I Remember, I Remember

by kmccartneyyyy

Darcy Potter returns to Hogwarts as an assistant for Professor Snape as the Triwizard Tournament is reinstated, finding herself facing an increasingly shaky relationship with her godfather, Dumbledore's ominous warnings, immense pressure to become more than her brother's keeper, backlash after a series of articles, and the fact that Harry's life is—yet again—in danger.

1. Chapter 1

I remember, I remember,

The house where I was born,

The little window where the sun

Came peeping in at morn;

He never came a wink too soon,

Nor brought too long a day,

But now, I often wish the night

Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember,

The roses, red and white,

The vi'lets, and the lily-cups,

Those flowers made of light!

The lilacs where the robin built,

And where my brother set

The laburnum on his birthday,—

The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember,

Where I was used to swing,

And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then,

That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember,

The fir trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:

It was a childish ignorance,

But now 'tis little joy

To know I'm farther off from heav'n

Than when I was a boy.

Thomas Hood

---

Darcy's stomach growls loudly, the only sound in the still sleeping house.

She's quite used to it by now. Less than a month into the summer and she's already shed the few pounds she'd gained at Hogwarts, lost most of the color in her face, and her ever present hunger makes her snap very easily, especially towards Harry (the only person who really speaks to her properly), who never resists a chance to snap right back. Once, Vernon had caught her trying to sneak a leftover piece of chicken from the refrigerator before bed, and that had earned her a hearty swat across the face (Aunt Petunia had been furious the next morning upon learning about both Darcy's and Vernon's behavior), and since then, Darcy's avoided trying to steal food. It's almost as if Vernon can smell the refrigerator being opened, like some animal—but surely if Darcy is starving, Vernon's worse off? Though, she doesn't sympathize with him in the slightest, seeing as Vernon could probably do with losing a little weight, along with his vile son.

It had all started because of Dudley in the first place, and Darcy takes vindictive pleasure in blaming him completely. Aunt Petunia had put him on a diet at the strong insistence of his fancy school after he could no longer fit in the largest school uniform offered to students, which meant that the entire household at number four, Privet Drive now has to follow a strict meal schedule so as not to discourage Dudley, though Darcy barely calls them meals. Breakfasts are full of fresh fruit, which Darcy does quite enjoy, but the portions are so small that it's a tease to eat what's set in front of her. A quarter of a grapefruit does nothing to help sustain her, and while Darcy has been putting off spending time with Lupin in order to support Harry through this very distressing ordeal, she knows that, soon, she won't have a choice. Lupin would never let her starve, and the idea of him allowing her more than one helping of food is far more exciting to her than it should be. She imagines the meals he'd make for her, or meals she'd make for him . . . anything to force down her gullet. But part of her is very hesitant to tell Lupin what's actually going on—not that she expects him to show up and take her away like some stupid little girl's fantasy (though the thought of him coming to rescue her does make Darcy swoon)—but she remembers how he'd reacted the last time he had been given insight into Darcy's home life, and she desperately wants to avoid a row.

There had been letters, of course—three of them, in fact, both written in a familiar, untidy scrawl. The first had seemed so professional and parent-like and awkward, making sure both Darcy and Harry were all right, that Sirius had written to him in regards to her last letter to her godfather, and that he was concerned about how the Dursleys were treating her. Lupin hadn't mentioned a specific date she could see him, but hinted at waiting for the next full moon to begin to wane, at least, to give him time to recover. To Darcy's horror, Lupin had also asked if she would like him to retrieve her from Privet Drive to escort her to his modest home. Darcy had sent back her answer quickly ("NO.", underlined three times) and Max had returned not three days later with his answer.

The third letter is still open on her desk, as Darcy hasn't had the energy to respond. It's a short letter, expressing his eagerness at having Darcy stay with him as opposed to the Dursleys, and while it is a sweet sentiment, Darcy can't find it in her to be as excited. She thinks of leaving Harry alone (even just for a single week) and feels a twinge of guilt, knowing that he'll likely starve while she's gone, afraid she'll come back to her brother looking emaciated, corpse-like. Several times, she'd entertained the idea of asking Lupin if Harry could come with her, just for a little while, just to get him away, but Harry had been incredibly embarrassed about the idea when she had brought it up to him, so Darcy hasn't brought it up since. She also can't shake a heightened sense of anxiety, having never even stayed the night with a boy who isn't Harry before, let alone Lupin—unless she were to count the night they had both fallen asleep and woken up in the dead of night. But Darcy concludes that, no matter how awkward it may be at Lupin's, he likely isn't on a diet, and anywhere has to be better than Privet Drive.

