Dark Obsession

The silence stretched as Harry and Hermione stood in the open doorway, trying desperately to think of something to say. Earlier that evening, Harry had thought "guess what happened to me at lunchtime" was not the right opening after having encountered a Polyjuiced Hermione. He found he was having the same difficulty forming an opening line now.

Somehow, "Sorry, please continue shagging" didn't seem like quite the right thing. But since the floor wasn't obliging in opening up and swallowing the pair of them, Harry felt he should probably say something.

"Er..." he began, hoping Hermione was having better luck with phrasing than he was.

"Er..." she echoed. Apparently not, he thought.

Four sets of eyes clung together as the unreality of the situation began to sink in. The other man was the one to finally break the stalemate.

"Just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" Snape hissed at him.

*^*^*^*^

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

Mariah's words hit Ron like a Bludger to the solar plexus. It didn't matter that his greatest desire through his formative years had been to hear news that this particular Malfoy had suffered bodily harm; now it was different. Now he counted this man not only as family, but as one of his closest friends. And what of Ginny? Morgan? He suddenly recalled the night, months ago, when Mariah had finally told him of Renae's visions. Of her seeing a redhead standing by a grave, lost to the world in a sea of grief. And now here he stood, helpless against the inevitable, transfixed by the scene before him. It was too awful to be truly happening.

His arms barely registered the baby he still held securely in his arms as he took in the unreality of it all. Mariah had Draco's head pillowed on her lap, and there was blood on Draco's face near his nose and ear. This just couldn't be happening.

"Does he have a pulse?" he heard himself ask, although it didn't sound like his voice at all.

Mariah looked up at him, wild panic in her eyes. The question seemed to take a while to register. He was about to repeat himself when he saw her slide her hand down from Draco's temple to the juncture of his chin and neck. Her fingers probed the still warm flesh, checking for any movement.

It's faint.

He heard her voice in his head, but there was something else behind it. An almost dispassionate distance from the whole situation. Either that, or there was more going on in Mariah's mind than he could sense.

Mariah clung to the small faint thud against her index finger. She saw his chest rise and fall in slow and labored movements, but she knew, somehow, that these too would soon cease. She opened her mouth and tried to call to Ron. When no sound came out, she tried to connect with him mentally. She needed to tell him to contact Ginny. Ginny needed to be here. Draco's wife needed to be able to say her goodbyes. But for the first time in months, she couldn't reach Ron. Talking through their Bond had always seemed like second nature, and now when she needed to the most, she couldn't find her way to him. Her panic flared sharp and strong again

A quiet voice spoke instead, not Ron's, but her own. He's not dead yet, Mariah, but he will be soon. Unless you do something.

What can I do?

Listen to your dreams, let it come.

A thousand dizzying images danced before her mind's eye. The gray figures from her nightmares were standing around her, telling her to let it come, let it come. Their voices pounded her brain like a pestle to mortar. Each voice was louder than the next until the chorus of voices became one.

Let it come, Let It Come, LET IT COME.

Mariah closed her eyes against the battering, her hands moving almost of their own accord back to Draco's temple.

The pain slammed into her without warning.

Mariah jolted at the sudden stab to her right temple. Once, in childhood, she'd seen a Muggle magician pierce a balloon with a long needle. Mariah thought that she now knew how the balloon had felt. It was a slow, slicing pain, growing more intense as the seconds ticked past. Her head was on fire with it; any moment now, her skull would split in two from the pressure building in her brain. She felt blood begin to trickle down her own right nostril and from her right ear. Her eyes rolled back into her head as the onslaught continued.

Beneath the pain, though, there were memories. Hermione had told her what it had been like to suddenly remember a forgotten past. Mariah now knew what she meant. Pictures flew past her closed eyes, showing her the conclusions she'd refused to let herself draw.

She saw Ginny wincing in pain from a paper cut, only to have the wound disappear seconds later.

She heard Rianne fussing, a chubby fist shoved into her mouth, only to have her Mum massage the pain away.

She saw Ron run to thrust a scalded hand under the cold water tap in their kitchen, only to have not so much as a reddening of his skin when he dried it off.

She heard Sibyll's voice telling her how Allison had searched for a Bond whose genes would ensure her of a strong Diviner child. And she knew the improbability of that kind of intensive search resulting in a child with only a weak Persuading ability.

That's not all you

can do, Mariah, it's all you've allowed yourself to do.

Then a new image flashed before her eyes as her mind finally let down its guard enough to accept that statement. She saw Ginny standing at a newly dug grave. And she knew with a sudden clarity that hacked its way through the pain that she could keep that image from becoming reality.

She was vaguely aware of Ron's voice calling her name, of Jamie protesting at her rude awakening, but both were lost in the tidal surge of pain and the realization that she could to stop it. Though her eyes were closed, she could still see Draco, could feel his skin beneath her fingers. He felt cold. The skin near his temple, however, was hot. She winced inwardly from the searing heat of it. Mariah nearly pulled her fingers away, but knew instinctively not to break contact. This was where the damage was, this was where she needed to be. Mariah focused her mind on that spot, pulled all the energy within her and poured it through her fingertips and into Draco. Gradually, the pain in her head began to lessen and the blistering heat of his temple began to cool. But was it growing too cold? She saw a starburst of color in front of her closed eyes, and then she knew no more.

Ron, having just calmed Jamie back to sleep on his shoulder, heard his fiancée whimper softly, then heard her sigh, almost as if she was expelling all of the breath in her lungs. Heart in his throat, he turned to face Mariah just in time to see her crumple to the floor beside his still unmoving brother-in-law.

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

The desk is blocking most of it,

Harry thought to himself, still struggling to process the scene in front of him. Sara was laid out across a maple desk, robes pulled to the side haphazardly; Snape was positioned in front of her, trousers around his ankles and his own robes lying in a puddle at his feet. Harry slammed his eyes shut after a second glimpse at the man's stark white backside.

Hermione came to her senses before Harry and grabbed his arm, turning him around to face the wall opposite the door. To give them privacy, he assumed, as she made no move towards the hallway. He heard the rustle of clothing and a whispered conversation behind him. After what seemed way too short a time, he felt Snape's bony fingers dig into his shoulder and pull him into the room and then heard the slam of the oak door behind him.

"I trust that your reasons for interrupting are to bring news of such dire import that an owl simply would not suffice."

Harry wasn't sure about Hermione, but he hadn't felt this uneasy in Snape's presence since he'd been facing the man in class. All that's missing is the cauldron, Harry thought, his brain obviously still misfiring from seeing Snape in the buff because based on the fire spitting from the other man's eyes, this was no time for humor. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione struggling for words and knew he'd have to be the one to end their silence.

"We were worried about Sara," he offered. It sounded lame even to his ears and by the look on Snape's face, the Potions master wasn't buying it, either.

"Severus."

All heads turned toward Sara. While Snape had been reducing Harry and Hermione to feeling very much like naughty schoolchildren, Sara had restored her hair and clothing to normal and had walked over to join them. The calm of her voice and the touch of her hand to his arm seemed to drain the malice out of Snape's eyes. Eyes, Harry realized with a shock, now softened with an emotion he didn't think the man capable of. Unless he missed his guess, he was face to face with a Snape deeply in love.

The thought went against everything Harry had ever thought possible. But the evidence was right there for the world to see.

Snape nodded to Sara and stepped back to allow her to join them.

"I suppose you really were worried about me?" Sara said after a brief silence in which they all continued to stare at one another. Her voice carried too much sarcasm for her question to be taken at face value, though.

"After a fashion," Hermione admitted.

"I suppose someone needs to start from the beginning," Harry said, watching as Sara and Snape met each other's eyes. He supposed this is what it looked like when he and Hermione did the same.

"No, Harry," his wife said from beside him, "we need to apologize profusely and leave."

Harry felt his inner toddler rise up and dig in its heels. Leave? How could they leave? He had about a thousand questions.

"I couldn't have said it better myself, Granger," Snape hissed. Harry wasn't sure if his icy tone was due to the intrusion or the timing of said intrusion. Harry remembered all too well the pain of unspent passion and felt a momentary pang of male solidarity with Snape.

"Wait," Sara said as Harry and Hermione turned to leave the room. When they faced her again, they saw she had one hand to the bridge of her nose and was rubbing as if to cure a sudden headache. "I think I do owe them at least a few answers."

"You owe them nothing, Sara," Snape spat, "they're the ones that barged in here without even the courtesy of knocking."

"The door was unlocked," Harry protested weakly.

"It most certainly was not," Snape argued. "I locked it myself."

"It's probably still charmed to recognize our hands," Hermione interjected.

Sara's head whipped towards her, realization dawning. "You charmed the doors?"

"When we first took these quarters," Hermione verified, meeting Sara's gaze without faltering. "I was so wrapped up in my work on the counter, and Harry was wrapped up in his own battles...well, it just seemed like one less thing to worry about. I should have told you, Sara, but I didn't realize until tonight that you were living in this room."

"That is completely beside the point," Snape growled. "You had no reason to barge in here..."

"Severus, they did have a reason. Otherwise, they wouldn't be here. And I must admit to being more than a bit curious about what brought them here tonight."

"You heard her," Snape turned his glare back to them. "Explain yourselves."

"First of all, Severus," Harry said sharply, awkward situation or not, he wasn't going to cower under that tone a moment longer, "we are no longer your students."

