Gemma's eyes brighten at the sight of Darcy and Lupin entering the large tent.
Inside, the ground is soft and lumpy in places, but covered with canvas flooring. There are smaller walls on the inside to separate cots in tiny cubicles to give the users privacy. They're all currently empty to Darcy's great relief.
There are some trestle tables and rickety wooden stools inside, covered with bandages and goblets and vials filled with potions, a mortal and pestle with a few ingredients thrown inside. Gemma sets down a stone bowl filled with thick orange paste, running up to Darcy and throwing her arms around her neck.
Darcy stumbles, releasing Lupin's hand to hug Gemma back. Part of her feels rather guilty for finding more comfort in Gemma's arms than she had in Emily's fretting, but she doesn't linger on it, more concerned with the task at hand.
When Gemma pulls away from Darcy, she smiles at Lupin with her eyebrows raised. "Did you scare Emily off so soon?"
Lupin only chuckles, shaking his head.
"She's finding seats," Darcy answers, saving him the trouble.
"You must be so nervous," Gemma says to Darcy, taking her hands and leading her over to one of the cots. "I couldn't believe it when Madam Pomfrey told me there would be dragons—oh, shit—I didn't spoil it, did I? I mean, I've never even seen one before! Does Harry have a plan?"
"No, I knew." Darcy fidgets uncomfortably, but knows that Madam Pomfrey would never purposefully get her into trouble. "Harry found out just Saturday night," she explains, glad to see the matron doesn't even flinch at the learning of this knowledge. "We worked all yesterday on the plan. He's going to Summon his Firebolt."
Gemma looks incredibly skeptical, sharing a doubtful look with Lupin over Darcy's shoulder. However, her skepticism quickly fades, and she turns back to Madam Pomfrey with her sweetest smile. "Madam Pomfrey, may I please go sit with my friends?"
Madam Pomfrey looks them all over, fixing them with a stern gaze, even Lupin. Then she sighs heavily, seemingly defeated. "Go," she tells Gemma. "I think Potter needs you now more than I do, but I want you back as soon as possible."
"Look," Gemma tells her friends happily. "I decided to wear Gryffindor colors today." She tucks her dark hair behind her ears, showing off her earrings. Two golden earrings hang from her lobes, rubies sparkling in the center. Up her left ear are three golden studs, usually silver.
"I should have brought my camera," Darcy teases. She looks up at Lupin. "Seven years and Gemma has never once cheered for Gryffindor in anything."
"It's Harry I'm cheering for today, not Gryffindor," Gemma replies very seriously. "Unfortunately, I couldn't find earrings with Harry's face on them."
Darcy smiles weakly. "I think he would much prefer the ones you're wearing to anything with his face on it."
Gemma leads Darcy and Lupin towards the stands, chattering away. It almost reminds Darcy of the Quidditch pitch from what she can see through the thinning forest, and she laments on how much she'd rather be watching Quidditch today than whatever the hell she's going to be watching.
The stadium that has been erected in the outskirts of the forest has hundreds of seats for the spectators, already half-filled. It resembles more of an amphitheater than anything, with rocky uneven terrain in the center, clearly not natural.
Many of the students already in the stands are wearing black and yellow in support of the true Hogwarts champion, while others wave pennants and banners supporting Viktor Krum. All of the Beauxbatons students have already been seated, their powder-blue uniforms still on, crisp and clean. They lack any banners for their champion, but the looks on their faces are all eager and excited and confident.
"Madam Pomfrey was horrified when they told her about the dragons. You should have heard her," Gemma says, making her way through the forest. Upon reaching the clearing, she shields her eyes from the sun and looks up into the stands. "Absolutely disgusted, but . . . well, they're better than dementors, yeah? Oh, look! Emily's found Carla!"
"Wait for us!"
Darcy, Lupin, and Gemma all turn around quickly to see Hermione sprinting towards them, following by a very sheepish Ron. Hermione's face is white, drained of all color and looking just as anxious as Darcy, and she clutches tight to Darcy's sleeve, pulling her forward to stand face-to-face with Ron.
