The Girl in the Tower

The Girl in the Tower

Chapter Twenty-nine: Much Ado About Malfoy

~

The world swam for an instant and Snape suddenly remembered to breathe. The scene unfolding before his eyes was impossible, surreal, and there was a part of him that refused to accept it. It simply could not be.

St. Mungo's was a noisy blur behind him, but his full attention fixed on the hospital bed nearest the wall. Sara was pale. As pale as could be. Her eyes were dark and sunken as she slept. In a chair by her side was Potter, her limp hand held in both of his. Harry bowed his head to hide his eyes.

On Sara's other side stood Hermione, smoothing Sara's hair back from her face and crying in silence. Weasley paced before the windows, glancing up at the bed with every pass. His slow footfalls were the only sound inside the room. The headmaster slumped in a chair by the foot, stroking his beard in contemplation. He looked ill and the light had gone from his eyes. He watched the scene as Snape did, with utter disbelief.

No one greeted him at first as he stood in the doorway. No one spoke or even looked up. Finally, Minerva appeared at his side.

"Severus, it's the worst of the Unforgivable Curses," she said in a hush, pulling him back into the hall. "They've only just come back with the tests and the news is grave, I'm sorry to say."

"What?" he asked as his heart thundered in his chest. "What did they say?"

"The curse was incomplete. A number of things could have happened, but it didn't kill her. However, it still did the intended damage."

"Damage?"

"She'll die if we don't find the person responsible and convince him to reverse the curse."

"How long?"

"It's anyone's guess. All we know is that her condition continues to worsen. They're saying she won't live through the night." McGonagall paused to study the floor.

Snape turned away, trying to absorb his horror. He couldn't imagine the world without Sara. A tentative hand touched his arm.

"I know what a shock this is. Especially for you, Severus."

He nodded his thanks with downcast eyes and followed her back into the room.

Hermione was studying Sara's bejeweled hand and her puzzlement was evident. Severus expected her to address the room at any moment and he wasn't kept waiting long.

"It had to be someone she trusted," Hermione said. "She's wearing the Orb of Arassel on her finger. She wasn't frightened at all."

Ron nodded, still pacing. "Exactly."

"I know who it was," Harry said, turning. His eyes were distant and his voice quiet and shattered. "It was Draco Malfoy."

Snape sneered at Harry's back. "How do you know it was Draco?"

"I went to Malfoy Manor. Sara looked in the orb and saw him drink poison." Harry stopped and took a deep breath. "When I arrived he told me Voldemort had given him an order that he would rather die than carry out. He said if I didn't kill him I'd be sorry." Harry lowered his eyes to Sara's listless form. "How right he was."

Everyone looked at each other at once. Ron spoke and their eyes turned to him.

"You've got to be kidding! Is there nothing sacred?" Ron shouted. He paced a few steps as he considered it. "It makes perfect sense. Anyone who could manage to surprise Sara had to be someone she didn't suspect and Malfoy fits that bill. That's what I say."

Harry sat with her hand in his, his face painted with indescribable agony, his eyes never left her face. He waited for her to flutter an eyelid, something, anything. There was no movement except the slow rise and fall of her chest. He felt sick.

"The gold snake," Harry said under his breath.

"He's a snake a'right, but I never thought he'd do anything like this." Ron sighed and Hermione placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder.

"The serpent armband I gave her seventh year. I charmed it to strike anyone who would do her harm. It struck at Malfoy."

"Then you did the charm wrong, Potter," Snape growled. "I happen to know that Draco is quite fond of Sara."

Ron spun on him, angry. "Do you have to insult Harry? Even now? It's plain that Malfoy cursed Sara, no matter how he feels about her!"

"It doesn't make sense," Harry said. "Draco loves Sara."

"I agree," said Hermione. "It doesn't make sense, but we don't know what Voldemort threatened him with."

Harry startled them all by shooting to his feet and bellowing his reply, his brow furrowed with anger and his fists clenched, the knuckles white. "I don't care what Voldemort threatened him with! What's a threat compared to murder? He tried to kill her!"

"What are you going to do, Harry?" Ron whispered, worried about his friend's state of mind.

"I'm going to make him pay." Harry scowled. "As soon as he takes his curse off Sara." He smoothed the hair away from Sara's face, kissed her gently, and stormed out of the room without a word and without meeting anyone's eyes. Hermione and Ron ran after him, but couldn't catch up. Harry would not respond to their calls as they raced through the hospital and into the London streets. He seemed not even to hear them and, finally, Harry hailed a cab. It zipped off into traffic.

Hermione and Ron were stunned at first, then decided it would be best if they split up anyway. Ron decided to check the pubs between Draco's house and Diagon Alley, and Hermione headed for Diagon Alley itself.

* * *

It sounded like an explosion when Harry blew the door in and stormed through Draco's house in a rage. "Malfoy!" he shouted with the promise of challenge, but there was no response. Harry shoved the flustered servants aside and made his way toward the back of the second storey, smashing everything in his path, his pace furious and his eyes full of murderous intent.

Finally, he came to Draco's bedroom and Harry kicked in the door, his wand held out in a trembling hand and focused on the figure standing beside the bed. She cried out in surprise and fear, and then appeared confused.

"Why are you pointing a stick at me?"

Realizing she was a Muggle, Harry lowered his arm and took a few deliberate steps into the room. "Where is he?" he seethed. "Where is the bastard!"

