Hola everybody!

Thanks for being patient yet again! I'm trying to at least update weekly so I kind of managed it ;)

Sidenote...I've driven myself crazy listening to the HP soundtrack.

It was so worth it.

Wherein Slytherins are likened to Blast-Ended Skrewts and statues provide bonding sessions.

The silence that followed for the next few seconds could only be described as awkward.

Everyone stared at one another a lot, as if to confirm that this really was happening. Just to check, I bit my nails onto the back of one of my hands that was currently wound around the back of Malfoy's neck. Yep, it hurt.

Terry then turned, jerkily and hesitantly, as if his brain were still absorbing what his eyes had seen, and hurriedly disappeared back round the corner; his footsteps quick on the flagstones.

I looked back at Malfoy, my hands clasped around his neck still.

"I think," I said slowly, kind of hoping this was a dream. Except the fabric of his robes beneath my hands felt too real; the tickle of his hairline on my fingers a little too soft for me to have imagined. That part was good. The Terry part, just slightly less so. It suddenly felt like something had died in my stomach, "I should probably follow him."

I wouldn't have said Malfoy looked annoyed, but a flicker of some emotion had passed through his eyes that was definitely different to the glitter that had been there until a few seconds ago, making me wonder what he was thinking. He gave a small, silent shrug, his fingers trailing slightly along my shoulders as he released me.

I hovered uncertainly for a moment before darting off down to corridor, towards the direction of Terry's swift footsteps. My brain was working overtime, unable to believe what had just happened. After all this time, I was still completely unprepared for this conversation. I had been banking on telling him on, say, the last day of term. Or in ten years time. But it had to be done now, and what on earth was I going to say?

I was still working on that when I nearly collided into him a few doors later.

We looked at each other for quite a while, both of us seeming to be waiting for the other to speak whilst we appraised the other's face.

I opened my mouth experimentally.

And shut it again.

Terry managed slightly better than I had.

"Why didn't you tell me, Meg?" He finally asked, his brows knotted in deep confusion. That made two of us. I was waiting for him to start yelling.

I let my shoulders sag, hating to admit the next few words, "I-I was afraid of what you would say."

"What did you think I would say?" I didn't know if he was still working himself up to yelling, but this cool, patient air was not what I had expected.

"I don't know!" I said, seeming to be getting angry on his behalf, running a hand through my hair in frustration, "That I'm being stupid? That he's a Slytherin?"

"He's more than a Slytherin-"

"That he's on the wrong side then," I said irritably, "I just thought you'd say he's Draco Malfoy!"

"Well," Terry deliberated, as if trying to be logical, "He is."

"Stop it!" I snapped, "At least yell angrily at me for lying to you for so long! Stop being so calm and collected!"

Terry suddenly looked as if he wanted to laugh, but seemed to quail slightly under my furious glare,

"'For so long?'" He finally repeated, as if something had just dawned on him, "Hang on, how long has this been going on?"

I was about to uncertainly reply, congratulating myself yet again for putting my foot in it, when he got there first,

"Since last year?" He asked, his eyebrows raising as if he were suddenly seeing things more clearly, "You've liked him for a year, haven't you?"

"I wouldn't say 'like' is the best word to use here-"

"Why didn't you tell me or Antony?" I suddenly felt like a small child being told off by an adult. There was a horrible sinking feeling in my chest as I looked at his expression, which actually seemed a little wounded,

"I told you," I mumbled, just falling short of looking down at the floor and shuffling my feet, "I was-"

"-Afraid of what we'd say, I get it, but this has been going on for ages!"

"No, it hasn't, actually," I corrected, trying to get on top of things once more, then, for some reason, I tried to turn this into a joke, "I was a bit angry at him all summer. This is a relatively new thing." Terry didn't bat an eyelid, and his next words crushed me slightly.

"Oh, Meg," He sighed, "After everything he did?"

"What do you mean?" I exclaimed indignantly, "He's only done a few things!"

"You're justifying him?"

"Yes," I said heatedly, "I am."

We stood glowering at each other for a moment. Well, I was glowering at least. Terry seemed more mature than that.

"Can we talk about this later?" He finally said, "I need to go and get some work done."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said waspishly, "I like him, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but it's none of your business."

