The Spoils of War

THE SPOILS OF WAR

BY AERIE22

CHAPTER TEN

BELLE'S MUGGLE ADVENTURE

* * *

Cissy was in a funk. She had waited for Harry to return from his dinner at the Grangers until well past midnight before calling it a night. It was apparent that he was having too good a time with those Muggles to return at a decent hour, she thought sourly. Then, when she did hear him return, he was humming some unidentifiable tune. Yet he didn't stop by her room to check on her or to say goodnight. Further, when she finally could take it no longer, she crept down the hall to his room, only to find him sound asleep. 'Damn that Granger girl,' she thought angrily.

* * *

Harry awoke later than usual the next morning. He stretched languidly in his bed and smiled, thinking about the night before, the night he kissed Hermione and confessed what he had felt about her for the past couple years. And he remembered her own half-giggly, half-tearful confession.

It had been absolutely wonderful.

He felt like racing downstairs to tell ...

Then he paused in his thoughts. He had become used to talking to Cissy about things that were on his mind. He was surprised at how easy their relationship had become. How she would be there to advise him, to console or lecture him in his frustrations with Wizarding society or his duties to the various estates he owned, or simply to lend an ear to his complaints or annoyances with much of the mail he received. She was like a big sister, a friend, a ... lover.

But how could he talk to her about Hermione?

He knew that Cissy didn't like Hermione. He didn't really know why. Cissy and Hermione had never really had a conversation that he knew of. He understood Hermione's dislike for Cissy and Belle. Belle was a Death Eater. And Cissy had been married to and supported Lucius. Of course, few if any knew how estranged and eventually cold and even disdainful Cissy and Lucius's relationship had become during the course of their marriage. Harry knew. Just as he had talked to Harry, she had talked to him.

But Cissy's distaste for Hermione?

Then, it slowly dawned on Harry's adolescent brain. Cissy was jealous of Hermione.

No, Harry couldn't go running down to Cissy and exult in his wonderful evening with Hermione.

That left Belle. But Harry felt he couldn't talk to Belle. He barely knew her, even after living with her for two months. Yes, he knew of her nightmares. He knew of her guilt, her almost pathetic self-loathing. But somehow, that hadn't registered. After all, she had been the most evil of the Death Eaters. She had destroyed Neville's parents. She had cast the curse that had killed Sirius. And she had a reputation of being the most foul and vicious of all the Death Eaters.

Harry frowned. He thought back on the battles the Order had had with the Death Eaters and Voldemort over the past 18 months. He only recalled encountering Belle twice. Once, she had fought several Aurors, stunning several before being seriously injured and apparating out during the second battle of Hogsmeade. Then there was the final battle of Murdick's Hill, where she never even got her wand out before being blasted aside by Harry's killing of her husband moments before he faced Voldemort. Harry had heard of a few more skirmishes she had been involved in, but they were minor ones, often throwing discredit to Aurors who fled rather than face her.

So he could not simply plop down on a sofa next to her and recount his wonderful evening with the Grangers. He could barely talk to her.

And there he sat, bursting to tell someone, to talk about his evening. But he simply couldn't.

He sighed and got dressed and made his way downstairs for a late breakfast.

* * *

The Manor was strangely quiet, except for the house elves. He caught a brief glimpse of Dobby upstairs popping into his bedroom as he left. Dodi the house elf cook popped into the breakfast room with his fruit and eggs for breakfast. Harry smiled to see Nandy outside fussing with the hedges. He shook his head. Nandy had taken the grounds and the libraries as his domain, which Harry thought was the oddest of combinations.

But no Cissy. And no Belle.

After breakfast, Harry casually wandered around the ground floor of the Manor. First the Ballroom. Then he passed through the entranceway through to the large drawing room. No one. Then down through his ground floor office/sitting room then through to the library. Still nothing. Then he passed through the huge kitchen, greeting Dodi, who seemed to be taking inventory of the stores there. Then through the main dining room then back to the breakfast room.

