Epilogue: Iffy

Two figures walked calmly through the hustle and bustle of King's Cross Station, the small girl with her hand in that of the tall, lanky man beside her. At first glance, they bore no resemblance to each other. The man had messy black hair and green eyes behind round glasses, while his companion was as fair as she was slender and delicate, but there was an air about them and a way of carrying themselves that made them appear very much alike.

While the man was not handsome in any standard way, the sense of power and passion that radiated from him lent him a glamour that went far beyond common beauty. His slightly erratic features were alight with pleasure as he smiled down at the girl, and more than one person in the crowd turned to give him another look in passing.

The girl drew stares in her own right. Her silver-blonde hair hung down her back in a fat, silken plait, a few strands escaping to fall over her forehead and tickle her eyebrows. Quicksilver eyes gazed up at the man in open adoration, and a bewitching smile flashed across her fine, aristocratic features when he spoke to her.

She looked to be quite young, but she was, in fact, eleven years old and about to board the Hogwarts Express for her first year at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unlike the other students hurrying toward Platform 9¾, she had no luggage with her other than a satchel slung over one shoulder that held her school robes and her wand. Nor was she, like the other youngsters, chattering with nervousness about what they would find at school. All her excitement was focused on the trip by train and the new friends she would make on the journey.

As they drew nearer the platform, more and more of the parents and older students in the crowd recognized the mismatched pair. Witches and wizards nodded a greeting to the man or waved and smiled. A few of them favored the girl with smiles, as well.

One boy, who appeared to be sixteen or seventeen, called out to her as they approached the barrier, "You riding up with us, Iffy?"

The girl fired him a blinding smile and called back, "I'm going up on the train! Isn't that brilliant?"

The boy laughed. Iffy gave a joyful bounce. The boy's parents smiled indulgently at her, then shot her companion slightly bashful smiles as well, their eyes shifting away as quickly as politeness allowed.

The black-haired man grinned and bent down closer to the diminutive Iffy. "Remember, take the barrier at a run."

"I know, Dad," she said, rolling her eyes. Then she broke into a run and disappeared through the barrier. Her father followed her at a more dignified pace.

They found themselves on Platform 9¾, in the middle of a cheerful chaos. Iffy caught her father's hand and dragged him bodily toward the gleaming, scarlet train, weaving through the crowd as only a small and fleet-footed child could. Her larger father had to mutter apologies right and left, while he hopped about trying to avoid stepping on feet, robes or carts. Then they were in an open space right by the tracks, and Iffy came to a dead stop.

Her eyes widened, her head tilted back, and her lips formed an O of delight.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" her father asked.

"I want to ride it all the time! Why do we use the stupid floo network and get soot up our noses, when we could be riding a train?"

He laughed at her evident delight. "Ready to climb aboard?"

Some of the enthusiasm drained from her face, and she turned pleading eyes on her father. "Why can't you come with me?"

"You don't want your father hanging about, when you're headed off to school."

"Yes, I do," she said, emphatically. "Besides, you'll be there tonight, won't you?"

"Not in time for the Sorting, and not at your dormitory." Crouching down to bring his head on a level with hers, he took her slender shoulders in his hands and said, earnestly, "Remember, you're a student at Hogwarts now. You'll be sorted into a House and expected to behave just like the other students. No running off home when you feel a little lonely."

"But…"

He lifted a finger to silence her. "By bedtime, you'll be a Gryffindor, and the Tower will be your home."

She grinned impishly at him. "What if I'm a Slytherin?"

"Then you'll be the best witch Slytherin ever produced."

"You… you won't be mad if I get sorted to Slytherin, will you? Or somewhere else?"

"Of course not. The Sorting Hat will put you where you belong, and we'll be happy for you."

"Mum will have kittens if I turn out to be a Hufflepuff."

He laughed and gave her a swift hug. "Probably." Then his face sobered, and he drew her a little closer, to speak more privately to her. "Iffy, I want you to be prepared for what you may find when you get to school."

"You don't have to tell me. I've lived at Hogwarts all my life."

"Yes, but this will be different. You will be different, and it won't be easy. Trust me, little one. I know all about being different."

She regarded him soberly. "Because of your scar?"

"Because of what my scar means to everyone in the wizarding world. From the minute I stepped through that barrier and into our world, I was different. Famous. Set apart. And I came from the Muggle world, where I was nobody, so the change was very hard for me."

"But I'm not a Muggle. I know all about the wizarding world."

"You know the parts of it your mother and I have allowed you to see. You know Hogwarts well enough, and you've made friends there, but we've protected you from most of it. You could always come home, to our little corner of the castle, where it was safe and warm and everyone understood exactly who you are. But now you'll be out there in the school, unprotected, where people know more about you than you want them to know and think they have the right to judge you.

"Some of them will simply want to be your friend. But some of them will be jealous of how famous you are, and some will hate you because of your parents. Because they don't think we're a real family."

She scowled at him, her angelic face clouded with anger. "I'll hex them!"

He sighed and chuckled. "You are your mother's child. No, miss minx, you will not hex them. You will deal with it in a dignified, civilized way. And if that doesn't work…"

"Hex 'em!"

Before he could answer her, a new voice hailed them from down the platform. "Harry! Haa-rr-rry!"

He rose to his feet and turned to see a witch in sober, charcoal grey robes hurrying toward them. She had a baby on her hip and a toddler clinging to her hand, both of them with shocking red hair. Her own brown hair was pulled back into a severe bun, but even that couldn't quite tame it. It escaped to fly about her face as she strode through the crowd.

"Hermione!" Harry planted a kiss on her cheek, as she came to a flustered stop in front of him, then tickled the much fatter cheek of the baby in her arms. "What are you doing here?"

"I completely forgot last night. I was supposed to give you a revised copy of my manuscript." She pulled an enormous bundle of parchment from her even more enormous bag and dumped it in Harry's arms. "Draco promised to check my potions recipes in the Dark Arts chapter, and if I don't get it done this week, I'll miss my deadline with the editors. Then I'll really be in trouble!"

"Hermione…"

"You're heading up to the school with Iffy, aren't you?"

"No. I'm working late again tonight."

She huffed and shook her head, then held out her hand. "All right. I suppose I can get Ron to floo over with it later…"

"I can take it, Auntie!" Iffy said, holding out both her small hands to accept the load of parchment.

