She dropped her bag on the floor, cringing slightly as she heard something crash at the bottom of it. Fantastic. She had probably smashed yet another quill because she always forgot to carefully pack them instead of just throwing them among her books. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Sigrid let herself drop on the uncomfortable little stool, absently watching as Eowyn carelessly threw her cauldron over the table.

Low murmurs of quiet chatter filled the dungeon's moldy and humid atmosphere, the students shuffling begrudgingly inside, slowly starting to take their seats. It was not even noon, and yet the greenish glow that swept over the windowless stone room made it feel as if the sun had set hours ago and would never rise again in the horizon.

"Why are the tables like this?" Elladan announced as he reached their side, narrowed silver eyes carefully eyeing the unusual arrangements before taking the seat directly next to Eowyn, and in front of Sigrid.

"'Dunno." She heard Eowyn shrug, as if she did not even want to know whatever it was that Snape had in store for them in this class.

The small wooden desks that filled the Potions classroom had been shifted around, now suddenly clustered in tables of four students instead of the usual pairs. It was odd, but honestly she did not even want to think about what they would be asked to do today. It would certainly not help her mood, which was already going sour just by being on this frigid haunting room.

"Where's your copy?" She piped up, glancing curiously at Elladan, who had arrived uncharacteristically alone, leaning back casually on his stool and crossing his arms with his particular mocking smirk.

"Sitting at the Hospital Wing with his tongue glued to the ceiling of his mouth." Elladan's eyes gleamed amusedly as his spoke, seeming to be making an effort not to burst into laughter at his younger twins' predicament. Eowyn erupted in laughter, and Sigrid was about to ask for more details but decided against it. It was better for her own sake not to know what was the younger twin doing that landed him that jinx.

Instead, she let her eyes dance across the classroom, flying over the crowd of Slytherin students currently taking their seats at the front tables. But he was not there. She had already known that, and yet she could not help but count the days, feeling as if she was the only student it the room who actually noticed his absence. But that was perhaps because she knew why he was absent. Five days had gone by without him showing up for class, then six, then seven, then eight, and today nine. And yet she could not help but worry. Every time her eyes danced over the back of the Slytherins in the Potion's classrooms, over their emerald lined school robes, over their green and silver scarves, she could not help but being transported to that waiting room, to feel as if she should never had been there, as if she should never had known as much as she did now.

Eowyn had not asked her more details about that night, only accepting her excuse that she had been caught wondering the halls at night by Dumbledore, who had taken her to his office for a long lecture. She could tell her friend did not fully believed her, but did not press the matter. Although she could also tell that Eowyn was slightly resentful that she had not told her the whole truth.

"What would you like to do on Saturday?" Eowyn asked her, crossing her thin pale arms and leaning then over the table, her chin resting on the back of her folded hands. Her long golden waves fell loosely over her shoulders and draping over her books at the table, looking darker in the dim light of the dungeons.

"Saturday?" She narrowed her eyes in puzzlement, taking out her own cauldron and setting it in front of her. "This Saturday?"

"Yeah, of course this Saturday." Eowyn rolled her eyes at her, a finger playing absently with her wand, rolling it this way and that over the table in boredom.

"But this Satruday's the Yule Ball?" She did not understand her friend's question, only feeling that she was clearly missing something as her best friend once again rolled her eyes, nodding her head as if making it seem that that precisely the point.

"Wait…" Eowyn suddenly sat up straight, grey-blue eyes scrutinizing her for a moment before widening as if in realization. "You're going?!"

"Well…yeah." She was confused now, eyes still narrowed at Eowyn's suddenly betrayed expression. Was she not supposed to be going to the Ball?

"Who asked you?" Her friend demanded almost immediately, and in a single second Sigrid felt her stomach drop in realization. Oh, Merlin, as if her day needed to get any worse.

After everything that happened that day, after the fear and anxiety at watching Lasgalen in the Hospital Wing then being accidentally dragged to St. Mungo's then trying to piece together what had happened, she had entirely forgotten to mention it to Eowyn that she had been asked to the Yule Ball. She did not care about those things. She would not have cared if Eowyn had not told her if she had been the one invited…..but Eowyn did care. And she knew how her friend got whenever she felt she was being left out of something.