Harry frowned. Maybe down in the cellar level. He knew Belle had a tendency to wander around, exploring the Manor. Harry stepped down the stairs and passed the neatly appointed house elves' apartments, past the larder and storage rooms, the tack room, and the Potions' lab.

Harry shrugged. He wandered up the back stairs and then up the grand staircase to the first floor. He peeked into the game room, then in Belle's bedroom. He passed his room then his private office, then Cissy's bedroom. He turned the corner, past an empty bedroom when he came to the door to the music room, a room he never paid any attention to. That's when he felt it. A strong charm on the door. Harry paused and frowned. He slowly pulled out his wand and carefully reached for the doorknob. The door yielded and Harry slipped in only to hear the most wonderful, exciting music.

Harry stared as he watched Cissy and Belle, side-by-side on a piano bench in front of the garishly painted piano Cissy insisted she must have from Malfoy Manor. Cissy was sitting upright, her eyes closed, on the right-hand side of the keyboard, while Belle was leaning forward, deep in concentration of the left hand side, as the music poured out of the baby grand.

"Too fast!" Belle muttered as she glanced up at the sheet music.

The vaguely recognizable tune continued for a few seconds at a fast clip, then softened and slowed to a more stately rhythm. Harry didn't quite recognize the piece, but it did sound familiar. Suddenly, the piece shifted much louder and quicker and ended with a quick three chords that the sisters played together with a final flourish.

Belle let out a deep sigh and Cissy merely turned and gave her sister a crooked smile and a shake of her head. "Come, now. This was an easy one. What are you going to do when I drag out the Dvorak?" Belle simply snorted.

Harry stood there, mesmerized. He tried to think if he had ever heard a piano played live before. No, just the weird, screeching magical organ that the Weird Sisters had brought when they played the Yule Ball back in his fourth year. But this was beautiful.

Suddenly, the two sisters noticed they had an audience. Belle blushed and lowered her head with a small smile, while Cissy looked at Harry and gave him a smug look. "Like that?"

Harry just stood there and stared. "That was beautiful. I didn't know you played the piano."

Cissy simply tilted her head. "Most pureblood families have their children learn a musical instrument. It's one of the few forms of entertainment we have, except for that atrocious noise that comes from the Wizarding Wireless," she said scowling. Then she looked up and smiled. "It was Brahms. Hungarian Rhapsodies. Good for piano four-hands."

Harry walked over to one of the arm chairs scattered around the room and sat down. "It was wonderful." Then he paused and frowned. "But why didn't you use the other piano? It's a lot bigger and there's probably more room for both of you to play."

Cissy rolled her eyes and glanced at the huge piano next to her smaller baby grand. "I have no idea why your family ever got that monstrosity. That's a Bosendorfer concert grand. It was made for huge concert halls, not for family music rooms. And it's a real man's piano. Franz Liszt once said it was the one piano he couldn't break during a concert."

Harry simply gave her a puzzled look.

Cissy simply rolled her eyes again and took out her wand. With a quick flick, the lid of the Bosendorfer opened and positioned itself. Cissy rose and seated herself at the keyboard. "Ready?"

Harry shrugged.

Cissy hit a chord, and Harry jumped at the mass of sound. She followed up with a series of descending chords down to a rumbling final one that almost hurt his ears. Cissy looked up and smirked. "The opening of Grieg's A-minor Piano Concerto. And that's one of the reasons why I'll take my little Erard over the Bosendorfer any day. Too much sound for the room."

Harry simply stared at the sisters, then at the pianos. Finally, after shaking his head a couple times in astonishment, he wandered over to stroke the instruments that had made such marvelous music. "Do you think I could learn?" he asked softly.

Cissy looked up and gave a small smile. "You can try. I could teach you."