Hermione eyed her fondly. "I don't think you can even carry it, darling. Besides, you'll be too busy settling into Gryffindor Tower to bother with delivering packages."

Iffy managed a perfect imitation of Hermione's huffy expression and said, "Why does everyone assume I'll be sorted to Gryffindor?"

"You've been a Gryffindor since you were born, didn't you know that? The Littlest Gryffindor!"

"I'm also the littlest Slytherin," she reminded her grinning Aunt.

"Just so long as you're not a Hufflepuff. Your mother would have an apoplexy."

"I like Hufflepuffs."

Harry laughed. "Give her the manuscript, Hermione. I'll owl Draco, and he'll send Dobby for it if she forgets."

"I won't forget," Iffy said, loftily. "I'm smart enough to be a Ravenclaw; I don't forget anything."

"Huh," Hermione grunted, "and as modest as a Ravenclaw, too. Oh, all right."

Taking the satchel from Iffy's shoulder, she carefully fitted the manuscript into it and fastened it shut. "Take good care of that," she chided, as she slung the much heavier bag over Iffy's shoulder, "and tell your mother that I need it back by the end of the week!"

"I will."

The sound of the train whistle blowing cut off their conversation and started Iffy dancing with impatience. "It's leaving! It's leaving!"

Hermione gave her a hug and let her bestow smacking kisses on both the children. Then Harry crouched down to fold her in his arms.

"Have fun on the trip, miss minx, and don't hex anyone."

"I will. You'll come and see me when you get home, won't you?"

"Not tonight. You'll be in your new House, and I'll be late. Very late," he added significantly, bringing a grimace to Iffy's face.

"Mum will be grouchy."

"Very grouchy," Harry agreed, solemnly.

"Then it's a good thing I'll be sleeping somewhere else!" On that cheerful note, she turned and dashed toward the train, her silvery braid dancing on her back. "Bye, Dad!"

"Good bye!"

As her slender figure bounded up the steps and disappeared into the carriage, Hermione asked, in a low voice, "Did you bring her all the way to London so she could ride the train with her classmates?"

"Why not? It will give her a little time to be a normal First Year, before they find out who she is."

"You're a good father, Harry Potter."

Iphigenia wandered down the train, looking for an empty compartment. She passed several that were full of older children, many of whom waved when they saw her. As she hesitated at the end of the carriage, one of the big boys popped out of his compartment and hailed her gleefully.

"Iffy! I thought I recognized that white head of yours! What are you doing on the train?"

"Going to school," she replied, laughing up at him, "just like you!"

"Come in and sit with us."

"Ta, Rollie, but I already know all you lot. I want to find some First Years."

He laughed and waved her along the carriage. "They always trickle down to the back."

She left him with a smile and a wave, and as she slipped into the next carriage, she heard him shouting to his friends that Baby Ferret was on the train. Several cars down, she found children more her size, though even the youngest of them seemed large in comparison. She was near the back of the train and beginning to despair of finding a suitable compartment, when she halted in an open doorway and found herself confronted by three young girls. One of them was rather tall, with thick auburn hair and golden-brown eyes that reminded Iffy of a cat. The second was a nondescript brunette with a haughty expression, and the third was a shy girl with soft brown hair and freckles all across her nose. All three of them regarded Iffy in silence, until the redhead stepped forward and said,

"Hallo. Are you a First Year?"

"Yes." Iffy smiled brightly at her. "My name's Iphigenia, but everyone calls me Iffy."

"You don't look old enough to be at Hogwarts," the second girl said, coldly.

"I'm eleven, same as you. What's your name?" she asked, pointedly.

The redhead answered first. "I'm Theodora Fox. This is Rowena Diggle and Anne Fitzgerald." The shy girl smiled. "Anne's parents are Muggles, and she's only just found out she's a witch, so I've been showing her around."

"Really?" Iffy gazed wide-eyed at the blushing Anne. "Neat."

"Are you Muggle-born, too?" Rowena asked.

Iffy couldn't tell if she meant to be snotty, or if that was just her natural tone of voice, but the question irritated her, and she had a momentary desire to put this rude girl in her place by telling her exactly who her parents were. But her father's warnings were still fresh in her mind, and she decided against it. Better to give these girls a chance to know her simply as Iffy, before they found out anything more.

Keeping her wide, deceptively innocent smile in place, she said, "Nope, not me."

"Everything is so different," Anne said, quietly.

Iffy stepped into the compartment, tossed her satchel into an empty seat, and perched on the edge of it where she could see Anne more clearly. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it fast enough. And Hogwarts is lovely!"

"If this is your first year at school, how would you know anything about Hogwarts?" Rowena demanded.

Iffy laughed, and the faces of the girls around her softened under the unconscious magic in the sound. "I live there."

"At Hogwarts?" Anne breathed. "In the castle?"

"Of course. I've lived there all my life."

"You mean, since you were born?" All the girls were now crowding around her, curiosity overcoming even Rowena's haughtiness. "That's impossible! They don't allow babies at Hogwarts! Wouldn't they have sent your mum home when she got herself… you know…."

"It was during the war," Iffy said, blithely. "The Headmaster didn't send anyone home, if they didn't want to go."

"The war's been over for ages," Theodora pointed out.

"Yes, but after they finished school, my mother got a job there, so we stayed."

"What about your father?"

"He works at the Ministry of Magic. He's an Auror."

Anne's eyes grew round. "What's an Auror?"

"They hunt Dark wizards." Iffy said, but before she could expand on this statement, another voice interrupted them from the doorway.

"Did you say your dad's an Auror?"

Iffy looked up at the young, fresh-faced boy who had spoken. He was nearly as small as she was, with curly brown hair and frank, intelligent eyes.

"Yes."

"My brother's one, too. Dennis Creevey. Maybe he knows your dad?"

Iffy grinned. "He works for my dad."

The boy's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "You mean, you're…"

"Iphigenia. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm Peter. Peter Creevey. Pleased to meet you, Iphigenia."

With that, Peter joined the girls in the compartment and began chatting brightly with them in a way that would have made Iffy's father smile in recognition. Iffy didn't remember the older Creevey brothers, not having seen them since she was a baby, but she'd heard enough stories to know that Peter was exactly like his brothers. He also, apparently, shared their quick wits and decisive loyalty, because her one, swift hint had been enough to shut his mouth for good on the subject of her parents.

