"You really should cut down on those," James frowned from across the lazy circle they had created in the paddock of mixed cloves and grasses. He had been pulling and tugging at the weeds while surveying his two best friends, who sat on opposite sides of a tree trunk, refusing to acknowledge one another's existence.

"Cut down on what?" Sirius played dumb. He brought the cigarette to his lips and took another pull, watching as the yellowing leaves fluttered above him like birds in the wind.

"That thing in your hand."

"Oh, you mean this?" Sirius stretched his arm out and pointed his middle finger directly at James. Peter, who sat between the two darker haired boys, couldn't help but snicker, biting down on his cheek when James threw him a look.

"Yeah, that too," James scowled, his eyes growing thin.

"You smoke too," Sirius reminded him bluntly.

"Only when I'm wankered," James pointed out.

"We're wankered every weekend."

"Well, right now, you're sort of ruining the ambience," he brushed off Sirius' pointless argument. James' jaw had become tight and a lone vein on his left temple began to throb. He couldn't believe that all three of his best friends were taking him for a fool.

"Sodding ambience, you can take it and shove it up your arse," Sirius cursed, his face going wry as the words came out of his mouth.

"Until one of you tell me what the bloody hell is going on, I won't be doing any such thing," James spat. His fingers reached up and grabbed the knot in his tie. "I don't understand why you lot won't tell me what's happening," James huffed, all the while pulling at his tie to loosen it until it sat unknotted around his neck. Remus briefly looked up from his book. He didn't speak, but instead watched as James threw daggers at Sirius, who was hidden from Remus' view.

It's all your fault, he told himself. He had messed up, and now they were all on the verge of brawling. Remus realized that he wasn't doing much to help things move along, if anything, he was only making things worse. He had not made an attempt to reconcile with Sirius, and he had not even bothered to discuss it with James, which resulted in him feeling hurt and left out.

"It's nothing," Sirius rehashed.

"Bollocks! He's sitting over there like an exile. He hasn't said a word," James bit back, gesturing to Remus with a flat hand, eyes wide when he couldn't believe that Sirius was actually lying to him through his teeth. The bloody scrotes should be ashamed, James scowled in his head.

"I'm right here," Remus muttered coldly. He tucked his arms behind his elbows and lied them along the tops of his bent knees, leaning over to place his head down so that he could become as compact as his body would let him. All he wanted was to disappear from this. He hated the feeling stuck inside his chest, and he would do anything to rip it out and burn it.

"Ask him if it bothers you so much," Sirius instructed callously, ignoring James' gaze as he continued to puff on his cigarette.

"Moony?" James nearly pleaded.

The worst part was that he couldn't even blame any of them. They were right for how they were acting. He had botched everything, and he knew that he had to suffer the consequences, whatever they may be. He had been dishonorable to his friends, who had given him no reason to lie them. They shouldn't even be your friends, a voice hissed at him, making him fall even deeper into the grave he had dug for himself. He was convinced that this was it, this would be the end of their friendship. Remus had never lied to them before, he had always honored their pact to tell each other the truth— up until now, that is.

And yet, a voice even further down than the first one wanted to blame her. He wanted to convince himself that she was the reason for all this turmoil. She was the poison which blackened him. No matter where he went, or who he was with, her misery would follow him mercilessly. He wanted to shake her and shout at her to stop it, to make her stop whatever curse she had cast on him. He wanted to believe that if she had never been introduced into his life, none of this would be happening.

Okay, deep breaths, mate, he tried to calm himself down, sighing and running a hand through his already tumbled hair.

"Wormtail?" James turned to their smallest friend when Remus remained silent.

"Padfoot told me not to," he replied so that only James could hear.

"Bloody hell." James shook his head. "We tell each other everything," he reminded them desperately. He looked between his friends, one by one, as they chose to ignore him. Sirius ate away at his cigarette, Peter held his ankles with his hands as he looked to the ground, and Remus had his forehead on his knees. What in Godric's name is going on, he thought to himself, a surge of fury pressing through him. He felt like he needed to hit something, and if someone didn't let up soon— it'd be one of them.

"It's about Manasse," Remus admitted under his breath, so low that James had to lean forward to hear.

"Are you bloody kidding me? Not again, this girl can't keep her wand in her pants, can she? What'd she do this time?" James puzzled, completely gobsmacked as to how she tied into all of this.

"I don't know, I shagged her," Remus mumbled dryly, cheerlessly shrugging his shoulders. Though the sarcasm dripped off his tongue in buckets, James' mouth hung open, his shoulders drooping down as the words sunk in. From the other side of the tree trunk, Remus could hear Sirius scoffing, choking on the smoke in his lungs.

"Wh-what?" James stuttered.

"Really?" Peter's eyebrows shot up into the sky as he looked up at Remus.

"No," Remus exclaimed. He threw his hands up in the air and brought them down onto his head, clenching and pulling at his hair. "Of course not, but Padfoot bloody acts like I did."

