The Legend of Chime

Chapter fourteen Death and Demons

Mud and slush. The snow, where Elizabeth had lain just days before with her eyes sparkling with unsuppressed laughter, was now just that. The grounds were swarming with Aurors and Ministry of Magic officials, trampling the snow beneath their feet, mixing it with the soft earth. They were checking and triple checking every inch of the school to make certain no Death Eaters remained. A few had been captured and were now being held in the dungeons until they could be moved to a more secure area. All of the students were confined to their common rooms, unless they were injured. Madame Pomfrey had insisted any student hit by a curse, was to stay in the hospital wing until she was able to give them a thorough assessment. That had been several hours ago, but no one complained. Madame Pomfrey was still tending to the silent, pale form of Malfoy, who still had not resumed consciousness.

Harry's gaze traveled the length of the school grounds for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had managed to squash his glasses over the bulk of his bandages to gaze out the window of the hospital wing with his one good eye. Professor Sinistra had done a fair job with her nursing skills in Harry's opinion, though maybe a bit too enthusiastic with the wrapping part. His hand absently came up to scratch an area covered by the bandage. He let it drop when he realised what he was doing. Thank goodness he wore glasses or he would be sporting a magical eye like Mad-eye Moody right now. The spell that had hit him had sliced a deep gash from just below his left ear to his right upper forehead, causing his eye to swell shut and his glasses to shatter, but a well placed repairing charm had mended his glasses with a slight wave of his wand. It would take a bit longer for his wound to heal. He had painfully pried his eye open, right before it had been bandaged, to make sure he still had his vision. The fact that he could be left with another scar didn't concern him at the moment.

"Here it is, Harry," said Hermione as she came up and stopped just behind him.

Harry slowly turned around and took the mirror from her hands. "How did you get back down here? I thought they weren't allowing students out of the common room," he enquired numbly.

"I told Professor McGonagall that I was asked to help Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sinistra with the injured." She shrugged and sat down next to Ginny on Ron's bed. "Looks like she could use the help, though most everyone appears to have sufficiently recovered from being stunned," she said, glancing around at the students who were congregating in groups around each others beds, talking in hushed tones. She turned back to Harry as he walked back to his bed and sat down. "She might not know yet, Harry," she said anxiously.

"She'll know," Harry said firmly in a soft voice, remembering how Elizabeth had responded to his scar burning two months ago.

Harry lifted the mirror, but hesitated as he caught sight of himself. His reflection wasn't very pretty, blood was seeping through his bandages and his face was swollen and bruised.

 She won't care about that. She'll just be happy to see you. Besides, you need to talk to her before she does something irrational like try to come back here or something.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to utter her name, but the sudden noise of several people entering the ward caught his attention. Harry looked over the top of the mirror and watched as several wizards wearing dark blue cloaks strode toward Malfoy. They didn't look like Aurors. Harry frowned, wondering who they were. "What's going on?" he asked Hermione.

Ron looked over at Malfoy's bed. "Looks like they are moving him. Maybe to St. Mungo's." Ron frowned. "But they don't look like St. Mungo orderlies."

"That's because they're not. I overheard them talking with Professor Dumbledore outside in the corridor. Some relative has requested that he be moved to a safer place. Those wizards are his guards," Hermione said grimly.

"Can't really blame them. Of course, Hogwarts is probably safer than anywhere else right now, with all the Aurors patrolling the hallways," said Ron darkly.

"Maybe his mum has been found and told that he's been hurt. She'd probably want him moved as quick as possible," said Ginny quietly.

They watched as Malfoy was levitated out of his bed with six dark cloaked wizards tending him, three to each side. Madame Pomfrey supervised his exit from the ward, calling out different reminders regarding his care to his new caretakers as she followed helplessly behind them.

"Well, that means he's going to be all right, doesn't it? If they're allowing him to be moved," Harry asked hesitantly, glancing at Hermione.

"I don't know. Madame Pomfrey isn't equipped to care for someone with life-threatening injuries," said Hermione reluctantly.

"The bloody git," Ron growled softly. "Why'd he have to go and get himself hurt? It's his own fault, you know. He should have seen it coming."

Harry shook his head. He knew Ron was just trying make him feel better. But the guilt was his, not Malfoy's. "No. It's my fault. I shouldn't have run after them. If I hadn't, Malfoy wouldn't have grabbed the Death Eater's cloak and he wouldn't have been hit," he said bitterly. "I just . . . just wanted . . . I don't know . . ." he trailed off weakly, knowing his explanation would sound weak even to his own ears.

