The Legend of Chime

Chapter seventeen: The Unfolding

Elizabeth looked into the dark eyes of Severus Snape as she entered the drawing room. “Merry Christmas, Professor,” she said quietly and suppressed the urge to shudder at Snape’s familiar use of her name. Her grandmother did not seem pleased with her sudden appearance. “I apologise for the intrusion, grandmother. But . . .” She glanced back at Snape. “Has something happened, Professor?” she asked hesitantly.

Snape glanced at Lady Isabella for a brief moment before answering. “Nothing that involves you, Elizabeth,” he said stiffly. Elizabeth looked down at her ring. The blue stones twinkled brightly.

“If you will excuse us, my child. Professor Snape and I would like to finish our conversation so that he may be on his way,” her grandmother said smoothly, but with a note of impatience. Elizabeth inclined her head toward her grandmother.

“Of course. I apologise again, grandmother. It was good to see you again, Professor,” she said then slowly turned to go. She quietly closed the door behind her then walked to the staircase. She held onto the stair post as she slipped off her shoes and quietly returned to the drawing room door to listen.

“. . . beneficial if it was found. It would insure her protection and therefore, strengthen the House of Fairchild,” she heard Snape say briskly.

“Professor, I am well aware of the need to do just that. I have several reliable wizards searching for it as we speak. But Elizabeth is not aware of its existence and for the time being, I would like to keep it that way . . . until it is found. It would not do to give her false hope,” her grandmother’s voice said.

“Completely understandable. She has a strong will and can be quite unpredictable in temperament,” said Snape.

“Yes, she is a lot like her mother and grandfather. How is she fairing in her lessons?”

“Exceptional well, Lady Isabella. It seems she has inherited your excellent memory.”

“I would expect no less,” her grandmother replied. “I understand Hogwarts is to be reopened in a few weeks and Dumbledore is to be given full control.”

“Yes, that is correct. Elizabeth will be completely safe returning to Hogwarts. I assure you.”

 There was a long pause and Elizabeth started to wonder if the conversation had come to an abrupt end. She leaned in closer to the door, barely allowing herself to breathe as she strained to hear any evidence of movement from inside.

“Yes, well. We shall see,” her grandmother said softly. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Professor?”

“Thank you for the invitation, Lady Isabella. But I’m afraid I will have to decline.” Snape’s voice was dangerously close to the door. Elizabeth quickly tiptoed into the next room, leaving the door open a crack to watch Snape depart the house a few minutes later. When she was certain it was safe to cross the foyer without being seen, she made her way back to her room to find her mother’s diary, hoping the answers to her future lay inside its fragile pages.

********************************************************************************

They had gone through every book in the Black Family library or at least it seemed that way to Harry. But they had yet to find any information on The ring of Oenone or the Legend of Chime. To no one’s surprise, most of the books were dark in nature. A few even screamed loudly at them for daring to open their covers. Harry growled in frustration as he slammed a book shut that had just squealed and wiped itself clean as soon as he had opened it.

Suddenly, the noise of several people entering the house reached Harry’s ears and he quickly pushed himself up from the desk to make his way downstairs. Ginny, Ron and Hermione followed close behind.

Professor Lupin, Mr. Weasley, Charlie and Tonks were just sitting down at the table when they entered the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was pouring them a cup of tea and glanced at Harry and the others. “I thought you four were studying in the library,” she said then eyed the other members of The Order.

“It’s all right, Molly. I told Harry I would keep him informed and that’s what I plan on doing,” said Lupin calmly as Harry pulled out a chair across from him.

Mrs. Weasley looked at Ginny and opened her mouth, but Ginny beat her to the punch. “I’m not going anywhere, Mum. I’m sorry, but Elizabeth is my friend as well and if anything has happened. I want to know,” she said stubbornly. Her face flushed red with her sudden determination, but her eyes never wavered. Mrs. Weasley looked for a moment as if she was about to object, but then her eyes misted over a bit and her shoulders slightly slumped.

“Very well,” Mrs. Weasley said, her voice cracking. “I realise I can’t keep you a child forever. You’ve already been through so much . . .”

“Didn’t say that to us last year,” Ron mumbled under his breath.

