47

It was another full week before she even dared go out in public. Harry, Ron and Hermione were surprised to find her at the bottom of the stairs one morning, dressed to go out. She looked, in Harry's opinion, much more rigid than normal. The trousers she was wearing were made out of fine grey tweed; clinging perfectly to her figure where intended and hanging elegantly elsewhere. On top she wore a finely knitted grey woollen jumper which was notably missing its shoulders but had sleeves that went just over half way down her arm. In addition she was wearing a pair of high, black court shoes and had a black clutch bag tucked under her arm.

"Where are you going?" Harry immediately asked. Harry wasn't so keen on her going out by herself. "I'll come too."

"I'm only going to Diagon Alley. I can't hide away forever. And no, you're not coming. I am not going to allow stupid letters turn me into a hermit." With a blink of an eye, she disapparated.

"Go after her. Just to make sure she's alright." Harry asked Hermione. She nodded and disappeared with a similar crack.

Appearing outside the Leaky Cauldron, Kathryn took a deep breath to steady herself before stepping through the shabby door. Conversation ground to a halt in the pub as people caught sight of the tall, elegant figure moving between them. People purposefully turned their backs to her and began to mutter amongst themselves; even Tom the barman offered no warm smile. She had expected this but still, the venomous stares and whispered mutterings did nothing to settle her nerves as she stepped out into the back yard. She tapped the bricks and they folded away into the arch that led to the bustling street of Diagon Alley. She stood at the top, frozen for a moment or two, before walking confidently through the crowd with her head held high. Hermione, having apparated straight to Diagon Alley, stood in the shadows watching her friend's progress. She also noted the murderous glares that some people sent her way. Hidden beneath a cloak, she followed at a safe distance as Kathryn walked further and further in.

Kathryn had also noticed the looks people were giving her. She tried to ignore them as she walked but found that, once the malicious whispers reached her ears, it was hard to control the panic building inside her. It was then that the taunts began.

"Whore!" a shrill voice cried in the crowd. She wondered why people did not come up with more original insults.

"Traitor!" another voice shouted, this time a man. She found herself walking towards a wall of people who did not budge.

"Excuse me." She asked politely as she tried to pass. "Excuse me." She tried again in a polite, but forceful tone.

"Why the rush?" one asked with a cruel smile on his face.

"There's no more Death Eaters for you to sleep with darling." A shout came from the crowd. "Traitorous whore!" jeers rose up in the crowd which began to close in on her. She was completely unprepared when the first hex was shouted out. Knocked back off her feet, her cheek scraped painfully across the cobbled pavement and she struggled to get to her feet; her ankle twisting as her shoe slipped. Another curse slammed into her before she could even stand and she saw stars as her head cracked off a nearby wall. Hermione, standing as close as she dared, disapparated straight back to Grimmauld Place.

"They're attacking her. Hurry!" she shouted at the two boys waiting for her return. "If we're not careful they'll lynch her!" Hermione was not joking; she had seen the looks on their faces. They apparated at the back of the jeering crowd and had to fight their way through to get to her. They were horrified by what they saw; her hair had come free of its pins and was tangled and matted with blood. There were bruises and cuts all over her and her right ankle looked badly twisted, a fine trickle of blood was running down her forehead from beneath her hairline. Harry could see her fighting the urge to cry as she tried in vain to reach her wand, being knocked five feet into the air before she could make it; a horrifying crack splitting the air as she hit the ground. With another round of jeering, she was blasted off her feet for what felt like the hundredth time and landed with yet another sickening crunch on the cobbles. Harry watched as her arms visibly shook as she tried to support herself. She wouldn't reach her wand in time; another man was already advancing on her.

"PROTEGO!" Harry broke his cover and jumped out in front of his sister. The man's shouted curse glanced off the street and all stared in amazement at Harry. Hermione and Ron rushed out and, with some difficulty, helped Kathryn to her feet.

"How dare you!" Harry yelled at the crowd. "How dare you treat her like this!"

"She deserves it, sleeping around with Death Eaters!" came a cry from the crowd.

"You have no idea of what happened!" Harry countered.

"Tell us then." Another screamed.

"That is not my decision." Harry could not remember being so furious. "And if you ever try this again, you will answer to myself and the rest of the Order. After Voldemort a mob like you should be child's play."

"Let's get her to Fred and George's." Ron said as the helped a dazed and limping Kathryn up the street through the dissipating crowd; none of whom dared say anything. People who had not seen what happened stared at them as they staggered up the street to the shop with a loud green frontage. They practically fell through the door in their haste to get through, causing every customer in the shop to stare wildly at the four arrivals.

