The Girl in the Tower

This chapter revised 3/25/07

The Girl in the Tower

Chapter Eleven: The Boiling Point

Harry awoke to the sound of voices, whispering in the dim of the hospital wing. He was flat on his back, still a little sore, but feeling much better. Turning his head, he peered into the darkness, searching the vast room for Sara. Surely, that was her whisper he heard. His eyes fell on her silhouette as she sat on the edge of Malfoy's bed, still wearing her party dress, and the two of them were deep in discussion. Her back was mostly to the room, but Harry could tell she was toying with the Fortificus Charm around her neck.

Jealousy enveloped him as Sara clutched it, ran her finger along the lacy filigree. He remembered her astonishment when they'd opened it in the bathroom together. She'd touched it then, too, and looked at him with a questioning. He hated that he'd given her the orb. The only birthday gift out of the dozens she'd received that had nearly been the end of every person she loved, himself included. The greatest wizard alive had nearly blinked out of existence. Dumbledore. Her uncle!

Malfoy, on the other hand, had given her jewelry of the rare and expensive variety. The kind of gift that means something. Unlike a crystal ball. Especially a dangerous crystal ball. He felt certain she would never forgive him. She would say she did, but the memory would linger forever, like a scar.

Harry turned his head to Hermione in the next bed, sleeping and peaceful, thanks to one of Snape's dreamier potions instead of the standard children's formula normally given to students. Ron was in bed with her, to no great surprise, stretched out behind her under the covers with his arm slung around her slim frame. Hermione lay on her side, knees pulled up, elbows bent. Her hand curled into Ron's larger one.

Harry sighed as he looked on his two best friends. That was his other disastrous inclination of the night. Yelling at Ron, accusing him of letting Hermione come to harm while they were outnumbered and without magic. And to be wrong on top of that! Hermione hadn't collapsed due to any injury, though she had been hurt. Hermione had passed out because, Harry was surprised to learn, she couldn't stand the sight of blood.

His eyes found Sara again, only this time she spoke with a soothing tone, a comforting hand on Draco's arm. He wished he could make out what they were saying, but given Malfoy's popularity with the Gryffindors, Madam Pomfrey had put him all the way across the room. He didn't need to spend the night, not for a sprained ankle, but he'd insisted on staying and Madam Pomfrey was too preoccupied to argue.

Harry hadn't spoken to Draco since they'd left the tower and his anger rose at the sight of her hand on him. He hated that Sara had accepted Draco's apology. He was even a little sorry he'd given Malfoy his blood. True, it had saved several lives, including his own and Dumbledore's, but now Harry owed him. He was certainly indebted to the worst creep at Hogwarts, there was no question, but what Harry really wanted was answers. And for things to go back to normal. He didn't want a friend in Draco Malfoy.

He also wanted to crush the Fortificus Charm into a thousand pieces. He hated it, even though it benefited Sara. His blood side-by-side with Malfoy's around anyone's neck would be bad enough, but not hers. He didn't want Draco or his Slytherin blood anywhere near Sara. Him or his expensive, beautiful, impeccably thoughtful gift. A gift he knew Harry couldn't afford. Seeing them whispering together in the light of a single candle and making physical contact, no matter how innocent, brought an edge to his usually placid countenance.

"Inflamare." His candle came to life, casting a warm glow on his features and masking his anger. They turned toward him at once and Harry noticed how good they looked together. Blonde, striking and blue eyed, fine featured and with flawless, porcelain skin. They could be brother and sister. (But they weren't.) The tips of her fingers, he saw, touched the charm around her neck.

Draco smirked. "Morning, Potter."

Harry gave him an expressionless glance, but otherwise ignored him. "Sara," he said, wanting to demand she not sit on Malfoy's bed, not comfort him, but his anger had turned to insecurity. "How's Dumbledore?" His tone conveyed concern and inquiry, though he was desperate for her to leave Draco's bedside and come to his.

Sara made no motion to move. "He's improving." Her hand dropped into her lap when she realized it lingered around the pendant. She gave him an uncertain smile. Her eyes, even in the dim light of two candles and the dark expanse, looked on him with sympathy and something akin to reluctance. "Everyone's banged-up a bit, but just fine. Professor Dumbledore's already been up and about."

"I can't hear you," Harry lied. "Come here."

Malfoy grinned and snickered, making no attempt to hide the display. Blood rushed to Harry's face as resentment burned in his mind. He wanted to jump out of bed and wipe the smirk of Malfoy's face, but what would Sara think of him if he did?

A nurse came into the room on shoes charmed for silence. She never looked at Harry, but went straight to Sara and Draco. She whispered, but somehow maintained a stern tone of voice. "If you find the hospital ward amusing, Mr. Malfoy, you can laugh all you want in your dormitory!"

"Something was funny. What did you expect me to do?"

Even Harry could feel the weight of her glare.

Draco sighed. "Fine then. Goodnight, Sara."

"Goodnight, Malfoy." Sara stood.

Satisfied for the moment, the nurse went to check on Neville.

"You can call me Draco, you know."

"My response is the same as before, Malfoy. I'd rather not."

Harry sat cross-legged in bed, the blankets pooled around his waist. She climbed onto the covers and sat in front of him, her hand went to the back of his neck and she looked at him in the candlelight. Pulling him forward, she let her forehead rest against his. As her eyes fell closed, Sara sighed. "I almost lost you, Harry. I almost lost everyone."

His anger melted. "It's my fault. I should have told you about the orb"

"I knew what it was." She pulled away to look at him. "It was the light when I touched it. I couldn't believe my eyes! Harry, I've wanted the Orb of Arassel since I was a little girl. It's the thing I've coveted most, all of my life. I never expected to find it, of course, but you found it, Harry. And you gave it to me."

"It almost got Dumbledore killed."

"No. I almost got both of you killed. As I said, I knew what it was. I was more worried about the orb coming to harm than I was about our safety, which was stupid, since it won't break."

"The woman who sold it to me, she didn't know anything about it."

"I hope you didn't spend too much. We have our house to think about."

"No comment." Harry attempted a grin, and then sighed instead. "Happy Birthday, Sara."