"Stop it, the pair of you," Hermione intoned, placing a hand on Harry's arm and looking at Snape. "Resorting to old habits is going to get us exactly nowhere. Perhaps you two could take your testosterone elsewhere so Sara and I can have a conversation?"

"Well put, Hermione," Sara said, offering Hermione a tentative smile. Hermione answered it in kind and both shot glances at the men beside them. When Harry and Snape continued to stare daggers at one another, Hermione and Sara shared a commiserating look. Hermione knew in that moment that whatever else had been going on in the Transfiguration teacher's personal life, ingesting Polyjuice Potion and snogging Harry had not been involved.

It took Hermione the better part of twenty minutes to explain what had brought them to Sara's door that evening. Harry was eternally grateful that she had taken up the narrative. Her ordered, logical mind recounted their growing suspicions but countered them with a subtlety only she could muster. Harry made the occasional comment, adding his impression of the few conversations he'd had with Sara. The only pause in her recitation came when Snape sat up a bit straighter at the mention of Polyjuice potion.

"Well, I can see why you'd be suspicious," Sara said, and by her tone Harry knew that she was serious. "I haven't exactly been acting like a well adjusted individual. Especially around the pair of you."

"You had your reasons for that, love."

Harry's insides gave a lurch at hearing Snape use a pet name.

"Yes, I did. But I can see that, in hindsight, I've let my own insecurities fester to such a point that Harry thought I was stalking him, Severus. This conversation should have taken place months ago." Sara laid a hand on his and Harry saw the other man twine his fingers with hers. "I suppose it started out as jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. I was insanely jealous of the relationship you have with Minerva. Every time I turned around, she was focused on you. That jealousy ate at me every time I saw you."

Harry could understand her position, to a point. But something didn't add up. "But that's not all that's been bothering you," he prodded.

"No, it's not," she agreed.

Harry was surprised to see a small smile play across her features and a blush creep onto her cheeks.

"That one instance you mentioned, when you overheard me talking about ending a spell," and at this, she grinned even wider. "I was talking about the spell a certain Potions master seemed to have cast on me."

As long as Harry lived, he would never forget the sight of Severus Snape blushing. Merlin knew he'd seen the man's face suffuse with anger often enough, but the red tinge now staining his cheeks was decidedly different. It took Harry a second to realize that there was also a small smile playing around his mouth.

"You seem happy enough about that spell now," Hermione noted, glancing at their joined hands.

"It's a hard fought for happiness," Snape interjected.

"That's true enough," Sara sighed, turning to look deeply into his face.

Harry snuck a glance at Hermione and knew she was teeming with questions just as he was. If they were still students, he hadn't a doubt that her hand would already be in the air. Snape and Sara, however, seemed to have forgotten they were even there. He saw Snape's fingers give Sara's hand a squeeze and realized it was past time for them to go.

"Hermione?" he whispered, even though he was pretty sure the other couple wouldn't have taken notice if he'd shouted it. "I think it's time we headed home."

Hermione's gaze seemed fixated on the joined hands and the longing gazes of Snape and Sara, but she stood after some not-so-subtle prompting from Harry.

"We're sorry to have disturbed your evening," Harry said awkwardly. Snape waved him off with his free hand without even turning to face them.

Once the door had closed behind them, they heard the muffled sound of Sara's laughter and the deep rumble that could only be Snape's. He didn't know the man knew how to laugh and said so to Hermione.

"Well, it certainly explains a lot of the other differences we've seen in Snape lately."

"That it does," Harry said, thinking about the way Snape's relaxed demeanor had puzzled him whenever he'd crossed paths with his normally solemn colleague.

"And I'll bet Sara's the one that told Snape about Jamie's teething problems. I'd wondered how he knew to bring you that gel." Hermione paused and Harry could almost see the curiosity swimming around his wife. "But I wonder how they ever got together?"

"I know you do. And I know that you were dying to ask, but I don't think that Sara's about to fall into confidence with you about something so personal. Especially after we all but accused her of stalking me."

"I know," Hermione said, and he could hear the unspoken but the curiosity's killing me in her voice.

They walked in silence for a while, Harry's arm around her waist as they made the long journey back to his office. Harry only had one problem. Every time he closed his eyes to blink, the image of the scene they'd interrupted flowed back into his mind.

"Harry? What is it?" Hermione asked when he stopped to take off his glasses once they'd reached his office.

"Do we have any bleach?" Harry asked.

"Why?"

"Because I'm wondering if I could use it to remove the sight of Snape's pale backside from my memory."

Hermione punched his arm with a grin. "I didn't see that. My view was blocked by the desk."

"Lucky you," Harry said, grinning back as he pushed open the door.

Hermione stopped with a gasp. Harry's office had been ransacked.

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

Ginny Malfoy had fallen into an uneasy sleep. Earlier that evening, Draco had Apparated into the kitchen, kissed her and Morgan briefly, then disappeared into his small home office clutching a piece of parchment. Knowing that his work with the Ministry frequently involved things he couldn't discuss at home, Ginny hadn't asked him what was wrong. She'd been tempted when he emerged from the office two hours later, but hadn't. She knew that he'd tell her when, and if, he could. If it was something she needed to know.

The last thing she'd expected had been for him to walk into their bedroom, cloak on, to tell her that he was walking over to Ron's for a bit. She'd tried repeatedly to tell herself that there was no need to be worried, but she'd looked too closely into his eyes. She knew him too well to ask for what he wouldn't tell her, but that didn't stop her from wondering, worrying.

She'd tried to immerse herself in the final preparations for Ron's wedding, but it hadn't worked. The quiet of the house left her mind too open, giving free reign to her imagination and tonight that imagination was fertile. As she pored over seating charts and RSVPs, her mind kept turning back to the look on his face, his furtive trip to Ron's flat. At the same time, she kept feeling a strange prickling at the back of her neck and her chest felt heavy with dread.

Pushing aside the parchments, Ginny lay back on her bed and closed her eyes, trying to quell the sense of panic that was flooding her. Her mind filled with images of her husband. The way his eyes changed from crystal to steel depending on what he was feeling, the way his arms felt around her, the silkiness of his hair as she thread her fingers through it. And then he was there, standing in front of her, a bright corona surrounding him and a look of profound sadness on his face.

"Goodbye," he said softly, a tear spilling down his pale cheek.

Ginny jerked as if she'd been slapped, her arms reaching for him. He wasn't there. His name caught in her throat as she fled from the bedroom, not even cognizant of the tears spilling down her own cheeks. She rushed into Morgan's nursery and gathered the sleeping baby close to her and wrapped him in the blanket Molly had quilted for him. Heart pounding in her chest, Ginny rushed down the stairs and out the front door towards Ron's flat.

*^*^*^*^*^

Harry and Hermione stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the chaos that used to be his somewhat sloppy office. True, filing student's papers had never really been his favorite thing to do. He tended to let things pile up on his desk until they threatened to avalanche onto the floor. But the state of his office now...poor filing skills had nothing to do with this.

His desk was overturned, books had been torn to shreds and the pieces littered the floor. The windows had been smashed outward. A quick glance out of the now permanently open windows showed him that his desk chair had been hurled through at least one of them. The others appeared to have been taken out by the books that weren't carpeting his floor.

The things that hit him the hardest, though, were the pictures and his quill. Just a few days ago, he'd put framed pictures of Hermione and Jamie on his desk. Now, those picture frames lay in pieces on the floor, dirt smudging the now empty pictures, the photographic Hermione and Jamie having left the wizard photos, he supposed, when they'd seen what was happening. If only they could tell me who did this when they returned, he thought idly.

The quill was the one Hermione had given him for Christmas in their second year. It had been bent in two and was lying beneath a pile of glass.

"Harry..." Hermione's voice sounded small and distant. He turned to face her, the photo fluttering out of his hand as he saw what had captured her attention.

In big red letters across the wall behind his desk, someone had left a calling card.

BELOVED, YOU WILL BE MINE

Harry heard Hermione gasp again and whipped around, wand already out. But it wasn't because she had seen anyone. She was holding a ceramic bowl; one that had once held his supply of Floo Powder.

"Jamie..." they said in unison.

Hermione gathered up as much of the spilt powder as she could, unmindful of the shards that cut into her fingers, threw it into the fireplace and shouted "Home".

Harry tried to grab her arm and slow her down when they first set foot in their house, but she was off like a shot. He knew that Jamie was perfectly fine, no matter what the state of his office. Ron wouldn't let anyone harm his daughter. Hermione, however, wrenched her arm from his grip the moment they cleared the mantle and ran to their daughter's nursery.

He'd fully expected Ron to be lying on the sofa when they returned, and was a little disconcerted to find the sofa a Weasley free area. Probably stretched out on our bed, he told himself, in spite of the chill spilling down his back. Unfastening his robes, Harry walked to the hall closet and moved to open the cupboard. That's when he felt the breeze. Brow furrowed, he followed the chilly air into the kitchen. The window by the kitchen door had been smashed from the outside, littering their floor with shards of glass. Harry was just registering the damage in front of him when he heard Hermione's scream.

Harry didn't even bother with the stairs. He Apparated to her side before he drew his next breath and found her staring over an empty crib, her hands over her face.

"She's gone, Harry."

"She's with Ron, love," Harry said, trying to soothe her and, to some degree, himself. "Mariah probably needed help with something and he took her over there."

"I'm going over there," Hermione said, using her hands to wipe the tears from her face.

It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to tell Hermione about the kitchen window, but he had to admit to a slight stuttering in his own chest that he knew wouldn't stop until he saw his daughter. Logically, he knew that Jamie was fine. But the father in him wanted his little girl.

