That night she lay awake long after they had all gone to bed. Wrapped up in the white shirt she had acquired all those months ago, she stared at the canopy of her four poster bed, lost in thought; turning the piece of parchment over and over in her fingers. She knew exactly what it meant. In thirty two days, well, thirty one as it was past midnight, exactly a year would have passed. It also meant that she had thirty one days to figure out how she could disappear again. Igniting the parchment with the tip of her wand, she watched as the smouldering ashes floated to the floor, before snuggling beneath her bedcovers and drifting off to a sleep in which she knew Lucius Malfoy would appear.
Thirty one days later, Kathryn privately observed how fast time passed when you are dreading something. One moment you're wandering round Diagon Alley, shopping and spending your birthday with your best friends, and the next you're lying through your teeth to them.
"Well, Lydia's never been to England before." Kathryn explained as she finished packing a small bag, pronouncing 'Lydia' with a French accent. "And, I mean, I haven't seen her since I left France."
"So, where are they staying again?" Hermione queried from the doorway.
"Queerditch Marsh, or somewhere near it. Lydia's dad loves Quidditch. It's a holy shrine for Quidditch fans."
"And, where exactly will you be staying?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.
"They're camping, so I'll probably be sleeping in a four-storey town house." Kathryn laughed, knowing how deceptive wizard tents could be.
"Well, it probably won't smell of cats." Ron said dryly, remembering their tent at the Quidditch World Cup. Once they had gone, Kathryn unpacked everything that they had seen her pack and swapped them for things more appropriate for where she was really going. Once this was done, she shrunk the bag and stowed it away in her handbag.
She hugged Sirius and Mrs Weasley goodbye in the kitchen, promising to be careful, before disapparating. She reappeared moments later at Queerditch Marsh. She found Lydia standing by the museum entrance; her once short, spiky red hair now strawberry blond and cut into an asymmetrical bob. After a brief hug, they wandered into the museum where the ticket saleswitch spent a good few minutes gawking at Kathryn's scar before letting them both in for free.
It was like she had never left France, the language still second-nature after four years. She prattled on in French to Lydia about life in England and Lydia responded in turn by telling her everything that was going on in France. Lydia was rather tearful when she said goodbye that afternoon, Kathryn lying about having to get back to London for a friend's birthday party.
Instead of Apparating back to London, however, she reappeared in Wiltshire; just a couple of miles from the Malfoys' front gate, in the small village of West Chisenbury. She walked slowly along the country lanes, admiring the view of the Salisbury Plain in the late afternoon sun. She had encountered a few people out walking their dogs not far from the village, but soon all she had for company were cows and sheep, with the odd rabbit diving into the hedgerow as she passed. This absence of life was explained as she spotted two small green signs on either side of the road. They both had 'PRIVATE LAND' painted on in silver lettering and, although relatively understated, she had no doubt that any Muggles wandering that way would have no hesitation in obeying the unspoken command to keep out.
About another mile down the road, signs of a residence finally came into view. The sight of the great, iron gates at the end of the drive did nothing to soothe her nerves; the wrought-iron snakes that twisted and curled around the thick bars only serving to unsettle her more. She knew that she shouldn't be there. She knew that she should be at home with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius; not walking straight into the lion's den.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped tentatively through the open gate, not really knowing what to expect, and shut the gate behind her. As soon as it was closed, the bars shaped like snakes moved; knitting together to form a very secure lock. If she had considered turning around, she was now trapped. She knew that he would be watching her and had no doubt sealed the grounds with an anti-disapparation jinx.
Turning to face the Manor, she caught a brief glimpse of a face in one of the upstairs windows before it disappeared. Keeping her head held high, not wanting to show any sign of weakness or fear, she walked straight for the front doors. They were opened before her hand had reached the doorbell. He even took her bag as she stepped across the threshold, placing it down on a chair before turning back to her.
