The Name in Red **COMPLETE**

Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay in updating. At least it wasn't as long of a wait as last time, right?! Well, I hope you're ready for another action-packed chapter! Enjoy!


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The Name in Red.

Chapter 26: Christmas.
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It was now Friday morning. Harry and Sarah were still staying in Snape's home, though not out of the same necessity as earlier in the week, when they had still needed to recover from their injuries. All of their injuries had been skillfully healed by him, and their werewolf wounds were well on their way to being healed soon as well. Now, the reason why they were still staying in Snape's home was twofold; for one, Harry could tell that Sarah was immensely enjoying herself and was extremely happy to be spending time here, and two, Harry knew that Snape did not want to let the girl out of his sight, and so he had not yet broached the topic of when exactly he and Sarah would return to Grimmauld Place.

As strange as it was to be staying in Snape's home, Harry was finding his stay oddly pleasant. Snape was being, dare he think it, almost nice to him. Although, perhaps, as Harry thought to himself, this was only because of Sarah being around. If she were to catch Snape being cruel or otherwise rude to her friend, she would probably be cross with him. Still, Harry was holding out hope that things between them had changed for the better, if only slightly. Saving Sarah's life, despite the fact that he was somewhat responsible for the danger that she had been put in, had to count for something. Or, perhaps Snape's new behavior only seemed nice in comparison to his usual behavior, which was on the far opposite end of the spectrum.

They had spent the past few days generally relaxing, but Sarah still had learning to do. For several hours a day, Harry had been teaching Sarah to resist the effects of the Imperius Curse, as he and Snape had deemed it wise for her to learn this skill. Snape would also occasionally join in the lessons, as Occlumency proved to be a valuable skill when working in tandem with trying to resist the effects of the powerful curse. Aside from these lessons, Sarah had taken it upon herself to clean all of the excess dust out of the home, as most of it was extremely dusty and unkempt. With a lack of anything better to do, Harry would join her in the endeavor. Snape found it slightly irritating, and insisted that he would have gotten a house-elf if he wanted his home cleaned that badly. Still, he submitted to the girl's desire to tidy up his home, as long as she and the boy agreed to not put anything out of place.

Now, on Friday morning, a small amount of light was streaming through the window into the room where Sarah and Snape lie curled up together, sleeping. It was not long before the light was caressing their closed eyelids, causing them to slowly awaken. Sarah yawned when she felt Snape shifting around beside her in the bed.

"Mmm, Merry Christmas," Snape said tiredly as he turned over in bed, his voice slightly hoarse from lack of use during the night.

"Merry Christmas," Sarah yawned back, smiling to herself. Mmm, Christmas. How nice.

Wait a second... Christmas...

CHRISTMAS?!

"It's Christmas!" Sarah shouted in surprise, sitting bolt upright in bed, sending her covers flying. She was still dressed in an old pair of Snape's robes for her nightclothes in order to keep warm.

Snape, startled by the girl's sudden shouting, sat bolt upright too, sending the covers on his side of the bed flying. His chest was bare as he was quite nude. He looked at her in confusion, his eyes wide.

"Of course it's Christmas, that's what I just said," Snape explained calmly. The girl, however, looked frazzled about the fact that it was Christmas instead of joyous.

"No, no, it's Christmas, it's Christmas!" she shouted again, tearing away the rest of the covers on her side and scrambling out of the bed. Then, she bolted to the door, flung it open, and sprinted down the hallway. Snape, not caring that the door was open, tore the rest of his covers away and fumbled for an article of clothing, eager to follow the girl in her apparent distress due to the holiday.

Sarah, already down the hallway, reached the door to the room in which Harry slept during the night. Without bothering to knock, she flung it open to reveal Harry, naked save for his trunks, attempting to pull on a pair of pants in a standing position. At the sudden intrusion of his door being flung wide open, he started, and fell over in a heap, the pants only half way up his legs. His head had smacked the floor with some force, but luckily, his glasses stayed on.

"What the--!" he looked up from the floor to see Sarah standing in the doorway, looking much the same way she did when she had seen a Hogwarts ghost for the first time. "What is it, what's wrong?" he said quickly, scrambling to his feet as fast as possible. The half-on pair of pants pooled at his ankles.

"It's Christmas!" Sarah shouted again. As she did, loud, hurried footsteps were making their way down the hall toward where she stood.

"Of course it is," Harry supplied without really thinking. When it dawned on him a moment later, however, his eyes widened. "It's Christmas?"

Sarah nodded vigorously. Harry did not have time to respond before Snape appeared behind her in the doorway in a similar state of undress as himself; he was wearing only boxers.

"What's the matter?" he begged of the girl standing before him, placing a hand on her shoulder. In his confusion, he looked up into the room. There he found the boy, half naked, a pair of pants pooled around his ankles, and giving him a strange look. Realizing that he had just shown Potter more of himself than the boy probably ever cared to see, he smirked and turned down the hallway, headed back to fully dress before coming out again.

"Wow," Harry said once Snape was gone, pulling up his pants and quickly dressing. Sarah, realizing that she had intruded upon him quite rudely, looked away out of courtesy. "I guess we sort of lost track of time here, didn't we?"

Snape reappeared only a moment later, fully dressed.

"We're supposed to be at Ron and Ginny's house later for dinner," Sarah said, calming down.

"Do not worry," Snape said, "I did not lose track of the time. I was planning to remind both of you of your prior arrangements during breakfast. I imagine that would have been much more preferable to running about the house shouting at each other in our nightclothes."

Sarah blushed and apologized quietly.

"Good thing you remembered, then," Harry admitted. After everything that had happened, and every troubled thought now swimming through his mind, he had lost track of time. It appeared that Sarah had, too. "Ginny and Ron are supposed to come home with us afterward, and Hermione is supposed to arrive tomorrow."

"I bet they would have been more than a little concerned if we didn't show up to dinner, and then we were nowhere to be found at Grimmauld Place," Sarah said, heaving a sigh of relief.

"Doing that would have been just as good as admitting to Hermione that it was us who broke into Gringotts," Harry said with a small laugh. When he looked up at Sarah again, his laughter grew heavier; she was standing there, next to Snape, dressed identically to him in a pair of his old robes. He was quieted with a tiny glare from Snape. "Well, at any rate, that means we'll have to get going today," he said, relieved to have an excuse to broach the topic of leaving.

Sarah looked a bit saddened at this news, and she glanced up at Snape, whose reaction she was dreading. Snape's eyes, however, were locked on Harry with a steely gaze.

"I am coming with you," he announced.

Harry, wearing an expression of utter bewilderment, looked up at Snape. The deep, black-eyed gaze that bore back into him clearly communicated a message of, I'm not letting the girl out of my sight. Try and stop me.

Neither the boy or the girl spoke, and several moments of silence passed. Apparently, they were both waiting for him to explain himself. He took a deep breath.

"I promised to protect you," Snape said, turning to the girl at his side, "And so I refuse to let you out of my sight while, for some reason, there may be people after you. I am coming with you," he announced again after explaining himself, turning back to the boy.

Harry sighed when Snape turned back to him. He couldn't very well argue with that, not after what had happened on the night when they had broken into the bank. There definitely were people after Sarah, and he too had the same fear that Snape did. He could understand the man's desire to not let Sarah out of his sight, not after she had nearly been killed at the hands of these mysterious people who were as-of-yet unidentified, aside from the frightening realization that Fenrir Greyback was still alive. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Sarah spoke first.

"Aren't you worried?" she asked Snape.

"Of course I am worried, why else would I refuse to let you out of my sight?" Snape replied, sounding slightly annoyed.

"No, not about that," Sarah responded, sounding a bit timid. "Ron, Ginny, and Hermione will be there. If you're there, too, they're bound to find out about..." she trailed off, blushing.

Harry cleared his throat softly, causing both Sarah and Snape to look in his direction. When he felt their eyes on him, he blushed a little himself. Looking up, he swallowed hard when he met Snape's gaze; his features had twisted into a look of anger, having already jumped to the conclusion of what he was about to say. Sarah, on the other hand, merely looked confused. Harry cleared his throat again out of nervousness.

"Well, you see, the thing about that is," he began slowly, but quickly rushed to the point when he caught sight of Snape's angry glare again, "Hermione and Ginny already know."

"What?!" came the simultaneous shout from both Sarah and Snape.

Harry winced, prepared for an onslaught from Snape, but nothing came. Opening one eye, he could see that Sarah was now looking terrified and pale, and Snape looked angrier than ever, silently fuming and waiting for him to explain himself. Opening his other eye, he sighed.

"How?" Sarah finally groaned.

"I sort of let it slip to Hermione on accident, and Ginny figured it out on her own, but they haven't told anyone," Harry explained, "And Ron, well... he's Ron. He won't figure it out until he walks in on you two snogging or something."

"And they don't hate me?" Sarah asked quickly, still looking terrified. She knew how her small group of friends felt about Snape; she had been terrified that, if they knew, they wouldn't take it well at all.

Harry chuckled.

"Of course they don't hate you," he said, smiling, "But they were pretty surprised, to say the least. Well, Hermione was. Ginny seemed to take it in stride."

A wave of relief crashed over Sarah at the news that her friends did not hate her because of her relationship with Snape. Said man, however, was still looking quite angry, and glaring at the boy who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Does anyone else know about this?" Snape ground out between clenched teeth.

Harry shook his head in the negative.

"No one," he said, "And neither of them would have told anyone else." He gazed back up into Snape's glare with a look of sincerity, imploring him to believe what he was saying. Luckily, Snape's expression of anger faded away after a few seconds, and he straightened up.

"Well, if there is anything that your little bunch of friends are good at, it is keeping secrets," Snape admitted, his tone dry. He said this while still glaring at Harry, who was fully aware of all the secret trespasses they had committed against Snape in the past.

"That's one less thing to worry about then," said Sarah, who leaned against the wall beside her in relaxation, still experiencing a great amount of relief.

"Well?" Snape pressed, still looking at the boy. The boy hadn't yet said anything in terms of denying him permission to accompany the girl to Grimmauld Place.

"Oh, right," Harry said, realizing that he hadn't given a definite response to Snape's announcement that he would be coming home with them. "If that's what you really want to do, I don't see a problem with it. I've definitely got enough room for everyone, but we'll have to let Mrs. Weasley know that you'll be coming to dinner, and--,"

"That will not be necessary," Snape cut Harry off, his words stiff.

Sarah and Harry remained silent, watching Snape.

"I will not tarnish their Christmas and their memories of their lost son by making them share Christmas dinner with the man who cut off his twin's ear," Snape explained angrily, his nostrils flaring, and his fists clenching at his sides.

"But sir, I know the Weasleys," Harry spoke up in protest, his voice full of concern, "They've forgiven you, they know it was an accident, they--"

"Enough," Snape said harshly, cutting the boy off and making him fall silent. Then, he took a deep, steadying breath. Looking away, he closed his eyes. When he spoke again, it was in a tone with which Harry had rarely heard him speak; a tone of greatest remorse. "Just because they have forgiven me does not mean that I have forgiven myself."

