CHAPTER 2

It was several minutes before Astoria moved. Never in her life had she been so totally humiliated. It had not occurred to her that Draco would be so cruel to her. He was brutal, callous, insensitive—and now she even felt sympathy for Pansy! Perhaps they deserved one another.

Pansy was caught in bed with another death eater during a raid; by the Order and died from a slicing hex; she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Zabini or maybe Flint Astoria didn't know which death eater. They were never married, but they shared a child, even loved each other once. She was certain Pansy at least had loved Draco.

Astoria had previously no feelings toward Draco, but now she hated him with an intensity that alarmed her; too late decided that she had done the wrong thing. Daphne had done the stealing Daphne should be punished. But who would have thought he would go to such lengths?

Her head felt strangely light, and tentatively, with hands that shook, she touched her hair. Some tufts were longer than others, it felt bristly and ghastly, and she withdrew in horror. Then as if compelled by magic stronger than herself, she walked to the mirror over the fireplace.

"Oh dear, how tragic! You should write to Witch Weekly! Assaulted by a hairdresser, absolutely shocking!" exclaimed the mirror.

Oh no! With her hands she shaded her vision until she stood, directly in front of it, even then she kept her eyes tightly closed, shooting them open for a few horror-filled seconds, before shrieking and racing to her bedroom.

She slammed the door. What a sight! What a horrendous vision! She curled up on the bed, sobbing. Damn Daphne. Damn her stupid silly sister. How would she like it? It would kill her, just as it was berating herself now.

Slowly and deliberately she took another look in the dressing table mirror. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as she had at first thought? But it was every bit as frightful. She looked like some sort of hedge witch. The mirror shrieked at her. "Be quiet!" she commanded the mirror.

What could she do? Her mother would be home soon.

What would she tell Althea? In desperation she picked up her nail scissors, snipping frantically, until at least it was all the same length.

Then she went through to the bathroom and washed what little hair was left, drying and brushing, inducing the alarmingly short strands to wave the way she wanted them to go.

Perhaps it didn't look too bad? She stared at herself critically. Her eyes looked wider, her face rounder. She looked like a house-elf she turned away in disgust.

In a way, it would be a relief to leave the country. She could not bear the thought of anyone seeing her like this. She did not think she could stand the interest. She would be a seven-day wonder. She couldn't ask her mother to magically regrow her hair without explaining what Draco did.

When her mother returned her cases were packed. It was going to be a shock for her parent—first Daphne going, now herself.

Would she cope? But there was no doubt that she would cope better with this than, the discovery that her daughter was a criminal—and this was what mattered.

"Astoria!" Her voice was hushed, scared. "What have you done?"

Mrs Greengrass followed and her face blanched. "Your lovely hair! What's happened?"

Daphne had prepared herself. A bright smile was fixed to her face, it was supposed to be reassuring. "Do you like it? I thought it would be cooler. I've had this most wonderful offer. Sit down, Mother, I'll tell you about it."

Her mother sat, or to be more precise, dropped, on the nearest chair, her mouth wide, eyes popping. "You look like a boy, Astoria. Where did you have it done? Why didn't you tell us? Was it a surprise?"

A surprise all right. The biggest shock of her life!

"Isn't it a bit—er—drastic?" suggested her mother hesitantly, clearly not approving, but unwilling to hurt her daughter's feelings. "I thought you were going to have a quiet day. What have you been up to while I was out?"

How Astoria wished she could relate the whole incredible story. But it was best this way. She had to go through with it, for her mother's sake.

She knelt on the floor at her mother's feet, keeping her forced smile.

"You'll never guess. I had a visitor—Draco Malfoy himself. He asked if I'd like a job as a nanny to his little girl. Of course, I jumped at the chance. Isn't it wonderful? All expenses paid holiday. I won't have to pay a sickle!"

Mrs Greengrass looked doubtful. "Why ask you? You're a secretary, not a nanny. It sounds a bit suspect to me."

Astoria had expected this. "Daphne apparently told him how fond I was of children. So I suppose he thought it better to employ someone he'd had recommended personally."

How easily she lied! She was almost as bad as Daphne. Except that she was doing it to protect her. Her sister had better be grateful!

"Shall I get to see him before you go?" Her mother looked anxious. "Astoria, is it really what you want? You're not jealous of Daphne? I knew she earns more money than you, but aren't you being a bit hasty? Why don't you think about it a while?"

