okay, so I just remembered that I'm going to be in Virginia for a week (as opposed to New Jersey) and so I won't be able to update every day. So I'm giving you three chapters at once. ENJOY!

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The next few weeks passed in a blur of punk rock and tea and crumpets. Callie outfitted me for my new life and introduced me to all her friends as Alex or, more commonly, Alex the Amazon Queen. At first I was wary of appearing in public, but Callie pointed out that it would be more suspicious if I hid in the kitchen all day. This way, people knew me and, to my relief, never associated me with the girl on the wanted posters.

Even so, I often awoke in the middle of the night bathed in a cold sweat and some nights I couldn't sleep at all. I hadn't changed since I left Greenwood and it was taking its toll on me. What would I do at the full moon? It was only a couple of weeks away. And where in God's name was Draco?

In an attempt to escape both the restlessness and the nasty voices telling me that Bellum was going to eat me in my sleep, I woke up early every morning to go running. At first Callie tried to accompany me, but she was as much an athlete as I was a punk rocker. So I drowned my apprehensions in sweat and hairspray and became Alex Rodriguez, Amazon Queen.

Then, one Friday night, Callie woke me up sometime around midnight and threw some clothes at me in the dark. I caught them easily and crawled out of bed.

"What are you doing?" I hissed.

"Get dressed, I'll explain outside," she whispered back.

Muttering slurred curses, I hurriedly dressed and grabbed a couple of necklaces and bracelets. Callie was very strict about that. Holding a finger to her lips for silence, Callie led the way downstairs and out the back door. Two guys (one with a bright pink mohawk and the other with more hair than he could manage) were waiting, smoking cigarettes. They looked to be about Draco's age. Maybe a little younger.

"Jason's going to get us into a fight," Callie whispered excitedly, latching onto the one with the mohawk.

I squinted at him. Had Callie introduced me to him? Probably. All the freakish haircuts sort of ran together in my mind.

"What kind of fight?" I asked stupidly. "I want to go back to bed."

"A boxing match!" Callie told me. That grabbed my attention. "Honestly, Alex. You're so boring. This is a once in a lifetime experience we're talking about."

"Well, it'll be the second in my lifetime," I said peevishly. "Are we going, or what?"

"You've been to one?" Callie asked curiously. "How?"

I shrugged. "I knew one of the fighters."

"Which one?" Cousin It asked.

I hesitated. "Malcolm."

Jason gave a low whistle. "The Dragon? Wow. He was something, alright. Never lost a fight. How did you know him?"

"What do you mean, he was?" I asked. "Has something happened to him?"

"Oh, I don't know," Jason said with a shrug. "He sort of vanished. Used to fight all the time, then disappeared about three weeks ago."

"Really," I said, heart pounding. "Maybe he'll be there tonight."

"I doubt it," Cousin It muttered.

I let the others do the talking as we walked along the nearly deserted streets. Every now and again we would pass someone hurrying along in the opposite direction. They always kept their heads down and their collars up. Only the slim hope that Draco might be at the fight kept me from running back to my room. I felt vulnerable and restless. I wanted to change. Then I wouldn't have to be afraid. In an attempt to distract myself, I forced myself to concentrate on what Callie was saying.

"My dad will kill me if he finds out about this," she was saying. She didn't sound too upset about this. "He thinks the terrorists have nothing better to do than pick on a teenaged misfit."

"Don't worry, Cal," Jason said, flexing his muscles. "I'll protect you."

I rolled my eyes and snorted, drawing Jason's attention.

"You got something to say?" he demanded.

"Not to you, no," I said coldly.

"Your friend's a bitch. Why'd you have to bring her along, huh?" Jason whispered, loud enough for me to hear.

"I brought her along for protection," Callie whispered back. "She could kick the shite out of you any day of the week."

My lips twitched, but I didn't say anything. For the rest of the walk, I concentrated on exuding a 'touch me and I'll break your leg' aura to deter Cousin It's occasional attempts to chat me up. It was working quite well, I thought. It might have been the werewolf thing, of course, but I like to think it was my Aura of Doom that did it. After a few tries he subsided into half appreciative, half resentful glances. I smirked to myself. I was a pathetic punk-rocker wannabe, yes, but I was a hot punk-rocker wannabe.

