Clark and Sabia: Before Lust or Love by Sarinileni

Rating: R
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Lily & James
Book: Lily & James, Books 1 - 5
Published: 08/07/2005
Last Updated: 08/07/2005
Status: Paused

Before Lily and James in Lust or Love there was a hidden story about Clark and Sabia Potter.
Follow the two part story that chronicles Sabia and Clark's struggle against prejudice and
danger as they become what they are in Lust or Love...




1. Part I
---------



**Quick note****s****:** Just thought I'd let you all know something I'd never
mentioned before. The meaning of Sabia is `*sweet one*', Caragh means `*love*',
and Brennan means `*sorrow*'. So basically, the full gist of Sabia Caragh Brennan is
`*The sweet one of love and sorrow*' but that's only if you play around with it. Also,
there are references to Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII, George Boleyn, and Thomas Wyatt somewhere in here.
To curb any questions—I do not believe that Anne was a `witch' and am not endorsing any
theories about her—it's simply an interest of mine that came out while I was writing some
banter.

**Clark and Sabia**

**Part I**

**Begun:** Tuesday, March 29, 2005

**Finished:** Thursday, July 07, 2005

**Posted:** Thursday, July 07, 2005

**……**

**Early** **September**

**1958**

**Seventh Year**

Sabia Caragh Brennan, perhaps one of the most brilliant logical minds Hogwarts had ever seen,
raised her eyes in a challenge and met Clark Potter's dark irises. She tossed her long, dark
hair over her shoulder and pointed her wand at him, a mocking smile coming to her lips. Clark
Potter glanced at the clock, looking bored, and then his eyes flicked back to hers. Sabia's
entire being settled into this one moment, this one duel, this one chance to prove herself, and she
forgot about her classmates and her professor and the dozens of obligations she had awaiting her
after this class was over. She narrowed her gaze on the boy standing in front of her and tensed as
she felt the shift of anticipation in the air.

“Begin,” snapped Professor Harding, stepping back and taking a seat in his plush chair. His
beady eyes focused on Sabia's hand as she twisted it to the side before he had finished his
command, uttering a particularly nasty jinx.

Clark Potter simply smirked, his wand down at his side. He waved it vaguely around and
Sabia's jinx ricocheted off his bright blue shield, bouncing around the room before one of the
students extinguished it with his wand.

Sabia gritted her teeth at his arrogant manner and tossed her head again, allowing a
split-second glance at Theodore Hastings, whose gray eyes were shining at her. Her gaze slid back
to Clark just in time to see him point his wand at the ceiling over her head and created a rain
cloud, which broke in a torrent, drenching her.

She wanted to scream in rage, but instead she pointed her wand above *his* head and clearly
said “*Avis,*” then Banished her cloud. The sound of birds twittering filled the room as Clark
tried to duck the vicious little birds. Sabia smiled and opened her mouth to cast another spell,
but Clark Vanished all the birds in one swoop of his wand and came up swinging, blood on his face.
Sabia yelped as the glass in the window behind her imploded, scrambling away from the sharp
particles that flew at her.

“STOP!” bellowed Professor Harding, standing and waving his wand to get rid of the glass. “Mr.
Potter, is there something wrong with you?”

Clark, not even breathing heavily, glanced at his favorite teacher. “No, sir. Why?”

“While you have no problem with all but killing Mr. Hastings and Miss Chandler, you seem to have
the *greatest* aversion to even pointing your wand at Miss Brennan. Would you like to explain
why?” Harding crossed his arms and pinned his eyes on Clark, who shrugged.

“Couldn't tell you, sir. I just reckoned it would be better to demonstrate a more indirect
way of dueling with a partner. Since all the other duels today have been direct…I wanted a
challenge.” Clark raised an eyebrow at Sabia and then looked at the professor in askance.

Professor Harding nodded, deep in thought. “I see…excellent, Mr. Potter. You two may
continue.”

Sabia looked at Clark incredulously, then at Harding. Surely the professor didn't
*believe* this bullshit?

“*Expelliramus!*” Clark cried, finally directing his wand straight at Sabia's
chest.

Sabia sidestepped his spell and glared at him, finally getting really angry at him. She took a
deep breath and lifted her dark wand, aiming it at Clark's chest. “*Infusco
Pneumere!”*

Clark clutched at his chest and Sabia heard the entire class draw in a breath as one. The spell
was archaic—it hadn't been used in ages, and there was no way Clark would have heard of it. It
was extreme for a classroom duel, but Clark Potter was the most infuriating boy she had ever met.
If anyone deserved to have their breathing patterns interrupted, it was him.

He locked his eyes on hers and wheezed, without even moving his wand hand,
“*Corripio—animus!*”

Losing consciousness has always been interesting to Sabia Brennan. It was like something black
began at the sides of your vision, blurring the edges, almost as if the layers could be peeled away
to reveal another perception beneath. Sabia felt her arm go limp and heard an outcry from her
Slytherin classmates, just as the Gryffindors got up to help Clark. She fell to the floor,
unconscious, furious that she had lost.

**……**

**Late** **October**

**1958**

**Seventh Year**

*There is nothing,* Sabia thought, *like knowing you're going to die.*

The sound of her roommates waking her up made her groan silently, her head screaming for relief.
She had what had to be the *worst* hangover ever experienced in the history of mankind. She
would willingly lie down in front of a herd of stampeding hippogriffs if it meant she could get rid
of this headache and the strange memories that were coming back to her from the night before.

It wasn't often that Sabia went on the Hogsmeade weekends, but she hadn't been able to
resist the first one of the year, and staying into the night for a party—*that* was stupid.
Sometimes she wondered why her professors found her so brilliant, when she was constantly doing
stupid things.

*And why,* Sabia thought, *do I keep on seeing* Clark Potter's *face?*

Indeed, as Sabia lay with her face pressed against the cool pillowcase, she could only see Clark
Potter's rather enchanting dark eyes. She vaguely remembered speaking to him, remembered him
offering a compliment on her performance in their duel back in September—she could *vividly*
remember kissing him while lying down on a bed in Ashton Lively's house…and then…nothing. She
supposed she had passed out, but then again—she seemed to remember walking back to her
dormitory.

Sabia groaned aloud this time and made a muffled sound of protest when her curtains were yanked
aside, the high-pitched sound of the canopy hooks sliding against their metal rails sounding like a
dozen tiny screams to her. She winced and shook her head, moaning, as Kathryn Lynch told her to
wake up.

“Shaddap!” Sabia whispered, whimpering. “My head hurts!”

Kathryn laughed. “You got in about half-two,” she said reproachfully, starting to pull out
Sabia's clothes and things for the day. “I would have brought you back around midnight but you
were nowhere to be found.”

As Kathryn pulled open the shades, Sabia shut her eyes at the sound and all she could see for a
moment was the sight of her naked, glistening body moving in rhythmic time with Clark Potter's,
reflected in the large dresser mirror that adorned the wall of the guest bedroom in Ashton
Lively's house.

“Really?” Sabia squeaked, wondering whether Theodore knew what had happened last night. She
sincerely hoped not.

“Theodore was looking for you, yeah? Stupid Hasting boys—they can never hold onto their
women!”

Sabia rolled over and gingerly tried to stand. “That's because Johnny is too hot for his own
good and gets bombarded with girls, whether they're in sixth year or not. That's what you
get for dating younger men, Kathryn.” She took her clothes from Kathryn and began to change, not
the least ashamed of her nakedness. She and Kathryn were absurdly close; there was no need for
modesty.

“*Your* boyfriend set us up,” Kathryn pointed out. “It's not my fault if Theo's
brother is a bloody sod.”

Sabia bent her sore body downwards in order to pull up her socks, hoping she hadn't really
slept with Clark Potter last night. “Don't call him Theo,” she chided. “You know he hates
that.”

Kathryn rolled her eyes. “Oh, Sabs,” she sighed. “You need a new boyfriend. Really, you do.”

Sabia looked at her socked feet for a moment, thinking of what had possible happened the night
before. She pushed the possibilities out of her mind. “Well, Kath,” she answered. “You're
wrong. I'm perfectly happy with Theodore.” She met her friend's sea-green eyes. “I
don't need anyone else.”

Kathryn sighed and shut one of the drawers in Sabia's dresser. “I don't know, Sabs,” she
said. “It seems…well, you always wanted to be different, didn't you? If you marry old Theo
you'll end up just like your mother. You'll be a trophy.”

Sabia shook her head, thinking of her socialite mother. “I'm not a trophy,” she said
quietly. “Theodore and I talk about as much as the next couple.”

Kathryn shook her head. “Sabs, everyone expects you to marry Theo, and for you—the *worst*
things always happen when you do what people ask of you. You'll explode. You'll hate each
other. He's decent, as men go—but don't you want someone who's more…passionate, you
could say? Someone who actually challenges you?”

Sabia stood, her head pounding. She picked up her bag and stared down at Kathryn. “Kath, you…you
don't get it. I'm not strong enough to fight my parents. They want me to marry
Theodore.”

Kathryn got her own bag and picked up Sabia's brush, motioning for her friend to turn. Sabia
did, and moments later she felt her hairbrush being yanked through the tangles in her hair.
“You're one of the strongest people I know. Don't forget, love—your mother's almost my
aunt—you get it from her. Your parents have their own strength and they want one thing for you
but…do you really want to grow up to hate everyone beneath you? Do you constantly want to play
hostess for the *Malfoys*—the Lestranges and the Blacks? You're not me, Sabs. You'll
hate that.”

“No,” Sabia whispered, wincing as the brush tugged and her head gave a particularly protesting
pound.

