A gigantic thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Mssr. Moony thank you for your very kind words on the story so far - I'm so glad you're enjoying! Mmauney as always a huge thanks for your eagerness for Remus and Messalina to get together (one of these chapters I swear it'll happen). And to Copycat25, I'm so happy you've decided to review!

As always, reviews motivate me to work harder to get chapters out in a timely manner (unfortunately school has been very intense this year so my chapters aren't getting written as quickly as I'd like them to) and they always make my day. These reviews kept my mind on Messalina and our favorite band of seventh years while it should've been on studying and classes, but it means I have the next few chapters mapped out in my mind - I just need the time to get them written out just right.

Much like the last chapter, I made the POVs in this chapter a bit more unique. As you'll see, Messalina isn't in the state to be the most reliable narrator so I changed things up and there is a surprise POV in the middle.

Previously on Above All Others: Messalina collapses during a DADA lesson and is taken to the Hospital Wing. Once there, she learns she's had a scrofungulus bout and Madam Pomfrey requests her medical records. Messalina discovers she's unable to have kids and that Sirius Black was once her betrothed.

It took two calming draughts being poured down her throat as she sobbed for Messalina to be able to relax enough to listen to and comprehend what Madam Pomfrey was telling her. It had sounded like dull background noise compared to the panicked thoughts running wild in her head, but as Madam Pomfrey held her mouth open and unstoppered two vials, she was able to soothe the voices in her head down to a steady babble compared to a deafening roar. Her thoughts had run away from her and Messalina wondered how she was able to keep breathing in an environment that felt as though it had no air left.

Madam Pomfrey pulled a handkerchief from somewhere deep inside the pockets of her skirts, wiping the tears from Messalina's reddened cheeks as she lay gasping for air and waiting for the calming draughts to take effect. She fixated on the flecks of dust floating in the sunshine above her, wishing she felt that light and floaty. But instead, her thoughts suffocated her until she was finally able to calm down enough to hear what Madam Pomfrey was saying in her most soothing tone.

Had she been in her right mind, Messalina would've thought it was likely a voice Madam Pomfrey had years of perfecting with Remus before and after his transformations. But at the moment her thoughts were ricocheting painfully in her skull and she was staring vaguely up at the ceiling, willing the earth to swallow her whole.

Potion No. 113 was outlawed in Great Britain four years ago and by the International Confederation of Wizards three years ago - it is likely your case was used in a widespread study on the long-term effects of using high concentrations of doxy eggs in children.

Professor Slughorn is brewing a second test potion to determine if the first infertility test was accurate - the potion is delicate and you ought to be tested at least twice with the same result before interpreting it. However, I caution you against getting your hopes up, Miss Lucien. St. Mungo's is more than capable of brewing the correct potion the first time.

Long-term health consequences of using 113 for so long while the patient is developing are still being studied; however, infertility and a weakened immune system over time are the two most commonly noted. The latter could be an explanation for why this scrofungulus flair up occurred - the potion only delayed the amount of time it took for a bout to happen rather than preventing you from getting one. It kept you healthy while you were young but that exertion paired with the stress you mentioned has left your immune system exhausted.

Without any unforeseen events, you should be able to resume classes after a week of bedrest and relaxation - perhaps longer. Your professors will be instructed to give you only the bare minimum of work, and Miss Evans will be delivering your assignments and books to me at the end of each day.

Increasing stress will leave you in this bed longer - scrofungulus thrives when the body is experiencing these effects. Miss Lucien it is crucial that you try to get some sleep for now. I'll get you a sleeping draught. Hold on just a moment while I get the vial.

As Messalina stared at the sterile white canvas dividers that stood between her and the rest of the Hospital Wing, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to return, all she could focus on was that day she had been disowned. The calming draught had truly kicked in - her thoughts had formed themselves in neat memories, prepared to bombard and cause pain albeit calmly.