When we got there, Jason spoke to the man at the door with more bravado than confidence. Unsurprisingly, the guard told him to fuck off. I frowned irritably. I got out of bed for this? I turned around to start the trek back but stopped in my tracks. Before me was a scantily clad supermodel with approximately five cubic feet of golden hair and a figure that made me look like a walrus. I scowled. I hate it when people are prettier than me.

"Don't worry, darling," Aphrodite laughed. "You are lovely. For a mortal, anyway."

"Thank you, kyria," I said cautiously. "Ah—what can I do for you?"

"No, no, no," she said, shaking back her waterfall of hair. "The question is, what can I do for you?"

"Um--"

"Turn around, there's a good girl," Aphrodite instructed. "And go into that building."

"There's a guard," I said respectfully. "I'm not allowed."

"Does the phrase 'seductive manipulation' mean anything to you?" she asked, pouting. "Honestly, what have you been doing all your life?"

"Not that," I muttered, but turned around anyway. "I take it Draco is in there?"

"Yes, he is," Aphrodite said with a catty smile. "That's a good incentive, now isn't it?"

I marched—no, no don't march—I sauntered up to the guard and unzipped my jacket. I almost stumbled as I went up the steps. What the hell was I doing?

"I'm with you," Aphrodite whispered. "Go on."

"Hey there," I said, stopping just inside his invisible ring of personal space. Aphrodite slipped by me and wound her arms around his waist from behind. "Taking a breather, are you? When's your fight?"

"My—oh—oh, I'm no' a fighter," he stammered, blushing. Aphrodite's hands slipped lower. Ugh. "Well—I mean, I am, jus'--jus' no' in the... in the ring..."

I laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry—you certainly look like one." I reached out and ran a finger across his heavily muscled chest, barely resisting the urge to puke. "So did they give you a name along with all those rippling pectorals?"

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. Quoting from Disney movies? God, just shoot me. I motioned surreptitiously to Callie behind my back and she crept past the guard with Jason and Cousin It.

"W-Will," the guard muttered, staring at my chest. I gritted my teeth.

"I'd really like to see the fight," I told him, trying very hard not to look at what Aphrodite was doing.

"Oh, well, it ain't no place for ladies, miss," Will said, puffing up importantly.

"What if you showed me around?" I suggested innocently. "You'd protect me, wouldn't you?"

"I don' know..." he said dubiously. "It's against the rules, see."

"I'd really appreciate it," I said earnestly, taking a step closer to him. "I'd be really grateful."

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't do no harm," he said, eyes raking up and down my body.

He opened the door and walked in without holding it for me. I wrinkled my nose in irritation and followed. Aphrodite was on my heels, whispering furiously.

"That," she said flatly, "was pathetic."

"Beyond pathetic," I agreed.

"It was sickening."

"Nauseating."

"I should have started much earlier with you," Aphrodite muttered. "Look, you're on your own from here, sweetheart. Good luck."

"Thanks a lot," I huffed, and smiled at Will as he turned around, frowning dubiously at me.

What the hell was I supposed to do now? I spotted Callie and her buddies huddled in a corner, looking excited and supremely out of place. I followed Will as he did a circuit of the room, wondering how to make my escape. I glanced at the ring briefly and turned away, then looked back. I frowned.

There were two fighters in the ring (obviously). Both were big, husky, meaty powerhouses. The kind that are sort of slow, sort of bumbling, but insanely powerful. One of them fit that description perfectly. The other looked like he should, but he didn't. He moved with a sort of feral grace that I had seen before. I narrowed my eyes. There was only one man that I had ever seen who moved like that. It was Draco; I was sure of it even before he knocked his opponent out cold. But why did he look like...that?

"Who's that fighting?" I asked Will. "The one on the left?"

