Chronicles of The Boy Who Lived

Interludes

*******

A smiling flight attendant dressed in an elegant suit matching the décor sealed the door behind them, and they shuffled into the main seating area. Huge, overstuffed chairs faced each other and were scattered sporadically in the luxurious space. Draco returned, his coat discarded, wearing a pair of more comfortable-looking shoes. Chanel and Tori stood stupidly. "Might want to have a seat, ladies. The pilot's not accustomed to his having passengers flung about during flight."

Chanel settled into a seat far across on the other side. Not wanting to follow like a lost puppy, Tori quickly sat down in the closest seat. Draco sat down, facing both, trying to cover his smile with a scowl.

After the pilot mumbled some in-flight drabble, the jet took off smoothly. Draco unsnapped his seat belt at the same time as the pilot announced that it was okay to do so. The attendant pertly went to him with a tray of glasses and a snifter of brandy. The attendant then came around to Chanel, who snagged a glass, and Tori, who waved him off. "I'd rather stay sober for this, thank you very much." she mumbled under her breath, looking out the window.

Draco casually moved about the cabin, drink in hand. He stopped and looked pointedly at both women. "You can unchain yourselves at any time."

Tori ignored him, but Chanel shot him a look and undid her harness. She reluctantly pushed off and slowly made her way to the other side.

Pretending that he wasn't watching her cruise about, Draco remarked, "You look calm. Seem to be handling yourself well. Under the circumstances, I'm fairly impressed."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him over her drink. "What -- I'm supposed to trip all over myself because you've supposedly come to my rescue?"

"Lesser women have."

She snorted indelicately, champange nearly spurting from her nose. "Don't believe in small talk, do you?"

Draco shrugged, taking a tiny pull from his drink. "Small talk is for small people."

There was a brief companionable silence as the jet surged forward, smoothly slicing through the air. "Where are Crabbe and Goyle?" Chanel asked suddenly.

"They have their own way. Besides, being around Crabbe is like guarding a boulder. Pointless and incredibly dull."

Chanel glanced about the cabin, frowning. "Where's Sharon?"

Draco gestured to a door a few feet behind Tori. "There's a lounge there. Tired?"

Chanel immediately shook her head, though in that instant she felt her body sag gratefully at the suggestion. "I'm fine. But a lounge? What the hell is on this thing?"

"Only the most basic of accommodations." Draco tipped his chin smuggly. "Fancy a tour?"

She flicked her eyes hesistantly onto Tori, who made no move to respond. "Uh, sure."

"Come this way." He plunged into a small, darkened hall adjacent to where he had been sitting.

He immediately turned left, causing Chanel to run not too graciously into him, her drink sloshing dangerously. He flipped on a light. "My office."

She peered around his arm at ornate furniture jammed cozily in the tiny space. "Nice. Where's the fireplace?"

Draco frowned, then quickly recognized the sarcasm. "Mm. Must have left it on my other jet." He turned abruptly and withdrew from the room.

She threw out a free hand to stop him from completely plowing into her and her palm flattened against his chest. She snatched her hand back quickly.

He slipped past her as if oblivious, going further down hall. Without introduction, he pushed open the door of a softly lit room and stepped aside. Dark mahogany bookcases lined every possible inch of the small space. Books bound in crackled ancient leather were arranged in tight dizzying rows. A large M was crudely engraved upon a small silver shield resting on a shelf. Behind the monogram were several strange, flowing lines of verse Chanel could not decipher. It looked to be a corrupted mixture of Latin and French.

"You've probably never read a single book in here," she muttered.

He turned on her suddenly. "I have. Some I've read twice. There's one in particular I like to keep with me wherever I am. My father used to read it to me every night when I was a child. It was written by a Muggle, in fact." His brow jutted to illustrate his shock.

"Must be one helluva book. What's it about?"

His pale grey eyes locked onto her. "Princes. Power. How to crush your opponent so they can't seek revenge."

She swallowed thickly, her chuckle faint and nervous. "No visions of sugar plums for you."

Draco gave her a wry, stiff grin. "Father didn't believe in pleasant bedtime stories."

"Of course," she muttered.

He crossed over to a room on the opposite side of the hall and switched on a lamp near the door. Chanel softly drew in her breath as she slipped in behind him. A wonderously huge canopy bed commanded the attention as the centerpiece of the bedroom. Hardwood floors gleamed in the soft prism of the Tiffany lamp.

She spied a small back and white photograph of an angelic smiling girl on a nightstand. But as she moved forward, the girl's face began to darken and scowl unnaturally. When she retreated, the frozen cherubic expression gradually returned in the picture.

Behind her, she could hear the laughter in his voice. "I see you've met Mother."

"Yeah, now I know where you got that handsome sneer -- "

She whirled around and he caught her in a soft thud against his chest, causing the drink to slosh completely over onto her hand. "Careful, Sweet," he murmured, gently lifting the hand holding the glass to his lips, pressing them to the glistening drops of liquid. "You'll stain the floor."

She nearly dropped the glass. "S-Sorry."