He had let his anger get the best of him again and he knew it. He had been so furious that they had been looking for Elizabeth that he wanted to take down just one more before they got away. One less Death Eater to be looking for her. One less Death Eater hunting her. He was Harry Potter, after all. He couldn't be killed except by Voldemort himself.

He couldn't . . . but others could. Others would. He looked down at the mirror in his hands. Others had.

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Elizabeth sat in the velvet-covered window seat looking out at the snow-covered Eden below that was her grandmother's estate, her head rested against the wall that was supporting her back. The sun was low in the sky and she knew it would probably be dark in the next hour. She had retreated to her room, after finding Olivia and learning where she had put her looking glass. The healer, Smethwyck, had arrived and unpleasantly examined her. Now, he waited downstairs with her grandmother for Malfoy's arrival. Elizabeth glanced down into her lap and her reflection gleamed back at her. She had tried several times to contact Harry through the mirror, but he wasn't answering. She had started to think her grandmother's security wards were blocking the mirrors ability, but not wanting to let anyone know she had a secret way to talk to the outside, she decided she would wait and hope that Harry would contact her when he could . . . if he could.

She had cursed herself a dozen times over the past several hours for not taking the Portkey with her when she had arrived this morning. But she admitted to herself, Moody probably wouldn't have allowed her to keep it if she had tried. So now she sat alone waiting. Because she had no other choice.

The soft murmur of voices came from the hallway and she turned to look over her shoulder at her bedroom door.

"Elizabeth?" came Harry's hesitant voice from the looking glass.

She jumped slightly, her nerves had been stretched far too thin over the last several hours. She deftly caught the mirror before it fell to the floor. "Thank Goodness, Harry," she said, pulling the looking glass back into her lap. She gasped as her gaze fell on his bloody, bandaged face. "Are you all right? I've been so worried. What happened? We haven't heard anything except that Hogwarts was attacked by Death Eaters and that you and Malfoy were injured . . ."

"Shhh . . . I'll be fine," Harry said tenderly, ignoring her other question. "Are you okay? You look pale."

Elizabeth hesitated then nodded her head. "I-I have just been worried. I felt something was wrong. Like I did before. In the hospital wing . . ."

Harry's bruised face softened. "I knew you would."

"How are Hermione and Ron? They . . ."

"They are here beside me. Ron took a stunning spell to the chest, but is otherwise fine. Hermione wasn't hurt. She's helping Madame Pomfrey now."

"What about Ginny and Neville?"

"Ginny was also stunned, but no worse than Ron. Neville is fine, just a little shaky, but he held up well during the battle. Even took down a couple of Death Eaters," Harry said with a small laugh.

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked again.

Harry took a deep breath, but didn't answer.

"Harry?"

"They were looking for you," Harry said reluctantly. "They didn't know you had already left and were hoping to trap you in the Great Hall. Evidently, a group of twenty or so slipped inside while the majority were outside distracting the teachers."

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly then opened them again and asked, "No one was . . . killed?"

"No."

Elizabeth released the breath she had been holding and asked, "How many were injured?"

"Elizabeth . . ."

"How many?"

Harry frowned. "It's not your fault . . ."

"How many?"

"Not many," Harry lied. "Ten or so."

Elizabeth held up her ring, the blue color sparkled brightly. "You're lying."

Harry clenched his teeth. "All right. Maybe more like thirty."

Elizabeth felt like someone had punched her in the stomach.

Thirty people were injured because of me . . . because of what I am.

Elizabeth swallowed against the bile that rose in her throat.

"Elizabeth, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything . . ."

"But exist," she interrupted sadly then shook her head. "I know, Harry. I can't change what I am. Nor can I control the actions of others." She felt her eyes grow misty and glanced out the window again, trying to gain her composure a bit, before asking, "How did you get hurt?"

Harry shrugged. "I deflected a curse off a helmet and didn't dodge quickly enough. It grazed my face and shattered my glasses. No real damage. More of a nuisance than anything really," he said in a hoarse voice.

"You look terrible," Elizabeth said softly.

"Thanks."

"Wish I could be there."

"I'm glad you're not," Harry said honestly.

Someone knocked on her bedroom door. "Mistress Fairchild?"

"One moment please," Elizabeth called over her shoulder then turned back to the mirror. "Harry. They are calling for me. I need to go."

"All right. I love you, Elizabeth."

