The Girl in the Tower

The Girl in the Tower

Chapter Thirty-one: In the Dark

~

When Harry opened the door, Draco was sitting cross-legged on the blanket, folded in half like a sleeping bag, eating fried chicken from a plate set atop a case of Finnigan's Swill. He was wearing Harry's clothes and had showered. His hair was still damp. Nikolae, Harry saw, was gone. The lid of his sarcophagus pushed aside.

"I had to go to the bathroom for hours, Potter," was how Draco greeted him. "If Nikolae hadn't gotten out of his coffin I'd be floating by now." Draco wiped his hands and abandoned his dinner. "I must say, you are a most inhospitable host."

"I was at St. Mungo's," Harry explained. "I came down here this morning, but you were asleep."

"How are the girls?" he asked with regret.

"Christina is in the cottage. She's tired, but Snape said she would be." Harry closed his eyes as if it hurt to speak. "Sara is no better."

"She will be, Potter. I can hear her thoughts. It's hard sometimes, but she's there."

"What does she say?"

"Nothing. I can't go that deep into her mind. She's dreaming, or thinking I should say because her thoughts are lucid, but I can only see what's on the surface. She wants to recover. She knows that you're upset, she can feel it, and she can't stop worrying about you."

Something inside him smiled, though Harry kept a solemn expression. "She's the one who's sick, who almost died and she's worried about me?"

"She's also upset because she never gave you your birthday present and she wonders if you'll like it. Want to know what it is?" Draco grinned. "If you don't want it, I'll take it."

"I'll want it."

"The only other solid thought I got from her was her fear for Christina."

"Christina was asking for you. I said I would bring you to see her."

Draco smiled and stood. "Let's go then." He hesitated, looking down at the old jeans and the blue jumper he was wearing, brought from Harry's closet by Nikolae. "Do I look ok?" He smoothed his hair back and waited for Harry's approval.

"Are you serious?" Harry rolled his eyes, thinking Malfoy always looked ok. "Come on, Fabio. It's getting late and, if you're going to tell me your story, then we'd best get to it. I'm running on empty as it is."

"Well? Do I look ok or not?"

Harry almost laughed when he saw Draco really wanted his opinion. "You look like a guy who sleeps in an underground room with a vampire." He grinned. "Come on."

Draco frowned and followed him out.

* * *

Christina smiled when Harry appeared in the open doorway.

"I brought you a visitor, but he's in the bathroom mirror, combing his hair." He grinned.

A muffled voice issued from another room. "Oh, shut-up!"

"Thanks, Harry."

"Don't mention it." Harry realized again how much he liked Christina. She was sincere and down-to-earth. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much." She hesitated. "Actually, I'm a little bored." She blushed with apology.

"You're not imposing." He smiled and raised his voice. "He is, but that's another matter altogether."

The muffled voice bellowed forth once more. "Shove off, Potter!"

Harry turned a softer tone to Christina. "Get dressed. Malfoy and I have some things to discuss and it may take a while. You can wander around the house if you'd like."

"I'd love to!" She grinned and threw back the covers. Christina was wearing one of his t-shirts with his blue and white striped pajama bottoms, baggy and rolled up at the ankles. "I think a bathrobe would do."

Harry disappeared and, a moment later, Christina heard them arguing in the next room.

Don't give her that! It's ugly!

What's wrong with it?

It's pastel! And feel it! It feels like a dishcloth!

It's Hermione's!

Well, that explains everything!

It's a bathrobe! Not a ball-gown!

Where's Sara's? At least she has good taste.

It's at the hospital, of course. Here, it's long, but it's not pastel.

Is that Weasel's robe, Potter? I wouldn't put that on a Flobberworm!

Coming from someone who has monogrammed slippers?

Did Sara pick yours out?

I think so, yes.

Then get that. As long as you didn't pick it.

There was the sound of a closet door sliding back and then the scrape of a hanger. Christina tried hard to hide her amusement. She was beginning to understand what Sara meant when she'd said they were friends, but that they didn't actually like each other.

She rose from the bed, achy and tired, but bubbling with excitement. Severus had told her about the house next door, about the courtyard full of purple flowers, the fountain and the statue of Frodo Baggins. She'd been dreaming about standing on top of a three-storey tower and dropping pebbles into the ocean far below, wondered what it would be like to swim in the solarium, or to see where the house spilled out onto the marble terrace that Severus had described so well for her. She'd been romanticizing about it all day and was glad when Harry reappeared with a blue cotton bathrobe, which he held out to her.

* * *

If there was a hottest night of the year, it had to be the first of August. The heat rose from the city in waves that brushed like whispers across his skin and it was an agreeable sensation, like being caressed by nature itself. As he walked the streets of London, the vampire was at peace with the world, forgetting his mortal friends and the evils that haunted his memory. His detached smile and nostalgic gaze brought calm upon the hearts of those who passed him on the sidewalk. He looked at everything and nothing, finding beauty in the smallest of details and also in the bustle of noise, the lights, and the merriment spilling out of the pubs. He reveled in the majesty of the old London he had once known well and still found mirrored in the architecture of this newer version.

Many of the shops were closed, but Nikolae looked through every plate of glass and studied every display with a mere glance. He could smell the blood of mortals and it was strong with so many of them around. If he was a younger vampire he would have been consumed by the bloodlust by now, but he was ancient and it had about as much affect on him as the heat. It was simply there, humming just below the world around him. He also smelled soap, fumes from the passing cars, salty popcorn wafting out from the old movie-house across the street and the odor of stale ale that drifted from the pubs. And also, cigarette smoke.

