A/N: A little on the shorter side, but at least I had it up in better time! :)

Chapter 25: Darcy's Helping Hand

I didn't think much of my youngest sister's secretive behavior in the following weeks. It had been no more than a couple of seconds, and it was only a vague, momentary suspicion. I soon let all my other concerns overtake it in my mind.

Darcy, inevitably it seemed, was always chief among them. No matter how much I willed myself to think of other things, no matter how much I berated myself for allowing a male to invade my brain, no matter what I did to try to distract myself – throwing myself into studying, driving my team harder and harder at Quidditch practice, surrounding myself with people at every possible second in the hopes that their cares and concerns would erase mine – my thoughts would invariably turn towards him.

It was really fucking annoying.

Even talking about Quidditch with Charlotte, one of my favorite pastimes besides actually playing the game, couldn't hold my attention, because it made me think about how Georgy seemed interesting in playing, and of course I couldn't spend ten seconds on that thought before Darcy's stupid face assaulted my brain.

Stupid face. Stupid face with the stupid square jaw and the stupid dark hair with that stupid wave in it and the stupid eyes and dumb straight nose and deep voice and tiny smirk that makes his lips look –

"And then bam!" Charlotte slammed her hand on the end table next to her, snapping me back to the moment. "I turn around and what is he doing? Correcting my potions essay! Like he's some sort of potions genius?!"

I nodded sympathetically, trying to look like I had been paying attention the entire time.

"Where is the little bug – uh, Bill – anyway?"

"I convinced him studying by himself in the library was the only thing Ms. Debourgh would find acceptable for him to do before his exam on Monday. Otherwise he would have followed me here, I'm sure, even though he doesn't even like the Gryffindor common room." She rubbed her temples with her fingers, eyes closed, and sighed. "I'm not sure I can take him much longer."

I had the extremely bizarre thought then that I wished Darcy would be a little more like that, would just seek me out and give me some indication of his feelings towards me. I just couldn't bring myself to try to talk to him until I knew I wouldn't be met with that same stony expression as after he read that note. Anything but that.

"You're doing it again."

"… sorry, what?"

Charlotte raised an eyebrow and searched my face, scrutinizing. "You've been distracted all week. You can't focus on a single thing. Something is bothering you."

"What? I don't know what you're talking about. Exams. The last Quidditch game is coming up."

"Well, which is it?" She raised an amused eyebrow.

"I'm gonna go with Quidditch." I nodded decisively.

"Come on, Lizzy, I know something is on your mind. It's not Lydia still, is it?"

"No, no, it's not about Lydia."

"But it is something!"

"Well…" I spun my wand between my fingers, keeping my eyes averted from Charlotte's searching gaze. When Charlotte wanted to know something... "I may have… I ran into someone at the Ministry over the break."

"Who? Catherine Debourgh? No, that wouldn't be surprising…"

"Darcy," I mumbled.

"What? Speak up, Lizzy, don't turn shy on me now."

"Darcy," I said clearly, raising my eyes and keeping my face as neutral as possible.

Charlotte didn't say anything at first, her eyes scanning my face. I don't know what she found there, but after a minute she looked triumphant.

"I knew it!" She exclaimed. "I knew something was going on with you and Darcy!"

"What? You did not. And keep your voice down!" I glanced around the common room. It was crowded, typical for a rainy Saturday, but also so loud that no one seemed to have heard.

"Well, you told me he loves you –"

"Loved, past tense."

"- and you were afraid of running into him this time, and you clearly did and something happened –"

"I can assure you, Charlotte, that nothing happened," I said grumpily.

"But you wish it did," Charlotte said, still searching my face.

"Drop it, Char, I do not and it wouldn't matter anyway because – because…"

"Because…?"

"Because nothing, this conversation is over."

"Alright, whatever you say." Charlotte leaned back in the armchair with any annoyingly smug look on her face. Damn her.

I had thought that no one around had heard, or at least cared about, our conversation, but a moment later I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned around to see Lydia standing behind me, smirking.

"Lydia? How did you get in here?"

"You're not the only Gryffindor I know, Lizzy." She pointed to the sofa right behind me, where Kitty and a couple other girls their age were sitting. Kitty giggled and waved. I waved back, blushing, wondering if they had heard anything.

"Can I talk to you for a minute? In private?" Lydia asked, her face so rarely serious that I immediately nodded.

"I better go find Bill, anyway," Charlotte said, reluctantly pushing herself up off the chair.

Lydia wasted no time dragging me by the hand to the other end of the common room, weaving through groups of people, until we came to the wall behind the girl's staircase.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah, this isn't about me." Lydia rolled her eyes. "Will you and Jane stop worrying about me?"

"Well, then what is it about?"

"I overheard what you and Charlotte were talking about. You're really loud, you know."

You're one to talk.

I bit back that thought and waited.

"And that finally cleared something up for me," Lydia continued. "So, I decided I had better return the favor and clear something up for you. I had no idea you and Darcy –"

"Me and Darcy nothing!" I cut her off.

"Sure. Anyway, I wasn't supposed to tell you this," she glanced around, "they told me not to, but I could not figure out what he had to do with it and now I think I finally know."

"Lydia, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Darcy is the reason I'm not expelled right now."

"... Darcy? William Darcy?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Do I know any other Darcys? Yes, William Darcy. He totally convinced Forster that I was tricked out there, and that Geo – Wickham had done all the damage – oh, he found Wickham too - and he was like 'I'll pay all the damages if you don't expel her' and I was like 'why is he doing this for me' because I don't even know the guy. He is really good looking though –"

"So he was in the office with you that day?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, duh, where did you think this conversation was happening? Turns out, he asked Forster to wait a few days to punish me so he could find Wickham, and I have no idea how he did it, but he found him and he was expelled – good riddance, the asshole. He told me we were just gonna sneak into Honeydukes. Dude has some sort of revenge complex, I don't even know –"

"Did Darcy say anything else?"