"Eh? Oh, 'e's new. Can't quite remember 'is name." Will squinted, trying to remember. "I know t'other one, though. That's Big D. Dursley."

Big D. Dursley looked like he could use a double-D, if you know what I mean.

"I think I'll go introduce myself," I said decisively, and slipped away.

Draco was wiping his face off with a towel as I approached him. I stood in front of him patiently while he finished and waited. He glanced up, frowning, and opened his mouth—probably to ask who I was and what he wanted. Then his mouth clicked shut and he stared.

"You seem to have gained weight since I saw you last," I remarked, looking him over. "And black hair and a beard."

Draco grasped my arm and drew me to an out of the way nook. Glancing around nervously, he grasped my shoulders.
"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"Callie made me come," I said with a shrug. "I thought I might find you, so I didn't argue. And...voila. Speaking of which, weren't you supposed to find me?"

"I knew where you were," he said absently, staring at my hair and face. "Not exactly, but more or less. I've been trying to throw Bellum off your trail while I set everything up. What in the world have you done to yourself?"

"I disguised myself," I snapped. "What do you mean, 'set everything up'? And why do you look like the Incredible Hulk?"

"I don't know who the Incredible Hulk is, but I've been taking Polyjuice Potion. It turns you into someone else for an hour at a time. Ari, is your hair blue?"

"You haven't answered my question yet," I said firmly. "Talk."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm a wanted man, Ari. I've been setting up a series of portkeys and planning out safe apparition points for us to get out of here, but it's been taking a while. It should be ready to go in a few days. Can you wait that long?"

"I can," I said, knees going weak. "But I don't think he can."

Draco turned around and swore. Ira Bellum was standing in the doorway with several cronies spread out around him. Draco moved instinctively to block me from Bellum's view and pulled me closer. His mouth was tight and his face tense. Then he seemed to come to a decision. And not a second too soon, in my opinion. Bellum, somehow, had figured out where we were and had decided to shoot nasty-looking gobs of magic our way. The first barely missed Draco's head, which was a bit higher up than usual. All at once, it seemed, everyone was screaming.

"Think of someplace safe," Draco bellowed in my ear.

"What?"

"Someplace safe," he repeated urgently. "Picture it very clearly in your mind and let me in."

I didn't know quite what he meant, but I tried. It must have worked because a second later I felt that weird squeezing sensation. I waited for the release, but it didn't come. The imaginary hand squeezed tighter for several agonizing seconds, making it difficult to breathe. Just when I thought I might pass out from the pain in my chest, the hand opened and air rushed back into my lungs. I fell to my knees, gasping.

Panting, I struggled to my feet and and looked around in wonder. Was it possible? Moonlight streamed over the waterfall and into the pool, where the moon was reflected in the rippling water. I breathed in the cool night air and smelled the ocean. I spun around, nearly falling over, and laughed in joy and relief. I was home.

The first thing I did was rip out all of the wretched rings, studs, and other metal things stuck in my face. Then I shook out my restored curls and shed about ten pounds of jewelery. I heard a low grunt of pain and turned around swiftly. I had forgotten about Draco. I rushed to his side and tried to help him stand up. He couldn't, so I leaned him against a tree. He blinked at me a few times, as if to focus his eyes.

"Did it work?" he croaked.

"Yes," I said, grinning widely.

"Where are we?" he looked around cautiously.

"Mount Pelion," I replied, surprised. "You didn't know?"

"No," Draco said, shivering a little. "I never want to do that again." He took a deep breath. "Ari, I have to tell you something—well, several things—and I only have a few minutes to do it before the potion wears off and they can find me again. So just listen and please, don't interrupt. If you want to carve out my liver with a spoon afterward, just please wait until I make sure it's safe. Okay?"

"Draco, what are you talking about?" I asked. "Why would I want to—I mean, sure, I'm a little peeved that you didn't come sooner—and that Uncle Mac wasn't really my uncle and wanted to make me a sex slave—you could have mentioned that small detail—but--"

"Ari, please, I don't have much time," Draco said weakly, and closed his eyes. "'Uncle Mac' is—was—Sebastian Gray. He's a sort of honorary Death Eater who financed many of the Dark Lord's enterprises and provided his followers with certain...privileges. The Dark Lord's followers are called Death Eaters. Those are the 'Purists' Sebastian told you about. He gave you a tiny bit of the truth about the war, but not nearly enough.