Kathryn set down the brush. “I'm sorry, Sabs,” she said quietly. “Just forget about it.
Let's go to breakfast so you can get rid of that hangover, yeah?”

If Clark Potter was downstairs, it was likely that her hangover would just get *worse*, but
she followed Kathryn downstairs anyways. Clark was at his table and he did not look up when she
walked in, only continued speaking to his two best friends, Annamarie Denver and Jack Javenson.
Sabia sat down at the Slytherin table and kissed Theodore lightly, feeling his hand settle
comfortably on the small of her back. She didn't have much of an appetite, but she drank at
least three glasses of water and her headache began to recede.

“What time did you get in last night?” Theodore asked casually, before they left for
Defense.

Sabia shrugged nonchalantly, her heart pounding. “Half-one, I guess,” she answered, taking off
an hour. “I looked for you but I couldn't find you.”

Theodore peered at her face. “Really? I was there until at least three.”

Sabia shrugged. “I guess I didn't see you. I was so sloshed I couldn't wait. I needed
Kath to help me back.”

Theodore looked across the table at Kathryn, who gave him a mocking smile and curled her fingers
in a wave.

“Toast?” he finally said, turning to Sabia, holding out a piece of toast with jam on it.

Sabia shook her head and buttered her own toast. She heard her peers chattering on about Alexis
Hopewell, the Ravenclaw Muggleborn who had hit on Theodore's younger brother, Johnny Hastings.
A conversation about her rather under-endowed body followed, and Sabia found herself gritting her
teeth. Couldn't they all see that if they *didn't* intermarry with Muggles and
Muggleborns, the wizarding race was going to die out? How could the purebloods keep on marrying
each other if they ended up marrying cousins, half-sisters, their own *brothers and
sisters?*

Sabia had no understanding of how intermarriage between the Pureblood families could work. Her
own line would end with her; she had no sisters, no first cousins—her brother was disowned.
Kathryn's only brother had been killed last year in a duel, so her line ended with her as well.
Sabia shook her head and told herself to stop thinking about it. She finished her toast, gulped
down another glass of water, and then led the way to Defense.

Kathryn was a very distant cousin of Sabia's. Theodore was an even more distant cousin.
Theodore's mother had been a Black, whose uncle was Malfoy, whose cousin by marriage had been a
Lynch, whose father…

And so on.

Sabia hesitated before dropping into her normal seat, which gave her a plain view of Clark
Potter. Theodore sat down next to her and Kathryn sat on her other side. Clark came in with his two
friends and *he* sat down diagonally up two rows. Sabia exhaled loudly and saw Kathryn glance
at her, then at Clark. Her eyebrows went up into her hair.

“Sabs—”

“Not now,” Sabia whispered tightly, looking over at Theodore. He was talking to Mortimer Black,
absorbed in his conversation.

Clark Potter and his two best friends looked at her. Sabia met Clark's eyes for a split
second and then she sank down in her seat, bright red.

He looked like he wanted to rip her clothes off.

**……**

**Mid-****November**

**1958**

**Seventh Year**

Sabia had always had a problem with being alone.

There was something about the isolation that made her uncomfortable, as if someone was going to
step out from the shadows and slit her throat while she tried to run away. It was most assuredly a
morbid thought, but it was her thought, and so she stayed afraid of being on her lonesome.

She tapped her fingers impatiently as she waited to Kathryn to meet her in their appointed
library spot. It was a table all the way at the back, away from the other students and their
glares, which they seemed to reserve for all Slytherins. Sabia tossed her hair and gritted her
teeth. It wasn't often that she hid from her fellow students, but she had not the strength to
deal with them today. She had had a row with Kathryn earlier, and was regretting telling her friend
about what had happened with Clark. Kathryn had been avoiding her, but Sabia didn't think she
would blow her off like this.

“Hey.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for just a second, gathering all her disdain, and then turned to look
at Clark Potter. “*Yes?*”

His only reaction to her cold tone was a slight lift in his eyebrows. He motioned to the chair
beside her. Sabia glanced around desperately. Why couldn't Kathryn swallow her pride for
*once* in her bloody *life!?* “Anyone sitting here?”

“Depends.”

“On what?” he questioned quietly.

“On whether you want to sit or not,” she replied nastily.

He let out a long breath, as if realizing this was going to be harder than it looked. Sabia just
smiled innocently up at him. He dropped into the chair and leaned forward so his face was close to
hers, resting his elbows on his legs. “Look—”

“I believe we should have had this conversation a couple of weeks ago,” Sabia said, leaning back
and disturbed by his proximity.

Clark looked to be deep in thought. “Well…I didn't really know what to say, Brennan. It
certainly wasn't what I planned on when I went to Lively's party. Nope, can't say I
planned on it.”

“Well,” Sabia began, “then I'm sorry things didn't go as you planned.”

“Oh, don't apologize!” Clark exclaimed, smiling. “It was…nice. Don't apologize.”

“If *sex* with me was so *nice*,” she said, “then why didn't you say a single word
to me for ages afterwards?”

Clark's smiled melted off his face. “Ah. You see, there's the problem.”

“The problem?” Sabia asked, again looking around for a means to escape.

“Yes. I think we should just forget about it.”

“Already done,” Sabia told him hastily. She snapped her fingers. “Like that.”

“And don't tell anyone. Even Lynch.”

Sabia frowned, feeling a little twinge of fear. She had already *told* Kathryn—and it
wasn't as if Clark hadn't told his best friends! “I can tell who I please. I could tell
Theodore if I wanted!”

Clark snorted. “Please don't. I'd hate to have to kill him if he came at me like a
possessive bull.”

Sabia had no reply; Clark was the best Defense student in the school. He far outranked Theodore.
Any response she made would sound pathetic. “Fine. I won't tell anyone. As if I'd want to
think about it.”

Clark shrugged and stood. “Alright then, that's all good. I'd hate to have the school
know I slept with a Slytherin.” He turned and left with one last, mocking smile.

Sabia's mouth dropped open.

She sat in her seat for a minute while he left and then turned around, opening up her books.
Thirty seconds later she was up and running after him, her fists clenched at her sides. She caught
up with him and yanked on the back of his school robes, causing him to stumble. The staircase they
were on shuddered beneath them and began to move, but Sabia just glared at him. “*What* is
wrong with you?” she asked loudly.

Students on staircases below them looked up. Sabia pulled an unresisting Clark up the staircase
and into one of the dark side corridors, shoving him against the wall and stepping up to regard him
with impassioned eyes.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, unfailingly polite.

“Why do you damn Gryffindors think you're all such great people?” she hissed.

She had attacked his House. His eyes flashed and he straightened up. “You can't be serious.
Why do all the bloody *Slytherins* think they own the whole damn universe?”

“That's a stereotype and you know it! Why can't the school just say, `Oh, you're a
part of the community too, let's not WALK BY YOU LIKE YOU'RE THE BLACK PLAGUE!'? Hmm?
Is that really so hard?”

“Lower your voice!” he snapped.

“Oh, *so* sorry. Someone might think you're having clandestine meetings with a
Slytherin!”

“Look,” he said tiredly, “I thought you'd be *glad* if we decided not to say anything.
You've got a boyfriend you're going to marry, so it's not like neither of us talking
about it to anyone can fuck things up, is it? We tell people and your relationship fails, we stay
quiet and you get to grow up just like you're expected. Alright? *Happy?*” He held out a
hand in supplication but she flung it away, breathing hard at his moronic interpretation of her
life.

“You think all I'm going to do is grow up and marry Theodore?” she clarified, her voice
hoarse. “That's what you think?”

“It doesn't matter what I think of you—”

“I didn't ask what you though *of* me!” she cried. “I asked whether you thought I was
going to be a lackey to a prick for the rest of my life!”

“YES!” he yelled suddenly, his fingers curling into each other as if he wanted to strangle her.
“You stupid *Slytherins*! You're all the same. You all marry for blood, whether it's
incest or not—and then you all gather round and plan which Muggleborns to torture next! Your
problem, Miss *Sabia Brennan*, is that you think you're different but you're
*not*! You're going to marry Theodore Hastings, you're going to laugh while the
Malfoys make cracks about my entire family, you're going to have little kids and teach them
your Slytherin ways! That's the way the world is! Life isn't fair; you do what your parents
want you to do and you never do anything out of the ordinary, like sleep with Gryffindors
or—mmph!”

Clark Potter had a very nice mouth. Sabia was sorry to slap it, even if she would never admit
it.

“I'm not like the rest of them,” she told him fiercely. “How dare you assume that I am—you
don't even know me!”

“That's right! I don't even know you, never mind the fact that I shagged you two
times!”

Sabia gritted her teeth. “I thought you didn't want to be reminded that you slept with a
Slytherin. *Two times.*”

“You—you are *such* a bitch,” he spat, pushing past her. Sabia tried to catch his arm but
he wrenched it away, whirling on her. “Stop!” he commanded. “Don't you—don't even come near
me anymore. I don't want to look at you.”

“Oh, yes,” Sabia said scathingly. “I'm too much of a Slytherin for you!”

He opened his mouth to reply but just twisted it into a snarl and stormed away. Sabia let
herself enjoy a moment of self-gratification for finally winning something against him before she
returned to her dorm.

**……**

**Late December**

**1958**

**Seventh Year**

Sabia had been missing her Potions book for the better part of a month, and now she was whiling
away Christmas Holiday hours that could have been spent on her killer essay. There was little for
her to do in her big, echoing house, and she would have welcomed the momentary respite from
boredom.

