Sunday 19 December, 1993:

"He was their friend. And he betrayed them."

Lena gazed at Harry sympathetically. She hadn't seen him this upset since their conversation after the Chamber of Secrets, when she'd explained her true connection to Voldemort.

They were sitting on the bottom step of the Gryffindor Tower's staircase, having just come from dinner in the Great Hall. Apparently, Harry had been wanting to speak to Lena all afternoon, but she had only left her dormitory for the first time that evening. She hadn't been in a particularly sociable mood after the previous night.

"It's awful you had to find out that way," she said softly.

Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Do you think there would ever be a good way to find out?" he said bitterly.

Yesterday, the Weasley twins had shown Harry one of the secret passages out of the castle and into Hogsmeade, giving Harry his first opportunity to visit the Wizarding village. However, he'd gotten a little more than he'd bargained for when he'd overheard a conversation between several Hogwarts staff members, the Minister for Magic, and Madam Rosmerta in the Three Broomsticks – a conversation concerning his parents' history with Sirius Black.

None of it was really news to Lena, who had been given an outline of what had happened by Lupin some weeks prior. She had no intention, however, of letting Harry know that, so she had simply listened to him recount what he'd heard, providing him an understanding and sympathetic ear.

"Well, now you have that information," said Lena, "what are you planning to do with it?"

"I want to kill him."

Lena raised an eyebrow. "I think that's a little ambitious, don't you?" she said mildly.

Harry stood up, glaring at her. "My parents are dead because of him!" he said hotly.

"Harry, you're a reasonably talented wizard for your age," said Lena, leaning back on her elbows to look up at him, "but the standard we hold thirteen year olds to is significantly lower than the one by which we measure fully-trained adults. Even if Sirius Black wasn't a convicted mass-murderer, he'd still be much too dangerous for someone of your skill level to take on."

"I bet you would have taken him on when you were thirteen," muttered Harry, looking sullen.

"I had seven years of magical training before I came to Hogwarts," Lena reminded him. "So I'm not a valid comparison. But just for argument's sake, let's imagine you were skilled enough to fight Black now." She looked at him questioningly. "Do you really think if it came down to it, you'd kill him?"

"Of course," replied Harry without a moment's hesitation.

Lena cocked her head. "I don't believe you."

"Black betrayed my parents, Lena!" said Harry loudly, his voice echoing off the walls. "He sold them to Voldemort. He deserves to die!"

"I'm not saying you don't wish he was dead," said Lena calmly. "I'm saying I don't believe that you, if presented with the opportunity, would murder him. Even to avenge your parents."

"You would," Harry blurted out.

Lena stared at him.

He bit his lip. "If someone did what he did to somebody you cared about," he said quietly, "you'd kill them."

There was a long pause, before Lena shrugged and replied, "Perhaps I would." She stood up. "But you're better than me, Harry."

Harry looked at his feet. "Weaker, you mean," he mumbled.

"Don't say that," said Lena sharply. She reached out and tilted his chin up so he was looking up at her. "Don't you ever dare even think that," she told him, her tone gentler. "You are strong, whereas I..." Lena took a deep breath. "Whereas I am afraid to be weak."

It was strange to Lena how easily her life could be summed up in so few words. Afraid of being weak – the motivation behind nearly every decision she'd ever made.

Lena held Harry's gaze until he nodded."Right," she said, letting go of his chin, "I should let you go up to join Ron and Hermione."

"Yeah," said Harry. "Thank you," he added, "for, you know, listening."

Lena smiled. "Any time." Without warning, a pain shot through her chest, and she gasped.

'Great,' she thought. 'What a perfect time to have an episode.'

"Lena?" asked Harry, looking worried. "What's the matter?"

A headache starting to form, Lena braced herself against the wall, a hand on her chest. "It's nothing," she muttered, closing her eyes.

A hesitant hand touched her upper-arm, and Harry's anxious voice said, "You don't look well."

"It's nothing," repeated Lena, opening her eyes and trying to look reassuringly at Harry. "It'll pass in a minute."

Harry's brow furrowed. "You mean this has happened before?"

'Nice work, genius,' remarked Lena's snide internal voice.

Lena sighed. It looked like it might be time to tell Harry the truth.

Well, a small bit of it, at any rate.

"I haven't been terribly well lately," she told him, grimacing in pain.

"Why?" asked Harry concernedly. "What's wrong?"

Lena opened her mouth to reply, but another jolt of pain in her chest instead made her cry out.

"Right," said Harry firmly, "you need to go to the hospital wing." He stepped closer to her, but Lena waved him away.

"It's fine," she said. "I can deal with it myself."

She took a step away from the wall, and without its support, promptly fell over.

"Lena!" exclaimed Harry, kneeling down beside her.

She pushed herself up so she was sitting, wincing as she rubbed the side of her left knee. There was definitely going to be a bruise there tomorrow. Harry helped move her so her back was resting against the wall.

