AN: The first section has some non-sexual but physical scuffling between a male and female character. If that may bother you, skip to the first break.

Professor Slughorn told Lucius Malfoy the current password to the Slytherin common room and sent him in alone. It was late, but Narcissa Black was sitting in an armchair reading a novel translated out of Italian, dressed in one of her Muggle film star dressing gowns, black satin trimmed with something floaty and feathery. Lucius's Valentine's gift, the pearl hairclip, was fastened over her right ear, her platinum hair brushed to a warm lustre which usually would have made him wish he'd fussed over his own hair to bring it up to her level. But not tonight.

"You were expecting me," he said as he stepped into the firelit room.

She closed her book, not bothering to mark the page. "Yes, someone mentioned to me they'd seen you come in." She stood and took two swaying steps toward him. "I was hoping to see you, but you took so long."

He tilted his head, as if to see her better, differently. "Yes. I need to escort Severus out of the school tonight. He's waiting in Professor Slughorn's office. Two day's suspension for that scuffle with the Potter boy. Effective immediately. He'll be spending them at that filthy Muggle tenement in Cokeville."

"Cokeworth," she corrected, regretting it when his lip curled. She moved to placate him, linking her arm through his, as if they were about to stroll around the room. "It's good of you to take care of him like this. Poor Severus. I'm sure he's grateful."

"He is not," Lucius said. He covered her hand with his and stared across the room, at the large window looking into the lake. "So very dark down here. I'd forgotten how the moon doesn't penetrate below the water."

"But it does, my gloomy darling," she said, with a tinkling laugh. "The clouds must have rolled in. Trust me, the moon reaches us here."

He hummed. "Cissa, you were in the classroom where the attack happened, weren't you?"

"I was," she said, exaggerating a shudder against his arm. "It was ghastly. But word among the students is that Potter is recovering and won't suffer any lasting effects, so - "

"Word among the students," Lucius interrupted, turning to face her, holding her arms, "is also that Severus's attack was not completely unprovoked. Word is that there was a romantically active Veela in the classroom at the time the curse was cast. Explain this to me."

She forced a laugh that was little more than a breath. "I would be delighted if that were true. But as you've told me more than enough times, Lucius, I am no Veela. But if I was, what a compliment this would be to you, that my excitement about becoming your wife had been enough to disorder Severus's mind like that."

He lowered his eyelids, smiling crookedly. "Your headmaster wishes us to reschedule our wedding day for as soon as possible."

He wasn't watching as dread flickered over her features. "While I'm still at school?" she said.

"Because you are still at school," Lucius answered. "An unbound Veela is, clearly, a risk to the other students. Your influence fills them with mad impulses. So the headmaster has asked that you and I - bond."

She didn't know what to say, standing limply in his hold. Lucius's hands were clamped around each of her arms, below her elbows, and almost too tightly. She would not move the wedding. But it was too soon to speak of breaking up. She hadn't spoken with her parents, or with Andromeda to find out how she escaped with her dowry. She needed more time.

"We need to know if there's anything to these speculations, Narcissa. Try to show me again," he said. "Squeeze your eyes closed and wrinkle your nose the way you used to when you wanted to convince me you were a Veela."

She breathed the same weak laugh again, looking down at their feet, smiling coyly. "You're trifling with me. When it comes to this, you always are."

"I have been in the past," he said. "I do apologize for that. Today is different. I truly want to see this Veela nature your feelings for me have recently brought to such real and dangerous life. I must, in order to inform our decisions about what happens next."

She nodded, stiffening her arms and shoulders, holding her breath for a moment as if straining, her eyes closed, but her magic far away. She let her breath out. "Did you see it?"

He shook his head. "No."

She shrugged. "That's a pity. We can tell Dumbledore I was mistaken about having any Veela nature and - "

All at once he tugged hard on her arms, bending them between their bodies so her wrists were held to his chest, their faces close. He did see fear shadow her features this time.

