A/N: I would like to thank my beta, Hummingfox, for looking over these chapters and checking my grammar and spelling. She’s an even worse HP addict than me. ;-)
And now. . .on with the story!
“So?” Sirius said as Isabene entered the small room they were sharing in the inn. “How did it go?” He was lying on the bed, leaning against the headboard.
“Harry’s committed,” she answered. “He’ll do whatever necessary to see that Fyril never makes it into Voldemort’s hands.”
“And his companions?” Sirius asked, watching her walk over to the bed.
She sighed, sinking down onto the bed. “Ron will go along with Harry. Hermione. . .doesn’t trust me.”
Sirius scooted over to the edge of the bed, looping his arms around her waist. “You told them about my connection with you, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “But I think Hermione believes I have somehow bewitched you. Nothing I said or did could convince her I am trustworthy. It’s almost as if she knew what I had been.”
Absentmindedly, her left hand rubbed against her right forearm. Sirius reached across her to gently push her sleeve up to reveal a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. The mark of a Death Eater.
“Isabene, love, you were a spy,” he said.
“I was young and foolish,” she insisted. “I thought I could infiltrate the Death Eaters and bring Voldemort down from within his own organization. I thought. . .I thought I could be as courageous as my father. I almost got myself killed.”
“Isabene, you are as courageous as your father,” he protested, his hand sliding down to clasp hers, his thumb stroking her knuckles. “You did the right thing, helping to hide Fyril. That took bravery and courage to whisk the child away.”
She sniffled. “You’re so good to me, Siri,” she whispered.
“Shh, don’t cry, my love,” he said, cupping her cheek in his hand and brushing away her tears with his thumb. “Everything is going to be fine.” He gently kissed her lips, and she responded, melting into him as she moaned softly.
Eric sighed, raking his hand through his hair. He was sitting up in his bed, leaning against the headboard. Krista lay beside him, on her side, sleeping peacefully.
He smiled softly, reaching out to brush a lock of hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. He wished sleep would come to him as easily as it did his wife. Unfortunately, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that something was wrong.
He couldn’t explain it but there seemed to be something in the air. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen. He just wished he knew it was something good or something bad.
His dream still troubled him. He could still see the thin hand with the long fingers reaching for him, still felt the terror gripping him.
There were new dreams as well. New faces, some he thought he recognized and others he knew he’d never seen before. In one, two young men and a young woman came to him, asking him to come to Hogwarts, where he would be safe.
Hogwarts. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, that name meant something to him. He just wished he knew what.
In the other dream, an older man and woman were hugging him as they cried and called him ‘Fyril.’ No matter how many times he told them he wasn’t this Fyril person, they insisted on calling him that.
What did it all mean? Who were all those people? And why did he feel a connection with the man and woman who seemed to think he was someone called Fyril? Why couldn’t he shake the notion that these weren’t merely dreams?
He startled, nearly jumping out of his skin as he felt a hand brush against his arm.
“Easy, Tiger,” Krista mumbled sleepily, gazing up at him with concern etched on her pretty face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, slipping down beneath the covers to lie on his back beside her. He held out his arm.
Taking the invitation, she snuggled closer to him, her head fitting into the crook of his neck and shoulder.
“Right,” she said skeptically as she lightly brushed her fingertips over his chest. She smiled as his muscles rippled in response to her touch. “So, if nothing’s wrong, how come you’re still wide awake at a quarter to one, Mr. Broody?”
“I’m not broody,” he protested. Then he shivered as his wife placed a gentle kiss to the side of his nipple.
“Yes you are,” she whispered. The warm caress of her breath on his nipples made them harden almost instantly and he groaned as she traced the muscles of his abdomen with her fingernail. “It’s those dreams again, isn’t it?”
He chuckled softly, skimming his hand down her back and across her buttocks. “You know me well, Krista.”
“I should hope so, husband,” she said, smiling. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No,” he said, kissing her forehead. “They’re just dreams.”
