Author's Note: So it's been about a year since I've updated this. I've been sitting on this chapter for a long while, but have decided to post it even though it is a bit short. Hope it's enjoyable and this time I really do think chapter seven will follow quickly as I, for once, already know what it will include.

If you like my writing, I tend to post in-progress chapters and stand-alones on my fic livejournal, username (underscore)badly(underscore)drawn(underscore)

Check it out if you'd like.

Chapter Six: The Strings That Tie to You

It took three days for Holly to receive a response from Marcus by Owl Post. The letter was short: nothing more than a demand to meet him at the old guillotine block in Knockturn Alley the following afternoon. This made things rather complicated as the Hocks' Christmas Eve party started at 6:00 that evening and would go on for hours, but Holly figured that with all the bravado surrounding preparations she could steal away without having to explain to Eamon where she was headed.

So, at promptly 3 o'clock the next afternoon, Holly slipped upstairs to the library and shrugged on her warmest jacket before grabbing a handful of Floo powder and walking into the cold flames. She exited from a fireplace in a seedy secondhand Dark Arts store (as if there was much else in Knockturn Alley) and continued briskly to the agreed meeting place while trying to brush away the soot that had settled on her and her clothes.

Holly walked briskly, turning corners and hurrying through alleys. She'd never been too fond of this area and had only been here once or twice. It was apparent she was dreadfully lost. Beating at the soot on her jacket in frustration, she hardly noticed the imposing shape of the guillotine rising up in front of her, nor did she notice the tall, dark-haired boy grinning menacingly at her until she'd walked right into him.

"You never were one for grace. Or punctuality for that matter," Marcus leered as Holly stumbled backwards.

"And you were never one for manners," Holly replied, sticking her chin out defiantly. But for all her best efforts, she couldn't help but feel vulnerable and so small in his presence. It wasn't that he made her feel like nothing; no, he'd always made her feel to be the most important being breathing on this Earth. But Holly had always known her emotions were entirely at his mercy. He never let her forget, after all.

"So, trying to rekindle an old flame? Perhaps you're tired of the new plaything you've acquired. I imagine he must be a terrible bore, this Weasel of yours. And full of fleas, to be certain," Marcus' eyes flashed in a way that did not match his casual and biting words.

"Word does travel fast," Holly said through gritted teeth.

"Word usually does when someone of decent reputation stoops to a certain level. Tell me, what do you get out of this… relationship of yours? Do you do it for charity, maybe? Merlin knows there's no other reason to date a Weasley. Or is the sex just terribly exciting?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Marcus, it doesn't suits you," Holly shot back, "Sex is the last thing on my mind."

"It wasn't when you were with me," Marcus smirked, his eyes mocking her.

"It was hardly you I was lusting after. As I recall, you got rather uppity about a fascination I had with a certain Gryffindor goalkeeper."

"Yes, well it was unbecoming and, may I say, unoriginal. You were below even his standards."

"But you dated me."

"Only because I heard you'd put out." Marcus' words stung and had bite of which even Holly didn't think he was aware.

"Well, I didn't and left you rather unsatisfied, as I remember it. Anyway, this isn't why I'm here, I hardly want to rekindle anything involving you. I want to talk about the Death Eaters." Marcus' brows shot straight into his hairline at this last comment.

"Are you crazy, talking about this here? Now?" The panic was evident in Marcus' voice.

"Afraid, Marcus? I didn't think it possible," Holly beamed, sensing she'd gained the upper hand. Marcus scowled and grabbed Holly by the arm, steering her away from the center of the square and towards an alley that was sheltered from the wind and more inconspicuous.

"Why?" he demanded before she had the time to catch her breath.

"My parents, Marcus. Were they Death Eaters?" Holly demanded, throwing all caution to the wind. Marcus looked taken aback once again, but quickly recovered.

"I can't be sure, but I thought I heard my parents mention them once. Called them traitors and a good deal of other things I'm not prepared to repeat," Holly looked up and noticed the look on Marcus' face seemed to have softened.

"You thought you heard? That's a lot of detail for something you thought you heard."

"I definitely heard," he snarled, the kindness having vanished from his face entirely, "and I was none too surprised. I always knew that your family was a disgrace to both sides of the cause." Holly rolled her eyes.

"Spare me the disgraceful remarks, I'm just trying to piece together a visibly missing part of my family history."

"Look, Holly, some things are better left forgotten. There's probably good reason you can't remember that portion of your life. Let sleeping dragons lie, right? You're just going to end up hurting yourself," Marcus' face had again developed a compassionate look.

"O.K., make up your mind, will you? Either be considerate or be an ass, but I'm not in the mood for this seesawing," her face distorted into an ugly scowl.

"Holly, just leave it," his still bore that annoying look of concern. "Look, I've got to get back or the usual Flint family and entourage will be at my neck. And Izzie's facing the firing squad tonight, can't leave her to that alone," Marcus said giving Holly a quick kiss goodbye on the cheek.

"Izzie?" she asked, a bit dizzy from the unexpected contact from Marcus.

"Isolde Orguelleuse, you remember her from school don't you? She's come home with me to meet mother. Hopefully she'll fair better than you did in the first meeting," Marcus explained with a lopsided grin.

"Oh, new girlfriend, I see. Well, I'll be going too then, can't be late for the Christmas Eve party. Nice seeing you Marcus," Holly shoved her hands in her pockets and quickly scampered back towards Diagon Alley, only faintly hearing Marcus yell after her.

"Leave it be, Holly! You'll only make things worse!"

Back in her room, Holly found she still had time until the bulk of the guests arrived. She seized the moment to lounge lazily on her bed, staring glumly at the ceiling and rubbing her hand against the lines of her corduroy bed cover. Izzie and Marcus, that was sweet, she thought. Izzie was a smart girl, arrogant but in an oddly likeable way. Maybe the thought of them just bothered her because she'd heard nothing from George since that first letter. But she knew that wasn't it. The nagging feeling was coming from the memory of the Christmas of two years ago. The one she'd spent with Marcus. It bothered her because it was a strangely happy one. Funny, she thought. When she recalled their relationship, what came to mind was the fights and the tears and the cold, uncaring look in his dark eyes. It took something else to trigger the memory of those laughs. Something tangible. And that was the honest reason Holly kept her room such a mess: she couldn't bear the loss of any one artifact that might allow her to forget some seemingly useless memory. The wads of paper, old letters, notebooks, dusty-looking books, candles burned very low, and stacks of teacups littering her desk reminded her of late nights spent reading, writing, dreaming as the girls in her dormitory spent the night unaware of its beauty. The stacks of photos, the wilted rose, and the sprig of holly were the embodiment of her friends, of Marcus, of Phinny.

Roger called it genius because it was. Holly had learned the value of memory and she would not let it go. You may remember the bad, but everything was beautiful once and that is worth holding on to the ugly.