Hi! This is my first fan fiction. It was begun as a simple one-shot, examining Draco's feelings following the events on the Astronomy Tower at the end of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. People wrote and said that they wished I would continue with it--turn it into a story with chapters. So I thought it over, and went ahead.

To me, the wildest part of this story was that I had no idea where I was going with it, yet it all seemed to fall into place. It was as if it told itself. I had no idea who Emilie was when I introduced her, had no idea of her past. But what might have happened to Draco, had he had the chance to meet someone who saw past his bravado to who he really was? Someone who would be able to gently guide him toward a better future? Because it's very true that you can never easily force a dragon into anything--they can never really be tamed.

I hope you enjoy it.

A SUMMER CHILL

Draco lay on his narrow cot, staring at the ceiling. Was this to be his main activity for the rest of his life, he wondered? His existence had certainly taken a turn for the dull since he'd escaped Hogwarts last spring. After all he had done, all he had risked, was his reward to be endless boredom and brooding in this cheerless cell, in this mirthless ruin where they'd sent him to hide? He may as well be in Azkaban for all the pleasure this was--at least he might take a page from that classic muggle tale, The Count of Monte Cristo, chisel a tunnel and go have talks with his father.

The familiar Malfoy smirk asserted itself across his fair features. As if he'd really have anything to say to his father after this mess. Both of them were failures. What would they do? Bully each other now that he was no longer a frightened little boy, cringing at his father's endless criticism and sudden rages? His smirk disappeared at the memory of his father's snake-headed walking stick, which had so often embedded its teeth in his neck or shoulder when he’d made a mistake. No one had ever made the connection, because he hid them well, but his Death Eater's burn was not the only scar he carried. There were dozens of fainter impressions, made by those silver fangs, like tiny pock marks on skin that would otherwise have been flawless. Perhaps they'd fade entirely away someday, but what was the point in giving two knuts about it? For all intents and purposes, his life was over already.

Still, he was alive. Thank Merlin for Snape's mind skills. The Dark Lord hadn't found out about his mother's secret visit to Draco’s potions master--at least not from Snape. And as scornful of Snape as his Aunt Bellatrix was, Draco knew she feared the wizard as well. She hadn't dared to divulge anything--besides, what might the Dark Lord say if he knew she had heard all and said nothing for so many months? And what of Pettigrew, little rodent that he was, would he have spilled? One never knew with him, but, he probably hadn't heard anything anyway.

And, at least, Draco thought, the Dark Lord hadn't killed him, as he had feared might happen. Snape had managed to make it seem as if Draco's failure to kill old Dumbledore had not come from hesitation, but from a lack of time in which to complete the task. At least he and his mother were safe—for now.

Draco closed his eyes and sighed. He felt his heart soften as he thought of his mother, she who had always soothed him, looked out for him, though he had often treated her with contempt. It had been hard not to, really. The only acceptable emotions, as far as his father had been concerned, were self-pride and contempt for all others, especially anyone who showed a weakness. And a mother’s love was weakness, wasn’t it? All that coddling and pampering…pathetically weak. But how he had wanted it, needed it, and how sweet it had felt, to have her arms around him after a punishment by his father!

Did he have friends? He considered his two followers, Crabbe and Goyle. Could there actually be friendship with the Water Boy and the Ape? Please. They did what he told them to do, but if he had ever, for one, moment, shown true weakness, they would have turned on him like cannibals. How about Blaise? Could he be comrades with the Beauty Boy, who loved his image in the mirror more than anything else? Hardly a possibility, was it? Pansy...he remembered the sensation of her soft hands in his hair, and the seductive look in her dark, sparkling eyes, and smiled. But did she care for him? He doubted that, as she didn't really know him. He’d never let her know him.

He’d only revealed his most vulnerable side to a ghost, of all “people.” Ah, yes, what a winner I am, he thought bitterly. My only true friend is a girl who's been dead for over fifty years! Brilliant. He wondered if he'd end up spending eternity moaning with Myrtle in the U-Bend. His smirk became a grin and he almost laughed, but laughter didn't come to this place. It caught in his throat and choked him. The tears stung his eyes before he knew what hit him and he fought them back. There would be no more crying. The time for tea and sympathy was at an end. Even Myrtle was far away now.

Potter was still out there though, and would always feel too close, even if he were in Antarctica. Potter had seen him on the top of the tower, Snape had known it. Potter had always despised him, and now would kill him, he was sure of it. Potter had almost succeeded once already, never mind if he meant to or not. Potter now knew how, as well as how easily it could be accomplished. Potter should stop messing around and come and get it over with already!

Draco tried to rouse himself. It had never been his way to give in to despair; somehow he'd always found a way to turn it to a simmering rage, or jaded disgust. He'd always filled his mind with dreams of glory, or plans for revenge. But, since his failure, he feared his mind had become weak. He worried about his mother. He worried about his father, yes, even his father, who had never shown pity for him. He worried for Snape, who had defended him, who had risked his own life to finish the task at which Draco had failed. But as of now, all of them were safe. Snape had convinced the Dark Lord that Draco had intended to kill Dumbledore.

But there was something else happening in his head, something that went far beyond worrying about practical issues such as life or death. It was an odd, new phenomenon; this feeling of…what was it? Regret? Remorse? When he tried to sleep at night, there was no refuge behind his closed eyes, and no rest, only an endlessly recycled vision of a sick old wizard in sea-soaked robes, talking calmly with him, telling him he didn't need to do this, that he could be hidden, that his mother could be kept safe...he had almost decided, and then Snape had arrived…why did Snape have to show up when he did? Why did Snape have to take his work upon himself? It could all have been so different, had he had a moment longer to think, had he had another moment in which to kneel down, lay his wand at his Headmaster’s feet...Draco cringed anew. His grey eyes now looked haunted, his pale face paler still, except in the secret dark when it burned scarlet with shame...and the worst thing of all, he wasn't sure...was it shame for failing to kill Dumbledore? Or shame for wishing he'd decided against it? Was he a coward for thinking of going to Dumbledore, revealing all? Or was he a coward for
not doing so? It was enough to drive anyone raving mad.

Sometimes sleep did come to him, but it only brought nightmares, which brought him screaming back to a reality that was of only slight improvement. There were nightmares filled with images of his own torture; of flaying, of dismemberment, of his father being forced (would he have to be forced?) to murder, nay, to execute (for isn’t that what they call it when it’s sanctioned by authority?) his own son. He saw the red, reptilian eyes of the Dark Lord he’d pledged to serve, and their unmistakable piercing finality; their lack of mercy or pity—so frighteningly different from Dumbledore’s calm, forgiving gaze. There were other nightmares, too, fevered dreams of waking to see a familiar dark head above his bed, with terrifying eyes of a different color; bright emerald eyes behind muggle spectacles, eyes blazing with cold fire, ready to burn him to a cinder in green flame…green flame, like those same eyes which had always regarded him with contempt. Harry Potter knew how to show contempt as well as Draco himself did. And unlike himself, perhaps, Draco thought, the other boy had valid reasons.

These were the thoughts which would make Draco wish he were not alive. Sometimes, he thought, it wouldn't be so bad, would it, to receive the Dementor's Kiss? To have his tortured soul simply sucked away and consumed like so much vapor? To never have to feel anything again? But no dementors were ever sent to him. No one was ever sent to him. So he sat in this cold, barren room, in this relic of a castle, haunted by his own regret and guilt, and waited.

Chapter Two--A Summer Chill

Draco awoke in the very early hours of 5th June, which wasn't anything to be happy about, since he'd only gone to bed in the very late hours of 4th June. Another nightmare had awoken him, but not the worst he'd ever had. Still, he felt light-headed and cross. If the creatures of his dreams didn't kill him, lack of sleep just might.

He rose, carelessly throwing his duvet around his waist as he strode to the window. Draco always slept nude, a habit he'd learned from his parents. His father had said that if a Malfoy ever had to be ashamed of his body, he should be aware he was embarrassing the whole family. Which meant that at Hogwarts, he always slept with the bed curtains closed, and if any of his roommates were stupid enough to open them without permission, they'd get hexed for being a pervert. So far the only one who had dared was Blaise. Leave it to Blaise to try to get a good look. Blaise always made disparaging comments about the witches at school, but Draco knew it was because it wasn't WITCHES that got him going. For the crime of peeking at him, Blaise had spent the rest of that day looking at the ground, Draco remembered with a smile. Professor Snape had taught him a little curse of his own design the year before that--the LEVICORPUS. After 12 hours of hanging upside down, Blaise had reverted his attentions back to the willing boys amongst the Slytherins.

Draco settled in at the open window, which had quickly become his favourite spot in the room. It had a chaise beneath it so one could settle in sideways and look out at one's leisure. The chaise had seen better days, but he was beginning to get used to the less than cheerful accomodations. He supposed that in Voldemort's opinion he deserved to be hanging by his wrists in a dungeon. But this was quite nice, really, a big change from the windowless rooms of the Slytherin's dorms. And this window had a spectacular view of the sea. His tower (he had only been here a few weeks, but felt rather proprietary of the space nonetheless) was perched on the edge of a cliff. Many days it was rainswept and gloomy, but Draco did not mind it--it suited his mood perfectly. There was no other view, as there were no other windows, nor doors either, but the one which led downstairs to a landing. He was trapped here, but felt it was no worse a prison than his own head.

Happy Birthday to me, and of age as well, he mused. Like it mattered. There would be no party, no gifts, no kiss from his mother, no clap on the back from his father, with a slyly secreted small sack of galleons slipping into his pocket. No NEWTs. No apparation exam. No future.

But, he thought, there will be meals at least. He hadn't been abandoned to starve. He could count on a basket twice a day. It was left at the landing downstairs. He never saw who brought it, a house elf no doubt, but the food was fabulous. He was sure his mother had arranged for that, though there were often interesting things he'd never had at home within it. Very good things. He chuckled. If food became the one thing in life he looked forward to, his body WOULD soon be embarrassing the Malfoy family. Not that he really ate much anyway, but since he only ventured from this room to get the baskets, he wasn't burning much of it off.

He dozed on and off for a couple of hours, and at last he saw a purple tinge at the horizon of the sea. The white gulls began their morning feeding. Draco's stomach was giving off a feeding cry of its own. Time to see if the basket had come.

Adjusting the duvet, he ambled down the cold stone steps of the circular stairwell. The torches in the passage ignited on their own as he descended. He reached bottom and entered the small room. Hmmm...nothing yet, he was too early, he supposed. He gingerly sat down on one of the lowest steps, though the stone was rough and sent a chill through him. He pulled the duvet up over his shoulders. The torches, sensing no motion, soon extinguished themselves. He had sat there for an indeterminate amount of time, musing, when he heard a faint whoosh in the gloom, and immediately a small lamp on the table ignited itself. Food! And, as he had assumed, a house elf appeared, holding a basket which was almost as large as she was.

Draco watched her heft the basket onto the low stool next to the table. She didn't see him, and he was free to observe her. Strange one, this elf. With the usual unusual features of an elf, very little hair, and a nose not unlike a crabapple, she had quite an ordinary appearance. But, she wore a small dress and cap of blue linen, both embroidered with a darker blue border at the hems. Her tiny apron had many pockets which buttoned with small pearls. He'd never seen an elf in clothes before, especially clothes as fine as these...what had she done to deserve the punishment, he wondered?

"Hey, you!"

The elf shrieked, backing into the wall and clutching her chest.

"Who are you then?" Draco demanded.

The elf seemed to recover her composure quickly, despite being confronted in a dark room by a half-naked young wizard. In fact, he could have sworn she was just as curious about him as he was about her.

"Me, Sir? Willo is my name, Sir. Be you Draco Malfoy, whose food I bring?"

"The same. Who is your master, Willo?"

The elf cocked her little head to one side, and a look came into her eyes that Draco had also never seen on a house elf before...suspicion, and...disdain??

"Willo has no master, Sir. And more, Willo will not say. Draco Malfoy does not require this knowledge."

"Oh, don't I?" Draco was on his feet in an instant, striding toward the tiny elf. In a moment his hands were at her throat. "Draco Malfoy has any knowledge he pleases from the likes of you, you rebellious little slave."

Willo tried to put her tiny hands around his wrists to work him loose, but could not. Her eyes showed fear, but her voice was steady. "Willo is no house elf, Draco Malfoy. Willo is an elf, and that is all. Willo works for payment, and her employer is not Draco Malfoy's affair."

Draco felt his fury rising at the insolence of this disgusting little creature. His hands began to squeeze, as he began to let go of three weeks' pent-up fear and frustration. Finally, an object to take it out on...

*CRACK*

Before he really had time to register the noise, he had been flung back from the elf, making his own *crack* as his head hit the wall. He lay in a daze, blinking, trying to clear the stars from in front of his eyes. What the...

"Willo! Darlin' Willo! Be ye hurt?"

Someone had rushed to the aid of the elf, and quickly gathered her into his arms. He stood and faced Draco.

"You've hurt 'er. How ruddy cold and arrogant. Though I didn't expect much from a Death Eater, I didn't think they stooped to terrorizin' elves! Yer lucky, bleedin' lucky, you won't be getting worse from the likes of me!"

A very small someone, Draco thought as he blinked again and attempted to rise.

"She was insolent. She should be beaten."

"And ye says that? By ye? She belongs to no wizard and must answer to none. Ye be the one in the wrong, Draco Malfoy."

The voice was passionate, and strange. As his vison cleared, he saw the strangest sight so far. Standing in front of the elf was a tiny red-haired man. His beard was long and ended in a ringlet, and his trousers were of green wool. It was a leprachaun!

The leprachaun tightly embraced the elf, who was trembling. His keen green eyes regarded Draco coldly. "Ye will find a good breakfast and a few gifts to celebrate your coming-of-age in yon basket." At this point he gave a soft, derisive snort. "Yer arrogant immaturity, unfortunately, has yet to catch up with chronology, but I will assume ye will not be attacking me wife in future. If ye dare, ye shall answer to me. As her husband, I have the right to defend her, and ye will NOT overstep yer boundaries, Mr. Malfoy, or ye'll face more than I, that ye will. For we are linked in mind, we are, and if she feels fear our mistress and I shall be here in a trice, and YE will get far worse than blown into a wall."

"Her husband?' " Draco sneered as he rubbed the back of his head. "There's a first in the annals of STRANGE. And who exactly is your 'mistress,' anyway?"

"MY name is Paddy, and that will be the only question to which ye shall have answer this morning. The mistress will be visitin' ye come afternoon. I trust ye'll shew enough respect for her to BATHE, yer a ruddy sight, ye are. And yer stench would knock a mountain troll to 'is knees. And while me mistress might enjoy the sight of ye in yer current state, I trust ye'll put somethin' on yerself as well. Top 'o the mornin' to ye, MR. Malfoy." The leprachaun tipped his hat in mocking respect to Draco and he and Willo were gone.

Draco was furious, and let loose with a long string of foul language. Once that was spent, he sat back down on the step, but immediately jumped up again. It was cold! Draco stood there as the realization of his situation hit him. He was in a stone tower, with no door, and he had no wand. He had just been served breakfast by a free elf who was married to a leprachaun. He'd been attacked by said leprachaun, who'd sent him arse-over-tip into a wall, then proceeded to tell him off in no uncertain terms. His head had a lump, and he was naked. As Draco reached down and retrieved the fallen duvet, an almost forgotten sensation gripped him. He let it go free, and found himself laughing, and only laughed harder when he realised he was laughing at himself for the first time in his life. Laughter had finally come to the stone tower, and it was hearty and strong.

Draco caught his breath and wiped the tears from his eyes. He grabbed the basket and bounded back upstairs, feeling better than he had in some time, though he was shocked by himself. When he reached his room, the next shock caused the basket to drop from his hands.

In the center of the room was a large round tub, steaming! A bath...hot! And there was a soft linen towel on his cot, and...he looked in wonder at the spilled contents of the fallen basket. Not just scones, and jam, and bacon, and soft-cooked eggs in little cups shaped like roosters, and hot tea with milk, but presents! Gifts in metallic paper, with rainbow ribbons...beautiful!

Despite now being "a man" in his world, he knelt in wonder and started pulling ribbons and tearing at the bright paper like a three-year-old. A fine robe of grey silk slithered from the wrappings and loosed itself in waves across the floor. In the next package was a book, HISTORY OF ASIAN WIZARDRY, by Shauzu Li. Another book...OLIVER TWIST? Wasn't that a muggle tale? He'd only ever read one of those, THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO. He hated to admit it, but it hadn't been half bad. He'd look at this one later. There was also a box of homemade caramels, and a bottle of honey mead.

Draco dragged the room's one small table to the edge of the tub, piled all of the food and the two books upon it, and jumped in. He felt like a king, sitting in a hot bath, munching bacon and scones. A month ago he would have been bored and complaining. It was amazing how much three weeks of empty chill could make one appreciate the little comforts in life. He reached for HISTORY OF ASIAN WIZARDRY, and just barely avoided drenching the note that had been secreted in its pages.

It was written on pale green parchment, folded instead of rolled. Draco's narrowed grey eyes scanned its contents as he nibbled another scone:

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

Birthday greetings, and happy Coming-of -Age. I apologise for my lateness in visiting, but I have been occupied, preparing for your stay. You will be pleased to learn that all protections for your welfare are now in place, and you will be free to roam the grounds from this day forward. Please only mind that you will feel a tremor in your feet if you stray within 20 metres of any boundary--you are required to remain on these grounds, for your safety.

If you are willing, I shall call upon you this afternoon. If you are desirous of this, send back word with Adamina. A door to the outside will appear quite soon, and remain.

Yours sincerely,

Emilie.

Adamina? Draco jerked his head to the window, where now perched a small grey owl. "Adamina, I presume?" inquired Draco with a smirk. The owl hooted assent. Draco stuffed the remaining scone in his mouth and reluctantly pulled himself out of his warm bath.

"Just how do I 'send back word?' I've no parchment."

Adamina hooted again. In one foot she held a small roll of black parchment (nice! thought Draco), and a white quill which held silver ink. He scribbled his reply:

I'll be downstairs.

~Draco

He tied the note to Adamina's leg with a small length of white ribbon and she flew away. Draco quickly jumped back into the tub, sending water splashing over one side onto the floor. He didn't care. It was warm, it was his...and he was to have a visitor! Emilie...he mused. What sort of witch was Emilie? Probably an ancient wrinkled monument to mold, he sneered. No matter, she appeared to want to visit, and he would allow her. He sighed in contentment and sank his head beneath the water's surface. Perhaps this birthday wouldn't be too awful after all.


*******

Chapter three--A Summer Chill

Draco spent a glorious morning soaking in the large round tub until he was sure that even a dust mote would be frightened to remain behind on him. When he finally pulled himself from the water, the tub steamed and disappeared. After drying off, Draco laid on his cot and read A HISTORY OF ASIAN WIZARDRY. It was an interesting read. They handled muggles quite differently than he had ever heard of before, more of a dismissed thing. Here, the wizarding world worked so hard to keep itself hidden, but there...there in Asia they had no qualms about revealing their true natures. The muggles were in awe and fear of them. Then again, it was a history--perhaps things weren't quite the same now? He'd never bothered much with other cultures. The visit of the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons was interesting, though, he'd had to admit. He'd always been more intrigued with the practical, however. What (spells, charms, hexes, curses, potions, etc.) can I learn, and how can I use them? The history teacher, that ghost, Binns, wasn't exactly the kind of instructor who kept things entertaining, anyway. But this was a very interesting read.

After an hour or so, he stretched like a languid cat, and reached down for his new silk robe. He ran the fabric through his fingers and across his cheek. So soft and yet, strong. The stitches were well-made, small and neat. As he explored the robe, some of its folds opened further, and a narrow belt fell out. Draco's eyes widened in appreciation. This was truly fine!

Made of the same silk as the robe, the belt was encrusted with small emeralds and clear crystals in a diamond pattern, almost like the backs of some snakes of which he'd seen pictures. The clasps were silver, the heads of two serpents...he slipped the robe over his shoulders and encircled his waist with the belt. The serpents leapt in his hands, the head on the right sinking its jaws into those of the snake on the left. Wondrous! Oh, he wished for a mirror! This was lovely!

A mirror would be really good right about now, he fussed. My hair...well, just do SOMETHING with it! He commanded himself. What do people do with their hair when they have no wand? He hadn't cared about his hair until now. He just hoped it would lie down and behave itself, not stick up at odd angles like that cretin Potter's always did. Kid always looked like someone had stuck his head in the toilet and hung him out to dry. Draco began to chuckle, but was seized by the memory of Dumbledore...Potter had seen it all. Shakily Draco sat down on the edge of his cot, the pleasure of his new robe forgotten. Potter always looked so harmless, until you got a good look into his eyes. Those eyes had always unnerved him.

Enough of this already! Draco pulled on his boots and strode purposefully down the staircase. The new door was in place, as he'd been told it would be. He flung it open and stepped out...and his jaw dropped at the sight before him.

On this side of the tower, just yards from the shore, was a paradise that did not belong! His unpleasant haunting visions vanished as his eyes filled with a garden unlike anything he had ever imagined. There were flowers of every color and description. Small neat rows of herbs, mandrakes, all manner of magical plants went off to the left for metres and metres. The high walls were covered in ivy and trailing roses in purples, golds, and blues. There was so much color, Draco was overwhelmed. Was all of this here, all these days? There was a fountain in the center and he went to it. It was somewhat like marble, but this was a strange, transluscent stone he didn't recognise, it reminded him of the inner layer of a sea shell, pink and lustrous. In the center was a large fish sculpture that spouted water from its mouth and gills. Was it glass? He could see the water bubbling and foaming throughout its body. He reached out a tentative hand to touch it, and the fish wriggled and jumped, did a complete flip in mid-air, and returned to perch upon its tail once more.

"He's very ticklish."

Draco jumped and turned. So here she was. He took an uncertain step away from the fountain and turned to face her.

She was a small figure in a heavy black velvet cloak. The hood was drawn down. She pushed it back.

All right then, NOT a monument to mold. She couldn't be older than twenty-five, surely. Her face was lovely, no, beautiful, he thought. Perhaps not as beautiful as his mothers' but...she stepped closer. Definitely as beautiful as his mother's though. She smiled. All right, much more beautiful than his mother's, then.

She had fine, pale skin, and a small nose with a slight upturn. Full lips...her eyes, now, they were strange. They were such a pale, icy blue that they looked almost opalescent. He'd never encountered such eyes before, they seemed unearthly, disconcerting. Her face was framed in hair as black as her cloak, most of it hidden under said garment. It shone in the sun like satin.

"Mr. Malfoy? So nice to have you emerge at last."

"You're Emilie? Er, well, I hadn't much choice till now."

Oh, clever thing to say, you already sound like a prat! he thought feebly. His head seemed to be racing somehow, there were too many thoughts in it. What in Merlin's sweet name was wrong with him? It's not like he hadn't met a pretty girl before. All right, beautiful then. Get it together, you idiot!

She observed him. "You didn't? Well, you are out of doors now. Would you like to walk with me?" She came nearer, and held out her hand.

Wordlessly, he took it. It was surprisingly cold, for such a warm day. They walked the stone path around the garden for a short time, and she didn't let go of his hand. He was pleased to notice that after a few minutes, it became as warm as his.

"This garden has been here for ages. The walls, and certain enchantments, keep it protected from the elements. The plants here have their practical uses, but I think of this place as more of a sanctuary."

"I suppose it has been, for me. Well, the tower anyway."

"Has it?"