His voice took a slightly petulant tone. "You certainly had no problems last night wasting good wine."

She deftly removed her hand from his, and finished the drink. "You could have had your napkin come over and clean up the spill."

"Pans?" he chuckled easily, taking note of the slight cringe in her body. "She insisted I take her out while she was in town. I was just doing her a favor."

"Looked more like she was doing you a favor," she muttered.

He slowly raised a brow. "Why, Sweet. I believe you're jealous."

"Please, Draco. You flatter yourself way too much," she scoffed.

Draco shifted closer. "I suppose you'd rather I fall at your feet."

The jet suddenly shuddered, causing Draco to buckle, pressing his hot, strong body into hers against the bed. She threw out her hand, but it sank into the amazing down of coverlet. Draco followed.

His face hovered mere inches from hers and she found herself trapped in the icy depths of his eyes. "I think it's time we finished that conversation," he murmured huskily.

The jet shuddered again. She gasped in surprise as his mouth covered hers, strong and refusing to be denied. His lips kneaded hers apart, and his tongue cool and slicing like a shard of glass. Her hand uncurled from the glass and it rolled off the bed, clinking soundly to the floor. Her mind was wild and confused as her fingers twined themselves into his hair.

A loud gasp sounded just outside the door, causing Chanel to shove Draco with unprecedented force onto the floor, bolting up from the bed. Tori was already striding quickly back to her seat.

"Should've waited," Tori muttered, clicking her seat belt into place. "Should've waited."

Chanel stormed out and snapped herself resolutely into her seat. Draco followed some time later, slowly settling into his chair and gazing vaguely out the window.

Overhead, the pilot apologized for turbulence and announced that they would be landing in ten minutes' time. This announcement was met by silence.

As promised, the jet landed smoothly, skipping over the strip before rolling to a gentle stop. The pilot bade them farewell as Sharon poked her head out from the lounge, looking rumpled and rested. "Nice flight, then? Did I miss anything?"

Draco stole a glance at Chanel, causing her to turn quickly to Tori to avoid his glance. Tori smiled weakly at Sharon. "Didn't much like the turbulence," she offered lamely.

Sharon nodded sympathetically. "Mm. That's why I always sleep on these flights, dear."

Everyone got off the jet, where a sleek white limo was purring, awaiting its passengers. Chanel immediately turned to Tori, realizing that they didn't have a hotel. "Call HP," she ordered Tori shortly, before quickly striding away from the group.

Tori rolled her eyes and flipped open her cellular. Feeling Sharon's and Draco's eyes on her, she moved away also.

Harry picked up after one ring. "Where are you? There was a huge accident on the motorway...we missed the flight. I wasn't sure if you two made it or not."

Tori paused briefly. "Uh, we made it."

"To the airport?"

"Yes and no," Tori sighed heavily, knowing that this was the thankless part of the job. "We're in Cologne now."

"So you made your flight?"

Tori hesitated before answering, "Er, not quite. Dr--Sharon insisted we fly out w--"

She ignored the looks from the others as she held the phone down by her leg a split second before Harry's choice expletive. After waiting a beat, she brought the phone back up to her ear, and lowered her voice. "Harry, we really didn't have a choice. But we're here."

There was silence on his end.

"Uh, do we have a hotel?" she continued timidly, feeling nervous.

"Not yet," Harry answered shortly, and a heavy pause followed.

Chanel had moved over to catch the last part, distracting Tori from Harry's anger. "Tell him to book the Sentas. They had the best rate."

Draco frowned slightly. His mouth opened, then shut, and Sharon spoke instead. "You two can always come with us in the meantime."

"No!" Tori said loudly, causing all of them to blink at her reaction. She covered the bottom half of the phone and continued. "We'll be fine. You've given us enough hospitality. We'll have a hotel in five minutes' time." She looked pointedly at Chanel for back up.

Chanel smiled kindly at Sharon. "Yes, you've done a lot. I think we'll take a taxi from here."

Draco snorted, but said nothing, at Tori's relieved sigh. "Well, only if you're sure..." Sharon replied, looking a bit disappointed.

Chanel glanced at Tori and nodded. "Yes. We'll be fine."

The chauffeur opened the limo door for Sharon, who got it. Draco contemplated Chanel for a moment, and then his eyes flickered towards Tori before slipping into the limo. Seconds later, the vehicle took off, and Chanel turned to Tori, her breath puffing in the chilled air. "Well?" she said shortly.

Tori took her hand away from the phone. "Harry?"

"What was that all about?" he said hotly.

She lowered her voice. "Us telling Sharon that we didn't need to stay with her and..."

He didn't bother hiding the sigh of relief. "Good."

"So, do we have a hotel?"

"Yep," he said. "Olaf got us into the Hyatt Regency Köln." There was a pause as an amplified voice spoke in the background. "That's us. The rooms should be ready."

She held back a laugh as she said bye and snapped the phone shut. "Olaf got us into the Hyatt Regency Köln; the rooms should be ready and they just boarded their flight. Want to get going?"

