Dark Obsession

Chapter 6

"I think the more important question is who is doing this rather than why it's happening, Harry."

Hermione's comment rattled around in Harry's head for the next three days, haunting him as he tried to sleep, sneaking up on him during classes, tickling the base of his skull while he was rocking Jamie. During any spare second of the day or night, his mind was filled with "Who? Who? Who?" until it felt like Hedwig and about fifty of her closest friends had taken up residence in his head. After hearing it while he was in the loo, Harry decided the only way to exorcise it was to sit down, quill in hand, and list all the possible who's.

Based on what Ginny had told them about stalkers and stalking, Harry decided to start of witches he'd come into close contact with over the past year. It was a short list. As he wrote, he thought that it was just a random collection of names. Then he looked back over it and realized that he'd listed the most likely candidates first and then progressed to the not-bloody-likelies. He actually chuckled when he wrote Minerva McGonagall's name down.

Staring at the names, he felt as if he was missing something. Before he could stop them, memories of his three-year binge fluttered in and out of his memory like gnats. So he decided to make a list of those witches as well. As the first name's ink dried, Harry looked across the room to where Hermione was reading to Jamie. She looked up at him and smiled. His heart was filled with a nearly smothering feeling of guilt and he lit out of the house with a vague "be right back" soon after. Logically, he knew there was no need for guilt over his actions while he thought her dead, but...well, he just couldn't compose this list with his wife in the room.

It took nearly an hour for him to jot down the names. An hour in which he was plagued by memories, by faces...by witches with full dark hair. By grainy, gray images of drunken gropings in back rooms and dark corners. An hour to relive a half remembered past, leaving him exhausted and adrift in a sea of tragic memories.

"Harry?"

Harry was so caught up in his past that the voice and the hand on his shoulder nearly had him leaping from his own skin.

Then he saw who it was and he had to control an entirely different reaction. He didn't think Rosmerta would relish having to break up a pub brawl this evening, no matter how recently this man had had his wife pinned to a blackboard. Hermione's voice piped up in his head reminding him that the man had been under Imperius at the time. That's no bloody excuse, Harry told her voice, I threw off the damned thing at fourteen. He's an Auror, for pity's sake.

"Harry?" Jason repeated, snapping him from the internal argument he was having with his wife.

"Sorry, Jason. You caught me deep in thought." Harry stood to meet the other man face to face, but made no move to invite the Auror to join him. Hermione would have called him childish, but he was speaking to the man civilly and that would have to do.

"It looked like you were trying to decide whether to greet me or beat me up."

Harry felt a grin form in spite of himself. "That, too."

"I just wanted to say goodbye before I head off. And to apologize."

"There's no need for an apology," Harry choked out, in deference to Hermione.

"Yes, there is. May I?" Jason indicated the booth. Harry nodded his head and they both took their seats on opposite benches. "I have always been proficient at throwing off the Imperius curse. Ever since early in my training."

"All evidence to the contrary," Harry said shortly.

Jason nodded. "I've given this a lot of thought over the past few days. I couldn't believe that after all these years, I fell victim to such manipulation. And I think the only reason I succumbed was because part of me wanted to...wanted to believe what the voice was telling me."

Harry had hated this man on first sight, and second sight...well, every time he'd laid eyes on him, actually. It galled him to find that he had something in common with him. But given how infatuated he'd been with Hermione since his mid teens, how could he fault another man for feeling the same way? She had a way of getting under your skin and ...

"I understand," Harry said simply, offering his hand across the table to the Auror. The small, insecure part of him wanted to hold on to the enmity and antagonism and continue to loathe the man on principle alone. But that would serve no purpose. It would only continue to eat away at him until it consumed him. And he'd had enough of that behavior for a lifetime.

"Have you had any luck figuring out who is behind this?"

"That's what I'm working on now," Harry said, turning the parchments face down onto the table. He'd accept the other man's apology, but he wasn't going to invite him into his past.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Harry was about to decline when something Jason had just said caught up with him. "You mentioned wanting to believe what the voice was telling you," Harry waited until Jason indicated that he go on. "Do you mind if I ask exactly what precisely the voice told you?"

"It's not real clear, but I remember a voice, a female one. She kept saying 'go to Hermione' and 'Hermione needs you'. There was more, I know, but I can't remember exact words. All I knew, all I believed, was that Hermione was in love with me and needed my help to get away from you." Jason sighed. "She's powerful, whoever she is."

"I'm discovering that," Harry said, dejectedly, turning over one list and staring at the top name.

"Well, if there's anything else I can do, please don't hesitate."

"I won't," Harry said, rising to shake the Auror's hand again. Jason Disapparated a moment later.

Harry hadn't even taken his seat again when Ron came panting through the front doors, pausing once to nod to Rosmerta before joining him. Ron slid into the seat Jason had just vacated and glanced at the parchments, at the glass near Harry's elbow, and at Harry.

"It's cider," he said without preamble. "Unfermented."

"I didn't say anything," Ron said, trying to look innocent.

"No, but your glance at Rosmerta spoke volumes. Let me guess, she owled you that I was here alone?"

"No," Ron said, his ears a bright shade of red.

Harry stared at him.

"She didn't owl, Harry."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Bloody hell," Ron groused, rubbing his betraying ears. "Apparently, Faren was here picking up her supper when you arrived. Rosmerta asked her to let me know that you were here alone."

"Faren was here? I didn't even see her." Harry made a mental note to apologize to his nanny in the morning for his preoccupation.

"What's going on, Harry?" Ron asked, concern evident in his lowered voice and serious face.

"This," Harry said simply, passing the parchment over to him.

While Ron pored over the two sheets of parchment as though they held the mysteries to the universe, Harry stared at the liquid in his glass. How many times had he sat in this pub, downing glass after glass of Ogdens? A hundred? More? The part of him that was still battling cravings could almost feel the slow burn of Firewhiskey as it hit his mouth, the way it would blaze a path down his throat then settle in his stomach to spread warmth through his body. The way it would numb his brain and heart until he could bear the idea that Hermione was dead.

Then he glanced at Ron and the two lists. How many witches had he tried to console himself with? Had he, during that horrid time, made some other fatal error that was now coming back to haunt him?

"Well?" Harry asked when Ron placed both sheets down.

"I'm in awe, Harry. You were quite the witch's wizard, weren't you?" Ron commented idly, indicating the second parchment.

"I didn't make that list to brag, you prat. I made it to see if there might be someone on that list behind this mess."

"Well, I wasn't with you for any of the private time you spent with these women, Harry. You never had the courtesy to invite me along." When Harry didn't share in the lame joke, Ron continued, "But if I recall correctly, each one of these women was just as pissed as you were. Hardly the basis for a lingering affection."

"I know. I barely remember being there myself," Harry said, trying not to allow his past to overcome him again.

"Don't shatter my dreams, Harry. I'm going to be an old married man soon and I didn't have much of a swinging bachelorhood. I was too busy helping my brothers build an empire. Well, that and playing nursemaid to my drunken sod of a best mate. Let me at least pretend that you were the lothario of the wizarding world so I can live vicariously for a bit."

"You're not helping," Harry said, fighting a grin.

"Well, you're not looking at your glass and wishing it was Firewhiskey any more, are you?" Ron said softly.

"I wasn't..." Harry broke off when he realized that a part of him had been. "That obvious, was I?"

"Mate, another few seconds and you'd have been drooling."

"Drooling?" asked a voice beside him. Harry turned to see Draco pulling a chair up to join them. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

"Well, we weren't talking about you," Ron said.