"In a sense. Though..."

"Yes?"

"I've felt safe here, but not happy. Though I appreciate you offering it, I really do."

"I didn't offer it."

"Oh. Er...well..." he let that slide. "Are you angry? For Willo?"

For the first time since beginning their stroll, she took her eyes from her plants to his face. She laughed, "Should I be? Should I punish you, do you think? I don't think so. You were punished enough, from what I heard."

Draco flushed. "Well, it took me by surprise. I didn't think a leprachaun would suddenly appear and blast me across the room. But it was wrong, what I did."

"It certainly was, very rude. But if you thought Paddy sent you, you are mistaken. Willo did it."

"Excuse me?" Draco's jaw dropped.

Emilie laughed, a clear, bell-like sound that Draco found pleasing. He found he was smiling in spite of himself. She said, "Paddy doesn't have the power to send objects or people. However, he's a skilled craftsman, and he always keeps a poisoned dagger of his own making in his boot. Believe me, Willo was protecting YOU, not herself."

"Protecting me?"

"Well, of course! Paddy's horribly patriarchal, but she's insane for him. Had you remained where you were for long after his appearance, we wouldn't be walking in this garden now." She turned away and continued strolling. "She did you a great favour."

Draco let himself be led about like a child. A house elf, sorry, elf had protected her attacker?

"I don't understand elves. Why would she do that? Why are elves so...weak? She should have knocked my head in!"

"Is that what you think she should have done? Come, sit down here." She led him to a small but ornate wooden bench against the wall near the tower door. In so doing, she released his hand, which he instantly regretted.

She leaned toward him earnestly. Draco found himself captivated by her eyes, the way her cloak opened in the front...pretty dress, nice, um..yeah. He brought his eyes back to her own and tried not to blush.

"Listen to me, Mr. Malfoy. Most wizards know very little about magic other than their own in this world. You don't understand elves because you've never tried, have you? Elves are as powerful as we are, they just lack..." she hesitated, "Ruthlessness, I suppose you'd call it. They don't have the capacity to want to cause lasting harm to any creature. Willo could easily have killed you. All she gave you was a bump on the head and a bit of embarrassment. It got you out of harm's way and placated Paddy. She was terribly upset about it--she trembled for full half-an-hour, I had to give her a little glass of elderberry wine before she could carry on! I pray you will leave her alone from now on, won't you? If she had to defend herself again she'd be in a right state for a week."

"I think that would be wise....but this elf, she's free? I mean, I've only known one other elf who was free, but he wasn't free when I knew him. This prat in my class year at Hogwarts freed him through treachery--but he was our elf! That Potter had no right!"

"It wasn't always this way, Mr. Malfoy. Over the centuries, wizards and witches have forgotten their own history, their REAL history, I mean. Not endless lists of names and dates and battles, but the history of their real place in the world. At one time, wizards and elves worked side-by-side. But they weren't alike in mind. Elves are driven to provide for others; their greatest reward is to make others happy and comfortable. Wizards took advantage of this fine instinct and used their own greed to enslave the elven people--YES, PEOPLE, Mr. Malfoy! Not 'magical creatures.' Referring to them as magical creatures is only a ploy to dehumanize them, a way for wizardkind to absolve themselves of shame and guilt! Our kind have been slave owners. It's wrong."

Draco laughed. "But, this IS the natural order! They're happy! Most of them are absolutely devastated if they're set free! Don't look at me like that, it's really true! Dobby was a weird aberration, he was perverted."

Her pale eyes bore into his and he sobered. "Then the natural order is perverted, Mr. Malfoy." She rose and quickly moved away. "Would you like a tour of the rest of the grounds?"

He stood and followed her, but he had doubts now. Who was this witch? She was breathtaking, really, but did she have, er, mental problems? She didn't reach for his hand again...he set his jaw. Fine. A nice walk in the country is good for one, let's just do that.

They walked through the arch at the far edge of the garden and Draco stood and gazed. It was lovely. There were oak trees, yew trees, rowans, all aged, very large. Expanses of meadow opened out and rolled away into the distance. And on one side was the sea. He looked at her apprehensively, but she was smiling at his delight. She wasn't angry, that was strange...she held her hand out again and he happily took it. It was so cold once more! But it was soon warm again in his.

They walked for what seemed like miles; through the meadows, near the trees. She said the forest was so old no one knew how long the trees had stood there. She said the trees were invisible to "the Others," as she called the muggles. No doubt, Draco though to himself, or they would have been felled long ago. Muggles taint everything they see. She led him down a stone path set in the face of the cliff, to the sea. It was wonderful. They sat on the sand and talked of elves, and muggles, and magic. The more Draco listened, the more he had to bite his lip to keep fom arguing. This woman had done a great deal on his behalf and he wasn't going to make her upset again, though he agreed with almost nothing she said. It was as if she was from another world or something! She didn't seem to have a clue how things really worked. But he hadn't had company in so long, much less such pleasant company, even less such pleasant, easy-on-the-eyes company. He held himself in check.

The sun began to set as they made their ascent to high ground once more and returned to the garden.

"Emilie?"

"Hmm?"

"Um...did you go to school at Hogwarts then?"

"Hogwarts? Oh no," she chuckled.

"Beauxbatons?"

"No."

"Not Durmstrang?"

"No, Draco. None of those schools. I was privately taught by one individual, and also did extensive study on my own."

No WONDER her ideas were so warped!

"Well, did, er, did the Dark Lord teach you? I mean, He sent me here, are you under obligation to look after me on His orders?"

She swung around and faced him, a look of slight shock on her fair features. "No, Draco! Not him. Not him," she shook her head. She looked upset again.

"I'm sorry, I just, well, I was just curious (she called me Draco!). I've never heard of you before, and I was brought here after the...well, I was sent here, really, and I thought that...I'm sorry."

She smiled slightly at him again, though the sadness in her eyes remained. She reached up and stroked his cheek in the way his mother might have, though his mother's hand didn't make him shiver.

"You're getting chilled, here, take this." She unclasped her cloak and began to remove it.

"No, I'm fine. You keep..." But Draco's protest stopped. She had swung the cloak from her shoulders, revealing a swath of black hair that fell almost to the ground, thick and glossy. Before he had time to move, she'd handed the cloak to him.

"Go ahead, put it on. It is chilly tonight. Time to go in anyway. I'm sure Willo has already brought your dinner."

Draco eased the cloak over his shoulders. "Oh, I never thanked you for the robe, it's beautiful."

"You can thank Paddy. He makes all of our clothes, he made that for you. When he first came here, he only made shoes, but I suggested he expand his creative experiences. And all the more fun for Willo and me, and now, you. " She laughed.

Draco's eyes widened a bit at this knowledge. Good thing he hadn't gotten on the wrong side of the leprachaun until this morning. Drat...no more new robes.

"Emilie? I was wondering...well, you've been very kind already, but, well.." he took the plunge. "Could I perhaps have a real bed? That cot is really uncomfortable, and sometimes the room gets really cold as well. Would a fireplace be admissible?"

Emilie cocked her head and regarded him quizzically. "Draco, that room will provide whatever you want, it always could. I think, perhaps, you felt you didn't deserve better before now? Please, sit with me just one more moment before you go in?" she gestured toward the bench. They sat.

"Draco, you were brought here to be safe, and you are safe here. I was asked to harbour you, and I do so willingly. The tower is yours to use as you wish. The door to the garden opened today because YOU willed it there. I was worried about you, because you showed no inclination to change your situation. So I put the suggestion in your mind. The tower will provide for any other needs you may have."

Draco bent his head and looked at the ground. There was just so much a person could take in at once. "Why am I here? Why must I be kept safe? We had a meeting with the Dark Lord, and Snape explained everything. I thought He sent me here as punishment, but...this is very confusing, you say it wasn't Him, and..."

Her small hand had once again sought his. He turned and faced her. "Emilie, I...I don't know what's going on, and until today I didn't really care. But now..."

She stroked his face again. Her cool fingers swept up and brushed his temple, then stopped there. "Ah. You're exhausted. You've not slept well for months. I wondered...your eyes have dark circles beneath, but some people always have those, especially if they are as fair as you." She smiled. "Hold still, close your eyes."

Draco obliged her. What a way this woman had with her. He hadn't been himself with her. He'd not even told her off once, even though she had the stupidest ideas he'd ever heard. Well, she was gorgeous. But still, Pansy was pretty and he wasn't always terribly considerate of her. Maybe you turn into a wimp when left on your own, eh, Malfoy? And then act like a complete wussy git as soon as someone visits?

"Shhhh, stop that now." she laughed. "It's alright to be a gentleman, you know, kindness never killed anyone."

"But..." Draco spluttered.

"Shhhhh. Close your eyes, come on." Draco obeyed. "Your dreams have been unpleasant, you need rest. Tonight you will dream only of pleasant things."

Draco felt a tingle where her fingers stroked his temple...her hands were growing warmer. So pleasant, this sensation.

"Well, that should do. Come on now, you need rest." She stood and pulled him to his feet.

"What did you do?"

"Just ensured that you get rest, Mr. Malfoy. And any other questions can be discussed another time. May I return tomorrow afternoon, then? Do you think you can bear with me and my crazy ideas?"

He grinned. "Perhaps, yes, that would be agreeable."

"Good night then, Mr. Malfoy. It was nice to meet you. Happy Birthday." Before he realized it, she had risen on tiptoe and pecked his cheek, and then turned and walked away into the dusk.

Draco found himself backing toward the door of the tower, trying to open it while his back was to it, which didn't work. He turned reluctantly, grasped the latch and went in. The lamp in the landing lit itself, and yes, the basket was there. He smelled roast beef and was suddenly ravenous. He grabbed the basket, jumped the steps two at a time, flung open the door to his room, and--stood there in wonder for the second time that day.

There was a glowing blaze in a fine fireplace, a large bed with curtains and a canopy, and a mirror, and-- another window! He raced to it. It faced the garden! Emilie was still in the garden, though she had almost reached the arch. She turned and waved, as if she had known all along she'd see him there. He grinned and waved back. She turned and walked through the arch. He watched her till she was out of sight.

He was overwhelmed. It was so strange. Where was his head at, anyway? He'd apologised for scaring an elf. That was new...but then, it belonged to the most beautiful witch in the world, well, all right, it didn't belong to her, but anyway. Whatever, he was starving! As he crossed the room with the basket, he caught a glimpse of himself in the large mirror, and stared in horror. His hair! Oh Good Greeks, he had POTTER hair! He'd had POTTER hair all bloody afternoon! Ugh!

********

Chapter Four--A Summer Chill

Draco dreamt of his mother that night. He was little, standing behind her, carefully combing her long, white-blond hair. He was so patient with the comb, and as he worked, he saw himself grow taller in the mirror. His mother's hair hair turned to ebony in his hands, he was combing Emilie's hair. She was smiling at him in the mirror. The mirror wavered, he could see the ocean in it, the mirror became the ocean, he was at the edge. Snakes were making spiral tracks on the sand as he followed them along the shore. The tracks became snakes themselves, and slithered to him. He felt them entwine themselves all around him, but felt no fear. They drew warmth from him, he felt their tongues flicker against his bare skin, tasting him. They wove themselves together and supported him, and began to fly, taking him over the waves, the tower, the meadows...he awoke, smiling.

He went for his basket, and when he returned, the bath was there, waiting for him. A new comb was lying on the table. He had a feeling he could get used to this.

Emilie returned that afternoon, took his hand as before, and they walked. They talked of many things, but not of her. All of his questions were politely deflected with an observation about something else, or sometimes she would just look at him in her enigmatic way, and giving no reply at all. She seldom asked him about himself, but she hadn't had to, really. Draco had launched in on his family's history, their mansion, their position. She had listened, but asked for no clarification. It was pleasant to be with her, but Draco found he had a certain discomfort in her company as well. She never seemed impressed, and that was something he wasn't accustomed to.

Draco lay on his chaise that evening, staring out at the clouds on the horizon. What was he doing here? And why did he need protection, when everything was worked out? And why wouldn't Emilie tell him anything that mattered? He rubbed his eyes and reached for the new book she'd brought for him that afternoon, something about vampire lore, but his eyes kept reading the same lines over and over again, without anything sinking in. He thought of rummaging in the basket for a snack, and groaned at the thought, as he would have to get up and get it himself. Why did Snape make him turn over his wand when he'd brought him here? It was terribly inconvenient.

Snape had said that this was also for his safety. Draco had been in an exhausted daze at the time, and had handed it over without question. Then had followed three weeks of solitude and worry. Now, he was comfortable, well-rested, and...starting to complain again. The snack was forgotten as Draco shifted sideways on the chaise and took up his evening vigil once more. Why was he complaining now that things were better? Why not complain before? Well, he wasn't happy before, but...something was different.

Restless and irritated, he got up and put on his boots. He left the room, grabbing Emilie's long black cloak as he went. Briskly walking through the garden, now lit up in evening splendour, he once more let himself be charmed by the place. The fairies here bred like rabbits, he thought, though it did make it look pretty at night.

He passed under the arch and made strides across the meadow. He wanted to be closer to the sea. He found the path easily enough in the dark, but navigating it was a bit tricky. He found himself clinging to the stones in the cliff like a child, and was thankful no one was watching. The tides had changed, but that mattered little. He plopped down on the sand and sat with his knees up, chin resting on his arms. The breeze was stronger here, it picked up wisps of his white-blond hair and played with them.

Who was this Emilie, really? Why had he never heard of her, or seen her before? Snape knew her. He knew to take him here. If Draco had ever seen her before yesterday, in Diagon Alley, perhaps, he wouldn't have forgotten it. Diagon Alley...last summer he'd been there, and to Knockturn Alley, where he'd set in motion a series of events which just may have ruined his life. Was his life ruined? His cheeks blazed with shame as he remembered Dumbledore flying over the battlements. Dumbledore's life was ruined...perhaps other people's too, for what Draco had done.

He could still hear the shouts, which echoed along the walls as he ran from the scene at Hogwarts. There was smoke, and blazes of light from spells and hexes bouncing off the walls. The walls were rumbling, protesting their desecration as chunks of stone blew across the halls, crashing into other walls, or people. He had tripped over a bloody form on the floor and almost fallen before Snape grabbed his arm and pulled him up. He could still see Potter chasing them across the grounds. Snape turning, facing him...Potter had gone flying, hitting the ground, and Draco had looked on in horified fascination, waiting for Snape to despatch him---but Snape had not done so. He heard them shouting, but couldn't decipher the words. Snape had simply turned, run back, and hustled Draco from the grounds.

Draco thought of his father, in Azkaban now. He'd been seen at the Ministry, trying to destroy Potter. There was something about a prophecy. Aunt Bellatrix had escaped, but many did not. There was still so much he didn't understand about that. All he knew was that he was angry and ashamed. How could he face those Gryffindors now, have them scoffing at him in the hallways because his father was in prison? He would have dreaded going back to school, would have begged his mother for a transfer to Durmstrang, had it not been for his task. The Dark Lord had told his mother that He wanted HIM, Draco, for important work! He hadn't hesitated. He was brought before them all in a fine and solemn ceremony, and the mark was burned into his arm by the Dark Lord's own hand. The pain had been excrutiating, and Draco had determined at that moment that working for the Dark Lord's cause was important, but he would be happier not being in His presence. However powerful He was, His eyes were very disturbing, and His touch worse. Still, how many had been touched by Him and lived? A very select and exclusive few, and he was one of them now. He knew his father would have been proud, he'd told Draco many times that it was the most noble thing he could choose to do. The wizarding world was being overrun with people unfit for the responsibility, and it was the duty of those special purebloods to set things straight. Setting things straight created an awful mess, though, didn't it? Such was the cost...

"Good evening, Draco."

"Emilie! Please, sit down."

"Thank you. Am I disturbing? You seemed deep in thought."

"I was thinking about...things. All the things that have happened in the last year."

"Ah, yes. Many things have happened. Many bad things."

"Are they bad? Perhaps it only seems so now, and soon things will be settled."

She didn't reply. She simply echoed his own posture, sitting in the sand, knees drawn up under her pale robe, chin on her arms, and gazed out to sea. Draco had given up on a reply when one came.

"Bad things happen all of the time, Draco. Bad things happen all over the world at every moment. And nothing is ever settled by them. It's an illusion we create in our minds. It's truly amazing, the illusions we can create."

"Emilie, why am I here? I really need to know."

She sighed, turning her face to meet his eyes. "For your safety."

"No, not just that. There has to be more."

"Draco, there is no place for you but here, don't you see that? If you went home, you would be arrested. I cannot say for sure if you would be sent to Azkaban. Your crimes were committed before you were of age--it's possible your sentence would be light, but you WOULD have a sentence. The Ministry is in uproar. They're arresting the innocent just to make people feel they're doing SOMETHING, and would be more than happy to make an example of you. You cannot be with the Death Eaters either. You're too young and lack the experience to be truly useful, they see you as a liability. You also failed in your last task."

"The Dark Lord doesn't know why though." He gasped as he rememberd that this was not something anyone but Snape knew.

"It doesn't matter." She went on as though he'd revealed nothing that wasn't news to her already. Draco steadied himself. "Your training was not complete."

"My father taught me a good deal about the Dark Lord and His purpose! I repaired the vanishing cabinet! I made it possible for the others to get into Hogwarts, I made it possible to do away with Dumbl...well, I did."

"Yes, you did."

She turned her face to the sea once more. They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

"Emilie, why am I here?"

"Always that question. Draco, when you have worked out the answer to that, you'll no longer need to be here. It's your question to answer, not mine."

He reflected on that for a few moments. "Emilie, who are you?"

She laughed. "Draco, I am your friend. You do know that, don't you? The rest isn't important."

"But whose side are you on, really?"

"My side, Draco. And yours."

"Emilie?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're going to drive me stark raving mad, you know. I'll be sent to St. Mungo's and never return."

She chuckled, but became somber once more. "I hope not, Draco. Shall we go up?"

"OK." Draco brushed the sand from his robe and helped Emilie to her feet. Her hands were cold again. "Here, take this back." He eased the cloak over her shoulders again.

"Thank you." She fastened the clasp, then with a simple movement of the wrist, created a lantern in mid-air. He stared in wonderment. A witch who performed wandless magic! One had to be very powerful to do that; his father had said that it was also something only purebloods could do--and not always then. The lantern bobbed merrily before them as they walked, showing the way. The path was easy to negotiate by its light.

"Draco, come to dinner tomorrow night. Would you?

"Yes, of course! But, I don't even know where you live. I can't believe I never thought to ask!"

"One of the few questions you haven't asked," she smiled. "The fairies will show you the way."

She walked him to his door and again, placed a quick peck upon his cheek. Even her lips are cold, he thought. And here she was, running around with no cloak.

"Till tomorrow evening then."

He watched till she was out of sight.

Chapter Five---A Summer Chill

Draco hated to admit it, but he was excited about this dinner. He'd been invited to dinners before, of course. He'd met some of the finest wizards and witches in the country. The dinners were very formal, rather long and dull, really, but the contacts were priceless. This one would be different, however. This one would have only Emilie, and him.

He lounged in bed half the day, envisioning scenarios in which Emilie would answer the door, greet him with a kiss on the cheek, in her usual way...but he would put his arm around her waist and pull her to him for a long, slow kiss on the mouth. She wouldn't even show him to the dining room...they'd go to her bedchamber...there would be ahuge oaken bed with curtains of silk, with tassels...her robe would fall to the floor...

OK, enough of that, he chided. She is NOT terribly impressed with you, you know. Her home is a huge castle, with turrets and a dungeon even larger than ours at home. She probably keeps a dragon, and owns a library that would put ours to shame. She can do wandless magic! You're just an arrogant child. He got up and dressed. It was too early to leave. He decided to walk in the garden.

He stepped out of the landing door into a day of bright sunshine. Summer was come at last. There was a strange music coming from a far corner and he followed it. It was Willo, bent over a row of common carrots, singing in her little wispy voice. He stepped back a few paces. He didn't want to disturb her, just to watch her.

"Oh, who is to know
what an elf can grow
when the sun is high
so high in the sky

when Zeus bends down
hands the elven the crown
of delight, and the light
shines on all and is bright

when the foods grow so tall
we do gather them all
How they dance in the sun
when the growing is done

and we cook them, we do
in the pot they do stew
for the table is set
all good needs to be met..."

He crept silently back along the path and settled himself on the wooden bench, still watching. Willo waved her tiny hand and the carrots sprang from the ground, dancing into the basket she'd set between the rows, and she sang them in. She sang in the carrots, she sang in the marrows, and the new baby peas, she even sang to the tomatoes till they grew red and ripe and danced into the basket. He'd never seen an elf gardening until now, and somehow he knew it was something special, something few wizards had ever seen. He was enchanted.

She stood by the basket, and, grasping its handle firmly, snapped her fingers and disappeared.

Draco toured the garden for at least an hour, waiting for the sun to go down, for the fairies to come out and show him the way. There was a strange magic in this place, he wasn't acquainted with it. It made him lose all of his defences, but somehow, the effect was deadened. He didn't seem to care as much as he should have. It was as if he were standing outside himself, watching it all fall away, just an impassive observer to his own life. The pain seemed to be falling away as well. When he breathed, all the air got in. There was still a catch now and then, but the air was good in this place.

"Meeester Malfooooy....?"

Huh?

"Meeester Malfooooy, time to follooooow us."

Draco snapped from his reverie to find two fairies hovering in front of his face. "Wha..?"

"Pleeease to folloooow, Meeeester Malfoy."

"Oh. OK, then. thanks."

"We thank theeee, Meeester Malfoooooy. Nice to tour outside the gaaaaaarden, yes?"

"Meeeester Malfoooy looks most fiiiine tonight, does he not, seeeester?"

"Indeeeeed he does, seeeeester. Not so fine as weeee, but fine enough for heeees kind."

"Meeeester Malfoooy, who think you is most pretty of us twoooooo? She is not sooooo pretty as meeee, is sheeeee?"

"Um, well, I couldn't judge."

"Seeeeee, seeester? He chose meeeee."

"Heeee didn't chooose you, you looook like a dead feeeeesh."

"Dooooo not! You look like a dead eeeeeeel!"

Draco followed the feuding fairies out of the garden. He really hoped it wasn't far to walk. Listening to them was like listening to Pansy and Millicent.

Thanks to my beta, Padfootchick14, Chapter Six is ready to roll. Much gratitude for your help with improving the flow, hon!

Chapter Six--A Summer Chill

By the time the fairies had brought him half a mile, Draco was thoroughly sick of the both of them. They kept badgering him to tell them which one was more beautiful, which he refused to do. How do you tell two identical twin fairies which is more beautiful? Not that he would have anyway, he'd have refused out of spite, they were that annoying! No wonder people spent so little time around fairies, he thought, they were vain and ridiculous. The luminescent pair bickered for the entire journey, which led across the meadow and among the trees. There was a stile to climb, but then a path seemed to appear from the faint mist that was forming on the low ground. It was of white stone, and had a glow of its own, illuminating the way.

"Theeeees path leeeads to Meeeeess Emilieeeeeee's house, Meeeeester Malfooooooy."

"Oh thank Merlin," he breathed. "Well, I can take it from here, thanks."

He left the fairies to argue over which one of them had done the best job of leading, and which had done the best job of lighting, and started down the path on his own.

It is so peaceful here, he thought. Well, except for the blasted fairies. He stood still for a moment and closed his eyes, drinking in the night through his other senses. There was an owl hooting not far away, and the faint rustlings of various nocturnal creatures were scattered in the hedges on either side. He could smell wood smoke and honeysuckle. He turned his face upwards and opened his eyes. The sky was clear tonight.

