Chapter 19: Untainted Magic


More of the Death Eaters laughed, though the woman still laughed loudest of all.
"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," said Malfoy.
—Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, J.K. Rowling


"Are you kidding me? Of-fucking-course I'm in."

I expected nothing less.

"Thought so," I whispered as Sirius and I approached the marble staircase leading to the empty Entrance Hall.

We walked together in silence, but I could practically feel him vibrating with anticipation. My head tilted to the side as I took a moment to survey him for the first time in days. I noticed how his fingers twitched, already itching to wrap around the handle of his wand. Though his expression remained collected and calm, there was a subtle spark in his eyes I'd never seen before, one surely extinguished in my time by the dementors of Azkaban.

Many found Sirius Black to be rather enigmatic, even those that took the time to delve past the surface. However, after a few years of studying his adult counterpart, I thought—a bit proudly, I must admit—that I could surmise the goings-on beneath that handsomely coiffed head of hair.

Sirius was never one to sit back and simply observe. At present, he was a man of action restrained only by circumstance—trapped within the castle during wartime, unable to contribute to the ongoing resistance. Having been there before, I understood. Being sidelined was bloody frustrating. Combined with his misguided obligation to atone for his family's failures and urge to prove himself worthy of his chosen place in the wizarding world…

Well, it was more than enough to make any stable man certifiable—and let's be honest here, no witch or wizard with the surname Black could ever be deemed entirely sane.

During my stay at Grimmauld Place, it was obvious that Sirius maintained his sanity through perpetual action, and months of stagnation had strained him to the verge of breaking. His current feelings must pale in comparison to how useless he felt while confined to his mother's house of horrors.

Oh, and twelve years in Azkaban certainly hadn't helped matters much, either.

My vision shifted abruptly back into focus as we halted, and I was startled to find Sirius staring back at me, a slight crease between his brows. I averted my gaze forward and shook my head jerkily. God, that train of thought took a bleak turn—or perhaps a depressing nosedive might be more accurate.

We'd reached the front doors of the castle, and my face flooded with color with the realization that I must have been ogling him for the entire length of the Entrance Hall.

Great, now you're just creepy. You've reached grade A levels of weird, Hermione.

To hide my embarrassment, I made to open one of the heavy double doors, but before my hand could make contact with wood, he grabbed my extended forearm and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes darted around the hall and his nostrils flared, likely searching for any hint of feline scent—wherever Mrs. Norris lurked, Filch was guaranteed to soon follow.

How old was that bloody cat, anyway?

"Quickly," muttered Sirius, cracking one of the oak doors just enough for us to slip out and nudging me through. "The lads and I have far more experience sneaking around after-hours," he stated once the balmy September breeze hit our faces and he pushed the door shut behind us. His face had grown serious and tone abnormally firm. "You should have taken one of us along with you."

I couldn't help but laugh.

Actually, as a first year I smuggled a newly-hatched and vicious-as-hell Norwegian Ridgeback all the way from Hagrid's hut to the Astronomy Tower. Oh, and that wasn't even the first of many night time excursions during my time at Hogwarts.

I think I've had more than enough practice, thank you very much.

"I can handle my own," I retorted, biting down on my bottom lip to refrain from laughing even more.

"I don't doubt it," he replied without any hint of sarcasm, "but a little help never goes amiss."

I couldn't deny that he had a point, but I was accustomed to always having more than enough assistance—help that I never had to request, help that was faithfully by my side. Stranded in time without my two best friends, I was now forced to venture out on my own, and no matter what Sirius said, my mindset likely wouldn't change.

At least not anytime soon.

I grunted noncommittally as we crossed the grounds. I tugged the Invisibility Cloak closer as it fluttered around our ankles. Sirius was nearly as tall as Ron—six foot two, at minimum. After many years of vanishing beneath it, I was certain the cloak would cover us both if I shifted nearer to him, but I couldn't bring myself to make the move.

Trust Sirius to have contradictory plans.

A long arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me smoothly to his side. Fingers dug into my protruding ribs. "We only have so much cloak to work with, love. I don't bite, you know."

I flinched at this touch. "Don't call me love," I replied flatly, working hard to keep any heat from my voice. I wanted friendship from him, not another row. "Don't treat me the same as some tart you're snogging in a broom cupboard."

