It Takes a Miracle

Chapter 5 – Please, do not stand so close to me

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The moment nobody was watching him, he slipped out of the infirmary. He did hear the witch’s “oh” when she found out who he was. That “oh” revealed that not only was she aware of his name now, but of his reputation as well.

“Good,” thought Snape striding swiftly, eager to return to his dungeon. “That will make my life a tad easier.” Of course, knowing his reputation, nobody in his or her right mind would ever share a dream with him, or seek him out to discuss anything, for that matter. And nobody would stare him straight in the eyes without being hexed (reserved for adults) or instantaneously presented with a detention (reserved for students). Good, now she would know better. Good, that had settled it with the witch. Good.

“If you repeat this word one more time, it will lose its intended meaning entirely,” snickered Snape’s little voice.

“Fuck off!” suggested Snape calmly.

Overall, his encounter with the witch did not go too bad. He warned her to keep quiet about Saturday night’s incident. He managed to thank her for saving his life. He even took a swift scan, before she was well enough to notice, to make sure she was as fine as Poppy and Albus had suggested. Hopefully, he would not be required to spend much more time with her, especially talk to her.

“I wonder if she is always so inattentive,” sneered Snape. It took several tries to get her to listen to him. No surprise then that she was engaged to that idiot of a builder. She was probably too confused to notice...

“Stop it!” Snape ordered himself. He did see the way she threw herself at him. It was unmistakable – she loved that troll. He better remembered it the next time he had to meet the gaze of the witch’s insanely blue eyes. Snape shivered, recalling just how he was drawn into them. So blue…so warm. Bloody hell, he was barely able to hold himself and not get any closer. And he almost did, when giving her the Profuturus Solution. He still could sense some tingling that her soft hair left in his hand. The hand which held the witch’s head. The hand which practically shook aching to pull her to him. The hand that probably still smelled of vanilla and peach...

“A cold shower, perhaps?” innocently suggested the unbearable little voice in his head.

Despite the fact that it was still early in the day, Snape wondered if it late enough to get mercilessly drunk. Something he thought of doing for the last couple of days, but never had a chance to get down to. However, somebody up there had other plans for Snape’s afternoon.

As soon as he was on the last flight of stairs that led down to the dungeons, Snape knew he had a visitor -- Malfoy Sr. His expensive cologne trailed behind him long after Lucius was gone. It was like he was marking the territory. “I was here. This is mine!” Snape grimaced briefly and, while continuing to walk to his office, put on his best expressionless mask.

Sure enough, there he was, luxurious robes and expensive cane, pacing the corridor in front of the empty wall that, at Snape’s touch, gave way and let them into his office.

“Severus, at last. It is good to see you.”

“Lucius.”

They walked into a large room, the walls of which were lined with shelves holding jars that contained all kinds of creatures, or their various parts. The room was void of any furniture, save for the large mahogany desk with an armchair behind and two chairs in front, and two overstuffed, worn-out armchairs at the empty fireplace. It was rather cold there, and, without asking permission, Malfoy pointed his wand and conjured a fire, muttering something under his breath about “living in a tomb.” Snape just shrugged.

After the drinks were poured and both men were sitting in armchairs in front of the fireplace, Snape waited for Malfoy to speak. A couple of minutes of total silence had passed before he finally did.

“Your office still looks like a jail cell.” He did not have to disturb his perfectly styled long blond hair with a movement of his head.

“You should know. You visited one recently,” sneered Snape inwardly, but did not say anything out loud. He was waiting to hear the real reason for his fellow Death Eater’s visit.

“For a wizard who could’ve amassed a small fortune by now...” Malfoy curled his lip in a superior smirk. “The very least you can do is acquire some decent furniture.” Snape frowned, but remained silent.

“But enough of that,” Malfoy continued. “You are probably interested to know why I am here, aren’t you, old friend?”

Snape looked at Lucius’ arrogant face, pushing back a feeling of complete abhorrence, and asked himself for the umpteenth’ time in the last twenty years, how the bloody hell he could allow this bastard to destroy his life. However, right now was not a good time to recede into reverie, so the Potions Master gave in. “For the pure pleasure of my company, no doubt?”

“Of course. I do need some respite after having to talk to the old fool. You know, the Ministry business.” Malfoy’s smirk got even more superior. Just to think that this vermin, who sat confidently and conceitedly, smelling of the most expensive cologne, wearing the best clothes that money could buy, less than two month ago was sentenced to life in prison… “But I did want to see you, my friend.”