"How on earth did your clothes get like that?" he asked with a frown, casting an eye over the six inches of mud that was caked on the bottom of her jeans.
"I've been at Queerditch Marsh all day; where I'm 'camping' for the next few days." She explained, making quotation marks in the air with her fingers when she said camping.
"You can change if you want, and there's food ready if you're hungry." He offered politely.
"Food would be good, I haven't eaten since lunch." She laughed slightly, grabbing her bag and taking the stairs two at a time to go and change. As she walked through the halls, she noted that all the paintings were covered with black curtains again.
She came downstairs in a fresh pair of jeans and top to find food laid out on a wooden table on the outdoor terrace at the back of the house. They sat there for what must have been nearly three hours, dining on cold meats, cheeses, pâté, French bread, summer fruit and just talking; staying away from the more controversial subjects and sticking to Quidditch, school, the future, Paris and anything else that was as far removed from Voldemort as possible.
They retreated inside once the night chill began to set in, Kathryn curling up on the large sofa in his study whilst he sat in a chair opposite.
"By the way, happy birthday for last month." He said after a few moments of silence, gazing at her with an interested expression.
"Thanks, it's not really that different to being eighteen though." She shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, special or not," he stood and moved to his desk, unlocking one of the drawers with a flick of his wand, "I found you something all the same." He withdrew a rectangular shaped box and, with another casual wave of his wand, it floated across the room and landed in her lap with a thump.
It was wrapped in thick black paper, tied very elegantly with a length of emerald-green ribbon. She unwrapped it carefully, rolling the ribbon up neatly and taking care not to rip to paper, whilst he surveyed her from his chair. Within the packaging there was a handsome, black leather box with a crest, inlaid with silver, stamped on the front. She depressed the small silver button to release the catch inside and opened the lid. A layer of black satin covered its contents and, lifting it back, she found some of the most beautiful jewels she had ever seen.
They were all emeralds, although not the rich, dark colour that she normally associated with the stone. They were paler and, if memory served her, a near perfect match to her eyes. There was a full set too, the bottom of the box lifting away to reveal more jewels below. Two pairs of earrings, two necklaces; one with a single pendant and the other studded with many large stones, a bracelet and a ring; all were set in what seemed to be the finest Occamy silver.
Kathryn was speechless, for the box alone looked expensive, and she knew he must have taken great pains to find a colour so close to her eyes. She was quite frankly astonished that he remembered what colour they were. He had, by now, come to sit on the sofa beside her and she stared at him for a moment, not really sure what to think. Anything that he had given her in the past had been purely for vanity, as he wanted her to look good beside him. But now, there was no other reason to give her anything aside from it being her birthday. For once there seemed to be no veiled agenda.
"You shouldn't," she began, although she was still unsure of what she could say.
"But I did." He smirked, the firelight flickering off his handsome features.
"They're very beautiful, thank you, but still…" She trailed off, not really going anywhere.
"They're beautiful, and perfect." He moved closer, taking the box from her hands and placing it on a small table. His lips feathered across her cheek, one hand on her back whilst the other ran through her hair. "Like you." He whispered in her ear. Moments later, now lying close to her on the sofa, he spoke again.
"I will ask you one final time." He looked right into her eyes, as if hoping to see something written in them. "Where do you hide? What do you plan?" she shook her head whilst trying to process what he had just said. What did he mean by 'final time'? She was distracted, however, a second later as she felt a pair of hands work their way beneath her top.
A couple of hours later, after finally making it to his bedroom, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror; freshly showered and drying her hair off with a fluffy white towel. Clad now in a skimpy dove grey silk nightdress, she stared at her reflection, not knowing what to think.
What was she feeling?
No longer did she despise herself for what she did, quite the contrary, she hated herself for enjoying it. She cast a guilty look out of the door and across to the bed where he was lying asleep, propped up against the headboard with several pillows. Setting the towel down and extinguishing the lamp, she walked slowly across the room; taking the moment to study what he looked like without having him watching her. She hesitated a moment at the foot of the bed, an arm wrapped around one of the carved posts, as she regarded the man before her. She knew that there would be no turning back from here and, when the end finally came, she would have to stand by what she had done.