"I'm going to get someone," said Harry, standing up.

"No," said Lena resignedly, rubbing her chest. She pointed to the spot next to her. "Sit, and I'll explain." When Harry had done as she'd asked, she continued softly, "I'm sick, Harry. I have been for a few months now."

Harry blanched. "When you say sick–"

"It's not the kind of illness that a quick visit to Madam Pomfrey can fix," said Lena. "It's quite serious."

"I didn't realise," said Harry quietly, looking down at his lap.

Lena half-smiled. "Of course you didn't," she said. "I didn't want you to know. Or anyone else for that matter, so I've been doing my best to hide my condition."

"You haven't told anyone?" asked Harry, sounding appalled.

"Dumbledore knows," said Lena quickly. "So does Lupin. And because it's... a very rare illness, there are some healers at the IHO searching for a way to treat me."

"At the what?"

"The IHO – the International Healers' Organisation." This name didn't seem to register with Harry. "The branch of the International Confederation of Wizards that specialises in matters of health pertaining to the Wizarding world?"

"Oh."

"Please remind me to teach you about international policy of the Wizarding world some time."

"All right," said Harry, sounding like he had absolutely no intention of ever doing so. "And there currently isn't a way to help you?"

Lena shook her head. "I just have to live with it," she explained.

'And die from it,' she silently added. But Harry didn't need to know that. He had enough crap going on in his life – there was no need to worry him about her own.

Saturday 25 December, 1993:

As Lena stood in front of the Defence teacher's bedroom door, a sudden nervousness came over her.

'Maybe I should come back later,' she thought. 'Tomorrow, even.'

A small noise made her look down at her shoulder, upon which Mortimer was sitting. He was gazing up at her inquiringly. She had brought him with her in case Lupin's office had been locked again – a wise precaution, as it had turned out.

"He's probably still sleeping," Lena muttered to him. "And even if he isn't, I'm sure he'd much rather rest than be bothered by me."

Mortimer gave her a look that very clearly said he thought Lena was being a coward.

"Fine," hissed Lena. She lifted up the hem of her jumper. "Then get out of sight, and I'll knock on the door."

The bowtruckle scrabbled down her side, and latched on to the inside of the jumper. Once he was safely hidden, Lena raised a fist and took a deep breath in, attempting to steady her nerves.

She hadn't seen Lupin since her breakdown the previous Saturday night. She had sat on the floor crying for almost an hour after showing him her memories of the day her mother had used an Unforgivable Curse on her. And Lupin had stayed by her side that whole time, not saying anything, but not once letting go of her hand. When the last of her tears had fallen, she had quietly told him she needed to go back to her dormitory. Lupin had let her go, after she had promised she would come back to see him later that week so they could talk more.

Now that week was up. It was not an ideal day to visit Lupin, as there had been a full moon last night, so she had waited until after lunch before making the journey to his office. When he hadn't been in his office, but evidently still in his bedroom, Lena had considered just waiting until the next day to see him. But she had given him her word that she would see him within the week, and the last thing she wanted to do, especially now, was break her word to Lupin.

'Besides,' thought Lena, 'it's Christmas day. The poor man deserves at least one visitor.'

So she slowly breathed out, and knocked on the door. A sound of hurried movement came from within and after about fifteen seconds, the door opened.

Lupin was wearing pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt – Lena vaguely recalled him wearing a similar thing when she'd visited him after the Dementors' pitch invasion – and his hair was still rumpled from his sleep. Upon seeing Lena, his mouth parted in a small 'Oh' of surprise.

"I'm sorry," said Lena hurriedly, a light blush creeping over her cheeks, "I shouldn't have disturbed you." She backed up a couple of steps. "I can just come back another day–"

"No, it's fine," said Lupin. Attempting to smooth his hair down, he gave Lena a hesitant smile. "I'm just glad you've finally come."

Lena looked down at the floor uncomfortably. "I just needed some time, before..."

"I understand," said Lupin, and Lena looked back up. "I should have given you more time than a week."

"Well," replied Lena, smiling nervously, "I'm here now." She remembered something. "Oh, erm, Merry Christmas."

Lupin blinked. "Oh, yes. Merry Christmas."

There was a lengthy pause, before Lena cleared her throat. "So, did you want to talk, or..."

"Right," said Lupin hastily. "Yes. Well, come in." He moved to the side of the doorway, giving Lena a clear view of his unmade bed.

"Into your bedroom?" asked Lena, her voice slightly higher than usual.

Lupin's face turned red in an astoundingly short amount of time. "Merlin," he said, his voice even higher than Lena's, "I didn't mean–"

His flustered reaction somehow put Lena at ease. She smirked. "At least buy a girl a drink first, Professor," she said, and strode right past him into the room. She took a seat at the foot of the bed, smiling at the stunned teacher, and patted the spot next to her. "You wanted to talk, didn't you?"