"Two students in the same bed!?" the nurse exclaimed, hurrying over to Ron's sleeping form.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Leave them alone!"

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter?"

"They aren't doing anything wrong. They're asleep!"

The nurse sighed. "Well, I suppose, but I'll be keeping an eye on them." She turned and left the room again.

"Harry, how did you escape the defense charm? Did whoever sold it to you give you the spell?"

Never in a million years would he admit to her that Draco had saved him. "I didn't know I could still use my wand. I thought I was without magic, like everyone else."

"And how did Voldemort resist?"

"I think I was set up to buy the orb. I think he put it in my path. Or in yours. I don't know. How could they know we would go to that particular store?"

"It wouldn't be hard, if they had the orb and a good diviner. After all, I'm not the only clairvoyant around. Anyone could use it as a crystal ball, since it wasn't attached to an Elemental. It will only work for me now that I've touched it, and for Vanya Ivanova if she touches it." Sara considered this and her tone softened. "Harry, this is not your fault." She stood, lifted the covers, and climbed in.

Harry slid down beside her and this time it was him curling up to her, his head on her shoulder.

"You're shivering." She pulled the blankets up and held him close, resting her cheek against his hair. "It's okay, Harry."

* * *

"Wake up, Potter."

He was being shaken, so he knew right away that it wasn't Sara. Harry opened his eyes to find Malfoy staring down at him with serious, nervous eyes.

"Where's Sara?" Harry sat up and slipped on his glasses.

"She left a little while ago. Anyway, it's time to fill you in."

"What do you mean?"

"Potter, just shut-up and let me speak."

Harry rubbed his eyes and waited.

Draco glanced at the foot of the bed, hesitated, and then pulled up a chair. When he spoke, it was rushed, and in hushed whispers. "None of this was my idea. I was approached, and asked to get some of your blood. At first, I agreed but, as I said before, I didn't want to be responsible for your death. I made him tell me what it was for. This may surprise you, but Voldemort never had the orb, Potter."

"He must have! How else would he know I had it?"

"He knew Sara was in Diagon Alley and was having her watched. You were followed as well, and they saw what you bought."

"So that's it!"

"Voldemort knew the object the spy described and devised a plan to get his blood into the orb and then force Sara to use it. That way he could easily do away with you, and probably Dumbledore as well." Malfoy glanced around and lowered his voice even more. "That's where Morgio comes in."

"I knew it!"

"He was lying, Potter. He did find Voldemort or, shall I say, Voldemort found him. He held out for awhile under their torture, but in a moment of weakness, pledged his allegiance and was given the Dark Mark as a result."

"A Death Eater! I knew there was a reason I didn't trust him."

"Would you shut-up and listen? He remained for three years, eventually becoming a faithful and trusted minion, but always looking to find a way out. He thought he had it when he was asked to return to the ministry, convince them he'd been unsuccessful, and obtain a teaching position at Hogwarts, which he did. You see Potter, if Voldemort found out Morgio was trying to help you, trying to spoil his plans, he'd have had him killed."

"But Ron and the others! Morgio gave them that potion? That was helping?"

"No, that was Wormtail." Draco's eyes skittered around the room.

"Rodents. I should have known! Sara told us on the first day that she'd seen him talking to a rat!"

"He's the one who put Voldemort's blood in the orb. That's why I asked you to step outside."

Harry's eyes widened. "You! I can't believe I trusted you!"

"I had to do it. If I didn't, Morgio would have been dead. Wormtail knew I had a deal with Morgio. We had to go along with it."

"Then why did I have magic?"

"Because, you idiot, I put your blood in the orb. Morgio copied the spell out of the ministry's book."

"Malfoy?" Harry rubbed his eyes, glancing at the dusky light of dawn filtering in through the windows. "Couldn't this have waited until later?"

"Potter, Morgio's dead."

* * *

Harry lay alone in Sara's bed, wearing only his pajama bottoms and thinking the night was rather warm for October. Harry sighed. It was a good night to be depressed. There was no chill in the air, no blasting winds to distract him from his thoughts. The sound of footfalls came and went on the stairs, but Sara wasn't there to answer her door.

Sara had embraced her many new friends and took to inviting every one of them to the tower every Friday night for clandestine social gatherings. Almost everyone Sara asked seemed willing to sneak out and risk detention, not to mention a million house points, to attend what were quickly becoming full-out parties. Hermione and Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville, along with a half-dozen other Gryffindors, were regulars. Ravenclaws came in groups, and maybe even a few Hufflepuffs would venture out after hours. Every week, people came to Sara's tower, dressed in their finer casual attire, and drank Seamus' rum, which was turning out quite decent lately. They sat around in couples and small groups on the roof, listening to music on the stereo. Sometimes they would dance, but mostly they just had a good time.

Harry enjoyed the parties, but worried they would be caught. He couldn't imagine the trouble they would be in, especially since many of the students were drinking. He'd never said anything, but Hermione had, and the populace was rather unreceptive to her strict rationale. The fact that Hermione continued to show up should have surprised him, but he saw how close Hermione had gotten to Sara over the past year, and he was certain she wanted to keep a close eye on Ron as well. Harry usually spent most of the evenings hanging out with Hermione, since neither of them cared to drink, sharing whispered disapprovals as Sara partied it up with Ron. They often tried to decide which of their significant others was the worst influence, but they'd never settled on one or the other.

This Friday, however, Sara was late. She'd gone to meet Malfoy hours before and hadn't returned. Harry wanted to go find her, but she'd asked him not to. She'd even taken the Marauder's Map so he couldn't use it to check on her, at least that's what he felt. He was worried, yes, but not about her safety. It had been over a month since the ministry had concluded their investigation, ruling Morgio's death a result of battle, even though he had been in his bed, nowhere near the roof and had been killed after the Dark lord was defeated. In all that time, Draco had behaved himself, posing no danger to Sara, though Harry still felt threatened every time Sara mentioned him, or when they met in the hall. Especially when they took off together for hours at a time. He trusted Sara, but not Malfoy. Harry saw the way he looked at her.

