Iuga Sortis III: The Beginning

Twelve

He finally had the upper hand.

The balance was back where it should be--he on top, and the other groveling at his feet, ready to do his every whim.

Though the other man wasn't groveling, he would be, especially since he wanted a certain bit of information he didn't currently possess.

"And just what do I gain by telling you this . . revelation?" Voldemort asked, reclining in his newly reclaimed throne.

Pettigrew glared at him, clearly unhappy with the turn of events. "Control of Asia and the Americas."

Voldemort shook his head. "Not good enough. You can keep Asia . . . I want Europe--it's the hub of the wizarding world, after all."

Pettigrew cut his eyes skyward before looking at Voldemort, a bored expression on his face. "Fine."

Voldemort frowned. That acquiesce was too easy . . . too neat. He wondered what the other man was up to and tried to play another angle. "And we do things my way from now on . . ."

Pettigrew snorted and shook his head. "You don't get it yet! This will not be a walk in the park. You make demands, yet you do not think of the consequences. If I give you complete reign, things will go to shit like they did almost twenty years ago . . no. The very most I'll grant is forty-five percent, say. No more, no less."

Voldemort's jaw clenched at the reminder of his failures, but he was nothing if not shrewd. He'd show Pettigrew just how far ahead he could think. Once Potter fell, this . . . girl would be a non-issue. Pettigrew overestimated this girl far too much; if she was truly powerful, she'd know not to sacrifice herself on the account of some dumb boy who didn't even seem to want her!

Voldemort smirked and went to Pettigrew . . . . He most definitely had the upper hand. "I'll agree to those terms."

They shook hands, and a transfer of electricity passed between them, sealing the deal. Voldemort's eyelids fluttered once the current settled down, and he grinned. "Splendid."

Pettigrew sighed and sat on the opposite side of the humble wood table. There were nicks and scratches on the surface that caught his attention. "What do you know?"

Voldemort sat as well, his fingers forming a steeple on the table. "I know she's hopelessly devoted to Potter . . . or else she would never have surrendered herself to me."

Pettigrew's head shot up at that. "What?!"

"It is as I've said . . . she's surrendered herself to me. When she turns seventeen, she will receive the Dark Mark."

"Well, how old is she now? And why do we have to wait? Do you know how powerful she is?!" Pettigrew's expression was incredulous, and Voldemort felt his power rise.

"She is of no use to me right now . . . it is too soon to render her services. Besides, the Dark Mark will not seal upon her flesh until she is that old."

"And why would she surrender to you?"

Voldemort stared at him with his blood-red eyes before answering. "Potter was close to death, and she struck a deal to save his pathetic life . . . of course, she doesn't know she will be the one to kill him when the time comes."

Pettigrew was still skeptical. "And how do you know she's not going to renege on this bargain?"

"I've marked her. If she does not receive the Dark Mark, she and Potter will die a most brutal and gruesome death--Cerebra Mortis--the very spell she saved Potter from when she struck the deal with me, though he had a mild dose of it."

Pettigrew blinked. "Does she know about this 'condition'?"

This time Voldemort smiled. "No . . . she either gets the Mark, or they die. Either way, we will be rid of them in two years' time."

"And what of her powers? Have they been suspended?"

"The girl needs to practice! I will not submit one to my ranks who does not have the magical wherewithal to do my bidding! However, they have been modified slightly: she cannot attack anyone with the Mark. They are free from all her offensives. She is all but an idle weapon ready to perform at my will!"

"And what of her name? What she looks like? Do you know?"

Voldemort's face fell. "No . . . I did not get a visual or a name--just her voice--and even then it was distorted because of her whispering. Potter was blinded by pain, and the girl had enough sense not to name herself to me, though I wish she acted like most women in love--irrationally."

Pettigrew was quiet for a moment. "This arrangement of yours . . what does that mean for our plans? How would this affect our attacks?"

"We should keep it small . . . the girl will be fifteen in a few months, which means we have two years to work out the strategy. No big attacks, only subtle ones in public places. Hogsmeade was a good warning, but we want them living in fear . . . small attacks--the more random the better--targeting everyone who does not fight for us."

Pettigrew looked at him skeptically. "How do you know how old she is?"

Voldemort shrugged. "I asked her."

It was a while before Pettigrew spoke again. "And when should we start this phase?"

Voldemort drummed his bony, slimy fingers against the table. "April . . . after Easter . . . the season of holidays will reach a lull then, and no one will suspect it. The Ministry tightens security during holidays only."

"And do you think Fudge will stand by that? He's sorely unreliable."

"He wants power, and we secure it for him . . . he will be accommodating."

Pettigrew stared at Voldemort until a grin formed on his face. "Well done, Voldie . . for a minute, I thought you made some rash deal that could leave us totally vulnerable . . . but it sounds like you have it planned out . . "

"I am the Heir of Slytherin . . . of course I plan . . ."

Pettigrew's grin widened. "Excellent . . . well, good luck with it, then."

The small man before him stood, and Voldemort became confused. "That's it? We're done? Finished?"

Pettigrew faced him, a look of extreme seriousness on his face. "You think you have won the war, Voldemort, and that will be your biggest mistake. We will follow your proposal, but I would tread carefully. Isis may be young, but her advisors are not--"

"Dumbledore . . ." Voldemort seethed.

"Yes . . . among others. We need to eliminate them before we can even hope to collect on this bargain."

