The Girl in the Tower

The Girl in the Tower
~

Chapter Twenty: Melancholy Nights

~

Harry pounded on the door a second time before noticing a little yellow note stuck to the inside of the window. It said in sloppy print, "use side." Harry circled around to the side entrance. Black electrical tape covered the button for the bell, so he hammered on the door and waited, hearing no movement inside.

"Sanders!" he yelled. "It's Harry. I need to talk to you!"

Harry waited again for a response, received none, and moved instead to a nearby window. Cupping his hands around his eyes, Harry peered in. He saw a tiny lounge containing a couch, a recliner, (complete with silver duct tape holding one of the arms together,) a TV stand, and a battered old coffee table. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at this last item, on top of which was a half-empty bottle of Finnigan's Swill and a teacup.

Harry glanced around at the neighboring houses, wondering if the rowboat he'd tied to the roof of the truck would be safe if he went inside. Sara either was here or had been in the past, so the decision came easy.

Harry'd bought a holster for his wand in Hogsmeade, which clipped onto the waist of his shorts, since the only inconspicuous place to hide it was under his shirt in summer. He drew the wand and did a quick Alohamora, letting himself into Mr. Sanders' flat.

It took only a moment for him to check the three little rooms. Sara was not here and, judging from the spot of mold on the little pool of dried tea at the bottom of the cup and the layer of dust that covered an otherwise immaculate space, no one had been here in weeks. He had not heard from Sanders lately and had seen no sign of him having been at the cottage. It became evident that Sara took him with her. Harry found he was glad of this. Sara was not alone and, even though Sanders was a Muggle photographer turned caretaker, Harry trusted him as Sara did and knew the man's heart was always in the right place. If there was trouble, he could never protect Sara but Sanders would try, of this Harry was certain, and it helped ease his worries.

Something Sara told him came into his memory, a vision she'd shared many months ago. Sara had said that, when she shook Sanders' hand on the front walk of the Criterion, she'd seen herself in the future, shaking his hand again and thanking him. This made Harry smile, thinking it meant that Greg wouldn't be getting himself killed while he was with Sara and that he would be good to her.

Harry sighed and climbed back behind the wheel. If he was to intercept the new housekeeper, Elizabeth, he would need to be on his way. The letter from Sara's barrister, Brad Silverman, said she'd be arriving at six in the evening and London was a long way from the cottage.

Harry had called Brad from the cottage the day before, asking him to rent an SUV, but Brad told him to look in the garage. Harry couldn't believe he hadn't thought to do this before. Of course, Sara would have thought of Muggle transportation ahead of time. He'd found a big silver SUV and a gorgeous black Jaguar convertible parked side-by-side. The Jaguar had a huge bow on the hood and that made him smile, knowing it was a gift with which she'd planned to surprise him. The smile faded, knowing the surprise was never to come. He couldn't even thank her.

He'd wanted to drive the car, of course, but needed a truck for the boat - to his dismay - and so Harry decided to take the Jaguar for a little spin later that night. Perhaps he'd even take Malfoy, who was acting more and more unlike himself and grew more depressed every day. His presence in Sara's tower was getting on Harry's nerves, watching him touch her things, turning photos facedown, his expression dark and troubled as he did so. However, Harry found he did not want Draco to leave.

Draco rarely left the tower unless it was in Harry's company. Snape planned to leave the day before but postponed when Malfoy showed up at the castle. The postponement was unnecessary, though, because Draco ignored him. Snape had come while Harry was training with Dumbledore and Harry had overheard him saying that Malfoy had grown distant.

It was with this thought that Harry climbed behind the wheel and backed out of the drive.

* * *

There was a good restaurant about ten minutes from the cottage called The Golden Fish. At least he'd heard it was good while in the little seaside village of Princeton Heights earlier, so Harry stopped and got some fish and chips to-go. He had no plans of going back to Hogwarts for dinner.

Elizabeth was getting out of her car when he pulled up, right on time. He drove around and parked in front of the garage, leaving the boat for later.

Elizabeth was a stout, quiet woman in her forties or fifties and Harry liked the sight of her. She had her grayish hair in a tidy bun on the back of her head. She was stout and had an agreeable air about her. Her head held a proud lilt and she wore a clean, pressed gray uniform with what appeared to be nurse's shoes. Harry showed her inside and offered her a Coke, which she declined, and set the bag of take-out on the dining room table.

"There are only a few things I need to ask of you," Harry explained. "Never clean that mirror." He indicated the entwined hearts and she nodded her understanding. "Also, this might seem strange to you, but don't move anything, no matter how out of place it may seem. Especially on the kitchen table."

Again, she nodded.

"I guess all you'll need to do around here is basic dusting, vacuuming, and stuff like that. I use the shower on occasion. There shouldn't be many dishes to wash and there's a dishwasher anyway. Sweep and mop. The usual. No one lives here but I pop in now and again. My, uh, my fiancée stops by on occasion, too." It felt strange to be calling Sara his fiancée. They were hardly together at the moment and it seemed like a lie to say it aloud. "I don't really know where anything is. You'll have to find what you need. Sorry."

Elizabeth gave him a warm smile and a reassuring pat on the arm. "I'll manage just fine, Mr. Potter. I brought my own supplies in case you didn't have the basics."

