It was one of those dreams that she knew was a dream and was desperate to wake from but couldn't. There was no one beside her to jolt her awake and she was left to suffer there, lying beneath the duvet covers, and struggle as much as she dared.

She was in the Black Forest—one of the few occasions that she got to venture there as part of the Care of Magical Creatures class. Professor Kettleburn had assigned a specific plant to a group of students that they would need by the next hour, and Alex had somehow ended up on her own as she paved her way through the gnarled forest floor. The day was quickly setting and Alex knew that the class would have ended a long time ago. But no one came searching for her and it seemed pointless to simply stand still and wait. The annual reminders to stay away from the forest during the Sorting Ceremony kept coming back to her, a constant buzz by her ears that grew and grew as her eyes became more frantic in their search for a way out. There was none.

A hooded figure appeared from behind the trees and Alex felt a surge of relief as she laid her eyes on someone finally human. The relief quickly disappeared, however, as the cloaked figure slowly approached her, its movement soundless. Her hand reflexively sought the wand in her pocket, but the action didn't seem to frighten off the figure in any way. Alex gulped. When had it gotten so dark? She could barely see the trees past ten feet.

"Who are you?" she tried to say, but she couldn't hear its voice. It merely kept advancing on her, and the wand in her hand began to shake. No—it was her hand that was shaking.

"Alex!" an unexpected voice came from behind her and Alex whipped her head around to find her mother behind her, dressed in Muggle garb. An eerie light came from her body and Alex squinted her eyes. The sight of her mother made her feel more dread than the forest and the figure combined…

"Mom?" she said, and realized that the feeling wasn't dread, but fear. Fear of what could happen to both of them. But what would even—

"Alex," Regulus revealed his face from underneath the cloak, looking as grave and solemn and terribly handsome as ever. "You're not safe here. Come with me." He extended his hand, and Alex felt the urge to take it, take Regulus's hand and follow him. Her mother had somehow crept up behind her and laid a firm hand on her shoulder. Alex tried to shake the grip off, but it was too strong.

"Let me go—" she said, but the grip tightened. Alex looked back and found her mother gone, devoured by some creature that was slowly morphing into something else. She shrieked and tried to fight it off, but the more she struggled, the stronger the creature became until it seemed to absorb some memory from her. It finally settled on a face, a face of an eighteen-year-old young man with dark hair and stern eyebrows that she'd seen countless times in the photograph that she'd ripped off from one of the books in the library…

"Alex," his voice was neither low nor high, neither smooth nor gravelly, neither deep nor shallow. It felt like every voice in the world combined and Alex stared, petrified, into his unfathomable black eyes, silently imploring him to let her go. He didn't. He raised his free hand and Alex saw the flick of the wand before closing her eyes. There was a flash and surely something would happen to—

"Oi!" The voice of Leila Parkinson was not to be mistaken. "Wake up! We have a long day at Hogsmeade ahead of us." She was shaking Alex by the shoulder, the very shoulder that Alex was sure the hand of Altair Wymond had been ready to tear off just a second ago. Alex swatted her hand away before blinking furiously. Her neck was sticky with sweat. Her body automatically drew her up and Alex watched dazed the morning routine of her two roommates. Rebecca was flitting from one corner of the room to the other, unbelievably diligent in her morning preparations. Leila was slightly less attentive to her appearance but was nonetheless combing her hair.

"Blimey, what's wrong with you?" Leila said, pulling at her bed covers. Alex's hands reflexively clung to them. "It's like someone poisoned you with Draught of Daily Nightmares, or something."

"Bad star signs, I would say," Rebecca said casually from her vanity. "I was doing Astronomy chart the other day and noticed that Neptune was especially invisible these days from the night sky. Always a bad sign for Scorpio."

"Neptune's unobservable at this time of the year at night," Leila muttered darkly. But Alex couldn't help but wonder if Rebecca was one to something.

It was mid December, merely a month after the first Corridor Meeting (Alex decided that this was a far better name than, say, a Wannabe-Death-Eater Meeting) and it felt as though the entire castle was conspiring against her to cause her as much unease and discomfort as possible. There was that meeting itself, which was coming up again in about a month—and Alex wasn't sure if not attending would arouse or dampen suspicion—and she was getting increasingly less amount of sleep every day. The entire castle was buzzing with excitement as the holiday drew nearer and the chatter ran like constant buzz in her ears, making her bloody irritated. The constant irritation and fatigue made her less attentive than she normally was—just yesterday Flitwick gave her a disapproving look as she muttered to the floor that she did not remember the four cases of the Gambit trial and even Slughorn managed to point out her slip-up with her potion, where she accidentally put normal cannellini beans instead of castiglioni beans. The potion created a spiral-shaped purple smoke that managed to invade the entire classroom with repugnant smell and the students were forced to evacuate. Even Slytherins found the mistake funny and gave her an earful. On her way to the library one of the armors actually stepped in her way and deterred her from entering, and she had to spend fifteen minutes making a persuasive argument as to why she wasn't an enemy to his beloved Isolde, who apparently resided in the library. And that was just yesterday.

Alex trudged reluctantly to the bathroom, where she found the her reflection staring back at her, dislike evident on her face. The hair around her hair and neckline was soaked and there were purple bags under her eyes that were so dark that they almost seemed navy. The past fortnight was filled with similar nightmares and they were taking a toll on her, she could tell. Dismissing the idea, however, she stepped into the shower.

When the three girls got down to the Great Hall, most people were already seated, chatting. Alex stuck closer to Leila, who, though her amusement was apparent, let Alex cling imperceptibly but oh-so-clearly to her arm.

"Hello, girls," Rosier's smirking grin was becoming almost friendly to Alex's eyes, a fact more disconcerting than the creepy grin itself. "Parkinson. You look as rosy as always."

"Git," Leila muttered under her breath, but she nonetheless sat down next to him, leading Alex to sit next to her, which was next to—

"Good morning," Rabastan's smile was rather tight and Alex smiled back awkwardly before focusing turning back to focus on her pumpkin juice. The events from last night rushed back to her head, driving out whatever good humor she had left. It could have hardly gone worse.