It had been a day like any other, except Antonin had been looking even more pleased with himself than usual for the last few days and she had later chalked it up to him getting advanced notice that she had been blown off the family tree in the dining room. She had never suspected any knowledge more devious than that lingered behind his sly, dancing eyes. Or that there could have possibly been another reason for being disowned beyond her fraternization with Lily and the Prewett twins following her abysmal Sorting. How could she have known something more malicious than a Sorting could've hurt her?

She had spent so long agonizing over what her life would have been like if she had been sorted into Slytherin and met her family's expectations, lying awake at night paralyzed with the notion. If she had only been able to convince the Sorting Hat to do what she wanted it to, she would have been the young woman that climbed out of the drawer in DADA two weeks before. Cold. Perfect. Poised. Hateful. But that fundamental truth she had allowed to hold such sway over her wasn't actually true outside of her own mind and it sent the reality she knew crashing down around her ears.

She had been doomed from the moment her parents started her with that Russian healer when she was 7, a decision she had had no control over. Her parents had simply swept into her room at the manor one day as she lay prone on the bed, exhausted from coughing, and announced that enough was enough and she was getting a new healer who wasn't so focused on using filthy muggle techniques. They were, after all, witches and wizards and bedrest was for pitiful, disgusting muggles. There had to be another way, available only to those as rich and powerful as the Luciens. Their status and power weren't for nothing - they couldn't be powerless.

It wasn't because of some decision she had made that she had come down with scrofungulus - it ran in the Lucien bloodline, an illness so tied to ancient wizarding heritage that she remembered the hint of pride in her mother's eyes when she would tell the other women. That truly, the ancient houses of Lucien and Dolohov were so dedicated to remaining pure that their most recent member even had a 'noble problem' running through her veins. It didn't get more pureblooded than that. No outside taint to destroy her ancestors' hard work. And Messalina had no control over her bloodline anymore than Lily Evans or Severus Snape did and she had no ability to determine what medical action should be taken in the case of her scrofungulus at age seven.

If she'd had a choice and stuck with her old St. Mungo's healers, she could've stayed the perfect pureblood daughter. She might not have gone to Hogwarts, but even if she had she might've been sorted into Gryffindor still. But something in her gut told her that her parents would have called her home with that fateful October letter rather than disowning her. Antonin would have been smug, irritatingly so, but she would've been treasured still. A Gryffindor daughter pulled out of school for health reasons, maybe sent to Beauxbatons when she got stronger under the guise that time in the French countryside would help with her ailments. Maybe it would've, maybe it wouldn't have, but the rest of proper wizarding society needn't know. It wouldn't have been forgotten, but it could have been forgiven.

But infertility was a curse. Just as disgraceful and embarrassing as having a squib, just as shameful to not truly carry on the wizarding bloodline. She might not have been disowned if she had been a barren Slytherin, just a pariah doomed to the whispered rumors and wild eccentricity of her squib great uncle. But a daughter of a noble house could not be both a Gryffindor embarrassment and a useless match. It would have hurt her family's chances of maintaining their beloved motto - you couldn't be Above All Others if your child wasn't.

It was a curse that meant even if she was a Slytherin and had acted in all the ways she was raised, she would have never been able to marry Evan Rosier, that boy she had been convinced was the reason the sun rose in the morning. The boy she thought that maybe, just maybe, if she was the perfect pureblood daughter in every way she might one day be able to call her betrothed. But no. Actually, it wasn't the curse that would have keep her from marrying Evan Rosier. It was her betrothal to Sirius Black.

"Could you owl my mother - Gwen Prewett, I mean, and ask her to come tomorrow if she can?" Messalina asked suddenly as Madam Pomfrey pulled back the curtains, wishing she didn't feel as weak and pitiful as she sounded. It was a feeling that sent her memories flying to that dark room she'd had at Lucien Manor and the years of coughing, sleeping, and aching pain in her lungs. She felt no older than ten, trapped in a never-ending cycle of illness and fear. Fear was everywhere in those days, as deeply rooted in her as her own name. Madam Pomfrey gave her a sympathetic smile, nodding as she prepared the sleeping draught.

