The Girl in the Tower

The Girl in the Tower

Chapter Twelve: Finnigan's Swill

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Eye of rabbit, harp string hum, turn this water into rum!

~Seamus Finnigan

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"Sara, just try to rest. Malfoy went to get Snape." Harry brushed stray wisps of hair from her brow as she lay in her bed, weak and disoriented.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I really didn't know what I was getting myself into. He was intimidating, like you said, but he has the most disarming charm. I never thought he would be so persistent."

"It's over now."

"I feel like I've done something wrong and you should be angry with me."

"We did what we had to do. Don't think about it." He kissed her forehead. "I'm angry with Lucius Malfoy. Not you."

The memory came into focus in her fuzzy mind and Sara bit her lip. She'd found Lucius exciting. His power over her, his beautiful white hair, the danger of him and his cold, considering eyes. She remembered the sensation that had run through her and the way her heart had raced when she'd been pinned to the sofa beneath him, his lips brushing her skin, his strong hands...

The thought was sickening. How could she have enjoyed the thrill of being manhandled by a Death Eater? The encounter was only a diversion. She hadn't meant to feel anything and what transpired was about lust and fear and had nothing to do with love.

Harry was about love.

Sara was ashamed and couldn't bring herself to tell him. Her eyes fell closed. "Did it upset you?"

His reply was dark and hushed. "Yes. I wanted to strangle him. I got there first. I heard what you told him, and I heard what he said to you. His lucky day, indeed. He's lucky he's still in one piece!" Harry took her hand and squeezed it. "And to be able to do nothing, just stand there and watch while Malfoy rescued you... I hated it."

Her voice grew softer and distant as she surrendered to the potion's effects. "We did a good thing, though. Imagine the horror he must have felt, being locked in a cell with his dead mother. We saved him from that, Harry. What we endured was a small price to pay."

"Then why do I get the feeling we haven't finished paying?"

Malfoy pounded on the wood and bellowed through the door, startling them both. "Potter! Let us in! This blasted door won't open!"

Harry yelled back over his shoulder. "Have Snape open it!"

The door appeared to work just fine for Snape, who hurried into the room. He was followed by Draco who scowled, annoyed.

Snape sat on the edge of the bed and roused Sara, who was awake, but her eyes were growing distant. "What was she given? Whatever it is, it's strong."

"It was in the wine," she whispered. "Severus, I'm dizzy." Her hand crept across the covers to find his and held it.

"Quiet, my dear," Snape instructed with a gentle tone. "Save your strength." He smoothed her hair, and then turned to Malfoy, who stood by the bed with arms folded. "Draco, what did Lucius give her?"

"I'm not sure."

Snape caught the falter in Draco's words and gave him that we both know better look that Harry associated with Dumbledore. Snape lowered his voice to a confidential tone. "Don't make me get my Veritaserum, Draco. You're not on trial here."

Malfoy sighed, too used to keeping the family secrets. "It's a disarming potion, sir. Vertiga Vulnertium."

Snape sighed. "That's what I figured. I knew it would be something illegal. No residual taste when mixed with red wine, and no good antidote. She'll have to sleep it off, I'm afraid."

"How long?" Harry wondered.

Snape crossed the room and opened the large black trunk he'd given Sara for her birthday, loaded with every potion imaginable, and withdrew something to make her sleep. He scowled and shot Harry an acid glance over his shoulder. "She'll be fine by morning."

All were quiet as Snape measured out a dose and helped Sara to raise her head. As soon as she'd taken it and drifted away, Snape pulled his wand on Harry, whose eyes widened in surprise. "How dare you, Potter!"

"Sir!" Harry rose from where he sat on the bed and backed up a step.

"Do you have any idea how stupid that was? Lucius Malfoy is not one to take lightly, you blithering idiot! We're lucky Draco got Sara out of there before he could do any... permanent damage!"

"It was the only way!" Harry defended. "Do you really think I liked the idea of leaving her in the hands of that... insidious psycho?"

"I should kill you for your stupidity!" Snape's hand trembled with rage. "How dare you be so careless, so reckless, with a young girl's safety? And must I remind you that this isn't Ginny Weasley we're talking about, it's the headmaster's niece!"

Draco stepped forward, hesitant to get involved but feeling he must. "It wasn't Potter's idea. It was Sara's, and she would have gone with or without him. It really was the only way. Put your wand away, Professor."

Snape did so with a scowl. "You won't be happy, Potter, until you get someone killed."

Draco continued. "I understand how you feel, sir, but personally? I'm rather glad he showed up." His eyes met Harry's and conveyed his thanks with a slight smile.

Harry sighed. "Sara looked in the orb." He lowered his gaze to her sleeping form and sank back down on the bed. "She said it would turn out ok." He took her limp hand in both of his. "She didn't know what we were up against."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Really, let's go blowing things out of proportion, why don't we? Except for my father's enthusiasm, everything went exactly to plan! No setbacks, no hindrances. Sara kept him busy while you walked in and let me out. Weasley's wand backfired, just as Sara planned, and the three of us walked out the front door! And Potter, my father never even knew you were there! He thinks Sara's my girlfriend and that I was defending her. He thinks I escaped! So, what are you carrying on about?"

Harry leapt to his feet. "Your filthy, disgusting, revolting father put his hands on my girlfriend. That's the problem!"

"Enough!" Snape bellowed as Sara slept on. "Back to your dorms, both of you. I will stay with Sara tonight."

Harry folded his arms in defiance. "I'm not leaving."

"Fine, but I'm staying as well. A sleeping potion on top of Vertiga Vulnertium will require monitoring."

