I returned the next morning just before dawn. I slipped silently among the colorful trees and bushes and hopped lightly through the window into our room. Draco was sitting on the bed, facing the door, but he turned around at my arrival. I changed and stood silently with my arms crossed, unsure of what to say or do. Draco stood and faced me with his hands at his sides. His face looked so hard and stern that I almost didn't recognize him.

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked expressionlessly.

"A bit," I replied guardedly. "You?"

He shook his head. "Not a wink."

I didn't say anything. What could I say? I'm sorry? That would be a lie. Frankly, I thought he deserved it. On the other hand, I very much wanted to throw myself into his arms and pretend that everything was alright again.

"Ari, please," Draco said softly, his mask cracking a little bit. "Say something."

I shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know."

"I don't know, either. I can think of something for you to say," I added coldly.

Draco stiffened, as if to prepare himself for a blow to some sensitive spot. He took a deep breath with some difficulty owing to a tightly clenched jaw, balled his fists, and abruptly relaxed.

"I should have told you what I was planning. For that, I apologize," he said formally.

"But not for using magic to play with my head?" I asked, trying to decide whether to get angry again.

"I regret that it was necessary," Draco said stiffly. "I did what I had to do."

"I see," I said hollowly. I cleared my throat. "When do we leave?"

"Leave?"

"For Delos," I clarified.

"Ah. Christo and I leave at dawn," he said.

I froze. "You and Christo."

"Yes," he said, looking me in the eye. "The whole point of leaving your grandparents' house was to keep them—and you—safe. You would be safe here. These people are your family—and they're fighting men."

"Excuse me, have you forgotten last night?" I demanded. "In case you hadn't noticed, a complete stranger waltzed into our room intending—I don't know what he was going to do, but I feel reasonably confident that he wasn't on a social call."

"I'd say you handled him well enough," he said ruefully.

"High praise for a defenseless woman," I said sarcastically. "I haven't forgotten yesterday."

Draco looked confused and slightly wary. "Yesterday?"

"Yesterday you didn't want me 'wandering around by myself'. Because I'm a woman."

"Well, you've proved me wrong and then some," he said, and shrugged. "Look, you belong here. You know what to look for—what's dangerous, what's suspicious. And you have more power than anyone I've ever met. As much as it pains me as a man and your husband to admit it, you don't need me. You've made that abundantly clear."

He sounded surprisingly bitter. But he was right. Here in Greece, I was in my element. I didn't need him. Not for safety, anyway. And if I was here, where I was virtually untouchable, it would allow Draco to operate freely on his own. Perhaps that was what he wanted—to be on his own.
"If that's what you want," I said dully.

"You know very well what I want," he said sharply, coming around the bed to stand before me. "I just thought that you would be happier here than in Scotland."

"And not see you for months—years, maybe?" I replied incredulously. "Forget it. I'm going with you."

The mask finally crumbled away and he grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

I laughed, releasing the tension that had been building up all night, and walked forward to lean my forehead against his chest. He picked me up and carried me to the bed, where he toppled over, pinning me down with his weight.

"We have a few hours till dawn," he said in my ear. "I intend to use them suitably."

"Mmm," I murmured in agreement, and waited to be kissed.

When nothing was forthcoming, I looked up questioningly. Draco smiled and kissed me before rolling over so that our positions were reversed. Then he closed his eyes and rested his head on the pillow. I snorted and rolled off of him. 'Suitably', indeed. I curled up with my head in the hollow of his shoulder and his arm came around me as if by reflex. In moments, we were both asleep.

And it seemed like only moments later we were awakened by Demetroula, bearing a breakfast tray and a basin of water for washing. I sat up and poked Draco, who groaned and rolled over. I prodded him again and he swatted my hand away.

"Leave me alone," he growled brusquely.

"Time and tide wait for no man," I said tartly, whipping the pillow out from under his head. "And neither does Kallias."

Draco glared at me, looking remarkably like an angry cat.

"You are an overbearing nag, do you know that?"

"You've mentioned it once or twice, yes," I replied, unperturbed.

I was far too used to his daily transformation into Mr. Hyde to be hurt or offended anymore. Jekyll would surface shortly after breakfast, no doubt. I took another look at those sparking silver eyes narrowed at me in surly malevolence and reconsidered. Maybe by noon. If I was lucky.

I thanked Demetroula and accepted the washcloths she handed me before beating a hasty retreat. As she made her escape, she cast an anxious look over her shoulder at the ominously rumbling lump on the bed. When she was gone, Draco rolled out of bed and wrapped his kilt-cloth around his lean hips and made a bee-line for the tray of food.

Less than two hours later, we were on the ship and headed back out to sea. I sighed and tried to console myself with the thought that it was only a few days. On the other hand, the longer the journey took, the longer I would be in Greece. Going back to the land of rain and Mary Poppins didn't please me overmuch. Yet on the other, imaginary, hand, it was almost May. Maybe the weather was better.

The next day, I sat chatting with Kallias as he steered the boat and learned that the intruder from the other night had had nothing to do with Bellum at all. He was after ransom. He knew only that I was related to the king and queen of Vouna and thought to kidnap me for money and for whatever other benefits I might provide—hence the evil eye on Draco. The mati is cast by a intense envy. The would-be kidnapper was more jealous of Draco than greedy for me. Typical.

