All too soon, the day of the funeral came and the black Ministry cars were waiting for them. Kathryn donned her best clothes; a fine black dress, bought just the other day, with a velvet corseted bodice that ran elegantly down to her waist. It had relaxed; off the shoulder straps that were made up of many folds of heavy silk. They were thick and hid the top of the bodice so that it was only visible from just bellow the bust. The skirt ended at the knee and was made of the same, heavy silk and fell in thick folds that clung to her figure perfectly, giving what could have been a relaxed dress a much more severe look. This was coupled with a pair of satin covered, high, court shoes and a cloak that was fur trimmed and more an extravagant wrap than a cloak thanks to its lack of proper sleeves and the way it slouched off her shoulders. The final additions were the heavy set of diamonds in her ears and around her neck and his ruby ring on her finger. She pulled her hair up off her face with a clip that held it up but still allowed it to flow down her back. She stood before her mirror for a long while, debating where she stood on the wearing of hats at funerals. As a compromise, she conjured some black feathers and stuck them strategically in her hair so they followed its flow and accentuated its waves.
The rest of the group were waiting in the hotel atrium, everyone was dressed in head to toe sombre colours; even Tonks had dropped her usual bright hair for more solemn deep purple waves. Keeping her head held high, she led the way out to the waiting cars. She was sat in the lead car along with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Sirius, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Tonks and Lupin. They travelled in slow procession through the centre of Paris towards Père Lachaise cemetery which, for today only, had been closed to the public and was covered in Muggle-repelling charms.
She had visited this place several times when she had lived here, finding it one of the best places to come and think, thanks to the air of serenity that perennially surrounded it. It had an air of majesty about it too, thanks to the many large mausoleums and elaborate headstones that lined the avenues. She could have wandered in here for hours, finding the famous wizards interspersed amongst the Muggle headstones.
The service was short; held in the large chapel at the centre of the cemetery which was filled to capacity with both her friends and the friends of her foster parents. Although many people shed tears over this needless tragedy, Kathryn kept a brave face despite the guilt welling inside of her thanks to the figure standing in the shadows at the back of the room. From there, the coffins were borne on the shoulders' of pallbearers to their final resting place near the top of the cemetery. This area, at first appearing to be packed full of Muggle graves was, in fact, a lush green space with plenty of space between the headstones. She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as their coffins were lowered into the ground of their family plot. Into this she threw a flower for each of them as well as a framed photograph of the three of them together; taken in happier times before she left for England.
Once this was over, guests milled around; all offering her their condolences. She was pulled away from this, however, by Harry, Ron and Hermione who all had appalled looks on their faces.
"What does he think he's doing here?" Hermione said with a note of utter disgust in her voice.
"Who?" she asked, but she could already guess. The three of them nodded their heads towards the grave where, as they watched, the Hogwarts Governors were laying a wreath against the black granite headstone. Lucius Malfoy was amongst them.
"Is he just here to rub your nose in it or what?" Ron whispered scathingly. "I don't know what's going to happen when Sirius or Moody see him."
"How is he here?" Harry asked more specifically. "I thought it was a more 'by invitation only' thing?"
"I issued a general invitation to all the Governors." Kathryn explained. "I couldn't very well invite all but one of them, could I?" she kept her voice low, not wanting to attract attention to themselves.
"Yes, well," Hermione whispered nervously, "can't you throw him out or something?" she asked, glancing nervously around.
"Yeah, because that's not going to attract attention." Kathryn replied in a sarcastic voice.
"Couldn't Sirius or Dumbledore have a word with him or something?" Ron asked.
"Or Moody?" Harry suggested with a mischievous glint in his eye, knowing how turning Lucius Malfoy into a ferret would make his day.
"No." Kathryn said in a much firmer tone that had a hint of warning in it. "I will not have this turn into a fight."
"Ok," Harry raised his hands defensively, "just, aren't you at all insulted?" he asked her seriously.
"Of course I am, I mean, he probably did it." She brushed it off with a wave of her hand. "I'll get him back some other time, don't worry about that." They laughed slightly, the three of them fixing him with icy stares whilst she raised her eyebrows apologetically.