I typically refrained from shaming what others got up to in private, but the girl's parting words—'as always'—made my stomach turn.

He withdrew his arm and was silent for a bit too long before murmuring, "You're far from that, Hermione."

I had no bloody idea how to respond to such a statement, so I chose not to.

Friendship, Hermione.

We didn't speak again until we reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"So where exactly is this meeting taking place?" he asked under his breath.

"Er…"

Honestly, I had no clue. I could approximate the locations of a few main clearings, but my original plan consisted of wandering along each path until I encountered some sort of hint. A weak strategy, at best, but considering the shoddy intel I was currently working off, it was my only option.

"Merlin, woman," he replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're fucking lucky to have run into me. Don't move, I'll be back in a moment."

He ducked out from beneath the cloak and darted off into the darkness before I could so much as blink.

"Sirius!" I hissed, astonished by this sudden abandonment.

I was left alone among the foliage that lined the perimeter of the forest, clutching the Invisibility Cloak around myself as I searched in vain for any sign of where he'd disappeared to. He was gone for a full minute before he finally came up behind me, hands grasping blindly in the air, searching for fabric. I dropped the cloak to my shoulders. He smiled when he spotted me and yanked it roughly back over our heads.

"Okay, I think I know where they'll be," he said a little breathlessly as he finished shoving something into the front pocket of his trousers.

Oh, he's got the map. He couldn't let me see the map.

"Stick close to me," he said as he grasped my hand and pulled me along the main path leading into the forest.

"Roger that," I affirmed, breaking into a jog as I attempted to keep pace with his long strides.

"Er, what?" Sirius asked perplexedly. He slowed slightly when he noticed I had begun to fall behind.

"Muggle saying," I replied with a shrug, releasing his hand once we were again side by side. It was something my father had habitually said when I was a child, his military background leaking into all aspects of his life. Since my most recent nightmare, my parents had been at the forefront of my thoughts more than ever.

Sirius chuckled softly. We continued in the same direction for a quite a while, and I stumbled more than once over knots of half-concealed roots as the path became more densely overgrown. I had just begun to worry we'd gone too far when Sirius diverted unexpectedly to the left, abandoning the path. The trees surrounding us looked vaguely familiar; if I wasn't mistaken, we were near where Hagrid had taken us to meet Grawp. Sirius and I had journeyed so deep into the heart of the forest that scarcely any moonlight filtered through the canopy overhead, but we daren't light our wands at the risk of being seen.

"Bleeding fuck, Avery's garn kill us for being late again," I heard a wheezy voice groan through the thick growth of trees in front of us.

Faint recognition shot through me, but the intervening years made it difficult to identify the speaker. Sirius lessened his pace, and I envied the effortless way he walked in absolute silence; it was as if his feet were landing on nothing but pure air. I walked on tip-toe in a futile attempt to match my graceless footsteps to his.

Sirius has the makings of an exemplary Auror, I thought with a strange jolt of pride. His stealth and tracking skills were nearly flawless.

"S'okay," replied another voice, this one female but no less wheezy. It was one of the most unattractive sounds I'd ever encountered. "Won't matter if we keep to the back."

The wizard scoffed in dissent, but neither said anything else. We were gaining on them now. A new, authoritative voice drifted toward us, and I knew Sirius and I were very near our goal.

I checked Harry's watch, holding it inches from my eyes to make out the delicate stars circling the face—quarter past midnight.

"—by invitation only!" the unknown wizard's voice boomed. "An exclusive summons, an honor to have received! Only the best are here tonight. You are the elite, the purest in a sea of filth. The Dark Lord has requested your presence because he trusts your belief in the power of wizarding blood—of the power of the unadulterated, the sanctity of untainted magic!"

A loud, emphatic whoop broke into the night and wild cheering immediately followed. A flock of startled birds took flight from the treetops overhead.

The wizard's charisma reminded me of the televangelists my dad's mother would glue herself to every Sunday morning when I visited her as a child. I never once saw Nan attend a service, but the television was tuned to the same program every Sunday morning without fail. No matter what the priest said—whether it was rational or utter rubbish—the crowd followed with a resounding amen or shout of agreement.

