The Legend of Chime

Chapter eighteen

Elizabeth stepped back and absently clutched at the neck of her dressing gown as Malfoy silently came into the room. His eyes never wavered from hers. He seemed to have expected to find her there. “I-I thought you were asleep,” she said quietly, not liking the way he was looking at her. She took another step back as he slowly took another step forward.

He gave her a predatory smile. “I was in bed . . . but I wasn’t sleeping.” She could smell the alcohol on his breath. His shirt was only halfway buttoned.

She gave him a disgusted look. “You’re drunk.” She started to push passed him, but he grabbed her arm. Her eyes flashed with anger. “I realise your judgement has been impaired. And you’re still quite confused, but I will not tolerate being manhandled.” She glanced down at his hand, the warning clear in her voice.

Malfoy gazed down at his own hand as if surprised to find it where it was. “Sorry . . .” he raked his hand through his hair and lowered himself into a nearby chair, “I just wanted to talk.” He glanced up at her and she was again reminded of the little boy in her dream. He seemed so lost, her heart softened toward him.“Why did you bring me back?” he asked quietly. “I need to know.”

Elizabeth searched his face for a moment and she felt quiet confidence washed over her.

He can not find his way. Show him where to look. It has been too long for him.

She took a deep breath. “Because . . . I needed to. To regain and protect part of who I was . . . who I am.”

His eyes shined like liquid silver in the night. “The part I took from you.” It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway.

“Yes.”

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” he asked softly, his voice sounding hoarse. “You’ve made me question everything I’ve ever learnt, everything I thought I was. You’ve turned my world upside down and left me with nothing to hold on to . . . but you.”

“Not me,” Elizabeth quietly corrected. “Your hope. I awaken your hope . . . deep inside you. So deep inside, you forgot that it was even there.” She slowly shook her head. “I am only a figurehead inside your mind. Someone to blame for your sudden vulnerability. Because you can’t accept that it was there all along, waiting to be found again. I was just the person . . .”

“Who touched my soul,” he said, a sudden edge to his voice.

Elizabeth shook her head once more. “No. I eased your pain . . . long enough for you to remember what it is you truly long for.” She could see his thoughts written across his face and she gave him a sad smile. “And it’s not me.” She turned then walked to the fire and stared into the flames. “All my life, people have been drawn to me for the way I make them feel. Not because of what they feel for me. They’ve never seen me. Not the real me. Very few people have,”she said with a hint of bitterness. Then a soft smile illuminated her face. “Harry sees me, all of me, not just my gift . . . my power . . . my curse.” Her voice trailed off as she suddenly became lost in her thoughts.

“I see you.”

“No. You don’t. You can’t even see yourself,” she whispered honestly, glancing back over her shoulder. “I made your pain less tangible. Now you’re free to discover the person you were born to be. Not the person your parents have molded you into. There is a difference. A big difference. I’ve seen him. But only you can find him again. You have a choice to make . . . and I can’t help you with that. No one can.” She took a deep breath and turned back toward the door, not certain where her knowledge had come from, but she knew it was the truth. She opened the door to the room, but hesitated at his next words.

“What is my choice?” he asked simply, though his tone hinted he already knew.

She didn’t turn around as she answered, for she knew she struggled with the same. “To be who you truly are or who you are expected to be.”

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Hermione was frustrated. There was no denying it. Everyone knew it. She had immersed herself in the ridiculously large book that Professor McGonagall had provided them with for their training and had refused to put it down since Harry had successfully transfigured himself two weeks ago. She had even brought it to dinner one night, until Mrs. Weasley had insisted she put it away. He could tell she was trying very hard not to seem jealous in anyway. But at every lesson, Harry would again become a Falcon and soar around the room, diving and swooping to test his abilities and she would watch with her lips pressed so tight, there would be a pale line of white surrounding them. Afterward, she made a point to compliment him, but her voice usually sounded strained. Harry knew that voice. It was the same one he had used when he learned Ron had been made prefect and he hadn’t. He tried not to feel so smug about being able to transform so easily, when Hermione had only broke out in a cold sweat at their last Animagus training session. But he couldn’t help it. He admitted to himself that he liked being better than Hermione at something other than D.A.D.A. for once, though he would never say it out loud.