"Curtis Wills. I forgot to mention it. It was the day of the game, and we had won, and I forgot." She apologized, knowing that it would not help as her friend was already dropping her head once more on her hands, looking positively annoyed now.

"Right." She heard Eowyn breath out with a dry chuckle. "You forgot. Why bother to tell me anything anyway?"

She had to take a deep breath in order to not snap at Eowyn, deciding that it was better to avoid more conflict. She would have to wait until her friend dropped it. Even though it was infuriating. "I did forget. I'm sorry."

"You seem to forget telling a lot of things these days." Eowyn muttered sourly, turning her eyes to look away from her, and she once again had to force herself to take another deep breath. There it was. she had known it. Eowyn was still slightly pissed at her for not telling her where she had really been that day, and even though it made Sigrid want to strangle her, she partially understood her friend's resentment. She would have been angry too if Eowyn suddenly decided not to confide in her. They had never had secrets…and now for the first time she did. She did have secret now. A secret to keep even from her best friend.

"I simply forgot, alright?" Her voice betrayed more of her annoyance than she had wanted, but she could not have cared less at the moment, Eowyn's attitude challenging her patience.

"Sure." Her friend huffed, not even turning to look at her, leaving Sigrid to focus instead on harshly taking out the needed ink flasks from her bag, not caring at how she mishandled them at the moment.

"Why do you not go?" She managed to ask, her curiosity winning over the anger she felt towards her friend at the moment, not understanding why Eowyn wanted to do anything else than attend the Yule Ball when she had not been able to stop talking about it since the announcement.

"As if it even matters to you. Perhaps I will also forget to mention it."

Sigrid had to take yet another deep breath, placing her tiny flask of ink so forcefully over the table that dark droplets spluttered all around messily, a few of them landing on her pristine white school shirt.

"Is it because nobody asked you and now you resent me because someone did ask me?" She instantly knew she should not have said that, knew that she would regret her words, that there had been no need for them, but she was currently so angry with Eowyn's attitude that she had not been able to hold them back.

"I was asked to go." Her friend snapped bitterly in her direction, griping her wand so tightly that she accidentally sent sparks flying in Elladan's direction, who had to quickly disappear them with a flick of his own wand. "Beilby asked me a week ago. But I told him no, because I hoped that 'he' would ask me…but 'he' asked Agatha McClausky instead."

She did not ask who 'he' was, too angry with Eowyn to pretend that she cared at the moment. "Well, perhaps you should have said yes when you had the chance, instead of assuming that I wouldn't have been invited either."

"Do you want to go with me?" Elladan suddenly spoke, looking at Eowyn amusedly, as if he had suddenly got a genius idea, silver eyes waiting expectantly for an answer.

"Wha-" Eowyn was momentarily so surprised that she appeared to have forgotten her anger. Out of the corner of her yes she caught the last few students marching to their seats, and for the first time felt hopeful that Snape would arrive soon and start the class. At least that would mean forced silence as an excuse not to have to keep talking to Eowyn.

"I was hoping to ask Felicia Wills, but someone beat me to it….and I would much rather go with you than having to go with Eddelina. At this rate she will be the one asking me." Elladan's silver eyes nodded almost scared and desperately in the direction of the quiet Gryffindor girl sitting on a nearby table, who had not stopped throwing glances in the elder twin's direction every chance she got. She was not bad looking, with her thick dark brown curls and large pale gold eyes, but she could tell why Elladan would not want to go with her. She and Saturna were inseparable, and while Eddelina was nice and fun to be around, Saturna at times could become insufferable.

"Okay." Eowyn let out a quiet laugh, too amused at Elladan's predicament, yet seeming relieved about having a date to attend the Ball, even though it was one of their best friends. "I'll go with you."

"Excellent." Elladan whispered with a grin, just in time as Eddelina waved at him from the next table, batting her thick dark eyelashes.

