Dear Alex,

I'm sorry that you weren't able to come home for Christmas, but I thought it would be better if you stayed at the castle with your friends instead of at the house, since I haven't been there for some time. I am still in Paris, meeting with various scholars in the area. It's an exciting time of the year—a lot of publishing's being done before the new year—and, as you can imagine, it's quite lively and bustling. I do wish that you would be able to see it one day…

Alex sighed and carefully began to fold the letter. She'd read it at least five times already—she wasn't going to learn anything new. Despite this, however, she found herself unfolding and rereading it five minutes later.

The correspondence between her mother and her had become more and more sporadic as the fourth year progressed, and, even though Sophia Wilson never said it outright in her letters, Alex knew that it had to do with the Order business. She didn't know if it was even safe for her mother to tell her where she was, but maybe protection charms were placed on the letter so that no one but Alex could read the letter. Or perhaps her mother was simply lying about her location. If it meant that her mother was safe, Alex supposed that she didn't mind, although the assortments of sweets that her mother had sent seemed to prove that she was, indeed, in Paris. Alex looked down at the creamy white confectionary box and the pale pink ribbon with both delight and distaste. What if this was the last present that she would ever receive from her mother? What if this was the last letter that she was going to receive from her? What if—what if…

She looked around. There was a small parcel from Leila, who had decided to give her perfume, of all things (not that you smell bad, she assured Alex in her letter, but it's never a bad idea to have one). Rebecca had remained reticent the entire holiday, but Alex supposed that she had every right to be upset; the scene that she encountered when she had come back from Slughorn's party had not been the happiest of images. She had arrived, half-dazed by the end (she couldn't tell if it was due to the loud music or the-event-that-shall-not-be-spoken-of), and at the beginning failed to catch exactly what was going on.

"What happened?" she'd asked, arriving at her dorm to find Rebecca inconsolably wailing into her pillow and Leila sitting by her bedside, looking both worn out and irritated.

"Regulus Black happened," she answered. "And then the potion really kicked in. She won't stop crying, the brat."

"DON'T CALL ME A BRAT!" Rebecca, it seemed, had abandoned her flawless etiquette.

Leila shook Rebecca by the shoulders. "Oi. Get a grip, willya?" She shook her head at Alex, rolling her eyes. "I'm guessing it was either too much mead or they'd tempered with the potion somehow. To make it stronger, I mean."

"Yeah," Alex muttered, the feel of Regulus's hand on her back still prominent in her mind. "Probably."

"I mean, what have I done?" Rebecca's voice had quietened down, but not by much.

"The question would be, what haven't you done?" Leila muttered darkly. Unfortunately, the words weren't quiet enough to pass by Rebecca's ear unnoticed.

"WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?" her eyes blazed furiously and Leila seemed to catch on that retreat was the best policy.

"Nothing," she said. "Just, that, you know, you've been pretty close the past few months. We weren't expecting this to happen, were we?" she gave Alex a frantic look and Alex nodded immediately.

"Um," Alex said. "What happened again exactly?"

"I'll tell you what happened." With those words Rebecca sat up straight on her bed, hugging the pillow to her chest. "We went to Slughorn's party. We were having a good time. We were going to dance. Then he suddenly freaked out! Like some sort of a demented cat!"

Alex doubted that the last part was true. "Why?"

"Because I called him Reg!" Rebecca began to wail again, and Leila gave Alex a pointed look. Apparently she'd made them go through the same story again for no one's benefit.

"I mean," Rebecca continued, hiccuping. "I like him. So much. You know? And he never—he never said anything about not liking anything I did, or anything like that. You know? And I was asking him about getting out of the party for some alone time together, and he said fine, but then—but then—" Rebecca's hiccups became too much for her to go on and Leila took over, looking tired.

"And then she did the unthinkable of calling him 'Reg' and now they're over."

Leila's words seem to hit home for the second time and Leila began to pour out a new outburst of fresh tears, wailing into her pillow. Leila, recognizing a hopeless case when she saw one, decided not to continue with unsuccessful attempts to console Rebecca and sank to her own bed, sighing. Alex began to take the pins out of her hair one by one, not saying anything. She knew that she was supposed to feel bad for her roommate. That's what friends did, wasn't it? But the feeling threatening to erupt from her heart was nothing like pity or sorrow. She swallowed it down, willing for it not to appear on her face.

"And where were you this entire time?" Leila asked from her bed crossly. Alex looked up.

"Er," Alex said. "The party." Leila raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't see you there," she said.

