The Girl in the Tower

The Girl in the Tower

Chapter 16: Belladonna

The bitter winter weeks crept by until the ground lost its blanket of white, muddied, and again became the brilliant green of spring. Exams came and went with excellent results. (Some better than others, of course.) Gryffindor once again held the Quidditch Cup and the win was well earned. The Slytherins fought hard, Malfoy especially, and the game was close but Harry caught the Snitch in a photo finish to deny Draco his last chance at victory.

Thanks to Hermione, and with help from Dumbledore, the spell they required to bind their books was complete. Hermione claimed to be finished writing hers but was always going back to add afterthoughts. Sara and Harry were also finished for the most part, just had some last bits of editing and polishing. Ron's book was near its close and was, surprisingly, the thickest of all. It looked as though all would be ready on schedule.

Ginny Weasley had grown quiet and avoided her brother's friends as much as possible. When they were together, she refused to look at Harry and snubbed him with one-word answers when he tried to talk to her. Sara she ignored, though her hostile manner had been replaced with an air of defeat. Everyone had tried to talk to Ginny but only Harry knew why she acted as she did. Lately, Ginny had been spending time with Justin Finch-Fletchley and it was rumored that the two of them were dating.

As the start of June approached, Ron and Hermione celebrated the lease of their new London flat and Sara gave them a lounge suite as an early house-warming gift. Ron had been accepted for training through the Wizard Defense League and Hermione was hired by the Ministry of Magic's Records and Research Department as a fact checker. She still claimed to have no idea what she wanted to train for.

Harry planned to look for a job once they were settled and wasn't sure if he was pleased or disappointed to learn that Galleons could be exchanged for Muggle money at Gringotts Bank, a fact that had slipped his mind. Now it didn't matter what he did for a living and the plethora of choices left him confused and overwhelmed. He thought about signing up for Auror training as he'd once planned but Dumbledore wouldn't hear of it. He insisted Harry wait to commit to anything until they'd discussed it fully. So far, Harry hadn't come up with anything else to discuss.

As for Draco, he fell into a boring routine of class work, studying, and Quidditch that left him little time to visit the tower and he saw Sara only on rare occasion. He often wondered how she was doing. The black half of her hair had retreated very few times, only to reclaim the vacated blonde within days. He asked her whenever he got a chance about his father and he knew she lied about the severity of it.

He'd developed a correspondence with his father over the months and had reconciled a bit, though with great reluctance. Draco hadn't forgotten the death of his mother, being imprisoned in his own home, or the threat on his life Sara had been given. Draco loathed his father for what he was doing to Sara as well. Lucius cared little for Sara, though he showed her patience and a leniency Draco had never seen before. His father surely had feelings for her, but not love. Never love. Not for people. Not even his own son.

Draco no longer feared for himself and planned to visit Malfoy Manor for dinner on Saturday when the Hogwarts Express returned to London. He had rented a large house in the gothic style overlooking the city and planned to spend most of his time there reading, listening to music, or otherwise keeping to himself. He would venture out to shop, as he was forever in need of fine clothes. Then he would wear them as he wandered the city, eating in different restaurants and trying to pick up Muggle girls at The Velvet Underground, a Muggle club near Diagon Alley. Going to museums and Muggle movies, all the things he'd missed before. As a family, the Malfoys rarely ventured out of the wizarding world.

He was nervous about seeing his father in only two short days but he needed to do something about Sara. Once she left Hogwarts, she would lose her protection. Sure, she would have Harry but even Hero Boy couldn't watch over her every moment of the day and Lucius would soon tire of letters and the whole cat and mouse game. It was wearing Sara down; he could see it in her face when they spoke about it. She wasn't sleeping. Make-up inadequately concealed dark circles under her eyes, which were distant and troubled. He watched her pick at her food from across the Great Hall and she seemed to be in deep thought at all times. Clothes, which were once a precise fit, now clung to a thinner frame and even Harry seemed concerned. Potter treated her like something delicate and fragile. Something easily broken. He leapt to his feet after every meal to help her out of her chair, as if she were ill. Even tonight, at the end of year feast, Draco had noticed Potter staring with a dreadful expression at the black in Sara's hair, which went clear around to the back of her head and was rather frightening if you knew what it meant.

It was last Saturday night, almost a week ago, that Draco had snuck out of the Slytherin common room for one last trip to Hogsmeade. He tired early, left the Three Broomsticks after only two Butterbeers, and crept back into the castle. Music drifted through the corridors as he'd neared the Great Hall and so he'd hidden himself behind a stone pillar and watched her.

Sara sat at the piano in the light of a single candle, dressed completely in black, her cape brushed back over her shoulders and a golden serpent gleaming around her arm as she sang a song so morose it had him feeling wretched and desperate before he could even make out the words. He'd felt tears well up in his eyes as he listened and felt a pain so maddening and so complete he'd wanted to run from the hall, but the emotions were foreign, drifting in through his ears and he knew they were hers and that this way the way that she felt. Just as he thought his heart was breaking, that he would succumb to this misery, her fingers faltered and her voice broke into dreadful, disturbing sobs. Her elbows crashed down on the keys as her head fell into her hands, sending a startling blast of dischord echoing through the hall.

Draco hadn't slept that night. Back in his room, he'd paced the floor until he'd made two decisions. One, he would agree to his father's dinner offer and two, he would send Harry a letter as soon as he left King's Cross.

* * *

On her last night at Hogwarts, Sara headed down to Snape's lab after dinner and found him standing over a large cauldron of bubbling goo. He smiled when she came in and abandoned his station. The Slytherins had lost the house cup to Gryffindor no more than an hour before but he showed no sign of defeat. He was humming and in a splendid mood.