She had, for some reason—self-preservation was probably the biggest one—gone to the December Corridor meeting last night. The topic was on the genealogy of wizarding families and apart from a slightly interesting segment on the Wilson family (not the biggest help but posed no danger, Dolohov decided) which Alex tried not to listen too attentively, it was seventy minutes of exhausting self-congratulation and half-hearted condescension and pity that Alex was only too glad to get out of. Leila, who had meanwhile managed to weasel out of Rosier his whereabouts for every third Friday of a month, was waiting by the Common Room, working on a Transfiguration essay that was due on Monday. Rosier was still animatedly talking with Rabastan about the feats of their great-great-grandfathers and Alex sank down on the sofa next to her, holding back a groan.

"I can only imagine," was Leila's only sign of acknowledgment. Alex scoffed in laughter.

"What are the basics of Vanishing?" Leila suddenly asked. "I think I got animate and inanimate thing down, but can't remember the other two."

"Er—non-determination and universality, I think," Alex tried to remember the passage from the textbook that she was sure she'd read just a few days ago, but her mind came up blank. "Do you have the textbook with you?"

Leila scoffed. "What do you think?" Alex decided not to answer and closed her eyes, listening to the crackle of the fire. Friday night usually meant late-night games and hanging about and that day there was no exception. From somewhere farther away Weird Sisters was trickling softly from the radio (the newest style, some third-years gushed, although Alex wasn't sure what was so great about practically silent drumbeats) and there was a large bang as another game of Exploding Snap came to an inevitable end. Giggles came from various corners of the room and Alex tried to ignore those in particular. She hardly be reminded of a favorite pastime of one of her roommates.

"Um, Alex?" Alex opened her eyes to the uncertainty in Rabastan's voice and she rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any plans next Thursday?"

The question came as a surprise and Alex found out that her eyes weren't as bleary as she thought they were. Her eyes focused on his, which were steady despite the uncertainty in his voice. He's confident, her mind screamed. He's bloody confident.

"Er—" Alex stalled. She'd tried to find the best opportunity to tell him that she wasn't interested in him that way, but he never once gave a direct hint that he in turn was in any way interested in her that way. The only clue that Alex had to go on to was Leila's knowing smirks, which she so constantly wore on her face that it felt almost meaningless. Then again, she might be flattering herself in the most unhealthy way when all Rabastan wanted to know was her plans for Thursday for no other reason than simple curiosity. She swallowed. Suddenly it felt as though the room had grown quieter even though it hadn't, and Alex resisted the urge to steal a glance at the particular corner where Rebecca was canoodling someone Alex would rather not name.

"She's free, obviously," Leila's voice was more irritated than amused. "We're all leaving on Friday, aren't we?"

"I'm actually staying," she answered automatically, unaware of her own words. "But I'm staying, I am."

"Well, then," Rabastan's curiosity certainly seemed satisfied. "Do you want to go to Slughorn's party with me?"

Unfortunately, her answer was comprised of uncomprehending look and a jumbled mixture of words and Leila, exasperated at her pathetic response, swooped in for a rescue:

"Of course she will."

But this wasn't a wholehearted answer that Rabastan Lestrange was expecting and it wasn't the answer that Alex wanted to give. So the small awkwardness between them would have to be endured. Buttering her toast, Alex noted Rebecca and her companion with what amounted to almost familiarity. Almost. He'd probably seen the whole fiasco from his own cozy corner in the Common Room, a nasty voice inside her head said. He's probably thinks it's amusing, or something.

In present time, Leila cleared her throat loudly.

"Alright, day plan," she said briskly. "Dress robes, shoes, and then quills. Yes?"

"No," Alex said. "Butterbeer, quills, and chocolate." Leila huffed in frustration.

"You need dress robes."

"I think I'll owl my mom about it," Alex said, although she knew that her mother was too busy these days—and half of the times not even at home. Sophia Wilson managed to respond to her letters somewhat periodically, but that period ranged anywhere from two weeks to a month. Even though she never said it directly, Alex got the feeling that her mother was doing more work abroad—as part of her job or as a member of the Order, she decided she'd better not ask—and it seemed impossible that her mother would get back to her in time about dress robes. Still, it didn't cost anything to ask. Going to the dress shop would.

"So? The party is in less than a week." Leila's voice lowered as they became aware of Rabastan shifting uneasily beside them. "You won't have enough time." That she didn't want to buy dress robes for an event that she didn't even want to go was something that Alex couldn't quite express without circumlocution and Alex struggled to find the best expression for this sentiment. All resulted in a scowl.

"Scary," Leila scoffed. "You're coming with me." Self-consciously, her hand went to her pocket, where she kept a small money pouch. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers. Two Galleons, Alex wagered, although there was a bit more in her trunk, she had to appropriate her spendings if she wanted to last until the end of the year. She supposed that the money she'd earned during summer could be used, but she hadn't changed the money into wizarding currency and Alex didn't think there was an exchange office in Hogsmeade.

The way to Hogsmeade was snowy and the pair huddled closer for warmth. During the slippery walk they had come to a judicious compromise: Leila would lend her a pair of shoes from her collection, but Alex would have to get some kind of formal attire.

"It doesn't have to be super fancy," Leila said, who was somewhat aware of Alex's financial situation and, though uncomprehending, tried to at least accommodate their plans to her needs. "It's Slughorn's party, for Merlin's sake. Just something dressy will do."

"Right," Alex said, trying not to sound too glum. She'd never been the one for dress shopping. For some reason she looked awkward in all the dresses in the shop and ended up feeling worse about herself.

"Blimey, cheer up, will you? It's Christmas!"

"I don't know if this is such a good idea." Alex hated being the one to dampen the mood, but it wasn't working.

"Quit whining," Leila said briskly. "Even I'll be at Sluggy's old party, what could go wrong?"

The answer to the question quickly became apparent when they entered the dress shop.