"The Dark Lord hates Muggles. He doesn't just want to keep them out of the wizarding world, he wants to exterminate them. They are the terrorists, not the Order of the Phoenix. The Ministry of Magic has been working non-stop to cover up Muggle-killing and torturing. Sometimes there's a purpose, but a lot of the time, they do it for fun. My father was one. I am one. Once the potion wears off, the Dark Mark will reappear on my arm and they'll be able to find me.

"I know that nothing can excuse what I've done, but they had my mother. Severus has always been our friend, yes, but he is—was—also my mother's body guard. As long as they had her, I had to do what they said. I was an assassin. You...you were Sebastian's special project, yes, but you were also supposed to be a—a reward for good behavior. I had werewolf blood, you see, but so did plenty of others.

"You have to believe me, Ari—I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to protect you. I thought that if you and I were married I could keep you safe. I would have told you everything, I swear. And then my mother died and the only hostage they had was you—that's why they tried to keep me away. I'm so sorry, Ari. Just wait a few more minutes before you disembowel me—I need to do something first to make sure they can't trace me."

I sat there, dumbstruck. I didn't want to disembowel him—or maybe I did. I didn't know what I wanted to do. I didn't know what to think. An assassin? In league with a murdering child-molester? In league with the people who killed my father? Suddenly a terrible thought struck me.

"Draco. My father...they said a homeless man shot him for his watch—please, tell me you didn't--"

"No," Draco said tightly. "No, that wasn't me. I had another target—your real uncle. And his wife and children."

"Oh, Draco," I murmured. "And the boxing?"

"An escape, nothing more," he said tiredly. "It was nice being David Malcolm, not Draco Malfoy, once in a while."

Suddenly I looked closer. He was beginning to shrink and his hair was lightening. The beard disappeared and tattoos reappeared. Draco, looking sick and frightened, took out a long silver knife and watched his left forearm closely. As soon as the tattoo appeared, he dug the knife into his own flesh. I gasped and put out a hand to stop him, but I caught sight of what the tattoo was and stopped. It was a skull with a snake for a tongue. I looked away.

"Not fast enough, Draco." I felt my blood freeze in my veins. It was Bellum. He was across the pool, wearing a twisted, cruel smile. "Now that you've started, though, you might as well finish. It's too late to turn back."

"Go away," I said, more bravely than I felt. "Leave him alone."

"I didn't come for him, sweetling," he said calmly. "I came fore you."

"Go away," I repeated. "You don't belong here."

"Are you going to stop me, darling?" he laughed. "Little girl, you don't even have a wand."

Suddenly I realized something and smiled. "It doesn't matter. You don't belong here; I do. You're on my turf now."

I felt like there was magic all around me just waiting for something to do. I simply had to direct it. I focused on Bellum and forced him back to where he came from. With an anguished howl, he disappeared. I laughed. Ah, the glories of home field advantage. I turned to Draco and saw a bloody, gaping hole where his tattoo had been. It was bleeding profusely. I knelt by his side and cut a bandage out of my jacket with his knife.

"Don't bother," he muttered. "I'm going to die."

"You're not going to die," I said firmly. "I'll get you to a hospital and they'll fix you up. Volos isn't that far away."

"It doesn't matter," he panted. "The only way to get rid of the Dark Mark is to cut it out, but it's fatal. The curse—I thought...if I could save you...it would be worth it. But he came—it didn't work—I'm so sorry--"

"In case you haven't noticed," I said dryly. "I'm still here and he's not. And I'm telling you, you're not going to die."

"Ari, it's not just a scratch," he said weakly, managing somehow to sound annoyed. "There's a curse."