Suddenly, Harry felt a hand on his arm pulling him toward the smaller, green and silver painted baby grand. "Nonsense. Cissy, you were never a good teacher," Belle said as she pulled Harry down on the elaborately carved piano bench next to her. "You were always too good to understand why a person couldn't instantly play something as well as you. Let me show Harry the basics. If he turns out to be another Mozart, I'll hand him over to your tender mercies."

Harry watched as the two sisters gave each other challenging stares. Then, finally, Cissy stood up from the huge old grand piano and stalked out.

* * *

For the next three days, Harry felt an odd tension in the air. He found he actually enjoyed sitting at the piano as Belle taught him scales, basic chords and harmonies, and how to read music. It was boring at times, and he longed to learn enough to play something more than 'Chopsticks,' but Belle seemed very patient.

Cissy reappeared in Harry's bedroom on Tuesday night and it felt good to be able to snuggle up to her warm body after making love.

But Harry was restless. 'What about Hermione?' he kept asking himself. He desperately wanted to talk about her, to sound out his feelings. But surely he couldn't talk to Cissy. After all, his relationship with Cissy was part of the problem.

He, Cissy and Belle had been thrown together by chance, or was it fate, or was it simply an ignorant boy unknowingly casting an ancient spell he knew nothing about. He knew they were stuck with each other.

Harry frowned. 'Did I actually seduce Cissy?' he thought, fretting during one of his morning workouts. 'Or is it that I'm the only guy available?' He worried that he was somehow taking advantage of her.

The problem is that he had actually come to like Cissy. She was one of the few adults he could talk to about things, whether pressing problems on the estates, or how to act like a grownup, or how he felt about his friends, or just about anything. The had, in the past, been able to talk to Moody on a man-to-man basis about the war and defense. The same with Shacklebolt. He occasionally got into joking conversations about girls and life with Tonks. Arthur Weasley would always listen, but Harry always felt that his best friend's father was too kind and reserved to give him hard answers to difficult questions. He didn't like talking to Dumbledore about such things, as he always felt the old man was analyzing him while giving nothing but cryptic answers and platitudes.

The only older person he felt he could talk with about anything was Remus Lupin. The old werewolf had stopped by on a couple occasions over the summer for a chat and to help him cope with his new responsibilities. And he was pleased when his former professor on his own took a couple hours on one of those visits to look over Harry's estate books and pronounce that everything was in order and that Cissy apparently had everything in hand.

But Harry didn't feel he could go to Remus to ask how it was possible that he could be in love with Hermione while at the same time sleeping with Cissy.

Harry took a deep breath as he sat at the table in the breakfast nook after Cissy had gone off on her daily letter writing routine. 'Yes,' he thought finally. 'I am in love with Hermione.'

Slowly, he rose and made his way upstairs for his morning piano lesson with Belle.

* * *

"Only four days and you're tired of it already?" Belle asked.

Harry's head jerked up and he stared at the former Death Eater. "What?"

Belle gave him a stricken look, then lowered her head. "You weren't paying attention," she said in a quiet voice. "I thought maybe you were losing interest in our lessons."

Harry gave her a puzzled look. "I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind."

Harry watched as her long, black hair seemed to veil her face. She also seemed to be breathing heavily.

"It's just ... I was happy to be able to help. I sort of looked forward to practicing with you ... each morning," she said in a tiny voice.

Harry continued to stare at Belle's bowed head. Slowly, he began to realize that he rarely talked to Belle. Further, Cissy seemed always to be around him, either planning out the day or helping him with his meetings with various notables or people from his estates, or at dinner or in bed, leaving her little time with Belle. And Harry realized the kind of isolation Belle felt, not too far removed from what he had experienced when he lived with the Dursleys--a nonperson living with a family that ignored him. But at least with the Dursleys, Harry understood that he would eventually grow up and get out. At the moment, there seemed to be no such independence day for Belle to look forward to.

Suddenly, Harry stood up. "Come on, Belle."

She looked up with watery eyes. "Come where?"

Harry gave her a crooked smile. "Just come with me," he said, grabbing her hand and yanking her up from the piano bench.