"Oh, god," the Muggle expression slipped from her tongue before Alex could even stop it, and for once she didn't care. The sight before her was the very picture of chaos and disaster itself; rows after rows after rows of dresses, all hung haphazardly on the hangers, in every color and cut imaginable. The very air inside the store felt too hot and suffocating. Alex felt her face twist into something unseemly.

"They don't have the best selection," Leila said matter-of-factly, "but I suppose it'll have to do." She promptly went to the neatest section of the store and Alex had a feeling that whatever dresses there might be there would be none for her. Alex slowly went to the front of the store, trepidation evident in her steps.

"Er—hi," Alex said awkwardly. "I was sort of hoping to find a dress robe under my budget…?" A slim witch who must have been older than her mother looked down at her not unkindly.

"What are you thinking, dearie?"

"Um," Alex said. "Under a Galleon." The witch's eyebrow rose. Her eyes slowly went to the lapel of her coat, where Alex knew was a green and silver lining that would designate her as a Slytherin. Alex felt the color rise to her cheeks and it had nothing to do with the coldness outside. The witch, meanwhile, observed her state incredulously.

"There is a whole section of older robes at the back of the store," she said eventually. "If the robes don't fit, we can probably get it resized for you."

"I—thank you," Alex muttered before quickly turning her heels and leaving. She knew there was nothing to be ashamed, and she felt a prickle of guilt at the heat in her cheeks. Why would she ever deny her circumstances as they were?

The back of the store was more dimly lit than the rest and it gave a tranquil sort of atmosphere as less people were packed between rows. In fact, there were only few people going over the robes critically and Alex noted with relief that some of them weren't even Hogwarts students. She began to leaf through the dresses with some detachment, trying to come up with some sort of standards in her head: not too short, no pink or orange, no low-cuts…

"Oh, that one's cute," an unexpected voice said from behind her. "Do you mind if I take a look?" Alex turned around to find a hesitant, smiling face of a girl. She had dark, red hair, green eyes, and a speckle of freckles around her nose…

"Go ahead," Alex found herself saying, as she moved to the left to make more room. Lily Evans smiled widely at her.

"Thanks," she said, picking up the light blue dress and eyeing it critically. Alex fidgeted, uncomfortable. Even though they knew each other's face and name—they've had the same classes for years, and she's been in Ancient Runes with her since Third year—Alex had never once spoken directly to Lily Evans, the apple in Slughorn's eyes and Gryffindor's brightest witch. Even the Slytherins didn't make jokes about Lily Evans, although that may be partly due to Snape's involvement with her, which no one really understood, and the fact that James Potter was ready to curse anyone who spoke badly of a Gryffindor—and especially his precious Lilykins. Alex wondered how she was supposed to act. Should she move on to a different aisle? She had nothing against Evans personally, but Alex wondered if, as a Muggleborn, she would possess the inherent dislike for Slytherins. She inched toward the other end of the rack.

"Getting ready for Professor Slughorn's party as well?" Evans asked conversationally and Alex stilled.

"Unfortunately," Alex said guardedly and Evans laughed.

"They're not that bad," she said reassuringly. Why was she reassuring Alex? "I've never seen you there before, though. Are you coming with someone?"

"With a friend," Alex said, for some reason unwilling to mention Rabastan's name. "I'm not sure if it's worth the trouble, though." She gestured at the entire store. Evans nodded sympathetically.

"It is a bit much sometimes," she said. "Still, it's not a bad excuse to go dress shopping."

"I suppose not," Alex said, and she realized for the first time that Lily Evans was in the back of the store with her. What strange things happened in this world.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" Alex decided to ask. "I'm absolutely rubbish at this sort of a thing." Evans grinned ruefully.

"I guess I really don't, either," she said, holding up the periwinkle dress. "Do you think this could work on me? There aren't any mirrors back here..." She held the dress up to her neckline. Alex blinked.

"Er," she said, trying to find the best way to say no, the color clashed rather horribly with her hair. Thankfully, the expression on her face seemed to say enough and Lily again grinned the rueful grin.

"Bye-bye," she said, putting the dress back on the rack. Alex grinned.

"It's a shame, though," Lily sighed. "It was a good bargain."

"Fifteen sickles, right?" Alex had been focusing more on the price tags than the actual designs.

"Yup." Lily regarded the dress again, apparently still hung up on it. "You should try it on," she suddenly said.

Alex's eyes widened in alarm. "What? No. No," she waved her hands frantically in front her. "No way."

Lily looked excited. "Why not?" She held the dress out for her and Alex backed away. "It's really cute," Lily began to say in a rather whiny sort of a voice. "And—"

"I don't really like periwinkle," Alex blurted out the confession before she knew what she was saying. Lily raised her eyebrows.

"Or any light colors, really," Alex cleared her throat. "Besides, I was hoping to buy something more versatile, y'know? I doubt I'll grow any more, so I figured I'd buy something I can wear over and over." Lily seemed to consider.

"Do you think you'll go with house colors?" She held up a silver dress. "Ugh. No."

"Agreed," Alex muttered. The sparkles on the chest area hurt her eyes.

The search went on like this for what felt to Alex like mere minutes. Lily was surprisingly nice about her being a Slytherin and Alex got a sense that Lily thought she was being surprisingly nice about her being a Muggleborn. They talked about their homes; Lily was from Cokeworth, a largely industrial town, she said, where both her mother and father worked blue-collar jobs. The Evans were naturally surprised to find that their younger daughter was a witch, but accepted the idea easily, proud of their daughter. Alex in turn told her about her house in the south, the small neighborhood, her primary school year.

It was unexpectedly easy, talking to Lily about her life. They both knew what it was like to grow up as a Muggle, so it was unnecessary to pause to explain things or, worse, skip things altogether for the sake of conversation. And Lily was above all simply someone nice who was willing to listen to people without judgement. They were on the topic of the best chocolate—no idea how they got there—when they finally reached the consensus on the best choices they had for the party.

"Alright, option one and option two," Lily held each dress in hand, and then hesitated. She scurried to the corner of a shop. "And option three." Alex shook her head in amusement.