I remembered the last time Terry and I had not seen eye to eye, and that had led to a stubborn, silence (on my part at least) that had painfully lasted weeks. Now, stalking away and trying desperately not to feel immature or idiotic, I really hoped that there was something I could say later that would bring us back to normal.

I was a bit stung with how everything had panned out. Not that I had ever assumed my friends would be completely understanding where Draco and I were concerned. Because, hell, sometimes even I didn't understand it. I flashed a dark look outside; met with the icy grey hues of a frosty winter's day. But, I decided, Terry and Antony were my friends at the end of the day, and whilst their opinion mattered, there were surely limits?

"Of course there are." I announced to thin air. I blushed as I realised the Fat Friar had taken this moment to glide suddenly through a wall. He glowered at me. He hadn't liked me much since I had laughed at his exorcism story last year, which I thought was a bit harsh. He hadn't heard himself.

The hour passed in a blur of discontent and irritation. I was too worked up to go and find Malfoy again, and I was carefully avoiding going anywhere near where Antony or Terry might be, so I set off to lessons alone, my mood as grey as the sky outside.

Winter had moved in for a few weeks now; frost glittering viciously on the jagged grass in the early morning, and sometimes not disappearing until well after midday. The temperature in the castle had dropped as low as it was outside, and during the next hour of Transfiguration, huddled in my cloak and scarf; Terry and I conversing in frostily polite small talk, which was definitely a step up from the last time we had fallen out; I looked up to find a few flakes drifting lazily past the window.

"SNOW!" I shrieked, momentarily forgetting myself; causing a few people to laugh and for McGonagall to deduct a few house points; which made the Slytherins laugh along too.

You couldn't blame the fact that my brain was hardwired to get excited about snow at Hogwarts. Snow anywhere is pretty amazing. But snow at Hogwarts; with the mountains blending into the white sky, the trees frosted and sagging under the weight of the fallen snowflakes; it gave a feeling of perfect endlessness. And nothing beat legging it across to the Quidditch Pitch; the crunching beneath your feet, and ruining the smooth blanket that had so flawlessly covered the ground. Nothing except making snowmen in crude imitations of your teachers or of certain Slytherins. Somehow, when I had used him as inspiration for developing my sculpturing streak back in our third year, Draco's sense of humour had been rather lacking.

Right now, I was failing to see how the enjoyment snow brought could be very different, spare the need to lookout for the odd Dementor. Obviously, I wasn't stupid enough to make a snowman of the Carrows or anything.

"Hmmmmm."

"I know that tone." Terry said, in the same cautious tone he had been using all lesson. I jumped. I hadn't expected him to talk where he didn't have to, "You've just thought of something you shouldn't do."

"You're wrong." I said stiffly, hoping there wasn't too much guilt in my expression, "I was just remembering the time I hit Cormac Mclaggen in the face with a snowball. Shame he's left now."

Terry's face showed he couldn't have believed me less, and luckily we were interrupted by Luna, who was holding a copy of the Quibbler, a wand tucked behind her ear; her long hair tied up with an orange ball that looked similar to something I'd seen in the greenhouses once. Sometimes, I liked her style.

"Hello Meg," She said dreamily, absent-mindedly playing with the pages of the magazine she was holding.

"I'll see you later." Terry sighed, before he could be acknowledged, not seeming to be able to fake courteousness with me anymore. I ignored him, turning to Luna,

"What's up?"

"Neville wants the DA together again," She said happily, "I'm fairly sure it has something to do with what you did, you know."

I, who had forgotten completely about what Neville had said about renewing the DA's efforts over the coming weeks, was distracted from everything that had happened with Terry and Malfoy for the first time today,

"What are we planning?" I said eagerly. The Carrows had undoubtedly been getting worse, and after Sampson, I wanted revenge. Not that anything short of my kicking them hard was going to satisfy me after what they had done to my owl.

"I don't know really," Luna sighed, "But Daddy thinks that opposition in any form is good."

"He's writing that?" I asked incredulously, glancing down at the Quibbler, "Isn't that a bit dangerous?"