His boots crunched along on the small white stones and he soon saw lights shimmering in the distance. His pace picked up. I hope my hair looks all right, he fussed, I do NOT want Potter hair tonight! When the dwelling appeared, he wondered if perhaps it was the wrong place. Surely Emilie's home would be further along. This was a common cottage! It was charming, with its thatched roof, but not grand. He crept closer and stepped from the path, stealthily making for the window nearest the door, and surreptitiously peeked inside. No, this was it. There she was. He froze in place, just gazing. She was wearing a pale shimmering gown of gold silk. She had leaned over to pat a large black cat, stroking it's back as it arched and promenaded at her feet. She looked like a medieval princess, the one that was in every fairy tale his mother had ever read to him, the one he'd always said he'd rescue when he was grown up. That always had made his mother smile...and so little made her smile...either then or now, especially now. He wished his mother could meet Emilie; she would like her, he was sure of it.

"Make a habit of peepin' in ladies' winders, do ye? I should have expected as much from the likes of ye."

Draco whirled around to find Paddy leaning up against the gate, arms crossed, looking daggers at him.

"Uh, I wasn't sure it was the right house."

The leprachaun sneered, "Oh of course, of course. And maybe ye'd like to sell me some of me own gold, I suppose? How many ruddy houses do ye think there are here anyway? Yer a pervert, ye are. I should run ye through and be done with it, ye ruddy... "

But Draco had had about enough of small, annoying creatures for one evening, and found himself sneering back. "Overreact much? Seems to be your bloody hobby! Well, whatever it takes to feel like you MATTER, I suppose."

The leprachaun's face turned as red as his hair, and he raised his fists. Draco would have laughed at the sight, but he wondered if Emilie had been honest about the tiny man having a poisoned knife in his boot. He watched the little man draw in a breath, preparing for the charge, and wondered if there were anyplace he could run to, when...

"Excuse me?"

Emilie stood in the doorway looking at them both with a bemused expression. "Paddy, would you kindly stop standing there looking like the mascot for Notre Dame, it's ridiculous. Draco, hello." She smiled and Paddy deflated.

"He was peepin' in the ruddy winder, he was. He's perverted!"

"Yes, yes. And you read WITCH WEEKLY. Everyone does strange things on occasion. Stop being silly and come in, or Willo will send Claw out to find you. You know she worries if you're late for meals."

Abashed, the leprachaun quickly went inside.

"I was only checking if this was your house..." Draco tried to explain.

Emilie winked at him and laughed, "I know, don't worry about it." She leaned toward him conspiriatorally and whispered in his ear, "Paddy hates people to know he reads WITCH WEEKLY. He'll behave for a good half-hour. Please, come in, and welcome!"

So much for the romantic greeting, he thought, and grinned at her.

It was a good dinner, and the house was warm and homely--he found he really liked it, despite its lack of grandeur. At first he was a bit taken aback to find that Willo and Paddy were having dinner with them as well, but he did a good show of pretending it was something normal. Soon he found that he wasn't pretending any longer. Willo was timid at first, but as soon as she'd been assured that Draco had suffered no lasting harm from his head's encounter with the wall, she relaxed. She was so amusing after that Draco almost forgot she was an elf! She asked questions, urged extra helpings on everyone, then would laugh at what someone said, or lean over and kiss Paddy's cheek for absolutely no reason at all other than to make him fuss. Draco felt Paddy's eyes on him numerous times, but studiously kept his attention on Emilie and Willo. For some reason, it had been the right thing to do. Paddy seemed to relax as well. The food was delicious. Draco complimented Willo on the vegetables, and she blushed. That made Paddy kiss Willo on the cheek. The tension had disappeared.

"Um, Emilie, what is Notre Dame?"

"It's a university in America, for the Others."

"Why don't you call them muggles? Everyone does. We've always called them that."

They weren't always called muggles, lad." stated Paddy. "Seems a right foolish name, does it not? Like something yer'd name a pet."

"I don't like the name," stated Emilie firmly. "It IS pet-like. It robs non-magical people of their dignity. Names are important, they have great power, Draco."

"Dignity?" scoffed Draco. "What dignity? Muggles are the silliest creatures I've ever heard of."

"Do you know any of them?"

"Of course not! We don't run in the same circles..." he joked.

"Well, they're actually quite amazing. The things they can invent to get around not having magic! They have communications methods that far outstrip ours for speed." Draco gave her a skeptical look. "It's true! They can send a message and it can go all around the world in a few seconds. Owls can take weeks. They need to feed, rest. And this music, too."

"This is muggle music? I thought you'd conjured it."

"Not quite. Look!" Emilie grinned and rose from the table. She walked to a table by the window and whisked a shawl from something Draco had never seen before--a small box-like object with a black and silver exterior. The music was coming from it.

"What IS that thing?"

"They call it a CD player! Isn't it wonderful!"

"Uh, sure. But why not just use the Wireless?"

"You get no choices with the Wireless. Look at this!"

Draco couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. He'd never seen this Emilie before. She was like a schoolgirl.

"What's that?"

"It's a CD! Compact discs, they call them, aren't they pretty? And each disc has different music, and you can choose which music you want to hear! You can't do that with the Wireless. And they have a lot of different types of music, and different groups, and.."

"Well, how does it work?"

"Well, the Others use this power they get through the walls, I'm not sure how that works, really, but I bought these things called batteries, and they go in the back and make it work. Isn't it wonderful?"

What could he say? It wasn't half-bad, really. "Sure, it's great. So what music is in there now?"

"This is Mozart. He's the composer. This music is over two centuries old now, but the Others make new music all the time."

"I like Mozart." Her enthusiasm was infectious. He grinned at her. He couldn't help but like it, if she did. And it wasn't bad, very pleasing, actually.

"See? The Others have their own magic, it's just different from ours, Draco." She came and sat back down as Willo served up the pudding. "Oooh, treacle tart! My favourite!"

He gazed at her with his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, his tart all but forgotten as he listened to her tell tales of the muggles. She was so different at home! The quiet reserve he'd come to feel was her usual state had all but disappeared in this comfortable place.

The meal left Draco feeling rested and content. He renewed his praise of the dinner, making Willo smile from ear to ear. Emilie cleared the used dishes from the table with a wave of her hand, and the ladies went into the kitchen to put them in their proper places. Paddy hopped down from his chair, and said, "Well, lad, time to feed Claw. Want to help?"

"Uh, sure. What's Claw?

"Me dog! Well, our dog, I guess. Come on then."

Paddy led Draco out to the back yard, where a huge boarhound came bounding up, happily wagging his tail. He bent his large head down for Paddy to pat. "There's me Claw, good boy."

Paddy left Draco and got food from the kitchen. Claw immediately went to Draco and nuzzled his hand for a pat. He obliged the animal, eliciting sounds of pleasure from the gigantic dog as he scratched its ears.

"Oh aye, that dog knows a friend when he sees one." Paddy had returned with a bowl the size of a wagon wheel and Claw began to wolf down the meat within.

"AM I a friend now, Paddy?"

"I didn't think so at first, lad, after the way ye manhandled me wife, but she forgave ye. And I saw ye at dinner. Yer've a gentle way with Miss Emilie, that ye do. She likes ye, and Willo likes ye. Not much I can say or do to change their minds, so....anyways, leprachauns hain't always the kindest of folks, not in our natures, really. So take me fussin' with a grain o' salt."

"How did you end up here? Leprachauns always live in Ireland, or so I thought."

"Aye, they do. I'm a strange one, I am. Saw Willo at the Quidditch World Cup, three year ago now, walking with Miss Emilie. I was there to entertain the crowds ye know, and cheer on the Irish! That elf had the sweetest expression I'd ever seen in me life, and so interested in everything. Fell for her then and there. Totally went against me people and me own nature to be a part of her life. And there it is."

"I was at the World Cup that year! Ireland won."

"O' course they did, what'd ye expect?" the leprachaun stated crossly. "Well, Claw, c'mon in now." All three returned to the house.

"All cleaned up, now, I think we'll be off, Miss Emilie."

"Thank both of you, sleep well." Willo and Emilie shared a hug, and Paddy kissed Emilie's hand.

"They don't live here?"

"Well, they do, but in a small house just down the way...one better suited to their size."

Good nights were said all around, as Willo and Paddy made their way out. Claw remained, settling himself in front of the fire.

"Care for a game of chess?"

"Yes, that'd be nice." So much for seeing her bedroom, thought Draco.

The chess set was brought to the table. Draco was good at Wizard's Chess, though it wasn't really difficult to outwit Crabbe or Goyle, and sometimes he suspected that they let him win, so this could be interesting. They sat down to play. Immediately Claw rose from his nap, and ambled over to Draco's side, putting his head on Draco's knee and promptly drooling down the length of his robes. Draco shifted uncomfortably, and said, "I forgot to thank Paddy for this robe, and now Claw is punishing me for it."

Emilie shifted to look and laughed. "Oh Claw, you're incorrigible!"

"Where did this great beast come from anyway?"

"A friend of mine in the north gave him to me. He had two dogs, brothers, but said his house was too small. Hated to give him up, really, he's such a sweet man, so attached to animals. But I promised to take very good care of Claw."

"You must, he's huge!"

She smiled. "I'll take white, all right?"

They played for a bit, but kept interrupting each other's concentration with comments and questions. Draco kept losing pawns.

"You were at the World Cup three years ago, Paddy told me. I wish I'd seen you."

"I kept a low profile, really. I saw you though. You were there with your parents."

"You remember me?" He smiled.

"You're easy to remember, Draco. Your hair colour is very rare, except on young children, and you are a handsome boy. Well, man, boy...you were a boy then."

He hoped he wasn't blushing. "I'm still a boy, I think. I don't always manage life as an adult wizard should."

She shook her head slightly. "There are plenty of people who don't manage their lives well, Draco. It's got nothing to do with age."

He looked earnestly into her pale eyes. "I failed at my task."

"I know. I'm....glad."

"You're glad? Why?"

"Draco, do you know what makes us FEEL old? Not aching bones and wrinkles. It's the weight of our regrets. You would have that weight on you for the rest of your life had you succeeded."

"But, Professor Snape did it for me." Draco avoided her eyes and fumbled with a pawn, "He killed Professor Dumbledore."

Emilie reached across the table and laid her hand over his. "Severus did what he deemed necessary. Don't worry, he was prepared to if he needed to."

She turned his hand over, and slid the sleeve of his robe up his forearm, revealing the scar. "Did it hurt to get this?"

"Yes. A lot."

She nodded as she looked at it. "Did you want it?"

"It wasn't a matter of wanting it. He wanted me to have it. And when the Dark Lord wants something from you, you give it!"

She sighed. "Even to the point of being branded, like cattle?" Her face looked pained.

"That's not what it is! It's a mark of, of honour! Very few are chosen, you know."

She looked unconvinced. He felt hot anger rising within him at her sorrowful expression. "You're just, just jealous! He didn't choose you, did he?"

She hung her head and said nothing.

"That's it, isn't it? Is that why I'm here? Your 'good deed for the day?' Am I your project, Emilie?" he spat. "Do you hope to get into His good graces by being my nanny?"

He felt if he stayed he would only make things worse, he was so angry. Without another word, he pushed Claw's head from his lap and stormed out the door, slamming it on his way out.

He strode quickly away from the cottage, his mind a fury of unspoken insults and unexpressed rage. The path took him to the stile. He climbed it and entered the woods.

Branded! Like common cattle! Of all the stupid things to say. Add it to all of the stupid things she'd said. Muggles, creative? Magical? What a joke. This whole place was a joke! If he could, he'd leave. He'd leave now!

His pace was intense, but it wasn't long before he slowed. It was very dark, and he had no light. He hadn't really paid as much attention as he might have to the way he'd come, he'd been too busy listening to the fairies argue. He couldn't seem to find the meadow, no matter how far he walked. The intensity of his anger diminished as his unease increased. He strode back and forth, trying to find a way out. But the trees seemed to box him in on all sides. He stopped and peered in all directions, looking for an opening through their branches, but could see nothing. He leaned against a large oak and slid down it. He felt a panic rising. He remembered the first time he had felt this way. His father had locked him in a wardrobe for three days for failing to execute a proper upside-down turn on his broomstick. He'd been eight years old. He had screamed and screamed, but no one had come near, not even his mother. When they had finally let him out, he'd been ill for a week, and still sometimes had nightmares about it.

Before he could stop them, tears were splashing down his cheeks, his breathing was short, and wracked by sobs.

He was lost! Lost forever in here, and he had shouted at HER! Shouted at the only person he had ever known to be kind to him with no gain in it, other than his mother. He'd made her sad, made her hang her head, insulted her. He was despicable, he deserved to die in here. He deserved to be locked in Azkaban, to go mad, screaming for a release that would never come.

"Draco! Draco, look at me...Draco, please!" Soft hands were on his wrists, pulling them, easing his hands away from his face. He looked into Emilie's concerned and tear-stained face. "Draco....shhhh. It's all right, it's all right."

He crumpled, and she embraced him. He clutched her fervently. If she should disappear...

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Emilie! I didn't mean it, I never meant it, I didn't!"

"I know." She held his face in her hands. "You were frightened."

"The woods closed in, I couldn't breathe..."

"You were frightened long before then. Shhhh...it's all right now." She cradled him to her like a child, rocking him in her arms, stroking his hair. He lay helpless, until the panic and sobs subsided.

Through shaking breath, he whispered, "I WAS frightened...I thought I was angry, but, no. Am I cattle, Emilie? Am I nothing? Will He slaughter me in the end?"

She pushed him up, still holding onto him, and looked steadily into his eyes. "You are NOT nothing, Draco! You were only a child, he should NOT have marked you, even if you agreed to it! It was wrong. Everything he does is WRONG. Do you hear me?"

"Y-yes," he sniffed. "Emilie...you, this place...it's, it's like it's not real! Everything here is turned the opposite of everything I've ever learned, ever known. I don't understand anything anymore."

She brought her hand to his cheek, holding it. "Draco. You need time, that's all. You've been frightened all of your life. It will be hard to let go of that. You're really, truly safe here."

"I was hateful to you, you should despise me."

"Shhh. Enough of that now. No more blame, not tonight. You can save it, for...let's say..next Tuesday? You can have an all-out, blame-Draco-for-everything night. How's that?" She smiled, even though tears still slipped from her eyes. "Come now, love, I'm taking you home."

She rose, pulling him up with her. They walked in silence as the calm of peace and well-being replaced their tears. They were out of the woods in only a few steps, into the clear night. The stars lit the way as they crossed the meadow, where feeding deer stood and watched them without fear.

As they approached the arch to the garden, she said, "Draco, I must go away for a few days."

"Away? Where? How long?"

"I can't say. I'm sorry. Only a few days, I'll come back as soon as I can."

He would have begged her not to go, but he was so tired, felt so depleted.

"I want to know when you are back, OK?"

"Of course. I'll take my leave here, then. The fairies will light you to the tower." She took both of his hands in hers and clasped them to her bosom. "If you need me, you can send Adamina with a note, yes?"

"Yes." He loosed his hands and put his arms around her, holding her tight. "I've never known anyone like you, Emilie. Come back soon."

She looked up into his eyes, and before he had a chance to think too much, he leaned down and kissed her. She seemed to lean into him for just a moment, her lips warming slightly under his, and it was over. With just a smile, and not another word, she turned and walked away, and he watched until she was out of sight.

Here are chapters 7 & 8, in one post!

I've apologised privately to padfootchick14 for not waiting for her to beta these, it's just that the story is writing up really fast at the moment and she has far less free time than I do! So if there are typos and bad grammar, it's entirely my fault for not waiting!

Chapters Seven & Eight--A Summer Chill

Now let the day
Just slip away
So the dark night
May watch over you
Nocturne

Though darkness lay
It will give way
When the dark night
Delivers the day

Lyrics from "Nocturne" by Secret Garden


That night, Draco dreamt of waves--long, endless waves rolling along the shore. The moonlight was sweeping their silver crests, dusting them with specks of gold as froth rose from them. He walked along the shore as the waves crashed near him, but didn't touch him. Snakes followed alongside him, and when he stopped, they halted also, slithering in lazy, dancing circles at his feet. They held their tails in their mouths. Out of the waves flowed another snake, this one larger than the rest, with scales of black and silver. It's eyes were silver, reflecting the moonlight. It began a new dance, circling Draco with its tail in its mouth. The smaller snakes took each other's tails in their jaws, forming another circle outside the larger snake. Draco held his arms out and began slowly to spin, joining them in the dance, around and around. There was no dizziness. The larger snake began to entwine itself about him, climbing him like a vine climbs a pole. It encompassed his body, resting its head on his shoulder, and still the snakes danced. There was no fear, he was free. Draco began to float, his eyes on the moon, the snake embracing him, and they spun, and danced in the sky...

Draco awoke the next morning feeling like someone newly born. It was strange and foreign, but he didn't fight it, he simply observed it and let it be. It was the first feeling he'd ever given in to so easily. He was surprised at how simple it was--it didn't even hurt.

His evening with Emilie had not turned out anything like he had hoped. He'd never meant to shout at her, insult her. He'd never meant to break down like he had in the woods. He should have felt humiliated. But he did not. It was as if a page in his life had turned, and he'd entered a new story, not just physically, but....it was as though his thoughts and feelings were floating up and sideways. Everything he'd once held as undeniable truth was fading away and being replaced. Was this Emilie's magic? He didn't know. It didn't matter. He didn't need an answer.

He hopped downstairs for the morning basket. Ah, sweet Willo. There it was, with the wonderful scent of baked apples coming from it. He carried it up. He had almost finished emptying its contents onto the table when he noticed a package at the bottom. More presents? It was a second robe, even more beautifully worked than the last. this one was of light wool, black, with silver edges and beadwork. When had Paddy made this? Overnight? He realised he knew precious little about leprachauns. Such ignorance would have to be rectified. In the pocket of the robe was a letter from Emilie.



Dear Draco,

Good morning! I hope you slept well.

You know I shall be gone for a few days. I wanted to remind you that you have leave to explore any part of the estate that you wish. Just remember, when you get within 20 metres of any border, there will be a tingling sensation in your feet. This is only a warning. You may, of course, leave the grounds--after all, you're not a prisoner here, but it is not safe for you to leave on your own. I do hope you'll stay. While I understand that it's not the Slytherin way to always follow the rules, I would hate to come home to find you gone.

Until Friday (tentatively),

~Emilie

P.S. That was an interesting kiss.



Draco stood still, staring at the last line, and felt his ears burn. She would hate to come home to find him gone...he wouldn't leave now if someone paid him a million galleons.

Eventually he was able to put down the note and have some food, though he kept snatching it up again, re-reading the postscript as if to convince himself she'd really written it. An "interesting" kiss, she'd said. "Interesting" how? Interesting as in sensual, arousing? Or interesting as in pickled toad's feet? He shook his head. St. Mungo's, Emilie...straight to St. Mungo's, I swear.

What to do today? How about exploring the woods, so he didn't have to look like a blithering idiot again, getting lost in the dark? He donned his beautiful new robe, and set out. It was a fine day, bright.

When he arrived at the woods, he was shocked to realise how small they really were. He hadn't paid much attention the first day out, even less last night when he crossed them. Why, he could have found a dozen deer paths out of here last night. Why did it feel like he walked and walked, and it went on forever? Strange, this wood. Strange also that there were so few magical creatures here. He saw a few bowtruckles, but that was all. Otherwise, it was common squirrels, not much else. He knew the deer would be sleeping now.

He lay down in the shade of a yew tree. Putting one arm under his head, he looked up at the foliage...well, there certainly wasn't much room for the sun in here, no wonder he saw no stars last night. It's nice though, cool...he closed his eyes, and behind them saw Emilie, her black hair, her soft, cool skin, her pale eyes...she was dancing, laughing, twirling round and round, her full skirts and shining hair swirling about her, how he longed to join her...he felt a light sensation on his belly and opened his eyes. A small green snake was perched there, looking at him, little tongue flickering in and out...just watching.

"Hello," Draco smiled. He offered his hand to the little snake, who accepted, sliding onto his wrist and weaving in and out of his outstretched fingers. He'd always had an affinity with snakes. Some Slytherins were afraid of snakes, even though it was their house mascot. Especially the girls, and among them, especially Pansy. Idiots. Not him, though. Snakes had always seemed to like him, as well. He thought sometimes they even sought him out, but that was probably just his ego talking. He'd done a lot of foul things at school, but cruelty to snakes had never played a part. Hogwarts...the place seemed a world away now. He slowly sat up, letting the snake play in both hands. Gently, he brought them to the ground and put the snake down. It turned and observed him for a moment with its yellow eyes, then went on its way.

Time to be on his own way as well, he thought. A few minutes walking, and he found the white path easily enough. He leaned his elbows on the fence, thinking...the cottage. Well, she DID say ANY part of the estate. He was on his way in a moment.

His knock was answered by Willo. "Draco Malfoy! Good morning! Willo trusts Draco Malfoy's breakfast was satisfactory? Is Draco Malfoy needing more breakfast?"

"More than satisfactory, Willo," he smiled. "Um...well, I've come to look around, really. Emilie said I could go anywhere."

Willo laughed and opened the door wider to allow him entrance. "Of course, Sir. Miss Emilie thought you might."

"Does she know everything?"

Willo just laughed and returned to the kitchen. Draco could smell bread on the rise, and his mouth watered. He loved this little house--people LIVED here. The house looked larger in the daylight, he thought. It was bright, with cream-colored walls. But it was so plain compared to his father's manse! Malfoy Manor seemed to have objects everywhere--old suits of armour, portraits, rare and expensive collectibles on or up against every wall. This place, well...it was almost stark in comparison.

Draco roamed from room to room, reaching out to touch things here and there; unself-consciously letting himself be led by his own curiosity. Everything here, with the exception of the little CD player and the rack holding the CDs, was old, but so well-cared for...tables and shelves glowed from centuries of daily dusting, the plain silver candlesticks sparkled in the sunlight, they were so highly polished. There were a few very old paintings hanging on the walls, all landscapes. There were no portraits. Who are you, Emilie? Where is your family? Her bedroom...

He hesitated for a moment, biting his lower lip in anticipation, not to mention a sense of being a naughty little boy; then resolutely opened the door and stepped in. Draco stared about him in disappointment. The room contained a small, plain bed, an unadorned oak wardrobe, a tiny bedside table--and that was all. No mirror. No four-poster, no silk, no tassels. The bed had a beautiful quilt at least; Draco was fairly sure Paddy had made it--but it was the only object in the room that had any sort of decorative beauty, but for one tapestry across from the only window. He crossed to the wardrobe and pulled open the doors. The sensation which hit him was overwhelming, Draco gasped and swayed, holding onto the doors for support. Her robes and gowns were there, and the scent of Emilie was overpowering, a blend of sandlewood, flowers...and the sea. Tears came to his eyes and he blinked them back. What was this all about? It wasn't missing her, was it? No, it was...something else, like an old memory, but not something he could see. He closed the wardrobe and backed away.

He strode to the window and threw the sash, breathing the open air. This place was definitely magical. One never knew what might happen. He should be more careful when opening anything. He turned, let himself sink to the floor, and sat, head resting against the windowsill. The tapestry across the room was moving--a tableau of multi-hued unicorns and Hungarian Horntail dragons waltzed across it, staging mock battles and bowing to each other. Draco laughed as they pranced and parried, forgetting the sensations of a few moment's past. The breeze ruffled the bottom edge of the weaving, and he thought he saw....

