"I flew, the same as you. Then took the bus from Bangor. It's a hellish trip on that coast road, let me tell you. Stopping at every little Podunk town along the way. I thought I'd never get here."

"What I want to know is how you knew where to find me in the first place?"

"I just asked your mom where you were. That's all."

"And my mom told you?"

"Sure. Obviously." He held out one hand toward her. "Oh, Hermione-I've been going absolutely crazy, and it's your fault because you won't talk to me. I called here the other day to see if your dad would hire me since they're doing a lot of work on their house, but-"

"My mom told you that, too?"

"Yeah. But the woman who answered said they didn't need anyone, and then the connection broke. When I called back later to talk to you, no one was home. So I told my aunt and uncle I had to make a little trip to visit a friend, and I booked my flight, and here I am. I got here this afternoon, and I'm staying until you'll talk to me."

She couldn't believe any of this. What was she supposed to say to this person who had nearly killed her and now felt drawn to seek her out, wherever she might travel? It occurred to her that he might be crazy. Like one of those weirdos who stalk their favorite movie stars, always phoning and harassing them. You had to be careful with people like that. You couldn't trust them at all.

She glanced around, hoping to see her father or Paulette coming toward them, but they were alone. She frowned. "Where are you staying?"

"There's a campground about two miles around the cove-toward the next little town." He patted the ground in front of him. "Come on. Please. Sit down. Just for a few minutes. If you'll just answer a few questions, I promise I won't bother you again."

She sat down in the grass and wrapped her arms around her knees. The wind picked up and sea gulls screamed, circling over head. A sprinkle of raindrops scattered down, then stopped. "All right, you got five minutes. Then I'm going in, and I wont see you again."

Draco rubbed his hands through his blonde hair. "Fair enough, okay." He studied her face for a long moment, silent.

When he did not begin, she looked pointedly at her watch. "four minutes-and the clocks ticking."

Then came a rush of words. His voice grew choked. "I don't know what it is, Hermione, but it's something to do with you. And it started at the party. We danced-and it was like I'd held you before. And then we were at the pool and you wouldn't get in-well, something just happened. It was like something snapped in me." He held up his hand to stop her from saying anything. "Look, I told you already. I don't know why I did it. It was scary. I knew it was wrong, and did it anyway. I sort of had to."

Had to? Hermione edged further away from him.

"I'm really sorry, Hermione, but - about the things I saw under water? That's what we have to talk about. There was a round box. And there was seaweed-and I saw blood in the water. I know, I know-it had to be a hallucination. But right after I started having dreams. Bad ones. I had the first one that very night, after we revived you and taken you to the hospital. It was about you, I know it was-but the girl didn't look like you. She looked like some old-fashioned girl, wearing a long skirt, with her hair pinned up. You know, how they wore it, like, a hundred years ago?" Draco's eyes burned into hers. She could not look away, through the panic was welling inside her. "She was you, somehow, Hermione, in my dream. And I was singing that song to her, you know the one-" And he began to sing in a husky voice:

"Oh my darlin', oh my darlin', Oh my darlin', Clementine. You are lost and gone forever-"

Hermione jumped up. This was beyond crazy. She began running for a house.

"Hermione! Hermione, wait!" He rushed behind, heedless of the raindrops that now spattered down from the gray sky.

She reached the back door, but it was locked. She hammered on it with her fist, blind panic overtaking her now. "Get away from me! She howled as the door opened and she tumbled into the kitchen.

Paulette stood there, astonished. 'What in the world is going on?" she cried.

"Close the door! I don't want to talk to him!" Hermione tried to push it shut, but Draco was there, frantic that she shouldn't get away from him again.

"Please, Hermione-"

"Five minutes are up!" She yelled.

"But I haven't finished!"

"You have for now, I think." Said Paulette, pushing Hermione aside and standing in front of Draco. "She said she doesn't want to talk to you. Whoever you are."

"But-I need to see her!" Draco was much taller then Paulette and looked over her head to where Hermione stood near the kitchen table. "Hermione, come on. We have to talk about what these vision mean. Why do you run away when I sing 'Clementine' to you?"

Paulette's eyes widened. She glanced over her shoulder at Hermione, who was edging toward the pantry. Then she frowned at Draco. "Listen, maybe we'd better talk about this."

"I'm trying to, can't you tell?"