Darcy sits up in her bed and looks around the room, rubbing her eyes. The dim lamp on her desk is still on, throwing her bedroom partly in shadow, partly in flickering yellow light. She turns around to look at the photographs stuck on the walls—the picture of her younger self, her parents, Lupin, and Sirius, and the picture of she and Harry outside Hogwarts just a little while ago. She eyes the tear in the picture she'd made at the beginning of the summer while removing Peter Pettigrew from it—she seems him almost every night in her dreams, however, not as a young boy, but as a man. An ugly man, trembling and watery-eyed and scurrying towards her on the dusty flooring of the Shrieking Shack, his hands groping at her skirt, begging for mercy he did not deserve.

Trying to shake the image from her mind, Darcy grabs her watch off her nightstand, checking the time quickly. Dawn is breaking now, and she knows that she will not be able to fall back asleep with her stomach aching, only to be woken in a few hours by Aunt Petunia. She slides out of bed, taking care to make it before doing anything else. When she's finished, Darcy settles in the rickety chair before her desk and looks down at the letter she means to send Lupin once Max comes home from hunting. She's thankful that Max has been able to deliver letters at all—Aunt Petunia had been furious upon finding out Darcy had bought an owl, and Vernon had tried to strike her fingers with a cane, but she'd been too quick for him and it only licked the backs of her thighs as she bolted from the kitchen. After discovering how much noise Max made while cooped up in his cage, however (according to Harry, it's her fault Max doesn't like being caged since Darcy had given him free reign since buying him), Vernon couldn't deny her request to let him out.

Remus,

I'll take the Knight Bus to your home. Please promise me that you will not come to my house or within a hundred yards of my house if you value my life at all. I have to let Aunt Petunia know I'll be leaving. I'm sure she'll be thrilled, but probably not as much as Vernon will be. Also, please have food on standby. I'm starving and I don't think I've been at all full since the end of year feast. I'll explain everything when I see you. Please don't worry, though—I'm alive for the time being. See you soon!

Yours,

Darcy

She begins to clean off her desk, disposing of old newspapers that have moving pictures of Sirius Black in them. Underneath the pile of papers are her N.E.W.T. results, and she looks at them again for a moment with a sense of pride before folding them up and sticking them in her top dresser drawer, just to keep them safe.

Darcy's N.E.W.T. results had come earlier than she'd expected just a week and a half after she'd returned to Privet Drive, delivered by a handsome tawny owl that sent the caged Max into a state of distress. She had allowed Max out of his cage to nuzzle against her before doing anything with the letter. Affectionate as ever, the owl had left slight marks all over her fingers with gentle (albeit slightly painful) nips. Darcy's hands had trembled when she opened the envelope, and Harry asked her to read her grades outloud, something Darcy was quite glad to do.

"Outstandings in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Charms," Darcy had said with a wide grin, as Harry had sat on her bed, looking through all of her photographs. "Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration and Herbology, and an Acceptable in Ancient Runes. Ah—I was never really good at that class anyway. I only took it because Emily did." Still, the grades are better than she could have hoped for, even if Darcy's still unsure as to how she had received an O in Potions after everything she'd said and done to Snape at the end of the school year. Part of her had wished she could compare grades with her friends, just to see how she's done compared to them, but she'll have to wait until the World Cup.

She had been hoping to see much more of her friends over the summer, as well, but between Gemma starting classes at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and attending several fundraisers for the hospital hosted by her mother and father, ("Sorry, Darcy, but you're better off with the Dursleys than with my parents. Vernon may hit you, but mine might quite literally kill you."), Emily starting her internship for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement ("They've been working me non-stop, but I can't say I'm disappointed. It's everything I've ever dreamed it would be."), and Carla off in Borneo with her family visiting her older sister, Elena ("Elena refuses to move back, despite mum and dad's protests. She loves it here, but I could do with a little less humidity. We won't be back until the World Cup, but I'll see you then."), Lupin seems her last ditch effort to leave this house that surely must be Hell.