"Yeah, I sort of—sort of hid in the corner after Potter and Black appeared. Didn't really want to give them a chance to pick on me, you know?" Alex grinned what she hoped was a sheepish grin. "Besides, it was sort of funny to watch all the people sing."

"Alright, then," Leila said offhandedly. "So I suppose I won't ask you why bats were coming out of Rabastan's nose, right?"

Alex tried for a sheepish grin again. "Didn't you have enough drama for one night?"

Leila scoffed. "Don't I know it," she muttered, closing her eyes. Alex fumbled with her dress.

"Oi, Wilson?"

Alex jumped uneasily in her spot before turning toward her direction. "What?"

"Those shoes better not have had stepped on anything fishy."

That was the last she saw of her housemates, who had to catch the early train back home a few days ago the day after the party. Alex wondered if any of them met again during the holiday—Slytherins tended to have parties on during break—and wondered if he was there, along with everybody else…

Regulus had not said much after the dance. In some ways Alex was glad that he didn't—it would have made things even stranger than they had been. But as they walked silently from Slughorn's office to the Common Room, Alex had been dying to know exactly what was going around in his little, reticent head. If he was as excited and confused as she was. If he noticed that she'd stepped on his toes exactly thirteen times. If he could tell that she had been counting. But he didn't say anything when they reached the Common Room. Instead, he smiled slightly, bade her a good night and happy holidays, squeezed her lightly on the shoulder, and left.

She looked at the third parcel. It had been even smaller than Leila's, and she had put off opening it, noticing that there was no name written on it. Alex supposed that it must have been from Regulus, but he wasn't the type to send things without names. The box was even smaller than her palm and she opened it easily.

It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust enough to see what it was. It was a necklace, that much she could see, but the pendant was something that she had never seen before. It looked like scribbles—or, more precisely, what scribbles would look like if someone bothered to place them on top of each other—and completely incomprehensible. Alex thought that she recognized parts of it from her Ancient Runes class, but if that were true, the runes were written in some sort of a script that she couldn't understand. In the middle of the scribble was a small, yellow stone that shined despite the dim light in her bedroom. The entire pendant was small, smaller than the nail of her thumb, and Alex could tell that it would have taken a skilled craftsman to forge it. But who?

She looked back in the box. There was a small piece of parchment attached to the inside of the walls, as if the sender did not want anyone to see the letter. Alex frowned. If someone had not wanted her to see it, the best action would have been to send nothing in the first place. She pried off the parchment with her fingernails and drew it close before her eyes, shifting her position so that she had better lighting. On it were written the words happy holidays.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest and she frowned, trying to contain her excitement. She knew that handwriting. She had spent hours reading that particular handwriting. Tracing it with her fingers. Breathing it in. It wasn't Reg's, but it was even better.

She wished that he was here so that she could ask him for the notebook. She knew that he had taken it home with him. But she didn't need confirmation—she would recognize the scratchy handwriting anywhere. It was Altair Wymond's handwriting, without doubt. She knew it. Her father's handwriting.

She began to pace. There could be many reasons why there would be a piece of parchment with her father's handwriting on it. It could be that he had written it in some different context and the sender, whoever it was, thought it would be funny or disturbing to send that particular phrase with the parcel. It could be that her father had nothing to do with the present. She didn't even know if he was alive. Perhaps someone who knew about her father and herself sent it to her out of pity or empathy. But then who?

It couldn't have been Regulus. He didn't know anything about Altair Wymond, no more than she did. And if he found out anything about him, he would have told her. Wouldn't he have told her?

It could also be her mother, but Alex doubted that. She hadn't said anything about him and, when Alex had asked, steadfastly refused until Alex stomped out of the room in tears. Then who?

Almost possessed, her fingers traced the chain until they reached the clasps. It felt almost pliant between her fingers. She drew her hair back and put the necklace around her neck, reaching at the nape of her neck to clasp it. The necklace fit her perfectly, as if someone had measured her neck and shoulder length. The pendant fell straight at the place between her collarbones, shining wickedly in its ancient magic. Alex swallowed.

Suddenly, a hot flare shot from the very middle of the pendant, traveling through the chain to the clasps like an electric shock. Alex gasped, automatically reaching for the chain. It felt warm in her hands, as if someone had tried to melt in in fire of a forgery. A stinging pain began to spread around her neck and she gingerly pressed her fingertips against her skin. She winced.

