(Monday 9 January 1978)

A piddling grunt left Remus as he bent over and placed his barefoot into a sock, rolling it up passed his heel so that it laid against the lower half of his calf. He leaned back, stretching his foot out to make sure nothing was out of place as the dormitory's door creaked open. He turned to look at it, watching James rushing into the room with his hair even worse than after a Quidditch game.

"Forgot something?" Remus asked, glimpsing over at James before pulling out the leather dress shoes from underneath his bed.

"Lily left her Potions book here last night. Nearly stabbed me with a fork when I told her she could use mine, and I'd just look on with Fabian. Made me come all the way back up here," he replied, sighing as he grabbed the pale blue book strewn by his bedside table. James tossed it between his hands, turning back around to catch sight of Remus' bent back, fingers fumbling about with laces. "Everything all right, Moony?"

"Fine, yeah. Why?" he inquired, finishing up with his uniform and straightening his spine. He reached down and grabbed hold of the leather bag at the floor of his bed, buckling the flap closed and standing up.

"Just a thought. We never talked after that time, you know, New Year's," James explained, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the bed post. "I know you—"

"Overreacted," Remus cut him off, shaking his head in disbelief as he recalled how he had been, what he had said. "I jumped to conclusions, realizing that none of it really made much sense." He paused, finally turning to face James. "I was a complete prick to everyone, I won't deny it."

James' gaze fell behind Remus, to the thrown about bed sheets, as if they had been in some sort of wrestling match. He slid his wand out from where it laid underneath his belt strap and flicked a quick spell over it.

"Thanks," Remus sighed, walking around the center hearth towards him.

"Don't mention it." James ran a hand through his hair, tossing it both ways until it sat in a worse fashion than a second ago. "So, what was it, in the end?"

'You won't tell anyone what happened here,' rang in his head, looking to the door.

He wanted to tell them everything, what had happened to Peter, how he had almost shat himself agonizing over expulsion, the attack on the train. There was no longer any solution he had to find, no reason for him to strain his nervous system to fix the things he had believed to be broken. No, he could tell them everything with ease, a stroll along the shore, a few words over a pint or two. But not yet, not until he had all the facts lined up. A day or two, a moment to destress, to focus back on his studies before diving back in. Only this time, it wouldn't be into a frying pan.

"Soon," he finally said. "I solemnly swear."

"Yeah, mate, take your time. We're here," he assured him, shrugging his shoulders before pushing himself off the bed post. "Besides, got to get this book back to Lily before she marches up here with smoke comin' out her ears." James' eyes widened as he lifted the book and waved it in Remus' face, who permitted himself a short chuckle. Both of them made way to exit the room, grins on their faces, James throwing his arm over his friend's shoulders to bring him closer.

"You know," he began, whispering in Remus' ear. "We took bets— reckoned you'd gotten some Welsh bird pregnant."

"What?" Remus exclaimed, his chin jutting forward as he turned his head to look at James, who raised his palms in defense. "Mate, that's not me. Who bet for?" He cleared his throat, causing Remus' jaw to slacken as he threw him a pointed look. "Merlin," he cursed under his breath, pressing a hand to the center of his forehead as he tried to stifle another round of laughter. He failed, both of them did. It was impossible not to with the way James clapped his hands together and threw back his head, his chuckle too contagious for Remus not to join in.


Sofia walked, no, marched with clicking heels to signal her presence as she travelled against the undertow of students. They skipped out from a room situated around the Middle Courtyard, shoving against her, pushing her to take shelter and wait on one of the damp stone benches. She rolled her ankle, peering over at the melting snow running down the leather. Her head tilted, eyes lifting up and roaming further over the rest of the cloister. Black ice — more mud than snow — piled up against the borders, and a grey sky which only added to the unsightliness of it all. Her hand reached into her brasserie, pulling out a cigarette and placing it to her lips.

Sofia paused, waiting until McGonagall's pointy black hat disappeared around the bend with the rest of the students. With the newfound loneliness, she lit the cigarette and closed her eyes to drink it in.

"You sure do spend a lot of time looking at her," chimed Mundugus from behind her. He grunted, swinging his legs over the open arcade and planting his soles on the empty space next to Sofia.

"I hate the cunt," she sneered along a breath of smoke.

"Yeah, I'll never forget—"

"What do you want?" Mundungus' face fell, his eyes narrowing before rolling about in his head. She placed the butt of the cigarette back to her mouth, and twisted her torso so that they faced one another.

"All right, whatever— have anything new?"

She exhaled through her nose, a scowl appearing on her face as she looked over at the iron Armillary sphere that sat in the center of the courtyard.

"Fucking Peter Pettigrew."

Mundungus lips parted, his eyebrows scrunching together as he shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned forward.

"What? You're tryna' tell me he went and joined—"

"No, you fucking idiot. Attacked, right before holidays."

"Before!? Merlin, Mustaq— you're supposed—"

"I'm not supposed to do shit, understood? Not some little bitch, you lot ought to be kissing my feet," she reminded him. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding down into one another as she huffed out another bout of smoke.

"What happened?" he asked, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall.

"Lupin, at first—"

"What?"

"Let me finish," she hissed, waiting for complete silence before continuing. "I found out from Lupin, did some rounds with him on the train. Got some names: Dolohov, Snape, Rosier, and Nott. Pettigrew ended up spilling about Black's little club."

"Yeah, all right. What? Miffed with the lack of invitation?"

She lifted her finger, wagging it in his face as she sucked her teeth twice.

"Except they aren't. This isn't some playground fight— they knew about it." His eyes popped open, looking out into the distant with a puckered mouth.

"Go on."

"Suspected. They only asked him about the club, nothing else."

"And?"

"I've good reason to believe they think Black's club is the Order, and that someone's sent them to inspect it, dismantle it, or find out who's in it, either way—"

"You mean they think that Black's hobby is us?" he reiterated.