“SABIA CARAGH! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

Sabia squeaked and fell off her bed with a thump. She scrambled up and rushed downstairs,
looking around widely when she reached the high-ceilinged living room with the huge Christmas tree
in the center. Her father stood by the tree, his face red, and next to him was…Theodore's
mother, Victoria.

Victoria Hastings and Sabia mutually hated one another. Victoria Hastings had been a beautiful
woman, but hers was the kind of beauty that peaked and then faded rapidly. Sabia had seen her
glamorous photographs from when she was in her twenties, her hair still thick and gold and shining,
her skin still unlined, her body still toned and slender. Now her hair had faded to the peculiar
ash shade all blonds seemed to fade to, and she was unhealthily thin. Her fall from grace had left
her bitter, and she envied anyone who took away her son's attention, especially Sabia. Her
disdain had always been clear, sometimes to the point where she was outwardly rude. Looking at her
now, Sabia felt pure dread creeping into her veins. Victoria's face was a pasty gray, but her
eyes when the met Sabia's were glittering with triumph. She looked to be on the verge of
screaming.

“Sabia, I've just received some disturbing news,” her father said evenly, his body poised
for the attack. Sabia saw her mother in standing against the doorjamb to the living room, only half
of her makeup applied. They were supposed to be attending a party tonight.

Sabia snapped to attention, her hands linking behind her back and her spin ramrod straight. No
one could ever say she had not been raised properly. “Really, sir?”

“Yes.” Her father paused, searching for the words. “Victoria just told me that you've
been…fraternizing with Clark Potter.”

Sabia did not look at Theodore's mother, but her heart sank; her very veins turned to ice.
She schooled her face to remain blank. “I'm sure I don't know what you mean by
*fraternizing*. I've spoken to him in classes a few times, but—”

“Don't you dare lie, you—you *hussy*!” Victoria yelled, and Sabia's mother
straightened, looking at her daughter with a startled expression on her face.

Sabia stiffened even more, if that was possible. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, outraged. She
looked at her father, who was staring at her grimly.

“I let you carry on with my *son!*” Victoria shrieked. “I let you think you had a chance of
becoming a part of my family—but no, oh no, you pretentious little gold-digger, don't you
*dare* think that *you* can EVER touch Theodore again, now that you're
soiled—you—you—”

“How dare *you* speak to me like that?” Sabia burst out, looking to her parents for help.
Her father was grim-faced and her mother—her mother's face was as blank as her older
brother's sometimes was.

“*I will not* tolerate being spoken to like that, Richard!” Mrs. Hastings heaved, turning
to Sabia's father for help.

Her father looked thoughtful for a while, before a strange and terrifying sort of conviction
came over his face. “Have you been involved with Clark Potter, Sabia?”

*Yes.*

They would kick her out.

*No.*

She would never have any privacy again; the trust was gone.

Some things were worth a lack of privacy, such as a roof and her pride. Her brother had taught
her that much. “No,” she said firmly.

Richard turned to Victoria Hastings, whose fingers were curled into claws. “If my daughter says
she did not have a relationship with Clark Potter, then I believe her.”

Victoria's glittering eyes stayed on Sabia. “Of course,” she rasped, clearing her throat.
“If darling, *sweet* *Sabia* says no then it *couldn't* be possible. Terribly
sorry to have bothered you Richard, I'll just leave now, shall I? I'll see you tonight,
Emma.” She waited for Richard to show her to the door, her eyes so focused on Sabia she
couldn't break away. Sabia stood with her perfect posture until her father showed
Theodore's mother out of the manor and her mother returned to her preparations. Then she
allowed her body to sag in relief. She sank down to the floor, her head in her hands, and fought
back tears.

The restrictions placed on her life were so many and so tight that she rarely tried to rebel. If
her parents—if anyone—ever found out that she had lost her virginity to a boy whose pedigree only
went back for five generations, she would never be accepted back into her community again. She
swallowed hard, now realizing why Clark had told her not to tell anyone. He had only told his best
friends, and she had only told hers. Sabia had said nothing to Victoria—so there were four other
possible people, and Kathryn was probably less likely than Sabia to tell. She was a wonderful
friend, if a little bit akin to a doormat.

Sabia composed herself, sucking a breath of air and scrambling up the stairs before her father
returned. She locked herself in her room and looked around, suddenly hating the look of everything.
The Weird Sister's poster on the far wall, the dark green coverlet on the bed, the ornate
mirror. It was all so overdone. She hurried into the bathroom and turned on the water, peeling off
her clothes and jumping under the hot spray. She smoothed her hair away from her face. She knew
they had to leave in forty minutes, so she got out of the shower and wrapped herself in a huge
white bath sheet.

She sat at her vanity, still in the towel, her hair slicked back from her face and still feeling
burdened despite it all.

She looked at her features in the mirror, frowning in consternation. By all accounts, she should
have quite a bit of trouble attracting blokes, but that never seemed to be a problem, whereas
Kathryn, with her delicate beauty, was frequently without male company. Sabia knew she had nice
hair, but her nose was too thin for her face and her eyes were too large. Her mouth was thin and
her lips were always pale. Sabia's entire body was always pale, with freckles scattered in some
places.

She blinked and then began to brush her hair, sighing as the charmed brush instantly dried to
strands to silky perfection. She dressed in a skirt and blouse and then put her robes on over it,
finishing with her shoes and her customary light makeup. Sabia went nowhere without eyeliner. Her
hair was now completely dry, and she pinned it up into a tight twist. She looked at her watch and
with fifteen minutes to go, went over to the fireplace and threw some powder into it. “8 Holden
Place!” she called, and stuck her head in.

She squeezed her eyes shut and when the world stopped spinning, she was staring out at a pair of
shoes, which became a face as her older brother, Bryan, took a seat and gave her a bemused smile.
“Sabs,” he said, his deep voice mild and warm. “I thought the fireplaces were blocked to my
address.”

Sabia snorted, inhaling soot and coughing to clear her throat. “Underestimation,” she sighed
mockingly. “Now *that's* a powerful tool.”

“Of course. As if you would let a few extremely *powerful* wards get in your way. Out with
it. How'd you get around them?”

Sabia ignored his question, reluctant to tell him of the stash of arcane spells stuffed into the
bottom of her trunk. “How's Anna? And Cara?”

“They're fine,” her brother said. “Sabs—”

Her brother had been the one to begin calling her “Sabs.” Her parents had disliked the
shortening of the name and had disapproved, but Bryan had shown at an early age that he didn't
care what his parents wanted. The name had stuck.

“Bryan,” she interrupted, “I may have to come stay with you for a little while after
tonight.”

Her brother paused, looking at her. “Has it finally gotten to you?”

Sabia hesitated. Bryan sighed. The stayed there in silence for a moment while Sabia's knees
protested their treatment. “Fine,” he said, giving in. “If you need…if you need anything, I'm
here, Sabs.”

Sabia exhaled loudly. “Thanks—”

Footsteps in the hall had her saying a hasty goodbye and pulling her head out of the fireplace,
dusting soot from her hair and coughing. There was knock on the door, and then Wily, her
mother's person house elf, told her that her parents were about to leave. Sabia hurried
downstairs and met her parents' steely eyes, gulping and hoping that they would never realize
she had lied about Clark Potter. Such a revelation would be devastating. They would kick her out of
the manor. She followed them into the floo, squinting and managing to keep her grace as she
stumbled out of the fireplace into the Lynch's living room.

Sabia smiled immediately and began making rounds, saying hello and asking about wives and
cousins and siblings. She knew Kathryn and Theodore would be here somewhere, but she did not know
where to find either of them, and besides, she had no idea how Theodore would react to her after
that spectacle with his mother.

Finally she caught sight of a two familiar heads of hair, one dark and one silvery-blond. She
hurried over to Theodore and Kathryn, stopping in front of them and anxiously waiting for them to
turn to her.

Neither one did.

“Kathryn?” she asked, surprised. Her voice softened when she looked at the boy beside her.
“Theodore?”

Both of them turned away from her. Kathryn's face was red and she toyed with her blond hair,
but she said not a word to Sabia. Her words faltered as she spoke to Theodore about how
*wonderful* the weather was, while Theodore stood with a stony face, his drink gripped tightly
in his hand.

“*Kathryn!*” Sabia hissed, and Kathryn turned slightly, looking at wall.

“What?” she muttered out of the side of her mouth. Theodore stared at Kathryn's face, his
lips trembling with anger.

“What's this, then?” Sabia asked. “Why aren't you speaking to me?”

“Meet me in my room in five minutes, alright?” Kathryn said, then turned and started up a loud
conversation with Theodore about a potion they had been studying before the holidays started. Sabia
stared at her best friend's profile for a moment, then looked at her boyfriend (if she could
still call him that) and then, inexplicably, her eyes were drawn across the room to where Victoria
Hastings and her husband stood talking with Kathryn's parents. Victoria looked at Sabia, that
hateful, triumphant look in her eyes, and Sabia turned slowly and headed to the back of the house
and up the kitchen stairs, shutting herself in Kathryn's room and sitting on her soft bed. She
put a hand over her mouth and looked at herself in the mirror, breathing heavily.

*“Everything will be alright,*” she said sharply to the empty room, but there was a heavy
feeling of hopelessness weighing on her chest. Sabia had seen this happen before—she had seen this
treatment before. *Her brother* had received this treatment before he had left the Pureblood
circuit altogether. Sabia didn't like her life very much and she couldn't care less about
her parents, but it was all she knew and she didn't want to leave it, not *really*…

Sabia allowed herself one shudder of fear before she straightened, wiping her cheeks. She lifted
her chin and stared at the door, gritting her teeth as the handle turned and Kathryn slipped in.
Her beautiful hair glimmered in the light from the candles; she didn't smile.

