Night time was falling. The light was fading. The sky was a wash of blues and blacks, with a thin, blindingly gold line dropping gradually behind the hills to the north. To the west though clouds were encroaching, gliding silently in front of the glittering stars, hiding them from view.
It had been a tough week for them all. One failed attempt at a trick was all it took to bring the school to its knees. One failed attempt at a trick was all it took to bring down Clarisse Piper. One failed attempt at a trick was all it took to bring lessons to an end, to bring Professor Lewis to tears, all it took to make it seem to Victoire Weasley that that golden glow wouldn't ever appear again.
Of course, she had thought that yesterday, and the day before that, and everyday since the accident, but tonight it just seemed all the more real. Tonight was the night the Healers would make the decision: to remove the life support spells currently in place on Clarisse's body or to keep them on and pray she'd wake up.
And so Victoire Weasley, best friend to Clarisse Piper, sat broken on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, focusing all her energy on brushing aside those evil heavy clouds. In her mind she knew that if the stars could be seen again, Clarisse would be alright. It was crazy but it was what was getting her by lately. Craziness and hope. They were all she had left.
Brushing a strand of long, strawberry blond hair behind her ear so as to stop the wind from blowing it into her face, she recalled the events that had led them all to where they were now.
Classes had just ended and her, Clarisse and Teddy were leaving the Charms classroom, making their way down to the Great Hall for dinner. They were tired but excited. It was the first Friday after Gryffindors victory over Ravenclaw the previous Sunday, a win that had gotten them back the cup from the Eagles, all of which resulting in a proper party that night in the common room.
Victoire had gone ahead with intentions to save them all a seat and hopefully catch her sister Dominique, one year her younger, and see if she had received a letter from their parents yet. Descending the final staircase into the Entrance Hall, she had caught sight of a gang of Slytherin fifth years skulking near the statue of Percival the Panicked. They were huddled together, looking up every so often as though waiting for a certain person to come downstairs. One of them, a burly looking boy with brown bristles for hair caught her looking, winked at his mate, and then strode purposefully over to the foot of the stairs.
Clarisse and Teddy had been completely unaware of what was taking place as they moved down the stairs slowly, still a good way behind their Victoire. The former had been explaining to her metamorphusising friend a trick she had read about in her book of entertaining spells she had received from her estranged uncle for her fifteenth birthday three weeks earlier. Just as Victoire thought the three of them would escape unharmed and unnoticed, the burly Slytherin cleared his throat loudly, attracting not only the three Gryffindors' attention, but that of other students hurrying down for dinner as well. He winked back to his mates again.
"Why Victoire you look lovely as usual," he had said, taking a few steps closer to the girl under fire, "And so does your pretty little friend here. What's your name, gorgeous?" That bit had been aimed at Clarisse who blushed, unable to take a compliment well, even when it came from a hideous and evil Slytherin who didn't mean anything by it.
Victoire had boldly stepped forward so that she was on the floor and less than a foot from the boy, saying as she went, "My friend does not wish to associate with you at the present time. However, she would probably, as do I, wish for you to go away so we could eat our dinner in piece without your image in our minds to bring it all back up again."
Smirking she had made to turn away, but the boy had taken a hold of her slender wrist from under his cloak. The crowds had dispersed, again heading to eat their dinner, and so, thinking everything was safe once more, Teddy and Clarisse had continued their conversation concerning the entertaining spell.
The boy holding onto Victoire's arm had grinned evilly when he overheard a few lines from the strawberry blonde's friends. "Hey, sexy," he called, indicating with a nod of his head that he was talking to the blond girl conversing with Teddy, "Did I hear right? You can do a head replacement charm? I'm sure everyone here would like to see that, right guys?" His Slytherin friends had nodded, leering all the while.
The bristle-haired boy had continued, "Why don't you try and switch my head with that of your beautiful friend Victoire here? If you do I'll return her to you and you can continue on your merry little ways." His friends had scoffed and sneered from their position by the statue.
"If you don't, I think I shall have my way with her. Maybe Connell and Marx there will too." The boy had snarled, a noise deep in his throat, his demeanour suddenly shifting at the prospect of him getting in such a pretty girl's knickers. A crowd had started forming; they had been in the hallway long enough for a few quick eaters to be returning to their Common Rooms, stomachs full already.
Clarisse had always been a slightly nervous girl, never good in front of a crowd, and besides, she had only read the theory of the spell and had never actually tried it first hand. That being said, if she didn't at least try to do it, Victoire would find herself locked up in a broom closet with bristle-boy. With her best friend's virginity possibly at stake, the blond haired girl had bravely stepped forward, although Teddy had been right behind her for moral support. She had raised her wand, eyes narrowed, pointing it directly first at bristle-boy and then at Victoire.
Then, just as she was about to swish her wand down and say the incantation, a jet of red light had knocked her off balance and the spell had flown a fair distance to the left of the pair, straight at Percival's poor statue. Her flash of bright pink magic had ricocheted off the statue's head, knocking off its nose, reflecting it all back at the poor girl still trying to regain her balance about halfway up the steps.
The spell, in a concentrated form after hitting the curve formed by the missing nose and essentially reflecting inwards, had finally found a mark. Clarissa, its innocent caster, had taken it full in the chest, right over her heart. It had rendered her unconscious and she had fallen the final ten or so marble steps before anyone could react.
Though there had been no outward damage, no cuts or bruises, the internal damage was beyond magical assistance. After the teachers had arrived, the Slytherins had escaped and Professor Lewis, the Headmistress, had contacted St Mungos, Clarissa had been taken away from them. Victoire had been allowed to floo there several hours later to see her and to make her, possible, last goodbyes. As naïve as she was, she knew that there were some problems magic couldn't solve, and damage such as that done to Clarissa's body fell into such a category.