"Right," Harry said, and together, they Disapparated.

*^*^*^*^*^

"Mariah!"

Ron screamed his fiancée's name as she hit the floor and took one step towards her. Jamie, still asleep on his shoulder, fussed slightly in his arms. Even though every fiber of his being was straining towards Mariah, Ron made himself carry Jamie to Rianne's crib and lay her down gently before running back out into the living room.

He'd just reached the unconscious pair when his front door slammed open. His sister stood in the threshold, red hair in wild disarray and Morgan clutched to her chest. Her eyes scanned the room quickly before coming to rest on Draco. With a small sob, Ginny crossed to him and dropped to her knees beside her husband. Ron stepped forward quickly to take Morgan from her. Once he'd placed the baby in the crib with the others, taking a second to enlarge it magically, he sprinted back into the living room.

Ginny had Draco's hand in hers and was crying quietly. "Don't you dare say goodbye to me, Draco Malfoy," she said, which confused Ron utterly. Draco hadn't said a word as far as he knew.

Ron dropped to his own knees and moved to reach for Mariah's hand. He needed to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin. He suddenly remembered watching over her when she'd first arrived in this flat, and how she'd been so still and silent as she recovered. And she had recovered, he told himself. A sudden fear burst to life within him as he realized the only sounds in the room were Ginny's muffled sobs next to him. The long exhale of breath had been the last thing he'd heard from Mariah. Ron reached for her wrist with a shaking hand, but a faint, feeble voice in his head said don't break the connection.

Ron's heart ceased its slow, dreading thud in his chest and increased to a staccato beat. She was still alive.

Still reeling from relief, Ron tried to pull Ginny away from her husband, but she kept shrugging him off. Her own hands were shaking as she wiped the blood from his upper lip and cheek. Ron took Mariah's faint warning to heart and didn't want Ginny to inadvertently do something that would separate Mariah from Draco.

He'd just tightened his hands on her shoulders again, and she'd just batted his hands away again, when Draco opened his eyes.

"Draco?" Ginny said in a quiet, almost fearful, voice.

"Red?" Draco muttered, sounding like he was talking through a pillow.

Ginny flung herself onto her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck and dissolving into sobs. Before Ron could attempt to help Draco from being smothered by his sister, Ron heard Mariah's voice wince in pain.

"Angel?" Ron said, dropping to her side in an instant, taking her face in his hands and peering into her eyes. "What just happened?"

"Bedroom," she whispered. "Help me."

Confused, Ron helped her to her feet, shocked and frightened at how weak she seemed. There was a slight pop behind him. Ron turned to see Harry and Hermione standing in the open doorway, Hermione looking frantic. Being a parent, and having been in a similar situation himself, Ron recognized the "where's my baby?" look immediately.

"Jamie's in Rianne's crib," he called over his shoulder as he aided Mariah into the other room. "I'll be right back out."

Angel?

Ron asked her once they were in the darkened bedroom. What can I do?

Sleep, Ron. I need sleep. And I need to be alone.

She was laying on their bed a second later, Ron pulling the comforter over her and tucking her in. What just happened? I thought Draco was dead there for a second.

There for a second, he was, Mariah said cryptically before turning her back on him. Then her mind was closed off to him completely. Ever since she'd come back into his life, he'd always been able to get some sense of her. Now, it felt like she wasn't even there. His questions bounced from her mind back to his like Ever-Bashing Boomerangs.

Much as he wanted to stay here with her, Ron slowly backed from the door and closed it softly behind him. When he turned, he found four pairs of eyes staring at him. Ron took a deep breath and wished he knew what to tell them.

Draco was no longer on the floor. Someone, probably Harry, had helped the man to the sofa. Ginny was plastered to his side as if he'd fly away if she let go, and Harry and Hermione were standing just behind them.

"Ron?" Draco said, his voice still a quiver of weakness. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Ron answered. "I was at Harry and Hermione's and Mariah called to me. I grabbed Jamie and came straight here. When I arrived, Mariah had your head on her lap and told me she thought you were dead."

Ginny gasped and squeezed her husband's arm so tightly her knuckles went as white as her face. "I was at home..." Ginny's voice broke on a sob, but she continued. "I think I'd fallen asleep...I saw you...you said goodbye to me..." And then Ginny could say no more as spasms of grief wracked her body.

Draco pried her fingers from his arm, then placed that arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Easy, Red," Draco said into her hair. "I'm okay. I feel like I've just been run over by the Knight Bus, but I'm fine."

Hermione came around the sofa and took Ron's hands. "Is Mariah okay?" she asked, glancing over his shoulder to the closed bedroom door.

"I wish I knew, Hermione," Ron said. "She's sleeping now. I'm sorry for giving you a scare, but I didn't have time to leave a note."

"Don't give it another thought," Hermione said at once.

"Do you remember anything?" Harry asked Draco, coming from around the back of the sofa to face him.

"I came over here to tell Ron something." Draco's face twisted into a frown as he tried to remember. "Can't think of what at the moment, dammit. But I think I tripped. I remember falling--" he stopped to press a kiss to Ginny's head as she whimpered again. "Then I woke up on the floor."

"Mariah didn't tell you anything, Ron?" Ginny sniffled, looking towards her older brother with streaming eyes.

Ron paused. His eyes cut to Harry and Hermione, to Ginny and Draco, and he remembered promising Mariah that he would keep her secrets. Telling her that she could trust him. Whatever had occurred tonight, whatever she had meant by Draco being dead for a moment, it was Mariah's decision to tell or not to tell. He loved her too much not to respect that. "No, Ginny. She collapsed into bed the moment I helped her lay down."

Ron...

It had been over a year since he'd heard her voice that delicate and distant, when she'd still been imprisoned by her brother and had been trying to reach him in a desperate attempt to escape.

Angel? What? Do you need--?

Mariah cut him off. Tell him this...

Ron knew his eyes widened so much as she relayed her story that they were in danger of leaving his head entirely. A part of him couldn't believe what she was telling him, but it was a very small part. He'd seen Mariah do so many things he couldn't explain - things she hadn't even seemed to notice - that he couldn't discount her words.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked him, concern evident in her raised voice. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Ron soothed, taking her hand and squeezing it. "But she wanted to tell me a bit of what happened. Draco," he said, now turning to his brother-in-law, "it seems you did trip. And then you cracked your head against the table. You lost consciousness immediately, and Mariah saw blood at your nose and ear and knew you'd caused damage to your brain. And..." Ron took in a deep breath, "and somehow she seems to have healed that damage."

Silence greeted Ron's explanation. They each glanced at the other in turn, but no one doubted for a moment the veracity of Ron's statement. How could they? The proof was in the residual pink stains under Draco's nose and ear. And the fact that he was still breathing.

"I didn't know Mariah was a Healer," Hermione said in soft wonder.

"I don't think she did either," Ron said truthfully. Then he stunned them all when the ghost of a grin passed across his face.

"Something funny?" Harry asked.

"Not funny, no. Just something finally making sense," Ron said, but the traces of his smile lingered in his eyes. "You all know that Mariah's been having trouble sleeping," he paused as they all nodded. "I think she was having as much difficulty accepting that she actually has Diviner abilities as you did remembering your past, Hermione. Several times I've heard her calling out 'No' or 'I won't' in her sleep. Based on her feelings toward her mother and, by extension, all Diviners, she wouldn't let herself accept it."

"And Renae's predictions," Hermione added. "When she heard those, she knew she might need those abilities she'd been denying she had."

"Exactly."

"Ron," Draco said, and no one was surprised to hear his voice crack with emotion, "I...I don't...my life...." He ran a shaking hand over his face and turned his steel gray eyes toward Ron. Then he stood and walked shakily toward his brother-in-law. "Every day from this one...it's a gift she's given me. Thank her for me," Draco said quietly, his voice so thick Ron could barely make out the words.

They stood face to face, the Weasley and the Malfoy, and embraced. "Thank her by making the most of the life you've begun with my sister, Draco," Ron whispered.

"Count on it," Draco whispered back.

Ron was grateful that the emotion clogging his throat seemed to have dissipated. He didn't know how he would handle Draco crying in his arms.

When they finally broke apart, Draco saw Ginny and Hermione in tears and Harry looking like he'd like to be. "Don't worry, Potter. My heart still belongs to you."

His remark had the reaction he'd hoped for and a tension easing laughter filled the air. He was serious about what he'd said earlier and he'd show it the only way he could think of; he'd be sending Mariah flowers every day for the rest of his life. On cautious, unstable legs, he moved closer to the door before he collapsed outright. Ginny nodded and went to collect Morgan from Rianne's nursery. He kissed his son on the top of his head as he slept and turned toward the door with a wink to Ginny. Knowing their son's immense hatred of Floo, Ginny pulled her cloak back over them both and together the three of them walked home.

An air of unease settled over the remaining four people. After Ron closed the door behind his sister, he settled himself onto the couch and stared at the closed bedroom door. Harry and Hermione had a brief, silent discussion on whether or not to stay with him, but in the end decided to take Jamie home and check on Ron and Mariah the following day.

*^*^*^*

By the time Ginny had put Morgan back into his crib, Draco was fast asleep on top of their bed. She undressed him, careful not to wake him, disrobed herself and curled into him. It wasn't the warmth of his body that sent her back into tears; it was his scent. Not a cologne or aftershave - something any wizard could buy - it was the distinct fragrance that was his and his alone. The scent he generated just by being alive. Alive...