Voldemort pondered this, tapping his finger against his chin. "And who do you think we should target first?"

There was a breath of silence before Pettigrew's cold, calculating voice disrupted it. "Snape."

"Why Snape?"

"Why not Snape?"

"Because Snape is our informant. Attack him, we no longer have an in!"

Pettigrew looked at him incredulously. "You have a link with bloody Potter, and you're concerned about having an in? You're severely out of practice, Voldie."

Voldemort lifted his red, pupil-less eyes to the ceiling and breathed heavily. "Trust me, Pettigrew. Leave him for later. You'll do more damage, in fact, by leaving him alone, for he'll expect something to happen. Living in fear is much more potent than living the fear. Just the prospect will have him on pins and needles, and he'll incriminate himself."

Pettigrew seemed to ponder this for a while, until finally he shrugged. "Fine, Snape lives--for now. But he'll not be able to escape so easily . . ."

"He won't?" Voldemort's tone was flat, but the curiosity could still be heard.

Pettigrew smirked. "He'll be haunted by his dreams of his precious Malika . ."

"My vessel he dated . . . you think he's hiding something?"

Pettigrew snorted. "And you say you know about your Death Eaters."

Voldemort shoved away from the table, the wooden chair falling back. "For eleven years I'd been out of action, you nitwit!"

Pettigrew polished his silver hand, clearly not sympathetic to the excuse. "And I'd been a rat, and yet I still knew information."

"You were sleeping with the enemy!"

"At least I didn't have to survive on unicorn blood and live a cursed life!"

"You're talking to me about being cursed?" Voldemort asked, then cackled obnoxiously. "I haven't been around for millennia looking for some goddess to settle a vendetta and a bruised libido!"

Suddenly Voldemort was on his knees, clutching his head in both hands. "And I wasn't the one felled by an infant! Do not presume you're better than I--I am older, wiser, and far more powerful than I appear. You'd rather me an ally than an enemy, Voldemort; I can guarantee you that."

Voldemort nodded slightly, and the pressure on his head eased. He remained on all fours for a moment before gathering the strength to set his chair upright again and sit in it. Voldemort clasped his hands on the rough table and grinned maniacally. "So tell me about Malika."

Pettigrew rolled his eyes and shook his head, yet answered the question anyway. "Other than the fact she was to bear our heir? Snape was in love with her--enough to hide any child she might have born."

Voldemort eyes darkened. "Really?"

Pettigrew snorted. "Unfortunately, if someone finds a strong enough love, he becomes irrational and suicidal . . . for surely going against the strongest wizards in the world would be suicidal."

Voldemort had half a mind to order Snape here and Crucio the confession out of him, but he stood by his original directive.

"If the child did survive, someone needs to check the records of the Wizards' list of babies born in 1983-84. If that doesn't work, check the roll of first years in 1994. We will find this child."

Pettigrew shook his head. "Snape is anything but dumb; if Malika did bear the child, there would be no paper trail."

Voldemort smiled then. "There is no counterspell for Wizards' names being put on the list. If Isis was born, her name would be on the list--I guarantee it."

Pettigrew sighed and looked at the ceiling. "Well, we're back at square one, then."

"How so?"

Pettigrew's eyes widened as if the question had a plain answer. "We don't have a name! What are we trying to find with no name?"

Voldemort quirked a hairless eyebrow. "A young woman who looks like Malika."

A light of recognition appeared in Pettigrew's eyes. "Her!"

Voldemort frowned. "'Her' who?"

"There was a woman I was fighting during the Hogsmeade attack . . . she looked eerily familiar, but I couldn't place her . . I believe she is who we want! We want her!"

Voldemort's mind went back to that night, and he remembered but frowned. "Isn't she too old to be Isis?"

"Yes, but if she is here, her daughter is not too far behind . ."

"Snape said Malika was dead," Voldemort reminded Pettigrew.

"Even better, it means the heir is here--and at Hogwarts . . ."

"Which means Snape knows who she is," Voldemort seethed. Maybe he'd been too hasty in trying to spare his Potion Master's life.

Pettigrew raised an eyebrow. "Calm yourself, Voldie; it is as you said. Snape cannot just hand her over on a silver platter--not without raising suspicion."

"We can send her an owl--a Portkey, perhaps?" Voldemort suggested.

Pettigrew rubbed his chin and grinned. "Now there's an idea . . . she opens it, and she's sent here. We torture her . . . maybe even have a bit of fun . . . until she gives up her granddaughter."

"Yes!"

The other man chuckled before he rolled his eyes. "NO!" Pettigrew shouted, slapping his hand on the table. It cracked from the force, and new splinters appeared on the top. "She will not give up her granddaughter! The passion she was fighting with will never allow her to do such a thing!"

"Why take the woman, then?"

"The granddaughter will come to us," Pettigrew reasoned.

Voldemort shook his head. "I doubt it. If anything, the grandmother will force her not to come. There is a reason Isis never made an appearance at the attack, though everyone else did. They know we are searching for her, and as long as she is in Hogwarts, we cannot get to her."

There was a long, quiet pause before inspiration hit. "How about this--we send a Portkey to Isis, and we'll see where the letter goes from there . . ." Pettigrew suggested.

Voldemort's eyes flashed, and he smirked. "That may be the trick. But let the Portkey have a delayed reaction, so that it will be a surprise--maybe wait a week or two before it is activated and she comes to our lair. Everyone will be surprised and caught unawares . . ."

