Can't Hide

Yeah, you've got that something
I think you'll understand
When I'll say that something.

- 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand,' The Beatles (1964)

'Hogsmeade countdown commencing,' Dory said in a needlessly deep voice as she sat down with Lily at breakfast. 'Five days.'

'You're going to be like this all week, aren't you.' Lily looked up from buttering toast with a frown.

'Of course not. Tomorrow I'm going to be, like, "Four days".'

That became Lily's week in a nutshell. Classes continued, and the world didn't come to a halt just because of enormous injustices. Her explosion in the Gryffindor common room had done her few favours, though random outbursts of indignity on her part weren't that unusual. Black and Pettigrew oozed more quiet resentment than usual, but Remus seemed so legitimately hurt, nearly silent through all their prefect patrols, that by Tuesday night she had to say something while they wandered the corridors.

'If you're waiting for an apology, you're not getting one,' she told him, arch irritation punctuated by their echoing footsteps down hallowed Hogwarts halls.

He'd been walking with slumped shoulders, hands in his pockets, and his head snapped up at that. 'Huh? What?'

'For the other night. I meant what I said.'

'Oh.' Remus ran a hand through his hair. 'No, I… suppose you weren't wrong.'

'That's not why you've gone all mopey?'

'It bothered me, I can't lie. There are places I'd rather have strips torn off me than the middle of the Common Room. But it's…' His voice trailed off, and he looked down the corridor. 'I guess I'm realising it's all only going to get harder from now.'

'Welcome to my world,' Lily muttered. 'At least you don't have to take a stand. Nobody's going to try to kill you for what you are.'

'No,' said Remus, oddly muted. 'I couldn't imagine what it's like, having that looming over you.'

But at least he stopped brooding after that. He wasn't the only one to go back to normal: Potter, for his part, seemed completely unaffected. Quidditch fervour was ramping up, the match against Slytherin only weeks away.

'He's a bloody slave driver,' Mary moaned on Wednesday night as she slunk into the dorm, soaking wet in her kit. 'It's pissing down out there and he still wants us practicing.'

'You must be freezing!' Dory almost squawked, hurrying over to her with a towel. 'Is he insane?'

'No,' Mary sighed, drying her hair before she stripped out of sodden leathers. 'We need it if we're going to beat Slytherin.'

'He still won't let you play Seeker?'

'He doesn't want to split up the Chaser trio. And we are damn good, I'm just not sure Dirk's good enough. And he's getting sloppy in practice, keeps making mistakes and James just yells at him…' Mary shook her head. 'It's a lot of pressure.'

'Who's lit this fire under Potter's arse?' Lily, sat on her bed, complained.

Mary bit her lip in that way she did when she didn't want to be mean. 'Lily… you did yell at him in public for not doing anything -'

'I didn't mean win Quidditch -'

'Me, Dirk, Miller, and Kendricks are all Muggle-born. More Muggle-borns than on any other team. Have you listened to him rant about how he's going to win the match?' The corners of Mary's eyes crinkled. 'He's going to beat the pure-blood Slytherin team with us. For us. It's not just about the game any more. It's about making a point.'

Lily did listen a bit more, after that. She'd assumed Potter's sudden vim and vigour of recent weeks was just about Quidditch fever, but once she paid attention, she did have to admit to a change. Even if it was all about the game. He wasn't facing down Randal Mulciber for attacking Mary, but he was jumping onto tables in the middle of the common room after practice to rant to the whole House. The next day - because there was another practice, because Mary was right in calling him a slave driver - she actually stopped writing up her Potions notes long enough to listen.

'Three and a half weeks until the match!' James Potter crowed, again soaking wet as he stretched out his arms like the gathered Gryffindors were cheering, adoring fans. 'And I promise you all, when we win, every person in here gets a bottle of butterbeer! On me!' Nobody asked, "what if we lose?" which was the first thing on Lily's mind. Slytherin had taken the Cup last season, and not much had changed in the balance of power that she could see. But everyone preferred to cheer and clap, and there were some matters where she wasn't going to go against popular opinion.

'One day,' said Dory the next morning at breakfast.

'Would you calm down?'

'I'm excited. I like fun, Red; you remember fun, between all your revision and your note-taking? It's October! We don't sit our NEWT finals for almost two years -'

'And I want to do well.' But Lily did subside with a sigh. 'Fine. Where do you want to go tomorrow?'

Dory's eyes lit up. 'Everywhere.'

'Okay. Time's going to be an issue.'