Despite some momentary indignation at this revelation, I was quite relieved. If he had been sent by Bellum, it would mean that Bellum knew Draco was still alive. And we didn't want that. Of course, it would probably come out sooner or later, but I profoundly hoped it would be much, much later.

"Who exactly is this...Mbeh-loom?" Kallias asked, doing his best with the English pronunciation. "What does he want with you?"

"Nothing good," I said grimly. "I don't know, exactly, and that scares me. It originally had to do with my—condition."

I didn't want to say curse, because it wasn't a curse for me. I loved it. I gloried in it. It was a gift from the gods. A blessing.

"How you turn into a wolf," Kallias said, seeking affirmation.

I nodded. "You see, I'm different. Usually, the bite is a terrible curse. Every full moon the person who is bitten turns into a raging, blood-thirsty monster. They lose all sense of humanity, all sense of self. That doesn't happen to me. I'm fully aware of who I am when I change and, what's more, I'm not limited to changing only at the full moon. I can change whenever I like and as much as I like." I demonstrated briefly, displaying sharp claws and small, sharp fangs. "Also, silver is lethal to normal werewolves. It doesn't affect me at all."

"So this man wanted you as a weapon to use against his enemies?" Kallias asked.

"Not quite," I said, shivering at the memory. "It wasn't even Bellum who's plan it was. It was a man named Sebastian Grey. Grey wanted to use me as breeding stock. Bellum was to be the stallion to my mare."

Kallias looked duly horrified. "And you will go back? That is absurd. Ariadne, stay. You are safe here."

I shook my head. "Draco must fight in England and I go with him—and who knows? Perhaps I can help somehow."

"You only came into your powers recently," Kallias argued. "Better to stay here, where it is safe, and learn to use them fully."

I shook my head again. "I'm not going to change my mind. I have to go with Draco."

We sat in silence for some time, contemplating the future.

"Kallias, you have traveled a great deal, right?" I asked presently.

"I have," Kallias replied.

"Outside of Greece?" He nodded curiously, waiting for me to continue. "Can you still work old magic outside of Greece?"

"Vevaia," he said heartily. "Your magic comes from within you. You carry it with you wherever you go."

"Oh, good," I said, relieved. "I just wondered—because I didn't come into my powers until I came to Greece."

"I think that was partly coincidence," Kallias said. "You said Mbehloom was threatening your husband's life when you discovered your magic, no? I think it was more likely the situation that triggered it rather than your location."

"That's comforting," I said. "I was afraid I would be left with just my chameleon tricks and pyromania once I left Greece."

"What?"

Again a demonstration was called for, which drew the attention of the crew. The next twenty minutes were spent experimenting with dozens of color combinations that the crew members shouted out. The nearly unanimous vote was that bright purple and magenta hair and painfully carroty orange eyes was the coolest combination. It was only nearly unanimous because Draco didn't appreciate thirty men staring at his wife and finally pointed out that there was plenty of work to do and staring at me wouldn't get any of it done. Very calmly, of course. Kallias reinforced that suggestion while hiding a smile and I reverted to my natural, beauteous glory.

"When you come back to Greece," Kallias said, "will you come to Vouna or go back to your grandparents to live?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I think I'm going to worry about getting back here in one piece first."

"Well, know that there will always be a place for you on Vouna, should you choose to live there," Kallias said.

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

Soon I began to get restless and spent the remainder of the day as a hawk soaring high above the ship. That night, I told Draco what Kallias had told me about the Mysterious Intruder—though I guess he wasn't so mysterious anymore—and found that Draco was as relieved as I was. I guess having murderous dark wizards after us our first night in England wasn't his cup of tea, either. Haha. England, cup of tea...oh, forget it.

When we arrived at Delos, I thought at first that we had stopped at another "rest" island. There was no port, no docks, no people, even. Just a small cove where a ship could anchor. Kallias rowed us to shore and Draco, Christo, and I bid him farewell with a promise to visit if—when—we returned. Kallias agreed to act as a sort of scout for Christo and see if there were any likely recruits on whatever islands he ended up on.

Christo led us from the beach up into the hills, which seemed to be deserted except for a few goats. That watched us calmly while chewing mouthfuls of grass. A scruffy dog moved to place himself between us and the goats, staring at us warningly. Another took a good look at us and bounded away.

"Does anyone even live here?" Draco asked.

"Just the oracle and her priests," Christo replied. "It's not far—but first we must cleanse ourselves at the spring."

The spring was unadorned save for a small statue of Leto with the infant twins. We washed our hands and faces and continued up the path, which grew gradually wider until it formed a paved walkway lined with statues of Apollo in various aspects. The temple was simple, but impressive, a large, whitewashed building with smooth columns and carved walls. In front of the temple stood a priest in simple homespun robes. One of the dogs we had seen with the goats sat by his side, panting and thumping his tail happily.

"Yeiasas kai chara sas," the priest greeted us, kissing each of us on the cheek. "What brings you to the home of Apollo?"

Christo stepped forward. "My cousin seeks guidance from the oracle, Holy One," he said humbly. "She goes to a distant land to aid her husband in the war."

The priest's eyes flicked to me and then to Draco.

