The Girl in the Tower

The Girl in the Tower

Chapter Thirty: Affinity Without Integrity

~

Christina checked her watch - noting it was now one in the morning - and took up her pacing again. Draco had been gone for so long that she couldn't help being worried about him, especially under the circumstances. The parade of miserable visitors unnerved her. First, there was angry/sad Harry Potter, whom she had immediately liked, even though he'd scared her quite a bit. After Harry had come Severus Snape, whom she liked well enough, but he was short with her and distraught. Then had come the other two, to whom Christina had assigned names, for they never gave any. "Leery-eyed Red and "Ms. Pushy." These last two had been the most difficult. Even Harry with his smashing and yelling had been easier to deal with. They weren't taking 'I don't know' for an answer. After suffering their unending interrogation, Christina locked herself in Draco's room and, for all she knew, they were still here, snooping around. It wouldn't surprise her if they were.

Christina hadn't seen Draco carry a phone, so how could she contact him? She had no address to visit, no intermediary unless you count Severus, whom she didn't know how to get in touch with, either. It appeared she would have to sit tight and wait for Draco to return. She just hoped he was all right. Lord knows he wasn't the last time she'd seen him.

As soon as Harry'd left, Christina had gone back to her own room, showered and dressed for the day, expecting more angry visitors. Now, hours and hours later, she was restless. Pacing just wasn't enough. She had almost made up her mind to go down the hill in the limo when a giant blackbird flew in through the doors to the balcony. Its caw shattered the silence; demanding her attention, then flew to the desk and pushed the stationary around with its beak.

"Get away from there!" she hissed, afraid Draco would think she was going through his things. "Shoo!"

Again, the bird nudged the neat stack and then picked up one of those long feather quills you only see in period films and dropped it on top. Curious, Christina stepped closer for it seemed to understand what it was doing. To her amazement, the blackbird - the biggest she'd ever seen - lifted the lid on a little inkwell and cawed once more. Feeling a little spooked, Christina sat at the desk and nearly panicked when the enormous bird flew onto her shoulder. Dipping the quill in ink, Christina began her letter with uncertainty. It seemed a little foolish to write it at all but something told her to go ahead anyway.

Draco,

I'm sorry to be writing to you, I know you're upset and I know why. Harry Potter came here looking for you, (so did Severus and a ginger-haired guy with a very pushy girl who was actually a little frightening.) Harry smashed a bunch of your stuff, but he told me what happened.

Last night you asked me to stay here because I might be your only friend after today. I don't know about the 'only' part, but I am exactly that. You told me you were forced into a terrible situation, so I know that you didn't want to hurt your friend Sara. I hope she's all right, Draco. Everyone who came here said she could still be saved. I don't know how it ended. I can only hope they found you in time.

I also hope you're all right, wherever you are tonight. Please send some kind of word, just so I can stop worrying. I'll stay here until your return. If you need a friend, you know where to find me.

Christina

P.S. I hope you don't mind if I sleep in your room while you're gone. I know it's assuming and I apologize, but I want to know as soon as you get back.

Christina folded the letter, put it in an envelope, tucked in the flap, and held it out to the blackbird, who hopped onto the desk. It looked at her with expectance, then took the letter in its beak and flew off through the open balcony doors.

* * *

Draco sipped his drink and set the glass on the low table he shared with Harry. The roaring blaze in the fireplace warmed him under Harry's expensive cloak and the rum heated him from the inside. The chill that had crept into his bones melted away as he told his story.

"What happened?" Harry urged him on. "What did he say to you?"

"I was terrified." Draco sighed and fell back onto the sofa, his arm slung over his forehead, watching the firelight dance on the ceiling without much interest. "He knew I was terrified. I didn't put up much of a fight. In the end I did but not just then." Draco sipped his drink and replaced it on the table, finding it difficult to say it aloud at long last.

"He thought I went there of my own free will, so I went along with it. I said I'd come to formally reject his offer and told him I had pressing matters to attend to in France."

"You lied to the Dark Lord?"

"Well, it wasn't really a lie. I did have pressing matters in France - those being getting as far away from him as possible." Draco sighed again and let his arm fall onto the leather, propping himself up to look at Potter. "I didn't dare try to ride my broom. I knew it would be easy for him to catch me that way. So, being who my father was, I thought my taking flight on a Muggle train was the most unpredictable thing I could do."

"Actually," Harry interrupted. "When I pictured you trying to give him the slip, that's exactly how I imagined you doing it. With your hair tied back and wearing a hat and sunglasses. I knew they would catch you if you tried it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I pictured you wearing green. A billboard for the Slytherin eye. You often wear your house colors, you know. And your hair is practically white. Anyone you passed would notice it."

"I tied it back."

"It wasn't enough."

"What did you want me to do? Wear a wig?"

"That would have been even more obvious. You should have gone to Snape for a potion."

"I was wearing a green shirt. Are you by any chance telepathic? Because that would be... very improbable."

"I'm not. I've had dreams, I am somehow linked to Voldemort and I have an intuition on occasion, but I'm not telepathic. I hear you are, though."

