Tell me, what's in it for me? I need someone young, willing, and able; you need someone old enough to know better. I want you to do my dirty work; do my dirty work. – Halestorm, Dirty Work

May 8, 1978

Like a hurricane, Layla swept into the Slytherin common room, eyes nearly immediately locking on her target across the room. Ignoring Evelyn Burke's angry complaints and cursing, she snatched Regulus from their snog session on the sofa with both hands and yanked him to her room in the girls' dorms, Regulus sputtering protests and complaints all the way. She slammed the door shut behind them, checking for Alecto everywhere she could think to look around the room. "Damn it, Layla, what the hell is this about?" Regulus demanded, put out by her interruption of his day.

Finally satisfied the two were alone, Layla crossed the room to stand in front of Regulus and said, "Regulus, Dumbledore reached out to me again."

Regulus's eyes went wide. "What? I thought he'd left you alone since that disaster over Christmas."

Shaking her head, Layla admitted, "He's still been trying to recruit me off and on all semester to his side of the war."

"Then tell him off," Regulus snapped. "You're not interested."

"Regulus, he's offered to protect Lucius from the Ministry if they defeat the Dark Lord," Layla said, practically begging him inside to tell her to do the right thing, to take his offer, to fight for justice and goodness.

Regulus hesitated for a moment. "Why would he do that?"

Layla shrugged. "He knows we're in love. I think he's figuring out that he can't turn me unless he takes care of Lucius too."

"That's vile," Regulus said angrily, running a hand through his black curls.

Layla searched his face for a moment, then said softly, "Regulus, we would be safe; we could do the right thing."

"He's manipulating you!" Regulus snapped, and Layla flinched. It was so rare for Regulus to get so angry at something that his fury caught her off guard. "There's no way that Dumbledore or the Ministry can defeat the Dark Lord," Regulus said, lowering his voice to sound a little less harsh. "You would be a fool to take that offer."

"But if Dumbledore can…"

"But Dumbledore can't, Layla," Regulus insisted, taking Layla's face in his hands and pulling her to make eye contact with him. Her new Slytherin tie brushed against his halfway-untied matching necktie as she stepped into him instinctively. "Listen to me. Please, Layla. I can't lose you to Dumbledore, too."

Brow furrowing, Layla breathed, "What?"

"It's bad enough Dumbledore's managed to turn my brother against us," Regulus explained. "It's bad enough to let you go, to let you marry Malfoy instead of me… please don't make me fight you in this war, too. I don't think I could do it."

It only occurred to Layla then, that by taking up Dumbledore's offer and joining the Order of the Phoenix, she would ultimately be betraying Regulus, both his love and his friendship. They would eventually meet on the field of battle, forced to take opposite sides, forced to duel, forced to curse and hex each other, forced to maim and kill each other… "I could never fight against you, Regulus," Layla whispered, her voice heavy with a mix of terror, sadness, desperation, and anxiety… "But we're on the wrong side of this war right now, aren't we?"

"Not for us," Regulus reminded her, brushing a strand of hair back from her face with his thumb. "We're not fighting for the Dark Lord or Dumbledore. We're fighting for us. For the people we love."

Layla leaned into Regulus without conscious thought. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she couldn't help but agree with him this time. "For the people we love," she repeated. They stared into each other's eyes for another long moment, not breathing, not moving, not thinking, just existing in love for a brief second. Then they blinked, and reality came crashing back down around them. She stepped back from him, away from the crushing weight of emotion in his eyes, away from his gentle touch on her cheeks, away from his fingertips toying ever so slightly with her hair. "You're right. It would be foolish," she said softly, bringing them both back from the brink with the subtle reminder of their choices and promises. "I'm sorry I bothered you with it. I was just upset and scared. You should probably get back to Burke."

"Layla…" Regulus reached for Layla for just a second, to take her back for himself, to take her into his arms, to kiss her once again even if it was for the last time. But he let his hand fall as he took in the pained look on her face as she bit her lip to bite back the torrent of things she wanted but could never allow herself to say to him. "Everything's going to be all right," he said instead. "Nobody can hurt you now. You're safe with us; just trust me."

Layla nodded her head, casting her glance to the floor when it became too painful to meet Regulus's gaze anymore. "I know," she mumbled. Brushing past him, she opened her bedroom door, still not looking him in the face. "Thanks for talking to me. I needed it."