Snape arched his brow, waiting for Malfoy to continue.

“I am afraid I have been misinformed. I was told that you bore quite a punishment at the last meeting.” Snape took a sip from his goblet, neither confirming nor denying his “friend’s” statement. “However, by the look of you, I would have never guessed.”

“Young guys,” said the Potions Master dryly. “What do they know about properly cursing an unarmed wizard?”

“Honestly, Severus, I am beginning to worry about you. You’ve been late to a few meetings. It is a good thing you can bear a punishment, but, you know, it will be affecting you more, the more you get. Besides, you miss all the entertainment.”

Snape’s face stayed perfectly expressionless, but inwardly he flinched. Of course, he knew that the effect of a number of curses, especially Unforgivables, was cumulative. That was not what bothered him in Malfoy’s little speech. Could it be that the arrogant, self-important bastard had noticed that Snape was late only to very specific meetings? Lucius was not a fool, just egotistical enough to miss a lot about other people. But since he noticed, did he know the reason?

Out loud Snape said tiredly, “I was in the middle of brewing this new research potion of mine. I guess, I just did not notice...”

“You did not notice the burning of the Mark?” Malfoy even turned his head to look at Snape.

“Of course I did!” Snape snapped, but forced himself to calm down before he continued, “However, I was so absorbed in the process that I did not notice how much time had actually lapsed from the moment I was called until I Apparated.”

“Only you, my old friend,” the blond wizard faked concern, “would think about foolish potions at a time like this.”

“Correct me if I am wrong,” Snape said coldly, “but I am a Potions Master. I brew potions. I also create them. A number of my potions are used by...”

“Alright, alright,” interrupted Malfoy, “but what about the previous Revel?”

“I was at a staff meeting.” Snape’s voice was turning quieter and colder with every uttered word. “Do you expect me to just get up and say, ‘Apologies, but I do have to go to answer the Dark Lord’s call,’ and waltz out? I am a bloody Head of the House. I have to play that role convincingly enough, or find myself thrown out of here, in which case, by the way, I would be punished much more severely by the Dark Lord. Surely you don’t want that to happen, do you?”

Snape was glaring at Malfoy, who made a little sip from his goblet, and said soothingly, “No, of course not. But you can’t blame me for worrying about my old friend.”

Malfoy stared at the fire for a while, as if rolling around in his pretty blond head Snape’s explanations. Finally, he decided to accept them.

“I’ll see what I can do about your...situation.” Snape arched a brow. “You are too important to our cause, Severus, to let you become a little boys’ training toy.”

The Potions Master’s face stayed expressionless. Inwardly, he wondered why his old “friend” would suddenly care for somebody else’s well-being. Even in better times most of his meeting with Malfoy’s were of business nature, and long gone were the days when their relationship carried any resemblance to friendship.

But nowadays, fresh out of Azkaban, Malfoy was just too preoccupied with reestablishing his ‘rightful’ place in the wizarding world to spare his time on anyone who couldn’t assist him in his quest. So, Lucius had a need of him. But why? Was it about his position on the Board of Governors? Or, Snape shivered, was it about some new plan hatched by the Dark Lord? The latter seemed far more likely, and Malfoy was probably just a messenger. Or a tester. What was the plan about then? Snape quickly ran a mental list – want of a devoted insider in Hogwarts, recruiting for the Dark Lord, another attack on Potter, or Dumbledore…

Malfoy, meanwhile, changed the subject, and for some time Snape had to listen to his “friend’s” tales of his latest trip to Asia. With an almost bored expression on his face, he paid very close attention to every detail of the story, hoping to unearth some important piece of information that could be of value to the Order. However, Malfoy was careful, in fact too careful, to mention anything useful.

“He does not trust me,” thought Snape, “and yet he wants me as an ally.” Something was definitely brewing in the Dark Lord’s camp, something that he was going to play an important role in. Lucius’ unexpected concern was definitely a part of a well-thought-out plan, and if Snape wanted any upper hand in the situation, he would have to forget whatever decency he had left in him, and find new ways to hone his image as an exemplary Death Eater. Even if it meant rapes, tortures, murders...