'You're a real wet blanket, you know that? You're not even excited by Quidditch -'

'You're right, I'm not. Even if everyone else is. Even if James Potter has suddenly turned mad and how is that my fault?'

Dory blinked at the sudden change of pace in the conversation. 'You mean, you yell at him loudly and in public and you wonder when that causes a reaction?'

'Except normally I just call him a venomous toe-rag and he ignores me.'

'I suppose.' Dory chewed on her lip. 'Maybe it's because in the past you've been right, and this time you were just an obnoxious bitch?'

Lily narrowed her eyes. 'If you have something to say, you could say it. Instead of phrasing it like a rhetorical question.'

'Can I get it in writing that you asked me to be honest? And that's not rhetorical. I'd kind of like an Unbreakable Vow that you won't bite my head off for speaking my mind as asked.'

'I'm not that bad -'

Then Dory was laughing, hard enough she had to clutch her gut and loud enough people were staring. 'Oh, you're hilarious, Red.'

'Hey -'

'Lily!' Dory was smiling as she straightened, but it was a tense sort of smile, and she threw her hands in the air in exasperation. 'You stalked up to them in the middle of the common room and ripped them all new ones for picking on Snape. Who deserved it.'

'They didn't do it because he deserved it, they did it because they don't like him.' She had to speak in a low hiss so everyone who was still staring after Dory's laughter didn't eavesdrop.

'Who cares why? And even if that's true, even if it matters, was it really necessary to pick on Remus for that? Peter? To dick on Sirius about Marlene?'

'I'm right -'

'Nobody cares how right you are if you're going to wield being right like a weapon. You weren't trying to help. You were trying to hurt them. Whatever reason, it was a bitch move. Seriously uncool.'

Lily stared at her for a long moment, expecting a sudden joke, an off-hand comment to take the sting away, and just got the warm dark eyes of Dorcas Meadowes for once turned calm and cold. Her breath caught in her throat. 'I just - they piss me off so badly -' Because they waste their chances. Because they could do so much and instead they're just petty. Because if I had all their privilege I could have - 'And I didn't like feeling helpless after Mulciber.' It wasn't untrue. It just wasn't the whole truth.

Dory's gaze did soften. 'I change exactly nothing I just said. But there's hope for your epic tale of redemption from bitchery to just fiery redheaded snark. And as your first step on this long road, I am taking your bacon.'

'Hey -'

'You have to give it up, it's penance bacon -'

They were still fighting over Lily's plate, ignoring the platters of fresh bacon, when Jack slid onto the bench next to Dory. 'What the hell is going on?' He was quiet, tense, still apprehensive about sitting with them at the Gryffindor table. Abernathy glowered but nobody had found a rule forbidding this mingling, and McGonagall was far less likely to send someone packing on petty principle.

'Red needs to atone for her sins by giving me bacon. Ah-ha!' Dory's eyes brightened with triumph as she scooped the streaks directly off the plate.

Jack raised an eyebrow. 'I surely went to a very different church.'

'Then join me in saving her soul,' Dory hissed, 'and take penance bacon for yourself.'

He smirked. 'It's Friday. I might be a wizard, but I didn't suddenly go and become Protestant.'

Lily gave a wry smile. Her own loose upbringing within the Anglican church had turned strained enough with the discovery of magic. 'Horror of horrors.' Shame was easier to swallow when Dory was messing around, and Jack of all people wouldn't judge her for taking a bite out of the Marauders. So Lily let Dory snatch away her prize and, eager to move the conversation on, rummaged in her robes. 'I got Dad's letter, he included all the results.'

Jack's eyes lit up. 'Don't screw around, woman. Hit me.'

Trying to not bounce, Lily unfolded the paper, with her father's familiar scratchy handwriting, its looped G's. She cleared her throat and adopted the deep, measured voice of a BBC presenter. 'Nottingham Forest six, Sheffield United… one.'

'Six? Fucking hell.' Jack ran a hand through his hair. 'Maybe Clough does know what he's doing for you lot after all. But, come on, time for the bad news.'

She wrinkled her nose, but tried to keep up the voice. 'Oldham Athletic two, Millwall… one.'

'Piss!'

Dory leaned forwards with a furrowed brow. 'Are you two speaking London or something?'

'We're speaking proper sports. Not one with four balls played in the air.' Lily tucked the letter away. 'Chelsea are still top of the league, of course, by four points -'

'Nobody's catching up with them; it's a scrap for second place right now.'