Draco's eyes grew anguished and he lowered them to Harry's feet. "I never knew I was. It just happened one day. There was something I wanted to say to someone, and I wanted to say it so badly. I just sort of reached out to her from the inside and pushed the thought along the connection I imagined was there. All at once I knew that she'd heard me. She was on the other side of the street, looking in the direction of my car and, when I spoke, her head snapped up and her eyes locked right on mine. There was a pane of dark tinted glass between us and I knew she couldn't possibly see me, but she did."

Harry almost smiled. "Sara can be rather frightening that way."

"She is. It's unsettling sometimes, the way she just knows, but she didn't know how hard it was for me. I couldn't make her hear me after that and she was asking me questions that I desperately wanted to answer. She mistook my silence, of course, and sped off seconds before we got a freak rainstorm. I did much better the second time, but we'll come to that if I decide to mention it."

"Yes, pressing matters in France. Please continue." Harry spoke with an air of sarcasm, but the truth was, he was dying to know what happened to Draco and no one else would fill him in.

"He laughed," Draco said. "He laughed at me from the inside out. I don't know how long he stood there laughing; it seemed like at least ten minutes, but who's to know for sure. I was too busy being terrified to note the time."

"Understandable."

"It was early afternoon, broad daylight outside, but it was black as night in the catacombs and, being underground, it was cold and, in most places, damp. I never got used to it. I was sick a lot during those months but, again, we haven't gotten that far yet." Draco sipped his drink and held the glass as he fell back into his monologue. "Have you ever felt the Cruciatus Curse, Potter?" He did not wait for Harry to reply. "It's a word I know well enough." He took another quick sip as his eyes filled with darkest memory. "I remember falling to my knees in sudden and indescribable agony and, the next thing I knew, I was waking up and it was hours later. My internal clock told me it was night, though there were no windows in my little room, just a torch and a steel slab, mounted on a platform of solid rock. There were restraints attached to it, hanging off the sides like some cruel, medieval joke. There was only one heavy steel door with a guard posted outside. I hammered on it, demanding he let me out, when he opened a little slat, looked at me, and then closed it again without a word. I sat on the table and waited."

"He went to get Voldemort."

"Of course he did. And I wasn't kept waiting long."

* * *

Sara awoke to a stuffy room full of stale air and to the soft snoring that came from the chair next to the bed. Severus had fallen asleep atop a book that lay open on the blankets beside her. She smiled and brushed the hair back from his face in the dimness, tucking it behind his ear with an affectionate smile. He never stirred.

A tapping came again at the window and Sara slid out of bed to admit the raven, the sight of which still filled her with dread. Reminding herself that Lucius was gone forever, she took the Malfoy Family Stationary and paused at the tucked-in flap, missing its usual black seal. She read the letter at once and found herself confused.

Who was Christina? Draco had never mentioned her, and clearly they weren't involved if she was apologizing for sleeping in his room. No housekeeper would write a letter such as this. She'd mentioned Harry, Severus, Ron and Hermione. She had even shown concern for Sara, though they'd never met. Why had no one mentioned this girl that every last one of them had spoken to? And why had the raven brought the letter to her? It was addressed to Draco after all.

"It can't get to him," she reasoned in a whisper. "But I can."

Sara found some clothes and a good cloak in the bag that Harry brought and changed right there at the foot of the bed. Severus woke up during her rummaging, stared in silent shock as she tossed her nightgown to the floor, then squeezed his eyes shut and feigned sleep, uncomfortable. Sara opened the window and climbed onto the sill.

At this point, Snape raised his head and called out to her in a whisper. "Where are you going?"

Sara threw herself into the wind and the raven followed.

* * *

"Stop jumping ahead, Potter!" Draco sneered. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Go ahead then, Scheherazade, but get on with it," Harry said, reclined in his chair and growing bored with all the narrative. "Tell me what happened when he got there. I really don't care about how you had to go to the bathroom."

"Fine then," Draco said as annoyance creased his brow. "But he didn't come alone. A few of my fathers friends were there and some I didn't know. Mr. Goyle was one of the ones that helped hold me down as the others bound me to the table and Voldemort himself stood off to the side until I was secure. At that point, the flat part of the table levitated through the door with me on it.

"I was set back down in a much larger room, able to hold a good sized crowd, but there were only a few waiting for us there. The ones from the train station.

"I was set down at an angle, so I could see some of the faces around me almost eye to eye, but it was mostly so that I could be viewed by all who gathered around. My shirt had been removed, though I had no idea when this was done, and the chill in the air crept over me until I was shivering. Of course, they took this for fear, which was something I had no lack of but, for some reason, I kept thinking that I would get out of the situation. It seemed surreal to me and I firmly believed that something unexpected would happen to draw their attention away. Or perhaps even the Gryffindor Trio of Goodness would take pity on a lowly Slytherin and come to my rescue. All manner of things went through my head in those few minutes - for surely that's all it was - and it wasn't until Voldemort touched his wand to my arm that I came to grips with it."

"Reality set in."

"In a big way. I struggled against the bindings, but realized right away that I couldn't pull free or break them by force. I was consumed by fear, and the strangest thing happened."

"What was it?"

"I shrunk. One moment the restraints were cutting into my arms and just that fast I was half my size and slipping right out of them. I bolted through their legs, to their surprise and, though I didn't have my wand to protect me, I managed to get past them and run into a neighboring room."