“Thanks, Mum,” Ginny softly said, briefly hugging Mrs. Weasley before she took a seat next to Harry.

Harry turned back toward Lupin. “So what is the Ring of Oenone?” he asked without hesitation. “Hermione has told us about The Legend of Oenone, but what does it have to do with Elizabeth?”

Professor Lupin gave a weak smile. “I had a feeling you might have overheard that.” He paused a moment to gather his thoughts. “I was a bit confused about that as well. But after speaking with Professor Dumbledore, it seems quite obvious. As you might have guessed, The ring of Oenone is said to be the same ring that gifted the first Chime with her powers. But it is also believed to be the soul source of a Chime’s protection. Oenone gave the ring to her son, Korythos, to provide him with absolute protection from those who would seek to harm him. He passed it on to his son, Aeacus, whose mother was a Veela. Aeacus was the name of the Veela-fairy prince in the legend of Chime. He emptied the ring of its powers to heal then gave them to the daughter of his love, but knew if he did the same with the power of Divination, the ring would lose its power to protect. So he only gifted her with the power of magical sight then slipped the ring on her small finger to continue to protect after he was gone. He died soon after.”

“So what happened to the ring?” asked Harry.

“Well, no one really knows,” said Charlie. “A lot of different stories have evolved. But the favored one is that word got around about the ring’s power and the last family of Chime to hold the ring was waylaid and slaughtered. The ring stolen from them.”

 

“But if it has the power to protect, how could they get slaughtered?” asked Ron sounding confused.

“Because the ring only protects Chime. No one else,” said Lupin quietly.

“You see, Bill put the two legends together this morning after seeing Elizabeth’s picture,” said Mr. Weasley. “He had done some paperwork on the ring for Gringott’s security vaults a few months ago and remembered seeing it listed as a charmed item in the Fairchild’s vault and also remembered reading about its power to protect.”

“So Lady Isabella has given the ring to Elizabeth then?” asked Harry, his tone hopeful.

“That’s what we are hoping for. If she has, Voldemort will not be successful in his plans for Elizabeth,” said Tonks.

“So we need to find out if Elizabeth has the ring?” A smile crept over Harry’s face. “Why didn’t you say so?” He glanced at Ron and Hermione. They were smiling as well.

********************************************************************************

                                                                                                                           April 18, 1980

             I spent today much like the last three, inside the house wishing I was outside.

           It was the first truly beautiful day of the year. The sun was so bright. The scent

           of springtime was thick in the air and the flowers outside my window are bursting

           to bloom. Spring never fails to fill my heart with an untouchable hope. My

            Father told me once that Hope never dies, it just goes to sleep sometimes for

            a very long time. Then one day you turn around and there it is again exactly

            as you left it. Since then whenever spring comes around, I think of him and

            remember. Hope never dies.

             Even know when things seem the darkest, it whispers to me. I know one day

           soon my friends, Sirius and I will be able to enjoy a day like today without the threat

           that surrounds us now. Though sometimes I admit it’s hard to imagine. Sirius

            has promised me it will be so and I, the eternal optimist, choose to believe.

            I have to.

            Tomorrow is the day I’ve dreamt of for so long. Tomorrow I will pledge myself to

           Sirius and he to me. Forever. Not the huge celebration of my little girl fantasies’.

           Something even better. A quiet joining of our souls with all our closest friends in

            attendance. Just as it should be. We’ve decided to write our own vows though I

             believe Sirius might be cheating a bit. He has been seen in secret negotiations

            with Remus and they both are acting quite suspicious. When I asked James about

            it, he said he had no idea what they were talking about. The best man not knowing

            what the groom is up to. That would definitely be a first in the history of their

            friendship. Though I seriously doubt he was telling the truth. But that’s all right.

             I’ll let them play their little game. I can probably get it out of Peter.

             I have a secret as well. A secret I’ve shared with no one as yet. It’s a very special

             Wedding announcement that even Sirius knows nothing about. You see, Sirius is

             going to be a father not long after James.

             It’s been hard keeping it to myself. Especially when Lily is around. James dotes

            on her hand and foot which is really sweet. But of course, Sirius likes to give him

            a hard time about it. Not to worry James, Sirius’s day is coming soon.