Harry blinked at Snape. He knew that it must be a terrible feeling for someone to know that they have accidentally marred someone forever in such a way, but he had been unaware of the depths of shame which Snape apparently felt for his mistake. This was why he did not want to be anywhere near the Weasley family. He did not fear that they were still angry with him in some way, even after learning that it had been an accident in an attempt to protect a Harry who was really George; he was still angry at himself.

After realizing how much silence had passed, Harry broke it.

"Well, I'm sure Kreacher wouldn't mind fixing up a Christmas dinner for you," he said reassuringly. "Why don't we all get going? I'm sure he won't mind fixing us some breakfast either, and I'll bet he's worried sick about Sarah and I since we never came back. Come on," he said, getting to his feet, displaying his readiness to leave.

Sarah glanced to Snape.

"Is that alright?" she asked. Snape, who was still looking morose over his admittance of shame, nodded once, and then left the room and returned to his quarters.

Before the girl returned to his quarters to get dressed in her normal clothes, he hurried over to the chest of drawers resting against the wall. Opening the top drawer, he withdrew a small, green box tied with a silver ribbon, and slipped it into an inside pocket.

Several minutes later, all three of them were standing in the sitting room, ready to leave. Harry and Sarah had taken virtually no time at all to get ready; the only personal possessions they had brought to Snape's home had been their wands, various pocketed items, the invisibility cloak, the clothes on their backs, and the mysterious strip of paper that they had stolen from Gringotts. Sarah had decided that it was best kept with Harry for safekeeping, and so he now kept it safe in one of his inside pockets. Snape, on the other hand, had packed a modestly sized bag with some clothing and other various personal items for his stay at Grimmauld Place.

"Ready?" Snape asked, looking to the girl and then to the boy. When they both nodded, the boy began heading for the door. "Stop," Snape said loudly, "This is a Muggle neighborhood, and this house is not Unplottable. Despite the fact that the street is practically abandoned, if anyone were to be watching, they would be able to see us Disapparating. There is no need to exit the house in order to leave."

"Right," Harry said, slightly surprised in his own lack of judgment. He was so used to being able to Disapparate unseen from the top step of Grimmauld Place that he had completely forgotten that it probably wasn't the wisest thing to simply walk out the door and vanish in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood. Making a mental note to be more careful of this in the future, he took a deep breath, focused himself on Grimmauld Place, and turned on the spot.

When Harry vanished, Sarah followed his lead and Disapparated. After double checking that the door was well-locked and all the lamps extinguished, Snape followed.

When Snape appeared out of thin air on the top step of Grimmauld Place, room upon the small step became a little cramped, and Sarah, having arrived a split second earlier, nearly toppled off of it. Snape quickly grabbed her by the robes and steadied her. Harry had already brought his wand out of his pocket and tapped the door. All three of them waited as the door clicked and clanked from the other side, its series of locks coming undone.

"So, I've been thinking," Harry said conversationally as they waited for the door to finish unlocking, "What are we going to do about your eyes since the glamour won't stick?"

"That is a puzzlement," Snape admitted, looking down at the girl. She glanced back up at him, her bright red eyes full of concern.

"I was thinking that we could tell everyone that you came down with some kind of magical illness which causes something like that to happen," said Harry. The clicking and clanking had stopped, and Harry turned the door knob, pushing the door wide open to allow all three of them entry. "You know, we'll just make something up."

"Hermione would know that we're lying," Sarah said, stepping through the doorway alongside Snape. When everyone was through, Harry shut the door behind them.

As they removed their traveling cloaks and other outer layers, Harry continued racking his brains for an idea. He had thought that his idea of inventing an illness was a clever one, but Sarah was right. Hermione would immediately know that whatever illness they invented was just that; invented.

"Well, we could always blindfold you," Harry said with a laugh, unable to come up with a superior idea.

Snape rolled his eyes, and Sarah sighed in frustration.

"I'm only joking," Harry said reassuringly.

Before their conversation could continue, Kreacher had emerged from the basement kitchen and made his way into the entrance hall. As always, the house was brightly lit, spotless, and full of warmth. Snape, who had not been back to Grimmauld Place since immediately following Dumbledore's death in order to search the home's contents, was gazing about in utter astonishment. It looked like a completely different place. Instead of the old, drafty, dusty, dark and unkempt place it used to be, it now seemed like a real home. As the house-elf approached them, Snape realized that he too looked completely different. He was dressed in a clean, white towel, with a large golden locket bouncing on his chest, and looked generally well-kept. When Kreacher's huge eyes caught sight of who was standing in the doorway, they widened impossibly large, and his entire little body seemed to swell with relief and happiness.

"Master!" the elf croaked in his deep bullfrog's voice, rushing forward toward Harry and bowing low to the ground. "So concerned Kreacher has been, so concerned! Master and Miss Sarah never returned from your errand!" When he mentioned Sarah, the little elf turned to her as well, bowing. Then, he noticed the tall, dark man standing between them. Recognizing him, he also made a bow to Snape. "Sir," the elf said politely.

"Sorry we worried you, Kreacher," Harry said, "Something, er, came up unexpectedly. We've been staying with Professor Snape for the past few days."

"Very good, master, very good," the house-elf said, bowing low to Harry again. "Is there anything Kreacher can do?"

"Actually, we haven't eaten breakfast, if you don't mind," Harry replied.

"Not at all, master, not at all!" the elf croaked, straightening up. He looked excited beyond words. Harry guessed that he had probably been quite bored in their absence, especially since he had been expecting them back shortly.

The elf beckoned all of them to join him in the kitchen as he prepared breakfast. Harry and Sarah seated themselves across from each other at the end of the long table, and Snape seated himself at the table's head, between them. Before they knew it, the table was laden with more food than any of them knew what to do with. As they began eating, they continued their discussion over what to do about Sarah's eyes.

"Well, I've never seen any of the Weasleys before except for Ron, Ginny, and George," Sarah said between forkfuls of Kreacher's delicious scrambled eggs, "We could just tell them not to mention it and hope that the rest of them don't notice."

Snape, who had been sipping his coffee, set his mug down on the table.

"Red eyes, unfortunately, are not something likely to go unnoticed," he spoke. He then lifted the mug to his lips again.

Sarah turned to Harry who, while thoroughly engrossed in his scrumptious breakfast, was still listening intently. Harry looked over to Snape.

"What if we tell them she's a Metamorphmagus, and she likes her eyes that particular color?" he asked.

In response, Snape shook his head slowly.

"Also unconvincing," Snape said over the rim of his mug, "They are extremely rare, and she would be unable to alter any facet of her appearance if asked to do so."

"Good point," Harry said, turning back to his breakfast. "I guess we don't want to make it too big of a lie."

"Hermione's not going to be there," Sarah pointed out, "Maybe we could tell the Weasleys I've got some kind of illness and hope that they buy it."

Harry swallowed a large mouthful of eggs and sausage.

"We could do that," he agreed, "But Hermione will know that something is amiss as soon as she gets here, and then we'll have to explain."

"Maybe we should explain," Sarah said.

"I think you're right," Harry replied, reaching for his pumpkin juice and bringing it closer to him. "I've been thinking, and I think we need to tell them what's been going on. It's getting kind of serious, and I think they deserve to know."

Snape lowered his coffee mug again.

"Kind of serious? You could have been killed," Snape groused, smirking at the boy in an irritated fashion.

"I only meant that something seems to be going on," Harry clarified, "The Ministry seems to be hiding something, and Fenrir Greyback is alive. I think that's pretty big news that they deserve to know."

"Speaking of which," Snape spoke up, reaching inside his robes. After a moment of searching, he removed a small container of the painful, foul-smelling ointment and set it on the table between all of them. Harry and Sarah groaned simultaneously.

"I was hoping you had forgotten to pack that," Harry admitted. Sarah laughed, and the corner of Snape's mouth twitched.


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After breakfast, Sarah and Harry were treated to more painful sessions with the healing ointment. The rest of the day was spent in contemplation about what exactly they were going to tell their friends about what had happened, and how. Also, a large portion of the afternoon had been spent in the study thinking up names for Sarah's fictional, mysterious, eye-color-changing illness. After much deliberation, they had finally settled on "Occulopigmentitis", Harry's idea, which had caused both he and Sarah to burst out laughing at its suggestion. It ended up sounding much more convincing than any of their other ideas, however, and so they decided to go with it. It was, as Harry noted, convincing-sounding enough to sound real, yet confusing-sounding enough to deter any further inquiry into the nature of the illness. Snape had spent this imaginative session in silence, watching the boy and the girl struggle to come up with ideas; although, more than once, Sarah was sure she had caught him smirking in an amused way at their antics. When she would look his way, he would coolly smooth out his expression again.

When evening came, both Sarah and Harry had dressed themselves in some nicer robes for dinner. Sarah was standing in her makeshift bedroom, the study, with Snape, who was seated upon the sofa that served as her bed, with a book open in his lap. It was now dark outside, but the brightly burning fire, as well as the room's lamps, kept the study glowingly lit and warm. There were large, white flakes drifting lazily past the windows; it was snowing outside again. Sarah was standing at one of the windows, gazing outside at the snow, when Harry knocked twice on the open door's frame and stuck his head into the room. Both she and Snape turned toward him.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked, stepping into the room. It was clear that he had given the best of his efforts to taming his perpetually untidy hair, but his hair had already betrayed him, and looked only marginally less untidy than it usually did.

"Yep," Sarah said excitedly with a smile. She had been greatly looking forward to this. It would be the first time that she had ever really spent Christmas dinner with people who felt like family to her, even though she had not yet met most of them. She approached Snape for a goodbye, but before she reached him, he closed the book in his lap and rose from the couch.

"I've already told Kreacher you'll be staying for dinner," Harry said as he turned to Snape, "It seems like he's really excited to be cooking a Christmas dinner. I think it's been decades since he's gotten to. You should be in for quite a meal."

Snape nodded his thanks to the boy, and then spoke.

"Before you leave, may I have a word with the girl?" he asked.

"Sure," Harry said, but he did not move. Snape glared at him, but Harry gazed back with an expression of polite interest.

"Alone?" Snape clarified loudly, his eyes narrowing at the clueless boy.

"Oh, right," Harry said, blinking rapidly and turning away, mildly embarrassed. "I'll be waiting downstairs when you're ready, Sarah."

When Harry had left the room, Snape turned back to the girl before him. She was looking up at him, her strangely-colored eyes brimming with curiosity, but she remained silent.

"Hold out your hand," Snape told her. He watched as the girl obediently held up her right palm. As she did, the large sleeve of her robe slid down her arm, revealing the thin wrapping of bandages that concealed the strange mark upon her wrist.

"Merry Christmas," Snape said, withdrawing something from inside his robes. He quickly placed it into her open palm; a small, green box tied neatly with a silver ribbon. "I wanted to give you this."