"Hello, my dear."

"Hello, Severus. Is the antidote ready?"

He handed her two small, stoppered bottles. "The larger one is the antidote."

"Thanks so much, Sevvie. I can't wait to get started on my experiment!" Her smile was a welcome sight and he wanted to make it last.

He wrinkled his brow in mock anger. "If you ever call me that again I'll slip liquid fire into your hangover potion."

She slipped the bottles into her pockets, remembering when she'd asked for them a week before. For an experiment, she'd said. To see if I can prove a point. He'd accepted her lacking explanation without question and without doubt. Now she had them and her expression turned serious. "Why are you so good to me?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted, going back to give his cauldron a quick stir with a thin wooden paddle. "Perhaps I miss the company of your mother. I see so much of her in you."

Her voice fell to a whisper. "Is that why you push me toward Draco? Because you were like him once? Another lost soul teetering on the edge of Darkness, watching the girl he loves go off with someone else?"

"The boy is crazy about you, Sara. It saddens me to see him pushed aside in favor of..."

"In favor of what? Integrity and morals?"

"So maybe I do see certain similarities in Draco's adolescent life and my own. I know how it feels to be so sincere, yet held at arms length and eventually disregarded completely. Sara, I've spent my whole life wishing I'd done things differently. Now that she's gone..." He turned away and lowered his head.

Sara knew he wasn't crying, but anguished, and she laid a hand on his arm, having never heard him speak so openly. "You can change nothing," she told him. "Just be thankful for the memories you have of her, for the friendship she gave you. Severus, you have to be able to look back and smile whenever you think of her. We all make choices and I know you don't want to hear this but my mother and father loved each other very much. She was happy and that should be all that matters. Especially now that she's gone." Tears leaked from her eyes and she wiped them away.

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Sara sniffled. "I'm a walking time bomb already. There's another reason why I'm here. I need to talk to you."

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, Snape sat with her crying against his shoulder, his eyes serious, his expression worried. His arm was around her. His hand patted her back as if she were a small child. Finally, she calmed and pulled away.

"Sara, you should be telling all this to the headmaster. He shouldn't be blindsided. You're family after all."

Sara expected he would say that. She couldn't explain herself and had made no mention of Lucius or the raven, although she'd many times wanted to break down and confess everything during the course of the conversation. In the end, Sara had kept her secret. "I can't tell him. He's the only person alive who could talk me out of it and you know he'll try."

"Then at least explain yourself to Potter. He'll most certainly be affected when he finds out, I'm sure."

"If I say anything to him - anything at all - I won't be able to go through with it. I can already see the look on his face. I know it's horrible. I've even tried writing it all down but there's too much to say and nowhere to begin. I can't let it hinder me, Severus. I can't let anyone fracture my already fragile resolve. It will have to be after the fact."

"It's your decision. Do what you have to do then but I think you should reconsider. There are always alternatives."

"I've considered them all. I have to do this."

Snape hung his head for a long moment, searching for a way to dissuade her. Finally, he nodded in understanding.

"There's one more thing I want to ask of you."

"Of course. Anything."

"Let me into the Slytherin common room."

* * *

Harry shared a table with Ron, Hermione and Seamus, who wouldn't stop talking about their booming rum sales. The common room was warm; the windows open to the evening breeze. Seamus was figuring an invoice. The others were going over their spell books one last time, making last minute changes. They were to do the binding at nine o'clock in the headmaster's office with Dumbledore supervising.

Hermione had found a bit of information in the Restricted Section about how a powerful magical object could be used to channel and strengthen the spell as it was cast and Dumbledore said that having the Orb of Arassel at their disposal was nothing short of idyllic.

The four of them had practiced the spell many times with pointed fingers and schoolbooks, just so there were no mishaps. They'd all had to come up with a keyword, a secret password to lock the spell and, in order to use the books; all four keywords would be required to activate them. Hermione had written these keys on a scroll to be hidden in the school by Dumbledore. Only the five of them would know where they were.

"Harry." Ron scratched his head. "It's twenty of nine! Where's Sara?"

Hermione sighed. "She's always running late it seems. And she doesn't look so good, Harry. Maybe she should see Madam Pomfrey before you leave tomorrow. All those potions Snape gives her don't seem to be helping much."

"Really," Ron agreed. "We're starting to get worried. Everyone asks if she's sick and we don't know what to tell them."

Harry sighed; glad to finally talk about it. "I don't know what's wrong with her. It started around Christmas. We were in London. I woke up one morning and the black streak was back behind her ear and came almost to the very front. She seemed to get better after that. The sadness went away. She seemed normal most of the time."

"Most of the time?" Hermione asked.

"There are times when I find her staring off in thought so deep that she doesn't hear me enter and when I speak it scares her half to death. She tosses and turns in her sleep. She has terrible nightmares. I've even caught her yelling at a harmless blackbird that made the mistake of perching on the rail. Several times, I've found her standing on the roof in the middle of the night, holding a little box and crying. Having some kind of inner struggle."

Ron looked to him, concerned. "What was the box?"

"I don't know. She always put it in her pocket and changed the subject if I tried to ask. She's hiding something from me, it couldn't be more obvious, but I don't know what to do about it. She has a right to her privacy. I can tell she thinks she's protecting me, but from what I don't know. Whatever it is, it's big and it's eating her alive."

Hermione appeared flustered. "Make her tell you!"

"I can't. Every time I try it ends with her storming off in frustration and I always find her passed out somewhere hours later. Usually on the floor of the roof or near the bed, as if she tried to get there but didn't make it. Last Saturday, I found her sound asleep at the piano down in the Great Hall and had to carry her back to the tower under my cloak."

