The Girl in the Tower

The Girl in the Tower

Chapter 14: Nevermore

Sara groaned as she prepared to open her eyes.

It had been months and months since she'd had a hangover like this one. Her whole body ached and she was queasy. She felt sick, her head heavy and sore. She scolded herself for drinking so much on a nearly empty stomach.

"Harry?" she whispered and tried to throw a blind arm around him, only it dropped like lead to the neatly made other side of the bed. "HARRY?" she called and opened her eyes, thinking he must have risen early and was fixing tea or something. There was no answer. She didn't hear the shower running and his clothes weren't tossed over the back of the chair. Sara glanced around for a note but saw none. Had he ever made up his side before? He had been leaving while she slept for nearly a year now and she couldn't remember him doing it even once. Then again, he didn't leave at dawn on the weekends, ever. He always stayed late and they had tea together. If he had an early Quidditch practice, he always left her a note and a glass of ice water on the bedside table and returned as soon as he could. It was Saturday and Sara knew there was no practice today.

"The train!" Sara bolt upright, moaning as her stomach leapt up in protest of such sudden movement. She heard a yawn from the sofa, turned her eyes to the back of it and smiled. He must have fallen asleep before the fire.

Sara found she remembered very little of the night. She couldn't recall even seeing Harry after his dance with Ginny. Nor could she recall the later part of the evening at all, or returning to the tower. Had she come with Harry? When had she put on a nightgown? With effort, she held out a hand. "Accio Hangover Potion." In a moment she was holding it.

She didn't bother with a glass, just lifted the stopper and took a big gulp, finding relief and renewed vigor in the warm glow.

"That's better," she said. "Harry! Hey, what are you doing?"

"If you call me Potter again, I'll kill you," mumbled a sleep-laden voice from the couch.

"Severus! What are you doing here? Where's Harry?"

"They found your idiot boyfriend passed out in the library. The headmaster took him to the hospital wing but I assure you he's fine. And as for what I'm doing here." He stood, stretched and came to sit in Harry's chair beside the bed. "I was your sentry."

"How did I get here?"

"Draco brought you. He carried you all the way up those steps."

"Malfoy!" she gasped, the memory coming to her clear and complete. Her hand went for her neck but found the charm wasn't there. "Oh, God! Malfoy!"

"It pleases me to see you spending time with Draco." Snape smiled. "You know Sara; the right girl could change things for him."

"Severus, are you mad?"

Snape said nothing, only smiled in a knowing way and it disarmed her.

"What happened? What do you know?"

"Only that you danced with him all night. After you returned from outside."

"I danced with Malfoy all night? Oh no. Harry!"

"I don't think he noticed. He disappeared with Ginny Weasley and I never saw him again."

"Well it's not as if you were watching for him or anything. He could have slipped by without your noticing."

"Actually, I was watching for him. I encourage your... friendship with Draco and wanted to make sure you were undisturbed."

"Severus! I am not interested in Draco Malfoy!"

"I didn't watch for Potter right away, Sara. I came looking for you after Draco led you out. I needed to make sure he was behaving himself after the way he's treated you in the past."

"Earlier you said we were outside. How did you know?" Sara began to tremble, nervous.

"Let's just say that I found you and leave it at that."

Sara threw back the covers, leapt to her feet and paced the floor in her nightgown. She stopped dead and looked at him. "Who changed my clothes?"

"Madam Pomfrey."

"Well that's a relief at least." She dropped onto the side of the bed across from Snape with a sigh and a heavy heart. "Does anyone else know?"

"I took great care to make sure they didn't. Believe me, I would love to see the look on Potter's face when he found out but I know that's not what you want. Unless Mr. Malfoy decides to write The Daily Prophet again, it's our little secret. However, you should know that secrets like this are never best kept."

"Thank you," she sighed. "For the discretion and the advice."

"Would you mind a little more?"

"Of course not."

"Decide what you want to do. Draco has had enough hardship these past months. Don't string him along. A choice should come sooner than later."

"I don't even have feelings like that for him! The more I drank the more I seemed to develop them. There's just something about him, I don't really know what it is, but it's endearing, that's all. We're just friends! Besides, he is rather good looking and it doesn't exactly count against him. It makes up for his lack of charm. In my altered state I was lured in by it."

"However it happened, I'm glad of it. A girl your age should not commit herself to one person alone. Detach yourself from Potter for a while. See other people."

"You really are mad!"

"I give up. Why does it have to be Harry Potter? Of all the young men in the world, Sara, you had to chose HARRY POTTER! Draco Malfoy is smitten with you. It's blatantly obvious to me and I've seen changes in him because of it. I think you're wrong to simply discard him over a freak infatuation."

Sara stood. Her anger sparked but she held it in check. "I have to finish packing. Would you be a dear and make us some tea?"

"Certainly." He gave her a tired smile, knowing he'd pushed the subject too far. "Just promise you'll consider it."

"I will, if you promise me you'll never mention this again."

He bowed his head and she vanished down the hall.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. He'd seen it before and knew he was still at school but it wasn't Sara's ceiling, nor was it his own. His whole body hurt and his eyes ached. His stomach was sour and he moaned, miserable, and let his eyes fall shut again.

"Good morning, Harry."

Harry knew the voice as well as his own and his eyes shot open again with surprise.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he said, his voice harsh and raspy like that of a heavy smoker. He turned his head toward the bedside chair and recognized his surroundings at once. Harry grew alarmed and tried to sit up. "Why am I in the hospital wing? Where's Sara? What happened? Is Sara ok?"