"I have thought about it, Mother. I'm leaving in the morning."

This caused a further gasp. "So soon? Astoria love, I've always considered you to be the sensible one! Are you quite sure?"

Astoria nodded. "Yes, I am." Heavens, it hurt, having to be firm like this, knowing her mother disapproved, pretending it didn't matter. She stood up and pirouetted. "How about my hair? I thought it rather chic—and just right for the heat. And won't you be able to brag! "Oh, yes, Mrs Bones, Daphne's away in Paris and Astoria's in the Channel Islands. I do like my daughters to enjoy themselves."

Her mother pushed herself up. "I must say you seem excited by the prospect, Astoria. I'm happy for you if that's what you want. I really am."

Astoria kissed and hugged her. "My boss Magnan wasn't very happy—I phoned him. He says good secretaries are hard to come by. I feel guilty letting him down, but you don't get offers like this every day."

Thank goodness! Once in a lifetime was enough. Preferably never.

It was not easy to sleep that night, knowing what was in store—or not knowing! It was impossible to picture what duress Draco Malfoy would subject her to. But whatever, it had to be better than Daphne going to Azkaban and her mother suffering the social stigma that would inevitably go with it.

ooo

Draco Malfoy had not given a time, but she was up and ready by seven, a nervous wreck by eight, and when he came half an hour later she could willingly have stabbed him with a knife. She felt naked without her wand, more defenceless than she naturally was.

He wore a green shirt instead of his normal black robes with casual matching trousers. He did look as though he was going on his holiday!

Astoria faced him on the doorstep. His lips were grim and tight, as she had expected, his short pale hair freshly washed, curving crisply. She guessed he wanted to dissociate himself with Lucius and his iconic long hair.

His expressive eyes flicked over her hair, but he said nothing.

"Aletha wants to speak with you." She led the way into the kitchen.

The change in him was dramatic. A wide reassuring smile creased his face, crinkled the corners of his eyes. He looked a different man. "Mrs Greengrass." He held out his hand. "How nice to meet you. I'm not sure how much your daughter's told you, and I know it's all a bit sudden, but she'll be quite—safe."

Her mother appeared not to notice the hesitation. She smiled warmly, captivated by Draco's charm and good looks. "I know she'll do her best, but it's not what she trained for. She's a secretary, you do realise that, Mr Malfoy?"

"I know all about your daughter. I'm quite sure she'll do the job to the best of her ability."

He cast a glance at Astoria as he spoke. An implied threat. If she didn't, there would be trouble!

"Would you like a cup of tea, Mr Malfoy?" she asked demurely, her lids lowered. She mustn't let her mother guess at the friction between them. He shot back his cuff and glanced at his watch. "I don't think we have time."

Mrs Greengrass felt could trust a Malfoy.

There were smiles all around when they left. No one seemed to notice that Astoria's was forced. She promised to write the moment she got there.

The Malfoy carriage was waiting, it was black with silver detail, incredibly ostentatious and drawn by thestrals, the Malfoy crest displayed proudly. It suited him perfectly, and he relaxed into the carriage like a prince, his long lean fingers curled round his cane, legs outstretched, cotton taut across muscular thighs.

Astoria sat stiffly beside him, quite unable to relax, conscious only of impending doom. She wore a white under robe and a thin pink outer robe. It had been difficult to decide what to wear. She knew Alderney would be comfortably warm in July, but should she wear witches robes? Or could she get away with muggle styles? She never expected a Malfoy to adopt muggle dress.

When Draco suddenly spoke it made her jump. "A pity I made such a good job of your hair. It looks quite attractive—unfortunately. But then I guess you're the type of a girl who would look beautiful no matter what she did to herself."

Astoria had made up her mind not to let him upset her. Self-consciously now she touched it. "As a matter of fact, I finished off your job myself. You really should take lessons before you start messing with a witch's hair."

His fingers tightened on the wheel. "Careful," he warned, "or I might take my wand to it again!"

"And give Narcissa a fright?" she asked daringly, knowing she trod on dangerous ground but finding it equally difficult to submit to the wizard's needling.

"It's all that's stopping me," he said curtly. "I'm very fond of my mother. She's not young, and she's had a very trying time with Bella. The strain is beginning to tell."

"And you think that getting me out there will help? I don't like children, don't forget. Bella will sense it. Children know these things."