"Yes. Now call us a taxi before we freeze our asses off," Chanel grumbled.

***

They rode in silence as the taxi wound past gorgeous cathedrals and down busy streets before stopping in front of the hotel. "You are here," the driver said unnecessarily, in halting English.

They got out, and Tori's mouth dropped, awestruck. "Chan, this is gorgeous."

A bellboy promptly stepped up to unload the taxi. Chanel handed him a few British notes, which he frowned at but accepted. He led them through the lobby, straight past the front desk and to a private elevator, which they rode to their floor.

The bellboy led them to a room and opened the door. Chanel and Tori filed in, looked around and saw that there was another opened door, which led to an adjoining room. Chanel pointed at the second room, and grabbed her own bags before passing through the door.

Tori collapsed on the giant bed. "I'm just glad we're finally here."

Chanel grunted in agreement from the other room as she opened her suitcases and started unpacking. Over an hour later, she was still frowning at the jumble on her bed. "Tori?"

"Yeah?" Tori called from the other room.

"Nothing. Want to grab something to eat?" she asked, crossing into Tori's room.

Tori sat up. "Sure. Where at?"

Chanel spoke over her shoulder as they left their rooms. "I thought I saw a dining room downstairs before we were catapulted up the elevator."

They went down the same frightfully fast elevator, in which Chanel found a button with a picture of food on it and pushed it. They arrived back at the lobby, but Chanel spotted the dining room off to their left.

Chanel started ordering before Tori had taken her seat. "I'll take a Caesar salad, light on the dressing and a club soda."

The waiter turned to Tori, who briefly scanned the menu. "Er, I'll take the same, but with a Diet Coke and some bread."

Chanel surveyed the room as the waiter left, noticing the sparingly dressed teenaged girls in giggling groups. "Something must have come across the fangirl radar."

Tori saw where the girls were, and smiled suddenly. "It's because Harry's here. He's at the concierge."

Frowning, Chanel watched as the waiter returned with their food. "How the hell would they know so fast? We didn't even know we'd be here."

Sipping on her soda, Tori watched the girls giggle and point as Chanel quickly started in on her salad. "You're right," she mused absently.

Chanel shrugged. "Maybe it was this Olaf guy."

Harry spotted them and made his way over, causing an excited stir amongst the surprised girls, who chattered like squirrels. Chanel continued cutting through the tail end of her salad.

"Hey," Tori said, as he pulled out a chair. "Glad to see you made it okay."

"I could say the same for you," Harry said, looking at the both of them curiously.

Chanel shot him a patented Don't-Be-a-Shit-Starter look. "We're here." She speared the last of her salad and pushed back her chair. "Anyways, nice spot. Gotta take care of something; see you two later."

Both Harry and Tori watched as Chanel abruptly departed. He looked back at Tori, his brow raised. "What was that about?"

She sighed as Chanel's head disappeared in the crowd. "It hasn't been a great day."

"Go on."

Tori looked directly at Harry now. "Look, last night was...yeah. You were there...and this morning with the traffic situation. We didn't really want to fly with Dr--him, but Sharon was insistent."

His eyes darkened. "Yeah, she is. But still..."

She had held up her hand in the middle of his reply. "Harry...there are a lot of people here."

"Uh, yeah, Tori, there are." Harry said, confused.

She shot him an oh please look. "For you, Harry? They're, uh, getting closer?"

Harry finally understood. "Oh, right." He looked around and saw two security guards closing in on the fans. "Let's get out of here. How are the rooms?"

"They're great. The whole town is --- " she answered, getting distracted by the rising noise level.

"Let's go check them out, then. Maybe we'll find Chanel and see what else is going on."

Tori nodded and started to rise from the table, her eyes trained on the ever closer gaggle of girls. She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't get to start her sentence. As the group of girls closed in, Security cut them off mere feet from the two. Harry grabbed her by the wrist and they were ushered from the dining room, hearing the anguished cries and sobs behind them.

***

Chanel wrapped her coat snuggly around herself as she hailed a taxi outside. An empty taxi pulled up, and she slipped inside. The driver wove efficiently through the traffic and thirty minutes later, pulled up to the valet area of a hotel. She pushed a wad of British notes into his hand, muttering, "Danke."

Inside, she skated carefully across the Italian marble floor and arrived with relief at the front desk. "Could you possibly ring a guest for me, please? Draco Mal -- shit," she muttered. "What are the chances he'd actually be under his own name?"

The concierge smiled patiently. "So you are not sure of this person's name?"

She returned a slightly irritable smile, her mind working quickly. "Oh no, I'm sure. Just give me a second."

She whirled quickly through a myriad of choices, frowning heavily in thought. Something subtle, and yet obvious. Like a clue hiding right out in the open.

"Oh!" She suddenly snapped her fingers, smiling. "Of course. I'm looking for Serpente Sortia. He's probably just, you know, trying to lay low."

The concierge looked at her disbelievingly before reluctantly turning to the guest directory. A brow shot up in surprise. "...We have a guest here by that name. Whom shall I say is ringing them?"