'Which you might win, you're only a point behind Blackpool -'

'And Oldham, now! You guys have got to be, what, ninth?'

'Eighth, goal difference, but one win and we get ahead of Wolverhampton -'

'I swear it's like you two are from Mars, sometimes,' sighed Dory.

Lily clicked her tongue. 'This might be an impertinent question -'

'And usually that's my domain -'

'But I always assumed you were Muggle-born, too, Dory.'

Dory chomped on bacon thoughtfully. 'I don't know what you'd call me,' she admitted. 'Both my parents were Muggle-born wizards. So apparently I know music but I don't know football. But I sure as hell aren't even half-blood.'

'You know,' mused Lily, 'that's got to happen a lot. I can't really imagine marrying a pure-blood; our lives would be so wholly different, how would we find common ground?'

'And speaking of breeding pedigrees,' Dory muttered, and Lily's head whipped around just as Wick arrived at the table.

He stood straight, hands clasped behind his back, wavy hair messier than usual, like he'd fussed over it too long. 'Good morning,' he managed to say, after clearing his throat altogether too much.

Dory rested her chin on her hand and fluttered her eyelashes at him. 'Good morning, Wick.'

He gave her an anxious, pained look, then turned his gaze on Lily. 'I was wondering if I could have a word.'

'Why?' Dory blurted. 'Is it scandalous? I have to protect her honour, you - erk -'

'My hand slipped,' Lily said apologetically as she stood. She had, in fact, shoved Dory bodily off the bench and wasn't sorry in the slightest, but she didn't look back as she followed Wick out the Great Hall, into the hustle and bustle of the corridor before morning classes. 'I'm sorry about her.'

'Don't be. She's your friend. And, ah, positively charming.' Wick scratched his ear, and she wondered if that was his liar's tell, but then he snatched his hand down. 'I had wondered if you would like to accompany me. At Hogsmeade. Tomorrow.'

It was strange how something could be unsurprising when she tried to be logical, and still set her insides fluttering wildly. 'I, uh -'

'I mean the two of us. Just the two of us, that is.' Wick had gone a peculiar shade of pink. 'I thought we could get some drinks. Or maybe try Winklemeyer's Teashop; I know it's a little twee and we certainly don't have to if you'd rather just go to the Three Broomsticks or even spend the day with Meadowes and Corrigan and -'

'I'd like that,' Lily blurted, then realised she'd interrupted him at an awfully unclear moment, and surged forward. 'Drinks, I mean. With you. Not them. Never them.'

Her protestations were excessive, but it still broke the spell, and he gave a broad, relieved smile that was altogether less awkward. 'I suppose we can decide where we want to go tomorrow. See what mood we're in when we get to town.' His voice was a lot more normal, his cheeks returning to their usual colour.

Is it supposed to be this awkward? Lily wondered. Odder, she wasn't sure she disliked it. 'That'd be nice,' she said, because that sounded like a more normal thing to say. 'I'll, um, meet you here after breakfast? We can walk down together?'

His smile widened. 'A peerless plan,' he proclaimed. 'I'll see you tomorrow.' Wick didn't seem sure what to do next, giving her a little nod that was almost a formal bow, before hurrying off down the corridor. Following him with her eyes, Lily spotted Nathaniel and the other Ravenclaw Seventh Year boys stood at the staircase down the way, and watched them burst into laughter and back-slaps as Wick arrived. She returned to the Great Hall, bracing herself for something probably just as amused but likely less supportive.

'So,' she said as she sat back down across from Jack and Dory. 'You two will have to amuse yourselves without me tomorrow.'

Dory frowned. 'Are you kidding? I was going to stalk you.'

Lily's eyes narrowed. 'You will not -'

'It's fine,' said Jack. 'We'll go to the pub, I'll get her shitfaced, she'll forget all about you two.'

'Ooh,' said Dory, 'I like that plan more. And you can have adventures with Sir Snoggable.'

'Is that his new nickname?'

'Consider it my badge of approval.'

Jack gave his tight smirk that was so often taken for malicious. 'Wick's a right ponce. But he's alright.'

That was practically gushing praise coming from Jack Corrigan, and Lily felt heat rising to her cheeks anew, so she just mumbled something incoherent and dug back into her cooling breakfast. Even if the pleasant fluttering in her insides meant she wasn't sure she'd eat more than a few bites.