Pettigrew smirked as well. "Excellent idea, Voldie! A delayed-action Portkey to bring Isis to me--where she belongs. Then the pouf hero Potter will come galloping on his steed to rescue fair maiden--"

"Where she will receive the Dark Mark then dispose of him . . or they both die . . ." Voldemort cackled.

Pettigrew's grin turned malicious and morbid. "Where we will finally secure our victory--and the world!"

~~~~~~~~

He hadn't even properly landed when she barreled into him, knocking them both to the ground.

"You did it!" she squealed, laughing and squeezing his neck in joy.

"We lost!" he muttered, but hugged her back just as enthusiastically.

"Yeah . . . but you caught the Snitch before he did! You won!"

"Except a beautiful redhead had to steal my victory from me!"

She sat up and straddled him, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "I don't think Hermione would appreciate you making eyes at her man!"

Draco's gray eyes turned to steel, and she tried to scramble off him. She was denied an escape as he grabbed her waist, pushed her on the ground, and tickled her unmercifully.

"You think you're funny, don't you?" he asked breathlessly as his fingers hit her most ticklish spots. She couldn't answer for laughing too hard, settling for a forced nod. Suddenly the pressure was lifted from her, granting a blessed reprieve.

"Is this blonde git bothering you, Nia?" Goyle said with a wink in her direction.

"Where do you get off calling me a 'git,' you daft prat?!" Draco muttered with a scowl, poking his elbow into the larger boy's stomach. Goyle made a pained face yet chuckled, offering Nia a hand to rise. She giggled as she got to her feet, hugging Goyle's large frame.

"My rescuer," she sighed, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"Dear Merlin, Nia. You're becoming as bad as a Gryffindor!"

She sucked her teeth. "Well, I am--"

"Yes, yes! Don't remind me!" Draco whined, clasping his hands over his ears and walking quickly to the locker rooms.

Nia giggled as he walked away, winking at Goyle who grinned at her. "I love how he conveniently forgets he's dating a Gryffindor!"

"Well, she does have Slytherin tendencies," Goyle mused, rubbing his chin.

Nia made a face, clearly skeptical. "Of course . . "

Goyle touched her shoulder gently. "You'll be okay? I'm going to the locker rooms as well."

Nia sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. "I think I'm big enough to make it to the castle by myself, Dad!"

He stared at her for a moment before squeezing her shoulder and smiling softly. "Draco'd kill me if anything happened to you . . ."

"Can't let that happen, can we?"

He grinned and squeezed her shoulder again. "See you at dinner."

She nodded and watched him leave the pitch. The crowds were filing out as well, so Nia followed suit, glad for the anonymity it gave her. Ever since that rather tense episode in the Gryffindor common room almost a month ago, she'd been on edge, looking over her shoulder as if Voldemort would jump and demand his collection on the bargain. It had been a hasty decision, and now she regretted the move. She'd felt a constant sort of pressure at the back of her head, like a dull tingling sensation, but she never told anyone for fear someone would find out her secret. Draco didn't know about the bargain, but he did know Voldemort--and that was enough for him to keep semi-permanent surveillance on her. Nia didn't want to validate Draco's worry with news of her deal.

Bad enough Harry knew about it . . .

Too bad he doesn't know the other one . .

Nia didn't think Harry heard her declare her love for him, and she figured just as well. It would make keeping up her end of the bargain so much easier . . .

Besides, that reason sounded so much better than the one her heart was trying to form--that he did hear it but ignored it. Either way, the result was the same: he didn't love her.

A sudden gust of wind came, and she wrapped her cloak tighter around her. The February air seemed colder than it had last year, but that could have something to do with her own outlook at the moment. Things appeared incredibly bleak and morose, and Voldemort's deal only made the days grow darker and colder.

Her mind drifted back to her conversation with Ron during winter holiday. She'd said she'd hurt Harry, and with this deal, that premonition was coming to life. She did it for Harry . . . to save him, protect him. She loved the boy, how could she not? Nia snorted, thinking how that wasn't very Slytherin of her . . . but Gryffindoric blood ran through her veins, and she couldn't deny that any more than her love for Harry.

Nia glanced around her, noting the crowd had already entered the castle while she was still a good distance from it. She sighed, figuring it was just as well. Why pretend to be alone when you actually could be.

Last week's Valentine's Day festivities were particularly hard to endure, especially given the declaration. Though Harry did give her a card, it was clear it was a gesture of friendship--almost a peace offering--rather than an affirmation of anything deeper. Even her grandmother had plans, though she wished Jamilah had said she was dating Harry's godfather before then.

Nia rolled her eyes. The older generation got the clue; what's Harry's problem?

So wrapped in her thoughts, she didn't register the crunching snow behind her, and suddenly her eyes lost sight, and an arm was around her waist. Her body tensed, and a gasp came out sharply.

"Shh . . . it's just me . . ."

The bane of her existence thus far, she thought sardonically, but her body relaxed in his arms. They were still walking, and she relied on him to lead her correctly.

"Where are we goin', and why don't you let me see?"

"It's a surprise," he said lowly, the low timbre of his voice causing her to shiver despite the cold.

She rolled her eyes, her lashes brushing his palm. His hand squeezed lightly in response, and she bit back a smile. Whatever this surprise was, she thought it better be good; she'd been outside for an awful long time.

"Harry! I ain't playin' anymore; would you just . . ."

He chose that moment to turn them around and uncover her eyes. She blinked, awed by the sight before her. The sunset was beautiful, with pink, gold, and purple brushing the twilight sky. They were on a hill by the castle, so the entire of Hogwarts grounds could be seen in the view.

