The Girl in the Tower
Part 1: Coming of Age
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Chapter One: Harry Falls in Love
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There was a small part of the roof that was covered, right near the doors to her rooms, and Sara sheltered there as the rain began. She held the Marauder's Map in one trembling hand, all but forgotten, and a half-empty glass of wine in the other. She slid down the wall until she found the floor, not bothering to wipe away her tears. Taking a sip of her drink, Sara wondered why she tormented herself every night, playing her mother's old music recordings, crying away the dark, lonely hours. But tonight was special, the six month anniversary of her parent's death. Sara cried harder, and the rain came down in torrents.
She knew she'd had too much to drink and should go to sleep, but she feared the dark and the haunting figure that came to her with the shadows. It was worth staying up until dawn, she thought, if it would keep it away. There were spells cast, of course, but there's a way around almost everything. She didn't feel safe. It would come in eventually; not just hover outside the doors, and it was this she feared the most.
Sara felt vulnerable, hidden away in her tower, alone and without the benefit of self-defense. She missed her life. She and her mother had been powerful witches, her father a more ordinary wizard and also a gifted clairvoyant, as Sara herself was. He always said it was his Gypsy blood, and the thought of him brought a tearful smile.
The three of them had lived together disguised as Muggles in a fancy house in Manhattan’s Upper East Side, the very core of the modern world. She missed her many friends and all the fun they'd had, but all of that was over now. Her parents were gone and she had been torn from her life, only to experience the loneliness of solidarity, cowering in a tower in England. Hidden from the dark wizard who sought her for the destruction of which she was capable.
In her grief, Sara threw her glass at the wall where it shattered. She cursed her powers and the misery they'd brought her. She cursed herself for being what she was.
With a glance at the Marauder's Map, Sara’s thoughts turned to the boy she'd been watching since she'd arrived in October. The one she'd heard so much about.
Harry Potter had only just been born when his parents helped hers escape to the United States during the Dark times and Sara was born just after they’d arrived there. It was only a year later when the Potter's had met their fate. Sara felt close to Harry, even though they had never met, but she meant to change that soon. Only he would understand this deep sadness. Only he could protect her from the darkness.
It was after hours at Hogwarts and all the students should have been asleep in their beds, but the map told Sara that Harry was out at Hagrid's cabin, probably waiting for the rain to stop. She whispered as she watched him wait and did her best to stop crying. "I'll try, Harry."
The harder she tried, the faster the tears fell, and the rain kept coming down.
As Sara watched, the words ‘Harry Potter’ hurried across the grounds. He'd made a break for it in the pouring rain. Another name was traveling, that of the caretaker, Filch, and Sara saw he and Harry were on a collision course. She had to act fast, for even if Harry was able to hide, he would leave a telltale trail of puddles behind him. And she would be to blame.
Sara landed on running feet, trying not to stumble on the long, winding stair, and wished she'd drank less wine that evening.
She was soon passing the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower, then managed another staircase and ran full out down the hall. A quick check of the map told her that Harry was inside and about to enter this very corridor, but Filch was only a few minutes from finding Harry's water trail, and Harry’s pace was lackluster at best.
* * *
Harry couldn't believe his rotten luck. He'd gotten himself drenched sprinting back in the nightly torrential rain. He'd waited a good long time for it to let up and now it stopped just as it had started. All of a sudden. His invisibility cloak was worthless if he was leaving wet footprints all the way to his bed. He'd be in trouble for sure, come morning.
As he considered what he could say in his defense, Harry rounded a corner and was flying backward as if he'd been hit by a speeding train. He rolled once and sat upright, losing his cloak and trying to catch his breath. Harry rubbed his elbow, winced and then straightened his glasses. To his surprise, a girl was sprawled on the floor across from him. She sat up and met his eyes with a warm, curious smile.
Harry found himself struggling for something to say. He just stared at her. He thought she was stunning. Long, platinum hair, with a black streak on one side that fell into curls around her waist, the bluest violet eyes, and soft, fine features. Her skin looked like silk and was free of the common flaws of adolescence, though he didn't think she was any older than he was.
Her clothes reminded him of the Gypsies of old and were not that of a student. She was barefoot. She wore no robe, and she'd recently been crying.
Harry stuttered an apology. "I...I'm sorry!"
"It was my fault. Come quickly! Filch is about to turn the corner and you're dripping all over the floor! Hurry!"
Harry grabbed his wet invisibility cloak and asked no questions. The strange and beautiful girl took his hand and pulled him along, as fast as she could run. Harry slowed as they neared the portrait of the fat lady in the pink dress, thinking he would be safest in his dorm, but she gave his hand a tug and led him through the darkness.
"This way!"
* * *
Once inside the base of the vacant Northeast Tower, the girl fell back against the door to catch her breath.
Harry noticed the folded parchment she held. "You've got the Marauder's Map. It was mine once, you know."
"I'd been told as much. Confiscated after a bit of mischief, or so I heard." She held out her hand for Harry to shake. "I'm Sara, by the way."