Once again, someone knocked and he ignored it. Voices called thought the door, then footsteps descended back down the stairs. Harry didn't want company. He lay in the dark as the wind blew in through the open doors, playing one of Sara's soft, melancholy collections.

Sara's actions of late had confused him. She occasionally met Malfoy in the room on the second floor and asked Harry to trust her, which he did, but how could he not react? Malfoy was in love with her, it was blatantly apparent, and she acted as if their relationship was harmless. Malfoy was trying to draw her in, lure her away. Of this, Harry was certain and it troubled him a great deal. After all, it was easy to see where Sara could prefer Malfoy to him. Harry wasn't rich like Draco was. Didn't have his blond good looks or his irresistible-to-all-females, gracefully aggressive, bad-boy attitude.

And it wasn't just Draco. Sara was the object of desire for many male students. She was so friendly and charming and she looked fantastic. A cleverly sultry, classic beauty with great taste in clothes. They practically swarmed around her. She got owls all the time, bearing letters or small gifts, (which she always returned,) and Harry got angry glances.

The same thing happened to him and he couldn't control it, so he didn't get upset with Sara when it happened to her. Girls who had always ignored him would flirt excessively now and he couldn't bring himself to be rude, just unresponsive, and most of them were rude to Sara. He even got a letter from Cho Chang, whose little sister had taken Harry's Potions class.

Of this new twist in their relationship, Harry understood. It happened to both of them and it was uninvited, unprovoked. Malfoy, though, was a different story. Malfoy made him nervous.

Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Did Sara still love him? Were these secret meetings of hers justifiable? Or was it a test of sorts, to strengthen some insecurity of hers? That didn't seem likely. Sara was beyond game playing. Perhaps she simply found Malfoy intriguing? Then again, perhaps she wondered what it was like to kiss someone else? This thought he shoved back, refusing to consider it. Thoughts like that could be dangerous, especially when one is already in question. He sighed as ugly images of Sara kissing Malfoy tried to push their way to the front. Harry threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. He just couldn't think about it.

* * *

Harry found a bottle of Seamus' rum, left over from last Friday, and pulled out the stopper. Raising the flask to his lips, he took a sip and grimaced, his eyes squeezed shut. Harry hated the taste of liquor and longed for the smooth burn of the Riesling. Since that was locked in Dumbledore's office, this would have to do.

He took a big gulp of rum, pulled on a light summer cloak and headed toward the roof, stopping to turn the stereo up. It was women's music, but it appealed to him, even before they'd danced to one of the songs on Sara's birthday. Now, he found he loved it and advanced the CD to that particular song. It was to the soft sounds of a piano that he wandered out under the stars, sipping along the way.

Being the beginning of autumn, the cushions were still on the chaise lounges and Harry collapsed into one and peered up at the sky, his head resting against the back. The liquor, which had at first tasted like a mouthful of diesel, was going down a little easier. The music he'd played stirred his feelings and he found himself looking out on the expanse of the roof, his mind drifting back. Sara, looking magnificent as they danced under a cloud of luminous dust on a warm September night, her blue eyes smiling up at him through a tangle of silver roses. The arm around his back held him closer and she'd rested her head on his shoulder, whispering the sweetest words. Something twisted inside him and he was overcome with love for her, prompting another quick swallow from the flask.

* * *

Harry was startled out of his reverie by movement on the roof. Something had landed, but he didn't bother to turn his head. "Voldemort?" he called out. "I'm not getting up."

"It's me, shithead," Malfoy grinned from the end of the chaise lounge, holding his Lightning Mach 1 and looking down on Harry. "Are you drinking, Potter? How unhero-like."

Harry's words already came out slurred. "Shut-up, Malfoy. Done snogging my girlfriend? Thought you'd drop by and let me know?"

"Like I'd snog anyone who's been within ten feet of you? Anyway, I'm supposed to tell you that Sara will be awhile longer. I guess she has something to do."

"That's wonderful, goodbye."

"You really are an idiot, you know. It looks like I'm crashing your pity party, so I think I'll be off. Have fun drowning yourself."

"Yes, why don't you ride that stupid damn broom of yours straight to hell, Malfoy."

"You don't swear well, Potter. Perhaps you should re-think your profanity. Stupid damn broom? Really!"

"Perhaps you'd like your nose re-broken."

"I'd accept that invitation if I didn't think I'd have to fight you leaning over that chair."

"Then go away. Leave me alone."

"Harry," Draco said as he mounted his broom and hovered. "Don't be foolish. She loves you. She's made it as apparent as possible, so you might want to straighten up before she gets back. On second thought, keep drinking. Maybe she'll smarten up and dump you." He was gone before Harry could open his mouth to speak.

* * *

Harry didn't know how long it had been since Malfoy left, but at some point he had instructed the stereo to play the same song on repeat, and it helped him slip into his present frame of mind. He was angry with Sara for not caring how she made him feel. He hated Malfoy, and the more he drank, the more upset he became. Harry had never been mad at Sara and was bothered by the fact that she was acting in a way that played on his emotions. He wanted her to love only him and forsake all others, especially Draco Malfoy. Harry didn't consider himself the possessive sort, but it was the real, deep-rooted truth.

He raised the flask to find it empty and threw it at the wall. Falling short, it shattered on the floor with a satisfying explosion of tinkling crystal. Harry muttered and wrapped his cloak around his bare chest in the cooler, middle-of-the-night air.

He didn't sense her presence or hear her come in and was startled when she knelt beside him, still in the chaise lounge, the back raised like a hospital bed.

Sara could smell the rum. It clung to him like a cloud and, combined with his choice of haunting, emotional music, it worried her. She laid a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I had no idea it was affecting you this way."

Harry turned his swimming eyes to hers, blue as rare gems and full of unshed tears. His face was expressionless. He still felt angry, but her presence had always calmed him and it did so now, only not enough. He felt lost, uncertain and hurt, desperate for assurance. He turned his head away.

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Please, Harry. Come inside. We need to talk."

"Are you deaf?"

"I know that you're angry, but I think you should let me explain."

"If you're breaking up with me, just say so. Spare me the long, bullshit explanations."