Chanel's eyes quickly skipped over the log as he clapped the book shut. "Uh, no. No ringing. I just...wanted see that he'd settled in alright. Okay. You have a good one. Thanks!" She quickly scuttled away, leaving the bewildered man frowning after her.

***

Tori flattened herself against the elevator as the doors closed, sighing with relief.

"That was close," Harry said as the elevator accelerated.

Tori grinned at him, not thinking. "Yeah," she said, before becoming aware that her hand had somehow ended up in his. "Oh, sorry," she mumbled, pulling her hand away. Harry looked at his own hand momentarily before shoving both in his front pockets.

The elevator ride continued in silence. They got out and walked down the hallway to Tori's room. She opened the door. "This is my room...and Chanel's is through that door. Where's yours?" she asked conversationally.

His eyebrows went up, and a faint blush rose on her cheeks. "One floor up."

"Oh," she said, and walked to the window, letting her fingertips brushing the cold glass. "I have a great view."

Harry followed, stopping beside her to look out over the city.

"It really is beautiful," Tori said, staring, and Harry glanced sideways at her.

"Yeah, it is," he said, before realizing that his tone had softened. And that he wasn't looking at the view.

***

Chanel pushed in close with a small group that was following a bellboy to the lift. The glass elevator smoothly lifted them to the thirty-second floor. The passengers rolled out, and Chanel feigned as if she was following, but suddenly turned to the operator.

"Darn! You know, I've forgot to tell a client of mine something very, very important. Will you take me to the fifty-seventh floor, please?" Her smile was slightly pained, the forced sacchrine in her voice nearly giving her a toothache.

The operator nodded and pushed the appropriate button. Chanel sighed inwardly as the lift climbed up. The door opened with a soft bing!

"Thanks," she said quietly, slipping out. She noticed a placard proclaiming odd number suites to the left.

She hurried down an impossibly long corridor past busts of Greek gods on pedestals and life-sized oil paintings before finally finding the door she'd come for. She raised her hand and gave a hard, long knock.

The door suddenly snapped open with impatience. Draco blinked with mild confusion and quickly scanned the hall.

"Sweet. What an unexpected -- "

She brushed past him. "Save it. You got something of mine. I just came to get it back."

He closed the door, eyeing her as she frowned critically at the chandelier suspended over the entrance. "And this warrants you nearly breaking into my room?"

She whirled on him, sputtering. "What? I didn't -- "

"You didn't call from the front desk, in which case, they would have rung. According to policy, they never send visitors to the guests suites -- announced or otherwise -- and yet somehow you managed to sneak on to the lift."

He clucked his tongue, grinning. "Sweet. How desperate! And adorable."

Her face crumpled viciously. "I wasn't about to have it on record that I came to see you in a hotel room."

Draco didn't have to feign the slightly wounded look that overrode his arrogant smirk. "Fine," he said stiffly and nearly clipped her shoulder in passing. He left her with little choice but to quickly shuffle along past an expansive gold and marble wet bar and follow him to a darkened room.

***

Tori turned to look at Harry, having noticed the difference in his tone, and her fingers dropped from the window. "Wha--" she trailed off, only seeing his eyes. When did he get so close?

But she didn't back up, and neither did he. She swallowed, unable to look away, or not wanting to. "Um...?" she said, her voice a whisper.

In his mind, Harry nodded, but his head was not complying. "Yeah," he managed, immobile.

Seconds passed, and neither spoke, but Tori blinked once, and realized that she had started leaning in...or was that him? Her gaze shifted to his mouth, and her eyes closed.

The loud, strong, solitary knock caused her eyes to fly open, inches away from him. They stood there, frozen, until the knock sounded again.

Harry tore his heated gaze from her to go answer the door, trying to will away the flush creeping up his neck. A short, stocky man in his mid-thirties entered. "Tori, this is Olaf. Olaf, Tori."

She barely tipped her head in response; Olaf did likewise before speaking to Harry. "Herr, ve must go to the arena now to check out sound system. It vill be closed in von hour."

"Okay," Harry said. He paused, then turned back to Tori, who had the back of her hands pressed against her tinted cheeks. "Uh, did you want to come?"

Tori shook her head haltingly, feeling hot. "I think...I'll wait here...for Chanel."

He nodded and followed Olaf out. Tori flung herself on her bed, burying her face in her pillow.

***

Chanel stood frozen in the dimly lit threshold, not able to bring herself to go into another room with the wizard which contained a bed.

When he realized she was no longer following, he turned to level her with a frosty glare. "I've had all my shots, Chanel. Promise I won't bite."

She toed the line of the doorway. He snapped his hand angrily at a small black bag propped against the foot of the bed. "I won't get it for you. Come in and do it yourself."

Relief flooded through her as she rushed forward and quickly scooped the duffle bag from the floor. Her eyes landed on the slightly parted track of the zipper and the "Thank you" that had been waiting immediately evaporated from her mouth.