"Well, what to answer first?" Dumbledore smiled. "Most important first, I guess. Sara is fine, at least as fine as you are. She's in her own rooms but don't worry, Severus watched over her during the night. As for what happened and why you're here, the answers are one in the same. You were found in a state of unconsciousness, due no doubt to excess, and were brought here under my direction as a precaution."

"I was in the library," he recalled. "I must have fallen asleep. I'm very sorry, sir."

"Sorry you should be! You certainly gave Miss Weasley a good scare and me as well."

"Ginny!" Harry collapsed onto the pillows. "Oh no."

"This sort of behavior I expect from Sara but not you, Harry."

"Professor, I'm seventeen."

Dumbledore smiled as if he couldn't help himself and then all his seriousness returned. He wasn't angry, that much was clear, but he wasn't exactly pleased, either. "Ginny Weasley said she'd spoken to you earlier and that she'd left you there in the library, upset after some sort of argument. A while later she returned to check on you and found you as I did, unresponsive. Tell me, was there a problem? Something that upset you?"

Harry hesitated, remembering his 'conversation' with Ginny. "No, sir. Nothing to be concerned about."

"Is everything all right with Sara? I feel I have to ask, for she was in the same condition according to Severus.''

"Everything's fine," he lied, feeling his world was about to come crashing down. He'd kissed Ginny last night in the library. He'd wanted to and he was sure Sara would know the next time she touched his hand or looked in the orb. She would leave him then, Harry was sure of it.

"Harry, there are things you can tell me. If something's troubling you I would be glad to listen and help if possible. Don't think that, because Sara is my niece, I am no longer trustworthy. Anything you confide to me would be kept in the strictest confidence."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your offer; it's just that some things are better left unsaid." Harry felt sure telling Dumbledore about kissing Ginny in the library, having a terrible row, and then drinking enough swill for ten people would only add to his state of distress. As it was, he already couldn't meet the headmaster's eyes.

"You're wrong, Harry. I wouldn't judge you. As young girls and boys transcend into adulthood, they do things that make no clear sense, even to themselves, and often go against what they most want. It's a part of life. A weakness not of character, but of curiosity."

Harry sighed. "You know what troubles me, that much is clear." He sat up again and focused on the old man's forehead. "I'm sorry I disappointed you. I've disappointed myself, as well. Now, if you don't mind, sir. I'd like to be alone so I can lay here and wish I was dead."

Topenga flew into the room and dropped a letter in Harry's lap. He opened it with shaky hands and was surprised by the brevity of it.

I hope you're all right. I'll see you on the train.

Sara

"The train!" Harry exclaimed. "I forgot!"

"So you're still going?"

"Well, yes, I guess so."

"Then you'd best get changed. I took the liberty of having breakfast brought up for you. You'll find some of Severus' potion on the tray. He was rather unwilling to part with it for you're sake but I managed to convince him." Dumbledore stood and smiled down at Harry. "Things will work out as they should. Again, if you need to talk, Harry, you know where to find me."

"Thank you, sir."

"Enjoy your trip."

* * *

Showered, dressed, and nervous as hell, Harry stepped onto the platform and looked around. He spotted Hagrid at the far end, near the locomotive, towering over everyone else. He headed that way and saw Seamus leading Susan onto the train, obviously having changed his mind about staying. A group of Slytherins leered at him as he passed but Harry ignored them.

He pushed his way through a cramped bottleneck of students and came clear on the other side, only to find Sara standing before him and he stopped short. Their easy, comfortable manner was gone. They hesitated to touch each other and didn't. Neither wanted to speak first and both were visibly anxious.

She knows, Harry thought.

Sara regarded him with slightly downcast eyes, afraid to look at him and when he said nothing she thought; he knows.

Deciding to get it over with, Harry extended his hand.

Sara took it, relieved.

Her smile was tentative and awkward but Harry got the impression the touch had told her nothing. "Ready?" he asked, holding his breath.

"Yes, you?"

He nodded.

"Ron is holding our seats."

Harry noticed the platform was approaching empty as Hagrid ushered everyone onto the train, which was powering up for departure.

"Hullo, Harry! Hullo, Sara, fine mornin' for travel if you ask me."

"Hi Hagrid."

"You two better board soon or you'll be left standin 'ere and all yer stuff on the way t' King's Cross!" Hagrid looked at their faces and saw the tension between them. "You two look as guilty as can be! Somethin' amiss?"

"No!" they answered in unison and then smiled, uncomfortable.

"Come on, Sara," Harry said. "We'd better go. Happy Christmas, Hagrid."

"Same t' you. You kids have fun, but be careful. You never know who's lurkin' around Diagon Alley."

"We will." Harry smiled. "Have fun in France!"

Harry led Sara onto the train.

Ron was leaning out of the cabin and rolled his eyes when he saw their approach. "I thought you'd missed the train! Harry, you're always so last minute."

"Sorry, Ron. We were talking to Hagrid."

"Well, come on. We saved you a seat."

The cabin was crowded with Ron and Hermione, Seamus and Susan, and to Harry's dismay, Ginny. He gave her a polite smile but was quick to address everyone else. Everyone peppered him with questions about how much trouble he was in with Dumbledore. No one believed him when he said no punishment of any kind had been mentioned. House points quickly became a hot topic for discussion.