Following the blue-gray tendrils, he found a woman standing behind him, watching a television set through a nearby shop window. She was around fifty years old, Nikolae guessed; wearing cheap clothing and shoes, her hair was badly maintained and gray down her confused center part. Slung on her shoulder was a well-used tote all scuffed and overflowing with odds and ends. She had a no-nonsense air in her presence, though her face was careworn and friendly. Nikolae assumed she was a working mother with several children - and home was her destination after a long day of labor. She wore no wedding ring. The woman held her cigarette as she watched the late news, taking a drag and then blowing the smoke out in a soft cloud. Nikolae came to stand beside her.

"It ain't come on yet," she said without turning to see who it was.

Nikolae was curious. Apparently, there was a Muggle news story so profound it needed no introduction. Something big had happened and he could only wonder if the news was good or bad. The solemn expression she wore was the only answer he needed.

"Terrible thing ain't it?" she spoke with a soft, gentle voice. "All those people. I can't even imagine. It don't seem possible."

"Forgive my ignorance, missus, but to what do you refer?"

"You mean to say you ain't heard?" She turned to face him and backed away a step. Her manner became nervous and uncertain, though her eyes still conveyed the fact that she couldn't believe there was a single person on the British Isle who didn't know. "The Eli Hampton Hospital?"

"Again, forgive me. I have been ill and have only just now ventured out."

"Sorry to hear." She turned her nervous eyes back to stare through the glass, waiting for the advertisements to end and the news to begin. "They think it was some kind of gas or something, but they ain't detected anything. Not yet anyway. They got the place all roped off, men in spacesuits bringin' out the dead. Fourteen hundred people we're talking about. Everybody in the place."

"Everyone?"

"They say an ambulance brought someone in around three in the morning and found 'em all. Doctors, nurses, patients, everyone there." She sighed, heavy, her voice cracking with emotion. "My youngest was in there just last week. It could have been him, but I guess I gotta be thankful. Lotta other people lost their kids last night. Lucky mine wasn't one of 'em." She wiped away a stray tear and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Thank the Gods for that."

"I only know of one God, but where was He when deadly gas was filling the maternity ward? Where was God when hundreds of men lost their wives and their babies in a moment's time? Where was God when all those people died?"

"Welcoming them to the heavens, dear lady."

She turned and gave the vampire a warm smile, her eyes brimming with tears.

Nikolae pulled a thick roll of pound notes from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. "I hope the young one is well. Good night to you."

When she saw what she held in her hand, more money than she'd make all year, the woman dropped her cigarette and turned to find the strange man who'd been ill, only he had vanished in seconds - as if he hadn't really been there at all - but the money was real, as real as the hand that held it, and so must have been the man. "Dear God," she whispered. "An angel!"

* * *

Snuggled into their respective seats before the fire, Harry awaited the rest of Draco's tale, but did his best to hide the fact.

Draco rested his head on a throw pillow, staring up at the ceiling. He sipped his rum and sighed. "One night, a beautiful girl with auburn hair brought me a mug of hot cocoa with Irish cream and peppermint. She sat with me and talked while I drank it and I fell for it head first. After months and months of ugly Death Eaters, cold dungeons, anger and despair, it was as if a little piece of the warm August sun walked in and smiled at me. She had a nice laugh, you know, soft and easy. The kind that melts your defenses in seconds."

"You're spineless, Malfoy!" Harry chuckled, smiling. "What a sap!"

"Oh shove off, Potter." Draco said without conviction, "Tell me Sara didn't turn you into a total jellyfish."

Harry laughed a little and then sighed with the memory. He was standing in Sara's tower the night they'd met, drunk on Riesling and completely fascinated by her. She stood so close he could hear her breathe. So close, her clothes brushed against his and then her hand had touched his face with such affection that Harry was moved by it, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as her thumb brushed across his scar, an arduous caress that left him deeply affected. A jellyfish, he thought, was an understatement. "Are you kidding? She asked me to spend the night and I said no." Harry grinned, knowing this was not entirely true.

"Yeah right!" Draco laughed. He thought a minute, and then changed his mind. "On second thought, Sir Galahad, you probably tried to be polite."

"We're not all Slytherins, Malfoy. Of course I would treat Sara with respect!"

"Let me guess, you didn't end up leaving."

Harry grinned. "I didn't"

Draco smirked, then something occurred to him and his brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought she was holding out for marriage or some nonsense like that?"

"She talked to you about our... our private life?!"

"No Potter, she didn't. No matter how hard I tried to trick her into telling me." He grinned. "Pansy Parkinson heard it from Padma Patil, whose twin sister, Parvati, shared a room with Granger. I had to give Pansy ten Galleons before she'd tell me."

"Hermione?"

"The girl never shuts up, Potter. And she's overly defensive. If you want to know something, just come at her with accusatory false information and she's sure to correct you. One can find out practically anything through Granger with a little cleverness."

Harry gave him a stern glance and a half smile. "Auburn hair, nice laugh..."

"Ah yes, the vixen." He sneered. "Well, the drink was laced with Veritaserum."

"You don't say."

"I should have known better than to trust a gingerhead."

Harry shot him a warning glance, thinking of Draco's dislike for the Weasleys.

"It didn't really matter in the end, I guess. If Voldemort walked in and said 'here, drink this Veritaserum' I'd have knocked it back like a shot of Firewhiskey. It was all part of the conditioning. I'd have taken that Veritas one way or another and I was so scared of the lessons that I did what I was told without hesitation."

"What did she get out of you?"

"She seduced me - not that I needed seducing - but I told her anything she wanted to know. It was a strong potion. I could hold nothing back but, even if I could, I probably wouldn't have. There wasn't much they didn't already know, but I told her about the butterflies."

"Butterflies?"