Ron looks rather green, and he prefers to fix his eyes upon his shoes rather than Darcy's face. He's taller than Harry, lankier and skinnier and he always has been, and at fourteen, is just a few inches shy of being at a height with Darcy.
She realizes then how much she's truly missed his company. Ron has always been able to make her smile, and after seeing him constantly at Harry's side for three long years and after coming to see his father in a very loving light, Darcy has a certain fondness for Ron.
"You owe her an apology, Ron," Hermione hisses in his ear. "Go on now, say it."
Ron's ears turn bright red and he looks reluctantly up at Darcy, tucking his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers. She waits patiently for an apology she doesn't really think necessary, but might be very humbling for him. Truthfully, Darcy thinks that Harry is the one who deserves any apology, but she's certain that he'll receive on by the end of the day.
Finally, Ron sighs heavily. "I'm sorry, Darcy," he frowns, looking away from her again. "I didn't really think you put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire."
Hermione seems satisfied with this, and Darcy laughs for the first time all day, pulling him into a tight hug. Ron nuzzles into her shoulder as she grips the back of his hair and kisses the top of his ginger head. "You can be such an idiot, Ron," she whispers, making sure no one else can hear. "You know that?"
Ron smiles, wriggling out of Darcy's arms as he might his mother's. "I know."
"You're going to talk to me again?"
"Yeah," Ron shrugs, still looking embarrassed.
"This is so cute and all," Gemma interrupts with a laugh. "But if you're done now, perhaps we could go find our seats?"
The five of them find places beside Emily and Carla. Carla is dressed in black and yellow, sitting aside some of her other Hufflepuff friends. They smile politely at Darcy, immediately putting their heads together and whispering at the sight of Lupin holding her hand. He doesn't fail to notice, meaning to let go of her, but Darcy squeezes his hand tighter.
"You're not even going to cheer for Harry?" Emily asks Carla harshly, taking a seat beside her.
"I told Darcy before that I wouldn't," Carla retorts, defensive. "I'm obligated to cheer for Cedric. He's from Hufflepuff."
"You're obligated to cheer for one of your best friend's brother," Gemma says loudly from Lupin's other side.
Darcy, seated between Emily and Lupin, glances over at Carla. "Gemma's wearing red and gold earrings."
"Is she really?" Carla asks, looking across everyone at Gemma in disbelief. Gemma is too busy in deep conversation with Hermione to notice anyone's staring. Carla gives her head a shake, looking at Darcy again very seriously. "Did you take a picture?"
"I thought about it."
Down below in the enclosure, plenty big for a full-sized dragon and its prey, a few burly-looking men stand around talking. She doesn't look away, even as the stands begin to fill completely, forcing everyone to sit shoulder to shoulder, squeezed together. The tight fit makes Darcy feel more anxious and she looks around for a sign of Harry, or Charlie, or even Ludo Bagman, someone to calm her down and reassure her and to get her out of this claustrophobic hellhole.
"I think I'm starting to panic again," Darcy mutters to Lupin, breathing fast and heavy. "I think I'm going to have a heart attack."
"This is how Darcy was at Harry's first Quidditch match," Hermione tells Lupin, and he chuckles. Some color seems to have come back to her face—Hermione's cheeks are pink, but whether its from the chill or her settling nerves, Darcy can't be sure. "Her eyes were closed the whole time."
"I saw him catch the Snitch, at least," Darcy replies sharply. It's a complete lie; her eyes were closed most of the match, and when she had opened them, Harry had been holding the Snitch in the palm of his hand.
Ron scoffs loudly from the end of the bench, next to Hermione. "If your eyes were actually open, you would have known he almost swallowed it."
Darcy blushes, but Lupin wraps an arm around her shoulders, smiling. "Your mother was the same way when she and James started going out," he tells her, making Darcy blush harder. "She would watch through her fingers when things got particularly nasty."
