~Jen's POV~

"Why are we doing this in here?" Regulus asked me.

I looked around at the cold tile floor, the peeling paint on the walls, and the occasional puddles of water. Moaning Myrtle was, thankfully, absent. "Because no one ever comes in here."

"Most of the castle is empty," he pointed out. "We could have gone anywhere."

"Better safe than sorry," I said as I spread the ingredients out.

"Marauder saying?" he asked with a teasing smile.

I smiled back at him. "Something like that. Do you have the book?"

"I assumed that you'd have this potion memorized," he said as he took the book out of his bag.

"I do," I shrugged as I automatically opened the book to the correct page. "But you don't. Okay, read the instructions out loud."

He did as I'd asked him, his voice smooth and even.

"Now start," I told him. "And I'll correct you if you do something wrong."

He nodded and read over the first instruction again. "Okay, so I have to chop these into very small pieces."

I nodded. "Get to it."

He smiled at me. "Any chance that you'll help me?"

"Sorry," I said with a grin as I settled back against the wall with a book. "I'm just the instructor."

By the time that he had acceptably cut up the roots, I was done with the first chapter of my book. I read another chapter while he slowly mixed in the water and stirred counterclockwise, then clockwise, then counterclockwise again.

"I think this is where I messed up all of the times before," he told me and read the next instruction out loud. "I think I might have rushed it too much."

"Probably," I agreed. "Here, we'll do it together."

I helped him with that part of the potion and then I went back to my spot along the wall, letting him do the rest by himself.

He came and sat next to me, his back against the wall, our legs just barely brushing. "Now it has to simmer for an hour," he told me. "It should be ready by the time I want to go to bed."

I understood what he was doing.

He was giving me a way out because he thought that I was uncomfortable spending time with him.

I closed my book and put it in my bag before I looked back over at him. "Well, then maybe you'll actually be able to get some sleep tonight."

He appeared to be slightly surprised that I hadn't taken his offer out, but he quickly masked it with a small smile that looked a lot like Sirius'. "I hope so. It'll be nice to actually be glad to go to sleep."

"What do you dream about that's so horrible?" I didn't know if I was crossing the lines by asking, but my curious side made it too hard to keep the question inside.

He was looking straight ahead, right at the opposite wall. At first, I didn't think that he was going to answer me, but then, he did, in a voice so soft that I had to strain to hear him. "Different things. Sometimes, I dream that I'm trapped in a windowless room with all of these Slytherins and I keep asking for the door, but no one will let me out because they say that there's a job that I have to get done and that I can never leave. Sometimes, I sit back and watch horrible things happen and don't try to do anything to stop it or help them. Sometimes, I dream that Death Eaters come for me and I can't run fast enough or my wand won't work when I try to fight them."

He trailed off, but I got the point. He'd had a lot of horrible dreams. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "You don't need to be sorry. They're just dreams."

"The thing about dreams is: they can feel just like reality. It's like a simulation; you can't be hurt, but you don't know that at the time," I said sagely. "So the fear that you feel from a bad dream is a completely natural reaction. Perfectly reasonable."

He laughed and looked over at me. "I had no idea that Hogwarts offered Psychology."

"I teach it, actually," I told him with mock sincerity. "It's a special class, though; only special people can elect to take it."

"It sounds very interesting," he replied.

"I've always found psychology interesting," I said and then blushed. "I mean…"

"There's nothing wrong with that," he told me. "People are into different things. And psychology seems genuinely interesting. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I've just never told anyone that before," I admitted. "I mean, it's kind of weird for a witch to be into Muggle subjects."

"It's not just a Muggle subject," he disagreed. "We have brains, too. We have psychological reactions to things just like they do."

I smiled at him. "I'm so glad to hear you say that."

He sighed and rested his head against the wall, eyes closed. "What do you think dreams are all about, Dr. Jen?"

I thought for a moment before I replied. "Dreams are like a reflection of our inner desires. Some we know about and some we don't. And a lot of experts agree that objects or people in our dreams are like symbols for things that are going to happen in the future."

"I didn't ask what a lot of experts agree on," he told me. "I asked what you thought."

"I think that dreams are sometimes a reflection of inner desires," I repeated. "And that it's your brain's way of telling you what you want."

He opened his eyes and looked at me intensely, as if he would be having a quiz later on the exact color of my eyes or the small scar near my left temple. "And what is it that you dream about at night, Jennifer Potter?"

I had never liked the sound of my full name, but when he said it… It sounded okay. Better than okay, actually. It sounded as if he'd been saying my name for years and years; like he'd always wanted to say my name like that – with that much intensity.

"I…" I struggled over what to tell him. "I don't know. I don't remember a lot of my dreams."

"And why do you think that is?"

I shrugged. Never had I felt so pressured to give a right answer, even in the O.W.L.s. "Maybe because your subconscious knows that you aren't ready to process that information yet."

"Maybe," he mused with a small smile, much of the intensity gone, though I could still see some of it in his dark eyes. "You know, if the whole witch thing doesn't work out, you should pursue a future in psychology."

I laughed, relaxing. "I'll take that into consideration."

We fell into a comfortable silence and I thought about everything that he had said and everything that I had said in reply. James didn't even know that I was into psychology, but I had been pouring out all of my knowledge and fascination to Regulus like I'd known him for years. Why?

He was easy to talk to, yes, but I had a feeling that there was another reason. Something else was there that I couldn't quite get a grasp on and it was frustrating me. I was the type of person that needed to understand things. I needed to have control of everything that was going on in my life.

So why did I feel completely comfortable being with Regulus when it often felt like I was losing control of myself?

Why was it so easy for me to talk to him and be around him?

"Jen?" Regulus touched my arm and I wondered how long he had been trying to get my attention. "I think the potion's ready."

I stood up, blushing, and walked over to the cauldron. Sure enough, the potion was the exact color that it should be.

"Perfect," I proclaimed, looking at him with a smile. "I thought you said that you weren't very good at Potions?"

He smiled back at me. "I'm sure I wouldn't have done so well if I didn't have such a good instructor." He knelt down to grab the vials out of his bag. "I should have enough for two months, right?"

"Right," I agreed. "And you should take them about an hour before you plan to go to sleep."

He nodded and continued to scoop the potion into vials. "I might not need coffee anymore now."

"Or the energy potion," I added.

"Or that," he agreed.

Once he had finished ladling out all of the potion, I waved my wand to wash the cauldron and then he gathered it up into his arms. "Thanks for helping me, Jen."

"Anytime," I said, and the scary thing was that I meant it.

"I might take you up on that," he told me and then gestured for me to exit ahead of him.