            Lily has finally agreed to be my Matron-of-honour, but has also threatened me

            with bodily harm and a well placed Furnunculus curse if any pictures are taken

            of her. But I know, as Sirius likes to say, her bark is worse than her bite. She is six months

             pregnant and swears she resembles a erumpent. Unfortunately, she chose to say

             this in front of Sirius and he has taken to calling her Erp ever since. Which Lily

             doesn’t appreciate. I hope James will be kinder to me in the next few months. I

              don’t believe I’m as forgiving as Lily.

             Now that I think about it. Maybe the news of a grandchild will bring mother around

             to Sirius. But then again probably not.

             I do wish my parents were coming to the ceremony. I sent them a owl two weeks ago

             telling them of our plans, but it seems mother still refuses to forgive me for not

             honouring my betrothal to Greyson Pierce. She has sent back most of my letters

             unopened. But father wrote to me and told me congratulations. He said mother

             misses me something fierce and that is the only reason she refuses to open my

             letters. Mother never did make much sense.

              Father also sent me The ring of Oenone. He said he’s had another premonition that I’ll

             be the one to bare the next Chime. This knowledge doesn’t sit well with me. Father’s

              premonitions are usually right. I hope for my daughter’s sake, he’s wrong. Life is

             hard enough as it is without having such a heavy burden. But if she is, the ring will

              protect her. And so will I.

That was the last thing her mother ever wrote. She committed every word to memory, but still Elizabeth couldn’t help, but read and reread the entry over and over again. A slow ache rose in her chest as she realised that she was the last person her mother had ever wrote about. Her mother had vowed to protect her. Elizabeth’s heart turned cold and she closed her eyes for a moment. Not long after writing this, her mother had been taken by Death Eaters.

She looked back down at the words. The ring of Oenone. That was what her grandmother was looking for, but didn’t want her to know about. Elizabeth frowned, wondering how Snape knew about the ring and why he would concern himself with her protection. She shook her head. It didn’t make sense.

Someone whispered her name and she glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes searched the room behind her. No one was there. Strange . . . Then she heard it again and realised it was Harry’s voice coming from her drawer. She pushed herself up from her desk and hurried over to shut her bedroom door then strode to her bedside table. A smile lit her face as Harry gazed back at her through the looking glass.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I obviously did a very good job with that last memory,” she said teasingly.

Harry’s face flushed and he looked slightly embarrassed. “Er-yeah, you did.” He glanced subtly to the side. Elizabeth quickly understood. He wasn’t alone.

“Oh, I see. Tell Ron, Hermione and Ginny I said hello,” Elizabeth said with a smile. Harry grinned as she heard the three sporadically call out a greeting to her.

“Actually, there are a few other people here as well,” said Harry.

“Oh, really. Who?” she asked curiously. “Fred and George?”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “No. They’re upstairs tinkering with a new invention, I think. The people who are here now are members of The Order. Tonks, she was part of your guard,” she heard a “Wotcher, Elizabeth!” in the distance then Harry continued, “Professor Lupin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron’s Dad and Mum, and Charlie, Ron’s older brother.”

Elizabeth face showed a hint of surprise. “I’m honoured. But why are so many people wanting to talk to me?”

“They want to know if your grandmother gave you a special ring called The Ring of Oenone?” Harry asked.

Elizabeth frowned. “It seems they’re not the only ones. Professor Snape was here an hour ago. I believe he asked my grandmother the same question. Though I didn’t hear all of the conversation. Evidently, my grandmother doesn’t want me to know about its existence. She asked me to leave when I ventured into the drawing room . . . so I sort of stuck around and listened in a bit, unbeknownst to her.”

It was Harry’s turn to frown. “She has it and hasn’t given it to you then?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No. According to what I overheard, my grandfather sent it to my mother. But it seems to have been lost or stolen because it wasn’t among my mother’s things when her body was returned for burial.” Harry let out a frustrated noise and she glanced down at her hands, hesitating for a moment, before she softly continued, “My mother mentioned it in her diary . . . it was the last entry before . . .” She gazed back up at Harry, but didn’t continue. Her eyes started to burn.

Harry stared back at her with a look of shared sorrow. “I understand,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Harry. But could you ask Elizabeth if Rebecca’s diary mentioned what the ring was for?”