"Come, then," he said, and led the way into the temple, where we were met by a priest wearing considerably more lavish clothing.

After a brief conference, we were allowed to approach the figure seated on a tripod over a pit and the first priest hurried away with the dog at his heels. I wrinkled my nose against the fumes of burning laurel rising from the pit. More priests in rich clothing stood around her, waiting to interpret her riddles.

"Ask your question," the priest said, stepping back.

I stepped forward and hesitated, unsure of what to ask. Yiayia had only said we needed to come to Delos. She hadn't told me what to ask. What did I want to know? Could she even tell me?

"What awaits us in England?" I asked finally. "Will we return or--"

"Life in death awaits you, my child," the Sybil answered, startling me. "Return that which was stolen and regain the key from the depths of mystery. Beware: the Rich One gives no charity. To strike a bargain you must have something to trade."

And she fell silent. I exchanged a startled, worried glance with Christo. Draco was frowning. I could tell he hadn't quite caught all of what she said. It didn't really make a difference. I understood her words but not the meaning behind them. The priests gathered together, speaking in hushed tones while we waited anxiously. Finally, the cluster broke and one of them approached us, bowing deeply to me.

"We are honored at your presence, Daughter of Apollo," he said. "Forgive us our lack of courtesy; we did not know."

"Not at all," I said graciously to cover my confusion. "I ask only your guidance, Holy One."

He nodded, suddenly businesslike. "We have conferred and it appears that you will have a close brush with death in an attempt to bargain with a rich lord for something dear to you."

"A close brush with death," Christo interjected, looking concerned. "Will she survive it?"

"We must make a sacrifice and read the entrails to determine that," the priest answered politely.

"No need for that," I said hastily, not because I was squeamish but because I was afraid the smell of a fresh kill might be too much for the wolf inside. "We really must be going."

We exited the temple after leaving an offering in the form of all the gold coins we had left. I thought it was a huge ripoff after hearing the priests' interpretation. Please. Anyone could have come up with that. I had a feeling there was much more to what the Sybil had said. She is supposed to be the mouthpiece for the god. If all Apollo wanted to tell me was that I had to bargain my way out of death, he could have told me that himself.

Soon we were back on the beach, looking at each other and shuffling about awkwardly. I looked around, wondering suddenly how we were going to get back to England. Now that we actually had to go, I wanted to get there as soon as possible.

"How are we getting to England?" I asked.

Draco shrugged. "We'll Apparate."

"Oh. Why didn't we just Apparate here?" I asked. "Or to Vouna, for that matter?"

"Because you have to know where you're going to Apparate," Christo explained.

"But we Apparated to Mount Pelion from London," I said, looking at Draco for an explanation.

"You did?" Christo exclaimed, looking aghast at the notion. "How?"

"Yes, we did, but that's not an experience I ever want to repeat," Draco replied, looking sick at the memory. "It was extremely risky. I used Leglimency to extract an image from Ari's mind."

"Are you insane?" Christo exploded. "You could have Splinched yourselves, or worse."

"Staying would have meant death," Draco snapped. "Or worse. Don't question me, boy. I don't take unnecessary risks, least of all with Ari."

Christo subsided into silence but continued to glower at Draco as he kissed my cheek.

"Take care of yourself, Kahti," he said.

"I'll miss you," I replied, hugging him tightly.

"You might see me sooner than you think," he told me, winking mysteriously.

I rolled my eyes. They really did think I was completely oblivious, didn't they? I watched with no little amusement as Draco and Christo stood facing each other in awkward silence. I was reminded strongly of the scene in Grease where Kinicky asks Danny to be his second. This image was reinforced when they suddenly grinned and shared a manly embrace, thumping each other on the back.

I snorted in a decidedly undignified fashion and smiled. Draco had come such a long way from the cool, suave sophisticate I had first met. Then again, such an image was difficult to maintain on a ship full of rowdy, rambunctious Greeks. Or in my grandmother's household, for that matter.

Christo Apparated away—Disapparated, I think the correct term is—leaving me and Draco alone on the deserted beach. With a sigh, I pulled our clothes out from the bag and handed Draco his trousers and shirt—and boxers. (I had been relieved to find out that wizards—or at least Draco—did, in fact, wear underwear. And not tighty-whities.) Draco took them with the same expression of distaste he had worn when he first donned his kilt-cloth. It made me smile slightly. My own skirt and blouse wasn't such a drastic transition.

It was a shock to see Draco wearing "normal" clothes for the first time in almost two weeks. Hell, it was a shock to see him wearing that much clothing at all. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. I exchanged my lace-up sandals for a pair of flip flops and waited for Draco to finish tying his shoes. When he straightened up, he looked at me seriously.

"Ari," he said. "I need you to promise me something. I swore I wouldn't use magic to force you against your will, but where we're going I might not always have time to explain things. I need you to promise to do as I tell you and to not waste time asking questions. If I tell you to do something, I guarantee there's a reason for it. You just have to trust me."

"Alright," I said after a moment. "I trust you."

"Promise."

"I promise."

Draco held a hand out to me and I took it, standing close by his side. We took a last look around and then we were gone with that squeezing feeling. It wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as the last time, presumably because Draco knew where he was going this time.

