A Daughter of Snape, a Son of Malfoy

Chapter Two.

2 September 1996

"Hawthorne!" someone called from the hallway as Nerissa left her first ever Transfiguration class. She stopped where she stood, glad she remembered that Hawthorne was supposed to be her last name. As she turned, she met with a boy with impossibly blonde hair and pale gray eyes, flanked by a gaggle of mean-looking Slytherins. He edged slowly toward her, an arrogant grin on his face. "Never heard of that name before, and I know all of the wizard families. Well, at least the better ones."

"Sorry?" Nerissa said, bemused. "I don't think we've met. Who are you again?"

The boy looked insulted but composed himself well enough to mutter, "Draco Malfoy."

Ginny motioned for Nerissa to keep moving, but she stayed where she was. Hermione, Harry, and Ron, who had been passing in the opposite direction, stopped in their tracks, ready to step in at any moment.

"Oh. Well. Not that it's any of your business, but there aren't many of us left," she said quickly, hoping Draco would leave her alone. And in truth, there weren't many of them. Her father was her only family now.

"Really? And what happened to all of them?" Draco continued, edging haughtily toward her.

"Well, if you really must know, my mum died giving birth to me, and my grandparents and all my aunts, uncles, and cousins died in a fire at our house in London this summer. Is that enough of an explanation for you?" Nerissa snapped back.

Draco was taken aback for a moment, and Nerissa thought she saw a faint flicker of sympathy in those icy gray eyes.

"Oh," he said shortly. "Well, that explains it, doesn't it. I was beginning to wonder if you were a Mudblood. Apparently not. See you around then." He turned on his heel, rejoined his gang, and started off in the opposite direction, apparently not noticing that Nerissa had conveniently forgotten to mention her father among her family.

"Don't mind Malfoy," Ginny said disdainfully. "He thinks he's better than everyone else. Muggles especially. He hates them."

"But I'm not a Muggle," Nerissa muttered.

"He's just being a prat because you're new," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "And you're a Gryffindor. He hates all Gryffindors, too."

"I suppose I should have known. His family name says it all," Nerissa noted as they continued down the hall toward History of Magic, which Ginny assured her would be a good time for a nap. Nerissa's grandparents hadn't told her much about the other wizarding families, but she did recall the name Malfoy being mentioned along with the likes of those wizards who had chosen to follow their ambitions and seek power above all else.

And so went Nerissa's first encounter with Draco Malfoy. He was pompous and supercilious, to be sure, but she couldn't deny the fact that she wasn't completely repulsed by his presence.

* * * * * *

16 August 1996

"Hello, Nerissa," Snape replied. It had been the first time he'd seen his daughter in over a year. There last meeting had been nothing but brief, when he made an appearance at her fourteenth birthday to present her with a certificate of deposit at Gringott's Bank. It was a sizeable sum, but she couldn't help but think she would have traded it all to know him a little bit better.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Nerissa, there's no time to explain. We must get to a safe location. No doubt agents of the Dark Lord are lingering to admire their work," McGonagall said hurriedly, pointing to the burning house.

"You mean, You-know-who did this?" Nerissa demanded. "But why?"

"Like I said, you'll know more in due time. Now, we must hurry. There is a secure place not far from here."

Nerissa, still dazed by the burning house, followed along after her father and Professor McGonagall as they whisked her along the streets of London. She felt as though she were lingering somewhere outside of her body as they led her west from Islington, to a place McGonagall referred to only by address. There, they outfitted Nerissa with a robe and a replacement broom for the one she'd lost in the fire.

"Still as dreadfully skinny as ever." Nerissa heard her father mutter under his breath as he surveyed her jeans, t-shirt, and combat boots bought from the Muggle army surplus store. "Couldn't her grandparents at least afford to feed her?"

"Hush, Severus," McGonagall admonished him. " This is not the time or place."

McGonagall turned to Nerissa. "Are you feeling up to flying?" she asked. Nerissa nodded. They hadn't been allowed to use their brooms in London, but her grandparents had taken her to the country on numerous occasions.