"What is it, Lucius?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know - yet," he said. "Are you not a Veela? Or is it simply that you are a Veela who is not in love with me? How could an entire classroom of wizards and witches who have barely come of age sense it to the point of madness, when standing here with you in my arms, I feel no trace of it?"

He looked over all of her he could see from so close: her tensed arms, the curves of her chest, the flushed skin visible above her low neckline, her neck, hair, her quivering lips and glistening grey eyes. "Narcissa Black, who looks like she ought to love me - my perfect match in every way. But..."

He leaned toward her throat, as if he would kiss it, something he'd never done before. She clenched her jaw as if to take a punch. His breath burned against her skin. She pressed her lips together, holding back a scream.

And he withdrew. Without kissing her, Lucius was leaning away. "But no," he said. "It is as it always is with you. Never loving, but cool and dutiful. Or even…" He leaned into her face now, as if to kiss the tight line of her mouth, but then veering to one side, pressing his cheek against hers instead, sensing its temperature, whispering in her ear. "Ah, this is new. Not cool. Warm, but with revulsion."

She shook her head, clucking her tongue. "Lucius, it's late at the end of a difficult day. I watched a classmate nearly bleed to death at the wand of a friend who has been like a brother to me. Forgive me if I am less than receptive tonight."

He walked further into the room, still holding her close, driving her backward in front of him as he went. "A good excuse, but not a sincere one," he said. He had backed her against a sofa and pushed her to sitting.

"I don't know what other answer you want," she said, her voice rising as she bruised her skin, twisting her wrists as he held them tight.

"You don't have to answer at all," he said, crowding his face into hers again, his eyes wide. "Be still, and I'll find out myself."

She slouched sideways to avoid his eye contact and what was coming with it. He was about to use Legilimency at close range not only without her consent, but against her will. "Lucius, don't," she said. "You're a gentleman, a son of the pure and ancient house of Malfoy. You were raised better than this. Don't."

"What else can I do, when you're lying to me?" he said, his face tracking hers as she sank deeper into the sofa, forcing her to lie on her back, trapping her beneath him.

A gasp escaped her, almost a cry as his weight crushed her from above. She forced out words with it. "What lie have I told? Please - "

"Are you truly a Veela?" he said, teeth clenched to keep himself from shouting in the sleeping dormitory. "And who has made you active? It is not me. Who are they? And why are you protecting them? What's wrong with them?"

She strained against him, wriggling to slip out beneath him, the way Lupin had let her keep her power to move even when lying on her. Lupin…if anyone in Lucius's family or hers knew how close she'd got to a werewolf, they'd kill him.

Lucius was not embracing her. He was not bearing any of his own weight on his arms or legs but bringing it all to bear on her torso, locking her in place. He pressed her ribcage with his, forcing puffs of air out of her which she couldn't expand to replace. Panic was threatening to set in, but she fought it. She had to compose herself, to perform as an Occlumens. Only she was not practicing in a drawing room with people she could trust, but under attack by someone in the act of betraying her trust.

"Open your eyes," he growled from above as she panted shallow breaths into his face. "Open your eyes!"

She did. She had to.

"Legilimens."

He was in her mind. At the shock of it, she let out a cry and he clamped a hand over her mouth, compromising her breathing even more. Her body sucked air through her nose while her mind, her magic tossed with Lucius Malfoy on the wild inner sea. He was looking into her as if she was a mirror, smooth glass to see through. But with her Occlumency she stirred the water, made it froth and swirl. She let some things rise to the surface for him to catch sight of - James Potter bleeding into his wife's hands, Severus standing stunned with his wand still raised, Sirius Black extracting venom from a Lobalug, Lucius himself kissing her hand in the Entrance Hall while -

No. Sink him. Every time anything like Lupin began to rise - the moon, crystal, knights on a chess board, coarse brown hair falling over a high, scarred forehead, or growing sleek in a dense pelt - all of it had to be forced back under water, sunk into the depths, even as she drowned herself to do it.