Harry smiled. "I'll be taking my new boat so, if you finish up before I get back, I guess I'll see you next week."

Elizabeth was already going about her work as he emerged from the bathroom in his swimming trunks. He gathered the things got from Hogsmeade during his trip with Malfoy in a large box, threw in an old shirt in case he got cold, added the paper sack containing his dinner, and carried it all out to the driveway. Standing on the other side of the Lexus, Harry used his wand to remove the cords and levitated the boat off the roof, pretending he was lifting it with his hands. He then pretended to carry it over his head to the cliff where he was hidden from view. If he had to lie, he would say he'd lowered it down with a rope, which he could conjure if needs be, but all he really did was levitate it down to the water.

Using the skills he'd learned this morning, Harry Apparated into the boat with the box in his arms, on top of which he'd piled bags of hardware from London. He used magic to direct the boat through the arch with his wand alight but decided to row his way through the vast cavern at the end of the tunnel. Veering to the left, he found his piece of chalk and directed it to draw a large square, broken by the outline of pillars. He pointed his glowing wand at this and recited the carving spell, adding the desired dimensions. Once again, a great cloud of rock particles zipped through the cave and left behind a landing thirty feet deep, twenty feet high and supported by eight rough, square columns of solid stone along the front. For these, Harry scanned the sheet of paper, coming across what he wanted near the bottom. Soon, they became intricate Roman pillars, entwined with vines of ivy and scrolled at the top and bottom.

Carrying sconces he'd found in Hogsmeade, Harry stepped onto his landing and attached them to the wall, dropping a few Never Ending Fire Pellets in each before returning to the boat in the warm glow they produced. Now that the landing existed, he would touch it up later. For now, Harry ate his fish and chips as he smoothed small squares on walls of the cavern every few feet and added a sconce in the center of each of these squares. Eventually, he no longer needed his wand for light and pulled it from the hole he'd created to hold it.

"Nox."

The cave came alive with firelight and Harry loved the effect, though it was rather dark in the middle and the water was jet black. He found he loathed not being able to see what was swimming around beneath him and Harry got a brilliant idea.

Setting the fish aside and standing up in the boat, he aimed his wand and charmed the sand at the bottom to sparkle and glow like billions of tiny blue diamonds. Brilliant it was, as the whole pool lit up like it was made of pure light, but it was also quite blinding and Harry threw an arm over his eyes. Without looking, Harry toned it down until it was a faint glow that didn't overpower the warmth of the sconces. A hint of moonlight, caught in a drop of rain.

Rowing over to the center of the cave, Harry surveyed the area, decided what he would need, then set to carving the stalactites, all of which had fused with their partners underneath many, many years before. The first time he'd seen them, they'd reminded him of tree trunks, and so that's what they became. The spells took immense concentration and many hours but, once they were complete, each branch sprouted hundreds of lush, intricate stone leaves that hung in tufts and spread across the ceiling. As he finished every other one, Harry used his wand to attach a bracket on two sides and placed in them Never Ending Torches, high above his head.

Checking his watch, Harry found he'd been eating the same piece of fish for five hours. He chuckled at the ridiculousness of taking so long to eat a single meal and the soft sound echoed through the caverns. There wasn't much left of it, as he'd lifted it between projects, dipping it in sauce and taking a bite or two before forgetting about it again. The cave looked like a different place, part room, part castle, and part forest. All of it petrified.

Finishing the fish, Harry rowed back over to the landing and cut a set of steps between the center pillars. The lowest step ran flush with the edge of the boat and, smiling with accomplishment, Harry stepped out once again.

Over the next two hours, Harry focused on creating large and small recesses where they would display certain things, maritime figures he imagined, and their crest in the big center one on the back wall. It was work that took heavy concentration. With all the detail he included to frame these spaces in spectacular fashion, Harry proceeded with the utmost care and found he was tired at the end of it.

Harry smiled his satisfaction, glancing around before rowing back to the tunnel and securing the boat near the ledge, which he climbed unnecessarily.

Elizabeth was gone and the house smelled of lemon and pine. The bathroom shone and he found his clothes folded when he went in. Checking his watch again as he dressed, Harry decided Malfoy would be alone in the tower, expecting him to return soon. He would take Malfoy in the car but how could he do it without showing him where the house was?

That, Harry decided, he would figure out later.

* * *

Sara wandered a small Roman shop that held the most exquisite things. She browsed, not at all interested in shopping. She'd needed to get out of the house for a while, to keep her mind occupied, and shopping was always relaxing and noncommittal. Her hand happened upon a brass replica of a lighthouse and she lifted it for closer inspection. It was more than she would expect to pay but liked it so much she thought she might buy it anyway. Her eye had wandered to other such nautical items throughout the evening, though she didn't know why. That type of decor had never appealed to her but; perhaps, it had something to do with her palazzo in Naples being so close to the sea.

Out the shop's window, Sara caught a glimpse of a man she'd seen at dusk in another section of Rome and later browsing in an open market. There he was again, watching her through the window from the other side of the crowded street. He was tall, with shoulder-length brown hair. He wore dark glasses to hide his eyes but she could feel them on her all the same. His clothing seemed an afterthought, mismatched, out of style - out of date, actually - and out of place. With her new determination, Sara set down the lighthouse and hurried out of the store, searching the opposite walk, but the stranger was gone. He'd vanished in a moment's time.