"Wow," I said, taking in the spectacle before us. "Are you sure your last name isn't Adams?"

"What?"

"Nevermind," I muttered. "So. This is home sweet home, is it?"

"This is Malfoy Manor," Draco said. "Home, I suppose."

Which implied that, while home, it was not sweet. Still holding my hand, he pushed the gate and it swung open soundlessly. I shivered: it would have been less creepy if it had squeaked a little. Even in broad daylight, the Manor looked dark and spooky. I was glad Draco didn't seem overly fond of the place. Living here was most definitely not an option.

"If anyone but a Malfoy tried to open that gate his hand would shrivel up," Draco told me as we walked through the gate.

"Does that include me or was that a warning?" I asked uncertainly.

"Of course you count," he said. "You're a Malfoy now, aren't you?"

"I guess I am," I said, sort of surprised. I hadn't thought of that before. "Ariadne Malfoy. I like it."

Draco smiled briefly. "Good."

We hurried across the lawn and Draco led me through through a maze of sinister looking shrubbery that surrounded the house. Sinister shrubbery may sound sort of silly, but I assure you that these bushes looked positively evil. Draco noticed me looking at them worriedly and told me that they were Chokevines, meant to strangle intruders.

"Charming," I murmured, and pressed closer to him.

I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or nervous when we finally made it to the house. Once again Draco merely pushed open the door and we walked in. There was a sudden cracking sound that had me on all fours and snarling in a split second. Once I saw the cause for the sound, I changed back and stared in surprise.

"Cinders? What are you doing here?"

"Master Draco is offering me a position here after Master Sebastian kicked the bucket," she said, beaming up at me.

"When I came back a few weeks ago," Draco explained. "This place has been empty for more than five years; it needed to get cleaned up. I also took the liberty of bringing your belongings from Greenwood. As well as a few choice items of Mr. Grey's that might prove useful."

"How?" I asked. "After seeing this—I can't believe Grey's manor was less protected."

"I constructed those wards," Draco said smugly. "That was my job, remember? The only people who knew how to get by them were Sebastian and myself. Anyone else had to be let in by one of us."

"And now that Sebastian is dead, you're the only one who can get in," I said. "Nice."

"It is rather comforting to know," Draco agreed. "Cinders, could you send dinner up to my room? You know which one it is?"

The little elf nodded happily and disappeared with another loud cracking noise. Draco led me through the dark, eerily silent house and I found it difficult not to cringe from the portraits of sneering men and women. One was particularly cruel-looking, but he bore such a strong resemblance to Draco that I had to stop.

The man in the painting looked to be about thirty, with pale blond hair that looked like it might be going white at the temples. Or maybe he just had really pale hair; it was hard to tell. I looked at Draco and then at the picture again. Draco's face, when he wasn't smiling, was every bit as hard and stern as the painting's. But I had never seen him wear that particular expression of utter cruelty. The man in the painting had been a sadistic son of a bitch, I was sure of it.

"What are you staring at, you insolent bitch?" the man hissed. "You are not fit to wear that ring. You are not worthy of the Malfoy name. The Dark Lord will rid the world of your kind, you filthy Mudlbood."

"My father," Draco said expressionlessly. "Let's go."

I was shocked. Was this what Draco had grown up with? I stole a glance at Draco but his face was hard and cold. I shivered as he pulled me through the corridors and didn't look at any more pictures. When we finally got to his room, I collapsed on the bed and curled up. This place was dark and cold and frightening and oppressive. I wanted to leave.

"Draco—do we have to stay here?"

"Just for tonight," he said, stroking my hair briefly. He smiled a little, though it looked strained. "I thought you might like to take a bath."

I gasped. "Oooh, yes. Unless the water is actually acid or something. I wouldn't put it past this place."

"No, I disabled that feature when I came back before," he said seriously, holding the bathroom door open for me.

I looked at him sharply, but he wasn't kidding. I scurried nervously into the bathroom and hesitated, looking around me. Jesus Christ, even the bathrooms were creepy. Everything was black and silver and oddly sinuous. Especially the shower head. It gave the disturbing impression that there were dozens of snakes watching me. I poked my head out the door.

"Um, Draco? Why don't you join me? You know, just to make sure nothing eats me."

I looked at him hopefully and he made a show of considering.

"And what, exactly, is in it for me?"

"Did you have something in mind?" I asked innocently.

"Well, dinner won't be ready for at least another half-hour..."

"Well, then, I'm sure we can think of something."

Despite our steamy bathtub encounter, I didn't sleep well that night and moved around even more than usual. So much so, in fact, that I fell off the bed, scaring myself out of sleep and into my wolf form. After that I opted to just stay as a wolf and sleep curled up beside Draco, who complained mightily but eventually gave in because he woke up every time I woke up. We were both jittery and cranky the next morning and very nearly killed each other over breakfast, but we got out of the house and off the grounds in one piece.

There were anti-Apparition wards surrounding Malfoy Manor, so we had to get outside the gates before we could leave. (He explained this much later, after Mr. Hyde went to sleep). We appeared in another forest, but this one seemed, well, friendlier.

"Where are we?" I asked, looking around.

"Scotland," he replied, yawning. "In the woods near a village called Hogsmeade. We'll rest here before going to the school. If I ask them for help now I might just end up hexing them into oblivion and then where would you be?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea," I said heartily.