Ginny's sobs redoubled. He must have heard her in the depths of his sleep because his arm snaked around her and pulled her close. "Shhh, Red," he mumbled.

After what felt like hours, Ginny finally succumbed to sleep, wrapped in his arms.

*^*^*^*^

Harry waited until they'd returned Jamie to her crib before mentioning the broken glass in their kitchen. A part of him wondered if he shouldn't just repair the damage and keep mum on the whole thing. The rest of him knew she'd flay him alive if she ever found out he'd kept it from her.

"Hand me the quilt," Hermione said quietly. She was facing their daughter and holding a hand out behind her. Harry glanced right and left, but didn't see it anywhere. Mind still on the wreck of his office and the broken glass downstairs, Harry walked to the closet, pulled a blanket off the shelf and handed it to her.

"Not this one," Hermione said, handing it back. "Her favorite. The one Mum sent from Ireland."

"I don't see it here," Harry said, mind still focused on other things.

Sighing in her husbands-are-useless tone, she turned and scanned the room. "Honestly, Harry. If it doesn't leap out at you..." She stopped and looked up at him. "It's not here."

"Which is precisely what I just told you," Harry snapped. "Ron probably wrapped her in it when he took her to his flat."

Hermione fixed him with a glare that seemed to shoot straight through to his bone marrow. "What's happened?"

Harry sighed. Sometimes it was both blessing and curse to have a partner that could see through you like glass. He should have known he'd never be able to hide it from her. "It's the kitchen," Harry said, leading her from Jamie's room and toward the stairs. "Someone's smashed in the glass window by the back door."

"And no bets as to who," Hermione sighed resignedly, following him downstairs to survey the damage.

"Not unless you like losing money," Harry said in a lame attempt to lessen the horrible pit growing in his stomach. This was getting serious. Whoever this witch was, she'd invaded his home. The part that was the hardest to swallow was that there didn't seem to be a damned thing he could do to stop her. Not until he knew who she was.

Hermione didn't make a sound as she inspected the glass on the kitchen floor. She pored over every shard of glass as though the pieces could tell her what had happened. Harry fought the urge to ask her what she was doing as she walked from the kitchen to the living room, then walked back in pointing her wand at the floor.

"Well, that answers that," Hermione said, fixing the window with a lazy swish of her wand and a muttered Reparo.

"What answers what?" Harry asked, wishing not for the first time that he could follow the giant leaps she tended to take - always leaving the rest of them behind wondering what was going on.

"There was a trail of glass slivers from the kitchen to the fireplace. I used a detection spell I learned when I was at the Auror's Institute and there was a clear trail of glass, a trail of footprints. Whoever broke that window, walked straight to our fireplace. The Floo powder jar was moved." She stared at Harry, obviously waiting for him to finish. "Isn't it obvious? She broke in and used our fire to get to your office. She was here, Harry. She was in our house."

Harry stared at his wife, stunned. Their eyes met over the kitchen table and Harry saw a shiver pass over her body. The same shiver he now felt coursing down his spine. Harry's from fear, Hermione's from anger. Her ire was nearly shooting off her in waves at the sanctity of their home having been breached. She was muttering under her breath as she moved around the room, replacing the Floo container on the mantle and checking to see if anything else was missing. He caught the words "bitch" and "how dare she?"

While his wife fumed, Harry thought about the last time he'd used Floo to go from home to school. It had been just two days ago. When he arrived, he was right behind his desk and the first things he saw when he walked into his office were the frames on his desk. The pictures must have sent whoever it was into her rage against his office. The pictures of Hermione and Jamie.

Another chill ran down his spine, this one accompanied by full color pictures of one or both of them hurt...or worse. He'd been too close to death tonight not to be affected. From what Mariah had told them earlier, Renae had seen as much in this black shadow thing and tonight, Draco had nearly died. He wanted Hermione out of harm's way and he wanted her there tonight. A few letters were one thing. This witch was closing in; she was getting violent. And he was getting his girls as far away from that violence as he could.

"I want you to go to your Mum's," Harry said abruptly.

"Excuse me?" Hermione said, casually removing her cloak and hanging it in the hall closet. Her voice was too calm, too serene for him to think she really hadn't heard him. She was asking him to repeat himself because she had clearly not believed her own ears.

"You heard me," Harry said. He didn't really expect to win this argument, but he knew he'd never rest unless he'd given it a go.

"Right. I'll just pack up my things and leave town with my tail between my legs, shall I?" Hermione slammed the closet door, as if to further punctuate her sarcastic reply.

"Hermione..." Harry drew her name out.

"Save it, Harry. I'm not leaving. You can just accept it now or we can fight for hours and accept it afterwards. Your choice."

Harry discarded the idea of raising this to a shouting match. In a verbal battle, Hermione would win, hands down. Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to think of anything he could to convince her that she might just be in danger, too. He walked over to her, took her hands and led her to the sofa.

"Now it's you that's not understanding, Hermione," Harry sighed. "Just a few hours ago, I was positive I knew who was behind this - that I knew who to watch. Now, I'm back to square one and apart from walking around Hogsmeade with a badge on my chest that says 'Are you my beloved?', I haven't a clue as to how to find out who this witch is. To cap it all, I'm terrified that she'll come after you and Jamie."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, curling into his side. She'd giggled a bit at his mention of a badge, but sobered up again once he'd told her what he feared. "It's you she's fixated on. I doubt she even notices Jamie and me." Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Okay, she notices us, but only peripherally. And if she tries to come near us..." Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "I'm known as something of a capable witch. I believe I can handle her."

Harry smiled then, knowing that much at least was true. Merlin help the person that ever tried to get to him or Jamie through Hermione. It would probably take ages to find all the pieces once she was finished.

"There is one thing I will do, Harry," Hermione said, and Harry could hear the anger in her voice.

"What?" He shifted on the sofa until they were face to face.

"I'm going to bring Jamie to school with me for the time being."

Harry couldn't help his jaw from dropping. "You're what?"

"I'm sure as hell not leaving, but I'm also not going to leave Jamie with Faren. I know you don't believe she has anything to do with this, Harry, and maybe you're right, but her behavior has been getting more and more odd as time passes. Stalker or not, something is up with her."

Harry paused to consider the young witch they'd entrusted with their daughter's care. She was efficient, caring, loving. That Jamie adored her was obvious any time the two were together. But he couldn't deny that her actions of late had definitely proven that she was preoccupied about...something. Perhaps Hermione had a point.

*^*^*^*^*^

After a night of broken sleep, Harry and Hermione made their way slowly downstairs, a very cranky Jamie in her arms. Faren was walking through the front door just as Hermione reached the bottom step. She passed Jamie to Harry and motioned for him to take her into the kitchen. Harry knew why immediately. Jamie was already reaching her chubby arms out for Faren.

"Faren," Hermione said in greeting. Harry knew she was trying to sound just like every other morning, but he heard the suspicion in her voice. By the look on the nanny's face, so did Faren. Her face showed something else as well. There were shadows beneath her eyes that he hadn't noticed before...and something that looked like utter delight brightening her eyes. That odd mixture sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

He made his way slowly towards the kitchen, pausing just inside to listen. From the mirror over the back wall of the living room, he could see everything going on in the entryway.

"Good morning, Hermione," Faren said, her voice nearly crackling with happiness about something.

"I need to discuss something with you."

The humor faded from her face almost immediately. Faren stopped in the process of removing her cloak and crossed her arms in front of her chest defiantly. "What?"

"I've decided to take Jamie into school with me for the next few days. Something happened last night to some dear friends of ours that have made me realize I would regret not spending more time with my daughter should anything happen to me."

Harry knew Hermione had been trying to think of a plausible excuse to relieve Faren of her duties, and he thought she'd done a good job of it. But something in Faren's countenance told him the nanny didn't think much of Hermione's reasoning.

"I see," she said flatly, arms still crossed and fingers tightening as they gripped her own elbows. "And what about her morning walk? And playtime? And her naps? How are you going to manage all of that while you're teaching?"

"I'll manage just fine." Hermione tried to smile as she said it, but to Harry's eyes it came out as looking more like a scowl.

"And what do you think of this?" Faren asked, turning towards Harry's reflection in the mirror. He didn't have a chance to answer before she spoke again. "Never mind. I can see for myself. You'll go along with it because she wants it and never mind the repercussions. Same old story."

"I don't think I like your tone," Hermione snapped, her hackles rising.

"I don't think I care," Faren spat back. Without another word, Faren turned and left the house, slamming the front door behind her.

"Well, that went well," Harry said lightly, returning to her side. But he had to admit, even if it was only to himself, that Hermione might just have a point about their nanny.

It hadn't taken them long to gather up what Jamie would need for a day at Hogwarts: a few changes of clothes, toys, nappies, and snacks. In deference to the cold day, they'd gone to the school via Floo. When they stepped through the fire, Harry saw that his office was neat and ordered again, the house elves having undoubtedly scoured the place from ceiling to cold stone floor overnight. His books were back on their shelves, desk chair neatly in place behind his desk. His ancient eagle feather quill in its holder. It was still bent, but the plumage was as pristine as the day he'd unwrapped it.

Hermione bustled out of his classroom with a quick peck on the cheek. He knew she wanted to get Jamie settled into her own office before her students arrived, so he didn't try and forestall her with a post-mortem about the scene with Faren this morning. That, he guessed, would have to wait until dinner tonight.