"I'm terrified of them. One landed on my arm when I was a little kid." Draco cringed. "They're deceptive. All one sees is the beauty of their wings but, as I looked at it, I noticed the wings are attached to a hideous insect with creepy little spider legs and those feelers. The only way to describe my reaction is total revulsion. I screamed and crushed it, knocked it to the ground where smeared it into the dirt. I had nightmares for years afterward where they're all over me, crawling all over my skin." Draco shuddered and rubbed his arms.

Harry laughed aloud. "You have nightmares about butterflies?!" He laughed again. "You're kidding!"

"I'm not. And, if you don't stop laughing, I'll deliver that broken nose I've been promising since seventh year," Draco threatened from where he lay, once again in the library.

"I'm sorry, but that's hardly profound. So what if Voldemort knows you're afraid of butterflies?" Harry snickered.

"Go ahead, laugh it up. You're not the one they did it to." He shuddered again with the memory. "You're not the one who woke up strapped to a table and covered with insects a week later." He closed his eyes as his lip trembled. "They were crawling all over my face."

For a moment, Harry thought Malfoy was going to cry but he brushed it off and pushed ahead.

"It wasn't the only thing she found out." Draco sighed. "At last, Voldemort knew the one thing I vowed to keep from him and had always managed to hide."

Harry once again grew serious. "What was it?"

"He finally learned of my affinity for Sara. Not completely, as I was very bitter toward Sara and blamed her for my demise. I talked at length of how I hated her, but also of how I'd once loved her. Of course, it was knowledge he would come to use against me.

"The ginger girl, I don't recall if she ever told me her name, slipped away in the night. At least I think it was night. It's dark all the time down there and that's just when I was told to sleep. Anyway, Voldemort brought me my breakfast and told me to eat it. I assumed there was some potion in it but ate it anyway. I was shocked when nothing happened. My skin didn't start to crawl. My muscles didn't spasm, my bones didn't even hurt. Nothing. The food was good. Cold roast chicken and fried potatoes. It was the best tasting thing I'd ever had. At least I thought so then."

Harry sipped his drink and snuggled deeper into the sofa, pulling a light throw up around his chest. He said nothing and waited for Malfoy to go on.

"When I was done, I followed Voldemort through a few tunnels, confused when we bypassed all the usual training rooms and, finally, stopped at a door with no exterior lock. Inside was a moderate chamber with a clean bed, a table, a desk, and its own lavatory. He told me the training was over, but that a different sort of lessons would begin the next day. This caused me some concern, but he shocked me further by returning my wand to me and leaving.

"I've never felt such relief. I think I fell on the bed and cried out of pure gratitude. Never in my life had I known humility, but I knew it then. I knew what it meant to have the things I've always taken for granted. Wealth, clean clothes, a bed to sleep on, decent food even. I'd learned to appreciate even the smallest show of kindness. It made me feel loathsome, weak, and pathetic. I hated myself for it. And, of course, I hated Sara even more. Funny, though, the more I hated her, the more I realized how much I cared for her, how desperately I wanted to see her, forgive her, and make it all go away. It was confusing to be so divided.

"There were candles and torches for light and I soon found a small shelf full of Dark Arts books - the really obscure ones - not even in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts. They contained pure evil and I read them all by the end of two weeks. It was part of the new training. It seems I was conditioned enough in Voldemort's eyes and so I was made to learn the Dark Arts. The only problem was; I couldn't do most of it. It wouldn't work. It made no sense to me at all. I've done lots of Dark spells under my father's instruction and I was a very able student in school. Anyway, that's irrelevant.

"My door was never locked, except by me, and so I often wandered the catacombs, looking for a way out. I tried to tunnel out with my wand a week after getting the new room, only Voldemort caught me and I was tortured for several hours before going unconscious. When I awoke, I was covered in butterflies. All I can say is that I preferred the torture." Draco swallowed hard. "I spent a month back in the cell, but then I was returned to the bigger room, given back my wand, and I set to wandering again. I would continue to do so for another 5 months.

"During that time, things changed for the better. I was sometimes asked my opinion. I was included in planning meetings and sat at the Dark Lord's right hand with Wormtail on his other side. I was given fresh clothes from my house, which was nice because I had been wearing the same ones since I'd arrived. Every once in awhile I would say the wrong thing and end up in the cell again but, for the most part, the Death Eaters began to show me respect."

* * *

"The potion is ready," Wormtail announced from the open doorway. "They are waiting."

"And it's about time," said the Dark Lord as he stood and crossed the small chamber, passing the ugly little man, who bowed his head as his master lead the way to the laboratory. Wormtail hurried along behind him, wringing his hands in anticipation. Voldemort did not pause at the door; he threw it open without slowing his pace. He spoke the moment he entered the lab and his voice resonated impatience. The two people present - an old man who had the look of a mad scientist and a beautiful young girl - looked up directly. The assistant smoothed back her ginger hair and straightened her robe. The Potions Master turned his thick glasses on Voldemort.

"We are ready." He held out a gnarled old hand.

Voldemort withdrew a vial from his cloak and it was eagerly accepted. The pair set to work at once.

"This is half of what we need. Not that I complain, Master, but a full vial will render the potion full strength."

"It will have to suffice. Proceed as planned." Voldemort turned to the assistant. "You have the hair?"

She smiled and gestured at a clear glass vial with several pale hairs inside. "I have."

Voldemort gave a sinister smile. "I would never allow a union between the Elemental and my sworn enemy. They must know this, they must be expecting some sort of attack, but they'll never expect this."

"Yes..." Wormtail wrung his hands at his master's side. "So silent, so subtle. By the time Potter realizes what happened, it will be too late. If he realizes it at all." Wormtail chuckled. "Brilliant, Master. Using something that's already there, turning it to our advantage. It's seamless."