While Peter was putting Anne at her ease and Rowena was listening jealously to everything he said, Iffy turned to Theodora and said, artlessly, "You have the prettiest hair I've ever seen."

The other girl flushed slightly and threw her a quick smile. "I was just about to say the same thing about yours. I've never seen hair quite that color."

"I get it from my mother's side of the family. In fact, I get everythingfrom my mother's side of the family. My father is always joking that I'm not really his."

Theodora groaned in shared disgust at the foolishness of parents. "My dad says they found me under a rock by the road, because I don't look like him or Mum. But my gran says I'm a dead ringer for Granddad Rufus. Rufus Fox. How's that for a silly name? Of course, Gran's is even sillier, she's… Oh."

"What?" Iffy prompted.

"Nothing. I forgot."

"Go on. What's your gran's name? It couldn't possibly be sillier than mine!"

"Actually, it's the same as yours. Iphigenia Fox."

"Really? I'm named after my Great, Great Aunt Iphigenia Fox. She's a healer at St. Mungo's and my mother's favorite aunt. I wonder if we could be cousins, or something?"

Theodora shrugged with feigned unconcern, but Iffy could see a spark of interest in her eyes. "I'm related to every major wizarding family in Britain. I have cousins all over the place." Her expression grew guarded, as she added, "But my mum and dad don't talk to most of them. What's your family name?"

Iffy hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, "Malfoy."

Theodora's face went blank. "Malfoy? My parents don't have anything to do with Malfoys."

"Well, your Gran does," Iffy said, reasonably. "She comes to visit us on the hols and sends my mother articles from the medical journals with interesting new potions in them. For goodness' sake, I was named for her!"

"Oh." Theodora's face turned thoughtful, and her cat's eyes dwelt on Iffy. "I suppose that's all right, then."

"Why don't your parents talk to your cousins?"

"Because most of them are pureblood snobs, who either fought for You-Know-Who in the war or at least wanted him to win."

"Oh, is that all?" Iffy said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Well, you don't have to worry about my parents. They both fought with Dumbledore. In fact, they were in the final battle together and were there when Voldem…"

"Don't!" Theodora squeaked.

"What's the matter?"

"Don't say his name!"

The others in the compartment were listening to them now, and they all shared Theodora's expression of horror.

"It's just a name. Anyway, he's been dead for years." When they all continued to stare at her, Iffy shrugged and huffed. "All I meant to say was that my family doesn't have anything much to do with the rest of the Malfoys. There aren't a whole lot of them left, anyway."

"So that's your name?" Rowena cut in. "Malfoy?"

Iffy nodded.

"I remember reading about some Malfoys from the war."

"Everybody was in the war," Iffy said, rolling her eyes again. "I've read about Diggleses and Foxes and… well, everybody."

"Yes, but this…"

"My brothers were there," Peter chimed in, shooting Iffy a wink, "but not my parents. They're Muggles and didn't really know anything about You-Know-Who 'til it was over."

Theodora looked at him with new interest. "I read about the Creeveys who fought with Harry Potter. Did you ever meet him?"

Before Peter could reply to this, yet another voice called, "Iffy?"

All the First Years turned in surprise to see a mob of older students crowded into the doorway, a gangly Sixth Year boy and a curvaceous Seventh Year girl at the front. Somewhere near the back was Rollie Plunkett, the boy Iffy had met farther up the train.

"It is you!" the boy at the front crowed. "Plunkett said you were aboard, but I didn't believe him. I said, 'What would Baby Ferret be doing on the Express, riding with the Great Unwashed?'"

"Hallo, George," Iffy said, grinning.

"Are you starting Hogwarts this year?" the girl asked. "You can't possibly be eleven already."

"Well, I am. My dad said I had to do it like a real First Year. So we went down to London and did all my shopping in Diagon Alley and stayed the night at the Three Broomsticks and rode in a taxi to the station and ran through the barrier into Platform 9¾, and it was brilliant!"

All the older kids laughed.

"So which House are you trying for?" another boy asked.

George scoffed at that. "She's for Gryffindor, of course."

"Not a chance. Slytherin," the girl shot back.

"Actually, I thought I'd try for Hufflepuff," Iffy said.

George's eyes popped half out of his head. "Blimey, Iff! Your mum'd kill you!"

Anne shot him a worried look, and Theodora asked, curiously, "What's she got against Hufflepuff?"

The older children exchanged goggling looks, and George gave a whoop of disbelief. "What, they don't know about your mum? Oh, boy, have you ickle Firsties got a surprise coming! Don't tell them, Iff. Let them find out on their own!"

"Find out what?" Rowena demanded.

"Just that little Iffy here has the most famous mum in the entire wizarding world. That's all."

"Do shut up, George," Iffy wailed.

"Famous for what?" Theodora asked.

"Never mind. You'll find out when you meet the Potions Master."

"Is that what she teaches?" Anne asked. "Potions?"

The mob of older students went off in another howl of laughter, then turned to leave, waving and calling to Iffy as they did. As their raucous voices died away, Anne turned to Iffy and asked, diffidently, "What did I say that was so funny?"

"Nothing. Don't pay any attention to them."

"Do you know all the Hogwarts students?" Rowena asked.

"A lot of them. The nice ones." Iffy didn't bother to explain what she meant by 'nice,' or how the not-so-nice ones talked about her and her parents. "I told you, I've lived there my whole life."

"Wow. That will sure make it easier for you."

"Not really. It just means all the teachers will expect more from me, because they know how talented and powerful my parents are. If I don't get top marks in everything, they'll say I'm not trying or not living up to my potential or something like that, then they'll tell my parents that I'm messing about in class and I'll be in so much trouble. And if I even think about muffing a potion…" She broke off and shuddered.

"Is your mum very strict with you?" Anne asked, seriously.

Iffy blinked at her in surprise, then answered, with equal solemnity, "My mum is the best mother and the best teacher in the whole world. And anyone who says different is a bloody great liar."

"Then why won't you tell us what the big secret is?" Rowena interjected.

"There is no secret. Anyone want to play a game of Exploding Snap?"

Iffy thoroughly enjoyed her boat ride across the lake and even kept a piece of pumpkin tart from her lunch for the giant squid. Peter found the squid fascinating and bemoaned the fact that he hadn't saved any food with which to tempt it to the surface. Theo and Rowena were not interested in sea life, and Anne was overwhelmed by everything, so Iffy and Peter chatted merrily away while the others rode in silence.