"I love you too. Tell everyone I am glad to hear they're safe and give them a hug for me."

Harry smiled, nodded his head then vanished.

Elizabeth quickly strode to her bedside table and slipped the looking glass inside. She flounced on her stomach and landed on the bed then called, "Come in, Olivia."

Olivia opened the door and quickly curtsied. Elizabeth fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Sorry to disturb you, Mistress Fairchild, but Lady Isabella thought you might want to be made aware. Master Malfoy has just arrived from Hogwarts."

"How is he?" Elizabeth asked hesitantly as she pushed herself up from her bed.

Olivia gave a sad smile. "He doesn't look good, Mistress. Healer Smethwyck is in with him now, along with Mistress Malfoy."

Elizabeth stared into space for a moment, a shadow on her face. "Where is . . . Master Malfoy's room?" she asked softly, lifting her chin a notch as she made her decision.

"He's been placed across the hall, Mistress Fairchild," Olivia said quietly.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, picked up the hem of her robe and strode past Olivia, out her bedroom door. She knocked briefly before opening the door across the hall, not waiting for permission to enter. The room mirrored her own, but was deep blue in color with dark furniture. Her eyes fell on the bed. Malfoy was laying motionless on his back, naked from the waist up. Healer Smethwyck was leaning over him examining a large, oozing gash that ran from his hip to right below his ribcage, the remnants of blood stained bandages lay in a pile on the floor. Narcissa was standing to the right of him with a look of anguish on her beautiful face. Elizabeth quietly walked to the other side of Malfoy's bed. Narcissa glanced in her direction, but did not question her intrusion.

"How is he?" Elizabeth asked softly, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it just the same.

Smethwyck glanced up over his spectacles and eyed her curiously. "He has tremendous fortitude or he wouldn't still be alive. His body should have given up hours ago. The potions that Madame Pomfrey has already given him is all that can be done for this type of curse." His face became grim. "I'm sorry to say there is a great chance he will not make it through the night."

Elizabeth's gaze drifted up from the ugly wound to the handsome face of her rapist and she felt a tightening in her chest.

He deserves to die if anyone does.

Does he? He saved the life of another, said a small voice.

It doesn't make up for what he did to me!

What's done is done. You can't change it, but will you allow him to suffer and die because of it.

I'm not strong enough to forgive . . . to forget . . . to heal.

Yes, you are . . . It is your choice. You alone must live with the consequences. In the end he is here because of you. He will die because of you . . . only you have the power to save him. Only you have the power to save yourself.

Elizabeth stared at Malfoy for a moment longer then swallowed. "Y-Yes," she began softly, making her decision. "Yes, he will." She took a deep breath then crawled over the bed toward Malfoy, ignoring the shocked expressions of his mother and Smethwyck. She placed her hands on his abdomen then closed her eyes against the immediate onslaught of pain that sliced through her. Her body trembled as Malfoy's wound started to heal, but she continued to hold her hands firmly against him until, finally, her body could take no more and she fell into darkness.

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Draco opened his eyes and tried to focus. His face immediately contorted with pain. His stomach felt like it was on fire. A faint moan escaped his lips. A moment later, the fire was replaced by a soft, comforting weight on his chest and the scent of lilacs invaded his senses. He suddenly became aware he was breathing heavy as if he couldn't get enough oxygen and with every breath the scent of lilacs became stronger. He stared at the ceiling for moment, trying to clear his mind. He slowly glanced down at his chest and was shocked to find Elizabeth sprawled there. What the hell?

A hand appeared and slipped under Elizabeth's form and gently moved her to rest beside him. He started to protest, but then his mother's face appeared next to him, her hand gently caressed his face in a feigned motherly fashion. "I'm here. It's going to be all right, Draco. You're safe at Fairchild Manor. You made it, my handsome dragon," she cooed softly.

 Draco turned away from her touch and shakily push himself up onto his elbows. He turned toward Elizabeth. A strange man was unbuttoning her robes and running his hands across her torso. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" he snapped, instinctively pushing the man's hands away from her, his voice sounding hoarse to his own ears. Then his gaze fell on the red gash that marred Elizabeth's pale skin. It was rapidly healing before his eyes. He suddenly remembered the events that led him there. He glanced down at his own abdomen, absently running a hand up to his chest.

Bloody hell. She did it. Damn!

He gazed back at Elizabeth's stomach. The red gash had disappeared and was now a faint line of pink. His eyes flicked to the man still examining her, a look of utter amazement was plastered on his face.