"Ron, Harry, Hermione!" George shouted from across the room.

"What are you doing," Fred began to ask, but then caught sight of Kathryn, "oh."

"Through here." George pulled back the curtain that led through to the back of the shop. Every single customer watched them avidly as Hermione and Ron supported Kathryn between them. Most of the people in the shop were Hogwarts students and their parents and they gawked annoyingly at the bruised and bloodied girl that had once been their schoolmate. There were some clucks of disapproval from parents as they passed; holding their children back as if she might pass on a nasty virus.

"I'm fine." She managed to say as they set her down in a comfy armchair.

"Good joke." Harry replied sarcastically as Hermione set about healing he cuts that marred her face and arms.

"It's more this I'm worried about." She gave her ankle a painful shake. "That's twice in just over a fortnight that I've injured that one. Not a good idea." She winced as Harry tapped it with his wand and the ankle began to mend.

"When did you hurt your ankle?" Ron asked, rubbing some of Fred and George's ointment into her bruises.

"When do you think?"

"But you were fine when we found you." Harry said, watching the swelling in her ankle subside.

"I was pretty worse for wear."

"You mean he helped you?" Harry asked in disbelief, unwilling to believe that such a man could be kind.

"Well, I certainly didn't do it on my own." They all went silent until George came in.

"We saw something happening through the windows." He told them. "So that was you, eh?" he raised an eyebrow a Kathryn. "Well, only an attention seeking Potter would do something like that." He mimicked Fudge with a laugh. Fred and George had, as well as the rest of the Order, been informed of what Kathryn had told them. Most sympathised with her. Of course, she hadn't told them that it was quite possible that she loved him.

"Do you want to use the fire to get back." Fred offered as they stepped back into the main part of the shop.

"That would be great." Harry nodded, stepping towards the fireplace.

"No." Kathryn's voice was quiet but firm.

"You probably shouldn't go out there again." Hermione tried to dissuade her.

"I will not let them win. They will not frighten me away." She could not forget what he had told her; stand tall. "The show must go on." She said pensively, straightening out her hair and jumper. With a determined gaze she opened the door and strode out into the street, despite the bruises that had blossomed across one of her cheeks. They all ran to the door and watched as she cut a swathe through the shoppers; it was an amazing transformation. She walked with an imposing stride and, if anyone dared venture comment, she fixed them with an icy, forbidding look that silenced any further criticism. Harry, whilst impressed by this resolve, could not help but feel slightly disturbed at how much she resembled Malfoy.

Despite her attestation that she was not going to be frightened away, she did not venture outside after that; remaining within the confines of Grimmauld Place for the next fortnight. She and Harry celebrated their twentieth birthday with a muted dinner in the basement kitchen. They had all wanted to go out to celebrate but, with the inescapable media following their every move and Kathryn's refusal to leave the house, they had decided staying in the better option. Whilst being happy that she had survived to her twentieth birthday, she could not help but feel unhappy.

It had been over a month since his incarceration and there had been no word. The Prophet was, unusually, silent on the subject; although it continued its disparaging editorials on her. She was actually grateful that no one knew where she lived; the location still remaining a closely guarded secret. This at least meant that she did not have to put up with angry people congregating outside on the front steps. Working her way through the best part of a bottle of red wine that night did help to numb the pain slightly and she disappeared back up to bed before the others. It was then that she had what was possibly the best surprise of the day.

Sitting squarely in the middle of her pillow was a rectangular parcel, wrapped in deep red paper with a matching ribbon. Unwrapping it lovingly, she found a black rectangular box encased within. It was certainly old and the hinges creaked slightly as she opened it to reveal a classic, beautifully made diamond necklace. The light from her lamp glanced off the smooth surfaces of the square and rectangular cut diamonds, sending beams of light scattering across the walls. Counting them, she found there to be twenty stones and she smiled at the small, yet sincere, thought. There was a note that, she presumed, had been written prior to his incarceration as she doubted that he would be allowed to send a package from Azkaban.

Happy Birthday.

If this has been delivered by owl then I am, for whatever reason, unable to give it to you in person. It is a family heirloom, passed on from mother to daughter on her twentieth birthday. However, as I have no daughter, it seems fitting that it should pass to you. With love.

She read and re-read the note several times before adding it to the small bundle she had amassed over the years. A smile playing across her features, she wrapped herself in the soft cotton of his shirt and fell asleep for the first time in a month with happy thoughts in her mind.