§

Fletch could hear Sirius talking before he rounded the corner. 'It'll be great,' he was gushing, arm around McKinnon's shoulder as they, Potter and Lupin wandered up out of Potions. 'We'll go to the tea house, they did these great little iced slices last year -' When he shut up abruptly, Fletch wondered if he'd spotted her and had an attack of guilt or something. But his hesitation was more awkward, and she realised he was basing his knowledge of Winklemeyer's Teashop on past dates with other girls. Even Sirius Black knew talking about it wasn't the most judicious move in the world.

To be kind, she moved to intercept the foursome. 'Hey guys. Potions still as riveting as ever?'

Sirius grinned. 'Remus screwed up.'

Lupin's ears went pink. 'The instructions were deliberately misleading -'

'Didn't get the chance to say, Fletch,' Potter interrupted. 'Great spread on Nathaniel's party. Great drinks, too.'

Had the Marauders been less exclusive - insular - Fletch suspected they would have done more business in past years. 'So long as a good time was had by all.' She winked at Marlene. 'Your brother's a hell of a customer.'

'I just try to make sure nobody throws up on any expensive carpets,' said Marlene, a little flustered. 'I would have preferred fewer fist-fights, too, but…'

'Ah, Carrow deserved it,' said Sirius.

'Speaking of parties.' Potter rummaged in his robes and pulled out a folded piece of paper. 'I was wondering if you could sort me out something.'

'You've caught me at the right time,' said Fletch. 'Hogsmeade's great for picking things up.'

'And I'm going to be searched immediately after a trip. You, though…'

'Oh, I'll be searched.' She grinned, taking the paper. 'I'll just get past them. I can sort this. It's a lot, though.'

'Quidditch celebrations.' Potter shrugged. 'Grab me tomorrow if you need me to cover some upfront costs.'

'I'll get you numbers. But I was wondering if McKinnon could let me borrow Sirius. Divination stuff, and nobody's going to be thinking about homework this weekend.'

McKinnon gave a nose-crinkling sort of smile which made her cute in a way which shed some light on what had drawn someone like Sirius to her, while Potter made a good-natured mockery of Divination's academic credentials. Sirius flipped them off before following Fletch into the nearby stairwell, and at once his smile turned mischievous. 'This is not about Divination, is it.'

'Of bloody course not. I don't need your help to bullshit.' She mimicked his grin without thinking. 'How's Potter's Quidditch campaign been going?'

Sirius blew his fringe out of his eyes. 'I think he's actually snapped this time. But he seems happy. Out of his funk.' She caught his eye, and he sighed and pulled papers out of his pocket. 'Alright, alright. I took notes on his tactical plans. You realise I had to listen to his ranting?'

'Think of the ten percent,' she told him, accepting his notes. 'And all you can get with it.'

'James wants the Beaters ready to focus on Mulciber the Lesser, disrupt any Snitch hunt, and otherwise protect Kendricks.'

'New Keeper's the unknown factor, then? He's given up on Cresswell being able to beat Graham Mulciber?'

'If he'd given up, he'd not get the Beaters involved with the Seekers. No, he thinks Cresswell can do it, given a fighting change. But he's also got enough faith in him, Mary and Kingsley that they can handle Bludgers from the Slytherins without Miller and Booth protecting them.'

Arrogant. Risky. But then, Beaters Wilkes and Rosier were Slytherin team's weakness, just as Seeker Cresswell and the untested Keeper Kendricks were Gryffindor's. 'If Miller and Booth can dominate the Bludgers, that turns it more into a contest of Chasers.'

'Which James is convinced, of course, he can win,' said Sirius. 'What do you think?'

I think Avery is going to pay well. 'It'll even out the odds. Slytherin are still the favourites -'

'Are you serious -'

'No, that's you.' She gave an airy, appeasing smile. 'Oh, come on, everyone loves an underdog story. The more Gryffindor gets played down, the more Potter's the amazing hero who rescued the team from the fires of Podmore's incompetence.'

'Okay. I do like that.' Sirius stepped back, giving her a thumbs up. 'This is going to be great.'

She let him leave, and lingered in the dim stairwell, alone to better swallow her guilt. Its taste was bitter in her throat, and even imagining the luxuries all Avery's wealth would bring could not banish it fully. So she clutched Sirius' note in her pocket, pledged to copy it in her own hand so nobody would guess his inadvertent betrayal, and headed for lunch. She only reached the doors to the Great Hall before there was another voice calling her name, one she wasn't used to hearing address her, and then Lily Evans was sweeping her down to a secluded patch of corridor.