Before anymore can be said on the topic, Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice booms out a warm welcome to the audience, and they roar their approval. Thinking again of the Quidditch World Cup, Darcy's heart beats faster than ever and all she wants to do is run away, run far away, escape the voice that reminds her of that horrible night.
On her right side, Emily takes Darcy's head in hers and laces their fingers together. Emily is pale and sweaty now, her hand clammy and trembling slightly, and Darcy squeezes, feeling sorry. Surely the memory of that night is far more vivid for Emily, but she only wipes her forehead and brushes her hair out of her face.
"Welcome to the first task of the newly resurrected—" Ludo pauses here for dramatic effect, and Darcy can tell he's grinning—"Triwizard Tournament!" Darcy sits up straighter and Lupin's arm retracts from around her. Emily wraps her neatly manicured free hand around Darcy's arm, and she takes more comfort from this gesture than anything else that's happened today. "Our four champions have been prepped for today's task, and now it's time to unveil the mystery to you, our faithful audience!"
Darcy looks down towards the enclosure again to find the judges' table situated across the stands, down by the two large doors that serves at the entrance. Ludo gestures towards them and, at once, they open dramatically. All the students seem to collectively inhale sharply as Charlie Weasley enters first, helping a group of other men and women lead in a irritated dragon.
The scales are a beautiful silvery-blue, reflecting the sunlight and blinding her for a split second. The horns are long and yellowed, but sharp enough to spear a man through the belly, just as sharp as it's talons and teeth. The dragon snorts angrily, fighting against the restraints, causing blue flames to shoot from its deep-set nostrils.
"The Swedish Short-Snout . . . a positively beautiful dragon! Though Mr. Charlie Weasley tried to convince me otherwise just last night!" Ludo continues excitedly as the dragon is pulled into the middle of the enclosure. The crowd gasps as the dragon breathes another huff of blue flame into the open air. "Our champions have each chosen a dragon, and their job will be to collect the golden egg, which holds a clue to what the second task will bring! Our spectacular judges will then score our champions based on their performance and use of magic in the face of danger!"
Darcy watches Charlie Weasley carefully place a golden egg in a nest full of regular eggs, backing away quickly. The other dragon trainers follow, jumping a small wall on the edge of the enclosure to watch closely.
"Now," Ludo says, his voice ringing to Darcy's head. Emily's grip on her hand has nearly cut off her circulation, but Darcy says nothing. Her grip is just as tight. "A round of applause for our first champion . . . from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . . Cedric Diggory!"
Carla and her Hufflepuff friends jump to their feet, stomping and clapping and roaring their support as Cedric walks out into the clearing, a smile on his face. Lupin and Hermione clap politely, if not lazily, but all around them, most of the Hogwarts students are screaming and cheering for the lone Hufflepuff. Darcy is rather impressed by the way Cedric swaggers out with some confidence, his wand gripped tight in his right hand and his shoulders back as he keeps his eyes fixed upon the dragon.
Darcy feels lightheaded. It would have been infinitely better if it had been Harry to go first. At least then it would be over soon, but watching Cedric attempt to get to his egg is nerve-wracking and almost physically painful, because now she knows what Harry will be up against, and she isn't sure how much longer she can wait. The cheering makes it almost impossible to hear Ludo's commentary, and the entire stadium seems to swim before her every so often.
Cedric keeps his distance and raises his wand, Transfiguring one of the rocks into a dog with shaggy yellow fur. It runs around in a circle, barking and chasing its tail, but it seems to limp as if its legs aren't all quite the right size. Emily's fingernails dig into Darcy's arm, bringing her back to reality for a moment.
The dragon is distracted by the dog, following the animal before lunging, its jaws wide. The dog is quicker, dancing just out of reach as Cedric creeps steadily nearer to the nest, where the golden egg is nestled. The minutes seem drawn out as the dragon continues to follow the dog, blue flame erupting from its mouth and nostrils, missing the dog by mere inches, surely singing some of its fur. The roar is a screeching noise, so loud that it must echo around the world.
"Are you watching, Darcy?" Gemma shouts across Lupin with a smile. She elbows him in the ribs. "Make sure she keeps her eyes open!"