Professor McGonagall met the First Years in the entry hall. Iffy, mindful of her exalted status as a student at Hogwarts, did not wave or call out to her, but she smiled brightly when McGonagall's gimlet eyes rested on her face for a moment. McGonagall was no more proof against her wiles than anyone else and gave her a nod in greeting. Then they were traipsing into the Great Hall, under the eyes of the entire school, up the long aisle between the tables to the dais where the faculty sat.

Iffy tried to look composed and dignified. It was difficult when she was several inches shorter than anyone but Peter Creevey and she could see nothing without craning her neck or bouncing on her toes. But halfway down the aisle, the crowd split enough that she caught a glimpse of the high table. Her eyes swept the row of teachers seated there, from Professor Trelawney at one end to Hagrid at the other, and found what she had been searching for.

Her gaze moved unerringly to the slight, elegant figure in black robes sitting beside Professor Flitwick, his silver-gilt head angled to listen to something the tiny Flitwick was saying. He was, as always, the bright center of the room, the shining flame that drew all light and all eyes to him. Even the new students, nervous and excited about the Sorting to come and anxious to see everything at once, couldn't keep their eyes from moving back to him a second and third time, drawn by the undefinable power that clung to him.

No matter how fascinating, frightening or outright shocking Draco Malfoy might be to others, to Iffy he was simply the mother she adored and for whom she would gladly walk barefoot into a dragon's mouth, if he asked it of her. She watched as he smiled at something Flitwick said, then offered a dry retort that drew a high-pitched giggle from the Charms Master. She wished that she could call out to him, draw his attention, and see him smile at her, but she knew that neither he nor Professor McGonagall would approve, so she held her tongue and stayed sedately in her place.

The First Years formed a ragged, whispering line at the foot of the dais, facing the high table. Then McGonagall brought out the Sorting Hat on its tall stool. Iffy didn't pay much attention to the song the Hat sang. She'd heard enough of them to find them rather dull, and she was far more interested in peeking over her shoulder to spot friends in the crowd. Several of the older students were muttering and nodding in her direction, and she knew that her distinctive white-blonde head had given her away. Even as short as she was, she could never hide in any room, especially a room that also held Draco Malfoy.

The song done, McGonagall gave them her standard instructions, then pulled out her list.

"Adams, Viola," she called, and the first student climbed nervously to the dais to be sorted.

Several more were sorted, then they reached, "Creevey, Peter."

Iffy was not surprised when he ended up in Gryffindor, but she was a bit disappointed. She didn't plan to be a Gryffindor, herself, and she had rather hoped to be in Peter's house.

"Diggle, Rowena."

"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat bellowed.

Then, a few moments later, "Fitzgerald, Anne."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Iffy gave Anne a congratulatory smile, as the blushing girl hurried past her on her way to the Hufflepuff table. Theo Fox came next, and she was sorted to Ravenclaw along with Rowena.

Finally, Professor McGonagall glanced at her list, gave Iffy a look over the tops of her spectacles, and called, firmly, "Malfoy, Lily."

A hum of noise answered her, and Iffy caught more than one startled look from her classmates. At the Head Table, Draco had stopped talking to Flitwick and turned his attention on the sorting. Iffy felt suddenly more self-conscious than she ever had in her life. She climbed onto the dais, then up onto the stool. The Sorting Hat settled over her head.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Littlest Gryffindor," the Hat said in her ear.

"Actually, I was rather hoping not," Iffy murmured, politely.

"No? Prefer Slytherin, do you? Fine House, Slytherin, with a proud tradition of pureblood wizards."

"Umm…"

"You're a difficult one, Lily Iphigenia Potter Malfoy, just like your father. Yes. Hmm. The fact is, you'd do well in any House. You have the courage of a Gryffindor, the loyalty of a Hufflepuff, the cleverness of a Ravenclaw and the cunning of a Slytherin. But you don't want to take the easy way, and follow in your parents' footsteps, do you? No. You go your own road, eh?" The Hat paused, and Iffy could hear the voices in the room rise as the Hat remained stubbornly quiet. "So, which House would you prefer?"

"I… I don't suppose you'd put me in Hufflepuff?"

"Hufflepuff! Draco Malfoy would cut me to ribbons! It's more than my life is worth!"

Iffy sighed. "I was afraid of that. All right then, how about Ravenclaw?"

The Hat drew in a deep breath and bellowed, "RAVENCLAW!"

As Professor McGonagall pulled the Hat from her head, Iffy saw that the entire Ravenclaw table was on its feet, clapping and cheering. McGonagall looked startled, and when Iffy reached the floor, she turned toward the head table to see her mother staring at the Sorting Hat in blank shock. A small, wicked smile tilted her lips, and she did a little dance step as she crossed to her House table.

Theo and Rowena met her with loud demands to know what had taken so long and why she hadn't told them she was really Lily Malfoy – the Lily Malfoy – and why she hadn't told them that her father was Harry Potter, the Hero of the Wizarding World. She sat down between Theo and another new Ravenclaw, trying to look unruffled by all the attention focused on her, and her father's words at the station came back to her.

You'll be out there in the school, unprotected, where people know more about you than you want them to know and think they have the right to judge you.

Were Rowena and Theo going to judge her now, she wondered? Were they going to look at her funny, because she had the most famous mother in the wizarding world—a mother who wasn't supposed to be a mother at all, who had nearly gone to prison for having a child, and who scared all the students at Hogwarts silly just by being more powerful and more beautiful than any person was supposed to be? She wished she had had the nerve to insist on Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuffs were kinder, less judgmental children than the Ravenclaws, for the most part, and Iffy always felt comfortable with them. But it was too late now. For better or worse, she was a Ravenclaw.

Much of her nervousness faded away during the feast, and by the time she stepped into the Ravenclaw common room, she was more excited than worried. It was a grand room, with a vaulted ceiling and a huge fireplace. The chairs were all blue, with bronze stitching, and they were much nicer than the ones in the Gryffindor Tower, though to Iffy they looked kind of stiff. She liked the colors. They reminded her of the baby blanket her father kept in a trunk in her room, knitted by Mrs. Weasley, which was sapphire blue with a big silver I on it. Blue had always been her color, so maybe she was a real Ravenclaw after all.

