The last Friday of classes this term dawns with uncharacteristic sunshine and I greet the day with a similarly uncharacteristic smile, thrilled to push the first snow off for yet another day and happy as can be that classes are coming to an end.

That same cheerful attitude can not be found on my best friend, who looks utterly miserable as she rolls over in bed. "Go on without me,"

I glance at her skeptically. "Are you sure?"

Meg nods. "I'll just be a little late. Save me a donut!"

As requested, I do, wrestling said donut away from James ("She's not even here!" He'd cried. "She'll never even know if there were any!"), only for Meg not to show to breakfast at all.

Or Charms.

Or any of our classes.

Once Transfiguration hits before lunch, the rest of our friends finally look worried. Maeve's reached the point of biting her lip across the room and berating Louis quietly under her breath while I spend the lesson creating ever more ridiculous situations about what could have happened and sharing them to James, until he grows so fed up he pulls the world's most tattered piece of parchment out of his bag.

"Stop ignoring me! This is our best friend!"

He continues to ignore me and points his wand at the parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,"

And I watch in amazement as dark lines grow and branch over the page until a full map of Hogwarts is formed. "What is that?"

"I think you're smarter than that," James responds, scanning the page on his lap.

"Come on," I say plainly. "It moves,"

I point to the room closest to me (the Potions dungeon) where a dot labelled Claude Dupont is moving in perfect horizontal lines, as if the man himself is moving through the desks in the classroom.

"It's real time," James answers. "See, there we are," He points, and sure enough, there's Carson Wood and James Potter huddled close together in a corner in the Transfiguration classroom.

"This is awesome!" I exclaim, a little too loudly, immediately looking to see if we're discovered and turning back when it's clear.

"Meg is...in bed?"

"Still?"

He sighs. "Alright, I didn't want to admit this because I hate the thought of him being right, but I think it's time someone said it. Tim's right; there's something going on with her,"

"I mean, I agree, but I've been watching her for weeks since before Friendsgiving and other than her acting like a fucking weirdo, I can't say what in particular is wrong!"

James groans. "I don't think we should just let it go without saying anything though,"

"Again, I agree, but-"

"Don't be petulant," He says.

I glare for a moment before sighing. "Fine. If she's not at lunch today, then I'll go up to our room and talk to her right after,"

James shoots me a thumbs up. "Better you than me,"

"Depending on what she wants to talk about, maybe not,"

When Meg does not show to lunch, we exchange a concerned glance, and I finish my meal quickly, wrapping her up a sandwich and making my way back up to the Tower. It's unlike Meg to skip class for no reason and it's really unlike her to miss two meals.

Arrive late, absolutely; miss entirely, there's cause for concern.

The lights are off when I arrive, with the blinds still shut. My best friend is still a lump in her bed as I creak the door open. "Meg?" There's no answer, so I try again. "Meg, come on. It's already lunch time. I brought you a sandwich!"

"Go away, please," She says.

Never one for doing what I'm told, I move closer. "Meggie," I sit down on the edge of her bed. "Talk to me; what's going on." Her response is muffled as she speaks into the pillow. "One more time for those of us without bat hearing,"

She turns her head toward me; I fight back a laugh at the look of her hair strewn across her face. "I think I'm pregnant,"

"Holy shit!"

"Carson!" She whines.

"Sorry," I hasten. "I didn't mean-I'm just sorry. Are you sure?" She shakes her head. "Well have you taken a test?" Another head shake. "Meggie,"

"I can't!" She whines again. "I just-I just can't, Carson. What if I am?" She shakes her head again. "I just can't right now. Not yet," At a loss of what to do, I stand and pace in front of her. "Carson, what am I going to do?"

I shrug, shrinking back in the uncomfortable silence between us, until finally, "Alright, get up, pack a bag,"

"What?"