"Pity," Draco drawled, batting his eyelashes comically at the redhead. "Should I be put out that no one invited me to wizard's night? Or is this just a Gryffindor thing?"

Harry studied Draco for a few moments before cluing in. "Who told you I was here?"

"Mariah was talking with Ginny when Faren showed up," he shrugged. "Ginny thought..."

"You'd never know I was an orphan with the number of mothers I seem to have," Harry groused good-naturedly. When he was younger, all the mollycoddling would have hacked him off; but now, all he felt was the warmth of friends that had only his welfare in mind.

"Did you see Jason today?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering what he'd asked Draco to do. "What did you find out with his paper test?"

"No match," Draco sighed. "But that's not really news, is it? His sample let off a really horrid shade of green. Nowhere near the purple readings we had with the other two notes. So this Jason bloke is out of the running entirely, unless he had someone writing the notes for him."

"Which is highly doubtful. And you're right, it's not news. I suppose I just wanted to be absolutely certain before shifting my gears completely."

"Speaking of shifting Harry's gears, Draco," Ron piped up, walking gracefully through the opening Harry'd given him. "Take a look at this list."

Draco scanned the parchment and whistled softly. "I'm impressed, Potter. And to think, we voted you most likely to die a virgin." Draco glanced at the parchment again, his brow furrowing. "Where are the rankings?"

"Rankings?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"You know, the shagability ratings and so on."

Harry glanced at Draco's blank face and the smile Ron was desperately trying to hide behind his hand and dropped his head to the table. "With friends like you lot..."

"Come on, Harry," Ron said seriously. "We're just trying to help you keep this all in perspective."

"The perspective being what?" Harry asked, his head still on the table. "That some crazed woman is out there, watching my every move, possibly intent on harming my wife or my little girl?"

"No, Harry," Draco said, seriously. "The perspective that there isn't anything you can really do about it. Making a list of every woman you've ever come into contact with and studying those women through a pensieve to see if you might have done something to bring this on won't help in the slightest. It'll only drive you mad."

"If it doesn't, the pair of you certainly will," Harry said. But to his surprise, he was starting to feel better. Maybe writing out that list, taking a long look at the man he'd been, had been the only way to purge the remaining guilt over his actions. Maybe it had been the only way to finally put it behind him. Feeling lighter than he had in days, Harry took the longer list, crumpled it up and shoved it into the pocket of his robes.

"What's on the other one?" Draco asked, indicating the remaining piece of parchment.

"The more probable suspects," Harry said, passing it to Draco. Harry knew the moment he reached McGonagall's name. Either that, or the butterbeer he'd ordered wasn't to his liking.

"McGonagall?" Draco said, still coughing. "Aren't we overestimating our appeal just a tad?"

Harry just took a sip of his cider. "You never know," he grinned back. When he'd started this journey of self-discovery a few hours ago, he'd never imagined that he could smile about it. He supposed that was the purpose of friendships, and of family. To help you through the rough bits, to help you find the bright spots. He may have grown up alone, but he wasn't alone anymore.

Conversation ceased as Ron and Draco looked back at the list. While they did so, Harry scanned the other patrons in the pub that night. More than a few, he noticed with a small smile, were watching the three of them warily...whether in concern that they were discussing some new dark magic threat or mindful of the possibility that they could start a roaring pub brawl, Harry wasn't sure. Based on their combined history, he supposed they could be expecting either. More than a few of them, Harry knew, were wondering if Harry Potter had indeed fallen off the wagon.

Most of the pubgoers that night certainly had, or had never been acquainted with the wagon in the first place. Sobriety didn't seem to be the order of the evening. One bloke was half on, half off of his stool and just about to slide right into someone in a purple cloak....

Beloved....

Harry gasped out loud and clapped his hand over his scar.

"What's up?" Ron asked, raising his eyes from the sheet in front of him.

"I..." Harry got to his feet and scanned the room's occupants frantically. All talking had ceased when he stood, but he could still hear the woman's voice in his head, over and over again like an echo. Harry scanned the room, but saw no one he even remotely recognized. The drunken bloke had finally lost his battle with gravity and was now lying face down on the pub floor.

But whoever had been wearing that cloak was gone. The person sitting next to the drunk...the one that had had a perfect view of him through the mirror behind the bar. The one in perfect position to use a connection charm to speak to him rather than just send a caress to his scar.

Without so much as a nod of explanation to his friends, Harry tore from the pub. Once outside he searched the High Street in both directions.

"Lumos!"

he shouted, ripping his wand from his robes and holding it high over his head. He aimed the beam at the various alleyways and storefronts, but there was nothing for it. The street was deserted.

"Harry?" Draco said as he and Ron joined him. "What are you on about?"

"She was there, in the pub, just now."

"She who?" Draco asked.

"The one who's sending the notes."

"You're sure?"

"Dead sure," Harry sighed. "And she cleared up one nagging question."

"You spoke to her?"

"No, not like that. As you were looking at the list, it felt like someone was touching my scar and I heard a woman's voice say 'beloved'."

"A connection charm?" Draco guessed.

"It's got to be," Harry said distractedly, still scanning the street. "So now we know where the mysterious scar pain is coming from. Whoever she is, she's managed to connect herself to me through my scar. Just like Voldemort did during seventh year. And she's taken it one step further and has figured out how to use it to transmit words as well."

"But that's ridiculously advanced magic, Harry," Ron said, thinking of the list. "There's only one witch on that list, besides McGonagall, that could possibly manage that."

"I know," Harry sighed. "And I guess I'll be having a little chat with her tomorrow."

"Just be careful, Harry," Draco warned, "from what Gin's told me about these things, stalkers can get violent if cornered."

"I will be," Harry said. He extinguished his wand and placed it back inside his robes. Yes, he'd talk to her tomorrow, but he'd be careful not to tip his hand. Just a friendly chat to gauge her reaction to a bit of one on one conversation.

They were just heading towards their respective homes when Ron stopped and stared at his brother-in-law.

"Draco?" Ron said. He was staring at the other man's chest.

"What?"

"You're glowing."

Harry, lost in his own thoughts, glanced quizzically at Ron who indicated Draco with a wave of his hand. Sure enough, Draco's chest had turned a bright red.

"That would be your sister. She grew tired of sticking her head through fireplaces all over creation, so she charmed this amulet to glow red if she needs to talk to me. Apparently, she was a bit taken with Mariah's ability to contact you. Ouch..." Draco ended on a hiss as he pulled the now blood red crystal away from his skin. "The longer I ignore it, the hotter it gets. Bloody nag, that woman." Draco placed his wand tip to the crystal and it cooled immediately.

"Well, I could have told you that," Ron grinned. Almost immediately, though, his face went slack. Harry knew from experience that Mariah was probably contacting him through their link. Vaguely, he wondered if Hermione would be gifting him with an amulet of some sort any time soon.

"I've got to go," Ron said, casting a glance over Harry's shoulder towards his shop.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I think so," Ron said, already turning to leave, but his obvious rush belied his words.

"Do me a favor, Harry," Draco said as they reached the fork that led to their homes. "Send me a copy of that list. I'd like to do a run on each of those names. Just to be on the safe side."