Draco didn't bother to stand up, he crawled across the floor to the opposite wall, pulling the tapestry to the side, and his eyes lit up. A secret door! He quickly took down the tapestry and threw it on the bed, ignoring the growls and neighs from the indignant creatures on it. Trembling with excitement, he ran his hands across the polished wooden door, around its edges, feeling for hinges, imperfections. It was only about four feet high, about 2-1/2 feet wide, you'd have to step up to go through it. There was no handle or clasp--did it open from the other side? He raced to the bedroom door and peered around the jamb--no. There was only a blank wall on that side. This little door led INTO the wall...but to where? Oh, he wished for his wand! Could he even have found a way in if he had it? He couldn't be sure.

He backed away from the tiny door, his fascinated eyes greedily staring at it, and edged himself onto the windowsill. And what he saw from there made him cry out in wonder. In the wood itself--in the shadows of the grain...an image, weaving back and forth, coiling, uncoiling. A snake.

Oh, Emilie...who are you?


***************************************
Chap. 8


The next two days were mild agony for Draco, as he waited for Emilie's return. He toyed with the idea of sending Adamina with a note for her, but what would he write? Nothing honest, or he'd sound like an idiot and a snoop. "Dear Emilie, Please tell me about the secret door in your bedroom. Why is it there? Where does it go? Why does a snake live on it? Does it guard it? Who are you? I'm pretty sure I love you because you're always in my mind. I spend a great deal of my leisure time wondering what you'd look like without your robes, and lying in my bed. Sincerely, Draco." Um-hmmm..sure, yeah. No, I don't think so. Ah well, it had been nice having one morning question-free, but since finding that door...

He spent some of his time by the sea as well, just sitting, watching the waves. Sometimes he brought one of his books...

"What an excellent example of the power of dress, young Oliver Twist was! Wrapped in the blanket which had hitherto formed his only covering, he might have been the child of a nobleman or a beggar; it would have been hard for the haughtiest stranger to have assigned him his proper station in society. But now that he was enveloped in the old calico robes which had grown yellow in the same service, he was badged and ticketed, and fell into his place at once -- a parish child -- the orphan of a workhouse -- the humble, half-starved drudge -- to be cuffed and buffeted through the world -- despised by all, and pitied by none."

Oliver Twist. Don't worry, kid, it isn't always so easy to be rich, or to have a father either, Draco thought. He thought about Potter..the first time he'd ever seen him. He was wearing muggle clothes, old, worn, and so large they were almost falling off of him, but was being fitted for his school robes at Madame Malkin's, and that's a fairly expensive shop. Strange. Why the rags? The Potters had been wealthy, Draco's father had said as much. They must have left him a tidy sum. He'd forgotten about that meeting, he hadn't thought about it for years. Maybe Potter's muggle relatives were poor. He remembered the second meeting well enough though. He'd extended his hand in friendship and Potter had rejected it. Cretin. Hmmm. Still, can't really blame him, can you, you'd insulted the Weasel. And over what? Making fun of HIS poverty. Thick as a brick, weren't you? Draco asked himself. So many times he could have just shut his face about Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger as well, but always had to try to gain power over Potter by angering him. So childish. Was it childish, or just plain mean-spirited? His father still did it to people he didn't like--behind their backs and to their faces. Well, he did before he was sent to prison, anyway. Snort. I'll bet Potter could have a field day with me now. No, Potter will just kill me.

He put down Oliver Twist and didn't pick it up again for a good long while.

Friday came at last. Draco REALLY hoped Emilie could come back today. She had said she wasn't sure, but hopefully...and just in case, he was going to look his best. He spent the morning lying in the round tub, eating cherry muffins, drinking tea, occasionally glancing over at his bed and wondering what Emilie might look like, lying on it, without her robes...when he heard her.

"Draco! Draco!"

He hurriedly pulled himself from the bath and threw his robes over his head without toweling off. He rushed to the window.

"Emilie!"

"Hello!" She had a large package in her arms, and before he had time to say how glad he was to see her, she called, "Catch!" and tossed it up to him through the window.

"Emilie!" he laughed. "What is this?"

"I come bearing gifts, and another surprise as well! Please open it, put them on, and come down!"

"Put what on? What's in here?"

"Did you open it? C'mon, open it!"

"OK, I'll open it!" He looked at her as if to say, excited much? But he just said, "I've never seen you this excited."

"Haven't you? You haven't known me very long! Well, open it! I'll wait in the garden."

He brought the package over to the table and opened it. He laughed. Muggle clothes?

She waited for him in the garden while he put on the clothes she'd brought. He fumbled a bit with some of the fastenings, but these were pretty nice things, really. Relaxed-fit jeans, and a black knitted shirt with long sleeves. Doc Martens with red laces. He'd worn muggle gear much like this to the Quidditch World Cup. He and father at least knew how to dress like muggles if necessary. He even knew that Doc Martens were to be laced in an "X" pattern. Some of the stuff they had seen on other wizards had been hilarious. It had given his father ammunition for weeks, when he wasn't writing to make sneaking references to what had happened AFTER the game.

As he carefully placed the red laces of his new boots into the 'necessary' 'x' formation, he realised he felt a bit dazed. He had spent days missing Emilie, and here she'd arrived in a whirl, bearing gifts. She'd said nothing about what she'd done, didn't ask him what he had done...somehow things were
never what he thought they would be with this girl.

She was in the shade of an olive tree when he found her. Every kind of tree, every plant, seemed to flourish in this space.

"Oh, Draco, you look lovely."

"Thanks," he said sheepishly. "They fit nicely?"

"Yes." She whispered. "Come, look at this."

He joined her. In her hand, she cradled the smallest fairy he had ever seen. It was sleeping, curled up on its side, sucking its tiny thumb. It's pale gold wings were folded to the back, outside its miniature blanket, and Draco could see the fine veins pulsing in them.

"He was just born last night. Isn't he beautiful?"

"They're ALL beautiful," he chuckled. "They tell me so EVERY BLOODY DAY." He rolled his eyes.

"Shhhhh!" she giggled, though she was the one trying not to make noise.

Standing on tiptoe, she eased the slumbering baby back into its nest. "Come, walk with me." She held out her hand and he took it. They strolled under the arch and into the meadow, to the edge of the cliff.

"You really do look wonderful."

"I think I might just pass, thanks to you," he winked. "I missed you. I'm glad you made it back today."

"I missed you as well. I'm glad to be home....Draco, I've brought someone back with me. A friend."

"Where is he?"

"At the cottage."

At the cottage. He wasn't sure he liked this person already. What was he doing at the cottage, while Draco was housed in a stone tower all the way across the grounds?

"He's been my friend forever. He's been ill for a long time. I thought the sea air and quiet would do him good."

A sick friend she'd had forever. Marginally better...

"It's just that, for now, it would be better if we didn't meet there. You know, so he can rest."

"OK....is that why you had to go away?"

"Yes. To see to him, ask him to come back. He works so hard. Too hard. I was actually surprised he agreed to come, I expected to have to fight him about it."

"What's his name?"

"Um...Raymund. Ray."

"Hmmm."

They walked in companionable silence for awhile, entering the woods.

"I toured these woods, the day after you left. I was surprised by how small they were. Especially after I had panicked the way I did in here."

"They are small, yes. The grounds aren't really that large, but they have a lot of coastline. It wraps around here," she pointed, sweeping her hand along, "All the way to just about 100 yards from the cottage. It's almost as if this whole place is cradled by the sea."

"There aren't very many magical creatures here."

"No. It's much too small for the larger animals, they wouldn't be able to find enough cover, or enough to eat."

They had reached the fence, with its stile.

"Would you mind waiting for me here? I'll just run and change and we can be off."

"Sure."

He held her hand, warm now form being in his, and helped her over the stile. She had to lift her skirt to make it, and he tried to get a look at her legs, but she was too fast. He watched her as she walked quickly away, ankle-length hair swaying over her lavender skirts.

He leaned back against the fence, folding his arms.

He had such conflicting emotions about Emilie. He wanted to make her his fairy-tale princess, true...but he had such wicked thoughts about her as well. He'd never wanted both from Pansy, or if he had, the desires were somehow--muted--compared to how he felt about Emilie. Pansy was a nice girl...when she wasn't being snide, but then, they'd always egged each other on, so who was he to talk? Pansy had pretty, dark eyes, soft hands...they were always warm, as were other parts...he'd pressed her up against enough walls to know that. They'd gotten pretty entangled a few times, but never far enough for things to get "messy." Not that he hadn't wanted to, but she'd always told him her parents expected her to remain a virgin until marriage. He always thought it would be him she married--just seemed the lay of the land. He felt he could wait. He didn't love Pansy, she was just...there. She was convenient,and from the right family.

Emilie wasn't a schoolgirl. She couldn't be too much older than him, but her manner, the look in her eyes...there was something very old about her. Grandmother Malfoy would have said she had an "old soul." Unless she was talking about muggles, sorry--the Others. Something about them made her young. It might be interesting to see them up close. She must be a pureblood, she could do wandless magic. But his parents would never approve of her. Not with her liking for muggles. She'd fit in much better with the Weasleys.

"Ooooh, you were deep in thought." Emilie had returned and was tapping his shoulder. "Shall we go?"

Emilie, Draco decided, looked as good in muggle gear as in the fitted gowns she usually wore. It was a simple outfit, just slim jeans and a lime green tee, but she looked wonderful--and she did have nice legs.

"Nice. What did you do with your hair though?"

"Willo braided it, see?" She turned and Draco saw that her hair was in a thick plait, doubled up to disguise its length.

They walked back the way they had come, Emilie taking a turn once they cleared the woods and heading them down a path Draco hadn't yet used.

"Well, here we go..." breathed Emilie.

"You're really excited about this. Why? I mean, I hate to sound ignorant, but there are muggles everywhere."

"Well, today's fair day, for one thing. It's a celebration. And I like "muggles," if you insist on calling them that. They're fun."

"They breed like rabbits! They're going to drive us out of existence!"

"Oh Draco, do you know how many times I've heard people say that? Too many times! There's so much of this tribalism in the world."

"Tribalism?"

"Well, people thinking there's something wrong with another group of people, something that threatens your own chosen group of people. It's a survival mechanism, but it leads to a lot of suffering in this world. Besides, it's untrue--just more Voldemort propaganda!"

"You said his name..." Draco stumbled and caught himself.

"Yes, I said his name! His fake, made-up name!" she shouted to the skies. "Voldemort, come and get me! Muahahaha!"

"Emilie, don't!" Draco was horrified!

"Draco, he wouldn't DARE try anything on me!" Her eyes flashed with scorn. "And I hate him! He's just like every cookie-cutter, megalomaniac, insane despot the world has ever known. And just like every one of them, his time will end! Besides, that," she fumed, "He does NOT have super-human hearing, and I can say whatever I please on my own land." Draco was astonished at the harshness in her voice.

"He has other ears."

"Not on my land, he doesn't."

They finished the short journey across the estate in silence.

"Well, that's it then, we're on the outside. You're with me, you'll be just fine. But don't wander."

"What danger would I really be in, Emilie? Seriously. The Death Eaters don't want me, and what's the worse the Ministry could do? Throw me in prison?"

"This isn't starting out at all well," she sighed. "It's supposed to be fun. Look, I'm sorry I got so angry, it's just..." she turned to face him. "Draco, I don't want to lose you, not to anyone. This 'Dark Lord' you so fear is nothing more than an illusion, a product of his own lies! He is not the greatest sorcerer in the world, he doesn't even come close. He's not a pureblood, his father was one of the Others, so even the message he preaches to his followers is one he has to hide behind. Why do you think he gathers purebloods around him? Because he can feed their tribal insecurities, that's all. Then he uses their money and power for his own ends. When he's done using them, he throws them away. He's done it over and over again."

She surprised him by suddenly throwing her arms about his waist and pulling him close. "Surely by now you realise that your protection wasn't provided by him. And don't worry about the Ministry, they won't come for you. The Aurors have bigger problems. I thought they might want to arrest you before, but, now...things have changed. I found that out when I was in London. I only fear that you, you yourself, will choose to seek out this so-called Dark Lord again, that you could be persuaded...don't leave me, Draco. I couldn't bear it."

He couldn't see her face, she had kept it down while she spoke, but he could hear the earnest plea in her voice. "Emilie...," he tilted her face up to his with a finger under her chin, "Emilie, I'm NOT leaving you, I don't want to. I'm...I'm not always sure of my other feelings, they seem in such a stir all the time, but that's one you can count on. You...you really couldn't bear it? I thought I was a responsibility."

"One I gladly took on," she smiled, though her eyes were filled with tears. "Oh, Draco, let's go have some fun. We both need it." She eased herself out of his arms. "Come on."

They walked, holding hands, for several miles. They spoke of trivial things, but there seemed to be a new understanding, Draco felt it. There was a bond. They passed through fields and a small wood, and there was the village. He could hear music, the sounds of celebration. For the first time in a very long time, Draco felt like he should--young. They grinned at each other and hurried into town.

There was so much color here! It was like Diagon Alley, before things got so spooky. There were banners flying from streetlamps, the shop doors were open. Many houses had bright flowers growing in window boxes. And the fair....

It was only a small country fair, but Draco had never seen one before. He found himself drinking in everything he could with his eyes. He forgot to be self-conscious. Emilie bought food for them--things Draco had never tried--fish & chips with vinegar, candy floss. He didn't quite know how to handle the candy floss and started out by sinking his face into it. It stuck all over him, and Emilie laughed as she helped him clean up. "No, Draco! You pull it off in tufts and eat it."

"This stuff is too sticky! Yech. I tell you what, YOU eat it!" he joked.

They went on rides. Some of them went very fast, reminding Draco of his broomstick. He said as much to Emilie.

"I suppose it is somewhat like that. Of course, to me the big difference is that the cars could go flying loose anytime and smash you!"

"Eeew! I don't think I want to think about that. No more rides!" he laughed. "Well, we can stand in the queue for them, but not go on them. How does that sound?"

Draco was aware early on of the attention Emilie seemed to provoke in the men around them. Everywhere they went, eyes followed her. He found himself getting rather irritated by this, and told her so.

She laughed. "The same thing is happening to you. Look around."

He re-focused his attention. She was right. Girls and women were eyeing him as well. "Well, we must make a handsome couple then."

"We do," she she said warmly. She slipped her arm around his waist at that moment, as they stood in the queue. "I'd better mark you as spoken-for quarry, hmmm?"He gave a barely perceptible jump as he felt her hand probe into the back pocket of his jeans, and come to rest there. Emboldened, he did the same to hers. She didn't pull away. These muggle clothes are quite useful, he thought with a grin.

The day seemed to fly by for Draco. He'd never had this much fun, or felt so young and full of life. There were no thoughts of danger, no regrets or moments of shame. All things negative ceased to exist. The Others, the ones he had contact with, were friendly--curious too. As the sun set, they drifted toward a large enclosure where a band was playing.

"Come, dance with me, Emilie!"

He pulled her onto the floor and launched into an energetic waltz. She proved to be as skilled a dancer as he was, and soon they were out-swirling everyone, to round applause. The band finished its set and retired, but the Others turned on a large apparatus that turned out to be a much larger version of Emilie's home CD player. As the evening deepened, the songs grew slower, more sultry, till soon Emilie and Draco were simply swaying in time, holding each other close.

"Emilie?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you for this day." He lowered his lips to her and kissed her. This time, the moment wasn't broken. It went on, she didn't pull away. He felt a sudden heat suffuse her. It was exciting, this change, and when the kiss ended, he lifted her from the ground in an enthusiastic embrace. He felt her arms go about his neck, clinging to him. "Emilie..." he murmured into her ear.

But she suddenly stiffened in his arms. Had he gone too far? He lowered her, searching her face, but her eyes were not on him. She was staring over his shoulder, open-mouthed and breathless, eyes round and terrified.

"Draco, we need to leave. We need to leave here, NOW!" she moaned.

Without another word, she grabbed his hand, and they were running, running from the bright lights and the sounds of laughter, the comfort, running out of town...

"Emilie, what is it?" Draco felt her terror in his own chest. "Stop, stop, tell me what's going on!"

She stopped, facing him. Her breath came fast, she kept looking from side to side, panicked. "The fog...them...no..."

She pointed to the sky, shaking.

Draco's mouth opened in shock and horror as his eyes traced her finger's progress...DEMENTORS. At least a dozen, perhaps more.

"No..." he moaned. "Emilie, I don't have my wand...."

"Get behind me." she ordered. He hesitated. "Do it." Her voice was low, her expression hardened.

Chapter Nine--A Summer Chill

The dementors quickly descended on the pair, beginning their circling, moving in...

"Draco, keep down! No! You WILL NOT HAVE HIM!" she shrieked.

But Emilie was too small, and the dementors were circling, circling...

Draco felt the first attack with a sense of shock. His blood seemed to run cold, the heat pulled from him, his body pulled almost into the air by the vicious dementor....he was eight...his father stood in the space of the open wardrobe door, mocking him, "Had enough, you little baby? No Malfoy was ever as pathetic on a broom until YOU were born." His father pulled him out by his hair, he collapsed, and his father's walking stick bit into his shoulders, again, again....

He found himself on the cold ground, gasping for breath...he could hear Emilie's terrified screams...he couldn't move....then again, the freezing...

He was nine...a friend of his father's had come to visit unannounced..."Just a bit of sport, good for the boy, toughen him up, it will"...Draco, locked in a dungeon room with a boggart...it turned into his father, it was choking him...

He lay on the hard ground, breathless. Emilie's screams had stopped...she lay by his side, staring..."no..." she gasped. Suddenly she stood, straddling Draco's prone body as he lay on the ground. "YOU...WILL....NOT!"

She raised her arms high, palms spread, her head fell back...what Draco saw could not be real...it couldn't...

Pale light began to emanate from Emilie, from her upturned hands, her open mouth, her eyes...the lights swirled and coiled, joining, brightening to blinding brilliance, humming...it was a snake of light...a patronus of immense size...Emilie's patronus!

The snake twisted and danced, opening its jaws, its diamond fangs glittering...it's eyes followed the dementors, sizing them up...it didn't deflect the dementors-- it sprang at them, sinking in its fangs and devouring them! The dementors screeched in their fury--a high, piercing sound, and began to flee in terror...This couldn't be real, no one can do this....Draco rose to his elbows, looking up in shocked fascination. The snake consumed six dementors, the foggy haze began to clear...

The snake slowly dissipated, returning to Emilie's body, and she collapsed to the side of him, onto her knees, gasping.

Draco was on his feet in an instant, pulling her close. She clung to him, weeping in relief. "Time to go, Emilie. Let's go home." Destination, determination, deliberation...

They were in blackness, pressed on all sides, couldn't breathe...and found themselves at the gate to Emilie's estate.

*****************

How they arrived at his tower, Draco didn't remember. They supported each other. The fairies hovered around them in the garden, concerned and silent for once, lighting them to the door. When they reached his chamber, the bath had appeared. Emilie was pale and trembling, even now.

"In, Emilie. No argument. "

"You too then."

"Yes."


Link to the rest of this chapter can be found here:

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2658118/1/

Just click on chapter nine.

OK...(breathe, Darcy, breathe)...

Thanks to my chapter nine being edited, both myself and my beta Ygraine are paranoid as all get out about chapter ten.

So here it is:

BIG WHOLLOPING WARNING! OOOOOOOGAAAHHHHHHH!

People Sharing the Same Bed Warning! Alert!

If you are offended by the mere IDEA of a young couple in love sharing the same bed, and having a conversation in bed, and getting dressed at the same time, in the same room, then don't read that part! Skip it! I will even put little stars in a row to mark the place where it is safe to read without the slightest suggestion of hanky-panky! Honest!

Thank goodness this is the last chapter where I have to be nervous about this....

Chapter 10--A Summer Chill


For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her
P. Simon, 1966

What a dream I had
Pressed in organdy
Clothed in crinoline
Of smoky burgundy
Softer than the rain

I wandered empty streets
Down past the shop displays
I heard cathedral bells
Tripping down the alleyways
As I walked on

And when you ran to me
Your cheeks flushed with the night
We walked on frosted fields
Of juniper and lamplight
I held your hand

And when I woke
And felt you warm and near
I kissed your honey hair
With my grateful tears
Oh I love you girl
Oh I love you

Draco dreamt of Emilie, dancing on the shore, the waves splashing at her feet, skirts lifted and floating on the breeze--her hair of night, eyes like the moon...as she danced, the snakes joined her. She twirled about, and as she circled, she became one of them, with scales of black and silver, with eyes like the moon...

He awoke to find her with him. He wondered whether to wake her, or just watch her. Both plans were intoxicating...

They spent most of the next three days in bed, "going much too far," as Draco facetiously called it--it made Emilie laugh when he was flippant and cheeky, so he did it often. Often they spent long, languid hours just lounging, talking about the silliest things. Still, Draco was concerned about the night the dementors had come. It wasn't long before the subject was broached.

"Why should they come, at that moment?"

"There are dementors everywhere now, Draco. I've no doubt it was a random event."

"Then why did we run away from the lights, the fair? It was safer there. They hate bright places."

"We couldn't deal with them there, Draco...the Others, they would have been injured, perhaps killed! The Others can't even SEE the dementors, much less defend themselves against them. I had to take the fight away from them."

"Why would dementors attack us, well, me at least? I don't understand it, they're supposed to be on the Dark Lord's side now."

"Someone told me once that the dementors don't differentiate. They attack anyone who has bad memories, but they can feel out the one in the crowd with the worst memories, and they attack that person especially, feed on their fears..." She was contemplative for a moment. "Perhaps the sides have changed slightly as well..."

"At school, they attacked Potter. I made fun of him for it." he sighed. "But as for switching sides, I doubt it, what would motivate them to go back to assisting the Ministry?"

"I wasn't talking about the dementors, love. I was talking about you."

He looked at her, not sure what to say. Whose side WAS he on now? He was in love with a witch who had insulted Voldemort to his face--to the skies! But he let her, he stayed with her...because he loved her.

"But...do you think the Dark Lord knows about us?"

"I think he may have ideas. But not the truth." She shifted, plumping her pillow and sitting up. "Draco, if he didn't know you were here before, he does now. Perhaps it was a mistake on my part to take you from the grounds, arrogantly thinking I could protect you...stupid. He may assume you chose to be here. All he really WOULD know at this point is that someone is responsible for you being here."

"You're not stupid, and I wouldn't trade that day for anything, and you DID protect me In fact, I think you saved my soul." he smiled ruefully, then his face grew tense. "Emilie, my mum! What if He thinks putting me here was HER idea?"

She touched his arm. "She's safe, Draco. Severus made sure of that. She's all right. It's Severus who is vulnerable." She looked crushed. "It's always Severus, he always walks the thin line. I don't how he survives. I hope he's safe...what I do know is that those dementors will report back to Voldemort, and he'll know about me and what I did," she frowned. "I wish I'd destroyed every last one of them!"

Draco picked absently at a loose thread on the duvet, working up his courage to ask...

"Emilie...your patronus...I'd never seen anything like it. NO ONE can do that! All anyone can do is deflect them."

"Well, I can do that."

"How?"

"Soon, you'll know."

She leaned up and, reaching over, took his left hand and turned it palm up. The ugly death mark was revealed.

"You hide this whenever you can. I've seen you do it. Even when it's not covered, you turn it out of my sight."