Regulus paused, seemingly unsure if this was how they ought to leave things. At last, he stepped toward the door. "Of course; anytime, Layla. I'm always here for you." Then he stepped out into the hall, letting her close the door behind him.

May 9, 1978

"Stay away from Regulus, Danes."

The demand caught Layla by surprise enough that she looked up from her Potions textbook as she studied for her N.E.W.T. exam over a warm dinner at the Slytherin table. With a small, awkward laugh, Layla said, "Wait, what?"

"You heard me, halfblood," Evelyn Burke sneered, tightening her grip on the textbooks she clung to her chest. "Stay away from Regulus. He's my boyfriend now."

Both of Layla's eyebrows shot up, her face torn between confusion and amusement. "Good for you, I suppose? I don't know what that has to do with me."

"He's done with you now, you know," the sixth year girl continued, incredibly proud of herself for… whatever this confrontation was. "He's moved on. We're very happy together."

Layla stifled a laugh as best she could. "I'm sorry, were you looking for a prize? I'm afraid I don't have a trophy to give you, but congratulations, I guess."

Evelyn's frown deepened, apparently unsatisfied with Layla's reaction. "Stay the hell away from him. He doesn't need you anymore."

"Good luck with that," Layla said dismissively, dropping her eyes back to her textbook, her fork barely playing with a serving of macaroni and cheese on her plate.

"Did you hear me, Danes? Keep away from him. He doesn't like you anymore."

"Who doesn't like who anymore?" Layla couldn't keep the smirk off her face when Regulus spoke up from behind Evelyn. The younger girl jumped, not expecting her supposed boyfriend to sneak up on her.

"Oh, you apparently hate me now," Layla said with a teasing smile. "Your girlfriend wanted to make sure I was aware and thoroughly ashamed and miserable with myself over it."

Evelyn's green eyes flashed, and she opened her mouth to retort, but Regulus cut her off with a confused, "What girlfriend?" Evelyn's jaw practically fell to the floor, and Layla couldn't keep herself from bursting out laughing. Regulus looked back and forth between them as tears welled up in Evelyn's eyes, then she ran from the Great Hall, mortified. Regulus looked back at Layla. "What the hell's her problem?"

As Layla attempted to control her laughter long enough to answer him, Regulus slipped into a seat across from her and served himself a piece of fried chicken. When she could finally breathe again, Layla said, "Burke fancies herself your girlfriend, and she wanted to be very clear that I was to stay away from you because you weren't interested in me and weren't my friend anymore."

Regulus snorted derisively. "What an idiot," he said. "I never asked her out. She's taking too many liberties. Any girl who thinks she can kick you out of my life is not the right girl for me." Layla paused with a bite of pasta halfway to her mouth, her eyes meeting his. Regulus's gaze was too intense, and she quickly dropped the food back to her plate and resituated her potions book to make it a little easier to hide behind. "You're my best friend, after all. Real friends don't let significant others come between them, right?"

Layla looked back up at him over the top of her book, hiding her furious blush behind its pages. "Right," she said softly before Regulus dug into his meal and she returned to her studying.

May 19, 1978

"Danes, can we talk?"

Layla heaved a sigh, dropping her Transfiguration textbook to her lap. She had taken to studying in the Astronomy Tower for exactly this reason; no one bothered her there, unlike in the library. The only people who ever came up to the tower in the daytime were couples looking for somewhere to hide and snog, so Layla had managed two weeks of quiet study well left alone. Apparently today though, someone had decided that was too much for her to ask. "Let's not and say we did, James, ok? I'm trying not to fail my exams."

"This is a little more important than exams," James pressed, sitting on the floor next to where Layla rested against a wall.

"I highly doubt that," Layla grumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear and struggling to refocus on her textbook.

James pushed his slipping glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "It's about you and the Death Eaters."

"Oh for fuck's sake, James," Layla whined, shoving her book into her bag. "I'm not just going to sit here and let you and your friends fucking judge me. It's my fucking life; just leave me alone."

James grabbed Layla's wrist to keep her from standing up and leaving. "Just wait," he pleaded. "It's not like that."

"That's always what it's like," Layla snapped, turning to face him.

"I promise, that's not what this is," James insisted. "Remus told me about the other week. We're just really worried about you."

Layla's laugh came out a bit too sardonic. "Yeah, sure you are."

"I'm serious."

"You're James. If you were Sirius, I would have left by now."