*^*^*^*^*^*^

Ron was surprised to see the door to the apartment ajar when he reached the upstairs landing. Mariah hadn't told him much during their brief conversation. All he'd felt was complete shock, repressed anger, and her weary voice asking him to come home as soon as possible. He wasn't sure whether he hoped this meant Kalena had finally answered her or not. Any time anyone mentioned Diviners these days, she spat verbal venom in their direction. Even Faren wasn't immune. The young nanny had merely commented on the black band around Mariah's wrist and his fiancée had lambasted the girl for nearly five minutes.

Something's going to change

, Ron thought as he braced himself to push open the front door, if I have to track Kalena down single-handed.

Mariah was standing at the window when he saw her. She was blocking most of her stronger emotions from him, but he could still feel the rage.

Faren was standing just inside their flat. "Ron," she whispered. "Something happened. I was just on my way in and was nearly knocked over by an owl. It pushed its way past me when I got home just now. By the time I got up here, your door was partly open and I saw that," she indicated a wadded up letter in the corner of the room. "She's been there ever since. I wasn't sure if I should leave her alone or not."

"I'm sure she's fine, Faren. We'll sort it out."

"Do you want me to take Rianne to my apartment tonight?" Faren cast a worried glance in Mariah's direction.

"That won't be necessary. She's used to her mum's occasional...er...outbursts. If Mariah needs to vent it out, Rianne will sleep right through it." Ron saw Faren out, quietly shut the front door and slowly made his way to Mariah. Curiosity had him wanting to pick up the discarded letter, but he knew she'd tell him if it contained anything he needed to know.

"Angel?" Ron said, placing his hands on her shoulders and drawing her into his arms.

"It was from her." Her voice was choked with anger, as if her words were being forced passed clenched teeth. Ron wasn't sure which "her", so he remained mute.

"Allison," Mariah clarified.

That explains the rage

, Ron thought. Only her mother could make Mariah this upset. He tightened his arms around her, trying in vain to suppress the shuddering fury that wracked her slender body.

"Read it," she said.

Ron reluctantly released Mariah and bent to pick up the discarded letter.

Mariah,

I know you are struggling, I have seen it. But you have to let go...let it come. You have to see it for what it is. Think of all you could do, my darling girl.

Perhaps you, Renae and I should meet and together we can help you through this.

By the way, several in the Order are worried about Kalena. She hasn't been seen in months. Have you been in contact with her, by any chance?

Your loving mother

Ron sighed deeply and scanned through the letter one more time. There were so many things that could have put Mariah into her current state. At the moment, however, he was more interested in what Allison had said about knowing that Mariah was struggling with something. More importantly, she seemed to know what was causing it. He knew Mariah would balk, but anything that would ease his fiancée from the nightmares...

Don't even go there, Ron

, Mariah thought, her voice nearly as acidic in his head as it was out loud.

But she seems to know what's haunting you, Mariah.

She probably had a vague impression of me having a nightmare, Ron. She's trying to use that to get me to see her. She's tried appealing to my compassion before. By Merlin, it won't work this time.

But if she...

"No!" Mariah spat. To Ron, she sounded vaguely like Bill's three year old when denied sweets, but he kept that thought firmly to himself. He knew he couldn't force her to face her nightmares...or her mother. Memories of finding Hermione flashed through his mind, and the anguish Harry went through when he was unable to help her. Ron supposed he'd just have to endure this, just as Harry had, and simply be there for her when her mind was ready to face her demons.

"Didn't you read the whole thing?" Mariah asked. "Can't you see what she's trying to do? You have to read between the lines. She's never literal, Ron. Everything she wrote comes down to one thing. Her wanting to meet with Renae, her question about Kalena..." Ron said nothing. "She's trying to use me to find Renae. She wants that baby, Ron. She wants to be a part of the legend, have her name next to those that reared the Triuna, and she's not above using my nightmares to achieve that goal."

"And you don't think there's anything she could do...to help with the nightmares, I mean?" Normally, he wouldn't push, but he was the one that watched her endure the fear and panic every night. He wasn't going to let her set this aside without at least trying.

"Don't you get it, Ron? I want nothing to do with her. Nothing. I don't care if a kind word from her could stop the nightmares forever or if she could make the fear go away with a touch of her little finger. If it comes from her, I want nothing to do with it. And more to the point, she wants nothing to do with me. She doesn't care that I'm having nightmares, Ron. She wouldn't care if I was dying of some terminal disease. I've been having these dreams for months...if she's so concerned about me, why has it taken so long for her to write?"

Ron sighed, knowing that Mariah was probably right. Whatever she faced at night, she'd be facing it alone. He could do what he could to comfort her, but until she could voice what she saw, he was powerless. He picked the letter back up and reread it. Then something else struck him. "You set up wards months ago. Nothing written by her should have made it past the windowsill."

"Seems I had a small flaw in that plan. I didn't count on a crafty owl. We only charmed the apartment windows. It must have been waiting by the front entrance and followed Faren in. Then it pecked at our door, sounded like someone knocking, so I opened it and the damned owl seized the opportunity."

"Guess we'd better charm the doorjambs, too, then?"

"While we're at it," Mariah said, "let's charm the whole damned village."

"Could we charm England, you think?" Ron was rewarded with a small smile.

Feeling that the harshest of her rage had passed, thankfully without broken china this go round, Ron moved to the couch and motioned for her to join him. She didn't have to be asked twice. In the flutter of a pixie's wings, he'd gathered her into his arms and pulled her back to his front.

I feel so helpless, Mariah. You're hurting and there's absolutely nothing I can do to help, to make it better. Plays hell with that whole man-protector image.

You're doing more than you know, Ron. You're here. You're holding me. You still love me in spite of the fact that I'm a raving madwoman at times.

At times?

Ron winced as her elbow met his midsection. Seriously, though, Mariah, I'd like to slay a dragon at the very least.

Charlie'd have your ass if you did that.

They settled into a companionable silence, both in spoken word and mental conversation. Their minds drifted from words to images. They shared memories of their turbulent time together, from the first toe-to-toe face off in an American library to Ron's memory of seeing Mariah pregnant for the first time. Their fights, their reconciliations. The day Rianne was born. Each image, the good and the bad, bound them even more than the mark around Mariah's wrist. Each image from their past brought them peace in the turbulence of their present.

Not much longer, love

, Ron thought to her, rubbing an idle finger over the now vacant left hand ring finger.

I know,

Mariah thought back, it still feels like too long to wait, though. He felt the warmth, the love, the peace flow into her. He didn't know if she was drawing it from him or sending it to him. It didn't matter. All he cared about was keeping her in this cocoon, keeping her safe from the demons that haunted her. Loving her until the day he died.

That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard,

Mariah said, turning to face him. He was just about to make it a bit more romantic when he felt her entire body go rigid.

Angel?

He's dead, Ron. He's dead. Right there, on the floor.

Ron whipped his head around. She was fixated on a section of floor right near their kitchen table, but the space was empty of anyone, dead or alive.

"There's no one there," Ron said, hand to her chin, trying to force her to look away.

"There will be, Ron." Mariah said in a blank tone that sent icicles down his spine. "There will be."

*^*^*^*^*^*^*

They'd been lying in bed for nearly an hour. The silence was deafening as each fought for a way to start this conversation. After Harry turned over in bed for the fifth time in as many minutes, Hermione's exasperation took over.

"All right, I've had enough," she announced sharply, sitting up and turning to face her husband. "Out with it."

"What are you talking about, Hermione?" Harry asked, trying for perplexed. Even in the dim glow of moonlight filtering through their window, he could see the raised eyebrow.

"Don't patronize me, Harry Potter," she warned, her quiet tone adding more impact to her words than if she'd shouted them. "I want to know what had you tearing out of here earlier this evening, and I want to know what you're brooding over now."

