I finally felt into a fitful sleep sometime past four in the morning, kept awake by my pounding heart and chattering teeth.

Every time I tried to close my eyes I saw Regulus' eerie face looming in the darkness behind my eyelids or felt Avery's spindly fingers on my arm that wouldn't go away no matter how many times I blindly groped my pillow to make sure no one was actually there.

I knew the right thing to do was tell someone what I saw. I should have gone straight to McGonagall, to Dumbledore even, and alerted them of my suspicions; whatever the Slytherins were doing, it was awful enough to invoke fear in their hearts when they believed me to be spying. I had no definite proof, but I could lead them back to the room, instigate an ambush where perhaps someone older and considerably more powerful than me could squeeze out the truth and put a stop to the creepily secretive meetings.

The problem was that they'd know it was me. Even if Dumbledore or McGonagall or whoever promised to keep mum on the subject of who'd told – perhaps say it was an anonymous tip – the Slytherins weren't stupid. The House itself was known for its shrewdness; they'd trace it back to me immediately and made sure I paid.

If my suspicions of what they were up to were correct, they wouldn't be at school for long; I reckoned they'd take care of me before they left, and, with an expulsion already impending, they wouldn't worry themselves with the consequences.

The idea of ending up like Mary had that one night was frightening enough, and I was sure my fate would be even worse.

Going to a teacher was out of the question.

I couldn't tell Lily or Remus – not only because I'd have to come up with a reasonable excuse for roaming around the corridors after hours, which was hard enough in itself, but because their do-good nature and prefect status wouldn't allow them to keep the information away from authoritative figures.

Peter and Scarlett - love them as I did - were both a bit airheaded; I didn't see them as being much of a help. Isabelle was still harboring bitter feelings towards me – she'd said she was still convincing herself not to hate me – so I didn't think she was the best option for ultra-secret confiding. All three of them raised the issue of having to explain myself as well.

Mary had gone through enough with the Slytherins; mere mention of them was enough to put a scowl on her face and send a shiver down her spine. She still mysteriously disappeared every time we were walking down the corridor and they happened to be coming our way. It would be awful of me to rope her into another potentially dangerous situation with the same people.

That left James and Sirius.

Quite probably the two biggest troublemakers Hogwarts had ever seen. Both very hotheaded, protective, and eager to prove their fearlessness. If I even tried to sit them down and tell them what I'd seen, they'd be on their feet within seconds and determined to fight. The chances of either of them staying calm, especially Sirius, were slim to none. They'd create a bigger problem – and a bigger chance of negative consequences – than already existed.

No matter which way my mind turned, I couldn't seem to stumble upon any situation other than keeping the problem to myself.

The idea of putting my friends in danger, leaving them prey to the Slytherins' vengeful actions, caused my stomach to churn anyway – perhaps staying the only possible victim was best for everyone.

My only two options were being noble – being a true Gryffindor, the Tough Charlotte I'd convinced Sirius I had become – and doing something, anything to fix the situation. I'd have to do some more spying, get myself closer to Snape, perhaps convince the Slytherins I really was interested in joining what they were doing like they'd first suspected.

Or, I could do nothing and pretend I hadn't seen anything – be the Weak Charlotte I knew I still was deep down, the girl who sometimes sat and pondered how exactly she'd ended up in the House of the brave.

I didn't know which one was worse.

Once I'd finally dozed off, after a whole night of imagining everything that could go wrong – punctured occasionally by painful jabs of anxiety at the fact that the Marauders were still outside somewhere – I only got three short hours of blissful sleep before I was awakened by a pair of hands on my shoulders.

"I don' wanna," I whined into my pillow, ignoring the fact that I was being incessantly shaken, "Stop it,"

"Shh, you'll wake up the others," a masculine voice, quite a contrast to the girly tones I had been expecting, whispered.