Professor McGonagall had tactfully suggested lessons be reduced to every other night “since they were making such excellent progress.” But since then, Hermione had pretty much locked herself inside the room she shared with Ginny and only came out for meals. And when she did, she always looked like she had just seen a dementor. Ron was starting to really worry about her and asked Ginny to periodically run up and check on her. But after the fourth time, Ginny refused to go. She admitted reluctantly that watching Hermione practice made her sick to her stomach. Harry was encouraged somewhat by this statement. It meant she was at least getting better.

Now as they entered the drawing room, Hermione had a determined look on her weary face. Harry gave her an encouraging smile when she glanced his way and she returned it weakly. Professor McGonagall appraised them both for a moment.

“I believe we will start off this evening with Ms. Granger, if you don’t mind Mr. Potter,” she said as he started forward. Harry nodded and glanced over at Hermione. She took a deep breath then lifted her chin and stepped forward.

“All right, Ms. Granger. Close your eyes then clear your mind and concentrate,” said Professor McGonagall.

Harry watched as Hermione did as she was told and for several minutes nothing happened. Then a sudden look of intense pain crossed her face and Harry winced, remembering the agony. A second later, her body started to gruesomely contort and shrink at the same time. Her body elongated, her ears became pointed and large, her face stretched forward, her hair turned a reddish color and covered her body then twisted itself into what looked like a tail, and her fingers drew up into her hands to form black paws. Harry understood now why Ginny had become nauseated. It wasn’t a pretty sight and the sound of cracking bones made him want to turn away. A moment later, her form was complete and Harry gave her a brilliant smile as she sat down stiffly and brought her bushy tail around to lie beautifully in front of her. Her golden brown eyes twinkled up at him.

“You did it, Hermione,” he said proudly.

“Very good, Ms. Granger,” praised Professor McGongall with an unsuppressed smile.

Ron slowly pushed open the door and peeked inside. He had obviously been waiting outside the door. His face lit up as he spied Hermione sitting regally on the rug. “Hermione, you’re a fox . . . literally.”

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Elizabeth looked down at her scrambled eggs with very little interest. She barely remembered the days when she had actually looked forward to eating. She had no idea why her grandmother was the way she was, but she certainly knew it did nothing for her appetite. She comforted herself with the knowledge that she could always slip down to the kitchen whenever she felt hungry. The house-elves were typically very happy to provide her with whatever she was in the mood for. She had sort of gotten use to her daily trips down there. She wished she could get use to the constant scrutiny of her grandmother.

“Are your eggs not to your liking, my child?” her grandmother asked.

Elizabeth straightened her spine at her grandmother’s voice as had become her habit. “No, grandmother. I just don’t have much of an appetite.”

Her grandmother frowned at her. “You do not eat enough, Elizabeth. You’re much to thin. By the look of you, one would think you were in poor health. So do eat something. You want to make a good impression tomorrow, after all.”

Elizabeth felt her temper spark and she gritted her teeth to keep from snapping a harsh reply. She was tired of being insulted, tired of her grandmother forever finding something to complain about. She silently pushed herself up from the table and strode toward the doorway without a word, not caring how rude her actions were.

“Elizabeth.”

She stopped, but she refused to turn around.

“You will go to the library and wait for me.”

Elizabeth started walking toward the open door again without answering. The door slammed shut, missing her by barely an inch. Surprised, she swung her gaze back toward her grandmother to find her grandmother’s hand still in the air. “The library, Elizabeth,” she said coldly, bringing her hand back down to rest on the arm of her chair.

Her eyes briefly flicked toward Narcissa and Malfoy then Elizabeth nodded her head and a second later, the door swung slowly open with a slight creak. She gritted her teeth again and walked across the foyer and into the library. She paced in front of the fire for ten minutes before her grandmother finally decided to join her.

“Sit down, Elizabeth.”

She halted her pacing at her grandmother’s sudden voice then lifted her chin as she met her icy expression. “No. Thank you. I prefer to stand,” Elizabeth said calmly, in a voice that belied her nervousness.

Her grandmother eyed her coldly. “It wasn’t a request,” she said, taking her seat behind the desk and waving her toward the armchair directly in front of her. Elizabeth reluctantly took a seat. “You have a tremendous amount of self-discipline, Elizabeth. I commend you on that,” her grandmother said smoothly, studying her intently. “I’ll admit. I thought you would have lost your temper much sooner than this.” She smiled.

Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying you have been trying to provoke me? For what purpose?”

“Let’s just say I have the information that I required. You are a strong woman. This pleases me immensely. I thought you might cower and jump to do my bidding, having never known any family of your own. But you have merely done as I have requested to the best of your abilities. Which I have found quite impressive, I might add,” said her grandmother.

“I don’t appreciate being toyed with, grandmother,” said Elizabeth coldly.

“They’re many things that I’m sure you will not appreciate, Elizabeth. Things you will eventually become accustom to. You have already shown you have a remarkable ability to conform to your environment and still remain essentially the same person. I’m counting on this for your future endeavors,” her grandmother said stiffly. “I request your presence in the drawing room at three o’clock this afternoon. Do not be late.” Without another word, her grandmother started going through the papers laying on the desk in front of her, sufficiently dismissing her.

Elizabeth swallowed the frustrated scream that was struggling to emerge from her suddenly raw throat as she pushed herself out of her chair and strode from the library. She walked up to her bedroom, trying to hold on to her anger for as long as possible. When she entered her room, she shut her door and pulled out her wand. “Silencio!” Then she proceeded to scream at the top of her lungs without muttering a sound. Her silent tirade lasted for several minutes. She mouthed every vile name she could remember in the English language while throwing everything she could get her hands on at the pillows on her bed.

Suddenly, she heard a quick knock then her bedroom door swung open. Malfoy smirked as he looked down at her wand then glanced at her bed which was now scattered with books, chocolate frogs and antique figurines. He rolled his eyes and muttered something incomprehensible that sounded suspiciously like Gryffindors. “It’s not satisfying unless you actually smash something,” he said, walking over to her desk and picking up her inkpot and handing it to her. Elizabeth threw him a frustrated glare as she threw the inkpot to the floor, shattering it and splattering ink across the floor. She would have told him to mind his own business as well, but forgot she was still under her own silencing spell and only succeeded in looking quite comical mouthing the words. Malfoy threw his head back and laughed at her. Elizabeth scowled at him as she waved her wand over her throat, dissolving the silencing spell.

“Oh! Shut it!” she shouted, walking over to the mess on the floor. She waved her wand twice more. “Scourgify. Reparo.” She placed the inkpot back on her desk then turned and lifted her hand and quickly levitated all the items currently on her bed, back to their rightful place.

“You surprise me, Elizabeth,” said Malfoy suppressing a grin. Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow at the use of her first name. “I thought for sure I would find your room in shambles, having experienced your temper firsthand myself.” She rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored his comment. “I suggest a better way to work off that energy. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not talking about making use of your bed. Though I wouldn’t be opposed . . .”

Elizabeth pinned him with another menacing glare. “Then what are you talking about, Malfoy?” she seethed.

“I’m suggesting you join me in the exercitium room,” he said casually.

“The what room?”

“The training room, you know . . . the room where you practice spells and whatnot,” he said with an amused look. “Like a muggle gym of sorts.”

“You know what a muggle gym is?” Elizabeth said mockingly.

“Of course I do. I know a lot of things about the muggle world,” said Malfoy.

“Oh. I get it. Sort of a keep-your-friends-close-but-your-enemies-closer type thing,” she said and Malfoy shrugged.

“So do you want to workout or not?” he asked casually.

Elizabeth was tempted. She needed to keep up with her skills and Malfoy could probably challenge her almost as much as Harry had. But she also was aware of Malfoy’s inner turmoil and didn’t trust him yet not to revert to his old ways.

 Malfoy let out a deep sigh at her hesitation. “Look, this is me trying to be decent. Sort of self-therapy so to speak. I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself. Should be easy enough seeing as we’ll be fifty feet away from each other most of the time,” he said sarcastically.

Elizabeth allowed a small smile. “All right. Just let me change into something easier to move around in,” she said as she roughly pushed him out the door. “I’ll be out in five minutes.” She shut the door and strode to her armoire. She pulled out her jeans and an old faded T-shirt from her school trunk. Then slipped off her robes and pulled on her comfortable clothes. She sat down at her vanity and quickly braided her hair. Feeling better already, she strode back across her room with a curve to her lips and opened the door again.

