The Legend of Chime

Chapter fifteen Tortured Emotions

"I thought you said she was being guarded! You said she wasn't in any danger!" Harry shouted, his face red as he burst through the kitchen doors to confront Professor Lupin. All conversation stopped at Harry's words and everyone turned to gawk at him.

Professor Lupin's expression showed little surprise at the venom in Harry's voice. He slowly sat his cup back down on the table and took a deep breath. "Elizabeth is awake," he said calmly, refusing to meet Harry's glare.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why wasn't I told Malfoy had been sent to Fairchild Manor?"

"What?" Ron's eyes widened. Hermione and Ginny gasped.

Mrs. Weasley stepped forward trying to defuse the situation. "Harry, dear. It seemed best . . ."

"Well, that's not for you to decide!" Harry interrupted sharply, not caring if he hurt her feelings. "I won't tolerate being lied to."

"Calm down, Harry. No one has lied to you," said Lupin.

"Yeah, you just neglected to tell me about Elizabeth being unconscious for a week!" Harry seethed, venting his frustration. "I thought things had changed since Sirius's death. Obviously, I was wrong!" Lupin flinched slightly at Sirius's name and Harry knew he had gone too far.

"Things have changed, Harry. But not for the better. Not by a long shot," Lupin said calmly, but his voice held a note of bitterness. "We knew there was nothing that could be done for Elizabeth. She would recover and she did. She has a power you cannot understand, Harry. She doesn't yet fully understand it herself. She does what she is drawn to do. Saving young Malfoy was her decision. Telling you what had happened before she had a chance to recover would have caused you undue stress. It seemed needless at the time."

"Does everyone else in The Order know?" Harry asked bitterly then fought the urge to shout again as Lupin and Mrs. Weasley exchanged guilty looks. "If I'm told what is happening as it happens, I deal with them much better than finding out later. I'm not a child. I would appreciate it if everyone would stop treating me like one," Harry said between clenched teeth.

"Fair enough," said Lupin. "If anything else happens, I'll tell you personally. As long as you promise not do anything irrational. I know your feelings for her are strong."

"That's an understatement," Harry mumbled, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table next to Ron.

"Well, now that your temper is back to normal. Would you like a cup of tea, dear, while you wait for Professor McGonagall?" Mrs. Weasley asked, already pouring him a cup.

"Thanks," said Harry, feeling slightly sorry for yelling at her. Mrs. Weasley gave him an understanding smile as she refilled everyone's cup then sat down at the end of the table.

Professor Lupin asked, "How did Elizabeth seem?"

"Tired," Harry said simply.

 "That is reasonable. Healing still takes a lot out of her," said Lupin quietly, lifting his cup once again to his mouth.

"What you do mean 'still'?" asked Hermione curiously, piping up for the first time since Harry's tirade.

Lupin took a sip of his tea and glanced at Hermione over the rim of his cup. "The strength of Elizabeth's power increases the older she becomes. Eventually, healing will become second nature to her, no longer draining her strength, sort of like Animagi becoming use to transforming, accept to a greater degree," he informed her.

"But Dumbledore said that Chime use to die at an early age because they weren't strong enough to heal people who didn't love them or something like that?" Harry asked, slightly confused.

"But each Chime born has a power greater than the one before her. She has the instinctive knowledge of the past Chime. They speak to her when she has need and sometimes they will speak through her," Lupin said, setting his cup down and meeting his eye.

Harry's mind flashed to the scene in the hospital wing three months ago, Elizabeth speaking to Dumbledore as if he were her child.

"It is another reason why she caught up so quickly in her studies. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she already has the knowledge. Even if she didn't have a photographic memory, she would have done well," Lupin finished quietly.

Harry sat back in his chair. It was a lot to comprehend. Lupin had been right. He hadn't understood. He probably still didn't. He probably never would.

"Blimey, that sounds spooky. People talking to you in your head," Ron said, unable to keep the shudder from his voice.

"I'm sure it's not like she's got a hundred people in her head, Ron," said Hermione gently. "Probably more like her own conscience or something. Isn't that right, Professor?"

"I would think so, Hermione," Lupin said pleasantly.

A loud, clanging bell sounded in the main foyer and Mrs. Weasley sprang up from her seat. "That will be Professor McGonagall. You four need to make your way into the drawing room. We don't want to keep her waiting," she said quickly as she strode out the door and into the hall.