"I...I hate it. I know you hate it, and I don't want you to hate anything about me."

"This mark isn't you. This mark...well, yes, I do hate it. But I fear it as well."

"You don't fear Him!"

"No. Not for myself. I shouldn't have made fun of his name though--names do have power, it's why he changed his. But this..." she swallowed. "It's more than you think it is, Draco." She rose. "Please, let's go for a walk?"

They dressed silently and descended the staircase, passing into the bright sunshine. Their hand-holding gesture had transformed with their relationship--they now walked close together, Emilie's arm about Draco's waist, his arm over her shoulders.


**************************************************


She was very concerned, Draco knew. Something was wrong, something she was having trouble saying. It had to be bad.

They broke apart when going down the path to the sea, and sat cross-legged, in the sand, facing each other.

Emilie took a big breath, reached for Draco's arm and revealed the mark. "Draco, do you know why Voldemort calls you his 'Death Eaters?' "

"Well...not really, I mean, not specifically. It's just another one of those things that I heard and accepted. Maybe because we're supposed to cause death?" he lowered his head.

She reached her other hand out to him and lifted his chin. "It's only part of it..... Voldemort has no regard for anyone but himself. He never has, not even as a child. He leads all of you, but...he fears you as well."

"Fears us? No way! Why?" he choked. "He's so powerful!"

"Every despot fears his subjects, sometimes most especially those closest to him. And Voldemort, he fears all of you, unreasonably so. He knows his Death Eaters well, knows the full extent of your powers. He's always afraid that one of you may someday seek to supplant him. He doesn't fear you particularly, as yet, you're too young. But he doesn't just put this Mark on you as a summons, or a badge of community...it has a much darker purpose." Her expression was pained.

"Emilie, what's frightening you? Please tell me!"

She looked quickly to the side, as if to watch the sea, but not before Draco saw the tears forming in her eyes. "Draco, he calls you Death Eaters BECAUSE of this mark. Because of it, you "eat death," a little bit every single day, from the minute he marks you. I'm sure he feels he's very witty, calling you that." She couldn't hide the tears now--they spilled down her cheeks.

"So...this, it kills us? No...why would he do that?" Draco felt a cold, trembling fear enter his stomach.

She sighed. "There is a slow-acting poison in the mark, Draco. Every day, it bleeds into you. At first it's slight, you won't even feel any different for months and months. But, with each day that passes, the amount of poison leaching from it will increase. It...it will change you. Surely you've seen it at work? Seen the others, the older ones? They lose their humanity, Draco, it...just fades away. They forget about sympathy, empathy, or love. They no longer are capable of feeling those emotions for anyone, or even of understanding them when they receive them. They see any softness, any caring, as weakness, and react accordingly, attacking those who cannot fight back. That is why the only person for whom they have respect in this world is Voldemort himself--for he NEVER shows a weakness. In the end, if you've managed to survive 30 years of doing his bidding, and once he's extracted pretty much everything he can take from you...the poison just finishes you. It literally turns your heart to stone."

Draco was shocked, overwhelmed. He had the strongest sensation to run, to rise and tell Emilie she was the stupidest witch he'd ever known, and the cruelest, to lie to him like this...but he just sat, rooted to the earth, and stared at her, for he knew she told the truth.

"My father..." was all he said before he got up and staggered away from her. He retched and vomited.

"Draco!" Emilie ran to him. "I'm so sorry, so sorry..." She pulled him to her and didn't let go.

Draco wept a long time for his father. He remembered the very early years...he had an old memory, if it was that, of his father lifting him, swinging him around, laughing...his father had held him, so snugly, he felt his father's kiss on his chubby cheek. "My son, my beautiful son..." It was so long ago...so long since his father had, had...cared JUST for Draco. Not for his accomplishments, or the family pride, but just for him, as he was. It was too much.....what a different life they would have had if not for the Dark Mark!

The two of them sat, holding each other, for hours. As the sun began to sink, Draco finally felt he could breathe again. He and Emilie moved, settling against a large boulder. He held her about the shoulders and she rested her head on his chest.

"Emilie...if this mark does that, and I know it does," he said miserably, "Then what about Professor Snape? Why did he bring me here? Why did he care what happened to me?"

"Severus is a a very powerful wizard, Draco. He had such promise when he was young. He's the best potion-creator I've ever, ever known. He's managed to invent a few potions to help him counteract the poison. He has to drink them everyday. They keep his heart soft enough to function, and allow him a clear enough head to see the truth of things. But that is all."

"Why doesn't he make potion for everyone? Why doesn't he TELL everyone! He should!" Draco spat.

"No," Emilie protested softly. "He, and now you, are the only Death Eaters who know the truth. And what would the rest of them do, Draco? How many would believe it? Besides, you've no idea how he suffers, love. All around him, at Hogwarts, he saw happiness, affection, and comraderie. And because he witnessed it everyday, he remembers like none of the others can. But he can't feel it. He can't show it. It's like being a starving man, in a room set for a feast, but not allowed a morsel. It hurts him so much, Draco. He is so strong...I don't know of anyone else who could bear it. It's actually easier for the rest if they don't understand. But he knows what Voldemort does to people. He fights him."

"He spies for...but he murdered Dumbledore! I saw him, he hated Dumbledore, was disgusted with him!"

"He hates himself. The poison makes him hate signs of weakness, and Dumbledore was weakened, was he not?"

"Yes. He looked very ill..."

"Severus knew what he had to do. I'm sure a part of him, the part that feels only rage, enjoyed killing Albus. But the other part of him, the part he has managed to salvage...that part did it to save you, knowing what it would cost him, knowing he was killing one of the few friends he's ever had."

Draco stared at the waves. He felt numb.

"And I will become like him. Like my father."

"I don't know."

"I will! And I don't want to. Oh Emilie, all the times I acted just like one of them! Strutting around Hogwarts, hexing people, hurting them, terrifying little children...I didn't even need this mark. I was despicable even without it. I hated everyone, but I secretly hated myself for hurting them. I was afraid of showing any weakness....and now, soon, I won't even care."

"The difference was that you weren't forced into it by someone else's means. The choice to be cruel or kind was still your own. And you could be better, you weren't like that to absolutely everyone."

"Pretty much, Emilie. Especially to Potter or his friends. I think about what he's endured...I must just have been an annoying midge in his ear compared to everything else he went through. I read about it--when he was abducted and used...he gave an interview in this rag of a magazine, but...I knew the story was true. All I felt at the time was anger, because he'd exposed my father as a Death Eater...but the other things he said were horrifying. They frightened me so much, Emilie. The Dark Lord is so strong. I...I thought it would be better to join him than be in his path. My father certainly approved. And joining him was just as bad as not, it turns out. I understand now why you hate him so. I was such a coward."

"Draco, everyone is scared now. You're no more a coward than anyone else who hopes for the easiest way out. Harry Potter is scared, but do you know why he faces Voldemort? Before, it was because he's been forced to. But now, it's because he's willing to do it, because he knows how to love. He wants the people he cares about to sleep safe every night. He could take another path, but they all lead to the same place in the end. He knows this now, and so do you."

"But not for long! Soon the poison will make me into some sort of monster. Emilie..." he snuggled her closer. "I love you. I've never loved anyone this way, this completely. Except perhaps my mother, but you know what I mean. You've never made me feel small, or stupid. You've never seen my pain as weakness. I finally see the strength in it! I don't want this to change, and I don't want to lose you!"

There was silence for a few minutes. Draco wished she would say she loved him, but she did not. Finally she did speak, though it wasn't what he expected to hear. "There may be something...I'm not sure. Draco, I need to go and speak with Raymund for a few hours. I want his advice, he's a good friend to me. Maybe he can help us."

"Come back later tonight though, OK?"

"Oh yes." She turned into his arms and they kissed, long, slow, and sweet. He remained at the shore, watching her ascend the path to the meadow. Then he gazed out to sea once more, thinking. Thinking of how much he wanted Voldemort dead.

Chapter 11

Draco sat on the beach for hours, in solemn contemplation. Emilie's revelation regarding the secret purpose of the Dark Mark had healed him, and wounded him afresh all at once. All the years of resentment and despair he'd built up against his father's ill-treatment had fled with his tears. He knew now why it had taken place. His father had made the decision to take the Dark Mark, not knowing what it's true purpose was. He had paid the price for it, as had his wife and son. But Draco also now understood that his time with Emilie, which had seemed the beginning of all bright things to finally come to his life, was really only the beginning of the end. He was tainted, and would become more so in a short time. He was poisoned, and would in turn poison and degrade everyone with whom he came into contact. Now that he knew the truth, he could almost feel the Mark's bitter draught seeping into him, and had to force himself to look at it. While before it only filled him with a vague feeling of regret, now he loathed the very sight of it.

Emilie returned to him that night, strangely silent, as if her old reserve had returned. But Draco saw her soft warm smile, the light in her pale eyes, and was comforted that she was well. She soon soothed him and, for a time, he forgot all troubles.

Morning came, bright and breezy. They had a hearty breakfast--Willo had immediately begun bringing baskets for two when she noticed Emilie's semi-change of residence. Sweet Willo...

"Emilie?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Are you being secretive again? Is everything all right?"

She looked deep into his eyes, reaching across the table for his hand. "Draco, everything will BE all right. I promise. And today, I also promise--no more secrets between us. Today you shall find out whatever it is I can tell you about me. I will show you my world."

He could think of no words, he only knew he must have had the same facial expression his mother always delighted in when giving him a new present--it made Emilie look just like her. "Then today will be a good day."

They left the tower and strolled through the garden. Emilie had to check on the new baby fairy, and was pleased to see it was already learning to spread its wings. After assuring the infant's parents in glowing terms that their son was quite beautiful, the pair walked under the arch, arms entwined, and Emilie began leading them to the wood.

"Where are we going?"

"To the cottage."

"What about your friend? I thought he didn't want visitors?"

"We don't go to see him. He told me he'd remain in his room today."

Emilie and Draco entered the cottage to the delighted greetings of Willo. Paddy came from his workroom as well, and the four of them spent a short time in laughter and teasing. Despite Paddy's gruff manner, Draco could tell he was pleased to see Emilie so happy. Willo was just pleased to see everyone. It was in her nature to be cheerful, and as she said, the more people in a house, the better. The other couple seemed to sense Emilie and Draco's desire for privacy, however, and soon drifted back to their projects.

"Draco." Emile put her hand behind his neck and brought his head down for a gentle kiss. "You've seen my door?"

"Well...yes. I SO wanted to ask you about it, but... I felt like I'd spied. I felt I shouldn't have seen it. What does it mean?"

She smiled. "You saw it because I let you. A few others have seen it--Raymund, Willo...and today, I'll show you."

Emilie led him by the hand into her bedroom, closing the door. She went to the tapestry, gently patting a dragon's head, or stroking the horn of a unicorn, until she'd soothed them all to sleep. Then she took the tapestry down from the door and laid it gently on the bed. Crossing to the window, she beckoned Draco to her side with a slight inclination of the head. He stood slightly behind her, eyes fixed on the door, with its coiling snake.

Holding her right arm out straight, she held her hand in a gesture of beckoning to the writhing wooden snake on the door, and spoke to it in a language Draco knew could only be Parseltongue. He'd only heard it once before, but he'd never forgotten the sound--the words slithered sensuously from Emilie's tongue...he thought vaguely to himself that it was quite an arousing thing to hear, from her, really. His focus, however, was on the door. He watched it avidly, his breathing slightly shallow and rapid through slightly parted lips.

The snake in the grain of the wood paused in its endless gyrations; seemed to see Emilie, then inclined its head. Emilie approached the door, and from her pointed finger came a bright white light. She coursed her finger around all edges of the door, and Draco watched with bated breath as it dissolved into nothingness. The interior space was black, giving no indication of what it held within.

"Come." She began stepping through the door. He grabbed her outstretched hand and followed. They walked along in the dark for a short time. It was utterly black. Draco didn't like it, felt his claustrophobia rising, but said nothing. His trust in her was complete.

"Stairs." He sensed her descent before he saw it. As her foot trod upon the first downward step, the way lit up in a blaze of bright silver torches set into the walls. Draco gasped. The stairs were like crystal--he could see THROUGH them, down to the next level, they spiraled down and down, further than his eye could see. The walls glowed strangely white. They began to follow the steps...

They said nothing, for there was nothing to say. Emilie looked at Draco frequently and grinned at his enjoyment of her surprise. As for Draco, he was overcome. This was delightful! It was so bright, and yet so secret--it was definitely Emilie's. His eyes were so busy drinking it all in that there was no time for questions--he didn't want to miss anything.

At intervals on the way down, there would be openings in the opaque walls, like windows, but there was no landscape, it was seascape, the views were of green water. The fish of the Cornwall coast looked back at them, attracted by the light--mackerel, sea bass, dogfish--many more. Draco even saw a Conger eel making its lazy way along. He realised that the staircase was a tower, somewhat like the one in which he slept, only this one was surrounded by the sea instead of the sky.

The steps took them down a goodly distance--Draco wondered if they would ever touch bottom, but finally they reached the last step. A small foyer and a door were before them. Emilie turned to him, and said, "The best for last." She removed her sash, took the step behind his, binding his eyes. Draco made no protest. He felt as if he were an actor in some magical pantomime, or a legendary hero seeking the underworld, and finding it at last. And above all other feelings was his trust in her.

She took his hands and, walking backward, led him, stopping only to speak Parseltongue to this door as well. They walked...Draco could sense the change at once.

The air was almost cold here. He could hear water--water splashing, the sound of bubbles, water dripping, and water echoing off walls. He smelled flowers, and the sea. She led him on further, then stopped. He felt her arms around his waist, and he bent to kiss her, so familiar with her now that he knew how far to reach. When the kiss deepened, he felt her hands at the back of his head, removing the blindfold. When the kiss ended, and he opened his eyes...

He first saw Emilie, taking a slight step back from him, her face filled with excited anticipation. As his eyes began to scan beyond her, he saw a floor of grey-blue marble, smooth and flat, that had platforms, leading up and down. To his right, he saw a lake, not large, but deep; its waters dark blue and rippling, gently lapping at the marble shore. Some of the carved stone platforms made a bridge over the water. In the center of the lake stood a large fountain, which bubbled and splashed its effluence through the mouth of a huge fish. It was like the one at the tower garden, he thought, but larger...was it ticklish? His first gasp of delight came at last, and he saw Emilie try to suppress a wide smile--and fail.

His eyes wandered upwards, where he saw a great domed ceiling. It was lined with crystals that glowed of their own accord, lighting the space. Turning to the left, he saw a platform larger than the rest. Upon it was a collection of the finest, strangest furniture Draco had ever seen. There was a small sofa, some chairs, little tables, and in the far corner a large four-poster bed. They all seemed to be carved from the same marble as the floor--indeed, when he went to look more closely, he could see they were actually a part of the platform itself. Their legs joined seamlessly with the surface of the floor. All were upholstered in soft velvets, blue, green, and silver. Draco couldn't help but notice that the bed had curtains and tassels of silk...the posts were marble snakes.

There were shelves carved into the far wall, with closed doors between them. Draco felt himself drawn to the shelves. There were some books, beautifully bound, but with titles mostly in languages or alphabets he didn't understand. There were biblelots, too, small figures. He looked at them, one by one. They all seemed to be snakes!
There was a gorgeous large figure--a snake carved in white jade. There were many snake figures, and two human ones, both female. The one he reached to touch was about a foot high. She was a warrior. She wore a helmet, a short tunic, and a breastplate of gold leaf. On her shoulder sat an owl, and upon her shield was the head of a woman who had snakes for hair. Medusa...her own hair was long and black.

"These items must be worth a fortune, my father would have loved them."

He turned and looked at Emilie, his mouth open--yet he had no idea what else to say. He had never in his life thought there could be such a place as this. It was beyond beautiful...just like her. Tears pricking at his eyes, he said, "I...don't know what to say..."

Emilie went to him and encircled her arms about his waist. "You like it though?"

"Yes! It's...so exotic, but...strangely, I feel so at home here. Did you make it?"

"I did. And now, I shall tell you what I can, what ever you ask."

She took his hand and led him to the sofa, where they settled in, facing each other, a bit sideways, and Emilie took both Draco's hands in hers.

"Well. By now you know I like snakes." she laughed.

"Yes."

"Here is the rest. I like snakes because, in some ways, I am one of them....I can become a snake."

"You're an animagus then?" he asked excitedly.

"Mmmmm...in a way. But it wasn't a skill I had to learn. It's always been with me."

"Since you were small?"

She looked at him straightforwardly and stated, "I don't remember ever being small."

He was puzzled, but said nothing. He knew she would tell him what she could. He gave a slight nod.

"I don't remember having a childhood, Draco. I don't remember ever looking like a child. I've always looked like this. I don't remember parents. I only know that I have always been...as far back as I can remember."

"You've always been...what, Emilie?"

"Always been here....I have been here for thousands of years, that I can remember."

Draco sat silent, letting this sink in. His eyes grew round...

"So...you're...immortal?" he breathed.

"I don't know. I only know I haven't yet died, so...maybe." she gave him a rueful smile, gesturing toward the shelves. "Those objects on the shelf? They aren't just artifacts...they're portraits. Portraits of me."

Wordlessly, Draco rose and strode back to the shelves. Emilie followed. She looked nervous, he thought.

"Emilie, please tell me about them. About you."

Emilie joined him at the shelves. She picked up the large white jade snake. "This was made by a friend of mine, when I lived in China. People called me "Madame White Snake." she smiled, placing the carving on a small nearby table. "This," she said, choosing another snake, of a dark, ancient wood, was carved when I lived in what is now Cambodia. My name then was Neang Neak. And this," she smiled fondly, moving another wooden carving slightly, "Is from when I lived near what is now Java. My name was Nyai Lara Kidul. They called me the Queen of the South Seas...and so I was."

"And this?" Draco asked excitedly, caressing the human figure, barely registering what he'd just been told. "It's my favourite. It really does look like you..." he smiled.

"This was the last name I had before I became Emilie. I was known then as...Athena." She was no longer smiling.

"Athena..." echoed Draco, awed. "The goddess? The actual goddess Athena?" He took an involuntary step back from her.

"Draco, don't be afraid of me..." she implored, her face fearful.

"I'm not...it's just..." he stepped back toward her. "You're a..a..goddess, Emilie?"

"No." She took the figure from Draco's hands and replaced it on the shelf. Draco stood in shock and just watched her, her arms folded, biting her lower lip, apparently agitated. His own mind was in a whirl. Emilie, a goddess? A Greek goddess? And these other names...Madame White Snake...wait...

"Emilie! Madame White Snake! You're in The History of Asian Wizardry! But...Madame White Snake was a goddess, wasn't she...You?"

"I was Madame White Snake. I was Athena. I never was a goddess. Never."

Draco felt the room start to spin and clutched the wall for support. "Draco, come over here and sit down, before you fall down." Emilie led him to the sofa and sat him down on it once more, then seated herself next to him.

"Look, love," she said, again taking both his hands in hers. Hers had become cold, and he found himself willing his own heat into them. Her face was sad and earnest. "I'm not a goddess! I'm not sure what I am, really. I just don't remember. I've been called a goddess by some, but that doesn't make me one. All I can tell you is that I think maybe I'm part of, perhaps, some other kind of human beings...I mean, there are the Others, right? There are a lot of Others. There are wizards--not so many, but still a fair number. There are elves, and leprachauns, and centaurs, so many people. And there are us."

"There are other people, like you?"

"A very few. I don't know where most of them are now. At one time we were really like a family, but that was thousands of years ago now. It should have been a happy time...we tried to help magical people, we tried to help the Others. They saw us use our various powers and they thought we were gods. They saw us outlive them all, some of us without showing a day of aging, and called us immortals. But it didn't work out, Draco. It didn't work out at all." Her face looked pained as she recalled the memories. "People gave us too much credit, for both good and bad things. They made sacrifices--killed other living beings, to either please or appease us, as they saw fit. They prayed to us, asking us to do things that were just beyond our powers. Some of us though...they became corrupted by the praise and the prayer, and tried to take all things for themselves. It became frightening--it was a disaster! I couldn't bear it--I ran away. Most of us ran away...hid in our other forms, and hoped the Others would forget about us. " She seemed to sigh in relief. "Most of them have, thank goodness. We're still remembered, but only as myths. We're not worshipped anymore."

"So, Emilie...you..became a snake again? How long were you a snake? Do you prefer it?"

"Both forms are comfortable to me," she said simply. "I was a snake for a long time after being Athena. I didn't want to be among people. Unlike other snakes, I can live in the sea. I always feel better when I'm near it, even in my human form. I like salt water. I stayed at sea for a long, long time. In fact, I think I must have stayed at sea for at least a thousand years, swimming, exploring, having no fixed home. It was lonely, but at that time I didn't mind. Then one day, I found this shore. I felt drawn to it. I wanted to be here." she smiled at the memory. "I found a tunnel , deep under the sea, and followed it. It led here." She gestured around. "And so I made this place."

"It's a beautiful place, amazing...what about upstairs?"

"That came later. I stayed here for a long time, but other trips to explore around the coast made me see that few people lived here. I claimed a small piece of the land, put enchantments on it...most people don't even know it is exists now. It was rather lucky that I claimed it when I did. Who would have thought there'd ever be so many people?" she said. "After awhile, I gained enough courage to come back in this form, but I stayed here, on my own land. I made your tower first--lived there first. I could see the sea, watch the waves. I made the garden walls, and invited the fairies to live in there. Then I made the cottage over the ground entrance to this home. I love the little cottage, where life is so simple...I love living here..." she let go of his hands and relaxed, leaning back and stretching her arms over her head in a luxurious, cat-like manner. "I love Cornwall, I love England."

"Did you stay here all alone then?"

"Mostly, yes. Then one day, I saw Raymund! I was so happy to see him again!"

"He's...he's like you then?" Draco breathed.

"Yes. I told you he'd been my friend forever." she winked. "Ah, sweet Raymund...Raymund is much more courageous than me."

"How so?"

"Well, he still tries to help people. I've been too afraid to do anything for anyone, really. I never want to be a goddess again, in anyone's eyes."

"But, Emilie, you helped me." Draco watched her. "Why did you help me?"

"That was not noble. It was pure selfishness on my part." She sat up straighter, once again taking his hands. "I wanted you, waited so long for you. I wanted you so much, and I hoped that you'd want to stay here..."

Draco looked down at their entwined hands, then to her face once more. There was so much to take in, he felt like he'd been hit in the head by two beaters, both bats, and a chaser all at once. And now...

"But Emilie, you didn't know me...did you? How could you 'want' me? I mean to say, I'm not complaining but..."

"Draco, come, let me tell you a story. Our story." She rose, leading him to the large bed. She sat on it and held her arms out to him. "Here, turn around, love, rest against me."

He didn't hesitate. Whatever Emilie was, it was far more than he could ever have imagined. But what ever she was, she wanted him with her, had wanted him... and whatever she wanted, he would give.

He went to her and lay down, resting his head against her breast. He could feel her heart beating. She stroked his soft hair and began...

"Once upon a time, not long ago, there was a snake in the sea..."

Chapter 12

Emilie spun a tale of beauty and magic....

"Once upon a time, Draco, not so long ago, there was a snake of the sea who could become a woman. She came from the warm South Seas, but she had settled in England, oh, centuries ago. And though she loved her new homeland dearly, it was so cold sometimes. Nothing seemed to take away her chill. She had only one friend, and this friend was precious to her, but he could seldom be with her. She often walked the coastline of her land in human form, her hand shading her eyes as she looked to sea, and wondered if she would ever feel warm again.