Malfoy’s door was open across the hall, but he was no where in sight so she slowly walked to his doorway and peered around his room. “Malfoy?” she called quietly. Her eyes fell on the half-dressed form of Malfoy kneeling in front of his closet. He had obviously decided to change as well and now was having trouble finding the shirt that he wanted. “Why don’t you just summon it, Malfoy?”she said with a laugh. He slowly stood with a half-grin.

“Because I was hoping you would find me and become overwhelmed with lust at the sight of my superb physique and decide to forego one workout for another kind entirely,” he said sarcastically, grabbing a black T-shirt and pulling it over his head as he walked toward her.

Elizabeth laughed again, rolling her eyes. “You are such a wanker.”

“No. Actually, I never had to do that much. Too many willing females around,” he replied matter-of factly, tucking his T-shirt inside his jeans. He stuck his wand in his back pocket and Elizabeth was reminded oddly of Harry.

“That’s a good way to lose a buttock, you know,” she said teasingly as they walked down the hall and stifled a laugh at his strange look.

They walked down to the first floor then Malfoy led the rest of the way to the exercitium room. They entered a massive room void of any furnishings. The walls, ceiling and floor were all the same dingy, grey colour and reminded Elizabeth of a dungeon. All it needed were some manacles hanging from the walls and some prison cells with iron bars.

“Well, this is a lovely room,” Elizabeth said dryly as she walked further into the room. She turned around to face Malfoy. “So what do we do?”

“Well, that depends on how you want to train. We could duel each other or fight as a team against various opponents? It’s up to you.”

Elizabeth thought for a moment then a slow smile crept across her face. “Well, I already know I can beat you in a duel so how about we fight as a team.”

Malfoy’s eyebrow lifted. “You’re sure you can beat me, are you?” A wicked smile crossed his face. “I believe you just threw down a challenge, Mistress Fairchild,” he said calmly, slowly backing away from her. “Duel trainer, level six.” A long, raised platform appeared, half green and half red. Malfoy jumped up on the green end then turned around to face her. “Do you need help up?” he asked with a smirk.

“No. I believe I can manage,” Elizabeth said walking toward the red end. She jumped up and faced him. “I have one question though?” she said casually.

“What’s that?” he asked, pulling his wand from his back pocket.

“Are there rules or do we just duel until you’re unconscious?” Elizabeth asked smoothly, raising her wand to a dueling position.

Malfoy quietly laughed and raised his wand as well. “There are rules . . . but I don’t like to play by them.”

“We are clear then?”

“Completely.” He raised his wand. “Duel begin.”

Elizabeth quickly waved her wand and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”

“Protego!” Malfoy quickly blocked and the spell was absorbed by the wall instead of ricocheting off like it normally would. “Accido!” he shouted, taking advantage of Elizabeth’s momentary distraction. She barely had time to block the trip jinx, but she managed it a second before it hit. They traded curses back and forth for several minutes until Malfoy conjured a bird and caused it to attack her which successfully distracted her long enough for him to send another trip jinx her way. She fell forward, sliding a couple feet on the platform. She jumped up just as Malfoy attempted to bind her hands together. He successfully trapped her wand hand. But she threw up her other hand and he went flying backwards.

“Diffindo.” She severed the binding that trapped her to the floor and swung back toward Malfoy who was already pushing himself into a standing position. She yelled “Deffensio!” to ward off any further binding attempts as Malfoy shouted his next curse.

“Fluito!”

The curse hit her in the arm and she immediately lost all sensation and her arm started fluttering about wildly for a brief second. Elizabeth ignored it as she conjured a huge black dog and sent it after Malfoy. A moment later, her arm grew warm and the curse was neutralized. She quickly raised her wand once more. “Consopio!” The curse hit Malfoy in the chest a moment after he vanished the dog who had managed to dodge his first two attempts and he instantly went limp then fell to the floor. Elizabeth smiled and sauntered down to the sleeping form of Malfoy, feeling quite smug. She leaned down and shook his shoulder. “Malfoy?” He rolled over onto his side and muttered unintelligibly in his sleep. She laughed then shook his shoulder little more vigorously. “Malfoy wake up . . . Malfoy . . . Rise and shine, little . . . Oof!” In a split second, Malfoy had grabbed hold of her feet and flipped them out from under her. Elizabeth fell hard to the floor of the platform and Malfoy pinned her arms over her head.