"Our house is protected by Dirigible Plums," Luna said, looking at me almost pityingly, "And Daddy just planted Wrackspurt siphons. We're quite safe, you know."

"Oh well, that's ok then."

Luna appeared to have missed the sarcasm, which was probably a good thing, and instead took a giant pair of spectacles out her pocket, which looked more like lollipops stuck on a gold headband. I didn't question it.

"Just check your coin, Meg," She said happily, putting the spectacles on. I took an automatic step back, "I'll see you around."

"Yeah..." I managed to reply, a little distracted by the fact that she as now resembling a multi-coloured owl.

She ambled away, almost as if she were sleepwalking, humming a tune under her breath. I watched her go in mild amusement, almost envying that seemingly oblivious mental state she was always inhabiting.

The school day had finished before I ran into Antony, whilst heading towards dinner in the Great Hall. From the look on his face as he caught sight of me, Terry had been gossiping.

"Look," I said warily, darting round a few students to get closer to him, "I don't know what Terry said-"

"That his study time was interrupted by finding you snogging Draco Malfoy's face off." He said, his face expressionless. I couldn't tell if he were refraining from laughing, or scowling. My nerves were just a jumble of something of great viscosity after today.

"As opposed to you eating Padma's face?" I shot back, and was surprised to see him snigger, "Sorry," I mumbled, relaxing slightly at his amusement, "I've been feeling a little aggressive today."

"Hey," Antony said, waving a hand dismissively, "You've had a long day. And I'm not going to pretend that I'm anywhere close to liking Malfoy, 'cos I'm really not, but I'm not the one who's kissing him-"

"Now there's an image-"

"But just be careful ok? I saw you at the end of last term, and I'm fairly sure he caused most of that."

I made a small noise of confirmation in a high tone, my lips pursed, suddenly feeling downcast. As much as I hated to admit it, he was pretty much right. But that couldn't drown out the fact that here stood one of my friends, seemingly ok with what was going on. One out of two, I guess.

"But it's not like you can't handle yourself, I suppose." Antony finished, smiling slightly, "In fact, you're pretty scary when you want to be."

"What else did Terry say to you?" I asked, looking sharply at him now, "I lost my temper, he was being a bit strange really-"

"Meg," Antony said, giving me a smile that I eventually decided was a little pitying, "I'm not the most observant person in the world, but I've been able to tell for a while that a little part of Terry quite likes you."

"Wha..." I completely failed with forming the rest of that word, I was too taken aback. My tongue suddenly forgot how to move. I mean, that had not even crossed my mind. Hell, it had been nowhere near crossing my mind. How was that even possible? This was Terry, a person I had known since we were irritating first years who clogged up the corridors and had excessively massive backpacks.

"Not enough to do anything about it or anything," Antony said hastily, seeing that my vocal chords had completely failed me, "But, I don't know, I suppose he didn't think about you being with someone like Malfoy."

"Please stop saying it like that," I groaned, passing a hand through my hair again. Soon, I was fairly sure it was going to end up vertical, "You're making him sound like a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

"Well, he's not exactly the friendliest person in the world, is he? But Terry will be fine, he's just processing."

"When did you get so knowledgeable with all of this?" I asked miserably, currently feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet,

"I'm just generally a genius," He smirked, puffing his chest out, "Are you going to dinner?"

"No," I sighed, "I need to take a walk."

Antony's arm suddenly twitched, as if he were making to pat my shoulder, but then changed his mind. Instead, he settled for a small, fond smile, as if he wanted to make me feel better, but wasn't entirely sure what to say.

I shoved past the students milling about the Great Hall doors, ignoring the squeaks and grumbling sent my way as I ruined the wonderfully British protocol of politely queuing for absolutely everything.

I was headed for the grounds, until I realised the Dementors liked to occupy them nowadays. After wandering within the castle, I ultimately headed for the Transfiguration Courtyard, in need of some outside air.

The snow was still falling as I arrived; encompassing everything in that deadly quiet and stillness that only snow can do. In the torchlight I could see the flakes arching down from the sky; falling far more rapidly than they had been in Transfiguration. Already, a thin layer of snow covered the ground. Not quite enough for mashing with my feet yet, though.