"I can't even tell at this point," she said, rubbing her eyes. "What's your favorite color?"

"Green," Lily said promptly. "But—you know, that's Slytherin color."

Alex tried not to sound too snarky. "I thought house rivalry was complete bullshit?" she quoted. Lily's cheeks colored.

"They are, but—" she paused. "You know what? Screw it. Option three it is."

"There we go," Alex said magnanimously, picking up her own simple gray dress robe. They moved toward the counter to pay for their dress robes, but Alex stopped in her tracks when she saw Leila darkly going the choices in her section. The grip on the hanger tightened.

"You know," Alex said, looking down at the ground. "I should—I should probably go meet my—er, my friend." Alex gestured to where Leila was. "I mean, sorry—" Lily's eyes widened.

"Oh! That's alright," she smiled, but it also looked a little uncomfortable. "Marley and Cassy—I mean, Marlene and Dorcas—they're waiting for me at Zonko's. Didn't want to go dress shopping, or something." Lily wrinkled her nose. "I guess I'll see you at Slughorn's party, then."

"I—yeah. See you there." Alex looked regretfully at Lily's retreating back before going to Leila, who was positively fuming.

"Something wrong?" Alex nudged her shoulder. Leila growled.

"Can't—bloody—decide," she grunted. "What on Merlin's loony spectacles is light mint? Is there such thing as dark mint then?"

"No idea," Alex said, concealing a smile. "I'm sure Rosier won't mind either way."

Leila huffed indignantly. "That blubbering buffoon won't know the difference between red and blue," she said. "Honestly, I don't know why I even bother."

Now Alex was grinning. Dress shopping turned out to be much more fun than she'd thought… "Fancy a butterbeer, then?" Alex said. "We can come back later if you can't decide."

"Please," Leila muttered. "By all means, take me away."

Rabastan had asked her to meet him at the Common Room at seven and at six fifty-five Alex was lying on her bed, her dress only slightly wrinkled beneath her. The constant flurried motion of Rebecca Goyle was doing nothing to ease her headache. The closer and closer the clock drew to the intended meeting time, more and more certain Alex grew that she shouldn't go to the party.

"You're ruining the hair!" Rebecca sounded highly scandalized, and Alex supposed that she couldn't blame her. Rebecca had generously offered to do her hair after all, and it actually looked sort of pretty in a simple knot. She slowly sat up and stuffed her toes into Leila's shoes. They pinched, as if they were designed to keep her from running—or escaping.

"Sorry," she said, running a finger over her lip. It was glossy and Alex rubbed the back of her hand over it self-consciously. Her hand came out clean. Apparently the lipstick was charmed so that it wouldn't smudge. Alex supposed that this should have been reassuring, but it only made her feel sicker. It felt like someone had smeared a layer of mud over her face.

"Time to go," Rebecca was almost singing. Alex tried not to think of reasons why Rebecca was so upbeat. "Or we'll be late."

"I'm done!" Alex stared at her. The usual sardonic Leila hidden behind her curls was gone. Instead, she was replaced a shining sort of a beauty with her curls held together with ribbons and her body barely concealed in a silvery piece of fabric. Alex blinked. Leila had truly outdone herself.

"Nice," Rebecca said, and the suddenly took the wizard camera from her bed stand. Without any warning, she snapped a picture of her.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?" Leila said indignantly. Alex tried not to grin; apparently, the change in her appearance had done nothing to change her character and it comforted her.

"Your grandfather asked me to send him photos," Rebecca said nonchalantly.

"So that old geezer's now trying to spy on me?" Leila sounded almost outraged, but the corners of her lips were twitching. Rebecca rolled her eyes.

"Stop being so dramatic," she said. "Apparently someone hasn't written to their grandparents in over three months."

"He worries too much," Leila grumbled, and the rest of their way down was also filled with similar grumbles and complaining. Alex followed wordlessly, leaning on the banister for support. She'd never walked in heels, and although the pair she'd borrowed were relatively comfortable save the pinched toes, she couldn't shake off the feeling that she would fall down on the floor face down flat any time soon.

"Parkinson! You look absolutely—" Rosier began to greet Leila—with a customary insult, no doubt. This time, Leila stopped him before he could finish.

"Shut it or you'll regret it for the rest of the night," she warned, and he grinned.

"Absolutely stunning," Rosier finished anyway, and a surprised smile slowly spread across Leila's face. Alex turned away, trying to avoid where Rebecca was standing, her face animated as she tried to straighten Regulus's tie. A useless notion, Alex thought. His ties were always straight. She tried not to notice his simple black dress robes that sat on him very well, a dark gray vest and a simple dark green tie that complemented each other. She tried not to notice the way the sharp collars covered the smooth lines of his neck, which led to the delectable lines of his jaw—

Too late.

"Ready?" Rabastan asked. He was wearing a dark green dress robes with paisley vest that looked rather nice—or Alex gathered that they looked nice from the way he wore them. He offered her his arm in a manner that was unfamiliar to her and Alex tried not to seem too surprised.

"Sure," she said, awkwardly taking his arm. Immediately he drew her closer to his side, and Alex had no choice but to feel his arm and shoulder pressed against hers. The rough fabric of the dress robe rubbed against her bare skin and it scratched.

"So you're staying at Hogwarts for Christmas?" Rabastan's voice was casual as they walked among the group of Slytherins headed toward Slughorn's office. Thankfully, it wasn't a very long walk.

"Yup," Alex said, trying her hardest to look at his face while talking. But it proved to be more difficult than she thought it would be. "My first time staying, actually. I heard the food's quite nice, though." Rabastan nodded thoughtfully but didn't seem to be able to find anything to say and Alex swallowed painfully.

"Any plans for Christmas?" she finally asked. Rabastan shrugged.

"My parents are planning a family dinner—I think I might see some of my relatives. I get to see most of them on a daily basis, so it's not much of a big deal." Alex nodded.

"Here we are," Rabastan said unnecessarily as entered Slughorn's office—probably to dispel tension, Alex supposed.