“You heard correct.” Harry shook, thinking how soft her hand was against his, a little roughened from gripping his Quidditch broom. He let her hand slip away. "I’m Harry Potter." He expected the same reaction he got whenever he gave his name, but to his surprise, she showed no sign of amazement.
"It's nice to meet you, Harry." She led him to the stairs, where they sat a moment on the cold stone. "I've heard a lot about you, you know."
Harry smiled a little, hoping none of it was unfavorable.
"I've recently lost my parents, too. The same way it seems. At least that's what my uncle thinks." Sara lowered her eyes before looking back at him. "Our parents were friends, Harry, with a common enemy."
"We all have a common enemy."
She gave a weak smile, and then looked suddenly alarmed. "Well look at you! You're soaked! You'll be sick before you know it. Come to my room. I've got just the thing."
"I really should get back."
Sara grinned. "Would you really deny me a little conversation? I rescued you, after all. You owe me!"
"Well, um, no. Of course not!"
"Alright then. To the top we go."
Sara stood and offered him a hand up. As he took it, Harry thought she must be able to see his heart pounding. He was convinced it was trying to break straight through and land on the floor at her feet. He was sure that his entire chest must be moving with every beat. It had to be visible, but Sara didn’t seem to notice. She was looking right at his glasses as he rose from the step, still holding his hand, which she forgot to let go.
She was several inches shorter than he was, but he was also wearing the required shoes. Harry couldn't ever remember noticing a person's feet before, but hers were exquisite. In fact, everything about her was exquisite. Girls who looked like Sara never asked him to talk with them. They never asked him anything. On second thought, there were no girls at Hogwarts half as beautiful, but the prettiest ones ignored him. Yet here was this girl, who put Veela to shame, who didn’t seem to mind that he was still holding her hand. Harry's heart continued to hammer away in his chest.
As they ascended the tower stair, he told her about his years at Hogwarts, rattled off a list of classes he was taking, and mentioned Ron and Hermione here and there, too. Sara talked about life in Manhattan, but eluded most of his questions with finesse. She had an easy, musical laugh, which Harry liked, and a way of looking at him that made Harry want to melt into a puddle at her feet. She was so casual, like they were old friends, and he began to relax. In fact, it was impossible not to. Sara made him feel like he'd known her for an eternity.
Conversation gave way to silence as they approached the door at the top, which she stopped at and opened.
Her "room" turned out to be full living quarters with a very cozy parlor, decorated in deep, regal velvet. They walked next into a large chamber that held an elaborate bed, draped with purple silk and trimmed with gold. There was a rug over most of the marble, which gleamed in the light of the fire. The far wall was lined with four sets of French doors, open to receive the gentle night breeze. Billowy curtains of lavender and white floated and swirled. Beyond them was an immense, walled rooftop. Harry began to get nervous.
Harry looked around at the lavish rooms, decorated with such taste and expense.
"Who are you, really?"
"Sara Lemke. Master Diviner and maniac tower dweller."
Harry smiled at her jest. "Are you a teacher or something?"
"I'm only sixteen, same as you. How could I be a teacher?"
"You're definitely not a student."
"No. Not a student." A refugee, she thought. A prisoner.
"Then how do you come to be here? And how did you get this room? I don’t understand."
"Uncle Albus. He sent Severus to bring me back here. No one knows, Harry. No one except you."
"Dumbledore is your uncle?"
"Yes, my great, great uncle, on my mother's side."
"And he thinks you're in danger?"
"Perhaps. Better to be safe, I guess."
"Was it, you know." He lowered his voice. "Voldemort?"
"No one knows for certain." Sara turned away, and then looked at Harry again. He could see the start of tears in her eyes and thought he'd better not ask any more questions.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. More rain, he thought, great.
"Give me your cloak. I'll dry it by the fire."
Harry handed her the dripping garment. Sara hung it from a rack she'd brought over, draped a light blanket around his shoulders, and then poured them both a drink. Harry was shocked to see it was from a bottle of white wine. They weren't allowed spirits at Hogwarts, either. He took the glass anyway and tasted it. It was dry, but he liked its smooth, bittersweet taste.
"It's a German Riesling. I brought it with me, hidden in my bag. Uncle Albus would take it if he knew I had it, but I have a great hiding place.” Sara grinned as she poured again from the same bottle, which still looked to be untouched. “There’s a spell on it. The bottle never empties, so have all you want. It will warm you up."
“You managed the Bottomless spell? Even Hermione can’t do that one!”
“I wish! I did, however, spend all of last year’s allowance on it. I can do the Replenish spell but it takes the refill from the source, so it doesn’t count.”
He almost admitted that he'd never had wine before, but didn’t want to seem so ignorant and unrefined in front of a girl. Least of all this girl. "Thanks. It's very good."
Sara crossed the room and switched on an old Muggle stereo, something Harry thought was impossible at Hogwarts and he wondered how she’d managed to make it work. Slow, smoky music, melancholy and stirring, filled the room. A woman's voice, singing soft and low, touched his ears and Harry listened. It was jazz, he thought, or something you'd hear in a lounge on a corner in some big city. He loved it, he knew, it touched something somewhere inside, in the heart or in the soul, somewhere between sadness and something else. Harry hadn't heard music since he'd left the Dursleys’ half a year ago, but it had never affected him in such a way before.