"Both Black and Potter were attacked during the holidays, Death Eaters following them. They're targets now, both of 'em— all of 'em."

"Who cares about those berks," Mundungus fretted, his vision going blurry from how fast his eyes darted about. "Bloody hell, you're saying they've joined? All four of them, working for him? That's—"

"I don't know," she admitted begrudgingly, her manicured nails brushing through her hair. "They've got walls up, especially Snape. Couldn't get in, and whatever I did get was superficial."

Mundungus kicked himself off the stone he sat on, standing in front of Sofia with eyes like saucers.

"And that's not suspicious to you in the slightest? All four of them versed in Occulumency!?" he exclaimed, his fingers reaching out to grab hold of Sofia's cigarette. "That didn't ring any bell—"

"It's not cutting a fucking cake," she snarled, both of them holding each other's gaze. "You would never be able to do it! You wouldn't have the fucking guts to do what I do." Sofia darted her hand forward and retook her cigarette, bringing it to her lips and taking a long drag from it. They sat in silence, Mundungus not once lifting his stare from her. "You don't know what I've seen, what I know, things I never wanted to…" Mundungus surrendered, taking a deep breath before walking over to sit next to her on the stone bench. He crossed his legs, his fingers tapping against his knee as smoke twirled about him.

"We expected them to join, but not like this, not until they graduated." He turned back, retracing his steps, trying to figure out what they had missed. "Regulus was the exception, not the standard, but we were wrong—"

"Someone's recruiting them from the inside," she muttered, handing the cigarette to Mundungus. But he was lost in space, none of his surroundings obvious with the blueprints folding and unfolding in his head.

"Who?"

"I don't know, but they're— think about it, Rosier, Dolohov, Snape, Nott."

"So?" he asked.

"They've never been mates, Nott couldn't stand the likes of Snape. Rosier and Dolohov always had it out for one another since the beginning of time. These are not best mates playing a little prank," Sofia explained, her eyes roaming the opposite arcade to insure no one lingered. "They've got a reason to be together; whatever that reason is, it came this year."

"Well," he said, waking up and looking down at the almost finished cigarette. "Any ideas?"

"No, not one, but whoever they are, they're bloody smart. Covering their tracks."

"What'd you mean?" Sofia leaned back, her head pressed against the stone behind her, eyes on the back of his head.

"How is it in there?" she inquired. "Dull, I imagine, always having to rely on someone else for the answers." Mundungus lifted his brows, letting out a snort and smirking.

"I won't lie, it would be interesting to have what you have."

"It's annoying is what it is," she countered, pressing the charred end of the cigarette into the side of the stone bench. "It all turned to dog shite after Halloween, after that stupid fucking prank. They plotted their revenge, but," Sofia trailed off, her eyes twitching while searching the distance.

"But?"

"I don't know," she whispered airily. "It almost seems like some sort of test."

"Test?" Sofia stood up, lifting her nose into the air.

"I don't know, picture's not clean yet, need to a little more time."

"Well, what do I tell Dumbledore?" She looked through the archway, into the covered arcade where sat several different portraits. Most of them had huddled together in the portrait of a family during the Witch Hunts. They sat about a fire, knitting needles going to work on a blanket or scarf of sorts, drinking tea and discussing whatever it was sentient portraits discussed.

"Tell him I'll let him know when I figure it the fuck out," she rehashed, her head tilting as she grew mesmerized with the needles.

"I can't tell him that, Mustaq—"

"Then tell him to stop Black and his club, they're going to get themselves killed if they continue. And go talk to Lupin, he's going to ask questions soon—"

"What?"

"He hasn't told anyone about the attack on Pettigrew, but he will, eventually. And when that happens, we'll have questions from every corner, especially that redhead cunt," she explained, flicking her nail against her palm. Mundungus' mouth opened, closing as he looked to her with disbelief.

"And you didn't think to tell me this earlier?"

"I bought us some time—"

"—how do we know he hasn't told anyone yet?"

"Because he hasn't." Mundungus dropped back against the wall, two hands coming to scrub his face. "I bought us some time," she continued. "He's a planner, he won't say anything until he's got it figured out, and the timing's not right. He's sitting on it."

"You fucking talk to him, then. Tell him everything," he said, shaking his head.

"What?"

"You heard me— besides, he's next on their list. Dearborn's been grooming him."

Sofia looked back to the portrait, eyes blinking without a stop in sight. She wondered how far he would drive her until she reached a point of no return and simply smashed his face into the wall. A solution to turning him unrecognizable, never again having to stare at his bumblebee eyes.

"Why the fuck do I have to talk to him? Aren't you the bloody recruitment?" Mundungus stood, lifting up his palms as he began to retreat backwards.

"Just handle it, Mustaq."

"Yeah? Well, fuck you, Fletcher," she shouted as he swiveled about on his feet and began to head towards the south end of the courtyard. The portraits from the cottage all looked to her, one of them sticking their nose in the air and tutting. "Fuck you, too."


(Tuesday 10 January 1978)

"I've always wanted to go to Curaçao," Aphrodite mused as she wrapped her hand through the crook of Eva's arm. The two witches lifted up from the dungeon shadows and into the grim Scottish light gracing the Entrance Hall, where the voluble bursts of morning glory trailed out from the Great Hall. Eva's brows lifted as she watched the magically artificial rays of sunlight bouncing off goblets and silverware, and though a pale resemblance to the outside world, she felt it a much welcomed and needed change.

"Oh no," Aphrodite said, shaking her head as she pulled Eva in the opposite direction of the Slytherin table. Her brown eyes skimmed over the sea of green, catching sight of a flash of blonde before turning and smiling at Eva. "You can hardly ever find a seat at our table, I much prefer the Ravenclaw one."