The First Year girls were led up a steep stairway by a prefect and shown into a room full of blue-curtained beds. Iffy's belongings, including her satchel full of Auntie Hermione's manuscript, were arranged neatly around one of them. She crossed to it and plumped down on the mattress to stare at the room. Theo sat on the bed to her right, still eyeing her with avid curiosity. Rowena was across from them, next to Viola Adams. The fifth girl in the room was a cheerful girl named Adelaide, who had already told them all about her mixed-blood family and how much she hated her name and how many books she had read about Hogwarts before coming here.

Iffy regarded the dormitory sadly, thinking of her own little room in the tower by the hospital wing. It was much smaller than this, but much more comfortable, and the thought of it standing empty all night—her mother wandering about the flat alone, with her father off at work and Iffy in the Ravenclaw dormitory—made her throat tighten with tears.

"What's the matter, Iffy?" Adelaide asked.

"Nothing. I was just feeling a little homesick."

"But you are home," Rowena pointed out.

Iffy glanced around the room again, her mouth drooping in spite of her best efforts to the contrary. "No, I'm not."

At that moment, a strange little face poked around the door, bat-ears erect and pencil-nose twitching. Viola gave a shriek, then laughed at her own foolishness. "Oh! It's only a house-elf!"

Iffy turned swiftly and broke out in a wide smile. "Dobby!"

"Good evening to the young ladies," Dobby said, bowing as he scuttled into the room. "Dobby is sorry to intrude."

"You're not intruding," Iffy assured him. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Mistress Iphigenia is a Ravenclaw now! Dobby is very happy for her."

"Oh, do stop calling me that. You know how my father hates it."

"Dobby is most sorry, Miss Iffy. Dobby will try to remember."

Iffy laughed outright at that. "You've been saying that for eleven years and haven't remembered yet."

Dobby's enormous green eyes twinkled lovingly at her. "Master Draco told Dobby to fetch a book from Miss Iffy."

"That's right! Aunt Hermione sent it. It's here…" Iffy grabbed her satchel and pulled the buckles open. She needed both hands to hold the great stack of parchment, and a few pages spilled to the floor as she tugged it free of the satchel. Dobby retrieved them and laid them carefully on top of the pile. Iffy started to hand him the manuscript but halted and pulled it back against her chest. "Do you… do you think I might deliver it, Dobby?"

"Oh, no! Miss Iffy must not be out in the castle this late! It is against the rules."

"Yes, but…"

"Miss Iffy is a student at Hogwarts, now. She is a Ravenclaw. She must not break the rules."

"Oh, bother. I want to go home, just for a few minutes."

Dobby shook his head 'til his ears flapped. "Master Draco would be angry."

Iffy sighed and thrust the pile of parchment at him. "Is he angry that I'm a Ravenclaw and not a Slytherin?"

Dobby's eyes began to twinkle again. "Not angry. But he walks all about the room, muttering Ravenclaw? How could she be a Ravenclaw? and paying no attention to where he is going. He has tripped over Dobby twice already."

Iffy giggled, her eyes suddenly prickly with tears. "I'm sorry, Dobby. I didn't mean to get you trodden on or to… or to disappoint him."

Dobby eyed her solemnly, all teasing gone from his manner, and he put out a hand to touch her knee. "Miss Iffy knows better than that. She knows that Master Draco and Harry Potter are always proud of her, whether she is Slytherin, Ravenclaw or even Hufflepuff."

Her tears quickened, and she opened her mouth to give Dobby a message for her mother, but remembered suddenly that there were four strangers listening to her. Flushing slightly, she muttered, "Wait just a moment, Dobby."

Then she fished a piece of parchment, quill and ink from her trunk and knelt on the floor to use its top as a writing desk. Her note was short and to the point, and it took her only a few minutes to scrawl it across the page, but the Vox charm was difficult for her, and she had to do it twice before she got it right. Then she read the note over once more and nodded in satisfaction. It said:

Dearest Mum,

I thought it would be great fun to surprise you at the Sorting. Now I'm not so sure. Are you dreadfully angry that I'm not in Slytherin or Gryffindor? Dobby says you're not. I hope he's right. I like the Ravenclaw dormitory, but it isn't home and I miss my room. I miss my mum. I love you terribly, and I would ask Dobby to give you a kiss from me, but I think you'd break his neck if he tried, and poor Dobby always tries to follow orders.

Don't stay up too late reading. You know it makes you grouchy in class.

Love,
Your Baby Ferret

She handed it to Dobby and said, with a sniff, "Give that to Master Draco and tell him I've already done the charm on it." By doing the Vox charm herself she made the note read itself in her own voice, which she knew would make her mother happy. "The password is ferret."

"Dobby will give the note to Master Draco. Good night, Miss Iffy. Good night to all the young ladies."

With a bob of his head and a twinkling smile at Iffy, he disappeared with a crack.

"Ooh," Adelaide breathed. "I've never seen a house-elf in person before. Is he yours?"

"He works for Professor Dumbledore, but he's been looking after my family since I was born. And he was my grandparents' house-elf before that. That's why he calls…" She broke off, biting her lip, and turned away from the avid gazes of her housemates. "Never mind."

Viola plunked down on the bed next to Iffy and looked at her with frank sympathy. "You don't talk about your parents much, do you?"

"What do you mean?" Iffy demanded, bridling at the implied criticism.

"Just now, you were going to say something about your… about Professor Malfoy, but you stopped. Why?"

Iffy flushed a dark red, her eyes sparkling with indignation. "Why do you want to hear about him?"

"I didn't say I did," Viola pointed out.

Iffy dropped her eyes to her lap and mumbled something incoherent.

"You don't have to talk about your parents, if you don't want to, but you also don't have to stop yourself every time you're about to mention one of them. We all know who they are…"

"Everyone knows who they are."

"That must be weird."

"How could it not be weird?" Rowena cut in, her sharp eyes fixed on Iffy's face.

"I only know about them, because my mum fought at Azkaban," Adelaide said. "She told me all about how Harry Potter killed the Dark Lord. That was after you were born, wasn't it?"

Iffy nodded.

"Did you see the battle?"

"No. I was at Hogwarts."

"But your parents both fought."

"Mine did, too," Theo said.

"And mine," Rowena added.

"Mine didn't," Viola said, "but my father was at the Wizengamot hearing when Professor Dumbledore forced them to give Lily back… Oh." Her eyes widened. "That was you, wasn't it? I mean, all those stories and all those terrible things that happened… They were about you and your family."