Snape sat on the sofa, the back of which faced the bed, and tossed warming charms onto the fire. Draco let himself out and Harry went to the bathroom to change into pajamas. When he returned, Snape had his shoes off and was stretched out under a blanket. Harry carried a glass of water to his bedside table and set about putting out the candles. With a great yawn, he lifted the sheets.

Snape growled from the couch. "You're not sleeping in that bed, Potter. Not in my presence."

"You know where the door is." Harry climbed in, stretching out beside Sara and wrapping his fingers around her hand. The exhaustion of their long flight and the emotional roller coaster of seeing Lucius Malfoy with Sara caught up to him. He recalled the scene in all its vivid detail, remembered the way Lucius' eyes had run her up and down, smiling at her fear. Harry could only hope the time would come for retribution. As for Draco, they were even. The favor had been returned.

* * *

"Well isn't this cute?" Snape sneered. "The two of you sleep holding hands. I think I'm going to throw up."

Harry and Sara opened their eyes and saw each other, hands clasped on the pillow between them. He smiled and so did she.

"Morning, Harry."

"Good morning. Do you feel ok?" He pulled her hand closer and kissed it.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I'll ask the questions, Potter." He turned softer eyes to Sara and waited for her reply.

"I feel better. The vertigo is gone, but I still feel a little weak and my stomach is off. It feels almost like a hang-over."

"Precisely how I feel watching the two of you greet each other over the pillows." Snape threw the morning edition of The Daily Prophet onto the bed. "I believe you'll take an interest in today's paper." Harry picked it up and Snape went back to the potion chest, checking the etched labels of beautiful, ornate vials and jars.

"Harry, look! Narcissa Malfoy presumed dead!"

Harry read aloud. "An early morning search of Malfoy Manor failed to recover the body of Lucius Malfoy's wife, Narcissa." He speed-read a few paragraphs in silence. "According to this, Draco produced the letter his father sent him yesterday as evidence and the ministry has opened an investigation. They're calling Narcissa a person missing under suspicious circumstances." He read the last line aloud. "At this hour, Lucius Malfoy is being held for questioning, but has not been charged."

"Harry, this is great! Malfoy wrote to The Daily Prophet! Brilliant!"

"Yes," Snape agreed. He handed her a cup of bright blue, bubbling, smoking, swirling potion, which she drank right down.

"You're brave," Harry mumbled.

Snape continued. "Draco's always been a resourceful and intelligent young man. The honor of Head Boy certainly went to the wrong student this year."

Harry sat up and slammed the paper onto the coverlet. "Ron is a hell of a lot smarter than Draco Malfoy!"

A tired voice drifted from the hall and into the room. "What's all this yelling about?" Ron, in Harry's blue pajamas, tousled red hair winging out on the sides, stretched his arms and yawned. His eyes landed on Snape. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that, Weasley. And look, here's your little girlfriend, too."

Hermione stopped short behind Ron, wearing only his oxford and her socks.

At least, Harry thought, the shirt goes to her knees. He felt bad for Hermione, having been caught by Snape in such a state of undress, but some little part of him found it amusing and he had to stifle a laugh. The look on Hermione's face was priceless.

"Would either of you care to explain why it appears you have only just rolled out of bed? Let me guess, you decided to wander about the castle on a Sunday morning wearing ill-fitted pajamas and, well." He narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "Miss Granger, is that Weasley's dress shirt?"

Hermione made an unintelligible, odd little noise, turned on her heel, and bolted back down the hallway.

Ron wrinkled his brow. "Now look what you did!"

"I asked you a question, Mr. Weasley!"

Sara threw back the covers and got out of bed. "I asked them to stay! Severus, you will stop harassing my friends! It never ends!"

"Allowing friends to visit and running a flophouse are two different things. I shall have to speak to the headmaster about this."

"Fine. Run back to Uncle Albus and do your best to get me in trouble then! You don't care if I have to sit here alone all day, as long as you make Harry, Ron, and Hermione miserable as well. That's all that matters to you, isn't it? Maybe they're right about you after all. And to think, I've always defended you!"

Snape stared at her, silenced and wounded by her words.

Sara folded her arms across her chest in anger and stood there, looking back at him, her expression hurt and betrayed.

When Snape spoke again, his tone was defeated. "Weasley, you will escort Miss Granger back to Gryffindor Tower and do not return until you are both properly dressed."

"Yes, Professor." Ron lowered his head and went back down the hall.

Snape turned back to Sara. "Perhaps going to the headmaster on a first offense is not necessary, provided you assure me this will not happen again."

"Certainly, Severus." Sara showed him the sweetest of expressions and Harry rolled his eyes as Snape smiled back, looking relieved and apologetic.

Hey Severus, Harry thought. You just got played.

"Take more of that potion with lunch. I'll be in my lab if you require any further assistance." Snape hurried out the door before she could even begin to answer.

As soon as she heard his footsteps on the stairs, Sara giggled. "He's a bit of a pushover."

"I know how he feels, the poor defenseless sap." Harry smiled. "Sara, you're merciless. Never in all these years have I seen Snape bend like that for anyone. Not even Dumbledore."

She met this comment with a wicked grin. "Get going, I'll meet you in the library. Don't forget your spell book this time."

"Are you sure you're feeling up to it?"

"I feel quite good, actually. That potion is wonderful stuff, whatever it is."

Harry tucked his cloak into his backpack, along with all the other stuff he'd brought from his room. Ron's wand as well. "If we hurry, we can get an hour in at the library before breakfast. Will you be long?"

"No more than twenty minutes."