Is this what it was like during the first war? Is this how Voldemort collected so many followers—this fervor and sense of revival?

But, it was a revival—the growing revival of blood purity.

Sirius and I approached the clearing cautiously. Though the cloak was infallible, we chose our vantage point behind two trees with a small space in between, ideal for observing without being seen. The gap was only a few inches wide, so Sirius stood directly behind me, his head over mine as we both peered through. He barely brushed against me, but I had to will my body to stop responding as ridiculous heat rose up past my collar.

Fucking hormones—now is not the time.

"For many of you, this is not your first meeting, nor will it be your last. But tonight—" the voice paused theatrically, and the silence that followed was full of restless anticipation. "Tonight we have new members joining our ranks!"

Distracted by Sirius's proximity, it took a moment for me to fully comprehend what the speaker had just announced.

New members.

Regulus Black was here tonight.

Bloody fucking hell.

Regulus was the reason I knew of this gathering in the first place! Why hadn't I considered such a complicating factor before bringing Sirius along?

Foolish, foolish girl—

Sirius must have felt me go rigid, because he ducked his head and breathed into my ear, "Don't worry, I already know he's out there."

I whipped my head around to face him—needing to look straight into his eyes, needing to discover what silver had to tell me.

I was shocked to find no trace of fire there. He didn't appear angry, but instead rather… resigned.

My breath caught in my throat. Despite logic, I was certain the ache in my chest was the visceral pain of my heart shattering for him.

and for Regulus.

I nodded my understanding. He brought a finger to his lips, his eyes now warning me not to blow our cover. We both refocused our attention on the crowd we were meant to be observing. I combed through the backs of a disturbing number of heads, searching for the face of the wizard giving this disgustingly rousing speech.

I gasped audibly as I recognized the man on the magicked platform.

'The company you keep, Weasley. I thought your family could sink no lower—'

Why hadn't I realized sooner? How many times had I heard him sneer insults at Harry and the Weasleys?

Sneer at me?

'Yes, it's Granger! Potter and his friends, caught at last!'

Vomit bubbled at the back of my throat.

He was near the massive fireplace of the drawing room with Narcissa and Draco a step behind him, his face drawn and skin a waxy yellow. I locked eyes with him, my own name echoing in my ears—Ron's terrified shouts. His sister-in-law cast the curse again—

The pale, pointed face of a young Lucius Malfoy—so strikingly similar to his son's—stood proudly before a keen audience. Torches lined the clearing, casting an eerily imposing glow about him. He couldn't be more than twenty-four, if I correctly recalled Kreacher's copy of Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. It was no wonder I hadn't immediately recognized Lucius—this impassioned wizard was startlingly different than the shrewdly calculating man I had first met in Flourish and Blotts.

The palm of Sirius's hand covered my mouth, quieting any further sounds. I swallowed back the bile burning my tongue. My entire body trembled, and I knew I was powerless to stop it. I took an uneasy step forward, hands pressed against both trees for support. I hoped Sirius wouldn't sense the fear that had enveloped me.

Lucius droned on for quite a while, giving me time to compose myself. It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before—horrible drivel on how Mudbloods were worth less than a smashed flobberworm beneath your boot and being a pure-blood practically made you royalty. After minutes filled with degrading words that I swore had begun to scorch my eardrums, Lucius called the new recruits forward.

"Though the Dark Lord is pleased with your acceptance, there is still more to come before he will truly call you his."

Half a dozen wizards and one witch walked slowly, almost reverently, forward to the platform.

"I can't—" Sirius choked behind me. His hands grasped my shoulders for the briefest of seconds. "I can't watch this."

I found myself once again alone beneath the cloak. I heard the pounding of heavy paws as a four-legged creature sprinted through the undergrowth, and I knew he was gone.


"Jugson, Walker, Vaisey, Hall, Wilkes, Fawley—" I faltered and swallowed thickly, "and, er, Black."

"Black?" repeated Dumbledore, brows creased.

He sat behind his desk, surveying me over his half-moon spectacles. He was clad in a blindingly silver dressing gown that perfectly matched the shade of his beard, and despite the hour, his head was topped in a black wizards hat spangled with silver stars. I fixed my eyes over his shoulder to the portrait of the former Headmaster Armando Dippet, who gazed straight back at me unashamedly. It was the most uncomfortable staring contest of my life.