"I-I've never seen anything like it," the man whispered, clearly in awe, continuing to stare. "She just absorbed your wound then fainted from exhaustion." He moved his hand to her wrist. "Her pulse is still strong. That wound have killed a normal healer. She's not a-a. . . " his voice trailed off weakly as if he was hesitant to suggest what he was thinking.

Draco didn't feel the need to confirm the man's suspicion.

"I should probably go and tell Lady Isabella what has happened," said his mother. "Though I am overjoyed with Elizabeth's actions, I don't believe her grandmother will care much for the news." His mother started to leave then turned back around to ask, "She will be awake soon, will she not?"

"I really don't know. The healing has obviously taken a lot out of her. It might be a few days before she wakes up," said the man honestly.

"Oh," said his mother with a concerned expression on her face. "Well, then I'll tell Lady Isabella she is sleeping peacefully."

Draco watched his mother exit the room then turned to eye the man coldly."I assume you are a healer from St. Mungo's," he said, lifting an eyebrow and absently running his hand down Elizabeth's freshly healed abdomen.

The man's eyebrows lifted as well. "Yes, I am Healer Smethwyck. Lady Isabella sent for me to examine Elizabeth." He looked down and a smile softened his face. "You're a lucky man to have a wife who cares for you so much."

Wife? Draco looked up quickly, but didn't correct him. "Why was she examined? She's not ill, is she?"

Smethwyck pulled the bedclothes over Elizabeth's exposed torso. "No . . . at least she wasn't before this. She just had a migraine headache, I believe. Said something about being connected or something or other. I assume she meant you. Very sensitive to the suffering of others, this one. Definitely a Chime. Don't worry. My lips are sealed. Healer-patient privilege and all that," he said seriously, giving Elizabeth a look of sympathy. "I don't envy her life when what she is becomes common knowledge." He glanced up at Draco. "I should probably examine you again before I go."

"Do I look sick to you?" Draco sneered, sitting the rest of the way up in bed.

"Well . . . not now," said Smethwyck reluctantly.

"Excellent observation," Draco said with a hint of sarcasm as he pushed himself off the bed then grabbed a cushioned chair from a nearby desk and brought it around the bed and planted it on the floor next to Elizabeth. He glanced at Smethwyck as he sat down. "You can go."

"But I really should . . ." Smethwyck started to move forward.

"Touch me and you'll wish you hadn't," Draco said icily, his eyes full of menace.

Smethwyck looked momentarily stunned by the threat. Then he straightened to his full height and said, "Very well. Your body looks fit enough. Though I can't say much for your attitude. Hopefully, it will improve with your wife's condition. Good evening, sir!" He turned on his heel and strode from the door looking extremely miffed.

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It was dark. Elizabeth felt like she had been hit by a two ton truck. Every part of her body loudly protested with even the slightest of movements. She kept her eyes closed, trying to will her mind back to sleep, not wanting to face the pain just yet. She let out a small whimper as the bed shifted beneath her. She felt someone gently caress her face and whisper softly spoken words. "Reposent, peu flamme. Pour fait alambic nuit. Demain volonte venu biento. Puis te mai brulez vose allumez . . . Reposent . . . Reposent." Her mind wasn't functioning well enough to understand the words themselves, but she understood their meaning. Her tortured body relaxed again and she retreated back into the comforting darkness.

Her mind swam with echoes of voices and muffled sounds. A women's voice coaxing her to open her mouth then feeling a warm liquid run down her throat, instinctively swallowing. A man's deep soothing tone, again repeating words she could not understand. Her grandmother's icy voice questioning another then the sound of a door shutting. Harry's voice calling her from a distance. She struggled to unwrap the dark fingers that held her captive but then his voice was gone again and she allowed herself to be once again cradled within the arms of her own protective night.

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Something was different. He felt different. He wasn't sure how or why, but the fact still remained. He shifted his weight in the chair and continued to stared at the beautiful woman lying peacefully in his bed, watching her chest rise and fall with every breath she took. His body was whole again because of her and he knew he could never look at life quite the same way because of her. He absently lifted a silken lock of her auburn hair and twirled it through his fingers. He wasn't certain whether he wanted to thank her or curse her. She had given him a second chance, but it was a chance he hadn't asked for, hadn't truly wanted. Life was full of misery and mistakes and he had been given an opportunity to escape it doing something noble for once. And she had gently taken it from him and opened his heart to things he had spent years shielding it from. She had given him part of herself. . . the best part . . . the worst part . . . the part he feared most.