The four of them pushed themselves up from the table and slowly made their way through the kitchen door and down the hall. Hermione caught Harry's eye as he held the drawing room door open for her and Ginny. "Don't worry, Harry. Elizabeth can handle Malfoy," she said encouragingly as she stepped through the door. Harry responded with a small nod.

That's not what I'm afraid of.

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Olivia pushed open her bedroom window and Elizabeth shivered slightly at the sudden blast of frosty wind that reached her. She turned to Cap and gently ran her hand down his back one last time and whispered, "Keep your eyes open and be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you." Elizabeth smiled briefly into his golden eyes. "Say hello to Hedwig and Pig for me." Cap hooted dolefully then spread his wings and flew through the window.

Elizabeth exhaled a shaky breath as she watched Olivia shut the window. "Thanks, Olivia." She laid back against her pillows, starting to feel the weariness in her body return. She hoped she had done the right thing. Hermione probably still won't understand. She barely understood herself, but she felt she had to try to explain why she had healed Malfoy. She knew Hermione wouldn't judge her if she didn't. But writing it down had been comforting in a sense.

There had been something in the deepest part of her that knew if she allowed Malfoy to die, she would lose a vital part of who she was. A part she could not sacrifice for the sake of vengeance. And when Malfoy had come to her earlier today, she had expected to feel an overwhelming rage and nervousness at the sight of him. But she hadn't. When she had stopped to look into his eyes, she had felt pity and compassion. She had been confused, but pushed the reason for her unnatural reaction to him to the back of her mind. But now that's all her mind wanted to focus on. Why?

Her mind unwillingly drifted back to the thoughts that had coursed through her head along with the intense agony during the healing. She winced at the violent visions that flashed through her mind. She now realised she had seen Malfoy's deepest memories and fears, everything that had made him who he was. They had caused more damage to her than his injury. They were what had caused the darkness to engulf her for so long.

"Go to hell, Malfoy."

"I tried to."

His words had held no malice. They had been honest and now she understood.

She allowed her eyes to close again, giving in to her body's call for more rest. She heard Olivia open the door and shut it again as her mind drifted and her body relaxed. She started to dream.

She was running through the snow, laughing so hard that tears were falling from her eyes. She was suddenly tackled from behind and she squealed as a man cushioned her fall with his own body. Harry's green eyes smiled down at her then he kissed her lips. "Remember, I love you." She smiled and reached out to touch his face, bloody bandages appeared beneath her fingertips and his face contorted with pain. "It's not your fault, Elizabeth." Then Harry started to fall into the surrounding darkness. She flung herself at his fading form, trying to keep him from falling, but bodies of other faceless students started raining from the sky and when she looked back. Harry was gone. Elizabeth started screaming for Harry not to leave her . . .

Then the dream changed . . .

She was watching as a small boy with silver-blonde hair was being beaten by a larger version of himself. Elizabeth protested as the man raised his cane over and over again, but her shouts of anger went unheard as the man screamed into the little boy's face. "Malfoys never cry, you pitiful excuse for a son. Now, get up! And do it again!" The boy slowly pulled himself up and she saw he held a wand in his little hand. His face was bloodied and swollen and his left arm was cradling his ribs. He was in a great amount of pain, but refused to utter another whimper as he performed the requested spell perfectly. The boy turned to look at her and his sweet, bruised face suddenly grew into the handsome face of Malfoy . . . he looked down at his arm, hating the mark that glared back at him . . . Elizabeth was standing next to him in a deserted classroom . . . she couldn't move and had no desire to . . . she wanted the ring that gleamed on his finger . . . Malfoy wanted her . . . not her . . . her power . . . he kissed her tenderly . . . she made him feel things long forgotten . . . things he secretly yearned for . . . They were in the library now . . . she grabbed for the ring . . . he caught her hand . . . he knew he was being controlled as much as she . . . he took the ring from his neck . . . he placed it inside a box . . . he tied the box to an owl . . . They stared at each other in the corridor . . . she raised her hand . . . Malfoy flew against the wall . . . she was too late . . . the ring was gone . . . she raised her wand . . . he felt numb from the waist down, but was able to move his legs . . . Malfoy stood in the Great Hall . . . flashes of red flew by from every direction . . . the room was in utter chaos . . . students were screaming and some were falling to the ground as they were hit by stunning spells . . . Malfoy bolted forward . . . he rammed his body into a barely visible form of a man then turned around . . . he threw levitating spells at two limp girls before they could hit the ground . . . Suddenly, Harry was there . . . a shadow was hurled into the wall and knocked unconscious . . . Malfoy turned and muttered his thanks as he threw a curse at another descending Death Eater. . . . Harry was bloody and running after the retreating Death Eaters from across the room . . . Malfoy grabbed a flash of shimmery cloak . . . he pulled as he heard "Avada Kedavra!" shouted . . . a flash of green hit the wall, barely missing Harry . . . a jet a purple fire . . . immense pain . . . darkness . . .