Despite the congratulatory letters Darcy had sent her friends, and despite her happiness that her friends have been quite successful in the Wizarding World following their final year, she also can't help feeling slightly bitter about it all. While her friends, except Carla, are starting careers and seemingly adjusting just fine, Darcy feels useless sitting around the house, feeling hungry all the time, waiting to go back to Hogwarts instead of finding a real job like Emily had urged her to do. She hasn't voiced these concerns to anyone, not even Harry, so Darcy knows part of it is that she's been stewing and basking in these emotions, but she's ashamed of them, so she keeps them to herself. Though Darcy is sure Harry has noticed her change in personality—if she has, he surely has. Harry, who can spot her change in mood from miles away, surely has noticed, but is much too tactful to say anything. She doesn't want to say anything to Lupin, either—who had once told her she should go into the Ministry—and Darcy feels that telling Sirius would only make her want to be with him—if it's possible—even more.

The only thing that has really kept her going are her infrequent letters to Sirius. He had replied very quickly to her first letter, much faster than she'd thought, and the letter was just what Darcy had expected, delivered by a very tropical-looking and colorful bird. For nearly a foot of parchment, Sirius had gone back and forth between complete outrage at how the Dursleys have been treating she and Harry the past years, and also an apologetic tone (or so it seemed in writing), in which Sirius wrote over and over again about how sorry he was he had ever given her up—but his apologies are somewhat satisfying to Darcy, even though she would never admit it out loud. Sirius's sympathy for Darcy, along with his rage towards the Dursleys, makes her feel that she has a good reason as to why she isn't adjusting well to the Wizarding World, but the best thing about all of it is the scribbled farewell at the bottom of Sirius's letter—

All of my love, it says. She's never received a letter before saying that, and she's glad that Sirius is the one to write it. Darcy smiles every time she rereads the letter. She hopes, when Hedwig returns with his reply in the next few days, he'll have signed the letter with the same heartwarming farewell.

Though there is one thing about Privet Drive that seems to improve—Aunt Petunia has managed to keep Darcy out of the house and away from Vernon as much as possible, not that she's been trying too hard to get near him. Whenever Vernon sees her, Darcy notices the well-worn vein throbbing in his temple, his face purple, bursting to ask, "Why don't you just get a job?" Though Darcy finds it difficult to tell Vernon that she already does have a job set for the fall because each time she opens her mouth in reply, one of two things happen—either Aunt Petunia snatches her away just in time, or Vernon's heavy hand collides with Darcy's cheek in frustration, making her cheek sting and her eyes water for a few seconds before Vernon waves her away. Regardless, Vernon mutters a lot under his breath, and Darcy catches words like "freeloader" and "pathetic" and "unemployed" quite often, words that Darcy associates with her father—not that she believes her father to be any of those things, but Vernon's always loved spitting those same words when James comes up in conversation, which is rare. Every time one of these words is uttered, Darcy's longing for the comforts of Lupin's home is increased tenfold.

However, there are perks associated with Aunt Petunia's unusual desire to keep Darcy and Vernon separated. For instance, one Sunday morning after Max's incessant hooting wakes Vernon and he just about kicks Darcy's door in, Aunt Petunia decides to bring Darcy to the market in order to appease both parties. In thirteen long years, Aunt Petunia has never once brought Darcy along with her to any kind of market, and Darcy is quite glad to get out of arm's reach of her uncle. It takes Darcy a little while to get ready, because Petunia rejects two of her outfits ("There's no reason for so much of your thighs to be showing!") before Darcy finally puts on an old blouse and skirt that Emily had given her two years previously. Petunia looks her over before leaving, gives a curt nod with her lips pursed, and she and Darcy leave the house.

The car ride is silent, and Darcy feels strange when she suddenly realizes she's never been in the car while Aunt Petunia is driving. She keeps the radio off, and when Darcy asks to turn it on, Aunt Petunia snaps at her to be quiet. Darcy obliges, and the rest of the car ride—which turns out to be about a half hour, and Darcy's sure Petunia has chosen a market further away to avoid seeing people she knows—is completely silent save for the rumbling of Vernon's car.