"Of course Miss Lucien. You have quite a small gathering of admirers waiting outside, would you like me to send someone in to sit with you until draught takes effect? Miss Evans or Miss McKinnon perhaps?" Messalina shook her head quickly before she even fully comprehended what the matron had told her, the quick movements making her head ache and she screwed her eyes shut to dull the pain.

Something about the idea of facing someone who didn't already know the earth shattering news she had discovered made her chest tighten and she gasped for breath. All of them out there living their lives and she was in here getting every truth she'd held close to her chest for the last seven years ripped away to leave a massive, bleeding sore she hadn't even realized existed. She was vulnerable, and in that feeling, she withdrew.

"No, please, no," she croaked, reaching for the glass of water Madam Pomfrey had placed on the bedside. The glass was too heavy and her hands shook as she brought it to her lips, nearly splashing herself several times as she drank as deeply as she could until her lungs screamed for relief.

"Okay, Miss Lucien," Madam Pomfrey responded softly, taking the glass from Messalina's hand. "When the coughing starts, and it will start, let it out. Trying to hold it in can scar your lungs and delay recovery. I put a bucket beside your bed - spit anything that comes up in there."

"Okay," Messalina said, taking the draught from Madam Pomfrey and gulping it down. The matron took the glass from her, patting her on the knee before turning on her heel and closing the dividers tightly so no one could see in. Taking a deep, albeit shaky, breath, Messalina willed herself to turn her thoughts from a certain shaggy haired boy in her year and towards a peace that would allow her to even contemplate sleep.

It was an easier idea in her mind than it was in practice, and she found it impossible to think of anything other than that boy's barking laugh and all the occasions in which she had seen him carefree - which was every time she had seen him. And so, when the sleeping draught finally hit her bloodstream a few moments later, she was grateful. For the peace. And the emptiness. And for a way to stop the tears that streamed down her face and wet her pillow.


Not thirty yards from where Messalina closed her eyes to face a sleep she prayed would be dreamless, sat a collection of students. It consisted of the entirety of the Gryffindor seventh years, two Slytherins, and a Hufflepuff, all of whom leapt to their feet every time someone heard a creak or a footstep from inside the Hospital Wing. Their hopeful faces would fall when silence would take over once again and they would sink back to the floor, optimism dashed once again.

They didn't really look at one another when this happened, just stared at the floor or at the door. It didn't help that the students had segregated themselves either. The Gryffindors sat together in a small group, the exception being Sirius Black who sat a short distance away glaring out the window as though irritated he was there but knew he couldn't very well leave. The two Slytherins, Graham Pucey and his cousin John Higgs, were a few feet away sitting with an anxious Jenny Connors who had spent most of the time attempting to chew each nail on her hands off.

It was Graham Pucey who had arrived there first, pale and shaking. He had collapsed against the stone wall of the corridor, breathing heavily with his hands holding his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white. When he saw Messalina being laid down on a mattress and the doors to the Hospital Wing slammed shut with a finality he had not expected, his hyperventilating had gotten the better of him and he had slumped into what resembled a sitting position gasping for air and clutching at his chest.

He had contemplated for a few moments whether it was possible for an otherwise healthy seventeen year old boy to die of a heart attack and the irony of it happening just outside of a Hospital Wing. It certainly felt possible, with his heart beating so strongly in his rib cage that he could hear it in his ears, could feel it in every pulse point in his body. His whole body felt like it was being squeezed, and he could never imagine an ounce of pressure taken off. It felt as though his heart might explode.

Graham Pucey knew about heart attacks. Not from his family - no the great and proud wizarding family of Pucey had never lost a member to something so muggle as a heart attack. No, Puceys and Higgs and the lot of them died of old age and crazy accidents and experimentations gone wrong - grand things that that reminded everyone that at least they were dying as wizards.

No, Graham Pucey didn't know of heart attacks from his family. But he did know of them because of a certain young woman he could scarcely imagine his life without, even if he couldn't share his devotion to her with the world yet. Daughter of two governors of Beauxbatons, brilliant and clever, far more beautiful than any girl he'd ever seen - and that included her half veela cousin Apolline. The way she looked at him, as though he was the answer to all her prayers just as she was to his, was enough to warm his heart and give him hope in an increasingly bleak world.