The girl smiled brightly, but then suddenly looked extremely crestfallen as she gazed at the tiny box in her hand.

"What is the matter?" Snape asked, his voice soft and kind.

"I haven't got anything to give you," Sarah said, sounding ashamed. She was blushing deeply, and looked away from him, toward the fire.

"You have already given me quite a lot," Snape reassured her, stepping closer to her and bringing his right hand to her chin. He gently turned her head toward him and tilted it upward, meeting her eyes. "A gift is not necessary. Besides, I imagine it is difficult to find the time to do holiday shopping between breaking into secure institutions and fighting bloody battles in the middle of the night. Plus, I am difficult to buy for, honestly."

His momentary lapse into humor made the girl smile again.

"Open it," he urged her gently, taking his hand away from her chin.

Very carefully, Sarah untied the silver ribbon and let it fall to the floor. Opening the box, she found a beautiful platinum ring in the form of a coiled snake, its tiny emerald eyes glinting brightly in the firelight. She smiled again as she gazed at it, and then rushed forward to wrap her arms around the man standing before her.

"It's beautiful," she whispered as they embraced.

"I am glad you like it," Snape said as they stepped apart again. "I felt that your wardrobe was far too saturated with Gryffindor apparel, and could use a touch of Slytherin. It is small and discreet, so as to not arouse the ire of your adoptive housemates."

"I love it," Sarah said, removing the ring from its box and slipping it onto her left ring finger. When she did, the corner of Snape's lips curled into a tiny smile.

"You should be going," he told her, "You do not want to be late." The girl nodded once, and then leaned up to kiss him softly on the lips. Then, she gazed up at him for several silent seconds, and he knew that she was fighting down the urge to ask him, again, if leaving him here alone on Christmas was really alright. "Go on," he insisted, turning back toward the sofa bed and sitting down upon it, opening his book once more. "When you return, we shall all have loads of Christmas fun explaining my presence to your friends," he said sarcastically.

Sarah laughed and leaned down to hug him where he sat.

"Merry Christmas, Severus," she said.

"Merry Christmas."

After their goodbyes, Sarah made her way out into the hall and down the stairs toward the door. As she passed the door to the basement kitchen, she hesitated slightly at the delicious aroma wafting up. This did not go unnoticed by Harry, who was standing in the doorway, wearing his traveling cloak, and waiting for her. He smiled.

"Don't worry," he said quietly, "Kreacher is a great cook, but Mrs. Weasley is too. Come on."

Once Sarah had donned the large, black traveling cloak which used to belong to Snape, she and Harry stepped out onto the top step of Grimmauld Place. Once they were outside and the door was shut, Harry tapped it with his wand, causing it to lock itself again. He held out his arm to Sarah, who had never before been to the Burrow, and therefore felt much more comfortable making her first trip there by Side-Along Apparition.

"You're going to love the Burrow," Harry said as Sarah locked her arm with his. "Ready?"

After Sarah had nodded once, Harry closed his eyes, focused on the Burrow, and turned on the spot, pulling both of them into the crushing blackness.

Mere seconds later, they rematerialized, shin-deep in snow. Sarah glanced upward immediately. They must be somewhere out in the country, she thought, because she could not recall any time her life when she had seen the stars so numerous or so clear. The moon, nearly half waxed, was shining brightly.

"Look," Harry said, pointing ahead of them.

Sarah tilted her gaze downward, and her eyes fell upon the most peculiar-looking building she had ever seen. They were separated from it by a snowy field, and it rose up in front of them, six stories tall. Sarah's mouth dropped open slightly as she examined it. It appeared as if it were built extremely haphazardly, and she had no idea how it could possibly be standing on its own. As she examined the house, Harry was watching her, chuckling softly at her reaction.

"It's perfectly safe," Harry explained, smiling and urging her forward toward the house with him. "It's held up by magic."

"Of course," Sarah said sarcastically, trudging through the snow at Harry's side.

The Burrow seemed to grow warmer and more welcoming with every step they took toward it. Bright, warm light was shining out of nearly all of its windows, especially on the ground floor, where a great deal of commotion could be heard. There were voices talking and laughing, the clanking of cookware, and the clinking of glasses and bottles. Sarah's eyes widened as she grew closer to the house; it seemed as if a small crowd of people were already inside the home, which did not look overly accommodating for a large amount of guests.

"How many people are coming, exactly?" she asked, her eyes glued to the bright kitchen windows, watching as various unfamiliar red-haired people passed in and out of view.

"Let's see," said Harry thoughtfully, bringing his hands up in front of him to count, "There's me, you, Ginny, Ron," with each name he mentioned, one of his fingers sprouted up from his fists, "George, Percy, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Mr. Weasley, and Mrs. Weasley." Before he had said Mrs. Weasley's name, he had run out of fingers on which to count. "Eleven," he said finally, "Twelve if you want to get technical, since Fleur's expecting," he finished with a laugh.

"That's a lot of people," Sarah said, her voice meek. She had suddenly become slightly nervous about spending the holiday with a large family, most of whom she did not know.

"Don't worry," Harry reassured her as they approached the front door. "They're just about the nicest family you'll ever want to meet."

As Harry knocked loudly on the front door, Sarah took a deep breath. Various voices could be heard shouting out from within the home.

"That must be Harry with your friend," a loud male voice shouted. "Who will get the door? I'm busy with these parsnips."

"I'll get it,"

"Don't be silly, dear, I'll get it,"

"No, mum, I'll--,"

Sarah was watching the unopened door, eyes wide. When the door finally swung open, both she and Harry were bathed in the warmth and light from within. Standing in the doorway was Mrs. Weasley, who was beaming at Harry instantly. Beside her was Ron, and crowded behind both of them was Ginny, who was standing on the balls of her feet in order to see their new guests over her brother's shoulder.

"Harry, dear," said Mrs. Weasley warmly, rushing forward to embrace Harry in a tight hug. She patted the back of his untidy black hair as she held him. "I'm so glad you came, Merry Christmas." Breaking her hug with Harry, she then turned to Sarah, who was already looking quite uncomfortable. Ron stepped up to shake Harry's hand and give him a brief, masculine hug.

"And this must be Sarah," Mrs. Weasley said with all of the warmth with which she had greeted Harry. Sarah's discomfort was immediately dispelled when Mrs. Weasley stepped forward and embraced her in a hug full of motherly love. "Merry Christmas dear," she said. "Come on inside, you don't want to catch cold," she said, stepping back from Sarah.

Both Sarah and Harry were about to step inside when Ron spoke up.

"Your eyes," he said thickly, the surprise evident in his voice, "What's happened to them?"

Sarah instantly became slightly flushed, and Harry clenched his teeth. Of all the times for Ron to notice the tiniest details, he groaned loudly inside his mind.

Mrs. Weasley, who had been moving aside to allow them entry, was now standing quite still. She had not noticed the strange color of the girl's eyes as she stood on the darkened doorstep, and was now gazing at them with a look of mixed curiosity, shock, and fear. Ron was also wearing a similar expression, as was Ginny, who was peeking over his shoulder.

Sarah seemed to have frozen in terror. When she did not speak for a few moments, Harry cleared his throat loudly to jar her back into reality.

"Oh," she said instantly, "Occulopigmentitis."

Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley's looks of confusion intensified, but the fear and shock had faded from their faces. Sarah, who found this immensely reassuring, spoke up again.

"Magical illness," she continued, "Very uncommon, causes eye color to change spontaneously, not contagious at all," she rattled off.

Ron and Mrs. Weasley continued to look confused, but seemed to accept her explanation. Ginny, however, looked skeptical.

"I'm sorry to hear that, dear," said Mrs. Weasley sincerely, pouting a little, "What color are they normally?"

"Brown," Sarah replied automatically, "Dark brown."

"Well I do hope they get back to normal soon," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling, "Now come in before you catch cold, both of you," she said, stepping aside and shooing Ron and Ginny aside as well to allow Harry and Sarah inside.

Ron still looked genuinely confused and could not seem to look away from Sarah's strange new eye color. Ginny shot Harry an accusatory look, but said nothing further when Harry leaned in close to her, kissed her chastely on the cheek, and whispered "We'll explain later," softly into her ear.

In the minutes that followed, Sarah was speedily led about the packed kitchen by Mrs. Weasley and introduced to everyone present. Luckily, Mrs. Weasley had taken it upon herself to hastily explain Sarah's strange illness to each new family member as they were introduced in order to save Sarah what she thought was embarrassment over her condition. Harry used this time to give a more thorough greeting to Ginny after their time apart, during which Ron looked away from them pointedly and mumbled something about Hermione.

Reaching the end of the table, the only two people Sarah had not yet been introduced to was a badly scarred, red-haired man, and the stunningly beautiful woman seated next to him. Mrs. Weasley, her arm securely around Sarah's shoulders, led her over to where they sat.

"Bill, Fleur, this is Sarah, her eyes are normally brown," she said casually smiling down at her son and his wife.

"Er, nice to meet you, Sarah," said Bill, a bit bewildered at his mother's strange introduction of the girl, but smiling nonetheless. He extended his right hand to Sarah, who shook it firmly with her own.

"Enchanté," Fleur smiled, extending her delicate hand toward Sarah next, who shook it more gently. Fleur, several months pregnant, was not yet overly large, but was definitely showing.

"Bill works for Gringotts as a curse-breaker, did you know?" Mrs. Weasley asked Sarah conversationally.

"Wow, that sounds pretty neat," Sarah replied, turning back toward Bill and giving her best effort to mask the fresh nervousness in her voice at the pronouncement that this particular Weasley child was employed at the tightly-secured bank into which she and Harry had just broken into.

Harry, who was now looking over toward Sarah as she conversed with Bill, could not help but notice how frazzled Bill looked, no doubt because of what had occurred at the bank earlier in the week. Mrs. Weasley had stepped away from them, and was now busy with her Wizarding Wireless set, tuning in Celestina Warbeck, and causing Fleur to grimace. Harry was having a difficult time taking his eyes off of Fleur who, in her state of pregnancy, looked positively radiant, and was almost, quite literally, glowing. Ginny corrected this by pulling Harry by the arm toward the sitting room for a game of exploding snap. Ron followed them, and Harry in turn beckoned Sarah over to play the game, bailing her out of an obviously uncomfortable and awkward discussion over bank affairs in the wake of the well-publicized break-in. Although, after being forced to learn how to play a game which involved exploding cards, Sarah thought that she much would have preferred to continue her nerve-racking conversation with Bill.