"This way," he said, turning abruptly. "There's a cave nearby."

The cave was dark and somewhat damp, but it was fairly large and didn't seem infested with rats or bats or other small, nasty creatures. Draco waved his wand and a mattress, two pillows, and a blanket appeared. I looked at Draco in wonderment. He smiled smugly.

"Hah. 'Flashy and useless' my arse," he said in tones of great satisfaction, and flopped down on the mattress.

I lay down beside him and he pulled me roughly to his side.

"Remember that conversation we had about you obeying me?" he asked gruffly, and I nodded. "Well, I expressly forbid you to change into a wolf while you're on this mattress."

I smiled tiredly and laid my head down beside his. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. When I woke, it was past noon and Draco was already up, pacing nervously. I sat up, eyelids still heavy from sleep, and stared at Draco. Not only was he up before me, he was pacing. Nervously. He was nervous.

"Let's go," he said, seeing that I was up. "Are you hungry?"

I shook my head.

"Good," he said shortly. "Let's go."

I followed him meekly through the forest, waiting for Jekyll to make an appearance. I could tell he was nervous and that in turn made me downright scared. What if these people refused to take me in. Or what if they did? Would Draco just leave? Would they let him visit? I had come here so that I wouldn't be separated from him completely. But what if they didn't let me see him? Then I'd be separated from him and I'd be in a strange place with strange people in a land far from home.

Either Hyde was releasing his hold on Draco or Draco saw my mounting distress because he took my hand and squeezed it comfortingly. He continued to hold it as we walked on, and I was grateful for it. When we came within sight of the village, I slowed.

"Draco, will people recognize you?"

"I doubt it," Draco said with a shrug, and tugged on my hand. "I haven't been here in six years. And I looked—different—then."

"So we just waltz in there and start talking?" I asked dubiously.

"That's about it," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Or, at least, we stride in confidently and I start talking. Once we find the correct person to talk to."

I'd say I made a fair approximation of confident—yet feminine—striding as we walked approached the gates to an enormous castle. Not that it did us any good, really. Before we even made it to the gates, a man and a woman wearing black robes stepped through them and hurried toward us, wands raised.

"Name and business, please," the woman said briskly.

She had uncontrollable curly brown hair and glasses, but was reasonably pretty in a soft, girly sort of way. I resisted the urge to pat my own hair. While I had loose, well behaved curls, she had the wild corkscrew curls that had a tendency to frizz. Hard to deal with, I suppose, but it suited her. The color went well with her skin. She had nice skin, I had to give her that; milky rather than pale.

The man beside her was pale and thin and wiry almost to the point of scrawniness. Despite his slight build, he had a certain elastic, springy look about him that spoke of tightly corded muscle. His face was partially obscured by messy black hair but I could see bright, emerald green eyes glaring out from behind his glasses.

"Name and business," the man barked.

"You don't remember me, Potter?" Draco drawled. "I'm crushed."

"Malfoy," Potter snarled immediately. "What in God's name are you doing here?"

"I've come to negotiate," Draco said, dropping the drawl. He set down his wand and backed away. "There. No funny business."

Without warning, ropes shot out of the end of Potter's wand and wrapped themselves tightly around Draco. I was on Potter in a flash and had his throat in my jaws before anyone had time to react. He had the sense to stay very, very still. I growled low in my throat to reiterate the fact that if he so much as burped his throat would be torn open like a Christmas present.

"If you don't untie me I think there's a good chance she'll rip his throat out," Draco said conversationally. "And we all know what a tragedy that would be."

The woman moved slowly to pick up Potter's wand. I glared at her, lips drawn back in a snarl. I would do it if I had to. Clearly she realized this because the ropes around Draco disappeared. I released Potter and backed away to Draco's side, where I sat tensely, ready to move at the least provocation.

"Give me my wand, Hermione," Potter said, holding his hand out.

"No," the woman named Hermione said, giving him a Look.

After a brief staring contest, Potter subsided, muttering, "Fine. But keep your bitch on a leash, Malfoy."

Draco took two steps and punched Potter in the face, knocking him to the ground. I could tell he was holding back. We needed these people, after all.

"I'll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head while speaking of my wife," he said coolly.

"Your wife," Potter sputtered, wiping blood from a cut lip.

I decided this was a good time to change back. I didn't trust myself not to take a chunk out of his leg. Or somewhere higher up. I smiled and nodded to each of them.

"How do you do?" I said politely.

They both looked stunned, but recovered quickly. Hermione looked from me to Draco.

"I take it this is the reason for your desire to negotiate," she said shrewdly.

"Yes, how clever of you to catch on so quickly," Draco said nastily, unable to help himself. I shot him a look and he calmed down. "I've come to offer my services in exchange for shelter for my wife."

"The services of a Death Eater?" Potter said incredulously. "If you think we want that, you're a bigger prat than I thought. I didn't think that was possible."

"Not a Death Eater," Draco said, and rolled up his sleeve, exposing the large, ugly scar on his forearm. "Not quite as glamorous as yours, perhaps, but impressive, wouldn't you say, Potter?"

"That's impossible," Hermione said flatly. "Even if you carved it out, you should have died."