"Harry, stop this and come inside. I'm not breaking up with you, that's nonsense!"

Harry looked at her. "Just get away from me. Leave me alone!"

Sara shrank before the hurt and anger she saw in his usually kind eyes. Her hand went to the charm around her neck. "Why are you doing this?"

Harry yelled, pushing himself into a sitting position, his feet finding the floor. "What do you expect me to do? You spend hours with Malfoy, who's totally in love with you, you won't tell me why or where you're going! You even took the map so I couldn't spy on you! And then you have the nerve to ask for my trust! What am I supposed to do? Demand you not see him? Act like a jealous idiot? How could you even put me in that position?"

"Harry, that's not it at all! I took the map so I could protect you! If you saw us leave school grounds, you would have followed us and I couldn't let you do that! And of course I expect you to trust me!"

Harry was incredulous. "You left? With him? I can't believe this! Where did you go? Out to the forest for a little time alone?"

"To Malfoy Manor. I borrowed your broom."

"This is too much." Harry laid back down and flung an arm over his eyes. "Why are you pushing me like this? Why did you lie to me?"

"I didn't lie to you. I kept this from you for justifiable reasons."

"And what would they be? Really, I can't wait to hear this."

"Harry, you're drunk and you're not yourself. I can't talk to you like this. You don't want to believe me and you're being very nasty. Just come to bed and we'll talk in the morning."

"I am myself, and I don't want to share bed with you. Why don't you go back to Malfoy's house, I'm sure he'd accommodate you."

Her voice grew small, choked, and tears spilled down her face. "Harry," she whispered. "How could you?!"

He looked at her and his anger dissolved. Sara choked back sobs as thunder rumbled and rain splashed the roof, desperate not to cry like this in front of him. Harry felt as if she'd plunged a dagger into his heart and he hurried to the floor beside her, grabbed her and held her to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her as she cried into his shoulder, wishing he could take it all back. "I'm sorry," he whispered, burying his face in her hair. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

"We need to talk, Harry." Sara's despondent voice grew soft, and sweetened by sadness. "There's a potion by your candle."

She had her back to him, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, and with trembling hands in her lap. One held a tissue.

"I'm sorry," he offered. "I shouldn't have started drinking. Sara, I didn't mean to hurt you." He slipped on his glasses and sat up, pausing to empty the cup. "I didn't know what to do."

"It's not your fault, Harry."

Her hushed, tearful voice brought back ugly memories of last night and Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. "I had no right to accuse you of anything. I don't really believe you'd make off with Malfoy. I was jealous."

"It's my fault you felt that way. I never stopped to think how you might see things. I know how you feel about him, Harry, and I know how he feels about me. I should have told you everything, but I couldn't."

"You don't have to hide things from me."

"Harry, this is different. If I'd told you what this was about, you would never have stood aside. The problem was; including you would have put you in danger. It would have put all of us in danger."

"I'll do whatever you say; just tell me what this is about. Please, before I lose my mind."

Sara turned to face him with red, blotchy eyes. She'd been crying for hours. Harry wondered if she'd slept and felt even worse, if that was possible.

"It all started when I read Malfoy's palm. Actually, just before that. I noticed right away that his aura was different, changed in a way that was for the better and wasn't at the same time. It became clear when I touched him that he'd undergone some unspeakable trauma, something so profound that it had changed the very way he thinks. I sensed he was walking a fine line and was about to fall headfirst to one side or the other and was searching for a wider path. Do you follow me?"

"I think so. You mean he was at a crossroads."

"Pretty much, but it goes deeper than that. It's a soul decision, but he was desperately in need of guidance, a time bomb of uncertainty, really. He needed someone to talk to who wouldn't judge him. Someone he trusted."

"He just happened to pick you?"

"The other way around. He was carrying this secret around with him, unable to do anything about it. He hadn't told a soul. I saw what was coming and had to step in. It's why I asked you to wait outside."

"So you're his confidant?" Harry felt his anger rise. "Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"Harry, he was going to kill his father."

Harry just stared at her, dumbstruck.

"He was leaning away from the inclinations that have defined generations of Malfoys, rebelling I guess, and finally said something his father took to heart. What followed was a terrible scene I will not describe and when his mother tried to intervene, Lucius struck her. Seeing his mother assaulted pushed him over the edge."

"He defended her. I can only imagine how Lucius felt about that."

"In retaliation, Lucius dragged her down into the cellar, threw her into something resembling a prison cell, locked her up and told Malfoy to consider her dead if he was defiant again."

"But she's his wife!"

"She remained there until last night, nothing more than a control mechanism for father to use against son."

"He's been walking around school all this time, acting normal, knowing his mother was down there?" Harry lowered his eyes, not knowing how to feel. "You'd never know anything was bothering him."

"Do you understand now why I had to help him? I was the only one that knew what he was thinking."

"You freed her?"

"I did. Malfoy got me into the house, but he was unable to get into the cellar. His father had placed wards there to keep him out."

"Wasn't she guarded? You just walked in and let her out?"

Sara smiled. "Of course she was guarded. That's why I wouldn't allow you to come along."

"Ok, now I'm lost."

"I easily defeated Lucius' guard, transfigured him, and turned him over to the Ministry of Magic. Well, Draco's mother turned him in."

"I'm still missing something."

"First, there are wards up all over Malfoy Manor designed to spring traps and sound alarms if Harry Potter tries to enter. The only way in for you is through the front door. Second, the guard over Mrs. Malfoy was Peter Pettigrew. Your old pal Wormtail. Harry, Sirius' name is about to be cleared."

Harry just looked at her, wishing he could believe it.

"I thought you'd be happy?"

"I've celebrated Sirius' exoneration too many times, only to have it slip away again. I can't, no I won't believe it until it's announced by the Ministry."

"Then know it might happen. This is a good thing, Harry!"

"Why didn't you bring him here? The Ministry is corrupt, Sara. Dumbledore would have made sure Wormtail came to justice." Harry looked away. "Besides, he owes me for sixteen years of life with the Dursleys. I would have liked a few hours alone with him."

"So you understand why I couldn't tell you."