“Yes, I almost forgot to ask you.” Malfoy was at the door, and Snape was counting seconds until he was alone again. “I heard you put a girl in the hospital. Is that so?”

Snape’s insides froze, and he hoped that his horror did not reach his face. He feverishly went through all possible and plausible explanations in his head. There was no point of denial, Lucius knew something, and Snape needed to find out what it was exactly that he knew.

“Out of sheer necessity,” he said curtly.

“Tell me about it.” A nasty smile stretched Malfoy’s thin lips. He stopped at the door, prepared to hear a sassy story. “I, for one, was beginning to lose hope, that you still had it in you, but, please, give me the details.”

“Lucius, she was so very conveniently outside.” Snape sighed as if being slightly bored with his own story. “The two idiots that Apparated me forgot to fix my hands. How the bloody hell was I supposed to get into the castle?”

“They did, didn’t they?” Malfoy chuckled nastily. “And?”

“She healed my wrist, and her usefulness ceased to exist. I modified her memory a bit, and put her under a sleeping charm, the one that resembles the overexertion virus.” Snape shrugged. “That was it.”

“Oh, no, Severus.” Lucius looked at him in a mock disappointment. “And you did not do anything to her before tinkering with her memory? Oh, come on, you can not be that unimaginative!”

“Lucius, did you expect me to take her right outside the entrance door, or sweep her to my bedchambers and wait for her fiance to show up?” Snape was relieved to realize that Malfoy did not know much, only the “official story” that he created with Dumbledore.

“Well, Severus,” Lucius was really enjoying this conversation, “you deny yourself a lot of joy in this life. Just imagine a young warm naked body spread underneath yours...”

That was not a picture Snape wanted to imagine at all. The moment Malfoy finally left, he angrily threw his goblet into the hearth, put a spell of constant refilling on his own goblet, and spent the next four hours thoroughly removing the unwanted image from his mental vision.

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She was tired, which was surprising considering that she woke up only this afternoon after three days of sleep. She was very tired, but could not close her eyes yet. She had too much on her mind. And when would she have a better chance to think everything over than right now, sitting in bed in the infirmary in the middle of the night? After all the probing and poking that she had to go through Madam Pomfrey declared that she was fine, but still the cautious mediwitch insisted that Gerry should spend one more night under her observation. Valerius, being chivalrous, decided to stay with her, and was now snoring softly on the next bed.

Gerry sighed. An uneasy recognition of the fact that she did not think about her fiancé for three whole days, dreaming and longing for a complete stranger, coupled with the discovery of her new gift, was hard to process. She could not even decide which of the two was more disturbing. Take Snape, for example. Professor Snape. From friends at the University, who graduated from Hogwars, she heard legends about his pettiness, verbal cruelty, arrogance, and his openly preferential treatment of students of his House. People said that his mood would usually range from horribly bad to outright terrible, which, considering his short temper, was quite a dangerous thing to be in a vicinity of. And the names his students used for him – “a greasy git,” “an overgrown bat,” “an ugly bastard” – spoke volumes. Actually, for the life of her, Gerry could not remember anything nice anybody ever told her about the feared and hated Potions Master. Oh, yes – the wizard did teach his subject well, for his former students were the best at potion making among their peers. However, this alone could hardly constitute a redeeming quality in a person, couldn’t it?

“What the hell is happening, then?” Gerry pondered. Even now, sitting in her hospital bed, recalling all the dreadful stories she heard about him, she was feeling her heartbeat getting faster, and she had to admit it that she wanted to see him again. Why? To demystify him into the dour Professor who he indeed was? To explain away the power he held over her? To shake off the unsettling feeling of something unfinished that their conversation earlier this afternoon had left her with? To drown in the black pool of his eyes? Gerry sighed again and looked at sleeping Valerius. “Snap out of it!” she ordered herself, her gaze gliding over her fiance’s covered form. “He is your hero. He is your choice. He is the love of your life.” She shook her head. “You are as good as married.” Then, how did the Potions Master fit into this picture? He did not. And yet... She had to see him again...

No, this was not working at all. Gerry was afraid that now she would start to relive her dreams about the black-haired wizard, so she practically forced her thoughts away from him to another issue – the Vita gift. Earlier today, after she went through an hour of testing spells and scans that Madam Pomfrey cascaded over her, she had a talk with the Headmaster, who was able to give her at least some information about the Vita Healers.