She was about to let out a laugh when another figure entering the dungeon with the last of the students caught her eye, making stones drop heavily on her stomach. He was back. His tall figure nearly glided inside the room, that cold regal aura of authority always surrounding him, his marbled face perfectly serious and composed, blue eyes as iced as the grounds outside the castle. She immediately looked away from the door, pretending she had not noticed him there, not wanting to catch his eyes even by accident, not knowing how she should react if she did. And yet, her insides only became heavier as she glanced with dread at the Slytherin tables ahead. They were all full, students already sitting in perfect groups of four. She made calculations inside her mind, noticing that had every student been present, one of the groups would have needed to be comprised of five instead of four, and he would have been able to sit with any of the Slytherins. But Elrohir was not here. And that left their table missing one.

"No." She heard Eowyn moan silently next to her, her eyes quickly noticing Lasgalen's tall figure starting to make his way to their table. She seemed to have done the same calculations as her, having figured out exactly where the Slythering Seeker was about to sit.

"I'm your partner." Elladan hurried to whisper quietly, huddling closer to Eowyn who was sitting exactly next to him, and knew what he was doing immediately. In case the potions were partner work as they usually were he had instantly made sure that she and Eowyn would not partner together – as they always did- and leave him to be Lasgalen's partner for the class.

Sigrid did not get a chance to say anything, her body feeling frozen as Thranduil Lasgalen elegantly took the seat directly to her right, completing their table of four. She did not know what to do. Should she say something? Should she ignore him? But she could not ignore him…or could she? Her eyes lifted in his direction almost tentatively, only to find him sitting perfectly straight, his silvery hair pooling in perfect strands down his back, looking away from her, as if she was not even there. And yet she could not help but notice that he once again appeared perfectly fine, nothing seeming to be remotely wrong with him.

"Open your books. Ingredients out." Snape's cold voice dragged through the dungeon, the wooden door banging closed behind him. She hurried to find her, book, eager to have something to occupy her eyes with. Should she have said something to Lasgalen? Should she have greeted him? Or should she pretend that she had never seen anything, that nothing had ever happened? She could not pretend that!

"Polyjuice potion?" Asked a fiery haired Slytherin girl at the front row, who had been looking slightly confused at her book. Sigrid glanced down at the page in front of her, finding that the girl had not gotten the page number wrong. Indeed, the potion they were being asked to brew today was Polyjuice, the ingredients and instructions perhaps one of the most complicated she had seen.

"Isn't it supposed to be one of the most complicated potions to brew?" Questioned another student, this time a Gryffindor boy from the back row.

"It is, Mr. Vancil." Snape stretched every syllable, coal eyes sweeping over them from beneath curtains of greasy black hair. "Perhaps your clearly limited mind has not allowed you to notice that it is the reason why you are today sitting in groups?"

Lance Vancil lowered his head almost immediately, as if not wanting to give Snape any reason to deduce points from Gryffindor with another of his questions, and the Potion's masters merely continued giving instructions. "You will brew one potion in groups of four, and since none of you are skilled enough to finish the potion in the limited time – it requires one month-, I will grade your work based on how well you manage to add and collect the required ingredients. Begin."

There was a collective grunt and displeased murmurs as students started to huddle their required ingredients. One table was even fighting over whose cauldron they should use to brew their collective potion, and she already knew that group work would not be pleasant today. Eowyn was still avoiding to look at her, and Laslagen's presence at their table did nothing to ignite any sense of wiling collaboration from Elladan, who at least seemed to be the only one at the table who would meet her eyes.

The elder twin was the one to get the water inside their cauldron boiling, and Sigrid let her eyes glance down once again at the long list of complex instructions. Unable to stop herself, she let out another glance at the tall figure sitting next to her, only to find his piercing ice blue eyes still fixed at the front, as if she was not even there, not even seeming about to offer his help for any work that needed to be done.

"Dan, you chop the fluxweed. Eowyn you can go fetch the knotgrass, while I can start with the bicorn horn." She took over dividing the work, as nobody in their table seemed to want to take charge. And yet it once again seemed the wrong thing to do, as Eowyns eyes turned to glare at her, still clearly angry.