Lupin stared at her for a few seconds, then closed the door. He made to sit down, but paused. "I might actually, erm..." He walked over to his bedside table and picked up his wand. "Would you mind?" he asked Lena, gesturing for her to stand.

She did so, and he muttered an incantation, waving his wand. At once, the sheets and blankets on the bed pulled themselves up. He put his wand back on the table as Lena sat back down on the now-made bed, and joined her.

"Right," said Lupin, moving one leg up on to the bed so he was properly facing Lena. "Let's talk."

"Okay," said Lena. She bent over and pulled off her boots, then shifted back so she could sit cross-legged on the bed. "Where would you like to start?" she asked him.

"How did Voldemort first come to be your teacher?"

"Getting straight into it, then," muttered Lena under her breath. In a louder voice, she explained, "Not long after I'd turned four, he was at the house and saw me perform some accidental magic." She paused. "Well, I say accidental, but there was definitely some intent behind it."

"What do you mean?"

"I was retaliating to a hex my mother sent at me," said Lena. "Only, unlike in the memory you saw last week, I was a little more successful in getting her to stop hurting me. Anyway, what I did seemed to impress Voldemort, because next thing I knew, he was offering me lessons." She smiled wryly. "I don't think Bellatrix was particularly happy about it, but of course, she'd never deny her Dark Lord anything."

Lupin nodded slowly. "So, he started giving you lessons."

"Every Friday afternoon, for two hours," said Lena. "He never missed one," she added quietly.

"And what was his intention?"

"His intention?" repeated Lena, puzzled.

"Why did he want you to improve your magical abilities?" asked Lupin. "What did he gain from it?"

Lena started to twist a lock of hair around her index finger, considering this.

When she didn't reply, Lupin continued, "Were you supposed to be the first in the next generation of Death Eaters, or–"

"No."

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"The Death Eaters were his subordinates," said Lena, "not his pupils. He wanted them to be skilled and dangerous, yes, but he wasn't going to go out of his way to teach them anything... extraordinary. Not in the way he pushed me to be."

"What do you mean by extraordinary?"

"To one day be as good as him," said Lena. "At least as good as him."

"That doesn't make any sense," said Lupin. "Voldemort wanted to be the most powerful wizard in the world – why would he actively help someone to be his equal?"

Smiling, Lena shook her head. "And therein lies your fundamental misunderstanding of Lord Voldemort," she told Lupin.

"Enlighten me," said Lupin, crossing his arms.

Lena shrugged, as if it were obvious. "He loves magic," she said simply.

Friday 2 May, 1980:

"Take a moment to gather your focus."

Lena screwed her eyes shut, and slowly breathed in and out. Then she opened her eyes and snapped her fingers.

A small, blue flame flickered into life in the palm of her hand. She stared at it, entranced.

"I did it," she whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

"Well done."

Lena looked up from the flame to her teacher and smiled. "Thank you."

Voldemort returned the smile. For a little while, they simply gazed at the flame in silence. Then Lena closed her fist, putting it out.

"So, what's next?" she asked Voldemort eagerly.

He chuckled. "Already moving on, are we?"

Lena shrugged. "I mean, I'm happy I can do it. But there's so much more to learn–"

"And you are very young, and have so much time in which to learn it," Voldemort pointed out.

"But I want to learn everything."

"I know you do," said Voldemort after a short pause, an unusual softness in his eyes. "And that pleases me very much."

Lena flashed him a smile. She snapped her fingers, and a blue flame appeared once again. "It's amazing, isn't it," she murmured.

"What?"

Her eyes flicked up to Voldemort. "Magic," she said. "What it can do." She looked back at the flame. "Being a Muggle must be awful."

"Yes," agreed Voldemort quietly, staring at Lena contemplatively. "Yes, I suspect it is."

Once again, Lena extinguished the flame. "Sir," she began, "I know we've only been having these lessons for a few months, but..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

"But?" Voldemort prompted her

"When do you think I'll have learnt everything you can teach me?"

"Absolutely everything?" Voldemort considered this for a moment. "It's difficult to say. Perhaps fifteen or so years." He smiled at her. "Quite possibly less, if you continue learning at this rate."

Lena nodded slowly. "Then what happens?" she inquired.

"What happens after I've taught you everything I can?"

She nodded again.

"Then perhaps," said Voldemort softly, "we can both learn new things together."

"Like inventing spells? Doing stuff nobody else had done before?"

"Exactly," he affirmed. "Those sorts of things."

Lena smiled shyly. "I'd like that."

For a split second, the red seemed to fade from Voldemort's eyes, and his face became oddly... human. "I'd like that too," he replied, his voice unusually sincere. Then he slipped back into his ordinary countenance . "And the more work we do now, the sooner that future can come."

Lena straightened, looking at him attentively. "Yes, sir."