Voldemort smiled again and gave no reply. He watched with interest as the potion mixed with the blood of the Elemental. He stepped forward to cast the spell and, when he was done, the redhead sprinkled the platinum hairs across the surface. A great plume of misty red smoke rose to form a cloud above the cauldron. An image appeared in this cloud, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, arguing in an empty library. A reddish-black swirl turned next into what appeared to be a dream state. The images were of the Carpathian Mountains in Romania. The home of Vanya Ivanova in the village of Keltse-tia, to be precise.

"The Elemental sleeps." Voldemort smiled. The Dark Lord aimed his wand and spoke.

* * *

"By the time I escaped, I was beside myself with boredom. I had done all that was asked of me, followed the rules and held my tongue to the best of my ability. I watched the others come and go as they pleased and felt like an outcast and a prisoner, the way Morgio must have felt. I was desperate to get out of there and no longer cared if I lived or died. I only cared about seeing the sun or the night sky. I needed to feel the wind again, smell the grass, to hear the sounds of a normal world. I had been held in the catacombs for nearly a year. I had been brainwashed, tortured, starved, isolated, beaten, and was well on my way to madness. I remember thinking I would trade all that I owned for a single ride on my broom as I wandered the tunnels, lost, thirsty, and without hope of salvation.

"I was thinking about Sara again, but my thoughts eventually turned to you. I thought about how I hated you for leaving me there but, in reality, I didn't hate you any more than I hated her. I knew what I asked was impossible, but I was so desperate for freedom that I guess I'd hoped you would find a way." Draco paused and a sincere smile touched his lips. "The truth of it is; you did save me, Potter. However indirect it may have been."

Harry looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I used your 'point me' trick to find the way out."

"That's actually Hermione's, but glad I could help." He smiled.

"I didn't bother going far, just collapsed in the grass, overcome with relief and relishing my self-liberation for as long as I could. Imagine my surprise when I was handed my broom and sent home, where I hadn't been for so long."

"There had to be a catch."

"Of course there was a catch! I was given orders naturally, and was likewise expected to carry them out. I was to retrieve and deliver to Voldemort two spell books. Weasel's and Sara's. That was the first plan. Soon after, Voldemort rescinded that order and decided it was best if I was not included in the attacks on Sara. Whether it was because I was taking so long getting Weasel's book that he thought I should focus on that or he was unsure of how I would deal with it, I don't know. He never explained himself to me, but I started running out of excuses and, after a while, I began to look incompetent. Plus, scores of Death Eaters and Voldemort's foreign allies were killed or captured by Sara and repeated failure on my end was something he was loath to tolerate. I knew I would have to stop tossing flats and seriously try to steal it. So, I devised the Polyjuice plan and bided my time. You know the rest of that story, so I won't bore you with the details, but I narrowly escaped punishment when Voldemort learned that I'd lost the book, even though I was handing it to him. Potter, you don't understand what would have happened to me had you not gotten the book back from Sara."

"I think I have a good idea," Harry said, wishing he could tell Malfoy about the duplicate books. Maybe someday, when the mark was but a memory.

"Now that he had Weasel's book, Voldemort decided to put me with three of his henchmen and send us to Austria, only to intercept a train bound for France. I tried to tell him this made no sense, that we could just go to France and meet this train, but he told me never again to second-guess him and reminded me that I was not my father and that my opinion was irrelevant.

"We were to leave at once. One of his spies sent an urgent owl from Russia - where Sara was at the time - detailing the departure of Greg Sanders, who carried Sara's spell book for a prearranged delivery to an Auror in London. We were to take his billfold and make it look like a robbery. I was uneasy from the start. To begin with, I detested the three I was to travel with, but I didn't see the point in killing Sara's Muggle assistant. He was sure to have valuable information and he had nothing to do with it, really. He was nothing more than a currier who was asked to deliver the book to a third party, who would in turn submit it to the ministry for safekeeping. It would have been simple just to take it from him, but Voldemort wanted a little revenge."

Harry was visibly upset, his eyes angry and trained on Draco. "Mr. Sanders was a good man, Malfoy. I hope you're proud of yourself."

"I said I didn't want to do it! And I didn't!" Draco defended. "I was the lookout, Potter. It doesn't exonerate me, I know, but there was nothing else I could do." He hesitated. "I'm sorry."

Harry leapt to his feet. "Did it ever occur to you to help him?" he shouted. "You could have easily blindsided the others. I know you have the ability, and with your wand already in hand no less! You could have rescued him, brought him to Hogwarts or just plain RAN!"

"You don't just stand up to Voldemort, Harry. Haven't you heard a word I've said? How far would I have gotten? Think about that Potter. How long before they contacted Voldemort? Twenty minutes? Maybe an hour?"

"That's plenty of time."

"You just don't get it do you?"

"Call Nikolae. Tell him to come home."

Draco's eyes slid closed, his brow creased with concentration and then relaxed. He looked again at Harry. "Ten minutes he said. He's with Dumbledore and he seemed... troubled."

"He's with Dumbledore? At Hogwarts?"

"That's what I said, Potter."

Harry drew his wand and annunciated the same leg-locking spell Malfoy had placed on Neville first year. Draco was unable to stand or walk and would have to remain as he was until Harry returned. "When Nikolae gets here tell him I've gone to see Sara and will be back soon."

"You're going now? I was just getting started!"

"Dumbledore always tells me that if I feel violent I should walk away for awhile and right now I feel like killing you."

"I had no choice! Why can't you understand?"

"I'll never understand," Harry admitted. "I could never understand killing good, innocent people to spare yourself, no matter what the circumstances! Greg Sanders was my friend, Malfoy!" Harry stormed from the room before he could lose his temper. A nice, furious ride on his Lightning Mach 2 sounded like the perfect thing and he couldn't wait to take flight.