"I don't care," I snapped, but I was scared. I could practically see the life draining out of him. I closed my eyes and said clearly, "Apollo, hear me. Come to me." As an afterthought, I added. "Quickly, please. It's kind of urgent."

And he was there. I let out a breath of relief. He was just as glorious and commanding as I remembered.

"Please, kyrie—heal him. He'll die without your help," I begged.

"I will not," he said simply. I opened my mouth to protest—vehemently—and he held up a hand. "It is not my help he needs, but yours. You have the power to heal, my little one. This is for you to do."

"But—I've never—I don't know what to do," I said, feeling tears form behind my eyes. Draco's chest was hardly moving. And he was pale—so pale.

"I will guide you," Apollo said gently. "Take his hands and close your eyes. Gently—you mustn't rush. Now find the curse—feel for it with your mind."

I could feel Apollo's hands on my shoulders as I knelt at Draco's side. At first I couldn't seem to feel for it, as Apollo said. Then I tried sort of sniffing it out and that helped a little. Then it clicked all of a sudden. It was like a whole new sense. I could feel the magic all around me, inside me, in Apollo. And there was the curse—a dark, malevolent presence wrapped around Draco's heart.

"Good," Apollo said. "Now burn away the curse. Every trace of it."

I imagined white fire enveloping the darkness. As I watched (sort of) the fire seemed to eat away at the darkness until nothing was left but the flickering light that was Draco. Was I too late? No, I told myself. I won't let him die. I poured some of my own light into his until it stopped flickering.

"Come away now," Apollo urged me. "It is finished. Come back."

I retreated back into my own body and opened my eyes with great effort. I felt like I'd given about a quart of blood. Apollo rested a hand on my head and smiled, taking away the lightheaded feeling and nausea. I smiled back tentatively, suddenly shy.

"Well done," he said. "Very well done. But he is not well yet. The curse is gone, but his body is weakened and the curse has already done some damage. He may still die without care. So tend him well."

"Thank you," I murmured. "I'll never forget your kindness."

"You make it seem like you will never see me again," Apollo laughed. "You will, my young champion."

Apollo disappeared and I turned my attention to Draco. His breathing was stable and there was more color in his face. Actually, there seemed to be too much color in his face. Maybe it was just the moonlight playing tricks on me. He was awake and looking around as if dazed. His eyes settled on me and he smiled, reaching out slowly to touch my hair.

"Am I dead, then?" he asked softly.

"Sorry, but no," I said. "Can you walk?"

Draco frowned. "I'm not dead?"

"Sorry to disappoint you," I muttered. "Come on, my grandmother's house isn't too far."

"I should be dead," Draco said. "Why am I not dead?"

"Jesus, Draco," I cried. "Did you want to die?"

"No," he replied reasonably. "But there's no counter curse—and you don't even have a wand."

"Draco, just shut up and trust me when I say you are definitely not dead," I said irritably. "But you might be if I don't get you inside soon."

Draco's eyes began to drift shut. "Alright."

"Whoa—hey, hey, wake up." I pinched his arm sharply. "Come on, on your feet."

I tried to pull him into a standing position, but he slumped back to the ground, leaned over, and threw up.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," he groaned.

"Okay," I muttered, and felt his forehead. It was hot—not yet alarmingly so, but it looked like it was headed in that direction. "Okay. Draco, wait here. I'm going to get help. I'll be back soon, I promise."

Draco nodded mutely and leaned back against the tree. I spread the remains of my jacket on top of him and hauled off my boots so I could run. I squeezed Draco's hand briefly before going wolf and flying down the path. It was only a mile or so to my grandparents' house, so I should make it in...um, hold on. Wolves can move at 30 miles per hour, so I could make it in...wait, I know this. Okay, thirty miles in one hour, so one mile would be...one divided by thirty. Which is...um...like, point zero three or something like that. So three percent of sixty is...oh, fuck it, I'd be there in a couple of minutes. (It's actually one point eight minutes, if you're interested—I did the math later.)

