A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm so very sorry for the lack of update these past nine months. Truly, school has been crazy. I know that's no excuse for such a long update time, but I hope you can forgive me.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! The three cameo appearances will be Ridea, xoglowergrinox123, and Griffin Strycharske. I introduce the first cameo character here, but he/she will continue to be fleshed out in upcoming chapters; I intend for the next cameo to occur in the next chapter, which features Hermione as we return to France. I hope to post that in a couple weeks, but most definitely sometime this summer.

Just as a reminder, the last time we left Belle and Draco, Belle touched a cursed necklace and was thrown into a coma. In order for her to wake up, she needed someone to cast the countercurse. And that's where we pick up with this chapter.

15. When You Wish Upon a Star

In the hour of twilight, regrets and broken dreams glimmer and fade; the beauty of sunset can't last. This Draco learned, standing in one of St. Mungo's hallways, looking out of the numerous windows, as the sun sank beneath the horizon, feeling regret after regret.

He'd been in St. Mungo's for nearly a day, and Belle showed no signs of improvement. His hair sticking on end, Draco finally gathered enough of his wits to contact Potter and the Weasleys; they were her guardians after all. In reality, Draco had no claim over her. He knew that, of course—still he disliked standing in the hallway holding a lukewarm mug of tea while everyone else laid by her bedside, talking to her, praying for her.

The last rays of gold and bright orange disappeared, and Draco sighed, tipping some of the bitter tea into his mouth. He hoped Potter and the Weasleys left soon; he wanted to… what? Talk to a woman—no a girl, and a bloody French one at that—that couldn't hear him in the slightest? Was he going mad?

Exhaling angrily, Draco poured the rest of the tea down his throat and vanished the mug with a tense wave of his wand. Merlin, how he hated himself! Staring once again into the fading light, he remembered when Potter and the Weasleys had arrived only a few hours ago.

"Malfoy," the Weasel had said, gritting his teeth, "as soon as she gets out of St. Mungo's, I am hexing your arse into oblivion. You can make sure of that."

"'Onestly, Ronald," the pregnant blonde one had said, tipping her nose down at Draco, despite the fact that she stood a head shorter than him, "'E is not worth your time. Belle will recover, and zis one will go back to 'is pathetic life."

Then, stomping off to find Belle, and pulling a scar-faced man after her, Potter, Draco, and the Weasel stood in the hallway, glaring at each other.

"Look," Draco said, his fists balled at his side, "I'm not here to be your enemy, and I'm very sorry about what I caused. I told her to stay out of the West Wing for this reason, and she failed to listen to me. While I acknowledge that I should have ensured better wards were placed on that room, this isn't entirely my fault, nor do I appreciate being treated like it is."

"Well, that doesn't change much, Malfoy," Potter said coolly, with a brow raised. "Still, you got her here, and she's stable now, so I guess we can forget the rest of it for now."

"Forget it?" Ron said loudly, and Draco noticed—with glee—that Potter winced slightly. "Belle is unconscious because of some curse! It's all his fault—it happened in his house!"

"I'm standing right here," Draco replied icily. "Did you even hear what I just said, Weasley? Or are you deaf?"

"I'm sorry," he continued, just as loudly. "Harry, did you hear a Ferret speaking?"

"Ron," Potter said, "Malfoy is trying to be civil. Honestly, can't you do the same?"

Muttering to himself, Ron shot Harry a nasty look, and clomped down the hallway. Potter sighed, and followed his friend; Draco watched them both until they rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

That had been nearly three hours ago, and now, Draco had begun to pace, waiting for them to leave. He wanted to see Belle—suddenly he paused in his track along the hallway. His parents… had they tried to contact him? They thought he was at the vacation house. Shit. Pacing once more, he tossed the thought from his mind. Let his parents worry, or simply, in his father's case, go in a mad rage that he wasn't answering them. It would do them good—he was almost twenty years old now; he shouldn't have to report to his parents every minute of every day.