"Then you'd better damn well change your attitude," he snarled. "Not that this exercise is intended to give you pleasure, anything but. On the other hand, my mother needs help, and I want Bella returned to normality."

He made her sound very peculiar. "How old is she now?"

"Bella's four. She doted on Pansy. She's been quite inconsolable."

"Does Bella know what happened?"

"She saw it. She was there!" He looked hard and grim, and she thought, so much for the morally superior Order!

"It was late she would have been asleep. Fortunately, she had the good sense to stay hidden—or maybe it was shock—in either case, she wasn't physically harmed. The death eaters later found her after the battle, seeing the damage. Not expecting survivours, one of Fenrir's boys sniffed her out. Bella gave Narcissa a garbled version of what happened and she hasn't been the same since."

No wonder! It was enough to give an adult nightmares for the rest of their life, let alone a child. "The poor girl," Astoria said hurt at the thought of Bella's trauma.

He shot her a glance. "So you do have some compassion in that coldly calculating little head of yours?" He did not wait for her response.

"I wonder? Does Althea realise that her beloved daughter is a common thief? What did you tell her exactly? Not the truth, I'm sure. I reckon it would break her heart. She seems a likeable witch."

"She is," snapped Astoria, and realised that she would have to be very careful or she would slip up. It was not nice to be accused of something she had not done. Not that there was any chance of him believing her. She could imagine his reaction if she said, "It wasn't me, it was my sister."

"Oh, yes," he'd say. "A likely story, but only what I might expect of the likes of you. I expect you're pretty good at making up lies—you've had enough practice."

Keeping her eyes carefully on the clouds outside the window, she continued, "I simply said that you'd asked me because you thought I would be suitable."

His lips curled drily. "That's the last thing I think, but you could hardly tell her that. How about the hair? What explanation did you give for that? Got into a fight with blast-ended skrewt, perhaps?"

He looked amused, but Astoria did not think it funny. "I said short hair would be cooler in the Alderney."

"Good thinking!" Mockery winged his brows. "You seem quite accomplished in the art of deception. But let's get one thing quite clear. Once in my house, you go straight. No stealing, no lies. Understood?"

Astoria tensed and bit back an angry reply. She must remember she was supposed to be Daphne. How would Daphne react in such circumstances?

Her eyes would widen with shocked innocence. "Me, Mr Malfoy?" and she would flutter her long lashes. "I'll be so good you won't know I'm the same person."

She did not realise she had spoken out loud, that she had unconsciously acted out the part she had given Daphne to play.

He looked scornful. "I'll believe that when I see it."

She said bitterly, "How are you going to explain me to your mother? Do you reckon the hair makes me look like a nanny? If you ask me, I look like a young hag."

"That's because you are." His voice was deliberately cold. "But I've had my elf do some shopping. Twilfitts were very helpful. What are you, six, eight? I think the uniform will fit nicely."

Her head whipped round, and just for a moment, it felt funny not to have the weight of her hair following. Involuntarily she reached up and ran her fingers over what was left. She shuddered and it made her even more uptight. "You have a nerve!" He was also uncannily accurate about her measurements. It embarrassed her to think he had studied her so intimately. "I shan't wear it. You're not going to make a fool out of me!"

He lifted one dark eyebrow sardonically. "You're in no position to refuse. You will at all times do what I say when I say it."

"And if I don't?" Astoria lifted her chin, the pale green of her eyes gleaming defiantly.

"Oh, but you will, I could always silence you again," he said, and he sounded very sure, and his carved lips were very hard. "For the record, my mother is expecting you. She wanted a pure-blood English girl for Bella a house-elf would not do. But you will most certainly become my servant."

"Cheap labour!" she exclaimed furiously, the true situation escaping her for a moment.

"Are you forgetting your debt?" Hard eyes rested briefly on her angry face. "How much do you reckon you're worth as an untrained nanny? Twenty galleons a week, thirty? Probably less. It's going to take a heck of a long time to pay back ten thousand, three hundred and twenty-one galleons."

Astoria closed her eyes, sagging in her seat. Surely he had said something about a month or two?

"You look dismayed? What did you expect, an early pardon for good conduct?"

"I never expected this," she said limply.

"No more than I expected a pretty, intelligent witch like you to misappropriate company money. Tell me, Daphne, exactly why did you do it? Didn't the firm pay you well enough? I always thought my father paid ridiculously high wages. He said it bought loyalty. What an old fool he was!"