Almost as if she didn’t believe him, she propped herself up on one elbow, staring down at him. “You sure? Seems kinda funny that you can’t sleep because of something that’s just a dream.”
“They’re very vivid,” he said flatly, encircling her waist with his arms. “Krista, baby, there’s something I’d rather do that has nothing to do with talking.”
“Oh really?” she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Care to tell me what you’ve got in mind?”
He grinned, easily flipping her onto her back and covering her body with his, effectively trapping her beneath him. “I’d rather show you,” he said huskily before dipping his head to nuzzle her neck with his lips.
“Do you have to go?” Draco asked, pouting as he sat on his and Harry’s bed, watching his love pack for his trip to America.
“Yes, love, you know I do,” Harry answered, pausing in his packing. “You’re welcome to come.”
“I’ll pass,” Draco said. “I don’t think Hermione and Ron have gotten used to the idea of us being together.”
Harry nodded slowly. “Probably best if you stay here,” he reluctantly agreed.
“Besides, Father is having a dinner party tonight,” Draco said. “I should be there, for appearance’s sake.”
“Keep your eyes open, eh?” Harry asked. He held up a hand to forestall Draco’s protest. “I know, you believe your father defected from the Death Eaters years ago. There’s just something about that man I don’t trust.”
He frowned as an image of Hermione speaking almost the same words to him came to mind.
Draco saw his lover’s frown and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Harry blinked, looking at Draco. “Hermione told me something today that was pretty close to what I just said. She doesn’t trust Isabene.”
“Harry, promise me you’ll be careful,” Draco said.
Harry smiled. “I promise, Draco.” He reached out to caress his lover’s cheek. “You should be careful too.”
Draco nodded. “I will.”
“I still don’t see why we can’t travel by Floo powder,” Ron grumbled as he lugged his suitcase through the London airport. “I mean, they do have fireplaces in America, don’t they?”
“Silly,” Hermione said. “Of course we can’t Floo to America. We don’t know where to get off. Besides, we’re traveling incognito, remember?”
“Oh, right,” Ron muttered. “On an arrow plain.”
“Airplane,” Harry corrected.
“That’s what I said,” Ron said. “Arrow plain.”
Harry shook his head. “It’ll be easier for us to blend in with the Muggles of Silver Hills if we arrive by plane.”
“Oh,” Ron said.
“Come on,” Hermione insisted, moving ahead of them. “We’ve got to hurry before we miss our flight.”
Once they’d gotten their boarding passes and had their baggage checked, Hermione began herding them toward the appropriate gate.
“Hermione, calm down,” Harry said. “We’ve got plenty of time before the plane leaves.”
“Have you ever been on an arrow plain, Harry?” Ron asked.
“No,” Harry said, shaking his head.
“Oh,” Ron said, sounding a bit disappointed as they headed toward the terminal, where they had to pass through a metal detector. Harry and Hermione passed through with no problems, then Ron stepped through.
He almost jumped out of his skin as the alarms went off.
“What’s wrong?” he cried, looking panicked.
“I think you set the alarms off, Ron,” Harry said.
“Hey, Marty, go get me the wand,” one of the officers said to another standing beside the metal detector.
Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. Ron gulped nervously. “T-the wand?” he whispered to Harry and Hermione.
“I’m sure it’s harmless, Ron,” Hermione said uncertainly.
Ron’s eyes widened in surprise as he saw the officer returning, carrying what appeared to be a black rectangle piece of plastic, about a foot long. The circular handle was held in his hand and he extended the black plastic toward Ron.
Ron gulped, fighting the urge to close his eyes as the officer ran the wand up one side then down the other of his body.
“That’s the strangest looking wand I’ve ever seen,” Hermione whispered to Harry.
“I need you to empty your pockets, sir,” the officer said to Ron.
“All right,” Ron said, shooting Harry and Hermione a helpless look as he began to pull out the contents of his pockets. He laid a few pieces of Fizzing Whizzbees, a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, two acid pops, half of a licorice wand, two chocolate frogs and a handful of wizard coins.