"Let me guess, they caught you within minutes."

"The room was a dead end. I never stood a chance. Within moments, I was back on the slab, strapped in, and immobilized by a Patrificus Spell. I did the only thing I could do and spit in Voldemort's face, but all it got me was a round of meaningful curses. It was then, in the grip of crippling pain, that I received the Dark Mark."

Harry had been drawn in by Draco's tale and could think of only one thing to say. "What happened next?"

"They left me there for maybe half an hour. They were having some sort of conference too far away from me to hear but, eventually, the whole group returned and took me back to the little room where I was instructed to redress. I was in pain. It was difficult to stand and, on top of the spells, my arms ached from holding the weight of my body for so long and it was hard to do the buttons, but I managed. All I wanted to do was get out of there. Instead, I was taken to a chamber where I met with the Dark Lord alone."

"He tried to brainwash you."

"I imagine that was his goal. That or to threaten me. We talked for a long while, maybe an hour and I found the things he said made sense to me, they all had a legitimate point, but the thought behind them and the ideas they supported were demented. I voiced my opinions with care and always remembered to validate these views of his by giving corroborating and well thought responses. In a few words, I pretended to share in his theories. Or at least to see the truth in them."

"Only he didn't fall for it."

"You don't know me very well, do you Potter? I rarely do it, but I can lie when I need to and, at that point, I would have to say my life depended on it."

"What did you talk about? What sort of things did he say to you?"

"Just the usual lunatic Dark Lord stuff. Kill the Muggles. Kill the opposition, take over the ministry. Rule the world. Dumbledore is the enemy. Same old stuff, Potter. The same nonsense they've gone on about for centuries. He asked me questions about you and Sara and Hogwarts, but I put an end to it without saying anything vital. Sarcasm is a wonderful thing, you know."

"You are rather gifted with it," Harry agreed.

"I told him I had plans to attend classes and meant to sign up at the ministry the next morning. It was a bold faced lie, but it seemed to please him. He told me only one thing of value. He said that, if I defied him, I would regret it, though I wouldn't enjoy the luxury of death. If I defied him, I would come to see death as my only salvation. I didn't understand it then, but I do now. I understand it well." Draco took a drink and fell silent.

* * *

"Hello, Christina." Sara stepped from the shadows of the balcony and entered Draco's bedroom.

Christina jumped from the bed with a gasp and grabbed a length of pipe she kept next to her, propped against the stand.

Sara spoke with her soft, hushed, windswept voice into the darkness. "I mean you no harm. I'm a friend of Draco's." She crossed to the small bar in the shadowy far corner of the room and poured some cognac into a glass. This she sipped and turned back to the brown haired girl, who was dressed in a granny-type cotton nightgown and holding a length of pipe with trembling hands.

"Drink?" Sara asked as she moved to stand in the warmth of the fire. Her skin was chilled from her short, brisk flight and she already felt her stamina seeping away.

"No! How long have you been hiding out there?! What do you want?"

"Why, I've only just arrived!" Sara said, and then realized three things. One, the girl holding the pipe was a Muggle and had no concept of 'flying in'. Two, she needed desperately to sit down. And three, she had not yet lowered the hood of her cloak and might seem a menacing figure with only the fire for light. "Forgive me." Sara pushed the fabric back from her hair and smiled as her platinum curls spilled down around her. The raven came to rest on her shoulder. "I'm Sara."

* * *

"Well? Don't stop there."

"The next moment I woke up on the hillside behind my house." Draco paused in contemplation. "It was a wonderful feeling, to be home, and it's strange that he chooses to send me to that spot, usually laying down in the grass, staring up at the sky, no matter if I was standing when I left."

"Why's it strange? It's your house, after all."

"It's one of my favorite places. I go there when I need to think or clear my head. That night, I was thankful for it and I stayed awhile on the grass with the wind stirring the thick August heat. Spread out below me was the city of London, its millions of lights muted by a low rolling stratum of fog. Above me was the clear night sky, so full of stars that I thought I could lay there forever and never see them all. As I gazed up at them, I thought of the nights we spent on the roof."

"Turning into quite the poet, aren't you?" Harry gave a tired, halfhearted grin. "Draco 'Melodrama' Malfoy. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" Harry's sarcasm was gaining in humor and beginning to lose its angry tone.

Draco ignored it. "Potter, you're going to think I'm full of it, but the time I spent at Hogwarts that summer was the only time in my life I've ever felt totally safe. I felt... untouchable."

"I don't think you're full of it, Malfoy. You were totally safe."

"There was more to it, though. Even though you're my sworn enemy."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I felt at ease I guess. I could just... I don't know."

"Be yourself?"

"Yes. I think that's right. There weren't really any rules, after all, were there? We did whatever we wanted. There were no formalities. No appearances to keep up. There were no forced smiles. Absolutely nothing was false. If we hadn't been so miserable at the time, I'd almost say I was happy."

Harry smiled with sincerity. He was touched by such truth (and he knew it was truth) coming from Malfoy, but his anger - though quieted - was still very much present. "So, Sara's roof is your happy place and you go there when you lay on the ground outside your house. Go on."