People soon began to disperse, walking down towards the main avenue where there were plenty of black cars waiting to take them back to the hotel for the wake. She lingered at the back of the crowd, walking slowly and pretending to be lost in thought. When she was sure no one would notice; she slipped down one of the many winding paths that led away from the main thoroughfares. She hoped that she had chosen the right one as she wandered slowly down the tree-lined avenue. Sure enough, he was there, standing looking at one of the extravagant tombstones that had a bronze figure of a man bursting out of a granite block.
"I see you decided to come." She said, smiling up at him.
"I did, although I got the feeling that some people didn't want me here." He meant Harry, Ron and Hermione.
"I wanted you here." Her hand found his. "You're the first thing that's made me smile all day." She admitted. An expression of compassion crossed his face before he pulled her into his arms; just holding her there for a little while.
"You were the first person to make me smile after Narcissa died." He confessed as he held her there.
"You'd better go." She said, pulling away and wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Harry, Hermione and Ron are already infuriated that you're here; they're taking it as some kind of insult." She explained their icy looks before. "They think you did it." She blurted out after a moment.
"Well, you know I didn't, I couldn't have. I have a concrete alibi but I'm not sure if that would help my case." She knew what he meant; at the time of the attack he had been with her.
"They were tortured." She said in a small voice, as if she didn't really want to say it.
"I heard. It has Bella's handiwork all over it." He said in a sombre voice. "I don't know for certain, I haven't seen her." He explained. "But it's the kind of thing she'd do."
"I can well believe that." Her voice had gone as hard as steel. "Anyway, go." He kissed her on the cheek then swept off down the hill. She took a different route, walking slowly so they didn't arrive on the 'Rue Principal' at the same time. As she walked, her resolve to get even stiffened and she found herself plotting what she was going to do to Bellatrix Lestrange if she ever came up against her. She and Neville would have to share.
Emerging onto the 'Rue Principal' she saw a mass of people in black all waiting for her before they left. She was touched by this but could not return to the façade of the distraught daughter, not when she was so angry inside. Instead she strode through them; her head held high and her heels clicking off the cobbles. Her face was a mask of determination and strength that did not waver as she walked down the centre of the road to her waiting car. She proved what Hermione had said to Harry and Ron on the day of the Governors' visit; even at a funeral she managed to turn the head of everyone gathered there as she did what the jokingly called her 'ice queen strut' past them.
She didn't speak to anyone on the way back to the hotel. She could hear Sirius, Lupin and Moody talking in hushed voices about the apparently unwelcome presence of Lucius Malfoy and what they should do about it. She spent the rest of the journey back worried about having to prevent a stand off between them without betraying anything. She was glad, therefore, to find no sight of him at the wake and it appeared that he had returned to wherever he was staying.
In truth, she would have rather not had a wake as this just seemed to prolong the pain of their death; almost rubbing in the fact that she had now lost two sets of parents. She played nice, talking and thanking everyone for coming; accepting their condolences graciously the way she should. Nothing, however, brought her the comfort of his simple words and the way he had held her.
An idea dawned on her has she sat in her room later that night, looking out on the Paris skyline which was slowly growing darker as the sun sank below the horizon. Locking her door, she took the spare dress that she had bought, just in case the first one ripped or something, and, with a few neat severing charms, had removed the skirt and arms to create what was basically a corset-top. Removing her scruffy trousers and T-shirt, she pulled on a good pair of jeans that weren't tattered around the bottoms and a good pair of heels. To this she added her new top and covered her shoulders with a thin, black cashmere wrap-round cardi that she had found the other day and subsequently bought several in various colours. Not bothering to change her jewellery, she grabbed a black clutch and headed out the door; walking quickly out of the reception so as not to be noticed leaving and stepping out onto the bustling street.
She walked quickly down the banks of the Seine until she came to Pont Neuf; from here heading straight for the doors of the Georges V where the same doorman in his smart red coat held the door open for her. She had a hurried conversation in French with the young receptionist, making up a story about him asking her to meet him here. After a few moments, she had his room number and was riding up to the top floor and to the same suite she had stayed in during the summer. She stood knocking at the door for five minutes before turning on her heel and walking down the corridor and back to the elevators. She left a message at the reception desk for him, should he choose to appear, and then headed off into the city centre. Two minutes after she walked out the front door, he stuck his head out of the door to his suite, looking up and down for the person who had been knocking.