Harry ignored Ginny, which was hard because she stared at him without wavering and he could feel her contempt radiating out at him. She was furious and it gave his already frazzled nerves even more of a jump. No matter what he did, no matter how much he let himself sink into the lively conversation, no matter how many good thoughts he forced into his mind, Harry simply couldn't relax and Ginny's silent play was pushing him to the edge of sanity. He had no idea how he would endure this situation all the way to London.

* * *

As the sky darkened over the countryside, Harry looked out the window, depressed and trying not to show it. Sara had been silent at his side for quite some time and now she leaned against him, holding his arm and slipping her free hand into his. He squeezed it and brushed his thumb along her fingers. He laid his other hand over the one on his arm, his head resting on the glass, his eyes watching the blur of passing nothingness.

Ginny left the cabin without a word. By then, Ron and Hermione were asleep, Seamus was drifting off and Susan was reading. They only people for her to inform were Harry and Sara.

"I'll be right back," Sara said and was past the curtains before Harry could respond.

He'd opened his mouth to detain her and closed it now, fearful and swallowing a giant lump in his throat.

* * *

Sara caught up to Ginny, grabbed her arm, and spun Ron's little sister around to face her. Ginny shrunk, intimidated by Sara's anger.

"Leave him alone!" Sara seethed. "Can't you see he loves me? He doesn't want you, Ginny, and you're really starting to get on my nerves. He's my boyfriend and you haven't taken your eyes off him since we stepped on the train!"

"What do you know?" Ginny snapped. "You don't know anything, let alone how he feels! I've known him since I was ten years old and you." She stepped closer in challenge. "You don't know him at all."

Sara angered at Ginny's audacity. "Don't tempt me, little girl. I could reduce you to ashes with a flick of my wrist."

"Then do it! I'd prefer death to your presence."

"And why are you so angry? Was I not polite to you at all times? Did I not try to be your friend? But no, you always had to cause a scene. Do you really think Harry found that nonsense endearing? He cares about you, Ginny, he calls you family, but if you think for one moment he'll ever reciprocate your little adolescent crush you're an even bigger fool than I thought. Stay away from him. And don't come back to the cabin unless you care to test my patience."

Sara left Ginny standing there, glowering after her as she returned to the cabin and slid onto the seat next to Harry. He still sat in the same position, head tipped against the window, dejected and troubled. Sara inched closer and put an arm around his waist. His arm went around her shoulders and she lay her head on his chest.

"Harry, I love you. No matter what, I always will."

He turned to her, held her eyes for a moment, and then pulled her into a slow, fierce embrace.

* * *

"Has Severus Snape checked in yet?" Sara asked as they arrived at The Royal Westcott, a fine and rather expensive hotel just down the street from The Leaky Cauldron.

"He has, Miss Lemke. He's left a message for you."

Harry looked around at the lobby as she read it, marveling at the rich and tasteful decor, heavy with marble and brass.

"Harry? He's made a late dinner reservation at one of the hotel's restaurants. Angelico's. He'll meet us there." She thanked the clerk and led Harry to the lifts. "We'd better hurry. There isn't much time and we'll need to dress."

* * *

Twenty minutes later they were back in the lifts. Harry wore the Versace suit from Harvey Nichols and his favorite tie. Sara wore a pretty blue jumper with one of her many longish black skirts and comfortable shoes with a low heel. She held Harry's arm as they stepped into the lobby and he escorted her deeper into the hotel. They spoke to each other, awkward and infrequent, and both felt the distance that had existed between them since they'd stood on the platform of the Hogwarts Express.

Snape stood as they approached the table, for Sara, not Harry, and she gave him a brilliant smile.

"Severus, you look great!" Sara kissed his cheek.

Harry had to admit, Snape looked sharp with clean, neatly trimmed hair and wearing a handsome Armani suit. He assumed Sara bought it for him and felt less guilty about his own attire.

They sat and Harry grew perturbed as Snape relentlessly smirked at him. He got the feeling Snape knew something about him that he found amusing and it was unnerving. That meant that Snape probably knew he'd kissed Ginny in the library and, if so, he would have told Sara the first chance he got. It would explain Sara's reluctant manner and his guilt and shame threatened to swallow him whole. Harry lowered his eyes and studied the menu.

Since Harry's stomach was twisted with anxiety, he ordered only a bowl of soup and a small side salad. Sara ordered the same and Snape got a big steak with a baked potato, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, a Caesar salad, and a bottle of Bordeaux.

Their salads and Snape's wine came right away, along with water for Sara and Harry and some fresh-baked bread with garlic butter. Harry ate his salad half-heartedly, not really hungry at all, and Sara also considered her food with lack-luster disinterest.

Suddenly, there was a sickening smell beneath Harry's nose. His stomach turned and he almost gagged. He pushed away the glass and glared at Snape, who delighted in torturing him with the strong red wine.

"Alcohol anyone?" He grinned, enjoying Harry's lethargy and Sara's grimace of distaste. "Actually, I'm sure they would have some very fine rum in a place like this."

Sara gave him a stern glance, be it slightly amused. "Shut up, Severus, or I'll zap you with lightning right here under the table."

"You know, the two of you are extraordinarily dull tonight. One would think you'd just left a funeral."

"It's been a long and trying day, Snape," Harry said. "Let's just have a quiet dinner and go back to our rooms."

"Fine."

Sara hung her head in overpowering shame. It was clear that Harry knew but was gentleman enough to not speak of it. She thanked him inwardly for his silence but was eaten up by it as well. Sara harbored a desperate need to confess her indiscretion but needed equally to leave the subject verbally unapproached. She needed to understand what she'd done before she could even begin to explain herself to Harry.

