine. Ari has a lovely voice," Draco told his mother, who looked faintly amused. "She knocked Catherine and Isabella's socks off a week ago."

"I'm sure they were very impressed," Narcissa said with a sardonic smile.

"Oh, yes, they were thrilled," I answered with a slight smirk. "You know them?"

"I've met them, yes," Narcissa replied, sneering a little. "Charming, to be sure."

"Excuse me," said an accented voice at my elbow, "I hate to interrupt, but my daughter informed me that there was someone at this table that I simply must meet."

"Kali spera," I said with a smile, and looked up. For a moment I thought my heart had stopped, but I shook myself. "Ti kaneis?"

"Oh, how wonderful!" he exclaimed. In Greek, he asked me, "What's your name, paithi mou? We don't get many Greeks—most of them in the area work for me."

"Katerina," I murmured.

"Are you visiting, or do you live here?"

"I just moved here about a week ago," I answered him, trying and failing to smile.

"From Greece?"

"From America," I corrected him.

"No," he said incredulously. "You have a native accent."

"We spoke Greek in our household in America and I spend a lot of time in Greece," I explained. "I've always considered it home."

"Whereabouts?"

"Pelion," I replied. "And you?"

"Cyprus," he told me, and gestured to the menu. "Order whatever you like, and it's on the house."

"Oh, no—sir..."

He waved away my protests. "I insist. I'll bring you some tarama for your pita."

"What was all that about?" Severus asked coolly.

I smiled weakly. "He's giving us dinner for free. Excuse me."

Without waiting for a reply, I got up and hurried toward the bathroom. It was occupied. I sighed and leaned against the wall, pinching the bridge of my nose and trying not to hyperventilate. This proved a little bit difficult, and so I didn't realize he was there until I felt gentle hands on my shoulders.

"Ari?" Draco asked tentatively. "What's wrong?"

I took a deep breath and turned around. "Nothing," I said with a smile. "I'm fine."

"You don't actually expect me to believe that, do you?"

"I'm alright now," I said as reassuringly as I could. "It's just—he looked like my father."

Draco suddenly looked angry for some reason. "I'm sorry, Ari, I should have thought--"

"Draco!" I punched him lightly in the arm. "Don't be stupid, how could you have known?"

"Well, it's a Greek establishment--"

"I hate to break it to you, but all Greeks do not look alike. And anyway, he doesn't look like him at all, now that I think about it." I smiled and touched his arm. "It was just a shock, that's all. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? We can go somewhere else..."

"Are you kidding?" I cried, aghast. "Can you even imagine how insulted the owner would be? That would be terrible!"

"Well, if you're sure..."

"I'm sure," I said firmly, and led the way back to the table. I sat down and smiled at Narcissa and Severus. "I'm so sorry...I don't know what came over me."

"Not at all, my dear...are you well?" Narcissa surprised me by reaching across the table to feel my forehead. "You're all clammy."

"I'm fine," I assured them. "Have you tried the tarama? It's excellent..."

Dinner progressed without further mishap and was quite enjoyable despite the occasional veiled insult from Severus, who didn't seem to like me very much. I wondered why. Narcissa seemed to be as delighted with me as I was with her. She had a sharp, biting wit and seemed to have dirt not only on Catherine and Isabelle Ketworth, but on every female I was likely to meet at the upcoming party. It was extremely informative.

"It was nice meeting both of you," I said as we were about to leave.

"I'll see you soon enough," Narcissa said airily, waving away my abortive attempt at a farewell and kissing me soundly on the cheek. "Until Christmas, my dear."

Severus merely nodded.

"He didn't like me very much," I observed to Draco as we walked back to the hotel.

"Oh, don't mind him," Draco told me. "He's very old fashioned."

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning. "I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

"No, no...he's very old fashioned—he wouldn't approve of two young people going to church together without a chaperon," he explained. "He was shocked that your uncle let you come with me."

"Oh," I said, stunned for a minute. "Wow. That's—primeval."

"Yes," Draco agreed, and slanted me a sly glance. "I think he's just bitter—he was never in need of a chaperon, himself."