"Beautiful," she murmured as her eyes took in the sight.

"Very," his voice whispered in her ear before he kissed her cheek. Her ears twitched at the contact, her body becoming warm despite the chill.

His arm tightened around her as his other hand cupped the back of her head. "Are you all right? Is it your head?"

"Mmm, not my head," she murmured, desperately trying to keep her voice steady as she continued to stare at the sinking sun. He should not touch her like he was . . . as if she were something precious to him. It was too much for her young mind to process--affection without love behind it. It was different from Draco's or even Goyle's comforting touches. Harry ignited a spark within her that, if she admitted it to herself, would never extinguish.

"Nia," he whispered in her ear again, and she shivered. Her throat tightened, and her eyes began to sting. His tone was so tender, a caress upon her heart she wished would remain for always. Nia knew she couldn't stay in his arms as they were, or she'd embarrass herself beyond repair. She tried to surreptitiously move away, but his grip tightened.

"It's not finished yet," he said softly, his lips moving against her temple. Nia's body was tense like the string of a bow, and when his hand moved to circle her waist, she quivered.

"Cold, love?" he asked as he brought her closer. The thumb at her waist began a back and forth motion, and goosebumps rose from the action.

"Relax, baby, relax . . . I'm here . . ." Harry whispered as he kissed her temple again. Nia felt tears stinging her eyes. While he was there, it wasn't the way she wanted it to be, but being in his arms was a cruel glimpse of what could be if only Harry had the romantic notions to back up his actions. Nia feared she was displacing her own love into his embraces and words, and the knowledge he really didn't feel the same way hurt. It was all too much for her to take; she had to leave now!

"I have to go." She squeezed out, breaking from his embrace, and all but ran inside the castle. She heard him call her but ignored it. Nia passed the Great Hall, definitely not up for a staring match with Harry as she tried to play it cool . . . there was nothing cool about this--about loving someone who didn't match her affections.

Her chin began to tremble despite her best efforts to stop it, and a warm tear trailed her cheek. She brushed it away angrily, but soon another came to take its place. Nia rushed downstairs to the dungeons, reaching the Potions classroom when a hand grabbed her arm, turning her around and pushing her against the wall.

"Why do you keep running from me?" he asked breathlessly.

Nia looked at the ground, unable to meet his emerald gaze. He grasped her chin and directed her face to his, squeezing her chin lightly and forcing her to meet his eyes. She didn't answer him, knowing there was no way she could keep his eyes and make a halfway decent lie at the same time.

It was too much.

"Well, Nia? Why do you run from me?"

She shook her head and dropped her eyes, her thumbs fiddling against each other.

"You didn't like my surprise?" he asked with a hint of amusement. She nodded. "You did?" She nodded again. "Are you sure it's not your head--"

"My head is fine!" she snapped, annoyed he kept going back to that, to the deal she made with the devil himself. "I don't ask you about your scar every five minutes!"

His hand dropped from her face, and she half-expected him to leave her alone, which was why she jumped at the feel of his palms on her cheeks, lifting her head so they could make eye contact.

"Are you afraid of me?"

She closed her eyes and squeezed them, determined not to cry, as she so often did whenever he was being particularly tender. "You've asked me that question before, and unfortunately the answer hasn't changed."

He sighed deeply, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. "What can I do to make you unafraid of me?"

She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know . . . maybe just leave me alone."

"You're my training partner . . ."

Nia sucked her teeth and jerked her head from his grasp. "Find another one!" she snarled before turning and placing her palm on a stone in the wall. It disappeared, and she walked inside, upset the wall wouldn't reappear before Harry had a chance to follow behind her. The room she found completely by accident, and she figured it was like the Room of Requirement--only for the dungeons. It made sense to her, at any rate, for why would dungeon people go up seven flights of stairs for something they needed?

Unfortunately, there was a distinct difference between the actual Room of Requirement and this room: she needed to be alone. Yet Harry was with her, anyway.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms below her breasts, keeping her back to him. She knew she should alter that sentiment; she wanted to be alone--it had nothing to do with need. Maybe the Room knew she needed to talk to Harry, regardless of what she wanted.

Dumbledore is a sneaky old man . .

She heard him approach, yet he didn't say a word, nor did he make any move to touch her. Nia figured he was trying to break her to turn around, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. The moments passed in silence before finally Harry broke first.

"Aren't you going to look at me?"

"I don't need to look at ya to hear ya!" she said sassily. Her eyes stared at the wall--bare and gray save for a candle fixture. The flame upon the wick fluttered precariously, and she thought that odd, considering there were no windows in the room. His presence became stronger as he stepped closer to her, finally placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Have I done something to upset you?"

Nia bit her lip at that. She could answer no and have things remain the way they were--her on pins and needles and utterly depressed. Or she could answer yes and fully explain her problem, which, in the end, probably would leave her alone.

Nia and Harry were at an impasse, and her answer would determine which path they would take.