Christmas dinner at the Burrow was, without a doubt, the best Christmas that Sarah had ever experienced. Despite several teary-eyed remembrances of Fred, the atmosphere was generally one of holiday cheer. Harry had been more than correct about what a good cook Mrs. Weasley was; Sarah could not remember an occasion on which she had managed to eat more food in one sitting. All of them talked, joked, and laughed boisterously. Their laughter and cheer filled the cozy home with just as much warmth as the large, brightly-burning fire in the sitting room. Sarah, despite her initial unfamiliarity with most of the Weasley family, felt warmly accepted and more than welcome among them by the end of the evening. This alone filled her with more happiness than most things ever could. If only briefly, she felt as if she were part of a real family. Various Weasleys were constantly pushing extra helpings onto her plate despite her pleas that she was full beyond belief, and generously refilling her goblet of mead whenever its level would dwindle even slightly. George, who was seated next to her, would frequently whisper things of an extremely humorous nature into her ear. In her laughter, she had to be clapped on the back several times as she ate.

As the evening was winding down, Sarah found herself lounging in the sitting room with Harry and the other Weasley children, save for Ron and Ginny, who had gone upstairs to their rooms to finish packing trunks for their stay at Grimmauld Place for the rest of the winter holidays. Sarah was stretched out over the entirety of a large, cushy armchair, feeling full and sated beyond belief. Harry, Bill, and George were playing another game of exploding snap, while Fleur looked on in amusement. Percy was engaged in reading his copy of The Evening Prophet near the fire, and Charlie sat next to him, downing a healthy measure of Firewhiskey. A few minutes and a few exploding cards later, Ron and Ginny thundered down the steps into the kitchen with their trunks. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had been busy tidying up the rest of the kitchen, turned to them. They gave their two youngest a loving farewell, during which Ginny smiled brightly, and Ron turned scarlet, looking embarrassed. Harry and Sarah stood, facing their friends.

"Ready to go, then?" Harry asked, eyeing the trunks that Ron and Ginny had packed.

When Ron and Ginny affirmed their readiness, Sarah and Harry made their way through the sitting room and into the kitchen.

"Thanks so much," Harry said, leaning into another tight, motherly hug with Mrs. Weasley. "Merry Christmas."

"Not at all, dear, not at all," Mrs. Weasley dismissed his thanks, patting the back of his hair they embraced. "Merry Christmas."

Sarah came forward next, smiling at Mrs. Weasley, who embraced her tightly as well.

"So nice to have you dear, I do hope you enjoyed yourself," she said as she hugged the girl to her, patting the back of her long, straight hair, just as she had done with Harry's, and with her own children. "And I do hope your eyes get back to normal soon."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, really, this was the best Christmas I've ever--,"

"It's nothing dear, it's nothing," Mrs. Weasley assured her, patting her on the side of the cheek affectionately.

After they had bid farewell to the rest of the Weasley family, Harry, Sarah, Ginny, and Ron all stood on the doorstep, ready to leave, and receiving final hugs and handshakes from various Weasleys. After promising Mrs. Weasley that they would spend the rest of their holidays carefully and responsibly, they were on their way, trudging back across the snowy field away from the Burrow to a point from which they could safely Disapparate. Harry had taken to carrying Ginny's trunk, and Ron dragged his along behind him carelessly.

When they were a safe distance away from the house, Ginny could not contain herself any longer, and spoke up quite loudly.

"Are we about to discover the true meaning of Occulopigmentitis?" she asked, putting a sort of flourish on the name of the fake illness, illustrating the fact that she had not, for a second, believed that it had been legitimate. As she spoke, she noticed that Sarah shifted her neck to the side nervously, and Harry cleared his throat softly.

"Oh yeah," Ron spoke up as they walked along, recalling the strange alteration in Sarah's eye color, "How did you get it?" he asked, making it evident that he, unlike Ginny, had fallen for the line. He glanced at Sarah, even though he was unable to see her eyes properly in the darkness that surrounded them.

"I'm afraid that there's quite a lot to explain, actually," Harry admitted, his tone solemn. Luckily, he was able to avoid any further inquisition from his fiery girlfriend by reaching the point from which he could safely Disapparate. He turned on the spot and disappeared.

His three companions all followed suit, arriving together on the front step of Grimmauld Place, which had become quite cramped. Struggling to fit themselves as well as their trunks onto the step, neither Ron nor Ginny raised any further questions at the moment. Harry, having arrived a second before everyone else, had already tapped his wand to the door, which was almost finished unlocking itself.

When Harry swung the door open before them, all three piled inside gratefully, escaping the cold night air. They were immediately assaulted not only with the warm, welcoming heat radiating from within the home, but with a tantalizing aroma which was oddly similar to the scent of the Christmas dinner which had filled the Burrow earlier in the evening. All of them kicked off their shoes and shrugged off their traveling wear as Harry shut the door behind them.

"Blimey, that smells good," Ron spoke up first, unable as always to ignore his stomach, even after having consumed a generously portioned meal. "Who is Kreacher cooking for, anyway?" Ginny, having formed the same question within her mind, glanced to Harry, but Harry did not meet her eyes.

Sarah and Harry remained tentatively silent, but Ron and Ginny soon had their question answered when someone completely and utterly unexpected strode into the entrance hall from the basement kitchen:

Severus Snape.

Ginny looked first to Harry, and then to Snape, with an expression of deepest confusion; Harry merely looked sheepish and glanced away from the both of them. Sarah, with conscious effort, had stopped herself from rushing forward to give the man before her a hug, and Ron stood there, mouth agape, looking dumbfounded. Obviously not having expected to find the four of them at the door on his way up from dinner, Snape first looked slightly surprised, and then slightly bemused at the expressions in front of him. After a moment, he crossed his arms, content to stare at them, knowing that an inevitable explanation of some sort must soon follow.

"What's he doing here?" Ron spoke up at last with his usual lack of finesse.

Harry, Sarah, and Snape had all simultaneously opened their mouths to speak, but all three were interrupted when a loud knock on the door sounded. The situation momentarily diffused, they closed their mouths and immediately looked to the door. Harry, who had not yet re-locked it, reached out for the knob, turned it, and swung the door open to reveal a flustered-looking Hermione in her Muggle winter clothing, complete with puffy jacket, mittens, and wool cap. When the door was fully open, she stepped inside, hugging Ron. A large trunk was lying on the top step behind her.

"Merry Christmas!" she announced, sounding a little out of breath. "Convinced my folks to let me come a bit early, seeing as they're off to ski tomorrow anyhow. I hope it's not any trouble," she said quickly, glancing around at her friends who were all looking slightly aghast. She did a bit of a double take when she caught Sarah's red eyes, but looked markedly more surprised when she caught sight of Snape standing in the entrance hall before all of them. "What's he doing here?" she asked before she could stop herself, and although she sounded much less rude than Ron had, she still looked extremely embarrassed after having asked this.

"That's what I wanted to know!" Ron reiterated, looking from Hermione back to Snape, who smirked.

Several moments of tangibly awkward silence passed, before all eyes in the room turned toward Harry for an explanation.

"Let's all go into the study," he said quietly, motioning up the stairs. "We need to talk."

It was almost two hours later when Harry and Sarah finished explaining everything that had happened to them, although Sarah let Harry do most of the talking. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all seated upon the sofa which served as Sarah's makeshift bed, watching Harry as he paced back and forth feverishly, telling their tale in an animated fashion. Snape was seated in an armchair, quite still, his fingers clasped across his lap as he listened to the boy, and Sarah was seated in a chair opposite him, mostly watching the reactions of her friends as Harry explained everything to them. Harry still, however, managed to delicately skate over the issue of her involvement with Snape, despite the fact that Hermione and Ginny already knew of it.

"And so I knew I couldn't very well take us to St. Mungo's or Hogwarts," Harry continued after having explained their fierce battle with Fenrir Greyback and the mysterious people who had ambushed them on Archer Crescent, "So I brought us to Sna-- Sev--," Harry stuttered, still struggling with what exactly to call the man; anything other than simply Snape still felt distinctly strange and awkward, "Professor Snape's house. He saved our lives, and we've been staying there until today, recovering."

Harry then fell silent, watching his friends. Sarah gazed at them too, anxious about how they would react to everything that had just been told to them. Ginny looked quite pale, as did Hermione, despite her previous knowledge of Harry and Sarah having broken into the Ministry, which she had dutifully kept to herself. Ron's mouth was agape, and he looked almost as if he were going to be sick at the news that Fenrir Greyback was still out there somewhere, alive.

"Blimey," was all Ron could mutter for several minutes.

"Can we see it?" Hermione asked at last, looking toward Sarah. Her voice was extremely quiet, almost a whisper. "The mark?"

Sarah stood, quickly unraveling the bandages wrapped around her wrist which concealed the mark. Stepping over toward where her friends sat on the sofa, she rolled up her sleeve, exposing the strange mark to the eyes of her friends. All of them examined it for a moment, and then looked up into her strange, red eyes, which caused her to look away in embarrassment. Perhaps her friends would fear her now, after they heard what she had done on that night, and learning everything else that they had just learned. She blinked hard.

"We're sorry," Hermione said at once, her voice sincere. "We didn't mean to upset--,"

"It's alright," Sarah said quickly, moving back to the arm chair in which she had been sitting, and sat down once again, wrapping her wrist.

"What does it mean?" Hermione asked. As soon as she had, she could not help notice that Harry and Sarah looked slightly disappointed; perhaps they had been hoping all along that she might somehow have some kind of answer for them. In her desperation, she looked to Snape.

"At the moment, we do not know," he said, his frustration at this fact evident in his tone.

"That's about everything, really," Harry spoke up. "We just felt that you lot deserved to know what's been going on."

"What are you going to do next?" Ron asked, the first intelligible words that he had uttered since the beginning of Harry's long, intricate explanation.

"We're not sure at the moment," Harry admitted, grimacing inwardly; he always did hate not having a definite plan of action. "But I think it's about time we all got to bed, it's getting pretty late."

After several nods of agreement, all occupants of the study were on their feet, stretching and yawning after their long audience. After bidding each other a good night, and a Merry Christmas, they retired.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


It was a while later when Sarah lay awake in bed beside Snape. After everyone had left the study earlier, Snape had transfigured the sofa into a bed large enough for both of them to share. The door to the hallway outside was now closed, and the fireplace was burning lowly. Sarah lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, having pushed most of the covers off of her in discomfort as she tossed and turned restlessly. She could tell that Snape was fast asleep due to his deep, even breathing, but she lay awake, unable to relax.

Spending Christmas with the Weasley family had filled her with happiness and joy beyond measure. It was the first time that she had spent the holiday with anything that came close to qualifying as a real family. Unfortunately, it had also filled her with a great sense of sadness and longing. The Weasley family had accepted her warmly into their midst and made her feel at home, but as welcome as she had felt, it would never change the fact that it was not her family. Her family, which until very recently, she had believed to be dead and gone long ago, something she simply had never known, and would never know as long as she lived. Instead, her family was alive.

Alive... without her...

The more she thought about it, the more it raised burning questions inside her. She could not escape them as they raced through her thoughts, keeping her hopelessly awake. What had happened in the past to make things the way they were now? How had she ended up in America, so very far away from them? Had they given her up? Perhaps they had somehow found out what she was and, being fearful of their daughter the witch, sent her away. And if not, who had done this? Why?