"That's mean," I said, but laughed. "But it doesn't surprise me. You're mother is really nice, though."

"She is—to people she likes," Draco said, looking relieved.

"Should I be worried?"

"No, of course not...she likes you. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she has a stack of wedding invitations all ready to go by Monday."

I laughed uncertainly, unsure how to respond to this. It was dark, but I turned my face away just in case. I could feel my face heating up. We continued in comfortable silence punctuated by the occasional yawn from me. At the hotel, I fell into bed with a happy smile on my face. Screw Eros. He still wasn't right. I wasn't in love—but it was still pretty nice.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I was awakened from a rather pleasant dream (involving a certain someone who will remain unnamed) later that night. At first I wasn't sure what had disturbed my sleep, but then I noticed that the city sounds outside weren't right. It wasn't merely cars going by and horns honking. Someone—several someones, in fact—was screaming. Wide awake now, I crept over to the window and looked out. There were people darting around and jets of light were shooting back and forth. But what really caught my attention was the huge, glittering green skull that hovered in the sky. It took me a moment to realize that its tongue was actually a snake. Yech. Tonsil hockey, anyone?

Now, it occurred to me that it might just be a light show—you know, like they had the light display of the twin towers? But something told me that in the event of a light show (even one at two oclock in the morning), screaming and running was not the desired effect. And what were those laser things? My mind flashed back to my earlier 'revelation'. You know, about Draco being a sorcerer or wizard or something. This time, it wasn't so easy to just dismiss the thought. I had two options—aliens with laser guns or wizards with magic.

At that moment, Draco burst into my room, scaring me halfway out of my skin. Seriously. I was about a heartbeat away from changing and ripping him to shreds from sheer terror. I calmed my breathing with effort and moved to switch on the light.

"Don't turn that on," Draco snapped, and seized my hand. "Come with me."

"Hold on," I said, tugging my hand away. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain everything later," he said urgently, dragging me toward his room. Once inside, he shut the door and locked it. I sniffed irritably and noticed that strange smell that hung about Draco sometimes. It was much stronger now. Suddenly it clicked. Magic. That's what the smell was.

"Draco, are—are we in danger?"

Draco turned to me and, with my enhanced night vision, I could see him smile faintly. "Don't worry, Ari. I'll take care of you."

This made me think of the last guy who had told me that—or something like it. However, there were two large differences between Jared and Draco. One, Draco was clearly a man, for all he was only a few years older. Two, I had seen Draco in action and fully believed that he could (and would) protect me. Suddenly I heard Eros in my head, telling me I could trust him.

"What should I do?"

Draco, clearly relieved that I was going to cooperate, threw a bunch of his pillows and blankets on the floor in between the bed and the window, making a little nest.

"Get under the blankets and stay down. Don't turn the lights or the TV on, don't get up—I don't want to risk anyone seeing you in the window. Don't open the door for anyone, you understand? Even if you think it's me. I can let myself in when I come back. When I come back, I'll be whistling that song you like—the Ghost of the Theater or whatever it's called."

"The Phantom of the Opera," I muttered, rolling my eyes. Honestly.

"Here." He handed me a baseball bat. Where he got it from and why he had it, I didn't even want to know. "If anyone other than myself somehow gets through that door, whack 'em over the head with that and run like hell."

"Run where?" I asked in a slightly squeaky voice. I was beginning to get really frightened. "How will you find me?"

Draco hesitated, then tugged a ring off his finger. "Put this on. If someone comes, just run and hide yourself as best you can. I'll be able to find you."

He cupped my face briefly before rising and heading for the door.

"Draco--" I gulped. "Be careful."

He nodded and disappeared. I shivered and huddled against the bed. What the hell was going on? I knew there were terrorists in England, but I never thought that I'd get caught up in an attack. I eyed the bat lying next to me dubiously. Screw that. I changed swiftly and felt much safer. If anything came through that door, I wouldn't bother with the bat—I'd rip them a new asshole. Literally.