"He left," she said, her voice small and hesitant. His eyes blazed with terrifying intensity and what she saw there was disturbing. His presence was immense and she cowered before his anger. "Whatever he did, I swear he didn't mean it."

Glancing around the room, Harry's eyes landed on a picture frame and his countenance fractured. Something seemed to just break and fall away and, in this moment, Christina saw such sadness come over him that her heart nearly cried out with sympathy. His eyes fixed on the photo beside the bed. He lifted it with delicate, trembling hands and, for several moments, he said nothing. Christina was sure he was going to cry, but he didn't. He brushed a thumb over Sara's smiling image.

"Do you know her?" she whispered, afraid to speak aloud.

"We were getting married," he replied, never taking his eyes off the picture. "In two weeks."

Christina closed her eyes and swallowed the dread that loomed in her throat. "Why do you speak in the past tense?"

"Because she's dying," Harry told her, his voice growing stronger as his anger returned. "He tried to kill her!"

"He said she was his closest friend!" Christina told him, unable to believe what she'd heard. "He said he loved her more than anyone!"

Harry came to life, knocking Christina back onto the bed as his arm came down hard, the frame smashing violently against the corner of the stand. Broken shards crashed to the floor in a frightening confusion of motion and clamor. Harry's arm came back again as he flung the ruined frame at the wall where it knocked over a beautiful vase and both crashed to the floor in a spray of tinkling glass. He faced Christina, who shrank from him. "Where is he!"

"I don't know."

"She'll die if I don't find him," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "He did something to her that only he knows how to undo. If you know where he is and you don't tell me right now, she dies by your hand as well."

Christina stood, nervous, but unafraid. "He was upset when he was here. He'd been crying - it was obvious - and was beyond reach. He wouldn't answer my questions. I tried to touch him and he pushed me away."

"But where did he go?"

"The only thing he said to me." She wrung her hands at the thought. "Was that he desperately wanted to die. Then he left."

"How long ago?"

"I'm not sure. I tried to follow him, but then something happened and I woke up on the front walk. He was long gone by then." Heart wrenching desperation radiated from him and Christina laid a comforting hand Harry's arm. "Tell me your name."

"Harry Potter."

"I'm Christina Safford, Harry, and I don't know how much help I could be to you."

"Just wait for him here. If he comes back, tell him what I've told you. He has precious few hours. She's at the hospital. He knows which one."

"What will happen to him there?"

"He'll answer to me."

Christina nodded in compliance and was glad when Harry finally left the room. She actually felt his departure and thought he was the most intimidating person she'd ever met, but he was also non-threatening and her heart went out to him. Christina sank back down on the bed. Draco, she thought. What have you done?

* * *

"Any luck?" Ron asked with a sigh as they met on the walk outside The Leaky Cauldron. He was sweating and out of breath, his jumper thrown over one shoulder.

"Not really." Hermione frowned. "Tom said he saw Malfoy come and go this morning and said he looked upset on his way out, but that doesn't help us now."

"I hope I'm the one that finds him. I'll wring his bloody neck for what he did."

"I just hope it isn't Harry who finds him first." Hermione sighed and hailed a cab. "I think he'd kill Malfoy before we can get him back to the hospital."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "And then he'd wind up in Azkaban for sure."

In silence, they slid onto the seat and headed for the area of The Velvet Underground. With no other ideas, it was a place to look. None of them knew where Draco would go and already more than an hour had passed since they'd lost Harry on the street. Now, here they were with nothing to go on.

Hermione looked to Ron with desperate eyes. "You know, it's times like this when you realize how little you know about a person."

"Tell me about it. I don't know anything about Malfoy. Nothing of any use, anyway."

"I always thought I had him figured out. I thought he was unpredictable to an extent, but consistent. Malfoy could always be counted upon to react a certain way. You'd think he'd be waiting there for Harry, just so he could see the devastation he'd caused. Rub it in a little, then run away like the coward he is. But he wasn't and I'm clueless."

"Think, Hermione. If we were Malfoy, where would we go?"

"Home," she said and silence fell between them. The cab made a left and Hermione looked back to Ron. "He'd want his father to protect him. He knows half of the wizarding world will come down on him after what he's done."

"Too bad Lucius Malfoy's dead. Now what?"

"I don't know. Malfoy Manor is Unplottable. You have to know where it is, so that leaves us out. I guess we just look around. If we don't find him, we'll go to his house on the hill, the one where he and Harry were attacked. Maybe we'll even find Harry there."

"The Velvet Underground is worth a shot, even at lunchtime. It's better than wandering aimlessly."

"I feel so helpless, Ron. I mean, Sara..."

"I know, Hermione." Ron sighed. "Me too."

* * *

Malfoy Manor was empty and dark, its echoes a testament to its vacancy. Draco was not here. He wasn't anywhere and Harry was losing hope of finding him. The realization that he would lose Sara tonight left Harry with a desperation he could hardly control. It sought to overwhelm him, drive him mad until he felt this pain no longer.

Harry opened the lid of the little box Sara had given him, touched the silver snake inside and placed it back on the dresser. The little bedroom he shared with Sara was a shambles. Discarded shoes littered the floor, along with three shirts Sara had decided didn't work with her outfit in her hurry to dress this morning. If only he'd demanded that she stay and have breakfast... maybe everything would have turned out differently. He knew he should be thankful Sara was still alive after the Killing Curse. He knew that she lived, that the spell went wrong, because Malfoy didn't really want to kill her, but his anger, his agony, made it impossible to feel much else. He couldn't fathom what Draco had been thinking when he'd turned his wand on Sara and he didn't care why. Harry wanted only to inflict unimaginable physical pain on him, but the satisfaction that accompanied the thought frightened him. Harry thought he was capable of beating Draco Malfoy to death with his bare hands.