So what was the catch? Why had he not shared his blossoming love with the world and walked around with the biggest smile on his face that he could imagine? Her own blood was purer than his own, the pair were mutually in love, and their families had consented to the match.

Well you see for all the magic and talent that Graham Pucey possessed in the world of magic and how he would have given her as much magic as she asked for even if it left him with nothing, Delphine Durmont was a squib. He knew his family was open-minded as far was wizarding families were concerned and that her family supported the love of the boy whose family vacationed beside their summer home on Lake Annecy, but anyone who knew of Delphine and her whereabouts was in danger.

There were rumors, from deep within Europe that something was happening to squibs. A few whispered tales of a sixteen year old squib in Dublin that had gone missing over the summer and her whole family murdered, the Dark Mark hovering in the sky above. Another of a man in Denmark, married happily to a witch, and with a handful of witch and wizard children that had gone missing alongside three of his children. A squib couple in Croatia with four magic children that had all disappeared without a trace on vacation in Romania.

It was after that last story had come to light that the Durmonts had left notice with the Puceys that they were leaving - disappearing themselves before the Death Eaters showed up on their doorstep looking to do experiments on their daughter. That was their best guess at least of what was happening with this missing people, but the truth could have been more painful, they had no way of knowing. But the Durmonts weren't waiting to find out and Graham hadn't seen or heard from Delphine for months.

He hadn't intended to hold vigil outside the Hospital Wing for Messalina, he really hadn't. But he felt hopeless and he hated that feeling more than anything in the world. It was how he felt when his thoughts returned to Delphine, gone Merlin knew where in hiding to keep her safe. It left him restless, anxious, fearful. And he wanted to feel in control of something.

He dealt with his fear about Delphine by making his way to the top of the DADA class in the school - only Messalina stood before him now and it was only her natural talent that kept him from surpassing her - because it made him feel in control of their destiny. But there was nothing he could do to gain control and stifle the panic within him as he waited for news of Messalina. One second they had been talking about new brooms and the next second, she had broken her nose hitting her head on the desk and lay unmoving as blood dripped onto the floor.

The others had arrived not long after he had finally been able to stop his faux heart attack to find him slumped on the floor staring at the doors to the Hospital Wing listlessly. The Gyffindors had travelled together in a pack, Black trailing behind them, and Graham's best friend and cousin John Higgs with his girlfriend Jenny Connors bringing up the rear.

Graham hadn't expected John and Jenny to come, but he supposed he ought not to have been surprised. He and John did everything together after all, with the only exceptions being Graham's Friday night DADA lessons with Messalina and John hanging out with Jenny. They might have been cousins but it felt like they were brothers - bonded deeply over years of being one another's closest confidante.

John and Jenny knew about Delphine - how could they not when she was all he'd talked about for two years? But as far as they knew there had been a nasty breakup and Graham didn't wish to see or talk to her again. Lying to them had made his chest ache, but the idea of something happening to Delphine because he had not told the lie he had been asked to made him retch.

He was fairly certain John and Jenny believed he was rebounding with Messalina Lucien and that was why they had come up to him looking so concerned and Jenny had immediately begun rubbing his back soothingly. It had helped to calm him down, but he wasn't upset because he was in love with Messalina. She was a great girl and perhaps if Delphine had actually broken up with him, he would have been trying to get her to pay attention to him.

But it was obvious to Graham she had eyes only for one Remus Lupin, and that boy's eyes seemed never to stray from hers. Puppy love, he mused as he thought of the longing, starving way Lupin looked at Lina as though she was the only thing in the world that could save him. It was how he had looked at Delphine in their early days, and it was enough to bring a small smile to his face.

The smile slid off as he looked down the hallway at Lupin. The boy looked incredibly unwell and it seemed he was keeping himself in a sitting position by sheer will and determination alone. He had looked okay when he had arrived, at least as okay as he could under the circumstances, but ever since they had heard the noises from inside the Hospital Wing he looked dead.