Damn her!

Elizabeth shifted in her sleep and a look of agony crossed her face. Draco stood and gently lowered his weight onto the edge of the bed and winced as she cried out against the slight movement. He softly caressed her face, willing the pained expression to disappear and muttered the first tender words that came into his head, "Rest, little flame. It is still night. Tomorrow will come soon. Then you may rise to burn your light . . . Rest . . . Rest." He had no idea why he spoke in French except for the fact that the words seemed softer that way. Her face gradually relaxed and Draco felt the tension, that had suddenly built inside him at the sight of her pain, slowly seep from him as well, leaving him with a strange feeling. A feeling he'd rather not think about. Ever.

"Draco?"

He gently raised his weight from the bed and stood as his mother and Lady Isabella entered the room. He turned toward them, reluctantly meeting the icy blue gaze of Elizabeth's grandmother. "You are a very fortunate man, Draco. To have Elizabeth perform a healing on your person."

Draco bowed to her slightly. "Yes, Lady Isabella. I am aware I owe Elizabeth my life," he said quietly, looking down at Elizabeth. He moved away from the bed so as not to disturb her peace.

Lady Isabella's eyebrows lifted noticing his action, but didn't comment on it. She gazed down at Elizabeth briefly before turning back to him. "I have asked the house-elves to ready the room next door to this one. It's not as large, but somehow I didn't think you would mind the inconvenience considering the circumstances. I think it best to allow Elizabeth to stay in your bed for now. Tomorrow she will be moved back to her own room across the hall and you may again have this one. Do you have any objections?"she said smoothly.

Draco frowned. He wanted to say yes, but wasn't sure why. Instead, he heard his own voice say, "Of course not, Lady Isabella. I would be honored to allow Elizabeth the use of my bed for as long as she may have need. It is the least I can do."

"Very good. Olivia will take you to your room."

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Gradually, the light pierced the inky blackness of Elizabeth's mind and her eyes fluttered open then rolled in her head. She slowly lifted her eyelids, squinting at the invading brightness of the sun. Cobwebs still clung to her mind and for a moment, she had no idea where she was. Her body was stiff and her lips were dry. She pushed herself up further on her pillows, willing her memory to find her and grimaced at the tenderness in the abdomen.

 Fairchild Manor, Hogwarts attacked, Harry injured, Malfoy dying , her decision, pain . . . then darkness.

She groaned as the thoughts flashed through her mind and she brought her hand to her head then took several deep breaths, filling her lungs with much needed oxygen, ignoring the sharp pain that jabbed her insides as she did. She smiled and enjoying the faint sound of her own heartbeat, relishing the sweet fact that she had beaten death once again.

 Shit, Elizabeth! You've got to get over this morbid fascination of healing people and taunting death! It's going to kill you one of these days.

She gave a weak chuckle. "But I won, didn't I? Over death and demons," she whispered as she sat the rest of the way up in bed. She glanced around and wondered how long she had been out of it this time. Her stomach rumbled loudly, telling her it had been some time since she had any real sustenance.

Her bedroom door swung silently open and Olivia walked in carrying a tray.

"Thank God. I'm starving," Elizabeth said quietly.

Olivia gasped and almost dropped the tray. "Mistress Fairchild!" She hurried to her side and set the tray on her bedside table. "You are awake!" she said in disbelief.

"It appears, I am," Elizabeth said with a curve to her lips, but frowned as she looked into the bowl on the tray. Broth? That's it! Her stomach protested again. "How long have I been unconscious?" she asked as Olivia stacked pillows behind her to try to make her more comfortable.

"A week, yesterday, Mistress," she said gently. "Lady Isabella will be happy to know you are awake." She hesitated, obviously debating on whether to leave her or not.

"I'll sit with her."

Elizabeth's eyes swung to the doorway. Malfoy was leaning against the frame. Her gaze took in his appearance. He seemed to have recovered nicely. His irritating smirk was right back on his handsome face as if it had never truly left. As she watched, he pushed himself away from the door and sauntered into the room. She was surprised that his sudden presence didn't make her nervous. "You're free to go and tell Lady Isabella our Sleeping Beauty has seen fit to arouse herself from the confines of her slumber," he said with a wicked grin. He winked, causing Olivia to blush and sending her into a nervous twitter.

Elizabeth snorted as Olivia hurried from the room. "What was that?" she asked incredulously as Malfoy sat down in the chair next to her bed. She lifted an eyebrow at his satisfied smirk.