"I think I'm more confused now than I was before," James professed, watching as Remus' ears turned red from frustration.

"Aye," Peter agreed.

"Okay," Remus grumbled, not even bothering to look at his friends.

"He fucking ran off with her, this one here," Sirius began, jutting a thumb over his shoulder, in Remus' direction. "He ran off with her into the woods and lied to us about it."

"Oh," James paused momentarily, "what were you doing with her in the woods?"

"I was picking berries for that godawful potions class," Remus exasperated.

"When? I don't even remember you ever not being with us."

"During your practice, Sunday," Peter answered before Remus could even piece one letter with another. His hands were shaking uncontrollably and the back of his neck was breaking out into a cold sweat. He tried his best to keep himself at bay, not wanting to make it obvious to his friends just how anxious he was.

"You weren't at the pitch? Really?" James' eyebrows knitted together. He tried his best to remember Sunday's practice, but all he could remember was a hoarse throat and a lot of nose bleeds.

"That's not the bloody point," Sirius sneered, pulling James out of his thoughts.

"Padfoot, it was for the potions project. Are you really going to hold a grudge over that?" James defended Remus.

Remus' head shot up immediately, his entire face skewed for he hadn't expected James to react so calmly. Not once had he expected him to go against Sirius, and it was very rare that he ever did. He didn't even know what to think or say. His hands stopped shaking, and instead, an insane relief washed over him, flooding his entire being. He wanted to laugh and grab James so that he could hug him, thank him for being so understanding. Bloody hell, he thought to himself, breathing heavily with relief, a small smile pulling up the corners of his lips.

"Are you saying what he did was right?" Sirius' head swiveled dangerously fast to look at James.

"I'm not saying it was right, but it wasn't wrong either."

"He lied to us," Sirius accused, the lines between his brows growing deeper and deeper. James simply shrugged in response.

"Are you taking the bloody piss, mate?" Sirius lifted himself up from where he had been lying down, so that he was now sitting upright, his entire body facing James. "How do you know all they did was pick berries?" James' raised his eyebrows and shifted his eyes to Remus.

"Because he said that's all they did," he replied confidently.

"He lied to us about going with her, how can we trust him?" The words pierced Remus' heart as it dropped again into his stomach. He gulped to push the feeling away, but it wouldn't relent.

"Of course we can, are you bloody kidding? He's our best mate, and I would have done the same. Look how you're acting," James accused, jutting his chin towards Sirius to emphasize his words. The grey eyed wizard went to open his mouth, but hesitated to speak, completely at a loss. For the next two minutes, the two of them stared each other down, not one surrendering to the other. Remus wondered for how long they would go on for. Once, in third year, they had competed each other for an entire week. McGonagall had nearly torn their ears off as she continuously forced them to look to the front of the classroom, but had failed to do so. They had received a week's worth of detention for that stunt.

"Listen," Sirius eventually gave in, his voice calmer but still on edge. "If anyone else suspects the two of them to be doing something they're not supposed to be doing, I'm talking about her people, he's fucked."

"We're not—"

"They're not," James repeated, cutting Remus off.

"I know that, we know that. If they suspect— even a gram of suspicion, they will make sure he never walks again," Sirius warned. James looked up at Remus, running his eyes over him as he pondered Sirius' words.

"He's right," James acknowledged, now addressing him.

"I don't even like her," Remus nearly cried, completely frustrated. Hogwarts had always been a place of tranquility, where he could be himself without worrying about the consequences, and yet his last year, which was supposed to be his best year, had started off on a bitter note. He didn't care about the Slytherins, or about who won the House Cup, all he wanted was to enjoy himself with his best friends. Seven years had gone before his very own eyes, and here they were, their last year and possibly the last moments they would have together, fighting one another.

"She's really pretty though," piped Peter in a small voice. All three pairs of eyes turned to him, scrutinizing his now blushing face.

"Shut up," Sirius demanded him, pinching his face in disgust.

"M'bad," mumbled Peter, looking back down to his shoes.

"I wish Slughorn had never put me with her. Besides, I bloody hate potions— I didn't even want to take it this year; and I wish I had a different last name— always have by the way. On top of everything that I have to bloody deal with, look what I'm bloody stuck with," he snapped, his voice growing thinner with every word he said. A pained expression painted his face, and he brought his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as a headache matured in the back of his head.

"Yeah, well, welcome to my life," Sirius snorted.

"We're not angry with you, Moony. We just want to know the truth, we can't protect you if we don't," James counseled, his voice fatherly and yet gentle. Remus nodded heavily and slowly, his fingers still pressed into the corners of his eyes.

When he didn't hear a thing coming from his friend, Sirius awkwardly twisted himself so that he could look around the trunk. He pursed his lips, his face softening, when he saw his friend bent over, curled up against the tree.

"Hey," Sirius tapped lightly against his friend's elbow. Remus shifted slightly so that he could look over his arm. "Here, mate," Sirius offered as he threw his tattered cigarette pack over to Remus who, in return, slowly broke out into a grin.