Sara felt on guard. There was a sense of danger on the air, not intended for her, but formidable and the hairs stood on the back of her neck. Something felt out of context and Sara gave up her search of the crowded street. Mr. Sanders came out the door behind her, laden with bags containing a few gypsyish outfits in black and some handmade scarves she'd purchased a few stores back. The rest of it was little maritime trinkets she'd found and felt the oddest inclination to buy.

Sara pondered this as Greg led her down the street, quiet and taking in the sights. In fact, Sara realized, she had never even liked the seaside motif and still couldn't imagine putting these things in the cottage or in the house they might someday build.

These were not things she herself wanted, she was sure of it. She was reading someone else and it was Harry she thought of, as she had at every purchase, and Sara smiled despite the sorrow it brought her to think of him. Lifting the locator from its long chain, she saw he was "Home." Yes, she thought. Our little home by the sea.

Sara let herself into the big silver car as Mr. Sanders loaded the bags in the back before joining her for the long journey back to Naples, sliding behind the wheel in silence. Sara's mind turned back to the stranger who was surely following her and wondered about the strange vibe she'd felt outside the shop. Danger! it told her, but she hadn't felt threatened. He was no Muggle, of that she was certain, but what strange wizard would be content to shadow her and keep his distance? She got the idea the man might be frightened of her, or hesitant to approach while she was accompanied. Whoever he was, he would have a hard time finding her again. The car sped farther and farther away from Rome.

With somber eyes, Sara looked out at the dark Italian countryside, her head resting against the window, remembering the night she'd fled England. Her thoughts remained on Harry.

* * *

Draco lay on his bed, next to Harry's on the roof, fully dressed and awake. He stared up at the moon with the Muggle Music Player on the bed beside him, blasting chaotic, angry music. An image of the album cover floated and twirled above it and Harry saw it was Marilyn Manson. He thought it was horrible and flipped the lid closed, cutting off the sound and frightening Draco half to death.

Draco bellowed, annoyed and embarrassed at having been caught off guard. "What do you think you're doing? I was listening to that if you didn't notice!"

"I never said you could borrow it. I swear Malfoy, is nothing sacred to you?"

"Stop whining, Potter. I know she gave it to you for Christmas. I was there, remember?"

"How could I forget?"

"Who cares? It isn't a personal item or anything. You act like I'm standing here reading your love letters."

"I'm sure that's somewhere near the top of your list."

"Did you disturb me for a reason? I was relaxing!"

"Just get up! And comb your hair. You're really starting to look like a girl, you know."

"You should talk! I don't think you've had a haircut in months, Potter. Looking a little sloppy if you ask me. Why am I getting up, anyway? It's late."

"It's only ten!"

"We're going out?"

"There was a car in our garage. Thought you might want to ride along while I tested it out."

"I have ridden in a car, you know. My father keeps one."

"Does he have a convertible Jag, jet black, with chrome wheels and a killer sound system?"

"I'll just be a minute." Draco hurried off to the dressing room.

Harry started flipping through CDs, looking for a few they both might like. He choose Oasis, The Beatles meets Modern Rock. There was no better compromise.

Harry collected his Lightning Mach 2 from the hall and yelled to Draco. "I'll be right back!" He lifted off from Sara's bedroom and flew through the doors, leaving the roof behind.

Harry returned only minutes later and Draco was waiting, holding the Oasis CDs Harry left on the table. "Can we bring these?"

Harry nodded. "Well, go on, grab my arm."

Draco did and Harry flipped open the little gold box.

"Hmm. It smells better." Draco announced as he crossed the lounge, looking around in the moonlight. "Less dusty. I abhor dust."

"Dust abhors you, too, I'm sure." Harry switched on the light and walked to the kitchen, leaving Malfoy to whatever it was he was doing. He saddened when he saw his note still where he'd left it on the table, untouched, unread, unanswered. He dragged his eyes from it and found what he was looking for, the keys to the Jaguar, hidden earlier in a drawer.

Draco brushed past him, threw open the doors to the patio and started the fires with a wave of his wand. He fell into a chaise lounge and loudly wished they had some steaks for the grill. The smile fell off his face when Harry appeared over him, his expression furious, his voice low and controlled.

"How dare you make yourself comfortable here after the things you told me! Get up." Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and jerked him out of his seat.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you? You can't just go around ripping people's arms out, Potter! I swear, you're barking mad!"

"Get off Sara's patio!"

"You brought me here." Draco scowled and stormed back into the house.

Harry walked back inside, casual and deep in thought, extinguishing the flames and closing the doors.

Draco waited in the kitchen, watching as Harry secured the doors too slowly, his eyes downcast, pained and sentimental.

Draco's voice calmed and had lost its edge when he addressed Harry again. "I don't know what you want me to do. It's ok for me to stay in her tower at Hogwarts and I can touch her things." He indicated the CDs. "I can come to your house, but then I walk out on the patio and you lose it."

"I'm sorry." Harry's eyes remained on the brass handle, though he finished with the locks. "Things are different here."

"Do you want to go back?"