 Elizabeth heard Remus’s faint question and nodded. “She said that it would protect me if I was born Chime. But nothing else.”

Suddenly, Harry’s face was replaced by Lupin’s and he proceeded to tell her of the Legend of Oenone and how it was connected to her and the ring. When he was finished, Elizabeth’s smile was bittersweet. “So by wearing the ring, my protection would be insured. But it’s lost to me now.” She let out a harsh laugh. “I think I would have rather not known.”

Remus’s voice was tender when he next spoke, “Don’t lose hope, Elizabeth. It could still be found.” He gave a weak smile and it reminded Elizabeth of her mother’s words.

Hope never dies.

She took a deep breath and whispered, “I know, Remus. I won’t.”

********************************************************************************

Draco covertly studied the woman who sat across from him while he ate his Christmas dinner. She was a complete enigma and so were his feelings toward her. She no longer seemed to loath him as she once had which was good, but neither did she fall at his feet like most women did, which in his mind was slightly disturbing. He watched as she sat in her chair with perfect posture and attempted to look interested in the current conversation. He could tell she was nervous around Lady Isabella, afraid of not meeting her expectations. Clearly, she didn’t realise that she was the one with the upper hand. Lady Isabella didn’t look the type to enjoy physically abusing others and Elizabeth was the sole heir. So therefore, she could do anything she wanted. He would have to remind her of that, maybe it would help her not to be so nervous. He didn’t care for this prim and proper Elizabeth. He liked it better when she felt free to speak her mind. Draco’s eyebrows lifted. He surprised himself with that thought. He had never cared before whether a woman was herself or not, as long as he got what he wanted from her. But then again, he wasn’t certain what it was that he wanted from Elizabeth.

Draco suddenly realised that the others had finished dessert and were rising. He wiped his mouth and pushed himself away from the table as Elizabeth strode to the door.

“Elizabeth?”

She turned around to face Lady Isabella as Draco made his way over to her. “Yes, grandmother?”

Lady Isabella gifted her with a slight curve of her lips. “You may proceed to the Gallery with Draco. I will be up shortly to monitor your progress.”

Elizabeth glanced at him briefly then said, “Yes, grandmother.”

 

Draco opened the door for her, allowing her to pass through first before falling into step next to her. They slowly made their way up the stairs, neither one speaking for several moments.

“You’re going to have to show me where the Gallery is. I haven’t explored the house as thoroughly as I probably should have,” she said, stopping as they came to the top of the stairs.

He motioned to the right and led the way, very aware that Elizabeth followed one step behind and silently admired the paintings as they passed. He stopped at the door to the Gallery then opened it and waited her to enter.

Elizabeth slowly walked in and looked around at the enormous room with polished floors and tall windows that reached to the ceiling. Draco silently entered behind her and shut the door as she gazed at all the portraits hanging on the walls. The occupants of the portraits each looked at her in turn. Some curiously. Some suspiciously. She made her way over to the largest one in the middle of the room above the mantlepiece and smiled up at the distinguished looking gentlemen with a cropped beard and twinkling blue eyes. She read the nameplate directly underneath him. Jason Alexander Fairchild 1910-1993. “You’re my grandfather,” she said quietly.

“And you must be, Elizabeth,” he said in a deep voice, looking down at her proudly. “Isabella has told me a lot about you.”

Elizabeth tilted her head thoughtfully. “She has?” she asked, clearly surprised to hear this.

He slowly nodded his head as he studied her. “You have brought her back to her home and for that, I thank you. She is no longer lonely with you here.” He lowered himself into the chair that was painted right behind him and Draco could hear the whispers from the other portraits. He glanced back down at her once he had settled himself and smiled. “Do not allow me keep you from your lessons. Isabella has warned us not to distract you from learning to waltz and I must admit, I am looking forward to watching your progress.” His gaze shifted to Draco. “I believe the young man is waiting.”

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder and gave him an apologetic look as she turned back toward him. “I’m sorry. I forgot you were waiting for me.”

“I anticipated as much,” he said quietly then strode into the room and took out has wand. “Delenio Canticum.” The soft strums of Beethoven’s symphony number seven began wafting through the air.