On the counter in the pantry was a basket of red tomatoes. Hermione reached for one. Her arm ached with wanting to lob it across the kitchen to splatter smack in the middle of Draco Malfoy's forehead. The force of wanting this made her clench her hand, and the tomato split. Juice ran down her fingers.

Blood on her hands? She stared down at them, her head pounding.

"Are you the boy who called about a job here?" asked Paulette. She studied him with her green eyes.

When he nodded, she shook her head. "Well, who can blame Hermione for not wanting to see you? But you know our phone number. Maybe you can discuss this better over the phone.:

Draco's shoulders sagged. "Believe me, I've tried." The rain dripped off his hair and ran into his eyes. He wiped his face as he turned away from the door. Then he looked back once and shouted: "I'm calling tomorrow, Hermione. And you better answer me!"

"Oh yeah?" she called from the safety of the pantry, wiping her hands on her shorts. "Or else what, Draco Malfoy?"

Their eyes caught and held across the room. The look was angry, challenging- but full of something else, too. The silence stretched out between them, electric. Hermione couldn't look away.

"Or else…or else I'll call again, I guess," Draco finally said, simply. "And again."

Then he walked away in the rain, and Paulette closed the door. She turned to Hermione, "We need to get to the bottom of this," she said.

Hermione bowed her head. She could hear Draco's husky voice singing to her. "you are lost and gone forever-" She could hear the soft laughter of children echoing through the house. Her head was aching fiercely.

"I need aspirin," she gulped.

Paulette walked over and placed a small, cool hand on the back of Hermione neck. "Com on upstairs," she said, "and I'll give you a head rub. A good massage will help you more then aspirin. And I want to try a meditation technique I know."

"Sounds very new aged, very California," said Hermione, but she was too upset to argue. They went upstairs. Hermione lay on her bed, her head cradled by a pillow. She closed her eyes.

She felt Paulette tug the elastic off the end of her braid and unravel the long strands. Then she felt Paulette's hands on the top of her head. At first she tensed, uncomfortable. But then, despite herself, she yielded to the touch of her stepmother's fingers against her scalp. For such small hands, Paulette were surprisingly strong. The softness of the pillow under her neck and Paulette's firm pressure on her head made her relax. And Paulette smiled at her reassuringly. Hermione closed her eyes again, embarrassed to be this close to her stepmother, touching like this. Jenny gave her a hug now and then, but they didn't really touch very often. Not for very long.

After a few moments of silent massage, Paulette's voice came softly. "are you relaxed?"

"Yes," Hermione's voice was a sigh.

"Good. Now, do this for me. Imagine you can see a candle. Picture the flame. Can you see it?"

Hermione had no will to resist. She gave in to the hands rubbing her scalp and face. Behind her closed eyes a flame leapt high. "Yes."

"Watch the flame. Concentrate on the flame." Paulette's voice was soft. And after a long pause, she continued. "Now in that flame you can see a long tunnel. It's a tunnel you can walk down, a long, long tunnel. Imagine yourself walking down that tunnel." Paulette paused again. 'Do you see it? Are you walking down the tunnel?"

"Yes."

She smoothed Hermione's temples. "And along the sides of the tunnel are doors. Hermione. Behind these doors are memories of all the things you have experienced in your long, long life. In your many lives. I want you to go to the door that has the girl in your dream behind it. The girl with the name you heard people call you. Clementine Horn. You will open the door and see Clementine Horn, whoever Clementine is. When you open the door, you will know her story, and you will be able to tell it. You will not be frightened, Hermione. You will see scenes almost as if they were a film." Paulette paused again, but her hands kept rubbing Hermione's head. "You will not be frightened," she repeated.

Now Hermione could see the tunnel in the candle flame behind her closed eyes. But when she tried to visualize the doors, she saw instead a large round box, with her hand holding down the pulsing lid. She knew this box. When she heard Paulette's voice telling her to open the door, Hermione imagined herself lifting the lid off this box. Was it the hatbox? Was it Pandora's box, from which all the evils in the world would excape? She listened to Paulette's reassurances. "You will not be frightened." Then softly, slowly as if only background music, the humming began. It merged with Paulette's voice and expanded in Hermione's mind until her head pulsed relentlessly with the time.

And Hermione knew suddenly that, frightened or not, what she had to do now was open that box. It seemed she had been waiting her life to release its contents. And so she did.