Eva opened her mouth to say something, but closed it when she found no decent argument against it. They walked over to it, a passing glance from a curious onlooker, but no one protesting their sudden change of routine.

"Have you ever been?"

"Been where?"

"Curaçao," Aphrodite clarified. Eva shook her head, taking a seat on the right side of the long wooden table. "Well, I reckon we should go. Wouldn't that be lovely? I should tell Tommy, though he burns so easily in the sun, which reminds me." Aphrodite spun around, looking over her shoulder at the Hufflepuff table, eyes narrowing in on the Quidditch commentator.

Eva, on the other hand, forced a polite smile as she looked down to the silver plate that had appeared before her. Everything had been rather simple up until that point. Between the unintelligent time spent with Aphrodite — though grateful all the same for or her blissful ignorance — and completing assignments, she had little time to think of much anything else. But sitting there, with the cause of her sluggish heart and the boulder sitting in her stomach only mere feet behind her, made her shift and fidget with anything she could get her hands on. Hem of her skirt, the strap on her bag, the knife on the table. He made the wool of her stockings itch in a horrid way, and the bloat in her belly puff out ten times as worse. He made her want to walk backwards out of the hall, eyes to the ground until she was, once again, safe under her covers.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes before opening them and pulling out her wand. The wand tapped on the cup next to her plate three times. Not a second passed before the smell of black coffee wafted up into her nose, filling her with warmth. By the time she had filled her drink with sugar and milk, Aphrodite had sat down and helped herself to oat-encrusted toast and marmite.

From the table next to them, two pairs of green eyes peered on over at the Slytherin pair. He watched her hand reach forward and grab a mandarin off the tray. She peeled into it as if it were a porcelain doll, placing the peels onto the plate before going at it again. Not once had she given up the forced uplift of her lips, absentmindedly nodding her head at whatever her housemate said. Remus picked up his own cup of coffee, taking a sip from it while still watching her. He couldn't help but notice the gauntness to her, bruised from what could only be sleeplessness; there was also a watery fretfulness in her eyes which made him question whether she would burst into tears or a run.

His breath slowed, a thumb running up and down the side of the mug. They still hadn't exchanged a word, and even though it had hardly even touched upon two full days since their last encounter, he couldn't help but feel it had been a lifetime. At first, he had assumed the worst, that it had something to do with him; that she had come to a delayed realization of wanting no association with him whatsoever, but he shook that hunch out of his head before it could canker. He knew her better than that, she would have never answered in the negative if she meant otherwise. So he had fallen to the next obvious conclusion: the time she spent alone in that massive castle had caused memories to resurface, even relive. He understood, she needed time to sort out through her next few steps. He would have done the same, isolating himself while spending days tossing and turning, growing quiet, even disappearing.

Even so, he couldn't help but smile as he saw her looking up with wide, blinking eyes at whatever Aphrodite Flint had said. It had to have been enthralling, for the Slytherin witch's hands flailed about with every word, and Eva's hand paused on the fruit. He smirked into his coffee cup as her nose began to scrunch and her polite smile turned bemused. His chest twisted, tightened, followed with a small sigh, realizing how much he was hoping she'd come around sooner rather than later. Sitting next to her in potions the other day, with neither uttering a word, had him running a hand through his hair every two seconds. He had wanted to look, to say something, anything, but instead forced his focus on their professor's lecture.

"One person told her she could sing, and now she thinks she's WWN-worthy," continued Aphrodite. Eva moved her eyes over to the food laid out in front of them. Her stomach somersaulted, finding herself without an appetite for the fourth time in a row. She pressed her lips, lifting her gaze past her roommate's shoulder. Green eyes met hazel, causing her breath to hitch in her throat.

They both looked away before either could react any differently. Remus felt heat creep up the back of his neck, looking down to his fingernails, paying false attention to Peter and Lily's impromptu tutoring session. Eva, on the other hand, reverted her eyes to Aphrodite, the smile from before long gone. One of her hands had reached up to hold her upper arm, rubbing it up and down, causing friction against the cashmere of the grey sweater. She pushed to ignore the brief jolt of electricity that had zapped her seconds ago, taking in a slow breath and letting go of it.

It was nothing, like someone's touch startling her when only exchanging books.

Like Regulus.

Yes, like Regulus, that's what she told herself. Because everything about the two situations matched up, identical twins without even an eyebrow different. She had needed him in a dire moment to forget a dangerous door that had opened up— voices in her head, wanting to grasp onto normalcy. A minute, nothing more. Irrational, yes, but with all the cards falling back into their rightful places when the game finished. Her and Remus would return to what they had been, amicable conversations and a lunch together or two. Nothing else, nothing more, nothing less.

But Eva knew he wouldn't bother her, knowing it would be on her to make the first move. She would, except on Tuesdays they didn't have potions, and consequently, neither had a good reason to speak to one another.

Yes, no good reason for her to seek him out. Not yet, soon, but no sooner than necessary.

"What're you doing all the way the fuck out here?" came a voice from behind Eva, shaking her out of her stupor. Her eyes bulged out, turning her head to look up at the person who was sliding into the seat beside her. His thin leg swung over the bench, an extra-curly head of hair bending over the table as it reached forward for the plate of sausages.

"Don't know, a change in routine is good for the soul, you know?" Aphrodite responded, shrugging her shoulders as she took a bite out of her toast. Eva reached for her cup, searching for a distraction, for she knew she was the reason they were there, akin to exiles, with two iced-over eyes digging holes into her shoulder blades. She pressed a finger to the tension in her temples, a shiver running up her back as if someone — he — was breathing down her back. The thought formed into a sour, sugarless lemon drop on her tongue, her mouth shriveling up like a leaf in a desert. "Where's Sofia?"

"Masturbating, or fucking Mundungus Fletcher up his arsehole," quipped Alex. Aphrodite's forehead scrunched and her lips parted. "Never can tell what the difference is these days."