"You opened this, didn't you?"

He was in mid-shrug when a strange expression suddenly took hold and twisted his face into a triumphantly nasty grin. "Suppose I did. How much is it worth to you to keep your little secret?"

Flames leaped from her eyes as she cut him a sizzling look. "Sorry, I'm a bit attached to my soul. I'd like to keep it, thanks."

She spun away angrily and toward the door, but Draco managed to catch her arm and snap her back around. "Is that all I get for coming to your rescue more times than I can count?" he hissed.

"You haven't done a damned thing that's heroic! Your arm's been twisted the whole time!" she flared, pressing into him. "There's not a single solitary bone in your body that's kind or decent."

The quiet, reflective pause before his response frightened her more than his iron grip or glacial stare. His tone was soft and deceptively benign as if he'd woken from a gentle nap and found his voice only worked in whispers. But the words were like a cold slap in the face.

"Potter doesn't know about the day you came to my office, does he?"

Her heart suddenly lashed in one painful crack! against her rib cage. Her smoldering eyes quickly slid from his and fell upon the floor, burning holes in the rich carpet.

He released her and only slowly moved away, giving her time to strike him. But she did nothing, frozen this time in fury. And fear. He circled until he stood behind her, admiring the steely lock of her spine, the magnificent way her shoulders stiffened as his lips brushed her ear.

"Our little secret," he whispered, and watched with a mixture of awe and amusement as she took flight.

***

Two hours later, Tori was still lying on her bed, but now under the pretense of watching T.V., even though it was on mute. Her mind was wandering, wondering if what had almost happened earlier had reallyalmost happened. She ran over the scene in her mind, and then smirked unexpectedly to herself as she remembered the name: Olaf.

The door next to hers slammed loudly, causing her to sit upright out of shock. Guess she's back from wherever she went... Curious, she waited briefly before going to their adjoining door and knocking.

"Yeah?" Chanel muttered, tossing the boot with a broken heel in the trash as Tori opened the door cautiously.

Tori winced as the boot clanged in the metal trash can. "Did you--take care of whatever it was you went to do?" She sat precariously on the edge of Chanel's bed, looking poised to take flight should Chanel start throwing more things.

Chanel sniffed, shoving a small black bag into her closet. "Yes." She peeled off her frost-layered coat. "What did you and HP do?"

Tori paused briefly, watching her throw her coat over the chair forcefully. "We, uh, left the dining room before the giggling girls of Germany ate Harry alive. Then he went to the arena to check the sound system."

Chanel shook her head. "HP is becoming mental about the equipment..."

"Well, actually, it was Count Olaf who came and got him," Tori shrugged, amused.

"This day is turning into a nightmare..." Chanel trailed off, falling heavily onto her bed.

Tori looked at her sympathetically. "What's going on?"

Chanel bit the inside of her lip forcefully. "Nothing. Bullshit as usual. What time is it?" she asked suddenly.

"Uh," Tori checked the bedside clock. "It's 7:15."

"Shit," Chanel closed her eyes tiredly. "I've been walking for an hour and a half."

"Walking?" Tori asked, confused. "Why were you walking?"

Chanel mumbled reluctantly. "Went to go see...Draco."

Tori's mouth dropped open, but shut it quickly. "Why did you do that?" she asked, trying to compose herself.

Chanel closed her eyes and answered brusquely. "Business. And I accidentally gave the taxi too much money on the way there, so...had to walk back."

"Oh," Tori said, curious, but reluctant to ask anything more about it. "Why didn't you call here? One of us could've sent you a taxi."

Chanel didn't even bother to shoot Tori a look. She snorted derisively. "Right. 'Hey, Harry, can you send me a cab? Where am I? Oh, I'm kinda hanging outside your Favorite Number One Person's Overly Priced Hotel. But don't ask any questions.'"

Tori returned it with a much less intimidating look. "You could've called me."

"Anyways, I'm sure he pitched a bitch about everything while I was gone."

Tori looked away, recalling. "No...he didn't. He asked what was up when you left, and I told him that it had been a long day for both of us."

"Well, at least some good came out of the walk," Chanel sat up and flexed her sore feet. "There's absolutely no reason now for a cold show--" She abruptly cut herself off, busying herself across the room.

"Why would you need to take a cold sho--oh," The scene she had stumbled into on the plane came back, and Tori said no more.

Chanel mouth tightened. "Nothing. Happened."

"Okay," Tori replied, which she didn't believe.

Chanel whirled around just then. "I hate it when you say 'okay' like that."

"Sorry," Tori started, pulling back.

Chanel snapped. "My bag got switched and -- oh, I don't even feel like explaining this."

Recoiling slightly, Tori apologized again. "Sorry; I wasn't trying to give you crap, just trying to talk." She stood up from the bed. "Good night," she said quietly, and quickly went through the adjoining door, shutting it softly.