Nia sighed, too tired to keep up pretenses. "I just can't take it anymore! Imma ask Grandma if we can switch partners. I think it would be better if--"

"Switch partners? Why would you want to do that? Granted we've had to take things kind of slow . . ."

"I'm just holdin' you down, holdin' you back. Ginny and I can be partners; then you and Draco can be partners. That way, when you two leave, you'll be used to each others' fightin' styles, and you'll have an ally and stuff."

The excuse sounded decent enough, but the snort she heard him emit told her otherwise.

"This has nothing to do with that. Why don't you just tell me the truth for a change?"

Oh no he didn't!

She turned slowly, her face a picture of disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

Those green eyes were dark, unyielding behind the glasses. "You're lying to me about something, Nia, and I want to know what it is!"

Her mouth dropped open, aghast. "I'm hiding something! Tell me this, Potter: did you hear what I said that day?"

Confusion flitted across his face. "You mean the deal you keep telling me not to mention?"

She rolled her eyes, annoyed. "What I said before then."

It was so quick she thought she imagined it--the look of recognition on his face that melted into blankness. She snorted and attempted to walk past him. He stepped in her way, grasping her upper arms.

"Nia--"

"Let go of me," she said, her tone deathly low. His fingertips squeezed into her flesh, as if afraid she'd disappear if he let go.

After all, that was her intent.

"Love--"

She jerked out of his grasp, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare call me that and not mean it!" He looked at her in shock, clearly not prepared for that outburst.

"But, Nia--"

"Do not call me 'love' unless you mean it! You're just a liar every time you say it! QUIT LYIN' TO ME!" She clasped her hands over her ears and shook her head, her body trembling from the emotions coursing through her veins. Every time Harry said the endearment, a piece of her heart broke because there was no meaning behind it. Nia was at her wits' end, and it had to end. She felt the tears sting her eyes, and she turned away from him, determined not to let him see her break down.

There was too much stress in her life--between Voldemort, Harry, and the threat of an attack ever present, Nia wished she could just go back to South Carolina and leave Britain's wizards to their own devices. There were two problems with that plan.

She was directly connected to all the mayhem . . . and Jamilah would have her hide if she tried to leave.

Either way, I'm thoroughly fucked!

The tension in the room was suffocating, neither of them moving or saying anything. A few minutes passed, and Nia figured it would be safe for her to move her hands from her ears. Her posture relaxed, yet her hands each held the other to stop their trembling. Her ears perked to hear if he was still in the room, not having the courage to turn around and actually look. It was deadly quiet, but she couldn't shake his presence from her . . . as if it were a cloud that refused to give her a reprieve.

"I wish he would leave me alone . . ." she muttered, crossing her arms and rubbing them, suddenly cold.

"I can't, love," a deep, husky voice whispered in her ear. She was all ready to turn and give him another lecture, but his arms came around her like steel bands. Both held the position, breaths coming shallow and reserved. Her fingernails dug into her skin--partly from his hold on her--but mostly so she didn't use her powers to throw him from her.

Harry decided to speak again, but not before his nose trailed the shell of her ear. Nia shuddered completely against her will, and she hated herself for it. "Why do you assume I don't mean it when I call you 'love'?"

Nia heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. She didn't have time for these games and technicalities. "Because you don't! Quit playin', Harry. I'm tired of the games."

"I'm not playing with you, love. I'd never do that to you."

"You're doin' it to me now!"

"Why do you assume I don't mean it when I call you 'love'?" he asked again, only this time his hands slipped inside her robes and went under her shirt, caressing her bare stomach.

Nia froze. "Harry?"

He didn't respond right away. "It's all I can do not to touch you, Nia," he breathed in her ear as his fingers danced against her skin. She shivered at the sensation even as she leaned into him. "You want to know why I've been so distant to you . . . ignoring you . . . I can't accept what you so innocently offer, though I want to so badly . . ."

He drew her closer, and she came, his voice and the words hypnotizing her. "I said your age doesn't matter a long time ago, but it does. There are so many things I want to share with you, but we can't. I want to show you, love, not just tell you . . show you in the most basic of ways . . . the most passionate . . " His hands met the bottom of her bra, and he began to caress the expanse of skin between it and the waistband of her skirt. Nia's knees were becoming weak from his ministrations. Intellectually she knew she shouldn't let him do that, but her body was curious, and it felt so good . . . she couldn't find the words to tell him to stop.

"Harry," she whimpered as his teeth grasped the rounded curve of her upper ear.

"My body does inappropriate things when you're near," he whispered, then pressed his lower body to hers. She felt something hot and throbbing against her back, and she sucked in a wild breath of shock and arousal. The sensations she was feeling were foreign to her--at least the intensity of them--and she felt suddenly shy and entirely unprepared.

This was no game . . . and Nia realized how much she preferred playing it instead of dealing with this.

"I saw you dancing with those blokes at the New Year's Eve dance," he said softly, kissing her behind the ear as he did so. "I was so jealous, prepared to snatch you away from them and lock you in a tower somewhere. You have no idea how possessive I am of you . . you're more precious to me than my Firebolt--which until three years ago held precedent as my most treasured possession . . "

She snorted, desperate to diffuse the sexual energy building between them. "You can't own me, Harry. Slavery ended almost 135 years ago, at least . . ."