"No." Harry looked up and stepped away from the doors. "I want to go get the car and see what it can do." He gave Malfoy a half-smile and led the way to the front door, turning off the lights and digging the Muggle key out of his pocket. To his surprise, Draco's hand fell on his shoulder.

"Let her go, Harry. Sara's moved on. It's time you did the same."

The hand slipped away and Draco walked onto the landing where he proceeded to carry on as though he hadn't just shown a human side.

Harry stood for a moment, looking at the palm of his hand. He closed his fingers around the lines there and went out.

Malfoy's eyes lit up when Harry pulled the car out of the garage. He climbed into the passenger seat, trying to hide a delighted smile and not look impressed.

"So, Potter. Where are we headed?" Draco shuffled through the three CDs, deciding on one and handing it to Harry, realizing he had no clear idea of how to operate the complicated player in the dash.

Harry smirked at Draco's ignorance and got the music working without effort. "London."

"But we're on the coast! Wherever we are, it will take hours to get to London!"

"That's why I went to Hogsmeade before we left and got this." He pulled a little wooden box from his pocket and held it up. "It's a Portkey. It will take us to some town outside the city."

"I was just going to suggest that."

"Gee Malfoy; I don't know what I'd do without you. I'd be lost."

"Shove off, Potter. Where the hell are we anyway?" He looked around with a scowl of distaste at the new, boring surrounds, which included a pasture containing several cows and an old workhorse that looked ready for the slaughterhouse, even in the dark. The dumpy little town was visible just up the road. Except for an occasional moo, it was dead quiet and a bit unnerving.

"I have no idea."

"Well let's get out of here. I hate cows."

Harry laughed and started the engine. Taking out his wand and laying it on his open palm, he used Hermione's old first-year discovery. "Point me. London."

Maneuvering off the shoulder, he headed down the road and Draco figured out the volume. As soon as they'd passed through town and headed through the cow-dotted countryside, Harry pressed his foot on the gas pedal and exploded along the pavement grinning, his hair flying in the wind. Turning Oasis up to a deafening pitch, he pushed the Jaguar the way he pushed his Mach 2 and sang along to Live Forever, doing his best Liam Gallagher and soon forgetting Malfoy was in the seat beside him, singing along, unnoticed.

* * *

Sara stared into the box, confused by what she was seeing and frightened by what it might mean. She passed her hand over the brass lighthouse, reciting a word in the old language that Mr. Sanders could not comprehend, and was relieved to find there were no spells cast, no charms or curses. He wondered at her as she pulled it out of the box and sat down at the table with it.

The box sat at the main entrance to the palazzo when they'd arrived and Sara was sure it was the very same brass lighthouse she'd looked over in Rome just a few hours before. It was what she'd been doing when she'd spotted the stranger, watching her through the window. In fact, she'd been about to buy it.

Earlier, during the ride back, the locator said that Harry went from "School" to "Home." He'd spent most of the day at the cottage and she could only wonder what he'd been doing there. Or why he'd gone back to Hogwarts for what appeared to be only a few minutes and returned at such a late hour on a Sunday night. She knew he would never sleep there. Perhaps he'd forgotten something?

Mr. Sanders took her purchases from their bags and set them out on the table as she ran a finger over the smooth metal of the lighthouse, considering it, wondering why she'd felt so compelled by it. The notion that her proximity to water was a valid explanation was ludicrous. It had to be Harry somehow. She would give it to him, then. All of these things. She would take them to the cottage and leave them on the table. It was all she could think of to do; she just hoped he didn't put them in the lounge.

Sara stood. "Greg, help me put these back in the bags, would you? I think I bought them for someone else."

Mr. Sanders asked no questions, just set to the task.

Another check of the locator said that Harry was still "Traveling," which meant either he was on his broom or he'd taken the car. Either way, he was not at the cottage and Sara made a quick decision to go now. She gathered up the bags and the lighthouse, back in its box, and locked herself in her bedroom, just one door down from Greg's.

It was risky, going to the cottage while Harry might be around somewhere but she reasoned she could be gone just as quick as she'd come and would keep the Portkey close to hand while she was there.

Pulling a black robe on over her clothes, she raised the hood, gathered the packages and flipped open the key.

The lights were on in the kitchen so she went there with caution, even though the locator still said Harry was elsewhere. When she found herself alone, Sara dropped the bags and the lighthouse on the table and sat down in front of the note. Tears fell from her eyes as she read his words, dotting the paper and making the ink run in places. The rain came down outside, splattering the windows and tapping, rhythmic, on the roof. He knew about Lucius. She didn't know how, unless Malfoy had spilled the whole story when he'd found his father murdered. Her brief encounter with Draco's psyche left her convinced that he knew it was her, so it stood to reason he'd tell someone and, as much as she wanted to be angry, she found she didn't blame him.

Sara opened the little bottle of ink and picked up the quill, dipping it and bringing the tip to the page.

I'm glad you don't hate me, Harry. Someday I'll explain everything but, right now, I can't come home. I miss you, too. You have no idea.
Mr. Sanders is---

An engine roared past and headlights bounced in through the windows, throwing streaky squares of light on the walls. Sara leapt to her feet. She grabbed the Portkey and ran to the window. Two figures in the rain sprinted toward the house, one reflecting the moonlight in his glasses, the other gossamer blond. Panic seized her. Sara fumbled and dropped the key.