*******

Chanel found herself dragged unwillingly to the arena by Harry, listening to a tinny antique transistor radio that had been set up by Olaf to assault them with Germany's hit variety. For most of the afternoon, it blared beat-heavy, sacchrine-laden Euro-pop tunes. She had the distinct impression that there was a Top 20 countdown of sorts; from what she could distinguish, it seemed as if the songs were being assigned numbers.

Harry was busy giving directives to the sound crew while Olaf translated. Chanel was supposed to be taking notes, but was rather involved in drawing eyeballs and Snitches.

And then it happened.

The undeniable clap of Draco's voracious snarl caused a wild palpitation in her chest, like she had just been spooked by a particularly nasty Boggart. She felt her body run hot and cold at the same time. On the outside, however, she remained cool and unaffected.

Harry scowled upon hearing Draco's voice, and gruffly asked Olaf to turn it off. Just before he did, Chanel leaned over and asked if it was a countdown of sorts.

"Ja," he replied, flicking the switch. "That song is number three in Germany."

An hour later, after they had gotten back to the hotel, Chanel took a detour to the bar and ordered a Southern Comfort. Personally, she hated Coke, but who was she to mess with a classic?

Her mind floated pleasantly as she sipped, and her eyes wandered aimlessly about the room. It was pretty empty this early in the day as her gaze followed the server until he ducked into the back area. There was no one else to look at except a diner tucked away in a dark corner of the room. Alone. With tufts of white-blonde hair poking out from the back opening of a baseball.

For the second time that day, her heart did a horrible flip, this time as if she'd been struck by lightning. She bit the inside of her cheek, and the pain instantly brought her back into focus. Taking a deep breath, she stood, smoothed her skirt and went over.

From behind, she gave his shoulder a very hard and deliberate tap. "Nice ha-- "

The person whirled around, greeting her with slightly startled blue eyes and a soft, open face. Her jaw slipped and a quick breath escaped. "I-I'm sorry," she said. "I thought you were someone else."

He tipped his head and flashed her an easy smile. "That's okay," he replied quietly, his British English accent slightly rough and tumbling.

Chanel smiled stupidly back, feeling like she had just shoved sand in her mouth. "You know, you look exactly like Dra --- uh, this other guy. A singer." She stopped and shook her head dismissively. "You probably get that all the time."

"No, actually I don't," he frowned slightly.

"Well, I'm really sorry for interrupting," she spoke quickly, sticking out her hand, "Nice meeting you, Mr. Felton."

He gently grasped her hand. "Tom. Call me Tom."

"Tom," she murmured, feeling like butter.

***

Chanel slipped back into her room, where she could hear Tori on the other side, plucking away on her keyboard. But her eye caught the flashing red light on the phone. Curious, she walked over. Who could have called me? Better not be HP again; I'm not going back to the arena.

She picked up the phone and pushed the red button, hearing an automated voice speak. "You have...21 messages."

"What?" she said out loud, as the voice continued.

"Message one..." Silence, then a phone being hung up.

"Message two..." Again, silence, then the dial tone.

After two more of the same, Chanel hung up, irritated. She knocked sharply on the adjoining door. "What's with all the racket?" she said loudly, still miffed about the voicemail.

"Sorry," came the reply, before Tori opened the door. "Do we need to be somewhere?"

"Already done. You got to miss HP being anal over the soundstage. Again."

"Oh," Tori looked down, and decided not to ask why she hadn't been called. Chanel turned back into her room. "How'd it go?" she asked, remaining in the doorway.

Chanel made a face. "Draco Rockstar made an appearance."

Astonished, Tori stepped into the room. "At the sound check? What the hell for?"

"On the radio. Apparently, 'Little Wild One' is number three in the country."

"Really? That's...um, wow."

Chanel snorted and retrieved her pajamas from a drawer, even though it was fairly early in the day. She continued speaking as she changed in the partitioned bathroom area. "I hope this concert is a bit more...on time. That business with the Veelas cost us seats."

"Can't we get rid of them?" Tori asked, as Chanel emerged in flannel pajamas and a robe.

"Don't know. I'll run it by the other camp; I know Sharon didn't like it either."

"So sound check went alright otherwise?"

Chanel shrugged. "Yeah, it was fine. Oh, you'll never guess who I ran into at the bar," she said, grinning.

"I probably won't," Tori said, curious. "Who?"

"It was--" Chanel was interrupted by a firm knock at the door. She looked curiously at Tori, who was closest. She shrugged and opened the door.

"Harry," Tori said, surprised. "Come in. Chan and I were just talking."

"Hi," he answered, coming into the room. He said hello to Chanel and glanced at Tori before sitting down in one of the chairs. "Everything's all set for tomorrow."

Chanel watched the odd look that passed between them. Still annoyed about the message thing earlier, she rolled her eyes and muttered a hello.

"That's good," Tori caught Harry's eye, and quickly looked back at Chanel. "So, when can you talk to Sharon about the Veelas? We may have to schedule an earlier run through if we get them off."