As he led her down the hallway, he noticed she was wearing a plain gray robe. "You have anything Muggle to wear?"

Belle blinked in confusion. "Muggle?"

Harry nodded. "Trousers--slacks? And a jumper?"

Harry had led her into her bedroom and over to the closet. He began pawing through the various robes and dresses they had bought at Diagon Alley a month or so before. He frowned and glanced up to find a light blue jumper. "Surely you have trousers. I've seen you in them when riding on a broom."

Belle stared at Harry for a moment, then walked over to a wardrobe and opened it.

"Pick out a pair that goes with this," he said, holding out the jumper. "Oh, and boots!"

Belle was in a total state of confusion. "Uh, I have a pair of Dragonhide boots."

Harry nodded. "Okay, change. And come to my room when you're finished."

Belle quickly changed and walked over to Harry's bedroom to see him pulling on his own pair of Dragonhide boots. He had changed into a pair of black jeans and a dark green pullover jumper. He looked up. "You have a jacket, or a windbreaker?"

Belle looked at him with puzzled eyes.

Suddenly, he waved her off and went to his huge, walk-in closet. He came out wearing a brown, well-worn leather jacket. Suddenly, he tossed her what looked to be a new black leather jacket. "It will be big on you, but that's okay. You'll appreciate it."

Belle shook her head. "It's warm out."

Harry smiled. "You'll want it anyway."

Belle donned the jacket. It was big on her.

Harry smirked. "Roll back the sleeves once, button up, and follow me."

Harry marched down the grand staircase and peeked on Cissy in the ground floor office. As Belle waited, she heard Harry call in to have the estate managers owl in their reports. As he turned back to her, Belle heard Cissy say something. Harry turned back. "Can't today, Cis. Belle and I have to go somewhere."

Once out the rear entrance to the Manor, Harry strode up to one of the outbuildings that Belle knew always remained locked. He opened it with a flick of his wand, then stopped and turned. "Belle. Your wand."

Belle blinked. Slowly she withdrew her wand from her boot and handed it over to Harry, who placed it in his wrist holster next to his own. "Not that I don't trust you, Belle. But I don't want you to get frightened and react badly. Wait here."

Belle waited a moment, still curious about what was going on, when she heard a dreadful roar from the outbuilding, then smelled something horrible. She quickly reached for her wand, then realized Harry took it. Belle was about to panic when Harry came roaring out of the building on a loud, blue, monstrous two-wheeled machine. Belle slowly backed away as Harry pulled up on it.

"What is it?" she said in a half shout, half shriek.

Harry revved it a couple times, smiling broadly. "It's a Bonneville. A motorcycle. It's Sirius's old bike. Remus and Hagrid taught me how to ride it. Remus even got someone to get me a Muggle license. Of course they had to add a couple years to my age so I could drive it legally. But I'm 18 now, so it doesn't matter, does it?"

Belle didn't know what to say or do. Then she noticed Harry pull a helmet off the handlebars and toss it to her. "Well, put it on." Harry then pulled another helmet off the far handlebar and put his on. Belle simply stared at in for a couple moments until she realized the part with the visor was the front and, after pulling her hair back, put it on.

Suddenly, she heard Harry's voice in her head. "The helmets are charmed so we can talk to each other on the road without shouting. Just get on behind me. Straddle it like a broom. It is just like a broom. You lean into turns. Just grab my waist and follow my lead."

Belle stood there for a moment as if Harry had just invited her to climb on a dragon to go for a ride. Then she took a deep breath and climbed aboard.

They drove at a leisurely pace down the long path leading into a thick stand of trees, only to come out to a long fence next to a Muggle roadway. Harry glanced back and forth before flicking his wand, opening a gate that didn't seem to be there before.

Once they were on the road, Harry turned back and smiled at Belle. "That wasn't too bad, now, was it? And look. There's hardly any traffic."

Belle was still a little uncertain about the whole notion, but smiled back.