Sara thought of Malfoy, alone in the Slytherin dungeons and wondered what he was thinking. Did he believe they had a chance? Probably not. Draco was levelheaded and realistic but he was almost certainly hopeful and for this she felt bad. His affection for her was easy before because she always let him know where he stood with her and never failed to show unwavering dedication to her relationship with Harry. Now, after confessing her attraction for Lucius to him and sharing emotional moments with Draco in her tower, then of course, kissing him madly as she'd wanted to do once or twice before, the walls that separated them had fallen and all the lines were blurred.

She glanced at Harry and saw he was miserable, staring into his soup and stirring it absentmindedly, lost in thought. She recalled her confrontation with Ginny and felt even worse for him. It must be hard, to have such animosity between two people he loved and she hoped he hadn't heard what was said in the train's corridor. True, they had kept their voices low but they hadn't exactly been whispering. She felt wrong for what she'd done to Ginny. She'd behaved as if Harry was a possession of hers, someone she'd laid claim to, when really Harry was with her because he chose to be, not because she had some right to him. She made up her mind to write to Ginny and apologize later in the night, not that it would do any good. What was done was done and would never be smoothed over, forgiven or forgotten. Still, the apology was necessary.

When she looked up again, Harry had finished his soup and was looking back at her, a hint of a smile on his face for her benefit, his expression morose. He took her hand and held her eyes.

"I think I'll go lay down if you don't mind, Sara."

"Not at all." She tried to smile for him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just tired."

"Then I'll go with you."

"Stay as long as you want. Really, I don't mind. Don't let Snape's impossibly clean appearance go to waste." At this he smiled wider.

"I won't be long."

Harry stood and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Professor," he said, forgetting to be snide. Harry left, managing to look rumpled in his impeccable suit.

"What's his problem?" Snape asked when Harry had gone.

"He knows. He hasn't said anything but it's obvious. I can't believe he's still speaking to me."

"I have to admit," he said, cutting the last of his steak. "I did get that impression. I swear I didn't tell him. I can't imagine Pomfrey would have done such a thing, either, not that she knows anything about that part. Or the headmaster. He knows I think, but he would never betray you, even to his favorite student."

"Draco would never. Perhaps we weren't alone."

"Perhaps."

The server arrived to clear the empty dishes and Sara asked for a white Russian. She longed to separate herself from the desperation and self-loathing she had been wallowing in all day long. Severus was surprised she'd ordered a drink but it was heavy with cream and the strong taste of liquor was muted by it. Sara knew it would sit well and drank it quickly when it came. She ordered another and talked with Severus as he enjoyed his expensive Bordeaux. She had never seen him have more than one drink and relaxed in his company. His words picked up the slightest slur and his eyes took on a cloudiness that could only mean he was getting drunk. His manor was easier, his sarcasm wittier and, as she slipped into an altered state, Sara was grateful for his presence.

She ordered drink after drink until the restaurant was showing signs of closing. Her anxiety diminished and, feeling that her fear and betrayal were surreal, from a dream she'd had, Sara felt whole again and gave in to her laughter when Severus started telling bad jokes. She slipped into a more acceptable mood.

Sara and Snape were having a great time. Neither of them wanted the night to end quite yet, so they moved to the bar at the back of the room when the staff started putting the chairs up for the vacuum.

Two glasses of wine later, Snape excused himself to the loo and Sara was left to amuse herself. Without Snape's sarcastic jokes to distract her, the misery came back full force and she slumped in her seat.

Summoning the bartender, Sara got them each another drink and asked for a cigarette, which she took out onto the restaurant's deck.

The icy London night air enveloped her and Sara let it sober her a little as she smoked. Snow drifted down from the trees, lazy bits of pristine fluff, and Sara tried not to cry. Struggling with her emotions, she finally managed to swallow the lump in her throat.

It was the last thing she expected to see, the raven flying toward her, but she wasn't surprised by it. Sara ripped the letter from its beak and swatted it away but it returned and lit on the railing.

"Haven't you tormented me enough?" she hissed at it. "You dare write to me while your son spends the holidays alone and abandoned? I hate you, Lucius, you miserable, cradle-robbing Death Eater! You're poison, even to your own family! And what do you expect from me? Twenty years my senior! Like your wrinkled old face is appealing to me! If you were half the man your son is perhaps it would, but you're not and you make me sick!"

The raven squawked and spoke. "Read the letter," it said in its strange bird voice.

Sara laughed, incredulous. "That's not how the story goes. Poe never said anything about a letter." She laughed again, realizing her level of intoxication but she didn't care what manner of infuriated nonsense she spouted at the moment. Sara only knew how good it felt to be angry and to voice her hatred toward him. "Quote this!" She raised her middle finger in the most well known of universal signs and waved it in front of the raven's face. "Gives a whole new meaning to flipping the bird." She giggled, flicked her cigarette away and walked back to the doors. "Quote the wicked raven," she muttered.

It spoke again as she laid a hand on the knob, its voice low, menacing, and with a frightening and ethereal human quality. "Nevermore."

* * *

Snape kept her steady on her feet as he led her back to the rooms on the topmost floor. She held fast to his arm, the raven heavy on her mind, until they stopped before her door. Snape bent and kissed her cheek, something she couldn't remember him ever doing before. She smiled up at him and he smiled back.

"I had a wonderful time, my dear. Thank you. And don't worry about Potter, Sara, you'll be fine."