Realizing that denial was useless, Harry sat up in bed and faced her. He did not pull her to him; if anything, he tried to put more distance between them.

"Remember what you said a few days ago? About focusing on who was doing this rather than why it was happening?"

"Yes," she said warily, drawing the word out. And then everything clicked into place and she knew why he was brooding again. As with everyone else, she knew the only way to banish the brooding was with laughter...and love.

"Well, that's what I tried to do this evening. Make out a list of all the witches I've come into contact with over the past year..."

"No wizards?" Hermione interrupted quizzically.

Harry merely raised an eyebrow at her before continuing. "As that list was rather short, with only one likely candidate...and even that one fairly hard to believe--"

"Who?" she interrupted again

Harry told her and Hermione nodded her agreement. Whether she was agreeing that the witch was suspect or that it was hard to believe, Harry didn't know. "Anyway, I decided to make another list."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said softly, "you didn't."

"I did."

"Should I be worried?" Harry just looked at her, a questioning expression on his face. "Any of these names conjure up lingering desires? A yen to recreate your youthful indiscretions?"

"I was lucky if I could put faces to most of those names, Hermione."

"You wild man," she grinned, finally closing the distance between them. With an economy of movement, she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. "I'm going to say this once, Harry, and I hope to never have to repeat it. What happened while we were apart has no bearing on our marriage. You coped as best you could under very difficult circumstances. And if it turns out that one of those witches is behind this, we'll find her and we'll deal with it. But you are in no way allowed to beat yourself up over it."

Harry was silent as her words sunk in. "But..."

"There is one thing, though," Hermione said as her hips arched against him, causing just the reaction she was hoping for.

"What's that?" he asked, desire for her thickening his voice in spite of the seriousness of their conversation.

"I'd love to thank her," Hermione rocked her hips into the rigidity now pressing insistently just where she wanted it.

"Thank who?"

"The one that taught you that thing you do."

"What thing?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"You mean this thing?"

"Ummmmmyes."

"You already know her." Harry paused to make sure he had her full attention. "You taught me that, Hermione. You taught me everything. I may not have been a virgin in the technical sense when we first made love back in Virginia, but I was as good as. Because you're the only one that counts. You're the only one I remember."

In her life, Hermione didn't think she would ever hear anything that would make her feel as special, and as loved, as what Harry had just told her.

*^*^*^*^*^*

It was the voice that woke him, Ron decided later. Something that shrill did not help an already troubled sleep. It had taken nearly two hours to finally ease Mariah into something resembling peaceful slumber. After nearly ten minutes of staring at the spot on the floor, Ron had finally been able to coax her off the couch and into their bedroom. Then she'd lain, wide awake, staring at the ceiling instead.

He was still learning the finer points of the whole Diviner-Bond relationship, mostly by trial and error given Mariah's reluctance to discuss it. As they lay in bed, Mariah curled into his side, Ron thought of every peaceful, every tranquil thing he could and tried to infuse those thoughts into his fiancée. After what seemed like hours, he finally felt her relax and knew that either his efforts, or her own exhaustion, had given her enough serenity to drift into sleep.

He was just feeling the first fingers of sleep teasing his own subconscious when he heard the voice. At first, he'd thought it was Mariah battling her nightmares again, but a glance at her showed a peaceful face and knew she was sleeping easy for a change.

The voice sounded again. Very carefully, he eased himself from the bed and walked toward the source. He eased the front door open and searched the upstairs landing. There wasn't anyone there, but he could hear it more clearly now. It was coming from Faren's apartment.

"Stupid...idiotic...this one chance blown...so close...all ... fault..."

Ron closed the door softly. He was fairly sure that it wasn't Faren's voice in that room, but the sound was so muffled, it could have been. Someone was telling the Potter's nanny off for something or she was talking to herself. Either way, it wasn't good news. He decided to owl Draco first thing in the morning and ask him to check a bit further into Faren's background. Ron wasn't concerned enough to alert Harry yet. Faren had been their nanny for the better part of a year now and had never given them a moment's pause. And Merlin knew he was the last person to make an issue of someone yelling in their apartment.

But he was still going to check into it.

*^*^*^*^

Journal Entry

Oh, my love. I can't sleep tonight. Just being so close to you, touching you, connecting with you ... words can't describe the joy in my heart. I know I can carry on now. When I saw you rise at my touch, at the sound of my voice, it was all I could do not to rush into your waiting arms. But I know now is still the time for discretion and you were with the others. And I am still not sure if they're supporting you in your fight against the spellcaster or if they're hindering your struggle.

I also know that I cannot bear to be apart from you any longer. Thankfully, I have figured out a way we can be together soon. How I long to finally feel your arms around me, to feel your lips on mine. Soon, my beloved, soon. I have it all worked out.

*^*^*^*^*^

Draco and Ginny spent the following morning curled up in bed and reading the morning Prophet over coffee and fruit salad. At the end of the bed, Morgan was happily throwing pieces of dry cereal at them, occasionally putting one in his mouth.

"Ginny," Draco said mildly as yet another bit of oat cereal landed on his head.

"Hmmm?" she said, her attention focused on the article she was reading.

"You do realize that this is going to get messy when we begin with eggs and such, yes?"

Ginny looked up and watched as yet another cereal bit headed for her husband, this one bouncing off his forehead. "Well, for you maybe."

The Malfoys shared a long, meaningful look. One that changed meanings after about three seconds.

"Think the Emperor would mind if we put him back in his crib for a bit?"

"I think you'd be unable to function over all the screaming," Ginny said, matter-of-factly and with a trace of disappointment.

"I've never minded your screaming before," Draco leered, leaning over to kiss her soundly.

"I meant Morgan's, you prat," Ginny managed in the second before his lips enveloped hers.

While Morgan seemed fascinated at first watching his Mum and Dad wrestle, he grew bored with it a minute later and decided to get their attention where it belonged. Draco only sighed when two handfuls of cereal pelted him.

Leaning forward, he grabbed his son and pulled him towards them. The boy was already giggling when Draco laid him between them and began pretending to eat his toes. Each nibble caused the deep, hearty laughter that only babies seemed able to generate.

Ginny watched, fighting the tears this scene always brought. "You do realize that's why he throws cereal at you, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Draco said between nibbles, "but it works for us."

That it does, my love

, Ginny thought, that it does.

"How was Harry last night?" Ginny asked later as he dressed for work. "You never did tell me."

"He was as well as you could expect, given recent events. He's going after this with all his usual tenacity. But he has a list made up for me. Witches he's come into contact with over the last year," he clarified for his wife. "I'll do a bit of investigating at work today."

The arrival of the morning post stilled any further conversation as Ginny and Draco sorted the pile into his and hers. Draco placed his envelopes inside his robes but one. Ginny recognized her brother's scrawl. "What's that?"

Draco didn't answer right away. He scanned the brief note twice, uttered a soft hiss, and then placed it with the others. "It's nothing," Draco lied.

Ginny raised her eyebrow, but Draco met her stare without flinching. "I'll tell you when I can, Red."

"Fair enough," she sighed.

Ginny waited until Draco had Disapparated to work before sitting down at the kitchen table and writing out her own notes. She knew Hermione had no afternoon classes today and that Mariah desperately needed some quality witch-bonding. The circles under her eyes were getting more and more pronounced every day. It had been way too long since they'd gotten their heads together. Now seemed a perfect time for just that. A little lunch, a little plotting...perfect. She'd have to make sure that it was at Hermione's, though, so they wouldn't get sidetracked going through all the wedding things scattered about her house at the moment.