"Why are you the one deciding what everyone should do?" Her friend added bitterly, and she watched as Elladan quietly set himself to chopping the fluxweed in silence, clearly not wanting to be a part of any conversation at the moment.

"Fine." Sigrid sighed in exasperation, sliding her open book in her friend's direction, nearly knocking a few flasks of ink in the process. "Then you decide what it is you would like to add."

Eowyn glared at her once more, completely ignoring her last words as she stood up and headed towards the large shelves were the rarest ingredients lay for students to grab as they needed, searching for the knotgrass. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Lasgalen's elegant hands starting to lazily shred Boomslang skin, deciding for himself what it was he wanted to do, not telling anyone in the process. She felt another bout of anger take hold of her, but managed to hold it off, concentrating herself on reading over the instructions again, at least to make sure that the ingredients got added to the potion in the directed order.

Next to her she could notice that they were not the only table not collaborating well, one of the groups of students far to one corner of the room were now fighting over who got to stir their potion. Still, knowing that other groups were not doing well either was little comfort. And yet her patience was only tested once more when she asked Eowyn to add the knotgrass onto the boiling cauldron. Once again her friend ignored her, pretending to not have heard her, and things only got more infuriating as Elladan then proceeded to add his fluxweed without Eowyn having added the knotgrass first.

"What are you doing?" Eowyn snapped at the elder twin, her finger pointing at the instructions on the book. "The knotgrass was to be added first!"

"Well you were not adding it! So I added my part!" Elladan replied, clearly not seeming to care whether or not they got the potion right this time.

"Can I burrow your knife?" She asked Lasgalen, who she had now noticed had long ago finished perfectly shredding the Boomslang skin and was once again sitting with his cold eyes fixed on the front, as if making it clear that his part was done and did not intend doing anything more. Still she knew that if she asked Eowyn for her knife, her friend would not speak to her, and Elladan was currently using his.

Ice blue eyes did not turn in her direction, as if he had not even heard her, only sitting regally there, perfectly calmed. And it enraged her, not understanding what he was doing. Was he pretending he did not know her? That they had never spoken?

"Can I burrow your knife?" She repeated her question, a little stronger now, not intent in letting him ignore her like that. It was enough that Eowyn was already not speaking to her. And then he turned to look at her, icy eyes so cold that she felt as if she was actually freezing, so hostile, burning through her with venom. And then, without a word he slid the knife in her direction, turning once again to gaze at the front, not saying a single word to her.

She swallowed once, regaining herself before continuing to go through the ingredients, deciding to pretend as if he was not there, as if his eyes had not just glared at her with such fury. Elladan had noticed the glare, his eyes now looking at her questioningly, throwing burning glares of his own at Lasgalen when the later could not see.

"Why are you not helping?" She heard Elladan suddenly hiss in Lasgalen's direction, silver eyes burning with ire, only to meet the cold disinterested look of the Slytheirn Seeker, who was not even bothering to add his share of ingredients into the now bubbling cauldron.

"It's not worth it, Dan." Eowyn muttered into Elladan's ear, as if barely just stopping the elder twin from starting a fight with the silver haired Slytherin, and for a moment she felt like standing up and yelling at everyone. Yelling at Eowyn for not speaking to her, at Elladan for she did not even know what, and at Lasgalen, especially at Lasgalen for his angered stare, his insuferable presence and authoritative attitude, as if he was above them all, not even bothering to help or even acknowledge any of them. It infuriated her. Why was he doing that? Why did he keep being so intent in giving more reasons for everyone to hate him? And then when he was caught alone at times he could be a completely different person, someone actually not too bad to hang around with. But she knew he was angry with her. And she could guess why. It was because she knew. Because she had seen him at his weakest.

She suppressed her urge to yell, forcefully stirring the potion only to be tested once more as Eowyn snapped almost immediately.

"You are stirring in the wrong direction."

"I'm doing it as the book says." She was losing her very thin patience now, stirring so fast the potion was starting to spill at the sides.

"It's supposed to be one clockwise and three counter-clockwise. You're doing everything clockwise." Eowyn corrected her smugly, and she was even more annoyed to find out her friend was right.