It went on, Lucius's presence in her mind growing frustrated, angry. He couldn't keep it up forever, and when she thought she couldn't maintain her resistance another moment, he was spent. His mind was gone from hers, then his body was gone, lifted off of her. She sucked in a huge breath, her wrists aching, tears trailing into her hairline.

Lucius was on his feet, straightening his clothing, pacing away from her to get his walking stick from where he'd dropped it on the rug. They didn't speak, not a sound in the room but her faintly sobbing breaths. The common room's exit revealed itself as he spoke the password, and with that, she was alone.

Narcissa sat up on the sofa, looking around the room, blinking, hardly able to believe nothing in it had changed. She went to her room, throwing off her dressing gown and her hair clip. She reached for the flannel pajamas her mother had given her at Christmas. They were well-made and warm but she had thought them childish when she first saw them, ruffled at the neck and decorated with little green kneazles wearing witches' hats. She pulled them over her shaking body and stood beside her neatly made bed, listening to the slow, steady breathing of her roommates. Not yet.

Lucius would have rushed to collect Severus and left this place already. So she risked leaving her dormitory, trying to outrun the foul atmosphere that had come into the part of the school where she had always felt most safe. In the dungeon corridor outside, she didn't know where to go but up. She climbed the stairs to the empty Entrance Hall, then the marble staircase to the third floor. That was where the moving staircase rose up to Gryffindor Tower. Her heart ached at the sight of it, the stairs dark and empty, moved away from the base of the tower, pointed in the wrong direction. They wouldn't move for her.

She climbed them anyway, halfway up to where she could see the portrait of the sleeping fat lady who guarded the way inside. No one was awake. She sat on the stones, and wept.

The sun was high, streaming through the long, narrow windows in the stairway to the top of Gryffindor Tower. Class had started an hour earlier, leaving the dormitory empty, no need for an Invisibility Cloak as James Potter laboured to the pinnacle.

"It hasn't been twenty-four hours since your injury. Stop this macho nonsense and let me levitate you to the top of the stairs," Lily said from beneath his arm.

"Forget it," he said. "You're not carrying ME over the threshold of our home, especially since I've still never carried YOU through the door."

She rolled her eyes. "Like I said, macho nonsense. Really, James."

"We're nearly there already," he said, letting go of her, stopping two steps short of the top to rest the palms of his hands on his knees, breathing deeply.

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just gathering strength," he said, his head still bowed.

Lily patted his back. "Take all the time you need."

He looked up. "There. That's strength enough." And with a wink, he grabbed at her, lifting her off her feet and up into his arms, bridal style. Her squeal still echoed up and down the stairs as he called out the password for the door and dived with her across the threshold before falling into the bed.

She was laughing and screaming as he rolled her on top of himself.

"Oh, you're very proud of yourself, aren't you?" she scolded between kisses laid all over his face, anywhere but on his mouth as he tried to kiss her back. "A show-off, just like everyone says. The worst husband in the entire student population."

"Guilty," he said, flipping her onto her back and kissing her fully, hotly, unbuttoning her cardigan.

She moaned into his mouth, with a tone he recognized as her wanting to say something. He broke away with a crack.

"I cannot express how happy I am to have you back here," she said.

He chuckled somewhat wickedly. "I'm fairly certain I understand you perfectly," he said, loosening his tie.

"James, you just finished getting dressed," she said with mock outrage.

"Mm, terrible waste of time." He threw his tie over his shoulder and fell on her.

In spite of his burst of energy at the door, Lily felt a difference in him. The fatigue of his recovery slowed his mad teenaged pace, made him careful and deliberate as he loved her. That long, sunny morning in their bed was something new and sublime for her. She had heard such feelings were possible, and she remembered shadows of them from her dreams, but she was still astounded at herself, at themselves.

James could not have been more pleased with himself. Afterwards, he slept as she stayed close, her head on his shoulder, tracing his new scar with her finger. She loved him more every day. It was easy. But she did eventually wish she had something to read, that book of Bathilda Bagshot's that Effie had promised them as a wedding gift. It still hadn't arrived from the manor. She watched James as he frowned in his sleep, and she felt it too, the sense he had the night before, like something bad might be happening, somewhere else.