"Wha--"

"Nah," Chanel spoke quickly, earning a look from Harry. "If it happens, we'll work something out. So anyways, I'm in the bar, right?" Chanel said, going back to her story. "And then I see this guy w--" she stopped, as she was interrupted again by quick, rapid knocking at the door. "What the hell is this --- a convention?" she asked, glaring at Harry and angrily motioning for Tori to answer it again.

Also curious, Tori opened the door. "He--oh," she said, her voice going flat.

On the other side of the door, Draco raised his brow in clear disdain. "'Oh' to you too, Klug." He surveyed the scene curiously. "Secret band meeting? Do hope I'm interrupting."

Harry nearly exploded from his seat. "What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" he said, with a weak attempt to keep his voice level.

Tori backed up as Draco smoothly snaked past her into the room, pulling his gloves off. He coolly swept his eyes over Harry. "Well, I didn't come by to borrow a cup of sugar." He turned his gaze onto Chanel and his mouth twitched. She clutched her robe fiercely to her.

Harry noticed, and spoke more forcefully. "What are you doing here?"

Draco ignored Harry, and continued to stare at Chanel. "Hello, Sweet."

Chanel felt her face burn, the sound of her stagename suddenly intimate as it came from his lips.

Tori looked at Harry stewing, Chanel stunned and Draco reveling in it. She shut the door and cleared her throat, trying to break the tension. "You were asked a question. How can we help you?"

Turning to give her a particularly nasty smile, Draco replied, "You could leave."

Chanel's eyes widened as he continued resignedly. "But you won't. I've actually come for your manager. This is the right room, isn't it?" he asked, glancing around the room with a slightly puzzled look.

"What is it, Dra --- Mr. Malfoy?" Chanel snapped.

"I tried to phone. You weren't in," Draco stated, as Harry looked angrier and Tori raised her eyebrow at the Mister.

"Yes," Chanel said stiffly. "Well, I got your 'messages.' I was out. What do you want?"

"You."

She had to tighten her jaw against slipping open as Draco settled nonchalantly into an empty chair, loosening a black cashmere scarf at his neck. "But I understand Potter's a bit of a taskmaster, all work and no play."

"Well, she's here now," Harry said, more incensed now that Draco had sat down. "Ask what you came to ask, Malfoy, and leave."

Draco chuckled. "Ah, there's that lovely Potter poise and charm!" Wordlessly dismissing Harry, he turned back to Chanel. "I wondered if you might've been listening to the radio. They're playing our song, you know."

Now Chanel's mouth parted slightly, while Tori's jaw dropped completely.

Harry stepped closer to the chair Draco was in. "What the hell are you talking about, your song?"

Draco glanced up at Harry casually. "Sweet inspired a song I wrote at the last concert. Of course, she'll be modest and try to deny the whole thing."

Chanel swallowed hard and half-heartedly glanced at Tori. "Draco, you exaggerate," she said through gritted teeth.

"No, I believe I've got it right," he answered, eyeing Harry, who continued to loom over him. He shrugged nonchalantly. "But you've so many things on your plate. Lost luggage, secret meetings -- it's a wonder you're able to keep up."

A sharp hissing noise escaped Chanel.

Harry stepped forward again, his fists clenched. "Damn it, Malfoy, what are you on about?"

Both Tori and Chanel stepped towards them automatically.

Very slowly, Draco drew himself up from the chair, clearly enjoying his height advantage over Harry. "Manners, Potter," he drawled, a strange smile curling his lips. "You're in the presence of women --- " he cut off to eye Tori, "and a Muggle, at that. If you want a fight, it'll have to be some other day. I've no business with you right now."

Harry didn't move, and Chanel quickly slipped between them, physically pushing both back. "Stop." She turned to Harry. "Please."

Seeing that Harry didn't acknowledge her request, Chanel turned to Draco, exasperated. "Ten minutes," she said shortly, catching Tori's eye and barely tilting her head towards the adjoining door.

Unsure of what to say, Tori hesitantly nodded at it, but when she spoke, her voice was stronger. "Well, why don't you take it to your room, then?"

Harry was now glaring at Chanel and Draco, the former for allowing the latter any time.

"My room --- yes," Chanel concurred gratefully. She moved toward the door and Draco smirked at Harry before following her into the other room.

As Chanel quickly closed the door behind them, Draco immediately grabbed her wrist and snapped her into his arms, his mouth hungrily seeking hers. He easily pushed past her stunned lips and his tongue dredged deep, hot passes in her mouth. Chanel felt her jaws grow slack to accept him, her head feeling completely clouded.

***

Back in Chanel's room, Harry watched incredulously as the door closed. "What the hell?" he said hotly, moving to follow.

Tori quickly crossed over to stop him, a hand out. "Harry, please."

He ignored her, but backed away, glaring at the door. "Who the hell does he think he is?"

She watched him warily as his anger grew. "Harry," she repeated, trying to get his attention.

"What does he need to talk to Chanel for? In a separate room?" he growled, his temper rising still. He stepped forward again. "I'm going in there."

Tori's eyes widened at the thought and put her hand up again, where it pressed against his chest. "Uh, no. You're not."