"Don't be so sure," she whispered, wishing he hadn't mentioned it. "Goodnight, Severus. I'll see you at breakfast."

She stumbled inside and closed the door.

Harry, she saw, was fast asleep with the television on and tuned to the BBC. The noise was unbearable and she turned it off. There was a little clock radio on the nightstand and she turned this on and found a classical music station, turning it up, but not enough to wake him.

Rummaging through her unpacked suitcase, Sara found Harry's old Oxford, the one he'd given her at the end of last term which she always kept with her wherever she went, and carried it to the bathroom where she was violently sick.

Sara swayed on her feet as she brushed her teeth and put on the white shirt. Sitting down on the edge of the tub, she let her head fall into her hands and cried long and hard into them. She could hear the raging blizzard outside, could feel it radiating from her, but was powerless to stop it. Thunder crashed and she found it satisfying, a loud and passionate testament to her overwhelming misery.

In the wee hours of the morning, Sara crawled beneath the covers, turned on her side to stare at Harry's back and, suddenly, she needed him desperately. She wouldn't wake him, not that he wanted to comfort her for her indiscretions, so she curled up to him, not daring to put an arm around him.

* * *

Harry lay there in the dark, eyes wide open, wishing he knew what to say to comfort her and knowing it was his own fault she was drunk again. It was because of his fractured affection that she cried in the bathroom. He'd heard her, unable to go to her and he despised himself for it. He needed her now as he thought of Ginny and how foolish he'd been and he could feel Sara shaking as she pressed so close against him. He didn't deserve to have her so near. In fact, he thought, he didn't deserve her at all.

* * *

As Sara woke to the sounds of the shower and the bright glare of winter sunshine, her spirits were darker than they were the previous night. She felt positively ill and reached for the potion before she could be sick with nowhere to go but onto the balcony. It rose in the back of her throat and she kept it down with difficulty, hoping for a single moment when she might knock back the potion and cure the unrest in her stomach. Finally, the moment came and she was glad of it, thinking she could avoid being sick no longer and would never have made it onto the terrace.

The potion went to work at once but she laid back against the pillows to gather her thoughts. Kissing Malfoy seemed in the distant past, though it had been only the night before last. It seemed unreal, blurred around the edges like a dream but she had done it, of that there was no doubt, and the worst part was that she had wanted to.

Before she could slip into yet another bout of self-loathing, there came a light knock at the door and she rose to answer it, pulling on a robe that Harry had thoughtfully laid across the foot of the bed for her.

It was a hotel employee, who smiled at her disarray and apologized for waking her.

"You dropped this in Angelico's last night." He handed her the dreadful letter the raven had brought to her on the deck. She turned white at the sight of it and remembered with a shudder the raven's dark and terrible voice.

"Nevermore."

"Thank you." She tried to smile, grabbed a handful of bills from the purse she sometimes carried and shoved them into the man's hand.

She fell back against the door, her legs like jelly, threatening to drop her on the floor as she read the envelope. Sara Lemke, The Royal Westcott Hotel, London.

"How does he know?" she whispered aloud. "How can he be so quick?"

She folded it, hiding it away in the pocket of her robe as Harry emerged from the shower. His hair was toweled off and combed and he smelled of the cologne she'd sent him last summer. He still looked wretched, his eyes the same sad story as last night. Any bit of happiness she'd felt was dashed. Her sin struck her heart anew.

"Morning, Harry," she said, barely above a whisper, overcome once again by shame.

"Are you all right?" He stared at her, his expression shocked and fearful.

She didn't understand this unspoken reaction but had noticed it as everything Harry felt always showed on his face. "I'm ok." She tried to force a smile but it slipped away.

Harry looked at the floor and went to the bed. He turned on the BBC and sat, but she could tell he wasn't really watching it.

Sara wanted to sit down beside him, hold his hand, lay her head on his shoulder, but she knew she shouldn't expect such welcome from him, not after what she had done. And here she stood, wearing his shirt and with a letter from Lucius Malfoy hidden in her pocket. She grabbed an outfit from her suitcase and headed for the shower.

Sara started the water running and sat down to read the letter.

Dearest Sara,

First, let me tell you I thoroughly enjoyed your performance at the Yule Ball. You have a tremendous talent, though I can only hope to someday hear you in person. You look irresistible in black. I could choose no better color.

Also, I couldn't help noticing your newfound attraction to my son. Of course I know he is taken with you and who wouldn't be, but I was under the impression, by your own words, that the feeling was not returned. My, but you are a cunning and manipulative girl! Either you are a liar, or perhaps you are trying to draw my attention away from someone else? Could this be the third of your little trio? It leads me to wonder if this person, the coward I seek, is the same who showers you with affection and dances so close?

As for you, my devious one, my belladonna, you will not disperse of me with your false play with Draco and you will not discourage me from my pursuits. As for Draco, you will discontinue your curious liaisons or you will find him cold as morning breaks.
Come to me soon, for I lose patience with every passing day.

L.

The letter fell to dust between her fingers. She looked at the remnants of it on the tile, horrified. She could prove his threats to no one. She could no longer bring this letter to Uncle Albus as evidence of Lucius' treachery. All the others he'd sent had been cryptic and gave away nothing. She sat in disbelief. If she touched Draco again, his father had plainly said he'd kill him. And he had called her his belladonna. A striking word with a twisted meaning. "Beautiful lady" in Italian, or another name for deadly nightshade, an aptly named plant with berries of midnight purple, fatal if taken in any dose. She wondered what it meant.