Sabia waited for her to speak, but as she looked at Kathryn, she realized something.

Kathryn, Sabia thought with shock, was a *coward*.

For years, Kathryn had always hedged around when Sabia would launch into passionate tirades
about her parents and their bigoted ideas and the way her fellow housemates treated people who
weren't as pure of blood as them. Kathryn would always look around, scared that someone would
hear. Kathryn did *not* have the strength to stand up for what she believed in—or, a more
horrifying thought, she did not need to stand up for herself because she *did* believe in the
nonsense most Purebloods believed.

*Disillusionment*, Sabia realized, an ache in her heart, *is a bitter taste*.

She licked her lips and swallowed, somehow knowing that she would never be friends with Kathryn
again.

“So?” Sabia finally said, the word harsher than she had intentioned. Kathryn winced and looked
around for an escape, but they both knew there wasn't one.

“They *forced* it out of me!” Kathryn burst out, her eyes already glistening with tears.
Sabia felt an irrational irritation with her friend's weakness, but remembered that she herself
wasn't always perfectly strong either.

“What?” Sabia asked, bewildered. “Forced what out of you? I just wanted to know why you were
ignoring me—who talked to you—what did they force out of you, Kathryn?” she asked suddenly, a
horrible, hideous suspicion suddenly filling the air between them, these two girls who were so very
different.

Kathryn clamped her lips shut and began to tremble, glancing towards the window and the door.
She opened her mouth, shut it, and then rubbed her probably clammy hands on the sides of her
high-quality robes. She looked lovely, but there was something slightly ugly about her to Sabia
now.

“Who, then?” Sabia asked. “I can rather suss out what you went and told *them*, but who is
*them*. Who asked you?”

Kathryn let out a long breath. “Mrs. Hastings. She called the other day and when my mother was
in the other room she just started *talking*…and then she weaseled it out of me, told me that
I didn't have to live in your shadow, that you weren't better than me—and if there was
anything I thought she should know, I should tell her now because Theodore was too enamored with
you. So I blurted it out—about Potter, and then she left without even saying goodbye—then she came
back and talked to my parents and they told me I had done the right thing in telling them, that I
should be proud, and that I wasn't to speak to you—and then…”

“Then what?” Sabia prompted. Kathryn was breathing hard and she shook her head. “*What*,
Kathryn? You can tell me—”

“Theodore was with her,” Kathryn whispered. “He asked me if it was really true.”

Sabia felt a sharp twinge somewhere within her at the sound of Theodore's name. It was
impossible to describe how they had grown up together, always playing with each other from the day
they were born. Becoming a couple had just been the next step—the perfect step, the one everyone
expected and congratulated them on when it happened. Sabia knew that Theodore had been one of her
best friends for many years…but…he was the kind of person who made decisions hastily and then stuck
to them; he had decided that Purebloods were superior to all others, and Sabia knew they could
never last while he believed it. Up until five minutes ago, she had still thought they would get
married, whether she wanted it or not.

Sabia knew that she no longer knew the person Theodore was. Each person had a path. Sabia's
was not entwined with Theodore's anymore.

“What did you tell him?” she asked, imagining Theodore's impassive face.

“I told him it was,” Kathryn replied, her voice blanketed in shame. She raised her glittering
eyes to meet Sabia's. “You shouldn't have done it Sabia, trashed or not. It was
*wrong*, after everything Theodore's done for you, after how wonderful he's been…he
didn't deserve that. He really…for some reason he really loved you—he's so hurt—you chose a
Gryffindor over him…I know I said you needed a new boyfriend, but…”

“I didn't *choose*—Potter,” Sabia said, swallowing his first name and saying his
surname. “It was an accident, really. And besides—Theodore's more upset that he isn't the
only boy in my life, I guess you could say. His ego's hurt…sometimes I think he just wants to
get rid of me, as if he can't handle me. Kathryn—you said you wouldn't tell.”

Kathryn laughed weakly. “As if I could withstand Mrs. Hastings. She's a vulture. It's a
good thing she loves me.”

Sabia sighed, looking at her hands. “Oh, Kath. I'm done, aren't I? My parents—I told
them it wasn't true and they've gone and believed me—but I'm out. I'm another Neil.
My parents—they'll stick up for me though, if I tell them it didn't happen. And I can
convince Theodore…Mrs. Hastings will have to deal with me,” Sabia said suddenly, realizing that she
*couldn't* give up her life. She could *not give up*. “I don't care what they
say—if I talk to Theodore he'll accept me—I'll be fine—oh, Kath, everything'll be
alright.”

Her friend looked stricken. “Shouldn't—shouldn't you wait a while?” she asked quietly.
“Theodore—you hurt him, Sabia—maybe you should just let him alone.”

“I *can't!* I can't do that!” Sabia cried. “Kath, don't you see that I
don't have anywhere else to go? Theodore is my only option—yes, they'll listen to him…”

Kathryn got up abruptly. “You can't talk to Theodore, Sabia.”

Sabia rolled her eyes and looked up at Kathryn. “Why not?”

Kathryn took a deep, deep breath. “I won't let you.”

“You won't *let me?*”

“I can't let you,” Kathryn said, a strange determination in her voice. Her pretty eyes
blazed when they met Sabia's. “You can't have Theodore, Sabs. You've missed out on him.
He's not—he isn't yours anymore.”

“If he's not mine, then who—” Sabia trailed off and looked sharply at the necklace Kathryn
was wearing. It wasn't a pendant—it was a ring, a gold ring studded with emeralds, a ring Sabia
*knew* symbolized a promise. It was Theodore's—his *fiancee's ring.* He had told
her he would give to her on their graduation, and now Kathryn was wearing it. “Oh, *Kathryn*,”
she breathed out, her eyes focused on those winking emeralds. Kathryn closed her hand in a fist
around the ring, obscuring it from view.

“I'm sorry, Sabia, but Theodore Hastings is probably the best catch I could ever get. You
get *everything* I want, Sabia—and you're not half as pretty as I am, everyone says so.
You want Theodore even though his mother hates you, even though you don't agree with him about
anything. You think you're untouchable—but you're not. And if you dare persuade Theodore to
forget me and start up again with you, I'll—I swear on Morgana's heart, I'll kill
you.”

Sabia stared at Kathryn, wide-eyed and speechless. Her best friend was threatening to kill her.
Her best friend wanted to *kill her*. “Kathryn—”

“No. You *listen*,” Kathryn hissed, her face twisted. “I've been talking to Theodore
for the past year now—you two have been over for months but neither of you will admit it. I'm
*not* letting you have him when *I* can!”

“Kathryn—” Betrayal—that was all Sabia could comprehend. Both were too noble to cheat on her,
but talking about Sabia for a year was bad enough. She swallowed hard, thinking that her friendship
with Kathryn shouldn't end like this—not over Theodore.

“Sabia—*stop it*! I *hate you*. I do everything for you and you don't give me
anything in return! You get all the blokes, everyone likes you—well I've got something more
important.” Her hand tightened around Theodore's ring. “I've got *this*, and I'm
*never* letting you take this from me.”

Kathryn whirled and hurried from the room, leaving Sabia on the bed, shocked. Kathryn had never
been able to resist what wasn't hers—she did exactly as her parents told, settled for whatever
came her way because it was all she was going to get. She had no drive to go out and make her life
better, to succeed and make something of herself. All the while, while Sabia had been talking about
become a high-standing Ministry employee and traveling the world, Kathryn had been dreaming of
marrying rich.

They didn't come any richer than Theodore Hastings.

Sabia struggled to get to her feet and returned to the party, looking for her parents so she
could tell them she wasn't feeling well and would be returning home. Try as she might, she
couldn't find them. She jumped when she felt a touch on her shoulder and saw Kathryn's
youngest uncle, George; he was only five years older than Sabia and Kathryn. He leaned in and told
her to go the study, his grip and eyes uncertain. Sabia used to have a crush on him.

“No,” Sabia whispered, and turned to leave, but George kept a grip on her arm and pulled her to
the study, knowing she would rather die than make a scene. He opened the door to the study and
followed her in, then closed it behind her.

It was as if Sabia had been pulled into an old book. Her parents, Theodore's parents, and
Kathryn's parents stood on one side of Kevin Hasting's desk. Kathryn and Theodore were both
sitting primly in chairs centered before the handsome desk, and Sabia could feel George's
apologetic presence behind her. At least he had followed her into the snake pit, instead of leaving
her to fend for herself. Sabia had always liked George.

“Sit, Sabia,” said Mrs. Lynch tersely.

“No,” Sabia's mother, Fiona, cut in harshly. “Don't you dare sit, Sabia. Don't sully
any of these chairs with your body—it would be a waste to burn them.”

Sabia flinched. She felt a sympathetic hiss from George behind her.

“You lied to us,” Richard Brennan said coldly. “I would have thought you would be more cautious
than your brother, but I was rather wrong.”

“Dad—”

“I'm not your father anymore, Sabia,” continued Richard in the same cold voice. Sabia look
at Mrs. Hastings, who was staring at Sabia with a manic gleam of ecstasy in her eyes. Sabia felt a
rush of pity and hatred for this woman; she had spent much of the past few years trying to tear a
teenage girl down from her position, and now Victoria had finally succeeded. In the eyes of all the
people who mattered, Sabia was nothing.