"You know I'm no good with words," Sirius explained, hoping that he would understand that this was the best way he knew to apologize to his friend. Sirius knew, as they all did, what their friendship meant to Remus, and how fighting and accusing only made him hate himself more than it made him want to fight back.

She approached the top of the steps, pausing momentarily so she could take in the image before her. There were several occupants sitting on the velvety emerald upholstery, and a low roaring fire that tinted the room with the same color. It made the faces of those sprawled out amongst the furniture look like their house's sigil, their scowls and grimaces only emphasizing it further. It was a familiar scene, one that had become attached to her definition of home— proud little boys who pretended and talked like big men, so much less powerful than they made themselves out to be.

"Remember, my dear, they know not the honor of words in the North," her father had warned her just before they moved to this desolate country.

She remembered the day the French Minister of Magic's owl had arrived on their breakfast table. It had been a rare occasion, all the family had gathered for a late morning meal. There were dishes from all over the world, a perfect representation of who they were. They had all been joking and laughing, but suddenly her mother had turned ashen as they watched the black and white spotted owl blink at her father, waiting for him to accept the sealed letter. With a grunt and a nod, he had excused himself to his study, a painful silence shadowing the entire table. Only Eva and her younger cousins hadn't an idea of what was happening, why everyone had suddenly grown so serious.

Releasing herself from the memories, she straightened her back and began to descend the steps. Her footfalls were quiet like a cat, not a shuffle as her foot pressed down against the plush carpet. She walked alongside the shadow, hiding herself from the others' eyes.

"Manasse!" Her name echoed throughout the room like an unwelcome church bell. She nearly jumped at the sound, halting immediately. Parfait, she thought to herself, and yet, found herself politely turning around with a forced smile on her lips.

"Rosier," she greeted back through slightly clenched teeth.

"Join us," he offered enthusiastically, oblivious to her vexation as he shifted over, and gestured to the space he had just freed for her.

Merde, she gulped, dreading the offer. In another dimension, she may just have pleasantly accepted his offer; or she may have scowled at him, told him to bugger off, or just straight out ignore him. But that wasn't her world, in her world she would do the proper thing and take her place next to him. Though her legs were split between two river banks, she would have to suffer through it. It was the noble way, the righteous path.

"Of course," she replied, gliding her way over to where he sat. Rosier watched her every moment, the way her footsteps made no sound whatsoever, like she was trying not to wake up a three eyed dragon. Her eyes were corpse-like, staring past his shoulder and at a horizon that only she could see.

She sat down uneasily, folding her skirt underneath her legs. Her eyes flickered over the boys sitting across from her. Not one of the three, the third being Eva, had bothered to acknowledge or greet the other. Instead, Edmund Nott, sitting diagonally from her, hawked her with his head supported by only his index finger. To his right, Cyrus Baddock stared curiously, rather than scrutinizingly, at her. No matter, she was still the hen in the cockpit, but if their goal was to intimidate her, they would have to do a better job.

"We were just discussing the mudblood that they appointed as the department head for the M.M.L.E, and I was wondering what you had to say about it," Rosier broke the silence, all three pairs of eyes shifting towards him.

"You know that I don't bother myself with the affairs of your people," she responded cordially.

"Yes, but tell me- would the French ever do such a thing?" he urged on. His eagerness to pull something out of her made everything click in her mind. Her eyes darted around the group, suddenly very aware of what she had walked into.

"You know we would never," she played along, no longer cordial but indifferent to this little meeting. The entire atmosphere had flipped in a matter of mere seconds. She no longer felt like a friend, but a pawn in the great game that these boys didn't know what the first rule was. She felt used and threatened. Her eyes fluttered once again over the three of them, all three of them inspecting her. She was no hen, but a mouse in a lion's den.

"Hmph," grunted Nott from opposite her. "I suppose you have a point, Rosier." Even though the thin faced Slytherin had been addressing his friend, he continued to mull over her face. His fingers were rubbing at his chin, obviously pondering about the conversation that she had not been witness to.

"Bureaucratically, it's all possible. We just need to want it," advocated Evan. He shifted away from Eva and leaned over the silver-lined glass table, his elbows supporting his body weight on his thighs. The other two wizards now broke their stare to focus on their friend.

"Bureaucratically? You mean having people announce it?" Cyrus surveyed Evan, his eyes beginning to squint as he tried to understand his words.

"The separation of the blood types, making certain positions only available to those of purer bloodlines," he clarified.

"That'll never happen," scoffed Edmund.

"Yes, it will," aggressively countered Rosier, each word separated by a breath of air. Eva warily watched him flex his fingers from the corner of her eye.

"Not unless you kill anyone who opposes it," nervously chuckled Baddock, but immediately faltered, his face turning pallid as no one else made a sound. "What? You don't actually believe," he trailed off as Evan slowly nodded in response.

"There's people who believe in it," he began in an ominously low voice. "We need to take control again. They are stealing our jobs, taking our money. We will be left with nothing unless we react now."