Sara swept the dust into her hand, dumped it in the trash, and prepared to undress. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped dead at her own reflection. What she saw explained Harry's shock and produced a similar feeling in her. The black in her hair, which just two days ago had been a strip about three inches wide, now wrapped around the back of her head, almost to the center, and had moved forward as well, leaving only one tendril of gold in front, just enough to frame her face. "Merlins," she whispered. "It's never been this bad."

* * *

Harry held Sara's hand as they left the hotel for the rental, an SUV just in case snow and ice came a problem at some point during their stay. After all, freak storms seemed to follow Sara around. Plus, they had things to cart out to the cottage and the spacious vehicle was perfect. Harry had brought his old Beatles CD and they played it in lieu of talking. Sara took to singing along and Harry listened.

They found it easier to talk once they had something to talk about and wandered countless furniture stores, discussing colors and patterns and eras, something Harry knew little about. After a while, he let Sara do most of the choosing and simply said whether or not he liked it. It seemed wrong in both their minds to be furnishing a home after what had happened but it had been their plan for weeks and so they were going through with it because it was easier than not doing it at all.

Sara had flipped a good deal of blonde hair over the black side of her head and it helped, but only to a point. It troubled Harry to his very core to see it so profound. Even when they'd met and she'd spent several months alone and locked away with her grief, with her parents dead and Voldemort tormenting her, it was nowhere near this bad. He didn't think he could feel any worse but managed a nod in reference to a low velvet couch in the Greek revival style for the bedroom.

After selecting furnishings for the lounge, Harry was all shopped out but Sara's mood brightened with every purchase. Instead of suggesting they break for lunch, he simply escorted her and shared what he could of her building enthusiasm. Sara arranged for everything to be delivered and, before long, they were on their way to the coast, the excitement of it having finally embraced them both.

* * *

The drive had been plowed and the snow cleared from the walk and Mr. Sanders met them on the front step with a smile and an enthusiastic handshake for each of them. Harry noticed right away that Sanders didn't look as downtrodden as he had when they'd met outside the Criterion. His clothes were new and his appearance neat. All signs of poverty had vanished from his person and Harry assumed Sara paid him well for his loyal assistance.

Greg showed them in and they wandered the rooms as a trio. Mr. Sanders pointed out the washer and dryer which had come last week, the stainless steel dishwasher that had been installed, their new refrigerator, and he opened every cupboard to reveal the dishes, the pots and pans, the silver, and all the other utensils Sara had ordered. He even explained to Harry that, on Sara's request, a chef had been brought in from London to place them.

As Sara examined everything, Harry surveyed the back yard through the French doors off the kitchen. Sara's patio was obscured by a dusting of snow but he could see a large storage shed off in the distance, presumably to hold all the outdoor furnishings until spring. Yet another addition she'd failed to mention.

Harry moved to the lounge where he found a good supply of seasoned wood and set to building a fire. The heat was on and it was comfortable but he wanted the glow and the added warmth. Harry felt happy wandering the new house with Sara, preparing it for their future together and the thought of Ginny faded like an old memory, a stain that had been scrubbed away but still remains, a faint representation of what it used to be.

With the fire high and crackling, Harry donned his boots and headed back out to the truck for the stuff they'd bought. He was halfway down the walk when Mr. Sanders came running after him and calling out.

"Mr. Potter!" he yelled as he jogged along the cement with caution. "Mr. Potter! I'll get that! Don't trouble yourself!" He caught up to Harry at the back of the vehicle. "I'll unload the car; you go back inside and enjoy your new house. As for me, I've already seen it."

"Then you can lend a hand. And please call me Harry. If you continue to call me 'Mr. Potter' I'll end up calling you 'Professor'." Harry laughed, opening the back of the truck.

"It sure did turn out nice, Harry," Mr. Sanders said as he loaded his arms with shopping bags. "Sara has good taste for a girl her age. I have to say, you're quite the lucky young man. I hope you know that."

"I do," Harry gave Sanders a sad smile. "Believe me, I do."

Three trips later, they had emptied everything but the stereo, which was enormous. Harry and Mr. Sanders carried it in together and then set to hooking it up in the lounge, in place of where a TV would go. A truck engine rumbled closer and closer down the driveway.

"I wonder what it is?" Sara threw open the door, looking to catch a glimpse of the delivery truck.

It turned out to be the lounge suite, the scroll-like couch for the bedroom and the side tables, which was nice because at least the front room could be furnished and they would have somewhere to sit.

* * *

Falling into the big sofa, Harry's arm went around her and he kissed her head. Sara's fingers entwined his.

"It's perfect, Sara. Really perfect. I love this room!"

"So do I. I can't wait until the rugs and the lamps come, not to mention everything else we got! Can you believe this? Our own house! It's so cozy and quaint."

"It's almost home. And soon it will be! Sara, don't let anything come between us. Don't let anything stop this from happening."

His eyes had saddened again and Sara's guilt ate away at her good mood. She turned her eyes to his, for the first time really, since the Yule Ball. "Harry? Do you still want to go through with this? I'll understand if you don't or if you're not sure. Really, I will. You said you wanted to marry me but I came out of nowhere when I asked. It's okay if you need to wait to answer that question."

"Of course I do! If I don't, I swear I'll go to my grave a bachelor. The question is, do you still want to marry me?"

"What an honor it would be to become your Mrs. Potter. Maybe, though, you should reconsider your choice of brides."

"Reconsider! Sara, whatever do you mean?"