Lily lay with her back curved into James's front when he stirred behind her, his fingers scratching blindly at his healed wound, rubbing his eyes. "I'm hungry, love."

"Of course you are. It's lunchtime." She rolled onto her other side, facing him.

He stretched. "They aren't owling up another picnic basket for us today, are they? For the feeble invalid?"

"Not quite," she said smoothing his hair just to have him muss it again. "The lads are coming to visit on their noon hour and bringing lunch with them."

James's eyes widened. "They're coming here? Soon?" He sprang out of bed and ran to the window.

"James Potter, I told you - "

"We need to air the place out. And clean up. And - "

"Get dressed, for stars' sake," she said.

Things in the attic flat couldn't have been more clean and respectable when the lads arrived with Marlene for lunch. Everyone was relieved to see James looking rosy and well.

That morning in Magical Creatures class, Sirius had partnered with Narcissa while Remus worked in a trio with Peter and Alice. Sirius had managed to get her to tell him that Snape was not in detention, not on cleaning detail, but suspended from school as punishment for injuring James. Malfoy had come to collect him the night before.

"Back in Cokeworth?" Lily said. "I do hope he doesn't bother my parents again."

"Shall we go back and make sure he doesn't?" James asked.

She scoffed. "Only if you want to wind up back in the hospital."

"Oh, so that's what Malfoy was doing here last night," Peter said. "We saw him come in on the map, didn't we Remus."

Remus nodded, as if unaffected, though he was greatly relieved to hear Malfoy hadn't come for Narcissa. Everyone knew it, but no one knew what to say about it.

Lily may have been opening her mouth to chastise him about feeling anything for Narcissa Black when Sirius spoke up. "So the school's chastity charm isn't in force way up here?" he mused.

"I don't think that's how it works," Lily said. "It's not that the space is uncharmed so we can - be together here. It's the fact that we're properly soul-bonded that makes the difference. Our relationship is all blessed and chaste now, isn't it darling?"

James hooked an arm around her neck and leaned across her shoulders. "Yeah, the school charms have no effect on a properly bonded pair. I mean, technically, we should be able to do it anywhere."

Lily made a great deal of noise clearing her throat.

"Not that we would," James finished.

"Soul-bonded - just say married. It's less superior sounding," Marlene said, biting into an apple.

"It's not the space itself that's uncharmed?" Sirius said, sulking. "And here I was about to ask to borrow the place for dates. Did you hear the bad news Marlene?"

She threw her apple, hard, at his head. It was an easy catch for a quidditch keeper. Sirius tossed the apple once more, caught it behind his back, and bit into it himself.

"Knock, knock," came a painfully prim voice from the open doorway.

Everyone leapt to their feet as Professor McGonagall stepped into the room.

"Sorry to interrupt your lunch," she began. "But I need a word in private with Mr. Potter."

It was a simple statement, but it fell over the room like a cloud over the sun. James and Lily's guests were nodding, stowing the scraps of their lunch in the basket and excusing themselves.

"Miss Evans, you will please stay, of course," McGongall said, closing the door after the rest of them left.

James held his head high. "You've come to tell us what's wrong with my parents, haven't you Professor?"

She pursed her lips. "As a matter of fact, I have."

It was Remus who took the lunch basket back to the kitchen, taking the time to walk alone to the bottom of the castle to try to put together Narcissa's state of mind. For now, it was all he could do, since finding her and talking to her in the middle of a busy school day might cause another fiasco.

She hadn't come to breakfast, and then he'd had double charms class with Ravenclaw. When he finally saw her in Care of Magical Creatures, Sirius and Peter had done their utmost to keep them apart. Sirius said she was quiet and not particularly happy while they did their partner work, but being quietly hostile was what not being on speaking terms with an estranged cousin was all about. It told him nothing. It was good to know Malfoy had come for Snape, not for her the night before, but he was still uneasy, and would be until he knew if anything had passed between them.