Eva blinked and wondered how long they were going to repeat ancient tales, the same stories for centuries.

But, another part of her was denying the truth- that she had felt her blood curdle and stop. Eventually, she would have to admit that Evan Rosier had summoned her to a recruitment meeting. There had been rumors, whispers in the darkness that meant nothing to many people. Her own father, who worked in the British Ministry, denied them to her uncles when they inquired, calling them myths as old as the Epic of Gilgamesh. But what if they aren't just rumors? she asked herself, still observing the boys faces as they looked upon one another with smirks and nods.

"Excuse us, Manasse, we're being so rude. Did you have something else to attend to?" Edmund interrupted Eva's thinking. She refocused on him, blinking as she realized that they were now kicking her out. Evan had used her to get his means, to get the answer he wanted, and then she had become useless.

"I have a meeting," she smiled pathetically, the saddest sort of smile anyone could ever witness.

"With who?" Evan blurted out unattractively. All three of them turned with sour faces, completely jarred by the unexpected roughness.

"Rosier," she addressed, looking him directly in the eyes. Though she continued to push the forceful grin, her eyes conveyed a different story. They were heartless and cruel, warning him that he had crossed a thick line.

"Right," he murmured.

"I must take my leave," she announced to them, standing up and not bothering to look at them anymore.

"Manasse," they saluted her, Rosier nodding his head. She had nothing left to say to them. They had used her for their little jokes, and they had treated her like some swine whose sole purpose was to be the bacon for their breakfast. She had wasted precious minutes of her life on them. Never again, she reviled to herself, completely disappointed that she hadn't brushed them off the moment they had hollered her name.

Rosier watched as she traversed the room and disappeared through the wall. He leaned against the arm rest, his elbow pressed against it as he rubbed his fingers over his lips.

"Where do you reckon she's going?" asked Cyrus, studying his friend as he watched him stare at the spot where she had last been.

"With that useless mutt," he muttered with a finger still on his lips.

"You suspect something?"

"No, never, Manasse would have his head. She's a proper witch."

"Then? Why do you look at her like she's parting for war?" Edmund tantalized, finding a sick amusement in Rosier's wasteful obsessions and childishness.

"She shouldn't be with him, at all."

"It's a potions class," Edmund reasoned.

"Yeah, well, I don't like it one bit," Evan retaliated.

"What's it got to do with you?" Cyrus' head flinched back slightly, puzzled with his friend's sudden agitation.

"I'm going to make her my wife," he announced proudly, as if it was a fact set in stone.

"You're going to make her your wife?" Cyrus repeated.

"You've put in the request for a betrothal consultation with her father?" Edmund inquired, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Not yet, I'm waiting for Christmas to discuss with my family."

"They don't know yet?"

"They won't reject, not a Manasse."

"I wouldn't be so certain," Edmund mused, a finger now tapping against his cheek.

"What do you mean you don't know?" scowled Evan.

"Regulus Black."

"Regulus?" Rosier spat out. "But he's a child."

"He's only a year younger than us, and it's not unheard of," Cyrus intervened.

"They wouldn't be married for another two years," Rosier growled, his entire jaw clenching as the thought dug further into his mind.

"Narcissa Black was already married to Malfoy in her seventh year."

"Yes, I know, she's my cousin for Merlin's sake," Rosier reminded him, throwing Cyrus a dark look. "I haven't heard a thing about this. Why is no one talking about it?"

"It's not official yet, but you know the Blacks have always wanted to marry one of their own to the French. Orion Black already had his foot through the door the moment he found out about Eva years ago. She was supposed to be betrothed to the blood traitor." Rosier grimaced as he thought about his cousin who had brought unspeakable shame to his mother's family name.

"It's not going to happen."

"They are a compatible and comparable family," drawled Edmund, turning away from Evan to look at the fire with a bored expression.

"What, and we're not?" Rosier flustered, throwing himself back against the couch.

"Well, your family is too social for their taste."

"Too social?" he repeated in a growl.

"You do host the New Year's party every year," Cyrus argued, regretting his words as Rosier's expression nearly turned him to stone. He gulped in air as he watched a vein popping on Evan's neck.

"Regulus," repeated Evan as he scratched his neck. "The little shit."

"He could always reject," Edmund shrugged.

"Or they find someone more suitable, more pure," Cyrus pointed out.

"Like who?" Evan hissed.

"A Gaunt or a Malfoy, or a foreign family with a purer claim," Cyrus shrugged.

"Enough," Evan demanded them, a dark silence ensuing his radiating words. He turned away from them and looked deep into the green licks of fire. The inside of his cheeks began to bleed as he bit down on them. The image of his cousin's head smashing against the fireplace's wide over mantle stained him. He couldn't get it out, and despite knowing better, he felt the corner of his lip begin to turn into an ominous half smile. His friends shared a look with one another as they watched a crazed, manic glimmer glow within the glaciers of Evan's eyes.

"What are you thinking about doing?" Edmund asked cautiously as Cyrus shifted in his seat.