They had heard the wailing not an hour before, shortly after Madam Pomfrey had lit out of the Hospital Wing and down the corridor in the direction of the dungeons as though being chased by something. Lupin had sprung to his feet first, demanding to know if Messalina was alright but the matron had brushed him off with a snapped "she'll be fine, just so long as you get out of my way now". They had been whispering amongst themselves - something about speaking in a normal voice outside the Hospital Wing felt forbidden and wrong - when they heard a series of hauntingly loud wails from inside the room. They had all looked at one another, eyes wide and scared, with the exception of one Sirius Black.

Sitting away from his friends a short distance, his eyes were fixed on the door and he had grown so pale he resembled the drawing of a vampire's victim in their DADA textbook. Graham noted the slight tremor in his hand and the deepening frown on his face. He knew Black and Lina didn't like each other - everyone in the school knew that - but Graham would have never expected this reaction from him. Before he could look too deeply into it, however, Madam Pomfrey made her way back up the steps to the dungeons, a finger pressed to her lips to tell them to remain quiet.

"Madam Pomfrey, is she okay?" Lily Evans was the first to vocalize what they had been asking, careful though to keep her tone measured and quiet.

"Miss Lucien is resting - I can't tell you more than that."

"But is she going to be okay?" Remus was next to find his voice, hoarse and weak as it was.

"Miss Lucien needs rest - a group of sullen, whispering seventh years will not aid in her recovery. You may stop by tomorrow to check in and see if she is up for visitors then." Madam Pomfrey closed the doors to the Hospital Wing soundly, a click indicating Graham was still not in control. And it was a feeling that never seemed like it would lift.


Messalina woke for the first time in the dead of the night, the Hospital Wing lit only by the moonlight. Her lungs ached as though she was drowning and she leaned over the side of the bed, grasping for the bucket Madam Pomfrey had mentioned. Half laying off her bed, Messalina began a desperate effort to cough up whatever was preventing her lungs from functioning.

It was several moments of frantic hacking before Messalina was able to relieve the pressure, the all-too-familiar taste of metal filling her mouth as she spat into the bucket. Exhausted, she collapsed back against her pillows, staring up at the ceiling in a daze. Messalina's lungs felt raw and weak, her breathing steading slowly as she focused on one of the glittering glass ornamentations on the chandeliers until her eyelids grew heavy and she slipped back asleep.

The peace that she had felt in the first half of the night was gone; however, as it felt as though the second she closed her eyes she was somewhere else - somewhere far from the Hospital Wing and Hogwarts. She recognized it almost immediately, though she had only been there a few times when her family had decided to get away to what they called 'the country' and what Messalina had always thought was the equally elegant chateau her father's brother had called home prior to Azkaban. Her mother had never cared for the chateau - she preferred the Dolohov's palace in Russia and mentioned it nearly every time her husband mentioned wanting to visit Normandy.

But the chateau had never looked as beautiful or as decorated as it did now. The sun was shining above head, a light breeze cooling her skin and shifting her hair ever so slightly. There were tables all around the grand fountain (a beautiful witch with water pouring out of her raised wand), their pristine tableclothes rustling in the wind, and Messalina wondered where all the people were to fill those tables.

Just as she went to turn her head, someone grabbed her arm in vice-like grip and she gasped, whirling to see who was attempting to rip her arm off. She was met with the dark eyes of her cousin Antonin, annoyance distorting his handsome face and turning him into the villain she knew all too well. He was dressed in immaculate dark robes with red stitching, tailored to fit him perfectly as always, and Messalina pondered just how many galleons it cost for him to wear just that one outfit.

"What are you doing out here?" Antonin hissed, carefully keeping his voice low and glancing around their surroundings as though to ensure no one was around. "Messalina, what are you doing? They're waiting for you, you idiot."