"Harry, you have to tell Dumbledore."

"He's asking me about it."

* * *

Draco was surprised to hear a soft knock at his door. He wasn't sure if he should answer it, figuring it was probably another practical joke and took so long deciding that the knock came again, insistent and with authority behind it. He recognized it at once. It was Snape.

"Draco? Are you there?" Snape called through the heavy oak.

"Come in, Professor," he called after a quick flick of his wand to undo the locks.

Snape pushed it open and then stood aside.

Draco was shocked when Sara strolled in, nervous, and looking beautiful even in disarray. Her hair was parted on the side so that blonde lay over black and it helped, but the weariness on her face was disquieting.

Draco set aside his well-worn copy of Faust and straightened up from the pillows. He wanted to smile and welcome her but was caught off guard and all he could think of to say was stupid. "I should get dressed."

"Don't bother," she smiled. "We've all seen each other's pajamas."

"I'll be in my office." Snape closed the door, stepping into the hall.

Sara climbed onto Draco's bed and got under the covers, resting her head on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling. Draco was more than surprised by this and hesitated before sliding back down to lay beside her. She found his hand under the sheets and held it fast.

"Sara, what's wrong?"

Her voice was soft and sorrowful. Her manner melancholy and tinged with finality. "Please don't ask. It's not why I'm here."

"Then why are you here? I mean, not that I mind."

"I asked Severus to bring me because I wanted to see you. We kind of drifted apart after Christmas." She hesitated, wondering how to say what she needed to say. "I never thanked you for being my friend these many months. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Draco scoffed. "Some friend I am. All I've done is place you in danger and allow you to stay there. If it wasn't for me, you and Potter would be halfway to the chapel by now. As it is, your hair turned black and you don't eat anymore. You're keeping secrets from him. From everyone. Sometimes even from me."

"Don't blame yourself. I certainly don't hold you responsible for Lucius' actions."

Draco rolled onto his side and smiled at her. "So, I've finally got you in my bed." The humor he tried to put behind his words fell to depression. He knew this might be the last time they ever spent together and the thought left him in despair. "Stay with me, Sara. Snape won't say anything. I don't care if all we do is sleep. You have the rest of your life to spend with Potter."

"We will see each other again, you know. The orb told me so and, when I touched your hand, I saw you older. Your hair was longer and you're looking at me." With fear, she thought. And agony.

Draco smiled and squeezed her hand. "Will you stay?"

"You know I can't." Her voice broke as she fought back the tears that threatened. "Now say goodbye to me, Draco. It will be a long time before we meet again." She slid out of the bed and met him in the middle of the room. Sara fell quiet for a moment. "I just wanted these last few minutes with you before tomorrow comes."

"Sara, it's graduation, not doomsday. Cheer up, you're going to make me get all sappy and betray my cool exterior."

"You may never look on me the same way again." Silent tears coursed down her face and she wiped them away. "Don't ask me to explain, just know that I love you, Draco, for the friend you've been, and I'll always remember you as you are at this moment in time. No matter what becomes of us."

He held her eyes for a moment. She knows something, he thought. Whatever the orb told her, it wasn't good.

He threw his arms around her and she pressed her head against his shoulder, fighting back tears that leaked from her eyes. Sara wanted to tell him how sorry she was, to tell him everything and cry a river on his shoulder but she knew she couldn't. She felt his cheek brush against her hair and he whispered with a hushed and anguished voice.

"I love you, Sara," he said. "I always will."

She kissed him and stepped back, smiling and in misery. Sara pulled a small pendant from her pocket on a glittering gold chain and put it in his hand.

He held it up and stared, curious, at a thin emerald-cut diamond; flat, beveled on both sides and edged with elaborate, probably ancient, gold filigree. A red, swirling, liquid smoke curled within it. "It's exquisite," he said as he studied it. "It must be a thousand years old."

"It's an Amidon," she explained. "Inside it is the essence of my friendship. My love and affection, I guess. It's everything I feel about you. The day I no longer care, it will turn black and slowly fade but, until then, it will bring you warmth and reassurance."

"Thank you." He tried to smile. "It's my most treasured possession."

She took the chain and clasped it around his neck. Smiling and in agony, she slipped the Amidon under his pajama top and pressed it there against his skin. "Keep it close to you," she whispered. Sara kissed his cheek and hurried out the door without looking back, leaving him standing there, feeling as if all the warmth in the world had just left his life for good.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late," Sara said as she entered the Gryffindor common room. "If we hurry, we can still make it on time."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione grabbed their books and the four of them left together, walking briskly down the halls to Dumbledore's office. No one asked her why she was late or why she'd been crying. They'd stopped asking Sara such questions months ago. They never got real answers anyway, just vague responses or a swift change of subject.

Dumbledore was waiting for them when they arrived on time and welcomed them in. They were not alone. Professor McGonagall sat in a chair against the wall next to Snape, who gazed thoughtfully at Sara and regarded Harry with downcast eyes.

Ron and Hermione glared at Snape and Ron closed his fists. "I thought we were going to be alone!"

Snape raised his lip in a sneer.

Ron turned to McGonagall. "Oh, hello, Professor! I didn't see you there. I'm glad you could join us."

"Thank you, Ronald," she said, a demure grin curling her thin lips.

Dumbledore was also hiding a smile as Snape sulked, arms crossed against his chest. "Come, let's begin," the headmaster said, wearing formal wizard robes of sapphire blue velvet and a grand pointed hat adorned with celestial moons and stars. The others had dressed to correspond with the color of their book, as was required by the accompanying spell, which was the base that they had built upon and embellished to suit their needs.