“Ron!” Hermione said, her eyes widening as she saw all the candy.
The officer picked up one of the coins, staring at it. “What is this?” he demanded.
“It’s, um, money,” Ron answered.
The officer narrowed his eyes. “I’ve never seen money like this.”
“That’s because. . .it’s. . .play money!” Harry said. “I have a niece in the States. Ron bought that in a toy shop as a present for her.”
“Oh,” the officer said. He picked through the candy, inspecting it. “Okay. You’re free to go.”
Ron breathed a sigh of relief and began shoving his candy and coins back into his pockets. Harry and Hermione made it through the metal detector with no problems. Ron grumbled under his breath as they made their way onto the plane.
“Well, it’s your own fault,” Hermione said. “When do you think you’re going to use wizard money in the States anyway?”
“Like they don’t have wizards there too?” Ron hissed.
“Yes, but we don’t know where the wizard shops are,” Hermione pointed out.
“And I suppose you’ve got Muggle money?” Ron snapped.
“Yes,” Hermione said. “Well. . .a little.”
Harry smiled. “Don’t worry. Before I left, Sirius came by. He brought me a credit card.”
“Oh!” Hermione said, looking pleased.
“For emergencies only,” Harry cautioned. “Though I’ve got some cash.”
“All right, so what’s our plan?” Ron asked.
“Well, when we get to Silver Hills, we’ll book a room at a hotel,” Harry said. “I don’t know how long it will take us to find Fyril.”
“How do we approach him?” Hermione asked. “I don’t think we can just walk up to him and expect him to invite us in.”
“True,” Harry said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“You’re a Parselmouth and so is Fyril,” Hermione said pensively. “Maybe you can ask the snakes.”
“Not a bad idea,” Harry said, smiling.
“You’re so smart,” Ron said dryly.
“Well, I didn’t hear you coming up with any bright ideas,” Hermione pointed out.
“I would’ve thought of something,” Ron protested.
“Guys, can you try to get along?” Harry said, grinning. “Or shall I lock you in the bathroom together?”
“Harry!” Hermione hissed, blushing.
“That won’t be necessary,” Ron said, his face bright red.
Harry’s grin widened. “Are you sure?”
“Quite,” Hermione said.
“All right,” Harry said, still grinning.
“Harry,” Hermione said slowly. “What if Fyril doesn’t believe us?”
“He’ll have to,” Ron said. “If we give him a magical demonstration.”
Harry shook his head. “No, once he sees that I’m a Parselmouth too, I’m sure he’ll believe our story,” he said.
“Let’s hope so,” Hermione said.
“I’m worried about Eric,” Krista said, swirling the tip of her finger around in her coffee cup.
Her brother, Rocky DeSantos, nodded from where he sat across the kitchen table. “No offense but he looks like death warmed over.”
“He hasn’t been sleeping well,” she replied. “He’s been having dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?” Rocky asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Weird dreams,” she said. “About this guy with thin, bony hands reaching toward him. And-and the other day, this snake got in the house.”
Rocky shuddered. “Snakes. . .bad.”
Krista nodded. “And Eric. . .it was so weird, he started. . .talking to it.”
Rocky blinked. “Okay, weird, but remember: I was a Power Ranger. Stranger things have happened.”
“I know,” Krista said, rolling her eyes. “But what about the dreams? They’re really bothering Eric.”
“Well, maybe there’s something out there, some bad guy hell bent on taking over the world and he or she’s messing with Eric’s mind,” Rocky suggested.
“Rocky,” Krista said. “No, there’s something up. And I intend to get to the bottom of it.”
“Just be careful, okay?” Rocky said. “I don’t think Eric would be very happy if you got hurt.”
“I can take care of myself,” she insisted. “I just want to help my husband get a decent night’s sleep.”
Rocky stared at her for a few minutes. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re going to ask for my help?”
Krista looked at him innocently and he shook his head. “Why can’t I ever tell you no?”
“Because I’m your favorite sister and you love me,” she said, grinning.