He was coming up the stairs from the kitchens when he heard his name called from above as if it was a curse.

"Lupin."

It was Regulus, standing like an angry sentinel at the top of the stairs, glaring down at him as if he wasn't the kid brother of Remus's best friend, the boy who once followed after them, admiring everything they did. Remus sighed. "What is it, Reg?"

"Don't you 'Reg' me," he said. "Do you know where I found her?"

Remus frowned. "Her? Who did you find?"

"Narcissa," he said. "My cousin, the one my brother won't stand up to protect, but I will."

"Reg, just tell me what's happened?" Remus said, earnestly worried, dropping his hands on Regulus's shoulders. "Is she alright?"

Regulus jerked away. "No, she isn't. She's so not alright she won't even talk to me about it. All I know is I was patrolling and I found her sitting on the Gryffindor stairs after curfew last night, crying her eyes out. And in her weepy babbling, all I could make out was Malfoy's name and yours. Yes, crying over something to do with YOU, outside YOUR dorm."

Remus grabbed his own stomach, bending at the waist, as if hit. "Last night? On the stairs?"

"I'm warning you, Lupin," Regulus was saying. "I'm giving you one warning. Cissa told me to forget all about it, but she's far too kind. If I knew what you actually did, believe me, I'd be in the headmaster's office reporting it this instant. You stay away from her. She's as good as married, and if you don't want both me and Malfoy on you - "

Remus couldn't listen to any more. He swore and bolted down the corridor. What class did Narcissa have next? It wasn't with Gryffindor. Did she still take Herbology?

"It's no use chasing her," Regulus called after him. "She was set to leave for home at lunchtime."

Remus swore louder and ran faster, making for the Floos in the Entrance Hall. She was easy to spot at a distance, bright and shining like a diamond, at least in his eyes. She was still in the hall, dressed in a dark traveling cloak, waiting for Filch to come unlock the Floo so she could leave. But he was in no hurry, rather enjoying having someone waiting for him.

Remus slowed when he saw her, surveying the hall to check how many people they might drive mad if he got close to her. But then here was Filch, plodding toward her. Regardless of the people, Remus was speeding again, running at her, calling her name.

Colour rose in her face. He saw it before she turned her back to him. He needed to get her away from here, somewhere safe and private, together. In the pocket of his robes, with his wand and the map, was one other thing: James's cloak. Like a Muggle magician, in a single fluid motion, Remus unfurled the cloak while pulling it from his robes, winding himself and Narcissa inside it.

She gasped, clinging to him without thinking, blinking out at the hall now that it was shadowed and rippled by the fabric that covered them. "Lupin?"

"This is Potter's invisibility cloak," he rushed to say, whispering. "No one can see us, but we'd better go outside before they sense us."

She said nothing, looking up at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted.

The silence was terrifying. His mouth went dry and he withdrew the slightest bit, letting her know she was free to go. "Un-unless - "

His words died away as she held the lapels of his robe and buried her face in his jumper, her shoulders shaking as she broke into sobs. He did his best to hold her, one hand above their heads, keeping the cloak in place, the other on her back. "It's alright," he said into the crown of her head. "No one knows where we are."

Steering her toward the main doors, Remus took her outside, and led her into one of the statuary niches, behind a stone knight bearing a large shield. He let the cloak down, draping it over his arm.

"Your nose is red," he said, smiling pityingly at her. "My poor creature." He stooped to kiss the end of her nose, holding her face in his hands, wiping tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. Her eyes had been half-closed and she opened them fully now, looking up to meet his. He drew in a sharp breath. Her usually grey eyes were flashing gold, eyes he'd only ever seen as Moony, the Veela's eyes.

"Listen to me, Narcissa," he said, still holding her face. "You've got to take deep breaths, use your voice, say something, bring your human self back before you bring this school to its knees."