"She might make a fine Quidditch player!" she remembered her grandfather saying.

"H-how did you know to come here?" Nerissa asked of her father and McGonagall's exceedingly providential appearance earlier that night at her grandparents' home.

"There will be plenty of time for explanations once we reach Hogwarts, Nerissa," McGonagall said quickly as she pulled back the tattered curtain "The sun has set. It's time to leave. Stay between your father and me, Nerissa. We must not delay any longer if we want to get there under cover of darkness."

And with that, McGonagall launched into the air. Nerissa stood, bewildered, for a moment.

"Well, go on!" Snape hissed, and Nerissa obeyed, joining McGonagall in midair. They flanked Nerissa and headed north at full speed, the lights of London fading in the distance. Nerissa imagined the green coverlet that was England passing beneath them, though at night it seemed more like a mirror to the sky, a black blanket dotted with little points of light.

It seemed like they had been on their brooms for hours, and Nerissa felt her eyelids droop with exhaustion. In two hours, her life had changed utterly, and she didn't know how she was supposed to feel about it. The lights below them grew ever sparser until Nerissa noticed a faint glimmer in the distance.

"We're nearly there!" McGonagall announced, motioning for Nerissa to begin descending. She did as she was told, coming to a stop on the expansive stone steps of the most magnificent castle she'd ever seen. Nerissa took a few steps back so she could survey it in all its glory. She had heard about Hogwarts from her father and of course from her grandparents, who were students there many years earlier. But even when she got her Hogwarts letter, she knew she would never see the school herself. She would be taught at home, just as always. It began to seem strange, that she should be kept away from other wizard children, but over time, she learned it was best not to question her grandparents on the subject, as they would give her no answers.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Snape," she heard a friendly voice say. Nerissa whirled around and was met with the forboding yet kindly figure of a white-bearded man wearing half-moon spectacles. "I am certain you have many questions, but let us first get you inside. I know this has been a difficult day."

* * * * * *

16 September 1996

Nerissa was already exhausted, and it was only the Monday of her third week at Hogwarts. Classes had finally ended for the day, but she had one more stop to make before she could retreat to the comfort of her dormitory and, she hoped, take a quick nap before dinner.

"Ah Miss Snape, come in, come in," Professor McGonagall declared as she answered the knock on the door of her office, not seeming to care that she hadn't bothered to used Nerissa's pseudonym. "Have a seat."

Nerissa did as she was told, letting her bag teeming with books fall to the floor with a thud.

"Well. How were your first weeks?" McGonagall asked briskly. "Are you adjusting well?"

"Yes, I think so," came the reply. "I didn't expect to find my trunk had survived the fire, though."

McGonagall gave a small smile.

"Yes, well, it was one of the only things we were able to recover from the fire. No doubt because your father used the Impenetro charm," she explained. "It made it resistant to the flames. I thought you might be glad to have a reminder of home."

Nerissa just nodded.

"Is there any news on the fire?" Nerissa asked. She sensed she already knew the answer but didn't care. "Is the Ministry going to look into it at all?"

McGonagall sighed contritely. "I think the Ministry knows who is responsible, as we all do."

"But are they going to do anything about it?" Nerissa demanded.

"It seems that, while I am sure they regret this tragedy, the Ministry is not pursuing an investigation of the fire. They are treating it as a horrible accident," McGonagall replied with great trepidation. "They released a statement to the Daily Prophet about a week ago stating as much."

"But how can they ignore what's happening?" Nerissa exclaimed, her face getting hot.

"Nerissa, there are times when not even those with authority can control what happens in the world, and in which we cannot expect them to protect us anymore than we can protect ourselves," McGonagall replied. "This is one of those times."

Nerissa just looked away, and McGonagall felt compelled to change the subject, sensing she was not making Nerissa feel any better.

"So, how do you find Hogwarts? I do hope you're beginning to feel at home here," she said.