Rubbing my hands together and hunching my shoulders against the cold, I settled on a stone bench next to a rather grumpy looking statue of a winged boar.

It was hard to believe just how scattered my brain was feeling; every thought darting about as randomly as the snowflakes that were now falling on my hair and sticking to my face. Everything about today, with Sampson, the DA, Draco. And Terry. I couldn't quite process that. How had I never seen that before?

Thinking back on it, I couldn't see how I could have seen it. He had been fine about Mulciber and I, at least as far as I had seen. But hey, I was the kind of person who someone could organise a dark plot around for an entire year and I would still not figure it out. Not thinking of any certain blonde Slytherin in particular.

I smiled ruefully as I pulled my knees up to my chest, envisioning him, the way his grey eyes glittered, and his lips curled into a sneer, or a smile, and how he wore that stupid heirloom ring on his index finger sometimes.

And I liked that thinking of Malfoy made me smile.

"That's right, smile away." Said the statue in a snide voice, "At least you can."

I gave a yelp, leaping off the bench and wheeling round, staring incredulously at the winged boar, which was now looking rather smug at having startled me,

"I...beg your pardon?" I asked, a little flabbergasted, my heart racing still,

"I said 'smile away,'" It said huffily, "Honestly, now you're really rubbing in the fact that you can move."

"And you...can't?"

"I'm a statue, aren't I?" It scoffed, "Can't move for peanuts!"

"Uh...huh."

"And all this snow is freezing my wings. You would think someone would move me under a shelter, but oh no, apparently here is more aesthetically pleasing. Aesthetically freezing, more like!"

"Ri-ight."

"And they've moved Greg, you know. They didn't move me, but at least I don't have to listen to sonnets anymore."

"Greg?"

"Another statue, silly. Maybe I do miss his sonnets. It's better than talking to myself."

"Well, I'm going." I said decidedly, "Good luck with the sanity and all that."

As I turned to go, my foot caught on a frozen patch of snow, and glancing down, I saw it was a half-heartedly made snowball, which had probably been abandoned upon the sight of a teacher. Or a Carrow.

"Students these days," The statue was mumbling, "Can't talk to any of them. They go to a magic school and yet seem to think talking statues are strange."

I bent down and nudged the snowball with my fingers, a smile breaking over my face as the surrounding flakes clung to it firmly. It appeared this snowfall was rather good for sticking.

"Hmmm." I said again.

"They talk to inanimate snowfall instead," The statue carried on, and I rolled my eyes, shoving the snowball across the floor; ignoring the iciness that pierced my skin.

"Will you shut up?" I told it, the ball already larger than my fists, "Or I'll throw this at you."

"Well, that's just lovely, and what's got your wand in a knot?"

"A bunch of stuff," I sighed, rolling the ball over and listening to the soft 'thlump' it issued with satisfaction, "And most of that I can pin on boys."

"Boys are smelly-"

"It's not like it's even anyone's fault," I continued, piling a lump of snow on top of the roughly made ball, patting it down with my freezing hands, "But everything has just got incredibly confusing. But not really. Oh, I don't know."

"You sound insane to me."

"That's pretty rich, coming from a statue whose missing sonnets." I retorted, shaping a rough circle on top of my snow mound, "Does that look like a person to you?"

"No."

"Good. Well, I'm not insane. I know how I feel about people, I just didn't know how they felt about me. And now I feel awful for how they feel."

"That's a whole lot of feeling."

"How do you spell 'Amycus'?"

"I'm a statue, you moron."

"Yet you appear to have mastered the English language fairly well. There. Finished."

I had to say, it wasn't the best snowman in the world. Dean Thomas had been far better at making them, but, well. Times had changed.

A little limited with ideas, I'd made a stand in the most creative way I could currently think of after the end of a very long and emotionally charged day. And that was to make an Amycus snowman.

"I think I've got the bulkiness dead on," I said critically, throwing my hands on my hips to study it, "And the label helps, I guess."

"Is this your way of setting the world straight?"

The voice didn't belong to the ever-whinging gargoyle, and I jumped, looking up to see, standing in the archway to the indoor corridor, Terry, his arms folded against the cold as he looked at me hesitantly. A plunge of uneasiness shot through me at the sight of him. Had Antony told him what he'd said to me? Yet another conversation I really didn't want to have at all.

