"You'll have to go with a guard, but you can go," Moody said.

I nodded furiously, hiding my blotchy face from view.

"Who's going to go with me, do you suppose?" I asked.

"I'll do it," Kingsley said, turning to me. "I'm due to meet with the Muggle Prime Minister that afternoon, so I can escort you there, then we can part ways while you leave. If that's acceptable, Alastor."

"I think it'll have to do," he grumbled. "For what it's worth, Malfoy, I think I speak for everyone when I say I'm sorry for your loss."

I nodded again as he and Kingsley filed out of the kitchen. My brain and my mouth were so completely out of sync that I could barely speak, let alone think of anything to say. I was still sobbing on the floor of the apothecary when Fred, who'd come down the street to check on the shop, found me. He held me as tight as he could so he could take me back to headquarters via Side-Along Apparition without me struggling against him.

I was paralyzed in the first stage of grief still; denial that Jermaine - my first boyfriend, my best friend for seven years - was dead. Sure, we hadn't seen each other in nearly a year, but I still thought about him every day, still hoped that a day would come where I could tell him and Belle everything about where I'd been, what I was doing, and how far we'd all come since we stepped off the Hogwarts Express last summer. If only I knew that day was the last time I'd see him alive.

"Cass?" Fred asked in a half-whisper from the doorway. "I just talked to Kingsley as he was headed out the door…I'm going to come with you. To the funeral, that is. He said it was alright, and I know I didn't know Jermaine, but I really want to be there. If that's alright with you."

I bobbed my head up slightly, barely a nod, barely an acknowledgement. I didn't know what to say or how to say it, how to express my thanks that he would be there. All I could think about was another dead best friend. I wondered if this would be the new normal, living minute to minute and trying to not be the next one.

When I didn't turn around to face him, Fred merely walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around me tightly, pulling me into his chest the same as I did to him after his father's attack. It seemed to be the safest place in the whole world – maybe even the only safe place.

After another few minutes, I heard the front door open and shut once more, footsteps growing louder in my ears. The footsteps grew closer and closer, until I felt hands– Tonks's hands– wrapped tightly around my shoulders.

"I read it in the Prophet, and I know he was your friend," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Cass."

I nodded again, still unable to speak or think or anything to say. It seemed my entire body was in the denial stage, completely unwilling to accept what was real. Suddenly, more arms circled around me – this time Dan's - as he knelt at my side as he squeezed my hand slowly. I looked up at Fred through my fringe and saw him turn to Dan, his jaw clenched, but softening slowly as he gave my former boyfriend a thin, but grateful smile.

It was this that finally broke me. The love, the support, the silent rallying around me when I needed them most. I always prided myself on never needing or wanting to be saved, but it seemed that Tonks, Dan, and Fred always had a habit of saving me when I didn't realize I needed saving.

I didn't thank them. I didn't speak at all. I opened my mouth and only tears and anguished cries spilled out, my hands gripping Fred for dear life. I thought that if I didn't hold on, if I didn't latch myself to something steady, that I would drown in my own tears and be the next one to die.

"You look beautiful. Is that inappropriate for me to say, given the circumstances?"

"Probably," I muttered, tying my boots in the foyer. "For what it's worth, you look handsome yourself. For a funeral, that is."

He smirked slightly. Fred had greeted me at the bottom of the stairs clad in a black dragon-skin jacket that I had never seen before. I wore an old black velvet dress that fell nearly to my shins and my usual boots. I was to wear the Invisibility Cloak the entire time I was there ('The Puceys are purebloods with anti-You-Know-Who sentiments, so it doesn't matter if their boy was your friend,' Moody told me matter-of-factly. 'They won't want to see someone whose family is in league with the ones who killed him.'), but I still wanted to show some respect.

"You sure you don't want me to come?" Tonks asked. I shook my head.

"We won't be gone very long, I don't think," I replied. "Besides, it's not like I can stay and say hello or pay my respects."

"Alright, I've got the cloak," Kingsley announced, striding up to us. "Cass, are you ready?"

I jerked my head up lazily, a halfhearted 'yes.' I wasn't one hundred percent sure how I'd be when I got there. Outside of Cedric's memorial at the leaving feast last year and my grandfather Cygnus's funeral when I was fifteen, I didn't have too much experience going to funerals. For that, I should've counted myself lucky, but I just felt uneasy.

We apparated to the Pucey family home on the other side of London. Not unlike Grimmauld Place, it was in a Muggle neighborhood, red bricks and covered in ivy, so much ivy that it almost covered the front door. With Fred and I underneath the cloak and Kingsley walking ahead, we crossed the threshold in the opulent foyer of Jermaine's childhood home.