He chuckled in her ear, his right hand leaving her stomach to caress her left arm. "Funny . . . you most definitely own me--mind, body, and soul . . ."

Her legs could no longer support her, and if Harry's arms weren't around her, she would've collapsed to the floor. He quickly spun her around in his arms, the fire in his eyes hotter and brighter than the one in the fireplace. She dropped her eyes from his, not able to withstand all she saw there. Her eyes locked instead to his throat, where she saw his heartbeat pump consistently at his collarbone. As if in a trance, her lips went to that pulse point and softly kissed it before placing a slight bit of suction. His hands tightened at her upper arms before sliding up to grasp her neck. His thumbs ran across the stretch of skin below her jaw underneath her ears. She shivered slightly, but her lips moved up his neck, and he bent as if to help her make the journey. His lips kissed the area his right thumb was touching. Her eyes fluttered as she snuggled her face into his neck, the lashes stroking the skin. One of his hands curled around her waist while the other cupped the back of her head, and his mouth went to her ear. Both were trembling and holding tightly to each other.

"For the record--I'm not playing. I mean this with every fiber of my being . . "

She pulled away and was about to ask him what he meant, but his mouth prevented her from speaking. He was aggressive, starting with an open-mouth kiss--very different from the chaste one he had given her on New Year's. Her lips quivered under his, quite outside of her control, and the tears she'd tried so hard not to shed rushed forth. Her breath hitched, and she exhaled deeply out of her nose. Her hands grasped his cheeks, and she shook her head, pulling away from him and hiding her face from his. He lifted her in his arms--one behind her knees and the other around her shoulders. Her own tightened around him to make sure he wouldn't drop her.

"I've got you, love," he whispered in her ear before kissing her cheek. Nia merely snuggled closer to him. He murmured comforting words as he walked to the couch, sitting down with her in his lap. Soon her tears ceased to flow, but they remained sitting in each other's arms, drawing comfort from the other.

Nia licked her lips and sighed deeply. "What does this mean?"

Harry kissed her forehead as his hand smoothed her hair. "I want to be with you, love . . . if you'll have me."

She shook her head, confused. "Be with me how? I guess it doesn't really matter anymore since Voldemort knows who I am and--"

"Forget him, Set--anyone--this is about you and me. This is about me wanting to be with you . . . to be able to hold your hand and let every bloke in the school know you are with me and I belong to you . . ."

Her arms tightened around his neck. "What about when you go to Auror training? You'll meet someone there who's beautiful, tall, smart . . ."

"And I'll realize how that person pales in comparison to you, love. You're all I want, all I need. Every wish and desire I've ever wanted is in my arms right now, only I've been too stubborn to accept it."

This was so unlike Harry it was making her uncomfortable. "Stop talking like that, Harry . . . I don't know how to deal with it."

"Say 'thank you, Harry,'" he teased, a laugh in his voice. Nia sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes again. He kissed her forehead once more, pulling her closer to him.

Nia stared at her hands and bit her lip before taking one of her hands to link through one of his. She brought their hands in front of her eyes, staring at the difference of color between them.

"We're beautiful together, love," he whispered. Her golden eyes met his green ones briefly before staring at their hands again. She rubbed her thumb against his skin, watching the little black hairs rise after being pressed against the flesh.

"So beautiful," he murmured again, and she could feel his gaze on her. Nia wet her lips before bringing his hand to them, kissing each knuckle lightly. He moved her hand to his lips and gave it the same treatment.

Nia looked at the ground, heat rising in her cheeks. She felt him kiss her wrists softly, and she sighed, her eyes closing at the contact. "I didn't know it could be like this," she murmured.

He kissed her wrist again before drawing her closer, his chin resting atop her head. "It will be even better once those two are destroyed. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you, love . . . and the fact I won't be here to protect you--"

"Uh, excuse me? Who's the one been doin' all the 'protectin' as of late?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He grinned and gave her a tender kiss on her lips. "My beautiful Aset . ."

She sighed and closed her eyes, snuggling into his chest. "I could get used to this," she murmured absently. It wasn't until she felt him chuckle she realized she'd said that loud enough so he could hear. She moved back with wide eyes. "Oh!"

He kissed her again. "That's the plan, love . . . I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," he said against her lips.

Her stomach growled loudly, breaking the tender moment, and she turned from him in embarrassment. Harry didn't let her get far, however, and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Hungry?"

She smiled slightly. "Famished." Nia left his lap and stood, stretching her arms high over her head. Arms came around her waist, and she smiled, leaning into him as he kissed her jaw.

"I love holding you," he whispered in her ear.

Nia pressed her cheek against his before moving his hands away from her, so she could walk. A hand slipped into hers, and their fingers linked. "We can't do this when we're outside, Harry," she said, removing her hand from his.

"Bugger them."

Nia sighed and shook her head, dodging his hand as it reached for hers another time. "We don't have to be in a relationship, Harry. Just to know you like me is enough." She walked quickly through the wall, checking her watch and breathing a sigh of relief that dinner was not yet over. Harry's footsteps echoed loudly in her ears, but she refused to slow down and wait for him. Besides, they couldn't--shouldn't--be seen together as it was. All Nia wanted was an admission of something, right?