Harry gave a quick nod. "Okay, then. Now just hold on."

Belle leaned up against Harry's back and slipped her arms around his waist. It felt nice. Almost like snuggling.

Suddenly, she heard the beast roar to life and they took off. Belle's eyes got wider and wider as the scenery whipped by faster and faster.

"HAAAAARRRRRREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!" she screamed.

* * *

A half hour later, Belle was congratulating herself over not wetting herself in fear when she could feel the bike shift a little as they left the highway. She looked over Harry's shoulder and felt a chill. There were buildings. Shiny, metal buildings. Muggle buildings. "Harry," she whispered urgently. "There are Muggles here."

She could hear Harry chuckle. "Of course. We're going exploring among the Muggles."

Belle tensed. All her life, she had heard stories of the nasty, evil Muggles. How they hated Wizards and Witches and tried to hang them or burn them. And now she was in the middle of a town full of these dirty, evil Muggles.

"Is that where they live," she hissed.

Harry chuckled again. "No. Those are industrial buildings. The real town is just ahead, I suppose."

Harry turned again, and the area slowly changed to a more residential zone. "I was here once before with Remus, the first time he showed me Potter Manor. He said my dad took him and Sirius to a local pub around here somewhere."

Again, the scene changed to a much older, more commercial section of town. Belle blinked as she looked at some of the shops and was surprised as the road narrowed. She was surprised that the buildings this part of town didn't look all that different from what you might find in Hogsmeade. "Is this the Wizarding part of town?"

Harry laughed. "No. It's all Muggle. Hey, and that's the pub!"

Harry found a spot to park the bike, and after locking it and inconspicuously casting an anti-tampering charm on it, led Belle back to the pub.

Belle nervously cast her eyes around the pub and was surprised. It was obviously very old, like so many Wizarding pubs. But, except for somewhat better lighting and a lack of hags hovering in the corners, it wasn't all that far removed from what she remembered of the Leaky Cauldron. "Are you sure this isn't a Wizarding pub?" she whispered in Harry's ear.

Harry chuckled again. "Come on, Belle. Stop fretting and enjoy yourself. We've finally escaped from the Manor."

As Harry led Belle deeper into the pub, he noticed that there were tables and the bar with a few patrons already there, then another area in the back with additional tables and what looked to be an open space. Then he turned to see the bartender staring at him. Then he felt a hand on his arm. "You with the Uni crowd?"

Harry turned to see a middle aged woman in a waitress outfit. "Uni?"

The waitress smiled. "Oh, just a group of students from the local university, a theater group there, comes in every Thursday for lunch. They like to stay up here near the piano and play a bit and sing. Thursday afternoons are slow for business, so we let them carry on a bit. Our regulars stay down on the lower level to give them some space."

Harry shrugged. "No, not part of that crowd. But up here would be nice," he said, noticing how the lower part of the pub was dark and empty.

"Table for you and the lady?"

Harry nodded and followed her to a table for two along the front wall.

Once the waitress pointed out the menu on the chalkboard and took a order for a pint for Belle and a gingerbeer for Harry, Belle leaned across the table and grabbed Harry's arm. "Do you think they suspect? I think the bartender suspects."

Harry gave her a surprised look. "Suspects what?"

Belle glanced suspiciously back and forth. "That we're magical."

Harry stifled a laugh. "Belle. Muggles don't believe in magic. They aren't afraid of it because they don't believe it exists. Oh, I'm sure some of them believe that such a thing exists, but they dream that it's a wondrous thing. Some even pretend they're witches and warlocks and hold seances and pretend rituals. But most Muggles think such a notion is nutters. So stop fretting."

Belle pursed her lips and was silent as their drinks were delivered. Belle sipped hers and her eyes fluttered. "Oh, this is good," she said in surprise. "Not very strong, but better than ours. Aren't you having any?"

Harry shrugged. "Can't. I'm driving us back."