She tried, opening her mouth to speak, but the sound was high and sharp, not language. She gripped his arms, scared. He had no idea what had put her in this state, but she was upset enough that her Veela was asserting itself, as if it had been silent too long, and now, emboldened by his presence, the Veela was taking over, rising up to fight.

"Breathe, Narcissa," he said. "You can't do this here with all these children around. Look at me, and breathe."

She was trying her voice again, more of a cough than a word, but she managed to say his name. "Lupin."

"Yes." He let go of her face and pulled her close, long arms clasped around her. "There you are. You're alright. You've mastered it."

She flung her arms around his torso, burrowing into his robes, human but still wild and open. "It's my Veela."

"Yes," he said, stroking her hair. "And she's lovely, fierce, but she shouldn't be here right now."

"He wanted to see her, last night," she said, her face against Remus's shoulder, her voice high and trembling.

Remus's spine stiffened. "He? You mean, Malfoy?"

She nodded against him, her arms around his neck now. "I didn't show him. I pretended to try, and he - I didn't show him. I'm not sure I could have even if I wanted to. She doesn't love him, you see. She's particular, singular, and - " Narcissa drew in a deep breath. " - she may be in love with someone else."

His arms tightened and he rocked her from side to side. He lifted her onto her toes, his lips against her temple, sighing. "How can she love someone else when she is you, and you are his?"

"I am not his," she said, her voice low and firm now.

The sound frightened him and he bent to bring his lips to her ear. "Can you please tell me what happened? Last night, between you refusing to show Malfoy your Veela and you ending up crying on the Gryffindor staircase - "

"Regulus told you?"

"Yes, and I'm sorry, Narcissa." He bowed his head again, his forehead coming to rest on hers. "So sorry. Sick about it. If I'd known - Stars, I'll sleep on the stairs every night for the rest of the year just in case you come looking for me."

"Don't do that," she said, tipping her chin forward to kiss him. It was slow and full of pain at first, as she purged her hurt into him. His voice sounded in relieved surprise, as if he didn't feel worthy of a kiss after she'd suffered while he did nothing the night before. He accepted it, holding back, letting her lead, open to the touch of her mouth. She was more human than Veela now, taking what she needed with a gentle, aching sweetness he could barely stand.

This was what she wanted from him all along. Her body, mind, her magic responding to his touch, the feel of him, as if he was a healing draught himself. Her fingers traced the thin band of skin between the top of his collar and his hairline at the nape of his neck. It wasn't enough. She slid a hand down his neck and chest, his breath hitching as she dragged her fingers all the way to his waist, then up, beneath the lower edge of his jumper. He was too tall for all his shirts and the one he was wearing was already untucked, letting her fingers slip easily beneath it, finding his warm, smooth flank.

He jerked against her, breaking the kiss to sigh her name.

"I'm not forcing you, am I?" she said, her eyebrows lifted. "If you don't want me to - "

"Don't want you to?" he said, an incredulous laugh in his voice as he covered her hand with his through the outside of his jumper, pressing her tented finger closer to his skin, flattening her palm against himself, watching her face as her eyes drifted shut, seeing her getting lost in the sensation. "Please, touch me," he said. "Take your strength from me while you tell me what happened last night. I want to help. Whatever it was, it can never happen again."

She nodded, as if to answer him. But instead of saying anything, she slipped her other hand into his shirt, holding him from both sides. He pulled her closer and her arms met across his back. He waited, his closed mouth pressed to the top of her head.

"You can't say you love me," she said. "I know. It's my fault. I haven't made it possible. But can you tell me if I'm loveable?"

He clucked his tongue, and with no hesitation said, "Of course you're loveable, you mad thing. Infinitely so."

"Is it mad though?" she asked. "My father signed me over to a man who's already betrayed me. Neither of them can actually love me." She paused, swallowing hard enough for her head to bob against his chest. "Lucius attacked me with Legilimency last night. He was in my mind, tearing through my memories, my feelings, everything."