Lupin looks down at Darcy, still huddled close with Emily, now holding each other.
Cedric is so, so close, and Darcy is eager for the end, her heart fit to bursting. He reaches for the golden egg, but the dragon seems to sense something is wrong. The Transfigured dog barks and snarls from behind the dragon, but the Swedish Short-Snout is no longer interested in it.
Emily screams as the dragon opens its mouth at the same time that Cedric places his hands on the golden egg—flames shoot towards him and all Darcy can hear is Emily's scream, but Cedric moves quickly, running far away from the dragon and cradling the egg as trainers flood the field to subdue it.
"He's got the egg! Cedric Diggory has got the egg!" Ludo shouts, over and over and over. "Looks like the Swedish Short-Snout has burned his face! That might hurt his score, but he's still smiling!"
The crowd erupts around, louder than ever, and Carla is on her feet again, waving her black and yellow scarf in the air. Cedric holds up the egg to tremendous applause, the left side of his face an angry red color and blistering.
"Shouldn't you be going back to help with that?" Hermione asks Gemma, clapping along with the others, though not as enthusiastically.
"What do you think I did all day?" Gemma scoffs, waving a flippant hand in Hermione's direction. "Madam Pomfrey has plenty of burn cream for him on hand. You don't need two people to slap some cream on his face."
Emily releases her hold on Darcy's hand as the judges declare their score for Cedric. "That was terrifying," Emily confesses in a shaky voice. "What did you say Harry's doing again?"
"He's flying," Darcy answers. "He's going to Summon his Firebolt."
"If he was really smart, he'd fly far away from here."
"You're not making me feel any better."
Fleur Delacour is next, facing a Common Welsh Green. Her dragon doesn't look half as menacing as the Swedish Short-Snout had, and it's certainly smaller. Every inch of this dragon is colored a moss green, its snout elongated and thin. The tail seems to go on forever, and when Fleur takes the field, it snorts angrily when the crowd begins to cheer.
She begins immediately, waving her wand and performing a complicated, but graceful sort of motion, sending what looks like pink smoke from the tip of her wand.
The spell hits the confused dragon in the face, causing it to sway for a moment. Almost as if falling asleep, its head droops, and Fleur takes her chance. She dives for the egg, but the dragon wakes almost instantly, driving Fleur backwards once more. She tries again and again and again, until the dragon is drowsy and unable to move quickly enough to keep up.
And then, the dragon collapses to the ground, its large eyes closing slowly as the ground rumbles beneath it. Fleur hesitates, but runs at the nest again, grabbing the golden egg to Ludo Bagman's excitement. As she holds it up to present it to the audience, the dragon snores loudly and a thin stream of fire shoots from its nostrils, catching the hem of Fleur's skirt.
Fleur's shriek cuts the air and she drops the egg, dousing her skirt with water from the tip of her wand as the trainers enter the enclosure once more to move the sleeping dragon away without disturbing it too much.
"Oh, please let it be Harry next," Darcy says, wiping her sweaty palms on her cloak. "I can't wait much longer . . ."
"Feeling any better about his chances?" Lupin asks, brushing some hair out of her face.
"As Harry's sister, I am completely confident in his ability to out-fly a dragon," Darcy answers, laughing nervously. "But I could be feeling a little better."
Unfortunately, it's not Harry who's next. Viktor Krum skulks into the enclosure, and it seems as if there isn't a single person who doesn't scream his name. Even Ron leans forward slightly, watching intently and cheering along with the rest of the crowd.
The dragon he's mean to face is a Chinese Fireball, its scales a beautiful crimson color, the color of blood, with short golden horns set around its face. Its eyes seem to bulge out of their sockets, and when it snorts, fireballs shoot from its nostrils.
Viktor Krum doesn't hesitate, sending a well-aimed Conjunctivitis Curse into one of the dragons's eyes. From Emily's other side, Carla claps excitedly, looking at Lupin. "You taught us that!" she screams over the noise.