They had all dressed in formal wizard robes, complete with the traditional pointed hat, but no one's was as tall or as pointed as Dumbledore's. Sara wore varying shades of purple; Ron wore blue and Hermione silver. Harry was dressed in black from head to toe and Sara thought he'd never looked so good.

They gathered around a small square table with the headmaster standing at the corner between Sara and Harry.

"May we have the Orb of Arassel?"

"The orb!" Ron gasped. "You didn't bring it!"

Sara smiled. "Of course I did. You just didn't know it." She slipped a large round ring from her finger, set it in the center of the table and breathed a strange command. A small pop! was heard and the Orb of Arassel stood in its place.

They placed the books on the table, corner to corner, to form a small inner square with the orb at its center. Wands were drawn and poised.

Hermione annunciated the first verse and then touched her wand to the owl symbol on the cover of her book. Each repeated the words in a clockwise rotation. It was done from memory, having rehearsed the lines so many times that no reminders were necessary. The moment Ron, who had been last to say the spell, touched his wand to the knight, a bright beam of light burst forth from each book, (Ron's was blue,) and came together in the orb to form a rainbow of color that flecked the room like a prism.

Dumbledore stepped to Hermione's shoulder. "Now for the Crux, Miss Granger."

The next spell, Harry's brilliant idea in the library and Hermione's creation with lots of help from Dumbledore, was spoken in unison and they did it without flaw. The Crux Cube, meant to hold anything or anyone they wanted in an inescapable box, manifested above the very center of the orb, twirling on one of its shiny corners and dazzling the room with a spectacle of light.

At this point, Dumbledore drew his wand.

Snape and McGonagall joined them at the corners of the table with their wands extended.

"The keys?" Dumbledore prompted.

Hermione raised her voice for emphasis and spoke as if she were using floo powder. "Erudium Intellas!"

Sara followed. "Celestira!"

"Endurius Magi!" Harry said.

Ron ended with "Strategius Jackass!"

The headmaster raised an eyebrow and glanced around the circle. "Are we ready?"

"One, two three."

All present spoke at once, the teachers pointing at the orb, three wands and one hand on the books. "Unitus!"

The room exploded in light of every color and all four books fell open, the pages flipping like mad from first to last. In a flash, the books slammed closed and the light was gone, blinked out and leaving them nearly blind in the dimness of candles.

Dumbledore gave a nod of satisfaction. "It is done."

A big grin spread over Ron's face. "That was wicked!"

McGonagall's voice was almost soft as she hid her wand away in her robe. "I want the four of you to listen to me. What we've created here could be used a weapon against those it was meant to protect. You must guard these books with your lives. I don't think I need to tell you never to repeat the keys to another living soul."

"Yes, Professor."

"Speaking of keys." Snape ventured forward, his hands clasped behind his back. "What sort of nonsense is Strategius Jackass?"

Everyone laughed at once, even Dumbledore.

"We'll no one's gonna guess that one, are they? I mean, Sara's is easy enough. It's just an old word for Elemental. Harry's translates roughly to "The wizard who lived," and Hermione's means know-it-all."

"You were supposed to pick something that describes you and the symbol you produced!" Hermione defended.

"I did, didn't I?" Ron grinned and she couldn't help but laugh and shake her head.

Dumbledore circled around to stand between Harry and Sara. "Well, we have four magic books and four young Gryffindors. What are you going to call them?"

"The Ka-tet," Hermione answered.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Well that's a stupid name."

Startling everyone, Harry's book flew open and the pages fanned like before, only the other three books lay dormant on the table. Settling on a page, Harry leaned closer and everyone else craned their necks, trying to get a look at what it was doing. A tiny comet of light ran along the handwritten lines, leaving a letter glowing in its wake here and there. Harry strung the words together and spoke them aloud.

"The... blue... the... silver... the... purple... Hogwarts... school... headmaster's... office... table." Harry thought a moment. "It says where all the books are!"

"But isn't that bad?" Ron asked. "I mean, if the wrong person got ahold of your book he could find the other three!"

The girls looked to Dumbledore. Snape shared a concerned glance with McGonagall, and Ron looked at Harry. Harry sighed and turned his eyes to the headmaster. "This book can't leave Hogwarts."

"I agree, Harry," he answered in all seriousness. "The others, however, should be removed from the school as soon as possible. Mr. Weasley? The Burrow is the perfect place for yours as your home is well warded. Miss Granger, I suggest you keep yours with you until you find a suitable hiding place. I trust you'll manage something clever."

"What about Sara's?"

Dumbledore set his eyes on Sara in a moment of knowing silence.

Sara's smile was broken with guilt and trepidation.

"Sara's book will be safe. Wherever it is. Now, I suggest you all get some sleep. You've a long journey in the morning." Again, he let his eyes linger on Sara. "Can I see you a moment?"

"Certainly." Sara turned to her friends. "Wait for me in the hall?"

McGonagall followed them out but Snape came around the table to stand at Sara's side.

Dumbledore glanced at him, curious, but did not ask him to leave.

Sara was glad he'd stayed. Severus was always good for moral support, even with all the sarcasm. She was scared now, facing her uncle, his wise old eyes undoubtedly having caught something in her manner, some little telltale sign she'd failed to cover. She waited to hear what he had to say.

Dumbledore looked at her with sad eyes for a moment, and then sat down behind his desk.

Sara and Snape took seats across from him.

"Sara," he began. "I don't know what drove you to such a decision and I can't say I'm not troubled by it, but I'm not opposed."

"You're not?" Sara was shocked and wondered which of her secrets he was referring to; the one she'd confessed to Snape or the one she hadn't.