Remus growled as he held her tighter. "I'm sorry. You don't deserve violation like that. You deserve reverence, worship."

She trembled in his arms. "Thank you."

He scoffed. "Don't thank me. It's self-evident." He paused swaying with her, soothing her. "It was us, wasn't it? Was he looking for us?"

"Yes," she said. "But I kept you hidden. My Occlumency was stronger than his attack - barely stronger, but it was enough."

He hated it. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

She pulled her arms out of his shirt and rolled up her sleeves, bringing her flesh into the daylight, her arms bruised purple where she'd strained against Malfoy's hold.

Remus held arms in his fingertips, turning them in the light. He kissed the bruises, stopping short of treating them as Moony would, with his tongue. He swore. "Let Malfoy find us. There's a full moon in two days. By all means, send him looking for me then."

"No," she said, holding Remus's face. "Don't be rash. Think, Lupin. I can make something of this. Something better. I think his attack constitutes a breach of the engagement pledges. I'm getting out, Lupin. You found me at the Floos not running away, but going about what I need to do to get out of the marriage contract."

He stood back, releasing her body but taking her hands. "Are you sure?"

She shook her head. "No. But I will be. I'm going to Andromeda first, and then, to my parents."

James led Lily out of the Floo at the Potters' manor. The house had been quiet his entire life, but its atmosphere was grave today. Professor McGonagall had dosed each of them with a booster potion against Dragon Pox and sent them on their way.

Hand in hand, they came into Fleamont Potter's bedroom. He looked tiny in the immense bed, his breath noisy. He was past the pustule stage of the disease, now looking slightly green, and sleeping under the influence of a heavy sleeping draught. Effie sat at his side, looking at him in the muted late afternoon sunlight filtering through the curtains.

James must have seen them sitting like this a thousand times, but it looked different to him now. How had Lily looked while she sat at his bedside last night in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing? It would have been just like this.

Effie held out her hand. "Jimsy and sweetheart. You've both had your medicine?"

"Yes, Mum."

"There's a good lad," she said as she let him take her hand, but only by the fingertips.

"How did this happen, Mum? I thought you both had Dragon Pox as children. You're supposed to be immune," he said, sitting on the bed at Monty's knee. Lily stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder.

"A new strain," Effie shrugged. "We are old, Jimsy. No one can be bothered to find out what's happened."

"One of the wedding guests brought it, didn't they?" he said. "So stupid. How could I have let you - "

Effie squeezed his fingers. "No, dear. It's got nothing to do with the wedding."

"Viruses don't move themselves around, Mum. People have to bring them."

"Don't upset yourself now," she said. "Just be still. Your father, he's old and at peace with it. You always knew you would lose us while you were still young, Jimsy."

Effie meant well, but Lily could see she was making it worse. "Madam Potter," Lily said. "You must be exhausted. Do get some rest. James and I will stay with him."

Effie didn't argue, nodding, rising, leaving for her own room.

James fell into the chair she'd vacated, his head in his hands. "Order of the Phoenix my arse," he said, letting Lily take his head and rub his temples for him. "Protecting us from dark forces, were they? Look what they've done to him."

"No, wait," Lily said, climbing into the chair with him, speaking into his face. "If a new strain of Dragon Pox was spreading through the Order of the Phoenix, infecting the elderly, Dumbledore would have it, and so would all the other old professors at school. And we know not a single one of them is sick. Your mum is right. Monty didn't catch it at the wedding. Now, who else has been here at the manor in the past week or so?"

James didn't seem ready to follow her line of thinking yet, still sitting quietly, resting his head on her chest. She wouldn't leave him alone to poke around the house for traces of a recent visitor, but she would look around the room, as if something there would tell her. And then something did.

On the table next to their chair, Lily found the only thing close enough to read. It was a letter from the Ministry, a routine yearly tax assessment on the manor. Only it was not stamped in the routine way with an owl postmark, but certified as hand-delivered by Ministry official Corban Yaxley.