"Why don't you come out?" She indicated the doors to the roof. "Your hair will dry faster out here."
Harry followed her, carrying his glass, watching her as she led him to a couple of patio chairs with a small table between them. She stopped once at a scattering of broken glass.
"Reparo." The glass became whole at once, without the use of a wand, and she walked on, leaving it there, strangely out of place.
Harry was impressed but said nothing. He sat and took a sip before setting his glass down. He watched her; not knowing what he should do or say next, and racked his brain for something clever.
She watched him in return, finally setting the drink aside. Sara said nothing for a long moment, just held his gaze, and then asked for his hand.
If Harry was a little taken aback by this, he didn't show it. He held his hand out at once. She took it and turned the palm up, resting it on her knee. Sara appeared deep in thought as she ran the tip of one nail along the lines of his hand. It was something he remembered from Professor Trelawney's Divination class. She was reading his palm.
"Great tragedy in your life. A difficult childhood. Mysteries defined most of your life, as well as emotional suffering and silent anger. Many secrets veiled your past until here.” She ran her nail along a deep crease. “When the veil was lifted and truth both scarred and liberated the darkest parts of your being. You will lose and regain the thing you cherish most in your life on two occasions, the tragedies seven years apart. The second time will be your fault in some way, though your love for this thing, whatever it is, will guide you back to it. You will also lose something you never knew you loved. You’re strong, loyal, and determined. Skeptical. Inquisitive. You've come close to death more than once."
"Am I going to die soon? Professor Trelawney sure thinks I am."
"Hardly, Harry! You've many adventures ahead. You will face your mortal enemy on several occasions here, here." She indicated a spot in the crease of his palm. "And here. Actually, I don't like telling the future. It can’t be relied upon.” Besides, she thought. Your palm is a rather painful and unsettling web.
"It's okay. I wasn’t serious anyway. Trelawney’s a bit eccentric." He expected her to drop his hand, but instead she studied another of his lines.
"This is strange." Sara looked over her own palm, then at Harry.
"What's strange?"
"It's nothing." Sara released his hand and stood, turning to lift her glass before wandering over to the edge of the roof.
Harry looked at the line she'd been studying last. His love line. He didn't ask.
"I thought I saw something last night," she admitted with her back to Harry, "I couldn't be sure, it was so dark and I'd only just woken up but I think something was standing in the door there."
"What did it look like?"
"A black hooded figure. Then it was gone."
"Have you ever seen it before last night?"
"I'm not sure. I thought I'd seen it in New York a few times, but it could be only the remnant of a dream. I don't know why I brought it up."
"Because it troubles you and you don't really believe it's a dream. I think you should tell Dumbledore."
"Not unless I was sure."
"But you shouldn't stay here. Ask for another room."
"And give all this up?" She indicated their surroundings. "Besides, he would know something was wrong in an instant. I don’t want to trouble him."
"Then close the doors at night. At least do that."
"Perhaps you're right. Would you like another?" She glanced at his empty glass. "I'll get the bottle."
Harry stood and smiled at his new friend. "Don’t bother. I'll get it."
* * *
Harry grinned. "I can't have any more. I'm sorry, but I seem to be having trouble with my feet. I should get back to Gryffindor, anyway. Ron will think I'm dead by now." Harry stood, but Sara blocked his path, standing maddeningly close. There were maybe two inches between them and he had a sudden and intense desire to kiss her.
Sara held his eyes and laid a hand on his arm. "Sleep here. You'll be in a lot of trouble if you're caught stumbling about the halls at this hour. Besides, if the shadow comes back, I'll feel a lot safer with you around, Harry Potter, drunk or not." She laid a hand against his cheek and brushed her thumb across his scar.
Harry stammered, moving his arm to take the hand that rested there as his heart thudded in his chest. The candles were dim, blotting out the rest of the world and she wrapped her fingers around his. "But..."
Sara stepped in, eliminating the gap between them until Harry thought he could hear the sounds of her fine, silken clothes brushing against his rough cotton shirt. "Don't worry. No one will find you here."
"I don't think it's a good idea," he reasoned, whispering as the rest of him cried out stay, to see what happened. Sara was so beautiful in this light, he thought. In any light, and the way she looked at him was what it meant to be caught in the moment. "We've only just met. It wouldn't be proper. Plus, I think I'm intoxicated." His arm went around her waist but then he realized what he was doing and pulled it back to hang at his side.
Sara stepped back with a playful grin, dropping his hand. "You are, but so am I. Now please stop arguing and follow me."
Harry smiled and allowed her to lead him to the sofa before the fire.
* * *
Harry awoke with a start. His head was heavy and his scar burned. He pressed his hand to it and winced. It took a moment to remember where he was and then he heard her frantic whisper.
"Harry! Look, it's there!"