Only you can save him. Only you can save yourself . . .

"Mistress Fairchild! Mistress Fairchild!"

Elizabeth opened her eyes. Her cheeks were wet, her breath was coming in gasps and every inch of her body was covered in sweat. Her bedcovers were twisted around her legs as if she had been trying to run while they covered her. Olivia was standing over her looking extremely frightened. The sunlight, which had been streaming into her room before, had now turned to purple twilight and the sconces on the walls were now flickering and casting a soft light.

"You were shouting, Mistress. Are you all right? Do you need Healer Smethwyck?" Olivia asked in a trembling voice.

Elizabeth pushed herself up in bed, ignoring the tenderness in her abdomen, willing her heart to stop beating so fast. "No . . . It's okay," she panted, her chest heaving. "It was just . . . a bad dream."

Olivia didn't look convinced.

Elizabeth took a few moments to catch her breath then offered her a weak smile. "Really. I'm all right. I've had bad dreams before. It's no big deal." She glanced around the room to make sure no one else had come running, then took a deep breath. Olivia hurried over to straightened her bedcovers. Elizabeth allowed her to fuss for a moment, feeling slightly uncomfortable. She didn't think she would ever get use to people doing things for her that she was quite able to do for herself.

When her bed was back to normal, Olivia went to her armoire and retrieved a fresh nightgown for her. Olivia handed it to her then said, "This might make you feel a bit better, Mistress."

"Thank you, Olivia. You're probably right," Elizabeth said with a weak smile, as she pulled back her blankets and slowly swung her legs over the edge of her bed. "I think I'll need a bath first though."

Olivia's eyes grew wide with concern. "But Lady Isabella said you were not to leave your bed, Mistress," she said, wringing her hands.

"I'm sure she doesn't expect me to lie here and marinate in my own aroma either," Elizabeth said lightly, slowly pushing herself up from her bed, feeling slightly wobbly. She placed her left-hand back on the bed for support then pulled on her dressing gown and started taking slow steps around the bed toward the bath.

Olivia hesitated for a moment, obviously trying to decide whether she should assist her or not. "Please, Mistress. Allow me to at least fill the bath before you attempt to get out of bed," she pleaded softly.

"Save your breath, Olivia," came a familiar drawl.

Elizabeth straightened herself up and lifted her chin as Malfoy closed the distance between her bedroom door and the bed on which she had been leaning a moment before.

"Gryffindors are known to be quite large pain in the arses. And Mistress Fairchild is no exception, it appears," he said as he reached out a hand to steady Elizabeth who had leveled a rather menacing glare in his direction and almost lost her balance in the process. "Go ahead and fill her bath. I'll make sure she doesn't kill herself by falling and splitting open her skull," Malfoy said to Olivia, flicking his head in the direction of the bath and grabbing Elizabeth by the elbow then wrapping his arm around her waist.

Elizabeth pushed his hand away from her and tried to shake out of his grip. "Since when do you play nursemaid, Malfoy?" she asked curtly, reaching out to steady herself with the bedpost.

Malfoy wouldn't let go of her elbow until she had sat back down on the bed. "Since when do you heal people that you hate?" he shot back at her.

Elizabeth made herself busy straightening her dressing-gown and refused to meet Malfoy's eye. "Touché. I guess neither one of us is acting like we should."

Malfoy sat down in a nearby chair and watched her fuss for a moment then said, "I blame you for that. Though I'm not certain if it's blame or credit that should be given to you. "

Elizabeth glanced up and met his steel gaze and for an instant, she saw the shadow of the little boy he once was. She mentally shook herself and looked back down at her hands. "Good point," she said quietly. They remained silent for several minutes until Elizabeth grew uncomfortable under his watchful gaze and glanced back up at him. "What?" she asked, feeling annoyed.