I had abandoned my stakeout prematurely after hearing details of their task to torment Muggle-borns throughout the term. I just couldn't stomach the rally any longer. I carefully noted the names of each freshly minted Death-Eater-In-Training before stumbling my way out the forest alone, Invisibility Cloak wrapped tightly around myself. I didn't quite remember how, but before I knew it, I was blinking at the gargoyle guarding the entrance of the Headmaster's Study.

I let the cloak fall to my shoulders, and the gargoyle raised its eyebrows.

"Password?"

Well, fuck.

"I need to see the Headmaster," I stated firmly.

"Don't we all," said the gargoyle in a bored voice.

It was as if it were a stonework of Lavender Brown in one of her moods, filing its nails and tutting dismissively.

"Must I go through an endless list of sweets?" I burst out, almost stamping my foot frustration. "Because I'm really fucking tired, and I doubt either of us want to go through the trouble."

I was very tempted to pull the trump card of 'don't you know who the fuck I am?'—but I didn't, because honestly, I didn't even know who I was anymore.

"Does it look like I have anything better do?" replied Gargoyle the Unhelpful dispassionately.

I groaned and slid down the stone wall across from the entrance. I brought my knees to my chest as I considered my options. It was inappropriately late at night. I knew I should just return to my dormitory, but I felt a strong compulsion to tell Dumbledore everything I had observed.

But how?

Oh.

I sprang to my feet and withdrew my wand. An image of the entire Weasley family burst inside my head like a Wildfire Whiz-bang. It was the moving black-and-white photograph heading the Daily Prophet article after Arthur won the Grand Prize Galleon Draw, except this time Gideon and Fabian stood on either end, waving and grinning goofily.

"Expecto patronum!"

The silver otter blossomed from the tip of my wand. I thought the necessary incantation and wielded my wand to the stone ceiling. "Go to Albus Dumbledore," I whispered, very aware that this was the second time in a week I'd spoken those words. "Tell him: 'Meet me in your office as soon as possible.'"

My little otter nodded rather adorably and swooped straight through the stone above me, hopefully racing toward Dumbledore. I removed the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it into a rather spacious pocket of my jean jacket. Though it was scorched in places and the distinct smell of smoke lingered about it, courtesy of Crabbe and his cursed fire, I continued to wear it when necessary. My beaded bag wasn't the only item I had spelled with an Undetectable Extension Charm.

The gargoyle leapt aside to permit me entrance in under ten minutes.

That's how I ended up slumped in a leather armchair facing the Headmaster's desk, recounting my surveillance and now worrying I'd made a mistake in coming at all. The silver lining was that I hadn't yet received a reprimand for being out of bounds after hours.

"Yes, Black," I replied, still staring unblinkingly at the portrait of Armando Dippet.

My eyes began to water.

Dippet winked saucily, startling me. He chuckled quietly at my reaction.

I scowled and returned my gaze to Dumbledore.

"But not Sirius!" I added, seeing the troubled look on the Headmaster's face. "Regulus! Sirius would never—"

"I know how the Black brothers have chosen to align themselves," interjected Dumbledore.

My tongue took off before I had time to consider the consequences.

"Good! Remember that, because Sirius Black is the most loyal wizard you will ever meet. I know his surname has tainted his reputation, but he will never cross over to the dark." My eyes burned into Dumbledore's, willing him to see the sincerity within my head. "Never," I practically growled. "No matter what rubbish evidence you may think you have to the contrary."

"I assume this was an issue in your future?" asked Dumbledore. I had to give him credit for how calmly he was reacting.

I laughed dryly. "That's one hell of an understatement, Uncle." I debated my next statement for a moment, but the language center of my brain seemed to have gone rogue. "And I don't think Regulus is as dark as he appears, either."

"Interesting," Dumbledore mused. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. I fidgeted in my chair, worried I'd crossed a line, but when he opened his eyes and spoke, his voice was gentle. "Have you ever heard of a Pensieve, Hermione?"

"Of course, sir," I replied instantly. "I've never used one myself, but Harry did regularly—with you, actually."