"Then you do it!" She snapped in return, and she had never in her life been more relieved as Snape used that precise moment to announce "Time's up".

Eowyn jumped to her feet almost instantly, throwing her book and things back into her backpack in a rush, hurrying out of the room with the first batch of students exiting. Elladan looked at her with apologetic eyes and a raised eyebrow, as if questioning whether or not she would follow her friend, but she merely shook her head in silence, closing her book to harshly she could almost imagine the look Madam Pince would have given her had it been a library book.

"I'll go then." Elladan sighed, gathering his stuff and following the raging Eowyn, and it was her turn to throw him a sympathetic look. He would not have much luck in talking her friend out of her anger at the moment. But at least he would try.

The crowd of students was starting to leave the dungeon, cauldrons left bubbling disgustingly over the tables for Snape to examine them closely later. It seemed that only one table of Slytherins had managed to work together without causing at least one discussion or fight, and she wondered it was because one them had simply been too intimidating to argue with, managing to lead the students at his will.

"Is that what you will do now? Ignore me?" She whispered in an angry hiss at Lasgalen's elegantly sitting figure, who had not even bothered to turn to look at her again, still peacefully gathering his things and stowing them onto his schoolbag.

She let out a sigh, not knowing what to do, wanting to leave the room and yet not able to pretend that she had never seen anything, that she had not been worriedly glancing at the Slythrins every Potions class if only to find out that he was back again at the castle and no longer in St. Mungo's.

"Here." She said coldly, once she realized he would not be speaking to her, fishing out from the bottom of her bag the long parchments of detailed notes that she had copied for him on every class he had missed.

She felt stupid now. Stupid for having taken the time to copy her notes for him, labeling them neatly for him to be able to understand them clearly. She should have just let him do the work of copying them himself if he needed them. Why had she thought that helping would be well received? She now felt angered with herself and angered for even using her time in tasks to help him, having though that he would probably be too busy with also catching up with his other classes as well.

She placed the neat collection of notes in front of him, along with a long essay she had bothered herself to complete. "The notes from the days you missed. And the essay we have due tomorrow morning. Thought you might not have time to write it, you don't have to use it if you want to write one yourself."

She was about to stand up when his face turned, ice blue eyes glaring at the collection of parchments with such intensity that she though they would burn, and then he harshly pushed them away, sliding them back in her direction before he stood from the stool, ice blue eyes piercing through her mercilessly.

"I don't need your sympathy." His voice dripped ice, so harsh she nearly winced, and then he was walking out of the room, joining the retreating crowd of Slythrins.

The rest of her day did not get any better. Even lunch at the Great Hall was a painfully silent meal. Eowyn still refused to speak to her, choosing to sit next to Elladan during Transfigurations and leaving her no other option that to take the only vacant seat next to a show-off Ravenclaw boy who corrected her every move. She had already tried to apologize for what felt like the thousand's time but Eowyn would not hear it, and she quickly got tired of trying.

And, as if that was not enough she could still not shake out of her head how poisonous and cold Lasgalen's glare had been that morning during Potions. She should have guessed it. Should have guessed he would not react kindly to having been seen in such a vulnerable state as she had seen him. And still it infuriated her, for she had not deserved such treatment, had not deserved such rage. She had done nothing! Nothing had been her fault!

Therefore, she found herself making her way towards the library that night after dinner, eager to escape from everyone and be solely by her own. She most certainly did not want to go to the Gryffindor tower, where Eowyn would continue to ignore her either in the common room or up at their dormitories. Her footsteps echoed through the empty stone hallways, shadows dancing eerily at the torches flickering light. It did not take her long to find the large wooden doors that led inside the library, which creaked as she gently pushed them open.

The bright light from the grand fireplace met her eyes, welcoming her inside. As usual, Madam Pince did not lift her eyes from the book she was reading, not bothering to look at the newcomer. She could almost feel the rush of peace washing over hear as she stepped over the ornate carpet into the silent space, eyes dancing over the empty tables.