My eyes snapped open and I sat straight up, holding my sheets up to my chin and opening my mouth to scream, but I didn't get a chance before a pudgy hand clasped over my mouth and Peter's wide-eyed and frantic face popped up in front of me, a finger held over his lips.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed when he dropped his hand, glancing at the clock on my bedside table, "It's barely seven!"

"You're wanted in the hospital wing," he said quietly, casting nervous glances around the dark room, presumably scared one of the other girls would pop up and see him on my bed.

Come to think of it, the idea positively terrified me as well.

"Hospital wing?" I repeated, my sleep-muddled brain confused by his words, "Why…OH!" I exclaimed when images of full moons and werewolves finally began to swim in my mind, and I scrambled out of bed hastily, practically knocking poor Peter over in the process.

"Quiet," he said nervously, trying desperately hard not to stare at my painfully short nightdress as I scurried around, picking clothes up off the floor and shimmying into them as quickly as I could. Sacrificing the pair of socks I was having extreme difficulty finding, I slipped my bare feet into the first pair of shoes I grabbed and pulled my jeans on under my pajamas, deciding my robes would cover up my unfortunate appearance decently at best.

"Let's go," I whispered after I'd grabbed my wand off of my nightstand, and Peter looked up from the cuff of his sweater, which he had apparently found extremely interesting, took one glance at me and burst into nervous giggles, "What's so funny?"

"It looks as if a niffler's been through your hair," he grinned, and I turned around to stare into the nearest mirror, trying to see as best I could in the darkness. Indeed, my hair was sticking out in every direction as if a bird had decided to nest on my head. With a groan, I tried to smooth it down as best I could, but gave up after several unsuccessful attempts.

"There's no time for this," I shook my head with a huff, "Let's go,"

Peter's smile disappeared and turned into an uncharacteristically solemn expression, and he gave me a grim nod before taking one more covert glance around the room and heading towards the doorway, pulling it open quietly and without a squeak. He waited until I passed through before closing it behind him, then followed closely as I bounded down the stairs into the empty common room and stepped through the portrait hole.

The Fat Lady's grumbles of being woken up so early in the morning grew softer as Peter and I treaded through the corridors, silent but for the sound of our feet tapping against the cold stone floor. Several of the portraits we passed chortled at my disheveled appearance; they awarded a red-faced Peter with impressed looks as if he had been the facilitator of my bedhead, a concept which almost caused the previous day's dinner to come tumbling back out of my mouth.

I subconsciously patted my hair down as we walked, my self-esteem bruised by the portraits' rudeness, whilst I mentally prepared myself for whatever condition I'd find Remus in this time. I'd never forget the image of his pale face lying against the crisp white hospital sheets, the scarlet staining on the bandages wrapped around his chest.

It was horrifying seeing a friend in such dire conditions; it was even scarier knowing he'd done it to himself.

They'd actually sent Peter to fetch me, which only pointed towards a particularly nasty injury they thought I should see sooner rather than later. I almost expected to walk into the room to see Remus missing a finger or something of the sort; I couldn't seem to think of any other reason why my presence would be so important.

The farther we walked, the more frightful I became. I didn't even want to ask Peter, as I was too scared of the answer. When I walked into the room, I'd see whatever it was to see with my own two eyes and there would be no escaping it. For now, ignorance was bliss.

We finally reached the large door leading to the hospital wing; it was propped open as if awaiting our arrival. I allowed Peter to step in front of me and push it open. He disappeared through the crack without a backwards glance at me, clearly desperate to be back with his friends - whether to comfort Remus or so that he wouldn't have to be awkwardly alone with me, I didn't know.

I took a deep and shaky breath before stepping into the room as well, keeping my eyes closed until I had rounded the corner.

When I allowed myself to open them again, I was met with the sight I'd expected. A body on a hospital cot and three boys surrounding it: one perched at the foot and two leaning forward in chairs on either side of the head. James occupied one of the chairs and Peter was at the end; I looked past his head, as he was blocking the view, and took another breath to ready myself for whatever gruesome sight I was about to endure.