James laughed a little. "Ok, good one. But honestly. Do you really plan to marry Malfoy and just abandon your own ideas? Become a Death Eater's wife instead of joining the Order?"

Layla met James's hazel eyes, and it was a little difficult to maintain eye contact. He looked so much like his son Harry that it made her feel guilty, like she was betraying her old friend. But the Boy Who Lived wasn't alive yet. "Yes. That's exactly my plan."

"Why? When we met, you were so determined to fight Malfoy, to fight Voldemort, to join the Order and do what's right. What's changed?"

Layla dropped her eyes from James's face to where his hand still gripped her wrist. "Everything."

"Says who?"

"Says me," Layla said tiredly, pulling her arm free from James's grasp. "This isn't something I take lightly, James. Can't you just let it be?"

"No, I can't," James said firmly as Layla slowly got to her feet. "You've talked before about being friends with a Harry Potter, my future son, right? That the two of you fought against Voldemort and the Death Eaters together?" Layla shivered as she pulled the strap of her messenger bag over her head and across her Slytherin uniform. "Would he really want you to do this? Would he even recognize you now?"

"Fuck off, James," Layla growled. "You don't get to use him to manipulate me like that."

James frowned, rising to his feet as well. "Who's the manipulative one, here? Seems like it's Malfoy, lying and convincing you that he and the Death Eaters are the only viable options. You still have the chance to join the Order. It's never too late to do the right thing, no matter what you might have done for Malfoy and the Death Eaters."

Layla took a shaky breath to cover the tears pricking her eyes as the memory of an old man drowning on dry land flashed through her mind, as the image of a simple Muggle woman's terror and paralysis came back to her, as the horror of her parents' blood pouring from them with eyes frozen wide in death embossed on her mind's eye again. "Fuck you and the Order, James," Layla said with quiet venom. "You don't fucking know me or what I've done."

James hesitated for just a moment, and Layla made a break for the stairs down, but he stepped in front of her and wrapped her in a tight hug. She squeaked in surprise, a little panicked, but he pulled her firmly to his chest, never giving an inch. Layla squirmed, struggling to pull away, but James refused to let go until finally she resigned herself to the moment and settled in his arms. "Nothing you've done or been through couldn't be forgiven," James said softly. "I might not know you as well as Harry may once have, but I like to think that his judgment on who is a good person or not will be pretty reliable. And I don't think I can sit by and let one of his friends walk down this dark path without doing everything I can to help you get out of it."

Silent tears rolled down Layla's cheeks, and she sniffed, burying her face in James's shoulder, hiding, unwilling to show him that he was getting to her. "It's far too late, James," she mumbled. "I love him. I won't betray him." She honestly wasn't entirely sure if she meant Lucius or Regulus, but it didn't matter. She would never betray either of them; she was far too gone to turn back now.

"Bring him with you into the light then," James replied, and Layla laughed a little at the way he made it sound so much easier than it could ever actually be. "I know Dumbledore's offered to protect you both. You just have to say yes."

"You're wrong," Layla said. "We just have to say yes and throw our lives away in the process. We'd have to give up everything and fight this war again."

"Yeah, well, Malfoy's already proven he's willing to fight, he's just picking the evil side. And costing you your soul in the process," James said darkly.

"It's not about good and evil," Layla parroted what Lucius had recently told her. "Just power, and the strength to seek it."

James snorted. "Is that what they told you? That's so stupid. It's not powerful to hurt people who are weaker or more vulnerable than you. It's cowardice."

"Let me go, James," Layla demanded, but she put no real effort into getting away from him. She didn't push him or pull away from him; she just stood there in his arms, questioning everything all over again. She can't go back now. Layla had already made her choices, over and over again. She couldn't walk away now; it would cost her everything, even her life.

"I can't," James said quietly. "Not until I know you're going to be ok."

"I'll be perfectly fine if you and the Order just leave me the hell alone," Layla tried to snap, but it came out rather pathetic and half-hearted.

"Yeah, I buy that," James teased.

"Malfoy would never agree to Dumbledore's deal," Layla said quietly.

"Who said he had to? It's about you. Do the right thing."

"Who says that what Dumbledore wants is the right thing?"

"Fighting evil is always right."

"Dumbledore just wants to use me," Layla reminded James.

James laughed, "As if Malfoy doesn't?"

"He loves me," Layla said defiantly, lifting her head to glare at James.