Lupin smiles and Darcy leans into him, thankful for the comfort his warmth brings her, and thankful when he wraps his arm around her again.
However, the curse does not produce the results that Viktor Krum likely expected. The dragon stomps its feet angrily, roaring its disapproval and snorting red hot fire in its agony and pain. Krum dodges its large feet several times, and Darcy can't help but think how clumsy he looks on the ground, considering how well he flew at the World Cup.
Darcy's heart still hammers madly in her chest as the Chinese Fireball crushes some of her own eggs beneath her feet, only making her angrier. It takes Krum almost fifteen minutes to get closer to the nest, and the dragon stumbles, blinded and in pain, unable to see the boy that has slipped between its legs.
Viktor Krum grabs the golden egg and backs off unharmed as the trainers swarm around the enraged dragon. He doesn't hold the egg up in the air, only offers a small and forced smile to the noisy audience, and Darcy hears several girls scream. Gemma claps loudly for him, sighing contently as he swaggers out of sight.
Darcy sees Harry's dragon first before she actually sees him. This dragon is surely the meanest, the most vicious. It takes nearly all of the trainers to lead the black Hungarian Horntail—aptly named, Darcy thinks with horror—into the enclosure, thrashing its heavy and spiked tail and breathing fire at the ground and in the air.
Darcy and Emily hold hands again, shaking violently. Carla holds Emily's free hand, also breathing raggedly. On the other side of Lupin, Gemma holds Hermione to her, both of them slightly pale again. Ron's jaw is set, his face still green.
When Harry steps out into the enclosure, it strikes her how much smaller he looks than the other champions, even smaller than Fleur, who's slight and skinny. He really is just a boy, Darcy thinks. She raises her left hand to her face, covering her mouth and wanting to cover her eyes, not wanting to see Harry get burnt to a crisp, not wanting to see that great tail hit him and break him in half.
Her friends can't seem to find it in them to scream for him. All of a sudden, everyone seems a little more frightened, a little less enthusiastic and excited.
Lupin shakes her slightly, but when she looks up at him, she can see his lips moving, unable to hear a word he's saying. All of the shouts and cheers and applause and stomping and jeering seem so far away, and Darcy furrows her brow, looking slowly back towards Harry. She sees him hold up his wand to cast a Summoning Charm, sees him inch slowly backwards from the dragon, hovering by her nest of eggs.
Please let it come, Darcy prays. Please let it come, please let it come—
"There!" Emily shrieks in her ear, and all sound returns to Darcy as she watches Harry's Firebolt speed through the air, faster than any broomstick she's ever seen. It speeds right to Harry's side, hovering in front of him and willing him to jump on. He mounts quickly and Darcy screams, unable to keep silent anymore.
"Yes!" she shouts, gasping for breath, laughing incredulously. "Yes!"
Harry soars over the stands, over Darcy, and he's smiling down at her as he continues up into the sky, moving high above the Horntail's head. The dragon doesn't move to follow him, only watches from the ground, eyes fixed upon Harry and its neck moving every so often to track him.
And then, after the longest minute of Darcy's life, Harry dives towards the ground, towards the Horntail . . . the dragon opens its mouth, flames spitting through the air, and Harry pulls up to narrowly avoid being burnt.
"Great Scott—he can fly!" Ludo shouts, and Darcy looks quickly at the judges' table to see him jumping up and down. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum!"
Darcy releases Emily's hand, grabbing onto Lupin's cloak and giving him a shake. "That's my little brother!" she yells, and Lupin laughs. She looks at Gemma and Ron and Hermione, who looks very faint. "That's my little brother!"
Harry rises higher again, making to dive once more. The dragon breathes more fire, which misses, but her tail doesn't miss. Harry's robes tear at the contact and his shoulder turns into a bloody mess. Darcy screams in earnest, gripping Lupin's cloak so tightly that her knuckles turn white, her fingers cramping, but Harry doesn't falter. He continues to circle the dragon, urging it to follow him, only making her angrier.