Students were already leaving the Hall as she went inside; Nia was glad she would be lost in the crowd as she made her way to the Slytherin table.

"Where have you been?!" Draco asked in a loud whisper, grasping her arm and pulling her to the space beside him. Nia rolled her eyes and glanced at Goyle, who merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Answer me, Nia! Where have you been?"

Her eyes went to the Hall's doors and locked on Harry who went to the Gryffindor table. There was a small frown marring his features, and her heart constricted with guilt for putting it there.

"You were not with him, were you?" Draco moaned.

Nia glared at him. "So what if I was? If I do recall, you were telling me to get him to admit he loves me."

"Well?" Draco asked sharply.

Nia shrugged. "He wants to be with me--"

"Did he say 'I love you, Nia'?" Draco interrupted. Nia shook her head. "The great, big, bloody prat!"

Nia placed a hand on his bicep. "Oh, c'mon, Draco! You know as well as me, him bein' in a relationship with anyone will spell disaster!"

"But you are not just 'anyone!'"

Nia sighed again, kissing his cheek and hugging his neck. "You're so good to me, Dragon." His own arms came around her, and he dropped a kiss to her forehead.

"You're in a three-way tie for 'The Most Important Person to Me' award," he said on a chuckle. "Of course I'd do anything to make sure you're happy, love."

Nia noted Draco's "love" was entirely different than Harry's "love," and a tremor raced through her.

"He's staring, Nia . . as if I would put the moves on you," Draco snorted.

Nia pulled away from him and sniffed. "You make it sound like I'm unworthy!"

Draco gave her a half-grin. "First of all, it is I who am unworthy! Secondly, another goddess already has my heart. Thirdly, as much as I like to annoy Potter, when it comes to you, he ceases to be funny. He more than 'likes you,' Nia. Trust me on that."

Nia chanced a glance to the Gryffindor table and saw Harry staring intently at her. She felt so exposed under his gaze that her eyes dropped to her plate in shyness.

~I'm jealous . . .~

Nia peeked at Harry before focusing on her dinner, cutting up her pork chop slowly. ~Of what, Harry? It's just Draco.~

Harry didn't answer right away, and she half-figured he ignored her comment. ~This is the second time I wished I was the bloke, but this time is infinitely worse. He gets to hold you and kiss you freely and in public, and I'm relegated to chance encounters and secrecy . . . sometimes I wish I had let the Hat sort me in Slytherin . . . then I would always be with you.~

Nia took a large gulp of her water, her cheeks flaming from Harry's thoughts.

"Are you all right, Nia?" Goyle asked, a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded quickly. "Fine, thanks. I guess I'm not hungry anymore."

"You barely touched your food!" Draco exclaimed, then bent his mouth to her ear. "He's using the link, isn't he?" Nia nodded. "If he's anything like Ginny, he's saying naughty things, isn't he?"

Nia gave him a weird look before chuckling. "We have yet to reach that stage, Dragon, but he's being very sweet."

"Blech," Draco shuddered. He glanced to the Gryffindors before regarding her again. "How about this: eat at least half your food and then you can go and do whatever."

"Oh, thank you so much, Daddy Draco! Will you read me a bedtime story after you tuck me in, too?"

Draco glared at Goyle for laughing and shoved the other boy in mock contempt. "Only after Uncle Goyle changes your nappy."

Goyle's face was the picture of horror before all three burst into laughter. Nia rested against Goyle's large frame as her body shook with the giggles.

~Your face lights up when you laugh, love. I get a large sense of pride when I'm the one who causes such a reaction in you . . . only makes me wonder what other types of reactions I could draw from you . . .~

Nia stopped laughing immediately as Harry's thought came in her mind. She sat straight again and began to eat.

"I think he's been taking lessons from Ginger, because she's looking over here like the cat that ate the canary," Draco whispered in her ear.

Nia rolled her eyes, not wanting to see Ginny's smirking face at that moment. "How do you deal with it?" Nia asked, popping a piece of pork chop in her mouth.

He looked at Ginny briefly before smirking. "As you said: you haven't reached that stage with Potter just yet . . ."

The pork chop piece almost went down the wrong pipe, and Nia gave him a scathing look. "Blech," she said with a scowl. Draco chuckled and pulled away from her, taking a drink from his goblet. "You love making inappropriate comments at inappropriate times, don't you?"

"It's my calling card," he said with a wink.

"Yeah, well, leave a message, 'cause I'm goin' to the DADA room, see if Grandma's there," she said, taking one last bite of her meal before standing.

"You don't have training, do you?"

Nia shook her head and shrugged. "Well, even if she ain't, can't hurt to practice."

Draco stared at her a moment then smiled. Nia realized how handsome he was when he did, but it was a different kind of handsome than Harry's--like the difference between a light and dark angel, though most would consider Harry all goodness and light and Draco sinister and dark because of his father.

Nia smiled herself and kissed his cheek. "See you later, Dragon." Draco chuckled again but said nothing. She squeezed Goyle's shoulder when she passed and mouthed, "Bye." He grinned and nodded, then went back to his conversation with Blaise. She did not look to Harry, mainly because she didn't want to give him any cause to follow.

But when she heard footsteps following behind her, Nia thought it wouldn't have made a difference if she looked or not.

As she continued to walk, however, the energy Nia felt was not one she associated with Harry. It was hostile, menacing, and highly unpleasant. Her heart rate picked up as well as her pace, desperate to get to the DADA room. Consequently so did the footsteps behind her, and it was all she could do not to break into a full run.