As Harry ventured through the cottage, overcome with an intense desire to unleash his wrath, his eyes landed on the chair he'd sat in at breakfast this morning. Self-loathing seeped through him like poison and suddenly the chair was smashing against the wall, then clamoring to the floor, broken and on its side. Coming to his senses, Harry stormed out of the cottage and took to the path that led to the house. He didn't know what to do. His need for revenge was pressing, Malfoy had disappeared, and Sara slipped away as he wasted time. A tiny voice of reason remained in his thoughts, but it was crushed by the enormity of his anger. He threw open the doors to the house and went in.

* * *

Draco lay in the grass on the hillside behind his house, his eyes closed against the sun. The last day of July was always hot, but the heat of the day did nothing to warm the coldness inside him. It crept through his veins like frost. In his mind, a scene played over and over, driving him mad with grief, his eyes were wet and dripped down into his hair. He remembered Sara on a cold winter night, the warmth that radiated from her as he held her close to him, his arms around her and nothing else in the world. Only the nearness of her as she kissed him and Draco could still feel the sensation of it. He still felt the emotion that had flooded him then and the way he never wanted to let go of her.

Gradually, a heat seeped through his body, melting away the soft invasion of numbness. It centered on his chest and Draco reached under his shirt, withdrawing the Amidon, which he had worn for so long that he'd forgotten all about it. It glowed bright red, which it had never done before, and was warm to the touch. His mind swam with the possibilities. How could it be? he wondered as he watched the swirling amulet. It should be black by now.

Then it dawned on him.

Wand still clutched absently in his hand, Draco got to his feet.

* * *

Snape arrived at St. Mungo's around three, hours after he had left to join the search. He spotted Dumbledore, just emerging from Sara's room as he walked with a quickened pace down the noisy, crowded corridor.

"Ah, Severus! I thought that was you," the headmaster said with little spark. "Come quickly, I've been waiting for news for hours, a bit impatiently I might add."

"I'm sorry to say, but there is no news. I went to Malfoy Manor first thing, but I found no trace of him there and I didn't dare try to enter without knowing how. I rang the bell and looked in the windows, but there was nothing. I visited several of my old students, hoping he might have turned to one of his school friends, but that was also wrong. I just came from Draco's house."

"Nothing there either, I suppose?"

"Just his Muggle friend, Christina, who was badly frightened and half the house was smashed in the hallways. It seems Potter showed up there, kicked in the front doors, threatened the help and left a path of destruction as he barged through Draco's house in a fit of rage. He nearly scared the poor girl half to death!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Well, Severus, I'm sure Harry didn't mean to frighten any innocent party."

"He should have more sense than that in my opinion. If you ask me, we never should have allowed Potter to look for Draco. He's far too emotional. He's a loose cannon, he could go off without warning."

"I agree, yes, you're right of course." Dumbledore took a deep breath and exhaled as his shoulders slumped. "Although I must say that, right now, we need every pair of eyes we've got."

A lone figure emerged from the madness further down the hallway and walked slowly forward, dazed, as if he was not sure where he was and didn't care. In his hand, he held his wand. He was rumpled and grass clung to his clothes. His eyes were bright red and bloodshot. His face blotchy and pale.

The two men at the door fell silent as they watched his approach. Neither could believe what they were seeing. The answer to their prayers had wandered in of his own accord. Snape opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore stayed him. Draco passed them without even a glance, just went in and walked to Sara's bedside, where he finally stopped. He seemed unaware of his surroundings or the wand he held. At this point, Dumbledore took his hand from Snape's arm and gave him a brief, resigned nod.

Severus was nervous as he came to stand behind Draco. He moved to place a hand on the boy's shoulder, but then thought better of it. He spoke with a gentle voice, terrified of startling him. "Reverse the curse."

Draco took no notice of Snape. He took the little purple ring from the necklace he wore under his shirt and took Sara's hand. His choked whisper was barely discernable, but those who watched with solemn faces understood.

"Thanks for everything," he said and bent to kiss her face, he kissed the hand he held. Tears fell into her hair, onto her listless fingers.

Severus sighed, wishing he'd never had to see Draco Malfoy cry. The sight at this moment was nearly more than he could bear. He gently moved Draco's wand arm to point at the bed and said the words, which were repeated, with anguish, by Draco.

Sara's eyes fluttered open and a little color returned to her pale face as she took in the ceiling, then turned her head toward the source of the strangled sobs she heard beside her. Sara smiled and took his hand. "Draco," she said. "You got my message."

As if some sea of wretchedness burst forth inside him, Draco broke down completely as he collapsed onto the bed and Sara pulled herself up to embrace him with fierce emotion. His arms went around her as she stroked his hair and Sara whispered things only he could hear.

Sensing that there was no danger to Sara, Snape rejoined Dumbledore, who hadn't ventured far inside, and shut the door behind him.

"I have to admit, Severus, I'm surprised. It seems I should have more faith in our young Mr. Malfoy. His father he is not."

