I make my way through the crowd, finally finding the others tucked away in a corner at the back, huddled around a small, circular table. They're all in deep conversation, taking turns muttering darkly to each other. Small glasses of neon green liquid rest on the table but nobody drinks. A fresh wave of nerves sweeps through my abdomen — it feels like I'm intruding on some private matter.

As if to deliberately exacerbate this feeling, they fall silent as I approach closer. Draco lifts his head first. When he stares at me, there's loathing on his face once more. Gone is any semblance of kindness he showed me today. Even his face is more taut, his hair more neatly slicked back. I look away from him, before I get too angry.

"Astoria," Pansy greets me, her voice too high and friendly. "We were going to ask you to join us, but I assumed you'd be getting some rest."

"First day's a killer, huh?" Theo winks, knocking back his glass of liquid. He stands, heading to the bar to get a refill. "You want one?"

I frown. "What is that stuff?"

"Absinthe," Zabini says.

I let out a nervous laugh. "I thought that only existed in, like, old horror movies." I'm met only with blank stares. "No," I tell Theo. "Thank you."

Zabini pulls up an extra chair and I sit, wedged between him and Pansy. I feel sets of eyes on us, the elusive Slytherins tucked away in the back of a bar. Perhaps I imagine the mentions of Vincent Crabbe.

"Pansy, have you decided where you're going for Christmas break?" Goyle asks.

"My parents are doing Aspen. Like every year," she rolls her eyes. "I'm sick of skiing for Christmas."

"It's a tough life," I mutter.

Theo chuckles, returning with a new round of drinks for everyone, even me. He places the glass in front of me.

"She said she doesn't drink," Draco says.

"Fine. I'll finish it if Astoria doesn't want it," Theo shrugs.

Draco doesn't speak again as the others launch into a discussion around winter vacation destinations, comparing big-time classics like Aspen to newer, lesser known locations, like the mountains of northern Italy. I can see that something's wrong. It's not unusual for him to be in a bad mood, at least in my experience, but there's usually a bit of snark, a trace of humour to him. Tonight he just seems… blank. Empty. As though hearing my thoughts, his eyes snap up quickly to meet my own. He raises an eyebrow and I blush, realising I've been caught staring.

Pucey lets out a low hiss. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Pansy turns, sighs. "Looks like the fun's over, kids."

I crane my neck, trying to see who they could be talking about. The only man I see enter is old, with a long, white beard and maroon clothes, his face vaguely familiar.

"Who is it?" I ask.

"Dumbledore," Zabini mutters. "President."

I realise where I've seen him — the brochures. But his pictures must have been slightly retouched, as I don't recall the bend in his nose, or the withered look about his face. Regardless, he seems perfectly pleasant, if only from a distance, as he approaches the bar and orders a chianti.

"He seems fine to me," I say.

Draco lets out a sardonic laugh. "Fine? Just ask anyone who's actually met him. My family can't stand Dumbledore."

"Your family seem to love every other professor here," I remark. "Why is Dumbledore different? Can he not be bought with gold?"

Draco slams his glass down on the table, cheeks turning pink. "You watch your tongue," he warns.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asks.

"With me? What's wrong with you?" I hide my trembling hands beneath the table. "Your mood swings are unlike anything I've ever known. I mean, after class today, for you to-"

"Class?" he repeats blankly.

I glance around at the others, trying to figure out what's going on. But nobody will meet my gaze. My own eyes narrow in suspicion. Draco quickly recovers, leaning back in his seat, rolling his eyes.

"We're all under a lot of strain, Astoria. Okay? Give it a few more weeks, and you'll understand."

"It takes a while for your body to adapt," Zabini adds. "You're doing longer days, and then often longer nights to offset it."

"Whatever." My own tiredness finally hits me like a freight train. "I'm going to get some sleep. Goodnight."

I can't be bothered dealing with any more of this. Not today. I can't afford to get tangled up in all this nonsense. I'm here for one thing only: to learn. To graduate with all the power I can get, and carve a decent life for myself. Away from the influence of my parents, my sister, the small town I grew up in. I can't let the weird vibe of the Seven distract me. And I need to stay grounded, I realise. Lies or no lies, if I lose contact with my friends outside of the Seven, things could turn really dark, really fast. As sleep deprived as I am, I begin to wonder if I've made the whole thing up in my head. Like it's all a weird dream and I'll soon wake up in my Ravenclaw dorm, or on Luna's couch after smoking too much of her pipe.