Harry considered this, and then climbed off the bed so he could face her properly. "I do understand why you did what you did, but that doesn't mean I agree with you. Believe it or not, I am capable of controlling myself."

"Like last night?" Sara stood and he paced the floor before her as he spoke.

"If I was going with you, I wouldn't have gotten too drunk to walk. I was drunk because I wasn't going."

Sara lowered her eyes, the memory painful. "You were so horrible last night. You've never talked to me that way. I didn't even think you were capable of it. I thought I'd lost you. I thought you hated me and it was over with us. I was more afraid than I have ever been of Voldemort and it spoiled something in me that can never be the same. An image I had of you."

"Let me guess, The Boy Who Lived? The famous Harry Potter?" He paced the floor in front of her. "The boy who never acts like an idiot, never let's his imagination over-run his common sense? The boy who never, ever gets drunk and says a bunch of stupid stuff that he doesn't really mean? Doesn't get jealous or hurt anyone's feelings? He doesn't exist, Sara!"

"I wasn't talking about your ridiculous, larger-than-life public image! I was talking about the Harry I fell in love with, the Harry I trusted to never hurt me. The Harry I know would have talked to me! We all make mistakes, but you were perfect in my eyes until now."

"I'm not perfect. I'm glad I ruined your image because it isn't fair to hold anyone up to those standards! I'm not trying to make what I did right. I really was horrible to you. That's true, and I've never been so sorry." Harry lowered his voice and found her eyes. "I can't help thinking that you'll never forgive me. Sara, I don't know how to fix this."

"Neither do I." She took up the pacing where he left off. "Why did you start drinking to begin with? Were you thinking terrible thoughts about me and decided to drown your sorrow? Did you think I was shagging Malfoy in the Astronomy Tower? What's behind all this? What's the real problem?"

"It's him! Him, and his mansion, and his expensive gifts! How can I compete with that? I could never take care of you the way he can."

"Little inferiority complex, Harry? Do you really think I'm that shallow? I'm not running a contest, you know," she laughed, incredulous. "Blond and rich he is. He's also egotistical, self-centered, narcissistic, completely annoying, and a Slytherin. I loath him."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

"I couldn't talk to you about Malfoy." Sara sat back down on the bed and he joined her. "I shouldn't have told you what I already have. A diviner is bound by a code of silence, but I swore to him I wouldn't tell you any of it. It's his secret, after all. His family. His problems. I broke a promise today, Harry, and that's a hard thing for me to accept, but keeping it wasn't worth losing you. I asked you to trust me and you did your best."

"It was Malfoy I didn't trust. I know what his interests are. I guess I thought he might have found away to win you over."

"He's charming in his own way, but he's no Harry Potter." She gave him a weak smile and sighed. "I know that you're sorry, and I know that the kind of person you really are would have to be pushed to react the way you did. That's my fault. I pushed you too far and I'm sorry for that. I know we'll get over this, but right now this is not okay with me."

"It's not ok with me, either, but don't tell me you need time alone because I'm not leaving until both of us feel better."

"I don't need time alone. I can do my thinking just fine with you right here beside me. Let's start a fire. The warm front brought the rain and damp."

"Sara," he said as he led her to the sofa and unfolded a blanket. "You never asked me why I was cruel to you."

"I know why."

The blanket and his arm went around her shoulders and she clasped her hands at the small of his back.

"You wanted me to feel your misery, to understand how hurt you were, because you were afraid."

"I was terrified," he admitted and lowered them both to the sofa. "Somehow, my mind made everything I was thinking seem true, or at least plausible. I thought you were leaving me. It was awful. It was the most desperate feeling."

"I'm not leaving you." Sara held up her palm. "Remember? Our paths lie together."

* * *

Harry climbed over Sara, who was sound asleep and stretched out along the outside of the sofa, her peaceful face aglow in the firelight. He had been snug and comfy, wedged between Sara and the back of the couch, but now someone was at the door and they knocked a second time.

Hermione and Ron took one look at Harry and burst out laughing. A glance in a nearby mirror reminded him that he was shirtless still, wearing only his pajama bottoms, his hair sticking up all wild and confused, as if it didn't know which way to go.

"We all got tattoos!" Hermione announced and showed Harry her ankle. "Ron's is on his chest, but it's the same thing."

Harry knelt to examine the tiny mark on her outer ankle. It's a crest. An owl and a knight flanking the Gryffindor lion. Cool, Hermione! Ron has one, too?"

Ron grinned. "It hurt like bloody hell!"

"Surely it wasn't that bad." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Even Neville said it only hurt a little." She turned her attention back to Harry. "We're going to put it over our front door someday, aren't we Ron?"

"Yes, Hermione."

"Not this summer?" Harry wondered.

"We're renting a flat at the end of the year. Sara's lawyer is lining up a few places for us to look at near the Ministry. Low budget, of course, because we need to save for a house. Our crest will have to wait awhile, I guess. Putting a crest over an apartment door is like wearing a silk shirt with trainers."

"I see."

Ron wandered in a few steps. "What do you and Sara have planned for after school?"

"I don't know, really. We might get a place on the coast. Get jobs."

Hermione was incredulous. "You're not going to play Quidditch for England?"

"No. Maybe in the future, it's just not what I want to do right now."

Hermione smiled. "Most of the flats we're considering are in a building with more coming up for rent, just in case you wanted to join us."

"We'll see. Thanks, and I like your tattoos."

"Why didn't you guys come to Hogsmeade? We had a great time. You really missed out." She and Ron took a seat in the little parlor just inside the door. "Pansy Parkinson fell face-first in the mud. It was hilarious! Too bad Draco wasn't there to see it. She would have been mortified!"

"Oh yeah, mate, we forgot to tell you! Have you heard about Malfoy?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the couch. "What did he do now?"

"He's missing." Ron tried not to grin. "They found a note in his room, it was from his father."

"His father? What did it say?"

Hermione interjected. "Lavender and Parvati got Crabbe to tell them on the way back from Hogsmeade," she grinned. "It said his mother made it home safe and that he didn't have to worry about her anymore. Can you imagine Malfoy getting all worried? It's silly, the thought. He's like ice, Harry, he doesn't worry about anyone."