Having closed the curtains around her bed and putting on a silencing charm, Dumbledore sat heavily next to Gerry and said, “Madam Pomfrey has assured me that you are fine.”

“I am, thank you.” Gerry nodded.

“It was a very brave thing for you to do.” He looked at her over his spectacles. His small smile did not reach his blue eyes, which remained sad.

“You do not seem to be too cheerful about it.” Gerry offered her smile, which also was not a happy one. The conversation was about THAT night, and her thoughts instantaneously went to the black-haired wizard.

“You gave us quite a scare, and I, for one, am thankful to whatever gods listened and kept you unharmed,” he said softly.

“Thank you, Headmaster, but it was not a big deal.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I am glad that I was able to help.” She stopped for a moment, swallowed hard and added, “I was a little scared myself, you know. Well, a lot. He was in a pretty bad shape...”

“I know,” nodded Dumbledore gravely, “and I am eternally grateful to you for saving his life. I hope I will have a chance to thank you properly one day.”

“It is okay, Headmaster, don’t feel obligated.” Gerry shook her head. Somehow, she felt at ease with the old wizard. Very much unlike with his Potions Master. That was probably why she could casually dismiss Dumbledore’s pledge. That was probably why she then bit her lip and breathed out, “Are you doing anything about the cause of his injuries? You know, he was cursed with...”

“The Cruciatus,” finished Dumbledore. He took a very long, thoughtful look at Gerry and finally uttered, “Ms. Ardant, it would be prudent of you not to mention this matter to anybody.”

“But his assailants should be brought to justice for that!” she exclaimed indignantly.

“They will be, it is a promise.” The expression on Dumbledore’s face became solemn for a moment before softening again. “I am glad that you are concerned about Severus...um...Professor Snape, but you should leave this matter in my hands. I reckon he warned you about the situation?”

“He did, but he was very...curt. He suggested that you would be the one to give me all the details. He did not seem too keen on a long conversation,” she said out loud and added inwardly, “He just wanted to get away from me as soon as possible.” Then, she glanced at the Headmaster and, before she could stop herself, rushed ahead, “Did I do anything to offend him? Do you think he is angry with me? I’ve heard he could get this way for a slip of a reason.”

Dumbledore chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes, and reassured Gerry that Professor Snape was not angry with her at all, and that she should not worry about him. With that they moved to the discussion concerning Vita Healing.

Dumbledore started with telling Gerry that he had contacted the Order of Vita Healers on her behalf, and a representative would come to speak to her tomorrow morning. And, although the old wizard claimed that he was not too familiar with this branch of magic healing, he graciously agreed to share what he knew with her.

For the next hour, Gerry listened to the Headmaster relating to her the history of the Order of Vita Healers and the stories and legends involving these Healers. Then, he was willing to mull over with Gerry her concerns about her newly discovered gift, and why the said gift had never manifested itself before, and whether she performed the ritual correctly, and so on and so forth.

Gerry was fascinated and frightened at the same time, absorbing the information Dumbledore offered her. A completely new world was opening up and, no doubt, an entirely new life awaited her if she was to become the true Vita Healer. Would she be able to? Would she want to? Did she indeed have a gift?

After the conversation with the Headmaster, she was in the hands of Madam Pomfrey once more. The mediwitch ran some extra scans and practically force-fed her with a double portion of chicken soup, before allowing Valerius to take over as her caretaker. His understanding of the scope of responsibilities, however, was pretty simple: he thought that what Gerry needed was to hear just how much he loved her and how everything was going to change in their relationship. And that was what he did for the rest of the day.

He was so sweet. And so gentle. And so kind. And so caring. Gerry smiled as she saw him turn to lie on the back in the narrow infirmary bed, and his broad shoulders stuck out on each side of it. She would be happy with him for the rest of her life. Suddenly, the passing thought became a decision. A simple and obvious decision. A decision that she had already made right before the whole ordeal with Snape (Professor Snape) began -- Valerius and she needed to get married. Period. In fact, she believed that she did not really want to see the nasty Potions Master again. With a smile of relief, Gerry slid under the blanket and closed her eyes...

Early next morning she woke up on the brink of tears, because she spent all night searching in vain for the black-haired wizard. Gerry sat on the bed, panting and sweating, not knowing what to do anymore. However, after a long shower and a quiet breakfast she shared with Valerius, she calmed down considerably, and once again decided to regard her nightly quests for what they were – dreams.