"Well, he and Forster told me not to tell anyone he was involved, and I was pretty grateful to the dude so I was like 'yeah okay'. And then Darcy was like 'especially not your sisters', so I thought that was really weird. But I guess it has something to do with whatever the deal is with you two," she finished on a giggle.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't even process it. I stared, millions of feelings and thoughts and words rushing through my head, none of them discernible through the others until I felt fairly dizzy.

"I… I have to go."

I tore past Lydia and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and threw myself into my bed. I covered my head with a pillow and squeezed my eyes shut, like I could make a physical shield from my own brain.

No good. Lydia's words echoed around my head like it was a hollow cave. I couldn't sit still.

Pacing rapidly around the room, it took several minutes for me to feel calm enough to examine the situation with any semblance of rationality.

Darcy must have gone to Forster either the day I got the letter or the day after; paid all the shop owners in Hogsmeade so they wouldn't press charges; found Wickham somewhere.

I was overwhelmed, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what Darcy had done and what it all meant. Well, I knew one thing; he was a much better person than I had ever given him credit for, even after the letter. And he had done much more for me than I deserved from him.

I absentmindedly swiped my wet cheeks, frustrated with myself for crying.

Was it for me, though? It seemed that way, on the surface. Like Lydia said, what other connection would he have to her besides me?

But, my prat of a mind countered, he has another connection to the situation – Wickham.

That was true. The same thing that had happened to Lydia had happened to his own sister, which I previously thought would have kept him as far away from the situation as he could possibly get. But, maybe he had felt guilty somehow, like Jane had, for not telling people about Wickham sooner, somehow feeling responsible for the situation. He might have done the same thing even if it wasn't my sister.

He could have been motivated by guilt and his feelings for you. It could be both.

I tried to repress the idea. I had been wrong about Darcy's motivations far too many times to trust my judgment of him. But I could do nothing to keep the hope from swelling up within me. I stood there, in the middle of the empty dormitory, tears from a whole assortment of emotions streaming down my face, and smiled.

So, maybe I didn't know for sure what this meant. I wouldn't allow myself to expect anything, at least not consciously. But now I had an excuse to initiate conversation with Darcy. A reason that wouldn't seem feeble if it turned out that he wanted nothing to do with me.

Resolve set, I wiped my face one last time and headed back downstairs.

I wasn't able to carry out my intention of finding Darcy, though. We were thrown together before I had the chance to seek him out.

The very day after Lydia had broken this news to me, Jane and I were lying under my tree by the lake, basking in the sun and rejoicing in the return of shorts weather, when a shadow suddenly blocked our light.

Squinting against the sun, expecting it to be Charlotte, I started up violently when faced with the very last person I thought it would be – Charles Bingley, face twisted in repressed agony. I felt Jane start up next to me, but I don't know what happened immediately after, because, looking past Jane and Bingley, I caught sight of a person a few feet behind, staring at the ground.

He looked up at my briefly, then focused his eyes on the back of Bingley's head, giving no other sign that he knew I was there.

Swallowing the lump of emotion in my throat, I quickly looked at Jane, finally remembering that this visit must be intended for her.

She and Bingley were just staring at each other.

"Jane," Bingley chocked. "I... I'm sorry."

Jane took a deep, shaky breath. Glanced at me. I saw the tears gathering in her eyes, gave her my most sympathetic look. She fixed her face in what was supposed to be a glare, but it looked mostly pained.

"You're sorry?" She hissed, looking back at him. "You had your little sister break up with me for you, then didn't talk to me again for months and all you have to say is you're sorry?"

Her voice never rose above a harsh whisper, but Bingley keenly heart every word.

"I was an idiot."

"Yes, you are," Jane spat, but her shoulders un-tensed slightly. I couldn't see her expression very well, and in truth I really had no idea how Jane felt beyond the obvious pain and anger. I thought she might still love him… but maybe I wasn't the best judge of that.

"Please take a walk with me, Jane?" Bingley held out his hand to her, trying to school the desperation on his face into a calmer expression. "So we can talk?"

Jane didn't speak or move for a moment, but slowly, she began nodding. She got up, ignoring Bingley's hand, and without looking back, they walked slowly off, around the edge of the lake.

My painful awareness of Darcy's presence, which had never ceased all that while, increased to unbearable proportions without Jane and Bingley there. Without consciously deciding to do so, I looked over at him again. He was gazing off towards the lake, hands behind his back.

In a moment of role reversal that was not lost on me, I continued to stare at him, and he refused to look my way for a long while. Finally, his eyes moved slowly away from the lake to meet mine. I opened my mouth to bring up the subject of Lydia, to thank him, but he spoke first.

"Good afternoon, Lizzy." The cold civility in his voice stopped me dead, and I snapped my mouth shut.

Oh.

All the hope I had felt last night flowed rapidly out of my body, leaving me feeling cold.

"Afternoon, Darcy."

I felt like I wanted to throw up, but tore my eyes away from him, closing them against the onslaught of stinging moisture.

I couldn't take it. I rallied, stood up, looked Darcy straight in the eye and prepared to tell him I knew what he did for Lydia. He looked at me, immutable. I opened my mouth and –

"Quidditch practice. I have to go."

I walked as fast as I could without running, knowing that I was being a coward but refusing to look back at the man who certainly no longer loved me.