But they were not all empty. Her insides tied in sudden anger as she noticed that tall elegant figure sitting as his preferred table, in the darkened corner by the large window. He had not noticed her, his eyes lost in the piles of books that laid open over the table in front of him. The bright light from the full moon fell over his hair in silver gleams, making his hair and skin look paler than they were.

She was about to turn around, debating whether or not to simply leave, anger now starting to boil inside of her again, remembering his hostile glare, his cold demeanor. But of course he would be here. Of course he had many things to catch up with, why had she not thought of that before coming? And yet, something had snapped inside of her, her anger finally overflowing to a point in which she no longer cared, and she did not know whether it was because of the undeserved treatment he had given her before, or if it was because of the anger she still felt towards Eowyn, or whether it was because she had had a terrible day on the whole. And nevertheless, she was walking, taking long determined strides in his direction, who had not even noticed her presence yet.

She reached his table in a flash, his cold blue eyes looking up in slight surprise as she suddenly dropped the set of notes she had offered him in class over his open books, her brown eyes glaring furiously at him. He opened his mouth to speak, icy eyes still piercing through her but she beat him to it, her voice an impatient hiss.

"Take the notes." She ordered furiously, not looking away from his cold gaze, speaking in an angered rush. "I don't know why you are so angry with me, but you asked me at the beginning of the year for notes to pass Potions, which makes me believe you care about passing. I don't see anyone else offering you any helping hand, so whether you decide to use my notes or not, I will not have you later blaming my lack of help for Snape deciding to fail you. It's not sympathy, it's the help you need. So if it is your pride I'm hurting, swallow it and accept the help. Neither you nor I had any control over what happened nine days ago, so do not lash your anger at me for being there."

Ice blue eyes continued to gaze at her, impenetrable, piercing, and for a long moment of silence she was left standing there, in front of his regally sitting figure, trying to catch her breath from her angered outburst. And then, unexpectedly his eyes shifted down, as silent and unreadable as they always were, yet no longer hostile.

"Dumbledore told me what happened." His quiet words made her anger suddenly vanish taken aback by them, for a moment not knowing what to say. Dread pooled at her stomach as she realized how much she had hoped that he would not remember she had been at St. Mungo's as well, hoping that he only knew she had been at the Hospital Wing. "I know you were there. I dragged you there when we dissapparated."

She nodded her head, swallowing once, speaking quietly again. "I haven't told anyone."

"I know." Was all he said, his voice no longer cold, no longer hostile. And then his eyes turned to inspect the notes she had thrown in front of him, taking the essay in a slender white hand and reading through it curiously.

"Gillyweed?" ice blue eyes turned to question her underneath an arched eyebrow, noticing the topic she had decided to write about. "Of all the herbs and plants to be used for Potions, you had to pick Gillyweed? Could you not make me sound more creative?"

It was as if something had lightened in the air, a heavy weight suddenly lifted, and oddly she found her mouth curving up in a faint smile, throwing him a warning glance. There it was again, that part of him without that horrible cold shell around, the part he kept so concealed and nobody ever got to see. "You can write it yourself if you're going to complain about the one I wrote you. It's due tomorrow so I don't think you'll have much time to finish it seeing how long it needs to be."

"Hmm." Was all he said, eyes continued to inspect the paper, even though there was no longer anything cold in his expression. "And did you know you also have many spelling mistakes? Do you wish for me to lose points because of that?"

"I wasn't about to write you a better essay than mine." She retorted, watching as unexpectedly his lips curved up in an oddly friendly smile.

"I guess not." He added, one of his hands inviting her to sit in front of him, and she did, feeling strangely welcome.

"Do you feel better now?" She could not hold her question, even though she felt as if she was threading into dangerous waters again, but still it felt as though she had already crossed some barrier line, where going back would not be as easy as it seemed. She was in it. She knew about it, whatever it was, and he was aware that she knew.

"I do." He admitted, even though it surprised her that he answered her at all, his hands carefully placing the notes she had given him on his schoolbag. He definitely looked better, looked as if nothing had ever happened.

"Are you all right?" She asked, for long seconds her brown eyes bore into his watchful ice blue ones, seeming to perfectly understand her question, knowing that did not merely mean are you alright now.