"I'm just going to have a little chat with my cousin," Rosier whispered, winking at his friends before turning back to the fire.

"Now is not the time to create rivals within your own house," Edmund warned his friend.

"Who said anything about rivals?"

Eva walked unusually brisk, as though she had stopped thinking and let her subconscious act on its own accord. She was in a complete stupor, younger years passing by looked at her with a mix of awe, fear, and confusion as she paid them no attention, commanding them with her force to move out of her way.

She blinked as the familiar portraits swiveled away from their late noon conversations to see why others were shuffling out of their way, and ultimately, bumping into the frames. Some of them murmured in contempt, others whispered, "that's her." It was the same old story everyday. She was the foreign jewel that had been placed within the confines of these walls for her own safety. Everyone knew she did not belong here, herself included, and thus they didn't know what to make of her. Fortunately, she would leave these halls soon enough, and the only memory of her would be nothing but gentle footsteps that pattered alongside the rain.

"That is Taurio Manasse's granddaughter, that is," some wizard with a scraggly, long, white beard and a smoking wooden pipe hanging lazily from the corner of his mouth mentioned to a purplish grey haired witch, who held a baby Herbidean Black dragon, on his left.

"She looks like one of those gypsies," the witch snipped tautly. Eva imagined her voice sounded like what an acid pop would sound like if it could talk.

"Yes, well, her mother is-" he began to drawl, but Eva had already turned the corner before she could hear the rest of his abrasive speech. She had no time to brawl and insult dead men whose legacies were gossiping about students from their portraits.

She continued her hasty pace until she passed the last strip of the talking fools. Eventually, she found herself at a dead end, an archway to her left indicated that she had arrived to where she had to be.

This staircase was hardly ever used, for anyone with the slightest amount of claustrophobia would find themselves in a precarious situation. It was so narrow that not two people could walk down or up it side by side, and it was tall enough that even someone as average as herself would have to bend down. As though that didn't suffice, the steps were made out of different sized boulders so that one step was never the same as the one before or after it. However, though the journey was cramped, it was one of the quickest routes from the third floor to the dungeons. There were no landings between them, and the staircase itself was nearly as steep as a ladder, dropping straight down through the walls and underneath the castle.

Without hesitation, Eva stepped into the darkness and began the familiar voyage back down. She had often preferred this way to the others, it was easier to hide from everyone else. Younger years scurried by it, believing the older years when they told them that a troll lived in it, and older years would only use it after hours in order to release their lustful desires. In here, she truly felt far away as the light disappeared from behind her, and she was left inside a tunnel of darkness.

She skipped down the steps, not afraid of tripping or falling for they were too familiar. Soon, she would come to the slight bend which indicated the change from the first floor to the dungeon. In her hand, she clutched tightly onto a heavy iron key, afraid that it would suddenly jump out of her hands if she fell onto the next step too quickly. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could see the cool white stones underneath her feet. One after the other, after the other, after another, until finally, in the distance, she could faintly detect a veil of light.

The dungeons welcomed her with a dampness that did not come from the humidity surrounding the castle. It attacked her like a knight in heavy steel armor, completely covering her from head to toe in the thickness of it. The scarcity of flaming torches, which she could only make out two of, made it resemble the hours when no one knew the difference between night and morning, even though the sun still hadn't gone to sleep.

She set off again at the same pace she had had three stories up, making her way through the shadowed halls. To any other student, these twists and turns would have been an impossible labyrinth. There were no talking portraits, and there were no trophies or banners proudly gracing the walls. Down in the dungeons, there were only stones and the occasional door.

Eva took another left, and happened upon the lone door in a small stretch of corridor. There was one torch hanging opposite the scratched and dented wooden surface. It was nearly identical to all the other doors down here, save the silver colored key lock and door knob, indicating that it was a potions classroom.

She made her way over to it, and loosened her grasp on the iron key. As she turned it in her hand, she brought it so that it was even with the key lock and began to move it forward, but before it could even enter fully, the door faintly creaked. She looked up with wide eyes, her eyebrows furrowing just the slightest. Perturbed, she placed her palm against the splinters and gently pushed open the door.

Remus looked up from where he had been bent over his reading. His eyes were wide and innocent, and he was unconsciously biting on his lip. She blinked at him for a few seconds, not exactly knowing how to react.

"Hello," he eventually broke the tense silence.

"How'd you get in?" Eva continued to stand by the door, her eyes darting all over the room as she noticed the black cauldron, and various other potions accessories, placed neatly in front of the wizard. "Never mind, don't answer that," she interrupted him before he could even reply, leaving him to stare at her with a slightly ajar mouth.

"Okay," he uttered foggily.

"I must be late," she said out loud to herself as she stepped into the room, gently shutting the door behind her.

"It's fine," he replied.

"What?" she looked up from the ground. She pressed the back of her hand to her cheek, feeling overheated from the trek she had just made, not realizing how intense it had been until the moment she had finally stopped to breathe.