I changed just inside the tree line and sprinted up the path to the house. I pounded on the door, calling frantically for my grandfather. I saw the lights go off and heard Papou running down the stairs. The door opened and I fell forward into my grandfather's arms. He held me up while I struggled to breathe and waited until I had caught my breath to ask me what was wrong. God bless him, he didn't bother asking me why I was even there.

"I need help," I panted. "My friend is very sick—he can't walk and I can't carry him. Is theio Parasko at home? Or Christo?"

"You're in luck, my girl," Papou told me as he pulled his shoes. "Christo came home yesterday from school to help his father." He glanced at my feet and my rather revealing top and raised his eyebrows. "Get cleaned up. I'll bring them back here."

I met my grandmother at the top of the stairs and she hustled me into the bathroom to wash my feet. As I rubbed them with soap and warm water, she brought me a clean shirt and a pair of shoes and socks from my room. I was all cleaned up and ready to go when my uncle Parasko and Christo showed up with Papou. My grandmother was busy making preparations (I'd told her that Draco was running a fever) as I ran out the door with the men.

I led them up the mountain as quickly as I could—I had to keep reminding myself that they couldn't see as well as I could. When we arrived at the waterfall, I ran to Draco's side and put a hand on his forehead. His fever had gone up. He opened his eyes and looked at me blearily.

"I have help," I told him. "They're going to carry you to my grandparents' house. You'll be safe with them—they're all family."

Draco moaned. "This isn't the way I wanted to meet your family."

"Don't worry about it," I said soothingly as Christo and Parasko lifted him up. "Don't worry about a thing. You'll be okay now."

Draco was really out of it as we struggled down the path, switching places every now and again. My grandmother was waiting for us when we arrived and directed us upstairs. We set Draco down carefully on my bed and made way for my grandmother, who was armed with a thermometer and a bowl (for Draco to puke in, no doubt). Papou drew me out into the hallway with Parasko and Christo.

"Now that your friend is taken care of," he said in a low voice. "Would you mind telling me why you are not in England and why you were breaking down my door and three o'clock in the morning?"

"It's a long story and you wouldn't believe half of it," I sighed. "But basically, Uncle Mac was a fake and a crook. Draco got me out of there at great risk to his life."

"What dragon?" Christo asked, confused.

"Is that his name?" Papou asked. "Dragon?"

I should probably note here that in Greek, 'draco' translates directly as 'dragon'. And not only that, but when you're referring to someone, you don't just say 'George' or 'John'. You say 'the George' or 'the John'. So what I had actually said was, 'the dragon got me out of there etc., etc.'

"Yes," I said. "His name is Dragon."

"Did someone poison him?" Parasko asked, glancing into the room.

"Kind of," I said uncomfortably. "Look, I can't tell you everything that's happened to us. It might put him in danger. It might even put you in danger."

"What have you gotten yourself into?" Papou said dangerously.

"Don't worry," I said with a tired smile. "I had Draco taking care of me. Now I have to take care of him."

"He has a fever of a hundred and five," my grandmother informed us, coming out of my room. "We have to get him to a hospital."

"No," I said instantly. They all looked at me, shocked. "Certain—certain people are looking for him and if we take him to the hospital, they could find him."

"He would be quite safe in the hospital," my grandmother said impatiently. "Kahtia, I don't think you realize how serious this is. If his temperature gets any higher, he could have a seizure."

"He would not be safe in a hospital," I snapped. "It would be the perfect place to kill him and make it look like an accident."

"Kill him?" Her mouth hung open.

"Yes," I said. "Yiayia, please. We have to take care of him ourselves. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

Yiayia sighed. "Alright, poulaki mou. Run downstairs and fill up a bowl with lukewarm water. Get a lot of rags, a big cup of water, and the pills in the cabinet."

"You mean the Tylenol?" I asked, just to be sure.

"The little white ones," Yiayia said, flapping a hand at me. To the men, she said, "Go back to bed. You'll only be in the way."

"As if I could sleep now," my grandfather muttered, but he left.