"Now that you've butchered the sentiment, why bother?" Draco cast a sidelong glance at Harry, who smirked. He took a deep breath and went on. "This is rather embarrassing, but I cried like a little kid, Potter. The mark burned beneath my skin and I just couldn't stop. I knew I'd lost everything. My privacy, my integrity, my freedom of choice. I knew you wouldn't associate with a Death Eater and that any chance I might have had with Sara was gone. Just like that. Gone. At that moment, there wasn't a soul on Earth as alone as I felt.

"It also meant that everything anyone ever said about me was true, only I didn't want it to be. I couldn't stand the idea of being my father. It was that very thought which finally drove me to get my broom and fly to Hogwarts. To this day, I still don't know what I was hoping to find there."

"Was this when you woke me up?"

"That was the night, yes." Draco almost smiled as he remembered Harry's concern, and the frustration that had poured from him as he demanded Draco listen to reason. The memory touched something inside him and he let his eyes drift closed until it passed.

"There was the smallest ray of hope in me. I suppose I thought there would be a secret counter-curse or a clever potion that could take the mark from my arm, though I knew deep down that there was not. I think I wanted to hear you say everything was going to be fine. I wanted to be surrounded by reassurance because I couldn't believe what had happened to me was real. You almost convinced me, Potter, but it wasn't until after I'd arrived that I realized the truth of the situation. I was a threat and a danger to anyone who dared try to keep me from the Dark Lord, and I would serve to refocus his attention on you, and on Hogwarts. My only hope became that you would find a way to get me out of it."

"You refused my help and left! What was I supposed to do, Malfoy? Mount an army and go looking for you?"

"You could have helped me, Potter, you were right about that, but I also knew it wouldn't last. I couldn't live every day in fear, jumping at shadows, second-guessing the most ordinary of things. I had to go along with the charade."

"And you did."

"I was called mid-flight on the way back to my house. I landed and found myself back in the catacombs, face-to-face with Voldemort." Draco sipped. "I don't think I have to tell you he was less than pleased. I was followed, Potter. They saw me show you the Dark Mark."

Harry's voice was barely above a whisper. "What did he do to you?"

"I didn't see the sky again for nearly a year. I spent the first five or six months confined to my cell, for that's all it was, after all. A room quite similar to the one I woke up in that first night. I slept on a disgusting old feather mattress covered in stains, but it was better than the floor. The floor sucked what little bit of warmth I had left in me right out of my very bones. The only time I tried it, I woke up sick with fever. But that was the next morning. Back to the night before."

"Mm-hmm." Harry's eyes were half closed by now, but he was so interested in Draco's story that he couldn't call it a night just yet. He had to find out what happened.

"Voldemort sat in a chair at the end of a long table. Three of my father's friends stood at his sides, as if awaiting instructions and they smiled knowingly when I was brought in. Someone hit me, I don't know who, but a blast of pain rung through my head. If I was struck with a fist or some other object I couldn't tell you, all I can say is that it was a hell of a lot harder than you've ever hit me and I almost blacked out I think. By the time I realized I'd been struck, I was on my knees. Whether I was helped there or collapsed is anyone's guess.

"Anyway, to make a long story short, I was tortured for lack of a better word. You can call me melodramatic if you want, Potter, but torture is a gentle euphemism for what they did to me. I won't bore you with the details, but Cruciatus was only the beginning." Draco swallowed hard and looked at the floor. His voice dropped to a whispered confession. "There are potions in this world of such profound evil, Harry; I don't dare speak of them. Not even now." There was a long moment where neither spoke, and then Draco continued.

"Voldemort called it training. Lessons in obedience. Nonsense like that. He came to me every day, beginning with the next morning. I was sick, as I said, but he took no pity on me. I was given a weak remedy and taken back to that meeting room where he gave me the mark.

"I spent those first months adjusting to a daily routine. I was thrown food on a filthy plate through a slat at the bottom of the door, though I never ate in the mornings. I knew it wouldn't stay down for long if I did. After that, Voldemort would come, push his ideas on me, ask me things that made me question my own beliefs and values, and then it would be my turn to talk. If I said the wrong things, the lesson would be especially painful that day. If I said what he wanted to hear, I might only spend six or seven hours in the room with the steel table. What happened to me depended completely upon what I said. To be sure, I learned to control my temper.

"After awhile, I decided to abandon my attempts to retain an opinion and allowed myself to be brainwashed. I knew it was a dangerous decision, I mean, his words are poison, Potter, and letting them in was as good as flinging open the doors on all the things my father taught me. Things I was made to believe from the day I was born and eventually rejected, but I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out of there. I had become angry and hated Sara for all the wrong reasons. I blamed it all on her. Every bit of it. Yet I still loved her through the midst of it all."

Draco expected a bitter reaction but, when he looked to Harry, there was no contempt in his eyes. In fact, his eyes were closed, his head nestled in the side of the armchair and Draco watched as he drifted off to sleep.

Draco looked on him for a long moment, and then whispered. "Happy birthday, Potter."

* * *

"Sara!"

Sara's eyes were slow to open. The room came into focus and she did not recognize the voice that summoned her from sleep, nor the face that loomed above her. She was disoriented and the room unfamiliar.

"Are you all right?"

"Who... where am I?" The spots cleared from her vision and it came back to her. "Oh! Christina." Sara tried to sit up. "Of course. Draco's house."