She sent her owl off with the luncheon invitations as soon as the ink had dried. The men in their lives might think they would be content to stay in the shadows.

As usual, they were dead wrong.

*^*^*^*^*^

Harry was just settling Jamie into her highchair when he heard footsteps behind him. With a grin already on his face, Harry turned towards Hermione. "And how is the love of my life this morning?"

Harry nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw Faren standing there instead. An awkward silence passed, during which Harry and Faren blushed quite a bit. Hermione, right behind the nanny, tried unsuccessfully to hold back the giggles.

"Tired of me already, Harry?" Hermione said, her eyes bright with her laughter.

"Never," he said solemnly, pulling her into his arms and dipping her before planting his lips on hers. The sound of breakfast dishes clattering to the countertop finally broke them apart.

"Sorry about that, Faren," Harry said as he resumed his seat.

"No problem," she muttered. She said something else, but her voice was too low for Harry to hear.

The room fell silent for a few moments until Jamie decided things were too quiet and her stomach was too empty. Her chubby fist wrapped around her plastic spoon and set about hammering on her highchair's tray. Harry and Hermione watched her until an owl knocked at the closed kitchen window interrupting them. Hermione untied the note and the owl made itself at home on their kitchen table. Realizing it was waiting for an answer, Hermione scanned the invitation briefly.

"Who's it from?" Harry asked, deftly catching the milk container before the owl knocked it over.

"Ginny," Hermione said, taking a quill from her bag and quickly penning her response. "She wants Mariah and me to have lunch with her here today." She reattached the note and sent the owl on its way. "Since I'll be here, Faren, why don't you take the afternoon off?"

"Seriously?" Faren asked, her face a mixture of relief and happiness.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Of course. I realize we've never offered you time off on those days I don't have afternoon lessons, mostly because I spend that time working on the next week's lesson plans. I hope you know that any time you need time off, all you have to do is ask."

"I know that," Faren said, something somehow off about her voice. "And normally, I don't usually need it. But something came up last night. I was actually going to ask you later."

"Well, consider your question asked and answered," Hermione smiled. Jamie banged her spoon even louder on the tray in front of her and Faren handed her the bowl of porridge. "Now then, little miss. Is this what you're making all that noise about?"

"Harry?" Hermione asked half an hour later as they made their way across the village towards Hogwarts. "Have you..." she paused as if unsure, "is Faren on your list?"

Harry actually stopped walking and turned to face her. "Faren?" he asked, incredulous, "are you mad? She's just a kid."

"Kid or not, Harry, did you see the way she was blushing earlier?"

"That's because I embarrassed her," Harry said defensively.

"I'm just saying that you might want to consider adding her to the list. You said it yourself, you two grew quite close while I was at the Auror's Institute a few months ago. It's possible that she grew used to playing house with you and wants that back."

"Hermione, you make it sound as if we were shagging like rabbits while you were out of town."

"Well, of course you weren't," Hermione said, then waited a second. "You don't shag like a rabbit, Harry."

"There's only one effective way to shut that mouth," Harry grinned before lowering his mouth to hers. After a very thorough kiss, Harry and Hermione straightened their clothing and resumed their walk towards the school. The grounds were deserted for the most part. Several students were walking slowly towards the greenhouses; Snape was at the reedy edge of the lake collecting things in small flagons. They passed by without saying anything, but Snape did raise an arm in greeting. Harry hadn't seen much of the Potions master these days, but that suited him fine. They had reached a level of non-combativeness, true, but Harry wasn't looking to start having tea with the man, either.

Harry and Hermione parted at the Entrance Hall; Hermione headed up the marble staircase towards her classroom, Harry headed in the opposite direction.

"Promise me you'll at least think about it?" she'd said in parting.

"Promise," Harry had said, not really meaning it. He watched her until she was out of sight, and then shook his head at her mad idea. Faren? Their nanny? She must be out of her tree. Harry grinned at the very thought. She was too young. As Hermione said, he knew Faren better than she did since those three days when Hermione was away. Faren was a sweet, loving, amiable young woman. It just wasn't possible.

There was no way a witch as young as Faren would be capable enough to produce the level of connection charm that he'd experienced the night before. Then he remembered that he hadn't told Hermione about it yet. Once he did, though, he was sure that her attention would turn in the same direction his was; towards the one witch on whom his focus was fixed at this stage. One person he hoped to run into, casually, just to see what happened.

Unfortunately, it happened before he was quite ready. When he pushed open the door to his classroom, she was standing at the main window.

"Sara?" he asked tentatively.

She turned to face him, hand clasped to her chest. "Harry! You scared the life from me."

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked casually, moving towards his desk but still keeping her in plain sight.

"No, I was just looking ... out the window. Your view...it's just spectacular."

Harry had looked out that window hundreds of times. He knew exactly what was visible. The village of Hogsmeade, the roof of his house, and the route he and Hermione took to school every day.

Rather late, his ears caught up with his brain. There was something missing in Sara's voice. The usual stammer she hadn't quite lost in his presence. Her voice also sounded a bit choked, as though he'd caught her on the verge of tears.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, plastering what he hoped was a sympathetic look on his face.

"Everything's...I'm...I'm fine, Harry." The slight sniffle as she said his name said otherwise.

"Are you sure? Maybe there's something Hermione or I can do to help..."

"Help?" The teary quality was gone. The one word question had sounded like a slap. "How could you possibly help? Oh yes, I forgot. You're Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. The wonder couple. There's nothing you two can't do, is there?"

Harry was so jarred by her abrupt change, he simply stood there gaping like a carp, completely at a loss for words. He'd seen small signs of her temper before now, but this was the first time he'd seen it directed at him.

"I didn't mean to offend you," Harry said, walking toward her.

"Offend me? Offend me? Why how gallant of you. First you want to help poor old me with my problems and now you're afraid you've offended me. You, who hasn't spared five minutes to talk to me since I started teaching here. Now we're best friends? Now you're going to handle all of my problems, are you? Honestly, you really are as arrogant as I've heard."

Sara slammed the door with such force; a pane of glass fell out and shattered on the floor. Nonplussed, Harry reached into his robes for his wand, still trying to figure out exactly what had just happened. He needn't have bothered because the pane jumped up and replaced itself before his hand could pull out his wand.

Harry looked up to the face peering around the newly repaired door. "Annika?"

"Is everything okay, Professor?"

"I would say that depends on your definition of okay," Harry sighed, slumping into his desk chair. Sara had been his only real suspect since Jason was officially cleared. Now that suspicion was even stronger.

Annika only looked at him quizzically.

"It's nothing, Annika. Just a little bit of stress." A little bit? he thought. That was like saying a little bit of infinity. Harry removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose idly. When he looked back up, he saw that Annika was closer, but not much else. He replaced his glasses and tried to look like a Professor. He shouldn't be discussing his stresses with a student.

"I had a chance to look over that Auror essay, by the way," he said, rifling through the papers in his bag. The list came out first, but he hastily shoved it back in. He handed the roll of parchment over to her just as her classmates began to file in for their lesson.

"Oh," she said, a bit distractedly, "thanks."

The remainder of the morning was a bit of a wash for Harry. He taught without being entirely sure he was making sense. Luckily, his seventh years were only here for progress testing for their upcoming NEWTs. He could let his mind turn over what had just happened with Sara as they pored over practice papers.