* * *

Dumbledore paced his office, stroking his beard and ignoring the chatter of the many portraits the walls held. His focus was on the dilemma at hand. Finally, he came to a stop and faced the vampire. "We have word that there will be an attack on Harry and Sara's wedding. Voldemort knows we expect this, so whatever he has in mind will be something we wouldn't think to suspect. Sabotage of some sort I would guess. One thing that's apparent to me, Nikolae, is that he's certain it will work and that's troubling indeed."

"You have an informant on the inside?"

"Two, actually. The only problem is that they function as one. They're joined at the hip, I'm afraid. Figuratively speaking."

"What other news did they bring?"

"Nothing noteworthy."

"Tell me."

"There was something about a meeting they were having this coming Friday and a bit about Voldemort spending time in his potions lab the past few days." As soon as he'd said it, the wise old man realized he had missed something. "We need Severus."

"Yes, he may lend some insight," Nikolae agreed. "As for Lord Voldemort, what are we to do? Is the order ready to act? It seems last time we convened there were agreements yet to be reached."

"We are ready; we only need to find a way to draw him out. We've had our scouts out for years looking to find his lair, but to no avail. We've even tried sending letters to him and following the owls, but they always get lost."

"I don't think I have to tell you what you need."

Dumbledore sighed, his eyes grim and serious. "Live bait."

"Exactly. Now only one question remains." Nikolae steadied his eyes on Dumbledore. "Who is it going to be?"

* * *

Sara awoke in the dim of her hospital room. The familiar rhythm of breathing, the rise and fall of his chest and the warmth of his arms around her were welcome comforts after the strange dream she'd had. His presence calmed her, chased the images from her mind. "Harry," she whispered.

"I didn't mean to wake you. I just missed you is all."

"I missed you too. I feel your absence, even in my sleep." She breathed deep and sighed as she exhaled. "You smell like the wind."

Harry smiled in the dark. "How do you feel?"

"Fine, now that you're with me."

"I mean how you really are."

"Wretched. I'm tired, Harry. I just need to rest. Don't worry."

"Easy for you to say."

Sara gasped with sudden memory and turned her eyes to Harry. "Christina!"

"She's fine. She's at the house with Malfoy."

"Oh thank Merlin." She sighed with immense relief and relaxed against him, exhausted. "How is Draco?" she asked, hesitant and unnaturally casual.

"Lucky to be alive." Harry's eyes darkened with anger. "He's been telling me his story for two nights now."

"Do you understand why I couldn't let you curse him? Did he tell you what they did to him?"

"Most of it, but I would have cursed him anyway, had I known it in advance. He deserves to die for what he did. I would gladly kill anyone who hurt you and he tried to do something much worse than 'hurt' in the name of Lord Voldemort!" Harry breathed deep to control the rage that erupted inside him. "There's a lot more to Malfoy than money, charm, and a pretty face, you know. He tried to kill you to save himself from some curses and threats. Keep that in mind."

"That isn't why he did it. Don't judge him just yet."

"I'm so sick of Malfoy! Let's talk about something else or nothing at all."

"Well, I did have a dream about our wedding while I was asleep. Only it seemed more like a vision."

"Did I look good in it?" He grinned and ran his fingers through her long, messy hair, smoothing it back from her face.

"Definitely." Sara smiled and slipped her fingers under his shirt to caress his skin, her voice already losing strength, her words a sleepy whisper. "There were only a few people there. Our attendants, Severus, Minerva, the Weasleys." She hesitated. "A few others. Uncle Albus performed the ceremony. We weren't at Hogwarts, either. We were outside. I think we were in the courtyard."

"Well, that sounds like a dream to me. We wouldn't go changing everything now."

"True. That's what I thought as well. It was just so vivid."

"Sometimes a dream is just a dream." He kissed her hair and pulled her closer. "Now rest, Sara. I'll stay with you until you're asleep. And don't worry. One of us is always here and you're in a warded room, guarded by Aurors."

"Go back to Draco," she whispered, her heavy eyes falling closed. "Listen to him. And know that he is about to find out that it was all for nothing," Sara warned, flooded by images and understanding. "He still has one promise to fulfill. One debt to repay. The most important of all. A promise he made to you."

"What is it?"

"I don't know." Sara drifted off. Her soft breath came deep and even.

Harry stayed with her another twenty minutes, thinking about this new revelation as she slept against his chest, his chin resting against the top of her head. Her hand lay listless inside his shirt, her warm fingers unmoving against his back. His troubled thoughts calmed as he felt the comfort that could only come from the nearness of Sara. The Amoridon radiated against him and he kissed her before slipping away.

* * *

Harry found Nikolae waiting for him in the front lobby when he entered the house, casually pacing the floor.

Nikolae looked him over. "You're dragging your feet," he said when Harry gave him a tired greeting. "I heard your approach from the front step of the cottage."

"It's been a long night." Harry sighed. "Sara woke up. We talked for a few minutes, but she fell back to sleep."

"Good. Sleep she needs."

They reached the library, where Harry was surprised to see Draco up and walking around, the leg-locking curse removed. He spoke quietly with Christina while Dumbledore relaxed in front of the fire.

"Professor! What are you doing here?"

"I have called a meeting of the order for tomorrow evening but I wanted to speak to you first. We are waiting on Severus."

"Who will stay with Sara?"

"Arthur."

"Good." Harry took a seat across from Dumbledore. "Let me take Malfoy back downstairs."

Dumbledore lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes on Draco and Christina, who had wandered into the hall and were looking at a painting there. "Leave him here for now."

"But-"

"Harry," Dumbledore explained. "He won't run away."

* * *

Harry left the brief meeting, struggling with a decision that he'd barely begun to make. Snape had arrived and so Harry went to find Draco, irritated at having been excluded from the latter conversation. They were in his house after all! He hated being left in the dark.