"We're packing a bag, getting the Puff girls, and leaving for the weekend; you need to clear your head. We're going to ride around in the car and scream along to Taylor Swift until you're ready to take that damn test and no one will bother us when you finally are,"

She blinks her wide eyes at me twice before she finally climbs out of bed with more enthusiasm than she's shown in days. "You're a genius.

After dropping our stuff off at the Country Home and assuring the Puff girls that my parents would not be anywhere near the house this weekend, securing a car is the next order of business.

"Wait, you invited us here to drive around and you don't have one?" Maeve looks panicked.

"Ugh, would you stop being such a Head Girl?" Vero rolls her eyes. "We aren't even in school,"

Maeve is still skeptical as I lead them all into a large garage, right over to an SUV. I use my wand to unlock it and they each take a seat, waiting as I sit in the driver's seat.

"Do you even know how to drive?"

"Yes, Lizzie," I huff, feeling under the dashboard for what I'm looking for. My fingers find it and I reach for my wand, muttering the spell and the car comes the life.

Vero cracks up. "Where did you learn to hotwire a car?"

"What?" Maeve cries.

"Oh relax," Meg says, turning back from the passenger's seat. "Nobody's here; they'll never know."

"I used to be such a rebel," I say, at the same time, answering Vero. "Man, Maeve, you never would have cut it with me in America,"

"I barely cut it with you here!"

I giggle, tossing my phone over to Meg. "Get us going, Meggie; we're hitting the road,"

Hours of Taylor Swift later (the cure all to any shitty boyfriend, potential pregnancy, or bad breakup), Meg's spirits have lifted quite a bit and I'm not even the one who brings up the idea of a test again.

"Do you think it's time, Meggie?" Maeve asks quietly, from the backseat. She's in the middle, so she leans forward and rests her head on Meg's shoulder and we can both hear Meg's sharp intake of breath, even over Lizzie and Vero screaming along to "Red." "It's not going to get any better pushing it off,"

"I'm scared," Meg says quietly.

"But isn't it better to know?" I look over at her.

She bites her lip. "But what if I am? What do I do?"

I shrug. "You'll do what you have to, Meg,"

She bites her lip, looking contemplative at my words. "One more hour of T-Swift?"

"One more hour," I agree.

"Wrong side of the road!" Maeve shrieks, pointing ahead to where we're drifting.

"Shit!" I swerve back. "God damn, you Brits! Why do you do things so backwards?"

"Seriously, Carson?" Maeve's jaw drops. "Go fuck yourself,"

I beam at her in the rearview mirror. "Maeve, that's the first curse word I've ever heard you say! I'm so proud!"

She only grumbles back in response.

"RAIN CAME POURING DOWN WHEN I WAS DROWNING THAT'S WHEN I COULD FINALLY BREATHE AND BY MORNING, GONE WAS ANY TRACE OF YOU THAT'S WHEN I COULD FINALLY BREATHE," Meg guzzles down another sip of champagne, twirling around the yard as she does, so she loses another part of her bottle to spillage.

Vero and I exchange a look. The champagne had been popped as soon as the test was revealed as negative; my bathroom upstairs was a mess. Alicia was going to kill me if we didn't clean up before we left. The five of us hadn't stopped drinking since, no one happier than Meg, who's been dancing intermittently to whatever T-Swift song tickles her fancy-more and more the drunker she gets.

The rest of us are sitting on the grass. Maeve had been smart enough to cast Warming Charms all around us, so despite the cold temperatures, we're all plenty comfortable in our leggings and sweatshirts.

We're set, as long as we don't dip into Dad's good champagne down in the wine cellar.

"I gotta call him," Meg says suddenly, stopping whatever weird dance move she's doing, her words definitely a bit slurred. "Right now. Where's my phone?"

"Uh no," Vero says. "That is literally the worst idea you've had all night, including when we stopped at the diner and you wanted to get fish tacos,"

"Fish tacos are delicious!" Meg cries.