She kept her attention firmly on what he was saying for the rest of the lesson. But the moment he left after their lesson ended, her mind went straight back to what he'd said about their intended future.

The future in which he'd assured her they would stay together.

"You think Voldemort wants to be powerful in terms of comparison," explained Lena. "That what he wants is to be the most powerful. But that's not right. What he wants is to be as powerful as he possibly can be – because he loves magic. And he feels disdain for both anyone who doesn't want that, and anyone who does want it, but is unwilling to truly try."

Lupin appeared to come to a realisation. "Ambition," he said quietly. "That's what it comes down to." He regarded Lena with a curious expression. "And he chose to teach you – he felt affection for you–"

"–Because the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin for a reason," finished Lena.

There was a brief silence. Then:

"I asked him to teach me to kill her."

Lupin's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

Lena stared down at her lap. "The night he first offered to give me lessons," she said softly. "I asked Voldemort if he could teach me how to hurt my mother back. He laughed, and said he could teach me to kill her." She could feel Lupin's eyes boring into her.

"You were four years old," he said disbelievingly.

She glanced up at him. "I was a very angry four-year-old," she responded flatly. She sighed, then moved back so she could uncross her legs and stretch them out in front of her. "I've just been thinking a lot about that this week," she explained, arching her back until there was a satisfying crack. "Ever since I spoke to Harry. He knows, by the way," she added offhandedly.

Lupin frowned. "Knows what?"

"That Sirius Black was his dad's best friend, and the Secret Keeper when the Potters went into hiding," said Lena. "That he betrayed them."

"How did he find out?" asked Lupin, looking slightly ill.

"Ron and Hermione overheard some of the teachers discussing it with Cornelius Fudge in the Three Broomsticks last Saturday," Lena lied smoothly. Lupin might have been more reasonable and forgiving than most teachers, but she was fairly certain he would still be angry with Harry if he knew the boy had been sneaking into Hogsmeade when a mass-murderer was supposedly after him. "Naturally, they told Harry everything they heard. And now he seems to think that he should kill Black to avenge his parents' deaths."

"I don't blame him," said Lupin darkly. "If I ever get my hands on Sirius–"

"Oh, don't you start," interrupted Lena dismissively. "Neither you nor Harry are murderers, so don't pretend you'd Avada Kedavra him on sight."

Lupin narrowed his eyes. "I think you're underestimating–"

"What an ordinary person would do to avenge a loved one?" said Lena in a bored tone. "Granted I don't have experience in the matter, but I am aware that revenge isn't an uncommonly sought thing. What I meant was that you and Harry are better than that."

There was a long pause as Lupin stared at Lena. Then he quietly asked, "Why are you so convinced that I'm a good man?"

Lena hesitated, then said, "Two years ago, I spent the Christmas holidays with the Scamanders. One evening, I had a, well, interesting discussion with Newt, and during it, the subject of werewolves was brought up. Newt told me that a werewolf had once said to him that after their first full moon, a werewolf was faced with a decision: embrace the monster, or reject it and cling to their humanity all the harder." She offered Lupin a small smile. "When I look at you, it isn't hard to figure out which one you chose."

Instead of returning the smile, Lupin looked down at the bed with a bothered expression. "That makes it sound all so simple," he said.

"I find that often happens to feelings when you try to put them into words," remarked Lena. "But do you have a better way to explain it?"

Lupin looked up at her with a slight frown.

"You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not," said Lena quickly.

Shifting into a more comfortable position, Lupin shook his head. "No, I'll try," he said. "It's just..." He sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "It's not such a clear cut thing, the separation between the human and the monster," he explained. "Without the full moon, there's still this, this potential to be that beast. It's always there, at the back of my mind."

"But you resist it."

"Yes," said Lupin, "but it's not like I made one decision years ago, and that was it." He pushed his hair back, looking very tired again. "It's an ongoing battle."

The moment he said it, their eyes locked, and something changed in the room's atmosphere. A mutual understanding that had finally been reached between the werewolf and the girl with Dark magic literally running through her veins.

"What about the Wolfsbane?" asked Lena. "Does it have any effect on that... struggle?"

Lupin's brow creased. "It's strange," he said. "For the week leading up to the full moon, when I'm taking it, it's almost like I can feel that wolfish part being sedated. Then after the full moon, it's like the rest of me feels sedated, exhausted, lethargic – more than I do after a transformation without Wolfsbane. Which is odd, because I would expend far more energy during a full moon then than I do now."

"Kinetic energy, perhaps," said Lena. "But I imagine suppressing the wolf's more violent instincts takes its toll on you. After all, Wolfsbane was only invented, what, half a dozen years ago?" She shrugged. "No one's really sure what long-term effects it could have on a user yet."

Lupin grimaced. "Well, that's a thought that's going to fester," he muttered.