"Good. See you then" Harry kissed her and hurried out the door.

* * *

As Sara emerged from the bathroom, showered, hair dried, brushed and styled, with make-up in place and wearing a terrycloth robe, she noticed only ten minutes had passed since Harry left. She headed for the kitchenette to put on a large pot of tea to take along and share, and then used a charm on a service for four and watched it shrink as it leapt into a small basket. She added cream, sugar, lemon wedges, honey, and some raspberry scones. Sara then went to her nightstand for her rings and Harry's amethyst bracelet, which she wore daily.

Movement, caught out of the corner of her eye, stopped her before the open doors and she watched as something small and dark came toward her. It looked much like a bludger, but true and just as fast.

Sara stepped back, her hand going to the Fortificus Charm. It slowed coming over the porch and she could see its wings as it veered and flew in through the door. She breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at her own foolish fear.

The bird was gorgeous, jet black, sleek and big. It dropped a letter, which she caught, and the messenger perched on the back of the sofa. Sara smiled and stroked its head, whispering a line from a well-remembered poem.

"Quoth the Raven."

"Nevermore!" It squawked.

She was startled, and then laughed as she pet its satin neck. "Of course that's what you'd say."

Glancing at the clock, Sara turned her attention to the letter. The envelope was of expensive, heavy paper and there was no return address. Of course, there never was unless it was sent by rented owl. This beautiful, graceful raven belonged to someone. It belonged to someone with money.

Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the address.

Miss Sara Francis

Ravenclaw House

Hogwarts School

"Oh Merlins," she whispered and broke the Malfoy family seal with a trembling hand.

* * *

"Hi guys!" Sara set the basket on the table and started unpacking stuff for tea.

"You're late." Harry took a closer look at her. "Are you feeling ok, Sara?"

Ron and Hermione looked up from their books.

Sara averted her eyes and busied herself getting settled and passing out cups. "It's just the potion. It's made me a little edgy I think."

Hermione's tone was laced with concern and curiosity. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah," Ron added. "What's the potion for?"

"It's nothing." Sara smiled reassurance at her worried friends. "I'm just a little off today. Severus thought it would help. Really, I'm fine." The empty spot, presumably saved for her, was next to Ron, looking across the table at Hermione and Harry. Ginny Weasley, whom Sara had met very few times, was on Harry's other side, packing books into her bag in hurried silence. Ginny was leaving and Sara knew it was in response to her arrival. She thought Ron's sister was a lovely girl, long, full ginger hair and a pretty face, but she always got the impression that Ginny hated her. It was obvious with the way Ginny was tossing her belongings into the bag, as if the place was on fire, and getting out of her chair simultaneously. It seemed Ginny couldn't leave fast enough and Sara's spirits sank.

"Ginny!" Ron shouted in whisper. "Aren't you going to say hello to Sara?"

Ginny looked up as she stood and met Sara's eyes. The look she gave was cold and angry. "Hello." Ginny slung the bag on her shoulder and gripped the strap with white knuckles.

Sara gave Ginny her friendliest smile. "Why don't you stay for tea? There's still time before breakfast and there's plenty extra."

Ginny cleared her throat in discomfort. "I have things to do."

Harry turned in his chair. "You should stay. We hardly ever see you."

Her eyes turned milder, nervous, as she looked at him. "Sorry Harry. See you back in the common room. Bye Hermione. See ya Ron."

Sara was hurt by Ginny's rude behavior. "Bye Ginny. It was nice seeing you."

"Oh." Ginny stiffened. "Bye." She stared at Sara for a long moment before turning on her heel and hurrying away.

Sara watched her go. "I don't get your sister, Ron. What exactly is her problem with me?"

Sara spooned sugar into her tea as Ron and Hermione bent their heads to hide wide, knowing smiles. Harry was stone-faced, looking to Ron to save him.

Ron stammered over a reply. "She's um... she's just been a bit moody lately."

"Funny, she's only moody when I'm in the room." Sara sighed. "Anyway, here's my list." She handed Hermione a small list of books she wanted from the Restricted Section and dropped into her chair with a heavy heart.

Hermione took it, avoiding Sara's eyes, still smirking. She folded the slip of paper and added it to Ron's and Harry's lists. "Don't mind Ginny. It has nothing to do with you personally."

"Could have fooled me." Sara sighed again. "Okay, sugar for Ron." She slid the bowl toward him. "Honey and lemon slices for the other side of the table. Cream for me and Ron."

Harry drizzled honey into his cup as Hermione speared a lemon and Ron dumped sugar into his tea. Sara poured her cream, then slid it down the table and brought out the raspberry scones with a few napkins.

Hermione sipped her tea. "We have to start thinking about the binding spell. If we want to do it last day, then we'll need all the information well in advance. We'll screw it up if we don't know what we're doing!"

Ron nodded. "But we don't even know what Harry's book does yet! I for one think we should figure that out before we go making any plans."

"True," Harry agreed. "We should wait and see, but we should at least come up with a few ideas. There's always the chance that my book won't work until we bind them together."

Hermione considered this and nodded. "It's likely. What do you think, Sara?"

Sara stirred her tea, staring down into the cup, taking no notice of having been addressed.

Ron nudged her with his elbow. "Earth to Sara!"

"Huh?" She looked up, then around at their faces, all trained on her and puzzled.

Harry's brow creased with concern. "Maybe you should go back and lay down for awhile."

"I'm sorry," Sara smiled and lied. "I thought I forgot something and was trying to think of what it was. What did I miss?"

Ron filled her in. "The binding spell. I think we should make it transport us to Majorca."