"Oh, well," she began, managing to recompose herself. "That's all right. We've got Eva for company."

He turned his gaze from Aphrodite, who gestured with her own eyes to the witch sitting next to him. The Slytherin turned, his chin digging into his neck, his hands raised up as he beamed down at Eva.

"Oh my gosh! Little bird, it's really you!?" Alex gushed through a mouthful of food, which didn't seem to hinder him from reaching out and embracing her.

A distraction good enough that all thoughts of champagne-laced breath escaped her mind. She looked down to her hands. The cup was trembling between them, not having realized that they were, and made way to place it back onto the table when Alex had finally released her. "You've decided to ditch those bastards and join the righteous side, then?"

Eva couldn't help but find it rather odd that everyone seemed to think they were the righteous side. She forced a smile all the same.

"If you'll have me," she said, joining in on the playful banter.

"Pft! If you'll have me, did you hear that?" Alex looked to Aphrodite, before reaching forward and tapping his wand against his own cup. "Of course we'll have you, petal." He took a sip from his pumpkin juice, smirking. Eva's head tilted slightly, her eyes darting between them. He had accepted her with such ease, no prior knowledge of her presence required, an embrace and a laugh and that was all. "I reckon we're going to need some sort of way to identify one another from now on. Isn't that right, little bird?" Alex turned to face Eva with owl-like eyes, munching into the sausage on his fork. "There's too many of us, it's brilliant. They're," his thumb jutted back over his shoulder, "going to hate us."

"As if they didn't already?" Aphrodite teased, shaking her head and rolling her eyes before letting it grow into a giggle. Eva's lips pressed into a tight line, and despite herself, her mind traveled there, to them, 'they'. She wondered if they were looking at her, whispering amongst one another while she finagled with a girl in love with a boy, and a boy in love with himself. Eva's been kicked to the outskirts, Eva's skirts are stained brown. No Japanese silk or wool jackets, a golden city in the distance, a bottle passed around. She looked back up to their faces, laughing, smiling. No, these weren't faces of those who had been forced out, they had chosen that path; and she knew, knew it was time for her to chose. Not yet, soon, soon enough.


Remus stifled a groan, his eyes roaming back over the empty spot between Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration and Transfiguration Before Written Word: A Theory. His hand rubbed over his face, the dampness of his palm pulling down his pouted lip before accepting his losses and hopping back down the staircase. He landed on the ground floor, making his way over to Madam Vivlia's circular desk located in the middle of the library.

"Yes?" she drawled, a book opened and covering her face, which she did not seem quick to relinquish.

"Er, yeah, I was wondering if someone had already checked out New Theory on Facial Transmogrification by Trandafira Tarus?" he requested. She sighed, shutting her book with a sharp snap! and peering up at him from under her spectacles. Her eyelashes were spidery form the amount of mascara she wore, and blue eyeshadow covered her lids. Without another word, she twisted about in her chair and waved her wand to open the archaic book register. Dust particles and the distinct musky smell of page rot rose up from it and into his nose, causing him to viciously rub at it as her finger ran down the list.

"Nope," she answered, flicking the book closed with another wave of her wand.

"Oh, all right. Thank you all the same," he muttered, tapping his fingers against the desk. He sighed, pursing his lips and turning around to find his friends where he had left them. Sirius was folding one of a parchment into a paper airplane, and Lily was picking out another quill from her bag without noticing the one she had tucked behind her ear.

With a conceding shoulder drop, he walked back over to them, plopping down into his seat and carving a hand through his hair.

"All right, Moony?" asked Sirius, folding the last wing on the plane before angling it on top of the pile of books they had collected. He pulled out his wand from inside his sleeve, muttering a quick incantation before sending his creation zooming into Adrian Schwartz's curls.

"Ow!" the Ravenclaw yelped, his hand reaching up to pick the paper weapon out of his hair. Sirius sniggered as he crouched down under the table, balancing himself on the tip of his toes with a hand on James' thigh. Remus rolled his eyes, throwing his friend a pointed look before shooting his gaze upwards as a paper plane with a compressed tip flew past him. He followed its path through the library until it finally hit Rory McPhail on the tip of his nose, causing him to stand up, hands fisted at his sides, pink-pinched face turning a deep shade of burgundy.

"That was gold!" Sirius announced, sitting back in his seat as he followed the paper plane dashing from Rory's hands and back into Adrian's eye.

"Should someone say something?" James inquired, eyes firm on Lily.

"Nope," Sirius answered before anyone else had the chance to.

"Great, anyway, has anyone seen or know of who may have checked out the book on Transmogrification theory by the Romanian witch?" Remus asked, looking over each one of their faces. Sirius sucked his teeth and shook his head no.

"No. Sorry, Moony," James said, placing his forehead into his hand and bringing his book closer to him.

"Pete?"

"No, mate, haven't," Peter replied, not having looked up once from whatever it was he was scrawling down on the parchment.

"I already finished the Transfiguration questions from today—"

"—you did!?" exclaimed James in a failed whisper, his eyes widening. "You monster." Remus' eye twitched before turning upon Lily.

"—you could have a look at mine," she continued, looking up with the tip of the sugar-tipped quill that he had gifted her for Christmas placed against her lips. Remus' eyes darted back and forth between her and James. He tapped his fingers against the table, gnawing on his bottom lip.

"I feel bad," he said, scrunching up his nose. She waved her hand and rolled her eyes, a hand darting into the bag strewn out in front of her and tugging on a rolled-up piece of parchment.

"Don't, but you will owe me one," she teased, grinning as she rolled it down the table to him. He grabbed it, placing a hand on each end of the parchment, and opened it up to skim over the writing.

"Thanks, Lily," he said. "Let me know if you need help with anything." He heard her hum in the affirmative, going back to her work and leaving him to sigh once more. Remus reached into his own bag to pull out an ink jar and a quill.

