Author's Note: Hi, I keep on changing my narrative style, its fun! I'll just try and clear some stuff up before people get confused. And if you're not confused I'm sorry for dumbing down. This is three years later the summer of sixth year, so they are16/17. There are flashbacks and they can start from one person's point of view and move to someone else's. So even though it is Holly reminiscing about a conversation she once had with Sirius it made sense to me to then move straight to his reaction of the same situation. Though it isn't made clear what space or time he is in when he thought those things. Sometimes memories are clouded by hindsight, sometimes they are told in real time. Oh I'm not sure if it really works but I tried and it was fun.

The Things we do

'It happens sometimes. Friends come in and out of our lives like busboys in a restaurant.'

-The Writer- Stand by Me –

The Summer of 1979, Sixth Year.

I'm under the tree again, in those dark woods. Wearing a white dress, it is too small. It's drenched in cherry red blood. But I'm clean, my bare arms and legs stick out shining like the autumn twigs of a silver birch. My arms are tied with thick rope above my head and my legs are spread wide. Nothing is holding them, but I can't close them. In the distance there's a snake it flops towards me its belly banded and fat. It curls around my leg and sinks its teeth into my thigh. I should be scared but I'm not. Out of nowhere comes a huge owl that clutches the snake in its talons, ripping it to pieces. It is the man without a face, he's laughing at me. His jeering laughs peel through the naked trees like a funeral knell.

He sat there admiring the sleeping girl; she looked like a rag doll. One arm was flung lazily above her head and the other to her side, her hands soft with the fingers curled up lightly to meet the palm. He examined her hands, they were delicate, the fingers long and elegant. Pianist's hands he thought, yet as far as he knew her fingers had never graced the black and white keys. He lifted his hand and slowly stroked her wavy mane of loose curls. She flinched, he withdrew his hand. Perhaps her slumber wasn't as peaceful as it looked. If she had been awake he would never have been granted such a liberty, to touch her without permission. But she was sleeping soundly. His eyes moved down her body, taking in the shape of her. Her legs were exposed from the knee down; his mind toyed with the idea of lifting her skirt, pushing it a little further up so as to glimpse a creamy thigh. It was a silly thought; he would never compromise their friendship like that. She knew he was in love with her, she had known it for years. He knew she knew, for everyday she used it against him, torturing him with her friendship, her smiles and her kisses. Some days he thought he hated her for it, hated the way she flirted with him, confided in him, corrupted him and ultimately kept him. But he couldn't give her up. He was memorised by her unadulterated sleep, her angry beauty staring him in the face. She was full of secrets. A little mystery; the anomaly of his heart.

Her eyes fluttered open, for a second she wondered where she was, the dream had been so real. Her head rolled to the side and she saw the long legs of Remus Lupin and then she realised she must have fallen asleep. He was reading, the sun was in his eyes and he was squinting slightly. She let her eyes flick over his face. Did he realise how good looking he was? His penetrating blue eyes that held back nothing, his handsome Roman nose, and his perfect cupids bow lips. His hair fell into his eyes, sandy blond and naturally highlighted by the sun. A red scratch ran down his right cheek, he wore it well.

She raised herself up on her elbows, he realised she was awake. 'Well good afternoon sleepy' he said jovially.

'How long have I been sleeping?' she grumbled.

'Half an hour, maybe less,' he returned to his book.

She turned over and found her bag; she used her body to obscure his view. Removing the brown bottle from the secret pouch in her bag, she took a long swig. He knew what she was doing, even if he didn't know about the clandestine bottle, he could often smell the fire whisky on her breath. She felt him stiffen behind her; she felt his tongue flick against the roof of his mouth. She hated it when he judged her. A malicious smile twitched at the corners of her lips.

She walked over to where Remus was sitting; when she was standing over him she knelt forward putting her weight onto her toes. He looked up; they were centimetres from each other. She raised her hand and put her fingers to his cheek; the fingers he loved so much. She put her fingers to the slash on his cheek and traced the raised tracks with a painted nail. Those long fingers ran the length of his face, from his heavy cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. That corner, where the secret smile danced where the hidden kiss waited. She felt him stiffen. Her finger lingered there for a second then she cupped his face with both hands and he felt her lips brush lightly against his raw flesh. 'To heal with a kiss' she whispered seductively in his ear. He felt electricity run through his entire body, he wanted to grab her, throw her down, smother her, ravish her, hurt her. He hated the control she held over him.