"I don't know what has troubled you these many months but the toll it's taking has become cause for concern. Harry has been deeply affected by it as well."

"It's Harry I mean to protect, Uncle Albus. I see the way he worries. If I don't act now, tonight, there's no telling what will happen."

"Won't you tell me what all this is about? Does it have to do with the incidents the night of the Yule Ball?"

"This has nothing at all to do with Draco Malfoy, if that's what you mean. This has to do with me alone. I've lost myself somewhere, you see, and if I don't do this I'll likely go mad or give up altogether. There is a threshold for everything, and I feel I'm about to lose my grip. I'm no good to anyone this way."

Snape laid a comforting hand over hers. She grasped it and held it tight.

"There is something else, Sara," Severus ventured. "You're hiding something. I realized it when we had our talk and I sense it again now. Some secrets carry the weight of lead and are poison to the mind. Perhaps it would help if you unburdened yourself."

"How right you are, Severus," Dumbledore agreed. "It is this very secret that drove you to such a drastic solution to begin with. Sara, all things can be helped. There are many here at Hogwarts who would protect you from any repercussions."

"You'll know soon enough, I guess. You'll understand this when the news comes. Just know that, what I do, I do for Harry." She swallowed looming tears. "And for my own self-preservation." Sara stood, still holding Snape's hand and indicating that the conversation was over. She would explain nothing more.

Snape and Dumbledore stood as well and walked with her to the door.

Sara turned to her uncle at the top of the stair, where she would leave him.

"You're on to a new life tomorrow, but this will always be your home as long as I'm employed here. Your tower will remain unchanged in case you ever want to return or favor us with a visit. And your Mr. Potter is equally as welcome. In fact, please advise Harry that I'll be along to speak to him before breakfast."

"I will." She hugged him, feeling his fragile old bones beneath his flowing garments. "I love you, Uncle Albus. Don't worry about me."

The ever-present sparkle had gone from the headmaster's eyes as Severus led her away. Dumbledore watched her go, anxious for her, though his mind filled with thoughts of Harry Potter.

* * *

Sara had done herself the favor of a little Pepper-Up Potion while she'd changed for the spell and was feeling better because of it. Leaving Ron and Hermione at the junction that led to Gryffindor House by the left corridor and to Sara's tower straight ahead and to the right, was not as difficult as she'd thought it would be. There were no tears.

Sara hugged them both and kissed their cheeks but maintained her partially induced smile and kept her composure light and casual. Her heart broke when they parted. Hermione, her best and closest friend, and Ron, who she utterly adored and loved dearly. With their smiling faces etched in her mind, she took Harry's hand.

He was quiet as they walked; thinking about her as she was thinking about him. Sara wanted to be in good spirits tonight. No tears or nervous hands. No worried glances. Just the two of them together in their tower rooms for the last time. Sara knew that, come morning, she might lose him forever.

* * *

Harry smiled down at her as they landed outside her door; she on the Firebolt, he on the Lightning Mach 2. Sara seemed better tonight, he thought. Not so down and listless. Her eyes were alive when she smiled at him and there was a sweetness in her manner, a softness in her touch that had gone in the last few weeks and had never so appealed to his gentle nature.

Sara led him to the dressing room where they changed out of their formal robes and into pajamas. Sara wore one of the white silk half-slip nightgowns he favored and he watched as it floated down around her. He looked away when she turned and busied himself with his own clothes. She waited until he'd dressed and then touched a hand to his cheek. "Come Harry, we'll make some tea."

As Harry used his wand to boil the water, Sara went to turn down the bed. Her eyes fell on the large stone at the base of the wall, behind which was a box that held all her secrets. She took the most recent letter from Lucius, which had come last Saturday night, from this box with haste, using magic to replace the stone and hurried to the bathroom with it.

Locking the door, she turned and sighed against it, regarding the letter with consternation. She sat on the edge of the bathtub and opened it for the 14th time in five days. She lit one of the cigarettes she kept hidden under the sink and held it with a shaky hand as she read his words.

My Dearest Sara,

I have come to the realization that you plan to defy me no matter what it costs you. Therefore, it falls to me, in a matter of speaking, to raise the price. My patience has all but deserted me and I will wait no longer for you to let go of this childish notion of fairytale romance. You will come to me next Friday night or you will lose what is most precious to you. You know of what I speak.

If you decide to seek outside assistance in this matter, do it with this knowledge. There is another we have in common. The same someone that writes to me on your behalf. The promise I made regarding him has not expired. Remember this when you consider your options. Your silence and compliance will keep everything you hold dear safe from harm.

Use the Portkey I gave you. I will make sure the house is empty for reasons of discretion. You will be seen here by no one. I will await you, my belladonna, until the first light of dawn. Pray you are here by then.

L.

Sara folded the parchment and slipped it into the pocket of her robe, which hung on a hook next to Harry's. She could hear him rattling teacups in the bedroom and knew her time had run out. She'd just have to put it away later.

He was grinning when she returned, standing at the foot of the bed in his black silk pajamas, barefoot, and holding a long white rose. The rose he gave to her and, as she smiled at him, the mix of emotions she felt was overwhelming. Tears threatened for the hundredth time that day but Sara forced them into retreat. She would not cry in front of him. Not tonight. She kissed him and went to get a vase.

Harry was in bed when she returned with the flower settled in an inch of water. She placed it on the nightstand next to her cup, which she lifted once she'd climbed in and propped up her pillows.

"Are you scared, Sara? Of leaving Hogwarts, of being on our own?"

"More than you know."

"Is that what's been bothering you? You seem all right today but are you really?"