Sara shrugged. "I think it should conjure something, like a gateway, but not to Majorca."

Hermione added her opinion. "It could reveal a hiding place. Maybe for a secret potion or spell. Something that's ours alone. Is there anything important we might need to keep safe?"

"That's it!" Harry came to life and slammed his hand down on the table, startling the others and almost spilling his tea. "It will be a hiding place! That's exactly what it will be! Think about it. What's the one thing we need to contain, to keep in secret?"

Hermione caught on and her eyes widened with the brilliance of it. "I'll see what I can find." She was quick to gather up her quill and some parchment for notes. "You're a genius, Harry. I'll be right back!"

Off she went and Harry turned his attention to Sara and Ron, who looked at him, puzzled.

"Here's what we're going to do." They all leaned in to hear his whisper.

"Good morning!" Dumbledore interrupted.

Sara grinned with amusement as she looked at him. "Morning Gandalf."

Ron didn't understand the reference, but Hermione snickered.

Harry tried to smile as he took notice of the headmaster's slight limp and the long walking stick he leaned on as he approached, both acquired in the days after Voldemort's attack. "Good morning, sir. Please, have a seat. I think you should hear this, too."

* * *

Due to a lack of conniving, underhanded students this year, there were several empty beds and the Slytherin Prefects were each given their own rooms. Draco wandered his, big enough for five but a little too quaint for a Malfoy. He was dressed, but didn't know why. He had taken out some of his nicer clothes, prepared for the day long before dawn, and was now restless.

It had been two hours since he'd returned owls from the Ministry of Magic and The Daily Prophet, asking for more information and answers to troubling questions. Aurors and an agent or two from the ministry would be arriving today to speak with him in person. Several publications wanted interviews, though Dumbledore had yet to approve them and Draco hoped he didn't. He wrung his hands at the very thought.

He was anxious over what he'd done and feared his father's vengeance. This would never go unpunished. Even from Azkaban his father would find a way. Draco had felt so heroic hanging around with Potter last night and with the way Sara made him want to prove himself worthy of her company, he'd plunged ahead and did the right thing. Now he was afraid, unsure, and wished he could undo the whole mess and put it in the past where his mother now lived. He could lose his birthrights over this! He'd have to work and be ordinary. That is, if no one killed him first.

With a glance at his watch, Draco went up to breakfast, knowing his days were numbered.

* * *

As Harry scanned the Slytherin table, finding only a troubling empty space between Crabbe and Goyle, Sara laid a hand on his arm.

"I have to go."

"But there's still fifteen minutes!"

"I know, but I'd rather not make him wait. Best to be early."

Harry sighed. "I'll see you after Quidditch practice."

* * *

As Sara neared the headmaster's office, whom should she meet in the hall but the devil himself?

"My dear Miss Francis!" Lucius presented his sinister smile. "We meet again." He was dressed all in black, except for a tailored green vest under his cape, the clasp of which was a snake with a ruby eye. His sleek white hair flowed over his shoulders. Once again she found him beautiful, like Draco was. Strong, defined features and cold blue-gray eyes.

"Stop writing to me!" she demanded in a loud whisper. "You're old enough to be my father!"

"And you're young enough to be my daughter." He backed her up against the wall and laid a palm flat on either side of her shoulders. "But you're not."

"I'm not interested, Mr. Malfoy," she said with a mingling of fear and loathing. "Leave me alone!"

Lucius gave a soft chuckle. "I hardly think so."

"You're a murderer."

"According to whom? Unfortunately, Draco is going through a phase right now. I wouldn't give his words merit at this point in time if I were you."

"I don't like you. Stop sending me letters."

"See, I think you do like me." He raised her chin with the head of his cane. "Don't you?"

She looked him in the eye. "I said I don't, in case you missed it the first time."

His slight smile was patronizing and Sara looked away, recalling the feeling that had invaded her on his parlor sofa. She felt it steal over her again, lessened but undeniable and as unwelcome as before. He lowered the cane and his gloved hand replaced it, brushing her face, gentle, his aggression diminished for the moment. He moved in closer and she closed her eyes, trying to force the desire that betrayed her into retreat.

Lucius was only inches from her, his cheek brushing hers as he whispered in her ear. "Then why are you so afraid?" He kissed her hair. "You're trembling."

"You frighten me," she whispered. "Lucius, please leave me alone."

"Get away from her!" Draco bellowed from the entrance to Dumbledore's office, wand held out with intent to harm. "I swear, Father, touch her again and I'll kill you. I mean what I say so I suggest you step away from Sara RIGHT NOW!"

"Now now, Draco. No need for threats. Miss Francis and I were just talking, weren't we, dear?"

Sara said nothing and tried to inch along the wall away from him. Lucius grabbed her wrist, as Draco had once done at Slytherin Spirits.

"I asked you a question." Lucius leveled his eyes at her, piercing and intense, intimidating.

Sara's free hand flew to the Fortificus Charm and she looked to Draco for help.

"DUMBLEDORE!" Draco bellowed. "DUMBLEDORE! COME OUT!"

The headmaster was there before Draco finished speaking, approaching from behind, where he couldn't see beyond the entrance to his office. "Mr. Malfoy! What is the prob-" His eyes fell on Lucius, who looked a little flustered, and Sara, backed up against the wall with fear in her expression. "Lucius!" Dumbledore angered and came forward to stand beside Draco. "Explain yourself!"

"No need to get excited, Albus. I was simply saying hello to my son's girlfriend. Draco is overreacting, as usual."

"Draco?" Dumbledore indicated Sara. "Is this your young lady?"

"No, sir." Draco looked to his father. "I never said that. Now get away from her."