“Go to Brennan Manor, Miss Brennan, collect your things, and leave the premises. From this day
forth, Mr. Brennan and I have no wish to contact you or speak to you ever again. Good evening.”
Sabia's mother's imperial voice cut through Sabia's disbelief.

Sabia's mouth fell open the slightest bit. In some strange part of her mind, she had
expected this. This is why she had asked her brother for a place to stay, just in case. She
swallowed hard and look at Theodore's hard eyes, then at Kathryn's lowered lids. Kathryn
parents had absolutely no expression on their faces. Sabia's own parents were glaring at her,
and Theodore's parents had gleeful, sick, twisted looks on their faces.

“I'll escort you to the door,” George O'Brien said coldly from behind her. Even he hated
her now. He did not take her arm, as he normally would have, as was expected of in polite and pure
society. He opened the door for her and waited for her to turn and exit. Sabia left the room and
turned her back on her family and her friends; George shut the door firmly with a click.

Thank Merlin no one knew yet, knew that Sabia had been disowned. No one yet knew that she had
slept with Clark Potter, whose two greatest crimes were that he was a Gryffindor and his
grandmother had not been a pureblood.

Now George took her arm, startling her by touching her. She looked at him, a little lost, and
swallowed again. “Hello,” she said calmly. “How are you? I never got a chance to ask.”

“Shut up, stupid,” he said affectionately, and she was startled to see that his eyes were
shining. “What did you do to deserve this?”

“I…ah…I slept with Clark Potter,” she murmured, and waited for his disapproval. Instead, he just
shook his head.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Before they see us.” He pulled her in a direction away from the
door, back towards where the family living quarters were. He shut the door the blocked the corridor
from the sight of the rest of room and then took her into one of the guest rooms. He sat her down
on the bed, took her purse from her hands, and proceeded to take out the pins from her hair. He ran
his hands through her hair and massaged her scalp for just a moment, before Sabia grabbed his
wrists.

“Stop…George, what are you doing?”

He smiled down at her and sighed. “Figures.”

Sabia frowned. Wonderful. He'd brought her here because thought she was *easy,* now.
“Oh, really? You can leave now, George. I'll let myself out.”

“I'm not going to rape you, love,” George said, collapsing into an armchair with an
exhalation. “We're just going to talk.”

*Before you get to shag me?* Sabia thought. She grabbed her purse. “No thanks.”

George waved his hand, which Sabia realized contained a wand, at the door. There was a echoing
sound of something locking and Sabia's heart stopped. *He was going to hurt her.*
Discreetly, she tried to open her purse.

“Didn't I just tell you that I wasn't going to hurt you, Bee?” he said exasperatedly.
“Just *sit*, please.”

She made a face at him and sat.

“We're friends, right?”

Sabia snorted.

“No, really, Bee. Aside from your undying love for me—” He smiled, showing her that she could
too, “—we've always been friends, haven't we?”

“I suppose,” Sabia said.

There was a pause. “We were supposed to get married, you know.” He regarded her levelly as her
head shot up. “Really. I heard your parents talking with Kathryn's parents and my parents when
I was…seven? That was the year before they set you and Theodore up together.”

“Oh…”

“I was going to say…if you're pregnant, I'll marry you.”

“I'm not pregnant,” she said through gritted teeth, trying to stop herself from crying, “but
it's wonderful of you to offer. I wouldn't either way.”

“Why ever not?” George asked, apparently astounded. “You'd marry me if you were pregnant,
wouldn't you? I'm not that bad to look at, am I?”

That drew a chuckle from Sabia. George was as good looking as all the rest of the O'Brien
family. “Shut up, prat. No…just…if I were pregnant, I'd go to Clark. I doubt he'd ever dare
turn me away, for all that I'm a Slytherin.”

George's face froze. “Right. I was trying to forget that he's the bloke you slept
with.”

Sabia had gotten up. Now she walked over to the dresser and ran her fingers over the dark,
shiny, immaculate surface of polished mahogany. “He's not that bad, you know,” she said
offhandedly, studying her reflection in the mirror.

“If you say so, Bee,” George replied. “Listen. I…I'm here for you, but—”

“Not at the expense of your honor. Don't worry, George. We can be *secret* friends,”
she said mockingly.

George stood. “No, Sabia—I'm very serious. If you ever, ever, ever need anything you must
get in touch with me. Here.” He went to the ornate, gold-inlaid chest that stood in the corner and
took out a key from his pocket. He inserted it into the keyhole and the lock clicked open. He
produced a jingling bag and handed it to her. Obviously this was the infamous stash of gold he had
always told Sabia and Kathryn about, hidden somewhere in his sister's house.

“*George—*” she gasped. It was most definitely more gold than she would need. She had her
own stash. “I couldn't!”

He gave it to her and she almost fell, she was so surprised from the weight. She began to
protest once more but he silenced her with a look. “No one will miss it, Bee. We've got so much
spare gold lying around that it'll be thought lost. You'll need money. Your brother was
lucky enough to fall in love with a rich Muggleborn and find a good job—*you* can't go to
Clark Potter without his baby.”

“Don't call me Bee,” she said quietly.

“Shut up,” he replied, his voice just as soft, if not softer. “You know you love it. It's
better than `Sabs'. Kathryn started that one.”

“You can't fault her,” Sabia said fairly, but she felt a stab of pure hate in her heart.
*Kathryn.*

“Yes, we can. My niece is a social climbing doormat.”

“She's not a social climber,” Sabia said, wondering why she was defending her. “She's
always been at bloody top of the food chain that's pure society.”

“*You* were always at the top of the food chain. Face it, she's replaced you.”

A slow smile spread over Sabia's face, though she still felt slightly sick. “Well…you're
the last male O'Brien. All the others are girls. They can't disown you…besides, your
parents are more easy-going.”

“I've thought it over in the past few moments. We're *not* getting married unless
you wind up pregnant,” George warned her.

“I'd be Kathryn's aunt…and Theodore's,” Sabia giggled.

George chuckled. “This is so not funny,” he said, just as he grabbed his hand and winced.

“What is it?” Sabia asked, alarmed, but then she relaxed. Most people in the O'Brien and
Lynch families wore rings set with precious stones on their fingers. When another family member
wanted to summon someone, they said a spell and the ring went hot. Someone had summoned George.

“Quickly. Go,” George, said, jerking his head to the fireplace. He grabbed her arm, threw some
floo powder into the fire, and said “*Go.*” He kissed her lightly on the cheek and then pushed
her in.

“Brennan Manor!” she called, and the last thing she saw was George's face before she landed
in her own living room. As soon as she had steadied herself, she checked to make sure her parents
were still gone before racing up to her room and throwing open her trunk. At seventeen, she was
still legally too young to do magic out of school, but exceptions were always made for her family.
The head of the Misuse of Magic office was a relative. She was also legally too young to Apparate,
but she could do that too. Her parents did not know that, though.

She shrunk everything as fast as she could and threw things into the trunk. Before he had left,
her brother had made sure everything in her room was organized so that she could leave at a
moment's notice, if the need arose. Sabia had never thought the easy-packing schemed would come
in handy, but she had also never thought that Kathryn would do something like this. Sabia looked
around her spacious childhood bedroom for a quick second before making a sound of disgust. Her life
here was over, and she should be gald to be rid of it.

She still had Hogwarts. She still had her brother. She still had her pride. She still had
George.

She still cried when she got to her brother's house.

**……**

**Late January**

**1959**

**Seventh Year**

A month later, Sabia was sitting in the library writing to her brother when she heard a loud
explosion that rattled the shelves and caused several people to yell. Sabia was up like a shot and
had her wand out, throwing her quill down and walking towards the doors of the library. The
librarian was standing, her hand over her heart, staring at the doors as if something was about to
burst through them and kill them. Sabia gave her a slightly irritated look and left the library,
forgetting her letter.

Another loud sound sent her running down the Entrance Hall, where a large crowd had gathered.
Sabia put her hand over her mouth when she saw George O'Brien, bleeding from the cheek, send a
nasty hex at Clark Potter. She saw Professor Doyne coming at a run and Sabia ran forward to George,
grabbing his wrist and squeezing tightly.

“Put it down,” she hissed urgently. “He'll kill you!”

“I'm going to curse his face off, Bee,” George said of the coolly impervious Clark, who was
untouched. Panting, George tried to shake Sabia off as Doyne arrived on the scene.

“He's twice the dueler you and I are combined,” Sabia hissed, finally tugging George's
arm down to his side.

Doyne, the Arithmancy Professor and one of the most strict, told Clark off and removed fifty
points from Gryffindor. She then looked at George, her lips thinning as if she was wishing he was
still a student under her jurisdiction. “Well, Mr. O'Brien. I'm glad to see that you have
returned. I hope I don't need to explain further the consequences of your actions just now,
don't you?”

“You don't, Professor,” George mumbled, then followed Doyne like a kicked dog up to the
Headmaster's office. Sabia briefly remembered the coded letter he had sent her telling her that
he had a meeting with Dippet this month. Sabia stared after George's back and then looked at
Clark through the dispersing crowd of students.

He was looking at her carefully, inspecting her with a bit of a gleam in his eyes. The way he
looked at her…it wasn't *only* lewd—there was a good deal of concern in that glance. Sabia
had not spoken to him once since the end of the Christmas Holidays, but he, as well as the rest of
the world, unquestionably knew that she had been disowned, just as her brother before her.

Without a word, she brushed past Clark and returned to her library and her letter.

George found her there some hours later. She had dozed off and he roughly shook her awake just
as the library was closing, looking properly chastised already. He looked so miserable that Sabia
couldn't yell at him.