"Except himself," Ron added. "Though I can't imagine why that note would cause him to go missing. She's just fine, after all. I mean, that's what it said, right?"

Harry had gone white. "Excuse me." He hurried across the rooms to the sofa where Sara lay in the same position he'd left her.

"Sara, wake up!" he whispered. "Sara!"

She mumbled and tried to go back to sleep. "I'm so tired."

"Malfoy's in trouble." Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, but they were chatting about their tattoos and paying no attention to him whatsoever. For a moment, Harry was sorry to have missed the day most of the Gryffindor seventh years got house tattoos, but turned his mind back to the matter at hand. He turned back to Sara, who was trying to open her eyes.

She groaned. "What'd he do now?"

"He's missing. There was a note from Lucius that said his mother was home and it sounds like he's planning to do something unspeakable. I think Malfoy went to save her and, if he did, it's a trap."

Sara sat up with alarm in her eyes. "What do we do? Harry, we aren't even dressed!"

Ron yelled from the open parlor. "Harry? Are you coming back or do you two want us to slip out and lock the door?"

"Actually," Hermione grinned as she entered the bedroom and approached the sofa. "Ron and I might want to retire to our room for awhile, if that's ok with you? Ron's having problems with a few charms and the classrooms are full with all the tests coming up."

"You never need to ask, it's your room, remember?"

"It's your tower!"

Ron mumbled to himself. "I wish I had a bloody tower."

Hermione smiled. "We'll see you later, then. Don't forget the library in the morning! We're working on our spell books!"

* * *

As soon as they heard footsteps on the back stairs, Sara and Harry returned to the matter at hand.

"Let's just tell Dumbledore. He'll know what to do." With the realization that he was going to have to rescue Draco becoming clearer by the second, Harry was feeling a little daunted by the idea of going to Malfoy Manor. "We should really pass this off to someone in charge."

"Harry, you aren't scared of big bad Lucius Malfoy are you?"

"Scared? Not on your life, but he is a little intimidating."

"He can't be all that bad. Can he?"

"Sara, have you ever met Lucius Malfoy?"

"No, but I've heard about him. Voldemort's right hand man, isn't he?"

"It's what I've been told. He's supremely evil, yet he can be charming if he wants and he's, uh, the girls say he's very good looking."

"Of course Draco's father would be good looking. He didn't learn such conceit from just anybody. Is he also fair-haired and fine-featured?"

"Yes, only his hair is whiter than Draco's is and it's long. He carries a snake-headed cane and he's taller than me, but not by much. He's always dressed to kill. Pun intended."

"Interesting." Sara considered this new information for a long moment before she spoke again. "Draco told me once that he knew his father had extramarital affairs. Harry, I think I have a plan."

Harry grew animate. "No way, Sara!"

"You don't think I could pull it off?"

"Of course you can! That's not the point! You don't know how he is. There's no telling what he'll do! Don't rely on outsmarting him. It's not a good idea."

"Don't be silly. Besides, how do we get in if not through the front door? Draco took a million spells off the entrance we went through and I certainly don't remember them all. I need a wand, though. Something I won't need to return."

"Ron still has his old broken one."

"It's broken?"

"Yes, everything backfires."

"Perfect. You'll need to borrow it. I hope you know where he keeps it."

"I will not! Sara!"

"Just go back to your room and take it out of his trunk. Harry, he's your friend. He won't mind."

"He's my friend because we respect each other's property! I'm not comfortable rifling through his trunk."

"Someone's life may be in danger."
Harry sighed, defeated by her once again. "Well... when you put it that way. I'll be back."

He quickly changed into last night's clothes and slipped out the door, riding his Firebolt to the bottom of the tower, nervous about the plan they'd come up with.

When he left, Sara had been placing the orb on the little table where they took their tea. He thought she planned to inquire about Malfoy, but he hoped it was to see the night ahead. Sara wouldn't do that, he figured. She refused look at the future. She'd told him once that only the past comes in clearly. The future is clouded, broken and full of misleading, dream-like imagery that should never be regarded as fact.

Harry found himself standing at the end of Ron's bed, looking down on Ron's trunk, which he opened and rummaged through. He'd seen the box Ron kept the old wand in many times and had no difficulty finding it, and then stashed it under the pillow on his own bed while he threw on some warmer clothes. Flying on an October night could be quite crisp and he had no interest in freezing to death. He found a pair of gloves, threw a heavy black cloak around his shoulders, and stowed the broken wand, box and all, in one of the many inside pockets. Thinking of Malfoy, who wouldn't be expecting a rescue effort, Harry tossed a heavy sweater into his backpack and an extra pair of gloves. On top, he folded his invisibility cloak. His own wand he slid into its pocket and felt to make sure he had Sara's Confidall. He had a felling he might be needing it.

* * *

An hour and a half had passed since they'd left the roof of the tower and finally stood outside the dark, looming presence that was Malfoy Manor. Harry's backpack lay open on the grass and he tossed his gloves into it, holding the invisibility cloak wedged between his knees. Sara was changing cloaks. She'd worn a heavy one for flying and had stowed a lighter, fancier cloak in his bag.

"Sara!" Harry said, his eyes widening. "Wow! What are you wearing?"

"What, this?" She indicated the fitted sweater and satin skirt she wore under the cloak. "Do you think it's... I don't know, seductive enough?"

Harry grinned. "You don't want to know what I think, unless you have a spot behind the bushes in mind." Sara blushed and Harry grew serious. "But do you really think it's necessary? I mean, it's a little..."

"A little what?"

"Um, you know."

Sara laughed and, as she did, Harry noticed the way the color of her sweater brought out the blue of her eyes and the garment itself looked so soft that his fingers found their way to it and then his arm was moving around her back. Her hand slipped into his hair and he pulled her so close she could hardly catch her breath and his kiss was as thrilling as it was passionate and she pulled him closer. The aggression in his manor was something that had only recently manifested and it awakened something in her that was too strong to contend with. Something intense and undeniable. A desire that obliterated her resolve and turned her legs to jelly. At times like these, when he reminded her most of the fearless Seeker who'd won the Quidditch Cup, she was defenseless. She wondered if he knew it.