Sara wanted badly to be at the other end of the hall with Draco and her beloved uncle, but Lucius held her fast. "You're hurting my wrist! Let go of me!"

Lucius released her, having forgotten his grip on her arm. "Leave me alone!" she hissed and walked to the headmaster, whose hand settled on her shoulder.

"Are you all right, Sara?"

"I'm fine now, thank you." She tried to smile. "Perhaps you'd like to see Mr. Malfoy to the door. Draco will wait with me until you return."

* * *

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Miss Francis?"

Sara grinned. "My middle name."

"My father's usually a little more perceptive. You must be a very convincing liar."

"Not exactly a lie. My name is Sara Francis, after all. But I don't understand! What is he doing here? I thought he was being held?"

"Just for questioning." Draco stood by the window as she leaned against the desk. "I knew they would let him go eventually. After all, my father practically owns half the ministry. He was here to take me home."

"He dared show up here and ask for you? The audacity!"

Draco smiled. "Dumbledore told my father that if he'd shown up yesterday, he would have beaten the new policy, which went into effect this morning."

"Which is?"

"Both parents must be present to take a child out of school during term." He laughed with the brilliance of it. "Dumbledore told him to produce my mother."

Sara laughed, too. "You must have known he would protect you, Malfoy. Professor Dumbledore won't let anything happen to you. Don't worry. I know this must be scary, going up against your father, but you did the right thing. Your mother would be proud."

"Are you?" Draco realized this was the only opinion that mattered.

"Of course I am. What you did took a lot of courage. Not usually a Slytherin trait." Sara smiled. "Perhaps you should try the sorting hat again."

At its mention, the hat, high on a shelf, came to life and seemed to look down at them. "Ah, you again, Malfoy. Let me save you the trouble of disturbing me. You still belong in Slytherin." Just as quickly, it went back to being a hat on a shelf.

"Well." Sara grinned. "You can't win 'em all."

"I wouldn't feel right in a different house, anyway. I mean, what if it put me in Hufflepuff?"

Sara shook her head. "Never happen." She grinned again and Draco laughed.

The warm smile turned cold and slid off his face.

"Why do you love Potter?"

"What do you mean, why?" She stood, caught off guard by his abruptness. "How could I not love him?"

"But he's so dull. Don't you ever get bored?"

"Harry Potter is dull? Are we talking about the same Harry Potter? Scar, glasses, Quidditch God?"

"Oh please! Is that all it takes to impress you? A little skill with a broom? Or is this more feminine hero worship?"

Sara grinned. "The hero thing is certainly a plus. But have you ever seen him in his uniform? Windblown hair, victory in his eyes, just back from catching the snitch? I tell you he's dead sexy."

"Gross!" Draco declared and went back to pacing the area before her. "I like my breakfast right where it is, thanks." He shook his head with a grimace of distaste. "Disgusting!"

Sara giggled and then grew serious, considering the question. "Harry's the opposite of everything that you are. No, that isn't right. Everything you used to be. My view of you has changed."

"So I'm not dead sexy?"

She smiled as a slight blush rose hot in her cheeks. "Maybe not everything."

He smiled and then sighed. "I'm sorry about my father. I wish there was something I could do to make up for the way he's treated you. It's unforgivable."

"At least I know where you get your manners." She leaned against the desk again. "I'm moved to forgive you after meeting your role model."

"Alright then, I'll think about forgiving you for never giving me a chance."

"I'm sorry," she said with the sadness of great caring. Sara rose from her place at the desk and stood before him. She gingerly took his hand, went up on her toes, and kissed his cheek.

He looked down at her, his expression pained and confused.

"Thank you for defending me." She squeezed his hand and then let it go.

Faint footsteps warned that the headmaster was returning and Sara retreated to her spot against the desk.

* * *

By the time the first snow fell, preparations for the Yule Ball were underway. As it was Sara's idea to hold several parties throughout the year, she was put in charge of the arrangements. There was a newly formed committee at her aide, consisting of many volunteers from three of the four houses. Hermione divided her time between schoolwork, researching the binding spell, and screening music for the event. Ron was always around when the team wasn't in practice and Harry lent a hand when he could but, for the most part, their time was taken up with Quidditch.

Draco's father was still a free man. The investigation remained open but, without a body, the ministry told him there was little they could do. Lucius claimed that his wife had taken one trunk and a Portkey and left him. Even the Daily Prophet was backing off, undoubtedly due to pay-offs and threats as well as declining interest in a story that had no new twists and no progress. In fact, his father was so convincing, it was Draco's story that seemed far-fetched.

Draco now belonged nowhere. He was ostracized by the Slytherin populace and glad of his private room. The other Slytherins glared at him, thinking him a traitor, as they and their parents were loyal sympathizers and supporters of Lucius Malfoy. They terrorized him, slipping their pet snakes into his bed. The Wronski Feint picture was tacked to his door at least twice a day. Even Crabbe and Goyle looked down on him. He was hated, a betrayer, and no-one's friend. Draco had even used his Prefect authority to take points from his own house for blatant disrespect.

He'd seen the notice tacked to the bulletin board in the common room, not that a single person from his house would be interested. After little deliberation, Draco locked his room with at least a dozen spells and went to the meeting, held in the storage room across from Sara's door.

No one noticed him in the doorway at first, but the room fell to silence as, one by one, heads turned to stare open-mouthed. No one breathed for a long moment, and then it was Finnigan, of course, drawing his wand.

"What the bloody hell do you want?"

Someone snickered in the back near a box of Muggle music CDs, scattered around a table and some in piles marked yes, no, or maybe.