"Oh, if only I had a galleon for every time someone has said that to me," Draco remarked. "I'd be even richer than I already am."

"It must be a charm," Potter said. "To cover up the Mark."

"Care to inspect it, Granger?" Draco offered, holding out his arm.

"Yes, thanks," she said, and proceeded to poke and prod his arm with her wand until she was satisfied the scar was real. "I don't know how you survived, Malfoy, but it must have been an experience."

"You could call it that," Draco said sardonically. "It's thanks to my wife that I did survive, so you can see why I would go to...extreme measures...to ensure her safety."

"Well, you'll have to look elsewhere, Malfoy," Potter said. "We don't want your services and we don't want your wife."

"I have information," Draco said calmly. "I know the names of Death Eater spies in the Ministry. I know the locations of five Death Eater hideouts in London. I have access to Sebastian Grey's manor—and consequently his library. I know how to get into nearly every Death Eater mansion undetected. I know what they were planning. And I know where one of the Horcruxes is."

"How did you know about the Horcruxes?" Potter asked, face going blank and slack with shock.

Draco smirked. "I didn't, until just now. Not for sure, anyway."

Potter and Granger exchanged another look. "Alright, we'll speak to the other Order Members. But they'll probably want an Unbreakable Oath—if they agree at all."

"I've been swearing quite a lot of those lately," Draco muttered. "I'll have my wand back, if you don't mind."

"Don't give it to him, Hermione," Potter muttered, "he can't be trusted."

I felt anger rise up in my chest like a cloud. Who was he to point fingers? Draco had given them his wand as a truce and Potter had broken the truce. That stupid, self-righteous little twit. Draco was offering himself on a silver platter and this brat was turning his nose up at him like a spoiled two year old.

"They don't know about them, do they?" Draco suddenly. "The Horcruxes. It's just the three of you. Speaking of which, where's the Weasel?"

"I don't believe that's any of your business," Granger said crisply. "And neither are the Horcruxes."

"Oh, alright," Draco said offhandedly. "I just thought you might like it now. But if if you're not interested--"

"You have the Horcrux?" Potter said.

"Well, Ari does," Draco said. He smirked. "Would you like it, Potter?"

Potter glared at him furiously.

"Yes," he ground out. "What do you want?"

"Your word that you'll secure protection for my wife," Draco said. "'I'll do my best' isn't quite good enough for me. Especially coming from you."

"How do we know it's really a Horcrux?" Granger asked. "For that matter, how do you?"

"It's a golden bracelet that very likely belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw," Draco told them. "And it positively radiates dark magic, yet it doesn't seem to have a specific purpose."

"And the building I found it in used to be an orphanage," I added. "I don't know what that means, but the person who led me to it said that I should mention it."

Potter and Granger exchanged another glance.

"Who led you to it?" Potter asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know. It was under...rather unusual circumstances."

"Let's see it," Potter demanded.

"Your word first, Potter," Draco said grimly.

"Alright, fine," Potter said crossly. "I promise."

"I'll need my wand back," he said, and Granger grudgingly handed it over.

Draco nodded to me and I took off my necklace. Draco took it and turned it back into a suitcase before rummaging around until he found the bracelet. He extended it to Potter, who fairly snatched it away. Any minute I expected him to start stroking it and mutter, "Yesss, preciousss."

"This is it, Hermione," he said excitedly. "The last one."

"Give me your wand," Granger said to Draco. "And I'll have your wife's, too, if you please."

"She doesn't have one," Draco said. "She's not a witch."

"Bollocks," Potter snorted. "How can she be an Animagus and not a witch?"

I was getting tired of being referred to in the third person, but wasn't sure how much I should say. With effort, I kept my mouth shut and let Draco do the talking.

"She's not an Animagus," he said coolly. "How like you to jump to conclusions, Potter. My wife is a werewolf."

"It's broad daylight," Granger pointed out. "And nowhere near the full moon."

"She's a very special werewolf," Draco explained, as if to small children. "And there are a lot of Death Eaters who would like to get their hands on her. Hence the need for protection."

"What do you mean, 'special'?" Potter asked.

"I can change whenever I want, as much as I want, silver doesn't affect me at all, and I retain self-awareness when I change," I said for myself. "And my senses remain enhanced even in human form."

"Hermione," Potter said slowly. "She's the weapon. The 'terrible weapon' we were looking for in London. It was her." Obviously something suddenly clicked, for he whirled around to glare at me. "You bit Ron! He's a werewolf now because of you! And an abnormal one, at that."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. A regular genius, we had here.

"If I recall correctly," I said icily, "you were breaking and entering, intending to kidnap me or kill me or God knows what else."

"Well, it wasn't like we knew," Potter retorted hotly.

"Then what were you doing there in the first place?" I demanded. "You were just going to waltz in on god-knows-what and hope for the best? Was that your plan?"

Potter glared at me but didn't answer. Instead, he said, "I still don't believe you're not a witch. Give me your wand."

"I don't have one," I said with exaggerated patience.

"Accio!" Potter snapped, and the picture of my mother and her sister that I kept in my breast pocket flew to his hand before I could react. He looked at it and froze. Granger looked over his shoulder and gasped.