Again, Belle was silent for a long time. Finally, she looked up at Harry. "Why did you bring me here?" she asked with an expectant look.

Harry sighed and leaned back. "Look, you needed a change of scenery. And so did I. It might be a bit of a problem to go out into the Wizarding World. Both of us are too recognizable ... for different reasons. I figured by having a Muggle adventure, we could get out and enjoy ourselves without any worries."

Belle sipped her beer quietly as the waitress took their luncheon orders, simple sandwiches along with chips, and pickled eggs and onions. Finally, she took a deep breath. "You needed to get away from Cissy, didn't you?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know what you mean."

Belle sighed. "You had a good time with the Granger girl on Sunday. But Cissy was hovering. You like ... Hermione, but you also like Cissy. Right?"

Harry simply frowned. He didn't know if he could trust Belle. He didn't know about what he thought about Belle.

Belle returned the frown and looked down, concentrating. Finally, she looked up with a fearful, but determined look. "Cissy and I both know you will have to get married eventually. You will want an heir. I know you are sleeping with Cissy. But even if she bears you a child, it won't legally be entitled to inherit." Belle was now blushing and fidgeting uncomfortably. "We want you to be happy. But ... well, we don't want to be thrown out ... sent away to one of your other estates like being exiled to some convent. Cissy is terrified."

Harry stared at Belle. He had been thinking somewhat along these same lines. He really liked Cissy. Sure, he liked the sex. But he also liked the intimacy. Being able to talk to her.

But he loved Hermione. He had shared so much with her over the past seven years that he couldn't imagine life without her. Even now, only seeing her once every week or so, with no daily Hogwarts interaction with her to look forward to, was eating him up. He wanted her in his life. And, to be blunt, he wanted her. He had dreamed of them being together for couple years, more that a couple years if truth be told. Of being a couple. Of being lovers. Of being married and raising a family.

And then there was Belle. Here she was, the ultimate harridan of his worst nightmares, the torturer of the Longbottoms, the killer of Sirius, the hideous she-demon who laughed at and taunted him at his moment of greatest despair, now reduced to a broken and pathetic shell. He would like nothing more than to toss her on a dung heap to let her fend for herself. And yet here she was, a real flesh-and-blood human being, someone who did have feelings and did have sensitivity after all. Maybe it would be justice to toss her aside. But it wouldn't make his soul any more comfortable.

He slowly lowered his head. "I love Hermione. But I don't want to lose ... you two."

Belle closed her eyes. "I think your Hermione is a caring person. But I think she's strong-willed." Belle looked up at Harry, who was now staring back at her with pleading eyes. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't have an answer for you," she said quietly. "It's for you to decide who to love. And only you."

They were staring down at the table when they sensed a presence. They looked up and were startled to see the bartender with their lunch order, not the waitress.

"Got yer order," the bartender said in a cautious voice. As he placed it on the table, he took a tentative step back, then paused. "If I might be so bold, would you be a Potter?" he asked in an anxious voice.

Harry looked up and frowned, worried that this fellow was a wizard or a squib. Finally, he gave a scowling nod.

The bartender nodded back. "My apologies. It's just that we had a Jimmy Potter come here with some of his friends quite often back about 20 years ago. And he also had a young lass he brought here, as well. You look well enough like him to be his twin, 'cept for the eyes. And as I recall, his young lady friend had the same green eyes as you."

Harry's jaw fell. "You knew my dad?"

The bartender's face broke out into a smile. "Aye. And yer mum, I'm wagering. Can't rightly recall her name."

Harry took a deep breath. "It was Lily," he said softly.

The old bartender nodded solemnly. "Haven't seen them in 20 years. They all right?"

Harry closed his eyes in pain. "They were murdered in 1981."

The old bartender bowed his head. "Sorry. Sorry for your troubles," he said sadly and began to back away.

Harry looked up. "Wait! You knew my mum and dad? They came around here often?"