* * *

"Sara!" Harry called as he burst through the door with Malfoy right on his heels.

Draco bellowed, drawing his wand, his face twisted in anger. "Where is she?!"

Harry ripped the wand from Draco's hand, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him hard into the wall. One look at Harry's eyes was enough to scare Draco half to death and he felt relief when Harry swung the door open and shoved him outside. The locks slid home and Draco stood helpless on the step, listening to Harry call to her, his voice desperate and near hysterical. Draco lowered his head. For what was probably the first time in his life, he felt real compassion. It twisted something in his stomach and amplified his hatred of Sara. The bringer of misery, ruining lives in her wake. The small part of him that still loved her wanted to break down the door and do exactly what Harry was doing but he couldn't. He refused.

Harry tore through the house but felt himself pulled to the lounge again and again. He begged her to come out, to see him just for a moment. He pleaded with her not to leave him like this, when they were so close. He said he would go insane if she left as he bellowed through room after room. Finally, his heart thundering in his chest, his breath coming fast and deep, Harry collapsed to his knees in the middle of the lounge.

Sara held a black lace scarf over her mouth to muffle her sobs as the other hand snaked around under the couch she hid behind, searching for the Portkey. She felt it but, in her haste, sent the little gold box skidding down by her feet, out of reach.

Harry could feel her near him; he knew she was there without the locator. That she wouldn't come to him frustrated him to madness and his face fell into his hands. His glasses fell to the floor and he was sobbing helplessly.

"Sara please!" he begged her. "How can you do this to me? Don't you love me at all? I'm going crazy, I have to see you! I don't understand! How can you be this close and still turn your back on me? What did I do to deserve this? I love you, Sara, I need to see you. Please come out, you can leave again if you want but do this before you go. Please, I'm begging you."

Thunder shook the house as rain like he had never seen flooded the ground outside the window. Hurricane winds rattled the glass and Harry heard trees rip from the ground under the force of it. Malfoy was hammering on the door and screaming for Harry to let him in as a blinding flash of lightning tore the old oak in half, igniting it as it crashed. Harry turned back to the couch, to which he was unconsciously focusing his attention, his words choked with emotion.

"Sara, do you still love me? Say yes and I'll wait forever."

Sara dropped the scarf and choked back tears, the Portkey open in her hand, fighting the need to run to him, to end his suffering and her own. To let the sheer agony of this moment become one of the happiest of her life just by putting her arms around him, feeling the warmth of his skin, his breath on her neck as he rested his head against hers. Her fingers hovered above the key and her sobs finally broke her silence. "I love you more than anything."

She cried as he lunged forward at the sound of her voice.

He found only a black scarf, wet with tears.

* * *

The storm was quick to taper off and Draco hammered on the door again, demanding Harry let him in. He was wet, cold, and frightened by the intensity of the event. He'd had to hold tight to a wooden post to keep from blowing away and was anxious to get back inside. Relief came when the locks slid back and the door opened a crack, Harry having already walked away. Draco let himself in and retrieved his wand from the floor where Harry had dropped it, unable to turn and hand it to him.

Draco found Harry in the kitchen, his head low, sniffling and working intently at an ink spill next to the table. Draco deducted that Sara must have been writing a note and their arrival caught her off guard. The chair was overturned and he could see a black streak across the paper where the quill had been whisked away mid-word. Draco sighed as Harry wiped at his eyes every few seconds and sniffled, scrubbing the floor with a vengeance.

Out of respect, he turned his back and stared out the window at the dark. "I wouldn't have done it, Potter."

"Leave me alone," Harry whispered.

Draco hung his head for a moment, grabbed a towel and knelt by Harry's side. In silence, he helped clean the spill.

* * *

Snape was at his desk in his private chambers when he heard a pop from the fireplace, followed by the tear-choked voice of a sobbing girl, calling to him.

"Severus! Severus please be there!"

"Sara!" He hurried to the fire, only to be shocked by her hooded appearance, not to mention the extreme emotional state she was in. "Sara, are you in danger?"

"No, it's not that." She dabbed at her eyes with a paper tissue, her head and shoulders greenish in the flames. "I need to see you, Severus. I made a serious misjudgment tonight and I fight every second not to go home. Just say you'll come."

"Where are you? Of course I'll come."

"Thank you." She visibly relaxed. "Naples, Italy. A palazzo on the sea. Think of me and you should find the right one."

"Don't do anything until I get there."

"Tell no one."

"I wouldn't."

Sara was gone and Snape was gathering a few things for the trip and was soon hurrying out the door with his broom. He flew to Hogsmeade and then set to concentrating on Sara in her palazzo by the sea. Apparating had never been one of his strong suits and he'd never gone so far at once but Snape found himself standing amidst a furious storm. Waves crashed, violent, on some nearby beach. He spotted the lights of a single level house, sprawling and open. He hurried toward it at once.

A Muggle led him in and took him to the door of Sara's room. They could hear her crying inside and it was a wretched sound.

Greg lowered his eyes. "It was all of a sudden. She's been like this for nearly an hour now. She won't tell me what happened."

"Well," Snape muttered. "It could only have something to do with Potter."