He shrugged. "Ninety-nine percent women find me irresistible. It doesn't take much to get them to do my bidding."

"And the other 1 percent?" Elizabeth asked, unable to resist enquiring.

"Are clearly lesbians," he said nonchalantly, but with a trace of a grin.

Elizabeth was slightly confused at Malfoy's teasing, but laughed out right then grabbed her stomach at the sudden discomfort. "I am again reminded of your enormous ego. Be careful. It threatens to suffocate all the decency left within you."

Malfoy looked appalled. "Who said I was decent?"

Elizabeth wanted to laugh again at Malfoy's expression. "Well, clearly there's a small speck of good inside your black heart or you wouldn't have risked your life to save another."

Malfoy rolled her grey eyes. "Purely by accident, I assure you. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Elizabeth said nothing as she gazed down at the blue color of her ring and smiled knowingly. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't have healed you then."

He stared at her for a moment, his steel gaze boring into her. "I understand why you did. It's what you do. It's who you are," he whispered softly. Elizabeth's blue gaze met his steel one and she frowned, not sure what to make of his comment. Suddenly, as if realising what he had said, he smirked and threw an arm casually over the back of the chair. "I mean, what woman could live with herself if she were to allow me to slip from this world, when she had the ability to save me. It would be a crime against humanity to waste such a splendid specimen of manhood such as myself."

She suppressed a smile. Malfoy had been uncomfortable. For the briefest of moments, he had let his guard down and allowed the vulnerable part of him to see daylight. Now he was trying to cover it up. This, she could understand. Masks had been a part of her life as well. She decided to let him off the hook and popped herself in the forehead, feigning a sudden memory. "Of course, I was enraptured by the sight of your bare chest and your strangely sensual, disgusting wound as you lay motionless on the bed. How could I forget? Silly me," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.  

The corners of his mouth twitched as Malfoy raked her form with his eyes and she became suddenly aware she was merely covered in a thin nightgown. She pulled the bedclothes closer to her defensively as he leaned forward and raised a lock of her hair from her shoulder and twirled it between his fingers. "Remind me to thank you thoroughly once you are out of your sickbed."

"Go to hell, Malfoy," she said coldly, at his insinuation.

"I tried to," he said simply and leaned back into his chair, letting the lock of hair fall back to her shoulder.

They stared at each other for several minutes. His expression unreadable for once. She looked down at her ring again. Two clear sparkling diamonds winked back at her. He was being honest. He had tried to hurt himself. Why? She glanced back up at him, the question on the tip of her tongue.

"Ahh, I see Draco has been kind enough to sit with you while Olivia was away. How nice," said her grandmother as she strode through the door. Malfoy immediately stood as she walked into the room and stopped at the foot of her bed. "You look much better, my child. I must say I'm not very pleased with how you handled Draco's injury, but it has all corrected itself in the end so I will forgive you. But I must insist that you remain confined to your bed until Healer Smethwyck feels it is safe for you to be up running around again. Olivia is bringing up something more substantial for you to eat. She should be up in a moment from the kitchens." She glanced at Malfoy. "Lunch is being served in the main dinning room, Draco. I believe your mother is waiting for you to join her."

Elizabeth suppressed a grin. Obviously, her grandmother was also immune to his charms. He gave a half-bow to her grandmother. "Lady Isabella." Then he turned back to Elizabeth and inclined his head. "Mistress Fairchild." She watched as he strode gracefully from the room. She had to give him credit. He did know how to act the proper gentleman. Her grandmother strode to the chair Malfoy had recently vacated and sat down primly.

"That boy is far too handsome for his own good. And unfortunately, he knows it," her grandmother said stiffly. "He's been sending Olivia into a dither all week with the slightest of glances. I've found it quite annoying." She raised an eyebrow to Elizabeth. "Be warned, Elizabeth. I am quite sure he would love a good tumble under your sheets and I'll be damned if he doesn't try."

Elizabeth gaped at her grandmother. She couldn't believe she had just said that.

Her grandmother waved her look of bewilderment away. "Don't look so surprised, Elizabeth. I may be old, but I am not dim-witted. I can see clearly what is before me. Lucius was much the same way when he was younger, though I have higher hopes for Draco. He seems to have a bit of his mother in him, after all. But I'm pleased to hear, you are not as impressed with Draco as he is with himself so I doubt your virtue is in any danger. Though I would encourage a little more interest. He would make a good match for you, my child."