"Sure he does," James said snarkily. "I'm sure he's very passionate and emotional about it and not completely cold and fake like the rest of his pureblood pals."

"Fuck off, James," Layla said, pushing against him at last.

James sighed, letting her push him away this time. "Dumbledore's figured out something about Voldemort from what you told him at the start of the school year, you know. I'm not sure what exactly, but it seems like a big deal. And he insists that you are the only person who can help him with it."

Sighing, Layla grumbled, "It doesn't have to be me. It's never had to be me. We're just fucking kids, James. Why does this whole war have to be on our shoulders? Why aren't the adults the ones fighting this, protecting us from it? It's fucked up."

James studied her, then nodded. "Yeah, it's fucked up. But if we don't fight, who the hell will? Someone has to step up and say enough. And if the adults won't do it, then it's on us."

Layla watched James run a hand through his wild dark hair, so much like Harry's. "James?" Lily Evans called from below as she walked up the stairs. Shaking her head, Layla pushed past James and headed down the stairs, passing Lily without a word or a glance. Lily seemed confused to see Layla but ignored her in favor of chasing down her fellow Head student and boyfriend.

Layla thought bitterly that maybe James was right for once, but it was far too late for her to change course now… right? At the bottom of the stairs, the flash of green and silver tie caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she turned, her wand drawn and pointed at the other student in a flash. Her eyes narrowed when she found Regulus with his own wand trained on her, unsure if it was a response to her wand or to her. Neither of them lowered their wands right away. "Are you going to Dumbledore?" Regulus asked, quiet rage filling the low timbre of his voice.

As she understood that he must have overheard part of her conversation with James, Layla lowered her wand, letting him get the drop on her. "No, I'm not," she answered, exhaustion leaking into her voice.

Regulus hesitated, as if unsure if he could trust her word, before he finally lowered his wand as well. "You should be more careful," he warned. "If anyone but me had heard you and Potter…"

"I know," Layla mumbled. "It could get me killed." Regulus was stiff, tense, maybe even tenser than Layla. "Relax, all I did was argue and tell him no. He's the one who sought me out and wouldn't leave me alone. Can we just go?"

Regulus watched her face, and she shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze. "Yeah, let's go," he said, taking her hand in his and leading her away to find a better, more private place to study for the upcoming exams.

May 30, 1978

Layla trudged into Dumbledore's office, escorted by Professor McGonagall once again. Layla was really beginning to dislike the woman; it was always McGonagall who pulled her from classes or the hallways only to drop her in Dumbledore's office like she was some sort of troublemaker. She was a good kid, damn it; it's not like Layla was constantly rule-breaking like the stupid Marauders. "Ah, there you are, Miss Danes," Dumbledore said pleasantly as McGonagall left the room, as if Layla were merely late for tea.

"The answer's still no, Dumbledore," Layla said, not bothering to sit as Dumbledore steepled his fingers in front of him. "Can I go now?"

"Please, sit," Dumbledore invited. "At least allow me to explain why I've called you here." Rolling her eyes, Layla sat and slumped in the seat, folding her arms across her chest. When Dumbledore said nothing, Layla raised an eyebrow at him. "I believe I've pieced something together at last from the stories you told me at the start of the school year." Layla's head tilted to one side, feigning interest if it would get her out of that office any faster. "I believe that Lord Voldemort has done something truly heinous, worse than anything we could have begun to imagine. I have been pondering the tale you told me about young Harry Potter, the Chamber of Secrets, and the diary of Tom Riddle. A most fascinating tale indeed."

"Do you have a point, Professor?" Layla asked, begrudging every moment of this conversation.

"I absolutely do," Dumbledore answered calmly, that infernal sparkle in his blue eyes. "I believe that Voldemort may have created the darkest magical object known to wizarding kind: a horcrux." At the look of total and utter confusion on Layla's face, Dumbledore pulled a book from his desk drawer and set it before her on the desk. She leaned forward; the title read Secrets of the Darkest Art. "To put it simply, Voldemort may have split his soul, placing a piece of it in his diary when he was but a student here, and hidden it away, ensuring that should he be defeated, he will never truly die, and that the possibility will always remain that he could be resurrected and returned to power."