Draco gave Seamus a sly grin. "I thought the party could use a touch of evil. I'm bored, you twit."

Sara came into view carrying a mass of gold ribbon in her arms, her low heels clicking in rhythm against the cold marble floor. "Then come in, by all means! We need all the help we can get!"

Her smile chased the chill from the room and warmed something deep inside him as Draco met her eyes. He smiled in return as his heart did that racing, thumping thing it did whenever she was near.

Seamus turned to Sara, incensed. "Are you mad?"

"Relax." Sara laid a hand on his wand arm, helping it back to his side. "We need someone to design the Slytherin corner."

"True," Seamus conceded, narrowing his eyes at Malfoy. "But if he does anything I'll throw him over the stairs without a broom!"

Sara grinned, amused. "That won't necessary. I'm quite certain Draco plans to behave himself."

"Just don't set me on fire, Finny." Draco gave Seamus a wicked smirk, as if in challenge, and then took pleasure in polishing his Prefect badge, just above the Slytherin coat-of-arms on his robe.

Knowing that if he said another word Malfoy would take points from his house; Seamus went back to making centerpieces with Neville, Dean, and Susan Bones.

Draco joined Sara and she led him to a large round table where Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs labored over miniature models of each corner of the Great Hall. One, he saw, was draped in regal crimson and gold banners that framed a giant crest. A proud golden lion paced the floor before it, sometimes rearing back and sounding a loud roar. Flanking the enormous lion on tall pedestals sat the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup. Across the banner, Draco read the words Happy Christmas from Gryffindor House. So this was to be his chore. Creating a living Christmas card from Slytherin to the rest of the school. He almost laughed with the absurdity of it.

* * *

Sara glanced up from the couch as the roaring blaze in the fireplace turned her blonde hair to an aura of glowing amber. "Harry! I didn't think you were coming."

"Quidditch practice ran over and then I had to help Neville with his DADA report. I promised I would two days ago. I forgot all about it and he cornered me in the common room. I was going to send Hedwig, but I didn't think I'd be this long." Harry smiled his apology, kicked off his shoes, and joined her.

Sara lifted a Muggle mailer from the table and set about getting the contents.
"I have something to show you!"

"Mr. Sanders?"

"Yes." She grew excited as she handed him the snapshots. "They've finished the cottage and it's perfect! I can't wait to see it for real."

"Wow!" Harry smiled as he leafed through the pictures. "It looks great! I can't believe this is the same place!"

"I know!" she agreed. "They certainly did a fine job restoring it. They replaced the roof, of course. All the stone has been repaired. New doors and windows, too. I'm glad we went with white for the trim. There's already so much color around it in summer."

"This is the front room?" Harry studied the picture. "The fireplace looks like new! I love all the oak trim and the hardwood floor is really nice." He flipped to the next. "What room is this?"

"That's the guest room... That's the den... The bathroom, obviously. Oh look! There's the master bedroom!"

"Marble floors!" Harry was incredulous. "Marble isn't free you know! We didn't discuss marble floors!"

"Can you picture this room with anything else?"

"It's perfect. I love it."

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's just that I thought we were going cheap on the cottage?"

"Well, in that case..." Sara cringed. "You're really going to be upset when you see the patio."

"What patio?"

"The uhh... big tile one off the kitchen, right by the gazebo."

"Sara!"

"Well, we needed someplace to put the barbecue!"

"What's wrong with flagstones? Or cement? And where did this gazebo come from? We never discussed a gazebo!"

"I want a garden, Harry. A nice garden! And I don't want to wait while you go to some ridiculous Muggle job until you make enough money to pay for half! If it has to be that way, you can have another side of the yard and pay for whatever the hell you want in it!"

Harry sighed, defeated. "Fine. But, from now on, we discuss things together. Let's both make the decisions on what to do with our house!"

"Agreed. I'm sorry I went behind your back."

"You're forgiven. Now, do you think Dumbledore would lend us a bed and a dinette from storage?"

"I thought I would order a few things and have them sent over. Mr. Sanders said he would be willing to go back and take delivery for us."

"What would we do without him? Who'd have known he'd be so indispensable?"

"I did. When I shook his hand."

"What did you see?" Harry wondered. She so rarely spoke of such things. In fact, the only time he could recall was when Malfoy was going to kill his father.

"I knew he could be trusted. I saw myself older, in the future, speaking to him and shaking his hand again. Thanking him for something. Muggle or not, ours was a fateful meeting."

"That I believe." Harry pulled her closer, flipping to another photo. "When did you have the driveway paved? And where the hell did that enormous garage come from?"

"Oh, I forgot about that." She waved the question away. "I thought maybe we could take the train into London during the break. We could do some shopping and take a drive out."

"What about Christmas?"

"Well, we could fly back and spend it here, or we could stay at the house."

"It's up to you, but let's not buy too much until we can take our time and look properly."

"Agreed. Just the basics and whatever else we stumble across."

"Has the power been turned on?"

"Of course! The phone as well. I don't really care for having a television. You can have one if you'd like, but I doubt I'll watch it much."

"There was a time I would have given anything to be left alone at the Dursleys' so I could watch whatever I wanted. It wouldn't even cross my mind to turn it on now. I don't miss it." He let his cheek rest against her hair. "So we leave with the others Saturday morning? Did Dumbledore agree to this?"

"That's the problem. Severus has to come."

"He can't! We're going to live together in just six months! Is Snape moving in, too? When is this going to stop? I can't take another trip with Snape. I'll lose my mind!"

"We're just spending a few days at the Leaky Cauldron. At least that's what I told Uncle Albus. As long as we're back by nightfall, they'll never know."