"You don't get fish tacos from a diner!" Lizzie cries back. She tips over from her excitement. God, she's such a lightweight.

"No, I have to call Tim now!" Meg says. "I have to break up with him,"

"What?" Maeve says. "Meg, seriously? I know you're a little freaked out, but isn't this a little bit of an overreaction?"

"She's trashed," I say. "She's not serious,"

"I am serious! Yeah, I'm freaked out but I spent the last few weeks thinking I was having a baby and I'd have to spend the rest of my life with him! And then I realized, I don't want to spend the rest of my life with him! I can't picture us married! I can't! I have to call him!"

She spots her phone on the table at the same time that I do and we both lunge for it. The fight that ensues is worth it when I end up with the phone, because I know that even if this is something she actually does want, she'll regret doing it this way in the morning.

Even if she does elbow me in the eye in the process.

I'm rubbing said eye when I pull away victorious and Meg's pouting on the ground like a child. "Meggie, come on, you can talk to him tomorrow if you still want to break up with him. But you've been together for two years. You owe him more than a drunken phone call at 2am,"

She hugs her knees into her chest and rests her chin on them. "I don't want to hurt him,"

"Well babe, you're going to," Vero says gently. "But it doesn't make you a bad person,"

"My parents divorced when I was 3 months old," I offer. "They would have made each other miserable. Vero's right; you're not a bad person for caring about your own happiness,"

"How the hell did you get so wise?" Vero pops a new bottle. "You're supposed to be a hot mess like me,"

I shrug. Meg's still looking morose, so I pop two more bottles and pull her up. "Come on, back to dancing,"

She beams and I join in with her, singing and twirling this time. "AND BY MORNING GONE WAS ANY TRACE OF YOU I THINK I AM FINALLY CLEAN,"

Exhausted and slightly hungover, I contemplate just stopping at the bottom of this flight of stairs (the last flight of stairs, Carson, come on, you've almost made it), and hoping for the best and that someone who likes me comes along to help me up to Gryffindor Tower. I'd long ago left the Puff girls at the entrance to the Hufflepuff dorm, looking worse for wear, and prior to that, the four of us had dropped Meg off at the dark dungeon that those poor Slytherins lived in, leaving her with words of support and encouragement.

It'd been a long weekend of soul searching and advice-giving, and she said she still wasn't sure what she was going to do when she finally faced Tim, but she was doing it now before she talked herself out of it.

So with a sigh, knowing that she's suffering much worse than I am (and may be the first person to find me at the bottom this staircase; it's getting close to curfew), I make my way up and offer the Fat Lady the password.

"What the hell happened to you?" James cries as I approach him, Freddy, and Louis.

"What?" Then, I remember the black eye, I'd woken up with yesterday morning courtesy Meg's bony elbow. "Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it,"

That doesn't settle him. In fact, they all still look worried, peering around me to look for something; Freddy going so far as to stand up to glance over my head. "Where's Meg?" He asks, finally, flopping back down into his seat and looking utterly dejected.

"Oh," I pause. "She-she's..."

But I don't have to come up with an excuse for where Meg could be, because the portrait hole is opening and she's rushing inside with tears running down her face as she pushes her way through two Second Years to throw herself onto the couch next to me and bury her face into my leg.

"Seriously, what the hell happened this weekend?" James asks.

She babbles something through her tears into my leg and I move my hand into her hair. "Oh, honey,"

"Did you get any of that?" Louis whispers to Fred.

"Something about strawberries?" Freddy whispers back hesitantly.

"James I need you to use your magic paper to go to the kitchens, please,"

"Magic paper!" He cries, outraged. "Respect the Map for what it is!"

"Meg needs our help; there's no time to argue about whatever that thing is!"

"Only our second most important family heirloom!"

"Well, Meg just told Tim she wants to take a break, so use your second most important family heirloom to go to the kitchens for me, damn it!"