"Maybe we can be sick buddies," joked Lena, lying down on her side – being careful not to squish Mortimer – so she could stretch out.

"That reminds me," said Lupin, looking down at her concernedly. "How have you been this week?"

"Same as the last few weeks, I suppose," replied Lena. She rolled onto her back and drew up her knees. "I had an episode in front of Harry, so now he knows that I'm sick – well, to an extent."

"You didn't tell him it's terminal?" guessed Lupin.

"No," confirmed Lena, "nor that I can't use magic."

"Are you planning on telling him at all?"

"I don't know," answered Lena honestly, staring up at the ceiling. "And NEWT exams are only six months away now, so there's a whole other problem I need to start thinking about." She covered her face with her hands. "Merlin's balls," she mumbled, "everything's going to shit."

There was a brief silence, then Lena felt the bed sink slightly lower as Lupin flopped back on the bed, lying next to her.

"It's all such a fucking mess, isn't it?" he murmured.

Lena removed her hands from her head, and glanced at Lupin. "Yeah," she agreed, "it really is."

There was a long, companionable silence as they both lay there, gazing up at the ceiling.

Eventually, Lena broke it, remembering something. She turned back onto her side to face Lupin. "Well, I can show you one good thing that came out of this week," she told him.

Lupin looked at her curiously. "Go on."

Lena smiled, and sat up. She pulled her wand out of her jumper sleeve, and pointed it at the door. "Expecto Patronum," she said in a clear voice.

Sitting up fast, Lupin's eyes widened as a bright silver light poured out of Lena's wand, creating a distinct, strong shield. He quickly turned his attention to Lena's face.

She was smiling serenely.

After fifteen or so seconds, the light faded. Lupin continued to stare at Lena, no doubt astonished by her lack of tears.

"How?" was all he could manage.

"How I've always learned to do anything," said Lena simply. "By doing it over and over again until it comes naturally." She shrugged. "I've been practising in my dorm all week. It might not be corporeal, but I reckon it'll do its job."

Lupin still looked stunned. "But you're not..."

"Having an emotional breakdown?" suggested Lena when Lupin trailed off. "No, I got past that the seventh time. I guess I just came to terms with it – my happiest memory is seriously fucked up; nevertheless, it's what works." She smiled sardonically. "Turns out pushing the things you don't want to think about to the back of your mind isn't actually the best way of dealing with them."

Delighted as Remus was that Lena could now cast a Patronus, a small, selfish part of him desperately wished that the ability still eluded her. Their weekly Patronus lessons over the past couple of months had become one of the highlights of his week. Her seemingly boundless knowledge combined with her quick wit made for an excellent conversationalist, not to mention that her complete acceptance of his condition was... well, a nice change. When he was with Lena, he could be more of his self – felt more like his real self – than he had in a long time, and the prospect of losing those few precious hours of her company every week was painful.

In the end, however, he need not have worried. Rather than just seeing her for lessons on Saturday evenings, Lena took it upon herself to visit Remus in his office nearly every evening, and frequently spent much of the weekends with him too. Sometimes they talked for hours on end. Other times, Lena would help him with marking, and on other occasions, Remus would read through her essays for her privates classes with Dumbledore – which proved to also be an education for him. But at the end of the day, it didn't really matter what they were doing – it was Lena's presence that was most important. And that made the fact her life hung in such a precarious balance so frightening.

Her condition appeared to stabilise to a degree after Christmas. She still had episodes, of course, but they weren't getting any worse, or more frequent. Lena told him that Dumbledore had suggested that her ability to cast a Patronus may have helped in that regard. Remus was glad that the spread of the poison had slowed, but also knew that if the IHO didn't get a move on, that relief would be relatively short-lived.

Although Remus no longer had Lena as a pupil, he had gained a new one for Patronus lessons – and one that caused him only a little less worry than the former. Not that it had anything to do with his performance in those lessons –Harry's progress with the Patronus Charm was frankly astounding for a boy of his age. And every time a small, silver light shot out of his wand, it was so difficult for Remus not to tell him how proud his parents would be.

No, Harry wasn't directly causing Remus worry. What was concerning him was Harry's godfather – and how close he was getting to their fellow marauder's son.

Sunday 6 February, 1994:

"He was in their dormitory?" whispered Remus, aghast.

Minerva nodded, her expression grave. "Weasley says he woke up to find him standing over his bed, holding a knife."

Remus bent over, his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. He felt sick.

It was a quarter-to-three in the morning, and they was standing in his office. A few minutes ago, Remus had been woken by Minerva pounding on his door, calling out there was an emergency.

Less than an hour ago, Sirius Black had broken into the Gryffindor Tower, and gone into the Third Year boys' dormitory.

"When Weasley started yelling," continued Minerva, "he fled. We're searching the castle now."

Remus turned to go back into his room. "Right, just let me grab my dressing gown, and I can join–"

"No, Remus," said Minerva. "Albus and I would rather that you stay here. For the time being."