"There are demons in me, Harry. There are aspects of myself that I need to deal with before I can truly move on. But right now, here with you, I feel like everything will be okay." She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, wrap her arms around him and spill the whole story but she only smiled and took his hand across the coverlet.

"There is one thing that troubles me, Sara. I noticed it some months ago but never brought it up because it seemed like nothing."

"What is it?"

He held out his hand for her to see and traced his love line, identical to hers in every way. "What is this?" he asked, indicating a disruption in the line, a place where it split in two, a river around an island. "What does it mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything," she lied.

Harry pulled his hand back for closer study, shrugged, and dropped it to his lap.

Sara finished her tea around the same time Harry did and when he set his cup down, he came back with a tiny box closed in his hand.

Sara didn't notice. "Harry, I put the Portkeys to the cottage in our backpacks. I put the Muggle keys, the ones for the doors, in our bags as well."

"Ok." He smiled, getting his nerve up. "Sara, I have something for you."

She grinned. "Alive or dead?"

He placed the velvet box in her hand. "See for yourself."

Sara opened the box and stared at the ring, her expression unreadable.

"If you still want to marry me, that is." He started to get nervous as her eyes misted over. "We'll have to wait a while of course. A year or two."

She looked at him and her tears fell with grace.

Harry could tell she was holding back a flood of emotion, her brow wrinkled with it. "Sara." He took her hand in both of his. "I wanted to make you this promise."

"It's beautiful, Harry," she said at last, her voice hushed and unsteady.

He took the ring and put it on her finger, smiling with infinite adoration.

"By accepting this, I make a promise to you as well. You are the only one for me, and I love you no matter what. I always will." She hugged him. "If your feelings ever change, I will know and this ring will be returned to you."

"Never."

"Someday, Harry, I will be your Mrs. Potter but you're right. We have to wait. We're young and inexperienced in the ways of the world. And, as I said, I'm no good to you until I've dealt with my problems. We've made a promise tonight and this." She looked at the ring. "Pleases me more than you know. It means there's something waiting for me. A light in the darkness."

This is not how Harry had envisioned this moment. Of course, he hadn't expected her to run about the room in delight, he'd seen her apathy spiral down and down and only hoped to bring a smile to her face. The diamond ring he'd purchased nearly a year before had accomplished this but Harry got the feeling she was trying to tell him something he did not understand. "Whenever you're ready, Sara. I'll wait through eternity but you have to do something. Talk to someone. Talk to me."

She smiled, running her hand through his hair in a loving gesture. "You don't know what it means to hear you say that. You're words; the very sound of your voice has a way of putting me at ease. Half of my fears, Harry, are that I might lose you."

"You're mad."

"Perhaps."

Harry smiled in the dim light of the candle. He wiped the tears from her face as she lowered into the bed and lay on the pillow facing him. The candle went out, leaving the room in darkness and they moved closer, meeting in the middle.

Sara kissed him and his arms went around her, the gentle way she touched him undiminished. Harry clung to her, pulling her close, afraid of the moment she would pull away, knowing tomorrow, as they set out together for a new house and a new life, she would look at him with her black hair and her morose eyes and his heart would break completely. She loved him, of this he was certain, but he was at a loss, desperate to help her and not knowing how. Unable to come down to where she was.

Harry felt her hands drifting over him and followed her lead. He felt the silk of her nightgown slide away beneath his fingers as she undid his buttons and pulled the shirt over his arms where it fell to the floor. She sat up and lifted the nightgown over her head and Sara looked at him in the moonlight. Her eyes held no fear in them, no reluctance. Only trust. Harry smiled in the dark. His hand found her and brought her close and he kissed her again, lowering her to the pillows.

As he hovered above, he kissed her face, her neck. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

Her hand rested softly on his cheek and raised his head to look at her. Sara held his gaze and smiled as she brushed a thumb across his thin silver scar.

"Yes."

* * *

Sara stood at the foot of the bed. She was dressed all in black, the hood of her cloak pulled down to hide her face. A thick lock of black hair tumbled down her shoulder. Her eyes fell on the letter, left propped against the vase on her nightstand where he would see it, and then she noticed the rose he'd given her. It was a delicate collection of moonlight, shining silver in the dark. Ironic. White, the color of innocence for this of all nights. Sara felt tears on her face as she looked at him, asleep in the bed, his lips curled in a slight smile, the most innocent of all and the one she would hurt the most.

From her cloak, she brought the larger of the two bottles Snape had given her and drank half its contents. The rest she returned to its pocket, just in case. She checked one last time that her bottle of Finnigan's Swill, as well as a bottle of vintage Bordeaux, was in her bag.

In silence, Sara crept along her side of the bed, reaching gingerly to lift the rose and hurried back to her bag, filled with her miniaturized suitcases, and hefted it onto her shoulder. She took the Firebolt where it rested against the wall and pulled a small box from her pocket. Opening it, her fingers lingered over the figure of a silver serpent. Sara looked at Harry one last time and her voice was a choked whisper as she spoke her parting words.

"Goodbye, my love."

* * *

"Hello, My dear," Lucius purred. "Now, now, none of this crying nonsense. Cheer up, Sara. Some wine should help to calm you."

"Thanks, but I brought my own. I wouldn't drink anything you gave me. But I'll need a glass if you don't mind."

She dropped the Firebolt, leaned her bag against the coffee table, and fell onto the sofa. It was the same parlor they'd been in before and it was still just as uninviting, lacking even an iota of warmth. "I hate this room," she announced.

"Really? I've always thought this room had, well, personality." He came back with two glasses and sat beside her.

"It's cold. And saturated with Darkness. Actually, when you consider that horrible fireplace, it's downright disturbing. Your right." She scowled. "It has your personality."