They all gasp and it's like a chain reaction, it happens so fast. Meg starts crying harder, I glare them into submission, and they start throwing out apologies like they're going out of style. "Sorry-we're so sorry-we shouldn't have said that-sorry!"

She continues crying as they settle down, James finally reaching in his bag for the Map. "I don't understand, didn't she call it off with him?" Lou asks hesitantly, quietly, like he doesn't want her to hear and is nervous to set her off again.

I throw a glare his direction, but James beats me to it. "Come on, Lou, you have sisters."

"Yeah, but Vic and Teddy are the perfect couple and Dominique doesn't cry over boys, boy cry over Dominique," Lou argues and I cock my head at a statement that has clearly been said multiple times, curious at what exactly goes down in Lou's house.

"Ok, but-" Freddy starts.

"Hey, guys?" I start, gesturing at Meg on my chest. "Focus please, I need ice cream, chocolate, and cookie dough, stat,"

"What kind of cookie dough?"

"Chocolate chip!" Meg sobs, like it's obvious, because duh, but it serves its purpose because they all look scared and go running off, scattering in different directions before regrouping to head to the kitchens.

They're idiots, but they're our idiots so I guess we love them still.

"Well," I collapse onto the couch next to James, resting my head against his shoulder-the closest thing to a pillow that's within reach-and closing my eyes. "She's finally in bed AND asleep,"

I feel his arm drop around my shoulders, pulling me closer, as he groans. "Is that what it's like having kids? I feel like we just parented a toddler,"

"Bet your mom will be happy to know you won't be accidentally getting anyone pregnant soon," I snicker, opening my eyes again and seeing empty chairs. "Where'd they go?"

"Lou had rounds and Freddy went up to bed," I purse my lips; I was anxious to see how Freddy would take Meg's break with Tim and wanted to know what, if anything, he was planning to do. "Figured I'd wait for you so you didn't come back down here to no one,"

I smile; he truly is the greatest. "You just wanted the hot details," I declare.

"Added bonus," He grins easily. "So how about you tell me how you got the black eye."

I hesitate. Upstairs, before I'd finally gotten her down to sleep (Merlin, James is right; this is like parenting), she'd given me more details about what had happened when she'd talked with Tim. That she'd calmed down since Friday, had planned to tell him about the pregnancy scare and talk about it with him like an adult, and let him know that all thoughts of the future terrified her right now, but maybe, soon, they could sit down and talk about where they were going.

Instead, she'd taken one look at him, panicked, and told him that she thought they should take a break for a while.

In terms of telling our boys, I know she won't care if I tell James a little more about the break...but it'll be tough without mentioning the pregnancy scare, the cause of this sudden change, which isn't something I'm willing to break her trust on without her permission.

So finally, I settle on a half-truth. "Meg was too drunk Friday night and decided she wanted to call Tim to break up with him over the phone so I had to wrestle it away from her,"

He laughs so hard that both our bodies are shaking and not for the first time, I marvel at what a great laugh he has, especially when it's loud and uninhibited like this. "She got you good, huh?" He reaches out, lightly brushing his fingers against the edge of the bruising.

I can feel my eyes flutter shut. "Your fingers feel really good. It actually really fucking hurts," I add, only for him to take his cool, gentle fingers away. "Rude,"

"Here," I open my eyes to see that he's conjured a cold compress for me. "It'll help with the swelling."

So I lean further into him, settling in with my cold compress, ready to chat all about Meg and catch up with James about the weekend.

When the next morning comes around, I wake up with a sore neck, a lukewarm compress in hand, and an annoying piece of hair that keeps getting blown around my face by James' soft snores. Still tucked into his shoulder, I drop the compress onto the ground, and push the hair out of my face.

It's far too early to wake up, even for a school day; and as usual, being with James is nice, easy, and comfortable.

A/N: I don't own Taylor Swift, any mentioned songs, or "Clean" specifically. Hope you all enjoyed!