"Yes," Iffy whispered, wishing she could retreat into the mattress and disappear.

"I've heard the stories since I was a baby, but it never seemed like they were about real people. They were just… stories. Is it true that your grandmother, Narcissa Malfoy, rescued you from the Dark Lord and took you to St. Mungo's? To a healer there?"

"That was my Gran," Theo said, her voice full of awe.

"Iphigenia Fox," Iffy said, nodding. "I was named for her."

"But your real name is Lily."

"After my father's mother, Lily Potter. My whole name is Lily Iphigenia Potter Malfoy."

"Why don't you use Lily? And why don't you use your father's last name?"

Iffy shrugged uncomfortably. "It's complicated. It's got something to do with making sure I'm legally as much a Malfoy as a Potter. Plus, my father says that Potter is a cursed name. But I don't see how Malfoy is any better, with all of my mother's family dead or in prison or shunned by the wizarding world for being Death Eaters. My mum is the only Malfoy left that anyone will speak to, and most people won't speak to him either, which is completely mental, since he helped my dad save the world and kill Voldemort and he's a better wizard than the lot of them put together."

The girls exchanged uneasy glances, then Theo prompted, "What about your first name?"

"Everyone recognizes it. You can't say Lily Potter or Lily Malfoy without people looking at you sideways and whispering. Most people don't know that my name is also Iphigenia, so they don't make the connection… unless they know my mother."

"Why would that matter?"

Iffy rolled her eyes at Theo. "Have you seen my mother?"

Theo blushed, and Iffy knew that Draco Malfoy had made another conquest without even knowing it. "He's… kind of hard to miss."

"Yes. No one forgets him. And no one who's ever seen him would mistake me for anyone else's daughter."

Theo laughed a little awkwardly. "You did tell me that you got everything from your mother's side of the family. Now I know what you meant."

"You don't look the least little bit like Harry Potter," Adelaide said. "I've seen zillions of pictures of him, and he's got black hair and…"

"We all know what he looks like," Rowena said, tartly. Then, with a hint of malice in her voice, she added, "But you wouldn't look like him."

"What does thatmean?" Iffy countered, suspiciously.

"Well, he isn't really your father, is he?"

Iffy stiffened. "That's a lie! You take it back this instant or I'll…"

"Rowena, how could you say something like that?" Theo demanded, cutting off Iffy's furious response. "Everyone knows Harry Potter is her father."

"No, everyone knows that Dumbledore and Potter said he was her father, but really it was You-Know-Who…"

"Don't you ever say that again!" Iffy howled, leaping to her feet and pointing her wand at Rowena's forehead.

"Don't, Iffy!" Viola cried, trying to snatch at her arm. "She didn't mean it!"

"Yes I did," Rowena said, smugly, though there was fear lurking in her eyes when she looked at the wand. "But I don't know what she's getting so upset about. She's got the most powerful wizarding blood ever, and she's got Harry Potter to pretend he's her father…"

"He's not pretending! He is my father! And if you think for one minute that my mother would…"

Rowena flipped a dismissive hand at her, cutting her off. "No one says he enjoyed it."

"Rowena!" Theo gasped.

"And don't you think it's kind of silly to keep calling him Mother, like he really is one? Come on, Iffy! That's just creepy."

Iffy uttered a scream of pure rage and threw herself bodily at Rowena. Luckily for the other girl, she was small enough that Viola and Theo could grab her out of the air and restrain her, but it took all their strength to do it. They were still trying to wrest her wand from her, a task made more difficult by Rowena's continued taunts, when someone pounded on the door and demanded to know what the racket was about.

Dead silence gripped the room, and Iffy sank limply onto her bed.

Theo exchanged a glance with Viola, then called, "Nothing! We'll be quiet!"

The older student muttered something about stupid Firsties and shuffled away to find her own bed. Iffy sat very still, her face rigid and her eyes dry, too angry to give the other girls the satisfaction of seeing her cry, while Theo and Viola tried to make normal conversation as they prepared for bed. Rowena maintained a smug silence, and Adelaide looked doubtfully from one girl to the other, her face twisted with distress.

Suddenly, Iffy shot to her feet and crossed to the door.

"Where are you going?" Theo demanded. Iffy ignored her. "Iffy, you can't go out in the halls!"

Iffy slammed out of the room without answering. She knew that Theo was right, and she didn't dare brave the halls after lights-out, especially not on her first night at school. But she couldn't stand to be in the same room with Rowena a moment longer, nor was she at all sure that the other girls hadn't believed Rowena's disgusting lies.

She ran down the stairs to the common room and pulled a chair up by the dying fire. Her eyes were still dry. The tears wouldn't come. But the ache in her chest threatened to suffocate her, and she was still shaking with anger as she curled up in the chair.

A loud crack beside her brought her eyes open, and she turned to find Dobby standing in front of the hearth. He regarded her with enormous, sorrowful eyes.

"Is the Little Mistress in trouble?"

"No, Dobby, I'm fine. What are you doing here?"

"Master Draco sent Dobby with this." He held out a folded piece of parchment.

Iffy snatched the letter and clutched it tightly to her chest. "Thank you. You'd better go home now."

"Not if the Little Mistress needs Dobby."

"I don't. Is… is my father home, yet?"

"No. Harry Potter works very hard these days."

"Then go home, Dobby, and don't let Master Draco fall asleep over a book."

Dobby twinkled at her. "Dobby has much magic, but not enough for that. Good night, Mistress Iffy."

"Good night, Dobby."

He disappeared with a pop, leaving Iffy alone with her mother's letter. She opened it and turned it so that the firelight fell on the fine black pen strokes.

My dear Lily,

Of course I'm not angry with you, only surprised. I thought you would want to be a Gryffindor, like Harry. You may look like me on the outside, but you're pure Harry on the inside, and he's a Gryffindor lion to the core. Still, the Sorting Hat is never wrong, so you must be a Ravenclaw in spite of us. You'll get used to the dormitory. Just be grateful it's not the Slytherin dungeon—that place is always damp and cold, and the rats down there are the size of Creeveys.

Harry says you've been threatening to hex people. I hope you've thought better of it. Take my word for it that intimidating people doesn't solve anything, and if you start out by fighting over every insult, you'll spend the rest of your days at Hogwarts in detention.