"I doubted him myself, Headmaster," Severus admitted with a sigh.

"I should find Harry. I imagine he'll want to know his bride is, well, not dead."

* * *

Harry stood with the wind tossing his hair back from his face, his illustrious scar distinct and unmistakable. His face was dry and his eyes tragic as he looked down at the waves crashing white against the rocks. He had taken off his glasses and now held them in his hands, wishing he was a weaker person.

A soft, wise voice came from beside him. "Are you planning to jump, Harry?"

Harry was quiet a moment, his eyes fixed on the surf below. "I can't."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "And why do you think that is?"

"I don't know, sir."

"It's because you're a Gryffindor, Harry. And, I assure you, there are no cowards in that house."

Harry almost smiled and looked up at the sky.

"Come." Dumbledore took Harry's arm and guided him away from the edge. "You are needed now."

Harry turned and stepped away, then stopped and faced the headmaster, the agony burning in his expression. "I can't watch her die, Professor. I can't do it."

Dumbledore smiled, the light having returned to his eyes. "Draco Malfoy has been found."

Harry blinked in abject disbelief, and then his eyes became animate. "Did he reverse it?" Harry asked on the edge of elation, waiting in limbo to hear the reply.

"Sara is awake, yes."

"Is she all right?"

"She'll be fine in a few days. She needs some rest, but otherwise she's just fine."

"Accio Broomstick!" Harry yelled and, within moments, the gold flash of his Lightning Mach 2 was in his hands and he was gone, shooting through the sky toward London.

"We do have a Portkey," Dumbledore told the empty terrace.

Back inside, Dumbledore found Ron and Hermione hard at work repairing the furnishings. He sighed for the second time when he saw what Harry had done to the beautiful new house. Everything was smashed. Tables, chairs, vases of flowers lay in ruins from the front entrance to the back doors in a path of fury. Heavy oak armoires lay face down in the dining room where pieces of shattered china dusted the hardwood. The dishes, of course, were a total loss. In the front hall, a grandfather clock rested on its back, its pendulum stopped. The drapes had been torn from the windows. Only the rugs remained unharmed. Drawing his wand, he set to work at once. "Reparo," he said with a long sigh.

He would have to leave the smaller stuff to Ron and Hermione. It did not seem a good idea to leave Harry alone in a small room with Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Sara was sitting up, reclined against the back of the hospital bed when Harry came into the room, out of breath from running. He smiled wholeheartedly and dropped his broom in the walkway.

Sara threw back the covers and climbed onto her feet. She was in pain and unsteady and Harry threw his arms around her before she'd even gained her footing.

"You're alive!" He breathed relief, pulling her closer. It was surreal to hear her voice, to feel her hands press against his back; for it meant it was all true. He hadn't dared to believe it until her saw her with his own eyes.

"Didn't I promise never to leave you again?" Sara grinned with affection. "I'll be just fine, Harry."

Harry's happiness faded when he saw Malfoy for the first time, sitting in a chair on the far side of the room and staring absently at them. His features were red-rimmed from hours and hours of misery and, in his hand; he held a rumpled handkerchief, forgotten. He didn't seem to notice Harry's dark and furious eyes trained on him or that Harry had released Sara and now drew his wand.

"Easy, Potter," Snape warned. "He's here of his own accord."

"Get up," Harry ordered as he took slow, deliberate steps around the bed, ignoring Snape's words.

Malfoy seemed barely to hear, but his eyes turned to Harry and his lip trembled as if he meant to speak. He said nothing.

"I said GET UP!" Harry shouted and grabbed Draco with both hands, tearing him out of the chair. Malfoy came to his feet with a startled gasp. Harry shook with rage but found himself unable to do Sara's attacker any real harm. His muscles twitched, his heart slammed against his ribcage as adrenaline ripped through his veins, but he only stood there with Malfoy's shirt in his hands, restraining him from collapsing back into his chair.

"Potter!" Snape cautioned. "Must I remind you this is a hospital!"

Back in bed, Sara twisted the blanket's edge with nervous hands. "Harry," she pleaded. "Harry, for pity's sake! Look at him!"

Harry did. As much as he wanted to unleash his anger, tear Malfoy apart in pure rage, he could do no such thing. Draco was mostly absent and Harry wanted him to fight back. The sniveling wretch he held upright would collapse if he let go. This simply would not do. Harry was invaded by unwelcome sympathy, coating his raw nerves and temporarily sating his fury.

"Well, Malfoy?" he fumed. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Draco said nothing.

"You will speak, understand me well. You'll speak even if I have to beat it out of you. And you can be certain it would be my pleasure." Harry shoved Draco back into his chair and turned to the bed.

"Did he tell you?"

"No." Sara sighed. "But I know why he did it. I divined it from him."

"What did you see? Tell why he would turn his wand on you, Sara. I demand to know."

"You know I can't. Let Draco explain himself, Harry, just don't be so unkind to him. He had no choice. I can honestly say that, had I been in his shoes, I would have done the same thing."

"Not likely."

"Don't be so quick to judge! Draco is not the criminal here. You know who is, and you can take it out on him soon enough."

Snape - whose presence Harry had forgotten - had his say as well. "I agree, Potter. I do understand what you're thinking right now." His hand rose to linger about his throat. "But we all know that Draco is an unwilling pawn in a much larger game. He had no desire to cause Sara harm. As you can see, even she has forgiven him."