One day, she decided to become a snake for little while, and swim among the other creatures of the sea. She had done this often. Somehow being a snake never felt as lonely, because of their company. No other snakes lived in this chilly water, but the fish and eels accompanied her. They swam and explored the sea with her, and she protected them.

She swam for days, enjoying the quiet, entertained by the liveliness of the lobsters and the leatherback turtles, but felt restless much sooner than usual. She again felt drawn to the coastline. She swam back toward her land, where there was a sight that brought her such happiness, she could not pull herself away.

There was a young couple on the beach, the two most beautiful people she had ever seen. They laughed, and held each other, they talked and kissed, and at their feet played a child. The child had the look of his parents--all three had hair that shone brighter than the sun; the hair of the parents was long and straight and almost white. Their hair could reflect back the rays of the sun, with beams that perhaps only creatures such as herself could see. It looked as if rainbows rose from their very beings. She was entranced.

Somehow they had found her private coast, and she understood that they must be magical people. This was confirmed upon seeing the young man start a fire with his wand. They also set up a tent with wands. The snake laughed to herself when the child used a mere stick of driftwood to levitate his toys. He was so small, perhaps no older than two or three years, but the talent was already there. She saw his father sweep him up in his arms, spinning him round and round, and kissing his little cheeks.

She swam near them, hiding just beneath the surface, for the remainder of that day and into the night. When the dawn rose, she saw the tent flap open. The child had awoken ahead of his parents and had come outside the tent. He began to wander away from the campsite.

The snake was alarmed at this. Human children, even magical ones, do not always swim well, and he was so small. She did not want him to drown. She followed him, keeping a watch over him. He wandered some way from his parents, following the water, stopping now and then to examine a shell or a piece of wood. She noticed him stop at one point, his eyes looking out over the waves. He seemed to look right into her eyes. He began to enter the water.

This would not do! She was so afraid for him, and without much thought she swam quickly toward him. She knew that in the modern world, many people feared snakes, but so much the better in this case. Perhaps she could frighten him back to the shore and at least he would be safe. She approached him without halting and began circling around him, bumping into him with her sides, trying to urge him back to shore.

But he was not frightened! As she swam around and around him, he turned with her, following her eyes with his own. She became fascinated with his eyes--they were as bright as polished silver--she felt she could drown in those eyes. And he smiled, holding out his tiny hands to the snake...he spun with her, and he laughed. His laugh was the clearest, loveliest, most innocent sound she had ever heard.

They danced this way for a little while, so close to the shore. Fearing he would become dizzy, she slowed. When she did, he immediately moved near her and climbed upon her strong back. He was so warm! It was a sensation such as she had not felt for over two thousand years. She wriggled and squirmed in delight, and he laughed even harder. He clasped her body with his arms and legs, and held himself close to her.

The snake wanted this child. She wanted him so much. So she made a terrible decision. She decided to steal the child, to take him away with her. Quickly she dove under the waves with the child on her back. She knew that as long as he was touching her, he could not drown. She thought, if he lets go, I must take him back. But he did not let go--he held on even tighter. She swam far away from the shore, into the deep.

She took him with her to see the dogfish, and the butterfish, and the green turtles. She showed him the remains of ancient and not-so-ancient shipwrecks, covered in crustaceans. She could hear his laughter, feel his small hands through her scales, she sensed his delight and reveled in his heat. She wanted to take him to her secret cavern chamber and show him a fish of crystal, in a fountain of marble...

But she knew she could not. Her heart began to pulse with guilt and regret. She knew that to keep him with her forever would be to commit a terrible sin, and to ruin the happiness of the beautiful couple who were his parents. She knew he had to be among his own kind, the magical people. Only from them could he learn things as he must. She knew this, but the idea of losing him made her weep. She was glad he could not see her tears...she turned once again for the coast.

Gently she swam with him, back to the shore. She waited for him to climb from her back. He encouraged her to move around him, as before. They spun and spun on the sand. She held her own tail in her mouth to create a circle from which he could not break, could not go back to the sea. She stayed with him until she heard his parents shouting for him. She stopped circling and came around to face him, rising slightly to meet his beautiful eyes. The child came to her, put his little arms around her, held her briefly, and let go.

She wriggled to the edge of the sea, stopping only once to look back. He began to run to her, but she shook her head at him. His eyes became sad and desolate. The silver light in them blinked out, and they became as dark a gray as that of the sky over a storm-tossed sea. They spilled over with tears. As his mother ran to him and lifted him into her arms, the snake turned at last, and swam away. Her last sight was of the woman, her face frightened and yet relieved, watching her in wonder; and of the little boy, who held his arms out to the sea and cried for his friend to come back. But she could not. She had to leave him."

Draco lay in Emilie's arms, stunned. She said no more, just continued to calmly stroke his hair. He reached up and grasped her hand in his, brought her palm to his lips and kissed it. He turned and slid down, and she slid down as well. They lay on their sides, face-to-face. Draco gazed into Emilie's pale eyes, silent, then reached out to her, gathering her into his arms. He held her against him, warming her, and thought of his dreams, the life he'd had, his choices, his future. Finally, he spoke.

"I am no longer a child, Emilie. I love you...I've always loved you. And I am home at last."

Chapter 13

The next two weeks brought with them a sense of belonging and peace that Draco had never known. He and Emilie spent their nights, and most of their days, in the deep sea home. Emilie showed him the other rooms within, which were filled with all manner of books, potions ingredients, and magical tools of all sorts. Draco was filled with wonder at the extent and variety of Emilie's collections. He was asked to choose a new wand from among hers, and he found one that was so beautifully made, and worked so well for him, he could have sworn she had had him in mind when she acquired it. It felt so good to have a wand again. He spent a lot of time learning new spells and charms--actually very old spells and charms, from the ancient and rare books in Emilie's library. Emilie herself seemed to spend a lot of time studying. He loved to watch her engrossed in the activity; she would lounge in one of the marble chairs, one leg thrown casually up over an arm of it, skirts sweeping the floor...she'd often twist a piece of her hair as she read. He thought that if she hadn't been a Parselmouth who could become a snake, she would have made a beautiful Ravenclaw. Sometimes, he would catch her in deep contemplation over something she had read. She would look quickly up at him, and smile, but she never told him what had been on her mind.

Their evenings were spent upstairs, having big dinners with Willo and Paddy. The tiny pair was clearly pleased to have them back. Draco and Emilie often stayed up late into the night playing wizard's chess (his robes were usually awash in Claw's drool afterward, but it was worth it), or dancing to slow tunes on Emilie's CD player.

The best day was when Emilie showed him herself as a snake. She had asked him if he wanted another undersea tour and he was so enthusiastic he made her laugh. She instructed him to remove his robe, as it would become cumbersome beneath the waves. Then, she began to dance, spinning, her skirts and her hair floating...it was like watching his best dreams come to life. As she spun, she changed, and soon was a snake of black and silver, with eyes like the moon. He felt himself flooded with the memory of her and it brought tears to his eyes--they seemed to come so easily now. She had slithered into the lake and he jumped in beside her, taking hold of her body just behind her head, as he'd been instructed. And down they went...

They had swum around the lake for a few minutes. Draco felt panicky at first, but that soon left when he realised that, as long as he held her, he could breathe. As they exited the lake and entered the tunnel that led to the outside, he felt his claustrophobia rise. Then she lit the way--she could light the way with her own eyes! He ceased to fear anything, they traversed the long tunnel, and were at sea for hours. There were so many shipwrecks! The Cornish coast is perhaps better seen from beneath than from a ship above, he thought. He soon felt right at home amongst the lobsters and the eels.

Raymund had taken up residence in the tower when Draco had stayed at the house. Draco had wanted to meet him, but Emilie had told him Raymund just wasn't ready to be around people at that time. It made him uncomfortable that there was a man staying on her land who didn't want to be seen, but he trusted Emilie was telling him the truth. One day, Emilie wanted to check the progress of wee Angus, the baby fairy, so they walked arm-in-arm to the garden. The infant was flying now, though rather awkwardly. It was quite comical, but they didn't dare laugh in front of his proud and preening parents. Draco kept stealing glances at the tower window, but no one was to be seen. However, as they were leaving, Emilie turned and blew a kiss at the window. A pale hand, with long, tapered fingers reached out as if to grasp it, then waved. Both of them waved back, then turned toward the meadow, and thence to the path that led down to the beach. They settled themselves comfortably against their favorite large boulder, and watched the sea.

"This was the beach your parents chose, Draco."

He snuggled her closer. "You know...I should just be in awe of you, Emilie. Actually, in some ways I am. I haven't just been working on new charms and spells, I've been reading about you."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Maybe Paddy was right, you are a peeping Tom."

He laughed. "I'm a Slytherin." He acted as if he were a snake and dived in for a kiss. "We have to spy...muahaha...to....investigate...and now I must investigate how ticklish you are..." He ran his fingertips lightly up her sides and she collapsed in fits of giggles. He lay slightly atop her as he stroked her cheek. His smile faded as he asked, "You've had other lovers before me..."

"Yes....haven't you?"

"Not really, no. There was a girl at school I liked, though. Pansy Parkinson. I liked her, but it wasn't the same as I feel about you....did you...love these other men?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Mmm."

She reached up and pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes. "I did. They are long since gone now. I grieved for them, but that time is over...Draco, I haven't said this until now, I know, but I will say it. I love you so very much. I've loved you ever since I saw you--loved what was inside you. Even then, you were warm, and curious, and brave. I never thought I would be lucky enough to have you back."

He smiled, and his eyes misted. "I'm glad you said it. I was afraid you never would. But as for being brave, I'm not."

"Being brave doesn't mean you're not afraid. It means you do what you have to, in spite of the fear. You are brave. I know it."

They lay on the beach for hours, telling each other about their pasts. Draco felt it would probably take one of his lifetimes for Emilie to tell him about her past, but that was all right.

"So, the part in the Madame White Snake legend about that git of a monk was true?"

"Yes. He wasn't a very good monk. He was corrupted by wealth. He was jealous of Xu Xian and me. No one would buy his cures when they could receive healing from us for free."

"But Xu Xian wasn't an immortal?"

"No, he was a scholar. Not even a wizard, he was a good and decent mortal man. And he loved me, even after he knew I could be a snake. I learned from him that I should never lie about who I am, not to the people I love. I was afraid he would leave me, you see, if he knew. So I pretended to be a woman only. That was wrong."

"And you had a child with him..."

"Yes." she smiled. "He was a lovely baby. Little Xu Bai."

"Was he an immortal?"

"No, but he lived a very long time. He was a wizard. He married a beautiful Chinese witch and had children of his own, and they had children...I got to watch them all grow up, grow old...."

"Is it hard? Watching people grow old, when you don't?"

"Very hard, but I am better at it now than I once was. You see, Draco...I've had so many yesterdays, and may have a very many tomorrows, but all we ever really have is right now. Be happy for today, love the people you love...it's really all there is in life. Everything else fades away, whether you live fifty years, or five thousand."

"I love you today," he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

"And I love you today."

"Then that's all we need to know?" he laughed.

"It's all we need to know...but not all we want to know, is it?" she smiled.

They lay still for a few moments, then..."Emilie...your children. Do you still watch over them?"

Her face clouded, and she rose and walked to the water's edge. "Yes, Draco. I do. And it is time you knew about it. There is only one descendent left now, and yes...I still keep watch on him."

He followed her and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Emilie, what is it?"

"You know him as well, Draco. He gave you that Mark. He must die, Draco. Harry Potter must kill him."

Draco gulped. "You can't mean..."

"I do mean, Draco. Tom Riddle is my last remaining descendent. And he must die. There's nothing else to do."

"Oh Emilie...I'm so sorry." Draco breathed, putting his arms around her. They stood for several minutes, watching the waves. "Is that why you came to England then? Because your descendents came here?"

"Yes, love. I looked out for them whenever I could. There was only one back then as well, about 1,200 years ago. He was a proud wizard, extremely talented. He came to help the people here, and he did help them. He helped to found Hogwarts. But he changed, Draco. He became arrogant and cruel, I don't know why. After all these years, it's still a mystery to me. Perhaps he was always like that, under the surface."

"Salazar Slytherin...wasn't it? My father said Voldemort claimed to be his heir. And in my second year at Hogwarts, there was an incident. I don't know much about it except that the Chamber of Secrets turned out to be real."

"Yes. He had two children. His son married one of the Others and was disowned by Salazar. His line ended 400 years ago. His daughter married a wizard from a high-ranking family. Her family, the Gaunts, thrived for awhile, until they began marrying their own cousins too often, mistakenly thinking that was the right thing to do. All it did was bring madness into a once-strong family lineage. And now again, my descendents are down to only one. The last one. He is insane, and he must not continue. For too long I've known what he was and have done nothing. Even as a child, he hurt people. I was tempted to bring him to me when I learned of his birth, but was advised against it. As a child, he would come to this other beach, though, and I would travel to watch him. He was such a handsome boy, but so cruel! Even then, I believe he was mad. I surprised him once, in a cavern. He didn't know who I was. He was torturing two children--I think he planned to kill them. I stopped him from that, but he'd already damaged them...I should have...should have killed him myself, but I...he was my grandson, however far removed.

After that, I stayed away from him. He was taken to Hogwarts, where I had news that he was a promising student. I knew he had been cruel as a child, but, I had hoped that being among his own kind would make him better. I had no idea what he would turn into...and now, he must die. He's hurt so many--killed so many...he's caused too much suffering." She turned to face him. "When I found out he had given you the Mark, you of all people, my sweet sunshine..." she paused and stroked his cheek, "I thought I would go mad from grief. It's all my fault, Draco. I should have stopped him long ago. But I was not brave. I was afraid by then that he might find out who and what I am, and try to use me as well..."

"He won't! He won't, I promise." Draco held her close.

"There is something I must do, Draco. If I can do it, it will at least be something. At least I did something..." She took his hand and began leading him up the path.

"What is it, Emilie? Tell me..."

"No, Draco."

Worried, he followed her. What was she planning? He was used to shocks by now, but this felt different...she was so adamant...

"Please, just come with me." her face was hardened, determined. She looked as she had when the dementors had been circling. It was no good trying to dissuade her now.

They walked back to the cottage, descending the crystal steps to the cavern chamber. She threw off her cloak.

"Draco, I want you to take off your robe and get onto the bed."

"Emilie, I..." he began.

"Please, Draco...you must trust me!" she implored.

"All right, but..." he did as she asked. He did trust her...

He watched as she began her slow spinning. He was frightened and unsure, but his trust in her was complete. She spun herself into a snake. She came to him, slithered up on to the bed...she began to slowly wrap herself around him. He began to feel secure, to relax...then before he had time to move, she reared up, opened her jaws, and sank her fangs into his forearm, right into the Dark Mark!

"Emilie! No! Don't!" Draco tried to pry her jaws from his arm. He panicked, the pain was excruciating! "Emilie, stop it! No!" he screamed. She only wrapped herself around him tighter, binding him, he couldn't move...her tail lightly stroked his temple...he was falling, falling....and he knew nothing more.

Chapter 14---A Summer Chill

Draco wasn't sure how long he'd lain unconscious. He awoke feeling dizzy, and incredibly cold. His head swam when he tried to sit up, and then slowly cleared. The events of the immediate past slowly trickled back into his mind. Emilie had bitten him, bitten the Dark Mark! Why? He looked at his forearm and gave a gasp of surprise, gaping in disbelief.

The Dark Mark was gone. All that remained was a fading red impression of it, and two small punctures which looked as if they were already healing.

He shook his head, as if to clear it. So cold....so cold. He reached for his black wool robe and threw it over his head. Emilie...

He got out of bed, looking for her. He spied her, lying about ten metres away, partially hidden by the sofa. She was on her side, her face turned away from him.

"Emilie..." Draco ran to her, turned her over, and cried out in horror. She was so very cold...her once porcelain skin was tinged with grey, and there were dark circles under her closed eyes that were almost black. Her lips had a frightening, dark blue tint. She looked to have fallen, her forehead had a cut. It was bleeding--there was blood in a puddle on the floor, her cheek was stained with it, it matted her hair. It was a terrifying contrast to her grey skin. "No, Emilie!" He lifted her head from the floor and cradled it against his knees. He stroked her hand. It was so cold, so dry. "No...."

He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Easing the covers out from beneath her, he quickly covered her in them. He thought to get some water to clean her cut--but no, not salt water; it would only burn her now. She stirred weakly and moaned. "Draco..."

"I'm here, love, I'm here." he choked.

"Draco...let me see..." Draco just stared at her, not comprehending. "Let me see your arm."

He quickly pushed his sleeve up his forearm and showed her. Her eyes opened languidly--Draco could see her pupils were strangely dilated; her pale eyes had turned black. She looked at his arm and softly smiled. "It's done then."

"Emilie, you need help! What do I do?"

She seemed to have trouble focusing her eyes, but they found Draco's face. "In the box..." she gasped.”On the first shelf. In the box..." Draco strode quickly to the shelf and took down the silver jewellery case Emilie kept there. "Open it, love...see the velvet bag? Take it...take it to Harry Potter. Take it to Harry Potter."

Harry Potter? This wasn't help! He stuffed the little drawstring bag into his pocket and ran back to her. She seemed to be fading away...this wasn't happening, it wasn't...couldn't be. She lived forever, she would always be young and healthy...no...

Her shaking hand reached out to him and he grasped it, kissing it trying desperately to will some heat into it. "Emilie, no...What do I do to help you?"

"Take it to Harry. Do it now. Don't wait, love." She gave a small sigh and her hand went slack in his.

"Emilie..." he gently patted her cheek. "Emilie? EMILIE!"

She was unconscious, her breathing faint and shallow. Draco felt his panic rising. He gently tucked her arm beneath the velvet duvet. This couldn't be happening, it wasn't...he bent and kissed her forehead, and his lips came away sticky with her blood. Then he ran.

He ran as fast as he could, up the winding tower staircase, around and around, unaware that he was making a keening sound like a wounded animal. He had to get Paddy, someone...by the time he reached the top he was retching from breathlessness. Raising his wand automatically, he gasped, Lumos."

The usually dark passageway was faintly illuminated and Draco made for the tiny door. As soon as he had stumbled through it, he heard a faint click. Turning, he saw to his horror that the wooden door, with its guardian snake, was back in place.

"Nooooo..." he moaned. "No! Emilie! Emilie!" He began kicking at the door, pounding it with his fists, he knew he was behaving hysterically, but he couldn't stop--he had to get back to her! "EMILIE!" He was screaming, shrieking her name. How could he be so stupid? The door wouldn't open without her! No one could reach her, he couldn't get back!

"Draco Malfoy?"

He turned. Little Willo stood in the doorway.

"Willo!" Draco rushed to her. Crouching down, he grabbed her by the shoulders. She didn't even flinch, her panic-stricken face looked steadily up into his.

"Draco Malfoy?" Her large eyes had already begun to tear up--she already knew something was terribly wrong. "Miss Emilie...?"

"She's sick, Willo, and she's hurt. She needs help. Please, please get Raymund!"

Without another word, Willo vanished with a soft whoosh, leaving Draco grasping at empty air. Paddy appeared immediately in the doorway to replace Willo. He was small, but he was strong. He grabbed Draco's wrists and said, "There lad, sit down now, sit yerself down right now." He firmly pressed Draco across the room, until the backs of his legs made contact with Emilie's little bed. "Go on, ye sit down now, yer very pale."

"She's sick, Paddy. And I need to get back down there. She's all alone!"

"Willo will fetch Raymund and we'll see what's to be done. Ye just sit there and catch yer breath." Despite the calm reassurance of Paddy's tone, Draco could see that he was very pale as well. His freckles stood out in sharp contrast against his whitened cheeks, his concerned green eyes boring into Draco's grey ones.

"Will he come?"

"He'll come." said Paddy grimly. He trotted back out of the room, and Draco was alone.

And Raymund did come. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes until he arrived, but they were the slowest ten minutes of Draco's life. He seemed to be looking at the floor between his knees, but...all he could see was Emilie's grey face, her thick black lashes spread over the darkness under her eyes, like ashy draperies. What had gone wrong? Why did she tell him to go, to leave her alone down there, with no one? He heard that strange, keening sound again, and realised he was rocking...

"Mr. Malfoy!" Someone had him by the shoulders, shaking him. "Draco! Tell me what happened."

Draco looked up from the floor as if in a daze. It was Raymund, or so Draco guessed--his hood was pulled down over his face. Raymund shook him again and his lethargy disappeared.

"She's down there, she's sick! She's hurt! I can't get down there, the door closed. Can you open it? She needs me!"

"Sick? Why?"

Draco groaned miserably, and pulled up the left sleeve of his robe. Raymund gasped, walked to the door and put his head against it. "Oh...girl, what have you done?" He turned to face Draco. "She's poisoned. She must have drained all the poison out of that Mark at once."

"We have to help her!" Draco moaned.

"We'll try. But we can't do this alone. Come on, we have to get help. Can you stand?"

"Yes..." Draco replied shakily. His head was swimming. Emilie...they must get help.

He staggered forward and almost fell, but Raymund caught him.

"Draco, look at me." Draco looked up, he could see the taller man's eyes now, and they were of brilliant, sparkling blue, under auburn brows. Oddly familiar eyes..."Ah, she had to take a fair amount of blood when she took the poison, I think. Here." He touched his finger to Draco's temple, murmuring words he didn't understand. The dizziness passed. "Can you go with me? We both need to go if possible, time is short. We must get to the edge of the property so we can apparate."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy." he smiled. "Come on."

It took only fifteen minutes to get to the border. In that time, Draco's feet flew, but his mind flew faster. Could Emilie die? She was so sick...why did she not tell him what to do? Why were her last words to him about Harry Potter? NOT her last words, they're not her last words...

They reached the gate, panting. Raymund again took Draco's shoulders. "Listen to me now. I'm going to apparate with you to a street called Privet Drive, in Surrey. It is the home of Harry Potter's muggle relatives. Do you understand?"

"Harry Potter...again..."

"Draco, if anyone can speak that door open, it's Harry. Do you understand? We need to work together here. We need to get Harry, and then we need to get Professor Snape."

"Yes."

"Take my arm then." Destination, determination, deliberation...

Chapter Fifteen--A Summer Chill

Chapter Fifteen

The trip took longer than Draco was used to, and he gratefully gulped in air upon landing. Raymund didn't hesitate, however, striding quickly down the alleyway of Privet Drive. Draco had to run to catch up with him. They were just at the gate of Number Four when a voice from the shadows barked, "Halt and Identify!"

Draco turned and saw two figures come out of the shadows. Their wands were held out horizontally, pointing straight at them. They meant business.

"Ms. Tonks...Mr. Diggle. Good evening." said Raymund pleasantly.

"Identify!" the older man ordered once more.

"Raymund Audley."

"Never heard of you. Pull back the hood."

"I'd prefer not to, it's a cold night." said Raymund.

Dedalus Diggle frowned at Raymund in distrust. "And you?" he inclined his head toward Draco.

"Dr..Draco Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" the two exclaimed in unison, and closed the distance between the pairs in an instant.

"Draco Malfoy? COUSIN Malfoy," glared Tonks. "You're the kid who let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts!"

"The same," declared Raymund. "I understand the need for security in this situation, but I assure you, we mean no harm to Harry Potter or his friends. We're on a matter of urgent business. The safety of many may depend on your decision now."