"Yes. Yes, I am. People have been very kind, for the most part," she said hesitantly. "I suppose I'm just not quite used to being around other wizards my age all the time. And I do miss my friends from home. I sort of...left without saying goodbye to them."

"Of course," McGonagall observed. "But, Nerissa, I must suggest that you resist the desire to contact any of them. It could place you in even more danger and may even make your Muggle friends the targets of the Dark Lord."

Again, Nerissa could only nod. What she wouldn't give just to have one more conversation with Amelia. She could only imagine Amelia's shock to find her best friend had disappeared the same day her house burned down.

"And now, what about your classes?" McGonagall continued. "Do you find they are suiting your abilities?"

"For the most part, yes," Nerissa replied. "Arithmancy is proving a bit tougher than I'd ever remembered in my lessons with my grandparents."

"Yes, I imagine it might be," McGonagall cut in. "But I was at school with both of your grandparents. They were a few years younger than me, but Ignatius and Winifred were both excellent wizards. I have no doubt in your abilities, Miss Snape. Once you get acclimated to being in the school environment, I think you'll do tremendously well."

McGonagall paused for a moment.

"But," she continued, her tone much more serious. "Your father has expressed a concern to me that he wishes you'd take more care with your potions assignments." There was a twinkle in her eye.

"Funny he should decide to take an interest in me now," Nerissa said bitterly. "He didn't seem to care a whole lot the first fifteen years."

"Your father is a complicated man," McGonagall hedged toward an explanation. "It's no secret he and I do not always see eye to eye in how classes should be conducted and how houses should be run. But, inside, I believe he has your best interest in mind."

Nerissa nodded. "He probably does."

"Well," McGonagall said breathily, "perhaps you should run along now. I should imagine you'd want to get rid of those heavy books before dinnertime!"

"Yes, I suppose I should," she replied. McGonagall stood, placing a kind hand on Nerissa's shoulder as they walked toward the office door.

"Come to me anytime you need to talk," McGonagall said warmly. "And Nerissa, if you still find you're having trouble with Arithmancy, I would seek out Hermione Granger. The girl has quite a gift for the subject."

"Thank you, Professor," Nerissa finally cracked a smile.

Finding she had obliterated any time for a nap, she dashed up the stairs to Gryffindor, lugging her books as best she could. She yelled the password at the Fat Lady ("Devonshire clotted cream!") and nearly collided with Harry, Ron, and Hermione as she attempted to run through the door.

"Oh, Nerissa, hello!" Hermione said cheerily. "We were just looking for you! Ginny said she saw you after Divination, but we couldn't find you anywhere!"

"Meeting...McGonagall's...office," she said, breathless from scaling seven flights of stairs.

"Oh, well we were heading to dinner," Hermione said, exchanging glances with Harry, "aaand, we were wondering if you'd like to join us."

"Right, brilliant. Just let me put these in my room," Nerissa said, indicating the general direction of the girls' dormitory. She dashed up the circular stairs, threw her books on her bed, and then ran back down the stairs to join trio as they headed off to the Great Hall for dinner.

Harry and Ron stood there, stone silent, the entire time.

And the silence continued as they took their places at the Gryffindor table in the hall, Nerissa on one side, the three on the other. They smiled politely as they passed the dinner platters between them, but none of them could think of anything to spark conversation. Ron finally broke the silence when he started smacking his lips loudly as he chewed on a pork chop. Hermione gave him a cross look, but Ron was so thoroughly engrossed in his meal, he failed to notice.

"So, Nerissa," Hermione said suddenly, "you're taking Arithmancy, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"How do you like it? It's one of my favorite subjects," Hermione said exuberantly. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Ehmm, well, it's proving a bit harder than I recall from my lessons from my grandparents, but Professor McGonagall thinks that once I get used to being in school, I'll do much better."

"So...you've never been to school?" Harry asked, appearing completely perplexed.