It was breathtaking, there was no denying that. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and black accent walls offsetting the stark whiteness of the rest of the house. The living room was all exposed brick and was filled with mourners, young and old alike. At the center of it all were Cyrus and Helene Pucey, Jermaine's parents.

Mr. Pucey was rail thin, and his stiff upper lip contrasted with his wife dabbing her dark brown eyes with the sleeve of her elegant lace dress. Next to her stood Jermaine's younger brother Adrien, who clearly took after his father in stature and in stoicism. In between them was a photograph of Jermaine at the Yule Ball, fussing with his dress robes and laughing at the camera. The longer I looked at it, the faster my legs turned to jelly, and the more it felt like the floor was going to give out under me. Looking at that photo made it so damn hard to accept that he was dead, gone. That we would never see him laugh like that again.

Behind me, Fred squeezed my hand tight. I squeezed back without turning around, wanting to survey the room. I recognized a few faces – Maria St. James, Beatrice Shipman, whose two different-colored eyes were filled with tears, and a few other Slytherins from our year. I recognized Mr. and Mrs. Diggory chatting with Mrs. Pucey. It made sense; Jermaine worked in the same department at the Ministry as Amos. I wondered how it felt for him, being at a funeral for a dead friend of his dead son. My heart panged with guilt and hurt for them.

Suddenly, a flash of coily black hair darted right before my eyes, making a beeline for Mr. and Mrs. Pucey and embracing them. When the figure turned around, I nearly lunged out from under the cloak.

"Isn't that-"

"Yeah, it is," I hissed, now on the verge of tears.

Sure enough, it was Annabelle.

I hadn't seen her since…well, since she, Jermaine and I said goodbye on the platform. Since she had been traveling, I was certain that she hadn't seen him since that day either. Before I could do anything, Mr. Pucey removed his wand from his coat and held it to his throat, ready to begin.

"Thank you all for being here this morning," he said gravely, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "I recognize quite a few of you from Jerm's photographs from school. It's so nice to see, tangibly, just how loved our son was."

We stood off to the side under the cloak, positioned just far enough away from the entry to the living room, but close enough that we could hear and see. Mr. Pucey began the eulogy, which was really just a series of stories tying together his son's playful nature, his ambition, and his desire to do good things for all creatures, human and non-human alike.

I listened as best I could, thinking about Jermaine would probably hate all the pomp and circumstance, saying something like 'you don't need to tell all these people how great I am, Dad. They go to school with me; they already know.'

The funeral last only an hour or so. His mother gave a brief eulogy, followed by a few more speeches and lunch that we could not eat. Kingsley stood in the entryway next to us and Fred didn't let go of my hand the entire time. My mind was elsewhere, though. Even though I couldn't duck out from under the cloak and risk being seen, I wasn't leaving here without talking to Annabelle.

When it was time to leave, Kingsley parted ways with us at the front of the house as planned. Still under the cloak, Fred and I started down the street, preparing to disapparate. Suddenly, I steered us toward an alley and pressed myself up against the wall, watching the rest of the guests file out of the gates to the Pucey's house.

"What in Merlin's name are you-"

"Oh hush," I hissed at Fred. "I'm not going anywhere until I at least talk to Belle."

"How, exactly, are you planning on doing that?" he asked. "I think I've got some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in case you want to slip out from under the cloak."

"No," I whispered. "I've got an idea. I just hope she walks this way."

He didn't protest. He stood completely still and waited with me as I watched the street intently. About a hundred feet ahead, I saw Annabelle walking in our direction, stuffing a handkerchief into her large black bag. It only took a few seconds for her to reach the alley. I didn't even stop to think when I lunged forward, grabbed her arm, and pulled her underneath the cloak with us.

She looked completely bewildered, but the surprise drained from her face in an instant when she saw me and Fred. I searched her eyes for any sort of emotion, but she was a hard, blank slate. I felt her wand jab me between the ribs, and I winced in pain.

"When did Cassiopeia Malfoy visit the Hogwarts kitchens for the first time?" she asked, her voice low and menacing. This was how the Order did things now; before anything, we'd ask one another questions that only the real person would know, to weed out impersonators or anyone who'd taken Polyjuice Potion to look like them. I couldn't blame her for following protocol.

"One day after the start of seventh year, after I broke up with Dan," I replied, equally as menacing. "With Annabelle Greengrass and Jermaine Pucey. What mark did Annabelle Greengrass receive on her Divination O.W.L?"

"I didn't take a Divination O.W.L.," she replied. She jerked her chin up at Fred. "When did Fred Weasley first kiss Cassiopeia Malfoy?"

"At the party after the first Triwizard Tournament task, to the tune of 'Stayin' Alive,'" he said, beaming behind me.