One question burned brightest and hottest of all; despite her nagging doubts, did they somehow know of her?

Could she go back to them? If she did, would she finally be able to have the life that she had always wanted?

Completely overcome with these thoughts, she sighed softly. There was a deep, persistent ache inside of her that all of these questions were creating.

There was only one way to fix it. There was only one way to find out.

Slowly and silently sliding out of bed, she dressed extremely quietly, careful not to wake Snape. After she was fully dressed in her normal attire, she slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. Once she was out in the hallway, she hesitated for a moment, listening intently for any sounds of disturbance in the room she had just left that might indicate Snape having woken up during her departure. After several moments of silence, she was satisfied that he was still asleep, and she slowly tiptoed up the stairs, making her way to the room in which she knew Harry and Ginny slept; his godfather's old bedroom.

Reaching the door, she opened it as quietly as she possibly could. When it was open a crack, she listened inside. She could hear both Harry and Ginny breathing slowly and evenly. They were asleep. Pushing the door open more widely, she found the room to be dark. Drawing out her wand, she lit it as dimly as she could manage, carefully scanning the room before her. It was only a moment before she found what she was seeking; there, draped over a chair in the corner of the room nearest the door, was Harry's invisibility cloak. Putting her wandlight out and taking only a few silent steps into the room, she reached out and grabbed the cloak, slowly backed out of the room, and shut the door. Just as she had done when she left the study, she lingered for a moment to make sure that she had not woken them. When no sound came, she tiptoed her way down the staircase toward the front door.

Despite the danger, this was the only way she could answer some of her questions. She knew she had to do it, but she would at least be as safe as possible about it, which was why she had taken Harry's cloak. She was sure he would not mind her borrowing it for a little while. She would not risk putting her friend in any more danger by asking him to accompany her. She would go alone. With the cloak, she should be perfectly safe.

Before she reached the front door, Kreacher suddenly appeared before her in the hallway, having emerged from the basement kitchen. She started, gasping slightly, surprised by the elf.

"Oh, Kreacher," Sarah whispered, "You scared me."

"Sorry miss," the elf said, giving her a low bow, "It was not Kreacher's intention. Having trouble sleeping? Is there anything Kreacher can do?"

"Actually, Kreacher, I'm going to go for a walk to clear my head," Sarah whispered back, realizing something thing that she had not previously thought of. She had never seen anyone but Harry lock or unlock the door to Grimmauld Place, and he always used his wand to do so. She was instantly unsure if she would be able to unlock it herself, or if attempting to do so would trigger some sort of alarm. "But there is something you could do for me, Kreacher."

"Anything, miss," the elf said, bowing again.

"Just open the door for me, and don't lock it. I'll need to be able to come back in, obviously." Sarah told the elf.

"Of course miss," the elf said, waving a tiny hand toward the front door, which began clicking and clanking as its series of locks came undone.

Sarah clenched her teeth and winced slightly as the door made noises which, in the relative silence of the hallway, sounded akin to cannon fire. When the noise had stopped, she stared back up the darkened hallway which led upstairs. No stirring came. Hopefully it hadn't woken anyone up.

"Thanks, Kreacher," Sarah said, swinging the invisibility cloak over her shoulders. "I'll be back in a while."

With this, Sarah slipped on her boots and stepped out of the door, and the elf closed it behind her. She lingered for a moment, but did not hear the elf lock the door. Satisfied, she fully covered herself with the cloak. Closing her eyes and focusing very hard on Archer Crescent, she turned on the spot and Disapparated, feeling a now-familiar jerk behind her navel as she was pulled into the crushing blackness.

When her lungs expanded back into reality, she immediately took a moment to be sure that she was still concealed by the cloak. After being sure that she was still completely invisible, she began making her way down the lane. Archer Crescent looked much the same as it had on the night when she had first come here, and there was a thin, fresh coating of snow upon the ground, making the snow that had already lain there appear new once again. Many of the Muggle houses were gaily decorated with holiday lights which blinked and glittered in a rainbow of different colors which shone onto the snow. The street, thankfully, was already clear of snow, no doubt thanks to Muggle snow plows. She kept to the street as she walked along so that she would not leave a trail of disembodied footprints behind her.

When she reached the house numbered Twelve, she took a deep, steadying breath. She also took a slow, careful scan of her surroundings. Confident that she was alone, she strode forward, making her way up the house's short drive, and up the walk to the front door. Despite the lateness of the hour, the house was still lit brightly from within. At least someone had to be awake, she thought. When she reached the door, she glanced over both shoulders quickly, just to be sure that she wasn't being followed. When she saw no one, she removed the cloak and stuffed it unceremoniously inside her robes. Without a second thought, she pushed the small button which rang the bell inside of the home.

For several moments, nothing happened. Just as she was beginning to think that perhaps no one was home, she heard footsteps approaching the doorway from within. This was it.

The door swung open. Standing in the doorway was a tall, thickly-built, kind-looking man with dark brown eyes, dressed in a jumper and slacks. At his side was a woman who was slightly shorter than Sarah, with hazel eyes and long, straight brown hair. She was also dressed in a festive jumper, and wore bluejeans.

Sarah looked up at them, her eyes frantic as they darted between the man and woman before her, desperately searching for something, for some kind of recognition, some slight inkling of realization or knowing.

Nothing came.

Instead, the man and woman stared confusedly at the strangely dressed girl on their doorstep.

"Yes?" the man spoke up at last, his voice accented in a way similar to Harry's, "Can we help you?"

A deep, stabbing pain shot through somewhere inside Sarah's chest. She might have died at that moment and not have cared; her own parents did not recognize her.

"Sorry," she said mechanically, trying to mask the pain in her voice, "Wrong house."

With this, she spun on her heel and began marching away from the door as confidently as possible, but when she heard it slam shut behind her, she collapsed to her knees on the snowy walk, shaking, hot tears welling up in her eyes. Despite her pain, she still had enough sense to pull the invisibility cloak out of her robes and drape it over herself once again, making her invisible as she continued to kneel on the cold pavement of the walkway, sobbing quietly into her sleeves.

A moment later, she froze and silenced herself when she heard a footstep extremely close to her. For several moments she remained as still and as silent as she possibly could. She stared down at the pavement, too frightened to gaze up at her surroundings, afraid that somehow, someone would be able to see her if she moved. Scathing thoughts raced through her mind. You were an idiot to come here alone, she hissed at herself inside her head, No one knows you're here, and now somebody might have just seen you, somebody who was waiting for you to show up here again.

As if reading her thoughts, a voice spoke out of the darkness at her.

"I don't need to see you to know you're there," the voice drawled. "I can smell your blood."

Nearly paralyzed with fear, it took a great deal of effort for Sarah to raise her head and look up in front of her. Instead of finding a wand pointed squarely at her face, she found a blade.

Before her stood a tall, slim figure, entirely cloaked in black. Nothing of the figure was visible except the long, slightly curved sword pointed squarely between her eyes, only mere inches away, and the pale hand which clutched its long hilt. Sarah was frozen in terror.

"Didn't you hear me?" the voice asked impatiently, "I said," the figure drew its blade back to strike, "I know you're THERE!"

The figure slashed its blade through the air toward Sarah, who dove aside into the snow-covered lawn. The figure's hooded head followed her movement, even before she fell into the snow, making it clear that somehow, they could indeed sense where she was, even under the protection of Harry's cloak.

The figure moved to strike again, and Sarah immediately leapt to her feet, ripping the cloak off as she went, allowing her to sprint at full speed. She stuffed the cloak away and withdrew her wand, but continued running out of sheer terror.

She was stopped dead in her tracks as she felt a hot, slashing pain across her back, causing her to immediately stumble down onto the pavement of the street, hitting it hard. Her sides were already feeling warm; she was bleeding. Trembling, she struggled to right herself, standing on shaky legs, and turning back toward her attacker. Even though the figure was standing several yards away from her, they had somehow managed to slash her with their sword as if they had been within striking distance. Knowing full well that she was probably no match for whoever this mysterious person was, she raised her wand toward them anyway.

"That's more like it," the figure said, raising its blade to meet her wand. "I wanted a rematch after last time," the figure spoke, twirling its blade deftly in its hand, causing it to glint in the moonlight, "Didn't bring this last time, you see, since we weren't supposed to use much force against you," the figure stopped twirling its blade, pointing it square at Sarah once again, "But now I'm allowed to do whatever the hell I want to you as long as it makes you come quietly."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Sarah spoke defiantly, even though her voice was shaking slightly. The painful, searing slash across her lower back was making it difficult to even stand. Her wand was still pointed squarely at the figure.

"That's what I was hoping you'd say!" the figure shouted maniacally, slashing its sword toward Sarah in a graceful arc.

Sarah was momentarily confused when the figure did not approach any closer and merely swung its sword at her, but she painfully realized that this must not be any ordinary sword when she was slashed across the shoulder in the same way that her back had been. When the figure raised its sword again, she moved to defend herself, and soon they were dueling, with Sarah somehow managing to defend herself against the figure's strange and vicious onslaught.

"Stupefy!" the figure shouted, and a jet of red light burst forth from the very blade of its sword.

Sarah barely managed to deflect the spell, and the force of it knocked her back several feet where she fell to one knee, watching as the figure raised its sword again. She gritted her teeth; she was in extreme pain, and bleeding fairly copiously. She had no idea how long she would be able to keep this up. Either she would die now, or she would surrender and let this mysterious person take her wherever they would. At least then she might get some of her questions answered.

No. No! A voice shot through her head as soon as she had these thoughts, forcing her back to her feet despite her extreme pain. She immediately felt as if something hot were boiling up from within her, something that would not allow her to die. Her heart began pumping even harder, and the agony from her fresh wounds somehow began to feel duller and more distant, allowing her to think clearly through the pain.

"Haven't had enough, yet?" the figure spat, slashing its sword toward her again.

This time, Sarah deflected the invisible slashing spell with ease.

Wait a moment... spell...

A sudden realization shot through her mind. Her attacker did have a wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Sarah shouted. An arc of white light struck the hilt of the figure's sword, and it jerked out of its hand quickly, but stopped midair, and was deftly swung back into its owner's hand. Sarah's eyes were wide in shock.

"Sorry, girl," the figure said lowly, rolling up its cloak sleeve a little; the sword was literally chained to a shackle-like bracer on its arm. "That won't work with me."

Before Sarah could react, more spells were being slung at her, and she was struck forcefully back onto the ground. As soon as she hit the pavement, her pain became evident to her once again. She trembled as she struggled to right herself into a sitting position while the figure, still standing several yards away from her, cackled.

"Not so tough anymore, are you?" the figure laughed, "What's the matter, lost your flair from the other night?"

The figure slashed its sword again, striking Sarah while she was down, sending her tumbling down the pavement several feet before she came to a stop. As she went, her grip on her wand was lost; it flew from her hand and rolled uselessly away from her, coming to rest in the curb of the street, far beyond her reach.