She'd been to Slughorn's office once for a detention during first year, but the details she remembered from three years ago differed widely from what she saw now. Christmas lights decorated every edge of the place, and a band played loudly from the magical gramophone. Tables were lined with drinks, food, and condiments and there were even a couple of students taking coats from the party attendants. Alex wondered exactly what Slughorn had promised them to hire them.

"Not bad, eh?" Rabastan said, leading them to a table. Already it was surrounded by several Slytherins who exchanged glances in greeting. She approached them uneasily. She didn't think that she would have to mingle—she was far too bad at it to begin with.

"Wait here for a sec, will ya?" Without giving her time to answer, Rabastan left her at the table. Alex looked around, trying to appear more at home than she felt. There were a couple of Ravenclaws chatting avidly with some wizards wearing the official Ministry of Magic robes—Alex guessed that there were few of the many students that Slughorn liked to brag about. She caught the sight of James Potter sneaking around furtively with Sirius Black, looking far too purposeful to quell her worry. Her eyes automatically began to search and soon enough it ended up on Lily, who was with Snape. Alex sighed.

"There you go," Rabastan said and Alex jumped in surprise. He was holding out a glass full of something for her. She took it gingerly.

"What is it?" she asked, sniffing guardedly. It smelled far stronger than simple butterbeer.

"Think it's some sort of mead," Rabastan answered, taking a sip. Alex made a move to drink it but kept her lips closed.

"Rabastan! My boy," Slughorn's voice boomed across his own office—a feat, indeed, in itself. "How are you? And how's your dear uncle Sebastian? I seem to remember reading that he was recently promoted!"

"To the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, sir," Rabastan sounded impossibly polite. "Even has a new assistant, now."

"Good! That's good to hear..." mumbling something else, Slughorn moved on to the next target. "Regulus! Regulus, my dear old boy..." the sound of heavy patting on the shoulder ensued, and Alex tried to shut her ears to the direction the noise was coming from. Rabastan put a hand on the square of her back and began to lead them somewhere.

"Barmy old man," Rabastan muttered. "Sometimes I'm surprised that he even knows my name." Alex grinned.

"At least he knows you exist," she said. "Did you see him pass me by? You would've thought I was a tree trunk, or something..." Rabastan made a sound that was like a laugh but wasn't. He led them to a secluded corner where they could still see everything but weren't able to hear most of the conversation. Alex felt her arm prickle.

"Listen," Rabastan began lowly. "You've got to tell me something. You know what it is, don't you?"

Alex frowned in confusion. Rabastan made a sound of frustration.

"You know what I mean," he said. "You've been coy all these months—" Her eyes widened.

"What?!" she said incredulously, staring at his face. Apparently Rabastan actually believed what he was saying, because he continued.

"You've been holding back, I could tell—"

"Holding back? Holding back what, may I ask?" Subconsciously, her hand went to her wand which she'd discreetly pocketed inside the small pouch sewn inside of her dress.

"Don't try to play innocent," Rabastan was growling. "Always pulling your hand out, never sitting close to me, don't you think I know what you're doing? You're playing hard to get." His hands went to either sides of her head on the wall, and Alex was gripped by alarm. His face was close, far too close…

"Um," she said stupidly. "What do you think you're doing?" Rabastan raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Can't you tell?" he said. She could, in fact, guess well enough, but didn't want to believe it.

"You've got the wrong idea," she said. "I'm not interested in you that way." But Rabastan didn't draw away from her.

"You aren't? But why haven't you told me that by now?" His voice was smooth, certain.

"Because—" she stopped, not knowing what to say. Because there was no right time? Because she'd somehow been telling herself that Rabastan wasn't interested in her? The reasons that she found so plausible and sensible sounded so paltry and empty at that moment that she stuttered her mouth close. Rabastan smirked.

"Trust me," he said. "You'll like it, I promise you." His hot breath blew across her face and even though Alex held her breath she could smell the faint tang of mead.

She acted quickly. Whipping out her wand, she shouted the first curse that she could think of, aiming straight at Rabastan's face. Without giving him a chance to retaliate, she made a run for it, forcing her way into the busy crowd so that she would be harder to spot. The lights flickered above her. A magical effect, no doubt. No familiar face glanced her way and she wasn't sure if she was glad of this or not. She shoulder past a couple of second-years, ignoring their protests as their drinks sloshed down their dress robes, and found the ideal hiding place that she'd been eyeing all evening: willowy sort of curtains covering the niche home to a ghastly tapestry of the second Goblin war. Drawing back the linen, she hid herself.

From behind the curtains the view was certainly a little different than from middle of the office. The fabric dimmed her vision somewhat, and Alex could only make out vague silhouettes of people moving. She could still hear the radio and Slughorn's pats on the back, however. Alex swallowed down a bitter taste of regret. She shouldn't have agreed to come. She should have been forthright that she didn't want to do anything with Rabastan Lestrange. The knuckles of the hand gripping her wand were white. The lights flickered again.

But this time the lights didn't stay stable. It kept flickering, creating an ambient effect of suddenly being underwater. Alex could barely see people anymore, small spots dotting their faces and bodies like the black dots on a ladybug.

Then, the lights went out altogether.

There was a lot of harrumphs and gasps of surprise and expression of general discontent. Alex held out her wand and whispered "Lumos" as some have already done but the light merely winked in front of her face, not revealing anything in the vicinity. Alex frowned.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a loud voice suddenly rang through the room. Big. Jovial. Alex clutched her wand more tightly.

A sudden beam of light shined onto the back of the room where the tables were laden with drinks and snacks. The glasses and food were gone—vanished entirely—and in its place were standing two boys, feet spread out proudly, dysfunctional mics in hand. Huge grins were plastered on their faces. Alex resisted the urge to groan out loud.

"Good evening,'" James Potter said, his eyes positively shining. "Welcome to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party." No one responded.

"We've prepared several presents for you all," Sirius Black continued. "One you've already received."

"Has anybody tried the mead?" Potter asked inno bcently. Hands of several of the disoriented people shot up, apparently unaware that Potter and Black shouldn't be approved in their shenanigans.