"Christina," Harry said when he found them sharing a couch in the library. "Could I borrow Malfoy from you again?"

"Of course!" She smiled. "I was just getting to the solarium when Draco found me. I wouldn't mind getting back there. Are you sure you don't mind me poking around?"

"Not at all." He smiled for her benefit, but Christina thought it was a grave and sad expression. "We'll find you."

Christina gave Draco a brilliant smile and left the room, barely meeting Harry's eyes, afraid of what misery she might find there.

He took a seat on the opposite sofa with a resigned and heavy sigh. "Malfoy," he said. "You need to tell me the rest of your story. Things have changed. I need to hear it now."

"All right," Draco said with downcast eyes. The lingering smile he'd given Christina faded as he realized the implications of what Harry was saying. The seriousness of his situation returned as he looked in Potter's eyes. It was something he'd let slip beneath the surface. Draco took a deep breath and began to speak. "The incident on the train set me back a bit with Voldemort, even though I advanced in other ways as a Death Eater. He knew what was on my mind. He knew I'd been a coward about it, refusing to take part, going along with it with minimal dedication to the cause. He began, at that point, to put the squeeze on me. He grew less tolerant by the minute. He left me alone for a few days, but then I was called."

"When Sara came home."

"Yes. I saw the four of you in the Criterion having lunch. I was there already. For some reason, I wanted quite badly to go there, even though I wasn't hungry at all and did not yet know I was a telepath. All I can figure is that Sara's thoughts had reached me somehow. I wanted to talk to her but, after all that happened, I didn't know how. I wanted it to be a private moment. I didn't want to discuss her murdering my father in front of you and your friends. So, I concealed myself as well as I could and waited. I followed her all day, but never once was she alone. I just wanted a few minutes, but I couldn't walk up and ask. What I didn't know was that Voldemort's spies were following me. That's how he learned of her return."

"That was a month ago!"

"I know. When I was called, he first sent me for a lesson in obedience when I said I knew nothing about Sara coming home. Of course, I was lying through my teeth but, in my time away from the catacombs, I had grown resentful toward him again and defiant. Killing the Muggle did that to me. If I kill a man, Potter, it will be because it's my choice to do so, not because Voldemort can't do his own dirty work. I was bitter and angry over having been a part of that. I was angry over having to beg you for the book when I had no personal interest in it. It was fun getting the Weasels to throw me off the property but, other than that, I felt helpless and used. And I was sick of it. When he mentioned Sara to me, I laughed in his face. That's what led to this very moment, Potter. I told him right exactly where to put his orders. How stupid I was, how foolish."

"What happened?"

"Originally, he wanted me to lead her into a trap. Coerce her to come to my house where she would be ambushed and captured. I was to give her a sleeping potion and just let them overtake her. That's a laugh. But, the truth of it is; I would rather kill her than hand her over to Voldemort. It's what she would have wanted, to die rather than be used as a weapon by the enemy. Little did I know, that's exactly what he had in mind. He gave me a choice that day and sent me home to consider it. It was unthinkable, this choice, as it seemed I could do neither."

"What was it? What was the choice?"

"I had to kill someone." Draco sighed. "Sara, obviously, or you."

"Me?"

"He didn't care which I chose, but choosing wasn't an issue. It had to be Sara."

"Why her? Why not me?"

"Because Sara can't kill Voldemort. You can."

Harry just sat there, disbelief in his slack-jawed expression and understanding emerging in his mind. Draco had chosen to save him, Harry Potter, his arch-nemesis, who he'd always hated, who had been the focus of most of Draco's evil plans and practical jokes through seven years at Hogwarts. Malfoy had chosen to save him, even though it meant killing the girl Draco loved most. The only person he'd ever called his friend with conviction. Harry didn't know what to say.

"I tried everything to get out of it. I stalled in every manner possible. I was dying to see her, but I couldn't risk contact with her. I was expected to carry out my orders and so I stood her up at the restaurant, even though I'd planned to go in and then say she was being guarded when she emerged alive, but I found I couldn't face her. Not knowing what I knew. I also didn't want to risk having him pass the job off to someone else who would have no reservations about carrying it out."

"Understandable."

"I became obsessed with seeing Sara after that. I knew I shouldn't have avoided her when I'd had the chance. She dominated my every thought. I dreamed of her at night. I felt her mental hand, just barely touching my mind before retreating, as if she felt wrong about forcing contact on me. She wanted to know if I hated her, this I knew. She wanted forgiveness for what she'd done to me. It wasn't that she was dying to spend time with me, Harry, which I'm sure must have crossed your mind, she simply needed to know where we stood. She needed to know if she still had a friend.

"It was through Christina that I managed to find your house. After weeks of searching the coast on my broom, I got a brilliant idea, got some Muggle money and hailed a taxi. I got in and asked the driver to take me to the Golden Fish. I thought for certain he would just pull away from the curb and deposit me in front of the place at some point but, instead, he asked for an address. I didn't know what he was talking about, so he suggested I try looking it up in the phone directory. If not for Christina, I'd probably still be wondering what a phone directory was."

"So you found it? The house I mean?"

"Of course I did. It wasn't hard, once I knew where to look. I remembered the way once I saw the fish place. The only problem was you were having a party and there were all kinds of people there. I couldn't just come to the door and wouldn't have anyway. Even though she was right there in the window, speaking silently to me, asking me to see her, I was too afraid. I told her what I'd come to say and left without giving her the most important of answers. However, I don't regret what I did. I could never look her in the eye and tell her everything was ok. It wasn't. Far from it.

"Two days later, I found Christina gravely ill, sleeping beneath a bunch of trash on the roof of this little pizza shop near my house. I'd barely gotten her home when I was called. I ignored the searing pain in my arm just long enough to get Snape to come look after her.