"Come with me and we can stop this foolishness," the figure spat again, its sword still pointed squarely at the girl.

Sarah winced, but not from her pain; now that she no longer held her wand, the strange feeling was boiling up hotly inside of her again but more intensely, screaming for survival, making the severe pain of her fresh wounds seem once again like dull, distant aches. Instead of clearing her head this time, however, her mind seemed to be buzzing with this strange feeling, blocking out all other thought aside from self-preservation. She could dimly and faintly register the searing feeling coursing through her, and it was strange, like fear, anger, confusion and rage all rolled into one. Her eyes felt hot; perhaps she was crying? She no longer knew. This time, without trembling, she righted herself and regained her feet, facing her attacker.

As the girl stood again, the figure straightened up, apparently surprised at her resilience. When she raised her eyes, the figure raised its sword higher. Her eyes were glowing red in the darkness, just as they had done on the night when she had single-handedly dispatched half of them. The figure steadied itself. This it what it had been after.

"That's more like it," the figure said.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Sarah repeated darkly, staring down her attacker. When she spoke, she barely recognized her own voice, but she could not think on it; no thought could penetrate the searing haze that had descended upon her mind other than the thought of survival.

The figure raised its sword to strike again, but the girl was faster, sending the figure reeling with a spell of her own, worked without a verbal incantation, and without a wand. The figure barely blocked the spell, and before they had time to act again, the girl was upon them, and the figure was soon overwhelmed.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Late in the night, Snape turned over in bed, half awake. The fire was nothing more than glowing embers now, casting their warm, soft light into the room in which he and the girl slept. Rarely had he ever slept so well, feeling so relaxed and utterly contented, but merely lying in the girl's presence was enough to fill that strange, empty place inside his chest with warmth beyond measure. Almost smiling to himself, he reached out to place his hand gently on the sleeping girl's side as he fell back to sleep.

Instead, he found only cold, empty sheets.

His eyes shot open instantly, viewing the empty section of bed beside him. The hand that had reached out for the girl groped through the sheets frantically as if he expected to find her hidden within them. When he found nothing, he sat bolt upright, his eyes scanning the room around him in the faint light, hoping he would find her somewhere else in the room, but he was alone. For some unknown reason, someplace deep inside him was filled with a feeling of dread. He sprang out of bed, tossed on his clothes, and rushed out of the door into the hallway, still eagerly scanning around him, hoping to find the girl, even though he already knew she was gone.

Bounding down the stairs, he reached the front door. The door was unlocked and girl's boots were gone, but her long black traveling cloak, which he had given to her, was not. He did not need to guess twice as to which cloak she had taken instead. He quickly stomped his way back up the stairs, reaching the landing which housed the door to Sirius' old bedroom. Without knocking or otherwise announcing his entrance, he flung the door open loudly so it slammed upon the wall, shattering the silence within. In an instant, his wand was lit in his hand, shining it directly upon the bed. There, the bed's two occupants, Potter and the Weasley girl, both in varying states of undress amidst their bedding, squinted and blinked at it in surprise.

Harry sat up to face Snape as Ginny clutched the sheets up tightly, hiding her body. Before he had a chance to ask what the bloody hell was going on, Snape spoke.

"She's gone," Snape said angrily.

"Gone?" Harry asked, momentarily dazed and confused in his state of sleepiness. He soon realized what was going on, however, when he watched as Snape began scanning the room around him with his wandlight. It soon spotlighted the empty chair in the corner closest to the door, the chair upon which he had put his invisibility cloak, which was now gone. "My cloak's gone, too!" Harry shouted, scrambling out of bed, "She must have taken it! Where has she gone?" he asked, but when his eyes met Snape's through the wandlight, the answer became clear to both of them.

"We have to find her," Harry breathed, and immediately began throwing on his clothes haphazardly, "They could be waiting for her to show up there again." In only a few seconds, he was fully dressed, and strode over to the door where Snape waited.

"Quickly," Snape said, motioning out of the door.

"Wait!" came a shout from within the room. Both Harry and Snape looked back; Ginny too had sprang from bed and was dressing herself as quickly as Harry had. "I'm coming too," she told them. She was immediately filled with resentment and anger when an expression of concern washed over Harry's face. Snape's expression remained neutral, but it was clear that he wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"Ginny, please," Harry begged her, "Stay here. You heard what happened to Sarah and I when we faced these people before. It's too dangerous."

He gazed into her eyes. He could feel the anger burning within them.

"Please," he begged her again, "I'm going with Snape, we'll be fine. We'll be back soon. You need to stay here and tell Ron and Hermione what's going on if they get up and find us gone. Please,"

Ginny continued looking mutinous, but said nothing.

"Potter," Snape said impatiently.

Harry looked back and nodded to Snape. With one look back at Ginny, he followed Snape out of the door, and Ginny did not follow. Harry felt a pang of regret, but it was soon drowned out by his fear of the situation at hand. Sarah had snuck out unaccompanied to visit Archer Crescent again. He felt a small degree of reassurance in the fact that she had taken the invisibility cloak, but what if it hadn't been able to fully protect her? What if there had been people waiting there for her arrival, just as there had been on the night they had broken into the bank and discovered the truth that had led them there?

Harry and Snape rushed down the staircase together. Reaching the unlocked front door, they flung it open, stepping out into the cold, dark night. Both of them Disapparated as soon as their heels hit the concrete of the top step.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Muggle maintenance crews had been quite perplexed earlier in the week to find the pavement of Archer Crescent ripped, cracked, and buckled in various places. It was something that they had dismissively attributed to a bad freezing and thawing cycle as well as the use of plows, and the residents of the neighborhood had been assured that the damage would be repaired as soon as possible. Now, however, they would find their little street had sustained even more damage. Sections of pavement, just like before, were buckled and torn up.

Standing in the center of one of these newly damaged spots was the girl, her face almost expressionless, her eyes wide and quite literally ablaze, glowing brightly red. Even though the night was still, an unnatural wind seemed to be whipped up around her, causing her torn robes to flutter and billow, and her long hair to flow wildly about her shoulders. A short distance away from her, a hooded and cloaked figure was kneeling amidst more broken up pavement, having been brought to one knee.

Suddenly, there came two loud cracks from a pair of rushed Apparitions, arriving nearly simultaneously.

Harry and Snape had arrived on Archer Crescent, standing side-by-side in the middle of the street a short distance behind where Sarah stood. Her back was facing them, and she seemed to not have registered the telltale sounds of Apparition from behind her, and remained focused only on the hooded figure kneeling a short distance before her. The figure, on the other hand, had noticed immediately, its hooded head snapping upward in the direction of the noise. After the momentary distraction, the figure continued focusing on the girl.

Harry's breath caught in his throat at what he saw. Sarah was standing there, her robes tattered, torn, and bloody as they swirled about her. Much of the pavement he could see was torn up around her. A short distance in front of her knelt a figure, but Harry could see nothing beyond its hooded and cloaked exterior. His eyes were then drawn to her right forearm. The thin wrapping of bandages that had concealed the strange mark upon her wrist were gone; they were now dancing in the wind that whirled around her, thoroughly singed away. The mark was alight, as if it were some strange glow-in-the-dark tattoo. She held no wand. It was lying in the curb a short distance away from her.

Harry may have been at a loss for words, but Snape was not.

"Sarah!" he shouted loudly, advancing toward her without hesitation.

The girl's eyes could not possibly widen any more than they already were. Instead, their bright red glow dimmed slightly as she heard her name, and her facial expression, although still mostly blank, flickered momentarily into confusion.

Sarah!... Her name echoed dimly through the haze. It was soft. She could barely hear it.

"Sarah!" Snape shouted again, drawing closer to her. Harry began rushing forward as well.

The girl blinked, her eyes dimming slightly more and becoming less wide.

Sarah...

The hooded figure kneeling before the girl, ever the opportunist, sprang into action, recognizing the girl's momentary confusion and lack of focus. In an instant, the figure was upon her, taking her down to the pavement, and moving atop of her in an odd and sinister fashion...

"Get off her!" Harry shouted, slashing his wand through the air toward the figure who had taken Sarah down. The figure dodged away uncannily, leaping back several yards with frightening agility, and landing steadily upon its feet.

This show of unnatural agility had initially sent a jolt of fear through Harry. He had only ever seen Fenrir Greyback display such superhuman physical ability. Yet as soon as he got a closer look at the figure that had been atop his friend, he knew it could not be the werewolf; this figure was tall, lean, and normally proportioned instead of hunched, muscular, and deformed. As the figure landed, however, all doubt was removed. It had lost its hood. Any relief Harry might have felt about the fact that the figure was not Greyback was immediately dispelled when he saw the figure's face in more detail.

In the darkness, Harry should not have been able to see much of the figure's face, but this was counteracted by the fact that the figure's eyes were glowing dimly violet. It was a tall, handsome-looking young man who bore the strangely glowing violet eyes. His skin was waxy white and pale, his features gaunt. Although he appeared young, his dark hair was streaked in places with a silvery grey, and pointed ears protruded from it. Harry was once again at a loss for words, but he continued pointing his wand squarely at the strange, glowing-eyed man's chest.

Snape, meanwhile, rushed forward to where the girl lay and propped her up, cradling her limp and trembling form tightly in his arms. Her eyelids were flickering and she groaned feebly. Good, Snape thought to himself quickly, She is still conscious. He examined her body quickly, scanning over her with his dark, fear-filled eyes. She had been slashed numerous times as if by a knife, but it was somehow slightly different from the Sectumsempra spell. He immediately began tracing over a few of her wounds with the powerful countercurse that he knew, but it seemed much less effective than normal.

"Who are you?" Harry shouted at the figure, who remained quite still while he gaged the situation. For a moment, Snape turned his attention away from the girl, scowling darkly. When he caught sight of the pale figure, his expression darkened even more, and a new sense of fear rushed through him.

"If you must know," the figure began, his voice smooth and strangely accented, "I am Vincent Albrecht Blutsauger the Fifth, but you may call me--,"

"Vampire," Snape snarled, his voice full of venom.

Harry looked momentarily alarmed, glancing to Snape and then back to the figure. The man smirked smugly.

"Well, if it isn't Snape," the man said, glaring, "I heard the Dark Lord tried to finish you off but failed. Pity." The man then took notice of the way Snape was cradling the girl in his arms as she lay upon the ground. He smirked again, knowingly, but said nothing. His mere presence and the fact that he had injured the girl was causing Snape far more concern and fear than any words he could possibly utter.

Snape glared back, his nostrils flaring. His right hand, holding his wand tightly, twitched. He would have liked nothing more than to give the vampire the full brunt of his anger, but he could not bring himself to let go of the bleeding girl in his arms. The girl needed him. Keeping his eyes glued on the vampire in case of further attack, he began tracing over the girl's wounds without looking, muttering the lyrical countercurse under his breath. His hand was trembling.