"Oh, my," she said softly. She looked up and studied me intently. Especially my eyes. "Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"Might I ask your maiden name?"

I blinked. "Metaxas."

"Is that Greek?"

"Yes," I said, not sure where this was going. "My mother was English, though."

"I see," she said. "Would you mind terribly if I asked her maiden name?"

"Not at all," I replied, though still confused. "It was Evans. Her name was Rothoula—sorry, Rose—Evans."

All three of them were now staring at me, wearing expressions of shock (Potter and Granger) and horror (Draco). I was merely confused. What did my mother have to do with anything? I looked at Draco, who looked like he suspected something and was wishing desperately for it not to be true. I resisted the urge to ask if it was something I said. Quite obviously, it was.

"That doesn't prove anything," Potter said finally. "There could be any number of Evanses in England."

"Would someone mind telling me what is going on?" I asked testily.

"That's my mum," Potter declared.

"What are you talking about?" I snapped. "That's my mother." I hurried over and snatched it away from him. "Look, I have her eyes and her nose and her smile--"

"No, not her," Potter interrupted rudely. "The other one. That's my mum. Her name was--"

"Krini," I said, stomach dropping down to my feet. "Lily. My grandmother said she laughed because Rose was fair and Lily was a redhead."

"Krini?" Granger asked. Apparently she had recovered enough to be curious.

"It means 'lily' in Greek," I explained absently.

"This is impossible," Potter said. "You look nothing like me."

"I'm Greek," I said primly. "I take after my father."

"So does Harry," Granger said. "But you both have your mothers' eyes. And the build is sort of similar."

I studied Potter critically and grudgingly had to agree. We had the same light, bird-like bone structure. But where it made me look slender and feminine despite my muscle, it made him look skinny and underfed. Or just small. He looked like he really was underfed. He shook a clump of black hair out of his eyes and revealed a thin scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead. Ew. All in all, he was not someone I would readily admit as a relation.

"Well, there you go," Draco said, though he looked nauseous. "You have to take her in; she's family."

"Family doesn't mean a god-damned thing," Potter growled.

"Dumbledore thought it did, Harry," Granger said quietly.

Potter glared at her but didn't argue. Instead he muttered, "I gave my word, didn't I? "

"Yes, you did. Your wand, Malfoy," Granger said, holding a hand out.

Draco shrunk my suitcase and stuck it in his pocket before handing his wand over. I walked beside Draco as we followed Potter and Granger through the huge gates, up a large hill, across a huge lawn, through a set of humongous doors, up several flights of stairs, around an indecent amount of corners, and down more corridors than I cared to count. We eventually ended up in front of a door with a statue of a gargoyle in front of it. I wondered how anyone got in; it looked pretty heavy.

Potter turned to the gargoyle and opened his mouth, then turned and glared at us."Do you mind?"

"Mind what, Potter?" Draco sneered. "Would you like us to go back down the corridor? Stick our fingers in our ears? Sing Happy Birthday?"

Potter glared even more fiercely—I must admit, he did have a pretty impressive glare—and bent to whisper in the gargoyle's ear. It was soft; too soft for anyone to hear. Except me, of course. Clearly he had missed the 'enhanced senses' bit. The password, apparently, was 'Tchaikovsky'. Huh. McGonagall, whoever he—or she—was, had good taste.

The gargoyle suddenly leaped aside, nearly scaring me out of my human skin, and revealed a spiral staircase. Potter led the way and Granger followed. Draco motioned for me to go next so that he brought up the rear. Potter knocked on the door at the top of the staircase and waited until an old, female voice called out for us to enter.

McGonagall was an old but severe woman who looked like she had seen a lot of life. She turned a stern eye on me and I barely resisted the urge to squirm. This must be the Headmistress, I decided. I wondered if she had a rod or a cane hidden away somewhere that she used on recalcitrant students. Or perhaps a riding crop. Or a whip. Or--

"Mr. Malfoy," she said calmly. "It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has," Draco said guardedly.

"What brings you back to Hogwarts?"

"I've come to offer service and information to the Order of the Phoenix in exchange for shelter and protection for my wife here at Hogwarts," Draco replied. He bared his forearm so she could see the scar. "I have as much reason to fight them as any of you, now."

"It's genuine," Granger put in. "I checked it for every possible charm or spell he could have put on it. It's really gone."

"What prompted you to do such a thing, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall asked.

Draco was silent for a moment. I could tell he hadn't planned on being asked a question like that.

"My mother died," he said flatly. "They could no longer hold her life over my head. That—thing—was all that was standing between me and freedom. So I cut it off."

McGonagall nodded, face cool and impassive. She'd make a great poker player, I found myself thinking.

"What can you offer the Order?" was McGonagall's next question.

Draco repeated what he had told Potter and Granger, minus the Whore-crotch whatevers. Whatever they were. The rest of the conversation was basically a repeat of the scene outside, including my unusual abilities and my apparent relation to Potter. I felt a huge rush of mingled relief and apprehension when McGonagall announced that she would allow me to stay in exchange for Draco's information. Draco would then present himself at an Order meeting that night and they would decide whether to accept him or not.

"One last thing," McGonagall said, holding a hand up as we rose to leave. "Mrs. Malfoy, I understand that you were raised a Muggle."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied.