Elizabeth chose to ignore her grandmother's comment. She didn't want to discuss Malfoy. Instead, she asked, "Has my owl, Caprasius, arrived from Hogwarts? I'd like to owl my friends and let them know I'm all right. I'm sure they will be worried since they've had no word from me."

"Yes, he arrived shortly after Draco did. The letter that was attached was put inside your bedside table to await your recovery, along with all the others that have arrived since. If you would like, I'll have one of the house-elves fetch your owl from the Owlery and you can spend the rest of the day writing to your friends," her grandmother said pleasantly.

Elizabeth smiled genuinely. "That would be lovely."

"Very well. Prissy."

A female house-elf with a sweet, cherry nose and enormous green eyes appeared almost instantly beside her bed and curtsied so deep that her ears touched the floor. "Yes, Lady Isabella," she said in a squeaky voice.

"Fetch Elizabeth's owl for her and bring up a suitable perch," her grandmother said without even glancing in the house-elf's direction. "And take this back to the kitchens." Her grandmother waved an elegant hand at the tray on her bedside table. She looked down at Elizabeth as she pushed herself up with her cane. "Is there anything else you might need, my child?" Elizabeth shook her head. "Well, if you should think of something, Prissy will answer your call, day or night." Her grandmother walked silently out the door.

"Thank you, grandmother," Elizabeth called after her as she shut the door behind her. She turned toward a nervous looking Prissy who was holding the tray of broth perched on top of her head. "It's okay, Prissy. You may go. I'll be fine for now. Thanks."

 Prissy bobbed her head, causing the tray to rattle and the bowl of broth to teeter dangerously close to falling. "Prissy will be back soon with Mistress's owl," she squeaked. Then with a small 'pop' she was gone.

Elizabeth immediately opened the drawer to her bedside table, pushed aside the unopened letters and pulled out her looking glass. She looked at her reflection, hesitating for a moment. This was going to take a lot of explaining. She just hoped she had enough time before Olivia came back.

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Harry knew life could be worse. It could be much worse. But the thought didn't cheer him any as he trudged up the dark staircase of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Hogwarts had been closed indefinitely by the ministry until an investigation could be completed on how the Death Eaters were able to enter the grounds and new security wards could be put into place. Now he was staying with the Weasley's at his godfather's childhood home, headquarters for The Order of the Phoenix.

The place looked completely different now then it had when Harry first entered it over a year ago. The rooms had been given a thorough cleaning and one could walk down the hallway now without hearing whispers behind covered portraits. The serpent chandelier and other objects still gave proof to the original inhabitants of the house, but at least they were clean, therefore easier to overlook. The shrunken house-elf heads that had been mounted on wooden plaques along the wall of the staircase were gone as well, along with Mrs. Black's shrieking portrait. The house-elf, Kreacher, had not been seen since the night of Sirius' death six months ago. Harry had been glad to hear of his absence since he wasn't sure how he would react to seeing him again.

He glanced down as his hand grazed the Christmas garland that hung from the stair rail. Mrs. Weasley had decorated everything for Christmas, hoping to lift the spirits of everyone that was now forced to stay there. It had taken Harry a few days to get use to being in the house again. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of Sirius and his heart had felt the familiar tug of guilt and sorrow that had been prevalent during his last visit.

He had come during the end of the summer holiday, three weeks before start of term. He had spent most of the first three days in Sirius's old room, going over and over in his mind what he could have done differently, thinking he would never feel whole again. But then Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had come and slowly coaxed him from the room, reminding him that Sirius would want him to go on with his life as best he could. He had grown tired of their worried glances and forced smiles. Eventually, he had stopped going into Sirius's room altogether. He had pretended the pain had started to fade, forced a smile on his face so his friends wouldn't worry so much, and hoped that his heart would soon be convinced that life was worth living again. It had worked to a point. Well, most of the time. The nights had been difficult with visions of Sirius plaguing his dreams. But during the day, he had thrown everything he had into learning Occlumency. Dumbledore had given him lessons almost every night while he was at headquarters. Ron had also convinced him to try to start learning how to Apparate. By the time they had climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express on September first, he, Ron and Hermione had received their Apparition licenses from the ministry. His life had slowly returned to some semblance of normalcy.