"We might have added something to… give it a spark," Black said, looking far too happy. A murmur of alarm spread through the crowd. Alex wiped her lips self-consciously.

"You spiked the mead?" Someone from the crowd said, sounding almost hysterical.

"Spike is such an ugly word," Potter said. "We prefer the word 'to improve.'"

"What is it, then?" another voice came, this time from a woman. "What did you put?" A series of nods.

"A delicacy, I assure you," Black said magnanimously. "A concoction concocted by none other than Amos Rus in the seventeenth century. Perhaps you're aware of this particular brew." He tipped an imaginary hat to Slughorn's direction. "All credits to Professor Slughorn, who inspired us with his Tuesday lecture on a particular brand of potion that… er… eliminates inhibitions and tensions in order to encourage impulses in the human body." Slughorn looked torn between being pleased at the mention and being horrified at the possibility of their words. To his credit, he chose the former.

"It's another form of Veritaserum," Potter said snugly. "Don't worry, no harm to the system."

"POTTER!" Lily Evans's shrill scream suddenly broke through the crowd. "YOU STUPID, ARROGANT GIT!"

"Think the potion's working, mate," Black said, apparently having forgotten the mic in his hand. Potter, on the other hand, looked rather apprehensive.

"I don't know, that's not exactly the effect I was going for—"

"What were you thinking, poisoning everyone with Drop of Impulse?" Lily was positively seething. "I could kill you right now."

"Well, it wasn't just a drop, really—" Black began.

"A whole batch, actually. Cauldronful, if you care to know—" Potter received.

"But I think we need to be worried about the threat, mate," Black said lowly, warily regarding the way Lily held her wand. "She looks dead serious. Pardon the pun."

"Pardon granted," Potter said magnanimously. Alex thought steam was coming out of Lily's ears.

"That's it," she gritted her teeth. "Stupef—"

"Silencio!" Black waved his wand lazily. "Sorry, Evans. You can't ruin the fun. It's a party, after all."

Lily couldn't talk, but her expression was sufficient enough to convey exactly what she wanted to say had she been able to talk.

"Now," Potter said, seemingly unfazed about the fact that Black just silenced a girl he had been "courting." "I think it's time for karaoke." He held out the mic. "Anybody want to take a go?" A murmur of uncertainty broke through the crowd.

"C'mon," Black said, wearing his trademark grin. "I know you want to."

"I'll go!" Someone suddenly cried, raising her hand wildly. A sixth-year Ravenclaw tottered to where the duo was sanding, a large glass of mead in her hand.

"Merlin knows, I need to let off some steam," she complained, and Potter nodded sympathetically.

"Sixth year stress, eh? Well, we know just the song." He flicked his wand at something that Alex couldn't see. "'I Want to Be Free' by the Ghoulish Quartet. I'll take care of the chorus, if you'd like." The girl nodded seriously and the song began to play.

She was not an accomplished singer. In fact, she was quite tone-deaf. That did not, however, stop her from singing along happily to the music and even doing a little jiggle with Black on stage. Unfortunately, people became more and more engaged as the song progressed, and when the first song ended, they were clamoring to go next.

"Blimey," Alex muttered.

She had been so engrossed in watching the whole situation—it was funny, in a sort of a twisted way—that she didn't see a dark figure drawing closer and closer to the little niche where she was hiding. A pair of hands grasped the edge of the pastel fabric frantically before pulling it away. Alex drew back in surprise and her widened eyes met the startled face of Regulus Black.

"Wha—" she began to say, having forgotten their indifference due to surprise, but Regulus seemed quicker to recover.

"Shhh," he said, looking around wildly before drawing the curtains close again. Now they were both squished in the tiny alcove.

"What are you doing?" Alex whispered furiously. The memories of months spent being ignored and then pretending like it was nothing came rushing back to her, adding heat to her cheeks and eyes.

"Oh, nothing, just taking a breather." Regulus answered airily, almost waving his hand carelessly before deciding that such would not be the best course of action in the tiny space.

Alex was unconvinced. "Breather. Really." She squinted at his face. The niche was tiny and relatively dark, but the little space meant that there was less than a foot distance between their bodies. She thought she could see rouge on Regulus's cheek.

"Well," Regulus said. "Perhaps a permanent break would be a better term. The party has taken a rather… unexpected turn."

"Wouldn't Rebecca miss you?" Alex asked sardonically. "Just ditching your date at the party, that's not really classy of you, is it?"

"Rebecca," Regulus said tightly, "has had too much mead. It is for her own good that she spend her night in the dormitory. I asked Parkinson to look after her; she and Rosier looked bored with the party anyhow."

"I'm surprised you even stayed," Alex said cooly. The expression on Regulus's face was something definitely not a grin.

"Oh, trust me," he said. "It's better that I'm not with her tonight." Alex tried to ignore the implications behind his words. Regulus had been drinking the mead—she'd sneaked enough glances his way to know that much. What exactly he wanted to do with Rebecca that he was preventing himself from, Alex could only guess, but her imagination came up with the most ludicrous and hurtful images possible.

"I'd better get going, then," she said snappily. "This alcove is far too small for both of us." She made a move to grab the end of the curtain to draw it back discreetly, but Potter's loud voice stopped her.

"Next round?" he asked, grinning at the room. The previous song—'Hippogriff's Flight'—had been a sad, remorseful melody about a dream of someone overlooked, sung like a dance number. People were yelling and jumping up and down and generally causing a ruckus. Potter couldn't look happier.

"I'll go," a familiar voice said obnoxiously.

"Lestrange," Black said distastefully. "I don't think that—"

"But this is a party!" Potter interrupted him. "Why not, come up, Lestrange." Rabastan did, staggering a little. He was obviously inebriated and Alex winced in advance.

"What will you be singing, Lesrange?" Potter asked, perhaps a tad too brightly. He was trying to keep the mood up, Alex could tell.

"Brewery of Lies," Rabastan said immediately. Potter looked slightly uneasy at this.