Harry rose from the sofa, the back of which faced her bed, trying to shake off sleep. He glanced at Sara under her blankets and followed her gaze to the open doors. A hooded figure, barely distinguishable in the shadows, lingered just outside and he could feel its menace. As Harry drew near its hiss was unmistakable, something he remembered well and still heard in his darkest dreams. It vanished into the shadows, blending, seamless, with the night.
Harry looked to Sara, her knees drawn up, the sheets pulled to her chin. She was trembling.
"Did you see it?"
"Yes, unless we're both dreaming." Harry glanced back to where the figure had been. "I don't think you imagined that. Not at all."
"Is it gone?"
"Yes. My scar doesn't hurt anymore.”
"Good. Would you stay with me? Just for a little while?"
"Perhaps we should close the doors."
"No. It's gone. It's afraid of you, I think. Good thing." Sara moved across the bed, making room for him. "Please, Harry, just for a moment."
Harry sat on the bed, close to the edge and just looked at her, unsure of what to do.
"Lay down. Put your arms around me."
Harry did as she asked, no longer feeling awkward. She was scared, that's all. Sara curled up to him, her head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her. She smelled fantastic and her warmth comforted him. She was trembling and, without much thought, he stroked her hair, hesitant and uncertain. In response, Sara slid a hand over his chest until her arm lay across it and snuggled a little closer. Harry thought he would go mad with the nearness of her.
He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling as she drifted off, until his eyes became heavy and closed.
* * *
"Harry. Harry!"
Harry’s eyes were slow to open in the gloom. Sara looked down on him, propped on her elbow, her right arm still draped across his chest.
"The castle will be stirring soon. You'll want to be in your bed when it does."
Harry met her eyes in the near dark, not wanting to move at all. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep here."
"Best night's sleep I've had in a long time. I’ve never felt so safe. I'm glad you were here." She gave him a warm smile. "Can you come back the night after next?"
"Of course I can."
"Come after lights out."
"I will."
"I'll see you then. But for now you have to go." Sara hesitated and then kissed his cheek.
He smiled for a moment and then slipped from the bed. He collected his cloak, slipped on his shoes, passed through the door and hurried back to Gryffindor.
Harry found the dorms silent as he crept through to his room. A quick check behind the curtains reveled that Ron was fast asleep. Harry changed into pajamas, drew his own curtains, and then simply lay there, thinking of Sara. He recalled his arm around her in the dark, her slow breath warm on his neck, and her sleeping head on his shoulder. He rolled onto his side and hugged the pillow. It would be two long days until he saw her again.
* * *
"Harry!" Ron whispered, looking in at Harry, "Where the bloody hell were you last night? I woke up at three in the morning and you weren't in your bed! I almost went to McGonagall and said I thought you'd been killed!"
Harry had intended all along to tell Ron about his night with Sara, but decided instantly to lie. "I got lost."
"Lost?! After six years!"
Harry shrugged his shoulders.
"You look terrible, you know."
"I'm okay," Harry lied. "Just tired."
"Well you'd better get up. You'll be late for breakfast."
Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed with lackluster disinterest and began to dress, thinking breakfast sounded simply awful. However, he was quite thirsty. He also knew that, the next time he saw Sara, he wouldn't be drinking any more wine. He felt terrible.
* * *
Much to the annoyance of Ron and Hermione, Harry couldn't stop thinking of Sara. Something would remind him of her, his mind would linger on her and, the next thing he knew, he was off in a cloud somewhere. He missed whole conversations, only to be asked a question to which he couldn't respond. In potions, he'd made the mistake of daydreaming during one of Snape's lectures and, when called upon, Harry didn't know what to say. Snape had done his best to humiliate him in front of the class and Harry had slumped in his seat, defeated.
* * *
Harry followed Ron and Hermione back to Gryffindor after dinner and they settled around a table in the common room. Harry opened a book to study but never read a word, only stared at the pages, thinking of Sara and how he could get through another day without talking to her. How he longed to sneak off to her tower, if only to say hello.
"HARRY!"
Harry looked up to find Ron looking at him and Hermione glaring.
Hermione swatted him in the head with a scroll of parchment. "What is wrong with you? You've been out to lunch all day."
Harry attempted an apologetic smile. "I'm just tired. I think I might be coming down with something. I'm sorry."
"He looked awful this morning," Ron told Hermione, who softened her tone.
"Go to bed, then. You've got the whole weekend to study."
Harry gathered up his books and stood. "I'll see you at breakfast."
"Get some rest."
“I will.” Harry raised a hand to Ron, who waved back, and went up the stairs. He got into bed without bothering with pajamas and was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
* * *
When Harry’s eyes opened again, it was full dark. He heard muffled snoring coming from the other four boys in the room and wondered what had woken him.
Then he heard it.
A gentle song on the wind, drifting in through the window. It sounded the way angels must sound when they sang, melodic and unrestrained, lovely. He recognized her voice at once and sat up, listening.
Harry had to go back to her tower. He had to see her tonight, forget that she'd asked him to come tomorrow. He wouldn't stay long, not unless she wanted him to, but he had to go.