Higher and higher, a little bit at a time, avoiding the fire that comes from her mouth, swooping low at times, but always going higher. The dragon stays put, visibly frustrated as Harry continues up out of her reach. And as Harry climbs just a bit higher in altitude, the dragon finally relents.
She spreads her leathery wings, roaring over the deafening crowd, pushing off from the ground to reach for him, but Harry is quicker. He dives once more, her nest finally unprotected, ripe for the picking. He flies mere inches from the ground, reaching out for the golden egg as if it's nothing more than a Snitch, and the dragon hardly has time to realize what's happening—
"Harry Potter's got the egg! Harry Potter has the egg!"
The stadium is louder than ever. Those who had given him dirty looks in the corridors are on their feet. Carla and her Hufflepuff friends are some of the first to stand, and then Emily and Gemma and Hermione, arms wrapped around each other as they jump up and down with Ron beside them, wide-eyed with disbelief.
Darcy looks up at Lupin and he looks down at her, and without thinking, she kisses him hard, knocking him backwards into Gemma. Gemma jumps and turns around quickly, smiling at Darcy when she pulls away to breathe.
"Let's go," Gemma says, reaching across Lupin to take Darcy's hand. "They'll be taking him to the first-aid tent."
With Darcy and Gemma in the lead, the rest of their friends follow close behind, a large party tramping through the woods. When they reach the tent again, Madam Pomfrey instructs Gemma to tend to Harry, while the matron hurries over to Cedric in the adjacent cubicle.
Gemma grabs a rag and bowl full of purple potion from the table she had set her paste down on earlier, taking a seat beside Harry as Darcy runs at him, flinging her arms around his neck.
"Ow, ow, ow, ouch!" Harry hisses, but when Darcy releases him, he flashes her a winning smile. He looks around at everyone crowded in the tent as Gemma presses the soaked rag to Harry's bleeding shoulder. It smokes and Harry curses quietly, but when Gemma pulls it away and touches her wand to his shoulder to clean the excess blood, the wound it gone. "Wow! Thanks, Gemma!"
"Yes, well," Gemma replies, shaking her head and setting the rag back down in the bowl, "it may come as a surprise to you, but I actually do know what I'm doing."
"That was amazing, Harry," Hermione sighs, seating herself at the foot of the cot.
Harry gets to his feet and begins to pace restlessly, a smile glued to his face. Darcy is glad that he allows her to pull him to her chest and kiss his sweaty forehead. She holds him for a moment until he squirms and wriggles away from her, resuming his pacing.
Lupin claps a hand on his shoulder, giving him a few pats. "Your father would never have believed it," he smiles. "The finest flying I've ever seen."
"Darcy taught me to do the Summoning Charm," Harry confesses, smiling at his sister again. "We worked at it all day yesterday."
"Did she?" Lupin asks with a warm pride to his voice, giving her a look that sets butterflies fluttering about her stomach. "Look at you, Professor Potter."
Darcy leans against him, blushing. "I learned from the best, of course."
"That was far more exciting than any Quidditch match I've ever seen you play," Emily says, ruffling Harry's hair.
"You make it hard not to root for you, Harry," Carla adds with a shrug. "Show us your earrings, Gemma."
Gemma obliges, showing Harry her red and gold earrings, and Darcy grins when she sees his cheeks turn slightly pink.
And then, once it's quiet again, Ron steps forward to Darcy's side. "Harry," he breathes, still stunned. "Whoever put your name in that goblet . . . I reckon they're trying to do you in—"
"And they're probably crying with shame after such a wonderful performance!" Gemma interrupts, making everyone laugh, but Harry and Ron are still watching each other.
Ron looks sheepish again, his ears burning red. "I shouldn't have—"
Harry cuts him off. "It's fine. Forget it." And they both smile.
"You two are so stupid!" Hermione cries, hugging them both.
"I'm so proud of you, Harry," Darcy smiles, kissing his head once more. "I am so, so proud of you."