"Hey," Theo says, jogging to catch up with me as I leave the bar. "Wait up."

I slow down but do not stop. He chuckles a little as he falls into pace beside me.

"Let me walk you home."

"It's not home," I say, a little too harshly.

"Then, what is? I bet it's not with your mom and dad. We all have pretty fucked up parents," he adds, under my questioning look. "It's basically a pre-requisite for being a Slytherin. That's why you touched a nerve with Malfoy back there."

I let out a sigh. "I didn't mean to go off like that. It wasn't fair. He didn't deserve it."

"No, he definitely deserved it." Theo shrugs. "Malfoy's parents are harsh on him, but he's not ready to admit they're assholes yet. He's still in denial. Give him time."

"You've met them?" I ask.

"Known them since I could walk and talk. The others, too. Pansy's parents are European, they're not so tight-knit, and Pucey was raised by his grandmother. But I've known the others almost my whole life."

"Even Vincent Crabbe?" I ask bravely.

His shoulders tighten. "Even Crabbe," he replies evenly, in a tone that warns me not to question any further. Before I can get too hung up on it, he flashes me a smile. "You regretting it, yet?"

"Joining you guys? Not yet," I confess. "The benefit seems to outweigh the rest of it."

"You're not losing your mind over the time-turners?"

"Should I be?" I ask.

"Everyone's different. Pansy was a wreck for two weeks, crying her eyes out, saying she didn't want to be here. She was a late transfer, though. Took Flint's place, when he didn't score high enough on the admission tests."

"Luna's roommate," I say, suddenly remembering.

"She was gonna do Law. I think it kind of bugged her too, having to give up on her major and everything. Snape prefers the more artsy programs. Even Business and Science are a stretch, for him. But they're tradition."

"Which is your favourite?" I ask. We make our way up the steps to the castle.

"Architecture," he says. "I love to sketch. Still wrapping my head around all the technical stuff, but that'll come with time." He tilts his head towards me. "How about you?"

"Literature," I reply, barely needing to think. "Our classes today on Shakespeare and Danté were incredible. I mean, McGonagall and Flitwick are incredible teachers, but I can tell they're prepping us to curriculum standards. With Snape it feels more like…"

"He's giving us the freedom to present our essays however we wish," Theo finishes. "So long as we can back up our conclusions."

"Exactly."

We head down the stairs to the Slytherin dorms. I fight off a shiver, back once again in the cold corridors, lit by the eerie lamps.

"Doesn't it creep you out?" My voice drops to a whisper. "Knowing there could be other versions of us walking around, right now?"

"It's not as scary as you think." Theo shrugs. "Snape likes to put the fear of God into us, but he overkills. The same way you scare a toddler off from doing stuff he shouldn't. I've caught sight of myself plenty of times. Around other people, sometimes, too."

That brightens my mood a little. "You have?"

"I had to convince some nursing major I have a twin." He rolls his eyes. "There is a reason we keep to ourselves, you know."

We reach the common room. I'd glossed over it before, too eager to get my stuff unpacked in my dorm and then to get some space, but appreciate its beauty now. There's a roaring brick fireplace, though like much of the castle, the warmth is never quite satisfying enough. Leather and velvet chesterfields surround coffee tables and ottomans laden with books, parchment, small oil lamps. Two chess tables are beside the panes of glass, backlit to look like windows, now covered with heavy drapes. Someone's thrown a basket of green apples carelessly onto the ground.

"I'll have to tidy up," Theo sighs. "The janitor comes through a couple times a week, but I feel bad with all this clutter. Doubles his workload before he even gets to vacuuming the rugs, you know?"

"That's considerate of you," I say.

"Hardly. I'm just used to hired help." Theo yawns. "Well, I better hit the hay. Wind back a few hours so I'm not totally exhausted tomorrow."

"I think I'll be doing the same," I tell him.

"That reminds me," he says, pulling two small, blue pills out of his pocket and placing them in my palm. "Go see the nurse tomorrow. I've got stacks of anti-nausea pills, they really do help."

"Won't she get suspicious?" I ask, pouring a glass of water and swallowing them.

"Tell her you're learning ballroom dancing," he shrugs. "Worked for me."