Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Sweat dripped from Samuel's chin, he had dirt buried under his fingernails, and his clothes were filthy. "This one's sprouted too, John. It was a stupid idea."

"Samuel, that man keeps raising his prices. You said yourself that once the tubers begin to grow, they're useless." John was digging with a fierce determination that reminded Samuel of Amanda's new companion.

"And these are just as useless as his." Samuel stared at the green buds peeking out from the brown root.

"I just wanted to be certain. I'm not looking forward to returning to the Valerian version."

"John, I am sorry. Next month..."

"We may need to rely on Miller for a few months more, but this little guy is going to make us proud." John held up a tuber as he wrapped it in his handkerchief. Perhaps John has finally gone round the bend.

Samuel shrugged as he tucked his jacket and water back into his pack. At least now the wolf might be ready to return to the Bronco. John, however, opened his battered map and traced the trail for a few moments before asking, "Would you walk with me, just little bit farther?"

Half an hour later, Samuel swore at the map in his hand. The elevation lines were so close together that they nearly combined; the next rise would re-define steep. Rocky mountain caps glinted in the merciless July sun, close enough now to pelt with a rock, had Samuel indulged that particularly juvenile impulse. Sweat stung his eyes with nearly the same ferocity as the blinding light, his leather boot had come un-tied yet again, and his lungs were screaming for oxygen, even if he would admit none of it to the wolf.

Finally they reached the narrow pass between mountain peaks and the top of the rise...likely the very top of the world. Samuel reached through layers of clothing and supplies searching for the water bottle. "Selective gravitation."

"What?" John was staring as though Samuel was daft.

"Sorry. Robert says that in backpacking, one must always remember the 'Primary Law of Selective Gravitation' which states that whatever item you want, regardless of weight or mass, will be at the bottom of your pack."

"Ever the pessimist. Samuel, look."

Water in hand, Samuel lifted his eyes from the dirt to see Eden stretching out before them. The sky arched overhead like a giant dome of azure.

The highest peaks stabbed upward, craggy and grey with small patches of white snow and ice bound to the sides as if by magic, but below, highland meadows sprawled across the bits of soil that clung stubbornly to barren granite, forming a verdant green hallway that would lead on to other wonders of form and dream in the high mountain air. A dizzying drop further, the tree line swiftly enclosed the land, wrapping the valley floor in mystery.

A veil of water dashed from high ground to the green garden below and John pointed to a herd of goats, grazing on a nearby slope. Then Samuel felt the wind lifting his hat; in less than a heartbeat, it was gone. His mate was drawing wand from sleeve when he stilled John's hand. "Let it go." A hat was a small offering to leave for those who guarded such a place.

You did not come here to stare at the scenery. "John, I think we should keep moving. That hill is the last that may hold lilies."

"Lilies, right."

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They were halfway up the driveway when Samuel realized what was wrong with his house. "Let me out here, John. I need to do something at the clinic."

"It's Saturday."

"There's always something I can do at the clinic."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the Firebolt leaning against the garage, would it?"

"Oh, is Potter here?"

Whatever John might have said was lost forever as the green-eyed monster bolted across the driveway, placing himself firmly between Samuel and freedom. "I need to speak with Malfoy. Or is it Troy Phelps, now?" The arrogant tilt of Potter's chin sealed the decision as Samuel slipped the graceful length of willow from his sleeve. Potter's eyes flashed with raw, angry power as the famous holly and phoenix feather wand flashed toward Samuel in a high arc.

Samuel smirked as the brat's face erupted in green boils even as he felt the impact of the blast to the chest lift him off his feet. Falling backwards, Samuel formed the thought, Levi..., before he could complete it, though, he felt his wand slide from his fingers in the same moment that Potter lost his own with a look of shocked bewilderment.

Pain exploded through his lungs as Samuel slammed into the ground and darkness closed in from all sides. He held on to consciousness though pure force of will, gasping for each breath as one drowning, deliberately ignoring John's offered hand and dragging himself to his hands and knees. Potter certainly wasn't pulling punches. "It's nice to know where I stand with you, John."