The bartender gave a shrug. "Potters have been coming in and out of the life of this town for generations, so I'm told. Here now, take a look at that painting over there."

Harry looked over at the painting on the side of the bar a stared in shock. It depicted a man on horseback in armor, his helmet off, pointing what looked like a golden baton toward the distant horizon. The man in the painting was instantly recognizable as a Potter, down to the long, messy raven hair.

"That's Samuel Potter. It was back in 1571 it was said that there was a papist plot in Wales to unleash the demons of hell to release Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, to depose Elizabeth. Legend has it that Sean Potter led a group of horsemen against these demons as they approached this very town and drove them back to hell. Now, mind you, it was probably a group bandits or Catholic plotters, but he became the town's greatest hero. But he left as soon as he arrived and wasn't heard from again. There've been others of your line that have done great deeds, including Andrew Potter, Sean's grandson or great grandson, who supposedly protected the town from strife during the Civil War, and many others. It's a fine name around here. And it's a pleasure to meet you. Arthur Parks is my name," he said, holding his hand out.

"Harry Potter," Harry said, standing to shake hands.

With a nod, the bartender returned to his post with a smile.

Belle stared at Harry. "You know, 1571 was the end of the Sixth Goblin Rebellion. It was said the Goblin army under Bloodblade was finally stopped at the Wye on the Welsh border. Your ancestor must have been one of the leaders of that battle."

Harry was too stunned to say anything and simply began to eat, deep in thought.

During the course of their lunch, Harry and Belle noticed the pub beginning to fill up with young people in their late teens or early twenties. The group was enthusiastic and rowdy, but seemed to be tolerated by the pub staff and patrons, who seemed to smile at their antics. One student in particular seemed to stand out. He had thick wavy hair that seemed to bounce around the top of his head, and was dressed anachronistically in tweeds and a checkered vest as he held court at a long table.

As Harry and Belle enjoyed their third round of drinks, the student stood up. "Ozymandias!" he announced.

Pint in hand, he began reciting the Shelley poem to hoots and catcalls.

"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,

Look at my works, ye Mighty, and despair"

When he was finished, the catcalls continued. "You sure his name isn't Zymandias, Higgins?" one called out

"The name is O'Higgins, if you please," the rowdy student pronounced with a smug expression.

"Then why are you carried on the rolls as Pat Higgins?" another shouted out.

"It's Padraig O'Higgins, sir."

Again, the students hooted.

"Auch, 'tis music that needs soothe the savage breast," O'Higgins called out. "Surely there is someone who can charm felicitous sounds out of yon noble instrument," he said, pointing to a shabby upright piano in the corner.

One of the women in the group suddenly rose and walked over to the piano and began to play something that sounded vaguely familiar. Harry looked over at Belle, whose eyes were now sparkling in delight at the antics of the students. After several more songs, some of which the students joined in singing, Belle excused herself to find the ladies room. A few minutes later, Harry saw Belle heading back, a little unsteadily.

At this point, a young woman student had finished playing a very familiar song at the piano, which most of the students had joined in. However, O'Higgins rose. "Please, no more Andrew Lloyd Webber. I'll want no Memories of that hack. Surely someone here can play a suitable tune. Something Irish, mayhaps?"

Again, the students were hooting at the self-styled master of ceremonies.

Then O'Higgins noticed Belle passing by. "Oh, lovely lady. Surely with such elegant fingers, you must play the piano. Pray save us from these tone-deaf infidels."

Belle, flushed after four drinks, looked around in a panic. Then she saw the other students smiling at her or rolling their eyes at O'Higgins, and a mischievous smile crossed her face. "Yes, I can play."

Higgins bounded out of his chair and sank to his knees before her. "Say you know something that would please this Son of the Auld Sod."

"He's an old sod, he is," one of the female students called out.

"Too-rah-loo-rah," another called.

Belle laughed. "I know an Irish song. The 'Donkey' song my oldest sister used to play for us when we were kids."

"The Donkey Serenade!" one student yelled.