I ran to do as she said and returned to find Draco under a sheet, presumably naked (his clothes were folded neatly on a chair). Yiayia told me to get the pills into him while she took the puke-bowl to be emptied. I sat next to Draco and supported his head while he drank. His skin was burning, but not damp. It felt like there was a fire under his skin. I tried to coax the pills into his mouth, but he kept shoving them away.

"Draco, you need to swallow these," I said, exasperated. "They'll bring down your fever."

"What are they?" he asked, his speech slurred and confused.

I groaned. I guess he'd never had to swallow pills before. Now, when he was nearly delirious with fever, probably wasn't a good time to start. What if he choked? I ran down to the kitchen and explained the problem to my grandmother. She frowned, but nodded and went to the cabinet where she kept her herbs.

"Go back upstairs and start bathing him with the rags. Make sure the water is warm enough so he doesn't start shivering. I'll be up in a little bit with a tea for him to drink. In the mean time, get as much water into him as you can."

Upstairs, I took one of the rags and dipped it in the water. I wrung it out and sat gingerly on the bed next to Draco. I gulped, very aware of the fact that he was naked under the sheets. I gently mopped his face with the rag and then hesitantly moved down to his chest and shoulders. After I had done his arms, I proceeded to his belly and couldn't bring myself to go farther than that.

"Ari?" Draco blinked and stared at me with glassy eyes. "Where am I?"

"You're in my room," I said, mopping his forehead again. "In my grandmother's house. Everything's going to be alright now."

"Bellum--"

"Is gone," I told him. "I made him leave."

Draco grunted, seeming to accept this.

"Here, you need to drink some water," I said, helping him sit up a little.

"Dark Mark," Draco muttered. "Fatal..."

"Not this time," I said firmly. "The curse is gone. You're just a little sick, that's all. Come on, drink this."

He drank, but threw it up after a few minutes. Yiayia came up some time later with a cup of tea and a bowl of the same stuff. I asked her what it was in a bowl for and she said we would bathe him with it as well as make him drink it.

"The problem is that these herbs will make his temperature go up briefly before breaking the fever," Yiayia told me. "We have to try to bring his fever down enough so that he doesn't go into convulsions once we get the herbs into him."

"You can have a seizure from fever?" I asked. "I never knew that."

"Yes, it's more common in children but it can happen to adults too," Yiayia said absently. "You never had them, but Christo and Anthoula did a few times."

"Huh. Weird."

We took his temperature again. It was just under 105. We worked constantly for several hours, bathing him and trying to get him to keep water down. Draco was extremely uncomfortable, tossing restlessly and making low noises of distress. He was also quite delirious and babbled a lot of nonsense at me. Most of it sounded like apologetic nonsense. Yiayia gave him something (ginger, I think) to settle his stomach and that helped. Finally, his temperature went down a couple of degrees and we used the tea. Thankfully, it stayed down and he soon began to sweat. Not long after that, his fever broke and he slept.

Yiayia made some mountain tea for the two of us and we sat in silence in the kitchen. The sun had been up for a while and we were both exhausted. When we were finished drinking, Yiayia washed the cups and put them away. Then she stood behind me and rubbed my shoulders gently.

"I'll make a bed for you on the couch," she said, tugging me to my feet. "You need to sleep."

I shook my head. "I couldn't possibly sleep."

"What's bothering you? It isn't just worry."

"It's too complicated," I sighed. "I wish I could tell you everything, but it might put you in danger. Please understand."

Yiayia regarded me with worried eyes. "I can't say I understand, but I trust you."

"Thank you," I whispered, tears springing to my eyes.

I leaned into her embrace and closed my eyes, trying to pretend that I was a little girl again. Back then my grandmother was all knowing and all powerful and could make everything alright. But she couldn't make this all better with a hug and a kiss like she used to and that made me feel small and sad and alone.

I pulled away and wiped my eyes. "I think I'm going to go for a swim."

"What? The water will be freezing," Yiayia protested. "You'll catch your death out there and then I'll have two patients to take care of."

"I'll be fine," I said. "It'll keep me awake."

"You are such a strange child," Yiayia sighed. "You always were."