There was a gentle arm around her, pulling her forward. "Don't move around too much. You dropped your glass. You'll get cut."

"Thank you," Sara whispered as the arm fell away. "I must have fainted."

"Is there someone I can call? You should be in bed after what you've been through."

"It seems my strength has abandoned me for the moment, but don't worry. It will return."

"I'm glad to hear it." Christina smiled.

"If you would only help me up I can send the ra-- the, um, crow."

Christina held out her hands and Sara took them. "Do all rich people wear cloaks?"

"Only the totally mad ones." Sara grinned and Christina laughed as they crossed the room to the desk. "Is it really that obvious?"

"What?" Christina asked. "That you're rich or totally mad?"

"Both." Sara lowered onto the chair.

"Rich, yes. You're as immaculate as Draco is, even after almost dying earlier." Christina set about getting her a glass of water. "By the way, you look just like him. He showed me a picture of the two of you dancing and I thought you were his sister."

"You're not the first to make that assumption."

Sara dipped the quill and touched the tip to a sheet of Malfoy Family Stationary.

Severus,

I am fine, but would you come to Draco's house and take me back to the hospital? Don't worry, I'm here with Christina.

Sara

Sara gave the note to the raven and spoke to it in silence. Bring this to Severus Snape at St. Mungo's. I am vulnerable. Wake him if you must.

"That's some trick."

"Nothing more than what homing pigeons do."

"I've never seen a bird like that. It's huge!"

"It's a rare breed, or so I was told. It belonged to Draco's father."

"I see," Christina said, remembering Draco saying that Sara had killed him. She didn't know what else to say.

Sara sipped the water and then carried it to the sofa before the fire. Right away she felt lightheaded and dizzy, the spots crowded her vision and she almost stumbled, but Christina caught her and lowered her to the soft velvet cushions.

"Sara, why are you here? You're not well."

"I got your letter. The ra-the crow brought it to me."

"Oh." She was quiet a moment. "I was worried about Draco. He was so upset earlier. I've never seen anyone so upset."

"He's all right. He's with Harry."

"Harry?! Harry was ready to kill him!"

"I assure you, Draco is safe, no matter what Harry might have said to you. One or both of them may have a black eye when we see them again, but it's to be expected when those two get together."

"They aren't friends?"

"Oh they are." Sara smiled. "But just try getting one of them to admit it. Although, I have to admit, they don't actually like each other."

"That's confusing."

"To be sure." Sara took a deep breath and hesitated. "Christina, I want you to know that no one ever found Draco. He came to the hospital alone and without being asked."

Christina smiled.

"It can be rather difficult to focus on his better qualities sometimes, but he always means well. Regardless of what he does or what manner of sarcasm comes out of his mouth."

"I've only known him for about a week and a half," Christina admitted. "But I already see the qualities you speak of. He is kind and generous to say the least. And he's so lonely here in this big house. Actually, he seems lost to me. A kindred spirit."

"You're intuitive," Sara said. "Perhaps you'll find a kindred spirit in me as well." She smiled with the warmth of friendship and sipped her water. "Lost, you say. No word describes him better." She sighed. "What you have to understand is that his is a tortured soul. I can't elaborate without Draco's consent, of course, but you should know that his father was an evil man. You would do well not to ask much about his family."

"Thanks for the advice."

Sara laid a hand on Christina's cheek. "Just promise me you'll be good to him, regardless of where your friendship goes. You don't know what he's been through."

A low, slippery growl crept from the corner, startling both girls. "You mean whatever's left of him, Mrs. Potter."

Sara's eyes found the balcony in the dimness and settled on a familiar figure in the doorway. A black hood hid his face in shadow, but frightening reddish eyes peered out from under it. Sara grabbed Christina's hand and squeezed as the Orb of Arassel erupted in soft pink light on Sara's finger, filling the room with it. Her other hand gripped the arm of the sofa.

Christina took it upon herself to address the new visitor, no longer surprised by such an improbable entrance. "Draco isn't here," she said with a small, trembling gasp.

Sara's own nervous voice betrayed her calm exterior. "I believe he's looking for me."

"Quite right, Miss Lemke. We meet at last."

"We've met before, in case you've forgotten."

"Yes, but not so formally." Voldemort drew his wand and leveled it at Sara. "You live due to the incompetence of a certain mutual acquaintance, so it appears the task now falls to me."

Christina wrinkled her nose in confusion. "What is it with these sticks? And what's the deal with the cloaks?"

Sara smiled at the Dark Lord. "You know what they say, if you want a thing done right..."

"And I'm quite sure I'll enjoy it."

Sara's smile faded. "And why is that? What have I ever done to you?"

Voldemort chuckled and it was a sinister, menacing sound. "Lucius told me all about you. Before you poisoned him, that is. "

Sara scowled. "A merciful death for the likes of him."

"And so it shall be for you as well." Voldemort stepped forward as the raven came to rest on his shoulder.

Sara's eyes widened with understanding.

Severus was not coming.

No one was.