Kathryn, meanwhile, was riding the Métro towards the French capital's hottest nightspot. At the top of Boulevard Haussman, she found what she had been looking for. The small sign that shone brightly was ignored by all the Muggles that walked quickly past, heading for their favourite bars. This was Tonnerre, the club that was legendary in London. It was the equivalent of the Muggle clubs that anyone who was anyone wanted to be seen in. She walked straight in, only to be stopped by the security wizard just inside the door. Unfazed, she brushed her hair away from her forehead to give him a glimpse of her scar. Instantly he apologised and promptly stood aside to let her in. Before heading for the bar, she whispered something in his ear and he nodded. She supposed this was one of the good things about having her scar; anywhere would let you in because you brought instant business.
In a matter of seconds she had her first free cocktail in her hand and was letting the calming effect of the alcohol wash over through her. The music was loud, the alcohol flowing and she soon felt her troubles lift as she wandered over to the dance floor. Back at the Georges V, over two hours later, Mr Malfoy was walking through the foyer after having had a note delivered to his suite. It contained just one word 'Tonnerre', and he had no idea what it meant. He walked through the streets without a passing glance at the magnificent boulevards, heading straight for the reception of the hotel where she was staying. The friendly receptionist on the desk explained that Tonnerre was a club and told him exactly where to find it. He left quickly, not wanting to bump into any of her friends who were likely to be around. It was nearly half past eleven when he reached Tonnerre, over two hours since she arrived, and several drinks into the night.
He was surprised to be let in immediately, despite the receptionist having told him that it was a very exclusive place. The burly security wizard even pointed him over to the dance floor; telling him that the person he was looking for was over there. The music was deafening as he walked through the crowds of half-drunk wizards and witches who were dancing wildly around. He stood there in the chaos for several minutes, trying to spot Kathryn in the crowd. His eye was caught, therefore, by the beautiful figure who was dancing on a table in the middle of the floor. He pushed his way closer and there she was, dancing in a very sexy manner on one of the scarred bar tables. Cocktail in hand she writhed in time to the pulsating track, completely lost in the rush of the alcohol and the music.
He watched her for a few moments more, before he noticed the way other people were looking at her. Predatory glances went her way from every corner and a crowd of young men were standing round the base of the table and pulling her back down to dance with them. She did not realise what was happening, seemingly in a daze as she continued to dance, oblivious to the way their hands roamed across her. Overcome with a desire to extract her from this potentially dangerous situation, he pushed his way through the dancing throng until he was standing right next to them. He saw several of them men give him odd looks, wondering what he was doing, but paid him no mind; assuming he liked the pretty girl too. Kathryn still hadn't opened her eyes and she danced on, moving herself teasingly around him. At least, that was until he reached out his arm and touched her elbow.
It was as if a charge of electricity had woken her from her trance. She opened her eyes to see him looking right at her and suddenly her sensed flared to life. She became immensely aware of the eager hands running themselves over her as the men continued to dance and her eyes widened in panic. Seeing this fright in her eyes he acted accordingly; gently steering her away from them and towards the door where she spilled out into the cool night. He kept his arm protectively around her waist as they walked away, cutting through a side street and emerging halfway up the now quiet Champs Elysées.
"What were you thinking?" he asked in mild disbelief, referring to the way she had let them touch her.
"I…I," she stammered, "well, I am slightly drunk." She giggled, wobbling in her high shoes.
"If you wanted to see me, why didn't you just apparate straight to my room?" he asked, holding onto her elbow to keep her steady.
"I wanted to go out; you didn't answer the door so I went out by myself. I'm still allowed to do that aren't I?" she said defensively, sounding almost bitter, wrenching her arm away from his grip. He caught her arm again as she nearly fell over for the second time.
"Yes, but-" she cut him off.