But Belle, would she recover? Weasley was right—this was entirely his fault—he just hadn't wanted to admit it. If Belle was handicapped in some way after this… Well, add one more sin to his plate.

But wait—Draco paused once again, what if he could find the counterspell? The Healer had said it was a rare countercurse, but so was the curse itself, and the Malfoy library contained volumes and volumes on curses. If he knew the curse that had hit Belle, perhaps he could find the countercurse.

Tearing off down the hallway, Draco had to stop to remember his dignity. Slowly, he walked, chin tilted up, toward Belle's room. Sure enough, Potter and Weasley were still there, though the blonde and Scarface had already left. Even as he entered the room, Draco could feel Weasley's eyes narrow on him.

"Sorry to bother you," Draco drawled, "but I need to find Belle's Healer."

Potter looked suspicious. "What for?" he asked. Draco refrained from rolling his eyes.

"To wish him Happy Birthday," Draco drawled. Potter and the Weasel stared at him. "Not really, dear Merlin you two are thick! I need to ask him a question. Do you know where he went?"

Both of them glared at him, but Potter pointed down the hallway. "She had another patient to attend to."

Inclining his head in a nod, Draco left the room, and dashed toward a person in white robes, holding a clipboard, tapping the Healer on the back. "Pardon me, sir," he began, "but are you Belle's Healer?"

The person spun around, and Draco realized it was a young woman with a round and pleasant face, dark features, and shoulder-length hair. She smiled, and her brown eyes lit up. "Couldn't tell I was female with my hat on? It happens all the time. These robes hide my girlish figure."

She chuckled, and Draco felt his lips pucker in annoyance. The woman coughed. "Anyway, yes, I am one of her Healers. She's a Muggle, right? Poor girl."

Draco flinched. "Yes, well, one of her other Healers told me that they identified the curse, but since the countercurse isn't widely known, they couldn't reverse it."

"Yes, well, that's correct," the woman said, looking up from her clipboard. "Why do you ask?"

Raising an eyebrow, Draco continued, "Well, my family has access to books that contain Dark Magic, so I might be able to find the countercurse."

The Healer bit her lip. "I'm thrilled that you're willing to search through books of Dark Magic to help, but we already have four Healers on the case, and if we can't even find it, I seriously doubt you'll be able to locate the countercurse on your own."

"Do you want her to die?"

"Of course not, but—"

"Then tell me the damn curse!" Draco said. "What do you have to lose?"

The Healer sighed. "It was the Bogsniglib Curse that we found in her bloodstream. It's one of the most deathly known to Wizardkind, but its complex wandwork makes it more conducive to insertion in magical objects than being used in duels."

"One of the most deadly?" Draco asked, wry.

"The Killing Curse," the Healer said, raising a brow. "Surely, you're familiar with it?"

"Unfortunately," Draco muttered.

"Well, then certainly you must know that—"

"Yes, I do," Draco interrupted, "and I thank you for your time, but I really must be going." Then, his robes flying behind him, Draco left for the Floo, grabbed a pinch of powder, and disappeared in a roar of green flames.

HP*BATB*HP*BATB*HP*BATB

That night he spent hours poring over the books in the library of the summer home. He had gone immediately to the section on the Dark Arts, and had gone to the 'curse' subsection, but as the candlelight dimmed, Draco admitted that he wasn't going to find information on the curse here. But maybe his father knew something about it.

It was nearly eleven o'clock, so Draco suspected his father would still be awake, perusing their accounts or signing some document or even just sitting in his study drinking Firewhiskey. So, Draco, grabbing a pinch of Floo powder, shouted 'Malfoy Manor' and stepped in the flames. He felt the familiar whirring sensation before he popped out at the other end, in his father's study, facing the man himself.

Lucius Malfoy hadn't changed too much since the Second Wizarding War. True, his face had a few more lines, and he leaned more heavily on his cane, but he still had just as much spite for Mudbloods and dislike for Harry Potter. Of course, he was less publicly vocal about his views now, now that he stayed out of society's light and kept to himself, but Draco knew his father still wished the Dark Lord had won the war. It was obvious every time he talked with him.