"He held me in the training rooms for five straight days. I mean it when I say I've never felt such agony. I died a few times but they always pulled me back from that particular edge. I nearly gave up completely, died by will alone, when Voldemort put a stop to it. I was dragged to my feet to stand before him. At this point, he reminded me of the consequences of failing in my duties and elaborated on his threat. At first, he'd simply said that, if I did not carry out his order, if I did not kill Sara, then he would launch an attack on a large number of Muggles, at least a thousand, and kill them all. This slaughter would then be linked to you and your identity would be made known to the Muggle authorities. This night he showed me a photograph of a children's hospital. I was horrified. I don't know why. I've never cared about Muggles but this was just... unthinkable. I was reminded again of my orders and given twenty-four hours to carry them out."

"Merlins," Harry whispered, trying to grasp the idea of it. A children's hospital, slaughtered in his name. 'Unthinkable' was a gentle euphemism.

"You should have killed me, Harry. There was a lot more at stake than just Sara." Draco sighed. "I did what I was told to do. I pointed my wand and said the words. They saw me do it but the fact that it didn't work may or may not constitute failure in Voldemort's eyes. I don't know."

"He would have known you didn't want to kill her. It sounds like he set you up to fail, Malfoy. And, by doing so, you would effectively ostracize yourself from all of us."

"But I meant to kill her. I meant to all the way up until I got the pensieve you sent me. It was that memory that saved her, Potter. Once I remembered what it was like to be close to her, to see her smile just for me, it was all over. Sara was the only person who has ever reached the part of me that can laugh aloud at silly jokes and she was so good Harry. She would have died to protect me and I knew it. How could I ever harm this person who I cherished above all others? Killing my father could never tarnish that memory. No matter what she does, no matter how she hurts me, I will love her for the friend she was until the day I die."

"But you still tried! You left her for dead in Diagon Alley!"

"I had no choice." Draco looked Harry in the eye, then got up and left the room. Harry had a sudden urge to stop him but, remembering Dumbledore's assurance, he let the words fall away and turned his troubled eyes to the fire.

* * *

Sara awoke to a familiar face beside the bed as the rich, golden light of late evening spilled in through the window to glow amber in his silver hair and beard. A soft smile lit her lips and she rubbed her eyes. "Uncle Albus," she said with a dry, sleep laden voice. "How are you?"

"I should be asking you that, my dear. You've given us all quite a scare, you know." He straightened in his seat so to better hear her reply, for her words came only with effort and drifted, languid, to his ears.

"I'll be ok. I'm sorry if I've caused anyone concern." She smiled with reassurance and slid her hand across the sheet to take the old gnarled one that rested there. "Where is Draco?" she asked and then horror crept into her expression as remnants of the pleasant dream she'd been having made their way into waking speech. "I, um... I mean, where's Harry?"

"Harry?" Dumbledore sighed. "Harry had a difficult decision to make and I think he's angry with me for it. He's at headquarters with the others. They're expecting me soon, but there is something I need to talk to you about." He hesitated and she waited for him to continue. "This is a hard thing for me to ask, Sara, but I need you to keep this from Harry."

Sara turned her eyes to the ceiling for a moment as she considered the idea. "I trust your judgment. I give you my word," she agreed with a hint of reluctance. "But if he asks me, Uncle, I won't lie to him."

"Agreed." Dumbledore sighed and reclined against the back of his chair, wondering how to begin.

* * *

Harry wandered the courtyard, more troubled than he'd ever been over Malfoy. Of all the choices he had concerning Draco, this was the most unthinkable. The cruelest, most shocking solution possible. It was also the one thing he had completely ruled out as an option. However, it was the will of both Dumbledore and Nikolae, not to mention the order. He could do nothing except comply and he'd already done so at the meeting. After all the opposition to Harry holding Draco accountable for his actions, now they wanted his punishment to be severe. Harry had listened to what Draco told him, he understood the horror he'd endured and why Draco had done what he'd done. The anger was still there, it was impossible to comprehend, but Harry had wanted to save Malfoy from his terrible fate for far too long.

Sara had returned only two hours before and was fast asleep already. She was doing well, better than anyone had expected, and Harry knew she was looking forward to talking with Draco, who was in the solarium with his new friend. Christina was another reason Harry had hoped to keep Draco at the house. They'd obviously made some kind of connection. Harry had only seen Malfoy light up the way he did when she entered the room very few times, and every time it had been when he'd met with Sara's presence. Harry wanted Draco and Christina to spend time together. Maybe then, he would turn away from Sara. Focus on someone else.

Harry looked up at the steadfast image of Frodo and sighed. "What would you do?"

He waited a moment, hearing only the sound of the salty breeze rustling through the lilac trees and the muffled splash of the channel against the rocks. "That's what I thought." He lay down on the marble bench, lacing his fingers across his chest. Harry looked to the sky for answers, knowing there would be none.

* * *

Sara awoke to the light of the moon shining in on all sides. She realized she was in the tower loft in the new house and smiled when she did not see the familiar ceiling of her hospital room.

Once again, it was Draco who haunted her dreams and Sara couldn't help but wonder why he was so heavy on her mind. Perhaps, she thought. It was premonitory? The only problem was; it didn't feel much like foreboding.

Sara climbed to her feet and slipped on a light summer robe Harry'd laid out for her beside the bed. The little flying carpet her Uncle Albus brought lay on the floor at her feet and she stepped onto it, hoping Christina wouldn't cross her path. Having a Muggle around was painstaking enough without having to explain why you're hovering around on a small rug. To avoid such a disastrous encounter, Sara reached out with her mental hand until she found Draco. It was clear he'd been startled. Whatever was foremost on his mind was whisked away and hidden from her.