So try, my love, to control the Slytherin in you and remember whose daughter you are. The Great Harry Potter would never hex his housemates, even if they made off-color jokes about his parents. And don't send anymore letters back with Dobby. You belong in bed.

All my love,
Mum

Iffy read the letter through several times, her eyes filling with the tears that would not come before. Finally, when she could no longer see the writing through her tears, she crumpled the letter up against her chest, closed her eyes, and surrendered herself to an orgy of weeping.

She was calming down considerably and drifting toward sleep, when she heard someone pad softly down the stairs and into the room. Hastily wiping her eyes, she peered over the back of the chair. It was a girl named Sarah whom she had known for years, a Prefect.

"Hallo, Iffy, what are you doing out of bed?"

"Just sitting," Iffy said, a trifle thickly.

The girl crossed the room to where she sat and perched on the arm of her chair. Peering at Iffy's blotchy face and reddened eyes, she said, "You've been crying. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Iffy wiped at her cheeks again and gave a determined sniff.

"Feeling homesick? A lot of kids are homesick at first. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"That's not it." Iffy stared at the dying fire, her face rigid with anger and her winter eyes glowing orange in the ruddy light. "I just had to get out of that room before I got myself expelled." The red light flared up in her eyes, and her voice grew louder, more cutting, with every word. "That would give them all a laugh, wouldn't it? Lily Malfoy, daughter of the famous Harry Potter, getting kicked out her first day at Hogwarts for turning her Housemate into a toad!?"

"That doesn't sound like you. The Baby Ferret I know would never attack one of her housemates!"

"Oh, yes I would!" Iffy replied, hotly. "After what she said, she deserves it!"

"Who?"

"Rowena Diggle. She's a stupid, spiteful, hateful little… little…"

"Okay, take a damper."

Iffy clamped her mouth shut on the spate of insults that were poised on the tip of her tongue and crossed her arms in a gesture of disgust strongly reminiscent of her Auntie Hermione.

"Now, tell me what Diggle's done get you so cheesed off."

"She opened her foul mouth."

"And said?" When Iffy refused to reply, she gave her a nudge with her elbow and said, "Come on, Iff, we're old friends. You can tell me."

"I can't repeat it."

A look of understanding dawned on Sarah's face. "I can probably guess. It was about your parents, wasn't it?"

Iffy sucked in a breath, visibly braced herself, and ground out, "She said I'm not really a Potter. She said Voldemort was my father."

"I've heard that before, but I never believed it," Sarah said in a matter-of-fact way.

"She made it sound like… like my mother…"

"That's enough. I don't need that image in my head. Listen, Iff, I know people can say some really ghastly things, and most of them don't realize how much they're hurting you when they do. Rowena probably believes that rubbish, and she probably doesn't think she's insulting your mother. She doesn't understand how you can look at Professor Malfoy as your mum, because to her, he isn't."

"Does she think I was born out of thin air?" Iffy demanded, sourly.

"She doesn't think at all. But give her some time to get to know you, and she'll love you like the rest of us."

"If she doesn't?"

"Then she isn't worth your trouble."

"I just want to go home," Iffy said, tiredly, letting her head fall back against the chair.

Sarah patted her shoulders. "This is your home now, and you've got to find a way to deal with Rowena Diggle and everyone else who's got an opinion about your parents. Unfortunately, there are a lot of them."

"I wish they'd let me be a Hufflepuff."

"Why would you want to be a Hufflepuff?"

"Because they're nicer than anyone else. They don't call me rude things or say I'm… I'm…"

"Well, I'm glad you're a Ravenclaw."

"I asked to be a Hufflepuff, but the Sorting Hat said I couldn't. He said my mother would…" She instinctively broke off the sentence, swallowing her words, and Sarah gave her shoulders another pat.

"Everyone pretends to be afraid of Professor Malfoy, you know, but they don't mean it. Even the Sorting Hat."

"Rowena called him creepy. That's when I tried to hex her."

"She's a jealous cat and you should ignore her. Are the other girls a bit nicer?"

"Yeah… maybe. Theo—Theodora Fox—fancies my mum. I think Adelaide is more curious about my dad. All of them stare at me like I'm one of Hagrid's dangerous creatures, and I'll explode at any minute."

"Well, if you're threatening to hex them…"

Iffy gave a ragged laugh and felt some of the anger seep out of her. "I won't. Dad says I need to be dignified and civilized. And Mum says, if I start fighting now, I'll spend the next seven years in detention."

"They both have a point."

Iffy sighed. "I'd still like to glue Rowena's tongue to the roof of her mouth."

Sarah laughed and stood up. "Come on, Iffy, you need to get some sleep."

"I suppose." She got to her feet and fell into step beside the older girl.

Sarah draped a companionable arm around her shoulders. "You know, I heard a great story about your mum. I don't know if it's true, but I like to think it is."

"What story?"

"That he once glued Ron Weasley to a wall."

Iffy giggled at that. "Really? Uncle Ron?"

"That's what I heard. And that Professor Flitwick had to unglue him, because no one else could figure out how to do it."

"Oooh, I'll have to ask Uncle Ron if it's true! I bet it is. They're best friends, but they're always doing mental stuff like that to each other."

"Well, next time Professor Malfoy tells you not to hex people, you remind him about glueing his best friend to a wall. That'll shut him up."

Iffy giggled again and bounced up the first couple of stairs with her usual excess of energy. "No, it won't, but it'll be fun, anyway. Good night, Sarah. Thanks."

"Good night, Iffy."

Harry tumbled out of the fireplace in Dumbledore's office, dusted himself off, and looked around. It was very late and the Headmaster was nowhere to be seen, but Fawkes was awake, as usual, and favored Harry with a welcoming squawk. Harry paused to tickle his magnificent scarlet head on the way out the door.

Two minutes later, he was stepping through the portrait hole into his own suite. A couple of candles burned in the wall sconces—left by Dobby, no doubt—and a droning voice came from the shadows under the window. Knowing precisely what he would find, Harry tiptoed across the sitting room toward the window, a smile pulling at his lips. Holding out his hand, he muttered, "Lumos."

The ball of wandfire that sprang up over his palm showed him Draco seated at his desk, his head resting on an open book, fast asleep. The book was reading itself in such a dull, monotonous voice that Harry was not at all surprised his dragon had passed out while listening to it.

Tossing the wandfire into the air so that it hung above his head, Harry leaned over and murmured, "Is this how you greet the returning hero?"