"No," Nerissa replied, her ebony eyes suddenly downcast. "My grandparents always taught me at home. We moved around a lot when I was younger, and they thought it best if they taught me from home." The London home was only the last in a long line of places she had lived with her grandparents--Bristol, Exeter, a few tiny towns in the Lake Country, among others. They never told her why they were forced to leave each of these so abruptly, and after the third move or so, she stopped being curious. A heavy silence hung in the air, and Harry could sense that Nerissa was not entirely comfortable discussing her grandparents just then.

"Well," Ron piped up, swallowing a huge mouthful of mashed potato, "if you need any help, ask Hermione. She's a right walking brain!" Hermione's face reddened with embarrassment and Harry looked straight down, trying to hide the smile that was creeping to the corners of his mouth.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperated. "You know it's not a ba--"

"Thanks," Nerissa interrupted, attempting to defuse the situation. "Actually, Professor McGonagall suggested that I ask Hermione for help. She said she was the best in the school at the subject." At those words, Hermione sat up a little straighter and tried to keep herself from grinning outright at such praise.

"Yeah, s'pose she is," Ron admitted, tucking into a second pork chop on his plate.

Harry just looked at Nerissa, who in a single sentence had restored peace to the Gryffindor table.

* * * * * *

12 October 1996

While she was well ahead most of her peers in her other classes, Arithmancy still proved harder than Nerissa had thought, even with Hermione's help. Her marks on her last exam were not to her liking, so she decided to spend that Saturday in the library to catch up. She had O.W.L.s at the end of the year, and she felt it best to get a head start. It dawned on her that this was the first time in over a month that she had a few moments to herself. She picked a far corner of the library and spread her books, parchment, and quills all over the table, so no one would be enticed to join her. A few copies of New Music Express were scattered amongst the books. They were all from August and before, but at least they were a reminder of home. And after a quick glance around the room, she reached into her satchel to retrieve her CD player and popped in Radiohead's "The Bends." She pressed play button, anticipating Thom Yorke's angst-ridden voice in her ears.

Two jumps in a week,
I bet you think that's pretty clever don't you boy?
Flying on your motorcycle,
watching all the ground beneath you drop
You'd kill yourself for recognition,
kill yourself to never, ever stop
You broke another mirror,
you're turning into something you are not

But no sound came from her headphones. Annoyed, she pressed "play" again, but to no avail. She checked the batteries, then the headphones, and then studied the CD itself. All seemed to be in perfect working order. Yet, when she pressed "play" once again, she was met only with silence.

Her frustration was interrupted when a huge book crashed onto the table in front of her. Nerissa's head jerked up as she looked around to she what shelf the book had fallen from when she realized it had been dropped, on purpose of course, by Draco Malfoy, who was now laughing heartily to himself.

"May I help you?" Nerissa asked, putting on the most innocent voice she could muster.

"Doing a little Muggle research, are you, Hawthorne?" Draco sneered, a smug half-smile on his lips.

Thinking he was quite proud of himself for catching someone in the act of using what was likely a contraband gadget, Nerissa decided she'd do her best to burst that bubble.

"Just trying listen to a little Muggle music while I study, Draco," she said in mock-sweetness. Since he seemed so averse to using her first name, she thought it best to taunt him a bit with his own. "I really love Muggle music. I think it's brilliant, better than most, if not all wizard music. I hardly listen to any wizard music. It's all Muggles for me. And I quite enjoy spending time with Muggles, too. I have lots of Muggle friends. Back home, I didn't have a single wizard friend."

"Well, good luck with that," Draco sneered. "Don't you know that Muggle devices don't work here?"

Nerissa looked sheepishly away.

"Nothing electric does," Draco continued. "Something about this place screws them up so they can't work. Been trying to figure out a charm to make things work, but I'm pretty much rubbish at charms. " But then, Draco's gaze fell upon the small stack of NMEs sitting halfway beneath Nerissa's textbooks.

She had hoped he'd be horrified. Instead, the smile lost all its smugness. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to her, appearing intensely interested.