Harry's hands curled into fists, his wand pointed at nothing. "I'll never forgive him! I'll kill him before I forgive him!"

A voice like aged parchment drifted across the room and Dumbledore stood still in the doorway. "You won't be killing anyone, Harry. Not today at least." He walked toward the bed, his eyes serious, compassionate. "Anger is weakness. You'd do well to remember that."

"You're wrong!" Harry shouted. Dumbledore appeared to have expected nothing less, but both Sara and Snape looked to him, shocked by his disrespect. "You want to know what weakness is? It's allowing yourself to be controlled by another, trying to kill innocent people because you haven't the courage to refuse. That's weakness."

Draco's eyes slipped closed; his face a mask of anguish.

"He'll die in Azkaban," Harry swore. "I'll make sure of it."

Sara sat bolt upright. "He will not!"

"Stay out of it!" Harry bellowed and Sara flinched. He lowered his voice. "He'll pay for what he did to you, Sara. I swear on my life he will."

A small voice caused every head to turn and Harry spun on his heel.

"Take me to Azkaban," Draco whispered, his eyes locked on the empty wall.

Harry was surprised to hear Malfoy speak, for he appeared catatonic. He sneered, his reply vicious. "You're not good enough for the likes of Azkaban."

Draco's empty stare found the face before him. "Help me, Harry. Don't let him find me." He fell silent again, his eyes having drifted back to the wall.

"Come out of your little dream world, Malfoy. You can't hide from what you've done. You'll answer to me or you'll find out how it feels to be cursed." A long moment passed, the tension in the room as thick as London fog and, when Draco said nothing, Harry raised his arm with satisfied determination. He had no sooner begun the curse when a searing pain ripped through his body and slammed him hard into the wall. Harry fell to the floor and sat up, clutching his chest with wide eyes.

Faint tremors shook the room and a streak of crimson replaced the black in Sara's hair.

"He's knows how it feels to be cursed!" Her brow creased with anger. "He's felt enough curses for a hundred lifetimes!" Sara threw back the covers and turned to face Harry, the red in her hair receding as she regained her composure. "No one should have to know what he knows, Harry. I won't let you hurt him."

Harry's anger rose at having been hit by lightning. He climbed to his feet, ignoring the pain that echoed through him and shoved one hand in his pocket. With the other, he grabbed Draco's arm and yanked him to his feet. He flipped open the gold box and touched the key.

* * *

Harry shoved Malfoy by his shirtsleeve after dragging him from the cottage and into the maze beneath the house. Draco stumbled into the small room where Nikolae lay asleep in an exquisite stone sarcophagus, which Harry'd carved for him. Draco caught himself on the far wall and slumped to the floor. His eyes closed.

"I'll deal with you later." Harry sealed the door on him. He jogged back to the cottage and grabbed some of Sara's things before using the Portkey to return to the hospital.

"What did you do to him?! Did you hurt him, Harry?"

"Not yet."

"Then where is he?"

"He's in the maze."

Sara turned indignant. "You locked him in an inescapable room with a vampire?"

Harry gave a wry smile. "Yes."

"I hope you intend to get him out before sunset!"

"I'll think about it." Harry sat on the side of the bed to face her. He took her hand and kissed it.

* * *

"Malfoy!" Sara gasped, horrorstruck. "Harry, you forgot him!"

Harry sat up and his face went blank. Snape looked up from his magazine, and Dumbledore poked his head in the door, his brow raised in questioning.

Sara closed her eyes and reached out for Nikolae. It was full dark outside and she knew he tended to wake early. She swallowed her panic and shouted her plea through the distance.

Don't hurt him!

Calm yourself, Nikita. Your friend is unharmed.

Sara clutched the Fortificus Charm - to Harry's annoyance - and breathed relief.

Have no fear. I will keep him safe.

He is very dear to me, Nikolae, and he needs every one of us. Help him if you can. Give him anything he needs. I'll see you soon.

Sara looked back to Harry. "He's all right. Nikolae is looking after him."

"At least." Snape sneered at Harry. "Someone is."

"Harry, gather my things if you would. I'm going home. I can rest just as easily there, if not better. This place is nerve-racking."

"I will find the Head Medi-wizard and get your instructions." Snape left the room after stopping in the doorway to update the headmaster.

"Sara," Harry asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. And I'm sorry I hit you with lightning, Harry, but you left me little choice."

They turned as Dr. Howard came bustling into the room, followed by Snape and a medi-witch in crisp hospital whites, scribbling on a clipboard. Snape and the doctor were talking, arguing really, and the doctor turned his full attention to Sara. (Snape was insulted at having been dismissed without warning, but kept it to himself.) His voice was nasal, and somehow both froggy and sharp. His manner was concise and no-nonsense and Sara adored him. He reminded her of a bald-headed Hermione.

"You are not going home, young lady!"

"I had intended to."

"In your condition? Have you forgotten the curse that struck you, Miss Lemke?"

"You know I haven't."

The chubby little doctor tried to smile as his cheeks turned red with frustration. "You require monitoring and, in order for that to be accomplished, you'll need to remain in our care."

"I just need to rest is all." Sara sighed.

"If Avada Kedavra didn't kill you, I doubt one night in a hospital bed will, either. Stay until the morning." He glanced at Harry, then back at Sara. "Visiting hours could be overlooked."

Harry smiled down at her. "Perhaps you should follow the doctor's advice."

"Will you come back?"