Annabelle lowered her wand slowly. Her eyes filled with tears when she realized it was really me, and mine did the same when I realized it was really her. Our arms reached up in unison and locked around each other in the tightest hug imaginable, each of us crying into the other's shoulder.

"For Merlin's sake, you're the one who talked me out of taking Divination!" she cried, laughing into my hair.

"Because I knew you'd hate it, and it was at the same time as Ancient Runes! I knew you couldn't miss that," I shot back, pulling away to wipe the tears away from my face. "Belle, I-"

"I know," she said, hastily drying her eyes. "I know. If anything, the only bloody good thing that came from today was that I got to see you two again, even if you did scare the living daylights out of me."

"In my defense, Greengrass, stealing you off the street and under the cloak in broad daylight wasn't actually my idea," Fred quipped, nudging my waist softly. She giggled, rolling her eyes at him.

"The last time I saw you, Fred Weasley, you two weren't even speaking," she chuckled. "I think he's rubbing off on you more and more now, Cass."

"For better or for worse," he muttered, squeezing my waist with one hand and making me bite back a laugh.

"Well, where are you headed?" Belle asked, bringing me back to reality. "I was going home, but-"

"I think we have some real catching up to do," I said, taking her hand and interlacing our fingers. "You haven't been to headquarters yet, have you?"

"So, this is where you came to after we got off the train?" Belle asked, taking in the cobwebs and crystal chandeliers of Grimmauld Place. "And you've lived here ever since?"

"That I have. Lived here with my cousin and old Professor Lupin," I explained. "We were happy. For a while."

"What happened?" she asked.

I shrugged. No use in lying to my best friend.

"My cousin died and Lupin left. Now it's just been me for a week or so. And anyone from the Order during meetings and such."

"And me," Fred interjected, leaning lazily on the loveseat in the parlor. "I'm practically part of the furniture now."

"Fred Weasley, that's exactly how I'd describe you," Belle replied. "Charlie told me that it's just him and Bill in the Order along with your parents, Fred. Do you and George have any plans to join up?"

"Not if Mum has anything to do with it," he said casually. "I get where she's coming from – she had two brothers who died in the last war – but George and I want to fight, as do my other siblings. Besides, I can't let Cassiopeia here have all the fun in battle."

"Try getting cursed within an inch of your life, Weasley, and then get back to me about fun," I drawled, intending for my comment to come off as a joke. In the last few weeks, I'd noticed myself getting better with the side effects of the Cruciatus Curse; the blackouts were fewer, the nausea less persistent, and my memory significantly less spotty than Mrs. Weasley said it would be. When I remembered the feeling of the white-hot needles piercing my brain, I only wished I could forget it all.

After a few minutes of idle chatter, Fred left headquarters, waving lazily to Belle and leaning down to press a kiss to my temple. I leaned into it, wishing he could stay with us. Stay with me.

After he left, I turned back to face Belle, who was now sitting in Fred's old spot. She picked at her nails nervously, and I searched my friend's face for a hint at what was bothering her.

"Charlie told me," Belle said quietly. "Said he got an owl from Fred's mum. Cass, I wanted to come straight away, but I couldn't. I needed to finish an assignment and I was about to leave for a short stint in Budapest, but then Jermaine…"

"Belle, it's really alright," I said. "I'm fine. Dan's fine, too. We escaped with our lives, which is certainly more than can be said for some."

She nodded, smiling remorsefully at me from across the room. I could tell she felt bad, but I was almost glad that she hadn't come, that no one had come. I was only glad that she was here now, that we were together and safe despite the circumstances.

"I wish I'd known I'd never see him again," she said wistfully. "That last day, the day we got off the train and all split off toward our new lives. I wish I'd know then that it was the very last time."

"I know," I said. "I wanted to tell you both so badly about what I was up to. Who I was with, what happened with Fred, all of it. This life of secrecy, for however safe it's kept me…it's robbed me of a whole bloody lot."

"You're certainly better than I am," she retorted. "I don't think I could stay cooped up here under orders from Dumbledore. It'd feel too much like school."

"Believe me, Belle, with all our former professors wandering in and out of the house for Order meetings every week, I very well could be back at Hogwarts," I said ruefully. "Right down to staring at Snape from across the room every week."

She shuddered, laughing at the memory of our Potions classes, she and Jermaine and Cedric and I all seated next to one another across the back of the classroom. Now that – that was a lifetime ago.

"Despite everything, I really am okay," I said. I was really trying to convince myself of it. "Things have changed, and people have left and…people have died. But I'm alright. After I moved in, my cousin really helped me deal with Cedric. Now, we can help each other."