Elizabeth’s face showed surprise as she walked toward him. “Beethoven?”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Of course. He was a wizard, after all,” he said. Raising his hand, he beckoned her forward and mentally braced himself for her touch.

Elizabeth hesitated momentarily, biting her lip, but then placed her hand in Draco’s and he immediately felt the strange warm feeling that always accompanied it. Conligatio, he reminded himself. That’s all it was.

“I warn you. I don’t think I’m going to be any good at this. I’ve danced very few times in my life and never to classical music,” she said dryly, peering up into Draco’s face. He gave her his usual smirk.

She has no idea what she’s doing to me.

“I’ll try to dodge your overly large feet,” he said with a slight tone of bitterness and Elizabeth gave an unladylike snort. “Watch mine and learn. I don’t relish the thought of sore toes.” She rolled her eyes, but did look down at his feet. Draco placed one hand on her waist and continued to hold the other. “It’s quite simple. Step-step-close, step-step-close, step-step-close. Got it?” he said quickly.

Elizabeth gave him a withering look.“You’re joking, right?”

“No. I’ve showed you the steps. Now you have to feel the music and follow my lead,” he said seriously then slowly started moving to the music. Elizabeth stared down at her feet and seemed to be concentrating hard on not stepping on his. Draco cursed his mother under his breath for putting him in this position as he fought the urge to pull her closer to him. She stumbled into his chest and the scent of lilacs filled his senses. “Come on. Bloody concentrate!” Draco growled as he caught her. Elizabeth’s eyes flashed with anger, but she pressed her lips together and said nothing as she straightened herself up. Draco started moving again suddenly and Elizabeth kept up with him for a few minutes, until again she faltered and Draco hissed as he caught her. “It might help if you actually said the words out loud. Obviously saying them silently is doing nothing for you.”

Elizabeth pushed away from him and put her hands on her hips. “Why are you so angry? I’m the one who has to learn this stupid dance and parade in front of bunch of people I don’t know,” she snapped.

Draco said nothing as he reached for her again, but she stepped away from him. “Do you want to learn this bloody dance or not?” he growled.

Elizabeth’s blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Are we being honest or pretending? Which answer would you like? I can give you either,” she said tartly.

Draco gazed down at her for a moment, making sure his expression was unreadable. Elizabeth stood there meeting his eyes with a defiant lift of her chin. A smile crept over Draco’s face, though he wasn’t certain why. “Pretend,” he challenged with a lift of his brow.

Elizabeth stared at him for a moment longer then a demure expression gradually encompassed her face and she inclined her head as she gracefully curtsied. “I would be honoured if you would teach me how to waltz Master Malfoy,” she said, impressing Draco by actually sounding sincere.

Not wanting to be out done, Draco bowed to her then purred, “It would give me no greater pleasure than to teach you, Mistress Fairchild.” He held out his hand toward her again and she took it this time. They again started to dance, but Draco kept it slow this time. After ten minutes, he could tell Elizabeth was starting to get the hang of it. “Now stop looking at your feet,” he instructed quietly. She nodded and fixed her gaze at an unseen spot over his shoulder. A minute later, he felt her tense as he heard his mother and Lady Isabella enter the room. “Ignore them,” he said firmly as she faltered slightly. She took a deep breath and they started again. He could hear her muttering under her breath and knew she was nervous again. “You don’t have to try so hard, you know,” he whispered in her ear as they circled the room.

Elizabeth glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Of course I do. You’ll jump down my throat if I step on your toes again,” she said with a forced smile.

Draco quietly laughed. “I mean with your grandmother. She’s more afraid of you than you are of her.”

“I highly doubt that,” Elizabeth said, glancing back over his shoulder. “Though I wouldn’t exactly call it fear.”

Draco lifted his eyebrows. “No? What would you call it then?”

Elizabeth was quiet for several more turns. “I don’t think I want to answer that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m still not certain yet what to make of you, Malfoy,” she said honestly.

“You can call me Draco.”

“No . . . I can’t.”

He let go of her as the music finally receded and gave a half-bow. She inclined her head and curtsied.

“I must say that either Draco is a fabulous instructor or you are a natural, Elizabeth,” Narcissa said as they made their way over to her and her grandmother.