Madam Pomfrey attempts to shuffle them all out, claiming there are too many of them, and Darcy can't deny it. Gemma stays with Harry, keeping a close eye on him, and Madam Pomfrey allows only two others to stay. Emily bids Darcy a tearful good-bye, promising another visit soon, and Carla runs after Emily. Darcy smiles at Hermione and Ron as they talk excitedly about the other champions.
"Meet me in my room when you get back to the castle, all of you. I'll get some butterbeer to celebrate," Darcy says to Harry, and he nods.
"Go," he laughs. "Before you start crying. She didn't cry, did she?"
"She was very, very close," Lupin answers.
"I was more concerned about having a heart attack," Darcy chuckles, blushing again. "I love you, Harry."
Harry looks around at everyone watching him, waiting for him to answer. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbles. "I love you, too."
Darcy walks Lupin back down to Hogsmeade. They walk slowly, villagers walking with them to return to their homes and reopen their shops. They all bustle past, and Darcy hears many of them complimenting Harry's superb flying. It lightens Darcy's heart. Today had gone perfectly, and Gemma had fixed Harry's shoulder with such ease, and Harry is all right, smiling, and still alive.
"Do you feel foolish now?" Lupin jokes, grasping her hand. "I told you everything was going to be all right."
"How long have you been waiting to rub that in my face?" Darcy asks, raising an eyebrow at him and smirking.
"Ever since Harry successfully Summoned his Firebolt."
"Thank you for coming," she sighs happily. "I don't know what I would have done without you here."
"Hopefully not have kissed someone else in celebration and relief?"
Darcy sees the corners of his lips turn upwards, and she looks away. "Shut up, you."
"Not that I'm complaining, of course," he continues, slowing his pace. "Anytime you need to kiss someone out of sheer relief, please . . . let me know."
Adrenaline surges through Darcy still, and his slow steps are making her antsy. Darcy pulls him by the hand towards Hogsmeade, down the busy High Street and towards the Three Broomsticks. But instead of entering the establishment, Darcy drags him down the narrow alleyway in-between two buildings. There's barely enough room to walk side by side, and Lupin staggers after her, laughing breathlessly.
"Darcy, what are you—?"
But Darcy pushes him against the grimy wall of the Three Broomsticks, kissing him again. Her heart leaps in her throat, her stomach is in knots, her head buzzing as if she's drunk. Her cheeks flush as the thought of her bold gesture, but Lupin doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. She breaks the kiss only for a moment, only to murmur words of love against his list.
"Don't tease me, kitten," he says, his voice a low growl, and he rests his forehead against her own.
"Stay, Remus—God, please stay—I'll sneak you up to the castle—it will be too easy with your map and the cloak—"
"A tempting offer," he laughs softly, kissing her temple with less fervor than she hopes for. "You'll see me again this weekend. I would not be so selfish as to keep you from your brother after he accomplished such a spectacular feat."
"Celebrate with us," she rasps, brushing off the front of his cloak, slipping a hand underneath it to touch his chest over his jumper. "Just one drink to celebrate and then you can go."
Lupin smiles against her skin as he kisses her neck. "I have a much different idea of how I'd like to celebrate with you," he purrs. "One that I wouldn't be able to walk away from so easily."
"Don't go," she pleads, running her hands through his hair. "Please stay."
"How does it feel to be the one begging this time?"
"It feels terrible," Darcy confesses, lowering her hand to brush against the front of his trousers.
"Is it wrong of me to want you to keep begging?"
Darcy raises her eyebrows, taking his hand in hers and kissing his fingers lightly. "I could get on my knees and beg, if you'd like."
Lupin hesitates, looking flustered and wide-eyed, clearing his throat. "I do love the sight of you on your knees."
"Is that what you want?" she asks breathlessly.
He sighs heavily, as if refusing her offer is the hardest thing in the world. "As much as I want to say yes, you should go celebrate, my love," he tells her, letting go of her hand and placing his index finger to her chin to tilt her head back. Lupin kisses her softly on the lips. "And maybe if I'm lucky, it will be me you think of when you go to bed tonight."
"It's always you," Darcy whispers, blushing and kissing him one last time. "Promise that you'll think of me."
"I always do."