Climbing up onto the vast bed, the silk and velvet counterpane soft to the touch; she crawled slowly on her knees until she was directly beside him. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she ran her fingers up his arm. His face remained impassive, not noticing the feather-light touch. Moving closer still, she, for the first time, sought out contact. Tentatively, part of her mind not believing what she was doing, she touched her lips to his. She pulled away quickly, not unlike the way people touch their toes into water to test the temperature.
Emboldened by this first foray into uncharted territory, she tried again; letting her lips linger there for a little longer this time. He still did not react. The third and final time, however, something happened. Just as she was about to give up, a hand snaked up behind her head to stop her from going anywhere. Instead of remaining lifeless, his mouth opened, meeting her advances with fervour.
Pausing for a minute, their eyes met and she could see his surprise at that she was doing. They stayed like that for a moment, as if taking the time to comprehend what they were doing and to decide if they were completely sure. That moment passed quickly, and she did not protest as he pulled her down beneath him. His hands whispered over the soft fabric that separated their skin, dragging it slowly over her hips until it slipped over her head. His every move was languid; his hands and lips tracing every curve and hollow, as if he had never seen them before. She was sure that he could hear her heart pounding desperately in her chest as she responded in kind, no longer afraid to show her emotions. With each gentle caress, he cemented the almost imperceptible shift that made her a woman to please, rather than demean.
Lying there, limbs tangled beneath the covers, with the first rays of dawn beginning to peek through the curtains, she no longer felt the urge to run. Instead of slinking away like she usually would have, she settled herself comfortably back into the crook of his arm; laying her cheek against his warm, pale skin. Though asleep, his arm shifted and wrapped loosely around her shoulders. With a contented smile, she closed her eyes.
When she awoke several hours later, the man she expected to find beside her was gone and a note had been left in his place. It read;
'Gone to London, back later.'
Despite the disappointment at waking alone, she reasoned that his absence gave her ample time to explore the house by herself. Without warning, the door swung open, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. To her surprise, and great relief, it was only a House Elf bearing a laden breakfast tray.
"Thank you." The Elf looked positively traumatised at being thanked so politely, it's eyes bulging widely. Without speaking, he, or indeed she, bowed low and practically fled the room. It was with a guilty conscience that she took a bite of the perfectly browned toast, knowing how appallingly the Malfoys treated their servants.
Once she was dressed, she spent a couple of hours roaming about the house, suitably startled by the hundreds of books pertaining to the Dark Arts. Once outside in the balmy august heat, she went in search of the unicorn she had seen all those months ago. She found it grazing at the edge of the wood, near the Manor's boundary. Staying very still, she threw a few sugar lumps onto the lawn in an attempt to entice her further out. She did come, albeit very hesitantly; eventually nibbling some of the sugar lumps off the palm of her hand whilst Kathryn ran her hand through its pearly white mane. She got as far as stroking her hands down its white flanks before it bolted; disappearing back into the trees.
As she ventured back towards the house, she spotted something she had missed. The Dursleys had one of these, collapsible, so it could be put away in the winter months, and although this was based upon the same principle, it was far grander than what could be found gracing the back gardens of the Muggle suburbs. Suspended between two trees, the seat had large dark green cushions and swayed gently in the breeze. Summoning one of her books from the house, she curled herself up and began to read. She did not notice the time pass as she sat there, a House Elf bringing her some sandwiches the only indication of the time of day, and nor did she notice the figure coming towards her until it actually sat down beside her.
"Evening." She put her book down, smiling back at him.
"You took your time." She observed as he swung his legs onto the seat and leaned back.
"Well," he leaned over and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her towards him, "I am a very important man." He smiled wryly, running his hands through her hair.