Layla's face drained of all color. The Dark Lord's return… like his return during the Triwizard Tournament? "Professor…"

"I understand; this is a truly terrifying prospect," Dumbledore attempted to reassure her. "But if we can find the diary now and destroy it before it falls to young Harry Potter to do so…"

Layla shook her head vehemently. "Sir, you don't understand. Could… could he have created more than one of these horcruxes?"

This time it was Dumbledore's face that paled at the thought. "Why would you ask that, Miss Danes?" he probed.

"Because," Layla whispered, too horrified by her theory to bring her voice to its natural volume. "Harry destroyed the diary two years before Voldemort returned to life… If the diary was gone, then there must have been some other piece of him that could have been used to resurrect him."

Dumbledore sat still as a statue for uncomfortably long, as Layla searched his face, her hope that she may be wrong fading by the second. "Yes," Dumbledore said so quietly, she almost missed it. "Yes, that is entirely possible." Dumbledore locked eyes with Layla. "This is why it is so crucial that you join the fight, Miss Danes. By a stroke of good luck, you have managed to position yourself perfectly close to Voldemort's inner circle. He trusts your future husband and your friends. The Order needs your help, Layla. You must stay where you are, proceed with your life as though nothing has changed, and listen intently for any sign or whisper of exactly how many horcruxes Voldemort may have created, what they might be, or where they may lie."

"But we know one is his diary; what on earth might the others be?"

"Anything," Dumbledore answered quickly, standing from his desk chair and turning away from her. "The most commonplace of objects. That's what's so insidious about this sort of magic. It's incredibly difficult to identify a horcrux, and even more so to destroy one." Layla's heart fluttered in her chest like it might stop beating at any moment as she watched Dumbledore study his bookshelves. Slowly, she reached out and picked up the book on the desk, glancing briefly at the table of contents. She closed it again when the word murder caught her eye and started to set it back down. "No, you keep that," Dumbledore said suddenly, casting his eyes over to Layla. "Study it; keep it secret. If you're to help me identify and locate these horcruxes, then you'll need to know everything you can about them."

"Sir," Layla said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she tucked the book into her leather messenger bag. "I don't think I'm the right person to do this. I don't want any part of this war. I've given enough for the greater good already."

"No one truly wishes for war, Miss Danes," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy. "But alas, we can only do our best with the time that is given to us." He turned to face her again. "This task is crucial to defeating Voldemort, Miss Danes, and fortunately or unfortunately, you are the only one who can undertake it as of now. Think about it; if you can manage this, then you will be sparing not only your childhood friends, but your own childhood self, the trauma and tragedy of the war you grew up with. We could stop it all before it begins."

The world seemed to spin around Layla. This was all too fucking insane; it couldn't possibly be true. "What would I have to do?" Laya whispered, the words leaving her unbidden. She couldn't say no, not now. Not when the Wizarding World faced the prospect of an immortal Dark Lord, reigning supreme with blood and fire and terror for eternity.

"Nothing, unless I say so," Dumbledore said, his calm, cool mask back in place. "You wait; you watch; you listen. And you inform me should you see or overhear anything that may be of value to this purpose. And absolutely, above all else, you tell no one. Not a soul."

"Lucius…"

"Can never know. He cannot be trusted," Dumbledore dismissed. "But should we manage to truly defeat Voldemort forever, I have no doubts that as your spouse, he could be protected as a result of this endeavor."

"The Order?"

"Will remain blissfully unaware that you are in my employ." When Layla raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief, Dumbledore smiled. "It would not serve anyone's good for more than the two of us to be aware of this mission." His face grew serious once more as he reached over and stroked Fawkes on his perch. "Secrecy is of the utmost importance. We must remain utterly silent until the moment of execution. Do you understand, Miss Danes?" Slowly, Layla nodded. This… this was unreal, and yet… "Can I count on you for this task, Miss Danes? Will you undertake this mission?"

Inside, Layla would have rather died there and then than agree to this ludicrous objective. The idea of locating and destroying these… these horcruxes… and thereby killing Lord Voldemort at last, was the definition of insanity, she was sure of it. It was impossible; they would fail, and the Wizarding World would be doomed. But could she forgive herself if she didn't at least try? Even if it cost her life in the end, could she live with herself if she walked away from this? "Yes."

Dumbledore's smile returned. "Excellent."

Layla left Dumbledore's office in favor of dinner in the Great Hall in a daze. Could it really be true? Could the Dark Lord really be immortal? It would explain so many of the events of her past, yet… "Layla?" Regulus's concerned voice breached her internal monologue, and she glanced up at him, beside her on the bench of the Slytherin table. "Are you ok? You look a little sick."