"I mean, it's all right that you're late and all," he fumbled with his words. As he observed her expression, his eyebrows began to squish together, no longer sure if he had a clue on what was happening.

"Right, well, I had to get the key from Slughorn," she retorted. Remus couldn't help but detect a slight blame on the tip of her tongue, as if it was his fault that she had been late. Of course it's your fault, it'll always be your fault, he caustically reminded himself.

"I just used an anti-locking spell." Remus shrugged nonchalantly, looking away from her to the cauldron placed in front of him.

"This room is protected against most of them," she argued.

"Most," he cut her off as a mischievous smirk lined his lips.

Eva had always tried her best to follow the rules. Her father, being a diplomat, had always taught her the importance of the law, and what happened when someone didn't follow it— not only would there be repercussions, but that the balances that kept society serene would be muddled with. "It's of extreme importance that you keep this équilibre, ma cherie," she recalled her father's words.

"Well, some of us respect the rules." Remus' head turned back to her.

"And who would that be?" Remus scoffed.

Eva didn't respond, but instead narrowed her eyes to study him

"Whatever," he grumbled when he realized he wasn't going to get a response. He shook his head lightly and relinquished his defensive stance. He gazed awkwardly around the room and then back down to his book, sliding his fingers under the pages, and flipped them towards the left until the book eventually snapped close.

Her footsteps were nearly non-existent as she approached him. If it weren't for her robes shuffling against her legs as they moved, he would have thought that she was still waiting by the door. He didn't bother to look up as she placed a small hand on the table he had taken a seat at. They grazed the edge as she prowled around it, taking in the different materials he had already laid out for them. There were glass flasks and wooden pipets, an iron cauldron, a mortar and pestle. Impressive, she complimented his work to herself. He had done this all by himself, and no one had to tell him to do it. She had thought him lazy and incompetent, but this job he had done well. I may just be wrong about you, Lupin, she thought.

"Crush the baneberries, I'll set up the cauldron," she announced after a few seconds. He nodded once, completely unenthusiastic that he had to spend the next two hours with her. She grabbed the cauldron by its edges and nearly dropped it on the heating stone, never would she get used to the heaviness of the luxurious pot.

From across, Remus reached out and grabbed the green velvet pouch, dropping about half of the berries they had picked into the mortar. Eva paused a few moments to watch him through her eyelashes.

"It needs to be exactly 54 berries, roughly three clusters," she informed him.

"Oh," he let slip, awkwardly holding up the sac and looking back down to the berries. "Got it," he nodded, pursing his lips as he realized that he had already messed up. Just two hours, he pushed himself.

"Now, as I stir, you will slowly add the warm water. We need to make sure it doesn't cook and turn into film," she warned him as she strained the berries, allowing their liquid to trickle and flow into the glass sitting beneath it. She shook the strainer twice before leaving it to sit on the opposite side of the table. "But, you must not dilute it too much. It must remain sticky so that it can steep and become like blood," she added on. Remus watched with an unexpected admiration as she brought the glass up to her eyes and twirled around the liquid, making sure that there wasn't anything that might have fallen and contaminated it.

"Now?" Remus asked as she turned to look up at him, carefully placing down the glass next to the cauldron. She nodded and held one of the wooden pipets in between her fingers. Remus moved to stand next to her. His hand wrapped around the warm silver ladle, though the water wasn't boiling, steam still rose up and enveloped his face within its heat.

She turned so that she was equidistant between him and the glass flask. She followed his every move as his hand lifted up the small ladle, pausing momentarily to allow the water to drip from underneath. Once he was satisfied, he cautiously moved it over to the glass held between her hands. As he began to tilt the ladle and pour, she began to viciously stir.

"Okay," she announced as she continued to stir. She held the glass firmly against the table, minimizing the chances of an accident. Every so often, she would stop and lift the wooden stick up to check the consistency of the potion, and every time she would continue, not completely satisfied.

"Do you want me to?" he began, trailing off as he watched her eagerly stir and stir. She was too determined to think about anything. She knew that if even a second passed, there was a risk that the potion could turn into solid gunk.

"Here," she finally concluded as they both watched the potion sticking onto the pipet like honey.

"The hair," mentioned Remus, grabbing the miniature ceramic pod where, inside, lied a spiral of ash. Eva grabbed the dish from his hand and flipped it over into the liquid, mixing it in until it disappeared to nothing.

"We did it," Remus exhaled, plopping himself down onto the empty stool behind him. He watched her as she once again twirled the liquid inside the glass. He raised his eyebrows, impressed with her efficient work.

"Yes," she agreed, nodding as she continued to test the liquid.

"Remind me again why we needed two hours?"

"The water has to heat up gradually, extremely gradually, if not, the molecules inside become too excited," she replied to him, obviously distracted. Remus raised his eyebrows, surprised with how detailed her response had been. Usually, whenever he had asked her a question, she would find a way to respond with a one word answer, and that was only if he was lucky. Most of the time, she'd just not reply at all.

"You really enjoy this," he noted.