"One for Jack S. O'Higgins," another one shouted.

Belle laughed and moved over to the piano. After fingering the keys for a few seconds, she began a jaunty tune, and began to sing:

"Now Delaney had a donkey that everyone admired,

Tempo'rily lazy and permanently tired

A leg at ev'ry corner balancing his head,

And a tail to let you know which end he wanted to be fed ..."

The students burst into laughter, but O'Higgins's face lit up. He sat down beside Belle and joined in the song.

"The muscles of the mighty never known to flinch,

They couldn't budge the donkey a quarter of an inch

Delaney lay exhausted, hanging round its throat

With a grip just like a Scotchman on a five pound note"

Harry simply stared at Belle as she pounded away at the keyboard, singing merrily. He had never seen her, or even imagined her, being so animated and alive.

"They seized it and harried it,

They picked it up and carried it

Cheered it, steered it to the winning place

Then the bookmakers drew aside,

And all committed suicide

The day Delaney's donkey won the half ... mile ... race!"

There was a sudden cheer from the students and most of the bar as Belle suddenly jumped up with a look of delight and raced over to Harry to give him a big hug and a kiss.

As they sat down, Harry stared at Belle in shock. He suddenly realized that, shorn of her depression and hang-dog demeanor, Belle for a beautiful, vibrant woman. While she couldn't pass for a student, she suddenly looked youthful and vivacious, with a dazzling smile and glittering deep blue eyes.

Belle then grabbed both Harry's hands. "Oh, I can't believe I did that! It was so much fun!" She then quickly leaned across the table and gave him another kiss, this time on the cheek. "Oh, thank you, Harry! Thank you!"

She soon turned her attention back to the students. O'Higgins was smiling broadly, apparently having the time of his life. Suddenly, he jumped up and held his hands out for attention. "I've got another one." He turned and sat down at the keyboard, elaborately flexing his fingers. Then he began to play and sing. And Harry saw that, despite the jolly tune, Belle's smile was rapidly fading

"And the girl sat down quite calmly
To the milkin' of her cow,
Sayin' I will and I must get married
for the humor is on me now."

Then a tear formed in Belle's eyes and she lowered her head. Harry had never seen a mood change this quickly.

"But Sean was all a tyrant,
And she quickly rued her vow,
Sayin' I'm sorry I ever got married
for the humor is off me now."

Harry reached out to grasp Belle's wrist. "Are you all right?" he said softly.

Belle squeezed her eyes shut. "I want to go home ... please"

Harry quickly paid the bill and walked Belle out of the pub. The light of late afternoon hurt Harry's eyes. He didn't know what to make of Belle's quick emotional turnaround and wanted to get home as soon as possible. But he didn't dare fly the bike home over Muggle populations in daylight. So he simply rode it to the limits of the law and beyond. In just over a half hour they were home.

"Belle," Harry called out as she scurried into the Manor. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she whimpered as she ran up the grand staircase to her room.

Cissy came striding out of the North Corridor on the ground floor. "What happened? I thought I heard Belle crying."

Harry looked up the staircase where Belle had just run off to. "I don't know. We went to a Muggle pub. She was having a grand time. Then suddenly, she started crying and wanted to come home."

Cissy simply stared at Harry. "What happened? What set her off?"

Harry shrugged and thought back. "I don't know. She played the piano and sang to a bunch of Muggle students. Then one of them started playing a song about a girl who wanted to get married, and she started crying."

Cissy closed her eyes in seeming sorrow. "I'll take care of it, Harry," she said, and began to climb the stairs.

Harry stood there in the Manor's entrance hall, his mouth open. "What happened? Why was she upset?"

Cissy gave a half turn. "That's not for me to say. She'll have to explain it."

Cissy continued up the stairs, leaving Harry confused and upset. He wandered over to a sofa in the entrance hall and sat down, his head in his hands. Then he recalled something Hermione's father had said. Something about getting inside someone's head to ease their burdens.