Layla merely nodded and mumbled, "Yeah, just a little sick. I'll be fine." Regulus's worried gaze didn't leave her for the rest of the night, and Layla squirmed under his intensity. She couldn't tell him; not this. It would ruin everything. In this one thing, she couldn't trust him, and it hurt.

May 31, 1978

"Where the hell do you think you're going, Danes?" Snape demanded, appearing like a bat from the shadows of the dungeon corridor, startling Layla as she walked toward the Slytherin common room.

"To study, exams start tomorrow," Layla said simply.

"Have you forgotten our appointment?" Snape said impatiently. "Kitchens, now."

"No thanks."

"Excuse me?"

Snape stared at her with hard eyes, and Layla resisted making eye contact with him right now. The conversation the previous evening with Professor Dumbledore still weighed too heavily on her mind; she couldn't risk Snape discovering what had passed between her and the headmaster. "Exams are tomorrow; the school year is nearly over. I can't do this tonight. I'll fail my Charms exam if I let you make me study this until I'm exhausted. I need rest."

Snape scoffed, "That's a rather pathetic excuse, Danes. What's going on with you? You've been unusually… squirrely… the last couple of days."

Layla shrugged. "I just don't feel well. Are we done here?"

Snape eyed her curiously for a moment, then sighed. "You're probably about as good at Occlumency at this point as you're going to get with that attitude, so… I suppose we're done. If you must insist on quitting."

"Thanks," Layla said, looking up at him from her gaze on the floor. Her mistake. Their eyes met, and her muscles went rigid; she couldn't look away.

The world seemed to spin around Layla. This was all too fucking insane; it couldn't possibly be true. "What would I have to do?" Laya whispered, the words leaving her unbidden. She couldn't say no, not now. Not when the Wizarding World faced the prospect of an immortal Dark Lord, reigning supreme with blood and fire and terror for eternity.

"Nothing, unless I say so," Dumbledore said, his calm, cool mask back in place.

Then she shoved him back out, stumbling backward with the pain of having her mind invaded for just a moment. "What the actual fuck, Danes?" Snape hissed, rubbing his own head as though it hurt from being repelled by her will.

Layla's wand whipped through the air, the tip finding Snape's heart. "You can't tell anyone," she snarled, desperation filling her very core. "You fucking swore an Unbreakable Vow. You will die if you tell anyone."

"I'm well aware," Snape growled back, then Layla felt his wand dig into her ribcage. "But perhaps my death would be worth outing you for this, Danes."

"You don't understand."

"It seemed clear enough to me," Snape said coldly.

"The Dark Lord's going to murder Lily," Layla rushed, frantic to convince Snape to remain silent. In all their Occlumency lessons, the death of James and Lily Potter had never crossed her mind as he poked and prodded her thoughts and memories. Now, she pulled it out like a weapon, and when Snape's near-black eyes widened, she knew she'd hooked him. "He will kill Lily. Soon. And if you talk, if you betray me to protect the Dark Lord? She will die for sure, and you will never know her forgiveness, her friendship, her love, ever again. She will die, and you will never be able to protect or save her, no matter what you do. Do you want that?"

Fury distorted Snape's features, and he grabbed Layla's arm and forced his way into Layla's mind again, a frenzied effort to prove she was lying. Instead, he found the truth of it, the legend of Lily's child, the Boy Who Lived, and when reality found them both again, rare tears appeared in Snape's eyes. "Lily's going to die?" he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

Layla nodded. "If you don't keep your vow… she will. If you do… then maybe, just maybe, we can save her… But there's nothing more I can say, I can't tell you more of what that memory was…"

"Enough," Snape huffed, letting go of her arm. "Go." Layla searched Snape's face for a moment, then turned and hurried off to Slytherin for the night.

June 9, 1978

Exams were finally over; all that was left to do was wait for the results. Layla sat back against a massive oak tree overlooking the Black Lake… was this the spot where Harry Potter supposedly saved himself and Sirius Black from over 100 dementors with the force of his singular patronus? She couldn't begin to imagine being capable of the same deed herself. She probably would have died if she had been in Harry's place, even today, much less as a third year. Lazily, she thought about a quiet, romantic moment she had spent with Lucius over spring break, and cast the Patronus Charm. Out of her wand flew her beautiful raven of hope, made up of what good was left in her soul. She wondered briefly if Lucius was capable of casting the Patronus Charm, what creature form his patronus would take…

"It's beautiful."