"What do you remember?" Malfoy asked suddenly as if he was afraid he'd lose the nerve.

Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "About the healing . . . or the other?" She knew she didn't have to explain what the other meant.

It was Malfoy's turn to avert his gaze. "Both," he said, suddenly finding a piece of lint on his robes and slowly attempting to swipe it away.

Elizabeth's expression became neutral as she continued to look at Malfoy. "Everything . . . about the healing, probably more than you'd like me to." Malfoy glanced up at her suddenly. She lifted her chin a notch. "And enough about the other to fill in the gaps."

Malfoy took a deep breath and leaned onto his knees then ran his fingers through his hair, causing a silver-blonde lock to fall out of place and onto his forehead. "Look, I'm sorry, but it's not what you think." He paused a moment searching for the correct words. "I didn't know what it would do to you . . . or to me for that matter . . . it was a gift . . . I should have stopped when . . . but I didn't . . . you were so . . . I thought," he ran his fingers through his hair again, "I don't know what I thought . . ." he trailed off, knowing his words would never make it right.

"I'd prefer not to talk about it if you don't mind," Elizabeth said softly. "I can't remember what happened farther than a kiss and have no desire to remember. You got rid of the ring . . . that's enough for me."

His eyes found hers again. "How do you know that?"

Elizabeth's mouth curved up at the corners. "I know more about you, Malfoy, than you will ever be comfortable with . . . I've seen your soul." They stared at each other for several minutes.

"Your bath is ready, Mistress Fairchild," Olivia said, coming to stand next to the bed.

Elizabeth pushed herself up from the bed and was happy to find she wasn't nearly as wobbly as her first attempt. Olivia still reached out a hand to steady her, but it wasn't really needed. Elizabeth turned to look at Malfoy once more. "Thank you for your assistance, Master Malfoy, but I believe you are no longer needed." She gingerly walked the rest of the way to the bath with Olivia close behind. A minute later, she heard the sound of her bedroom door closing.

 

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"Excellent, Ms. Granger . . . Ms. Weasley, I wouldn't attempt it yet if I were you. Remember, Ms. Granger is a year further along in her studies . . . Mr. Weasley, wipe that grin off your face. You're not much further along than your sister . . . Mr. Potter, do kindly pay attention . . . Mr. Potter . . . Mr. Potter!"

"Huh?" Harry shook himself out of his current daydream and turned away from the window and glanced toward Professor McGonagall and the others. "Sorry, Professor," he said then waved his wand and conjured a large chair for her benefit.

Professor McGonagall looked down her nose at him. "Very nice, Mr. Potter. But I believe we have moved on to conjuring items of necessity such as cloaks, school supplies, food, one's ability to think clearly . . ."

"Oh," Harry said dully then waved his wand three more times and conjured his cloak, an apple and a roll of parchment.

Ron made a disgusted sound. "How'd you get so good at conjuring things? You're better at it than Hermione now," he said enviously and Hermione let out a loud huff.

Harry shrugged and went back to looking out the window. He wasn't certain how he had gotten so good, but the ability to conjure anything he wanted failed to impress him. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts at the moment.

"Well, I suppose we can leave it here for now. Since tomorrow is Christmas, we won't be having lessons. And as my Christmas present to you all, I've decided to allow a two-week break. It only seems fair since you would have normally had no lessons during this time anyway. When we meet again, we'll start work on transposing," said Professor McGonagall crisply. At Ginny's excited look, she added, "All except you, Ms. Weasley. You haven't mastered vanishing and conjuring yet. Do keep practicing. You're making excellent progress."

"Transposing? What is that?" asked Ron frowning.

"If you read your Transfiguration book once in a while, you would know what transposing is," Hermione hissed, clearly still miffed about his earlier comment. "Transposing is the ability to conjure your mirror image and make it appear you are in two places at one time."

"Quite right, Ms. Granger. But it takes an extremely focused mind to transpose successfully," Professor McGonagall said with a meaningful glance at Harry's back. "It is not a skill easily mastered and not all wizards and witches have the ability to transpose convincingly."

"Sounds cool!" said Ron "I could probably trick Fred and George with that one!"