“Never let your guard down, Elizabeth. It could lead you into a dangerous situation that could be impossible to get out of . . . without losing something vital in the process.” He stared down at her for a moment then pushed himself away and stood. Elizabeth sat up and rubbed her elbows. Malfoy held out his hand to help her up.

Elizabeth took his hand reluctantly. “No one would accuse you of being a sore loser,” she said sarcastically, completely unimpressed with his theatrically menace.

“I never claimed to be a good sport. Potter could tell you that,” he said coldly.

“I guess that’s one thing about you that will never change,” said Elizabeth tucking her shirt back into her jeans. Malfoy shrugged. Suddenly, she smiled up at him impishly. “Want to go again?” Malfoy rolled his eyes, but agreed.

They practiced dueling for another hour. Elizabeth coming out the victor twice more before Malfoy was finally able to turn her sleeping spell against her. Though she wasn’t nearly as difficult to wake up as Malfoy had been.

“All right. That’s enough,” Elizabeth said as Malfoy helped her back to her feet. “I’m starting to feel slightly lightheaded. I think I need to eat something.”

“Convenient excuse,” Malfoy said as she jumped down from the platform. “I’m thinking you just want to quit while you’re ahead.” He jumped down next to her with his signature smirk.

“Yeah. You’re right, Malfoy. I’m clever that way,” she said, waving him off as she strode toward the door. “See you later.”

Her stomach rumbled loudly as she strode down to the kitchen. She smiled as she entered seeing a plate full of her favourites already on the counter. “Thanks, Baxter,” she called to the seemingly empty kitchen as she sat down on the stool. Immediately, the sprite little house-elf appeared out of thin air.

“Mistress is always welcome. Baxter is pleased Mistress comes down to the kitchens to visit him so often,” he squeaked, conjuring her a cup of tea.

Elizabeth was almost finished with her roast beef sandwich and potato crisps when she spotted a strange looking elf hovering over in the corner of the room next to the stove. He had a large snoutlike nose and was eyeing her with bloodshot, watery grey eyes. He looked like he hadn’t bathed in several years and was muttering incomprehensibly under his breath. He didn’t look like he belonged to her grandmother and Elizabeth wondered if he was just a friend of Baxter’s that had come for a visit. Maybe a nutter relative. “Baxter, who is that?” she asked slightly pointing in the direction of the deranged-looking house-elf. Baxter gave her a worried look and leaned in conspiratorially, trying not to make eye contact with the other house-elf.

“That is Kreacher, Mistress. He came here the night of Mistress’s arrival. He refuses to leave Mistress’s house. He says he is Mistress’s house-elf now,” he whispered, glancing nervously over his shoulder at Kreacher. “But Baxter thinks he is a bad house-elf. He does nothing for Mistress. He stays mostly in the kitchen and sleeps under the stove. He rarely shows himself to anyone. But at night, Baxter finds him missing many times.” He leaned in closer. “Kreacher talks to himself, Mistress. He says many dark things that Baxter does not like.”

Elizabeth stared at Kreacher feeling a sudden overwhelming hate build inside her unlike any she had ever felt before, her hands clenched into fists and her breathing became heavy. This was the house-elf that had betrayed her father and Harry. “Get out of my sight, you filthy excuse for a house-elf! You traitor! You were suppose to help . . .To protect his secrets. But you did nothing but betray him. Get out! Get out before . . . before I-I kill you!” she screamed suddenly, shaking with fury. She flew off her stool and raced toward Kreacher who immediately vanished.

“Baxter apologises, Mistress. Baxter did not mean to cause Mistress to become upset,” he said, hitting himself in the head with a rolling pin. It took Elizabeth several minutes to calm down enough to realise what Baxter was doing. She strode back over to him and grabbed the rolling pin.

“Don’t do that!” she growled, her voice still shaky from her recent outburst. She slammed the rolling pin down on the counter and Baxter jumped nervously into the air. Elizabeth took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling guilty for taking her anger out on the kind house-elf. “I’m sorry, Baxter. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said calmly.