"Is that NME?" he asked, all trace of irony gone from his voice.

"Yes," Nerissa replied. "They're all from last August, though, and way before that."

Draco picked up the copy on the top and began thumbing through it, poring over every page.

"And what have you got in your CD player there?" he continued, thoroughly engrossed in the Muggle magazine.

"Well, if you must know, I was attempting to listen to Radiohead."

"Ah, they're brilliant," he enthused, not looking up from the magazine. "I hear they have a new album coming out next year."

"So I've heard."

"What about Manic Street Preachers?" he continued.

"I have their latest album in my bag, in fact."

"And Blur?" he asked.

"Another great band."

"I have Parklife and The Great Escape," he said proudly. "Try to listen to it at home and when Crabbe and Goyle aren't around. Those idiots couldn't tell good music from their arseholes. Plus, they think only wizards make good music. Morons, those two."

Nerissa was dumbstruck.

"What? What's the matter?" Draco demanded.

"Nothing, it's just that I didn't think I'd be discussing Muggle music with Draco Malfoy, professed hater of all things Muggle."

"Who says I hate everything Muggle?" Draco seemed hurt.

"Well, your reputation precedes you," Nerissa said. "Don't begin to pretend you don't hate them,"

"Oh, I do hate things about them," he explained casually. "Mostly, I just think wizards are better than Muggles, and we should keep it that way. I don't think wizards should marry Muggles. But if they make brilliant music, why not listen to it?"

Nerissa was silent.

"D'you...d'you suppose you could arrange for one of your friends to, eh, maybe, send me some more recent copies of NME...and, uh...new CDs, and maybe a new player?" Draco asked at last. "Mine's ancient, and I've been wanting to get a few more albums."

"But I thought you said Muggle devices don't work here," Nerissa said incredulously.

"Well, yeah, not here," Draco began in an arch tone. "But once you leave the grounds, they do. In Hogsmeade and the forest, you know."

"Draco, I think there's a reason why the forest has the word 'forbidden' before it," Nerissa noted sarcastically.

Draco rolled his eyes and tried to pretend that he wasn't still terrified of the Forbidden Forest.

"Well, fine, if you're not interested," he shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, I'd pay, of course."

"With what? I doubt my lowly Muggle friends would find Galleons and Knuts to be of much use," Nerissa noted, raising an eyebrow. Draco looked away, an uncomfortable expression on his face.

"Well, I...I...that is, my father keeps some Muggle money on his hand," he sputtered. "For his work, he sometimes has to. Anyway, I have some of it. Could I give you some of that to give your friends?"

"Your father. Has Muggle money. For his work." Nerissa struggled to believe any of this.

"Yeah."

"What kind of work does he do?" Nerissa asked. She knew she would not get a straight answer.

"Well, it's sort of secret. He's kind of an adviser to the Ministry," Draco said quickly. "Travels quite a bit for that. Not that he really needs to work, what with the Malfoy fortune and everything."

Nerissa knew quite well that Lucius Malfoy was currently in Azkaban prison, which was exactly, by all accounts, where he belonged. Of course, she suspected Draco wasn't aware she knew that.

"Ah. Well, I'll think about it, Draco," Nerissa replied. "My friends would probably want to know what it's for and exactly why they should give a bunch of CDs to an owl instead of sending them through the post office."

"Right," Draco said after considering this for a moment. "Well, you think about it."

Nerissa shook her head in disbelief as Draco stalked away, no doubt denying to himself that their conversation very took place. She never would have pegged Draco Malfoy as a secret connoisseur of Muggle music.

* * * * * *

It was a long day in the library before Nerissa returned to her room that night. After dinner, she sat organizing the CDs she'd stashed in the bottom of her trunk, out of the way of Lavender's clumsy hands, when she heard a knock at the door and was surprised to find Hermione standing there. Hermione looked around, as if to make sure they were alone, before pulling something out of her bookbag.