"Our Muggle Studies professor recently decided he would feel much safer in Tibet," she said without a hint of humor. "Consequently, we find ourselves without a professor. Professors Potter and Granger have been doing their best to cover the classes, but they have their own classes to teach and none of the other Professors have substantial experience with Muggles. I would be very much obliged if you would take over the class. To pay the rent, if you will."

"Oh," I said, stomach knotting up. "It's very kind of you to take me in. Of course I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Good. You will begin on Monday," McGonagall said briskly. "Miss Granger will show you and Mr. Malfoy to your rooms. Tomorrow she will show you around the castle tomorrow and give you a synopsis of the class's progress. You will then have three days to begin lesson plans."

"Thank you," I said dazedly. "I—I look forward to it."

McGonagall smiled for the first time. "The first week is the worst. Welcome to Hogwarts, dear."

Granger led us through more twisty passageways to the rooms Draco and I were to share. She gave Draco his wand back and left without a word. I collapsed on the couch and put my head between my knees. Draco sat down beside me and laid a comforting hand on my back.

"Draco," I said. "How the hell am I going to do this?"

"With a very large ruler?" Draco suggested.

I gave him a look that said quite clearly, Not Helpful.

"You'll do fine," he assured me. "Muggle Studies is a joke. No one expects to actually learn anything."

"That's comforting."

"It's true," he insisted. "Most people only take it for easy credits."

"Unng," I moaned, rubbing my temples. "I'm hungry."

"Dinner is served at six," he said. "They'll send us up something."

McGonagall had asked us not to leave the room until Draco's fate could be decided. I wondered what would happen to me if he was rejected, since I had already accepted the teaching job. Ugh. Teaching. Teaching children.

"There's always the bathtub," Draco suggested, seeing my apparent despair. "Hogwarts bathtubs are always impressive. Especially when it comes to bubble-baths. Go see for yourself. I'm going to take a nap."

I took his advice and inspected the bathroom. Finding it more than satisfactory, I hurried back to the bookshelf I'd spotted—which somehow was filled with all my favorite books and others that I hadn't read but would probably enjoy—and picked out three that would last me until dinner.

"Try not to drown," Draco called after me as I disappeared into the bathroom.

The bathtub was indeed impressive. Not only was it the size of a kiddie pool, it had no less than ten faucets—not including the shower head, which was twice the size of the one at Greenwood. A few minutes of experimentation revealed that two of the faucets were for water (hot and cold), four were for different kinds of bubbles, two were for soap, and two were for shampoo and conditioner. It was awesome.

I filled the bath with hot water and all four kinds of bubbles and settled down with Frozen Queen, the sequel to the novel Draco had given me for Christmas which I had found on the magic bookshelf. It felt wonderful. More than wonderful. But for some reason, I couldn't pay attention to the book and I couldn't relax. Perhaps it was the shock of being in a new place and the apprehension I felt about Draco's meeting that night, but I felt exposed and vulnerable and...empty. As if I were missing something.

It was like...well, you know how sometimes you're walking to class and you feel like you've left something behind but you can't figure out what it is? It was like that, only worse. Like whatever I'd left behind was extremely, extremely important. Like a term paper that's worth half your final grade or something.

After I read the same sentence five times without taking a word of it in, I decided it was pointless and took a long shower. Afterward, I shrugged into a fluffy bathrobe and went back into the bedroom, where Draco was sprawled diagonally across the bed with his shirt and shoes off. I curled up next to him, hoping his proximity would lend me a little bit of comfort and security. Draco's arm came around me and he opened his eyes, blinking sleepily.

"You're dripping on me," he commented, lifting a damp strand of hair of his chest.

"Oh. Sorry," I muttered. "Draco, what will happen at this meeting you're going to?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," he said. He didn't seemed to worried about it.

"Will you come back?"

Draco opened his mouth, then shut it. "Yes. But I don't know when."

I didn't say anything but buried my face in his shoulder so he wouldn't see my eyes. My traitorous, tell-tale eyes that would tell him I was afraid. It wasn't that I couldn't live without him for a few days. When we lived with Sebastian Grey, he would often be gone for days at a time. I didn't mind being on my own. But here I was completely and utterly alone. Here, I was the wife of a former enemy—someone to be tolerated, but not to be trusted. And what if they rejected Draco? Would I then be kept prisoner, or would we simply leave?

"Ari," he said gently. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

I looked up and he kissed me with an uncharacteristic tenderness, which comforted me physically but did not set my mind at ease at all. Draco was not tender. He was assertive, firm, protective, possessive and high handed on occasion...he could be gentle, yes, and playful and fun, but never tender. I had always appreciated it; tender, sappy mushiness made both of us uncomfortable.

Now, it didn't make me uncomfortable. It made me worry. The way he cradled my head in his hands, the way he studied every inch of my face as if to memorize the smallest detail—it was as if he were saying goodbye. I looked into his eyes and realized he didn't want to leave me here anymore than I wanted him to leave. I realized he was afraid, and that in turn frightened me.

"You're not allowed to be afraid," I whispered fiercely. "If you're afraid, that means there's something to be afraid of."

"I'm not afraid," he murmured against my mouth.

"Then I'm not afraid, either."

awwww, poor Ari. Reviews, people!

shai