"Potions?" she asked, continuing to stir just in case she hadn't been mistaken. This time, however, she held the glass loosely, and shifted so that she was looking at Remus. He nodded. "No, what it can do and how- yes."

"So," he squinted his eyes, trying his best to understand her infamous ambiguity, "you enjoy the effects of the potions themselves, and the ingredients they're used with?"

"In a sense."

"Okay… Herbology, then?" he queried, finally feeling like he might be getting somewhere with her. For whatever reason, she was opening up to him. Maybe it was the situation, the feeling of success, the pride from having finished something, but he didn't care. He would needle and probe until he found something out about her, anything, even her favorite color would suffice.

"Sure, but not only— all plants and things."

"All plants and things?" he repeated, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"Yes."

"Like cats or grindylows?"

"Like all things, all creatures, Lupin," she glanced at him. She didn't comprehend his sudden interest, but she felt herself growing weary with where the conversation was going. He sounded like a parrot repeating its owners words, and she didn't have time for a second pet.

"Manasse, if you don't mind me asking…" he paused, waiting for her answer.

"You might as well, you've already begun," she sighed, clearly miffed with him. He didn't care all that much though, and instead took his time to continue, fixating and tracing the curves and concaves of her face.

"What do you want to be? You know, later on," he finally asked, bringing himself back to reality. Eva's hand stopped fidgeting with the pipe for a brief second.

"That's none of your concern." She continued to stir absentmindedly.

"Come on," he urged, something within him telling him that if he really tried, he could get the witch talking. Unlike other times, today she looked fatigued, like her chainmail had been too heavy so she left it somewhere in the dungeons. She had walked into this room without it, and he was going to take advantage of that.

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing, just curious," he assured her, shrugging. .

"A wife," she lied, giving him the easy and expected answer.

"Right," he nearly snorted. Though she was an excellent liar, Remus saw how she had handled the berries when they went picking. He had seen her looking over the plants, and how she had been gawking at the vegetables in the garden. If he was dense, he might not have thought anything about it, but he wasn't. He could tell that there was a passion hidden somewhere inside her, no matter how cold or dark she pretended to be, there was a fire burning in their somewhere and he wanted to find out what was fueling it.

"You can laugh and sneer all you want, but that is what I will be, not what I want to be. You'd be wise to remember that want is a weak action," she sneered.

"Well, we can all dream," he tried to hearten her.

"Of course, dreams. I doubt you and your type would ever comprehend something as sacred as duty, you have none. All you have are your dreams, that's why you lot are useless," she retaliated, pursing her lips. The words didn't hurt Remus, though. He felt as if she were reading them off of a script, like they weren't even hers to begin with. She said them like she was trying to remember where she had first heard them, and so, he didn't believe her act one bit.

"I have duties, just as you do. I have a duty to my friends, to my family, to myself. They may be different from yours, but that doesn't mean they don't exist," he argued, his words slow as he watched her rub her fingers up and down the sides of the glass.

"If so- then what good are dreams?"

"Because," he let out a large sigh, "without dreams, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly," he quoted Langston Hughes, one of his favorite American Muggle poets, though she wouldn't have known that or the revolutionary.

Eva finally looked up from the potion. They watched each other silently, neither one of them moving an eyelash as she pondered his words.

Remus noticed her face soften just the slightest, so discreet that not even he could be sure if it had actually happened. Her jaw's tautness dropped, and her eyes didn't look so alarmed. The icy wall that she had built so high around her had begun to melt.

"A healer," she finally admitted after an eternity of silence.

For the first time in her life, she had said it out loud. She didn't know why she had decided to say it now, or why she had decided that he was the person to whom she would. Either way, it would never happen for her. She had only one duty to follow, and she was going to do it well. No matter how many dreams, how many books she read, that was not her future. Her future had been written for her the day she had been born, and there was nothing in the world that could stop her from it. Many pureblood witches had tried before, and those who had prevailed were the ones that died young, poor, and alone.

Ah, he thought to himself as the words fell out of her mouth. He felt a sudden weight lift off his shoulders, a liberation once she finally said it. He didn't know exactly what he had expected, but he knew that he was satisfied. Not because of the answer, but because of the way she answered. There was no fibbing or sugarcoating, she had surrendered and told him the raw truth— which he had not expected, but was sure glad he had received.

"Of what?" he pressed on. She looked up to the ceiling, but a small smile betrayed her.

"Creature induced injuries, or poison."

"Really? How come? I'd think the other specializations would be more rewarding."

"Lupin, I refuse to play into this fantasy," she asserted.

"Why? We were just getting started," he teased lightly.

"Because I'm not a child."

"I never said you were." She pursed her lips as the two, once again, locked eyes on each other.

"Like I said," she paused, "I like plants and… other creatures." Though hesitant, she had decided to continue. She didn't trust him, but when she looked into his eyes she saw nothing malicious in them, and because they were filled with kindness, she did not want to play the villain. She didn't want to be what he said she was a few weeks ago. She realized that he had no expectations, he didn't want anything from her like everyone else did. He was asking her these questions out of pure curiosity, and she felt ashamed for assuming that there was some ulterior motive. Not everyone is like you, she told herself.