Draco started awake at the sound of his voice, snapping upright in his chair so quickly that he would have bloodied Harry's lip with his head, if Harry had not moved smartly back. It took Draco only a second to recognize the presence beside him, and he turned to smile tiredly at his partner.

"Harry? What time is it?"

"Late. You left your book running."

"Oh." Draco flicked his adamant fingers over the book and the droning voice cut off in mid word. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair.

Harry stepped up close behind him, resting his hands on Draco's shoulders and letting the other man's gleaming head lean against his midriff. Warmth and a trickle of wizarding power flowed between them, a silent greeting and caress.

"Did you defend your hero title tonight?" Draco asked, sleepily.

"Forget about work. What happened at the Sorting ceremony?"

"The Sorting!" Draco once again came upright with a start, and he twisted around to fix his empty gaze on Harry. "She's in Ravenclaw! Can you believe it?"

"Ravenclaw? Hm."

"What does that mean?" Draco demanded. "She'll make a spectacular Ravenclaw!"

"Of course she will. It's just that…" Harry eyed his lover nervously and ventured, "I rather thought she wanted to be in Hufflepuff."

"Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff?! Our daughter is no Hufflepuff."

"No, but that's probably because she knew it would upset you. Mum will have kittens was how she put it."

"What exactly are you accusing me of? Making Lily into a Hufflepuff, or denying her the right to be one?"

"Neither. I'm saying that she cares a little too much what you think and doesn't want to disappoint you."

Draco scowled furiously at him for a moment, then let his mask slip to show the hurt behind it. "She didn't tell me that."

"You talked to her after the Sorting?"

"No. She sent Dobby with a note. Where did I put that thing?" He patted the surface of the desk, trying to find the scrap of parchment without knocking it onto the floor, then sighed and flicked his finger negligently. The note flew out of his pocket and into his crystalline hand. He held it out toward Harry. "I could tell she was unhappy, but I didn't know she was hoping for a different House."

Harry read the note, imagining Iffy's sweet voice reading the words as Draco would have heard it, and understood immediately what his dragon had meant about her not sounding happy. If her references to missing her room and her mum were not enough, her signature was proof that she was feeling both vulnerable and lonely. Iffy never used her childhood nickname, Baby Ferret, unless she was wishing she was still four years old and could crawl into Draco's lap to sleep against his shoulder. One glance at Draco's face told Harry that he was wishing the same thing.

"Do you miss her?" he asked, softly.

Draco grimaced at him. "Of course I bloody well miss her! But it's not like she's on the other side of the world."

"No, just far away enough to make the flat feel empty. Come here, Dragon." Sliding his hand down Draco's arm, he caught his hand and tugged on it. Draco obediently rose to his feet and let Harry pull him into his arms. Their bodies settled together easily and perfectly.

"She should have told me she wanted to be in Hufflepuff."

Harry looped both arms around Draco's waist and dropped a playful kiss on his lips. "If she really wanted it, she would have. You know Lily."

"I thought I did."

"Don't sulk. Kiss me."

Draco laughed and slipped his arms about Harry's neck. His kiss burned through Harry's body, setting his blood afire, and called up his wizarding power in a singing, golden net. Harry groaned softly and fastened his mouth more firmly to the beautiful, tantalizing one beneath it, giving and demanding at once. Draco's head fell back and all his weight rested against Harry's supporting arms, as he surrendered to his lover's touch as only Draco could.

When Harry finally pulled his mouth away from Draco's to nuzzle the soft spot beneath his jaw, Draco murmured, "You owe me an apology for being so late."

"One apology, coming up." Tightening his hold, he lifted the smaller man's feet from the floor and carried him easily into the bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind them, then crossed to the bed and tossed Draco down on it. Draco sprawled on his back in the middle of the wide mattress, laughing up at Harry and looking so breathtaking, so magnificent, that Harry had to stand and stare at him for a moment in sheer amazement.

"What's the matter?" Draco asked, a wicked twinkle lurking in his blank eyes. "Forgotten what to do?"

"The one thing I'll never forget is what to do with a gorgeous Slytherin in my bed."

"Prove it," Draco purred.

Harry tossed his robe away, kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the mattress to lie beside Draco. Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned over the other man and brushed a teasing kiss across his lips. Draco lifted his head, nipping lightly at Harry's lip to draw him into a deeper kiss. Then he sighed contentedly when Harry's mouth came down hard on his.

Harry unfastened Draco's robe with the ease of long familiarity, then moved to the layers of clothing beneath it. Draco gave him no help, only tormented him with that incendiary kiss and the occasional, almost hesitant brush of his hands against Harry's ribs, arms and throat, as if he longed to pull the other man against him but was afraid to do it.

Finally, Harry pulled back to focus his whole attention on ridding Draco of his clothing, earning a growl of frustration from his lover.

"Hold still," Harry chided, as Draco reached to clasp his head and draw it down to him again.

"Why don't you hurry up, you clumsy Gryffindor git?" Harry laughed, down deep in his throat, and Draco groaned. "I could die of old age, waiting for you."

A moment later, Harry flung away the last piece of offending fabric and crawled back onto the mattress to stretch himself out beside his love. He stroked one hand down Draco's ribs and flank, savoring the feel of his incredible porcelain skin, then drew his finger back up to caress the elegant line of his jaw. Draco's eyes fell nearly closed, until Harry could see only a sliver of grey gleaming at him from beneath the pale lashes, and he tilted his chin up to revel in Harry's touch.

"Tell me something, Dragon," Harry whispered in his ear.

"Hm."

"Do I still make you see stars?"

"Every time."

"Do you still love me?"

Draco smiled, and a shaft of pure joy went through Harry's heart. "Kiss me, you prat."

"I love you," Harry breathed, as he sank down to claim those secretly smiling lips. "I love you, Draco Malfoy."

Draco's arms and mouth and body opened to him without hesitation or restraint, and Harry came to him with the same flawless trust, the same overwhelming passion they had always shared. He made love to Draco as only Harry could, pouring his power and love into the other man. And at the height of the firestorm, Draco quietly slipped free of his own body, following the current of power to its source, where he found the rest of his soul waiting for him.

Draco curled himself around and in Harry's heart, filling it to the point of bursting. Then he spoke directly into his mind, whispering, I love you, Harry. I've always loved you. Love me again…

Finis