Harry slipped on his shoes and took his invisibility cloak from the trunk at the end of the bed in silence, pulling it on and over his head.
It wasn't far from Gryffindor to the Northeast Tower and he jogged most of the way. However, when he reached the door at its base he stopped and fell back into the shadows.
Someone was coming.
* * *
Her voice carried on the wind as though she were a nightingale; soft, drifting and clean, whimsical. Penetrating. A most powerful enchantment, at one with the wafting breeze. The old language of Romania flowed across the darkness, having never seen such beautiful elocution.
Her midnight cape billowed on the air, lifting it from shoulders astir with silver-white hair. The song itself was slow and arduous, like a musical caress, and Sara sang from within.
Sara stepped back from the edge of the roof and closed the beloved spell book, crafted by her mother’s hand over many years and composed in elegant, flowing script. It was the very essence of Diana Lemke, Sara thought, and she cherished this little collection of magical life that her mother had left behind.
She held it to her chest, hoping the spell she'd cast on her song would work. Despite her fear, curiosity gave her voice release, though the prospect of knowing the identity of one’s true love was rather frightening and Sara’s pulse was quick. What she'd seen in Harry's palm simply couldn't be wrong but perhaps she'd seen something because she wanted it more than anything? Maybe something that wasn't really there. Maybe the comfort she felt in his presence, the way her heart pounded when she looked at him was adolescence, not destiny.
According to the book, if the spell was sung into the wind on a clear, starry night while the moon was at one-quarter crescent, something amazing and magical would occur. If she hadn't botched it, her song would awaken the one who would truly love her and lead him to where she was. "It has to be him," she whispered, "He must be the one."
Sara regarded the book one last time and read the afterthought, addressed to her by the loveliest hand.
Dearest Sara,
Surely, this spell was written especially for you, the fairest of them all…
I came upon it in an old Gypsy spell book Vanya Ivanova gave to your grandmother. Your dad tried to impress me with the book shortly after we met and I used this spell the first chance I got! Guess who showed up? That’s right; you call him ‘Dad.’
I want to warn you in advance to be better prepared than I was when more than one young man follows your song. And what a song it will be! Your voice is pure beauty, Sara. It’s likely the whole world will arise the moment it touches their ears.
Love, Mum
Sara regarded the spell book one last time before replacing it on the shelf with care, next to an ancient Romanian text called Celestira, which had once belonged to the very same Vanya Ivanova. She glanced at the Marauder's Map folded on the desk and ignored it. She wouldn't refer to it tonight.
Sara opened the door to the stairs, turned on some low music, poured another glass of wine, and went back onto the roof to wait. She sipped and sang the gentle verses, wondering if he would really come. She had doubts. She liked him so much and he was such a gentleman. It couldn't be this easy, but she had to know. She had to give Harry this test.
Sara turned at the voice, disappointed. She regarded the over-confident, impossibly blond primadonna standing near the doors between the roof and her rooms, thinking he had the most arrogant countenance, as well as a dark, disturbing aura. She said nothing and didn't smile.
"Forgive the intrusion but I thought I heard singing. I followed it here." He looked around, lingering on the candle-lit room through which he had come. "It's nicer than I would have thought."
"Must have been my stereo you heard. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Mr...."
"Malfoy. It's Draco, actually. And you are?"
"Tired, Mr. Malfoy. It was nice meeting you, but if you don't mind, I was just about to turn in." He was taller than she was and in possession of extraordinary good looks. He was flashy and well manicured. Sara assumed he was rich.
"That was no stereo I heard." Malfoy moved closer. "And what is your name? You still haven't told me."
"It's Sara. Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy."
"What's the hurry? I think you could stay up awhile longer."
"I said goodnight."
Malfoy took a few more presumptuous steps, never averting his icy blue-gray eyes. Sara stepped back, but a part of her found him beautiful and confident, exciting… dangerous… and that part of her wanted to see what would happen. She did her best to ignore it. He was now so close that she backed into the wall of the roof with nowhere else to go.
Draco stopped and his eyes lingered on hers for a long moment until he spoke with a gentler tone. "I don't like it when people are rude to me. Especially for no reason. However, I suppose I could forget it if you'll see me tomorrow."
"No."
He placed a hand atop the wall on either side of her waist, his sly grin subsiding as he leaned closer. "We could be friends, you know."
"Somehow I doubt that." Sara was irritated by his lack of tact, but somehow wished he would get untactfully closer. His dangerous proximity captivated her in ways she’d never experienced. Draco was only inches from her, his hand touched her face and Sara's breath caught in her throat. She meant to be stern when she spoke, but her words were barely more than a whisper. "I want you to leave, Draco Malfoy."
His arm went around her waist. "And what if I would rather stay here with you?" He took the glass from her hand and set it on the wall, out of reach.
Sara said nothing as something foreign awoke inside her, some dark curiosity that brought her suddenly to life. It felt like a potion that warmed from the inside out, a Dark glow saturated with forbidden curiosity. His confidence and aggression were disarming and Sara caught his eyes.