The deep drawl of Sirius Black's voice was most unwelcome, and the raven flickered for a moment, then dissipated. "What do you want, Black?" Layla's tone was a sharp icicle on an otherwise warm and sunny summer day.

She looked up toward him, where he stood a couple of meters away, watching her. His gray eyes studied her, searching her as though he might find something important there. She wasn't sure what he found. "You're really not going to join the Order?"

"What I do with my life is none of your business," Layla said, evading the question. She hadn't technically joined the Order of the Phoenix, but… for all intents and purposes, was it really any better to work solo with Dumbledore? Her skin crawled at the thought of anyone figuring out what she had agreed to do.

Sirius sighed heavily. "Yeah, I suppose that's true." Layla's eyes flickered to his face, surprised. "I just… I get it with Regulus. He didn't have a lot of choices; he was never going to have the courage to leave with me. But you… you weren't born into this shit. You're choosing it, even after it's hurt you so much. Why?"

Layla tilted her head, studying Sirius as he bent down, picked up a rock, and tossed it out at the lake. Why, indeed. "It's complicated," she admitted. "I really don't think you can understand, because…" she paused, unsure how to go further when she couldn't tell him everything. She couldn't tell him the truth.

Sirius snorted. "'It's complicated.' Everyone says that; it usually just means they don't want to face the truth. That it's simple, and they're just cowards." Layla flinched a little, but she didn't have the stomach to correct him. Let him believe she was a coward, afraid, weak; maybe she was. It didn't serve any purpose but her ego to correct him with the truth. That she was risking not only her life, but Lucius's, by undertaking this horcrux hunt with Albus Dumbledore wasn't relevant. Sirius glanced over his shoulder at her. "I think… I think I could have loved you, you know. If… if things had been different."

Layla's heart clenched in her chest. "Yeah, maybe," she mumbled, waving her wand and levitating a small rock next to him. He took it from where it floated in the air and skipped it across the lake's surface. Four successful skips before it sunk beneath the surface. "Maybe I could've loved you, too. If things were different. But even if they were… if we had… I don't think we would have ever been right for each other."

Sirius let out a tense breath. "Yeah, probably not. We've both too much fire, I think."

Layla laughed a little. Was she a fiery person? She didn't think so, but rather than argue, she said, "I suppose so." They remained like that, in companionable silence, for a while, until the other Marauders finally found Sirius. As the other three boys appeared over the hill a distance away, Layla muttered, "I should go."

"You don't have to," Sirius said, but Layla waved him off as she stood, wiping the dirt and grass from the back of her skirt.

"It's fine." She started to walk away, but then a thought crossed her mind. "Hey, Sirius? Don't trust Peter. Not when it's a matter of life and death."

Sirius frowned at her. "What? He's one of us; he would never…"

"Just, trust me," Layla interrupted, glancing nervously as James, Remus, and Peter grew closer. "Please. When it's your lives on the line… you can't trust him."

Sirius's frown deepened, but at the genuinely worried expression on Layla's face, he finally nodded. "Ok. I believe you." Layla said nothing else, turning and rushing off toward the castle, ignoring the other boys' attempts to greet her and catch her attention.

June 19, 1978

"Nice scores, darling," Rabastan said, spying on Layla's N.E.W.T. exam scores over her shoulder, before dropping a surprise kiss on her cheek and taking the seat next to her at the Slytherin table for lunch.

Layla made a displeased noise, rubbing at her face with her left sleeve as Rabastan laughed. "Thanks," she mumbled, annoyed with her fellow seventh year and the absurd, overly-familiar behaviors he'd adapted of late. She knew he entirely did it because it amused him to no end to get under her skin, but she couldn't help pulling a face at him every time, so he continued to do it. She didn't imagine it ending anytime soon.

Returning to the piece of parchment in her hand, Layla took another look at her exam results. She successfully achieved N.E.W.T.s in most of her subjects: Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, Potions, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts; though in the last two, she'd achieved only barely passing marks. She failed her Arithmancy exam, but that wasn't particularly surprising to her; she cared the least for that subject, and wasn't entirely sure why she'd bothered to continue taking it for her N.E.W.T. years, but oh well. It had been worth a shot, at least.