But the market is unlike anything Darcy has ever seen, and she instantly falls in love. Aunt Petunia brings her inside of a large building that reminds Darcy of Kings Cross station with its high ceilings and the bustling of people, barely looking up at others. Between the sights and smells, Darcy can't think of a place she would currently like to be more. Aunt Petunia shops for food—fresh vegetables and meat for their healthy dinners, fresh fruit for breakfasts. There are food stalls where enthusiastic cooks slap freshly caught fish and organic meat onto steaming and sizzling grills, and Darcy feels weak with hunger. She thinks she must be dreaming it, but Aunt Petunia buys her a chocolate ice cream when Darcy's stomach rumbles audibly.

But there's more than food, as well—some vendors sell antiques, laid out on thin cloths and fancy, lacy doilies, polished and ready to be displayed on someone else's shelf; other stalls have colorful flowers that catch Darcy's attention, and a young florist a few years older than Darcy gives her a single sunflower, smiling all the while until Aunt Petunia grabs her wrist, dragging her away and taking the sunflower from her, tossing it in a trash bin; a few other stalls sell homemade crafts and decor, woven rugs and knitted blankets, clothes that strike Darcy's fancy and jewelry—lots and lots of jewelry. One of Darcy's favorite parts is a stall where hundreds of pieces of jewelry hang—necklaces with rough cut stones, handmade by the looks of them, simple looking rings with a single stone set in the middle, usually some shade of purple or turquoise. They're exciting and different, not at all like the gold and silver necklaces and bracelets Aunt Petunia likes to wear.

"Aunt Petunia, could I have a necklace, please?" Darcy asks, fingering a necklace with purple stones on it, knowing what Aunt Petunia's answer will likely be.

"What do you need a necklace for?" Aunt Petunia barks. However, she does move closer to the one Darcy is looking at. She scrunches her nose. "What do you want that one for, anyway? It's absolutely hideous. Come on."

Aunt Petunia moves on rather quickly, leaving her behind. Darcy frowns and looks at the stall owner apologetically, hanging the necklace back up. "I think it's lovely," she whispers, and Darcy follows Petunia away from the stall.

Holding two bags of fresh vegetables, Darcy returns to the car with Petunia—also carrying a few bags—a little while later as it begins to rain outside. The car ride home is silent again for about ten minutes, except for the sound of the windshield wipers, until Darcy takes advantage of it just being the two of them, clearing her throat. Aunt Petunia doesn't really notice, and Darcy plows on. "Aunt Petunia, would it be okay if I went to Emily's for a week coming up?"

"How will you be getting there?" Petunia asks shortly. "Vernon won't want to drive you."

"Er, well . . . I thought I'd take the bus." Darcy looks away, her cheeks pink. She doesn't think Aunt Petunia will expect her not to be at Emily's, considering the fact Darcy usually stays at Emily's over the summer for a week or so. But she also is loathe to tell Aunt Petunia where she's really going. For some reason, she doesn't think Aunt Petunia will allow her to ever leave the house again if she found out Darcy's really planning on staying with Lupin, one of her father's old friends, especially if she knew what was really happening between them.

"Fine. I'll let Vernon know."

Darcy and Harry spend a lot of their time together when Petunia doesn't have Darcy pulling weeds or watering the garden, cooking meals or else deep cleaning the house. Harry much prefers the comfort of Darcy's bedroom, being slightly bigger than his, and while Darcy lays in bed and reads, Harry writes letters or eats food his friends have sent, or talks aimlessly of Hogwarts and the World Cup. Darcy hums in agreement, not really paying attention, and sometimes laughs when Harry pauses after making a joke or a witty comment. Other times, they play chess together, or else Muggle cards, as Exploding Snap is sure to get Vernon riled up.

Sometimes, when Darcy can't sleep, she watches television in the dead of night while everyone is asleep. She keeps the volume down low, but she doesn't really need it to watch the game show that comes on every night, without fail, at two in the morning. But Darcy sometimes regrets these nights when her alarm clock goes off at six in the morning, and she forces herself out of bed and into the kitchen, cutting grapefruit and setting the table for the rest of the household, while Aunt Petunia scrubs the refrigerator and stove and floor noisily.