"Let go of me!" She pushed him away, trying to catch her breath, wondering what had just happened. "I said I want you to leave."
Malfoy gave her a smug grin.
"You're offensive."
"So I’ve been told."
"There's Darkness in you. You're evil on some level and it radiates. I want you to leave."
Malfoy seemed upset by this and concurred with a brief nod, his arrogance all but gone. "I'm not my father," he whispered and walked to the door that led down the stairs. He stopped and turned, his confidence back in evidence. "I'll visit you again, Sara. Tomorrow perhaps."
"I'm very busy if you don't mind." Sara closed the door on him. She fell against it, her disappointment overwhelming. Why couldn't it be?
* * *
Harry stayed in the shadows as he watched Malfoy come and go, furious at the thought of Draco in her rooms. It explained why she'd asked to see him tomorrow instead of tonight. Because she already had plans to see Malfoy.
Feeling betrayed, Harry made his way back to his bed in Gryffindor Tower, put on his pajamas and climbed in. It was raining again and he was glad. It reflected the way he felt.
Harry lay awake most of the night, falling asleep only after the rain stopped.
* * *
Being that there were no classes on Saturday and Harry was alone, as Ron and Hermione thought he was sick and headed off to the library together, Harry thought he would pass by Sara's tower before lunch. Half of him didn't want to see her, but the other half wanted an explanation. Just before he arrived there, he heard voices and concealed himself in his hiding place of last night. It was Malfoy again. He sounded angry and Harry listened.
"How can you say you don't like me? You haven't even gotten to know me yet!" Malfoy backed Sara into a corner. "You could at least give me a chance."
"I don't want to give you a chance! I know your kind. A future Death Eater if I ever saw one! You've got evil in your eyes, Mr. Malfoy. I want you to leave me alone."
"You can call me Draco."
"I'd rather not."
Malfoy drew closer until he was only inches from her. Sara pushed back into the corner, clutching the book she held to her chest, with nowhere else to go. She was shaking. With rage or fear, Harry didn't know.
"Enough with this game you're playing. It's annoying."
"It's what? You have a hell of a lot of nerve!"
Harry stood in disbelief as Malfoy moved to kiss her and Sara never even attempted to push him away. Harry turned his eyes to the wall, feeling more shattered than ever. Didn't she know he was crazy about her? That he couldn't stop thinking about her? Sure, they’d only just met but they’d connected in a way he’d never experienced. At least he thought they had. Perhaps he'd been mistaken when he thought she liked him, too? Maybe the friendly little kiss she'd given him was only that. Friendly.
Without warning, a tremor shook the floor and nearly toppled Harry over. He thought they were having an earthquake and grabbed the wall, losing his vantage point. There was a strange zap! and a flash, then a solid thud. Harry turned to see Malfoy on the floor. Something like electricity clung to him and then dissipated. Sara stood over him in a rage. The floor still shook and Harry noticed that the black streak in Sara's hair had gone a violent red. Her voice trembled as she spoke through clenched teeth. "If you touch me again, I'll kill you!"
Malfoy seethed, getting to his feet. "How dare you use that sorceress magic on me!? That hurt. My father will hear of this, and you can kiss Hogwarts goodbye!"
Harry's heart stopped. Could Lucius really manage that? In the midst of Harry's worry, Sara spit in Malfoy's face. Harry gripped the handle of his wand.
Draco's face turned bright red with anger. He muttered something Harry couldn't quite hear and Sara backed into the corner once more, clutching a tattered old book for protection. The streak was black again, as though it hadn't changed and Harry wondered if it really had.
Just as anticipated, Malfoy drew his wand.
Harry rushed into the corridor. "Expelliarmus!"
Draco’s wand flew from his hand. He turned and came face to face with Harry.
"What are you doing here, Potter?"
Sara sighed her relief. "Harry!" She ran from the corner and hid behind him, resting her hand on his shoulder and peeking over it at Draco. "Harry, thank Merlin!"
Malfoy fumed "Please tell me you two don’t know each other!"
Harry answered for her. "Get lost, Malfoy."
"Or what? Do you think you scare me? Do you really think I'll just run away because you pulled out your wand?" Draco pretended to shake in terror. “Oh, I’m so scared! Someone save me! Potty’s got his wand out!”
"I could just give you a black eye the old fashioned way."
"Oh shove off, Potter," Malfoy muttered as he collected his wand, which had come to rest against the wall. "The two of you deserve each other." With that, Malfoy hurried away, staggering with pain and they watched until he was out of sight.
Sara threw her arms around Harry's neck. Harry hadn't expected such sudden affection but returned the embrace without hesitation. She wore an intoxicating perfume, which he liked a great deal. Her hair felt like silken threads against his arms and the way she pressed against him produced a funny feeling in his stomach. He liked having her so close and was disappointed when she pulled away. Sara let her hand slip down to hold his. Harry smiled, feeling a bit stupid for thinking she was meeting Malfoy at night.
"Harry, you've saved me twice in as many days! Perhaps I should keep you around all the time." Her smile faltered when she remembered that he hadn't heard her song. "I mean, if I could."