My eyes landed first on Remus, looking exhausted but perfectly healthy at his spot in the second chair. My lips parted and eyebrows furrowed in confusion, my still-not-entirely-awake mind not quite making the connection, before I let my gaze drop to the bed.

"Oh," I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.

With no control of what I was doing or where I was going, my feet started to move and I was at his side within a fraction of a second. I lowered myself onto the side of the bed gently, one hand still on my lips and the other resting beside his head.

Sirius looked awful; though Madam Pomfrey had clearly already stepped in, his right eye was still a nasty tint of black and purple, his lips were noticeably cracked and swollen, and there was a small gash across his exposed chest. It was a jagged cut, zigzagging just above the left side of his abdomen, and small drops of blood were still seeping through the healing skin. I felt panicky tears prickle my eyes just looking at him, but, despite his sickening appearance, his signature crooked smile still spread over his face when he opened his eyes and saw me.

"Hey," he said hoarsely, his eyes – even the injured one – twinkling mischievously, "How badass do I look right now?"

"You're so not funny," I choked out, restraining myself from batting him on the arm, but a desperate chuckle escaped my lips when I heard James let out a short laugh behind me. Peter giggled nervously again, looking around at all of us as if he wasn't sure what to do. Only Remus looked positively nauseous, peering down at Sirius through pained eyes.

"You're really not," he agreed, his voice wavering. He sounded as if he was about to burst into tears, and I looked up at him, my expression softening at the obvious remorse painted on his features.

"Moony," Sirius smiled, looking up at Remus affectionately, "Hey, mate, don't cry over me. I'll be back to my beautiful self in no time,"

"Stop making jokes-"

"He thinks I'm joking," Sirius exclaimed.

"Stop," Remus pressed firmly, and Sirius shut his mouth, looking sheepish.

"What happened?" I asked, taking advantage of the sudden tense silence. Remus glanced at me before looking back down at his hands, clearly unable to relay the happenings that had put his best mate in a hospital bed. James cleared his throat uncomfortably, and I looked at him. He peered back at me with sad eyes which then flickered between Remus and Sirius for a few seconds before he spoke.

"Remus got a little out of control," he began hesitantly, pausing when Remus shifted in his seat, "Sirius tried to calm him down and…well…he got a bit more banged up than usual,"

"Usually we can fix things ourselves," Peter spoke up, "Small scratches and such,"

"This cut was just a little too deep," Sirius nodded, "Just barely, really,"

"Shouldn't Madam Pomfrey have been able to make it go away?" I asked, glancing reluctantly back down at the gash, where the miniscule droplets had turned into sizeable puddles. As if on cue, the nurse came bustling in. She stopped short for a second when she saw me, her eyes widening with surprise momentarily, but she shook her head and kept walking, shooing us all out of the way.

We all stepped backwards, waiting impatiently while she cleaned the cut and, "tsk"ing to herself, Summoned a clean set of bandages, applying them meticulously. I wrung my hands at my waist, James tapped his foot against the floor, and Peter picked at a stray thread in his sweater; only Remus stood perfectly still, looking at Sirius as if he believed that by staring hard enough he could make the whole situation go away.

When Madam Pomfrey finally finished doting on Sirius, she warned us that we could only stay for a few more minutes before we had to go start getting ready for class and leave Sirius to rest. We nodded obediently- save Remus, who was still motionless as she spoke - but all went back to our original positions beside our friend as soon as her office door was shut again.

"So why can't she fix it?" I asked again. To my surprise, Remus looked up at me, his jaw clenched.

"Werewolf cuts leave permanent scars," he said bitterly, "He'll have that forever,"

"I'm not complaining," Sirius smirked, "Girls love scars,"

"This isn't a joke, Sirius," Remus snapped.

"I…I'm just trying to lighten the mood," Sirius responded, flinching under Remus' glare.

"You don't even understand how sorry I am," Remus sighed, his angry expression disappearing suddenly and one of deep sorrow taking its place.