"Alright," he said nevertheless, handing Rabastan the mic. He snatched it from his hands. "In three, two, one—"

The instrumental beginning was long in this song, and although Alex had never heard of it, she could surmise from its beginning that it was not a happy lullaby. She swallowed.

"This song is for all the bitches who play around with innocent guys for fun," Rabastan said, his voice hoarse due to alcohol. "Here's to you, Alex Wilson. May you rest in never." He seemed like he had more to say, but then the song began to play and he had no choice but to sing.

Of all the poisons that I've encountered,

I was able to find the antidote for all,

All but one, the one from the

Brewery of lies...

Rabastan's was a surprisingly nice bariton, but that didn't improve in any way the notes he failed to hit in his drunken stupor. Of course, the rule of the karaoke is that the worse your singing is, the better, and people were corking delighted at every missed note in his song. Which became more and more frequent as his confidence was bolstered by the loud cheer from the crowd. When the chorus came, he and Potter stood face-to-face, making the mooniest expression one could make, and pretended to wail:

A witch should never say

Come hither and look away

And then torture us in delay

With the hip's teasing sway

That, my darling, is not okay

"Oh, Merlin," Alex said, burying her face in her hands. She had long given up the thought of trying to leave discreetly. Rabastan had to go and mention her full name in front of—ministry officials and, worse, her classmates. Even Slughorn was listening in with interest. And having Regulus watch Rabastan with faint amusement only increased her embarrassment by trifold.

"Never knew that he could sing," he said conversationally. "My father loves that song. Perhaps I should ask Lestrange to sing it during one of our family gatherings."

"Shut up," Alex said irritably. Regulus just laughed. It sounded strange to her ears.

"So you and he are over, then?" he asked lightly. Alex scowled.

"It's none of your business."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"There was no 'me and Lestrange' to begin with. He seems to have misunderstood something." Alex didn't know why she was saying these things, suddenly explaining to Regulus her behavior. She didn't need to explain anything to him. He had been absolutely horrid the past four months.

"Or perhaps you'd misunderstood something," Regulus muttered, watching Rabastan gyrate his hips to the music in a scary impersonation of Elvis Presley. Girls screamed. Alex wasn't sure how Rabastan would know Presley's style, but wished that she was in a rathole somewhere—anywhere would be better than this.

"Why aren't you out there, anyway?" she bit out in annoyance. "Weren't you drinking as well?"

Regulus blinked, owl-like. "I don't have deep-seated impulses to make a fool of myself in front of an inebriated crowd," he said. Alex looked away, suddenly feeling stupid.

"Oh."

"If you must know," Regulus continued, his eyes fixed on the performance, "Rebecca had drunk a rather large quantity of mead. It seems that she had indeed been holding herself back in the… ah, endearment department." Against all reason Alex snorted back a laugh, pressing her lips tightly.

"Oh?" she said with some difficulty. "What did she call you? Baby poo? Reggiekins?" Her face grew mockingly grave. "Did she call you Gu-Gu? I'll have to give her the biggest Christmas present." Regulus, on the other hand, did not look so entertained by the list of names she came up with; in fact, he grew more and more agitated until he seemed ready to burst.

"She called me Reg, alright?" he said, his face flushed. "We were sort of talking and she suddenly called me Reg." He shuddered, looking traumatized at the memory. Alex began to snicker.

"She… she called you Reg. Oh, she dared to call you Reg, how dare she, a mere Goyle trying to warm up to the Prince—" She was laughing at him, but the malice in her tone wasn't from the current situation. No, it was from the pent-up anger she'd been repressing inside, trying to act like he couldn't affect her when in reality he was one of the few people who could. She thought he knew this, knew the influence he had on her. She'd trusted him enough to respect her with the knowledge. He didn't.

Regulus didn't look appreciative of her antics. "It's not about that, and you know it," he muttered sullenly.

"I'm sure it isn't. After all, you let me call you Reg, a halfblood Wilson—"

Regulus grabbed her by the shoulders. His grip was tight enough to make her wince. There was a wild light coming from his eyes and Alex stared back in shock. "I know I've hurt you, and I'm sorry," he said, his voice suddenly low. "I'm sorry, I truly am." He looked at her expectantly, as though he was waiting for her to say something, say that it was fine. Alex wasn't sure if it was.

"Why'd you do it, then?" she mumbled like a disgruntled five-year-old. She knew that the mature thing to do would be to graciously accept his apology, but she felt like she was owed an explanation.

Regulus visibly hesitated. "I need to sort my head out in order," he mumbled eventually, looking away. The faint flush on his cheeks darkened perceptibly.

"Sort out what?" Alex raised her eyebrow. She could think of a couple of things…

Regulus didn't answer. She sighed in exasperation and turned away to go. Rabastan finally came off stage and was now being heralded as the new up-and-coming Stubby Boardman. But she was stopped by Regulus, who took her wrist before she could leave.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at her face again, his eyes wide and sincere. "It's not you, I swear it isn't."

"Isn't it?" Alex shook her arm bitterly. Regulus didn't let go. "You've all but ignored me for the past five months. Do you know how—" her voice cracked. "Do you know how worried I've been? You didn't write back for a month during summer, I thought your mom had locked you up in a cell, or something—"

"Alex—" Regulus began to say something, but she cut him off.

"And after that, going after Rebecca Goyle for some—"

"It didn't mean anything!" Now Regulus sounded actually defensive. This only infuriated her further. "I swear, it didn't mean anything—"

"And that's supposed to make you look better, Regulus?" Alex asked incredulously. Regulus looked away, mouth closed tightly. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Alex didn't even know what she wanted by then—Regulus was trying to apologize, and even though she spent the last four months wishing that they could go back to the way they were, here she was, rejecting his apologies.

"The next song," Black's voice was sultry as it carried itself magically magnified across the room. "Will be sung by yours truly." The music flowed from the gramophone and Regulus scoffed at the intro. Alex looked inquiringly at him against her better judgement. A smile had found a place on Regulus's face, reluctant but happy, and she couldn't look away.

"Sirius is a really bad singer, isn't she?" she remarked after a while. Regulus snorted again.