* * *

Draco followed the slight curve of the stone steps toward the swish of lapping water far below him with warm, glowing sconces lighting the way. Walking with a quick pace, Draco stopped on a small landing where he thought he'd come through the wall with Harry earlier. He could see the faintest outline of an archway, easily missed by the untrained eye, and Draco was struck by a vivid memory. He was looking up at Potter on the roof of Sara's tower and thinking that Harry looked like an angel, with the bright evening sun on his shoulders and a halo of golden light around the crown of his hair. Harry'd blindsided Draco with a clever bit of sarcasm and then disappeared with a smug grin and a book under his arm - Carving with Magic. "Not bad, Potter," he whispered as he looked around. "Not bad at all."

Draco pushed at the door and it opened to his surprise. He stepped into the room but his confidence failed him when he saw the entrance to the maze. He didn't trust his memory to get him back through. Wrinkling his brow in concentration, Draco pushed his thoughts along an imaginary link.

Nikolae, he thought. Take me back to our room.

Something rushed at him, no more that a blur that traveled like a flash, pushing the mental connection until Draco's head was pierced by a splitting pain and, with it, came images of Sara in a pinkish light. He was knocked backward onto the landing, crashed hard against the far wall, hitting his head and toppling down a few steps before he caught hold of the stairs. Something had positively blown past him and now he lay there, catching his breath and wondering what it was. What was certain was that Sara was in serious danger.

Bruised, scraped, bleeding and with his head pounding, Draco climbed to his feet, straightened Harry's fine cloak, and hurried back up the stairs.

* * *

Harry sat bolt upright with a gasp. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what. He was surprised to find himself before the fire in the library until he recalled why he'd gone in there. Glancing around the room, he found Malfoy was gone. Foolish, Harry thought. Falling asleep with him free to do as he pleased. Draco, he decided was miles away by now. Urgency pounded in his chest and, all at once, he knew that Sara was in serious trouble.

Harry ran to the great room of the big house and looked around, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. He found nothing out of the ordinary. It occurred to him that he didn't even know where Sara was unless she was still at St. Mungo's. Something told him she wasn't.

All at once, there was a great whoosh and Harry nearly lost his footing. He was brushed by a tailwind, as if something had rushed past him. Even before his hair settled the front doors exploded outward, ripped from their frame and Harry braced himself for an attack. When a few moments passed and nothing happened, Harry checked the locator and his eyes grew wide when he saw Sara was in "mortal peril."

Harry tried to clear his head, hoping some miraculous, ingenious plan would occur to him, but there was only the chaos of a million questions. Finally, he made the decision to go to the hospital but, just as he made to leave, he heard the thunder of footfalls he'd expected moments ago. Someone was running toward him.

Harry drew his wand and waited.

* * *

"You can't hurt me and you know it," Sara reminded the Dark Lord. "Unless you plan to tackle me again, that is. Only this time, you wouldn't get very far."

"I can harm her, though." He directed his wand at Christina.

Christina swallowed hard. "It's not polite to point."

Sara squeezed her hand. "Why would you bother? She's just a servant girl Draco hired to do the laundry."

"So you would allow her to die to save yourself?"

"Actually, I don't know why she's involved to begin with, but no, I think not. However, whatever transpires between the two of us will transpire regardless."

Voldemort saw the truth in her point and waited, considering. "Quite correct, Miss Lemke. The Muggle is irrelevant."

Christina grew indignant. "Who's he calling Muggle?" she asked, wondering what a Muggle was.

"Christina," Sara said, turning to her. "You may return to your duties."

"I can't leave you here," she whispered. "He means to hurt you."

Sara replied with a single word, barely audible, so low Voldemort could not hear it. "Run."

Christina stood at once, turning to bolt for the door, only she collapsed face down on the carpet right there before the fire.

Sara gasped as she watched Christina fall and turned her angry glare on Voldemort. "How dare you!" she seethed as anger streaked her hair crimson. "How dare you curse an innocent person! A defenseless Muggle!"

"Innocent or not, Muggles are the vermin who plague our world. They should be exterminated."

Sara went to Christina and knelt by her side.

"Don't worry. She's not dead. Not yet."

"What exactly did you want with me?"

Voldemort replied, but Sara had tuned him out and didn't hear. Draco was whispering into her mind and slowly, Sara smiled.

* * *

Draco burst into the room, bellowing Harry's name, out of breath and with Harry's black cloak billowing out behind him. "She's at my house, Potter. We can't get to her in time."

"Your house? What do you mean?"

"I just know, ok? If you want to help her then listen."

Harry leered at him, his hands trembling with fear for Sara.

Draco returned Harry's stare with urgency. "Trust me, Harry"

Harry saw no other options. "All right."

"Link wrists and hold tight." Draco wasted no time grabbing Harry's arms and clasped his hands around them.

Harry was quick to comply.

"Now concentrate, Potter! Push all your strength out through your arms and into mine."

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, his brow furrowed with immense concentration and Harry watched him for only a moment before doing the same.

* * *

Voldemort advanced into the room taking slow, measured steps. From within his robe he brought an old-fashioned revolver and leveled it at Sara's head.

Sara trembled. The orb offered no protection from Muggle weapons and, if he pulled the trigger, she would be dead. Who knows what would happen to Christina. "Why would you kill me when you could use me against your enemies? I don't understand, I thought that was what you wanted?"

"You would never cause them harm. You're no longer of any use to me," he explained. "Elemental or not, I can't allow my enemies to possess such a force of power. Killing you is in my best interests you might say."