"And how do you suppose we spend Christmas at the cottage?"

"I haven't figured that out yet."

"Then we should just plan to come back here. We'll get what we need to move in and we'll all return together by broom."

* * *

With the Yule Ball a short week away, Sara called a final meeting of the committee an hour before lights out. The meeting was held on the roof of the tower, which Sara had encased in some sort of bubble to shield it from the snow and the cold. Flowers still grew, even though they were outside in winter, and it was warm, so that a light jumper would suffice. Their heavy cloaks weren't necessary. It was like Autumn on the roof.

Seamus placed Sara's cauldron on one of the tables and Susan Bones, who had long ago become Seamus' girlfriend, filled it with water. Everyone stood back as he worked his magic, fearful of an explosion.

The rum he produced wasn't the best when it came to quality, but it no longer tasted like burned moonshine. In fact, he was setting things on fire less and less. As Harry watched Seamus taste his creation, cock an eyebrow and nod his approval, he remembered the first day of school. Sara had charmed Seamus' drink on the sly and said he lacked confidence. With his newfound popularity as the "King of Swill," Harry thought Seamus finally had it.

Hermione and Sara came onto the roof laden with great jugs of iced tea and pumpkin juice and hefted them onto the table. Susan helped Seamus pour rum into everyone's cups.

Dean ladled himself some tea, dumped it into his cup and took a taste. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "This is spiced rum!" He took another sip. "Finn! You really are the Swill Master!"

Soon, everyone was praising Seamus and going back for a refill. Harry finally got himself a little out of curiosity and had to admit, it was better than decent. It was smoother, it caused a hot glow going down instead of a trail of gasoline fire and it warmed his body with a tingle, like a potion. The spices mixed well with pumpkin juice and Harry found he liked it better than Sara's Riesling. He drank off his glass and set it aside, earning a disapproving glance from Hermione beside him.

"What? I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

Hermione turned back to the book she was pretending to read. "Yes of course. And to think, I thought you might have been tempted to join the ranks and start acting foolish. You need to keep your wits about you, Harry. We shouldn't forget what happened on Sara's birthday. I refuse to be the only level-headed person left when Voldemort drops in uninvited."

"I only had a sip!"

"Well I should hope that you won't be having another."

Harry fell back into the double seat they shared with a sigh. He looked at her and was suddenly brimming with sarcasm. "Enjoy your book."

Hermione cast him a sidelong glance and then sighed as well. "Sorry Harry. You know why I worry about everyone drinking so much."

Because you don't want anyone to have any fun? Harry thought with a hint of a smile. Because you'd rather we all sat around and talked about homework? Harry's grin widened. "Of course I understand, Hermione. Don't worry so much. I'm not about to challenge anyone to a drinking contest."

Hermione loosened up and laughed a bit. "Look Harry, they're bringing in another cauldron already. You're levitating Ron back to Gryffindor this time. I was tempted to drop him last week. More than once."

Harry laughed as he watched Ron pouring drinks for a mass of waiting friends. The shots, he saw, were getting bigger.

Sara stepped in beside Seamus and spoke in a confidential tone. "Cast the spell again. See if it comes out the same."

A bowl of water was set on the table and Seamus, his confidence in evidence, said his thing and flicked his wand.

Sara dipped a vial in and brought up little more than a sip. Smelling it first, she tasted it and turned to Seamus, smiling.

Susan dipped in the bowl, too, and her face lit up. "You could almost drink that straight! It tastes good! It's even better than the last one!"

Sara grinned. "Seamus," she said and walked him off toward an empty corner. "I think I have an idea."

* * *

The banging was thunderous. With the music as loud as it was, all the pounding almost went unnoticed but Ron finally went to the front door.

Ron sneered when he saw who it was. "You again? I'm getting a little sick of you!"

Seamus, swaying on his feet and exuding mirth, fell in next to his friend and smiled wide. "The evil bake sale is down the hall to your left."

"Oh shut-up, you drunken gits." Draco held up a folded sheet of paper. "I was invited. And not by either of you, so out of my way." He budged past them, almost knocking Seamus over.

Ron grabbed Draco's arm. "Hey! Who the hell do you think you are? You'll come in when you're asked and no one's asking!"

Seamus did his best to scowl and laugh at the same time. "Yeah! And what was all that racket about? Banging on the door like that!"

Red splotches of anger and indignity colored Draco's pale face. "I've been out here for twenty minutes! I knocked politely the first hundred times, for your information!"

"Why didn't you just come in?" Ron rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, you must be the most addle-brained person on Earth."

"Because, you idiot, this door is always locked!"

"Everyone else managed to walk in!" Seamus mused. "You have to be smarter than the door."

Harry laughed from the entrance to Sara's bedroom, where he'd been watching the exchange. "It's not locked; it just won't open for him. I put a spell on it last year."

"Good thinking, Harry!" Ron and Seamus bellowed laughter as Harry grinned his victory.

"Shove off," Draco muttered and stalked off to the roof.

Everyone stopped to stare as he made his way to the cauldron. All conversation stopped and even Hermione looked up from her book.

Draco dipped the largest cup he could find into the cauldron, sprinkled some juice into the rum for color, and found an isolated chair off by himself. Within minutes, he was forgotten.

* * *

Sara was so busy socializing that she hadn't noticed him, alone and excluded on the far side of the roof. Draco watched her with lonely eyes, wishing she would come by and talk with him for a while. He didn't expect her to abandon the party, he knew in his heart never to be so selfish when it came to her, but just a little of her time would be enough to break through this cloud of wretchedness that clung to him. It reached through his skin with icy fingers, a constant reminder that it was him against the world. The lone Slytherin, the outcast, unloved, silent and forgotten. A broken shard, poison amid friendship and laughter.