"Of course I will. But get some rest. I want to talk to Draco and I suppose he'll need dinner."

"Severus will stay with me until then." Sara hesitated. "If you hurt him, Harry, I'll never forgive you. I mean that."

Harry held her eyes for a moment, knowing she meant what she said. "I'll see you soon, Sara."

He kissed her and touched the key in his pocket.

* * *

Nikolae was in the cottage's small kitchen when Harry arrived, rummaging through the cupboards.

"Type A positive is on the left," Harry said without humor. He collapsed into a chair, dropped his Portkey on the dinette and gave a heavy sigh. "Is he still absent? He was a little distant last I saw him."

"When I first encountered him, he was as you describe. He was lost in his own mind, escaping inwardly." Nikolae was quite suddenly seated at the table, giving Harry a start. "Fortunately, I was able to reach him. Sara never told me Draco Malfoy was a telepath."

"He is?"

"He is. This was the means I used to speak with him. He was incapable of conversing the usual way but, in time, he began to respond with thoughts and images. He was coherent when I left him. He asked me for water." Nikolae reflected for a moment, his Polyjuice face dark and troubled. "A vampire rarely feels such sympathy."

Harry's chair hit the floor as he leapt to his feet. "Enough!" he yelled. "Do you even know what he did?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't kill him?"

"I would not."

"What is this? Am I the only one who thinks there's something wrong here? Can no one see the facts? He tried to kill Sara! There's nothing more to know!"

"Can you not see past the act itself?"

"No! And I don't want to! He's not deserving of compassion, Nikolae, he's a murderer!"

"And so is our Nikita. Does she also deserve no compassion?"

Harry stopped just long enough to refuse to consider it. "That's different."

"Is it? I thought all life was created equal."

"You know better. Besides, Dumbledore once told me it's our choices that make us what we are and we both know not all choices are created equal. They define the person who makes them. That's how I see it."

Nikolae waited to reply. So long, that Harry decided on a change of subject. "What did you see?" he asked the vampire. "You said he communicated with images. What did he show you?"

"A diviner never reveals the thoughts of others. We're like priests I suppose, able to listen, but bound by a code of secrecy. It is our thoughts, Harry, that are our most private possessions." He stood before Harry could reply and returned to the cupboards. "Your guest is hungry."

* * *

The door opened and Nikolae stepped through it, bearing a torch and a tray of food. His hair was brushed, his attire relaxed and lustrous. He looked like a prince with a kindly, compassionate smile and Draco welcomed the sight of him.

"How is Sara?"

"She is well. She will not return tonight."

"I can't reach her." Draco sighed. "I think she's dreaming."

"She is."

"Good." Draco accepted the tray, which he set on the floor beside him. "Peanut butter sandwiches?"

"It's what Harry was having."

Draco took the plastic bottle and opened it. "I've had this before." He studied the label. "Coca-Cola. They have this in a little pizza shop near my house called Vincenzo's. There's a sign for it on the back wall where they keep the list of toppings, only they serve it in a paper cup with a plastic lid and a long tube for drinking. I like it. It tastes similar to pepper, but it's sweet and sort of burns."

"I've never had the pleasure myself. There were no such ticklish potions when I was still warm of blood."

"And when was that exactly?"

"I lived a thousand years ago, give or take, in the time of Salazar Slytherin."

Draco's eyes came alive. "I was in Slytherin House at Hogwarts! Tell me about him."

"There isn't much to tell, really. It was a dark time in our history and wizards everywhere lived in fear."

"What was Slytherin like?"

"A sullen man, secretive. He worked quietly, directing his faithful from the shadows. He controlled all the Dark creatures, much as Voldemort does in this time, and set them on villages that didn't meet his expectations. Those who resisted his evil influence often met with a terrible fate in the night. Most were killed, though a handful survived in an altered form. I am one of those."

"Your village was attacked by Salazar?"

"It was a bad harvest, I remember, because of the drought and most of the crops were ruined or underdeveloped. The community, Muggle and magic alike, steeled itself for a harsh winter scarce of food and without means, for the loss of whole crops devastated both our source of sustenance and profit. There weren't two schillings hidden beneath our floor and it was the same in every house. People were bitter and on edge, wondering how they would live if the deer were quick and the men were weak from hunger." Nikolae sat on the edge of his sarcophagus. "By mid-December the talk around the supper table had turned from stories of days passed - which my siblings and I were all quite tired of - to the more exciting topic of the extraordinary number of strangers in town. They had begun coming to the inns around All Hollow's and continued to arrive in pairs or, more often, alone. There had to be a dozen strangers residing in town at that time and the talk was rampant. No one trusted any of them.

"We took a few of them in for a meal on occasion. They spoke of odd happenings elsewhere and asked my father troublesome questions about omens. They tried to frighten us with talk of evil forces coming east out of England and offered money and protection in exchange for assistance in capturing the Elemental. She, of course, lived in the Gypsy village, Keltse-tia, at the foot of the mountains three days walk from our settlement. It was, as they said, so she could be used to defeat this Dark Lord who threatened our safety. My family was horrified. Very few took them seriously and the rest turned suspicious, my parents and brothers included. Only two agreed to the proposal, both poor farmers with too many children to feed. The rest formed a lynch mob outside the inn where most of the strangers lodged."

"What happened?" Draco wondered.