"Who is waiting for me?" Messalina whispered back, her eyes searching his for any clue of what was going on. He gave her a look of utter disbelief, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"Your pretty little head really is full of nothing. How did you graduate from Hogwarts? That place has gone to the dogs - and the mudbloods. Let's go," he jeered, turning and dragging her down in the direction of the grand lawn of the chateau where it seemed several hundred people were gathered, standing and facing away from the pair. Messalina could barely avoid tripping over her feet as Antonin's stride was far greater than her own and his grip on his arm was certain to leave a massive bruise. "I'll be glad when you're not my problem anymore."

"What are you talking about?" Messalina asked, staring up at him with her brows furrowed. Maybe there really was nothing in her head because she certainly hadn't a clue what was going on.

"Just shut up and say 'I do'," Antonin growled, shushing her as they reached the edge of the assembled mass of people. There was an aisle in the middle and Messalina could see her father standing off to the side of the people, glowering down at her as though she was nothing but an irritation. Her father had, after all, always preferred her cousin. Antonin handed her off quite efficiently and then it was her father's fingers digging into the flesh of her arm, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

"It took you long enough, Messalina Oksana. Just what did you think you were doing?"

"I'm sorry, Father, I didn't-" Somewhere nearby, someone was playing a violin and not long after half a dozen other instruments began until she knew no matter how loud she spoke, her father would use it as an excuse to ignore her. He had never cared for his daughter, he would've preferred a son and he was never shy about admitting it.

"I hope you're more obedient to him."

"Who?" Messalina begged, but her father began to yank her down the space between the masses instead of responding. For the first time, she could see exactly who her family had been referring to as he stood at the end of the aisle staring haughtily at her as though just as disappointed in her as the rest of them. And as their eyes met, hers panicked and his disinterest, she remembered exactly what was going on.

Snapping her eyes from his, Messalina looked down and noticed for the first time she was wearing a porcelain white dress - silk with the most intricate lacing and accents that suddenly felt so tight she was going to be squeezed to death. Before she had time to truly process it, she was up to the altar and her father deposited her there with a light shove, sending her almost tripping over her own feet but someone roughly righted her. She stared at the man in front of her, fear paralyzing her as she was met with the bridegroom. Sirius Orion Black.

"You're late," he drawled, staring down his nose at her as though she was just an annoying child.

"He's right," her uncle Armand told her from her right shoulder and she gasped. He was meant to be in Azkaban for killing those muggle children wasn't he? "You're not acting nearly as perfect as you should be, Messalina."

"We already did all the talking - just say 'I do' and it'll be over," Sirius snapped and Messalina opened her mouth to do just that - how could she not when the eyes of everyone she'd ever met was staring at her like she was a disappointment? But she had no air in her lungs and she was on the verge of passing out. The words were caught in her throat and she was gasping and gasping and gasping...

She awoke with a start, already coughing and pulled herself up on her elbows, one of her hands going to her throat just as she spraying the sheets with blood. She kept hacking, even as blood dripped down her chin until the pressure on her chest finally dissipated, sweat dripping down her face from the exertion. Messalina fell backwards onto her sheets, absentmindedly wondering if Madam Pomfrey would be upset with her for coughing up blood all over the pristine white sheets and feeling as though her heart was about to explode.

"Miss Lucien!" The matron came bustling in as though summoned, the tip of her wand lit to guide her way and an enchanted tray following closely after with half a dozen potions on it. Her eyes fixed on the bloody sheets immediately, but only for long enough for her to flick her wand the sheets appeared as good as new. "Are you quite alright?"

"Sorry for waking you," Messalina mumbled, blinking up at the woman weakly as she wiped the blood from Messalina's chin.

"Hush now, no mention of that. I've brought you some potions - blood-replenishing, dreamless sleep, invigoration draught, a few others. They should help you be able to sleep through the rest of the night. If only we could suppress the coughing - perhaps St. Mungo's will have a suggestion in their letter back to me. Here, Miss Lucien take these." Madam Pomfrey's voice was far more soothing than any of the potions she had Messalina drink. Messalina wished the woman could have just sat beside her bed and talked to her until she fell asleep. But as it turned out, Messalina was back asleep before the woman even closed the dividers.