She simply scolded. “What were you thinking, you stupid arse?” she asked irritably. “Why'd
you have to attack him?”

“He attacked me, Mistress High and Mighty. We need to leave—the librarian wants to rape me and
if we're in here after closing she'll probably detain me.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” Sabia snapped, handing him her books so he could carry them for
her. “What d'you mean, *he* attacked *you?*”

“I mean—I walked in the door and he just *had* to be leaving dinner, so he decided to
prattle on at me and then try to curse me. I couldn't have that, could I? So I retaliated.”
They left the library. Sabia made sure they stayed in the shadows and took a little used route so
no one would see them on friendly terms and report them to the Brennans, Lynchs, Hastings, or
O'Briens.

“You retaliated and managed to *lose*, dear, dear George. Clark Potter's a fantastic
dueler—I must give him credit for that. He probably knows more spells than you do.” They ducked
under a tapestry and began walking down a long, winding, dark and narrow stairwell.

George shrugged. “It doesn't matter. It's only my pride that's smarting right now.
Don't you want to know what he said to me?”

Sabia shrugged.

“Fine. He likes you a fair bit,” George remarked.

“Why do you think?” Sabia asked immediately, startled.

“Because he stopped right in front of me, took out his wand, *faced* off against me, and
then told me that if I was here to `bitch Brennan out for a hapless mistake,' than I could turn
right back around and leave before he made me. So naturally, I said `Fuck off and mind your own
bloody business, Potter'—really made him mad, that. So he hexed me, stupid git.” George leaned
a little closer and Sabia could smell the mint on his breath. “How's that for liking you,
Bee?”

“I don't really care,” Sabia said nonchalantly, halting in the darkness at the bottom of the
steps.

“Shut up,” George ordered. “You like him. Most girls like the blokes they lose their virginity
to.”

Sabia tossed her head. “Not *me.*”

“Shut up,” George said again, but this time he was so close she could eat the words from his
mouth if she wanted to.

Sabia leaned up and pressed her mouth to George's, sliding her hands into his cloak and his
robes and into his shirt. Her hands stayed pressed against his warm, dry skin as he pulled her
closer around the waist. Sabia crushed her breasts against his chest and bumped her pelvis against
his as they deepened the kiss.

A nasty, niggling thought tickled at the back of Sabia's mind. *I'm cheating on
Clark.*

The thought made her break away because of its pure ridiculousness. She wasn't dating
Clark—therefore, she couldn't be cheating on him. George stared down at her from lazy,
half-lidded eyes. “Sabia,” he muttered, looking away.

“Yeah. Sorry,” she told him, taking her hands away and backing up against the wall. “Thank you
so much, George. For everything…goodbye.”

George nodded. “If you need anything…”

“I'll tell you,” she assured him, then watched forlornly as his back disappeared up a short
flight of stairs that led to the Entrance Hall.

**……**

**Mid-February**

**1959**

**Seventh Year**

Sabia was beginning to haunt the library. She had no refuge in her dorm with the accusing and
disdainful stares of her dorm mates, so she often found herself in the library when she had no
other things to do. She hadn't slept in a long while and she found herself curled up in the
uncomfortable library chair, trying to take a nap before afternoon classes began again.

The sound of whispers invaded her sleep-heavy mind and she opened her eyes slows, not moving as
she strained to hear what was going on.

“*Theodore,”* a girl with a Scottish accent giggled quietly. “*Be good, now!”*

*“I'd rather be bad…very bad,”* he murmured back. Sabia snapped her eyes shut as she
heard a long kiss exchanged and the sounds of heavy breathing from both participants. There was
only one Theodore in the school—and he was still dating Kathryn. Sabia continued to listen until
Theodore and the girl who was *not* Kathryn left, and then she relaxed back in her chair.

Sabia was incredibly startled when she actually saw her former friend in front of her, her blond
hair shining and a socialite's smile fixed firmly in its place. Kathryn walked right by Sabia
without a word and waited by a shelf, tapping her foot and looking at her watch.

“Kathryn!” Sabia called before she could stop herself. Kathryn looked up and hesitated for just
a moment before walking over to Sabia and asking what was the matter. She simply nodded her head
when Sabia asked if she was waiting for Theodore. Quickly, nervously, Sabia told the other girl all
that she had heard behind the hidden and dark stacks of the library.

Kathryn stared at her for a long, long moment. “You know what, Sabia?”

“What?” Sabia asked impatiently, waiting to see how Kathryn would take Kathryn's cheating.
Theodore had never cheated on Sabia—at least not physically.

“You are absolutely pathetic, that's what! How dare you try to weasel your way back in?
You're *finished.* You have no more chances and I really do advise you to give up.”
Kathryn tossed her head. “Honestly, I can't help it if you want to *be* me, but I'd
prefer it if you left *my* boyfriend out of it.”

“High and mighty now, are we?” Sabia asked mockingly.

“Either way, Sabia,” Kathryn added coldly, “I'm still ten times as pretty as you are. And in
a few months, I'll be ten times as rich as you will be. And right now, I'm with someone ten
times better than anyone you could *ever* find.” She turned and walked proudly away without a
backward glance. A part of Sabia hardly cared, while the normal seventeen year old within her
brought tears to her eyes with the pain from Kathryn's comments. It all came down to that:
being alone.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her head but felt a gentle hand clasp around the fingers
holding her wand. It was Clark. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

“I'm fine,” Sabia grumbled, her tears gone. They had only been fleeting, thank Merlin.

“I think you're pretty,” Clark said suddenly.

“*Pardon?*”

“I said, *I* think you're pretty.”

“I'm not pretty.”

“Not gorgeous like Lynch, no. But you're nice-looking enough.”

“Reaaaaally,” Sabia said thoughtfully, drawing the word out. “I never thought you a charmer,
Clark.”

He shrugged. “A charmer I hadn't considered it.”

Sabia paused. “Do…do you fancy me, Clark?”

He cocked his head to the side, regarding her. They hadn't spoken to each other in months.
In a swift movement, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, running a hand through her hair and
stepping away.

“Yes,” he said quietly, actually giving her a little bow before taking a seat next to her.

“What?” Sabia asked, fighting the urge to rub her cheek where his lips had brushed her skin. She
felt strange—giddy all over.

“No secrets,” Clark said, spreading his hands and regarding her levelly. “Now. Are you
pregnant?”

“That's all anyone cares about anymore,” Sabia said sullenly, crossing her arms over her
chest. “Whether they're going to have to pay for a baby. No, I'm not pregnant, and thank
*Merlin.*”

“That's a relief,” Clark said, “because as undoubtedly sweet as you are, I'd hate to
have to marry you *now*.”

“Why, thank you for that *wonderful* insinuation about my character. You're spot on
actually. Sabia—”

“Means sweet. I know.”

Sabia peered keenly at him, unsettled. “How do—I don't want to know.”

“Meaningless trivia,” he explained. “Annamarie's aunt is Irish as speaks fluent Gaelic.
Annamarie mentioned it once when she was insulting you.”

“How *sweet* of *her*,” Sabia rejoined scathingly.

“Just a fact,” Clark informed her. “Are you well?”

“I'm perfectly fine,” Sabia said suspiciously. “And you?”

“Doing very well. Very well, indeed. How are those Slytherins?”

For the briefest of times, Sabia had forgotten that they were from opposite sides of the tracks.
She was a Slytherin and he was Gryffindor. This was utterly treasonous to her house and her blood,
utterly wrong, and utterly delicious. Sabia leaned forward flirtatiously. “As well as the
Gryffindors, I suppose.” She kept her voice flippant and tossed her head so her hair fell down
about her shoulders.

“Suddenly coquettish, are we?” he mused, his eyes lighting up at the challenge. “What are you,
Anne Boleyn reincarnated?”

“He reads!” Sabia exclaimed, delighted. “If I'm Anne Bolen, then who might you be,
Clark?”

“Surely not Henry VIII,” Clark said immediately. “I'm hardly stupid enough to behead you
because I can't get my Muggle head about witches—hardly George, for I've never had a
brotherly thought for you in my life…perhaps I'm Thomas Wyatt to your Anne.”

“I'm impressed,” Sabia said truthfully. “Most only remember the witch of the time—not those
who surrounded her. Have you read anything by Wyatt?”

“I'm hardly that interested,” Clark said.

“Neither have I,” Sabia told him. “It's too much effort to smuggle the book into my house…”
She trailed off—it was no longer her house.

“You can do whatever you wish, now, as several have pointed out to me,” Clark said, watching her
with a guarded gaze.

“Pointed out to you?”

“Jack and Annamarie. They told me to…go for it, now that you're blessedly free of pure
conventions. Rather bitterly, they told me—resentfully, actually. So here I am. Going for it.”

“Resentfully, was it?” Sabia asked.

“We're definitely meeting up this weekend.” Clark completely evaded her questions. Sabia
decided to press him some other time.

“Reaaaaally,” Sabia said again.

“Really.”

“Why?”

He looked startled. “What?”

“Why are we meeting up?”

He stared at her, baffled, as if he had not known she would be curious. “I…”

“We'll have to see,” Sabia told him, looking mock-worried. She picked up all of her books
and began to put them in her bag. She soon finished and glanced up at him; he was staring at the
table.

“This isn't just because we had sex, you know,” he said suddenly. Sabia was surprised but
she merely hefted her bag onto her back and said nothing.

“Alright,” she sighed.

“Alright, we'll meet?” he asked coolly, as if trying to seem uncaring.

“Oh no, for that we'll still have to see,” Sabia teased, and then left the library, much
happier than she had been in months.