He wasn't so lucky with his third years.

Twice he called a boggart a bogey, once he referred to a "punky hink". Both events led his students into such a fit of the giggles that he decided to repeat the practice paper exercise. He thought he'd managed a nice save until he saw Katia's eyes grow as round as dinner plates.

"What is it, Katia?"

The poor girl seemed beyond speech. She just kept staring at the sheet of paper as if it was crawling with bubotuber pus. He made his way to her quickly and just barely suppressed a laugh when he saw the source of her dismay.

"Sorry, Katia," he said, grinning despite his best efforts. "That must have gotten mixed in with your class' worksheets. It's a NEWT practice sheet."

The sigh of relief from the girl was so forceful, the candles on his desk shimmered. "Thank heavens."

Harry chuckled internally all the way back to his desk. He imagined Hermione would have had the same reaction if given a practice paper four years more advanced than her current level of study.

Feeling slightly better, Harry dismissed his third years twenty minutes later. He was still trying to puzzle out Sara's odd behavior that morning, though. Based on what Ginny had told them about stalking, her erratic shifts in temperament were just one more reason to suspect her. He felt a frown forming as he tried to decide what, if anything, he should do next. Harry's head rose at the sound of someone clearing their throat. All thoughts of stalkers left him when he saw Hermione standing in the doorway.

"I thought you were having lunch with Ginny and Mariah?" Harry said, rising to greet her.

Hermione simply smiled and closed the door behind her. It closed with a click that he could hear from across the room. "It was cancelled," she said, her eyes now bright with devilish intent.

Harry grinned back.

*^*^*^

"Ginny, you simply must give me the recipe for those cinnamon scones," Hermione said, now wiping crumbs from said scone from the corners of her mouth.

Ginny and Mariah glanced at each other, each hoping the other would comment first.

"Um..." Ginny said awkwardly.

"So you can...what, Hermione? Make some?" Mariah asked tentatively, her lip twitching.

Hermione laughed. "No, so Faren can. She's always looking for new recipes." She laughed even harder at the shared sighs of relief from her best friends. "This was such a marvelous idea, Ginny. We've had hardly any time just the three of us, what with...one thing and another."

"Which one thing?" Mariah asked, only half kidding. "The stalker? Wedding plans? Class schedules?"

"Okay, then. Several one things." Hermione shot a sideways glance at Ginny, wondering if this was the time to bring up the real reason behind this little luncheon.

"So, did Faren have big plans for her afternoon off?" Mariah asked, either picking up on the imminent ambush or just curious.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said, a curious frown creasing her forehead, "but she sure was in a hurry to leave. She nearly knocked me over when I walked through the front door."

An uneasy pause filled the room and Ginny decided that the time had come. "Right then," she said to Hermione, then turned her attention to Mariah. "We told you that this lunch was to go over the final wedding preparations."

"About damned time," Mariah grinned. "I mean I know you told me that all I'd have to do was show up, Gin, but I haven't even tried on my dress yet..." Mariah stopped when Ginny held up a hand.

"That was an outright lie. But since you asked, the wedding preps are going well and your dress will be here tomorrow for fittings."

Mariah looked at her quizzically, but as Ginny's hand went back up when she opened her mouth, she said nothing and waited for Ginny to continue.

"The reason Ginny arranged this lunch," Hermione stated, causing Mariah to whip her head towards her best friend, "is that we want to know what the bloody hell is up with you. And we're not letting you leave until you tell us."

"I don't know what you're talk--" Again, Ginny's hand shot up.

"Bollocks to that. If the bags under your eyes get any bigger, Mariah, they'll take over your face."

"I..." She looked at her two friends. "But..." They both raised eyebrows at her, Hermione folding her arms. Mariah sighed. She was cornered. It was time to tell them the truth. And maybe, she thought, just maybe they'll be ready to hear it.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

"So, lunch was cancelled, was it?" Harry said as he approached Hermione slowly.

"Ummhmm," she purred back, moving towards him at the same slow pace.

"Thought of a more interesting way to spend your off time, did you?"

"Infinitely more interesting," she drawled. They had finally met in the middle of the classroom. Only a breath of space separated them.

"Is...is Faren still with Jamie?" Harry asked. He was finding it difficult to form words as she began unbuttoning his robes with one hand. The other hand was drawing lazy circles at the nape of his neck. Something smells different, he thought, she must've changed shampoo.

Hermione seemed to falter at his question, though. Her fingers nearly broke the skin on his nape as her hand clenched. "Of course she is. You know I'd never endanger our baby."

Harry was about to question her choice of words, but Hermione's lips cut him off before he could.

*^*^*^*^

Mariah stared from one set of intent eyes to the other and sighed. She would have no luck in putting them off with vague "everything's fine" comments this time. On one point, though, she refused to give quarter. There were some things one was better off not knowing. And in this case, full disclosure would serve absolutely no purpose. Especially for Ginny.

"I'm sure I don't have to remind either of you who Renae is, right?"

"Like we could forget," Hermione said, her nose wrinkling at the memory of the havoc that woman had wreaked.

"Well, what you may not know is that I gave her shelter at Hogwarts for a bit," Mariah waited for the explosion. It never came. Either they didn't care or they were too stunned to comment. "While she was there, she had...well, she had visions."

Hermione rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Well, at least that reaction was dead on, Mariah thought. "Please tell me you didn't lay credence to these visions, Mariah?" Hermione implored.

"Not at first," she admitted. "But then things she saw began to happen and those visions became harder to ignore."

"What did she see?" Ginny asked. She was listening raptly, obviously not as skeptical as Hermione.

"I can't quite remember the exact words, but she saw a black shadow headed for Hogwarts. An evil presence set on destroying something I held close to my heart. She mentioned the pain of an old ghost, and that the pain of a young girl would herald the point of no return."

Hermione, Mariah noted, was no longer looking skeptical. Horrified was probably a more apt description. "The pain Harry feels in his scar?" Mariah nodded. "Katia's injury?" Mariah nodded again.

"Bloody hell," Ginny sighed.

Mariah could only nod one final time.

*^*^*^*^*

Harry felt himself sinking into his wife's kiss just as he always did when their lips met. The feel of her slight body pressed to his, her delicate arms wrapped around his neck, the taste of her mouth as he plundered its depths. The taste of...

Harry broke the kiss and pulled slightly away from her.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes only half open and staring at his mouth.

"Something's different," he said slowly. He put his finger under her chin to tilt her face upwards. He needed to see into her eyes.

"Good different?" she asked with a small, knowing smile. Her eyes told a different story. Her eyes showed the first fingers of fear.

"It just feels wrong, somehow," Harry said evenly.

The fear he'd seen disappeared instantly, replaced by something even more puzzling. He could have sworn it looked like hatred. Before he could say another word, though, she tore from his arms and fled the room at a run, opening and then slamming the classroom door behind her. She must have depressed the lock because he lost precious seconds tugging at it before finally realizing what she'd done and unlocked it. Harry ran into the corridor, but by the time he got there, he could see no sign of her. Hogwarts was known for its various passages and shortcuts, many of which easily accessible from rooms off this corridor. She could be anywhere by now; chasing after her would be fruitless.

Whoever she was.

Harry had seen Hermione sad, he'd seen her ill, hell, he'd even seen her as a cat. But until just now, he'd never seen her look anything but beautiful. In the moment that he'd said that kissing her felt wrong, though, she hadn't been beautiful. In that second, she'd looked truly ugly.