Astoria kept her eyes closed. What could she say? Who knew why Daphne had done it? Perhaps it had been a compulsion? She hadn't desperately needed the money. Like he had said, Construction paid well. Daphne had sufficient to buy all the clothes she wanted and have a good time. But until Daphne returned—and she Astoria went back home, the mystery would remain unsolved. Even then, Daphne might not admit it.

Punishment had been paid for the crime, so why not let it die a natural death?

"Mm, as I thought." Draco sounded bitter. "No particular reason except perhaps a higher standard of living. New clothes, holidays abroad, a taste of the good life. You stole a few pounds, found you'd got away with it, and so it went on. Much wanting more, is that it? God, I'd like to wring your bloody little neck!"

Astoria wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. At first, it had seemed a simple price to pay for her sister's indiscretion, her mother's peace of mind, but he was making it impossible. They hadn't yet gotten out of England—she felt as though she had been, physically flayed. How much more could she take?

When she did not answer, he too lapsed into silence, and for the rest of the journey, the atmosphere was uncomfortable—to say the least. He was tense, fingers strumming on his knee periodically. She got the impression that he would like to open the door and push her out. That he wished she had never entered his life.

The same could be said of him. She wished wholeheartedly that she had never known Draco Malfoy, she wished she had never heard of him. Sitting in his carriage, up in the clouds, without her wand for protection she was completely trapped within the Dragon's claws. He was biding his time, but any second he would pounce, and devour her, savouring each mouthful, enjoying her complete destruction.

Draco opened a compartment under the seating and pulled out a bottle. "Firewhisky for myself, water for you Miss Greengrass. There will be no more drinking for you while you are under my roof caring for my daughter."

Astoria could have hit him. Little did he know that she was, in fact, a teetotaller, but a pumpkin juice would have been nice. Nevertheless, she made a determined effort not to let him see that his treatment hurt.

She wondered whether the day would ever come when he would look at herself as though she were a woman instead of a criminal. He was definitely the most attractive wizard she had ever met, and despite his attitude, she still felt some of his compelling male magnetism.

Sitting here now, she was more aware of him than she had been at any time since their meeting. He had relaxed stealing, a surreptitious glance she was amazed at the difference. With a wave of his wand and an aguamenti he offered her a glass of water. It hurt, not even able to perform even basic magic to provide for herself. Draco had reduced her to a muggle or a magical child.

Draco relaxed into his seat, he looked—human now. It was funny to think, but up till now, he had acted as though he was barely restraining his magic. His scales had been stiff and unyielding, disappearing only for the moments he had spoken to her mother.

ooo

They landed in Portland before contiuning onto the last leg of their journey across the English channel. The safe meeting point at the local inn unforatunely was not empty.

"Hey, Flint, watch what you're doing in Portland? On your way to Paris, I assume?" he said to one of the wizards. "Don't forget you have a wife back home!"

One of the wizards stole a glance at Astoria. "Who's interested in the witches in France? How about introducing us to your friend? You've certainly kept her quiet!"

"It's Daphne from accounting," said one of the others, sounding surprised.

"She's had her hair cut. What did you do that for, Daphne? You look a different girl."

"Still very eye-catching all the same," returned Flint. "You lucky swine, Draco," and to his companion, "Why weren't we born rich? He gets all the winners!"

Draco's face had changed during this repartee, the grimness with which she was familiar returning, and now he said tightly, "Shut up, the lot of you. Miss Greengrass no longer works for the company. She has a job in the Alderney at my estate, and I'm taking her there. And that's all there is to it. She's nothing to me, do you understand, and I'll thank you not to associate the Malfoy name with her."

His colleagues looked at each other, shrugging and pulling wry faces.

They clearly did not understand. Astoria felt like crawling beneath the seat. Surely it wasn't necessary for him to be quite so horrible in front of his business associates?

Draco turned on her the full charm of his smile for the attractive barmaid when she enquired whether they would like drinks. "Firewhisky on the rocks for myself, Kate—and water for Miss Greengrass. She doesn't drink."

She was conscious of her heightened colour, and when the barmaid brought her glass of water she was highly tempted to sling it over Draco. In fact she toyed with it between her fingers for several minutes, looking at him obliquely, wondering whether she dared. Of course he was familar with the pretty barmaid.