She giggled and got up, 'I'm going to go finish this work in the library, its getting cold don't you think?' Au revoir peu de loup!' She ruffled her fingers through his hair then turned on her heel and sauntered off towards the main hall.

He sat there, the blood draining from his face as fast as it had rushed to it. She was a bitch.

Holly's cool face had fallen, she wasn't proud of herself, she felt ugly, she knew she was a bitch.

Holly wasn't going to the library at all; she was going back to her dorm. She desperately needed her diary, to touch the emancipation that lay within it's pages. She passed Lily Evans and smiled, her fake smile, her courtier's smile. Lily muttered a quick 'Hi' and continued her conversation with a girl, Holly thought was called Betty. She hated thinking about Lily and the things Lily knew about her. Lily remained the only student in the whole of Hogwarts who really knew her. That sort of confidence was a mistake she wouldn't make again. She had been an idiot when she first arrived at Hogwarts, an optimistic child. Lily remained a blight in her life, a constant living reminder of her weaknesses. Holly had plenty of friends now, she didn't need Lily. But then they weren't really friends but acquaintances, she was a lonely soul in a busy crowd. However some remnants of her old life remained, there were still her private friends, the three tutors, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Severus Snape.

She arrived at her dorm quickly. She got out her diary. It was thick and full, the pages tattered, some torn out, burnt, committed to the flames. Some revisited many times, smudged by greasy fingers. A story of memories, dreams, poetry and pictures. A confusion of lies, superstitions and truths. She opened to the next clean page and began to scribble down the dream. She found if she didn't do it instantly the dream faded rapidly from her memory, fading into blurred colours, sounds and acrid smells. She'd been writing in the diary for nearly four years now. As she flicked lovingly through the starchy pages, the heartbeats of yesterdays came flooding back.

'Come on let me have a look in that thing!' It was Sirius, she was sixteen it was the end of fifth year.

'No, it's private.'

'I bet it's full of your undying love for me in sonnet form,' he teased.

She didn't dignify that with an answer, but held the diary tighter in her arms, the discoloured book pressed close to her heart.

'Just a peek?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Trust me Sirius, if you read all this shit, I don't think you would like me any more.'

'Oh, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself' he said slowly, coming up behind her and snaking his muscular arms around her waist. His lips confidently tracing her neck line. She shivered; she hated the contact of his skin on hers. She felt his hand move down, a simple distraction, a ploy to grab the book from her hands.

She turned round quickly a faint smile playing across her lips, she concealed the book in one hand behind her back, her other hand was outstretched, displaying a raised finger; a warning, 'You underestimate me Sirius Black, you always have, always will.'

He looked into those ice blue eyes that looked fiercely back at him. He could understand most girls, well perhaps not understand them, but he could understand their feelings towards him. She was a mystery, the girl he could never quite get. He often thought he'd unravelled her, figured her out, then she would change again and he would be at a loss. That was the mystery of the diary, the key to who she was. Sirius Black didn't talk about his feelings, but in Holly he thought he had found that confident, someone who was hurting to, disappointed with the hand life had dealt them. But she had stopped letting him in. Did she ever feel the same? Why couldn't they talk the way they had in third year? But she was veiled, a china doll wrapped in cellophane. You could look you could think you were touching, think you were tasting, but you weren't. You were stroking glass, caressing stone.

'I'll read it one day,' he taunted, he knew it was a lie, he never could.

She opened it and began to read, 'Dear Diary, he's gorgeous, he's lovely, I love his big fat head…' she closed it, 'Looks like you were right!' She smiled, all seriousness forgotten. He looked at her again, those eyes were playful now and soft, she was beautiful.

'That's not very nice,' he said grabbing her a bit too roughly and kissing her deeply on the mouth. He felt her recoil and then try to pretend she hadn't, just like she always did. Why did he try to make her enjoy it, why did she play along?