"Nerissa," Hermione began awkwardly, "I have something for you." She handed the bundle to Nerissa. It was The London Times, the Muggle newspaper. "My parents send it to me by owl. Want me to remember that I belong to another world as well."

"I haven't seen this paper in two months!" Nerissa exclaimed when she saw the familiar masthead. "Kind of nice to see a little something from...home, I guess."

Hermione nodded

"What's this for?" Nerissa asked. The color ran from Hermione's face.

"Well, the other day in the hall, I overheard you when you told Malfoy--nasty git--that your family was...killed in a fire," Hermione began nervously. "Do you suppose that You-know-who was behind it?"

"I know he was. But the Ministry seems to be refusing to investigate it any further," Nerissa said ruefully. "I can't understand why they're trying to sweep this one under the rug."

"Well, at least some authorities are looking into it," Hermione said. She turned the pages of the paper until she reached a story with the headline, Investigators get break in fire death case. "It's--it's about your family, isn't it?"

Next to the headline was a picture of the charred remains of the place Nerissa had called home. She winced as she made out the frame of the house, but forced herself to read on.

By Clive Patterson

Of the London Times

Arson investigators have reached a major break in the probe into the housefire that claimed the lives of eleven family members in Islington last August, Scotland Yard said yesterday.

Inspector Andrew Price announced that the coroner's report confirmed all eleven people died before the fire was set, and not because of it, as was earlier reported.

"The coroner found no smoke damage in any of the victim's lungs or throats," Inspector Price said.

"In deaths resulting from smoke inhalation, the lungs and breathing passages are charred and black. But there was no evidence of smoke damage in any of the victims' respiratory systems, which means that they had to have been dead before the fire started," Price added. "Because of this information, we are now treating this as a murder investigation."

Eleven people, all from the same family, died in a blaze at 32 Walton Way, Islington, on 15 August. They were identified as Winifred and Ignatius Steele, both 73; their son, Lysander Steele, 45,his wife Veronica, 40, and their children, Colin, 14, Rhiannon, 12, and Adeline, 6; their daughter Portia Mackenzie, 39, her husband Alistair, 40, and their children, Callum, 10, and Fiona, 8.

The bodies were found arranged in a circle in one room in the home. The coroner said no evidence of any other trauma to the bodies has been found.

The blaze most likely started in the living and dining room of the five-bedroom home, which housed the entire family, and then spread to every level, engulfing the entire house in flames. Early on, investigators concluded the fire had been deliberately set, as there was no evidence of electrical shorts or an accident.

Investigators said they were also looking for a twelfth family member, a teenage girl, who may have been away from the house at the time of the blaze. So far, no trace of her has been found.

Individuals with any evidence pertaining to this case are asked to contact Scotland Yard as soon as possible.

Nerissa set the newspaper on her bed. Hermione was still hovering next to her.

"Yes," Nerissa said softly. "Yes, that's my family."

"Nerissa, I'm so sorry!" Hermione exclaimed sympathetically. "I wasn't going to bring this up, but I thought it sounded like your family. Was I right to show this to you?"

"Yes," Nerissa said shortly. "Hermione, thank you."

Hermione felt compelled to give Nerissa a hug--at least that's what she would have done with any of her other friends--but something about Nerissa's demeanor suggested this wouldn't help her any.

"D'you...would you like me to tell Professor McGonagall? I could let her know, it's no problem."

"No, that's all right. She's probably already heard."

"Yeah," Hermione said at last. "All right. If you...need or want anything, just ask, okay? I'll be right downstairs in the common room."

"All right," Nerissa replied, but she wasn't really listening. Hermione lingered for a few moments, but when she could sense there wasn't anything more she could do for Nerissa, she left her, still reading the news report over and over again.

She had to get out. She felt as though the walls were pressing in on her as she imagined the terror her family felt in the moments before Voldemort's agents unleashed the Avada Kedavra curse on all of them. The elder children would have known what was happening, but Adeline was only six, surely she had no idea what was happening until the curse hit her.

