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Chapter Twelve: Finnigan’s Swill
Eye of rabbit, harp string hum, turn this water into rum!
“Sara, just try to rest. Malfoy went to get Snape.” Harry brushed stray wisps of hair from her brow as she lay in her bed, weak and disoriented.
“I’m so sorry, Harry. I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into. He was intimidating, like you said, but he has the most disarming charm. I never thought he would be so persistent.”
“It’s over now.”
“I feel like I’ve done something wrong and you should be angry with me.”
“We did what we had to do. Don’t think about it.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m angry with Lucius Malfoy. Not you.”
The memory came into focus in her fuzzy mind and Sara bit her lip. She’d found Lucius exciting. His power over her, his beautiful white hair, the danger of him and his cold, considering eyes. She remembered the sensation that had run through her and the way her heart had raced when she’d been pinned to the sofa beneath him, his lips brushing her skin, his strong hands...
The thought was sickening. How could she have enjoyed the thrill of being manhandled by a Death Eater? The encounter was only a diversion. She hadn’t meant to feel anything and what transpired was about lust and fear and had nothing to do with love.
Harry was about love.
Sara was ashamed and couldn’t bring herself to tell him. Her eyes fell closed. “Did it upset you?”
His reply was dark and hushed. “Yes. I wanted to strangle him. I got there first. I heard what you told him, and I heard what he said to you. His lucky day, indeed. He’s lucky he’s still in one piece!” Harry took her hand and squeezed it. “And to be able to do nothing, just stand there and watch while Malfoy rescued you... I hated it.”
Her voice grew softer and distant as she surrendered to the potion’s effects. “We did a good thing, though. Imagine the horror he must have felt, being locked in a cell with his dead mother. We saved him from that, Harry. What we endured was a small price to pay.”
“Then why do I get the feeling we haven‘t finished paying?”
Malfoy pounded on the wood and bellowed through the door, startling them both. “Potter! Let us in! This blasted door won’t open!”
Harry yelled back over his shoulder. “Have Snape open it!”
The door appeared to work just fine for Snape, who hurried into the room. He was followed by Draco who scowled, annoyed.
Snape sat on the edge of the bed and roused Sara, who was awake, but her eyes were growing distant. “What was she given? Whatever it is, it’s strong.”
“It was in the wine,” she whispered. “Severus, I’m dizzy.” Her hand crept across the covers to find his and held it.
“Quiet, my dear,” Snape instructed with a gentle tone. “Save your strength.” He smoothed her hair, and then turned to Malfoy, who stood by the bed with arms folded. “Draco, what did Lucius give her?”
“I’m not sure.”
Snape caught the falter in Draco’s words and gave him that we both know better look that Harry associated with Dumbledore. Snape lowered his voice to a confidential tone. “Don’t make me get my Veritaserum, Draco. You‘re not on trial here.”