**…****…**

**Late March**

**1959**

**Seventh Year**

They did go out that weekend, and the weekend after that—it was several weekends later that
Sabia and Clark found themselves again in bed in a room above the Hog's Head, simply lit with
firelight and candles to ward away the chill of the March afternoon. Sabia collapsed next to Clark,
gasping and rubbing her face against the cool pillowcase. She moaned and arched her back when Clark
turned on his side and slid his far hand into the small of her back. She turned her face so she
could see him and he pushed her hair from her face with his free hand.

“Nice?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Shut up,” she whispered, entwining her legs with his. “You can bloody well tell if it was nice
or not.” She rubbed her hand over the sweaty skin on his chest, feeling his heart race as he calmed
down. He was gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous…all lean beneath sweaty golden skin in the firelight. His
hair fell into his eyes and she brushed it away, placing her hand on the back of his neck and
pulling herself up so she could kiss him. His hands traveled up her back and rested just under her
shoulder blades. Sabia opened her legs and rubbed against him, drawing a strangled sound from the
back of his throat. There was something so primal about this, something so intense and private. She
tilted her head back in invitation and he kissed her neck lightly. She could tell he would be ready
again in a moment.

“Uhn…this is wrong on so many levels,” she told him, her eyes half shut.

“Don't say that,” he said into her neck. “I like it. At least this time you…”

She could feel the heat from his blush. “This time I what?”

There was a pause as he moved his hand over her thigh and to the soft inner skin; his large
fingers stroked the juncture of her thigh and her hip before moving deeper. Sabia's mouth
dropped open at the new sensation and she heard, with a detached sort of perception, a keening
sound that left her own throat. She felt him hard and ready against her thigh and sensed when his
lips came up to her ear.

“Came,” he said heatedly in her ear. “At that party I could tell you never came.”

Sabia wanted to tell him that she couldn't really remember anything from that night except
the pain when she lost her virginity, but she couldn't bring herself to talk over his
caresses.

“Do you like this?” he asked gently, biting down on her earlobe.

Sabia nodded jerkily, biting her lip to keep from crying out again. She was sure someone would
hear in the adjacent room. The Hog's Head was probably one of the worst places to see each
other, but it was also the most unlikely and hidden.

“Good,” he murmured, slowly drawing his hand away and resting it on her leg. He put his head
down on her chest and she slid her hands up and down his back.

“What? I don't get to come, now?”

Clark laughed. “No. Later. You *really* liked it?”

“Is there a problem?” Sabia asked, shuddering as he kissed the upper swell of her breast. “You
seem to think I wouldn't.” She opened her eyes and looked down. “Who exactly have you bee
sleeping with, Clark?”

He mumbled something into her chest. At her cold silence, he said louder, “Annamarie.”

“You're shagging your best friend?” Sabia exclaimed, sitting up so that his head was in her
naked lap, his nose nuzzling into her stomach.

“I was,” he said quietly, putting his hands on the bed so he could push himself up to meet her
eyes. “Last summer. In September. Not after that.”

“I never knew she fancied you,” Sabia said faintly, thinking about Annamarie Denver's huge
chest and pretty eyes. Sabia paused in her train of thought—she had to push this insecurity aside.
She hated to feel less than confident.

“We're better as friends. We just…burned out. This isn't exactly pillow talk,
Sabia.”

“And she didn't like that?” Sabia asked, keeping her voice calm and her blush nonexistent.
“The…your…”

“Straight shagging. That's all she wanted, whether it felt good for her or not.” Clark
refused to meet her eyes.

“*I* like it,” Sabia told him, “I like it a great deal actually. How could someone dating
you not…” She stopped herself, not sure if she had just treaded on guarded territory. *Were*
they dating? Every time they secretly met up in Hogsmeade on the weekly visits they ended up in
bed. They spent six hours a week together, a third of that was spent on sex. They hardly spoke
within the castle. Was that dating?

“Go on,” Clark said warmly.

“I don't remember,” she replied vaguely, staring off into space and thinking.

“I really, really, really fancy you, Sabia,” Clark said gently, grinning as he leaned in to kiss
her.

“Do you?” Her mouth opened in a smile when he kissed her and Sabia spread her legs as he rose up
and into her.

“*Yes*…” he whispered.

**……**

**Mid-August**

**1959**

“Bee! Are you coming down?”

“Shut up a minute! I'm almost done!”

Sabia clipped her hair up, snatched up a handbag, and raced down the stairs with a cloud of
perfume trailing behind her. She skidded to a stop in her brother's kitchen and steadied
herself against a table. George, sitting at the table, gave her an irritable look.

“Watch it. You have to be careful. And eat something.”

“You're not my guardian or anything, George,” Sabia said impishly, moving carefully and
helping herself to some of the toast and butter that was resting on a plate in the center of the
table. After finishing that, she ate a cup of raspberry yogurt and polished off two carrots.
“Happy?”

It had taken her fifteen minutes to eat. George glanced at his watch. “Very. I have to go. Have
fun.”

“I wish you could come,” Sabia said wistfully, her heard resting on her folded elbows. She got
up to hug him and he pulled her close. When she moved to leave his embrace, he caught the hem of
her sundress and pulled her back, curling his arm underneath it, around her bare thighs.

“Someone would see, and then I'd be as penniless as you.”

“I'm not *penniless,*” Sabia said, even though she was after giving back to George
almost all of the money he had lent her.

“True,” he conceded. “Not all assets are in coin.” He shot a meaningful look towards her chest,
just as Cara, Sabia's sister-in-law, entered the sunny kitchen with baby Anna on her hip. She
handed the baby to Sabia, who broke away from George to cradle the small form to her chest. She
inhaled the sweet baby powder scent of her sparse hair and shut her eyes.

“You have to get going if you want to meet Bryan. Otherwise you'll miss the show,” Cara
said, coming up to Sabia and stroking the baby's head.

Sabia kissed Anna's head and smiled up at Cara, feeling George's gaze warm on her
backside. She kicked her foot backwards and was rewarded with his yelp. She handed Anna back to
Cara and then smiled. “Alright…I'm going. I'll walk you out on my way,” she said to
George.

He followed her through the kitchen and over to the opposite end of the large house, where the
Floo was located. Before George left, he turned towards her and caught her wrist up tightly. “Marry
me.”

Sabia laughed. “Shut up, George.”

He was serious. “Please?”

“No!” she said good-naturedly. “George, I'm not—”

“I'm sorry, Bee.”

“What? George, what are you—”

“Are you sure you don't want to marry me?”

“Yes—”

“Then tell him.” He threw green powder into the flames and left with a regretful look back at
her.

“Honestly,” Sabia muttered, “he comes to stay for the night and ends up ordering me around and
being completely cryptic.” She cried out her destination into the emerald flames and in a moment
was stumbling out of the fireplace in the *Leaky Cauldron**.* Bryan was waiting—they were
going to go see a show in Muggle London that Cara's parents had recommended. Because it was
only supposed to be them, she was quite surprised to see another man with her brother.

It was Clark.

She hadn't seen him in a while.

The last time Sabia and Clark had spoken he had blasted her across their room in the Hog's
Head and stalked away. Sabia was suddenly having a hard time forgetting the way his face had
looked, the way he had talked to her…she had treated him horribly.

It was hard to remember what they had argued about. Clark had…wanted to see her in the castle
and she had insulted him—told him no—told him to get away. They had said things to each other that
Sabia would never even say to her worst enemy.

Wasn't Clark her worst enemy?

She swallowed hard. She hadn't eaten for a day or two afterwards until she had started to
hurl up her insides and then…that had been the middle of July…

“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly, sinking into the empty chair. Bryan clapped her on
the shoulder, kissed her on the head, and left. “Bryan!” she called after him, but he simply held
up a hand and his large bulk disappeared into the blinding sun outside.

“Did he ask you to come here?” Sabia asked, her voice slightly high-pitched.

“Not him,” Clark muttered. “Your...your friend—Kathryn's uncle—”

“*George?*” Sabia gasped, starting to rise from her chair. She was going to kill
him—*kill him*!

“Look—you—I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to hurt you or curse you like I did and I
*am* sorry, but I have enough problems right now without—”

“What did George tell you?” Sabia asked.

“He said to meet Bryan. That was all. The most awkward ten minutes of my life, this just was.
Besides the three I spent talking to George O'Brien. Talking to George O'Brien,” he
repeated, as if he didn't believe it. “I've sunk to a new low…”

“He's not so bad,” Sabia said defensively. “He's really helped me—”

“After he found out I'd already fucked you so he could too without taking your virginity?
Yes, I'm sure he's been *very* helpful.”

“Clark.”

He shut up.

“You have no idea what George has done for me. None. Don't put him down because it makes you
feel—”

“He hasn't left his family for you, has he?”

Sabia stared at him. “What…?”

“If George is such a wonderful friend, then why hasn't he left his family and taken you
in?”

“It's not so simple,” Sabia began.

“I would.”

“You would *not* leave your family for a girl,” Sabia scoffed.

“If they were like the O'Briens I would,” Clark rejoined. “Sabia—I'm so sick of this.
Are you pregnant?”

“Yes!” Sabia snapped. “How *did* you guess?”

“I don't know, genius, maybe it's because you're looking a little chubbier than you
normally do—or maybe it's because *George O'Brien* contacted me and told me to meet
*your* brother, who sat there and told me that I had better be as honorable as everyone
says—and maybe it's because you just *look* pregnant!”

“It's not yours!”

“It bloody well is!” Clark roared, standing up and slamming his hands down onto the table.
People looked over. Sabia snapped at them to mind their own business and they all turned away.