And now he was here once more. A completely different person than when he had left. He no longer felt the need to torture himself over Sirius's death, though the pain of his loss was still felt deeply at times. He wanted to live. He wanted to love and be loved. He felt worthy of life now. Elizabeth had done that. Elizabeth had made him stronger, just by being whom she was and loving him anyway, despite everything that had happened to her. And now his heart ached again, but for a different reason. Because she was not near.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair as he turned the doorknob to the bedroom he shared with Ron. He walked over to his bed, threw himself across it and landed on his back. He stared restlessly at the ceiling. A ray of sunlight was beaming through the window above his bed and a rainbow of colour was splashed across it. He could hear the muffled voices of the others as they talked and laughed in the kitchen below, enjoying each others company while finishing the lunch Mrs. Weasley had prepared. He had quickly eaten, making sure he ate enough so that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't nag him, then quietly slipped upstairs to relax before Professor McGonagall arrived to give them lessons. She had decided it was her duty to continue teaching them Transfiguration while they were here. "At least four of my students will be continuing their education during this bloody war," she had spouted. Hermione had been thrilled.

His thoughts drifted again to Elizabeth. He was worried about her. She hadn't answered any of their letters since they had arrived and the mirror had remained quiet for a whole week. Tonks had assured him that no attack had been made on Fairchild Manor and Elizabeth was still safe, but she had let it slip that a healer had been seen coming and going several times throughout the last week. He sincerely hoped the healer wasn't there because something had happened to Elizabeth. Maybe her grandmother was ill or something. Harry shook head and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. The waiting was starting to get to him.

"Harry?"

He flicked his head toward the mirror he had propped up against the lamp on his bedside table and immediately sat up. Elizabeth's beautiful face was smiling back at him. He snatched the mirror off the table. "Thank God, Elizabeth. Are you all right?" Harry asked desperately. The sound of her quiet laugh soothed his soul more than he thought possible.

"We ask that a lot I've noticed. We should try to fix that," she said teasingly.

Harry smiled in spite of himself. "I've missed you something fierce."

Her smile dimmed and her eyes took on a look of longing. "I miss you now," she said softly. "I'm so sorry I haven't been able to talk to you for so long."

"It doesn't matter now. I know you're safe. That's what counts," Harry said reaching out his fingers and tracing her image with his hand. He would do anything to be able to touch her right now.

"I'm glad to see your bandages are gone and you still have both your eyes intact," she said, putting her hand out toward his, obviously thinking the same thing.

"Yeah, Madame Pomfrey removed them right after I spoke with you last. She slapped me with some foul-smelling goo and by the next day, you could barely see it," Harry said lightly, then frowned, remembering what Tonks had said about the healer at Fairchild Manor. "Has your grandmother been ill?"

Elizabeth dropped her gaze. "No."

Harry got a strange feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear, but asked the question anyway. "There has been a healer coming and going from there. Has he been coming to see you?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Elizabeth bit her lip then she said quietly, "I suppose he has. I really can't remember. Except for the first time. My grandmother didn't like how I reacted while Hogwarts was being attacked. Remember? I told you I was worried and that I knew something was wrong."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "But you were fine when I talked with you last. Maybe a little pale, but nothing to be too concerned about really. So why is he still coming to see you?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Malfoy arrived from Hogwarts. His mother is here. Healer Smethwyck said he probably wouldn't live through the night. He was dying because he saved someone else. I couldn't let him die, Harry. Even if he is Malfoy. So I-I . . ."

"Healed him," Harry said in a raw voice. He watched Elizabeth nod her head as the irony of it washed over him in waves. "You took his wound on yourself." Harry ran his hand through his hair again, not believing what he was hearing. "He was seriously injured! You could have died, Elizabeth!"

And it would have been my fault!

"But I didn't, did I?" she said gently. She thought of what Malfoy had said earlier. "It's what I do, Harry. It's what I am. I won't allow someone to suffer because of me. Ever," she said firmly.

Harry swallowed against the bile that he had risen in his throat and closed his eyes. He could have lost her and been completely unaware of it for days.

"Harry?" Elizabeth said softly. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. "I'm all right. We both are. Though Malfoy seems different now. But I still don't . . ." Her head suddenly snapped sideways as if someone unexpected had just appeared then she muttered, "Damn . . . got to go!" Her face suddenly vanished.

Harry stared at the mirror for several minutes, resisting the urge to call out to her. Finally, he placed the mirror back on the bedside table, sincerely hoping it wouldn't be another week before she could talk to him again.

He fell back on his bed and gave a loud growl. Malfoy was there at Fairchild Manor. With Elizabeth! DAMN!