“I’m not sure what good you expect me to do,” he said.
“Talk to Eric,” she suggested. “Maybe he’ll confide in you.”
Rocky looked skeptical. “Krista, you’re his wife. What makes you think he’d confide in me, his brother-in-law, before he’d confide in you?”
“Because you’re a man and he doesn’t want to worry me,” she said.
“All right,” Rocky said. “I’ll talk to him. I’m not making any guarantees.”
She grinned, leaning across the table to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Rocky said.
“I don’t like this,” Snape growled as he paced his office in the dungeons of Hogwarts. A fire burned brightly in the hearth. “We shouldn’t have trusted Potter with a mission of this much importance.”
“Severus,” Mackenzie said, seated behind his desk. “You shouldn’t worry. Harry is well-known for his skills as an Auror. He will find Fyril.”
“What if your father finds him first?” Snape said as he poked at the fire with a poker.
“He won’t,” Mackenzie said. “Put down that poker and come here.”
Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled, then replaced the poker in its holder. Crossing over to the desk, he sank down into the chair she had just vacated.
“Now,” she said, standing behind him and massaging his shoulders. “Let’s see if we can’t get you relaxed.”
“Mackenzie,” he started to protest. “We should talk.”
She sighed. “Severus, please,” she said. “Can’t this wait until after Harry comes with Fyril?”
“You have nothing to say in response to my telling you that I still care for you?” he said.
She let her hands drop from his shoulders and stepped back. Crossing her arms over her chest, she moved from behind his chair and began to pace in front of the fire.
“It took me by surprise,” she admitted. “We haven’t seen each other in years. I didn’t even know if you would respond to a letter. That’s why I sent Isabene’s owl and left the note unsigned.”
“I would’ve come,” Snape protested.
“I didn’t think you would,” she responded, turning toward him. “I’m the one who walked out on us. I’m the one who filed for the divorce. I thought surely you hated me.”
“I did,” Snape said softly. “But I’ve had time to think about it.”
“Does that mean you’ve forgiven Remus?” Mackenzie asked. “For Selestina?”
Snape’s face hardened. “That is an entirely different story. It has nothing to do with us.”
“Severus, I still care for you,” she said. “I still love you very much.”
He rose from his chair, crossing over to her. Gently, he placed his hands on her arms. “Then let’s start over.”
She looked up at him. “It’s not that easy, Sev.”
He suddenly pulled her to him, pressing his lips against hers in a passionate kiss. He felt her melt against him, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
“Seemed pretty easy to me,” he said in a husky voice once the kiss had ended.
She stared up at him through veiled eyes. “Not fair, Snape. You know what your kisses do to me.”
“Come,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Let’s continue this discussion in my bedchambers.”
“Welcome to America!” Ron said, spreading his arms open wide as he, Harry and Hermione disembarked from the plane.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “Would you kindly lower your arms?” she muttered to Ron. “You’re drawing attention to yourself.”
“So?” Ron said. “I have a right to be excited. This is my first trip to the States.”
Hermione started to say something, but Harry cut her off. “Children, children,” he chided gently. “Let’s find our hotel.”
“Then can we eat?” Ron said. “I’m famished.”
“We need to start looking for Fyril,” Hermione protested.
“Can’t we eat first?” Ron asked.
Hermione shook her head. “Must you think with your stomach?” she said. “Eat some of your candy stash.”
“I’m saving it for Fyril,” Ron insisted.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Harry smirked, watching the two, amused by their bickering. “I think Ron has a good idea,” he said. “Let’s check into the hotel, then go eat.”
Ron smiled gratefully at his friend.
Hermione sighed. “Well, since I’ve been outvoted, fine, let’s eat.”
“Oh c’mon, Hermione, you’re not the least bit hungry?” Ron challenged as the three made their way out of the airport.
“Maybe a little,” Hermione confessed.
Harry smiled as he led them to the edge of the curb and stuck out his arm in an attempt to flag down a cab. “Let’s just get to the hotel and then we’ll decide what to do next,” he suggested.