He froze, then slowly turned back to Minerva. "Are you saying that I no longer have the confidence of you and the headmaster? You, like Snape, believe I'm actually helping him?"

"Of course not," said Minerva firmly. "Quite the opposite, in fact. We are more concerned that..." she hesitated, "... that if you were to come across Black, you may behave... irrationally."

"You mean like try to take him on myself."

"Yes, and get yourself killed in the process" replied Minerva frankly.

Remus frowned, annoyed. "I'm not Peter, Minerva. I could–"

"I know you are a skilled duellist, Remus," interrupted Minerva. "But not only did Black murder thirteen people with one curse, he escaped from Azkaban." She looked at him sadly. "Maybe we once thought we knew what Sirius was capable of, Remus, but we cannot remain under such an illusion anymore." She cleared her throat, and her expression hardened. "So I will ask you once again to remain here while the rest of the staff search the castle. Is that understood?"

After she had left, Remus sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands.

'I hate him,' he thought angrily. 'I hate that bastard, and I hope a Dementor catches him and sucks his soul out."

The son-of-a-bitch had robbed him of all his dearest friends in a matter of hours. He had robbed Harry of his parents. And he had murdered thirteen people for no good reason.

'So why,' he asked himself, 'did the cries of one innocent thirteen-year-old boy make him flee?'

Tuesday 8 February, 1994:

'The possibility of a two-way mirror that has not only a visual connection but also a physical, has been explored – albeit without great success. In 1925, Icelandic wizard Ásbjörn Ólafursson attempted to traverse between a pair of two-way mirrors, only to accidentally separate his mind from his body – with the former becoming trapped in the reflection dimension, until it was rescued eight months later by noted scholar of the magical properties of reflections, Johanna Iversen.'

Her fingers becoming cramped, Lena put down her quill to flex the muscles in her hand. She had been writing her essay for her private lessons with Dumbledore for a solid hour now.

She picked up one of the academic papers that Hedda Nygård had sent her that morning, after Lena had written to her the previous week for more information regarding research into the magical nature of mirrors. Scanning it for anything further about the case of Ásbjörn Ólafursson, she was disrupted from her work by a knock on her dormitory door.

Lena looked around at the door, frowning. Who on earth could be knocking on it? She stood up from her desk – which she'd had some house-elves move into her dormitory from a spare classroom not longer after she'd moved into the room – and went over to the door, pulling it open.

It was Farley.

Lena arched an eyebrow. "Yes?" she said warily.

Farley smiled hesitantly. "Hi."

When she didn't say anything else, Lena sighed. "Can I help you?" she inquired pointedly.

"Um, yes," said Farley. She bit her lip, and looked left and right. "I, um, I don't suppose I might come in?" she asked timidly.

Lena stared at her for a long moment, then looked back at Mortimer, who was sitting on her bedside table. She jerked her head at him, and the bowtruckle took the hint to hide. Once he was out of sight, Lena turned back to Farley and stood to the side of the doorway, gesturing for her to enter.

Walking in, Farley looked around the dorm curiously. "Wow," she commented, "you've got so much space to yourself in here." Her eyes fell on the desk. "How'd you get a desk in here?"

"I'm resourceful," responded Lena flatly, shutting the door. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

Farley suddenly looked very nervous. "Oh, well, um..." She swallowed. "I, er, I don't know if you saw the notice board, but there's going to be a Hogsmeade trip this Saturday."

"No, I hadn't seen that."

"Right," said Farley, nodding. "Er, well there is."

Lena walked over to her desk, and leant against it, waiting for Farley to continue. When she didn't, she asked, "And was there a particular reason you wished to inform me of it, Farley?"

"You can call me Gemma, you know," said Farley tentatively. "I'd be cool with that."

Lena blinked. "Oh." She smoothed her hair back awkwardly. "Erm, all right, then."

Farley – or rather, Gemma – flashed her a quick, uncertain smile. "Great," she said. "And I wanted to tell you because I was wondering, were you planning on going?"

"I don't know," replied Lena truthfully. There hadn't been a Hogsmeade trip since she'd learned how to cast a Patronus, and even though she could do one now, Lena didn't think it would be a great idea to cast one in front of the rest of school just so she could get past the Dementors on her way out of Hogwarts. It would bring far too much unwanted attention upon her. On the other hand, she really would like to get to both Dervish & Banges, and Tomes & Scrolls.

"Well," said Gemma, moving closer to Lena, "I was just thinking that maybe if you were going, then perhaps..." She hesitated, before a stream of words poured out her mouth: "Prapswecorgofeva?"

"See, you've just done that thing again where you say something in a language that nobody actually speaks," said Lena drily.

Gemma's cheeks went pink. "Sorry. I was just asking if perhaps we could go," she coughed nervously, "together?"