Professor McGonagall gazed over her square spectacles at Ron with a rather impatient expression, but remained silent.

Harry turned back to glance around the room when he heard everyone start to pack up. He noticed Professor McGonagall had made her way over to the door and was slipping on her cloak.

"Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" she prompted, placing her hat upon her head and tying it under her chin.

Harry strode over to her and lowered his voice. "Remember last year when you said you would help me become an Auror?" he asked hesitantly.

"Quite clearly, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, bristling at the memory of Professor Umbridge.

Harry took a deep breath and asked her what he had been contemplating for sometime. Professor McGonagall's expression showed no hint of surprise at his request.

"I have to admit, Mr. Potter, had you asked me before this year I would have said no, but now. . . . Now I see it could be very useful. Professor Dumbledore mentioned you might ask and has already given his permission. But I warn you. It is not something undertaken lightly. It is extremely painful in the beginning and only people with a tremendous amount of fortitude can withstand the training," Professor McGonagall said grimly.

"What is extremely painful in the beginning?" Ron asked, walking up to stand next to Harry.

"Er-" Harry hesitated for a moment. He knew Ron wasn't the best at Transfiguration and didn't want him to feel bad if Professor McGonagall refused to allow him to try. But Harry also knew he couldn't keep it from him for long so he decided he might as well tell him now. Who knows? Maybe Professor McGonagall will allow them all to try to learn.

"Learning to become an Animagi," Harry finally managed.

"You're going to learn to be an Animagi?" Ron asked, sounding impressed. "Good Luck, mate. The way I hear it, transforming is like someone ripping your bones out and shoving them back in the wrong way," he shuddered, "Not something that appeals to me, I'm afraid. I'll be happy with just being able to transpose. Maybe Hermione will do it with you?"

"Do what?" chirped Hermione, who had been talking with Ginny but stopped mid-sentence to look over her shoulder at Ron.

"Learn to be an Animagi. Professor McGonagall is going to teach Harry," piped Ron.

"Cool!" breathed Ginny.

Hermione's eyes brightened momentarily, but as she glanced at Professor McGonagall, her look became uncertain and she bit her lip. "I would love to try, but only if it's all right with Professor McGonagall?"

Professor McGonagall gave her a pleasant, but stiff smile. "Very well, Ms. Granger." She glanced back at Harry. "Animagus training will be separate from your Transfiguration lessons and you must keep up in your lessons or the training will stop. Is that clear?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks and quickly agreed.

"Very well then," said Professor McGonagall, putting on her gloves. "Your training will be in the evenings beginning in one week. Now if you will excuse me, I have an appointment I must keep. A Merry Christmas to you all."

Harry grinned for the first time in days. "Merry Christmas, Professor," he said and watched Professor McGonagall disappear out into the hall.

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Draco flipped open the book to the correct page and slowly slid his finger down it while he scanned the words:

Of the many different known types of healers, a Chime is one of the most mysterious and effective of wizardkind. The healing power of Chime is a power like no other. They are known to have the wondrous ability to heal not only the horrendous physical wounds, but deep psychological wounds of their patient as well. A mental connection is formed during a healing referred to as Conligatio, which occurs rarely with other healers, but is said to always occur in the event of Chime healing. They also have the ability to survive extreme injury to their person, unlike most healers. A true Chime is extremely rare. There have only been twenty in recorded history and so the extent of their healing powers is not completely known.

"Yeah. Tell me something I don't already know," said Draco, slamming the book shut in frustration.

He had been slightly unnerved by Elizabeth's last comment and had decided to try to find as much information about her abilities as possible. Unfortunately, every book that he had found so far that even mentioned Chime healings had all said the same thing; They were extremely rare and the extent of their powers were unknown.

He pushed himself up from the desk and headed back toward one of the enormous bookshelves that dominated the Fairchild library. He searched the shelves for what seemed like hours, but could find nothing else on the powers of Chime.

Bloody Hell!

 

His back was starting to hurt from all the stretching and lifting and he absently rubbed it as he rolled head on his neck to get rid of the stiffness. I definitely need to get back up on my broom if I'm this out of shape. He walked back to the desk then sunk into the leather chair and eyed the stack of twenty or so books piled in front of him. Of course these bloody books weigh about 20 pounds each. The people who wrote them clearly had no life.