You're awake! he thought, his surprise apparent. How are you?

I want to see you.

Draco hesitated, watching Christina wander about the room, relating a story about a play she'd once been in. Right now?

If it suits you.

I'll be right up.

No. Meet me on the terrace.

Sara was already there when he arrived and his smile betrayed the partiality he had only for her. She looked tired, sitting on the little flying carpet as if it was a bench or a swing.

"You look better. You have some color back. I swear, you were as pale as it gets. It was rather frightening." He helped her to stand and she did not let go of his hand. Sara kept a light hold of it, as if without thought. Draco didn't mind.

"So much has happened since we met in Diagon Alley. I'm glad to see you got through it ok."

"I'm just glad you're all right, Sara." He squeezed her hand. "You should be in bed."

"I know," she admitted. "Severus would have a fit if he knew, but I needed to see you."

"What about?"

"I'm really not sure to be honest."

"Is everything ok? You look flustered."

"I just missed you I guess."

"Who wouldn't?"

Sara grinned at the smug sarcasm she'd almost forgotten. "Your arrogance is still disarming, Malfoy."

He smiled his apology and his expression once again grew serious. "I missed you, too. You're the only real friend I've ever had." His hand found her hair and his fingers caressed the silken tresses, so much like his own. His heart swelled with love for her, then he remembered she was to be married on Saturday and let his hand fall away.

"The last time we spent together as friends was the night I came to you in the Slytherin dorms. That night seems a lifetime ago. It's been too long, Draco."

She placed her free hand over his shirt and pressed the pendant he still wore against his chest, the one she'd placed around his neck that very night. He'd kept it hidden beneath his shirt ever since. The Amidon grew warmer until it burned against his skin, radiating comfort and serenity throughout his body.

"I thought I'd never see you again." He kissed her cheek. "I don't deserve to."

Sara's hand left the Amidon and moved to rest against his face. "At last we can be friends again. If only you'll forgive me."

Draco pulled her into an embrace, relieved and overwhelmed to say the words. To say them out loud, to say them now, to Sara, allowed the anger he'd held inside for so long to fade away to nothing, replaced only by the warmth he felt at her touch.

When she pulled away, there was something new in her eyes, something he'd never noticed before and he could see her trembling, could feel her hand shaking against his. Her expression was a mix of confusion, relief, and something else. That strange new something that affected him beyond his understanding. His breath caught in his throat and his heart started thumping away in his chest. She moved to speak, but said nothing.

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered. "Tell me."

Her hand went to his hair and smoothed it back with affection. "I'm thinking... things I don't understand."

"Why are you afraid, Sara?" He stepped closer. "You're shaking. I can see your heart beating through your clothes."

"I don't know."

"Don't fear me. I'll never hurt you again. A thousand Muggles aren't worth losing you."

"I'm not afraid of you," Sara whispered as she drew near him, fighting alien desires she never knew she had.

Her eyes fell closed as she kissed him, letting her hand rest on the back of his neck just long enough for electric chills to race down his spine and butterflies to erupt in his stomach. He wanted to pull her closer until it was hard to breathe, kiss her the way that he had once on a bench in the snow, but there was no urgency, no now-or-never desperation, only love. She backed away after a lingering moment, letting his hand slip from hers.

"I have to get back now." She hurried from the terrace without saying goodnight.

Draco returned to the solarium, anxious and full of dread, convinced he'd done something wrong. Something unforgivable.

* * *

Harry found Draco sitting alone in the library, reading a book by firelight. It was late, everyone was asleep, and Draco's eyes were tired.

He closed the book when he noticed Harry and set it aside. "I thought you'd gone to bed. I was just waiting for Nikolae so he could let me into the room."

"Why not run away?" Harry asked with sincerity. "I don't understand why you wait to see what I'll do to you."

"You know why, Potter. He's afraid of you. If I leave here, I'll be a sitting duck. I haven't been called in all this time. I don't think I can be."

"An effect of Dumbledore's wards, probably." Harry sighed. "Malfoy, there's something I need to tell you."

"Why do I get the feeling it's really bad and has to do with me?"

"Perhaps you're a diviner as well. You're right. On both accounts."

Draco slumped against the back of the sofa and sighed. "Well then? Let's hear it."

"There is to be an attack on Voldemort this Friday night. The Death Eaters are having some sort of gathering, according to Sara, and there will be an opportunity we intend to take."

"But Sara's not well!"

"She won't be fighting, Malfoy. Dumbledore has assured me she will be safe here at the house."

"Go on."

"You have until Wednesday morning, day after next, but don't worry. You won't have to remain there long. Only a few days if all goes to plan but, if by some chance you are brought to the meeting, you won't be harmed unless you curse one of ours."

Draco's face had gone pale and there was terror in his eyes. "What do you mean? I won't have to remain where?"

Harry took a seat beside Malfoy and put a shaky hand on Draco's shoulder. "You know what it's like to be left without a choice. I have no other option, Malfoy." Harry's voice grew quiet, as if he couldn't bear to say the words. "I'm sending you back to Voldemort."

Draco tried hard to maintain his composure, but it threatened to desert him completely. It felt so good to be free again, to live without the agony of curses and threats, that the very thought of the catacombs was like a strong hand around his throat. He wanted to cry and didn't know how long he could refrain from throwing himself at Potter's feet and begging for mercy. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Harry looked Draco in the eye with all the conviction he could muster and said nothing for a long moment. He wanted to tell Draco everything, that it was all a trick, that Draco was a double agent, sent only to deliver false information but, of course, he could do no such thing. Malfoy waited with fear in his eyes and it was strange to say the words, but Harry found they were the truth. Finally, he spoke. "Because I trust you."

* * *

- 467 -