She nodded, her curly hair dancing in front of her face. Even though we hadn't seen each other in over a year, it felt like no time had passed when we were together. It felt like we could pick up where we left off on Platform 9 ¾, when the world was wide and at our feet. How things had changed so much, and so little, never ceased to amaze me.

"I'm just glad to be here with you," she said. "I love you, Cass. You're my best friend, and even though I didn't think I'd be fighting in a war at the age of twenty- "

"I think the phrase was 'I'll be damned if I let the greatest dark wizard of all time anywhere near my best friend'?" I teased, harkening back to what Bill told me she had said about joining the Order.

She burst out laughing, playfully shoving my shoulder as she did.

"You know not everything's about you, Malfoy!" she teased.

"You're quite right, which is why you're not leaving here until you tell me everything about where the bloody hell you've been this last year!" I said, jumping up to pour us glasses of elf-made wine from the liquor cabinet.

And, with the ease and grace that comes with telling secrets and stories to your best friend, she did. And as she spoke, I could have sworn I heard Jermaine's laughter flitting through the rooms of the house, unending like the ties that that bound the three of us together for so many years.

Belle stuck around for nearly four hours. She told tales that stretched from Rome to Romania, from cracking open tombs with Bill Weasley for a few weeks before he left, to the beautiful witch who charmed her with gondola rides and gallery tours in Venice. She even retold the story of how she met Charlie Weasley in a pub in Romania; she commented on his dragon tattoo, he commented on her snake tattoo, and after a pitcher of ale and a few hours of talking, he convinced her to join the Order.

My eyes remained wide, and I had to pick my jaw up off the floor after each story she told. Belle really was off living a glamourous, adventurous life, and I couldn't help but be awed and a tiny bit jealous.

Before I could open up another bottle of wine for us, the front door of the house opened and slammed shut, light footsteps turning down the hall and toward the drawing room. Belle and I shot to our feet, wands drawn, but lowered them immediately when we saw who had joined us.

"Do forgive me for giving you both such a shock," Dumbledore said. "I didn't expect you would have company, Miss Malfoy."

"Oh, er, that's alright Professor," Belle said quickly. "I was just leaving. I'll see you both soon, I suppose?"

He nodded approvingly at Belle, smiling down at her from behind his half-moon glasses as she hugged me goodbye. My face remained hard and blank, waiting for him to say what he came here to say. After Sirius's death and my attack, he hadn't said a single word to me. About any of it. Not that I would have wanted to hear it…but it would have still been nice.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Professor?" I asked after the front door opened and shut once more, signaling that we were alone now. He smiled down at me, his eyes twinkling relentlessly. It made me want to scream.

"Miss Malfoy, I've been asked by…certain members of the Order to give you a…how should I put this – a change of scenery. We'll leave whenever you're ready, but we need to make a few stops along the way."

"What sort of stops? And where am I going?" I snapped. "If you think you're going to shut me up in another remote location, Professor, I'll have you know that shutting people away from the world only leads to…not good things."

He chuckled slightly, as if he were telling a joke I didn't understand. That made me want to scream even more.

"Fear not, you won't be shut away. It is, really, more like a vacation from your current living situation. Besides, Molly and Arthur were insistent upon seeing you, and while I know you perhaps do not care to see me, I know you care a great deal about seeing them."

"Molly and Arthur?" I asked, cocking my head. "Fred would have told me if his parents were inviting me over-"

"The invitation just came not long ago. Mister Weasley is probably still hard at work in Diagon Alley, which means your presence will be a welcome surprise to him. Now, I really must insist we go. I was serious about making two very important stops along the way."

I blinked, then nodded rapidly. If Mr. and Mrs. Weasley invited me over, I was in no place to object. I missed them; missed Molly's hugs and Arthur's music, being with Fred and his whole family. It also dawned on me that I had never been to their house before. That alone made my stomach turn with nerves.

"Right then, I'll go get my things," I said, attempting to push past Dumbledore, who held up his hand to stop me. At his feet sat my bag, my jumper, and my leather jacket. I grabbed them off the floor, then hurried out the door to where Dumbledore now stood on the sidewalk. His silvery robes were bathed in moonlight, and when he held out his arm for me to hold, I noticed his fingers were blackened and tinged with green, and clearly injured beyond repair.

"Professor, what-"

"Nothing to trouble yourself with, Miss Malfoy," he said calmly, still holding out his arm. "I'm quite alright. Now, we best be going if we're to make it to Surrey before sundown."

"Surrey? Isn't that where Harry-"

I didn't get a chance to finish before Dumbledore pivoted, pulling us through the air and toward whatever awaited us beyond the front gates of Grimmauld Place.