Lena stared at her blankly. "Together," she said at last, "in exactly what capacity?'

"In, um... what I mean is... I was thinking – oh, Merlin." Gemma took a deep breath. "You know what? I'm just going to do it."

"Do wha–" Lena was cut off by Gemma closing the distance between them and firmly kissing her on the lips.

The kiss lasted roughly three seconds, then Gemma drew back. She was looking at Lena, with a mixture of nervousness and hope.

Lena stared back at her, stunned.

"I'll, um," said Gemma, walking backwards, "give you some time to think about what I, uh, asked." Reaching the door, she quickly pulled it open and exited the dormitory.

Still frozen, Lena stared at the door as it swung shut after Gemma, her mind blanker than – well, than she could ever recall it being.

After about twenty seconds, a single thought finally presented itself in her mind.

'Oh, fuck.'

Wednesday 9 February, 1994:

"And lastly, remember to not separate from your partner when patrolling at any time," said Percy Weasley, his expression very serious. "Black has already made it into the castle on two separate occasions–"

"That we know about it," Lena put in.

A number of the Prefects' faces paled at this implication.

"Yes," said Weasley, shooting Lena an annoyed look. "So we have to always be vigilant. And never on our own – so don't split up to check inside different classrooms, or if one of you needs to visit the bathroom during a patrol, the other should wait directly outside until–"

"Yes, I think they get it," said Lena hastily, seeing the expressions of discomfort that had appeared on some of the Prefects. "Well, if that's everything, then I think it's time you all head back to your common rooms – except Clearwater and Tullock who are on Patrol this evening, as are Farley and myself."

Fakhir Kahn raised his hand, puzzled. "But usually I patrol tonight with Gemma."

"I switched us so you're patrolling tomorrow night," said Lena briskly. "I assumed you would appreciate the extra time tonight to finish our Arithmancy assignment due tomorrow."

"Oh," said Kahn, surprised. "Thank you."

"All right, see you all next week," said Lena, doing her best to ignore the intent look Gemma was giving her.

There were various replies of "Thank you" and "See you" from the Prefects as they stood up and filed out of the classroom they used for meetings, until it was just Lena and Gemma left.

Gemma cleared her throat nervously. "Does... does this mean you've thought about what I... asked?" she said cautiously.

'Like I'd be able to think of anything else today,' thought Lena, but simply nodded. She stood at the doorway, indicating to Gemma to go through. "How about we discuss it while we do our rounds?" she suggested.

"Okay," said Gemma, and they exited the classroom.

They walked down the first-floor corridor in silence, as Lena tried to collect her thoughts. It wasn't helping that Gemma kept shooting her hopeful looks.

Romantic feelings weren't something with which Lena was overly familiar – especially in terms of other Hogwarts students. Sure, there were a couple of Valeriya's associates who she'd found attractive when she was a child, and not just appearance-wise. But they'd never been anything more than slight crushes. At Hogwarts, however, there had never been anyone who interested her in that way, and she had always assumed nobody thought of her like that either. No one had ever asked her out, and the only person who had ever tried to kiss her was Riddle – which Lena tried not to think about. In any case, Lena had remained unkissed.

Until last night. They turned off the main corridor into a smaller one, and as Gemma opened a classroom door to check no students were inside, Lena risked a quick glance at her. She was undoubtedly a pretty girl, and reasonably intelligent by ordinary standards. And she had never displayed any blood-purist sentiments, which certainly set her several bars above most of their housemates. In fact, as Lena had learnt over the last year-and-a-half, Gemma was sometimes downright nice. All in all, she had quite a number of appealing qualities – which only served to cause her confusion as to why the girl had developed feelings for Lena, of all people.

"All clear in here too," said Gemma, shutting the door and turning back to Lena.

"Why?" Lena blurted out.

Gemma raised her eyebrows. "Why what?"

"Why me?" elaborated Lena. "Of all the people you could ask to Hogsmeade, of all the people you could kiss, why me?"

"Because I wanted to," replied Gemma. "Because," she took a deep breath, "I like you."

"But why?" persisted Lena, still dumbfounded.

Gemma stared down at her feet, a blush creeping along her cheeks. "You're so smart," she said quietly, scuffing her foot along the floor. "Like, you know everything." She looked back up at Lena with a shy smile. "And it's not just that you know all this stuff, but you understand it too. Before you started teaching us Defence Against the Dark Arts last year, all I ever really did was memorise facts and learn how to do things." She ran a hand through her hair. "But when I heard you talking about the Dark Arts, and the ways to protect yourself from them, it was the first time I properly realised that there was more to magic. I could have listened to you talk about the simplest jinx for hours."

"So, it's because you thought I was a good teacher?" asked Lena, bemused.

"Not just that," said Gemma quickly. "I've always liked that you've never taken shit from anyone."

"You mean my incredibly disproportionate retribution?" inquired Lena flatly.