Without warning, Harry shot a stunner in the man's direction. The streak of bright, red light was easily deflected with a loud, metallic clang. Harry was initially unfazed, and out of habit, his next move was to disarm quickly while his opponent recovered from blocking the spell. He was stopped dead, however, as soon as he raised his wand again. His opponent was not holding a wand, but a sword. He had deflected the stunning spell with his blade.

The vampire smirked, knowing what the boy's next move had been.

"Too alike," he smirked, slashing his blade through the air toward the boy in the blink of an eye.

Harry, having been momentarily caught off guard by the revelation that he was fighting an opponent with a sword instead of a wand, barely managed to deflect the slash. Before he knew it, he was dueling full on with the strange glowing-eyed man. He scarcely had time to think. The vampire was an extremely adept duelist, with startling speed, power, and agility. There was something distinctly different about dueling the sword-weilding vampire, something that Harry could not quite put his finger on as he worked feverishly to deflect the vicious slashes that his opponent was slinging at him; it felt different than dueling an opponent with a wand. Despite his efforts, he found himself being grazed painfully by slashes from the strange blade.

Sarah stirred feebly again with a slight groan. Strangely colored flashes of light were reaching her eyelids, rousing her in her semiconscious state. The frenzied sounds of a heated duel filled her ears. Next, she registered that she was not lying on the cold, hard pavement. She was resting in someone's warm, strong arms, propped up against a solid body. Very close to her, someone was whispering something which sounded like song. Her entire body was racked with pain. She could never remember feeling weaker than she did now. With great effort she managed to open her eyelids.

There, looming over her, Snape's pale silhouette stood out against the dark sky above. His eyes were focused elsewhere on her body as he attempted to mend her, and they were full of fear. As he held her in his arms, she could feel his body trembling slightly.

Suddenly, she heard a yell of pain. Snape's head turned immediately in the direction of the yell.

That sounded like...

"Harry," she managed to whisper, her eyes straining to look beyond her current field of vision and locate her friend. As soon as she spoke, Snape turned back to her, his eyes wide. Sarah's eyes did not meet them; they were still trying to find Harry. There came another yell and a loud, metallic clang.

Oh no,...

Her mind was gradually coming up to speed. She realized that she could not remember what had just happened. She did not know how she had come to lie here in Snape's arms, barely conscious, in terrible agony. Somehow, they must have discovered that she had left Grimmauld Place, and they had come here to find her. Now, Snape was trying to tend to her wounds, and Harry was dueling with the hooded and cloaked man who had attacked her, a duel which he was obviously struggling with.

Her eyes ceased their search for Harry and looked up at Snape. She had taken a deep breath to try and speak, but Snape spoke first.

"Sarah, you must tell me," Snape breathed. His words were quick, and his voice sounded hollow and shaken. "Did he--,"

"His wand," Sarah said weakly, "His wand is in the hilt of his sword."

Snape, interrupted by the girl's words, did not continue. He turned toward Potter who was beginning to resemble the girl in his state of injury and dishevelment as he struggled to duel with the vampire. He needed help. The hand gripping his wand tightened. He had to help Potter.

"Stay here, don't move," he said, lowering Sarah's body back down to the pavement as gently as he could. As soon as she was out of his arms, he sprang into action, stepping into the duel with several long strides.

He stood nearly side-by-side with the boy, fighting in tandem with him to fend off the vampire's attacks. Even with two extremely skilled wizards dueling him simultaneously, the vampire was holding his own, easily deflecting spells with his blade and sending his own curses back at them.

"His wand is in the hilt of his sword," Snape repeated the girl's words loudly over the din of the fight, glancing to his side where the boy stood. The boy gave the affirmation of a single nod.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, sending a streak of bright, white light at the vampire's sword.

Just for amusement's sake, the vampire allowed the spell to strike his weapon. He then enjoyed surveying Potter's facial expression as the sword was stopped midair and deftly twirled back into his hand. It was chained to him.

Harry faltered only for a moment when the disarming spell failed. Knowing that even a momentary lapse against this opponent would end in a serious injury, he pressed on in his attack with Snape at his side.

"Again!" Snape shouted at the boy, making it clear that he should attempt to disarm again.

"It's going to take more than that!" the vampire shouted back, grinning maniacally as he fended off the two wizards. His long, sharp fangs were made plainly visible. "Hyah!"

The vampire had made a swift, wide-arcing slash with his sword out in front of him. He sent a shock wave toward Snape and Harry so powerful that they were both knocked off balance and stumbled back. Before Harry could regain his footing, the vampire was upon him, but using magic was apparently no longer his aim; he was trying to physically run Harry through with his blade. The sword dove for Harry's stomach and Harry lurched aside quickly, causing him to lose his balance completely and tumble to the broken pavement beneath him. In the chaos, he had lost his grip on his wand, and it flew out of his hand, landing several inches away. As he groped for his wand, the sword lunged for him again and Harry rolled aside frantically, causing the sword to strike the broken pavement with a shower of sparks.

Before he could strike again, Snape had sent a curse at the vampire, who, despite his focus on trying to skewer the boy, blocked it skillfully with a loud clang. Soon, Snape and the vampire were dueling in extremely close quarters, wand against sword.

Harry sprang up, recovering his wand and turning to where Snape was locked in combat with the vampire. To a confused onlooker, it may have appeared as if they were actually fencing. Between working his spells, the vampire was attempting to run Snape through with his blade. The vampire was cackling. Snape's footwork was impeccable, allowing him to sidestep the blade as he fought. Harry raised his wand toward them, but his hand was shaking. At any moment, he was fearful that Snape would fall victim to that wickedly slashing blade. He had never seen a duel so strange in all his time as a wizard. Any spell he might have thrown at the vampire was liable to hit Snape as well. They stepped back and forth as they fought, cloaks flowing about them, their expert feet dancing beneath them as they twirled and turned. Harry watched, helplessly, shifting his aim to the vampire wherever he moved, waiting for an opportune moment to present itself.

The ideal moment soon presented itself when Snape made a critical misstep, causing him to be slashed across his right shoulder by the blade. He yelled in pain, leaping back and falling to one knee. Just as the vampire raised its blade to strike while his opponent was down, Harry's own hand shot forth.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, squarely striking the vampire's raised hand, causing the blade to leap out of his grasp.

Just as the length of chain was about to snap taut, Snape, without rising from one knee, slashed his wand through the air toward it.

"Diffindo!" he shouted. There came a loud clank, and the chain keeping the vampire's sword secured to his arm was cleanly sheared in half.

"No!" the vampire shouted, watching as his blade did not stop in its momentum to return to him. The chain cut, it soared well out of his reach.

The power of the Harry's disarming spell sent it flying several houses down before it finally landed in the middle of the street with another shower of sparks. As it lay there on the pavement, free of its master's hand, it twitched and writhed, as if it were a limb that had just been severed from some great beast. Without hesitation, the vampire dashed for his blade. With his back turned to Snape and Harry, he made an easy target. Curses were flying after him, but he continued to dodge uncannily, causing the spells to collide with the ground in small explosions of pavement.

Harry threw every curse he could possibly think of as fast as he could, watching in horror as the vampire drew closer to his blade with frightening speed. Snape had regained his feet as he sent spells at the vampire, but it was clear that he was injured and his condition was steadily worsening. If the vampire regained his sword, he might soon have to duel him alone if Snape became incapacitated.

Snape's eyes narrowed. There was only a split second until the vampire would reach his sword. His hand shot forth and he shouted with all of his might.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The jet of green light was not aimed at the vampire, but where the sword lay. Both Harry and Snape watched as he dove for the sword in a rolling tumble. The instant the vampire's hand grasped the hilt, there was a loud crack. The vampire vanished, and Snape's killing curse struck the empty street, sending shards of broken pavement flying in all directions, some of which were alight with strange, green flames which died out momentarily.

"He got away!" Harry shouted, grimacing, and rushing toward the spot where the vampire had just Disapparated from.

"He fled," Snape corrected him, gripping his bleeding left shoulder tightly with his right hand, trying to staunch its flow. "We need to return to Grimmauld Place, now. He may return here. Go," he commanded.

Eager to avoid further confrontation with the crazed, sword-wielding vampire, Harry nodded once. He then dashed over to the curb where Sarah's wand lay. Snatching it up, he tossed it to Snape who caught it. Next, he turned on the spot, vanishing with a loud crack.

Tucking the wands away in the outside pocket of his robes, Snape hurried over to where the girl lay. He was confident that he had patched her up enough to take her life out of danger before he was forced to aid the boy in fighting off the vampire, but she was still badly injured and in dire need of care. He knelt down to her, ignoring his own injury and cradling her, wincing in pain as he rose, carrying her in his arms. Holding her tightly to him, he turned on the spot, pulling both of them into the crushing blackness.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Harry arrived on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place mere seconds before Snape. In their haste to leave, they had not bothered to shut the front door. Now, however, it was shut. Rushing forward, Harry turned the knob and pushed forward. Thankfully, the door was unlocked. As soon as it was open, there came a loud shriek from inside.

"They're back!" Hermione screamed in surprise.

Harry looked up. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were all standing at the base of the stairs, wearing robes over their nightclothes. Ron was looking sleepy, yawning as he leaned against the wall. Hermione looked frazzled and nervous. Ginny, on the other hand, looked positively cross. The hall around them was fully lit. They had been waiting here for quite some time for their friends to return. Just as Ginny was fixing to berate Harry about where the bloody hell he had been, Hermione shrieked again.

"You're bleeding!" she screamed, pointing at Harry, whose robes were torn in places, and slightly dampened with blood. Harry blinked, having forgotten about his own injuries. They were nothing more than razor blade scratches compared to the slash that Snape had received.

Before anyone could say anything further, Harry was shoved aside by Snape, carrying a bloodied, unconscious Sarah whose robes were slashed and torn. Hermione and Ginny both gasped audibly in fear, and Ron became quite pale.

"What's happened?" Hermione breathed, beginning to tremble as she took in Sarah's state of injury. Snape, it seemed, was also injured, bleeding from a slash wound across his right shoulder. He looked much more pale than usual.

Snape pushed right past them, carrying Sarah up the stairs toward the study.

"Potions supplies," he said loudly as he climbed the stairs, "I need potions supplies."

"I've brought my kit, but I don't have many ingredients!" Hermione squeaked, rushing up the stairs after him to reach the room that she had been sharing with Ron. Ron and Ginny immediately rushed up the stairs after her, and Harry, after shutting and locking the door behind him, followed.

"There's a cupboard in the kitchen with a bunch of ingredients!" Harry shouted up.

Snape had already made his way into the study and laid Sarah out on the bed, rushing back out into the hallway before Harry had even reached the top of the stairs. He made eye contact with him, glaring at him demandingly, but saying nothing.