Dumbledore hummed quietly, and I thought I heard him murmur Harry's name under his breath.

"I know this is a rather burdensome request," he continued, voice still delicate as if prepared for my refusal, "but would you consider providing me with a collection of your memories to peruse? I think it would be the most concise method of bringing us both to the same page."

"My memories?" I repeated warily.

He was right to be worried.

"Only the most relevant," he clarified. "You may take as much time as you need to compile them, of course. I know how taxing such an endeavor can be."

"Er—" I began, still not entirely sure. The idea of bringing forward so many distressing memories was unpleasant, to say the least. But his rationale made sense—it was the easiest way to share my future with him. I took a steadying breath. "I suppose, sir."

"Thank you," he replied graciously. "It will not be easy, but it will benefit our cause greatly." He drew his wand from the pocket of his dressing gown and conjured a box containing a few crystal bottles. My eyes landed on the Elder wand and I couldn't suppress a shudder. Though I had already encountered it since arriving in this decade, it was difficult to not flinch at the sight of the wand that had almost brought about my death.

Dumbledore demonstrated the incantation to siphon memories, and we practiced together for a handful of minutes before he was satisfied with my spellwork.

"Professor Lupin was correct," Dumbledore said quietly as he slid the box of crystal bottles across his desk—bottles I knew were charmed to protect memories from magical sabotage, just like the flask I had once conjured for Harry. "Clever, indeed. If memory serves correctly, it took me far longer to master such a difficult spell. Cerebral magic is one of the most complex branches."

I flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pride. "It's easier when the fate of the wizarding world is on the line, Professor."

He shook his head and smiled. "There is no need for modesty with me, Hermione." He stood and gestured to the door in a clear dismissal. "I think it is far past time for us to part. You have Ancient Runes bright and early, if I am not mistaken. If you find need to call upon my office again, the password is Ice Mice." I scooped up the box and followed him to the door of his study. "Oh, and expect correspondence from Professor Prewett within the next few days. Your partner will inform you of the time and date of the next Order meeting."

"My partner?" I repeated in surprise as he held the door open for me.

"I took your advice to heart. No member of the Order of the Phoenix should be left without support."

Gideon was my partner.

I cheered internally.

"And Fabian?" I asked.

"He has been assigned a new partner as well."

I beamed at him.

"Thank you, Uncle Albus," I said earnestly. I paused for a moment, knowing what I was about to do would be weird as fuck, but…

I tucked the box under my arm and reached forward to give him a one-armed hug. As expected, Dumbledore was surprised, but quickly chuckled and patted me lightly on the back.

"Goodnight, my dear niece. We shall meet again soon."


"No! Fuck, oh please, no… Help—"

I think it was my own screams that woke me. I was coated in sweat, soaked all the way through to the mattress. I bolted upright, gasping and clutching my arms around my chest. My sheets had been kicked to the foot of the bed and somehow my wand was already in my hand, gold sparks flickering from the tip. I was grateful for the silencing charm I had cast on the hangings around my bed.

But I had taken the potion, hadn't I?

It seemed my nightmares were now strong enough to combat my dosage of Dreamless Sleep Draught—or, perhaps it was just the lingering effect of seeing Lucius Malfoy again. I had dreamed of Malfoy Manor, but this time, no chandeliers had fallen. No one had come to my rescue.

Instead, Bellatrix had passed me off to Greyback.

'So soft,' he rasped, pointed brown canines bared. He ran his tongue across them hungrily. The sharp smell of him—dirty and distinctly metallic—sent me into waves of nausea. 'So delicious…'

His filthy hands slid up my inner thighs once again, claws slashing through the fabric of my jeans and into my skin, just like he had done when he bound me—

I leapt out of bed and dashed to the lavatory as my stomach heaved. I managed to make it to the toilet bowl before retching until nothing but acid came up. Groaning, I sank onto the cool tile floor, wiping my mouth against the back of my hand.

"Fucking disgusting," I muttered to myself.

I tilted my head back against the wall and sat there shivering for a while before I noticed the throbbing in my left forearm. Dread engulfing me, I looked down slowly to find the sleeve of my night shirt drenched in bright red blood.

"Fuck," I whispered as I peeled back my sticky sleeve.