"Hello, Father," Draco said, with a short, stiff nod. "I hope you're well?"

Lucius flipped to the next page of his copy of The Daily Prophet. "What do you want, Draco?" he snapped. "Niceties don't suit you."

Draco stared at his father coldly. "Fine, then. I came from the summer home to see what you knew about the Bogsniglib curse."

His father set down his paper and raised a single eyebrow. "How did you come across such dark magic in your line of work as an apothecary, Draco?"

Gritting his teeth, Draco glared at his father. "I don't have time for this, Father. If you don't intend to help me, just say so, and I'll search the libraries for the countercurse myself."

"Patience, Draco," his father said as he reached for an empty crystal tumbler sitting on the nearby table and began filling it with amber liquid. "Give me a moment, and I'll gladly—"

"I haven't got a moment, do you understand that?" Draco spat. "Belle is in a coma, Father. Each moment she goes without the countercurse makes it more likely she won't ever wake."

His father paused as he was pouring his scotch. "Who's Belle, Draco?"

Shite. He'd said too much. "No one of significance."

"Well, then," his father said, smiling cruelly, "it won't matter if she waits another hour or two before someone administers the Bobsniglib countercurse."

Draco inhaled deeply and glared at his father. "She's a love interest of Blaise's," he said after a moment, gritting his teeth. "She visited me at our summer home, asking me to talk to him for her, and she wandered to the West Wing and touched a cursed necklace. Blaise fancies her a lot, so I don't think he'd appreciate it if the next time he saw her, she was incapable of speech, or worse, a complete vegetable. Now, will you show me where I can find the bloody countercurse?"

His father raised a sardonic eyebrow. "And you also care for the girl." It was a statement, not a question. "Does Blaise know?"

"Father, the countercurse."

"Very well, Draco. Since you insist." His father reached for his silver and black walking stick and stood up from his chair, heading to the wall of books on his right. "This book contains the Bogsniglib countercurse—you should be able to find it in the Table of Contents."

Draco reached to grab the book from his father's outstretched hand, but his father still held the book tightly and moved it out of reach. "Father, I don't have time for these games. Hand me the book."

"I know you're lying about the girl," Lucius said quietly. "It's obvious that you care for her, and I know that if Blaise had any claim to her, he would be here himself, searching for the countercurse. This conclusion leads me to wonder why you would lie about her. And until you tell me, I will not give you this book."

Grinding his teeth, Draco glowered at his father. "She's a Muggle," he said coldly.

His father's look darkened. "Draco, I want you to end all contact with this girl. Should you go against me, I will write you out of the will. No son of mine will marry a Mudblood."

Draco stared at the ground for a moment before looking at the white-blonde-haired man before him. "Don't be ludicrous, Father. I don't intend to marry the girl. She's an annoyance and the only reason I didn't throw her out of the summer home was because she was practically unconscious with wet and cold." He snatched the book from his father's hand and stormed over to the fireplace. "I'll see you on Sunday for tea."

Then, grabbing a pinch of Floo Powder and tucking the book securely in his arms, Draco stepped into the grate. "St. Mungo's!" he shouted, and the green flames, engulfing him, transported him away.

HP*BATB*HP*BATB*HP*BATB

When Draco reappeared in the reception area, he hurried to Belle's ward, his robes fluttering behind him. He was sure his hair was a little disheveled from his trip through the fireplace and tried to smooth it down as he rounded the corner and, after checking that the hallway was clear, stepped into Belle's room. In the moonlight that filtered in through the window, he could see her chest rise and fall gently. She looked peaceful, just as though she were sleeping.

He approached the bed cautiously, sitting in the chair along its side, removed the book from underneath his arm and withdrew his wand. "Lumos," he murmured, and he flipped open the cover, and thumbed through the book until he saw the subsection: The Bogsniglib Curse.