"Did he bother you last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'd heard singing. I followed it here and saw Malfoy go into your tower. I thought..."
Sara smiled, secret and with great relief. “It was just my stereo. Malfoy heard it, too. I had a time of it getting rid of him, but he left after a few minutes. No, he didn't hurt me." She pulled away and took his hand. "He's vile, Harry. I despised him before I even looked at him. It's in his voice, the treachery. He'll be a Death Eater before you know it."
"You’re an excellent judge of character. Malfoy just happens to be our number one Slytherin. Everyone despises him. Are you okay?"
"Yes. He did no harm. You came along before he could."
An awkward silence passed, and then Harry spoke. "Don't you ever wear shoes?"
Sara glanced at her bare feet. "Of course I do. But why here? Why bother?"
"Well, you do have very nice feet."
Sara laughed, modest and uncomfortable. She’d never handled compliments well, especially when they were in favor of her appearance. "Thank you. I’m sure your feet are just as nice.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
“Now, I was on my way to the dungeons when that Malfoy came by. I left the damn map upstairs, I mean, who wants to climb all the way back up? But if I had, I would have seen him coming. Why don't you walk with me? I have to see Professor Snape about a potion or two. Were you in a hurry?"
"I was just coming by to see you but I'll wait outside. Snape hates me and he's especially upset since I wasn't paying attention in class and screwed up my potion. I doubt he's over it yet."
Sara grinned. "Daydreaming were you? What about?"
Harry blushed. "I don’t remember."
Sara smiled as she took his arm, led him down the corridor and then into a hidden passage that wasn't even on the Marauder's Map.
When they neared Snape's classroom, Sara released Harry's arm and left him outside the door. She knocked twice, entered, and was out of sight.
"Good morning, Severus!"
Harry had to struggle not to laugh as he listened to their conversation. He'd never heard Snape talk to anyone like this, so out of character. He was trying to be nice, and Sara encouraged this behavior. The whole exchange was so pleasant that it was a bit nauseating.
"Good morning, Sara. You're well I hope?"
"I'm just fine, Severus. How have you been? I haven't seen you in days."
"I was planning to visit this afternoon but I see you've found me first. As for how I am? Considering the fact that I have absolutely no talented students, I'd say I'm doing rather well.”
“Glad to hear it. That you’re well, I mean. Not the part about having no talented students.”
“You know, you're most welcome to sit in on my classes if it will get you out of that tower. I'm sure I could arrange something. A Polyjuice Potion perhaps."
"Thank you. I'll bet you're a very interesting teacher but you shouldn't worry. I'm perfectly happy in my tower. However, I do need your assistance."
"Of course. Whatever you require."
"First, there's the matter of a memory charm. You see, I was singing last night--"
"I know. You put me to sleep. I've heard that song once before, long ago, when I was still a student here. At least this time I wasn’t driven from my bed by it. You have a beautiful voice, my dear. Your mother would be proud."
Sara fell silent for a moment, realizing that Snape was the other boy who’d followed her mother’s song all those years ago. With difficulty, she cleared her thoughts and went on. "Thank you, Severus. Well, a student found his way into my room.”
Snape’s expression grew concerned. “Who?”
“An impossibly arrogant creep with excellent taste in clothes and hair the same color as mine. He positively reeked of money and bad parenting."
“Draco Malfoy.”
“Yes, that was the name he gave.”
"And did Mr. Malfoy cause you any... undue stress?"
"No, but he was a total prat and I'd prefer it if he did not come back. Ever."
"He won't bother you again. You have my word.”
Sara breathed relief. “Thank you.”
“Was there something else?"
"Just a few simple potions. Perhaps you're familiar with them. I found them in my mother's book. Here." She handed him the book. "I've marked the pages. There's no hurry."
"It does seem I am familiar with some of these. I created a few of them for Diana while we were still in school. The others look easy enough. I will bring them as soon as they're ready."
"Send an elf. I'd hate to impose."
"It would be my pleasure. You can be assured I will look after this." He indicated the old book.
"There are very few people I would trust with that but I'm sure you will see it safely back to me."
"You can rely on it. If there's anything else you need..."
"You've done enough already. I should be getting back, though. Thank you again, Severus. It was nice seeing you."
"The pleasure was mine, my dear."
When Sara found Harry in the hall, his face was red from his silent laughter.
Sara smiled. "Oh shut up, Harry!"
* * *
Sara took his hand and held it as they stopped in the corridor, halfway between his tower and hers. "Promise you'll visit me tonight."
"I will. After lights out."
"I'll put a spell on the door. Let yourself in. I'll wait for you on the roof." Sara waited in silence, expectant.
Harry found he was terrified but, after little thought, he bent and kissed her cheek.
She gave him the sweetest smile.
Harry breathed relief. "I'll see you later."
"I hope so." She squeezed his hand before letting it go and walked away.
Sara looked back before she turned the corner and waved to Harry, who still stood where she'd left him, watching her go.