It wasn't until late into his final class that day that Harry remembered something. Something that might provide a further insight into Faren's state of mind. He waited until his seventh years were packing up their bags to call her back to his office.

"Annika," he said quietly, "may I have a word?"

"Of course, Professor," she said, a quizzical look crossing her face.

Harry nodded and walked back into his office. She followed a moment later, bag slung across her chest, arms crossed in front of her. "Have a seat," Harry indicated the chair opposite his desk.

"You spend a lot of time with Faren, don't you?" Harry asked straight away, before she'd even taken her seat.

"I used to," she responded, picking at a small bit of lint on her robes. "I thought we were becoming friends, but she slowly started to distance herself from me a few months ago. I haven't heard from her in ages. To be honest, she was getting a little weird. She was always asking me about school legends. Yours and Professor Granger's and Mr. Weasley's in particular." Annika paused and looked up at him. "Does this have anything to do with Professor Granger bringing the baby to school today?"

"Not at all," Harry lied convincingly, he hoped. "Jamie wasn't feeling well this morning and Hermione didn't want to leave her."

"Poor kid," Annika sympathized. "Why did you want to know about Faren?"

"It's nothing really," Harry said, in a would-be casual voice. "She's just been looking a little harassed lately and I wondered if you might know why. If there might be something we could do to help her."

"I haven't a clue, Professor. Sorry."

Harry smiled to show her that it was no big deal while his insides twisted at having lost the one lead he thought he had.

Annika rose to leave the office, pausing as she slung her bag back across her chest. "What happened to your quill?"

"Some nutter ground it under her foot," Harry muttered under his breath before he could catch himself.

"Pardon me?" she said, her brow furrowed.

"Nothing, Annika," Harry said, cursing himself for saying that out loud. By the look of her, Harry had caught a break. She didn't appear to have heard him. "It was an accident," he explained, "dropped it and then stepped on it by mistake."

"What a shame," she said. She waited in silence for a moment before speaking again. "Was there anything else?"

"No. You can head on down to dinner," he said, watching her go. Harry used his wand to close the door behind her and dropped his head into his hands when he knew he was alone.

"Bloody hell," he said quietly, picking up the quill and fingering the broken spine. Annika hadn't been as helpful as he'd hoped, but she had said something that stirred his curiosity. Why had Faren been asking about his, Hermione's and Ron's time at Hogwarts?

^*^*^*^*^*^

For Ron, the week proceeding what he now termed "The Event" was a vague mess of baby care, shop tending, and worrying about Mariah. He knew that things were not going well with Harry's little problem. Ginny had told him just the previous evening that the hate mail was continuing to come, sometimes several times a day. Ron knew that there were only two reasons why Harry hadn't packed Hermione and Jamie off to the Grangers: a) Hermione wouldn't go unless placed under a body binding curse and kept unconscious and b) so far the letters had been aimed at Harry. As far as he knew, Hermione's name hadn't been mentioned once in this latest barrage, not even in a side reference.

The part that was keeping everyone anxious was that after The Event, the letters had changed drastically in tone. He had no idea what had gone on that day, what had sent Harry and Hermione rushing back to Hogwarts; he still hadn't had a chance to ask them. But it was apparently enough to infuriate the mysterious witch fixated on Harry. Gone was the simpering, loving woman. In her place was a vindictive and increasingly hostile witch bent on convincing Harry he loved her and no other.

And to cap it all, Faren seemed to have disappeared. Either that or she was holed up in her flat and not planning on emerging any time soon. All attempts to open the door had proven fruitless. He hadn't used his father's suggestion yet, a large sharp axe, but he was getting close.

He wondered, on the few spare moments that he had for such things, if Draco had ever found anything out about the Potters nanny. He made a mental note to ask him the next time he crossed the man's path, but knew that it was futile. Draco still didn't remember what had been so pressing that he'd rushed over to the flat that night. Ginny had searched for the parchment he'd had in his hand, but it had disappeared. Added to that, there was so much occupying his brain at the moment, small mental notes like that were often buried under the avalanche of his life.

The largest portion of this avalanche was Mariah. He still could get no sense from her. His questions went unanswered, his touches unnoticed. It was almost as if she'd turned to stone. Ron was beginning to fear that by the time he finally reached her, she would be buried so deep, even a St. Bernard wouldn't be able to find her. And this go round, Mandrake draft wouldn't help.

After two days, Ron knew he was out of his depth. Whatever it was plaguing her, it wasn't physical, not anymore. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. He needed help, he needed guidance. He needed another Diviner. Owls sent to Kalena, the head of Mariah's Order, had returned unopened, so that left him with only one other option.

It had taken every ounce of nerve he had to climb the silver ladder to Sibyll Trelawney's room and beg his old teacher for help. The contempt he'd held for her during his school days had dissipated when he'd learned last year that her eccentricities were merely for show, but he still felt odd approaching her.

The tower room had been as stifling as he remembered, the cloying smoke from the fire had made him feel dull witted. Pushing aside the memories of classes held in this room, Ron had sat on a pouf opposite Sibyll and spilled out what he knew from The Event. He had nearly broken down in her arms when she'd explained that Mariah simply needed a great deal of rest to recover from her experience. He'd recovered from that rush of gratitude when she'd said she'd write to Kalena straight away.

"Kalena?" Ron had asked, his face twisting into a frown. "Good luck. I've tried owling her since it happened, but they were returned unopened."

"Well, of course they were. She's in seclusion, Ron. Her current residence is charmed to repel any outside communication. Only those she's told her location to personally will be able to contact her. She will probably come straight away. Mariah may find it a bit difficult to cope with suddenly having more talent as a Diviner than she ever imagined, and Kalena will no doubt be able to help her adjust." Sibyll had removed her large spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "She wasn't raised as one of us, due to her own lack of foresight..."

"Don't you criticize her," Ron had snapped. "She was raised by one of the worst human beings I've ever had the misfortune to meet, and believe me, that's saying something. I don't blame her in the slightest for wanting to distance herself from everything about that woman."

"Calm yourself, Ron," Sibyll had replied, standing to pat his shoulder reassuringly. "It wasn't meant as a smear on Mariah, merely an observation. But I do think it a good idea to inform Kalena of what has transpired. She might already know, of course," she'd said as an afterthought.

As Ron reflected on the whole conversation, he had to admit that if he'd been taught by Sibyll he might have learned more than he did from batty Professor Trelawney. He knew that she kept the serious side of her very secret, though, so he made no mention of it to anyone save those he knew had already seen it.

Ron climbed the staircase toward his flat with a heavy heart. Another night ahead of him facing a quiet flat and a catatonic fiancée. He'd met with Sibyll two days ago, but there hadn't been so much as a sparrow from Kalena. He was beginning to lose hope that she'd ever contact them. The day after his trip to the room at the top of North tower, Ron had sent Rianne to stay with his parents at the Burrow. Their daughter hadn't understood why Mum wouldn't hold her or play with her, and Ron had had so much else to cope with, he'd been a loss as to what else to do. He didn't want their daughter having even a residual memory of Mariah like this. His mother, while very worried about Mariah, had been over the moon.

He'd barely set foot on the top landing when he heard the door below slam shut. "Faren?" he called out.

"No, Ron," said an eerily calm voice that sent a ripple of unease into his belly.

She reached the landing within seconds and breezed right past him into his flat. By the time he closed the door behind him, Kalena had removed her cloak and was hanging it on a peg by the door.

"Where is she?" the Diviner commanded.

"Hello to you, too," Ron said back, but his heart wasn't in it. If she was here to help, he didn't want to alienate her. He'd save the rest of his biting comments for when Mariah snapped out of her self-imposed solitude.

"I'd certainly appreciate that," Kalena said evenly.

Ron shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. He'd forgotten that this woman could see into his thoughts, his past, his future, as easily as opening a book.

"She's in our bedroom," Ron sighed, slumping onto the sofa and pointing out the correct door with a finger. "Can you help her?" he asked her retreating back.

"Only if she wants to be helped, Ron."

That didn't comfort him in the slightest.

*^*^*^*^**

Mariah knew that Kalena was there the moment she put her hand on the doorknob. She'd heard the muted voices outside the bedroom door and waited for the familiar mix of dread and hatred she felt around Diviners. It never came. The feeling coursing through her could only be described as relief. She so longed to talk to someone, anyone, about what had happened, but she had no one. Not even Ron. So many times over the days since Draco's Event, as Ron called it, she had wanted to reach out to Ron. To open her mind to him and let him help her. But she had been afraid. Afraid of what she'd find in his mind. Did he think her a freak now?

"That's just about enough of that, Mariah," Kalena said, her voice clear and crisp.

The women surveyed each other silently. All her life, Mariah had shunned all contact with the other women in the Order. The way her mother ran her life was enough to color her view of all of them. Now, though, she had so many questions that she almost welcomed Kalena's presence. Rather than go to someone besides Allison with her questions about the Diviner Order early in her life, Mariah had distanced herself instead.

Immediately following The Event, after Ron had helped her into bed, she'd completely shut down, mentally and physically. But once the initial exhaustion had passed, she'd remained in her bed, plagued by worry and fear. And she'd chosen to remain shut down mentally, to Ron at least. She'd known that he was trying to reach her through their Bond, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to open up to him. She knew he had questions, but she didn't have any answers for him. Perhaps, just perhaps, Kalena would be able to provide those answers.