After breakfast, Valerius left to work, and Gerry met with a representative of the Order of the Vita Healers. Madam Doomsfield was an unremarkable, old, thin witch. She wore grayish robes and a matching hat, and looked like somebody’s forgotten aunt, who spent last half of the century cooped up in her country cottage. She did not stop smiling, and nodded at every word Gerry said. In order to keep the required secrecy and support the story Dumbledore invented to cover up the events of Saturday night, Madam Doomsfield was presented to the uninformed as a consultant on rare viruses from St. Mungo’s.

The first thing she said to Gerry after all the silencing and non-intrusion charms were placed around Madam Pomfrey’s office, where they sat, was, “My dear, your life is about to change radically.”

Gerry nodded and smiled tentatively. Madam Doomsfeild returned her smile, and proceeded with telling her how exactly her life was about to change.

For starters there was a school to go to, a school where the future healers were taught the particulars of managing their gift and performing the rituals. Then there was a whole procedure of being initiated into the Order. Then there was a set of laws that governed the members of the Order, the laws that, for instance, completely forbade an unauthorized performance of the Vita Redux.

“What about my circumstances?” asked Gerry with caution.

“Oh, there is a fine of a thousand Galleons.” Madam Doomsfield smiled sweetly. “Five hundred Galleons is for emergency cover up, which we will forego at this time since Headmaster Dumbledore has assured us of total secrecy, and five hundred Galleons for breaking the law. In your case it is only half of it, because you were not a member of the Order at the time.”

“Two hundred and fifty Galleons?” asked Gerry, horrorstricken.

“Do not worry, dear,” Madam Doomsfield continued smiling, “you will get paid good money once you are a true Vita Healer.”

Gerry was so upset with the amount of money she apparently owed that she could not pay much attention to the rest of the old witch’s tales. Even her own retelling of the Saturday night events did not bring her mind fully back to the conversation. However, a simple question, the old smiling witch asked her, snapped Gerry out of her anxiety instantaneously, “Do you have nightmares, dear?”

“Well,” Gerry was not sure what she should share with Madam Doomsfield, “they are not exactly nightmares...”

“They are not?”

“No...” Gerry chewed on her lip, and breathed out, “I just keep seeing or searching for this wizard... Like I know him...um...well...”

“Of course, my dear,” purred the old witch, somehow knowing exactly just who was “this wizard.” “It was bound to happen since you tapped into his feelings, going all the way down and touching his soul.”

“Soul!” Gerry slapped her hand against her mouth. “But...”

“And by the way, he might have dreams about you too,” the old witch continued smiling.

“Oh, no.” Now the two hundred and fifty Galleons were completely forgotten. This was much worse than a huge debt. To her, the sharing these kinds of dreams with a stranger practically meant that she was unfaithful to Valerius. “Are you sure?”

“Well, dear, the only way to find out for sure is to ask, isn’t it?” Madam Doomsfield’s smile got a bit wider, when she saw Gerry’s eyes full of horror. “But you should not worry yourself sick, sweetheart. A connection formed with a Vita Redux is temporary. The effect on both of you should wear off in a couple of days. Besides, if you were not acquainted with each other before hand, he may not even have become connected to you. You need more than just a Vita Redux to connect.” The old witch’s smile turned sad. She looked at Gerry thoughtfully and asked, “Did I understand it correctly, you did not know him beforehand and after leaving here, will not continue the acquaintance?”

“Yes,” whispered Gerry. “No, there was no connection,” she thought a little unhappily. “The wizard could not stand being in the same room with me for longer than was strictly necessary. And he almost jumped to get away when I touched him...”

“Then there is absolutely nothing to worry about, dear. Make sure, though, to talk to this wizard before you leave, and find out everything he remembers about that night. This might help you understand and master your gift better. The first time is always the most telling.”