'Fletch, I need your help.'

'Oh,' said Fletch, blinking. 'It's that time, is it? Look, Sluggy hasn't changed his NEWT exam potions in twenty years -'

'I'm not trying to cheat - I don't need to cheat - you know Sluggy's exam questions?' Evans froze and sputtered, obviously not sure which of these prospects was more horrifying.

Fletch sighed and rolled her eyes. 'Okay, breathe, Evans. What can I do you for?'

'Not cheating,' came the hot reply. 'Nothing nefarious like that. I simply wanted some information.'

'Cheat sheets are information. But if you're not the sort for those, what are you the sort for, Evans?' Fletch cocked her head. 'Information on people? Curious about your two new besties? Owe Mulciber or the Carrows some payback? Or were you sniffing up dirt on Wick, trying to find out if he's as squeaky clean as he seems?'

'No!' Evans snapped - and wilted. 'At least - that is - I don't want Wick's secrets…'

Fletch had to fight the smug, self-satisfied smirk. It was unprofessional for her to bait Evans, but the other girl had spent the past five years ignoring or looking down on her; a little teasing now she'd come crawling was due. But if she pushed it too hard, Fletch knew Evans would cut and run, so she let her voice go soothing, sympathetic. 'You just want to be sure about a guy. I can understand that.'

'It's not even that,' said Evans, and looked frantically up and down the quiet corridor as if intrusions might manifest and see her sneaky shame. 'I just want - I only want gossip. Public area sort of information. Things anyone might know, except I never paid attention to him and neither did Dory or Jack, and I could ask Marlene but he's friends with her brother…'

'Evans, I can't help you if you're so busy justifying yourself you can't give me a question.'

She started to blush. 'I just want to know if he's had a girlfriend before.'

'Normally, answers have costs,' said Fletch. 'But I'll give you a "not really" for free, and we can negotiate the follow-ups.'

Evans made a face. 'Do you care about anything but money?'

'Sure. I care about what I can buy with money.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Fletch, this is a conversation.'

'And we're not friends, Evans; you came to me because I know things, not because you like me.'

'Fine.' Evans stuck her hands on her hips. 'Three sickles.'

'That's -'

'The price of something more substantial than Butterbeer tomorrow at the Hog's Head. You do me a favour. I buy you a drink.'

Maybe she does know how to play. 'Wick's first snog was Christmas of his fifth year, an attack under the mistletoe by Gulpidge, Hufflepuff,' Fletch relayed automatically. 'I don't think her intentions were more meaningful than his; nothing ever came of it. He spent the last two years flirting outrageously with Annabelle Fawley, Ravenclaw, who finished school this summer. Both of them held back from it becoming more serious because of how it might be viewed by her family and family friends.' And, because it never hurt to leave a client wanting a little more, she added, 'I don't know if they're still in touch.'

Evans was chewing her lip. 'This was bad,' she mumbled. 'And creepy of me.'

Give me my three sickles. But a happy customer was a repeat customer. 'Like you said, this is the equivalent of me doing you a favour and getting a drink out of it. This is just gossip; you're not the first girl to ask around before a date.'

'How did you know -'

'I have my ways,' Fletch lied. It wasn't a big guess, with Hogsmeade looming. 'Imagine I had some horrid revelation he was a serial cheater? You'd be glad you asked.'

'I suppose so. Oh.' Evans paused, then rummaged in her pockets and fished out three sickles. 'Thanks.'

'Do you want me to dig up more?'

'No!'

'I could see what he's got to say to Nathaniel; tonight and tomorrow after the date -'

'No!' It wasn't real temptation, Fletch could see, but it was enough to wind her up, and, tossing her hands in the air, Evans turned away. 'Thank you!'

Fletch grinned to herself as she pocketed the sickles, and hesitated. 'Evans?' The other girl was halfway down the corridor, and faltered as if apprehensive of a trap. 'You go out with someone like Wick, you paint a big target on yourself. He's protected by Nathaniel McKinnon. You're not.'

Evans huffed. 'I've already got a target on myself. I might as well have company.'

The advice was free, Fletch told herself as she was left alone in the corridor. It demonstrated good faith and might stop Evans from being such a snob she'd hesitate to come back for future deals. And Fletch told herself this over and over through lunch, through afternoon lessons, all the way back through the corridor. It wasn't that she cared, of course. Evans looked at her like shit the same as everyone else, thinking herself so hard done by but clinging to pride that at least she didn't deign to take something from this crapsack world.