"I shouldn't—if I were you," he said quietly, and she was shocked that he had read her thoughts. She wasn't aware he was a proficient Legilimens. Were her thoughts—so openly written on her face?

She took a sip and managed a vague smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you have." He swirled his glass so that the ice chinked against the sides, appearing to concentrate his attention upon it. He spoke so softly that none of the others heard. "I don't know how well these wizards know you, Daphne, whether your reputation as a flirt has preceded you, but you'd be very wise to keep yourself to yourself, I've no doubt that they'll try to chat you up as soon as my back is turned. You will discourage them, do you hear?"

She did not move. She sat very still, clutching her water tightly, fighting an urge to scream and lash out. Who the hell did he think he was? She was as good as him any day. Better in fact. She would never dream of treating people the way he did her. If she had her wand she would curse him!

"Answer me, Daphne!"

Slowly she turned her head, her wide pale eyes deliberately insolent.

"Yes, sir. I'll do what you say, sir." Then she drank her water—and still very calmly moved in her seat so that her back was to him, looking towards the sea.

Before moving she had caught a glimpse of his face, the bitter twist of his mouth, the hardening of his eyes, and she was glad. Glad she had caused him just one tiny bit of the hurt he inflicted on her.

After an hour or so the men grew restless. Kate the pretty barmaid provided them with a cold lunch. But all the time Astoria sat, hunched in her seat, her back deliberately turned towards the rest of them.

If this was how he wanted to play it, then it was what she would do.

The rest could make of her what they liked. She knew for a fact that they would not mention her to Draco again.

His colleagues said their goodbyes, smiling warily in her direction, puzzlement on most of their faces. It had been a relief to stretch her legs, but now she was back in the carriage.

ooo

She found it impossible to sit still. The embarrassing journey was almost over, but who knew what the future held? Serving under Voldemort had made him cold, ruthless wizard, and he was determined to make everything as difficult for her as he could.

This was her first time in the Channel Islands outside, the carriage's window was a breathtaking view of the water—out the opposite window, she could see miles of emerald green.

She would have liked to share her pleasure—but with Draco Malfoy? Not likely! He had probably done the trip many times and was immune to the aesthetic beauty of the island. He had the Daily Prophet in front of him, had probably forgotten her existence.

As they lost height, it was possible to see the crystal clear water, the sun lighting up the reefs, and she was sure that a few flashes of colours must surely be fish. Even the circumstances of her being here could not dim her enthusiasm.

Astoria felt the waves crashing into rocks, like her blood flushing to her cheeks, and she was mesmerised.

It was warm, a strong breeze pulled at the hem of her dress robe and ruffling her short hair. She missed the feel of it about her face, and her resentment for Draco Malfoy deepened.

Two house-elves appeared in tidy uniforms with the Malfoy crest. Without a word from Draco, her suitcase levitated down the overgrown path, and the other elf directed the thestrals into a nearby stable.

The garden path was narrow Astoria found her thigh brushing the firm hardness of him. The contact sent tiny sparks within her; she edged away; she became angry with herself for entertaining such feelings—and angry with Draco for being so attractive.

She was glad that their journey was over. In no time at all they stopped outside a small grey craggy manor. She didn't know what she had expected; it looked as if it belonged to the sea, though it had a moat of flowering bushes instead of sea water.

The garden was a riot of colour—with typical English flowers and shrubs and some to which Astoria could not name. It was the prettiest place she had ever seen.

Astoria stood hesitantly, looking about her, her heart faulting suddenly at the thought of meeting his Narcissa in this situation. Would she be as hateful as her son? Would she also make her life here totally unbearable?

"Come along!"

Draco sounded impatient and she realised that he had gone on weaving down the garden path and was waiting for her at the door.

Her legs felt heavy and she had to force herself to move. Inside, the square hall was cool and green, potted plants cascading from tubs and pots everywhere.

When her eyes became accustomed to the gloom Astoria saw that Narcissa was asleep in a chair; in the living room. Draco stood over her, tender concern on his face such as she had never seen before. Here was one person he really did care for.

Suddenly, as though some sixth sense told her that she was no longer alone, the woman's eyes opened. Astoria judged her to be in her early fifties, white-haired, but with a strong-boned face and startling clear blue eyes. That they were mother and son there was no disputing.

She smiled, reaching up to him. Draco lowered his head and kissed her gently, folding her into his arms, a look of indescribable tenderness on his face.