A reflection in her mirror told that the skin around the necklace was raw and pink, as if it had been burnt. A welt was already beginning to form there, a large, circular bump. She reached to the back of her neck to take the necklace off—she'd been stupid to put on something that was from someone she didn't know—but there was no clasp. She pulled at the chain, trying to see if she'd missed anything. The chain was smooth, as if it had been around her neck her entire life, as if her body had grown into it. It rubbed against and irritated her skin more and she stopped, panicking. She was't cursed, was she?

It didn't feel like it, other than the injury. She could still breath. Still move. And, if the warning of telltale signs published on the front cover of Daily Prophet was true, she probably had more than enough time to seek medical help. Alex tried to remember if the Hospital Wing was open during the holiday. She didn't know. It was her first time staying during winter.

She mechanically began to pull on her robes and quickly made her way to the Hospital Wing. The corridors were eerily quiet and even the Great Hall was almost silent save for a tinkering of silverware against the plates. The air was cool, cooler than she remembered it being, and Alex remembered that there were much fewer bodies in the castle to warm the air. She remembered hearing from one of her professors that the number of children who stayed for the holiday had dramatically dropped in the recent years. The parents, they said, wanted to see their children safe and sound more than anything…

The door of the Hospital Wing was closed and Alex knocked unceremoniously.

"Yes?" only Madam Pomfrey's face was visible through the crack that she allowed to open and Alex felt a wave of relief roll through her despite the suspicious look in Madam Pomfrey's eyes. So she was here.

"I—er, I received this necklace for Christmas from an—from an unknown sender, and when I put it on it sort of burned my skin and—er—" not knowing exactly how to explain, Alex lifted the pendant and showed Madam Pomfrey the welt. It was a stupid action, Alex knew. Students were strictly warned against eating, drinking, or even touching anything whose origins they didn't know. She should have known better. But she did know where it came from, or hoped that it came from her father—but hope was not something to place one's safety on…

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I suppose you're alright," she muttered, and opened the door wider. Alex frowned and was about to ask her what she meant when someone else greeted her from one of the beds.

"Alex! It's been a while. How are you?" Remus Lupin was sitting on the bed at the farthest corner. The curtains around the bed had been drawn aside, and the crumpled state of the sheets as well as his pajamas indicated that he had been there for a while. Alex's brows rose in surprise.

"Lup—er, Remus. I didn't know that you were staying during the holiday." She lingered awkwardly between the two rows of bed as Madam Pomfrey waved impatiently at her to wait.

Remus' smile was wan and despite his smile, his face looked tired. "Mum and dad were a bit busy this season. I figured that staying might not be a bad option."

"Oh," she said. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Remus shrugged. "I'll see them this summer. I haven't seen you during the holidays, though. First time?"

"I—yeah. My mum was also busy." Her head was reeling. He couldn't have noticed that she hadn't stayed at school before unless he'd spent all his winters at Hogwarts, could he? "She has a new job." Which wasn't false.

Remus smiled sympathetically. "I hope everything's going alright," he said. Alex tried to smile.

"Everything's going perfectly—"

"Not fine," Madam Pomfrey interrupted both of them, emerging from her office in her typical waddling gait. "Even the Headmaster had explicitly warned the students against exactly this kind of behavior during the Feast, Miss Wilson. If only you had been listening, you would have known!" Alex had indeed been listening, but, judging from the dirty look that Madam Pomfrey was throwing at her, Alex supposed that Madam Pomfrey had been expecting the worst of her behavior. Behind her Remus rolled his eyes good-humoredly. She grinned.

"Sorry," she said, not feeling sorry at all. She had been scared at first, remembering the dangers, but she was still alive and breathing, and somehow the necklace gave her a comforting kind of feeling…

"Hmph. Rub this on your skin—that's for your burn. Yes, Miss Wilson, the necklace burned your skin." Without further argument she gingerly rubbed a foul-smelling ointment around her neck. It felt cool against her skin. "Why do you still have it on?"

"It doesn't have a clasp," Alex said, giving the tin of ointment back to Madam Pomfrey. Her eyes narrowed.

"How did you put it on in the first place?"

"I mean, it had a clasp when it arrived, but as soon as I put it on, it sort of—vanished. After it—burned my skin, I mean." Madam Pomfrey's eyes grew narrower, if possible.

"I see," she said. "Then we have no other choice—we'll have to cut it."

Alex's eyes widened. "Um," she said. "Do we have to?"

"Of course we do, you silly little girl. It might be cursed! It burned your neck!" Alex had forgotten just how irritable Madam Pomfrey could be toward the Slytherins. One needed look no further than what happened after quidditch games, when she would attend to players from every other house before tending to the Slytherin players.