"It's not your fault, mate," Sirius said softly.

"You can't control it," James agreed, his voice atypically quiet.

"I know, and I hate it," Remus lamented, "Every time I see that…that thing…" he cut off, burying his face in his hands.

"Well, hopefully you won't be looking at me shirtless very often," Sirius responded, stupidly resolving to his jokes though he'd already been reprimanded numerous times. I could see the panic his eyes; he didn't know what else to do, "Unless there's something you need to tell me,"

Remus started to shake, and Sirius' eyes widened.

"Oh, bollocks, Remus, I'm sorry," he apologized frantically, patting his friend on the shoulder as best as he could. When Remus lifted his head, however, he wasn't crying as we all expected, but laughing – a bit desperately, with a couple tears mixed in, but still laughing. A relieved smile cracked across Sirius' face, and he started to laugh as well, looking around at us all like a proud child showing off what he'd done. Soon we were all chortling through our fingers, looking over at the door to Madam Pomfrey's office and expecting her to come bursting through it to tell us off.

"Can you go two seconds without making some dimwitted crack?" Remus finally shook his head.

"It's in my nature, mate," Sirius shrugged.

"Hang on," I said suddenly, a pressing question popping into my mind, "If Madam Pomfrey doesn't know about you three, how did you explain this?"

"Ah," James nodded slowly, "Right. Well. We told her that I decided to trip him in the dormitory and he ended up hurting himself on the corner of the dresser going down,"

"And she believed you?" I asked incredulously.

"Of course not," Sirius smiled.

"You should have seen her face!" Peter giggled nervously.

"But- I…I don't understand," I stammered.

"This isn't the first time something like this has happened," Remus admitted, looking pained, "I reckon she's had to have made the connection by now,"

"We decided there must be some student-nurse confidentiality agreement or something along those lines," James whispered, "She still hasn't asked a single question,"

"Or maybe she just knows you're only being good friends," I offered.

"Or," Sirius yawned, "She's just daft,"

I restrained myself from batting him on the arm again, and he caught my eye, grinning.

"That's the second time you've done that," he chuckled, "I can take it, you know,"

Ignoring him, and the sudden burning sensation in my cheeks, I shook my head. I tore my eyes away from his uncovered arms and looked around at the other three boys, all of whom were looking down at Sirius with pensive and warmhearted expressions, just like the ones they'd worn when it was Remus in Sirius' position.

"Merlin," I breathed, "When Peter came for me I'd just thought you'd refused to leave Remus' side or something. I wasn't expecting this,"

"Gave you a bit of a fright there, didn't I, love?" Sirius winked, and I shifted uncomfortably, looking back around at the other three, all of whom had suddenly found the floor tiles beneath their feet fascinating.

"Don't flatter yourself," I said quietly, letting a traitorous smile slip through my falsely solemn posterior.

"I am flattered that you clearly fretted over your appearance before you came here," he said with false sincerity, "That hairstyle really suits you,"

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes, my hand immediately flying to my head, and he surveyed my face, beaming.

"Can you answer something for me honestly?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"S-sure," I stuttered, his voice and the fact that we were still surrounded by his three best friends making me extremely nervous to hear what he had to say. I subconsciously gripped the material of my robe, eagerly staring at his lips and waiting for him to speak again.

"Does-" he began, and the laugh he was very obviously trying to hold in caused me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion, "Does this scar make me look sexy?"

"WONDERFUL," James cried as he jumped out of his chair, snapping my erratically beating heart back to reality, "Shall we just leave then?"

"No, no-" I started to say, but Sirius interrupted me.

"I think that would be best," he cocked an eyebrow, glancing back over at me, "I bet Charlotte's dying to snog my bleeding lips,"

I let out an indignant noise, unsure what to say or do, and practically knocked Remus over the head when he relinquished his distressed expression so he could give me one of his notoriously knowing smiles.