I curled up in a tight ball and listened to the screams and shouts from outside. I was still scared, but at least I was stronger, faster, and equipped with an infinitely more useful dental package than anything on two legs. After some time, I heard the faint footsteps at the opposite end of the hallway.

If I'd had human lips I would have frowned. I hadn't heard them come up the stairs or heard the elevator ding—and I should have. Had they been up here the entire time? Maybe they were guests trying to get away. No—the footsteps stopped outside my room. Silently, I rose and slunk around the corner of the bed. I crouched in the shadows where I had a clear shot at the door. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The instant that door opened...

"This room's warded," a stranger's voice muttered. "This must be it."

"We don't have any idea what's on the other side?" asked another voice.

"No—that Stanley person died before he could tell us anything." That voice was female.

My eyes widened and my lip rose in a snarl. Dr. Stanley? Could they be talking about Dr. Stanley? Had they hurt him?

"How do we get through?" asked the first voice.

"Give me a second," snapped the female voice irritably. "Ah. Clever. Alright, here we go."

There was a flash of light and the door sprang open, revealing three figures, all with their right arms raised. They were holding little sticks of some sort. I registered this in the split second that I was air-born, hurtling toward the tallest figure. My jaws closed on his raised arm and I hit him full in the chest, knocking him over backwards. I instantly bounced off him and tore down the hallway, dodging the jets of light sent after me.

Miraculously, the door to the stairs blew open as I approached and I flew down those stairs so fast I might as well have jumped out the window. The door at the bottom was somehow open as well. I didn't stop to puzzle over it but skidded out into an alley and darted through the shadows. My heart was pounding. Where should I go? Where could I possibly be safe?

I ran away from the light and noise and into the darkness. Once the noise had faded from my ears, I slowed my pace to a nervous, slinking gate. Where the hell was I? The place seemed deserted. Everyone was probably hiding under their blankets like I was supposed to be doing. But wait—not everyone, it seemed. I pricked my ears and heard soft sobbing nearby. I followed the crying until I came to a large dumpster. There in the shadows sat a little girl of maybe four or five, crying her eyes out.

I was torn—I had to help the kid, obviously, but I was too scared to change. I crouched low and flattened my ears against my skull, whining slightly. What should I do? I couldn't just leave her...but there was no way I was going to walk around as a human. The question bounced back and forth in my head until the kid made my mind up for me.

"Doggie?" she sniffled. "Here, doggie."

Right. Just call me Lassie. Or what was that other one's name? Oh, yeah. Rin Tin Tin. I crept closer and licked the little girl's hand, making her giggle.

"Nice doggie," she murmured.

I gently took hold of the girl's sleeve in my mouth and tugged until she got the idea and followed me. After a while, though, she got tired and started crying again. With some very impressive non-verbal communication on my part, I got her to climb onto my back and eventually I found myself in a little park—more like a playground, really, but there were bushes that we could hide in. I nudged her in and slipped in after her.

Once we were settled, I changed and instinctively moved to cover the kid's mouth, but she didn't make a peep. She just looked at me with big, trusting eyes and waited.

When nothing was forthcoming, she asked, "Are you an Animagus?"

"A what?"

"An Animagus," she repeated, as if I was the four year old. "My daddy's an Animagus."

"Er—no, I don't think so," I said impatiently. "Listen, what's your name?"

"Katie," she told me, starting to sniffle. "Are you going to take me to my mommy?"

"I don't know where your mommy is," I pointed out.

"I want my mommy," she blubbered, and I slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Look, kid—Katie—you need to be quiet, okay? We need to wait here for my friend to find us. Then maybe he can find your mommy," I told her.

"Is he braver than you?" Katie asked accusingly.

"Most likely," I replied, unperturbed. Call me chicken-livered, but I was perfectly content to wait for Draco and let him sort things out. "We just have to wait and be very, very quiet, okay? Can you do that?"

I waited, jumping at every sound and shivering. I longed for my thick pelt back, but I didn't want the little snot to start crying again. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard a faint whistling. I pricked my ears. Was it—yes! Draco! I waited until the wind shifted my way and I could affirm that it was him before struggling out of the bush.