Baxter’s eyes widened in surprise and he shook his head. “Mistress never has to apologise to Baxter. Baxter is a good house-elf.”

Elizabeth gave him a weak smile. “Yes, I agree. Baxter is a good house-elf,” she said, patting his head. She needed to get out of the kitchen. She needed . . . She glanced back down at Baxter. “I’ll see you later, okay?” Baxter nodded and she strode out of the kitchen.

Five minutes later, she was back in her room with the door shut, lifting the looking glass out of her drawer as she sat down on her bed. She knew it was early, but she needed to see him. She needed to talk to him, to hear his voice. Hoping he was in his room, she whispered into the mirror. After several minutes, she said his name again, a little louder this time. Still, nothing happened. She fell back against her pillows with a sigh and placed the mirror on her bedside table. She felt a gradual weariness flood her body. She didn’t want to think anymore. Her thoughts brought her nothing, but stress and grief. She closed her eyes and forced her body to relax. And after a few minutes, her mind started drifting and she started to dream.

She was sitting at the desk in the library and there were stacks of books surrounding her. Her grandmother was telling her to memorise every book by the end of the day. Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but found she had no voice so she shook her head vigorously, trying to get her grandmother’s attention. But her grandmother had already turned away. She ran through the door after her and noticed the foyer had been turned into a ballroom. Loads of people were surrounding her. Men in dinner jackets and women in expensive robes, all introducing themselves. Malfoy suddenly appeared and took her by the hand, leading her away from the crowd. They started dancing to a strange symphony and she looked over his shoulder. Narcissa was coming forward. She offered them both a drink. Snape suddenly appeared and knocked the drink from her hand, spilling it down her dress robes. She turned to find her grandmother behind her, giving her a disapproving scowl. You are a Fairchild and will act accordingly. She started to explain it wasn’t her fault . . .

Then the dream changed.

She was in a dark room surrounded by shadows. She was desperately trying to find her way out, but there was no door. The shadows were coming closer. Soon she would be consumed by them. Her body started to turn cold and she felt a warm wetness on her skin. She looked down . . . she was covered in blood. Her own blood. She started to fall. Then a light pierced the darkness and she could hear a voice calling to her from a distance. She stumbled toward the light as the voice became louder. It was Harry’s voice. She reached out. She could almost touch it . . .

“Elizabeth? Are you there?”

Elizabeth jerked herself awake. Her breathing was still heavy as the dark visions of her dream receded. She pushed herself up and glanced over at the looking glass. Harry’s face was still visible. “I’m here,” she said, her voice rough from sleep. She picked up the mirror with shaky hands.

“I’m not going to ask,” Harry said, looking worried, “because you’re going to tell me.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “It’s nothing. A stupid dream, is all. I fell asleep waiting.” She smiled weakly. “I just wanted to see you. This place is driving me a bit mad.”

“Your grandmother still giving you a hard time?” he asked calmly.

“Yes . . . she’s a few marbles short of a full sack. But she’s not what really caught me off guard . . . Kreacher is here,” she said wearily. “Evidently, he’s been here since the night I arrived.”

Harry’s jaw clenched involuntarily. “Is he bothering you?”

“No. I’ve not even seen him before today. I just lost my temper when I saw him. He reminded me of . . . what happened and I felt . . .” She shook her head and swallowed remembering. “I told him to get out of my sight before I killed him.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think I would have done it. But then again . . . I’m not certain what I would have done if I had gotten a hold of him.”

“Believe me. I understand,” Harry said quietly then looked into her eyes. “But no matter how much you want to, don’t give him clothes. He knows too much. The next time you see him, make certain you forbid him to tell anyone anything about you and The Order. He can’t hurt you if you do that. After that, just try to stay away from him. I’ll notify Dumbledore that Kreacher is there.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Miss you, Elizabeth.”

“You have no idea how much I miss you.”

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Harry placed the mirror back on his bedside table and turned to the empty portrait on the bedroom wall. “Professor Nigellus?” After several moments, he let out a deep sigh. “I know you can hear me, Professor?” He waited a minute or two more. “Professor! I need to talk to you,” he said, raising his voice.