"That would be a gross understatement," he said. "But he makes up for it with his attitude, wouldn't you say?" At this moment Black began to stand on his tippy toes and sing in an octave higher. They both winced. Thankfully, 'God Rest Ye, Merry Hipogriffe' was not a very long song and Potter, looking at the absolute disaster his mate was creating, did not seem too keen to continue the song for any time longer than necessary.

"That's enough, mate," he said, patting Black on the shoulder. Black, on the other hand, looked only too excited.

"But I haven't finished the falsetto part," he answered, holding the microphone out of Potter's deft reach.

"There isn't a falsetto part," Potter told him. Black frowned.

"There isn't?"

"Nope," now Potter's cheeks were definitely tinged pink. He turned to the crowd. "Anyone here wants to have a go?" he said, holding up the mic that he had managed to wrestle from Black's slightly drunken grip. Several hands shot up and eager cries of "me!" and "here, Potter!" filled the air.

"There you go," Potter said, handing the mic to a seventh-year Hufflepuff. "And what will your song be?"

"A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love," the girl gushed. A collective sigh of exasperation and whoops of encouragement were heard.

"Need a help with the chorus?" Black butt in. "I make an excellent tenor, if I may say so myself."

The girl looked taken aback and her answer was clearly not a yes, but her resolution seemed to melt a little under the fourth year's gaze. "Alright," she said faintly. "A duet. Why not?"

"Excellent!" Black jumped in excitement. "James, hit the tune, willya?" Potter did as his friend requested, looking resigned and amused. A series of loud shouts came from the crowd as the song began. The girl's sultry voice was like arrows shot by an excellent archer. Alex could see the people begin to the music, their heads swaying in time. Even she didn't mind this performance as much.

"Let's dance," the words came from behind her, and Alex looked back in surprise. Regulus seemed composed enough, however, which made her feel even more confused. Why on earth would he make such a suggestion?

"What? No!" her response came out fiercer than she'd intended because of her surprise. She tugged her wrist away but Regulus didn't let go.

"Let's dance," he repeated, his eyes unfathomable. He tugged gently at her wrist the way little children tug at other people's hands to implore a favor, but Regulus didn't feel like a little child anymore. Not to her, anyway.

"I don't know how," the excuse came from her lips before she could even process what she was saying.

Regulus shrugged nonchalantly, as though the fact that she couldn't dance couldn't possibly interfere with them dancing. A smile was beginning to form on his lips. "It's not that difficult," he said, the grip on her wrist loosening before sliding down to her hand. His other hand somehow naturally found its way to her waist. He pulled her closer, placing her hand on his shoulder. Alex followed awkwardly, her back stiffer than a stick.

"Er," she said. "Aren't you supposed to hold hands, or something?" Regulus felt awfully close as he placed his other hand on the other side of her waist. He began to move in time to the music and her free hand dangled in its lonesome, helpless state. She tried to mimic his movements; unfortunately, she couldn't tell how successful she was.

"That's ballroom dancing," Regulus's voice sounded louder, too, his lips a lot closer to her ears than they usually were. Alex was again reminded of the fact that she couldn't make fun of Regulus (however indirectly) of him being smaller than her anymore. This brought another pang to her chest, making her heart twist oddly…

"I suppose we might need to practice that," he continued, and his voice sounded a little shaky. Alex swallowed.

"Not today," Alex said, trying to diffuse the tension. "Merlin knows I'll never manage to learn two dances on the same night." But Regulus didn't laugh.

"Not today," he conceded. "But someday." Alex didn't know what to say to this, so she just placed the dangling hand on Regulus's shoulder, trying to be natural about it. But she heard him swallow before letting out a short breath. It smelled of honey and alcohol. Mead. Alex doubted that he had a lot of drink, however.

If anyone had had a lot of drink, it was obviously his brother Sirius Black, who, after the Hufflepuff's melodic singing, began to sing shamelessly along with her.

Oh, such thrills await
'Cause, together, we are ready to proceed

Alex let out an involuntary snort of laughter and tried to disguise it as a cough at the last minute, reminding herself that her nose was as close to Regulus's ear as his lips were to her ears. Regulus, on the other hand, also seemed to be biting back a laughter, and soon enough she was muffling her giggles against Regulus's shoulder. Her arms became more pliant as they wound their way unconsciously around his neck, her hands resting on either of his shoulders. His hands in response slowly slid from her waist to her lower back, where Alex could feel each of his fingertips press against her spine. Her throat constricted and she tried to remember to breath.

Drink from my cauldron full of hot, strong love

Black was still shamelessly singing along and even Potter seemed to have gotten into the spirit now, passing the mead to those in the front row, making loud gestures at Slughorn who chortled fondly at the boy's antics. Even the ministry officials, who had been watching in shock the entire event spin from a harmless evening gathering to something definitely not, were enjoying themselves, pulling out the old moves and laughing at their own age.

It's all the magic you'll ever need!

But all the commotion was lost on Alex and Regulus. They never saw Lily and Snape make a hash out of dancing or Potter witnessing this firsthand before hiding a hurt look that Lily Evans never would have imagined James Potter wearing. They never saw Sirius Black sweeping the seventh year off her feet and plant a generous kiss on her lips before being cursed by another seventh-year whom the girl had been dating for the last three years. They never saw Slughorn wipe the tears from his eyes and congratulate himself inwardly on having found the jewel that would become the next big thing on the Wizard radio (this, in fact, turned out to be true; Fiona Connolly topped the charts a few years later with her single, 'Bludgers Couldn't Drive Me Away.' But that's a story for another time). They didn't notice Rabastan Lestrange slip out of the party with another Slytherin girl after the fifth song was over and they didn't notice the fact that the curtain was semi-transparent and any careful observer would have seen them together in their small alcove, dancing wordlessly. They were lost in their own quiet world, breaths held in silent anticipation and nervousness, willing the world around them to disappear for a while.

A/N The lyrics to A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love were written by J. K. Rowling, and I disclaim any copyright. Brewery of Lies, on the other hand, was written by yours truly;)