Hope everyone had a nice Christmas, and those who don't celebrate it had a good whatever it is you celebrate. Happy Christmahanukwanzadan?

Sorry for taking so long (again), but I've been busy. I've been getting a bunch of writing assignments for English and a bunch of reading assignments for World History, which pushed this fic down on my list of things to do. It doesn't help that this chapter was really hard for me to write. However, it's here (and short).

Anyway, thanks to Because-I-Got-High (thank you also for assuring me that my story doesn't suck), KellyRoxton, Nore, Annalijse, MadAnge, azura14, evil-mastermind666, dan, and dollo for their reviews! I really appreciate them.

I had no idea where I was going. I just walked. It was cold, and the ground still had snow on it. I hunched my shoulders and hugged myself, wishing I had thought to grab my coat.

It was hours later, and almost dark, when I found myself outside the Leaky Cauldron. Shivering, thinking I might as well get a drink and warm up, maybe stay the night, I entered the pub. In the corner, there were three old witches, talking loudly about the apothecary and how ridiculous the prices were getting. At another table was a lone wizard, lost in a book. There was a pair of witches at the next table over, glancing at him and giggling. At the bar, there were two middle-aged, somewhat mean looking wizards who glared at me as I took the seat farthest from them as possible but still at the bar.

"Hello, there, Miss. What can I get for you?" Tom asked.

"Butterbeer," I murmured. He dug around for a moment and brought out a bottle of it. I took it and drank a few sips.

"My, you look like you've been walking around out there for hours! And without a coat?" Tom said, giving me a toothless half-smile. I made a noncommittal noise in response, and he was called over to the other side of the bar by the mean looking wizards.

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§

The Leaky Cauldron slowly emptied, people either going upstairs to their room or using the Floo to go home. It was late before I was the only one left.

"It's getting late, Miss. Don't you have a home to get back to?" Tom said.

I shrugged and stared at my empty bottle of butterbeer. Tom took it from my hand and gave me a new one.

"Are you running from it?"

I glanced up at Tom then back down at my drink and shrugged again.

"Come now, dear, tell old Tom about it," he said.

I thought about getting up and leaving so I wouldn't have to talk to him, then thought about telling him. In the end, I decided to pour my soul out to the poor barkeep.

After I heard myself tell the story, it suddenly seemed stupid and pathetic to me. I felt my face heating up and couldn't bring myself to look at Tom.

He was the one to break the short silence. "It seems you have yourself a problem. Your parents aren't the only ones blaming you for the ordeal, either. You're blaming yourself. It's not your fault, dear. Death is a natural part of life, and your little brother would have died eventually. The fact that he was born in the first place is not your fault, either. That rests on your mother's shoulders only."

I sighed quietly, ready to leave again. He was telling me things I already knew.

"As for your friends," he continued, "You can't blame them for not knowing what was wrong. Your friends are there to talk to, and they don't know what's going on unless you do. They sound like good fellows at heart, maybe you should think about letting them know what's going through that head of yours."

He crossed his arms and nodded with an air of finality. I thanked him quietly, feeling, if it was possible, a bit more miserable. But the advice Tom gave me stuck in my brain as I used the Floo to go back to Grimmauld Place.

Hope you guys liked it. Concrit is welcome, as always.