If you only knew, I thought darkly, and headed out the door. As soon as I was in the trees, I changed and loped up and over the mountain to my secret beach. I had been going there for years and, as far as I knew, I was the only person who knew about it. I hurried because, as much as I needed a swim, I needed someone to talk to more.

When I arrived at the cove, I shed my dirty, sweaty clothing and slipped naked into the water with a gasp. It was freezing—but it felt good. I kept moving until I warmed up, diving and twirling and wriggling happily. I rolled over under water and looked up at the surface and at the sun sparkling in the water, suddenly at peace. Everything else was outside. I was in another world.

I'd always wondered why I was able to keep my eyes open underwater without the salt bothering them. I could also hold my breath for an unusually long period of time. Now I knew better. When I was with the nymphs, I could stay under for as long as I wanted as long as one of them was holding my hand. Speaking of the Nereids, where were they? I was hoping they—well, one in particular—would be there by now.

I came up for air and shook the water out of my eyes. When I could see clearly, I grinned. Sitting on a rock was a pale (relatively, anyway), dark-haired woman clad in seaweed. She didn't look old, but her eyes belied her age. Thetis was as old as the mountains. She patted the rock invitingly. I pulled myself up next to her and reveled in the warmth of the sun-baked rock.

"Welcome home," she said softly. "We've missed you."

"So have I," I sighed. "It feels so good to come home. Where are the others?"

"You need someone to talk to, not a mob," Thetis shrugged. "There will be time for them later. Now, tell me."

I told her. Everything, from the very beginning. It took a long time and, by the time I was done, the sun was high in the sky. I turned my face upward and stretched, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my bare skin. I lay back with my head pillowed on seaweed and on my own curls.

"So what will you do now?" Thetis asked.

"I don't know," I said, closing my eyes. "I suppose I'll have to take care of him until he's better. I owe him that, at least. And then I'll send him on his way."

"Why should you do that?" Thetis demanded. "He loves you. And, unless I am very much mistaken—which is highly unlikely—you are in love with him."

"I shouldn't love him," I sighed. "I can't."

"And why not?"

"He's done terrible things," I told her, feeling a stab of pain at the thought. "He worked for the people who killed my father. He himself killed my uncle and his family. Women and children. I never got a chance to meet them."

"Didn't you tell me they had his mother?" Thetis asked reasonably. "You might think of him not as a murderer but as a martyr. He was willing to kill—to lose his innocence—to save his mother."

"He killed my uncle," I reminded her.

"That is selfish," Thetis chided me. "You never met your uncle. Had he refused, he very likely would have lost his mother. How can you expect him to do otherwise? I know my son would have killed as many as necessary to keep me from harm."

"He lied to me," I said stubbornly, changing tactics. "He knew everything that was going on, and went along with it. He purposely kept me in the dark. He would have married me and our children would have grown up to be weapons for this Dark Lord, whoever he is."

Thetis was silent for a moment. Then she asked me, "Do you love your family?"

"Of course I do," I replied, startled.

"You would do everything you could to protect them, wouldn't you?" I nodded. "Now answer this: have you told them everything you told me? Have you told them any of it?"

"No," I replied. "It would only endanger them. I told them that."

"But are you not lying to them? Are you not purposely keeping them in the dark?" Now it was my turn to be silent. "How, then, are you any different from this man you believe you cannot love?"

I sighed. "I guess I'm not all that different, am I? But how can I trust him when he's been lying to me all along?"

"The same way your grandmother trusts you," Thetis told me, laying a hand on my cheek. "My child, trust isn't something that can be justified with reason. You must have faith." Thetis regarded me solemnly for a moment, then nodded. "If you wish, I will give you a glimpse of your future, as I did for my son. Do you wish it?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

"Accept him and you set yourself on a path into terrible danger—but you will have him, and he will love you. Turn away and you will live a long, healthy life filled with loneliness and regret."

"Well, then," I murmured. "I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"

"There is always a choice."

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okay, so we all know that there is absolutely ZERO chance of her giving Draco the boot, but don't assume that it'll all be honky-dory.