"I'm not supposed to speak of him, sir."

"If you care to help her mister..."

"Sanders. Greg Sanders."

"Mr. Sanders, you will discourage her from anything that might possibly summon any sort of remembrances of Harry Potter. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but what happened with them? They seemed, well, very much in love. It doesn't add up. I thought there was something wrong with her the last few times---"

"If Sara wanted you to know I'm sure she would fill you in. Now, if you don't mind, there is a young girl in distress on the other side of this door. In case you hadn't noticed."

"I'm sorry, sir," Greg mumbled, his eyes on the floor. "If either of you need anything, I'll be in my room."

Snape rapped on the door. "I'm here, Sara."

"Alohamora. Come in Severus." Her voice was unsteady, hoarse and full of tears.

She stood with her back to him, staring out a long bank of tall windows at the Mediterranean, thrashing against the coast in the storm. The rain painted her with streaks of gray. She wore an old gypsy style dress, a strip of black around her throat. She wore a black satin cloak, the hood pulled down to shadow her face. There was no light in the room, but the moon cast a silvery glow and he saw her reflection in the window with every flash of lightning.

His voice was hushed in the dark but conveyed his unease. "Sara. What's happened to you?"

She turned to face him, her eyes hidden in shadow. She untied the cloak in one liquid movement and pushed back the hood. The cloak drifted to the floor. Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks as she trembled in the darkness.

Snape froze at the sight of her. "Merlins," he whispered, alarmed and frightened for her.

Sara ran across the expanse, threw her arms around him and he held her as she cried on his shoulder. He couldn't really understand her words but a name came up over and over again as she spoke.
Harry.

* * *

Harry climbed into bed and turned his back on Malfoy's side of the roof, the covers pulled over his head. There was a letter from Ron on the pillow but he tossed it away, overcome with misery. To be so close, to hear her voice, telling him she loved him more than anything... It was pure agony. Harry thought nothing could be so horrible or hurt so much as when she'd left him the first time but this cut deeper than anything he'd ever felt. He clung to the scarf she'd left behind, breathing her perfume and remembering the sound of her voice, choked with tears from behind the sofa, only a few feet from where he'd been.

He heard Malfoy climb into bed, no sarcastic remarks tonight. He actually thought Malfoy might feel sorry for him and that was the most depressing of things. He felt pathetic and held the lace scarf tighter.

Harry laid there a good half hour, listening to the wind in the trees, to the far away splashes of the lake. Once in a while, he heard the low voice of Fang, barking at something moving about in the Forbidden Forest. Then he heard Malfoy, standing beside him.

"I know you're awake. Care to drown your sorrow, Potter?" Malfoy left a glass on Harry's stand, walked around the bed to what was once Sara's side and climbed onto the blankets, tossing the pillow against the headboard. He settled back with a glass and a bottle of Finnigan's Swill from a case that had arrived while they were gone.

Harry pulled the blankets off his face and turned onto his back, his eyes wet and red-rimmed, his face pale in the moonlight. With reluctance, he reached for his glasses and put them on, his hair standing up in confusion. Harry pulled himself up as Malfoy poured straight alcohol over ice and, reaching for his glass, Harry held it out.

"Your hair is frightening, Potter."

Harry sighed.

Draco took a deep breath. "Did you see her?"

"No." Harry lowered his eyes, staring into his glass. "But I heard her voice. She spoke to me."

"What did she say?"

"None of you business."

"Do you want to talk?" Draco felt stupid, even as the words left his mouth.

"No."

"Then shut-up about it." Draco took a sip. "Besides, I'm sick of hearing about her. I hope I never see her again. Well, sort of."

"Malfoy?" Harry looked up at the stars. "I'd like you a lot better if you stopped talking."

"I'm just trying to help, though I don't know why. You know I hate you."

"I know." Harry ignored him, glad of his company, but he didn't want to talk and didn't have the energy to match Draco's insults. He also didn't want Draco to leave. Just sitting there in the presence of misery, knowing he wasn't alone gave him a sense of peace where he'd had none.

"Accio Muggle Music Player." Harry opened it when it came. He chose the Moonlight Sonata - one of Sara's favorites - and lowered it to the floor. He sipped his drink as they watched the sky, Malfoy having fallen silent beside him.

* * *

Around three, Malfoy crept back to his own bed but Harry was restless and drunk, finally crying himself to sleep just as the sun was coming up. He awoke now to find Dumbledore in a chair by the bed, watching Harry as he came out from under the covers, his eyes red and sore, his body aching and hung-over. Before he'd even greeted Dumbledore, Harry checked the locator, still on his wrist, and saw that Sara was "Sleeping."

"What time is it?" Harry tried to focus on the tiny numbers of his father's watch. He gave up and reached for his glasses.

"Eleven. You missed your lesson this morning. I thought I'd come by and see that everything was in order."

"I'm sorry, Professor." Harry sighed. "I didn't realize it was so late."

"It's all right, Harry. Just tell me what happened last night. Mr. Malfoy was adamant that I not disturb you. During the brief moment he was alert, that is."

Harry sat up, reliving it all again and swallowed a lump in his throat. A dull pain twisted in his chest. Malfoy, he saw, was still asleep. "Sara was at our house." He lowered his eyes and spoke to the blankets. "I never saw her but she was right there in the room with me. She talked to me before she vanished."