Elizabeth glanced at her grandmother who was still silently watching her and waited for her to finish her perusal. “You are still quite stiff, Elizabeth. I expect you to work on that. I want you as graceful as a swan on the dance floor. Not as awkward as a duck on land. You will practice every night until the dinner party. Do you understand?”

“Completely, grandmother,” Elizabeth said coldly.

Her grandmother rose slowly to her feet and walked out the door.

********************************************************************************

“Are you ready, Mr. Potter?” asked Professor McGonagall.

Harry swallowed hard, fighting the sudden case of nerves that washed over him. He strengthened his resolve and slowly nodded. He had come so close last time. Today was the day he would succeed. Today was the day that he would find out what form he would take. He glanced over at Hermione. She appeared to be on the verge of becoming physically ill, but managed a weak encouraging smile for his benefit.

“Very well. Close your eyes and concentrate,” Professor McGonagall said firmly.

With one last silent prayer that he wouldn’t transform into a bug, Harry took a deep breath then did as he had been trained to do over the last two weeks and closed his eyes. Immediately, he experienced the familiar sensation of excruciating pressure as if being squeezed in an iron vise. He felt like every bone in his body was being crushed. His skin seared and bubbled as if it was being scorched by burning flame. His body shook violently, but still he forced his mind to focus through the intense agony on the blurry image inside his head that had suddenly emerged and kept his eyes shut. Slowly, he felt his body become smaller and smaller, his shoulders shrank into his chest, his arms reverted into themselves, his face contorted painfully, his nose and mouth hardened, a prickling sensation sprung up and mingled with the burning of his skin, his neck stretched slightly and lengthened, his heartbeat increased to twice its normal rate. He could almost see it now and he concentrated hard as the image sharpened behind his eyelids. He could feel his joints hardening into place as the piercing spasms of his body slowly subsided. Finally, the image became clear and he opened his mouth in triumph and emitted a loud, shrill, coarse kek-kek-kek-kek-kek as he opened his eyes.

What he saw was almost overwhelming to his senses. Nothing was different and yet everything was. His keen vision took in everything at once, what was in front of him and what was slightly behind him. He could see the crumbs from Hermione’s recent meal wedged in the tiny weave of her jumper. The flecks of dust that floated through the air. He turned his head toward Professor McGonagall and noticed her expression was one he had never seen before. It was a look of absolute pride.

He spread his wings and tested their feel. He could hear his talons scraping across the wooden floor as he beat them softly, revealing in their strength. He pushed himself off the floor then instinctively soared around the drawing room and emitted another piercing call, causing Professor McGonagall and Hermione to cover their ears.

“That’s quite enough, Mr. Potter,” said Professor McGonagall sternly. Harry circled once more then smoothly landed on the back of an armchair as Ron and Ginny rushed into the room with Fred and George right behind.

Ron’s eyes became round as saucers and his jaw dropped open as he gazed at Harry perched on the chair.

“Brilliant, Harry! You’re gorgeous!” squealed Ginny.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Now that everyone is done admiring you, Mr. Potter. I ask that you change yourself back.”

Harry tilted his head sideways. Back? . . . Yeah, right . . . back. He hopped down onto the cushion of the chair then closed his eyes again, hoping the transformation back wasn’t quite as painful. As he concentrated, the pressure arose again, but this time it felt as if someone had stuck an air hose down his throat and he was bursting at the seams. With a sharp crack, he was back to his normal self, standing on top of the chair. He stepped down gingerly, feeling more exhausted than he had ever felt in his life. Hermione flung herself at him with tears in her eyes.

“That’s wonderful, Harry! You did it! Elizabeth is going to be so impressed when she sees you,” she said excitedly. “See. I told you. You had nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” agreed Harry with a weary grin. “I’m a big bird. That’s not too bad.”

Hermione pulled away from and looked into his face with a look of unbelief. “Harry. You’re not just a big bird. You’re a Peregrine Falcon,” she said brightly as the others gathered around.

Ron clapped him on the back. “Of course, he’s a Falcon. He was the youngest seeker in over a century, wasn’t he?”

Fred grinned and mussed his hair. “You know the best thing about Falcons, Harry?”

Harry glanced over his shoulder and shook his head slightly and Fred exchanged a look with George.

“They eat snakes.”