"What do you mean by creatures? You keep saying it."

"It's basic English vocabulary, even I knew it before I moved here," she quipped.

"I'm pretty sure it comes from French," he countered. "Anyway, I'm not trying to fight you. I'm just trying to understand. You're a little vague— don't know if you've noticed." She had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes and laughing.

"Creatures, other types of beings besides human," she clarified.

"Like werewolves?" he questioned her, raising his chin just slightly as he watched her face carefully. Have you gone mad? his inner voice shrieked at him, but he brushed it aside. He knew he had taken a risk, but he had taken it willingly. He squinted his eyes as she wavered on an answer. He decided to help her out. "Let's say, someone comes in and they've been bitten. Would you treat them or let them die?"

"I would treat them," she replied quietly, her words trailing off.

"Really?" his head flinched back at her response, his entire face slightly pinched as he surveyed her.

"Would that be so bad?" she defended herself. He put his palms up to show her that there was no reason for her to rebuild the hole he had punched open.

"I never said that."

"You don't have to, everyone thinks it anyway," she muttered, her tone still maintaining a low volume. Remus didn't know how to respond, which was odd because it was usually him with all the bright answers. She's just saying that, she doesn't actually mean it, a voice told him, but he didn't believe it for one moment. She would have never said it, he realized. He had given her an option to answer for herself, and she had given him the truth. To put it plainly, Remus was shocked.

They fell into a mutual silence. Surprisingly, Eva did not fret much about what she had said. She simply focused on the task at hand, and ignored the words that floated between the two of them. From next to her, Remus watched her as she cautiously poured the thick liquid into a small flask, pressing down a cork to seal it.

"Here," she turned towards him, "you'll need to keep this in the moonlight to steep for at least six hours until tomorrow," she informed him, handing the delicate glass bottle over to him.

"Sure," his fingers wrapped around the flask, and he pulled it up out of her hands and placed it down on the table next to him. He continued to peer at her, watching as she organized the different materials, flicking her wand to clean out whatever needed to be cleaned.

"Hey," he addressed her gently, she looked up with her almond eyes, "I won't tell anyone." She blinked and stood in silence for a few seconds.

"Thank you," she hesitated but eventually whispered, as if the words itself would come back and choke her. One corner of his mouth lifted up in a genuine smile. She didn't know what to think, she wasn't used to this type of interaction. Just hours ago, they had been using her like she was some puppet, and now there was this boy, that she didn't particularly like all that much, treating her like an actual human. And she wanted nothing more but for him to leave. "You should go, dinner has probably already started."

"What about you?" With another flick of a wand, she placed the cauldron back into its place on the shelf next to the others.

"You ask too many questions," she replied indifferently. It was not so much that she was annoyed with him, she just wanted to be left alone to think. All day she had been surrounded by people. All day they had talked to her, prying and trying to get her attention. All she wanted was to sit down in the silence, in the dark with no one to bother her.

"You think so?" he grinned, but was met with only silence.

"Goodbye, Lupin." The words sounded more like a lullaby than a salute, and he almost wanted to ask her to repeat them, but he knew he'd seem like a madman. He pursed his lips, but eventually grabbed his book to pack it into his satchel, along with the flask that he gently tucked away.

"I guess I'll get going…"

She didn't reply, instead she picked through the destroyed berry mush that was left inside the strainer with one of the wooden pipets. He threw the strap over his shoulder and began towards the door. "See you later, then," he tried once again as he held the door open with a palm against the doorframe. He looked back over his shoulder, but she was still investigating the compote. He snorted quietly, but it wouldn't have mattered for she wasn't going to bother with him any longer. You tried your best, just quit, he advised himself.

He closed the door quietly behind him and set off towards dinner.

Something picked at his mind, like a parasite that he couldn't get rid of. He couldn't quite put his finger on the feeling— it was nothing he had ever really experienced before. It was an odd mix between disappointment and trepidation. He felt like he had made a grave mistake, but at the same didn't do enough.

Why did you instigate? he asked himself, wondering what drove him to this witch. He had complained time and time again how she irked him, how she danced and spun on his every nerve, and there he was encouraging her to share her dreams with him. What the bloody hell is wrong with you? he continued, his steps growing slow and his mind running faster.

In his opinion, there were only two solutions: continue to prod or drop everything. He didn't know which was the better choice, which would leave her calmer. He felt something drawing him towards her, but also an aversion that made him want to turn the other way. There was no rational explanation to what he felt, for it was not friendship nor sympathy, but it had also moved on from loathness and onto something completely different.

Remus began to grow frustrated with himself, displeased with what he had done. He had gone off looking for answers, and he left with more questions. It was a never ending cycle, he doubted he would ever be content with what she gave him— and knowing himself, he knew he wouldn't quit until he was.