As these horrible thoughts washed over her, Nerissa started down the dormitory steps, not even seeing Ginny as she passed by. She ran through the Gryffindor common room and out into the hallway, ignoring Hermione and Ron when they called out her name. Up and down stairs she flew, she didn't care where it led her, as long as she was alone.

Finally, she arrived at a tower and decided it had to be as solitary a place as any. Flinging the door open, she ran inside and fell to the floor sobbing.

"What are you doing?" a cold voice demanded. She instantly recognized it as belonging to Draco Malfoy.

"Sorry, I didn't think there would be anyone else up here," Nerissa said, wiping her eyes, as she stood up to leave.

"That doesn't answer my question. What are you doing here? Obviously, you're upset. What's the matter?" The question sounded concerned, but Malfoy's voice betrayed no real sympathy.

"Nothing. I...I've just received some bad news from..."

But before she could finish, her lips were silenced with Draco's own. The rumpled newspaper fell to the floor as her arms found their way around his neck. She'd kissed boys before, but none were this skilful.

She felt like a woman possessed, and she was hovering somewhere above her body while she and Malfoy were locked together. She poured all of her grief, all of her frustration, all of her anger into that kiss, and when it finally ended, she felt as if she had purged something from her being. She wandered back to the Gryffindor Tower, still in a bit of a daze, hoping the feeling turned out to be the truth.

Later that night, sleeplessness caught up with her. She sat awake in her bed, listening to the sound of her roommates' peaceful, rhythmic breathing, until she could no longer stand it and retreated to the quiet of the Gryffindor Common room. Curling up on a couch in front of the fire, Nerissa took out the nearly-tattered newspaper and had another look at the story, hoping that in the hundredth reading, the details would somehow change.

But they didn't. They were always the same. And that made the tears start again.

"Are you alright?" someone asked.

Can't anyone get a moment's peace in this place?! Nerissa wanted to scream. All I want is the chance to mourn my family, and you can't even grant me that!

She looked up, ready to yell at the offending individual who disturbed her grief, only to find Harry Potter himself standing

"Of course you're not alright, what a stupid question," Harry scolded himself. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, I just..." Nerissa couldn't even complete a coherent sentence. "I just got some...more bad news."

"May I see that?" Harry asked at last, indicating the newspaper. Nerissa nodded and handed it to him. His brows furrowed as he read the news report Nerissa had memorized by now.

"I see...I see," he murmured as he sat down to read the rest of the report. "This is your family, I take it?"

"Yes. My mother's parents and my aunt and uncle and their children."

"You think Voldemort killed them and tried to make it look like a fire did it, right?" Harry had put the puzzle together as fast as she had. She didn't flinch when he said Voldemort's name, either.

"Yes. Yes, that's exactly it."

"And let me guess, the Ministry's doing nothing?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Absolutely nothing. It sounds like the Muggle authorities are. A whole lot of good that will do. Try hauling Voldemort down to the High Court." She laughed ruefully.

"I just don't understand why. Why my grandparents...who would want to kill them? And my cousins, they were all younger than me. I don't understand why they're dead... and why I was spared."

One would suppose Harry might hold all the answers to these questions, but in truth, he felt just as clueless as Nerissa. Harry did the only thing he thought was right for this situation--he hugged her. It seemed like such a natural thing to do, even for someone who couldn't remember being hugged until he was eleven years old. He hugged her, and she clung to him as if she wasn't going to let go.

"There are no...there aren't reasons, sometimes, for these things," he felt compelled to say.

"I have a feeling there is a reason," Nerissa replied. "Just like there was a reason for your parents...for why you-know--"

"Sssh, yes, I know what you're saying," he said softly.

Nerissa's eyes snapped open when she felt Harry's lips brush her forehead. She tensed up and began to pull away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, realizing what he'd done.

"No, it's not you. You didn't...I...I'm sorry." And with that, Nerissa hurried off to her room, leaving the newspaper on the couch next to Harry.