And that's when Harry had realized that the woman he'd just been snogging was not his wife.

*^*^*^*^*

Due to the bomb that Mariah had dropped, their quick luncheon continued well into the afternoon. As the babies awoke from their naps, they brought them downstairs, talking around their various gurgles and giggles rather than cutting the conversation short. Together, the three of them discussed as much as Mariah remembered of Renae's predictions and what they could do with this forewarning.

"Why didn't you tell us any of this before?" Ginny asked after two hours of intense discussion.

"Two reasons," Mariah said softly. "First, we didn't know if there was any reason that you should know. The future is a very hard thing to see, even for Diviners. For all we knew, Renae could have been picking up on something entirely different. And then, when things did start to happen...well, we thought it best to just stay on guard for all of you." Mariah cast a cursory glance at Hermione.

"Because of my notorious, and rather vocal, feelings about Divination?" she guessed.

"Yes," Mariah nodded.

"I suppose that's understandable, but I'm still hacked off with you," Hermione said sharply while Ginny nodded. Mariah looked stunned. Hermione reached over to take her best friend's hand. "You should have come to us, Mariah. You shouldn't have had to take all of this on by yourself."

"But I wasn't by myself," Mariah said, a slight grin forming at the corners of her mouth as tears pooled in her eyes. "Ron's known nearly as long as I have." She looked over at Ginny. "Your brother..."

Ginny's hand once again shot up. "Don't say it, Mariah. I have this perfectly formed image of him as an insensitive git. Anything you say now will tarnish that forever."

Harry walked in a few moments later. His house was filled with a sound he couldn't immediately identify. Well, he could, but it didn't make any sense. It sounded like three witches laughing and crying at the same time. When he walked into the lounge, he realized he was spot on.

He felt a vague sense of guilt tickling the back of his neck as he caught sight of Hermione, Jamie cradled on her lap, wiping tears from her eyes. His head knew there was nothing to feel guilty about...but he was having a difficult time convincing his heart. Harry hoped it would be easier to convince Hermione.

In the midst of this cacophony of female emotions, Jamie and Rianne were staring from their mothers to their aunties, trying to figure out which to emulate. Morgan Malfoy was staring at him with a look of such pleading that Harry briefly laid aside his feelings about that afternoon. Stepping past the weeping women, Harry grabbed up the baby.

"Come on, mate," Harry said to Morgan, "let's go owl your Dad to come collect your Mum. Then we'll talk about Quidditch until he gets here to offset the estrogen overload you've no doubt suffered this afternoon."

"I heard that, Harry Potter," Hermione called after him, still sniffling.

Draco was just walking in through the kitchen door when Harry entered from the lounge. He stopped dead, staring from Harry to Morgan before his face broke into a large grin.

"What?" Harry asked.

Draco smiled wider. "Nothing. Just my dear, unlamented father's worst nightmare standing in front of me -- Harry Potter holding the Malfoy heir apparent. If you listen carefully, you may just hear him spinning in his grave."

Morgan, upon spotting his father, began to squirm and reach for him. Draco took him from Harry and gazed into the lounge where their wives were wishing each other teary goodbyes. "I'd go in there," he said to Harry, "but I'd regret it, wouldn't I?"

"I certainly did," Harry returned. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Draco what had happened in his classroom during lunch break, but Harry held back. That was for he and Hermione to discuss first. Then they'd let everyone else know.

"Hey, Red," Draco called into the room, "you finished dehydrating yourself yet?"

"Shut it, you prat," Ginny called back.

"She adores me," Draco told Harry.

"Apparently," Harry agreed. After a few seconds pause, the pair of them burst into laughter at their own wit. Once upon a time, Harry mused, he'd hated the very sight of the man before him. Never in that long ago time had he thought that one day he and Draco Malfoy would be sharing jokes in his kitchen. Or that Draco would be the one to help him to humor after a long and trying afternoon spent with too many doubts and decisions.

Life was a bloody, funny business. Sometime, he thought as he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, he'd like to know what it was like to lead a simple, uncomplicated life. I'd probably be bored out of my mind, he thought gloomily.

"What's that face for?" Hermione asked, carrying Jamie in for their dinner.

"Just wondering what our life would be like without all the drama we seem to attract," Harry explained, taking Jamie while Hermione fiddled with the food Faren had left for them.

"We'd probably be bored senseless," she said without turning, "but it would make for a nice change."

Harry said nothing as he bounced his daughter on his knees. He knew he had to tell Hermione what had happened. Phrasing it, however, was proving difficult. "Guess what happened to me this lunchtime?" just didn't work for him. "How was lunch?" he asked her instead, buying time.

"Quite illuminating," Hermione said, sitting opposite him and spooning applesauce to Jamie while Harry dished food onto their plates. "It seems Mariah's been keeping more than a few things from us."

As they ate, Hermione filled Harry in on everything Mariah had told them. Her retelling was peppered with her own observations of her best friend. The news that Renae had seen trouble ahead stunned him briefly, but he knew why Mariah had chosen to remain silent. No matter what his wife said to the contrary, the moment she heard that the information had come via any form of future telling, Hermione would have had issues with it. She may have been a bit more open to Divination since hearing Sybill's third true prediction in their sixth year - and the tragedy that came from her skepticism - but she remained highly cynical when it came to any form of precognition.

"There was something else, though," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Mariah was holding something else from us."

"You're sure?"

"Dead sure," she said emphatically. "It's bad and it involves Ginny in some way."

"Ginny?" Harry said, eyebrows raising.

"Yes. Mariah kept shooting glances at her, but wouldn't meet her eyes. I'm not sure if Ginny noticed or not, but I did. And once, when Ginny was changing Morgan, I could have sworn I saw tears in Mariah's eyes."

"Suppose Ron knows?" Harry asked, thinking he might just nip over there once Jamie was down for the night and try to find out.

"Probably. Mariah said that he's known everything else from the onset. But enough about that, how was your day? Did you get to talk to Sara?"

Harry choked on the water he'd just drunk. Hermione looked at him strangely as he wiped his mouth and then the table in front of him.

"That good? Or that bad?"

Saved by the scream

, Harry thought a moment later as Jamie began to fuss loudly, rubbing tired eyes with chubby fists. He wanted to think that he wasn't using his daughter as a human shield as he removed her from her highchair, but he was honest enough to admit it. At least to himself. Together, they carried Jamie upstairs to her crib, remarking on how the afternoon with her cousins must have exhausted her. Small talk.

Jamie curled into her favorite sleeping position, on her stomach with her bum in the air, almost immediately. Harry spotted the stuffed black dog and wondered idly if the lost one had ever turned up. Then he turned to Hermione and every thought fled as their eyes met. A thousand different times they'd done this, for a thousand different reasons. And every time, they saw something different. Harry wasn't sure what she saw as her brown eyes pierced his, but it was enough to have her pulling him from the room within seconds.

They didn't speak all the way down to the lounge. She maintained her grip on his hand, led him to the sofa, sat down next to him and took his other hand.

"Tell me," she said simply.

And so he told her, starting with the connection charm and continuing through lunchtime, maintaining eye contact the whole time, hoping that whatever she saw in his eyes would tell the story for him. For a brief moment, he wished for the kind of connection that Ron and Mariah shared so he could relay his feelings as well; his bafflement, his sense of victimization. She remained stoic through his retelling, her face a blank slate. When he finished with the imposter's disappearance from his classroom, there was a pause as she turned over the recent events in her head.