They sat in silence, a snicker or two from Sirius when his paper plane came swooping by, but stopping when it dropped dead to the floor and turned into ash. He had turned around, catching sight of Madam Vivlia's dagger-throwing stare before picking out a random book and opening it to any page— the index. A normal, mundane afternoon in the life of a seventh-year. But sometime around the fourth question, with a lingering debate in the back of Remus' head on whether he should pull out a thesaurus or not, a shadow enveloped the table.

They all stopped and looked up.

"Marjory," greeted Lily with a smile, pulling the quill away from her mouth.

"Hiya! Everyone all right?" she whispered in a cheerful voice, taking a seat in the empty chair next to Remus. Sirius' eyes jumped between the two Gryffindors, a smirk grew on James' lips.

"Yeah, all right. You, Bones?" Sirius returned, tilting his head to get a better look of her face.

'She fancies you, you know?' Remus recalled James saying, blood rushing to the back of his neck as he clutched his quill a little tighter.

"I may have procrastinated a little too long over the holidays. Arithmancy is due tomorrow, and I'm afraid I'm nowhere near finished," she explained, a mirthful giggle between her words. "Reckon I'll be up all night. If any of you lovely people find yourselves up at two in the morning, you know where to find me for a cuppa." Sirius' toothy grin fell to his lips alone, a finger reaching up to scratch his hairline, trying to figure out whether she had slipped some gillyweed — and where he could get some if so — or if her merry manner was innate and why?

"Remus can help you with Arithmancy. He only took it for four years," James offered. Remus mouth nearly fell open, quickly pushing it back up and gritting his teeth together. He looked to James, eyes widening, nostrils flaring— his only response was a wink.

"Wakefield almost had a heart attack when she found out he had dropped the class," Lily added, stifling a giggle as she caught sight of Remus' red ears. He took a deep breath, shaking his head before facing Marjory.

"Yeah, I can help you with Arithmancy," he surrendered, knowing he was a weak-link when it came to such things. It could have been a first year he had never met, and still would have offered. Not sure yet how he felt about it knowing that she harbored feelings for him— when had that happened? But, most of all, why?

"Would you actually?" Remus nodded, meeting her gaze for a brief second before dropping it to the table's corner. "That's wonderful, thank you! Hardly anyone wants to tutor anyone in Arithmancy, and anyone who does has packed schedules. I checked the list in the common room— the only one available is Jacknife. Gave me the shivers thinking about it!"

"How does he find time to tutor anyone with that grueling Quidditch schedule Dolohov has him on?" Lily inquired, looking up to her roommate.

"He doesn't tutor anyone, that's the point," quipped Sirius, an affirmative snort escaping Remus as he picked up his quill and returned to his work.

"Give me five minutes to finish up here," Remus told Marjory. "If that's all right?"

She nodded, biting down on her bottom lip as he turned back to his work, his eyes widening with a shake in his head. Marjory watched him, placing her chin into her palm as she waited.

A good half hour passed before Remus found himself satisfied enough to close the book on that one and start the next. They were nothing more than half-arsed answers — knowing McGonagall would have his backside — but he knew it'd get no better and slid the paper back to Lily.

"Thank you, again," he told her before turning back to Marjory. She had her nose near pressed up to the lines of the book in her hands. Remus lifted his brows, a crooked smile maturing. "What's that?" She turned and blinked twice before grinning.

"A book on MACUSA's political system," she answered, looking down at the pages. "They can't seem to agree on anything, that lot across the pond." Remus scoffed pleasantly, lifting his chin and pushing back the chuckle that threatened to leave him.

"Arithmancy," he said in a shallow breath. "So what is it that you don't understand?"

"Everything," she joked, shrugging her shoulders.

"Okay, so you need help with everything today?" he inquired further. She pushed the papers towards him. He took them in his hands, leaning back in his seat with his legs spread out, and reading from the top. It had the usual date and name inked out, another line of words stringed out just below. He froze, face igniting for the third time that day as he stared down at them.

What are you doing Saturday?

Audacious and bold, but he reckoned she would not have been a Gryffindor without it. He glanced up at his friends, whose own assignments diverted their attentions, and swallowed down the wings fluttering in his throat.

Nothing, why? he scribbled back, plastering his eyes to a book that floated back to its place in the bookshelves. Marjory tapped the parchment when she had finished responding.

We should hang out, if you're up to it.

Remus paused, thinking it over. It wasn't a definite date, Saturday excursions with a girl that supposedly fancied him could mean a plethora of various possibilities. His knee jerked up and down. She had looked for him at James' party, and he had shut down everyone with no explanation. He had acted like an irrational fool while ditching everyone and leaving them their hands down their pants. If nothing more than that reason alone, he knew he owed this to her.

Sure, what did you have in mind?

Remus handed her the paper, hoping his question would open up her intentions further, but counting to ten didn't suffice before she was sliding it back over.

I'm sure I'll come up with something by then. So, it's a go?

Her elusiveness almost made him want to laugh, palms already sweaty, his back burning hotter than a sword sitting in fire.

But she never said it was a date, he reminded himself.

On the other hand, if it was, if her feelings were genuine, he knew rejecting her in that moment — with his friends there, the grin on her face so large it could light up that dingy library — would only lead to an interrogation he would much rather avoid. He had no choice but to nod, quick and finite. She threw her head back, clasping her hands together.

"Shh!" hissed Madam Vivlia from the center, her wrinkled finger placed over her bright coral lips.

"Oops," Marjory said, a hand covering her mouth and causing the words to blur. She continued to giggle, everyone else peering up at the pair with cocked brows and sly, knowing smirks.