Rather than the usual healed purple lines, each slice looked fresh as the night it was given, angry red and seeping blood. I blinked at my arm in a daze.

How could this have possibly happened?

'The Dark Arts are living, Hermione,' pointed out the voice of Tom Riddle inside my head. 'Magic with a mind of its own, ever-mutating and eternal.'

I was reminded of the words Remus had said to the three of us in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

'I believe that we are facing magic many of us have never encountered or imagined.'

I pushed the how from my mind and focused on the next. I needed to clean myself up before anyone saw. I took a deep breath before dragging myself from the tile floor and heading to the showers.


"Sirius!"

I found him the next morning along a corridor leading to Defense, walking alone with his head bowed. Whether he hadn't heard my call or was simply ignoring me, I couldn't be sure. I quickened my pace until I was only a step behind him.

"Sirius?" I repeated, this time much quieter, wrapping a hand around his bicep to get his attention. He jumped; evidently he was too distracted to have noticed me.

"Yeah?" he answered, a little harshly.

"I have something for you," I said, recoiling slightly at his tone but my hand never left his arm. He sighed but didn't resist as I pulled him into the nearest empty classroom. I closed the door behind us and turned to face him.

He sat atop a nearby desk and I couldn't help but stare, jaw slack. He looked dreadful. His usually smooth hair was unkempt and he hadn't made any attempt whatsoever to conform to uniform standards. Not only was he missing his robes, but his tie was draped loosely around his neck and the top three buttons of his shirt were undone. Deep purple shadows beneath his eyes screamed his lack of sleep.

It's not as if I looked much better, though. It had taken ages to stop the bleeding last night. Dittany was nearly useless on cursed wounds, so I eventually had to resort to Muggle methods of applying steady pressure and multiple bandages.

"Well?" he said, pushing his fringe from his eyes as he finally made eye contact with me.

"Oh, right," I replied, still shaken by his appearance. I reached into my school bag and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. "I doubt James would be too thrilled if you didn't return this."

His lips parted with an oh of realization and his expression softened. "Thanks," he muttered, reaching out to take it.

"Of course," I replied as he stuffed it into his bag.

He didn't answer. We both shifted awkwardly, looking anywhere in the room except at each other. I bit my lip, hating that we'd ended up here once again.

"Look, I'm sorry for ditching—" he began, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Don't," I interrupted, jerking my eyes back to him. A muscle jumped in his temple as he clenched his jaw and swallowed.

I couldn't allow him to apologize for last night.

He shouldn't have been there at all.

"Come here," I said gently. He arched an eyebrow but stayed frozen, so I stepped forward to him instead. I stopped only inches from his knees and tugged at his scarlet and gold tie. "You'll get a detention if you show up to class like this."

My fingers slowly did the remaining buttons on his shirt, my eyes never straying to his face. "You don't have to apologize this time," I whispered as I began to swiftly knot his tie. I had ample practice; Harry had been rubbish at it until halfway through our second year, having never had someone to teach him before arriving at Hogwarts. I smoothed it down once finished, leaving my hand against his chest as I said, "I'm the one who should be sorry. You shouldn't have had to see that."

Before I knew it, both of his hands wrapped around my wrists and he pulled me forward until I was standing between his parted knees. His head dipped so that his forehead pressed against mine.

"Don't apologize either," he murmured. "I had to see him. I needed proof. I left because I knew I'd do something stupid if I didn't, something I'd regret. But—" He brushed his nose lightly against my own. It was oddly cold. "I'm glad you were the one there with me."

He hopped off the desk suddenly, shifting me away in the process. He squeezed my wrists lightly before letting go and walking to the door. He opened it and turned back to me, eyebrows raised, "Coming? We've got class."

I followed with a smile.


(A/N): Not quite the epic showdown many of you were hoping for, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Sirius is trying to mature and not act so rashly all the time, which is why he didn't stick around and cause a scene with Regulus.

Thank you so much for reading. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!

Also, a huge thanks to my two betas Mahawna and Zabethou. They've been beta-ing for me for the past two chapters as well, and I'm so grateful for their help!


no, i don't want to battle from beginning to end
i don't want a cycle of recycled revenge
i don't want to follow Death and all of his friends
Death and All His Friends – Coldplay