"We really should be off," he pointed off, "Madam Pomfrey's going to tell us off any moment now anyway,"

"Right," Sirius nodded, suddenly looking much more stoic, "I actually do need a word with Charlotte, though,"

"Hey," Remus said quietly as he stood up, "Get better, alright?"

"I'll try my best, Moony," Sirius smiled, "I'll be out of here by lunchtime,"

Remus gave him one more nod and shot me a quick smirk – though it was annoying I couldn't help but smile back, relieved that he wasn't feeling as guilty anymore - before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. James rounded the corner of the bed, pulling confused and clueless Peter up by the collar, and followed Remus – but not before awarding us with a prizewinning and satisfied smile.

They were being so obvious – clearly true believers in the rumors swimming around the school – and I briefly fantasized about sinking down through the floor and disappearing forever.

"The tables have turned, haven't they?" Sirius asked after a drawn out and excruciating silence in which I tried my hardest to look anywhere but him. I was forced to finally bring my eyes back to his face; his eye and lips were healing quickly, turning less purple and swollen by the second, and he was eyeing me curiously.

"Sorry?" I blinked, struggling to keep my gaze from slipping to his chest.

"Last time we were here, you were the one in the bed," he smiled.

"Oh," I said stupidly, "Right,"

"One thing's stayed the same, though,"

"Hm?"

"Ending up in here," he said, suddenly sadly, and gestured around the room, "was my fault,"

"How was this your fault?" I asked with a shake of my head.

"I wasn't supposed to step in," he sighed, "When he starts getting out of hand, we usually hold back and let him calm himself down.

"It's difficult though, to watch him tear himself apart and not do anything about it. I couldn't stand it anymore. I thought I could just get him to stop, distract him from himself. But he came after me instead,"

"You were just being a good friend," I said quietly, and he gave me a sad smile.

"I was being thick,"

"Same thing," I shrugged, and he stared at me for a few beats before chuckling and settling back against his pillow, stretching his arms over his head and letting out a yawn.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" I asked, averting my eyes but still feeling a bit flustered. He leaned forwards, edging himself closer to me.

"How'd it go?" he asked in a whisper, "Last night?"

"What?" I breathed, distracted by his proximity.

"Peeves?" he pressed.

"Peeves!" I repeated, "Right! It went well. I did everything you told me,"

"You didn't have any trouble finding the room?"

"Nope,"

"Peeves didn't harass you or anything?"

"Nu uh,"

"You asked him if he was still going to do what he asked before you gave him the bombs?"

"Yes,"

"You made it back to the common room without getting caught?"

"Yup,"

"Everything went off without a hitch?"

I paused, scanning his hopeful face. Even though the skin around his eye was now barely purple and his lips were almost back to their normal size, he was still uncharacteristically pallid – a slightly green tint was visible in his cheeks – and he was unsuccessfully hiding his pain – I could see it in his pursed mouth and narrowed eyes.

He'd endured enough pain that night, and – judging by the fact that he couldn't even stop himself from confronting a werewolf just to help his friend – I highly doubted he'd hesitate before attacking the Slytherins. They'd surely retaliate, and his healing body would have even more injuries to take care of.

"Everything went off without a hitch," I finally repeated with a strained smile, and, evidently not noticing the fakeness in my tone, Sirius grinned back.

"Thank Merlin," he exclaimed, "I was worrying about you all night,"

"I was worrying about you too," I responded softly, then quickly hopped to my feet, hiding my guilty expression, "I should probably go put some real clothes on before class starts,"

"I like this look. I have a feeling nightgowns over jeans will be the new trend," Sirius laughed, and I self-consciously pulled my robes tighter around myself, "You should just ditch class and stay here with me,"

"I highly doubt Madam Pomfrey would allow that," I shook my head, though his offer was tempting.

"It wouldn't be the first time you've defied authority," he shrugged.

"I'm not as rebellious as you think I am," I told him with a laugh, and turned to leave, "Feel better, Sirius,"

I took two steps in the direction of the door, but Sirius reached out and grabbed my hand, wrapping my fingers in his and stopping me in my tracks. I looked around at him; he stared down at our intertwined hands then back up at me, his face pinched as if he was struggling to say something.