Remus leaned his elbow into his own ribs, a finger pressed to his lips as he stared off into the distance. Bloody hell, he thought, sighing. He grappled for the confidence that he had managed to steal from Sirius and James over the years, somehow finding it inside himself to allow one last time, even if everything about it screamed at him to let it burn away in a fire.


Without a second glance, Tuesday passed into Wednesday. Everyone could feel the pace turning up a notch, full-speed and no sign of stopping anytime soon. No longer could did they have the holiday in their muscles, already stiff before they had a chance to appreciate the tenderness of it. They had to wake early, jog to put something inside their grumbling stomachs, but succeeding in only stuffing themselves with air.

And somehow — though he wasn't sure what had contributed to it — but Remus found himself squished between Sirius and Marjory. All he had wanted was to eat in peace, for a morning person he was not, and yet the pair bent backwards and forwards relentlessly shouting out Divination answers.

"No— wait, you've got it mixed up with 5C," Marjory said, her eyes analyzing her own paper.

"Really?" Sirius muttered, looking over his own paper as he ripped a piece of bacon hanging from his mouth. "Let me see yours for a second." Remus closed his eyes as he felt a spray of meat-essence colliding against his left cheek.

Marjory slid the parchment off the table, and without a second's warning, crossed her arm in front of Remus. He flinched back, eyes widening, mouth still opened as he had been ready to bite down on his eggs.

"Thanks, love." Sirius retrieved the paper, shoving his plate away from him and causing the milk in his cup to spill. He placed the two assignments side by side, his eyes darting back and forth, a finger shoved into the underside of his lips as Remus attempted, for the second time, to fork some eggs into his mouth.

He lifted the fork, already sensing the fried saltiness on his tongue as another hand darted out from the left. It came crashing into his own wrist, causing the fork to drop and clatter to the floor. Remus shut his eyes, pressing the tips of his fingers to his temples while releasing an exaggerated breath. Sirius pushed his torso into Remus's, violently wiggling the parchment in Marjory's face. He blinked, expressionless, looking down at the two bites of eggs and half-eaten ham he had left on his plate.

"Yeah, fuck it," he said in a breath, picking up his things from the floor and standing up.

"You're off? Already?" Marjory asked, looking up to him with big, doe-like eyes.

"Going to stop by the library," he lied to both of them. "Forgot to return a book I'd borrowed before the holidays."

"No, but wait," she fretted, shoving a spoonful of porridge into her mouth. "I'll come with you!" He stifled a smile, lifting up a palm.

"No, stay. This way you lot have more space to finish up."

"No worries, love. I'm loads more fun," Sirius quipped, winking at her.

Remus choked on a scoff, coughing it out before turning and walking out of the Great Hall. He took the first staircase leading down into the dungeons, the musty dampness already beginning to touch upon his skin. When the world outside changed, they could always count on that part of the castle to remain static. Lackluster and obscured.

Completely alone down there, the heels of his shoes echoed for miles against those walls. Torches crackling, doing their best to light his path, but failing to rid him of the two eyes he felt glued on his shoulder blades. The thought alone caused a shiver to break up his spine, goosebumps dotting both his arms. He took a deep breath and lifted his hand to his shoulder strap, readjusting it and keeping his gaze focused on his surroundings.

Cloistered so far underneath the dirt, a feeling of being buried alive. Asphyxiation. Something in his knees told him to jolt, to gallop away at speeds unknown to man. He could not quite pinpoint the origin, but it didn't stop his strides from elongating, throwing a glance over his shoulder every so often. His breaths quickened, air pumping out of his nose, giving off his location to any who craved it. Faster, a cold sweat beginning to drip down the back of his neck, his hands curled around his wand, the bend in the short distance he came to it.

A gasp flew out of him as he reached the torch-light, the familiar door cracked open and a quiet chatter traveling out of the room.

"All right, Remus?" Fabian greeted as they heard him appear at the door. Ralph and Sanjo, two other Ravenclaws who accompanied the redhead wizard, turned around. Each smiled the Gryffindor's way, jutting their chins out to acknowledge his presence and turning back to some colorful magazine they had spread out on the table. Remus leaned his shoulder against the doorway to catch his breath, nodding in response.

"Yeah, all right. You?" he rasped, coughing.

"Ralph brought these drawing things— comics, the muggles call 'em. They're wicked, mate. Have to give 'em a look," he offered, stepping back to free a space for Remus at the desk.

"It's got KISS battling Mephisto and Doctor Doom," Ralph added, his cheeks two crystal balls from the sheer magnitude of his grin.

"No, that's quite all right," Remus said, shaking his head. His breath was still choppy, coming out in short huffs as he tried to understand where the irrational paranoia had popped up from. A million and two times he had walked through the Dungeons, even alone during rounds, and never had he felt so alone. Stuck, as if any direction would lead to the same one; as if he could shout for help and no one would ever hear him. "Need to take a seat is all."

They all nodded, Fabian's eyes roaming over to the Gryffindor's desk. Remus followed his gaze, his breath hitching in his throat and his lips pressing together. A rapid toss-up between accepting the Ravenclaws' offer, or throwing some paint to the wind and seeing if it would give him a mural. He placed a hand on the Ravenclaw's shoulder before heading over to his seat.

Eva had turned into solid stone — a Greek statue of sorts — from the moment his name had penetrated the room.

'All right, Remus?'

The name like a curse, binding her limbs to her body, not even able to flip a page.

Only because they hadn't spoken in so long — she told herself — and the last time they had, it hadn't exactly been as smooth as summer's butter. Nothing else, nothing more, nothing less. It's what she believed in all totality, irrevocably.

A shadow fell over her, the stool next to her sliding and screeching against the stone floor. She kept her eyes unyielding on the chapter's title on page 242, one of her cropped fingernails pressing into the yellowed paper. Her eyes dropped to the knee that appeared just past the bend of her elbow, fingers sliding down to sit on top of them. His hands: veiny, slender, calloused. How discomforting. She knew them so well, memorized the feel of them against her own skin, could picture them in her sleep.