"But what?" she asked. "But what? You don't run my life!" she shouted at him, slurring slightly and trying to break away from his grasp. "You don't run my life." Her voice cracked slightly and tears streaked silently down her cheeks. They had reached the banks of the Seine by now and he stopped beneath one of the trees that lined the paths, taking hold of her shoulders and turning her to face him.
"No one runs your life. I don't think anyone would dare try." He looked straight into her eyes that were still full of tears. He brushed these away with his thumb. "No more crying, at least, not for now." He teased her face into a smile with his fingers; making her laugh out loud in the middle of the silent street.
"Fine." She smiled and moved back next to him as they walked back down the river towards his hotel. There was no one in the reception as they arrived back, the receptionists in their office and the doorman finished for the day. Nobody saw her come back with him. Nobody saw her go all the way up to his room with him. Even if people had seen, she was well past the point of caring; it wasn't like Muggles knew who either of them were.
She made the first move; leaping onto him as soon as he had gotten his jacket off, hungry for him as if she hadn't seen him in weeks. He was by no means displeased by this and responded to her advances with ardour, his hands searching frenetically for the laces at the back of her corset. The two halves sprang apart as he pulled at the tight bow holding them together.
"Now, you looked beautiful today," he told her between kisses, "but you look even better like this."
His hands were beginning to toy with the buttons on her jeans now that her top was sitting loose on her waist. She smiled and kissed him again, her fingers slipping the buttons of his shirt through their holes. Pausing for a moment he pulled her top completely off and she did the same with his shirt, throwing it aside. His lips found hers again as he tugged the denim of her jeans off her hips and slid them to the floor. Standing before him in only her underwear, he swept her off her feet and carried her through to the bedroom where, just nine months ago, they had been in the same situation. She did not give up once he was on top of her, making up for her personal loss with an even stronger desire for him.
She also took pleasure in the simpler things, like the way he held her as they slept; the way his warm body curled protectively around hers. For the first time since she arrived, she slept soundly and woke up with a smile on her face. This smile faded quickly, however, when she saw that it was nearly ten in the morning and they were due to leave at eleven. She pulled her clothes on quickly, carefully concealing her top with her wrap, before giving him a lingering goodbye kiss; slapping his wrist as he made to pull her back down onto the mattress next to him.
The morning was incredibly fresh and she stopped in her favourite patisserie on her way back to their hotel, buying a large bag of assorted pastries for breakfast. The owner couldn't have looked happier as she bought nearly his entire batch of croissants, pain au chocolats and pain raisins. She walked on, breathing in the cool spring air of what promised to be a sunny day. This good mood was shattered, however, the moment she stepped inside the reception of their hotel. She found a worried looking Harry, Ron and Hermione in the foyer, questioning the bewildered receptionist about her whereabouts. She giggled and pointed behind them to where Kathryn was standing.
"Where have you been?" Harry asked in a strained sounding voice.
"Morning walk," she said simply, "I brought pastries!" she held up the four large bags with a grin on her face.
"Great, breakfast!" Ron exclaimed, grabbing one of the bags and pulling out a croissant. "You bought enough to feed an army."
"Well, there are more than four of us, Ron!" Kathryn laughed, discretely pulling her cardigan tighter as she wasn't sure that the three of them would believe that she had gone to buy pastries dressed the way she was.
"Hang onto these, I've got to pack." She shoved the bags into their arms and dashed off to the elevators, riding up to her room on the top floor. She quickly pulled off her top, heels and jeans and replaced them with Birkenstocks, baggy jeans, a fitted T-Shirt and her favourite chocolate brown shrug. Then, with a quick wave of her wand, everything packed itself back into her bag. Taking a glance in the mirror, she ran her fingers through her slightly dishevelled hair to tease out the kinks and, reluctantly, sprayed herself with some perfume to disguise any of his scent that still lingered on her.
Minutes later, she was back downstairs and her bag was being loaded into the waiting cars whilst she sat in the reception eating pastries with Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Fred, George and Dumbledore. She was happy to be going home, preferring to get away from the painful memories than stay and let them eat away at her any longer. Her heart was untroubled, at least until the receptionist came over and whispered in her ear. Without a word to the rest of them, she stood and followed the receptionist over to the front desk. On the shelf of polished black granite was a vase of what must have been two dozen black roses.