"Maybe we're wrong? Maybe we're making a big mistake. Maybe, Harry, this is all just some grandiose dream and someday we'll wake up from it."

"Does this look like a dream? Sara, look where we're sitting! In our house!"

"No matter what, we'll still own the property. We'll still build our palace. I'll do it alone if it comes to that, even if it's nothing more than a monument to broken dreams."

Harry looked desperate and on the edge of tears. He looked about ready to shatter and Sara was sorry for being so blunt.

"Do you want to break up with me? Is that what this is about?"

"Break up with you? Are you mad? I'm scared, Harry. I'm afraid of not doing things right. That I'll make some stupid rash decision and lose you completely."

"Never. I would forgive you anything."

She reached out and touched his face. A tiny spark of reassurance resided in her smile. "I never want to hurt you. Remember that, as long as you live."

He kissed her for the first time in two days.

"I got a little surprise for you guys!" Mr. Sanders called from the kitchen, clanging around in the cupboards and then coming closer. "A christening is in order!" He came into the room and set down two glasses and a bottle of Dom Perignon on ice, which he placed before them on the new glass table.

Harry grinned. "But you didn't bring Sara a glass!"

"Yeah, Greg Sanders, go get me a glass!"

"The glasses are for you and Harry. I thought this should be a private moment."

"Nonsense!"

Harry headed to the kitchen, brought back a third glass and then set to opening the champagne.

After a quick toast, Mr. Sanders brought them out for a photograph on the front step of their new house.

* * *

The next two days were spent at the cottage, with Harry spending most of his time at the bottom of the cliff with a piece of chalk, drawing the grand archway for the watery tunnel. He'd noticed bubbles escaping from the bottom of the wall beneath the water and had an idea there might be a little cave behind it. That would certainly make things easier, as there would be less to be removed. If he was lucky, it might even be a few feet wide. He couldn't wait to get to work on it.

The morning of Christmas Eve was spent in Diagon Alley, shopping for last minute gifts for the guests they would have later that evening. Plus, Sara opted to buy a new broom, since she didn't own one, for the trip back to school. She got a Lightning Mach 2, the newest broom available, and Harry was green with envy. He loved the sleek brass handle with a grip that warmed or cooled the hands, depending on the weather, as well as the little etched lightning bolt on the end that looked curiously like his scar.

Having seen an antique serpentine armband in the display window on their way past Forgotten Treasures, Sara stopped to gaze at it through the glass. Her face lit up and then she smiled and backed away. About a block later, Harry announced that he'd forgotten to pick up Ron's gift and would Sara mind going along without him? She acquiesced and walked off alongside Snape in the crowded holiday street, glancing back once to give Harry a sweet smile and a wave of her hand.

Harry went directly back to Forgotten Treasures.

"I thought he already got Ron's present?" Sara asked Snape.

"I don't exactly keep track. Who knows what Potter's up to? He's sneaking off to Knockturn Alley for all I know."

They were stopped short by a whirl of black, blocking their path in the blink of an eye. Snape already had his wand out.

"Now now, Severus. No need for hostility."

"Lucius," Snape growled, putting away his wand. He felt Sara's hand wrap around his arm. "Speaking of Knockturn Alley..."

"Hello Sara." Lucius turned his eyes to her and Sara's breath caught in her throat. A hint of a smile touched his lips.

Her face was emotionless. "Hello Lucius," she said, thinking he looked fabulous. His clothes were discriminating and all in black. His cloak was lined with jet-black fur and the clasp was a platinum snake with a ruby eye. The asp that topped his cane shone in the silvery morning light. His long platinum hair and flowed over his shoulders.

"Severus, might I borrow Miss Lemke for a moment? There was something I wanted to discuss with her about Draco but it's a private matter. You understand."

Snape was all set to protest when Sara squeezed his arm. "I'll speak to him. I won't be long, Severus. Why don't you head into the store and get what you were after. Mr. Malfoy and I will be right across the street getting a drink. I'll find you."

Snape nodded at Lucius with reluctance and distrust before entering the little shop that sold very obscure potion ingredients. He stood in the window, watching Lucius lead her across the cobblestones to the little pub on the corner, his hand on the small of her back.

* * *

"Nice letter, Lucius. Does it tell you anything that you've had to resort to threatening me? Obviously, I'm not interested."

Lucius gave a soft laugh and said nothing. His winter eyes, alight with mild amusement, focused on her as they ordered their drinks.

"I already know the person you are and you're letter only confirms what you've denied."

"Does the person I am really matter to you? After all, we're not getting married."

"That's a fact." Her brow furrowed with anger. "Besides, we all know what becomes of your wives."

"Why all this hostility? Sara, have I ever been unkind to you? Have I hurt you in any way?"

The drinks came. Lucius led her to a dark corner where they stood facing each other.

Sara sipped hers as if trying to draw strength from it. "You know the answer to that. Don't play sly with me, Lucius."

He brushed a gloved hand across her cheek. "Belladonna. The perfect name for you. Beautiful, cloaked in midnight purple and easily the death of any man."

"Were you planning to throw yourself off a building?"

"I had someone else in mind, actually. Let's not linger on sore subjects." His hand snaked around her waist, pulled her close against him and something exploded down her spine. Sara took in a sharp breath and he gazed down at her, eyes smiling.

"Don't think I'm kissing you," she said, her voice unconvincing.

"I could if I wanted to." He bent his head to within an inch of hers. "But I'm afraid I won't. Sorry to disappoint you."