"Lottie-" he began, but the sound of a door opening made him pause, and we both turned our heads to look in the direction of Madam Pomfrey's office.

"What are you still doing here?" the nurse scolded me – no sympathy for the fact that Sirius Black was holding my hand – and I immediately pulled my fingers out of his, taking a step back as she rushed closer to the bed.

She pushed past me and leaned over him, ignoring his protests, and, defeated, I turned towards the door. Reluctantly stepping out into the hallway, I barely heard Sirius raise his voice over the nurse's and call out to me:

"See you at lunch!"

Sure enough, I didn't see him again until the rest of our friends and I were crowded around the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, indulging ourselves - me especially, since I'd had to run upstairs to take a shower and get properly dressed and only had time for a single strip of bacon at breakfast as to not be late for Herbology – and discussing the Charms exam we'd just taken.

James was complaining about how Peter's Cushioning Charm hadn't worked and he'd ended up falling on his arse on the stone floor; Peter looked both abashed and delighted, and everyone else was laughing at how James was wincing every time he shifted his position on the bench.

Everyone was too distracted to notice Sirius walk in, but at one point James leaned back and Sirius was just there, sitting beside him with an angry expression on his face and chewing his chicken so murderously it was as if the bird had done something awful to him when it was alive.

"Padfoot!" James exclaimed when he finally noticed his best mate right next to him, "Good as new?"

"Just splendid," Sirius grumbled through a mouthful of potato.

"What's got your wand in a twist?" Lily asked, as Remus peered at Sirius with a look of intense concern. He'd lowered his fork and appeared as if he no longer had any interest in eating; I felt awful for him and the guilt he was obviously still plagued with.

"Have you seen me?" Sirius whined, "I look awful,"

Remus let out an incredulous – and relieved – laugh, accompanied by the rest of us. Sirius glared at all of us in turn, scowling into his goblet.

"Finally got to a mirror, did you?" Peter chortled.

"You think this is bad, mate?" James grinned, "You should have seen yourself earlier,"

James was right: Sirius was looking even better than when I'd last seen him. His lower lip was only slightly puffed and his eye looked sensitive, but the purple sheen was only visible under a certain angle of light; the fact that clothes were now covering the gash on his chest only enhanced his look, something I'd never thought I'd be able to say.

Clearly he was dissatisfied with his appearance however, as he was examining himself in a spoon and pouting.

"What happened to looking badass?" I giggled, and he shot me a look of despair.

"I don't," he lamented, "I look like I got in a fight with a flobberworm,"

"You got in a fight with a dresser, which I reckon is even less scary," Lily pointed out, and Sirius looked confused for a fraction of a second before the realization dawned on him and he frowned again.

"Please tell me you didn't spread that around," he asked warily, but groaned when James smirked.

"Wish I could, mate," he taunted, "But I'd wager the whole school knows by now,"

"Gossip spreads like wildfire around here, doesn't it?" I muttered bitterly, and Sirius looked up, but was interrupted from whatever he was about to say when three Hufflepuff girls – youngers ones I didn't know by name - came up behind him, one of them placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Can I help you?" he asked, clearly confused.

"We've heard about what happened," the one in front said sweetly, not lifting her hand.

"We thought we'd come ask if you were alright," a black-haired girl behind her piped up, her eyes wide.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" the third girl asked coquettishly, twirling the end of her braid around her finger. Sirius' eyes lit up and any indication of his previous worries disappeared, replaced by a coy smile.

"Well-" he began to answer, drawing out the "e" and clearly enjoying himself, but James interrupted with a loud clearing of his throat.

"I've got a nasty bruise on my leg from bumping into the couch in the common room," he offered, waggling his eyebrows. Lily choked on her peas beside me.