Holly was a talented scholar and she had caught up with her school work by the end of her fourth year. The extra studying had become a routine and consequently she had become more than competent in all her subjects. She excelled in Potions and Defence against the Dark Arts. Once she reached the necessary level in Transfiguration and Charms she had stopped her lessons with Remus and Sirius. But the lessons with Severus had been a hard habit to break and consequently they met regularly under the façade of homework, projects and extra study. Severus had been a great teacher; they learnt t together encouraging each others fascination with dark magic. They were close friends, however if you had asked them they probably wouldn't have noticed how those hours in the dark dungeons had led to something more. They never let on in the hallways, it was a secret friendship, Holly doubted if even Lily knew.

It was the back at the beginning of their sixth year, Holly and Severus were sitting in a dusty dungeon, working on a 'potions project.'

'I'm bored Sev!'

'Want to do something a bit more fun?' he asked.

'Like what?'

'Hold on,' he said rushing to the store cupboard, 'It's a new spell I've been working on.'

'What's it called?'

'Sectumsempra.'

She shuddered with anticipation, 'It sounds nasty.'

'It is trust me, you're in for a treat.'

He returned from the store cupboard, holding a large fatty flobberworm, he placed it on the table, aimed his wand and shouted 'sectumsempra'.

Deep gashes formed in the worm's jelly like flesh. His cylindrical body all but fell to pieces. The worm's innards slopped onto the table, a kaleidoscope of pretty pinks and reds.

'Cool!' she gasped 'Teach me, I want to try it on something bigger!'

Holly shut the diary, she didn't want to remember what had happen next.

Remus often tried to pin point when Holly had changed. None of them had been bold enough to stand up to her apart from Lily and she had paid dearly. They had remained quiet, sacrificing her well being for the chance to remain close to her light. The things we do? Thought Remus, The things we do knowingly? Why didn't they stop her then?

The door had closed on that chapter of their life now, a time when new shoes, sunny Hogsmead weekends, and thick rice pudding could save you. The truth was she was starting to scare him. The Summer term was drawing to an end, what would the holiday do to her? That is when it had all started, the two long months alone in that orphanage. She had come back in fourth year drastically altered. Most people thought it was for the better, he had at first.

He tried to think back to that last term of third year, that perfect time. When they were on the brink of something but they weren't sure quite what. Times were changing, life was exciting, a ripe apple to be savoured. It was the end of year party in Gryffindor common room, the butterbeer was flowing; there was a cold buffet, paper streamers and balloons. She was wrapped in his arms, her head against his chest. He had never been that close to her before. She was so delicate, he always felt like one touch and she would break. Even after everything that had passed between them over the past three years, he knew he would never feel as close to Holly as he had been that balmy June night when they were fourteen. When all she did was hold his hand.

'I have to tell you something' she murmured, 'You deserve to know the truth.'

She'd led him away; they passed through the portrait hole and down a corridor, to a small window. The crescent moon lit up her face. That image would remain imprinted on his mind forever. Her eyes were bright, but there was no malice, no suspicion. He features were soft and rounder than they were now.

She had opened her mouth but the only three words he ever heard were 'The truth is…'

Then there was a scream, it came from the common room. They retraced their steps quickly, his hand in hers. When they entered the common room Moira was on her knees a crumpled letter in her hands.

'It's her brother' stuttered Lily.

'Voldemort,' Remus stated. They all knew Moira's brother was an Auror for the Ministry.

Lily nodded, her head bent low, tears welling up and overflowing.

After that the conversation had been put on hold, which the long summer turned into an infinite hiatus. He remembered the moment when her hand had struggled free from his, when she had gone to help Moira to her feet. It seemed like nothing then, but now the action seemed so significant, the moment she left him. If he had known then as he did now, would he have held onto her?

Dear Little Lost Holly,

He's getting bolder. He comes to my window beating his talons against the thin glass. He leaves offerings; naked mice and tattered snakes that look like shiny red ribbons. He's trying to seduce me. He wants me to follow him into the forest, his wild domain. He's growing impatient, I feel him. I will have to go to him soon.

X

Author's Note: Wooo Chapter 10, never thought I'd get that far! Please review and tell me what you think!

Oh and one last thing, I'm really sorry if the spelling and grammar isn't up to scratch. I've struggled with dyslexia for a long time and I'm so much better than I used to be, but I'm far from perfect. I will try my best, I promise I do proofread but I understand that it isn't up to the proper standard. Just thought I'd clear that up, I'm not ashamed of my spelling I just got a few reviews about it and I thought I would explain.