Gemma bit her lip. "I mean, maybe sometimes you went a tad... overboard," she replied delicately. "But I'm talking more about the little things, like how you kept Flint and Accrington in line during those classes, or how you'd shut down the girls like Selwyn when they tried to act like they owned Slytherin just because they're part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. You're just so... unapologetic, about who you are."

Lena tried to maintain a neutral mask, all the while thinking, 'Oh, if only you knew.'

"Also," added Gemma, "you're kind of pretty."

'Kind of pretty', Lena suspected, was a lot more charitable than most people would be. She rubbed her forehead tiredly. In an ideal world, she would have actually taken a moment to imagine what a date with Gemma would be like. But she was living in the real world, where she was sick and could not allow herself to entertain the notion for even the shortest of moments.

"I can't," she mumbled, her eyes closed as she massaged her temples.

"Can't what?"

Lena sighed and opened her eyes. "Go out with you," she said quietly, putting her hands in her pockets. "You're really nice, Gemma – much too nice to be in Slytherin, really. And I do like you more than about ninety-nine percent of the students here. But I can't go on a date with you."

Gemma exhaled slowly. "So you are straight, then," she said, sounding disappointed."I thought – well, I guess my intuition was wrong."

"Hang on," said Lena quickly, "that's not why I'm saying no."

Gemma's brow furrowed. "It isn't? So you aren't?"

"I..." Lena scratched her ear awkwardly. "Erm, to be honest with you, it's something I've never given much thought to," she said. "I suppose I..." she struggled for the right words, "... er, can go either way."

Looking crestfallen, Gemma nodded slowly. "So you're saying it's just me. You're... you're not into me."

"No," said Lena, a little too loudly, starting to feel awful. She had been trying to let Gemma down gently, but now it felt like she was digging herself a deeper hole. "No, like I said before, you're lovely. I just..." She threw her head back and groaned in frustration. "Oh, bollocks, I don't know what to say."

A realisation appeared to strike Gemma, her eyes widening. "Oh, it's okay," she said. "I.. I understand."

Lena raised an eyebrow. "You do?" she asked cautiously. Surely it wasn't possible that Gemma had figured out her illness? Had she noticed that Lena hadn't been using magic for almost the entirety of the year? And if she had discovered part of the truth, did Lena tell her the rest–

"It's Lupin, isn't it."

Lena stared at her, confused. "Sorry?"

"Professor Lupin," said Gemma. "You're in love with him."

As Lena continued to stare at Gemma, three thoughts ran through her mind in quick succession.

The first was what the hell had made Gemma come to that conclusion if she hadn't actually seen Lena and Lupin together since the first couple of weeks of classes last September.

The second was even if Gemma had seen any interaction between Lena and Lupin over the last five months, she couldn't see how anyone could suspect there were romantic feelings involved. It was a strictly platonic relationship, surely that was evident? Yes, occasionally she made jokingly flirtatious comments to him, but she only made them because their connection was clearly so unromantic that Lupin would know to never take them seriously. After all, he was a teacher – it would be totally inappropriate of her to be in love with Lupin.

And the third was not only was the secret of her illness still safe, but Gemma had just given Lena the perfect excuse to turn her down.

"Yes," Lena finally replied, sincerely as she possibly could. "Yes, I love him."

One Minute Earlier:

Remus was walking along the first-floor corridor, returning from the staffroom to his office, when the sound of someone loudly saying "No" startled him.

He frowned. The only people other than staff allowed to be roaming around the school at this hour were Prefects.

"No," the voice continued, "like I said before, you're lovely."

Remus recognised it as Lena's voice almost immediately. It was coming to his left, from a small corridor that branched off the one he was walking through. She must have been in the middle of doing her Prefect rounds.

"I just..." Lena trailed off, groaning in frustration.

Remus' eyes flicked between his right, where the staircase he needed to climb to get to the next floor was, and the turn into the corridor in which Lena was. He knew he should he have kept going on his way, but he was finding it very difficult to resist the urge to eavesdrop.

"Oh, bollocks," Lena was saying. "I don't know what to say."

He edged closer to the small corridor. He just wanted to know who she was talking to, then he'd move on.

"Oh, it's okay," another girl's voice said. "I... I understand."

Remus peeked around the corner for half-a-second, which was just long enough to confirm that it was Gemma Farley to whom Lena was talking.

"You do?" asked Lena, sounding uncertain.

'What are you doing?' Remus asked himself sternly. 'This is their private conversation, it's none of your business.' He turned around, taking a step back towards the staircase.

"It's Lupin, isn't it."

Remus froze.

"Sorry?"

'Yes, sorry?' thought Remus.

"Professor Lupin," said Farley. "You're in love with him."

There was a long pause, during which Remus could only hear the sound of his heart pounding in his chest.

At last, there came a reply. "Yes. Yes, I love him."