Lessons had continued, though the workload was essentially non-existent. Victoire had stayed up in her dorm room keeping to herself and having her meals delivered by a friendly house-elf called Tiffy.
Then came the inevitable. For a full week after Clarisse had been removed to St Mungos, Victoire had kept it together. Not quite enough to venture where people might find her, but enough not to sob so loud her dorm mates could hear her. That night though, with the stars still not bloody appearing in that bloody sky, she found she didn't have the energy to hold them in any longer.
So she cried.
And she yelled obscenities to the moon.
And she let herself fall into the hug of her best friend.
...
Wait.
"Hush, darlin'," Teddy soothed. He had his strong arms holding her tightly against his chest, a hand stroking her hair back from her face.
He'd only climbed up the tower for a bit of peace and quiet to try to come to terms with what was happening. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right and it was hurting him. What he'd found instead was his favourite cousin (that didn't feel right to say; they weren't related and for that he was truly grateful) for all it looked attempting to chuck herself over the railings.
Her hair was a matted, knotted mess, he noticed, and her voice had been hoarse as she cried out curse words he hadn't realised she'd known. She was still beautiful, though. A beautiful disaster in need of saving.
A pang of regret cut right through his chest. Could he have saved Clarisse? It had been swimming around and around in his head this past week, the two dozen things he could have done that would have avoided this mess. He could have threatened to get a teacher, could have physically removed Victoire for himself. Hell, he should have reacted quicker and pushed Clarisse out the way of the spell!
It was his fault.
"No it bloody wasn't, you great stupid git," Victoire growled. She was wriggling in his arms with as much force as she could muster, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.
Had he said it aloud?
"Yes! Now let go of me!"
"You're not going anywhere until you've calmed," he said. He was worried for her, worried for how she'd been in the week she'd hidden away. He'd had Tiffy checking up on her, so he knew she hadn't done anything stupid.
He couldn't lose her too.
"I can't lose you either, Ted," she whispered softly, going limp in his arms.
He lowered them both gently to the floor and encouraged her to shuffle up into his arms. He needed a teddy-bear in that moment, and she needed to feel safe.
Minutes passed, then maybe hours. Still the clouds stayed firm, dark grey puffs against that impregnable navy sky.
"Ted?" she murmured sleepily sometime later.
"Mmm?"
"Am I foolish?"
The question caught him by surprise, enough that he opened his eyes to really get a look at her frightened features.
"What makes you ask, love?"
She sighed. "I've been telling myself all night that if the stars come out, she'll be alright. It's silly and foolish, right?"
She was gazing at him with such vulnerability, he didn't know what to do.
"It's not silly, darling, not at all," he eventually replied. Then he paused. "I thought this week, if I made it to every class on time, fate would forgive me and send her back."
"It's not. Your. Fault," she ground out for the second time. "Will you get that in your thick skull, Teddy Lupin? There's nothing you could have done! You couldn't have stopped the Slytherins being gits. You couldn't have stopped Clarisse trying to save my honour." And she was crying, choking on tears and gasping for breaths that wouldn't come. All of the bad thoughts that had been building, that she'd been pushing down because they were selfish, stupid thoughts - all of them resurfaced. She felt raw. "You couldn't have stopped me causing the whole mess in the first place."
There, she'd said it. It wasn't Teddy's fault that the most noble, most kind-hearted, most emgenuine/em Gryffindor was holding onto life by a thread. It wasn't his, because it was hers. She attracted creeps.
"Oh, darlin'," was all he said before she was back in his arms, head in the crook of his neck. They must have looked a right mess, she thought despondently.
He pulled out all the stops, all the little tricks and lullabies he'd picked up on over the years to send her into a restful sleep then. One of them, at least, should get some respite for the time being.
As she slept, he studied her. She hadn't been eating enough, even with Tiffy fetching meals. Her eyes were rimmed red; they looked sore, he thought. He drank in the sight of her and as he did, he felt himself growing more tired.
And his eyes slowly let themselves close.
And so it was that that was how Professor Lewis found them both some two hours later. They were nearly clinging to one another, and she allowed herself a small smile at the obvious way in which they needed each other. She had been young once. She knew the feeling.
Still, she coughed loudly: 'Ahem!'
It was quite a sight, the two teenagers jumping to attention instantly, very aware of how it looked. Any other day, there would be house points lost and detentions given. Not today.
"Miss Weasley, Mr Lupin," she addressed them with a strict voice. The kids were shivering, she noticed.
"We're sorry, Professor, we -" began Teddy, distressed.
The professor merely held up a hand, and there was silence.
"It is quite alright. It has been a tough week for us all." They both nodded in agreement, but she didn't miss the way they shuffled closer to one another. Nor the way Miss Weasley reached for Mr Lupin's hand.
"If you would follow me now, children, there is somewhere we need to be. There is someone who needs to see you."
"You mean...?"
"Is she...?
Their voices trailed off, the hope overbearing.
And in one of those rare moments in her Hogwarts career, Professor Lewis allowed herself a smile in front of her students.
It was only seconds before they had scrambled to their feet, ready.
As they hurried towards the staircase, Victoire looked first at Teddy (whose hand she kept in hers for reassurance) and then at the sky.
"Hey, Ted," she whispered, "Stars."
A/N I started writing this one-shot (everything up to the first mention of Tiffy) a good few years ago now. It was all a way of coping with the death of a girl in my year at school when we were fifteen. Now that's all in the past, I can finish it. Leave a review if you like it - it was under the name 'Light On My Shoulder' (a Susie Suh song) before so much more was added that I felt it should be published again.