"It's the top left cupboard on the far wall," Harry supplied. Without a word, Snape swept past him, thundering his way down the stairs and disappearing into the basement kitchen. Harry, meanwhile, made his way into the study, where Ron and Ginny were already huddled around Sarah. One of them must have stoked the fire to life again. He approached the bed, standing next to Ginny.

A moment later, Hermione stepped into the room, carrying her potion making kit. She dumped all of its components unceremoniously upon the desk against the wall and rushed over to the bed, eyeing Sarah with fear.

"I woke them up after you left," Ginny explained. Initially, when Harry had walked in the door, she had been ready to spout at him about how sore she was for making her stay behind, but the state in which he returned had made her forget her anger. "What happened? Where did she go?" she asked. Her tone was quiet and gentle, as if she were afraid of waking the unconscious girl upon the bed from a deep sleep.

"She went back to Archer Crescent, alone," Harry spoke, but all eyes were on Sarah's unconscious form. "We don't know exactly what happened yet, but she was attacked." Harry leaned forward, reaching out toward Sarah. He had seen a small part of his invisibility cloak protruding from her torn robes. Gently, he pulled it out. The cloak was completely unscathed. He set it aside.

Before anyone could ask who exactly had attacked Sarah, Snape reappeared, his arms laden with jars and containers of potions ingredients from the cupboard downstairs. He dumped them all on the desk in a similar fashion as Hermione, and snatched up a single vial from the untidy potion making kit. He then made his way over to the bed. As he went, he drew out his wand and waved it vaguely across the room; a tall, high-backed chair skidded its way across the floor, coming to rest beside the bed where the girl lay.

Seating himself, he grasped her left arm, pulling it closer to him. All eyes were drawn first to a shining platinum ring on her finger, a coiled serpent with glittering emeralds for eyes. Rolling up her sleeve, Snape revealed a large gash which he had already partially mended. He placed the tip of his wand on it, drawing it slowly across the place where she had been cut. He reopened the wound.

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione all flinched and winced when fresh, crimson blood appeared.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked loudly, sounding incredulous.

Snape, without looking up, continued his work.

"Testing her," he replied, bringing the vial close to the reopened wound. With his wand, he began siphoning her blood into the vial in a similar fashion as one might remove memories for placement into a pensieve.

"For what?" Harry asked, grimacing as he watched Snape gather Sarah's blood. He could feel his own cuts stinging him, but they did not seem to be bleeding badly.

"Porphyric Hemophilia," Snape supplied.

Hermione gasped loudly, clapping a hand to her mouth, her eyes filled with terror. Snape remained silent, knowing that the Granger girl would probably begin reciting a textbook definition at any moment. Harry didn't know exactly what that meant, but he suddenly had a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and had a vague idea of where all of this was going. All eyes but Snape's were on Hermione, waiting for her inevitable explanation.

"That's the magical disease that causes-- causes--," she stuttered, unable to spit it out.

"Causes what?" Ron demanded.

"Vampirism," Hermione whispered, trembling. Her eyes welled up with tears.

Ginny looked as if she were going to be sick. Harry's head felt light, and Ron turned an even paler shade.

"A vampire?" Ginny whispered in disbelief, "You were fighting a vampire?"

"Wait a moment," Harry spoke up as a new jolt of fear shot through him, "Shouldn't you be testing me, too?"

Snape, having collected enough of Sarah's blood, mended her wound and rose from his chair, making his way over to the desk where the potionmaking kit and supplies rested.

"Did it bite you, or bleed into an open wound of yours?" Snape asked impatiently, seating himself at the desk and setting to work.

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all eyed Harry nervously.

"No," Harry replied confidently. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione looked slightly relieved, but their eyes were still full of worry for their unconscious friend lying in the bed.

"Then you are fine," Snape replied, already putting together a mixture of ingredients inside Hermione's cauldron, having lit a small flame underneath it. "It is only transmitted by blood, or by being bitten."

"Was Sarah bitten?" Hermione asked meekly, leaning down closer to where Sarah lay. She eyed Sarah's wounds carefully, searching for telltale puncture marks, but could not find any.

"She was unable to provide us with that information before she lost consciousness," Snape said over his work, not bothering to turn and face the others in the room. "I did not find any bite marks. She may have, however, been bled upon before we arrived, and so I must test her blood."

"What about you?" Harry asked, eyeing Snape as he hunched over the desk. He looked extremely pale, no doubt from blood loss. His wound was unmended, but he still went on with his work.

"I am fine," Snape replied dismissively, focused on his task.

Harry felt strange standing there, feeling equal amounts of concern for the possibility that not only had Sarah been put at risk of infection, but Snape, who had recieved a bleeding wound in close quarters directly from the vampire's blade, may have been put at risk too.

"Are you sure?" Harry persisted, "Maybe he had blood on his blade, something that we didn't see, or--,"

"Fine," Snape sighed, cutting the boy off. "I shall test my blood, as well as yours."

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had all dragged chairs over to Sarah's bedside and seated themselves. As Snape's concoction began to simmer, he grabbed two more empty vials. Without a flinch, he gathered his own blood from his open wound and set the vial aside, next to Sarah's. Next, he motioned to the boy.

Harry approached the desk, rolling back his sleeve and holding out one of his cuts to Snape. Snape made the work as fast and as painless as possible, siphoning the boy's blood into the empty vial he held. With a simple countercurse, Harry's wound was mended. Snape also took it upon himself to mend the boy's other cuts. They were not very deep, only slight grazes, and the countercurse worked on them quickly.

Nodding his thanks, Harry approached the bed. Ginny had dragged over an extra chair for him and placed it next to her own. Harry seated himself; all four friends were now seated on the opposite side of the bed from where Sarah lay, and where Snape's own chair was. All they could do now, they supposed, was wait.

After Snape had set the mixture to simmer to completion, he finally shifted his attention to his own wound, pointing the tip of his wand close to his slashed shoulder and muttering a countercurse. After tracing over the wound several times, it had sealed. He then rose from the desk and made his way to the empty chair resting beside the bed. Seating himself, he leaned down. Reaching underneath the bed, he produced the bag of belongings that he had brought to Grimmauld Place. Rummaging through it, he pulled out a small red bottle. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all watched as Snape alternated between taking a swig from the bottle himself, and tilting some of it into Sarah's mouth gently. When only a small amount of the potion remained, he passed the bottle to Harry, who drank down its remaining contents and immediately began feeling less light-headed.

A great amount of silence passed, during which the only sounds in the room were the soft crackling of the lowly-burning fire, and the faint simmering of the cauldron upon the desk.

Harry cleared his throat, working up the courage to ask the question which had been present in his mind from the moment he had heard exactly what Porphyric Hemophilia meant.

"What if she--, I mean, what if we--," he stuttered.

"Are infected?" Snape completed the boy's question, meeting his eyes across the bed. The boy nodded once, slowly. Snape took a deep breath. "Even if we are, we should be fine. If caught early enough, the contamination can be treated, and eliminated. Only when too much time passes between initial contamination is the infection permanent, and vampirism inevitable. That is why I was under such haste to begin testing her blood," he said, eyeing the unconscious girl on the bed. After having given her Blood-Replenishing Potion, he was sure that she would come around soon.

Harry nodded in understanding. A great wave of relief washed over all of the other occupants of the room. All of them had been harboring terrifying thoughts of their friends becoming vampires. Ginny leaned against Harry, resting her head on his shoulder as all of them waited for Snape's mixture to simmer to completion.

About twenty minutes later, Snape rose from his chair.

"It is time," he announced.

Chairs scraped on the floor as everyone got up, hurrying over to the desk. Snape stood beside it, the vials of blood very close to him. The rest of them gathered in a tight semicircle around the front of the desk. There, in the simmering cauldron, was a mixture of thin, pure white liquid which bubbled from the heat of the flame beneath it.

"If contamination is absent," Snape began, picking up the vial which contained Harry's blood sample, "The blood will be harmlessly assimilated into the mixture, causing no major change in its composition, and no change in color. If contamination is present, however," he continued, raising the vial over the simmering cauldron, "The mixture will be overwhelmed by it, and turn a thick, dark red, similar to blood."

A moment of silence passed.

"This is Harry's blood," Snape said, tipping the vial into the mixture.

Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all drew in a collective breath as the blood dripped into cauldron.

Several seconds passed. It remained white.

They all exhaled.

"Mine," Snape said, tilting his own vial over the mixture.

Another intake of breath.

Several seconds later, the mixture was unchanged.

Another sigh of relief.

"And," Snape said, picking up Sarah's vial and tipping ot over the cauldron, "Sarah's."

A deep breath.

Several painful seconds passed.

The mixture remained white. There came a great sigh of relief from all of them. No one was infected.

"Thank heavens," Hermione breathed, leaning heavily against Ron, who nodded and wrapped an arm around her.

Ginny hugged Harry tightly.

Now that their fears of infection were dispelled, some more time was spent huddled around Sarah's bed, waiting for her to wake, but she did not stir. Only when Snape forcefully insisted that it was extremely late and that they should all get back to bed did they acquiesce to leaving the study and returned to their rooms to sleep. Snape, however, remained awake despite his fatigue, watching vigilently, and waiting for Sarah to wake.


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A/N: There you have chapter 26! I hope you enjoyed it. I apologize for how long it took for me to get it out. I've actually had the bulk if it done for a couple weeks, but as you can tell, the chapter was quite long, and with a couple of busy weekends in a row, I just simply couldn't finish it 100%.

As you can see, I introduced another OC in this chapter in the form of the vampire Vincent. I always felt that vampires were sorely neglected in canon, and that we didn't get to see enough of them, or learn enough about them. After a bit of research, I am pretty sure that vampirism was never explicitly explained in canon (in terms of how exactly it works and spreads, and how exactly it affects people), so I formed my own theory on it based on the small amount of information that we do have about it, and borrowing a bit of vampire lore from the Elder Scrolls universe, where vampirism is caused by a disease called Porphyric Hemophilia. In brief, in the Potterverse, I believe it to be something which is both communicable and hereditary, caused by an incurable magical illness which causes the many traits of vampirism to permanently manifest themselves in those people who are infected with the disease. I hope that sometime down the road, maybe with the encyclopedia, JKR will better explain her idea of vampirism in her world to us, but until then, I have to go on my own theory.

Did you all hear the terrible news about the Half-Blood Prince movie being delayed? I was SO angry about that. They had JUST come out with the trailer which we had waited AGES for, and then like a week and a half later, WB is like "Gee, sorry, you have to wait until July!". How infuriating, especially because they are doing it for the sole purpose of getting a bigger box office draw.

Oh well, I guess the only upside to that is we won't have to wait as long between Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows part 1. We're just getting the bulk of the waiting out of the way now!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed chapter 26! As always, thank you so much for reading. Please leave a review if you would be so kind :) It's been quite a while since I've gotten any!! Don't forget, if you want me to add you to an update list to receive and e-mail when I add a new chapter, just leave me your e-mail address, or e-mail me at Raug397@yahoo.com.