Dedalus and Tonks glanced sideways at each other. They clearly didn't want Raymund and Draco talking with Harry, but there were only two of them, against two. Help was hard to come by since the attack on Hogwarts--and neither of the other wizards had a wand out, which didn't seem standard Death Eater behaviour at all.

Finally, after another long look at Raymund, Tonks said, "Not inside. You can meet with him in the garden, and we will remain. With wands on you every minute."

"Very fair, very fair, lovely," said Raymund, as if he had just been asked out for tea.

"Go on, then, in," said Dedalus gruffly, keeping his wand pointed at their backs. "Any fast moves and you won't know what hit you before you're on trial and imprisoned. Which, from what I hear, Malfoy, you might be anyway."

Draco said nothing. They had to speak with Harry. If Harry wouldn't go with them, then they could go ahead and take him to prison. What difference did it make to him? But how would they ever convince Harry they meant no harm?

Raymund walked calmly to the middle of the yard, seemingly oblivious to the muggle family peeping from the windows of the small house, who seemed quite distressed to see them. Draco stood uncertainly next to Raymund. He was frightened. He lifted up his head, and saw a girl with a head full of bushy hair looking down from one of the upstairs windows. The face wreathed by the hair looked shocked, absolutely shocked. It was quickly followed by another face, this one taller with red hair. He glared at Draco and disappeared. The Weasel and the mudblood, Draco thought automatically. No. There are no mudbloods, you were ignorant. He found himself wishing he'd followed his father's advice and gotten on the good side of Potter.

After only a minute, he saw Harry opening the greenhouse door, led by Dedalus Diggle, who still had a firm grip on his wand. He was quickly followed by Ron and Hermione. All of them had their wands out. All of them looked murderous.

"Harry." Draco heard Raymund say warmly.

"What is it then?" Harry looked nervous, but angry. He barely looked at Raymund, he was too busy looking daggers at Draco. Draco met his stare without flinching.

He said, "There's a girl. She's sick, she needs help. The only way to reach her is to speak Parseltongue to a door. And no one can do that but you."

Harry looked incredulous, then his eyes narrowed to slits. "What are you doing here? Why don't you ask VOLDEMORT to do it? Eh, Malfoy? Ask your mate Voldemort! What has this got to do with me, other than to make my day when they come to haul you to Azkaban?"

"He's not my mate," said Draco evenly. "You know he's not. You know he threatened to kill my family if I didn't...didn't..."

"No." Harry's voice was hard as diamonds, his eyes shone with a frightening, furious gleam.

"Look! She took the Dark Mark away! That's why she's sick!" Draco pulled up his sleeve and showed them the fast-fading bruise.

"It means nothing. It's just another trick. Your mummy probably bought you the makeup herself." Harry growled. "I...owe...you...NOTHING." he spat.

Draco felt something inside him snap. Without taking his eyes from Harry's, he advanced on him. "No, you don't. You don't owe me anything. I'm a complete git and always have been. You don't owe HER anything. But she needs you...and I need you to help her!"

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. "It's always about getting what YOU want, isn't it, Malfoy? Think the whole bloody world revolves around you and what YOU want? Try living my life, you self-serving, spoiled, childish BRAT! Try it! Just try it!" Before anyone could react, he came at Draco with his wand raised, pinning him to the brick garden wall and touching his wand to Draco's throat. "ONE move, Malfoy, one...and you're gone. You stood there and watched as Snape murdered Dumbledore. I saw you! I could tear you apart right now and NO ONE WOULD SAY I WASN'T JUSTIFIED!" he shrieked.

No one moved.

"Then do it," Draco growled. "Bloody DO IT ALREADY!" Draco screamed. "Do you think I care? If you won't help her, then do it, because I can't live if she dies..." he gasped. "I can't."

Harry blinked...he stepped back, taking his wand with him. Draco felt his legs give way and he crumpled to the ground. "If you don't help her, Potter...if you go back into that house and do nothing, and she dies...you're no better than me. And if you're no better than me, you'll never defeat Voldemort. And then nothing will matter anyway."

"Save the mother...and destroy the son." said Raymund gravely.

"Wha...what are you saying?" gasped Ron.

"The girl, Emilie, is related to Voldemort. She's not his mother, but she is related." remarked Raymund.

"Another reason NOT to help!" shouted Harry.

"You don't know her, Harry. If you did, you wouldn't say that." said Raymund sadly.

"She wants you to kill him, Harry." groaned Draco. "And she wants you to have this. She told me to give it to you." Draco pulled the little velvet bag from his pocket and threw it at Harry. "Take it."

Harry reached down for the bag, eyes and wand still directed at Draco. "Wait, Harry," said Hermione. "What if it's like the necklace, the one he almost killed Katie with?"

The two aurors immediately began a series of spell-detection charms.

Draco didn't want to argue anymore. What was the point? He didn't want to look at them. He curled up against the wall and hid his face in his hands. He'd done as she asked, her final wish. He just wanted them all to leave, leave him alone, go away and let him sit here until he died...it wouldn't be long, couldn't be. His heart was breaking while they watched...

"Harry, we're not getting anything..I think it's clean." said Tonks nervously.

Harry picked up the bag and opened the gathers. Into his hand slid a long, thick silver pin with a stopper on the tip. The top part of the pin was a beautifully wrought enameled work of navy-blue cloissonne. It was in the shape of a shield, with two 'R's, one in the top left corner, one below near the right. In the center, a black raven stood, its beak open--it's tiny sapphire eye watchful. The shield was the same on both sides. Harry could see a catch in between the layers and tried to open it. It wouldn't budge.

"Let me, I have nails," said Hermione. "The pin obviously isn't going to kill anyone or it would have done by now--but you should be more cautious, Harry!" It wouldn't open for Hermione, either.

"May I see it?" asked Raymond eagerly. Hermione gingerly handed it over, then nervously stepped away from the tall wizard. "It's a hat pin." His voice became hushed..."Draco, Emilie gave this to you?"

"Leave me alone..."

"Draco!" Raymond grabbed Draco roughly by the shoulders and jerked him to his feet.

"She gave this to you? Where did it come from?"

"I don't know...I didn't see it before today. She had it in a jewellery case. She said to give it to Potter. It was the last thing she..." he choked.

Raymond pulled Draco into a fierce hug. Over Draco's shoulder, he said "Harry...it's the Ravenclaw horcrux."

"How do you know...?" gasped Harry. With trembling fingers, Harry reached for it once more. Ron and Hermione immediately crowded around him for another look. He said tremulously, "It is. It has to be."

Draco was now standing on his own, his eyes blazing. "Harry, please. Please. Don't let her die..."

Harry stood silent for a moment. There was no love in his eyes when he looked at Draco, but he said, "I'll go."

"Harry, you can't!" cried Hermione.

"She GAVE us a horcrux, Hermione. She would never have done if she was in league with Voldemort. It isn't a trick. I can feel it." He turned to her. "All last year, Hermione, I knew what he was." He jerked his head at Draco. "I knew he was up to no good. No one listened to me, but I was right. Well, I'm right about this as well. You have to trust me now. I'm going."

"Then you don't go alone, mate." declared Ron. "You know I'm with you."

Hermione looked terrified, but she nodded, "Me as well."

"Splendid." said Raymund. "Now, there isn't time to waste. Dedalus, Nymphadora, go to Grimmauld Place immediately, yes? Tell Arthur that Harry and his friends have gone to Sanctuary. Yes? Sanctuary. Only Arthur. Do you understand?"

"Now, wait a minute! Who ARE you?"

"Sorry, no time. Draco, take these young people to Emilie, yes? I'll follow shortly."

"Yes, Sir." Draco replied automatically. "Take hold of me someplace."
Harry grabbed Draco's left forearm, making him wince instinctively before he realised it no longer hurt when someone squeezed him there. Hermione and Ron took his other arm, though both of them looked as if they'd rather wrestle a dragon. Harry's face was carefully neutral.

Destination, determination, deliberation...

*************************************

Draco was glad he was very good at apparition, because hauling three people with you wasn't easy. A portkey would have been much better, but there hadn't been time.
They ended up falling in a heap upon arrival, panting.

Draco was up first, pulling Hermione up by the hand. "C'mon, please hurry!"
Hermione looked shocked as Draco opened the gate for them. "Please!" he begged urgently.

The trio picked up on his renewed panic and all of them dashed up the deer path, through the woods, over the stile, and down the white path to the cottage. Bursting through the door, Draco led them straight to the bedroom. Willo and Paddy were sitting on the bed; Willo was weeping. Paddy had his arm around her, clearly trying not to cry himself.

"Willo, Paddy, help is here, and more is coming," Draco panted. "There, Potter, stand by the window, point your wand at the door, ask it to open.." Draco pleaded.

Harry gave Draco a curt nod and did as he was asked. Hermione went to the bed, and, sitting down, put her arm around the shoulders of the distraught Willo. Ron stood near the wall, his eyes wide. All of them watched, breathless, as he addressed the snake on the door.

"Did it nod?"

"No..."

"What?" Draco quickly stood behind Harry. "Ask again..." he begged.

Harry pointed his wand at the door and tried again. Again, nothing. Draco thought he was going to vomit. This can't be happening...and, suddenly, he knew what to do...
He quickly grabbed his wand from the pocket of his robes, and throwing his arm over Harry's shoulder, covered Harry's wand hand with his own. "Try again."

Harry tried again. They watched as the snake bowed to Harry. "OK, walk slowly to the door, run your wand around the edges." They stepped in tandem to the door, and together traced out the door's shape. It melted.

"LUMOS!" cried Draco as he entered. He didn't check to see if anyone followed, he raced for the steps. Once he touched the first step, everything lit up, and he dashed down the steps recklessly. When he got to the bottom he stopped stone still. It wasn't just that he couldn't get in, but...what if it was too late? He'd spent so much energy thinking only of reaching her...now he was afraid of what he might find.
Harry reached the bottom next. "What now?"

"You have to ask this door to open as well, but it isn't as secure as the other. It should be easier."

Harry spoke in Parseltongue to the door, and it opened.

Draco still stood, not moving.

"Go on, Malfoy..."

He stepped inside and willed his feet to keep moving. It was so dim! The crystals were losing their brilliance. He moved on, his eyes to the wall which would soon give way to the chamber. As soon as it came into view his reluctance disappeared and he ran. "Emilie! Emilie!"

She was there. She hadn't moved. He kneeled at the side of the bed and lightly touched his hand to her face. It was frighteningly cold. Where was the light? He vaguely heard Hermione's voice whisper, "Lumos." And he could see her. The gray pallor was gone. She was so pale, she looked like the marble of the bed she was lying on. The group gathered in a semi-circle around the bed, looking at her gravely. Willo burst into fresh tears.

"Emilie?" he got up, leaned over her, put his face near...he felt her breath on his cheek, slow...and cold. So cold. "She's still alive. She's still alive." He looked up at Harry through tear-dimmed eyes. Harry gave him a vague half-smile, but his eyes were sad. Draco sat on the edge of the bed.

"Harry...I should tell you. Raymund's gone to get Professor Snape."

"What?" Harry stepped back, his eyes fierce. "Why? "

"Please Harry, she needs him. And he isn't what you think he is. You don't have to like him, just, just let him help her. Please."

Harry was shaking his head in a confused way. "I don't really understand any of this, Malfoy. He KILLED Dumbledore. We both watched him do it."

"I know. But he didn't really want to. And he didn't kill you. I saw you both by Hagrid's hut. He could have, and he didn't. And he lied to Voldemort to save me and my mother."

Harry's eyes narrowed again, but he said nothing. Draco knew he was unconvinced.

He reached under the covers for Emilie's hand. He found it, but when he tried to draw it out to hold it, it barely moved. It was so stiff! She wasn't dead! What was happening? Something had changed, even though the gray pallor was gone, she was worse somehow...

Her voice shaking, Willo said, "She needs water for that cut. Willo needs to boil water. Miss, would you help Willo?" she turned her imploring eyes to Hermione.

"Of course I will!" Hermione told her. "And my name is Hermione Granger."

"Hermione Granger." Willo threw her arms around Hermione's knees and gave her a hug. "We need to go into this room, Hermione Granger. Willo needs a cauldron from the shelves, and a lamp for the fire. Then Willo needs someone to get water from that fountain--it's not salty up there."

"I'll do it." Ron jumped up from his seat on one of the chairs.

"We'll need TWO cauldrons, Miss Granger," drawled a familiar voice. Professor Snape's. Draco saw Harry's head jerk up in alarm before he'd registered that Professor Snape had arrived. Harry quickly backed away from the bed as Snape approached it.

"Move, Mr. Malfoy." Severus paid no attention to Harry, or to any of them--he bent over Emilie, throwing the blanket back. He felt her face, her hands. He opened her eyes and looked into them.

"You are correct about her condition, Sir." he said to Raymund, who was busily snapping floating candles into existence, brightening the room.

"Can you save her?" asked Raymund, sadly.

"I don't know. But let's get to work." he looked up and acknowledged everyone for the first time. "I'll need help, and I don't need attitude. Weasley, fill both cauldrons with water--one from the fountain, one from the lake. Give the fountain one to Willo, the other to me. Miss Granger, two lamps."

He swept the velvet covering from one of the marble tables. "Paddy..." Paddy drew near. "Paddy, I need three berries and one frond from one of the yew trees. Wait. Take this, " he said, tossing the tablecloth to him. "Lay it in the entrance to the door, so it can't close."

Paddy ran for the steps. Soon both cauldrons were boiling. "Miss Granger, put two handfuls of dried lavender into Willo's cauldron, you'll find it in the same room. Willo..." Willo came running, and Severus crouched down, taking her gently by the shoulders.

"Willo, I need a mature mandrake from the garden. Can you get it? Do you know what to do?"

"Yes, Severus Snape, Willo knows."

"Good girl."

Willo scuttled off.

"I could get it, Professor Snape," said Hermione.

"No, Miss Granger. Only Paddy and Willo can apparate on these grounds, and time is of the essence--so don't waste any more of mine. Fetch hellebore, scales, and a sharp knife."

"Mr. Weasley," Raymund motioned Ron over. "There is a dog upstairs who has not had his dinner. Please feed him and bring him down here." Ron nodded and disappeared. "Mr. Potter, please come over here, I'd like to talk with you."

Draco stayed sitting by Emilie while the chamber erupted into activity. He held her stiff hand as well as he could, and leaned in by Emilie's ear. "Please, my love, don't leave me...hang on, we're coming for you." He bit back tears, and stroked her cheek once more. He could hear Raymund's low murmurs.

"You did the right thing, Harry."

"I don't understand any of this. How did she have a horcrux?"

"She knew about them. I told her. I can only surmise she worked one out--but how she acquired it, I don't know."

"But how do you know about them? I thought only Professor Dumbledore and I knew..."

"Yes. I should have told you about Emilie, I just never had time. I thought there would be time..."

"Excuse me, Sir?"

Draco looked over at Raymund and Harry just as the taller wizard finally pulled down his hood. Puzzled, Draco stared. He had a head of long auburn hair with a goatee to match. His nose was long and straight, his skin fair. He didn't know this man! So why the hiding?

But Harry's face had gone slack, his eyes round, mouth open...

"Pro...Professor Dumbledore?" he gasped.

"Harry," said Raymund, as he took Harry into his arms. "How I've missed you."

Chapter Sixteen--A Summer Chill


Draco felt numb. It was all just too much. So, Dumbledore wasn't dead--he was standing there, hugging Harry, looking about a century younger, no older than Emilie...Draco just sat, holding Emilie's hand, while first Harry, then Hermione, then Ron were hugged in turn by...Raymund? Should he still be called that? They were smiling, Hermione through tears. Harry and Ron seemed to be fighting them back as well--Harry was losing the battle. And Emilie lay right here, cold...perhaps dying...how could they smile? How could they...

Raymund looked up from the others at just that moment, taking in the haunted look in Draco's eyes. His smile disappeared. He went to Draco's side. "I'm sorry, Draco," he said, laying his hand upon his shoulder. "But it had to be here. I couldn't reveal myself before now."

Draco just shook his head and looked away. "I don't understand."

"One moment." Raymund asked Ron to fetch a basin from the potions room. He used it to bring some of the healing water Willo had brewed across to the table by the bed.

As he bent to apply a soft cloth to Emilie's injured head, Draco stopped him.

"Please Sir, I want to do it."

"Very good, young man," Raymund patted Draco's shoulder, then moved around the bed, sitting on the other side. The trio soon joined him, as well as Claw, who immediately went to Draco's side and rested his head on Draco's knee. Draco scratched the dog's ears absently. Raymund said, "You don't understand my appearance, but...you understand her, yes?"

Draco left off petting Claw and began to carefully clean Emilie's wound. "She never told me about you, except to say...that you were like her. But I didn't know who you were. You can't be like her and be Dumbledore."

"Draco, all wizards are not alike, are they? There are varying degrees of talent and prowess--some live longer than others. Some age differently...it's the same for us."

"But I saw Professor Snape kill you...I was about to tell you I wouldn't kill you," he choked, gulped. "I was about to give you my wand...I know you won't believe me, but it's true. And then he killed you. How could he kill you, if you can't die?"

"I do believe you, but I was already dying. It was just too late to stop it. And I did die.
But then I came back. Emilie can become a snake, I become a bird. A phoenix."

Understanding dawned in Ron's face. "And phoenixes are reborn!"

"Yes, exactly, Mr. Weasley. Phoenixes are reborn. And so you see me now. It's so simple, isn't it...but the consequences..." he shook his head. Looking at each of them in turn, he said, "This knowledge cannot go beyond this room. I am sorry. I don't wish to cause you to deceive family and friends, but...the wizarding world at large cannot know about us. We reveal ourselves to very, very few. I've come back young, yes, but still recognizable. Harry here knew me right away."

"But, Professor, the only reason I knew you is because you look almost the same as you did in the memory--in the pensieve." He was pale, with pink spots in his cheeks. Ron had his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Times have changed for we 'timeless ones,' Harry. There are photographs...my painting no doubt hangs in the the Headmistress' office now, does it not?"

"Yes, Sir, but why should it matter? Wouldn't people like to know about you...and her?" inquired Harry, looking sorrowfully at the still figure on the bed.

"Perhaps, Harry." Raymund replied. "But wizards learned through hard experience that they had to keep their way of life hidden from the Others. The Others would react badly--they have in the past. They would deify you, or fear you--perhaps both. They would expect you to solve their problems. And as we all know, wizards are not always so clever at solving their own problems, much less the problems of the Others. Now, you introduce a new kind of people, perhaps immortal, certainly with far greater strength and powers than other wizards, and it happens again. Besides..." he lowered his voice, and they all leaned in to hear, "Voldemort must not know. Especially about Emilie."

"And why is that, Sir?" asked Draco, looking sadly at Emilie's waxen face. "Is it because she is his ancestor? Can he use her? She said she feared it." Hermione gasped, and she and Ron exchanged shocked looks.

"It is true, Mr. Malfoy. You may not understand some things that Harry, Hermione and Ron know. But know this--Voldemort's single pursuit is immortality. He would use her, if he could. Look again at your arm."

Puzzled, Draco drew up the sleeve of his robe. The Mark was gone. Completely gone. There was no bruising. The puncture marks from Emilie's fangs were gone. It was as if the Mark had never existed. "I thought so," said Raymund. "The Mark was disappearing so quickly."

Draco looked up again at Raymund, eyes round. "What is this magic?"

"Emilie's magic, Draco. I don't think she only took the poison from you. I think she may well have injected you with a part of her immortality, an essence of it, perhaps--I'm not sure," he said quickly, holding up his hand to stifle the sounds of shock and incredulity coming from the four young people. "But it may be true. I don't know of her ever attempting anything like this before--not in all the long years I've known her. But if it is true, could you see what Voldemort could do if he found her? He has a large snake with him now, as Harry knows." Harry nodded grimly, Ron looked stricken.

"The snake that Harry said attacked my dad?"

"Exactly the one, Ron. He used her somehow, I think--something in her venom helped to keep him strong until he kidnapped Harry to remake his own body. But Nagini is only a snake, she is not like Emilie. What she provides is not anywhere near as powerful as he might get from the woman who was, and is, the first of his bloodline."

"Raymund...Professor," Draco began, but again, Raymund held up his hand.

"Raymund now, Draco. School is over." He reached over and put his hand on Draco's shoulder. "You're wondering about her?"

"Yes. Please...what's wrong with her? I know she took the poison, but, what's happening to her? She was so gray before, and now so pale...and she's...her hands, they won't bend." he gulped, and the tears that he'd kept back flooded his eyes. "I'm not a child. I need to know. I love her. I deserve to know."

"Ah, Draco," Raymund sighed. "She told you what the Dark Mark does?" He nodded. "Well, it's meant to affect the wearer very slowly. It is my opinion that taking it all at once like that...even someone as strong as Emilie..." He frowned. "Draco, the poison is internalizing. I fear it will not affect just the heart, it will turn her completely to stone if we can't counteract its effects." Hermione's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. Draco just stared at Raymund...and his tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Draco," said Raymund, "You know Professor Snape is a powerful wizard, and extremely gifted with potions. If anyone can save her, he can."

They all looked across the chamber to Professor Snape. He was intent on his task--Willo and Paddy had just returned with the fresh ingredients for Emilie's potion.

Raymund continued. "The enemy is time. The potion has to boil down, and it can't be rushed. We just need to be hopeful."

**********************************************

Three more hours crept by. Draco kept his bedside vigil, refusing to move from Emilie's side. The others in the room came and went. Willo tried to push him to have a sandwich and some fruit, but he was too upset to eat. Ron took the plate to a table across the room and had the sandwich, while Hermione nibbled at the grapes.

Raymund was in deep conversation with Professor Snape. The potion had been brewed, but Professor Snape had said it needed to boil down to halfway before the dose would be ready.

Draco lifted his head when he heard Harry speak. He was standing on the other side of the bed, one hand absently stroking the smooth snake carving of the post.

"How is she?"

"She's still breathing, but it's getting harder, I think." Draco said. "When I touch her, nothing moves, her skin is hard..."

"I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault."

"I should have agreed sooner."

"No, Potter. It wasn't your fault. I think...I think she closed the door on me." he looked at Harry again. "I think she told me to go to you and she shut herself away so I'd not come back."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he sat down on the bed. "Why would she do that?"

"I don't know...not for sure, anyway." said Draco, turning his eyes back to her face."We know she knew that Voldemort might try to use her. Maybe she was trying to lock herself away from him. I wonder too if perhaps she didn't know what taking the Mark from me might do to her--maybe she didn't care. I honestly..." he choked. "I honestly think she felt she was doing the right thing. She's lived more than five thousand years, Harry...and she was willing to give it up. For me...for all of us."

They sat in silence for several minutes.

"Draco...what happened? How do you know her?"

"All I know is that Snape brought me here, after...well, after him." he indicated Raymund. "Either Snape or Dumbledore...Raymund, I mean, asked her to take me in. I didn't meet her right away, I sat alone for weeks. But it was long enough to think things through. That's my trouble, Potter. I don't think things through, I just react."

Harry gave a sardonic chuckle, and Draco looked up at him. "I'm like that as well. Strange."

"Maybe it's too late, Potter...Harry...but, I did a lot of foul things. I caused a lot of damage. I broke your nose, insulted all of you, and worse. I sent that necklace, and cursed Madame Rosmerta with an unforgivable, and almost killed Katie Bell...when I'm with Emilie, I can forget that stuff. Here, with her, it's like another world, and I can be another kind of person...a decent person. But I have to answer for what I've done, and soon." he said softly. "But not like this. I don't want to answer for it by losing her."