The derision she felt towards those of her ilk was hard to release after being so closely held for so long, and she couldn't bring herself to greet the woman cordially. "What are you doing here?" she croaked, her voice nearly gone from lack of use.

Kalena ignored her. It hadn't taken any of her Knower abilities to figure out what Mariah was thinking. She'd seen the course of her thoughts clearly on the younger woman's face. Patience was the only way to get through this conversation. Patience and persistence. Mariah had to ask the questions or the answers would be meaningless. "Tell me what has happened to make you shun the world like this," she asked in a clear, calm voice as if she was asking Mariah for a recipe for cauldron cakes.

"Don't you know?" Mariah sneered back, disdain in every syllable.

Kalena didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she conjured a chair for herself and sat, her face a study in patience, clearly indicating that she was prepared to wait all night for Mariah to begin.

Mariah scowled as she faced the head of the Order, but she began speaking. Her desire for the truth of what had happened wiped away the last of her scorn, the last dregs of Allison's influence.

It seemed to take no time at all to tell Kalena everything. It came out in a rush of memories, but Mariah kept her voice crisp and emotionless, sticking to the facts rather than delving into feelings. She explained the way her fingers knew to seek out the source of the injury, the way her mind had found Draco's spirit and life essence nearly depleted. She told her of the pain in her own head as she'd healed his.

Once she'd finished, she again asked Kalena why she was here. She needed to know that someone had summoned her. That Kalena hadn't just known to come. Because if she knew, others would, and word would no doubt get to her mother. The absolute last thing she needed right now was Allison Leyah.

"It seems your Bond has a particular affection for you that transcends anything I've ever experienced," Kalena explained. "He tried to contact me several times, but I didn't get the letters. Then he approached Sibyll for help. She wrote to me the moment he left."

"Ron went to Sibyll?" Mariah said, her heart tripping over itself. As much as he'd prodded her to go and see the only other Diviner they knew about her nightmares, Ron himself avoided her at all costs. For him to go to Sibyll for help...

"Yes, he did. He was very worried about you, and so am I, now that I've seen you. I realize that this was no small feat you accomplished the other night, but you should be well over it by now."

"No small feat, Kalena? Over it?" Mariah sat up so quickly she felt dizzy. Rubbing her temples to get the blood flowing back to her brain, she continued. "No small feat," she repeated, softly this time, shaking her head. "I brought a man back from the dead. Me. Who has no more Diviner ability than Sibyll Trelawney."

"Where on earth did you get that idea?" Kalena asked, and Mariah had to admit, the woman did look truly shocked.

"What?" Mariah lowered her voice, confused. "I've never been able to do more than Persuade someone to choose cake over cookies for dessert."

"No, Mariah," Kalena said softly and this time she stood and walked over to Mariah's bedside and took her hands. "That's all you've let yourself do. The power's been there all along, you've just spent an inordinate amount of time convincing yourself that it wasn't. I'd be willing to bet that this isn't the first time you've healed someone, either."

"It isn't," Mariah said, her eyes now fixed on the hands she had clasped in her lap, her memories of Ginny's paper cut and Rianne's teething still strong in her mind.

"Your mother was too powerful, and she researched your father too well, not to have produced a powerful child. There are some that watched you closely as you neared eighteen, myself among them. I won't deny that we were extremely surprised that you showed only a small bit of Persuasion. You had the potential to be the most powerful Diviner in several generations."

Mariah thought back to the day she'd explained the Order to Ron and the others. She'd told them that Diviners only had one gift, not all of them. At the time, she'd thought it was true. "But how can I have Healing ability, Kalena? I thought I was a Persuader. I thought Diviners only had one ability. I mean, I demonstrated Hurt and Healing to Ron once, but I thought that was the extent of my power in that respect."

"Oh, love," Kalena said, her voice dropping to a comforting tone. "Most Diviners do only have one strong capability. If not for your mother's careful selection of her own Bond, you would probably have been just like the rest of us. We've known that you had the potential for great power within you since you were born."

"So if some of us," Mariah shuddered, realizing that for the first time she had included herself when speaking of the Diviner Order, "if some of us have all three abilities, no matter how rare, then what's so special about the Triuna? Why all the fuss over her?"

"Because the Triuna has, or will have, when she comes of age, all three gifts to the furthest extent. While you were able to bring your friend back from the brink of death, he had not yet crossed the threshold. He wasn't dead when you began to heal, Draco still had a pulse. It doesn't matter how faint it was, if his heart hadn't still been struggling to maintain his life, you wouldn't have been able to do a thing. Emilia, however, when she is old enough, will be able to go further than you ever could."

"She'll be able to raise the dead?" Mariah asked, astonished and not a little bit scared of the prospect.

"Not in the way you mean," Kalena said, "but in a sense. Provided that the body has not grown cold, that some essence of the spirit lingers, Emilia will be able to retrieve the life force back into the body. And for her it will not cause resultant injuries."

"Resultant injuries?" Mariah's brow creased, but she also ran a finger under her nose, remembering the blood pouring from her nose and ear as she'd tried to repair the damage in Draco's brain.

"I can see by the look on your face that you've already answered your own question. Yes, resultant injuries are shadows that pass on to the Healer's body as she works. One Healer I know had a limp for a week after healing a child's broken leg. Sleep will cleanse your body of these resultants, and the deeper the injury, the longer it takes you to return to normal. Emilia will have no such need."

Mariah began to understand the reason that Renae and her child, the baby Emilia, were now being raised in seclusion. Emilia would be a force to be reckoned with once she became of age and truly realized her powers. Kalena was probably working tirelessly to make sure that the girl was reared to cope with the awesome responsibility of harboring these powers. She was suddenly very, very glad that she'd helped Renae hide from Allison.

"Why didn't anyone ever tell me this? That I had all this power?" Mariah said, bitterness evident in her words.

"When did you ever give us a chance?" Kalena countered. "From the moment your abilities began to surface, you shut your mind off to them and cast all of us aside. You never wanted to have anything to do with us or with the history of your people."

"You know what raised me, Kalena. Can you blame me?"

Kalena merely sighed and squeezed Mariah's hands. "I can't say that I do, when you put it that way. But why didn't you come to me, to another Diviner, we could have answered your questions."

Mariah remained stubbornly mute. She hadn't gone to another in the Order because she'd wanted to hurt Allison as badly as she could without using the power her mother had given her. She'd wanted to extract revenge for her father's mistreatment, for all the times Allison had used her power to make him bend to her slightest whim. Knowing all she knew now, Mariah realized she'd hit the target dead center. What better way to inflict pain on her mother than to deny all that Allison had striven to achieve?

And what of her baby? Rianne's sweet face, her pudgy cheeks and two-toothed smile flashed before her eyes. Her daughter...what of Rianne?

"Only time will tell that, Mariah." Kalena smiled, her face a study in sympathy.

"Get the hell out of my mind," Mariah snapped. "This is just why I left you people. You can't help but snoop. You can't even try to give others their privacy."

"I do apologize," Kalena said, but her tone said otherwise. "It is hard to ignore when you shout at me, however."

Mariah felt a shiver down her spine. Once, ages ago, when she and Ron were just getting their bearings around each other, she'd had this exact conversation. But Ron had been the one telling her to stay out of his mind. But that's a part of our Bond, she rationalized, that's something sacred to both of us.

"I still want nothing to do with being a Diviner," Mariah said stubbornly, but her voice lacked the conviction she'd had even an hour before.

"For God's sake, Mariah," Kalena said, her voice quiet, but resigned. "You saved the life of your friend's husband. What more proof do you need that your abilities are a gift and not the curse you claim them to be?"

Mariah could feel tears pricking the insides of her eyelids, but refused to let them fall in front of Kalena. She didn't address the older witch, but turned to lie back down in her bed and turn her back to her. There was so much racing through her mind right now, she felt as if her head would split from the pressure. All of her life, she'd wanted to be normal. To be anything but her mother's daughter. But if she had been, Draco would be dead right now. Instead of curled up with her husband, Ginny would be planning a funeral. The thought sent a wave of cold terror down her spine.

"You're forgetting one vital piece of the puzzle, Mariah."

She was startled to hear Kalena's voice, thinking the woman had left. She didn't turn to face her, but she did listen. "You're forgetting choice. Just because your mother chose to use her power toward more selfish ends, does not mean that you must. Or that you will. You are free to deny your gift just as you are free to accept it. And if you chose to accept it, you are the only one who decides how, when, or if, to use those powers. The choice is now, as it was when you turned eighteen, yours."

Kalena opened the bedroom door, walked through it and closed it behind her without waiting for further comment from Mariah. Not surprisingly, she found Mariah's Bond waiting for her just on the other side of the door.

"I can do no more for her. The rest is up to Mariah."

Kalena picked up her cloak and Disapparated without another word.

Tentatively, Ron cracked open the bedroom door and peeked his head around it. Mariah was lying with her back to the door. Deciding that it was time to try to draw her out, Ron climbed onto the bed. When she didn't stiffen or inch further away, Ron placed gentle hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. Her face, what he could see of it in the gloom of the room, was a mass of grief and confusion. Her cheeks were soaked with her silent tears and her shoulders shook as she fought to keep the worst of her emotion at bay.

"Ron..." she began, but couldn't finish. The feel of him next to her, his bright blue eyes so full of love, caused all the emotion she'd kept at bay to come spilling out. Ron pulled her more firmly into his arms, gathering her close and saying nothing while she expelled the worst of it from her system. It seemed to take hours. Every sob that wrenched itself from her tore through his heart like a rampaging hippogriff.