Sara began to feel a tingle surge into and through her and her hand went to the Fortificus charm. Thank Merlin! she thought as her fingers touched it. Strength glowed within her and she could feel their presence. She felt Harry's determination, skill, and the weight of his power. From Draco, she felt confidence and stealth of mind. Sara also got a strong sense of fear from both of them.

When the flood of reinforcement had recharged her, Sara turned her hands palms-up. A dome of bluish-white electricity crackled and grew around her and Christina. Sara clutched the Fortificus Charm, feeling her own strength waver as she held tight to Draco's mental link, like hands held wrist to wrist. Voldemort fired the revolver - the bullets merely deflecting off the strong electro-magnetic ward - and he fired until nothing except hollow clicks issued from the gun.

Sara turned away from Christina and rose to her feet. "I hope you have a Plan B, Dark Lord, because I'm not that easy to kill."

"Don't worry," Voldemort replied. "I've always been resourceful." From his cloak he withdrew a large hunting knife and a bitter smile touched his lips. "You're weak, aren't you? Let's see how long you can hold that shield."

Sara's lips trembled. Her knees were weak her vision wavered. She fought hard to keep the nausea and vertigo from overwhelming her. Draco and Harry sustained her for the moment but, the truth was, she didn't think she could hold the shield much longer and she didn't have the strength to attack him.

Sara's legs went numb as the last of her resilience drifted away. She felt her grasp on Draco's mental hand begin to slip.

"Hold on Sara!" he pleaded, but she couldn't.

As her eyes lingered on the blade in Voldemort's hand, as its flashing gleam swam in and out of focus, gray-white spots erupted before her eyes. Sara felt for the arm of the sofa, thinking she could fall gracefully into it. Instead, she collapsed to the floor beside Christina. Her fingers dropped from the Fortificus Charm and the shield evaporated.

* * *

"I lost her," Draco said and dropped Harry's arms. "She just... let go."

"The car!" Harry said with mounting urgency.

"It'll take forever!"

"Come on!" Harry grabbed Malfoy's sleeve as he ran through the broken front doors and to the Jaguar, still parked in the garage. (Thankfully, Sara had taken the SUV so she could hang her wedding dress.) He found the keys already in the ignition. Harry turned them, revved the engine, and touched the Portkey, now mounted under the dashboard.

As soon as the smell of cows filled the air, Harry gunned the motor and Draco rocked back in his seat, one hand gripping the door and his knuckles white as they exploded down the open road toward London.

* * *

Voldemort held the knife in one cold hand as he stood over Sara's listless body, crumpled on the floor atop her cloak and with her long hair fanned out around her. He dropped to his knees with a sinister smile. From within the folds of his robe he produced a small vial, which he pressed to Sara's wrist. Just above its lip Voldemort made a small cut in her skin and collected the blood that flowed from it. Something hastened his errand; he recapped the vial only half-full and tucked it in an inner pocket, just in case.

With both hands, Voldemort raised the knife over Sara's chest in the pinkish light. When she was dead, he thought. The orb would be his, never to hinder him again. His eyes locked on his target.

* * *

The car took the hill with ease, blasting its way to the top like a rocket, and Harry and Draco were pushed back in their seats with the force of it.

"Hold on!" Harry yelled as the Jaguar found the crest and the road flattened out before descending on the other side. He slammed on the brakes, jerked the wheel, and spun them around to face the gates with frightening precision.

Draco bellowed the password and drew his wand to blast the slow-moving wings out of the way.

Harry gunned the engine, left the long, indirect driveway and steered the car onto Draco's immaculate front lawn with the pedal to the floor.

* * *

Acting on intuition and hunch, Dumbledore hovered on a little rug outside Draco's bedroom balcony. Dumbledore threw out his hands and said half of a curse before the Dark Lord flew from Sara's side and smashed hard against the far wall, crashing through to the insulation with a puff of plaster and the clatter of things falling. The knife dropped from his hand and Dumbledore's words caught in his throat. The movement was so quick, so unexpected, that Voldemort was too stunned to fight off his attacker. He was tossed through the air as if feather light and the force that pursued him did not wait for him to climb back onto his feet. Voldemort was ripped from the floor where he fell and Dumbledore stood on his flying carpet in wonder as he watched his arch nemesis being thrown around the room by nothing more than a dark flash.

Harry and Draco exploded into the room, wands held out with nervous hands, and startled all present. The unknown attacker came to a sudden stop.

Voldemort seized the opportunity and threw himself through a window where the darkness enfolded him.

"Nikolae!" Harry said in disbelief.

Nikolae stood motionless, staring back at Harry.

Dumbledore landed nearby and stepped off his carpet, his eyes fixed on Sara as he hurried toward her.

It was Draco who broke the silence. "Christina!" he yelled and rushed to where she lay prone beside the fire. Blood trickled from her nose and he gently rolled her over, pulling her up to rest against him. There was a purple lump on her forehead from where she'd struck the hard floor. "Please be alive," he whispered.

The room had gone distant but, somehow, Draco heard Harry's frantic voice and then the headmaster announcing that Sara was alive. There was a gentle hand on his shoulder and, in his head, Draco heard Nikolae's voice. "Your friend is not dead, Draco. I can hear her heart beating from here."