Astoria felt embarrassed. This was a private reunion. She shouldn't be here at all. But as she turned his mother saw her.

"Oh! Are you the new nanny? Forgive me; I didn't see you. Draco, introduce us at once."

With reluctance, it seemed, he obeyed. "Mother, you remember Daphne Greengrass; we were in the same year at Hogwarts. Daphne—Mrs Malfoy. I don't know where Bella is now; at this moment, but I'll take you to your room, and you can get into your uniform. Which is her room, Mother?"

A slight frown creased the space between the older woman's eyes, speculating on the hardness of her son's tone. "The yellow one, next to Bella's, but I want to talk to Miss Greengrass first, you go and collect Bella. She's at the Goldstein's, supposedly playing with their son. Take your time—I want to get re-acquainted with the girl."

Astoria sensed he was not pleased with the arrangement and caught the warning glint in his eye as he looked at her. One false move, it seemed to say, and you can look out!

"She's not the type of person I expected you to bring, Draco," continued his mother, "Or—" looking at him knowingly, "perhaps she is. I only hope you'll leave Miss Greengrass to get on with her job."

Not appreciating his mother's hint that he might be attracted to Daphne, he looked thunderous. Astoria smiled to herself. He looked as though he was going to explode. He manage to keep himself under control. Perhaps this whole unfortunate affair was going to be as difficult for him as it was for her.

She hoped so, she really did. It would give her the greatest pleasure to see his hideous plan disintegrate before his eyes.

"Sit down, Miss Greengrass," said his mother when they were alone. "Or may I call you Daphne?"

"Please do." Astoria chose a chair opposite Narcissa. It was going to take some getting used to, answering to her sister's name.

"Now tell me about yourself. You're very young to be a nanny. Do they train you so young these days?"

Astoria hadn't a clue. She supposed so. Perhaps she ought to have brushed up on it before she came? Except that time had hardly been on her side. If she made a faux pas Draco, could blame no one—but himself for getting her into this ridiculous situation. She made a guess and nodded. "Everything's changed since your day, Mrs Malfoy. I do hope you'll find me suitable. Witches prefer not to use house-elves for child care." She had always liked Narcissa and hoped they could become friends.

"Time will tell. Now, Daphne, where did you train?"

Astoria swallowed and decided honesty was the best policy. "I didn't, I like children, that is my only qualification. Your son does know this," She looked down at her fingers, twisting them in her lap. "But he seemed to think I would—"

She could hardly say fit the part. He hadn't said that at all. He was hoping she'd make a mess of it, that it would be a hardship almost impossible to endure.

"You'll do," Mrs Malfoy finished for her. She smiled. "Typical Draco! Always does fall for a pretty face. I wish he'd settle down. I really can't keep up with his different witches. I hope you're not going to lose your head over him, Daphne. I've seen it happen so many times—and they never get anywhere poor things."

"There's no fear of that, Mrs Malfoy," said Astoria vehemently. "Your son doesn't look on me in that light—and I'm afraid I—well, I don't like him much either."

"Yet you agreed to come and look after Bella? Why was that?" There was a puzzled expression on Narcissa's face.

The question put her on a spot and Astoria avoided looking at her. She was a perceptive witch, already aware that there was some friction between her son and this pretty young nanny.

She smiled wryly and shrugged. "Perhaps the Alderney tempted me. It is certainly beautiful—what I've seen so far. You have a lovely home."

"And now it's going to be your home for a while." Narcissa was successfully sidetracked. "I do hope you'll enjoy living with us. Bella has had an unfortunate experience—I don't know whether Draco told you?"

Astoria nodded. "It must have been dreadful for her. I can't imagine anything worse."

Narcissa sighed. "I only hope it hasn't scarred her little mind for life. No one's been able to get through to her since. She's withdrawn into herself, entirely unnatural for so young a child. She rarely speaks and she has terrifying nightmares, and unfortunately won't let me console her. I have enough getting about I was hit with a nasty curse during a battle. The curse has burrowed deep in my hip bones and healers haven't been able to heal it. I'm at my wits' end, Daphne."

She really did have more than her fair share of troubles, thought Astoria. And little did Draco know that she was going to enjoy the challenge of this new and different job. Looking after Bella and helping Narcissa in this delightful house on this island of sea and sun was going to be a happy experience—nothing like his intended prison sentence.