She didn't speak, not in words or thought. That didn't matter to Ron; he'd heard enough of Mariah and Kalena's conversation to understand what was going on inside her right now. All that he cared about was having her back in his arms. All that mattered was that she was safe. All that was important was that she still loved him, still needed him, as much as he loved and needed her.

Mariah pulled back suddenly and faced him. "Is that true?" she asked quietly around the sniffles.

Ron smiled. "Of course it's true, Mariah." He kissed her nose and reached up to frame her face with his hands. "I've never cared what kind of a witch you are, Mariah Susan Jameson. All I've ever cared about was that you're my witch."

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

It had been heaven, Hermione decided. Two hours of sheer, unadulterated bliss, surrounded by nothing and no one save her seventh year Muggle Studies students and piles of parchment. No notes, no looking over shoulders, no cringing at the tap tap of an owl on the window.

Just NEWT practice papers and ten students determined to achieve Outstanding in Muggle Studies out of respect for the teacher they loved.

But even this brief respite has to come to an end

, Hermione thought as she gathered up the remaining parchments and placed them in their respective files. She'd loved spending time with her students, but soon, Draco, Ginny, Ron, Mariah and Harry would be showing up and reality would intrude. Much as she didn't want it to, she knew talk would eventually turn to That Witch.

"Hermione?"

The soft voice of greeting behind her made Hermione jump, but she turned to face her fellow Hogwarts teacher with a smile on her face.

"Hello, Sara," Hermione said, trying desperately not to remember what she'd seen this woman doing the last time they'd spoken. "Care to join me?"

Sara took the seat opposite her and folded her hands neatly on the tabletop. "Just for a moment. I'm meeting Severus here before we head off."

"Why didn't you come over from the castle together?"

"I had a bit of shopping to do for my Mum's upcoming birthday, and Severus had some seventh years that wanted a bit of his time today to go over ..."

"NEWT preparation?" Hermione grinned, waving at the files she'd been trying to reposition into her already over packed bag.

"Yes," Sara replied, waving away the approaching server.

"May I ask you something?" Hermione said, trying to cover the awkward silence that was threatening to descend upon them.

"Certainly. But I have a feeling I know what you're going to ask," Sara said. Hermione would have come up with something else to ask, but the sense she got from the other teacher was a receptive one, not a trace of the old hostility.

"You and Snape...er...Severus," Hermione blushed over her blunder, but Sara merely smiled at it. A bit thrown, Hermione tried to phrase the question. All she could come up with was one word. "How?"

Sara grinned broadly, her face now glowing with happiness. "I guess I have you and Harry to thank for it all," Sara said simply. Hermione's jaw dropped briefly. She snapped it shut but knew that nothing could wipe the look of confusion and disbelief from her face.

"When I first came here, I was in awe of everything. The honor of teaching at Hogwarts under one of the most gifted Transfiguration experts, meeting you and Harry, all of it. I was so overwhelmed, I made a bit of an idiot out of myself when we first met."

Hermione made as to contradict that statement, but Sara waved it off before she could. "I did, Hermione. But after a few days, that awe turned into something else. Something ugly. I started to become insanely jealous. And that jealousy slowly began to eat away at me."

"You mentioned that the other night," Hermione said, her eager expression nearly begging Sara to continue this time.

"Yes," Sara said, without a trace of animosity. "Your close relationship with Minerva, with the rest of the staff, with the students. I'd had one misgiving before I came here and it festered. I wondered why Minerva hadn't asked you to take the first and second years as your gift at Transfiguration was well documented. Every time I saw you two together, I thought you were picking apart my abilities. I know now that I was way off base, but at the time," she shrugged, "let's just say that my self-esteem wasn't the strongest and my mind was fertile ground for these ideas."

"And how does S-Severus fit in to all of this?" Hermione was proud that she only stumbled briefly.

"One night, in this very restaurant, I was watching as you and your friends were having dinner. I could see you all through the mirror and I saw you and Harry discussing something and glancing in my direction. No doubt, I thought, you were telling Harry all the horrid things Minerva had told you about me. I let myself get into a seething rage inside and it became too much to handle, so I ran out as you approached me. And ran straight into Severus."

The smile that lightened Sara's face at the mention of the Potions master lightened Hermione's heart as well.

"I won't bore you with the day to day struggle that we went through, but it wasn't an easy road to travel. In retrospect, I know that we had to endure those early struggles to find the peace we now have, but it wasn't easy at the time. There were moments where we meshed, moments when we didn't. Times I thought he was using spells to make me fall for him, times he fed the worst of my feelings towards you and Harry, times he helped me work through the worst of my jealousy and low self-esteem. But in the end, I came to accept that what we had found was real, that my petty insecurities were nothing more than a reflection of my own low self worth."

"I'm so happy for you, Sara," Hermione said, taking a risk and reaching over to touch the other woman's hand, thrilled when Sara allowed the contact and even returned it with a slight squeeze.

They were kept from further discussion when the front door to the Tavern opened near them. Ron, Mariah and Snape walked through it together, but apart. Ron and Mariah held back a bit, but Snape headed straight for them. Hermione suddenly remembered that they were all meeting for dinner tonight, and had a thought.

"The lot of us are having dinner together tonight," she said to Sara, squeezing her hand slightly to pull her attention away from Snape as he approached. "Would you care to join us?"

Hermione didn't know if the beaming smile on the woman's face was from the invitation or Snape's presence, but she had a pretty good idea that it was the latter. "Thanks, Hermione," she said before standing to place a kiss on Snape's mouth in greeting. He snaked an arm around her waist and the pair of them turned to face her. "But we have other plans."

Hermione stood and threw her bag over her shoulder, waving Ron and Mariah over and pointing to the back room. They headed that way with a nod and Hermione turned back to Sara and Snape. "I hope you have a wonderful evening, then," she said.

Sara giggled and curled herself into Snape's side. "We will," she grinned before they turned and walked out of the restaurant, still arm and arm.

The sight of Severus Snape grinning like a schoolboy, not that she thought he'd ever grinned as a schoolboy, carried Hermione all the way back to their usual table in the restaurant's more secluded back room. Once there, she dropped her bag on the floor near the wall and sat opposite Ron and next to Mariah. Ron, she noticed, was hunched over with a hand across his middle.

"What's with him?" Hermione asked Mariah.

"I saw Snape kissing someone," Ron said, straightening up and rubbing at his eyes. "I'll never be able to burn that image away. I feel like I'm gonna be sick."

"You should talk to Harry," Hermione said, laughter spilling out of her like an overheated potion, "he's seen worse."

A comfortable silence descended briefly, and then Hermione turned to Mariah. The shadows had not completely left the hollows beneath her eyes, but they were growing less and less noticeable every time she saw her. More importantly, there was a sense of happiness that radiated from Mariah now, a nearly tangible sense of peace. "So, how are you?"

"I'm moving through the five stages fairly well now," Mariah said with a self deprecating laugh. "The anger was quick, and that happened years ago, and some would say that I lingered a bit too long in the denial phase."

"Perhaps," Hermione grinned back, happy to hear her friend coping with her newly discovered powers so well. Thrilled beyond measure to hear her old friend's wry sense of humor again. "Out of bargaining and depression, too, are you?"

"Yep. Fully into acceptance now."

"Too right, she is," Ron interjected. "I can barely function in that house with all the owls flying around."

"Don't mind him," Mariah laughed, music to Hermione's ears, "he's just terrified I'll Persuade him into some henpecked husband and make him wait on me hand and foot."

"As if," Ron grinned back, kissing her temple. "I'm more afraid that she'll make me feel sympathy pains during her monthly cycle."

"Owls?" Hermione questioned, inwardly thrilled that Mariah was so accepting of her abilities that she was able to laugh about them.

"Kalena and I have been keeping up a fairly active level of communication. Every time I write to her with a question, I think of another almost immediately. The same goes for her, it seems. And she's keeping me updated about Renae as well."

"How is Renae?" Hermione wished she'd been able to keep the acrimony from her voice in deference to Mariah's childhood friend, but she'd never quite forgiven the other witch for the havoc she'd caused.

"Thriving, apparently. Whatever fates settled the Triuna on her shoulders knew what they were doing. Kalena said she's taken to motherhood like a grindylow to water. And Emilia is growing well. They have years yet before her powers come into being, and for now, they're just biding their time and letting her have a normal childhood."

Ron glanced over towards the open door, a smile flitting across his face briefly before he schooled his features into disdain. "Lo, the git approacheth."

"Sodeth off, Weasley," Draco said back, just as blankly. He went straight for Mariah and handed her a single red rose before kissing her cheek.

"Draco, this has to stop," Mariah replied, but took the flower anyway.

"Not bloody likely," he said, his tone light but his face serious. "One a day for the rest of my life, Mariah."

"Is Harry on his way?" Hermione asked, trying without much success to choke down the emotion suddenly clogging her throat.

"Should be right behind us," Draco said, taking a seat next to Ginny. "He forgot to bring the letters with him and had to nip back to the house and get them."

The sudden reminder of the turmoil of her past week nearly rocked Hermione from her chair. For a little while, she'd been able to put it away. It had been a few hours of blessed freedom, but now the spell was broken and reality came crashing on top of her once again. Harry was being stalked by someone, an increasingly hostile someone, and there wasn't a bloody thing they could do about it.