"I choose to ignore the insult so not to ruin the evening, but you're quite correct in a way. This is my personal study."

Sara allowed him to open the bottle and pour some into her glass. He moved it over his empty one and waited for her permission before pouring some for himself.

"I suppose, judging from the broom and the bag of luggage, that you're leaving Potter?"

"Yes," she answered and her breath caught in her throat as she raised the glass to her lips. Sara summoned every once of courage she had and drank it down, returning it to the table where she refilled it.

Lucius sipped his, smiled at its smooth taste and drank the rest in one gulp. Sara refilled his as well.

"You have a good knowledge of fine wines, I must say. This is very good."

"Have all you want." She smiled. "But drink up Lucius, the night will only last so long."

"What's with the rose?" he wondered as he savored his new glass, sipping it again and again.

"It was a gift." She hadn't realized she was still holding it and smiled as she inhaled the sweetness of the pristine bloom before laying it on the table. Looking at it reminded her of everything she hated about Lucius, as well as all the reasons she was here, at Malfoy Manor, at three in the morning. Sara stood and wandered the room with her glass, taking the slightest little sips, wanting her wits about her for what was to come.

Lucius watched her wander his study in the dark, the fire the only light in the room, touching nothing, disinterested.

Her voice came low and clear as she settled back aside the mantle, watching the fire play in his hair. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"To save Potter's skin I imagine."

"But that's only part of it. I'm here to put an end to something. I can live in the shadow of threat no more. Do you understand, Lucius? Do you even know how I hate you?"

"You don't hate me," he mused. "You hate the way you feel about me."

"Have no doubt, I hate you," she told him, her voice strong but soft and detached. "What I do tonight, I do out of love, but not for you."

"I'm touched. Potter is such a prize after all."

"Did you know that students cannot be inducted into an Order? That is why tonight, after the graduation ceremony, five very old men entered the hall and right there, in front of the whole school, they called Harry Potter to stand among them and he was made Order of Merlin, Wizard 1st Class."

"Really?" Lucius wondered, genuinely surprised. "They usually make one wait years to bestow such an honor. Mr. Potter's name certainly carries him far. Whatever would he be without it?" Lucius rose from his seat and went to where she stood beside the mantle. The very place he'd accosted her in the fall. "Tell me, did Draco receive any honors?"

"Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were the only others. Wizards 2nd class."

"Seems a shame to spend your life one step behind your best friend. But then, they are who they are, a worthless Mudblood and one of the dregs."

She didn't explode in a furry of defense for her friends as he'd expected, giving him cause to push her against the stone and hold her there. Sara surprised him with a smile.

"Your ignorant words only strengthen my resolve." She laughed a little. "You're going to make this easy for me, you know." Sara felt a horrible twinge in her stomach, grimaced without his notice, and knew the time had come. There was a calm about her, an inner peace that removed her from her body, allowed her to stand aside while she stepped closer and kissed him, bringing forth all of the secret desires she'd harbored so long, letting them guide her through the motions. His arms wrapped around her at first, and then his hands roamed her body before tugging at her clothes until her attempts to keep him at bay began to fail and she pushed him away.

Sara moved herself out of his reach and straightened her hair and her clothes. "You're like a schoolboy, Lucius. I was hoping for a little finesse on your part."

"If its finesse you want, well, that comes later." He crossed the short distance and grabbed her without mercy, the kiss insistent and demanding. Lucius tossed her onto the sofa and hesitated as she watched him, thinking he would come crashing down on her any second.

Sara saw the pain in his expression. His brow creased in distress. Only a moment passed before the discomfort left him and he sat on the edge of the sofa, facing her, snaking a hand over her jumper.

Her hand touched his cheek, slipped around his neck and pulled him closer. She kissed him again, with vehemence, tangling her hand in his beautiful white hair. Sara noticed some of the command had gone from his aggression and smiled inwardly. It was exactly as she wanted. To let him have the opportunity he so coveted, have it right in his grasp, but to be rendered incapable.

Another bolt of pain sent him back into a sitting position and he held his stomach, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Drink some wine, it might help." She pulled herself up, reclining against the arm of the couch. "Terrible timing, whatever it is."

"I've never felt anything like this," he whispered and finished his glass. A moment later, he finished hers as well and was racked by horrifying abdominal cramps as a result. Sara got to her feet and helped him to a comfortable armchair by the fire. She smiled as she covered him with a light blanket and laughed with giddy anxiety. "I told you more wine would help."

"What do you mean?" he managed through deep, labored breaths. "The wine made it worse!"

"What I mean is it would kill you faster. It's full of poison, you see."

"But you drank it! You're lying!"

"You stupid man," she hissed. "Do you really think I'd let you control me like this? Do you think I would let you threaten my Harry? I took the antidote before I ever left Hogwarts."

"What is it?!" he demanded and Sara could tell he wanted to cry out in pain but wouldn't. Even in the end, he refused to show a human side. "What have you given me?"

"I got the idea from you, actually. You once described me as 'easily the death of any man.' How ironic, that man turned out to be you, Lucius. Your belladonna you call me, cloaked in midnight purple. A brilliant analogy, for it is belladonna which now takes your life."

"Give me the antidote," he pleaded. "I'll never bother you again. I give you my word I won't harm a hair on Potter's head."

"Down to that, are we?" She paced before him. "You see, I do have pity in my heart for you. But not mercy. You will die tonight to be certain." She took a seat on the sofa, got the bottle of Finnigan's Swill from her bag and drank from it as she watched him go through the struggle.