Phineas Nigellus walked casually into the portrait and gave Harry a look that communicated his displeasure at being bellowed at. “No need to shout! My hearing is just fine and for your information, I have already informed Dumbledore of that foul creature’s whereabouts. So you needn’t bother asking.”

Harry frowned, not liking the idea of Phineas eavesdropping on his conversation with Elizabeth. “Do you listen in on all our conversations?”

Phineas gave him a look of reproach. “Of course not. I resent you even suggesting that I would sink to such a lowly deed.”

Harry wasn’t convinced. He made a mental note to find a different room the next time he wanted to speak to Elizabeth.

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She was late. She silently crept into the drawing room, hoping that her grandmother wouldn’t draw attention to the fact. She was in the middle of a meeting with the board of Fairchild Corporation International. At least, that’s what Olivia had told her. She had no idea why her grandmother would want her present during the meeting, but she had stopped trying to figure out how her grandmother’s brain worked.

Her grandmother’s gaze flicked to her momentarily as Elizabeth sunk into the chair at the back of the room, but she said nothing and returned her attention to the short, balding man in front of her who was reading from a report. Elizabeth forced herself to listen intently over the next hour to several more quarterly reports on the status of F.C.I. and was quite relieved when the last report was completed. God, I hope she doesn’t expect me to remember all of that.

 

“If there is nothing else, gentlemen. I would like to introduce my granddaughter.” Her grandmother motioned her forward and Elizabeth felt all eyes turn toward her as she crossed the room. “Elizabeth, these are the members of the board of F.C.I.” She waved an elegant hand toward each man as she introduced them. “Percival Truitt, Jonathan Montague, Anthony Giles, Phillip Caswell, Stewart Macdonald, Douglas Willoughby, Samuel Fudge and Greyson Pierce.” Elizabeth inclined her head and smiled at each gentleman as their name was given to her, but hesitated at Greyson Pierce for a brief second before also inclining her head to him. He was a handsome man with salt and pepper hair and cold grey eyes. Though his smile was pleasant, his intense gaze sent an odd chill down her spine. She mentally shook herself as she turned back toward her grandmother. “I believe that concludes our business for today, gentlemen. I will be looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow night,” her grandmother stated as she raised herself up from her chair. The gentlemen started to talk among themselves as they filed out of the drawing room.

Elizabeth felt another pair of eyes on her and glanced around. A handsome man with blonde hair and a leather briefcase was standing off to the side. She was surprised she hadn’t notice him when she first entered the room. She met his gaze curiously, wondering why her grandmother hadn’t introduced him with the others as he stepped forward and opened his briefcase. Elizabeth looked back at her grandmother who was studying her closely. She mentally braced herself for the reprimand she knew would be coming at any minute for daring to arrive late. But her grandmother surprised her by gifting her with a pleasant smile and turning to face the young man. “Elizabeth, this is Jean-Marc Couture. He is one of our family’s solicitors and presides as counsel to the board.” Elizabeth gave him a small smile and murmured an appropriate greeting then reached out to shake his hand. Jean-Marc gave a half-bow as he took her hand and raised it to his lips. She fought the urge to snatch her hand away. She didn’t appreciate the whole kissing the hand thing. It was much too intimate a gesture in her opinion.

“I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Mistress Fairchild,” he said smoothly, his eyes never wavered from hers as he brushed his lips lightly across her knuckles. Elizabeth quickly noticed Mr. Couture had one blue eye and one green as she inclined her head, but remained silent. She pulled her hand away the second it wouldn’t seem rude to do so, and glanced at her grandmother who had a trace of a smile on her face.

“Jean-Marc will be drawing up the appropriate papers to instate you as the legal heir, Elizabeth. I wanted you here to witness my signature, making it so,” said her grandmother. Mr. Couture handed her the documents and her grandmother signed three separate pieces of parchment then turned back toward Elizabeth with an expression she had never seen before. It was mix of pride and regret, but a moment later it was gone. “You are now official the sole Fairchild heir, Elizabeth. Congratulations. Your future, along with your children’s future is now quite secure. You should very pleased.” Her grandmother gave her a expectant look and she knew she should probably say something.

“Thank you, grandmother. I will do my best to live up to the Fairchild name,” Elizabeth said with a small smile. That sounded good.