She pulled her gaze back to the page, digging her nail back into the imprint she had left moments ago, deepening it.

Remus kept his neck bent, his eyes peering out of their corners to the back of her head. She had a book opened up on the table, her hand holding its corner, no sign that she had even noticed his arrival. He cleared his throat, his foot jerking up and down against the stool's last rung.

"Good morning." His eyebrows shot up into his hairline at the familiar, reticent voice.

"Uh, hi. Yeah, good morning. All right?" Remus responded, his words as whiffled as his breath had been upon entering. He leaned his forearm against the table's edge, tilting his head so to get a better glimpse of her.

A muscle involuntarily twitched in the pit of her stomach at the sound of his voice that addressed her. It caused a sickening numbness to spread through her, and she began to wonder whether she should have eaten a little heavier that morning. Fainting was not very becoming of anyone.

"Fine, thank you," she managed, finally meeting his gaze for the first time in a long time. It didn't last very long, for she was straightening her back and looking back down at her book before he had a chance to tell whether they were more cognac or olive green today, whether they were as bruised as they had been yesterday morning or if she had managed to glamor them away. Her fingers hooked underneath the book's front cover, shutting it closed and placing her folded hands on top.

Remus followed her movements, his eyes narrowing in on her rigid, one-cornered smile.

"Yeah?" he asked. Eva blinked.

"Yes, of course."

Remus took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. He'd been there before, they both had. One worded answers, forced smiles, and avoiding each other's stares. Instead of moving forward, he had to walk backwards. An ordinary day for their friendship, he'd say.

"Er, I believe I heard Victoria Cornfoot mention that Madam Sprout invested in Vervain seeds. Thought you'd know something about it?"

Eva took a deep breath, her finger trailing up and down the book's spine. She pursed her lips, nodding. So much they could say — once would have said — and yet she could not bring herself to say them. Resting at the tip of her tongue, and yet so impossible to find. When had it become so hard with him? He'd always been easy, uncomplicated. Filters tossed aside, ties hanging loose around their necks, flour staining their noses. But no, no longer, her back would not bend, despite the ache.

Had she changed her mind about him?

"Yes," she answered in a rapid breath.

"You're going to be harvesting them? Or—"

"Helping, yes."

"Of course, that's rather cool. Are you, I mean, is that something that would be exciting?" He let out a short, nervous laugh, doing his best to keep the smile on his face from flustering.

"More so if we succeed," she whispered, eyes planted on the fingernails that had begin to scar the book's spine.

"I could imagine."

Remus rubbed both hands against his thighs, spreading out his fingers and pressing the pads into his trousers. In the past, when he had used the same sort of dance — playing on superficial questions, knowing the answer but feigning ignorance — she had gone along with it. Spread open her arms and let him take her for a spin. Prudent, but not enough to keep the awe from glimmering in her eyes. But that dance didn't seem to work well with the tune playing in the background, and he was no longer sure what would.

"So, do you know when the seeds will come?"

"In a week, most likely." Eva dropped her hands from where they laid on the table to her lap, wringing them together. "We can't plant them until the frost has cleared."

"Of course, winter and all."

"Well," she countered, blinking and tilting her head. Remus looked down at her, eyes glossed over with distance. "There are plants that thrive in the winter, albeit few. But they require the alchemical qualities of snow in order to—"

"Remus," someone interrupted. Eva faltered, her body — that had almost turned to face him — shifted straight again. She leaned forward, re-opening the book to a random page. Her elbow dug deep into the table, her cheek leaning against her hand as she distracted herself with furnaces and crucibles. "You got here rather fast, didn't you?"

There was no blaming Marjory, but he had watched Eva's resolve beginning to teeter, and thus couldn't find himself sharing in the witch's enthusiasm.

"Yeah," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Quick drop off is all."

"Yes, quick drop off," she repeated, her eyes searching his face. Her hand reached up and cupped his jaw, turning it her way. "What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing," he responded all to quick, scoffing. "Not much of a morning person is all."

"Well, I was thinking we could do something outside on Saturday? Or is that not your cup of tea? It will be rather cold," Marjory said, dropping her hand from his jaw and resting it on the table.

"Outside is fine, yeah. What? A snowball fight is it?" he teased, causing her to break out into a laugh. "Let me know, I need to prepare myself."

"Prepare yourself?"

"Yeah, armor and all."

Once her cousin had asked her why she blinked so much, but Eva had not moved her lids in the past 30 seconds. Her eyes bleeding into the miniature diagram in the upper-right corner of the page, her breath dragging out like an end of a Hallowe'en song. The ardor in his voice, their closeness, it engrained inside her mind, spinning, churning slow, very slow.

"All right," she said, nodding her head as another group of students walked through the door. Marjory lifted her hand and waved at Flora Sawbridge. "I've got to go, but outside, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure," Remus confirmed.

"It's a date, then," she cheered, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before trotting off to her friends. The smack of the affection resounded out into the room, Eva's insides curling into themselves. His eyes darted over to her, the tips of his ears reddening as he closed his parted lips.

Like a shipwreck, the ice water flooded her before she could realize the boat needed repairing. Her breath began to shorten, his forehead wrinkling up. And like a shipwreck, the water would sink the boat. Her heart sunk, dropping into the depths of her stomach and doing nothing else but sitting there.

Her eyes swiveled everywhere, but the sudden movement in her vision sent a bout of nausea through her. Particles of dust floated in the air, coming down from the walls, and she swore she could feel her seat shaking underneath her. If not that, then she most definitely felt her certainty beginning to tremble, a wavering mirage in a desert heat.