"No." Came the answer she had ben dreading to hear, but felt as if she already knew, his eyes not looking away from hers, strangely open, not cold, even though still impossible to read through.

"Are you going to be all right?" Her voice came out as merely a whisper this time, studying his marble face in silence, wishing for his answer to be yes.

"No." He answered again, and she felt as if something inside of her broke, lowering her head to look at her lap, golden curls falling over her shoulders to frame her face.

"What exactly happened?" She finally voiced the question that had been nagging her mind, watching as he looked at her for long seconds, as it trying to decide whether or not to speak, yet strangely not pushing her away. He opened his mouth once, then closed it immediately again.

"I thought we were not friends." He finally spoke one eyebrow arching high on his forehead, and she could not help but let out a light laugh. Outside the window, a mound of grey clouds washed over the full moon, making the frail light diminish, the darkness surrounding them increasing.

"I'm willing to change my mind about that if you are too."

"Can we go somewhere else?" He suddenly asked, his ice blue eyes throwing a glance at Madam Pince sitting quietly at her desk far away, clearly not wanting anyone to listen to whatever it was he about to say.

She nodded her head, waiting patiently for him to pack his mound of books back into his bag and throwing it over his shoulder before they were both walking out of the library. It was not late enough for them to get in trouble for being in the hallways, but she was nevertheless glad that nobody crossed their path.

"Should we go to the Quidditch Pitch?" She suggested as she caught sight of the six goal hoops at the distance when they passed one of the castle's large windows, knowing that there would be nobody there, but he shook his head.

"I shouldn't go out in the snow." Was all he said, but she did not question him further, allowing him to lead the way instead.

He led them instead to the seventh floor, and she finally realized where they were headed as a large wooden door suddenly materialized out of the stone wall. The Room of Requirement. Of course. It made sense that nobody would find them or hear them there. He opened the door and let her in first, closing it shut behind him. The room that had materialized was a cozy round room, with a bunch of comfortable seats and couches arranged neatly to the sides. Long arched windows had appeared around the room as well, giving a perfect view of the grounds below, making the space unexpectedly airy.

She chose to sit at the floor, where a bunch of cushions had also appeared, finding them more welcoming and casual than the high-backed chairs. He imitated her, lowering himself elegantly next to her, his eyes lost to the front, not saying a word, long minutes of silence engulfing the peaceful warm room. And it the occurred to her that he did not know how to start, that perhaps he never shared this information with anyone.

"I…"He started, seeming to have difficulty in formulating words at all.

"You don't have to tell me." She changed her mind, suddenly realizing that it was not an easy thing for him to say, and that perhaps she should not be asking him to do so, but he ignored her, his eyes fixed on the legs of a nearby couch as he spoke, not looking at her anymore, sitting so tall and regal that she almost felt small.

"I get sick easily." He started, his voice slow, and so low she could barely hear it, eyes not once turning to look at her. "Anything that could cause a fever will cause me a fever…..and it…can get out of control….can spike easily….and trigger….other things…"

He seemed to be trying to explain, but did not seem able to find a way to make it clear without mentioning things that he was clearly still holding back. And she was confused, not understanding what he was saying, but not asking for more details.

"No...I don't really get sick easily….." He went back on what he had said, as if stressed to find a way to put it into words, visibly struggling. "It makes me get sick easily…..and then it gets out of control….sometimes…."

His voice was trembling, his body so tense that she cursed herself for ever asking to him explain in the first place. And yet she could see that tingle of fear cross his ice blue eyes, concealed, and far away, yet there, as if merely talking about it was making him relive things he did not want to remember. He had his hands clutched tight together, not even seeming to have noticed, fingers gripping at each other hardly, knuckles white.

'You really don't have to tell me." She hurried to add, but he shook his head once more.

"Whether you know what it is or not, it will not stop it from happening." He said in that low whispered voice, eyes still not meeting hers. "And I could use a friend who knows about it."

For a second she wanted to ask why had he never told any of his Slytherin friends before, but did not voice her question, letting her eyes lose momentarily over the piles of bright scarlet cushions lying on the warm stone floor.