"If you say so!" she laughed, snuggling further into the curve of his body; resting her head on his chest. After a moment, he placed his fingers on her chin; turning her head towards him and, acting on some innate instinct, she moved herself forwards. He kissed her again, as he had done the night before, holding her close to him; not caring for keeping things impersonal any longer. Kathryn was also quite content to remain there, despite not knowing where things stood anymore. It was a beautiful evening, and there were worse places to be spending it.
A few days later she was lying in bed late one afternoon, just talking to him as he stood by the window. Though he was dressed, albeit in his shirtsleeves, she had elected to remain in the deep blue silk pyjama bottoms that he had brought back from London. Normally she would have thought such things slightly tacky, but these were made from matte silk and looked anything but cheap. Teamed with a plain black vest, and lounging on several comfortable pillows, she felt quite the decadent young woman.
"My hair's straight today." She remarked, whimsically running the strands through her fingers. "Bad things happen on straight-hair days."
"Speaking of bad things," he said in a slightly grave tone from his vantage point at the window, "I think now would be the time for you to hide." Jumping out of bed, she joined him at the window and looked out to see the small forms of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange making their way up the drive. Moments later, after a few hurried spells to make sure she hadn't left anything conspicuous lying round the house, he rushed her up to the second floor and into a small, nondescript room off the library. Pausing for a moment, he felt along one of the wood panels that covered the wall. Seconds later, it slid to the side to reveal a small chamber. With perhaps slightly more force than he intended, he pushed her inside and closed the panel.
The small room was pitch-black, with no windows to speak of, and she took a moment to adjust her eyes to the gloom before feeling clumsily along the wall for some form of light. There was a single candle bracket on the wall containing a lone candle. She lit it with a wave of her wand and looked around at her new surroundings. The room was carpeted and panelled in exactly the same way to the one on the other side. It was sparsely furnished, a surprise considering the opulence of the house; with a single mattress and pillow on a wooden bench that jutted out from the wall. This was covered by a sable fur, as dark as night and incredibly soft. Not knowing how long she would have to wait she curled up beneath it and, with some difficulty, drifted off to sleep.
It was past midnight when it was safe for her to re-emerge and, on opening the concealed door, he found the candle burned out and her still asleep; curled up in the fur. Being as gentle as possible, so as not to wake her, he lifted her into his arms. Still wrapped in the fur, he carried her back downstairs to more a more comfortable bed.
"I take it they've gone." She murmured, stretching out as he lay down next to her.
"Yes, but they took their time." He sighed. "Completely ruined my plans for the evening."
"It's not dawn yet." She reminded him playfully, giving him a coquettish smile from where she lay. "And I'm not tired." It was all the incentive he needed; his arms reaching out and pulling her towards him, a devilish smirk playing across his face.
She woke early the next morning and tiptoed out of bed; pulling on the long dressing gown made of a crushed, velvety material in a deep, royal blue that he had also brought back with his earlier that week. She opened the French doors and stepped out onto the spacious balcony, breathing in the fresh morning air. Her absence was soon noticed, however, and he joined her; wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on top of hers.
"I have to go home today."
"I know." He kissed her softly on the cheek.
"And school starts soon."
"I know."
"And?" she asked, waiting for him to elaborate on 'I know'.
"And, well, I'm a Governor so I'm bound to visit several times. And there's Quidditch, and Hogsmeade. Don't worry, I'll be around." He paused for a moment. "Why would I stay away when I have something so fine to look forward to?" he gave a small laugh, hugging her tight to him. "And I don't mean the fabulous highland setting!"
Only and hour later she was packed and ready to go; having promised to be back by ten that morning. She managed to resist his entreaties for her to stay for the rest of the day, although she did give in and allowed him to drag her down to the bed one final time.
She apparated back to London right on time, stepping through the front door of number twelve on the dot of ten o'clock to find everyone gathered in the hallway. Five minutes later, after running upstairs to deposit her bag and check that she looked presentable before pelting back downstairs again; she was standing in Diagon Alley.