The wandwork for the curse was complicated, involving a series of loops and twisted curlicues and embellishments, and the incantation appeared to be Welsh, not Latin, also making the spell more difficult. And, all it said regarding the countercurse was the following:

In order to reverse the Bogsniglib Curse, one must reverse the incantation, adding the name of the one who has been affected by the curse—which must also be backwards. As such, to reverse the Bogsniglib Curse that affected a person named James, one would say, 'Nwh nyd y r'igoullana, Semaj,' while reversing the movements, beginning with wand motion number 16, pictured above.

Draco could feel his chest tighten—any false movement could endanger Belle further. He stood up from the chair, walked to the opposite side of the room and began practicing the incantation for the countercurse (Nwh nyd y r'igoullana, Elleb), then the wand movements. He had to try several times before he thought he had it passably right, then a few more before it was impeccable. The purple light that his wand should emit kept bursting out of his wand, so Draco felt confident. He once more returned to Belle's bedside, kneeling.

"Belle," he began in French, feeling rather mad, "I pray you'll pardon me. I should have placed better wards around the West Wing, and I shouldn't have…" He trailed off—talking to her like this wouldn't do any good. She looked so serene, but every second he delayed performing the countercurse was a second that she could be weakening, growing insane, dying. Draco brushed a small piece of hair from her face, and then stood up, his jaw set.

He readied his wand, pointing it directly at her torso. "Nwh nyd y r'igoullana, Elleb!" he shouted while performing the sixteen wand movements with crisp precision. A stream of bright violet light erupted from his wand, penetrating Belle's torso. It spread throughout her whole body before gently fading, and Draco closed his eyes inhaling deeply, his fists clenched at his side.

"Draco?"

It was a feeble whisper, but Draco felt his heart begin to thud in his chest. He opened his eyes to see that Belle, still lying in bed, her eyes half-open, was looking at him. Allowing the corners of his lips to turn slightly upward, Draco once again sat in the chair along her bedside. "Yes, Belle?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," she croaked. She lifted her hand and grimaced. Draco felt himself fold his lips together.

"You have no need to apologize," he said, switching the conversation to French. "I should have placed better wards around the West Wing—"

"You already said that, when I was asleep," she smiled. Then she shifted slightly, only to moan in pain.

"I'm going to get your Healer," Draco said, standing up. "She'll be able to administer a sleeping potion, and she should have some draughts for any pain you have."

"No, don't go," Belle said. "Stay—please?"

Sighing inwardly, Draco sat back down, glaring at her. "You need a potion that reduces pain. Yet you ask me to sit here, helpless, while you moan and grimace and grit your teeth."

"I don't want you to leave," she said. She slid toward the edge of the bed, toward Draco, only to hiss in pain a moment later, then groan.

"Can you just bloody well stay still for a single moment?" Draco asked hotly. "You're only hurting yourself more. You just woke up from a coma after having your nervous system attacked by dark magic, so please," he said, gritting his teeth, "do not move."

"Or what?" she challenged, her brown eyes hard. Sweat glistened on her forehead, and if it hadn't seemed so improprietous, he would have conjured a cloth and wiped it away.

"Or I'll leave to get the Healer, and she'll give you a sleeping potion," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm only humoring your request because I know it will do more harm than good if I leave you alone right now."

Belle smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. "I'll make sure I mind my manners, then." She shivered, wrapping her arms around her torso, and without thinking, Draco conjured a blanket and tossed it on top of the covers. "Merci, monsieur," she said, snuggling deeper underneath the bed linens.

Nodding, Draco put away his wand. It was bizarre to be in this dim room alone with her, with the silver moon as their only light. He looked back down at the girl, to find that she had closed her eyes and was breathing deeply, peacefully—she looked so young, and with her pale skin shimmering in the moonlight, she looked unearthly. Swallowing, Draco looked away. "Get some sleep, Belle."

He stood up to leave, lingering at her bedside for a few moments. This would be the last time he would see her—the last time he would see her ever. His father's words had been clear. Draco closed his eyes and let a wry smile cross his face as he leaned over the girl. "Goodbye," he breathed, kissing her gently on the lips for a mere second before swooping out of the room.

In her sleep, Belle twisted onto her side and sighed.