********************************************************************************

The landscape below was a blur of white and brown as Draco flew over the grounds of the Fairchild estate. He spurred his Nimbus 2001 on faster with a slight squeeze of his thighs, enjoying the feel of the frigid wind on his face, not caring that he could no longer feel the tip of his nose. He had made a point to practice every day since that night in the library three weeks ago when he had become sore just from lifting a few measly books. It helped him stay on form for Quidditch. It also helped to relieve some of the tension that always seemed to take over when he instructed Elizabeth during her dancing lessons. He cursed his mother a thousand times for doing that to him. No doubt, she hoped he would be able to win Elizabeth over by being so close to her all the time. But, unfortunately, all it was doing was leaving him sexually frustrated. What made it even worse was that the lessons didn’t appear to affect Elizabeth at all. She would politely listen to his instruction then position herself close to him and gracefully follow through perfectly with the dance steps. Then after about an hour she would thank him and walk away. He was careful to avoid her during the day, afraid of what he might do if he found himself alone with her. He wondered if she was aware of how she affected him. Probably not or she wouldn’t come near him. Draco shook his head. She had seen his soul so how could she be completely oblivious to the way he felt for her.

Maybe she isn’t. Maybe that’s why she keeps her distance as well.

Draco pulled his broom to a sudden stop and hovered a hundred feet from Elizabeth’s window. He watched as she sat at her vanity and brushed her hair, completely unaware that she was being watched. She strode to her armoire and took out a nightgown and laid it on her bed. He remained transfixed as she removed her robes and gracefully stepped out of them. She was exactly as he remembered, pale, smooth and firm in the right places. Forbidden fruit. His body reacted to the site of her as he remembered how she felt. Bloody Hell! He gripped the broom tighter and took off, determined to find Olivia, certain she would be willingly to relieve him of his current condition.

********************************************************************************

Elizabeth stretched in the leather chair as she closed the massive book in front of her. For three weeks, her grandmother had kept her busy, forcing her to learn every aspect of her family’s estate. She had discovered to her amazement that Fairchild Manor was only one of four estates owned by her family and was seemingly the smallest. They owned several wizarding companies (including Zonko’s of all things), employed several hundreds of people, and made quite a large profit from all. She had memorized every name of every person in her grandmother’s employ along with their job title and what they were responsible for, at her grandmother’s request. But instead of being pleased by this, when her grandmother had finished quizzing her yesterday, she had suggested she learn the names of all the guests that would be attending on Saturday night along with their status. Having nothing else to do, Elizabeth figured it couldn’t hurt to comply. Though now, she was thoroughly convinced her grandmother was an absolute control freak. She had entirely given up on trying to exceed her grandmother’s expectations. The feat was impossible, much like trying to earn points in Professor Snape’s class. Now she just concentrated on keeping her happy until she could go back to Hogwarts.

Elizabeth peered up at the clock on the mantle. It was late. She glanced down at the parchment laying next to the book on the desk and casually picked it up. The list was surprisingly long. She hadn’t anticipated that the dinner party would be quite this large. Most everyone on the list had children her age or older and some were actually traveling all the way from France to attend. She was shocked to find that Professor Snape had been invited and had already confirmed. Elizabeth shook her head. The one thing that everyone had in common was that they were pureblood. When Elizabeth realised this, she had quickly scanned the rest of the list in hopes of finding the Weasley’s among the numerous names. But with no luck. Not only was her grandmother a bigot, but she was a snob as well. No wonder my mother rebelled. She let the parchment fall back down to the desk and yawned. Elizabeth couldn’t imagine what it could have been like growing up in a house such as this. She was surprised her mother turned out as well as she did. Some people aren’t so lucky.

Her thoughts turned to Malfoy. She knew he was struggling to find himself again, trying to decipher what was real and what was not. She had felt his conflict when she first took his hand in the Gallery, but had tried to ignore it ever since, knowing she had no right to know what was in his head. But she knew in her heart what her closeness was doing to him. His anger, his confusion, his vulnerability was hard to ignore. So she tried to stay away from him as much as possible, hoping he would soon figure it out for himself.

She stood and walked silently toward the library door, intent on returning to her room. As she reached for the knob, the door swung open and Elizabeth found herself staring into the eyes of Draco Malfoy.