“Lower your voice and sit down,” Sabia hissed, aware of the still avidly listening customers of
the pub.

Clark dropped into his chair. Sabia opened her mouth and Clark cut her off. “Don't talk.” He
reached into his pocket and threw a small black box onto the table. “Open it.”

She did. It was a classic diamond ring, set in gold—not to large, not to small. Almost perfect.
Very Clark.

“What about it?”

“You're pregnant. It's mine. What do you think it is, dear?”

“I just said it's not yours.”

“Really? Whose is it, then?”

Sabia flushed, casting about for an answer.

“You're not a slag, Sabia. I don't think you're one to sleep around and get
pregnant.”

“Clark, I'm not really into pity marriage. I can do this by myself.”

Clark stared at her for a moment. “Come with me.”

She considered leaving the ring on the table. Clark looked back at her over his shoulder as he
got up.

“Bring the ring.”

**……**

They got out in Venice Court. There was a large seemingly out of place house standing in between
numbers twenty and twenty-two: twenty-and-two-tenths. Sabia herself lived in an all magical
neighborhood in Berkshire. She couldn't easily comprehend living right next door to
Muggles.

Clark led her through the front door. “Mum? Dad?” he called, peeking into the two rooms that
were on each side of the foyer. They seemed to be alone. Clark took her into a sitting room and
pushed her down on a plush couch and taking the cushion next to her.

“Is it mine?”

“No.”

He stared at her levelly. “Is it mine?”

Sabia rolled her eyes. “I just said no.”

He paused for just a second. “Alright. How far are you along?”

“Over four months gone,” she said irritably.

“Is it mine?”

“Wha—are you deaf?”

“Yes,” Clark said thoughtfully. He leaned in and kissed her. “Still not mine? Back in
March?”

“Shit,” she swore quietly. “I forgot you can count.”

“Are you going to marry me?”

“No…”

“I'm not just marrying you because you're pregnant.”

“You're not marrying me at all,” Sabia pointed out dryly.

Clark gave her a reproachful look and continued. “It'd be fun.”

“Fun? *Fun?*” Sabia cried, pulling back from him. “Are you bloody serious?”

“Really. I am. Is it mine?”

“You just figured out that it is,” Sabia groused, kicking her shoes off and curling her legs
underneath her so she could lean back against the soft back of the couch.

“You really needed to hide that from me?”

Sabia met his eyes and licked her lips, trying to swallow over the horrible, sudden lump in her
throat. This all hurt—a lot. Unexpectedly, Clark leaned towards her, gripping the loose fabric of
her dress around her stomach and pulling it tight, revealing the bulge she had tried to keep
hidden. He put his hand on her belly and looked up at her.

“No,” she whispered.

“I love you,” he said suddenly.

Sabia looked away. “No.”

“Stop saying no!” Clark burst out, recoiling from her. “Stop saying no just because you're
scared! We could sit here for ages just because one of us is too scared to say it but I'm not,
because you're not going to hurt me more that I've hurt you. If I don't love you than I
really, really, really love me, and you're pregnant and it's mine…it's *mine*…do
you know what that means?”

“N—”

“Don't say *no!*”

“Fine.” Sabia crossed her arms stubbornly and tried to get off the couch. After a moment Clark
moved away from her with a sound of disgust and she got up, shoving her feet into her shoes and
rushing from the pretty sitting room. She made sure to slam the door on her way out and paused on
his front step. What had they—a taxi. They had gotten here in a taxi.

How the bloody hell was she supposed to get one of those?

With no other option, she stuck out her wand hand and staggered back as an earsplitting bang
almost burst her eardrums. She dug into the concealed pocket she had and pulled out just enough
fare so she could get a ride to Bryan's house. White-knuckled, she held onto one of the
attacked rails as the bus banged from place to place so that she could hardly stay in her
chair.

She disembarked at her house, thanked the driver, and then walked up the lane to the front door.
She let herself in with her key and shut the door, leaning against it. Steeling herself, she made
her way to the kitchen and stopped dead when she saw Bryan sitting with Cara and Anna.

“Where's Hestia?” she asked calmly.

“Sabs—”

“Don't call me that!” Sabia shouted, startling Anna into a wail. She could hardly bring
herself to care and felt bad about that. “Where's Hestia?”

“Upstairs,” Cara murmured, trying to calm Anna down. She and Bryan had been talking—probably
about Sabia. Sabia left them and climbed the stairs slowly, going over to where Hestia's cage
was. She got a piece of parchment from the desk and blindly wrote out a note to George, asking him
to come over later.

She attached it to Hestia's leg and let her fly out the window, then went to her room to
sleep.

**……**

She woke up when George shook her shoulder. She turned over, glanced at clock, and suppressed a
groan. She had been sleeping for only half an hour. How fast could Hestia fly, for Circe's
sake?

“Strange note.”

“Will you marry me?” she asked, sitting up and pushing her hair to the side. Her dress was
trapped under her and pulled tight against her body—her pregnant stomach was easily visible.

He looked shocked. His dark hair fell into his blue eyes, covering his forehead. Sabia
paused…George always told her he would be there, that he would do anything—Clark had put the doubt
in her mind. Would he really do anything?”

“George?”

“I…”

“You always ask me. Will you really?”

“Sabia…”

Clark was right. Sabia covered her eyes. “Oh, no…I'm so stupid. I'm mad—George—why did
you…why did you ask Clark to meet me?”

George looked down. “You can't do this by yourself.”

Sabia cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“You need someone to help you.”

“That's why I'm asking—”

“My wedding's in a year,” George blurted out, moving away from her just the slightest bit.
Only then did Sabia notice that he was sitting on the edge of her mattress.

“Who?” Sabia said softly, dismayed.

“Andromeda Black.”

“You don't even *like* her!”

George didn't say anything.

“Marry *me!*” Sabia said passionately. “You can…you can marry me.”

“My family—”

“*Forget* your family! They're all—bigoted…please, George. You always ask me. You asked
me just this morning. We can go live anywhere—with Muggles, with—”

“*Muggles?* Why on earth would you want to live with Muggles?”

Sabia stopped talking just then. For the past several months she had forgotten just who George
was. They had never once touched on the subject of Muggles until just now, just this moment. George
was just like the rest of them. He was—the only reason he hadn't shunned her was because Clark
was still—though not a pureblood—a wizard.

“They're—they're people…”

George winced. “I know! I just…I'm not comfortable.”

“Andromeda Black?” Sabia asked again, just confirming. Andromeda going to be a Seventh year
Slytherin in September.

“In a year.”

“I hate you.”

George tapped her on the head. “No, you don't.”

Sabia tried not to smile. “I do.”

“How's Clark?” George asked, skillfully changing the subject.



“Bloody fine. He said you wouldn't.”

George was taken aback. “I wouldn't what?”

“He said you wouldn't leave your family for me. He said if you were ever intending to, you
would have done it already.” Sabia made it a point to keep her eyes on her bedspread and she picked
at it.

“You're for Clark,” George sighed. “That's it. You're his. You don't—you
don't even see it. You won't admit it.”

Sabia finally met his earnest eyes, her lips trembling. “Let's go downstairs, George. You
can say goodbye.”

“Sabs—”

“Don't *call* me that!”

“Fine. *Bee*—”

“Downstairs,” she said tersely, easing herself off the bed. She straightened her dress as they
descended and stopped dead when she walked into the kitchen and saw Anna sitting with Bryan and
another person—Clark.

The boy never quit.

“I didn't do this,” George said immediately, obviously knowing that she was going to accuse
him of it.

“We'll leave you alone,” Bryan said, putting his hand under Anna's elbow and pulling her
to her feet. George put his hand on the small of Sabia's back and kissed her cheek, then walked
through the back hallways so he could leave.

“You don't need to stay,” Sabia said when they were finally alone. “You can go.” She turned
to go back upstairs.

“You're going to end up all alone.”

Sabia turned on her toes. “Pardon?”

He was lounging in the chair as if he owned it. “You're going to end up with no one.”

She put her hand to her stomach in protest.

“He'll hate you. He'll hate you because you're never going let him know me—”

“You have no obligation to know—”

“I'm not obligated.”

Sabia's mouth dropped open. “Of *course* you feel like you're responsible—how can
you say that you don't? All this has been about you being responsible for me be—”

“Doesn't it occur to you that you're pregnant with *my* baby? You act like…as if I
don't…I want it, Sabia.” He got up and stalked over to her, pulling her gently down onto the
bottom step. His hand cradled her belly as she studiously looked away. “It's…you're
pregnant…it's going to be my kid—I—I *like* kids.”

Sabia tried to keep her back straight but inch by inch she yielded until he curled his hand
behind her neck and pulled her head down to his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed her neck,
tightening his hand around her thickened waist.

“It's not easy,” she said softly, breathing out over his neck.

He pulled her tighter in answer. “I really, really fancy you, Brennan.”

She giggled quietly, covering her mouth and surreptitiously wiping her eyes. In a flash he had
taken her hand and she suddenly felt something cold around the fourth finger on her left hand. She
looked down and the ring was on her finger.

“Clark—”

“Please,” he said into her ear.

She turned her head so she could lock her eyes on his. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

She was too tired to say anything but yes—she *wanted* Clark…she had never noticed how much
you learned about someone during pillow talk—Clark was…He pulled her up and kissed her, his hand
still on her stomach.

Suddenly Cara began to cry in her cradle over in the kitchen.

“I hate babies,” Clark muttered into her mouth, smiling.

……………………..

**Part II coming soon.**

-->