With her eyes still closed, Sara let her head fall against his shoulder and felt his cheek press against her hair.

"Sara," he whispered. "Be careful."

* * *

Harry stood close behind Sara on the step as she rang the bell and composed herself. The door was quick to open and Sara looked up in surprise. The tall, handsome, platinum blond, dressed from head to toe in black, could only be Lucius Malfoy and Sara took nervous breath. Harry had been right. The man was intimidating. However, his lips curled in a smile as Sara pushed back her hood and her hair spilled down around her. She trained her eyes on Lucius and summoned her sweetest smile.

Lucius purred. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Malfoy, but I was looking for Draco. I'm a friend of his and I thought he might be here."

"Did you now?" Lucius' smile widened. "Come inside, my dear. Let me get a better look at you."

Sara stepped over the threshold, pretended to stumble, and felt Harry brush inside behind her. "Thank you. I must have caught my heel," she lied as Lucius helped to steady her. Sara smoothed her hair and smiled again, composed. "Draco told me everything." She turned to Lucius with sympathetic eyes. "Then, when he got your letter, he said he had to go home. It's late, I know I shouldn't have come, but I was worried about him."

"What do you mean, he told you everything?"

Sara lowered her voice, as if revealing a deep, dark secret. "About how Mrs. Malfoy was bitten by the werewolf, sir. About having to lock her away until the full moon passes. I'm sorry to hear it. It must be so hard on you." She laid a comforting hand on his arm. "If there's anything I can do."

"You can start by telling me your name and letting me take your cloak. I do hope you intend to stay a while. I like to be acquainted with Draco's friends."

Lucius seemed to be in charming mode, which made things easier on both of them.

"I'm Sara Frances, sir," she smiled, using her middle name in place of her last. Sara removed the garment and laid it over his arm. She had withdrawn the wand and now held it in her hand, transfigured to appear unbroken. "Oh no. Wherever will I put this?" Sara rolled her eyes. "I never think ahead. No pockets."

As Lucius looked her up and down, his smile turned to a seductive half-grin and his cold eyes glistened with reprehensible consideration. "Draco must have found himself the prettiest girl at Hogwarts. This explains much of his behavior of late."

Sara's confidence sank as he stepped closer and took the wand from her hand.

"Your summer cloak is too light for October, my dear." Lucius put an arm around her shoulders and led her out of the room. "Come, I'll show you to the fire."

Sara felt panic trying to leap up inside her and forced it down. Harry was here, she reminded herself. Harry wouldn't let anything happen to her. All she had to do was go with the flow and hold Lucius' attention.

She was led to a leather sofa in an ugly, severe parlor, gloomy with dark colors, heavy winter drapes, terrifying works of art, and horrible gargoyles carved under the mantle. The fire itself did little to warm the place, as the amber glow was lost in darkness. Lucius sat her on the sofa and talked as he set about pouring her a glass of wine.

"Mr. Malfoy, tell me all about Draco? He doesn't talk much about himself. I know he's a good student and a total prat when he doesn't get his way, but I'm sure there's more to him than he lets on."

Handing her the glass, Lucius joined her before the fire. She thought he was beautiful with his long white hair aglow, standing out against the black of his clothes. Certainly, he was the most interesting thing in the room. Perhaps that was his intent all along.

"I'd rather talk about you, Miss Francis." He inched a little closer. "Are you also in Slytherin house?"

"I wish!" she said with false, but convincing, frustration. "I got stuck in Ravenclaw. Draco said it's because I'm more studious than ruthless. He's probably right. I don't feel ruthless very often."

"I don't suppose you would."

Lucius was staring at her and the look in his eyes made her heart race. She was sure he was going to attack her and wished she'd worn a turtleneck. Harry had been right yet again. Her outfit hadn't been necessary. Sara made a mental note to listen to Harry more often. Lucius poured her more wine, which she was grateful for. She drank it a little too fast, hoping it would calm her nerves.

"Tell me, my dear, are you still cold? You're shaking." His arm went around her shoulders, pulling her against his side and he trailed a lazy finger across her skin.

Sara was revolted to find herself attracted to Lucius Malfoy. He was dangerous and intoxicating, a refined and matured version of Draco, but this version was evil. Sara reminded herself that this man beside her, no matter how good-looking, would see Harry dead in a heartbeat.

"I'm warming up quite nicely now, thank you." She sipped her wine. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'd really like to see Draco. I had this feeling that he needed me. He was upset, which I'm sure you understand." Her comforting hand touched his arm again. "If I could see him for just a few minutes..."

"Draco," he mused. "My dear Sara, a beautiful young lady like yourself has no need of a boy such as my son." He turned her chin to look at him.

She was so close to him now, his arm holding her tight in place, his cold eyes only a few inches from hers... It was becoming hard to breathe in his presence. "I have a different view of the matter, Mr. Malfoy."

"Please, call me Lucius. Surely, let's not be so formal." His voice was sleek like velvet and twice as appealing.

"Lucius, then." She gave him a doe-like smile. "Perhaps I see qualities in Draco he has not yet revealed to you. I think he has a lot of potential."

"A lot of potential. Precisely what I thought when you showed up on my doorstep." His hand anchored in her hair, close to the root at the back of her head, immobilizing her. "The thing about potential is finding out how it's best spent."

In an instant, she was on her back and he hovered over her, kissing her neck, moving closer. Having never kissed anyone except Harry, Sara was curious, but turned her face away from his advance. Merlins, she thought. It runs in the family!

"No need to be shy." His lips moved like a butterfly across her skin, down her neck, and a bold, audacious hand ran freely over her clothes.

Sara slipped his wand from its holster and tossed it under the couch. She pushed him hard away and leapt to her feet. She quelled her fear and did her best to quiet the unwelcome desire his attempts produced in her. She was scared for a moment, really scared, until she remembered Harry. He would know if she needed him. He always did.

Lucius was standing now and advancing on her. A devilish smile softened his features. Sara found she could not tear her eyes from his and had backed into the wall next to the fireplace. He was so confident, so nonchalant as he pursued her. Harry, she thought. Hurry up!