"I don't know how to talk about it." He finally admitted, his voice shakier than before, and for a moment she thought he was seeing ghosts, things he did not want to bring up, to remember.

"Why don't you tell me what happened that day, after the Quidditch match, and we can start from there. I can ask questions if I don't understand, and you don't have to answer them if you don't want to." She suggested as a way to help, and was slightly surprised when he nodded his head, eyes dropping to his hands as he started speaking again.

"I had a cold that day." He started, still not looking at her. "And it turned into a regular fever which immediately triggered it because of the raised temperature, and then it spiked into the fever you witnessed, and it flared awake again…and I had to be taken to St. Mungo's to control it again."

"What is 'it'?" She asked, her brown eye searching his face patiently, looking at his somber pale features, handsomely high cheekbones and pointed chin, the white light floating like a suspended ball below the ceiling casting elegant shadows on his form, and for the first time he turned to look at her, careful, studying her closely. He seemed to be trying to be making a decision, one that seemed unusually hard, and she waited patiently.

"If I tell you…"He started, his voice careful, slow. "You will not pity me?"

"No." She promised, looking straight into his eyes. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. But if you do, I won't pity you. But if you choose to tell me, you will not lash out and be angry at me just because I know? Like you did today?"

He swallowed once, nodding his head briefly in agreement, eyes turning away to look at the distance, as if finding interest in the vast views stretching out of the night-lit windows. And then he spoke, his voice dropped low, trembling as it left his throat, yet clear.

"Fiendfyre."

She froze, her heart sinking painfully, eyes silently still fixed on him, who did not turn to look at her. Cursed Fire. She knew about it. Had heard about it. And so many things suddenly made sense, things that she now wished would still remain senseless. The sudden fever, the fear and alarm in Snape's and Madam Pomfrey's eyes. Cursed fire never stopped burning. And if it had touched him…he should not even have lived. If he had been burned by cursed fire….he should not have been able to tell the tale.

Elrond's words flashed inside her mind once more, remembering what the healer had said. It had been hard to control. It did not want to stop. If the fire had touched him, and he had miraculously lived through it, the cure was in him, and it would keep on burning. And her heart sunk further in fear as she realized things that perhaps she had not been prepared to know. It was a futile fight. The only hope was to control the curse from keeping on burning, to keep it dormant and restrained…and of course he got sick…the curse was in him…any rise in temperature would make it flare, it wanted to burn, it would cause temperatures to rise…and the pain. She shuddered, even though she did not show it. The pain. He had been burning, even though whatever spells the St. Mung's healers had managed to cast to concealed the burned skin from view, as he looked fine to the eye. If the curse had flared awake, and threatened to free from its restraints….he had been burning. Quite literally. And if the curse managed to free itself from its restrains, to burn uncontrolled, it would kill him. There was no doubt to it.

And so many other pieces were falling into place, pieces that she had not even given second thought. His preferred table by the window at the library…it was not the window he liked, but the fact that it was farthest from the fireplace. The cold rain that he had so desperately been trying to reach that night he had been so frightened, why he had let it slip accidentally that he felt safe in the Slytherin dormitories knowing the lake, the largest body of cold water around, was floating above his roof. And that tiny bite during detention….of course. It was his arm. Whatever other parts of his body the cursed fire had touched, she was sure it included his left arm and hand. If the tiny bite had landed on one of the concealed burns, the pain must have been unimaginable….And she did not need to ask him when it had happened, how long had he had to live with that danger coursing through him, threatening to end his life at any moment. She already knew the exact date. June 6, 1996. What she did not know was how and why it had happened, or who had cast such dangerous Dark Magic in the presence of a four-year-old…..

Here's chapter 15! More questions answered and a big part explained, but more things still to find out. I hope you enjoy it! Even though it is a little longer.

Again thank you so much for your comments on the previous chapter, I'm sure some of you might have already guessed what it was that was wrong with Thranduil hehe, thank you so much for taking the time to let me know your thoughts on the chapter! And I hope this one is fun to read too! : Rose61393, Eryniel Greenleaf, VanyaNoldo22, Amsim and Win Lockwood

Love,

Elena