"Hermione?" he said, trying to get some gauge of what was going through her mind.

"I'll kill her," she said, matter-of-factly.

Harry had a fleeting desire to smile at the she-devil look on her face as she said that, but Hermione was already on the move. She'd crossed to their closet to don her Professor's robes over the simple Muggle pantsuit she'd worn for lunch.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to tell that witch to keep her hands off my husband," Hermione said. Harry got the impression that she didn't mean "witch" in the sense of one with magical abilities. "And if she won't listen, I'm going to rip the lips off her face until she does."

Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. Maybe it was the murder in Hermione's eyes; maybe it was the brief mental vision of Hermione wrestling on the ground with another witch. Maybe it was his wife's choice of words. Something about her reaction wiped away any lingering feelings of guilt and helped him ease more fully into indignation over how he'd been tricked.

"You find this funny, do you?" Hermione spat.

"Not funny, no," Harry said, struggling to compose himself, "but highly flattering." He crossed to take his furious wife into his arms in an attempt to calm her.

"Let me go, Harry," Hermione struggled against his embrace.

"If you're hell bent on a confrontation, there isn't a lot I can do to stop you," he tried for a reasoning tone, hoping it would break through the veil of anger surrounding her. "But I'd rather you not go alone. Ginny said that a stalker can get violent if confronted or cornered. Let's take tonight, cool off a bit, then tomorrow..."

"Fine," she ground out.

Thinking she'd acquiesced, Harry released her. She didn't remove her robes, however. Instead, she crossed to the fireplace, threw in a handful of black powder and called for Mariah. Ron's face appeared instead.

"What's up?" he asked, his red hair nearly indistinguishable from the flames surrounding it.

"I need Mariah to come and sit with Jamie. She's sleeping now, and I don't want to disturb Faren."

"Mariah's just fallen asleep as well," Ron said, glancing over his shoulder. "But I'll come if it's important."

"It is," she averred.

Ron stepped through the fire a moment later. The second he was through, Hermione threw Floo powder in and said "Harry's office."

"What is she on about?" Ron asked Harry, but Harry didn't have a chance to reply. Hermione had a death grip on his arm and was pulling him through the fire after her. Within seconds they were brushing soot from their clothes in Harry's office.

"I don't suppose I can dissuade you from this?" Harry asked, none too hopeful about her response.

Hermione didn't answer. She'd already pulled his office door open and was striding down the hallway.

^*^*^*^

Let it come, Mariah...

The voices in her dreams were getting more insistent, more ever present. Her long conversation with Ginny and Hermione that afternoon had not served to dam the flood of her nightmare's voices. If anything, it seemed to have unstoppered them. From the moment her conscious mind fell into dream, they came. The misty figures stood closer around her, their voices as clear as their identities were vague. Each of them pressing her to "let it come"...whatever it was.

"No!" she yelled at the voices, jerking herself out of her dream with a near violent jolt. With tears drying on her cheeks, Mariah searched for Ron, needing his warm arms to drive away the chill the nightmare had left on her skin. She scanned the room once, but knew immediately that Ron wasn't there.

Ron...

she called out to him.

It's okay. I'm at Harry's. They had to go to the school for a bit.

What's wrong?

I don't know, but it was important enough for them to go haring out of here like Dementors were on their arses.

The knock on the door interrupted their discussion. Mariah rose to answer it before the hammering awakened Rianne. She pulled open the door to find Draco standing there.

"Draco?" she asked, puzzled by his appearance.

"I need to talk to Ron," he said simply.

"Ron's not here," she said, opening the door to allow him entrance. "He's over at Harry and Hermione's for a bit. Do you want to wait?"

Draco paused, as if mentally weighing the pros and cons, before nodding once. "I'd better. He sent me an owl this morning, and, what I found out...well, I'd better hang around." He stepped across the threshold and walked towards the living area sofa.

Maybe it was fate, maybe it was his preoccupation with whatever had sent him to their flat so late at night. But when his foot caught the edge of the carpet and sent him tumbling forward, it ceased to matter.

Mariah watched him fall in the slow motion of dreams. Dreams that now seemed oddly familiar. Because as Draco tumbled forward, she realized with growing horror that she'd seen him do this before. Every nightmare she'd had since hearing Renae's vision had included this picture now unfolding before her.

As his head cracked against the corner of the table, all she knew, all she thought was...

Ron....

*^*^*^*^

Harry had tried several times to dissuade Hermione from beating a path through the Hogwarts corridors at eight in the evening. He'd tried appealing to her, pleading with her, and finally jogging two steps ahead of her and bracing his arms to stop her. That had finally worked.

"Harry..." she began slowly. Harry was very glad to see that some of the fury had abated from her eyes, but she still looked ready for battle.

"Just think this through, Mione," he whispered, in deference to the few students lingering in the corridors, clearly on their way back to their dormitories after an evening's studying. "What do you hope to accomplish?"

"You mean besides scratching her eyes out?" Harry was further gratified to hear a shade less venom in her voice as well.

"Yes, love. Are you planning on storming into her private quarters and searching her cauldrons for traces of Polyjuice Potion?"

The slight quiver at the corner of her mouth told him that she'd been planning exactly that. "When you put it that way, it sounds rather childish."

"A point I endeavored to make back home," Harry reminded her. "Speaking of which...shall we?" He indicated the way they'd just come with a wave of his hand.

"No," she said slowly. "As long as we're here, there is something I'd like to do."

"Broom closet?" he asked hopefully.

"No," she said, although she had an answering smile on hers now. "I'd like to at least see if she can look me in the eye after what she tried to do today. We can say it's on the pretext of her behavior earlier. That we wanted to see if there was anything we could do to help."

Harry didn't think much of this plan, remembering her earlier reaction to his offer of assistance, but as he'd managed to deter her from charging into Sara's room full of malice, he was willing to take what he could get. Beggars couldn't be choosers, after all.

In no time at all, they'd reached the door leading into Sara's private rooms in the Staff Tower. Harry was astounded to realize that it was the same room he and Hermione had shared before moving into their house over the summer. Hermione raised her hand to knock but paused just before her knuckles hit wood.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered.

Harry cocked his head to the side and realized he could hear something strange on the other side. The thick oak of the door kept him from being able to distinguish actual words, but he could definitely hear something. Voices, two different ones based on the inflections. Harry grabbed for the handle without a moment's hesitation when he heard the higher one scream. Polyjuice or no, he wasn't about to stand idly by while someone was in trouble.

The door opened with surprising ease. Harry let it swing on its hinges as he drew his wand, ready to defend Sara against whatever had made her scream. But when his brain deciphered the images his eyes were sending him, he was rendered utterly speechless.

Well,

he thought as he heard Hermione gasp beside him, I certainly didn't expect that.

*^*^*^*^*^

Ron felt Mariah's call more than he heard it. Sitting calmly in Harry's lounge and doing the Daily Prophet crossword, he'd been utterly unprepared for the assault on his mind. Her voice rattled through his brain, bouncing around like an echo in a cave until he did the only thing he could think of to stop it. He sprinted into the nursery, grabbed a sleeping Jamie from her crib, and nearly leapt through the fire to get home.

When he found Mariah, she was on the floor with Draco's head in her lap. His eyes were open, but staring straight at the ceiling. There was a trickle of blood coming from his right nostril and his right ear, and there was a large welt near his right temple. He didn't appear to be moving...not even breathing.

"Mariah?" he asked, terrified of what she was about to say.

"He's dying, Ron. I think...I think he may already be dead."