Harry stared at the door, not noticing her hand nor even looking at her. "I can't just stay here and not do anything! What else am I supposed to do?"

Tori blinked, scared that his temper was so strong. Without thinking, she reached up and grabbed his face with both hands, breaking his stare and forcing him to look at her. "Harry," she repeated firmly.

Still exhaling forcibly, his eyes locked with hers.

***

Chanel suddenly shoved him away, feeling drunk and dizzy. "Draco," she murmured.

He quickly pulled her to his chest. "Say it again. I've been waiting all night to hear you call my name," he murmured thickly.

She pushed him away again, desperately trying to clear her head. "Ten minutes. Talk."

***

Tori inhaled sharply, suddenly very unsure of what she had just done. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, as if a scene frozen in time suddenly sprang back to life, his mouth crashed into hers so forcefully that they hit the adjoining wall with a loud thud.

This went unnoticed by either one of them as his tongue sought hers. He kissed her relentlessly, fueled by an unnatural combination of anger and desire. Tori's mind was racing yet blank, and her last conscious thought was that she was being pinned to the wall.

He leaned into her, pushing her off the ground slightly and automatically, her legs lifted around his waist, causing him to press his body harder into hers.

***

Draco scowled lightly. "What we were doing was much more effective."

"Draco."

For a moment, he took on a mildly serious expression, but a sly smile crept back onto his face. "Yes?"

Chanel immediately backed up, putting distance between them. "What do you want?"

His brow quirked. "I have to tell you?"

She sighed wearily. "Draco, please, no more games. What do you want?"

"I want to know where you've been."

"Out. I told you."

"Yes, but where did you go when you got back to the hotel?"

She frowned heatedly. "What do you mean, 'where did I go?' I was here."

"You didn't return straight to your room," he said quietly.

"What -- how do you know that?" she asked, shocked.

His mouth tightened. "So you didn't come back to your room. Just as I suspected."

This sent her mind reeling. "As a matter of fact, I didn't. I had a drink downstairs," she huffed, before her mouth twitched involuntarily in a small smile, remembering who she had run into.

Draco caught this, and his eyes darkened. "Why are you laughing?"

She stifled a snicker, shaking her head. "Nothing. Just ran into someone," she replied airily.

The space between them was closed within the blink of an eye. "Who?"

"What does it matter?" she snorted.

He pressed closer. "Because if it was a woman, you'd have just said so."

"Well, you're right. It wasn't a woman; it was a man." A self-indulgent smirk took over her face. "Tom Felton, actually. "

"Felton? The Muggle actor?" Draco's brow knotted as he sneered darkly. "Certainly seem pleased with yourself."

No longer able to contain her smile, Chanel sank on the bed, her shoulders giving another vague lift. "Why shouldn't I be? Tom's sweet and very handsome -- for a Muggle."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "I don't like the way you're talking, Sweet."

"Then I suppose you're the one with the problem," she retorted, her brow jutting upwards.

With lightning speed, Draco snatched her roughly by her upper arms, his long fingers viciously biting the flesh. His eyes flashed as he gave her a strong brutal snap, her breath escaping her in the force. "I am not a wizard to be toyed with, Sweet."

A bolt of fear zipped down her spine, weakening her legs. Her every ounce of strength flooded her upper body, which she stiffened against his touch. "Let. Me. Go."

He released her, his burning glare immediately cooling with regret. He looked away shamefully as he muttered, "I'm-I'm sorry."

A cold fury ebbed from her as she stared at him wordlessly.

"Sweet." He reached to brush his fingers across her cheek. Her jaw clenched she sharply turned away from his touch.

He firmly grasped her chin, tilting her head back. He lips brushed demurely against hers and he felt her mouth stiffen and purse.

His hands dropped to the sides and he drew himself back. "Good night, Sweet," he muttered and turned quickly to snap the door open and exit.

***

Both Harry and Tori froze at the sound of the door closing, their mouths inches from each other. His bright green eyes bore into hers as they both tried to catch their breath. His was quick; hers shuddered every time she inhaled.

The sound of the doorknob jolted them back to reality. Harry pulled back and Tori felt her feet touch solid ground, and her knees started to shake as she fought to stay standing.

Harry flushed, watching as Tori placed her hands on the wall for support and stared at the ground, stunned, trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened.

Tori blinked, staring at her legs. Funny, they weren't weak a moment ago...The mere thought of what her legs had just been doing caused her to close her eyes as a wave of dizziness passed over her.

After a pause, Chanel slowly pushed the door open and frowned. "Everything okay?" she asked, looking between Harry and Tori.

"What did Malfoy want?" Harry tore his gaze from Tori and glared at Chanel, his face changing from something unexplainable to recovered annoyance.

Chanel let out a small sigh. "Nothing," she said, watching for his reaction.

Harry felt a small flare of anger as he realized that she wasn't going to say anymore. "Fine," he said stiffly. "Good night."

"Nothing?" Tori asked after the door closed, moving towards her own door, where she stopped and leaned on it.

"Nothing new," Chanel intoned crisply.