It was very strange, she thought to herself as she strolled down the street with Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Precisely a year ago she had been doing the exact same thing and feeling the exact same way. The guilt of lying to her brother and her friends was gnawing away inside of her, she was almost fearful of looking them in the eye should they see a trace of deceit. Yet, at the same time, she felt strangely euphoric at the thought of this large secret she concealed.
She picked up her new uniform and Quidditch armour as usual, as well as replenishing her supplies of Fred and George's joke shop merchandise. They were still teasing Ron about being made Head Boy, announcing in pompous voices that they were closing the shop as soon as he entered.
"Extremely important person coming through!" Fred had shouted in a pompous voice, bowing before Ron.
"He cannot mix with mere mortals!" George had joined in, also bowing. They soon stopped when he threatened to tell their Mum about some of the unsavoury characters they sourced their ingredients from. Before the argument escalated, Kathryn produced an envelope of photos that she knew Fred and George would be very glad to see. The twins' eyes widened in awe when they saw the Creevey brothers' photos of their celebrations after winning the Quidditch cup.
"Pretty good." Fred said.
"Not bad at all." George added.
"Has anyone tried throwing them in a cauldron yet?" Fred asked inquisitively.
"No, why?" Kathryn asked, slightly suspicious.
"Well, let's just say that it would take about a week for stars to stop bouncing round the dungeons." George said with a smirk.
"Heard anything interesting lately?" Harry asked; changing the subject, as the twins were one of the best places to go for gossip and rumours thanks to the aforementioned dodgy sources.
"Not much." Fred shrugged his shoulders.
"People are scared mainly." George added with a grave look. "Don't want to let their children out of their sight unless they're going back to Hogwarts."
"The ones with Muggle parents are scared too."
"I think they've got a right to be." Hermione said in a quite voice. "I know I am." She added in a shaky tone.
"Don't worry Hermione." Fred gave her a comforting hug.
"Yeah, come on," George added, "its not like Dumbledore's not going to do his best to keep your parents safe. I mean, they're protected just like Grimmauld Place, so no Death Eater will be able to find out where they are."
"Even if they're staring through their front window." Fred finished. Hermione looked slightly happier, but still not totally at ease.
"What about seen?" Harry asked. "Have you seen anything odd?"
"Well, I'll tell you what we did see last week." George said in a dark tone.
"George and I went out to Florean Fortescue's for ice creams last week; you know, shut up the shop for lunch and everything." Fred continued his twin's sentence.
"And who did we see?"
"Who?" Ron asked, leaning conspiratorially on the counter.
"Lucius Malfoy." George said in a sinister voice.
"Strolling up the street looking happy as a clam."
"He's been happy ever since he missed out on going to Azkaban with his Death Eater pals." Harry remarked scathingly.
"He's been happy ever since his boss made his comeback." Ron added darkly. Kathryn stayed silent, not wanting to speak lest she revealed the true reason for his happiness.
Whilst Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione sat in Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour, Kathryn went shopping and found several bags waiting for her in various shops. She pretended to have bought everything when she got back to the others, telling them that she had spent some of the Galleons her foster parents had sent for her birthday.
Before she knew what was happening, they were on the train, speeding further and further north. They were sat in the last carriage, despite having a carriage for the Prefects up the front of the train. They were all fingering the red and gold badges that had fallen out of their Hogwarts letters. Kathryn and Hermione both had one reading 'Head Girl', whilst Ron and Harry had identical badges that read 'Head Boy'. They had all been accompanied by a note from Dumbledore explaining their duties and why he had shared the task between them.
It had read;
I know I will be accused of favouritism by delegating this task to the four of you but, in all honesty, you are the students I most trust to help ensure the safety of the school and its students through these difficult times.