"Why do you think she was there?" Dumbledore wondered, stroking his beard.

"She leaves me things sometimes. Things that she buys for the house. I don't know what she brought last night. I forgot to look, but she left some stuff on the kitchen table."

"Harry, I know how difficult all this must be for you." He lifted the bottle of rum. "But this is no answer."

"I know," Harry whispered, sinking back down into the soft pillows. He summoned his wand and conjured a canopy to keep out the intense sunlight and the heat it brought. "I won't miss my lesson again. I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"It's all right, Harry. As for Apparating, I've opened the door for you and can do no more anyway. The rest will come only with practice."

"Then what's next?"

"Do you remember performing wandless magic the morning we found Sara gone?"

Harry wrinkled his forehead, trying to recall such an event. "No, I don't."

"When you thought Severus was going to read your letter, you summoned it without your wand."

"I guess I did," Harry agreed, reminded of Snape lunging for the envelope. "I did it the night I got Voldemort's cloak as well. I'd left my wand across the room, so I had no choice. I was shocked when it worked."

"It worked because you desperately wanted it to. That will be our next project. Wandless magic. Is tomorrow morning good for you?"

"Of course."

"And where are you and Mr. Malfoy going today?"

"To London. He needs some things from his house. He wants to go shopping but I'm not in the mood, to be honest."

"Understandable, but I think a trip into the city might do you well." Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder as he rose to his feet. "I'll have lunch sent up for you both."

"Thank you, sir." Harry closed his eyes and let the bed swallow him again. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

* * *

Snape had never been to Italy and, even though he was up late with Sara, he had risen early and spent the hours wandering the grounds, surveying the damage from Sara's storm, appreciating the perfect warmth of the day and the postcard view of the Mediterranean. He'd made himself breakfast and was now preparing lunch, no thanks to the worthless Muggle Sara referred to as her assistant, who was still very much asleep at noon. Snape had thought to bring a change of Muggle clothes and was glad of the fact. The climate was a little much for the heavier robes he wore in the dungeons, which were cold even in summer.

To his surprise, Sara hadn't had a single drink during the night, even in the worst of her misery. He'd expected to find her inebriated upon his arrival, but she'd been stone sober and remained so. It made him smile, knowing she was really dealing with things now, not just drowning them out or ignoring them as he'd watched her do for so long, suffering all the more for it. But the truth was, he had never seen a human being as morose and emotionally shattered as Sara was now. She shouldn't be alone with just a Muggle. One who could never comprehend what she was - or what it meant to be who she is.

The worst part of it was; it was Potter she needed to see. Of this he was certain and Snape found it infuriating. Why Potter couldn't have ended up with Ginny Weasley, or anyone else for that matter, was beyond him. Potter had to adhere himself to Sara, who was so easily hurt, so trusting and so endearing. She would do anything for Harry Potter, even torture herself in this manner, surrendering whatever sense of self she had left in order to save his feelings. Snape scowled at the tea he was brewing, despising Potter with renewed enthusiasm. He couldn't even kill him now because Sara would hate him for it. He found he wanted to grab Sara and shake some sense into her but, somehow, he believed her when she said she knew what she was doing. He hoped she was right - for her sake.

She was sitting up in bed when he went in and smiled when she saw him, carrying a big tray, loaded with food and fresh flowers. Snape smiled in return as he set it down beside the bed.

"You look good," she said, her voice hoarse and quiet. "Gray, the new summer black."

Snape grinned, looking down a gray button down shirt and black trousers.

Sara pointed her finger and turned his shirt turquoise, his trousers white. "There, that's better. A little color suits you, Severus."

"Thank you, my dear. How are you this morning? Or shall I say afternoon."

"Better. I do believe last night was the most horrible night of my life. I never knew such lows existed, that anything could be so painful. I'm glad you were here. I don't know what I would have done without you." She accepted the cup of tea he offered and sipped it. "How is Harry?"

"He's wretched. He's the headmaster's new apprentice and has accepted the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Snape's brow furrowed at this and his eyes grew dark. "Last time I checked, dumb luck and favoritism were not requirements for Hogwarts employ."

Sara smiled and leaned back against the pillows. "A professor at Hogwarts. It's perfect for him."

"If you say so. Personally, I think Mr. Potter is highly overrated."

"I know what you think. We all do."

"Don't worry. The headmaster will take good care of him. He wouldn't let anything happen to his famous pet wizard."

"Did I actually say I missed you?"

"My apologies," Snape conceded. "Actually, Potter is doing better. He was beyond reach for a while but now Draco is staying at the school, in your tower as a matter of fact, and the two of them are miserable together. They go out every night and sleep on the roof."

"Draco and Harry? They were together last night but I would never picture them doing much of anything together."

"They bicker constantly, of course. They despise each other. I can't understand why Draco would subject himself to Potter's company to begin with."

"Because he knows." Sara's face turned sullen. "They understand each other's pain."

Snape fell silent as Sara reflected, sipping her tea, wearing a white shirt that was far too big, the light covers pooled around her waist. Her hair stood out in stark contrast. Black. Every bit of it. Her eyebrows, lashes, everything. Not even a single blonde streak remained and to look at her was unnerving. Her face was pale, her skin dull and missing its satin sheen. "I'm glad he has someone."