Madam Doomsfield answered a lot of Gerry’s questions. However, the conversation had risen as many if not more new ones. Yes, she definitely had a gift, but now there were so many hows and whys, whats and whens that Gerry’s head was exploding. The hardest part of the whole situation, however, was the fact that there was nobody to talk to about it. Madam Doomsfield put a special non-disclosing charm on her to prevent Gerry from discussing anything concerning Vita Healing with anybody who had no prior knowledge of the subject matter, or was not her spouse or her blood relative. This charm left Valerius out (until he would become her husband), and she wasn’t ready to talk about the change in her life with her mom yet. So it left her with only two wizards in Hogwarts she theoretically could talk to - Dumbledore and Snape. They should have been Obliviated (a traditional practice, apparently) of any knowledge of Vita Healing, but Dumbledore’s assurance of total secrecy persuaded the old witch to bend the rules in this case. However, out of the two one, busy and important as he was, had already spent enough time on her, and Gerry didn’t feel comfortable to bother him again. And another one was... Well, it was Snape.

The next couple of days were hard for Gerry. Snape, Vita, Valerius, money, Snape, his curses, Order of Vita Healers, debt… She seemed to unable to concentrate on only one issue and think it through. Anxious and restless, she wandered endlessly around the castle, struggling to occupy herself with something, anything, only to realize soon afterwards that the simplest of the tasks became too complicated for her, and the most enjoyable ones lost their recent appeal.

The other Hogwarts’ residents left her alone for the most part, believing that she was still recovering from her mysteries illness. Still, she would feel a questioning gaze or two landed on her, when she would forget to smile at Jay’s joke, or suddenly loose interest right in the middle of a conversation with Professor McGonagall about the latest Transfigurations findings. Even digging dirt in the greenhouse with Derek in complete silence felt like a trying experience. But being with Valerius was especially hard, because he knew her too well and sensed that there was something wrong. It was killing her to not be able to tell him anything and to keep assuring the worried wizard that she was fine. And to top it all off, Gerry woke up every morning gasping for breath, her chest painfully tight, because she could not find the raven-haired wizard yet again.

Friday morning she was up at the crack of dawn, almost crying. Again. “It could become a nasty habit,” she though bitterly, wondering what Madam Doomsfield meant when she said that it would take a couple of days to stop dreaming about the wizard.

It was still dark, and the clock showed five in the morning. Gerry hesitated, wondering, if she should try to get more sleep, or if she had gotten enough nightmares for the night. She looked around wearily. The room was quiet in this restful, dreamy kind of way -- Valeruius was snoring invitingly into her pillow; the light breeze from the open window tugged at a silk curtain that fluttered, rustling softly; the clock’s ticking was barely audible. Gerry took a deep breath, and slid back under covers.

It seemed that the moment she closed her eyes, she saw the Potions Master standing right in front of her. His ebony eyes were gleaming with a hint of amusement?...interest?...desire?...and the lips were forming a genuine smile. Gerry did not think, but reacted. She threw herself against his tall lean form, grabbing a fistful of his robes in each hand and burying her face in his black jacket. He murmured in to her hair, “It’s been long, my love, too long...”

One of his hands sneaked around her waist, pulling her into him, and the other brushed her cheek, his long cold fingers sliding over her burning skin. He, then, cupped her face and turned it up. His black bottomless eyes locked with hers, and Gerry forgot how to breathe. Merlin, she could spend an eternity just looking into his eyes. But then he started bringing his lips down to hers, and she forgot about eternity and everything else for that matter. When their lips touched, Gerry felt a familiar bolt of electricity go through her body. Her heart was pounding, her knees were buckling, her head was spinning... And suddenly, it was over. She was all alone in the dark.

Gerry angrily jumped out of the bed. That was it. She could not take it anymore. She had to claim her life back. She, Geraldine Amarelia Ardant, would become herself again. Today. Despite the Vita Healing. Despite the huge debt. Despite...Snape.

“Is there something the matter, baby?” asked Valerius, still half-asleep.

“Nothing.” She shook her head violently and stomped into the bathroom.

After breakfast, where everybody was relieved to see Gerry much more at ease and energetic than she had been for the last couple of days, she took her broom and went out. Up in the air, high above the school’s Quidditch pitch, caressing the handle of her broom with one hand and swinging the other wildly as if she conducted an orchestra, she was beginning to feel like herself again. The warmth of the sun, the lightness of the wind, the beauty of the countryside stretched far and wide, it all made her latest troubles and worries seemed insignificant.

Gerry took a deep breath and smiled. She was above all earthly concerns. She was free. She was...

She saw him, standing on the walkway that led from the gates to the main entrance. He was watching her. Gerry’s heart skipped a beat. Damn.
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A/N A huge thanks to my beta Odddoll