When? she asked herself, eyes seesawing to each corner of the room. Her hand reached up to her throat, holding it, thinking her heart's speed would send it racing and jumping up and out her throat. She wanted something cool against her cheek, a flush of heat washing through her as she replaced Regulus with him, and herself with her. Out there, underneath the stars, his lips pressed to her neck. When? she repeated, not when did they become one, but when had it happened for her, to her? When had it turned into something painful?

"Sorry 'bout that," Remus' voice intruded her thoughts, as if his image wasn't enough. A deep breath rocked her lungs, finding control in the sudden, unbearable warmth. It would take a school of scholars to figure it out, but somehow she managed to lift her chin. "You were say—"

"What? You're seeing her?" she decried in a mix of disbelief and disgust, her eyes darting between the Gryffindor witch in the distance and back up to Remus's. He felt his chin edge into his neck, his tongue stuck between his teeth. Her tone of voice resembling to much like acidic rain to keep his hand out the window.

"Er, well, no, not really. Maybe?"

Truth be told, he didn't have a clue. Initially, he had believed that their rendezvous was nothing more than something between friends, and there had been no mention of anything more up until that point. But to place weight on her parting words was a shot in the dark, especially when it came to someone like Marjory, where it could mean anything between a playful wink or something much deeper.

"You like her?" Eva continued, something inside her telling her to stick her own hand in her mouth and rip out her tongue. But that train had left the station with a faulty break, and there was something akin to her dignity stuck on the tracks.

"Yeah, I suppose I do. She's, she's nice. Funny, laughs a lot." He looked down to his hands, the redness from his ears transferring to his face. "Tall, don't have to bend down too far to look at her," he finished with a short laugh and a shrug. Remus faltered when falling upon the unmistakeable scowl donning her features. He felt his breath grow thin, silent drips as he found himself scrambling for bandages. And for what? What had even broken? "Eva?" Remus received only silence. He tapped his fingers against the table, pursing his lips, eyes flitting about the room before reverting to her. "I mean, I don't— what did, are you upset with me?"

She could feel the bitterness envelope her, but like coffee, it did not disenchant her. Rather, she wanted more of it, drink it in, satiate herself with it. A punch, a knife into his gut and twist it around and around. She wanted to spit on both of them, to smite them with everything that she had and they didn't.

He shifted forward in his seat, almost placing a hand on her shoulder to force her to turn around.

"Ev—"

"Don't speak to me," she sneered under her breath, her eyes focused on those trailing into the room. His head fell forward, his eyes widening with every blink.

"Come again?"

"Don't you ever speak to me again," she repeated, hissing it. Before either of them could continue, Slughorn walked through the door. With her head held high and all the poise of a royal, she stood up with the others to greet their professor. Remus couldn't find it in himself, whiplashed, his feet glued to the floor, his limbs slack at his sides.

"Have a seat, please," Slughorn instructed them.

"Eva," Remus made a last attempt, twisting his torso and forcing her to look at him. She did not meet his gaze, instead flitting it everywhere else. "Eva, if you've got some sort of problem— whatever it may be, I'd appreciate it if you told me instead of this, this rubbish, or whatever it is." He leaned closer, his features downturned, his eyes dulling down. "And if you don't care about me, just bloody say it—I can take it, really, trust me."

He could see her breaths shallowing, but no plans of advancing any time soon.

Remus' hand fell with a thump to the table. He conceded, turned forward and diagonally so as not to look at her. He felt his heart thumping, his hand clenching into a fist as he closed his eyes and pressed it to his teeth. Lungs constricted, all the while dredging up history to try and find how it had led there, to that, to such ugliness.

When he finally turned around, Eva let her hand reach up and cover her breast bone. She felt a massive lump stuck in the back of her throat, having felt his breath in her ear, indignant, fire-breathing and everything but warming. Too soon, all of it had happened so fast. She stifled a yelp, her shoulders stiff as bricks, her eyes holding the polished doorknob.

None of it had been false. It had all been real, tangible.

She had thought that by convincing herself it was nothing, it would have created some sort of stability, but it had all been pretend. A ladder leaning against a building: seemingly secure, but there was an earthquake shaking the world at its core. Obsessed with gathering details, searching in the past to base her decisions off of when she had none. It was not a short story with a solemn boy who needed something other than death to believe in; it was not a power-hungry monster who needed her blood to rid himself of the pangs in his stomach. It was something that had made her dirty skin feel clean, that had forced her to rip off the mask that had begun to grow into her skin. Maniacally pinpointing how and everything she had felt since their first meeting, so much so that she had lost touch with herself. Layering one excuse on top of the other until the finish looked exactly how she wanted it to. Everything shifted into one person with such force that it had knocked her off her feet, and she had sat there pretending her knees weren't scraped. Paralyzed.

Her eyes, wide and wary, turned to look at the back of Remus' head, falling down and trailing over his bowed spine. She would lose him after that, there was no coming back from it. Even if he did forgive her, she could never turn her back and deny the total loss of self-respect in those five seconds. Never before had she felt something so powerful overcome her in such a way, overriding all of her controls. Like playing with the waves as a child, but the wave being too grand for the little bird, reaching up and pushing it underneath. It crashed on top of her, hands flailing about, trying to pull herself up, but not being able to because the current was winning. The current had won.

What have I done? she gasped internally, the hand across her breast bone rubbing into her skin as she averted her gaze from him.

"I'll be handing back the assignments from the holidays," Slughorn informed them. Eva lifted her chin, her face twisted with pain but forcing it to resemble something along the lines of normal. "Due to the rather startling amount of failing marks, we will go over the answers together. You will all have a chance to hand in a revised copy of your work. It will count as a second grade, hopefully helping your overall mark."

But she didn't need help with her overall mark, she needed help with understanding. Her lacking skills in comprehension had walked her hand-in-hand into a red-faced destiny of eternal mortification. Ugh, Eva, said something in her head, and she reckoned, for the first time, that it was her own conscious.