Her grandmother arched a single eyebrow. “I’m counting on that, my child,” her grandmother said quietly. “Now if you will excuse us, Elizabeth. Jean-Marc and I have other matters to discuss that you don’t need to concern yourself with at this time. I shall see you at dinner.”

“Of course, grandmother. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Couture,” Elizabeth said.

“I assure you, Mistress Fairchild. The pleasure was all mine,” said Jean-Marc silkily.

For some strange reason, this comment made her slightly uncomfortable, but she ignored it as she strode from the room.

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He could feel the rain as it fell on his face, but it didn’t penetrate to his skin. Cap fluttered restlessly beside him, not completely trusting his closeness. He felt like he had flown half the night . . . but finally he was here. He would have smiled if he could. He took a few moments to rest before tapping on her window. He had forced himself to transform over and over again, to get his body use to the pain over the last week. He knew the moment he discovered his true animagus form he would use it to see her. Her heart had been calling to him and it vibrated deep inside. He was no longer content seeing her through the looking glass. Especially after this afternoon. He cocked his head to the side and peered again into her room. He could see her easily in the dark. Her back was to him. He wondered if she would know him. He wanted to give her a chance to figure it out before he revealed himself. She was a very clever witch and the bond they shared was extraordinarily strong, but still he wasn’t certain if it would be enough.

Unwilling to let his body rest a moment longer, he took flight once more and landed on her windowsill. He checked his balance briefly before he tapped his beak against the glass and let out a shrill cry.

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Elizabeth was startled out of a deep sleep by a loud screech of a bird and she sat up quickly in bed, her heart racing. Her eyes instinctively searched the darkness of her room. The sound of heavy raindrops beating against her window was the only noise that reached her ears. But then she heard it. A soft tapping on glass. She turned to peer out her window and saw a beautiful Falcon perched on her windowsill, trying to shield itself against the storm. She watched it for a moment uncertain what to make of it. I wonder if it’s hurt. She slipped out from under her blankets and cautiously walked to the window. It didn’t seem to be afraid of her. It must be someone’s pet and it’s lost its way in the storm. She slowly opened her window and it immediately took cover inside her dark room.

“Lumos!” The sconces flickered to life on the walls. She glanced around and found the graceful bird perched on her bedpost. She smiled and slowly walked forward, trying not to spook it. “Aren’t you a handsome bird? Have you lost your master?” she softly cooed. She hesitated briefly, wondering how aggressive he might be, then reached out and slowly ran a hand down his back, admiring his beautiful plumage as she sat down next to him on her bed. The bird’s crown and upper wings were blue-black in color, while his chest and leg feathers were white, flecked with short black horizontal stripes. He possessed large dagger-like black claws and a hooked beak. He was a magnificent specimen even to her untrained eye. The only thing that seemed odd about him was the lone silver feather at the top of his crown and his brilliant green eyes. She had always thought Falcons possessed yellow eyes. Funny . . . She studied him closer and he stared back as if waiting for her to finish her perusal. There was something about the look in his eye and the way he held himself that prompted her to think of Harry. “You remind me of someone, my handsome bird. Someone I miss very much,” she whispered. The Falcon tilted his head slightly as if he understood what she was saying then hopped down next to her, startling her a bit. The falcon slowly strutted across her blankets, snagging the counterpane with his claws. Then a moment later, there was a loud crack and the bird was replaced by the form of Harry.

Elizabeth’s jaw dropped open as he flopped down on her bed, seemingly exhausted, then he leaned over and kissed her, effectively occupying her mouth with his own. She brought her hands up to his face then ran them through his wet hair. I know I’m dreaming,, but God, I don’t want to wake up. He pulled her body closer and her mind barely registered the cold moisture that penetrated her nightgown as her body came alive. His icy hands caused her to involuntarily gasp. He pulled away.

“Sorry. I’m a little cold,” Harry said with a boyish grin.

“It’s okay. I’ll warm you,” she said softly, pulling off his shirt. She needed him so badly, she pushed all the unanswered questions to the back of her mind. She didn’t know how long he would be with her. She ached to be near him. She slipped off her damp gown and threw it to the floor as he pulled off his jeans. He gathered her into his arms again and kissed her gently then trailed kisses down her body as they fell back into the pillows.