"That's okay," he whispered, trapping her against the stone. "I don't mind a chase." He held her there, kissing her neck as he spoke. "You're trembling."

"Please," she whispered. "I'm not feeling well." Sara was woozy and her vision was blurred, as if she'd been drugged, and she realized he hadn't poured himself a glass of wine. The panic she'd held off for so long encompassed her and it was all she could do to stay on her feet.

Lucius' sinister eyes smiled down on her. "Then perhaps you should lay down? I'll be happy to return you to the school in the morning."

"I just want to see Draco."

"Draco is... preoccupied and, at the moment, so am I."

"Stop touching me, Mr. Malfoy."

"Does it look like I'm trying to hurt you?"

"No, it's just that... I've never..." The moment it was out, she knew it was the wrong thing to say.

The smile that bloomed on his face was an evil pleasure the likes of which Sara had never seen. Her heart was pounding and her entire being shook in fear of him.

"How very interesting. I do believe this is my lucky day." He bent to kiss her again, but was interrupted.

A voice shouted from the doorway. "Get away from her!"

It was Draco, and it was about time. He held his wand out before him, threatening and intent. He was a mess of bruises on one side of his head. Dried blood caked his hair, as if he'd been kicked, or slammed against a wall. His clothes were torn and dirty. There was murder in his eyes.

"Draco!" Breaking Lucius' grip was easy, as she was no longer the focus of his attention. As the younger Malfoy came toward her, she stumbled into a run, relief flooding her face at the sight of rescue. He hugged her one-armed as she pressed into his shoulder. Draco's wand was still pointed at his father.

Draco seethed. "How dare you!"

Sara whispered in Draco's ear. "We have to walk away."

Draco shook with rage. His aura was disturbing, as was the energy that flowed from him. His hand was steady, as if it had a mind of its own. His cold blue eyes glared, unwavering. Despite his cool exterior, Sara felt he was dangerous, at least to his father and, once again, the image of him walking the fine edge of control came to mind.

"Draco." She turned his chin to look at her. "Not today."

His wand somehow missing, Lucius found Sara's wand on the coffee table and smiled as he pointed it at his son. "Draco, you do have excellent taste in women, but that's to be expected. However, I think I'll be taking this one off your hands. After all, you dare to point your wand at me in her defense." Lucius hurled a strong curse at Draco and Ron's old wand backfired.

In reflex, Sara threw out her hand, hitting him with a standard dueling blast. Lucius stumbled backward and sat down hard, coming to rest against the side of the sofa. He was alert, unable to move and, as they watched, an invisible boot kicked him hard in the face. The welt swelled and turned crimson and purple before their eyes. Something splattered his cheek and dripped down over his lip.

Harry, still unseen under the cloak, smiled with a sense of accomplishment. He had finally succeeded in spitting on Lucius Malfoy.

"Come on!" Draco grabbed Sara's hand, but she pulled away and went to Lucius. She summoned a beautiful crystal flask. She then took Ron's wand from Lucius' limp fingers, returned to its original state, and handed it to Draco, who knelt by her side.

"You didn't drink any of that, did you?"

"Stupidly, yes," she sighed and poured a good lot of it into Lucius' mouth. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Malfoy." She let Draco pull her to her feet and stumbled out of the room with his arm tight around her, holding her steady. She could hear Harry's footsteps and the rustle of the cloak just behind them and wished she could duck under it with him. Draco was comforting enough, but she was desperate to be close to Harry. Her long ordeal with Malfoy's father had left her feeling vulnerable and only Harry made her feel truly safe.

Servants were everywhere it seemed. House-elves, men, women and goblins went about their business, obviously accustomed to seeing a Malfoy leading a girl who seemed to have lost her footing. Harry stayed close behind them, especially when they passed someone in the hall, and Sara felt his intermittent hand, touching her shoulder whenever he could.

Draco's silver broom lay propped inside a cupboard by the front door and, as they stood together on the front step, Harry produced Sara's and his own from under the cloak. Then he grabbed Sara and hugged her until she thought he'd never let go.

Draco turned his back.

"Where's Mrs. Malfoy?" Sara whispered, pulling back to look at Harry, her breath visible in the cold night air. She realized that she'd left her cloak inside and shivered.

Harry threw his around her shoulders and mounted his broom. He looked at Malfoy, not sure how to answer.

Draco turned to her with downcast eyes. "My mother is dead." He brought his leg around the Lightning Mach 1.

Harry's voice was hushed as his eyes moved from Draco to Sara. "He was locked in with her."

"Shut-up, Potter. Let's just go." He kicked off and the others followed, Harry swooping down to scoop up his backpack.

* * *

They landed a few miles away, safe in the middle of an unenchanted forest, where Harry's bag again lay open on the ground. He gave Malfoy the sweater and the extra gloves he'd packed for him, took back his own cloak and gave Sara the heavy one she'd stowed earlier.

"Malfoy," Sara asked from where she lay on the ground. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," he sighed, considering. "What can I do? Turn him in? He scares the hell out of the ministry. Nothing would come of it."

Harry thought a moment. "You have to make sure that doesn't happen. They can only make it disappear if it's kept quiet."

For the first time, Draco smiled. The old Draco. The sinister and cunning creep everybody loved to hate was back in their presence. "Of course. Right you are, Potter."

Harry smiled and slid the backpack under his cloak and over his shoulders, and then drew up his hood. "We'd better go. It's late and you have some letters to write."

"Yes," Sara added with a grimace of distaste. "And I need to take a shower. Malfoy, you're father's disgusting! I can still feel his slimy hands all over me."

"Sorry about that," Draco grinned. "I think he liked you."

Harry knelt beside her, sitting her up. "Can you stand?"

"Yes, if you help me."

Moments later, they were in the air again, flying fast through the night toward Hogwarts. Harry flew beside Sara with one arm around her waist to hold her steady. The other kept a tight grip on his broom. She leaned against him, weak and sleepy, with her head against his shoulder, watching as the dark towns passed in silence below them.

- 157 -