And yet Fletch couldn't shake all she'd heard of Randal Mulciber on the prowl again, of the way Saul Avery talked about things. Nothing had changed, but everything had changed. Changed with time, changed with Corrigan's clash, changed with Wick's petty rebellion, like the winding of the crank. Fletch didn't want to see who'd be hit when everything came unravelled, but for a long time she'd settled for it simply not being her or her friends. She was left with the unsettling impression those who'd face the firing squad would be discovered soon, and it was harder when she could make out faces in the gloomy future.

It was just her and Cecil waiting in the Ravenclaw Common Room after classes, Hargreaves not back yet. Cecil was babbling on about something or other from Arithmancy she couldn't possibly care about, but she knew he didn't need her to listen. He just liked a sounding board, liked to talk out loud so he could see if numbers and equations made more sense once he could hear them for himself. It was easier, he explained bashfully whenever challenged, to think outside of your own head. For once Fletch could understand him, because she was trying to ignore him and her own mind so she could eavesdrop on Nathaniel McKinnon and his friends, sat on the sofa behind them.

'…would have thought you'd be angrier, Wick. The man's a wretched bigot! Did you know he's a complete washout from the Ministry?'

'You astonish me, Nate. I thought a man like Professor Drake would keep perfectly impeccable credentials.'

'Except he parades himself as a veteran of the Ministry legislation, when all he's doing is making the Ministry look bad with his backward -'

Fletch could have throttled Dorothy Baddock for stopping as she waltzed past, tittering as she overhead Nathaniel. 'You mean making your father look bad, Nate, surely? Oh, my mistake, the Prophet was talking all about the botched talks with Yugoslavia. They made him look bad all by himself!'

From the hubbub behind her, Fletch gathered that Baddock left before Nathaniel could summon a retort, and then Wick was talking in a calm, soothing voice. 'Easy, old chap, she's just trying to get a rise out of you. It's all to hurt Marlene, you know; nothing any less petty than that. The stupid girl doesn't know half the school can't stand her.'

Wick wasn't wrong, Fletch thought. Dorothy Baddock had been harmlessly insipid in previous years, but the apparent 'betrayal' by Marlene had triggered something of a super-villain meltdown. Through clumsy, cruel comments flung about as if they gave her power, there was hardly a person - especially the girls - in school who had escaped her sharp tongue lashing out for no good reason. And now she'd earned Fletch's ire, interrupting Nathaniel's ranting about Professor Drake and letting the conversation move on to far less exciting Transfiguration homework.

'Where've you been?' Fletch demanded when Hargreaves finally emerged in the common room a half hour later.

Hargreaves, looking worn and tired, collapsed onto the sofa next to Cecil and stuck two fingers up at Fletch. 'Don't talk to me like that, you're not my bloody mum. Been down at the stables. Was my turn to muck Muirne out and exercise her today and I didn't have time to do it earlier.'

'Oh.' Fletch felt stupid. The flying horse had demanded a lot of Hargreaves' time outside of lessons lately, but so far the blasted animal didn't seem to have provided anything but stalls full of endless shit. 'Is she flying yet?'

'Next week, Mulciber says,' Hargreaves grunted. 'She's thinking of this place enough like home that we can take her to the skies. Think she needs it; she's obviously getting bored just being trotted out on a lunge rope.'

Increasingly technical terms for horse-keeping had slipped into Hargreaves' jargon, and Fletch wasn't entirely convinced she was learning them from books. But she'd been given the opening, so she slid forward, resting her elbow on the coffee table and her chin in her hand. 'Speaking of little Mulciber…'

Hargreaves groaned. 'Oh, no…'

'You promised me Quidditch information.' Fletch tried her sweetest smile. 'And the odds are going to be really interesting this time. But it won't be interesting if I make out Slytherin to be the favourites and then they turn out to not be as strong as everyone thinks.'

She scowled. 'We don't talk, Fletch. It's about the horse. Horse-care. And we ain't even there at the same time usually.'

'But when you are?'

'Fine. Next week. I'll try.'

Fletch kept her smile sugar-sweet as she straightened, opening her hands. 'That's all I ask for.' She looked across at Cecil. 'But, in the meantime, there's Hogsmeade, and I have got us some money to burn on this special occasion…' Because Evans really was wrong to say money was the only thing Cornelia Fletcher cared about. Money could buy all sorts of things, and some of them were essentials and some of them were luxuries. And some of them were just good days out in Hogsmeade with her friends.