"I was with my father, as were my four elder brothers, when the lynching happened. Eight men were overpowered and strung up right there on the front porch of the Ashwinder Inn. The others fled for their lives and two of those escaped." Nikolae paused as memory burned bright and troublesome in his eyes. "I was sent as a messenger to Keltse-tia, given the fastest horse in town - a beautiful black Pegasus with a severed wing that belonged to the Supreme Mugwump - and a good sword. I rode all night, stopping only when necessary and sometimes not even then. The grand horse was strong and tireless and so I was also." He paused for a slow breath. "Exhausted and with my stomach woefully empty, I reached Antonya in the first light of dawn."

"You told her about the lynching?"

"Straight away. She was in great peril, I explained, but she did not take me seriously. I ranted, begged her to take measures, swore to protect her with my life and offered the allegiance of my entire village. I got down on my knees and asked her with all my heart to take refuge, but her only answer was a kind smile. She was young, only twenty-three then and fresh from her apprenticeship. She was strong, but green when it came to her skills and I was frightened for her."

"You loved her," Draco sensed. "And you found her beautiful. Sara said the Elemental always is."

"Yes. But she was so much more than that. Antonya was breathtaking. Her skin was porcelain perfection. She was without flaw, raven-haired, and had dazzling violet eyes."

"How did you convince her?"

"I didn't. She was also stubborn in her carelessness. She had the Orb of Arassel and relied upon it for protection. She thought, as long as it was near to her then she was far from harm. How wrong Antonya was." Nikolae's eyes welled with unshed tears. "She took me in, gave me food and allowed me to rest before returning home. For my family, I was given bread, cheese and a small deer, which I laid over the back of my magnificent horse with gratitude. Something came over me as I turned to mount and I kissed her, even though she was four years my senior. It was impulsive and foolish, for I risked the wrath of my father if word came back to him, but I kissed her anyway and she kissed me as well. It was with a smile that I rode back to my farm."

"You never saw her again."

"I did. Once more," The vampire whispered. "I knew before I'd broken through the trees and onto the road that led through town something was wrong. It was full dark and late by the path of the moon, but not even the animals stirred. Doors hung open on the little shops. When I reached the Ashwinder Inn, I tethered my steed and entered."

"Were they dead?"

"The carnage was everywhere. All were dead inside the Ashwinder. Several bodies littered floor of its tavern and the musicians slumped over their instruments. Mugs of ale stood undisturbed, the patrons fallen near their seats without struggle. Most were taken in their beds and I can only imagine how quickly it all happened. It wasn't until I arrived at my house that I realized I was being followed."

Draco saw a flash of memory, a little fieldstone dwelling in the dark, a black horse, agitated and frightened, surrounded by a great cloud of misty winter breath. There was a presence in the air. Something lurked in the night close by. Something dangerous. Draco could feel it and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck.

"My family was slaughtered," Nikolae continued. "As I was then only nineteen, I was overcome by grief. I held my youngest sister, Alaina, in my arms for she was my favorite and barely four years old. That was how they found me, sitting on the floor as I cursed God through my tears, holding the child and with my sword in hand."

"Vampires?"

"Indeed. Five in all. To be certain, they made short work of me. I slashed them with my sword and they recoiled from the attack, but the wounds healed at once and so I could not win. I would have died there with the rest of my kin had vampyric blood not mingled with my own."

"So that's how it happened."

"It is. I went through the change differently, as you know, but I still looked like myself and did for years after. They backed away from me as I stood, still cradling Alaina, then turned and fled in fear of me."

"Did you find them?"

"I didn't even look. I tucked my beloved back into bed and ran out of the house with the pittance from under the kitchen floor."

"You went back to the Gypsies."

"Of course I did. I knew Antonya would listen to my warnings if I told her about what had happened in Strovnich. To my relief, I found her unharmed and expecting my arrival. As a diviner, she saw my approach, but not the path that lay behind me. She didn't know what happened. I'll never forget what she said when she took my hand." He paused again, reliving the painful moment.

Draco saw a flash of Antonya with her dark hair floating around her and the arresting violet eyes the vampire spoke of. He grasped the image and committed it to memory. "What did she say?"

"'Mortality bleeds from you,' she told me. She sensed the change, which was not yet complete and wouldn't be for two more nights. I told her what had befallen me and she took me to her chamber where we remained together until daybreak. I kissed her one last time and had no choice but to hide myself in the back of Antonya's small pantry under a pile of heavy old drapes. When I awoke, she was dead. Ambushed by three dozen vampyres at twilight."

"But," Draco said. "What about the orb? How could they kill the Elemental?"

"Use your head, Draco. Vampyres kill using brute physical strength, not magic, and they're fast. However, they are not how she died. The vampyres only rendered her defenseless, too weak to rise off the ground as the Dark wizards set to take her to their master. Antonya, knowing what would happen, called on the lightning and directed it at herself."

Nikolae sat quietly for a moment and then left the room without word.

Draco lay down on the cold stone. He closed his eyes, troubled.

* * *

Draco awoke in the darkness. There were no windows in this small room, only the sarcophagus. Not even a torch or a candle for light. It was cold, especially after laying on the stone floor for what could only be hours. Time had helped him, though. He was feeling more like himself, only filled with sadness and self-loathing. His guilt over Sara was sharp and exquisite.