The three girls turned to look at him, eyeing him angrily. The first girl finally took her hand off of Sirius – I could finally relax my grip on my fork, which I hadn't even realized I was holding like a dagger – and crossed her arms over her chest.

"We heard you were the one that tripped him," she accused, and James' satisfied smirk turned into an uncomfortable grimace. He turned back around, placing his chin on his hand with a look that said Bloody hell, what have I done? Sirius caught his eye and winked, wearing a grin so wide it was a wonder his lips didn't crack in half.

"That's hardly fair," Lily spoke up, trying to sound nonchalant, "It was an accident,"

James looked up incredulously, and Lily offered him a small smile. His eyes widened, and he sat up, puffed out his chest and looked extremely pleased with himself. Lily rolled her eyes and shook her head, but James, clearly satisfied just with what he'd gotten, turned to Remus with a smile even wider than Sirius'.

Feeling a pair of eyes on me and desperate for a distraction from Sirius' admirers, I glanced across the room to see Snape at the Slytherin table, watching me with an unreadable look. As soon as my gaze met his, he dropped his head. I frowned, but when he looked back up and gave a barely noticeable tilt of his chin, my mind clicked into place and I fumbled with my pocket, hoping I'd put on the right robes.

My fingers brushed against a folded up piece of paper and I pulled it out, hiding it in my fist. I'd been outraged at Snape the night before, angered that he'd have the nerve to ask me for a favor after the way he and his friends had treated me, but I still needed him to keep the secret of the mirrored room to himself.

Besides, I couldn't deny that part of my heart wilted with pity for the boy.

I turned to Lily, who was watching the Hufflepuffs fawn over Sirius with a kind of fascinating revulsion. When I tapped her on the shoulder, she snapped out of her reverie and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"What's up, Charlotte?" she asked, and I glanced around to make sure no one at the table was looking – luckily, they were all watching Sirius, who really had to get off his high hippogriff before I "accidentally" kicked him in the shin – before slipping the note into her hand.

She looked at it, confused, before unraveling it and skimming over its contents. Her expression shifted, growing first solemn, then sad, then angry. She looked at me accusatorily, clearly miffed.

"Before you get angry-" I begged.

"Too late," she whispered, "Did he just saunter up to you in the corridor and tell you to give this to me?"

"No," I said quickly, "I owed him a…a favor,"

"For what?" she asked incredulously.

"I…Sirius showed me a room that he discovered, and we've been tutoring in there," I explained, trying to keep as much truth in my description as I could without blowing any secrets, "The thing is, the room is a secret. Only he and the other three know about it.

"I was studying in there alone, for some peace and quiet. Snape was walking by when I walked out. He promised not to tell anyone about the room, if…if I gave this to you," I finished, slightly out of breath from my rushed explanation.

"And you agreed why?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

"He really cares about you, Lily," I shook my head, "And you used to care about him, too. I know it pains you that you aren't friends anymore. I just want you to be happy," I trailed off at the end, my voice barely above a whisper. Her expression softened, and she sighed.

"I appreciate that. But it's not about the…the Mudblood thing anymore," she said, pained, "His friends are sick, Charlotte. I don't want to be involved in that,"

Don't I know it, I thought bitterly to myself.

"You kept your promise, but that doesn't mean I have to do anything about it," Lily stated firmly, then crumpled the note into a ball and placed it on her palm. Before I had a chance to ask her what she was doing, she had her wand out and pointed at the paper sphere; within seconds, it was up in flames.

I don't know if it was because I had to skim my gaze over the girls doting on Sirius, who seemed to have multiplied while I was talking to Lily, or just because the compassion I felt for Snape's situation was stronger than I thought, but I felt awful when I glanced back at the Slytherin table and saw his devastated expression, watching his letter wither away into ash.

It just about broke my heart.

A/N: Officially the longest chapter I've ever written, wow.

Today was supposed to be my first day back from winter break but school was cancelled because it's like -50 degrees outside. My first thought was, Yay! More time to write!

So that's what I did. :)