But besides that, the start of summer isn't so bad. She corresponds regularly with her friends, as regularly as possible with Sirius, and as the days lead up to Darcy's departure from Privet Drive, her mood becomes slightly better. The prospect of being in a house where she's wanted is more than enticing, and Darcy daydreams about eating real meals again with Lupin at her side. It all sounds too good to be true, and Darcy wonders if she'll ever want to leave after experiencing something so wonderful.

Lupin sends her one last letter before she leaves for the week. It's short and sweet, giving her the address of his home once more so the Knight Bus will be able to take her there, several sweet things about how badly he's missed her company, and his promise to make up for all the days she's had to be at Privet Drive. Darcy doesn't bother to reply, seeing as she'll likely arrive at his home before Max does. Darcy leaves the letter on her desk, glancing at it every so often and letting it warm her heart.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Darcy asks Harry the day before she's due to leave, as she folds a few outfits and packs them in her trunk. The contents that had filled it previously are scattered all over her room—school robes and uniforms, her cauldron, books, and even an envelope full of pictures from her years at Hogwarts. "If you'd rather I stay here with you, I don't mind writing to Remus and—"

"Darcy," Harry interrupts with a dramatic eye roll. "It's one week. I'll be fine. I've done this before. I'm almost fourteen, you know, not seven."

"Okay," Darcy sighs, packing a bit more slowly now. Then she stops and turns around, holding a shirt in her hands. "If you're uncomfortable with this, please say so—I won't go if you don't want me to—"

"Darcy," Harry says again, this time looking exasperated. "It's fine."

"Okay, but if something happens, write to me right away," she insists, squeezing onto the shirt she's holding. "I'm leaving Max here—he'll know where to go to find me." Max gives an indignant hoot, as if expecting to be brought along. Darcy sighs and approaches his cage, sticking her finger through it and allowing Max to give her an affectionate nip. "Sorry, Max. Maybe next time. As long as you promise not to peck his fingers."

"I'm not going to write to you, even if Voldemort forces his way into this house," Harry chuckles, but Darcy gives him a scathing look, not finding his joke funny in the slightest. "Just relax, would you? Everything will be fine."

Darcy decides to have breakfast with Harry before leaving the following day. She puts her packed trunk by the front door, scarfing down her small piece of grapefruit, her stomach rumbling. Breakfast is a quiet affair today, and Vernon breaks the silence by lowering his newspaper and asking gruffly, "Where did you say you were going?"

"Emily's," Darcy lies, keeping her eyes on her plate.

Vernon grumbles something and returns to his paper.

Harry is the only one to bid her goodbye that morning. He gives her a big hug as she reminds him about feeding Max—what he can and can't have, as if he's a child instead of an owl— and telling Harry to keep out of trouble and to definitely write her if Voldemort kicks down the door. Harry laughs and pushes her away, and Darcy hesitates in the threshold for a moment. "Harry," she sighs, frowning and making a grab for his hand. "I mean—are you absolutely positive that this is okay with you? You—you have always been the only boy I've ever needed and I—"

"Please don't make it awkward," he pleads, pulling his hand away from her and flashing her a weak smile. "Just go—you deserve it. You won't even want to come back."

Darcy inhales deeply and nods, feeling suddenly very foolish standing there with tears in her eyes. Visiting Emily had always been exciting and Darcy had always counted down the days until she was back at the Duncan household, but she's never left Harry for another man's house—another man who she loves. She had thought that her love for Lupin would make the summer easier—make it more exciting to leave Privet Drive, but she only feels like she's betraying her brother, the only other boy she's truly loved.

Forcing herself to turn around, Darcy drags her trunk down the garden path and to the end of the drive. She looks back at Harry, but he only smiles and waves goodbye, closing the door and retreating back into the house. Darcy continues all the way down the street, to a more secluded part where there are less prying eyes, and glancing around the road once more, holds up her right hand.

The Knight Bus arrives in front of her almost immediately, accompanied with the loud BANG as per usual. She finds herself smiling up at the purple bus, her heart jumping nervously in her throat at the thought of being with Lupin so soon, of being able to kiss him again and touch him and be the recipient of his smiles.