In an effort to marshal their forces together, they'd all agreed to meet for dinner at Ember's. It was a reminder of happier times, dinners together before That Witch had made her presence known. And it was a chance for all of them to get away, to just be adults for a little while. The only glitch had been the babies. Love them though they all did, each couple was longing for a night away. But with the loss of their nanny, they'd been at a loss.

Until Molly Weasley got wind of the situation, that is. She'd Apparated straight to Draco and Ginny's, told each of her children, biological and honorary, to bring the babies to the Malfoy house and to get themselves out of the house and leave her to spoil her grandchildren rotten.

This time, there hadn't even been a token protest.

Harry stood at the entrance to Ember's back room and surveyed the gathering. Ron and Mariah were curled into each other, across from them, Draco and Ginny were similarly seated, chairs pulled close together, Draco's arm around Gin's shoulders. They were all smiling. Funny, he thought, he hadn't felt like smiling in weeks.

Hermione's eyes found him first. As always. For a brief moment, they were alone in this crowd of people. Lost in the world that was their life together. Love shone from her brown eyes...love for him. It enveloped him, shot straight through to the marrow of his bones and warmed the last of the chill from his body. In that moment, held in her eyes, nothing mattered. Not obsessive witches, not fear for his family, not obscure predictions of the future. The only thing that meant anything was Hermione.

Feeling lighter than he had all day, he entered the room and took a seat beside her. "I love you," he whispered into her ear as he pressed his lips to her temple.

"Same goes, Potter," Hermione whispered. Her eyes were misty and he knew that their brief connection had touched her the same way it had touched him. It strengthened him more than phoenix song ever could. With her beside him, anything was possible.

"Oi," Draco said, breaking the silence, "get a room."

"Jealous?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow towards the Slytherin.

"Always," Draco grinned back, blowing Harry a kiss.

"First Snape, now this," Ron muttered, clutching his stomach again.

Harry was pleased that the previous atmosphere of joviality had been restored. He knew the conversation would eventually turn serious, but for the moment, he wanted laughter. He wanted to keep the wolf at the door, even if only briefly; he offered up a small apology to Remus for the analogy.

The conversation around the table remained boisterous throughout their delicious dinner. Harry and Hermione told everyone about Sara and Snape, causing Ron to clutch his stomach once again; Ginny went over the latest wedding plans for Ron, having updated Mariah earlier that day. Harry and Draco had a great time teasing Ron about a bachelor party and all of the witches teased Ron about their plans for Mariah's hen's night.

"Strippers?" Ron asked. "They have wizard strippers?"

"Of course they do," Ginny said at once, "why should you lot have all the fun?"

"Lucky for me Mariah doesn't go for that sort of thing," Ron said, a confident smile on his face.

"Says who?" Mariah responded primly, laughing out loud at Ron's dropping jaw.

"Excuse me, Harry, but this just arrived for you." The Tavern's owner, Ember, stood in the entryway with an envelope in her hands.

Draco and Ron jumped to their feet, both men trying not to reach for their wands in front of the owner. "How was it delivered?" Draco asked, his eyes already looking over the petite witch's head into the main dining room.

"Brown owl," Ember replied quizzically. "Is there a problem?"

He watched as his best mates deflated and retook their seats. "No, no problem, Ember. Thanks," he said as he took the envelope from her.

Harry stared at the piece of parchment as if he expected it to spring to life and grab a hold of his throat. You're going to end up with a parchment phobia if you're not careful, he cautioned himself. It couldn't be helped, though. Not when every piece of paper that arrived for him contained either a threat, an endearment, or, as they always did, another indication of the level of madness his stalker had reached.

The contents of the past week's worth of her letters shuttered through his mind like a badly tuned radio.

"you will be mine....we're destined...beloved...I'll prove it to you...office...only the beginning...no one could ever love you as I do...how dare you...I know you love me too...you're too blinded...it is meant...don't trifle with me...we are meant...if you would just open your eyes, you'd see...why can't you see what is...bloody bastard...I'll make you see..."

Now, with shaking hands, he ripped open the envelope and slid the parchment out and read it aloud.

"Beloved,

I am sorry that I let despair and anger color my last letters. I know this is as frustrating for you as it is for me. Please do not despise me for becoming distraught, but after so long apart, I briefly surrendered to my impatience. Not to worry, though, beloved. I have it all figured out. I know exactly what to do."

Harry ran his hands through already messy hair as he let the parchment fall to the table top.

"I take it we're not to be leaping about in delight that she's calmed down a trifle," Ron said in the silence that followed Harry's oration.

Harry had a momentary urge to throw up his hands and take off running. This was maddening. He supposed that either Hermione's bent towards control freakishness was rubbing off on him during their marriage or that he was simply at his wit's end. He hated that this witch held all the cards and was calling all the shots. He hated that she could, through one single piece of parchment, bring his life crashing back down again.

The change in tone of her letters bothered him, too. Her anger over the past week, both in the letters and in the vandalism of his office and the broken window at his house, had upset him. But this calm, composed, and confident woman scared him even more.

"Harry," Mariah said, her face uneasy, but her tone determined, "I'd like to try something. It might not do any good, as both you and Ember have touched it, but some of her might still be readable on the parchment."

Harry nodded and Mariah took the letter up and held it gingerly in both of her hands, her eyes drifting shut. "You know her," Mariah said, her voice dreamy and distant. "You've been in close contact with her recently, or you will be," her face screwed up in concentration. "I can't tell which. I can't see her face, but I can feel her. She's excited, happy to have figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Mariah sighed. "It's all jumbled up, her feelings, her plans. I can't get a clear picture. And I don't think it's lack of experience with Knowing, I think it's the diseased state of her mind."

"You mean she's ill?" Ginny asked.

"Could you heal her of this illness, Mariah? If you knew who she was?" Hermione asked before Mariah could answer Ginny.

Mariah's eyes fluttered open again and she looked across the table to her friends. "No, Ginny, she's not ill, not physically. And no, Hermione. As this problem is in her mind, not her physical being, there is nothing any Healer could do to eradicate it. I doubt even Emilia would be able to when she becomes of age. The workings of the human mind are still an unfathomable mystery, even to us." Harry saw the slight shudder and knew from Ron that she was still having trouble assimilating herself into life as a Diviner, but knew also that she was determined not to hide anymore.

"Is there any danger to Hermione?" Harry asked at once.

"I felt no malice in her towards anyone, not even you, Harry. She simply believes that you are both fated to love one another forever. She's determined to break you of the spell keeping you from realizing your destiny, but apart from that, no. To be honest, I don't think Hermione's even on her radar anymore."

"Radar?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"I'll explain it later, love," Mariah smiled at Ron, sinking into his arms and the cocoon of support they always lent her.

"You do know that your best friend teaches Muggle Studies, Ron, yes? Perhaps she could tutor the cluelessness out of you once and for all," Draco chimed in, toasting him with a bottle of butterbeer.

"Sod off, Malfoy," echoed around the table. This time even Draco joined in, telling himself to sod off. Somehow, that little epithet had come to have such an endearing meaning to him, a mark of acceptance. So he strove to get them to chorus it as often as possible. Especially when things were getting too serious. He'd been too close to death, too close to losing what he'd come to consider his extended family to let them wallow in what they couldn't control. The calm, determined turn to the letter writing wasn't sitting well with him, but until they knew which way to look, they were pretty much stuck floundering. When she did strike, and according to Ginny it was all but inevitable, Merlin help the woman. The rage and wrath of Harry's friends and family would descend upon her in a trice. It would probably take them weeks to find all the pieces once Harry's mob finished with her.

The only thing that bothered him was his complete inability to remember what had sent him to Ron's flat in the middle of the night. He knew that it could provide the key to unraveling this mystery but every time he tried, he failed. It frustrated the bloody hell out of him, that memory dancing on the tip of his tongue like a half remembered song. Trying not to groan in frustration, Draco reached for his nearly empty butterbeer bottle and his eyes fell on Ron as he asked a question. The tumblers in the recesses of Draco's brain finally clicked into their proper alignment. Ron...question...

"That's it!" Draco cried out loud, causing the others at the table to stop their heated conversation about the latest letter to stare openly at him. Such was the thrill of having finally figured it out, he didn't even mind being looked at like he'd taken leave of his senses.

"What?" Ginny asked.

His elation at having finally recalled what had taken him to Ron's flat that night dissipated rapidly as he remembered exactly what he'd gone to tell his brother-in-law.

"I finally remembered," he said slowly, his eyes darting from Ron to Harry and Hermione then back to Ron. "You'd asked me to look into Faren's background a bit." Ron nodded, also shooting a furtive glance at the Potters. "I had just gotten word that night, the results of a very deep, very...er...thorough background check."

"What's this?" Harry said briskly. "Why were you asking about Faren, Ron?"

"It wasn't anything I felt comfortable coming to you about, mate," Ron placated. "I just had a few questions, a few things that didn't add up and wanted to see if Draco could...er..."

"Perform a little Arithmancy?" Harry offered.

"Fair enough explanation," Ron agreed, looking sheepish.

"And what did you find out that our investigation of her didn't, Draco?" Harry's stomach clenched as tightly as his hands while he waited to hear what Draco had found out. The look on his face indicated it wasn't good news.

"It wasn't easy, I assure you. And none but the most intense scrutiny would have discovered it."

"For Merlin's sweet sake, what?" Hermione snapped.

"From what we were able to tell, until about a year ago, Faren Jianesian didn't exist."

~~~fin~~~