Draco drank what his glass contained without thought or motivation, knowing only that it warmed him from the inside, pushed away the hateful solitude and embraced it simultaneously. Why did he care? Why this need for the acceptance of others? He didn't care about these people. They were beneath him, traitors to the blood, half-bloods and Mudblood scum. They weren't worth his time, weren't worthy of his company or his consideration. Why in Merlin's name would Draco Malfoy, heir of dignity, greatness and distinction, want one of these lowly half-breeds to acknowledge his presence? Why would it please him if someone was to turn with a smile and ask him into their circle?

The answer to each was the same. Sara. It was Sara whose company he craved, and it would cast him in a different light if she could see him getting along with her friends, joining them in camaraderie like any other person. He knew she looked upon him with pity and concern. He could accept that if that's what it took to gain her attention, but pity could never earn him the level of significance or the close relationship he desired of her. So why did he sit alone on the far side of the roof? Why didn't he make an effort to belong?

Draco sighed, heavy with self-loathing.

Sara was drunk. She stood in the corner with Weasley and a large group of friends, all of them laughing and talking too loud. Others sat aside in pairs, snogging or laughing at the antics of Finny and the Weasel. Potter sat on a loveseat with Granger, smiling and shaking their heads at the group, talking amongst themselves.

Draco took a long, burning drink and lay back in his lounger, turning his gaze to the starlit sky. He shouldn't have come.

* * *

Harry sat up and found his glasses on the bedside table. Sara stood nearby in one of her silk nightgowns, bare shoulders draped in golden hair, and Harry watched as she rummaged through a box of jewelry. Lately, even though everything seemed to be looking up and they were always in high spirits, Sara's black tress grew wider by the day. He wondered what was bothering her, knew she wouldn't talk about it, and figured it had to do with her parents and the approach of Christmas. However, once she saw he was awake, Sara grew excited and animate, glowing from the potion, and smiled down at him from beside the bed.

"Harry, I need to talk to you."

* * *

"So that's the plan? That's it? And I stand to make all that money?" Harry shook his head in disbelief. "It's too easy. Haven't you ever heard that old expression? Too good to be true?"

"It's brilliant, isn't it? Sorry to be calling my own idea brilliant, but it is! Seamus will produce the rum. You'll glue labels on. You'll both bottle it and fill orders. I'll send a letter today for supplies. It's so easy! Seamus even said he'd split the profits fifty-fifty."

"I don't know, Sara. I have so much to do already."

"It won't take up much of your time and you stand to make a stockpile of Galleons for our house."

Finally, Harry smiled. "Finnigan's Swill, eh? Do you really think it'll sell?"

"Sell? Are you kidding? Good luck finding anything in the wizarding world that can rival what Seamus made last night!"

"It's settled, then. Tell Seamus I'm in."

"Excellent. I'll make us some tea." Sara headed toward the kitchen, but stopped dead in the middle of the floor, staring out at the roof.

Harry stood. "What is it?"

"Malfoy. He's outside the door."

At the sound of his name, Draco turned from the railing and smiled at her.

Sara smiled back. "You've got to stop flying in like that, Malfoy. It's creepy!"

"Don't tell me you didn't know I was here!"

"Uh, well, no I didn't."

"I did," Harry confessed. "I must have forgotten. Where did you go, anyway? I thought you smartened up and left." He draped a long velvet cape around Sara's shoulders, leaning close to her ear. "He's staring at you."

She smiled and tied it below her neck.

"Passed out in a lounge chair if it's any of your business."

Sara went onto the roof, retrieving Malfoy and escorting him in. "Sit by the fire a bit. I'll get you some potion."

"I'll get the tea," Harry offered and headed for the kitchen, stopping to glance at the unwelcome guest. "I suppose you'll be staying?"

Draco reclined and pulled the throw over his legs. "What do you think? Oh, and just a little sugar with mine."

As he stalked off, Draco thought he heard Harry muttering something about poison.

* * *

When Harry returned, Sara had gone to change and there sat Malfoy, leafing through the pictures of their cottage.

Harry grabbed the pictures from his hands, furious. "What are you doing! Do you always snoop around in other people's mail?"

"As often as possible, actually. I had to do something to entertain myself! You're a lousy host, Potter."

Sara emerged from the hall, dressed in jeans and a jumper. "You saw the pictures?"

"Most of them, before Potter went ballistic. I like the patio. The tile was an excellent choice if I may say so."

"Thanks!" Sara fell into the couch next to Draco and turned to face him. "I ordered the tile from Italy. Every piece is handmade by an old order of Franciscan craftsmen and the mosaic was designed by a well-known Italian artist. She's older than dirt, but age certainly hasn't diminished her talent. It's beautiful, isn't it? She designed one of the floors in St. Mark's Basilica!"

"The cathedral in Venice?"

"That's the one."

"I'm impressed!"

"I'm going to plant a garden all around it, with tons of roses and-"

"SARA!" Harry was livid. "Our best friends don't even know and here you are telling... HIM!"

"Potter." Malfoy turned, sincere. "It's a nice house. Small, but nice."

"Why thank you, Malfoy!" Harry slammed the pictures down on the coffee table and stormed out of the room, spilling tea the length of the hall from the cup in his hand.

Sara called after him, but his only response was the slam of the bathroom door. The shower started and Sara turned back to Malfoy. "Here, let me show you the wine cellar!"

- 173 -