They accepted this responsibility; enjoying the perk of being able to boss Malfoy around, but also understanding that should the worst happen, they would be expected to help protect the students. The DA was still going strong; attracting more and more members each year as the concern over Voldemort's activities heightened. Of course, no Slytherins had dared to join, Malfoy and his cronies trying at every turn to disrupt meetings. Thanks to Hermione's coins, however, they were able to change meetings at will. Malfoy also did not have the Marauders Map, so they could not see strategically placed DA members ready to hex him if he got too close.
For once, he did not disturb them on the train, although they still kept a watch on him through the DA members throughout the train. Hermione had also been working on a spell not unlike the one the Death Eaters had used when they invaded the castle in sixth year. After they had briefed the Prefects in the front carriage, Hermione had conjured an invisible barrier at three different points down the train. If anyone bearing the Dark Mark walked through the barrier, they would be alerted.
Therefore, if Malfoy walked through the carriages at the head of the train, a puff of green smoke would appear in their compartment. If he passed the halfway point, yellow smoke would appear. And finally, if he passed through the door leading into their carriage, red sparks would appear; giving them time to hide anything important and prepare for the inevitable stand-off.
Once the train had pulled into Hogsmeade station, they, along with the other Prefects, ushered the new first years along the platform to where Hagrid was waiting to take them across the lake. Hagrid paused for a moment, beaming down at them.
"Never bin prouder of you four in all my life!" He said, his beetle black eyes creasing in a smile. "Firs' years!" He went on. "Firs' years this way." They waved goodbye to Hagrid and headed to the Thestral-drawn carriages that would take them up to the castle.
The feast was as magnificent as usual, although a feeling of unrest did seem to be apparent in all the students, old and young alike. Dumbledore, as well as the usual notices about staying clear of the forest, also had a grave warning to give to them all.
"Difficult times lie ahead and I know many of you are worried. Take comfort in the fact that the castle is well protected. I shall not, however, sugar-coat the facts. We cannot predict what Voldemort may choose to do, so I shall not lie and say that no harm can come to you whilst you are within these walls." He spoke in a serious tone, the hall remained quiet. The four of them noticed Draco Malfoy looking decidedly smug at the Slytherin table. "Should such a situation arise, I would ask you to look to the Head Boys and Head Girls as well as your teachers." Harry, Kathryn, Ron and Hermione stood up for a brief moment. "They will know what to do should we find ourselves in peril." He paused again, allowing this to sink in. "And on a lighter note, Mr. Filch would like to remind you that all Weasley products are still banned." Dumbledore chuckled, knowing that such restrictions would not be observed. "Now, off to bed. Chop, chop!"
They were quite glad that they could leave the shepherding of the new first years to the Gryffindor common room to the Prefects. The four of them stood in the Entrance Hall, overseeing everything and redirecting lost students. They were ecstatic when they caught Malfoy bullying one of the younger students. Striding right up to him Hermione informed him that once term started properly, he had already lost Slytherin ten points; another perk of their position. Kathryn could see the malice in Malfoy's eyes as Hermione spoke to him and tightened her grip on her wand, believing him fully capable of violent retaliation. It did not come however; Malfoy simply sneering and stalking off to the dungeons.
"Despite what Fred and George say," Ron said as they wandered back to the common room, "I could get used to this. They won't notice if I just dock Slytherin ten points a week will they?" he grinned at Harry.
"Ron!" Hermione said tersely, crossing her arms and glaring at him disapprovingly. Ron didn't reply, giving the password to the Fat Lady instead, and climbing through the portrait hole into the common room. It was already deserted, everyone sleeping off the feast. The four of them followed suit; collapsing down onto the soft mattresses of their four-poster beds.
As with many nights, Kathryn lay awake, gazing up at the hangings. She seemed to be perfectly fine during the day but, once night came and she was alone in her bed, a surge of guilt would rush up through her body. She couldn't get comfortable and felt acutely aware of every noise in the dark dormitory. In the end she pulled the velvety dressing gown out of her trunk and sat staring into the last remnants of the fire until her eyes were no longer willing to remain open.