"I will stay with you, Sara. Now that I know the extent of your despair, I don't see how I can leave."

"I wish I could say yes. It's nice to have someone to talk to, especially you, Severus. You always listen. But I think what I like most about you is the way you're so brutally honest. I respect and appreciate that, even when you're infuriating." She smiled a little. "Stay a few days. If you leave now, I think I'd crawl into a dark corner and never come out again."

"On one condition. You will summon me for absolutely any reason. Long before it becomes too much to bear."

"If I need a friend, Severus, I'll summon you. Your very presence makes me feel better. It's been so long since the night I left and I've spoken to no one except Mr. Sanders. Well, until last night. I spoke to Harry. And then I spoke to you."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the closest thing I have to a parent. I love you and I knew you'd be the least likely to drag me home. Like I said the night I left, you're the only one who would understand."

"Least likely to drag you home? Maybe, but you're wrong. As much as it kills me to say this, I think Potter understands perfectly. He would try, of course, but if you said you wouldn't go he wouldn't make you."

Sara's eyes filled with tears. "I can only hope he understands but, if I saw him, even for a moment, there would be no convincing. I could never say goodbye to Harry again." Sara dried her eyes before the tears could fall and got control of her emotions. When she spoke again, there was a numbness to her voice, a distance. "I almost died last night, Severus. I thought my heart was torn from my chest as I laid there behind the sofa, listening to his voice, calling my name as he pleaded with me to show myself. I can't see him again after that. I wouldn't survive it."

Snape handed her a tissue and smiled. "I'll gladly do away with him if it would solve the problem."

Sara laughed aloud as she sniffled. "Bring that tray onto the veranda and I'll be right behind you. Have lunch with me."

Snape handed her a black robe from the bedpost and lifted the tray.

* * *

Harry awoke around twelve-thirty to Malfoy standing over him, wearing Harry's clothes and fresh from the shower.

"Well? Get up!"

"Shove off, Malfoy." Harry tried to duck back under the covers. He'd dreamed of Sara, as he often did, and wanted to be alone with his depression. Wallow in it for a while. Think of her.

Malfoy pulled the blankets away.

"I'm bored! That old goat woke me up and I've been waiting an hour. I swear there's nothing to do in this place! How can you stand it?"

"I don't need to be entertained. Now go away."

"Get up or I'm taking your Portkey. I'll find my own way to London, perhaps in a fancy black car."

"Touch it and die."

"Nice mood you're in! Why don't you drink some of Snape's potion? It came with lunch."

Harry sat up, sliding on his glasses. "Accio lunch." The tray came flying at him and he caught it with one hand but a glass of pumpkin juice kept its momentum and left the tray with its contents ahead of it. Harry threw up a hand to protect his face. "Stop!" The liquid froze, the glass dangled in the air.

"So that's what the old geezer was talking about! You can do wandless magic!"

"Evidently."

"Now get it back in the glass, show-off." Draco smirked.

Harry sighed and summoned his wand. "Reverso." The glass settled onto the tray, the pumpkin juice flowing back into it. He smirked at Malfoy.

"That didn't count. Now drink the potion so we can go. I'm bored."

* * *

An hour later, Harry parked the car on Knightsbridge in front of Harvey Nichols. Shopping was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, especially shopping with Draco Malfoy. There was no worse punishment and he wondered what he had done to deserve this.

They shopped for hours. Draco took his time and chose very carefully, comparing fabrics, cuts, and colors. He tried everything on and gave the courteous staff a hard time. He was demanding and somewhat impossible.

Harry, on the other hand, chose what appealed to him. He knew his sizes and assumed everything would fit, which it usually did. He declined help and wandered about the store, waiting for something to catch his eye. Harry was waiting in a chair, surrounded by bags and starving to death by the time Draco decided it was time to go get dinner.

They ate at the Savoy hotel and, by the time they made it to Malfoy's mini-mansion, it was passing twilight. Draco hesitated before unlocking the door and Harry could see he was nervous.

Harry checked the locator but found they were not in peril. "Come on, Malfoy. This place gives me the creeps. Let's get in and out."

Harry was on edge, watching the door of the enormous master suite as Draco gathered what he needed, piling clothes, shoes, and necessities into a dragon hide travel bag in neat stacks. He took a framed photograph and stashed it away before Harry could see what it was. Harry could only imagine of whom Draco might have a picture. Miniaturizing his ridiculous silk bathrobe so it wouldn't wrinkle and laying it across the top, Draco shouldered the bag at last and, together, they hurried down the hall.

Draco did his best to keep pace with Harry, who seemed intent on running out of the house. He didn't blame Harry, for being here after dark was nerve-racking enough after last time - with someone lurking as they drank daiquiris with no inkling of danger. Maybe it was his fear of Voldemort, but his unease was mounting.

Harry whispered, slowing his pace. "Something doesn't feel right."

"I've got a bad feeling, Potter," Draco replied, his voice hushed and shaky, keeping close to Harry as they moved down the hall in silence and with caution.

Harry stopped. "Draco," he said, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I think we're surrounded."

* * *

- 293 -