She woke for the final time that morning to a warm hand pressed to her forehead and the familiar scent of honeysuckle tickling her nose. She leaned into the warmth of the hand, drawing strength from the idea that another person existed in a world without this bone-deep pain and exhaustion. Messalina opened her eyes hesitantly, afraid she was in whatever dream world had her marrying Sirius Black in the French countryside had morphed into a honeymoon scene, but to her immense relief it was Gwen Prewett that sat beside her bed, looking lovingly down at Messalina.

That was a look she had only received since living with the Prewetts, and one that Gwen Prewett seemed to have mastered over the years. She was somehow able to convey every thought and feeling into that gaze, leaving Messalina feeling as though she was being warmed from the inside out. Yelena Lucien would never have been capable of an ounce of that love. Except perhaps to herself or her lineage.

"My darling Lina," Gwen cooed, stroking the side of her face gently with the pad of her thumb. "We were so worried."

"How are you feeling, kiddo?" Samuel asked from beside Gwen and Messalina felt like crying at the sight of her adoptive parents looking at her with such concern and empathy. "Madam Pomfrey said you had a rough night last night - hopefully the extra rest will make up for it."

"I'm just tired," she replied, surprised by how the pain seemed to take a step back now that she was in the light of day with two people she loved so deeply. "Madam Pomfrey's been taking really good care of me."

"I'm surprised it wasn't that Vector that sent you in here, I expected you to write saying he'd sent you through the wall of the castle," Samuel joked half-heartedly, a small smile on his weathered face. Gwen gave him a disapproving look and he threw his hands up in self-defense, winking at Messalina when Gwen turned her back and earning a small smile from her.

"And you've been getting all the draughts you need? Madam Pomfrey said she had that Slughorn brewing a few more potions and that St. Mungo's should be sending a care package soon."

"Yeah, I've just been sleeping the whole time basically," Messalina replied shakily, averting her eyes from their loving gazes as the memories of the St. Mungo's file flashed before her.

"Samuel, why don't you step out for a moment, let me have a little girl time with my youngest," Gwen hinted as Messalina began to feel her bottom lip quivering slightly. The calm of the day had dissipated faster than she had expected and reality kicked in, jarring her. If the panic showed on her face, her parents chose to ignore it as Samuel nodded.

"Ahhh yes, that Lily Evans escorted us here from Dumbledore's office and said she'd wait outside - maybe I'll go ask her about some muggle inventions Arthur might be interested in," Samuel said, getting up to give Messalina a tender kiss on the forehead. "Love you, kiddo. Feel better."

They waited until silence until they heard the door to the Hospital Wing open and shut, Gwen looking at Messalina as she stared down at her hands, wondering if the bucket was still on the floor if she should need to vomit.

"What happened, my darling?" Gwen asked softly, the concern clear on her face. And so, without looking up from her wringing hands, Messalina recounted the story of the previous day. She made it through most of the story dry-eyed; however, as she reached the end, tears were streaming down her face. Gwen, in her perpetual strength, made only supportive, encouraging comments when Messalina faltered in the story, and by the time she was done, her love for Gwen Prewett had never felt stronger.

"I'm so very sorry, Lina," Gwen soothed when Messalina concluded. It felt like a year had gone by since she had begun the story - telling it to someone else made it real, and it being real meant that she had to have found out days ago, not just less than 24 hours. It didn't even feel possible that only 24 hours had passed since she had been in DADA - certainly at least a few weeks had gone by. "I know it is no consolation, but this family - our family - will always -"

Whatever wisdom Gwen Prewett had been about to impart on Messalina was lost to time as there was a commotion at the door to the Hospital Wing. Messalina jerked her head in the direction of the sound, something deep inside her stirring - something angry and hateful. She hadn't felt that way in so long it was almost a foreign feeling, but then again only Antonin had been able to get her to that level of rage up until this point. But now it seemed a new person could get here there in a split second. And all it took was the barking laugh of one Sirius Black.