"All I wanted ..." he gasped. "Was your acceptance. I'm an uncompromising man and one who hates to be denied." Lucius labored over his breathing, clutching the blanket to his chest, his voice soft and tired. "And you, Sara, who captivated all my senses. I'm quite fond of you, did you know? I would never have hurt you, not for anything." His face twisted in pain. "Tapestra Arachno Necrosia." Lucius pulled his wand on her, spending the last of his strength to curse her and she was caught off guard.

Sara feared for her life but the panic left her when she felt only a slight tickle on her skin, near her hip and just below the small of her back. Pulling her clothing aside, Sara looked in horror at the mark he'd given her, the size of a half-dollar. The black widow spider, a thin red hourglass etched on its back.

She snapped back around to glare at him. "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance? Why put such an ugly thing on me when you could have made Shakespeare envious?"

"Not everyone loves a tragedy." His hands fell into his lap and he collapsed against the back of his chair. His muscles were shutting down and she knew it wouldn't be much longer.

"You see Lucius; this had to come to a tragic end. Being the Elemental gives me certain... vulnerabilities, of which I'm sure you're aware. Resisting you, turning my back on what drew my most profound curiosity completely consumed me. It wasn't so difficult at first but it wore away at me, weakened me in a sense. I could never hope to resist you much longer and your threats on Harry scared me to death. I would do anything for him, Lucius." She took a swallow of rum. "He proposed, you know. He gave me this beautiful ring and I took it. And then I left him, stole away like a thief in the night with just a few last minute words scribbled on a single sheet. Do you know why?" She struggled, tears coursing down her face. Sara waited for his answer, though he'd become too weak to speak. "It's because you brought out the worst in me, fractured my soul, forced me into silence at the cost of my very happiness. Perhaps I should have left the ring. I don't know. I kept it because I made a promise to him that I intend to keep and, for that to happen; I had to eliminate the obstacle. That would be you." Finally, she stowed the bottle and went to him when she saw he'd begun to slip away. Sara cried in silence as she kissed his lips and the breath of life departed him forever. She sighed as she stroked his hair and whispered. "Good night, Dark prince. May flights of devils bring you to your rest."

The wine went into her bag and Sara slipped the backpack over her arms. She pulled her cloak around her shoulders, raising the hood to hide her face in shadow. Regarding him one last time, Sara was invaded by a sense of de ja vu. What she was seeing was the image that had flashed through her mind many times before. Lucius, sitting in a chair, his eyes distant and clouded. No, she thought. Lifeless.

The white rose caught her eye and she picked it up, kissed its petals, and laid it across his lap. The ring Draco had given her for Christmas, the one that meant thanks for everything slid easily from her finger and she left this on the little table next to his father's chair. "I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered.

Sara drank the rest of the antidote before locking the door to the study and leaving through the front door with Firebolt in hand, waiting to take her anywhere.

She had a maddening desire to leave Great Britain but flew instead into London, not far from Diagon Alley. Mr. Sanders was awake and dressed when she knocked and ushered her inside his tiny apartment. Sara knew something drastic had happened to her hair the moment his eyes fell upon her. He tried to cover his shock, but not before she saw it.

Sara wanted to drive out of England, take the tunnel to France. She couldn't fly with Mr. Sanders and Topenga, who had waited here at her instruction. She'd purchased a black SUV for Greg to use, back when she and Harry had bought the house, for hauling landscaping materials, deliveries, and whatever else she required. It was empty now, except for his few belongings and some provisions.

He had tea waiting for her and she sipped it with gratitude, the warmth calming her nerves and glowing in her stomach, ravaged by poison, its antidote, and a good amount of rum. Sara reclined in an old second hand armchair, holding the cup and watching as he loaded Topenga into her new cage and carried her out to the truck.

When he returned, Mr. Sanders looked at her backpack and then stared at her with a questioning, hesitant to ask.

"Please don't, Greg. I can't tell you anything."

"You don't look like you should be on your own right now, Sara. This is no trip you're taking. You're running away."

"You're right, I am. And as for being on my own, that's why I have you."

"What about Harry? Will he be meeting us somewhere?"

Sara tried hard to keep the tears away. Her eyes slipped closed as she fought them back. Her voice was strained, quiet, and shaky when she finally spoke. "Don't speak of him, Greg. I can't bear it."

"I'm sorry." He lowered his head. "But if you want to clear customs before sun-up we'd best get on our way."

Sara stood and followed him out, carrying her backpack and turning off the lights. He glanced with curiosity at the Firebolt, which she had disguised as a Muggle broom, but didn't inquire further. After all, she wasn't paying him to ask questions, just drive her where she wanted to go, carry the luggage, and take care of the bills. Sara took the locator from under her jumper as he helped her into the truck and looked at the dial. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were set to sleeping. Her own hand was on traveling.

Sara sighed as Mr. Sanders maneuvered onto the road and she settled into her seat. She thought she would want to be alone but was glad of his company. He said nothing, just hummed along to the radio and kept his eyes on the road, aware she wasn't in a talkative mood. The Pepper-up she'd taken at school had long ago worn off and she was left feeling lost and desperate.

Sara leaned her head against the window, watching the city roll away behind them until buildings turned to houses and houses turned to darkness, the slow drone of the wheels comforting her. She thought of her tower bedroom, far behind her now, and imagined him asleep in their bed, his father's watch on the stand next to his glasses, his scar glowing silver in the moonlight, not knowing that he slept alone. Her eyes grew heavy and closed and Sara imagined herself beside him, his arm around her shoulder, and she could almost feel his warmth envelope her.

A smile touched her lips as she drifted off, his voice echoing through her dreams.

* * *

Disclaimer: The line "...may flights of devils bring you to your rest." was borrowed from Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire as spoken by her character Claudia.