"Would you like them sent over to the cemetery?" she asked Kathryn in French.
"No," Kathryn replied in equally perfect French; shaking her head as she spotted the card that was nestled amongst the blooms, "I'll just take them with me." She lifted the surprisingly light vase off the desk and carried it back over to where they were sitting; carefully slipping the card into her pocket as she walked, already knowing who they were from.
"Where are they from?" Sirius asked as she sat down again.
"Don't know, they've just arrived." Kathryn explained, her hands toying with the petals.
"Aren't you going to send them over to Père Lachaise?"
"No, they look too expensive to be sitting in the open for days. Anyway, I might as well keep something." She lied; carefully keeping her mind sealed from Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes as she talked.
"Is there no card or anything?" Harry asked, looking curiously at the impressive bouquet.
"Nothing. I'm sure I heard someone say yesterday that their bouquet hadn't arrived, maybe this is it, and they just delivered it late." Kathryn lied even more. Harry nodded, but didn't look completely satisfied. They didn't have time to further argue the point as Mrs Weasley bustled in telling them that they could leave, having just supervised the packing of the bags.
Their cars sped them to the station in no time, expertly conquering the Paris morning traffic, and ensuring that they were at the station on time. There was a little pomp and ceremony to see them off, the French Minister for Magic waiting on the platform to see them off.
They used the same tyre to return to London and, with one final look at the magnificently constructed station, they disappeared.
Muggle children gambolled about clutching onto Easter eggs as they walked through Kings Cross station; waiting for trains to either take them home or whisk them off on holiday. They all felt very gloomy as they apparated back to Grimmauld Place where the rain was drumming off the windows. Mrs Weasley, however, had anticipated their sour moods and they found a stack of her best Easter eggs sitting on each of their beds. They took refuge on the sofas by the fire in Kathryn's room and sat there, munching on the chocolate, just talking by themselves for the first time in ages.
Normally this would have been a nice thing to do; however, they had come home to the discovery of more murdered Muggles. In the three or so days that they had been away there had been another five killings of Muggles, all of them with the Dark Mark hovering in the air above their houses. These were different, however, as the Death Eaters seemed to have gone a step further and had actually killed a couple where the wife was a witch and the husband a Muggle. 'Reports that the victims were tortured are, as yet, still unconfirmed' the Sunday Prophet read, 'Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, refused to make comment as he arrived at the Ministry this morning after attending the funeral of the foster parents of Kathryn Potter, also murdered by Death Eaters, in Paris on Saturday,' it went on.
"Knew they'd work you in there somewhere." Ron said; biting off a chunk of an egg painted with Quidditch goal hoops.
"Sources inside the Ministry say that Fudge is coming under increasing pressure to intensify the hunt for these dangerous individuals after this high profile killing." Hermione read out loud. "Oh please! As if killing innocent Muggles isn't high profile enough." She sounded definitely put out. Kathryn also felt guilty that the murder of her foster parents had caused so much media attention. Beneath that, however, was the weightier guilt of what she was doing behind their backs.
"We need to do something." She said in a small voice as she nibbled on her chocolate.
"What, apart from stop Voldemort!" Ron said in a sarcastic tone.
"I'm serious Ron," Kathryn said in an earnest tone, "think of what it's going to be like when we get back to school. People are going to be panicked. We need to do something to life their spirits, maybe when it gets to summer." She seemed to be thinking out loud.
"Like what?" Hermione asked.
"I don't know." Kathryn shrugged her shoulders. "The ball last year went down well, maybe we could organise one in the summer."
"Maybe. We should talk to Dumbledore and McGonagall when we get back." Hermione sounded convinced and Harry and Ron were nodding in agreement too.
"Well, I mentioned something to the Governors a while ago about doing something in the summer term and they weren't averse to the idea, so it should be pretty easy to do." Although she really did want to do something fun, deep down inside, Kathryn was glad that she had just manufactured another situation in which to see him.
They returned to the school with this idea buzzing in their heads. They also returned to a common room filled with much new furniture. Kathryn's heart gave a slight twinge as she saw the many students sitting in the armchairs and working at desks that she had brought back from her foster parent's home in France.