Please go away! she thought as she went to the DADA room, running inside and closing the door, her back pressed against it as if it would bar the person from coming into the room. In her panicked state, she forgot this was a magical school, and all it would take was a simple spell to make the door disappear. Her eyes darted around the room for a weapon, and she Summoned a bo stick to her hands, ready to defend herself if necessary. The energy was strong, and Nia knew the person was behind the door. Nia noted Jamilah was not in the room, and she cursed aloud, knowing she was actually alone. She closed her eyes, willing the person to leave her be, and after a few moments, the energy left, seeming to think it better to leave the confrontation for another time.

Nia breathed a sigh of relief, but it turned into terror when the door opened. She immediately went on the offensive, whirling the stick so it would connect soundly with the intruder's temple.

A whoosh penetrated the silence of the room, followed by a thwack as the stick hit the doorframe. She pivoted quickly on her heel to get in another swing, but this time the stick was grasped in the other's hand, and she was jerked forward.

"NIA!"

Nia swallowed a sob when she heard his voice and went into his arms, grasping him tightly.

"Are you all right, love?" he asked, a hand stroking her head. She shook her head and burrowed further into his chest.

"Sirius, what in the--" Jamilah's words died when she saw her granddaughter clutching Sirius.

"Nia, baby, what happened?" she asked, her hand coming to Nia's back, making comforting strokes. Nia held Sirius tighter, trying to calm her body down from its adrenaline rush.

"I told you, Jam! That kid was up to no good . . ." Sirius whispered as he walked them further in the room.

Jamilah snorted. "When is he ever? That's the same boy Nia baffed last year . . . and told him off good during the dance, too. He has 'foul' written all over him."

"And it seems he wants a piece of Nia, too," Sirius said, sitting Nia in one of the desks. Her arms went around herself to keep the chill out at the prospect. So it had been Crabbe with that energy. Nia vaguely wondered why she was so surprised--he'd never been particularly nice--but this was bordering on ridiculous.

"What are we gonna do about that boy, Sirius? He's badgerin' my grandbaby, and I won't take it!"

"Shh," Sirius said.

Nia lifted her eyes to see him cup Jamilah's face and kiss her forehead. A small smile graced Nia's face at the scene. She didn't find out about them until Valentine's Day, when she spied a bouquet of flowers from him on Jamilah's dresser. Sirius obviously loved her grandmother, and that was all that mattered to Nia.

Besides . . . they're cute together . .

"Has he been doin' this often, Nia?" Jamilah asked, a frown on her beautiful face. Nia didn't want to answer, so she shrugged. Jamilah's frown deepened. "Nia Aset Roberts! Don't sit there and tell me this boy's been botherin' you all this time!"

"Ain't nothin' I can't handle!" Nia said firmly.

"That's why you 'bout knocked Sirius' head off?" Jamilah asked incredulously.

"Exactly!" Sirius said with a chuckle. "If I didn't have to tie my shoe, I would've caught a bo stick in my eye! I believe it when Nia says she can handle it."

Jamilah continued to scowl, but shook her head. "What's the trainin' for if not to prepare you for things like that?"

"Exactly," Nia said, resting an elbow on the desk and holding her head in her hand. And Lord knew she would have to be on point for that final battle--when Voldemort called her to meet her end of the bargain. She had absolutely no intention of fulfilling it, but the last thing she wanted to do was put Harry in danger . .

The door slammed open, revealing a heavily panting Harry as he looked wildly in the room.

"Harry?" Nia asked, sitting up a bit.

His head snapped to her, and he rushed forth, falling on his knees as he reached up to frame her face. "Are you okay?"

She frowned, her own heart increasing its pace. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Are you okay?" he growled, this time moving her head from side to side and pushing it back so he could check her neck.

"Yes."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Crabbe said--"

"Crabbe is a liar, Harry," she said as she rolled her eyes. "He didn't touch me."

His eyes roved the rest of her body, to make sure her words corroborated with her appearance; when it did, he breathed another sigh of relief and rested his head in her lap. "He said--"

"I'm all right, Harry . . . he didn't touch me," Nia said, her voice tender at the concern Harry exhibited. His arms came around her waist and squeezed, his cheek pressed against her stomach.

"If he touched you--"

"He didn't, Harry."

He clutched her shirt at her back as he pulled away to look into her eyes. He didn't say anything for a while and squinted his eyes. "Has he touched you?"

She dropped her eyes briefly. "No, I swear, Harry; he hasn't."

Their eyes remained locked for a moment; then he nodded. "You would tell me if he had?"

"Yes."

He placed his face at her stomach again. "You're the most precious thing to me in the world, Nia. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you . . ."

Tears welled in her eyes, and she closed them, running a hand through his hair. Once she thought her emotions were in check, she looked at the top of his head then at the adults in the room. Sirius stared at Nia even as he held Jamilah in his arms and kissed her temple. Jamilah was watching Harry as she snuggled closer to Sirius. Nia couldn't deny the similarities in the embraces, though the actual postures were totally different. The feelings behind them, however, seemed just as deep and powerful between Harry and her as they did between Sirius and Jamilah.

Sirius smiled at her then and nodded. "What I feel for your grandmother, love, Harry feels for you."

Nia blinked at Sirius, then dropped her gaze to Harry. He was staring at her, his eyes so full of what Sirius' were whenever he looked at Jamilah. Nia closed her eyes and felt his hand cup her cheek. His thumb brushed a tear she never knew she shed, and her eyelids fluttered open. He was still staring at her, and she gave him a smile . . . a smile he returned.

Nia knew then Harry didn't have to say the words. His eyes shouted them enough.