He turned around, crouched and with his stick thing raised, then straightened up when he saw it was me. I flew forward and slammed into him, but he caught me easily and gripped me by the shoulders.

"Are you alright?" he asked urgently.

I nodded jerkily, unable to speak. I was too scared even to cry.

"We can't stay here," he muttered. "Hold on to me—don't be afraid."

I opened my mouth to protest and only a small squeak came out. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Wait--" I turned and beckoned to the bush. "Katie, come out. It's alright. This is my friend I was telling you about."

"Ari, what--" Draco sighed as Katie emerged and rubbed his temples. Then he crouched and held a hand out to Katie. "Hello, sweet. Were you out here all alone?"

"I lost my mommy," she said, sticking her thumb in her mouth.

Draco picked her up and settled her on his hip. "We'll find your mum after I take Ari home, alright? Ari, take my hand."

I gripped his hand tightly and tried not to be too envious of Katie, who had her arms wrapped around Draco's neck in a death grip. All at once I felt this horrible squeezing sensation, like I was a pimple about to be popped. Then it was over and I staggered a little. Blinking, I looked around and realized that we were outside the gates of Greenwood. I wasn't as surprised as I thought I'd be. After all, I'd already come to the only possible conclusion. Magic.

"Come on," Draco said tersely, tugging on my hand and leading me down the path.

I almost had to run to keep up with him and kept stubbing my toes on rocks embedded in the road.

"Draco—what was that? What happened?"

"Not yet," he growled.

Uncle Mac met us at the door and quickly ushered me into the nearest room, where I collapsed onto the couch. Draco pointed his stick—wand, I guess—at the fireplace, which burst into flames. Uncle Mac wrapped a heavy blanket around my shoulders and guided my slightly clumsy fingers around a mug of hot chocolate. Draco set Katie down on a chair and tucked another blanket around her.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

Uncle Mac sighed. "This isn't the way I wanted you to find out, my dear, but...well, we—Draco and I—are wizards."

He was obviously waiting for an "Impossible!" or "That cannot be!" or "Preposterous!" or at the very least, "Bullshit." Alas, he was disappointed.

"I noticed," I said dryly, nodding to the wand in Draco's hand. "I've known for a while."

"She's a Muggle?" Katie exclaimed. "She can't be a Muggle, she's an Animagus. My daddy's an Animagus," she added helpfully.

"That's nice, pet," Draco said vaguely, and cleared his throat meaningfully. "Perhaps I should take this one home?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Uncle Mac said hastily. After Draco had led Katie away, Uncle Mac turned to me solemnly. "Please accept my deepest apologies, Ariadne. I never imagined that there would be an attack tonight."

"Just tell me what's going on," I said edgily. "Who was attacking who? And why? Are the terrorists all wizards?"

"My dear, wizards and witches are everywhere, but Muggles—non-magic folk—can't see them. Most have no idea we even exist," he explained. "But now the wizarding world is at war. Muggles, obviously, don't know that, so they think it is simply a mysterious terrorist group."

"Who was attacking who?" I repeated impatiently. "And why?"

"That was the Order of the Phoenix," Uncle Mac told me. "They're your terrorists, or as close to terrorists as you can get. They're a rebel group that controls Scotland and almost all of Ireland. As for who they were attacking, that's a bit more complicated. There are three factions in the war—The Order of the Phoenix, the Ministry of Magic—that's the British Wizarding government—and a third group called...well, we'll call them the Purists."

"What are they fighting over?" I asked.

Uncle Mac sighed. "It's complicated, but what it boils down to is blood. You see, the wizarding race is dying out. Muggle-born witches and wizards are starting to outnumber purebloods. The Purists want to preserve the pure bloodlines and limit the amount of Muggle-born witches and wizards admitted into the wizarding world."

"What does blood have to do with it?" I asked, confused. "If someone has magic, doesn't that make them a wizard?"