"I...yeah." I forced the words out a little distractedly, wondering where this was going. Unless I was searching desperately for it, there seemed to be a look of tranquillity in his eyes that filled my chest with wild hope.

I left it to him to make the next sentence, looking firmly at him, a steely look in my eyes as I braced myself for what he was going to say. If he was going to say anything. Between us, the snowman sat in its muddled heap.

"Antony said he let a few things slip." Terry said at last, dropping his gaze from me to study his shoes, one foot experimentally jabbing the snow by his feet. He looked up when I didn't reply, and I summoned every ounce of bravery to speak,

"I want to hear it from you."

I wasn't trying to aggravate him, or draw out this uncomfortableness, but we could hardly rely on the word of Antony here. We needed to sort this out, Terry and me. I shoved my hands in my robes so he couldn't see me crossing my fingers, wishing desperately that, somehow, Antony had got this completely wrong.

Terry looked at me for a few seconds, and then let out a rather shaky sigh, almost as if he were resigning himself to my reaction.

"I like you," He finally said, and I felt my heart plunge, "I've quite liked you ever since you fell into our compartment on the train in our first year."

I was stuck between thinking that my brain had stopped working, and thinking that it was overworking frantically; absorbing this and wondering what the hell to say now. I couldn't believe I had found myself if this situation; a situation that I could never have thought possible. Thankfully, Terry seemed to sense that I was going to be unresponsive for a while,

"I know we've only ever been friends, and that's fine-"

"You like me?" I accidentally interrupted, blurting out the first sentence I could think of in an attempt to catch up with the proceedings.

"It doesn't matter." Terry said swiftly, "You're my friend, Meg, before anything else. He makes you happy, right?"

"Really happy." I answered quietly, thinking of the bear cub, darting out into the night.

"Then I've got to be happy for you." Terry said unblinkingly. But for once, he didn't sound as logical as normal, and I was too cowardly to question this declaration.

"Now this is much better than a sonnet." The statue remarked gleefully.

"Shut up." I told it, turning back to Terry, "Just...why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I didn't want to end up here." Terry said with a small, humourless smile, waving an indicating hand. I assumed he wasn't including my snowman in this. "I didn't want our friendship to become this stupid, awkward mess!"

"I blame the other boy." The statue suggested helpfully.

"What shall we do?" I asked uselessly, ignoring it. "I don't want anything to change."

Terry opened his mouth, and was cut off by the bang of a door opening not far off.

I didn't need to think twice.

"Leg it!" I squawked, leaping round the snowman and grabbing Terry's arm, tearing off down the corridor in the opposite direction to the rapidly approaching footsteps.

"I'll tell them I did it, you know!" The statue called after us. I mentally cursed all exasperating statues.

Our footsteps pounded on the flagstones, our breathing hurried as we ran, and I couldn't help the grin that was breaking out on my face. I really hoped it was a Carrow who had been about to enter that courtyard,

"It could have been anyone coming!" Terry panted behind me, his arm still firmly in my grip,

"They were aggressive, evil, Death Eater footsteps." I insisted happily, veering round a bend and finally slowing down, brushing my hair roughly from my eyes, "And they would not see the funny side of my snowman."

"No one will see it now if it was them. They'll break it."

"I shall not be deterred. It will be built again." I said in a mock omnipotent tone, drawing myself up and assuming a ridiculously supreme face.

Terry started to laugh, and before I knew it, I was laughing too.

It's weird what laughter can do to lift a cloud of discomfiture. Sure, everything that had been said was still hanging over the both of us, but it no longer felt completely crushing. Almost, well, almost as if we could get past it. And I hoped to everything that we could.

Because through everything that had happened, and all I had been through, they were there; the constant thing in my life that I took for granted far too often. And without needing to think about it, I knew they were two of the most special people in my life. And where everything else had been pressed and shifted and changed around me, they had been there; my two best friends. And I couldn't fight hard enough to keep them.

It was then I realised that there were quite a few things I was fighting for. Hogwarts, my friendship, my friends. And Malfoy, I added with a small grin.

And I was totally convinced they were all worth my time.