The hand, as it turned out, belonged to Dumbledore. "Mr. Malfoy, is this girl a Muggle?"

"She is, sir," he whispered. "She needs help. Take her to Madam Pomfrey."

"She cannot go to Hogwarts." Dumbledore sighed. "And St. Mungo's would never admit her for a simple spell that will wear off on its own."

"She can't stay here," Draco pleaded. "It isn't safe!"

Nikolae spoke from his place against the wall. "Sara is awake." All eyes turned to Sara, who showed no sign of consciousness. "She is too weak to speak."

Dumbledore rose to his feet. "What does she say?"

"She insists that Harry protect the Muggle." He turned his gaze to Harry alone. "She asks that you to take Christina to the house and keep her there."

"But she's hurt!" Harry protested. "She should see a doctor."

Nikolae again spoke for Sara. "Get Severus."

After several minutes of discussion and assurances, (and protests by Harry,) Nikolae and Dumbledore took Sara back to St. Mungo's on the flying carpet. Harry took Christina and Draco back to the house on the cliffs. Draco held her on his lap as she slept and Harry drove with the top up and in silence. The Jaguar rolled along fast, as Harry always drove fast, but without the bone-crushing velocity that had brought them to London.

Before long, a line of wooden posts came into view and, as the car drew closer, Draco saw an old workhorse stretching its long neck over the live wire to reach the tall grass on the other side. Harry touched the key without slowing and the horse vanished.

The scene changed from stinky rural farmland to a wooded seaside wilderness of porch lights and rickety old summer camps. Seasonal souvenir shops boasted shells for sale as well as coral, maps, hats and (in larger print) T-shirts. Another promised one-hour scuba classes and yet another offered competitive boat rentals. This one sat beside the rocky Princeton Heights Marina. Down the road a bit was The Golden Fish, where Harry once said he often got take-out. Its bright yellow sign was unlit at this early hour and Draco watched as it slid past, stroking Christina's hair as the sign was swallowed by the night and the darkness behind him.

* * *

Snape was waiting in the bounce of oncoming headlights as they arrived and Harry parked the car next to the cottage. Snape's expression was grave and his stance conveyed his worry. Nervous hands gripped the handle of a black apothecary case. "Sara is stable," he told Harry and Draco, who held Christina, having been helped from the car with the unconscious girl in his arms. At Snape's urging, he carried her to the guest room at the back of the small dwelling.

"Sara is very weak," Snape continued as they walked. "She was near death when the headmaster brought her in."

Harry looked ill. "She'll be all right, won't she?"

"Her doctor is confident she'll be alert within a few days, but Sara will require absolute bed rest." He looked to Harry with accusation. "Probably until the wedding."

Harry nodded, solemn, and said nothing.

Draco laid Christina out on the bed and Snape set his case on the stand beside her. He felt her head, lifted her lids to look at her eyes, and touched the skin of her arms. "Don't worry, Draco," he said with reassurance in his tired voice. "I'm no doctor, but Christina should be fine by morning."

"Good," Draco said, his attempt to hide his concern apparent and awkward.

"She'll feel lousy, but I can always slip a potion into her food," Snape continued. "I will remain here tonight. Potter? I suggest you get some sleep. The sun is rising and I'm sure you'll want to be at the hospital first thing."

Draco looked to Harry with discomfort. "Could I stay here as well, do you think?"

"And wake up with a knife to my throat? I think not." Harry narrowed his eyes. "You can sleep in the wine cellar."

"I want to sleep wherever you're sleeping." Draco held his breath while he waited for Harry's reply.

"I don't trust you, Malfoy."

"Then take me back to that room. The one where Nikolae sleeps."

"Fine, then. Let's go." Harry left the room and Draco followed.

"Potter?" he asked as they neared the small kitchen. "Get me a blanket. The floor is cold."

Harry returned to the guest room without a word and returned with a thick comforter under his arm. Draco, he found, was rummaging through the refrigerator and had a few things out on the counter already. Some fruit, a bottle of soda, and half of a leftover ham sandwich. He added some cookies from a jar near the oven, and then wrapped his finds in a large linen napkin. Carrying it in one hand, Draco led Harry out of the house and down the wooded path.

Draco stood aside as Harry opened the front door. "Are you sure no one can get in?"

"Are you seriously asking me this again?" Harry tried to be sarcastic, but couldn't pretend that he didn't see the fear in Draco's eyes. "You're safe, Malfoy. If anyone is going to kill you, it will be me."

"It isn't death I'm worried about." Draco stopped to lift a throw pillow from one of the sofas in the atrium. He tested its resilience, nodded his approval, and continued on with it clutched in his hand. "And you won't kill me, Potter." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Not even when I ask you to."

Harry opened the door to the room at the end of the maze and Draco went in, turning back to look Harry in the eye. "Tomorrow night, if Voldemort hasn't found me, I'll tell you the rest of the story. Then you can judge me as you see fit."

Harry handed him the blanket and lit the sconce inside the door. "Inflamare minimus." He held Malfoy's gaze and almost smiled as he closed it, wishing he had the conviction to either hate Draco Malfoy or forgive him. As the door sealed and the locks clicked shut, Harry realized he could do neither.

* * *

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