"Snape'll cure her..."

Draco looked over to the table where Snape and Raymund stood. Snape was peering intently into the cauldron. Draco could see his lips moving as he counted the revolutions of his ladle. "I hope so." He looked back at Harry. "There's something else."

"What?"

"Ginny Weasley."

Harry's face snapped up. "What about Ginny?"

"Voldemort knows about you and her."

"But he can't!"

"Don't think that I was the only one at Hogwarts with a mission, Harry. While Crabbe and Goyle were watching out for me at the Room of Requirement, Theodore Nott was spying on you."

Harry looked desolated. "No..."

"He saw you one afternoon, by the lake, with Ginny...Harry," Draco urged. "Go to her, bring her here. Keep her safe. She'd be safe here. Don't leave her vulnerable. Don't waste time. Go as soon as you can."

Harry didn't say another word, just ran to Raymund and pulled him away from Snape, talking in urgent whispers. Raymund looked toward Draco, who nodded in affirmation. Hermione and Ron were called over. Harry came back.

"We were supposed to go to the wedding of Bill and Fleur in a few days anyway...if it's OK, we'll go now. We'll come back as soon as we can though--no matter what."

"Yes, you should." Draco stood. "Harry, you opened the doors for me. You didn't have to, but you did it. Whatever...however this turns out--I won't forget it. You should go and take care of Ginny now. And Harry, for what it's worth...thank you." He held out his hand. Harry took it, and they shook hands solemnly. "Never leave her behind again, Harry. Never leave love behind."

Harry nodded, blinked back tears. Raymund got broomsticks for them from Emilie's storage, and led them up the long staircase.

Draco went back to Emilie. Claw was looking at her with his large brown eyes, whimpering now and then. Draco stroked his head, scratched behind his ears.

"Whatever happens, Claw," he said, "I'll never be the same again. Nothing will ever be the same."

**********************************************

Another hour dragged by. Draco stayed close to Emilie. Her breath was faint--oh, so faint.

He leaned in and whispered, "I love you, Emilie. I don't want to let you go. You're not supposed to go, you know...it's supposed to be me. You're going to live forever. You're going to live with me, and be with me, and say good-bye to me when my time comes. This is all wrong...all wrong."

He stroked her hair, smoothing it away from her pale face. "Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me."

"Draco...Draco. It's ready."

Draco looked up into Professor Snape's concerned face.

"Come, Draco, let me give it to her."

Draco stood, moving over to Paddy and Willo. He felt Willo's tiny hand seek his own, and he grasped it firmly. Raymund stood near Snape as he fed the potion to Emilie--drop by precious drop slowly passed between her slightly parted lips. All were silent and watchful.

Minutes ticked by. There was no change...

"Draco...I'm sorry."

"No..."

First Severus, then Raymund looked up at him. He continued to hold Willo's hand.

"No..." he shook his head. "It's...not possible."

"She's not breathing, Draco. I'm very sorry."

Draco still stood. "You all need to go away now. You need to go upstairs. You need to go away...now."

Willo let go of Draco's hand and turned into Paddy's arms, weeping.

"You all need to...please. Just go upstairs." Still he stood, trembling now. "Please."
Raymund was crying silently. He went to Willo and lifted her into his arms. "Come, Paddy. We'll go upstairs."

Professor Snape rose from Emilie's side. He went to Draco, and laying his hand upon his shoulder, said "I'm very sorry."

Then he strode quickly to the hall, and the staircase.

On shaking legs, Draco approached the bed. Claw looked at him and whinged. Draco placed his cheek to Emilie's face. There was no stir of breath. She was cold.

"Emilie..." and Draco began to rock slowly. "You're not go away from me...I forbid it. I forbid it." And the tears began to fall from his eyes. "I forbid it. Do you hear what I said? I forbid it."

He stroked her face, her hair, her hands. He kissed her closed eyes, her cheeks. He kissed her lips. As he did so, a single, salty tear found its way into her mouth. Draco leaned against her, held her...and felt the slow rise and fall of her chest.

"Emilie?" he raised himself up, thinking he must be hallucinating. But he was not. She breathed!

As he watched, her face flushed. The gray tinge returned. "Emilie?" he breathed.

Then, "PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE! PROFESSOR SNAPE!" he raced for the stairs. "WILLO! PADDY! Come quickly!"

Claw was barking madly. Draco dashed back to Emilie, and as he reached her, her eyes opened. Her breathing was laboured, but she saw him. She seemed to try to speak, but could not. The gray tinge became dark, it seemed to pulse beneath her skin. She convulsed. "PROFESSOR SNAPE!" Draco screamed.

It was Raymund who spoke. "The fountain, Draco! Take her now, put her in!"

Draco didn't hesitate. Grabbing Emilie into his arms, he carried her across the room, and as fast as he could up the platform steps--Claw, Raymund, and Professor Snape at his heels. Reaching the fountain he climbed the shallow ledge and jumped in with her, and kneeling, placed her in the water. She writhed in his arms. He was terrified, she was suffering so!

"That's it Draco, just hold her! She's got to get rid of the poison!"

Suddenly Emilie convulsed again, and as she did so, a black oily fluid began to come from her. It gushed from her mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. It seemed to drip from her very pores. Draco tipped her against him so she would not choke. She coughed, and seemed to vomit the poison. It was horrifying to witness. Draco heard screaming and vaguely registered that it was coming from him.

"Just hold her, lad, don't let go!"

The waters surrounding them went black and tar-like, began to swirl and bubble, and still the poison came. The fountain fish began to draw it up, and as it rose inside the glass fish, it wriggled and squirmed as if in pain. The fish became turgid, swelling with poison, but it did not shatter. Draco could see the black fluid whirling inside it, until it...disappeared. The fish was dissolving it! The water that began to once again flow from its mouth and gills was pure and clear.

Draco looked back to Emilie, saw that the poison flow seemed to be dissipating. He gently ducked her completely under the water, supporting her with one arm, using his other hand to gently clean her face. She looked at him from under the water, her eyes pale and clear. She smiled, an exhausted, weary smile. Draco pulled her to him and sobbed, his breaths coming harsh and shaky.

Emilie hadn't left him.

Oh, there is another, more mature version of this chapter on fanfiction.net. Here is the URL for that. You won't lose any real part of the story reading it here though, just a slightly racy love scene.

Chapter Seventeen--A Summer Chill

The crystals in the ceiling were once again brightening by the time an exhausted Draco brought Emilie out of the fountain. Immediately she was taken from him, and he was supported back down the platforms by the arm of Professor Snape. He was so happy he didn't know what to think, but he was so exhausted he wasn't sure he could think at all. He sat in a large armchair while Willo fussed over Emilie; closing the bed curtains and getting her into a warm nightgown. Paddy came up to Draco and gave his hand a pat, grinned happily, and mounted the steps with Claw in tow. Raymund suggested to Draco that he change from his sodden robes as well, but he just waved him away. He just wanted to sit for a bit...

In the end, Raymund insisted on Draco staying with Emilie in the garden tower, as it had the best fire. They wrapped her in a big velvet quilt of Paddy's making , and Severus and Raymond took turns in carrying her along the way. Draco stumbled along behind, wrapped in Emilie's big black wool cloak. When they arrived, a huge fire was burning in the fireplace. Raymund tucked Emilie into the big four-poster. Emilie told Severus she wanted him to stay as long as he liked in the sea chamber and study anything he wanted, make whatever potions he wanted. Between helping to save her, and then being asked to stay, and given free run of her stores, Snape looked as close to happy as Draco had ever seen him.

Finally, after hugs all around (except for Snape, who formally kissed Emilie's hand), and farewells, they were left alone. Draco sat on a chair, his forearms leaning on his knees...he just looked at her. He was almost afraid to go near her, she looked so fragile. But the look she returned to him was intense.

"You should come to bed, love."

He finally threw off his damp robes and climbed in. There was an unexpected fit of giggles as they both squealed about how cold the other one was, but soon they just snuggled in, letting Draco's fast-returning heat warm them both. For a long while, they lay there in each other's arms, just stroking each other's cheeks or hair, saying nothing. Finally, Draco spoke.

"I thought I'd lost you. I really did."

"I'm here...it's hard to get rid of me." she smiled.

Draco didn't need to talk anymore. It was enough that she was there in his arms. They kissed only once, then fell asleep, entwined and warm.

He dreamt that night of Emilie, twirling in a sea of tar--as she turned, it bubbled and smoked and became clear. Snakes appeared, swimming in the clear water, bearing large white flowers which they offered to her. She gathered them all up in her hands, tossing them upwards, and the bouquet rose through the air and became the moon. She came to him and wrapped herself around him, and they danced, twirling out over the sea...

********************************

Draco lay in bed much later that day, with Emilie in his arms. "Love?"

"Hmmm?"

"This probably sounds so trite, but...I'm so glad you're here."

She pulled back from him and looked into his eyes. "I'm glad to be here too...I'm glad you didn't give up on me."

"Why did you shut the door on me?"

"What? I didn't shut the door on you...it shut?"

"It shut on me! I had to get help to get it open, I...I thought you did it on purpose."

"No! I never would have...it is meant to protect me, though. Maybe it sensed I was unsafe...oh, no...I'm going to have to re-think that door! I'm so sorry, it must have been awful! Draco, love, all I thought was to get the poison out of you. I didn't really care what happened after that."

"I wouldn't have known what to do if I'd lost you." He held her close. "This is really awful to say, but one of these days I'm going to really yell at you about this! Just not today..."

"You can yell all you want." she gazed intently into his eyes. "You'd think I'd be some wise old sage by now...sometimes I am, but not when it comes to the people I love. All that mattered to me was that you'd be free of him. I'd do it again."

"Well, maybe you'd plan it better next time! Like having Professor Snape already here, like talking it over with Raymund! Like...telling me." he looked wounded. "You didn't trust me."

"You're wrong. I do trust you! But I suspected you wouldn't have let me do it if you'd known there was any kind of risk."

"Hmmm..." Draco thought. "I don't know. Sweet Emilie" he sighed. "The thing that was breaking my heart was knowing that someday I'd stop loving you, stop caring about anyone. Would it have been selfish of me to perhaps have agreed to it?"

"I didn't want you to have to make that decision. So there's an end of it, yes? But, I do want to know how you got the door open."

They launched into a long conversation about the last day's events. Emilie's face lit up when Draco told her about how Harry Potter had come and spoken the door open, how he'd had to add his own magic to make it work. He told her how Snape had come and brewed the potion for her, and the way everyone had been there trying to help her.

But when he told her about how everyone thought she had died, and he had wept, and kissed her, she gasped, "I remember...you kissed me. I could hear your voice--it sounded so far away...you forbade me to leave you. I tasted salt, I tasted one of your tears." She seemed to concentrate deeply before she resumed, "I remember, Draco. It was the tear...it blended with the potion, I could feel it. I felt them mesh, and this churning feeling came and the poison began to sweep toward the outside of me..." she smiled. "It was the tear. Your kiss saved me...just like a fairy tale. Isn't magic just strange sometimes?" She hugged him to her.

He smiled into her hair. In his arms was his wicked, exciting lover, and his fairy princess, the one he always had said he'd rescue...and they were both the same girl.

***************************************

Emilie's recovery was so swift that even Raymund was amazed. The whole family, as Draco had come to feel they were, was in a state of bliss. No one seemed to be able to stop smiling, well, except for Professor Snape, but he seemed very content to spend almost all of his time in the sea chamber, studying and concocting. He never even came up for meals. Raymund spent many hours below talking with him, leaving Draco and Emilie to entertain themselves. This they did well. Draco felt that he was in paradise, but for a niggling seed of unease that often tried to break through his defences.

They were crossing the meadow, about a week-and-a-half after Emilie's recovery, when they spied four dark shapes in the air. They soon became recognisable, and the couple watched Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron all touch down and dismount from their brooms. All of them looked a bit uncertain at first, but Emilie soon put an end to that with her enthusiastic greetings and welcoming kisses. Harry grinned and Ron's face turned as red as his hair. Ginny seemed rather confused, especially about Draco, but they all were welcomed to dinner. Emilie motioned to Draco and whispered, "It'll get better. We just need to let her settle in."

And so she did. Everyone was housed at the cottage, save for Draco and Emilie. Willo was in ecstacies at all the company, and outdid herself every night with more and more sumptuous dinners. Her favourite of the visitors seemed to be Ron, whose hearty appetite made her fawn on him. "I'll have to watch meself," growled Paddy with a grin. "Next thing I know, me Willo will have run off with another ginger-haired man!" He then launched into a series of extremely naughty limericks about red-haired men that soon had the whole table shrieking with laughter. By necessity, Ginny was let in on Raymund's secret, and it seemed to heal the division that existed between herself and Draco. For the first time, Draco felt he had real friends, even though the ties were tentative. He took a good deal of ribbing from all of because of his past exploits, but took it so well, that it soon dissipated.

There were two birthday parties, for Harry, then Ginny.

Love seemed to be in the air in Emilie's sanctuary. One couldn't take a simple walk without stumbling upon another pair in each other's amorous embrace. It became a highly amusing game to see who could have some time alone without another couple calling out, "Wotcher!" Ron and Hermione seemed to always pick the worst possible places--they were constantly being discovered. Draco felt that he and Emilie were the best in this game, but as they had the whole tower to themselves, it wasn't entirely fair.

There were times when they split away from their partners, though. Harry and Emilie especially seemed to need to communicate. Sometimes Draco and Ginny would sit on the floor, leaning against their favoured one, reading books, while Harry and Emilie would sit like brother and sister, ebony heads bent towards each other, having long discussions in Parseltongue. Other times, Harry and Emilie would wander off, deep in conversation. Draco found himself talking with Ginny.

"We really hated you, you know," Ginny teased.

"You were justified. Besides, I hated all of you as well." he smirked. "Your bat-bogey hex was NOT fun!"

She laughed. "You had it coming. But...you told Harry to bring me here. I didn't like him leaving me behind. I didn't fight him about it, but...I'm glad he changed his mind."

"I hope you don't regret it, Ginny."

"Why should I?"

"The weather is changing...summer's almost over. I can sense that soon, all of our lives will change as well. We can't stay in sanctuary forever. Danger is going to find us all."

"Yes. I think that's true. But we...none of us have to face it alone, at least."

They walked off in the direction of the garden, and found Emilie and Harry sitting on the wooden bench near the tower. Harry had removed his glasses, and Emilie was slowly stroking his temples. He looked straight at her, concentrating. Her eyes were closed, her breathing rapid. Sometimes she would shudder.

"What's she doing, Draco?" Ginny whispered.

"I think he's showing her what he's seen. He's showing her some of his memories. She can always tell my immediate thoughts if she strokes my temple."

Ginny looked sorrowful. "No wonder she's shuddering."

Draco was worried. Why would Emilie be so keen to know about what had happened to Harry? She had been so different since her recovery, so inquisitive...there was an energy always with her now that made him remember how she had been on the day of the fair. They seldom spoke of the future, but he feared he would have to, and soon. He had made plans...

Dinner was a bit more subdued than usual that evening. Once the dishes had been cleared away, and Paddy and Willo had gone to their other duties, the rest of them remained at the table.

Raymund began. "So, summer is almost over."

Harry said, "I have to go soon. It's been wonderful here, but I can't just hide while Voldemort carries on. There are still horcruxes to find. I still have to destroy him."

"Ron and I will go with you, we said we would." stated Hermione.

"Me as well!" declared Ginny.

Harry looked at Ginny, who sat next to him. He took her hand. "You know I want you to be safe."

"I know, but..." Ginny began.

"Miss Weasley," said Raymund. "One thing we all have to remember is that you are not yet of age. Your parents have said they want you to remain here. Could you not stay here for now? You could take lessons with me, and with Professor Snape."

Ginny sighed, looking mournful. "I won't be able to concentrate. How could I?"

Emilie said, "Ginny, you will. I know you will, because everything you learn, everything Raymund and Severus will teach you, will be for your benefit, and ours. We don't want you joining us without feeling prepared."

"Us?" asked Draco, confused. "What 'us?' "

Emilie turned to him, her face determined. "I'm going with Harry. I have to."

"No...wait. I'm the one who's going. You're staying right here!"

"I can't." she said simply.

"Emilie, I almost lost you, and I'm not going to let it happen again! What if Voldemort catches you, what then?"

He watched her set her jaw. "He won't."

"Oh, and how won't he?"

"It wouldn't do him any good. Draco, I..." she hesitated, then went on. "When I took the Mark away from you, when I almost died...it changed me. I don't know how, but there's no more fear. I never feared for myself--however, I did fear he could use me, my longevity. But I've tasted his poison, and I spit it out--now I know how truly foul it is. I know we'll lose Severus to it in only a few more years, and it's too late for me to stop it. That makes me angrier than I can say. I have seen Harry's memories, and I am filled with a loathing for this man so powerful I feel if I don't help to stop him it will be the end of everything and everyone I hold dear!

Remember when we first met, and I said that what makes us feel old are our regrets? Love, I don't want to live with sorrow, and fear, or regrets anymore. This is no sanctuary for me if I know the people I love are in danger, and that I could help, but I don't. I'm going. If you're going as well, I will be happy. I want to be with you, no matter what the future might bring. Surely you can understand that. We all can."

"What about people knowing about you?"

"They'll just have to deal with it. Besides, love...if we succeed." she smiled and put her hand behind his head. "If we succeed, we can come back here, and never leave again. If I have you with me, I'd never want to go anywhere else."

He snuggled in close and rubbed her nose with his own." Well, I guess I can't stop you, old lady." he winked, then kissed her. His face became serious once more. "Doesn't mean I like it though."

"None of us likes it, love. But it doesn't matter. We just have to go."

Draco sighed. "Well, Harry, I'm with you. I still don't know how long I'll be able to help though, what with the things I did. I'll probably be arrested."

"Why would you?" asked Harry. "Who saw anything? Who will testify against you? No one at this table, I'll tell you that much. You don't even have the Mark anymore!"

"People saw me run away, I left school!"

"Draco, if anything happens, we'll all stand up for you, you can count on that."

"Besides..." said Emilie, "The Ministry have bigger fish to fry. And so does Tom Riddle." she looked at the table, a sly smile playing about her lips.

"What?" asked Draco, fascinated. "What do you know?"

"He took blood from Harry, to remake himself. I saw him--through Harry's eyes. I never knew exactly how he did it--what the spell was--until I saw Harry's memory of it. He gloated. Said it made him invincible. He's an arrogant fool. He never thought to wonder if Harry's blood is mixed with more than just the protection of Lily Potter."

Every eye at the table was glued to her face. "I've thought this out, and I think I'm correct. Voldemort has, in essence, given himself his own Dark Mark. Harry's blood also carries the Avadra Kedavra curse, but dormant, because he survived it. In taking Harry's blood, I believe Tom has introduced his own curse back upon himself. Not to mention that my other belief is that Harry has always been completely immune to the curse since that scar was put on his forehead."

They looked at her in awe, even Raymund did. "But Emilie, why wouldn't it have killed Riddle right away then?" he began.

"Dear Raymund...you're a wonder at transfiguration, at so many things. But I, I must modestly say, know my spells and my potions, and what's more important, how they blend. Harry's much stronger than Riddle thinks he is, and he already fears him enough as it is. In addition, Tom's body is not immortal, it's now diseased. He mixed Harry's blood with a bone from his dead father. He mixed the Avada Kedavra with a dead man's bones. And because of that, regardless of what happens in the near-future, he will never be immortal--not in that body."

"So...if we can get the rest of the horcruxes..." began Ron.

"If we get the rest of them," said Harry, "And we can get to Voldemort--I might actually have a really good chance."

"Yes."

"Emilie, about the Ravenclaw horcrux...how did you get it?"

She smirked, and Draco's heart skipped a beat. "Well, it's amazing the friends a water snake can have...did you know that Rowena grew up near the village of Drumnadrochit, in Scotland? There's an beautiful loch up there, you know...Loch Ness? Riddle thought he'd hide the hat pin there." She giggled. "But I visited my friend and she gave it to me. Handed it over just like that. She didn't care for Riddle 'throwing his old rubbish' in her Loch, as she said. Not too difficult, really. I have a feeling it was one of the early ones."

The room erupted in surprised gasps and nervous giggles. Emilie just grinned. Draco couldn't take his eyes off this girl. In her was his future, somehow he just knew. She had such power. Whatever she wanted, he knew he would give. He knew she had made the right decision to go with them. And the selfish part of him was happy he'd be with her. He never wanted to be separated from her again.

Da-da-da-da-da-DAAAAAAA! Final Chapter.

Chapter Eighteen-The Departure

The night of their departure had arrived. Harry and the others had gone on ahead three days earlier, to meet with friends and family at Harry’s house at Grimmauld Place. Ginny was not happy to see them go, but the next day, Raymund had begun teaching her occlumency, as well as beginning explorations of her possible talent in becoming an animagus. These activities had already begun to take her mind off her worries. She was well aware now that everything Raymund and Professor Snape might teach her could make all the difference in trying to defeat Voldemort. With no real distractions, she was sure to do well.

Draco lay alone on the chaise in the tower room, looking out at the moon, listening to the waves. All the other furniture was gone. His personal items had been sent on ahead. The breeze coming through the open window from the sea had a chill to it. He shivered.

Had the summer gone so fast? He thought back to his first weeks here, in this room. He remembered how he had lain on this very chaise, cold and desolate, wishing a dementor would come and take his soul from him. Wishing Harry Potter would come and kill him. Such dark thoughts…and then Emilie had come instead. She’d seen the light in him, what there was of it. She’d called him her sweet sunshine...was he? He still felt darkness prowling within him, like an angry panther. The only difference now was that it had a definite target.

Emilie had given him a summer of healing, understanding, passion, and love. And she, who was perhaps the purest of purebloods, had proven to him how little "pure blood" really mattered. That only love mattered. He smiled…the irony did not escape him. Neither did his new knowledge keep him from secretly admiring her purity. Some old habits die hard, Emilie…forgive me that? He smirked. Of all the men in the world, she wanted me…he turned slightly, lying on his back, one arm behind his head. I just know I shall have to work hard to be worthy of her.

The darkness isn’t gone yet, Emilie. But we will help to drive it away. All people deserve to have summers like this. They deserve to feel safe, to have friends, to fall in love…to have peace. And if we succeed, I will ask you to marry me. There could never be anyone else.

“Draco?”

He turned. She was standing in the doorway, dressed in her long black cloak. He rose and went to her. She handed him another cloak. It was made of dark green velvet, with a grey silk lining. He saw it was the same silk as the first robe Paddy had made him. The clasp was almost the same as well, two serpent’s heads which clung to each other.

“Paddy’s amazing.” he said. He gathered Emilie into his arms and they kissed sweetly. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes. There were so many unspoken words, but no need to say them. Emilie took his hand, and they left the tower.

They walked solemnly through the garden, under the arch, along the meadow, and down to the beach.

Emilie turned to him, throwing back the hood of her cloak. “Now, my honey love, come.”

Wordlessly, he took her into his arms. They waltzed, turning, twirling, to a music only they could hear. Emilie came closer, entwining herself firmly about him…and as they turned, they rose into the air, floated over the waves, and away…Draco saw the moon shine in Emilie’s eyes.

Even in the darkness, ever there is light.

Mod Update: Hey Darcy I've split your fic and the replies should now be directed here. Until the cleaning is complete, this story will be locked.