"Quite the show for your Muggle neighbors, Samuel." John's tone was deceptively calm, and Samuel tilted his head sideways to assess the dark glare that was turning toward the Darling Hero. Thankfully, John's expression darkened further as he locked eyes with Potter.

Green eyes widened as the boy recognized the peril of further angering the man. "Remus... " He closed his mouth with a snap at John's sharp look of reproach. Interesting. It was not John's life and livelihood that the alias protected. He was a bona fide hero, with medals and titles to attest. Samuel had seen them, too, at the bottom of the sock drawer.

The hero in question had turned away from both of them and stalked into the house. Samuel sneered at Potter until the boy looked at his shoes. Then he pushed to his feet and made for the basement.

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"Thought I'd find you down here," John said, as rounded the corner.

"Is Potter gone?"

"You've built quite a life here." John's voice was soft.

"And I have no wish to place it in jeopardy."

"I expected you to turn us away, you know. Standing at your door, with no other options, I thought you would say, 'No.'"

Samuel stared at the dried chunks of Valerian root. He would need an exceedingly sharp blade or they would crumble as he chopped. "John, can you hand me that knife?"

The knife clattered to the floor as John let out a howl of pain. "Merlin, Samuel, that's silver."

Crap! Samuel could see at a glance that the burn was only minor. "I keep the burn paste on the top shelf. Do you need help applying it?"

"No, I'm fine." John's shoulders were shaking. A tense moment passed before Samuel realized the man was laughing.

"I had forgotten. Are you certain you're all right?" Samuel forced himself to retrieve the blade and began working quickly and precisely.

"My fault. I should have looked where I was grabbing."

Samuel risked looking up as he whispered, "You, Troy, and Amanda."

John blinked twice in confusion before he answered. "Loyal as a badger? I would never have guessed. Harry won't say much, but reading between the lines, this is about Yaxley and Macnair. Can we at least find out what he needs?"

Samuel didn't answer other than securing knives and potion ingredients before walking to the den.

Standing in the doorway, Samuel forced himself to watch objectively while Amanda and Potter tossed a tennis ball to Reggie. While the terror rarely emerged in the presence of the dog, she carried herself with a new watchfulness. Perhaps it was for the best that she remain wary. Reggie, however, had thrown himself into the moment, enjoying the taste of doggie freedom and wagging his tail frantically between tosses.

As Samuel stepped into the room, Potter stepped over to Amanda and murmured quietly. She scowled at Potter for a moment, but turned a softer expression to Samuel. "There are some letters I've been meaning to write. I'll be in my room." Then with a sad smile she left.

The man before him swayed with the frayed look of emotional exhaustion, as though his drive to find Draco was the only thing keeping him upright. Samuel felt something sharp twist behind his ribs. He pulled his mind back to an image from the dungeons, and the heat of anger that followed helped ease the pain. "Potter, I'm appalled. Macnair is a fugitive from Azkaban. Surely even your powers of reason can generate an argument sufficient to return him there."

"Macnair isn't the problem, Prof..., I don't even know what to call you anymore. Setting Yaxley free for lack of evidence is unacceptable. Unless Amanda can testify..."

"Absolutely not!"

Potter held his hands up, conceding. "I get that. So, I need to prove he was a willing Death Eater. I find I'm short of witnesses to that."

"Draco can't help you with that, and even if he could, I doubt that Narcissa would consider my handing him over to you as 'protecting her son'."

"Unbreakable Vow, right. I don't need Draco to testify, finding him was one of the conditions for Narcissa to..."

"Are you simple, Potter? You will not make a deal with Narcissa."

"She's harmless."

"She forced me to kill Albus!" Shut up now. Seeing the tremble of his hands only increased his distress. Samuel had no well of anger large enough to drown his grief. He turned to the bookshelves to buy himself a ragged breath without this particular audience. "There is nothing I won't do to ensure that her punishment stands. If you see me as a vengeful bastard, so be it." The break in his voice exposed far too much. Samuel bit his lip to keep the rest inside.

"I don't like it either, but I'm out of Death Eaters. Who do you propose I offer the deal to?"

Samuel turned to the coffee table were Amanda had left her book. 'Silas Marner' Bloody perfect. He drew a shaky breath. "Me."