"I'm sure Malfoy's quite proud," Rabastan added, smiling at her, still in a mischievous mood.

"I'm sure he will be," Layla said absently, shoving the scores in her bag. "You must be rather satisfied with your scores, Rab, to be strutting around like a peacock."

Laughing, Rabastan nodded, grabbing a piece of lasagna. "Successful N.E.W.T.s in all subjects. Not that it matters. I'm just excited for school to be over at last. I've got bigger and better things to do now."

Layla caught Snape's mouth twitch at the corners across the table, as though amused by Rabastan's enthusiasm to really join the war full force, but he said nothing. Rabastan didn't seem to notice. A small cluster of Ravenclaw girls walked by the table, and Dorcas Meadowes paused to call out to Layla, "I don't know why you even bothered to get any N.E.W.T.s, Danes. Everyone knows you're just going to make a career out of being a Death Eater's whore."

Rolling her eyes at her ex-roommate, Layla lazily flicked her wand in Dorcas's direction and drawled, "Eat slugs, Dorcas."

Dorcas jerked as the hex hit her, then she made a disgusted face. She started to tell Layla off, but instead of words, a massive slug popped halfway out of her mouth instead. Dorcas looked for a moment like she might cry, then spit it as hard as she could onto the floor of the Great Hall. The entire surrounding Slytherin table burst into raucous laughter, several younger students pointing at Dorcas's dilemma. Rabastan nonchalantly threw an arm around Layla's shoulder as he guffawed, and even Layla couldn't help but giggle when Dorcas shrieked and then vomited up another slug. Dorcas's Ravenclaw sixth year friends circled around her, supporting her as she did her best to hurry from the Great Hall to the Hospital Wing. "Well done, Danes," Snape snickered.

A smirk crossed Layla's face as she watched Dorcas's retreat. "Yeah, well, that'll teach her to open her stupid mouth," she said with smug amusement.

June 30, 1978

Layla held her breath as she walked up to Lucius Malfoy on the Hogwarts lawn after the seventh years' graduation ceremony, feeling strangely a little shy. But his smile was proud and joyful, his blue eyes sparkled with warmth and love, and his outstretched hand was so inviting, that it soothed her nervousness as she took his hand and let him pull her to his chest, slipping his arm around her waist. "Well done, my dearest," he praised, dropping a chaste kiss on her cheek.

Blushing, Layla's eyes dropped to Lucius's Slytherin green tie as she mumbled, "Thanks." The tie matched Layla's dress under her black graduation robes quite nicely. She pondered curiously if he had somehow planned that coincidence.

Out of the corner of her eye, a dark shape moved, catching her attention as Lucius asked, "Are you ready for the wedding tomorrow?"

Layla looked in the direction of the shadow, and her eyes met those of a large, shaggy-haired black dog. Narrowing her eyes, she wondered… She was vaguely aware that the Marauders had been animagus, but none of her childhood friends had told her the men's forms. Padfoot… was he…? "Yes," she answered absently, her attention still locked on the unusual dog. Its intelligent gray eyes studied her in return; she was sure. That had to be Sirius Black. But why was he…

"Excellent. Are you ready to go home then? Dobby's already retrieved your belongings and pet from your dormitory," Lucius asked, squeezing her waist with a small, affectionate hug.

Layla tore her gaze away from the dog, landing momentarily on Lucius, then looked up to their right at the massive castle that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When she'd first arrived as an eleven-year-old, it had seemed like a fairytale. When she'd arrived on September 1, 1977, it had seemed like home, a safe place in a raging storm. Today, as she finally achieved her life dream of graduating from the prestigious magical school… It seemed haunted by the ghosts of bloodshed, war, and terror.

The Astronomy Tower caught her eye, and she could see, almost as if it were happening all over again, the dead body of Albus Dumbledore on the ground below the tower. Ravenclaw Tower captured her attention, and she remembered the views from its windows, the ones that made her smile with true happiness and reminded her that she was home. The tie on Lucius's chest caught her eye, and her mind returned to the school's halls as Draco Malfoy shoved her into a suit of armor in passing. Lucius caught her chin gently, raising her gaze to his, and she remembered the anxiety she felt the first time she saw him as a second year, strutting through the halls of Hogwarts in search of Dumbledore on a mission in the name of the school's board of governors. "Dearest?"

Another moment of pondering memories, and Layla nodded. "I'm ready. Let's go home."