* * *
Weeks passed and Harry was falling asleep in class all the time. He had been sent to the hospital wing more than once, as this was not his usual behavior. He had taken to avoiding Ron as much as possible for his questions about Harry's nightly absences were becoming too trying. Hermione demanded to know what he was doing on a daily basis. Breakfast began every day with "Okay, where were you last night, Harry?" and the two of them glaring at him for keeping a secret. At the moment, neither was speaking to him. He knew he would have to tell them soon or risk losing his friends.
* * *
Harry managed to keep his secret straight through until the end of May. He knew the time was coming, as Hermione had taken to being hostile toward him, so he wasn’t at all surprised one Saturday when he awoke to Ron and Hermione standing over his bed. Harry reached for his glasses, put them on and straightened up. "Good morning."
Ron bellowed, incredulous. "Morning?!"
Hermione glared at him. "Harry, it's one-thirty! You've missed breakfast and lunch. Look, we demand to know what's going on. Why are you always so tired?"
"Yeah and where the bloody hell are you getting off to half the night? You come in at dawn and sleep in your clothes!"
"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. Besides, you'll just laugh."
Ron fumed. "Well we're not laughing now."
"We want to know!”
They stood there, resolute. Waiting for an explanation.
Harry sighed, resigned. "I've been seeing a girl."
Ron laughed aloud. "A girl! Is that all? Change your mind about Cho Chang, did you?"
"No!"
Hermione nudged Ron with her elbow and gave him a stern glance. Ron stopped laughing, but continued to grin at Harry.
Hermione sat on the edge of the bed. "Is it someone we know?"
"Her name is Sara. She's Dumbledore's niece. He thinks she's in danger, so he's hiding her. You can't tell anyone. No one's supposed to know she's here."
"We won't tell anyone but you shouldn't keep secrets from your friends."
Ron was no longer grinning. "We were getting rather worried. Hermione’s been researching chronic fatigue for weeks!"
Hermione threw him an elbow.
Ron rubbed the spot. “Hey! What was that for?!”
She ignored him. "So Harry, when do we get to meet her?"
Harry sighed, relieved to tell them at last. "I'll talk to her about it. I just hope she isn't angry with me."
* * *
It was easier to see Sara with Ron's assistance. Harry was able to leave soon after dinner. Ron put pillows under Harry's blankets and drew the curtains around his bed.
The days flew by, one night at a time.
Sara's door swung itself open on Harry's approach as it had every night since she'd put the spell on it. (Harry had put a spell on the door in secret, warding it against Malfoy.) There was music playing as there always was, but the voice that sang was Sara's and Harry stood in silence, listening for a long time in the doors to the roof as the silk curtains billowed around him. Her voice was moving and angelic, perfect. The same voice he'd heard on the wind so many months before.
Harry noticed the black streak in her hair, which had once been profound, was almost gone. He was curious about it, but never asked. There were so many questions, it seemed, he could never ask them all.
Harry smiled as she turned with the setting sun blazing behind her. There was a secret light behind her eyes that existed only for him and Harry wondered what he’d done to deserve such exclusive bestowment.
Sara grinned. “You’re early, thank Merlin. I wasn’t watching the clock or anything.” She tipped her head aside as she considered him. “Is it me, or are you trying to decide whether or not to ask me something? Out with it then!”
"What did you see in my palm that day?" It was one of the more troubling questions and he was relieved to voice it. "What was so interesting that you wouldn’t tell me?"
Sara turned back to him. She held up her palm for him to inspect and then took his and positioned it next to hers. "Do you see? One of the lines is identical."
"They do look quite similar, don't they?"
"Not similar, Harry. Exactly the same."
"But what does it mean? I don't understand."
"I'm not sure but I think it's a good omen."
Harry smiled and led her back onto the roof.
* * *
The Girl in the Tower by SpookyMulder
Chapter Notes: AUTHOR NOTE: There are a few things you should know. First, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan appear in the wrong year. It would take an immense amount of effort to fix it and the effort versus the effect isn’t justified. Later, the twins’ joke shop is in Diagon Alley as OotP hadn’t been written yet.
This novel was almost entirely written prior to OotP’s release, making it so incredibly off-canon it isn’t even funny. The second half of the book is almost entirely AU anyway, and so is the sequel. (which is about half done as of June 2007)
Also, you will find the main OC to be a mary-sue. Since I can never profit from this book, I began looking at it as a writing exercise and decided to see if I could make a mary-sue interesting. I definitely think I pulled this off for the most part, so I ask that you read to the end before leveling judgment on Sara.
As for bragging rights, this was HPFF.com’s Recommended Story of the Month for April 2003 and was also the #1 Most Read Story for 2004, 2005 and 2006, receiving well over a quarter of a million hits on that site alone. It also made their “Most Favorited Story” list. (It is no longer posted there.) It has also received more than 4000 reviews from 3 sites.
Please leave honesty in your review. And please review!!! There is nothing worse than posting a chapter you worked so hard on, watching your hit count increase by hundreds, and getting 2 reviews. I wrote about 15 pages in a chapter, I think you can repay me with a few words. Thank you in advance for being a considerate reader. I hope you enjoy The Girl in the Tower!