"Or a witch. Technically, yes, but if they're not trained, then they can't do much—if anything—with their magic. The Order of the Phoenix is in complete opposition. The Ministry...well, the war is basically between the Phoenix and the Purists. The Ministry is sort of a necessary inconvenience for both sides. But now that they're leaning more toward the Purists, the Order of the Phoenix is angry. I believe tonight's attack was in retaliation. The Ministry recently issued pardons to many Purists who had been captured and is opening negotiations with the Purists."

"And what are you?" I asked, rubbing my forehead. It was a lot to take in. "A Purist or a Phoenix?"

"Neither," he replied. "But I do business with the Purists now and again."

"Speaking of which," I said, "it seems strange that your supposed intern is staying with you for his 'convenience' and yet he has to drive a million hours to London to do business. Doesn't seem very convenient, if you ask me."

"Ah," Uncle Mac said, looking slightly embarrassed. "Well, Draco isn't—technically—my intern. Although he is undoubtedly very useful to have around. No, I invited Draco to stay so that he could keep an eye one you."

"He's my bodyguard?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite that strongly. I just wanted to make sure someone was watching out for you, that's all," Uncle Mac smiled wickedly. "And, anyway, you don't seem to mind having him around."

"This is a conspiracy," I muttered. "And your friends—they're all wizards too?"

"Yes."

"But they seem so—normal. Or they did at the time."

"Well, since the war started, there's been a lot of crossover from the Muggle world, at least in the younger generations." Uncle Mac told me. "Kind of ironic, really. And I had them tutored in the hopes that they wouldn't let anything slip."

I groaned. "And my tutors?"

"Most were Muggles," Uncle Mac told me. "Or at least Muggle-born. Your Logic and Geometry tutor was a wizard."

"Great. Wonderful." Groaning, I set down my hot—well, cold—chocolate and stood up. "Don't expect me at breakfast tomorrow."

"Wait." Draco was back. "I want to know who broke the wards I set on my room."

"Like I know?" I asked irritably.

"Just tell me anything you remember."

I sighed. "There were three of them. Two men and a woman. One was tall—I bit--" I stopped and glanced uncertainly at Uncle Mac.

"He knows," he told me, and motioned for me to continue.

"I bit the tall one," I said. "He was going to do something to me with his wand."

"Who got through the wards?" Draco asked, frowning.

"I'm pretty sure it was the girl that did it," I said.

Draco made a noise of disgust. "Leave it to Granger." Seeing my questioning look, he explained, "The Golden Trio is possibly the most annoyingly dangerous unit the Order has. Taken individually, they're none of them anything special, but together they're a huge thorn in a lot of sides."

"The Golden Trio?" I snorted. "Is that what they call themselves?"

"That's what people called them at school," Draco told me. "Insufferable prats, all three of them."

"Wait, you went to school with them?"

"For six long and painful years," Draco affirmed with a sneer. "Did you hear anything or see anything else?"

"Yes—they said something about Stanley," I said urgently. "They said something about him dying before he could tell them anything. They were looking for something in your room and didn't know what it was."

Draco snorted. "Just like them."

"The doctor who told me I was a werewolf was Dr. Stanley—you don't think they meant him, do you?" I asked, biting my lip.

"I don't know," Draco said, frowning. Seeing my worry, he added, "But I don't think they would have gone all the way to America to hurt this Dr. Stanley of yours. And even if they were so inclined, getting into America is very difficult nowadays."

This made me feel slightly better. I yawned widely and blinked. The night's events were catching up to me, it seemed. I felt like a thousand bricks had suddenly been dropped on my head.

"I'll walk you to your room," Draco offered.

"I know where it is, thanks," I replied coolly, and brushed by him.

It hurt more than I thought it would. Uncle Mac had appointed him to be my babysitter. All the attention he had given me didn't mean anything—it was his job. I felt my face heat up. I had never felt so much like a child in my life. And that's how he must think of me—no better than Katie. After all, he was four years older than me. I slammed into my room and toppled into bed. Despite the new information whirling around my mind, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I didn't realize that I was still wearing his ring.