 His eyes drifted leisurely around the distinguished library for the first time, noting the dark furniture and masculine decor. This had been Master Fairchild's domain, I suppose. His gaze fell on the crystal decanters that gleamed at him from inside a nearby cabinet and he smiled to himself as he pushed up from the desk once more. He casually strode to the cabinet, lifted the elegant top off of the largest decanter and poured himself a drink. He quickly downed the whole glass in one swallow, enjoying the faint sting of the alcohol as it slid down his throat. He grabbed the decanter and headed back toward the desk, determined to get himself soused. He knew it would probably take a lot more than the delicate decanter to accomplish it, but he figured it was a good start. He poured himself another glass and stared into the amber liquid for a moment before putting the glass to his lips and tilting his head back.

Draco, you arse. You have found yourself in a difficult situation indeed. What were you thinking saving Potter? The Dark Lord will not be amused to find you have succeeded in saving The boy who lived, only to be healed by the Chime herself. Bloody hell! Who could have foreseen that? And now she gives you the warm and fuzzies. You bloody idiot! Try figuring a way out of this mess without getting yourself killed. Not bloody likely!

He went to pour himself another drink and noticed the decanter was empty. He pulled his wand from his robe pocket and flicked it in the direction of one of the other crystal decanters. "Accio Spirits!" He deftly caught the bottle and quickly poured himself another drink, sliding his wand back into his pocket.

"And what would Lady Isabella say if she were to find you guzzling down her expensive Scotch?" Narcissa asked smoothly.

Draco glanced up briefly at his mother over the rim of the glass then downed the spirits and set the glass down on the desk. He said nothing as she made her way over to the fire, pausing briefly to fill her own glass from the cabinet. She turned back toward him and indicated the books that were still in front of him.

"You'll find nothing about her in any of those," Narcissa said as she took a sip from her glass and smiled knowingly.

Draco's only reaction to her comment was a slight lifting of his eyebrows as he poured himself another drink.

Narcissa walked over to the desk, put down her drink and picked up the crystal decanter then replaced the delicate stopper. "And you won't get her out of your mind this way either." She walked back to the cabinet and put the bottle back where it belonged. She gave a small laugh as she turned back toward him. "My poor handsome dragon has finally found a girl worthy of him and all he wants to do is drown himself in spirits, hoping to deaden his feelings for her. How like your father, you are?"

Draco set his glass back down with a loud thud then pushed himself up out of the chair and headed toward the door.

"Fear not, Draco. You'll soon have what you desire," Narcissa said softly as Draco opened the library door. He turned back toward her unable to resist the promise in her voice.

"And what is that supposed to mean, Mother?" Draco said in a bored voice that belied his sudden interest.

Narcissa smiled and lifted an eyebrow. "Lady Isabella is planning a dinner party to introduce Elizabeth to proper society. All the Wizarding Elite will be in attendance. No one in their right mind would refuse an invitation. It's been years since she's given one. She intends to find Elizabeth a proper pureblood husband. She wants to sign a betrothal contract before the beginning of spring. She's getting on in years and plans on being around for the birth of another Fairchild before it is her time. And you, my dear son, are at the top of her list of suitable husbands," she said proudly.

Draco frowned, wishing he hadn't drunk the whole decanter now. It was difficult to keep track of his mother's words. "Does Elizabeth know any of this?" he finally managed to say.

Narcissa gave another small laugh. "Of course not! She has been raised in the world of muggles and knows nothing of the proper pureblood traditions of her line. Lady Isabella wants to introduce her to the idea gradually. She doesn't want what Rebecca did to be repeated by her daughter, after all. It took years to live that scandal down. Greyson Pierce is still touchy about the subject as a matter of fact. He and his wife will probably accompany his baby brother, what's his name, to the party. Well, anyway. I don't want you mentioning it to her either, Draco. I've noticed how close you have kept to her room this last week."

Draco rolled his eyes at his mother and immediately regretted it as he had to grab hold of the door frame to keep his balance. "While playing at matchmaker, you haven't forgotten why we are here have you, mother? There is a war going on. Surely, Lady Isabella doesn't intend to open her doors to the enemy and invite them to dinner."