Nikolae's story had helped him. He doubted even the vampire knew how much. Though he had no siblings, hadn't Draco lost his family as well? He agreed that the loss of his evil father and his somewhat evil mother hardly compared to losing a large, loving family, (the jolly, mirthful Weasleys passed through his thoughts,) as well as every member of the close-knit community Nikolae had known his entire life, but the pain that lingered, festering and malignant, the kind that never really went away, was still the same. They were all just rifts in the soul after all. Something with the power to haunt one's dreams for a millennium. Maybe even longer.

Nikolae died himself that night, but was given a second chance in the resurrection by becoming the rarest of vampires. Free of mind and will, remembering humanity with human compassion. Yet he was doomed to a cursed life of reluctant servitude. Forever locked in a wicked existence, feeding an insatiable bloodlust, the quiet evil driving him to harm those who were innocent. Draco's wall-less prison was no different, no less profound. In fact, Nikolae was the lesser of two evils. Nikolae was still a good, respectable person, vampire or otherwise. Draco was not. Not even in his own mind.

Then there was a common love for an Elemental. He couldn't comprehend the way the grief had invaded him when he'd learned Antonya's fate. He thought of her as he had seen her in the vampire's memory, flawless, beautiful, with dazzling violet eyes, and he thought of Sara. Nikolae had forever lost the Elemental he loved, but Draco had been given a second chance.

Harry was the only problem. Nothing new there but, this time he had really done it. Potter would never forgive him for this. Harry would see him dead before he'd tolerate Draco's presence after what he had done. And Draco didn't blame him. If he wanted to strike directly at Potter, killing Sara was the straightest and most devastating means. In truth, as he'd drawn his wand this morning, it was Harry's suffering that dominated his thoughts, not his own. It had been agony. Draco thought he'd die of regret right there beside her as he spoke his curse and the world went black from the inside. He did it knowing he would loose his beloved Sara forever and that Harry would never be same. Something inside him would wither and go out. Something integral and necessary. That was what upset him the most.

A sliver of light cut through the darkness and Draco sat up, shielding his eyes until the door opened a little further. The first thing he saw was a brilliant halo around a black hooded cloak. He thought at once of Nikolae, and then he saw the wand, pointed directly at him.

"It's just me, Harry. Not a pack of Grecian manticores," he said with a tired voice. "If you've come to kill me then get it over with. Don't make me get up just for that."

Harry's face soured. "I wouldn't give you such an easy out."

"Then do what you like with me. After all, it's you or Voldemort. I have a feeling anything you might come up with would be preferable."

Then I should hand you over to him myself if that's what you fear. You deserve nothing more."

"So what happens to me then?"

"I don't know. I haven't decided yet. For now, you'll stay in this room, but know there is no way out unless you can surprise and overpower a vampire."

"But is there any way in?"

"What do you mean?"

"Could someone wander in and get into this room?"

"Well, if they could either breach the house or figure out the password for the tunnel, find the invisible door in the wall on the stair, make their way through a trick maze, get past the trap outside the door, remove the wards and the spells, speak a password only four highly trustworthy people know, myself included, and then produce a key, then yes. Someone could get in."

"Can you post a guard?"

Harry seethed. "Do you even realize what you've done?"

"How could I ever forget?"

"Then how dare you make jokes?"

"It's not a joke, Potter. Voldemort will be looking for me and he'll find me. You gave me your word once, on the roof at Hogwarts. You said if I ever changed my mind that you would help me. If you have any integrity at all, then help me now. I'm asking you."

"Any promise I made to you is null and void."

"I asked you twice to kill me, Potter. When you refused, when you allowed me to live, you made my life your responsibility."

"What you did is not my fault."

"No, but I saved her, didn't I? I never wanted to hurt Sara, but I had no other choice! I need help because I'm not dead! That's what I'm saying."

"There are questions I need answers to. Starting right now."

"I'll answer your questions, but you really only have one, don't you? You want to know why. Well, I'll tell you, Potter, I'll tell you everything but, in order for you to understand, I'll have to start at the beginning. The night they caught me trying to board the train to France."

"Is this going to be a long story?"

"Definitely."

"Then get up. I won't be standing in the doorway the whole time. Let's go upstairs. For my benefit, not yours."

Draco stood and Harry moved out of the doorway, wand still in hand and pointed in warning. "Now walk."

It must have taken five full minutes to reach the study in which they settled on soft green leather couches amid an immense, empty library. Harry poured them each a drink. Draco downed his double-shot of Finnigan's Swill, took the decanter and refilled his glass as if it was water. He held it as he sank into the couch, staring into the warmth of the fire.

"I'm so cold," he said and rubbed his bare arms, dusty from lying on the floor. Harry took off his cloak and handed it over. Draco felt the rich fabric and hand-sewn brocade and nodded his approval out of habit, forgetting for a moment that he was an attempted murderer worthy of Azkaban. Sometimes, it just didn't seem real, but then the knowledge came flooding back. He took a drink and stared at the amber reflected in his glass.

"It all started when I tried to run, as you know, but I carried something with me that was better left behind. Something of my fathers that he said I could use if I ever needed the most desperate sort of help. Little did I know what he meant by help. Of course, it was a Portkey of all things." He sipped his drink. "Voldemort's people were all over the train station, closing in on me until a few could reach out and touch me. I panicked. I opened the locket and was transported directly into the catacombs."

"The catacombs? Like the ones under Paris?

"Exactly like that. Only these are under the ruins of an old castle."

"Your father sent you underground?"

"No, Potter. He sent me to Voldemort."

* * *

- 435 -