Stan Shunpike, the conductor—a boy about Darcy's age—jumps down from the Knight Bus, opening his mouth wide to give his usual speech. But at the sight of Darcy, his mouth curls into a sly smile and he bows deeply and dramatically, taking off his purple hat to reveal a thick head of stringy brown hair. He stands back up to his full height, at a height with Darcy, and helps lift her trunk into the bus. "Good to see you again, Darcy."

Darcy takes the steps into the Knight Bus, looking around. For the most part, the bottom level is empty, but she can hear some voices coming from the floor overhead. She falls into a wobbly and dangerous looking armchair, sighing heavily. Darcy hadn't been able to sleep last night with her brain tossing out ridiculous ways of how this could go wrong, plus her appetite kept her up. Darcy had even chanced a look in the refrigerator while everyone slept, but there wasn't anything in there to snack on—Aunt Petunia clearly had expected Dudley to sneak into the refrigerator, as well. The armchair isn't as comfortable as her bed at Hogwarts had been, but it's a close runner up, and Darcy closes her eyes when Stan brings her trunk over, slamming it down on the ground and causing her eyes to snap open. Darcy isn't quite bothered—she knows it'll be impossible to get any actual sleep on the Knight Bus. She rummages around inside of her trunk for some money to give him.

"Where to, Darcy?" Stan asks, pocketing the Sickels she holds out for him.

"Yorkshire," she mutters, giving Stan the full address. "How many stops?"

"Yorkshire?" Stan asks again, narrowing his eyes at her. Darcy looks at his own face, but it hasn't changed much—his face is still pimply and oily, and his upper lip has some dark peach fuzz growing there, as if he can't grow any real facial hair, but is trying anyway. "S'not where your blonde friend lives, innit? What's waitin' in Yorkshire that you're so eager to get to? Don't tell me you got a boyfriend?"

"What does it matter to you?" Darcy replies, raising one of her eyebrows and smiling. She feels her cheeks turning pink and, at this, Stan seems to get his answer.

"I always thought we had somefink, and now 'ere I find out you're someone else's girlfriend! Why didn't you tell me?" Stan explains, making Darcy blush even more furiously at the thought of what Lupin would think if he knew someone referred to her as his girlfriend. "You can't tell me we didn't 'ave chemistry!"

Darcy laughs out loud, busying herself by examining her nails closely. It's then that she notices her middle finger on her right hand is slightly swollen from when Vernon had smacked her across the fingers for Max's obnoxious hooting a few nights ago. She lowers her hands into her lap. "I don't think so."

And so the Knight Bus begins to tear through the countryside, through dry hills and city streets and even crossing a highway once. It shuffles Darcy around in her armchair, makes a few stops as other witches and wizards come down from the upper levels, green in the face, to get off at their stop. She stares out the window as the bus starts off again, and within no time at all, Stan calls, "Yorkshire, Darcy!"

Darcy gets to her feet, feeling suddenly very nauseous. Butterflies flutter in her stomach, and Stan helps carry her trunk off the bus, laying it at her feet. The Knight Bus has brought her to what seems to be an open field, the only neighbors are the large trees that sway in the breeze. The grass tickles Darcy's legs, not tended to. Straight ahead, down a gravelly path, is a small cottage that briefly reminds Darcy of the Burrow. The outside looks to be falling apart, in shambles, but there's smoke rising from the chimney, and there are lights on inside, and if there is anything she has learned after staying at the Burrow a few times, it's that you can't judge a house by the outside.

Stan bids Darcy goodbye, attempting to kiss her cheek, and Darcy moves away from him so quickly she surprises even herself. There's a loud BANG as the Knight Bus takes off again, leaving Darcy alone. Darcy drags her trunk down the rocky path, listening to the crunch of gravel beneath her shoes. Birds are chirping and singing all around her, filling her with a sense of peace. She smiles at the cottage, relief flooding her—relief at being away from Privet Drive, away from Vernon, with someone who loves her, who will feed her. And despite the overgrown garden and wild lawn and crumbling exterior of the cottage, Darcy thinks this may well be her new favorite place in the world.