At Draco's comment, Narcissa's smile completely faded and a cold glint returned to her eyes. "That is something I could never forget, Draco. But if Lady Isabella prefers to ignore it for a brief moment, I will use it to our advantage, my son. One must always keep one's options open, after all. The name Fairchild would definitely bring a certain amount of prestige back to the Malfoy name. And Lady Isabella may be many things, but senile is not one of them. I'd bet my life that she'll have spies and security guards mixed in with the regular guests and trying to get past that gate without an invitation will be like signing your own death certificate. She must protect her precious Chime heir at all cost or the line of Fairchild will be lost."

Draco stared at his mother for a minute struggling to digest all the information then without another word shut the library door, leaving her alone.

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"Har-ry?"

His eyes slowly opened at the sound of Elizabeth's singsong voice.

"Wake up, sleepyhead. Rise and shine. It's Christmas morning."

Harry rolled over in his bed and reached for the mirror. Elizabeth's enchanting laugh greeted him as he smiled into the glass surface. "I believe you've forgotten your glasses," she said as he squinted down at her.

"Very funny," Harry mumbled as he slid his glasses behind his ears and ran his fingers through his black hair in an attempt to tame it.

"Well, you're definitely not a morning person. And neither is Ron by the sounds of it," Elizabeth said as Ron let out a rather loud snore.

Harry smiled again. "Ron is usually the first one up on Christmas morning. But Mrs. Weasley let us have Eggnog last night after dinner and I believe Ron drank a little too much. He tried to snog Hermione under the mistletoe a little too enthusiastically, if you know what I mean, right in front of the whole family. Hermione was not amused and neither was Mrs. Weasley. But I have to admit, it was hilarious. Fred and George kept asking her if they could have a turn."

Elizabeth laughed again. "God, I would have loved to have seen that. Sounds like you three are having loads of fun while I'm stuck here counting the snowflakes as they fall."

"Your grandmother is still making you stay in bed?" Harry asked quietly.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Yes. At least until, Healer Smethwyck shows up later this morning to give me the once over. I swear if he tells me to stay in this bed one more day, I'll have to curse him."

Harry laughed at this. "He's just doing his job, Elizabeth."

"Yeah, I know. But he doesn't have to do it so well. For God's sake, my limbs are shriveling up from lack of use," she said bitterly.

Harry gave her a wick grin. "Too bad you're not here. I could be of some help in that department."

"I said limbs, Harry. Not breasts."

Harry let out a bark of laughter that shook Ron out of his sleep and he sat up suddenly in his bed, slightly disoriented. "Sorry, Ron. Go back to sleep," Harry said sniggering, his shoulders still shaking with mirth as he attempted to quiet his laugh.

Ron ruffled his mop of red hair and yawned as he glanced toward Harry with red-rimmed eyes then flopped back down in bed. "Tell Elizabeth I said hello," he mumbled. Less than a minute later, he was snoring again.

Harry opened his mouth, but Elizabeth said, "Don't bother. I heard. When he wakes up again, give him a kiss from me, just to shock the hell out of him."

"Not bloody likely!" Harry snorted. "I'll let you do that yourself when you see him again."

Elizabeth's smile faded a bit. "That might be awhile."

"So what are you and your grandmother doing for Christmas?" Harry asked changing the subject.

Elizabeth gave him a lopsided grin. "I have no clue, but whatever it is. I'm certain it will be very proper and require me to use every once of etiquette I have left on reserve." She took a deep breath. "I really miss you, Harry. And Hermione and Ron and Ginny. Hell, I even miss Fred and George and I've never even met them." A faint knock could be heard in the distance. "And there's Olivia right on cue. I think she might be spying on me or something," Elizabeth said, looking off into the distance at an unseen door. "Let her wait a moment. I'm never able to give you a proper good-bye."

"That would be impossible through the looking glass, Elizabeth," Harry said lightly.

"Yeah . . . Well . . ." Elizabeth thought for a moment then smiled. "I have an idea. Close your eyes. Just do it. Okay. Remember that kiss in front of the fire in the Room of Requirement."

"Yeah, I remember."

"Remember . . . how warm the fire was . . . remember the ache of absolute hunger . . . remember how it felt . . . to touch . . . to taste . . ."

Harry swallowed and licked his lips.

"Open your eyes, Harry."

 Harry did reluctantly and Elizabeth saw how dark his eyes had become. She smiled impishly. "Merry Christmas, Harry. I love you and now you won't forget."