"And why not? Isn't that what you want? But no, not you. You would rather play with me, see if you can force me to surrender my will, is that it? That's not going to work and I'll tell you why. Because I despise you."

"Perhaps your resistance is out of loyalty to someone else?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Much more of your hostility and that someone may get himself hurt. Men will fight amongst themselves, after all, and I don't like competition."

"How dare you threaten me! And for the second time this weekend! What is wrong with you that you think this is ok? I'm seventeen, Lucius. Less than half your age. I go to school with your son. Don't you think there's maybe something wrong here?"

"The only thing wrong here is a goody-two-shoes little girl who plays with the hearts of boys and isn't mature enough finish what she started."

Her voice grew nervous. "I didn't start this."

"Did you not set out to distract me, my dear Sara? Hold my attention while your friend rooted through my house?"

Sara bit her lip.

"Well, my attention you have."

"I don't want it."

He smiled with a bit of the devil. "We both know otherwise."

Sara sighed. She was still pressed against him, trapped in his arm while his other hand brushed the hair away from her face. "Don't do that. Your gloves pull my hair." She tried to sound annoyed but it sounded more like she wanted him to remove his gloves, which he promptly did. Sara jumped from his touch and his grip on her waist tightened. Images, mostly dark, flew across her mind like a flock of ravens and she saw him sitting in a chair in his house, looking up at her with a blank expression. Then it was over, all the images gone quietly into memory.

"Let me go."

"I think not." He stroked the side of her face, her eyes falling closed at his touch. "I've missed you, Sara. You've stopped writing to me."

"I can't, don't you see? Lucius, I'm in love with someone. And I have morals. I'm not a betrayer." Her mind swam with guilt at the thought of Draco.

"I'm not so sure your little Gryffindor friend would agree with that, do you?"

She sighed, defeated. "You don't have to kill Draco over one kiss. I care for him, I respect him, and I guess I even love him in some strange way. In case your raven was too far away to hear, I was telling him it was never going to happen."

Lucius smiled and Sara felt a huge weight lift from her conscious. Hopefully, she'd just prevented Draco's death with an honest confession.

"A rather affectionate way to let the boy down. Pity, I seem to warrant only the worst possible treatment from you. We're cut from the same fabric, Draco and I. If only you could see in me what you see in him, a letdown might come a little easier for me." His hand slipped into her hair and tangled at the base of her head, the simplest immobilizer, and Sara was jerked forward. His face hovered so close to hers that Sara could feel his breath tickling her skin and her nerves all came pleasantly alive. Her eyes drifted shut and she found it hard to breath. She rested her hand on his cheek, forgetting who and what he was, knowing only the thrill of his vicinity and the Dark energy that radiated from him.

His voice was a harsh whisper and she thought she could feel him trembling as he held her against his chest with a dangerously strong arm. "You, my dearest Sara, you are my only weakness." He brushed his lips against hers. "Return to Malfoy Manor. I won't let you deny me over a fledgling boy who will still be there when all is said and done."

"But I would no longer deserve him." Her hand slipped into his beautiful long hair. "Can't you see? If I give in to you it will destroy me."

"No, Sara, it will destroy you if you do not."

She felt his lips again, an electric feather. "How can you be so cruel to me?"

"My patience grows thin." He kissed the corner of her mouth and she shuddered inwardly.

"Lucius," she whispered. "Let me go. Please let me go."

The arm that held her fast loosened, coming to rest, casual, on her hip and the hand in her hair slipped away. "I have something for you." He reached into his cloak, withdrawing a small box which he gave to her. "That's a Portkey. It will deliver you to Malfoy Manor. You could come and go as you please and no one would be the wiser, although you need use it only once. You know, I have a little Divining talent myself and I know you would never tell him."

She put the little box that held the Portkey into her pocket, once again feeling the anger of having been manipulated by him emotionally. "That may be true but how could I ever forgive myself for dirtying him with your loathsome Slytherin betrayal?"

Lucius stepped closer and spoke in a low growl. "You will not speak of your little love interest to me, understand me well, or you find out what cruel really is."

"Well, Lucius, which is it? Kisses or threats? All this bouncing back and forth is really quite exhausting."

Instantly, she was back in his grip, his face hovering only a breath away, his arm so tight she could hardly breathe. His voice purred, as it so often did. "You know what I prefer."

Sara sighed and found herself moving toward him, though a muted voice in the back of her mind demanded she stop. Her eyes slipped shut and she felt his kiss again and then he pulled away, releasing his arm. His hand brushed her cheek. "The Portkey," he said. "Come to me soon or I will come to you."

He went a few feet away, straightening his cloak and called back to her. "Come Sara, I will return you to your escort."

* * *

Snape used a charm on their luggage, which then fit nicely into Harry's backpack and, together, they set off for the long journey back to school. Sara had to keep slowing down because the broom was so fast and she didn't have the skill to handle the speed. Finally, she spotted a clearing below and headed down to it.

Harry and Snape followed.

"I hate this broom!" she said, exasperated. "I'm going to get killed trying to ride this thing! Harry, switch brooms with me. Give me the Firebolt."

Harry made the swap with a sheepish grin. "We'll switch back when we get home."

"Keep it if you like it. After all, I'll never be riding that thing again. A muscle twitches and you're suddenly doing loops or something. Besides, going that fast makes me sick."

"You can't be serious! Sara, this is a very expensive broom!"

Sara shrugged and climbed onto the more familiar Firebolt. "I don't like it." Off she went, leaving Snape and Harry scrambling to mount their brooms and catch up.