"Well, it's just that—it might be from a family member. A relative. He sometimes doesn't bother with names, you see, and it's just always been that way—"

"We don't have time for this nonsense," Madam Pomfrey snapped and, without a warning, reached for the necklace with one hand and her wand with the other. "Diffindo," she said firmly.

What happened next, Alex was glad to be able to say she was not responsible for. There was even a witness who could vouch for it. As soon as the incantation left Madam Pomfrey's mouth, something bounced off the necklace and threw Madam Pomfrey off her feet. Alex looked around in shock as the plump nurse was lifted several feet into the air before landing unceremoniously on her bottom. Even the imperturbable Remus seemed surprised.

"That's it," Madam Pomfrey said. "That object needs to go away."

Despite everything, Alex found herself clutching the pendant protectively with her hand. "I—"

"Madam Pomfrey," Remus said from his corner. "It looks like the necklace has some charm to protect itself against attempts to break it. I don't know much about protective charms, but I feel like there's a possibility of harming Alex if you tried any more complex spells." When both of the witches stared at him, he looked a little embarrassed. "We're on the unit of protective spells in our Defense Against the Dark Arts class." Alex knew for a fact that they were not going to get to that unit until spring but didn't say anything.

"She looks like she's healthy," Remus added.

"She looks healthy now," Madam Pomfrey's voice was gentler. "But we don't know what's going to happen in the next hour. Or even next week or next month. Sometimes these spells are latent. They don't reveal themselves until someone triggers them."

"Are there detection charms that we could use?" he asked. Madam Pomfrey shook her head.

"The detection charms are usually very specific. Unless you knew exactly what you were looking for, the only option is to go through each and every spell until you exhaust every possibility you can think of. Which is why," she said, throwing Alex a disapproving look, "you simply don't put them on in the first place." Alex decided that arguing would not be the wisest of options.

"What about tests?" Remus suggested. "There are tests to measure the level of Dark Magic in your body, right? And she could have tonics just in case the levels go up."

Madam Pomfrey seemed to consider this. "That," she said. "Is a smart idea. Thank you, Mr. Lupin." Without looking back at her, Madam Pomfrey swished out of the Hospital Wing. Alex sank to the nearest bed, feeling an odd sense of deja-vu. She'd been in one of the beds before, hadn't she? Yes, almost four years ago…

"Thank you," she said. "About Madam Pomfrey. She can be a bit—"

"A bit over the top, yeah." Remus nodded. "You should see the fights James gets in with her. He's always trying to wriggle out of a treatment so he can get back to practice. After a while you learn a thing or two."

"I'm sure," she said wryly.

"Besides," he continued. "You said it was from a family member, right? It's not as if your family's going to curse you."

Alex looked at her shoes and tapped her feet against the floor. "Yeah," she said. "I guess." She looked around, feeling uncomfortable. "Why were you here, though? I doubt that you put on a fishy necklace from a relative."

Remus opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment Madam Pomfrey came in with a bottle of something and a very suspicious-looking syringe.

"Settle down," she said briskly. "You're going to be here for a while."

The procedure did take longer than she expected—all morning, in fact, and by the time it ended she was starving and sporting several needle punctures on her arm. Madam Pomfrey had said several times that she needed her blood, but Alex wasn't sure why she would need it in such large quantities.

"The results seem positive for now," Madam Pomfrey said, looking slightly dissatisfied. "You may leave, I suppose. Not you, Mr. Lupin," she said sharply to Remus, who had made a move to rise from his bed. "You're still under watch."

"But I've been here for three days, Madam Pomfrey," he said. "Usually you let me go after a day or two."

"That is because of your classes," Madam Pomfrey said stiffly. "Unless you have a pressing lecture during the break that you need to attend, I suggest that you remain here for at least a week." At this suggestion Remus' face became horrorstruck, but Alex thought she saw something else there, too—resignation, perhaps? He didn't argue further.

"Er—I can come and visit, if you'd like," she said awkwardly. "Bring you books or something, if you're bored." At this Remus looked away, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Oh—that's fine. Really," he said hastily, fiddling with the sewing at the edge of his sheets. "You needn't trouble yourself."

"No, I mean—I don't have anyone else to talk to," Alex said bluntly. "And it can't be easy, being cooped up in here. Have you seen the snow outside?"

Remus smiled faintly. "I don't think you'll be allowed to sneak snow in here," he said.

Alex grinned. "You never know," she said.

The next time they met was a few hours later in late afternoon. Alex decided that it would not be a bad idea to share the box of confectionary that her mother had sent her with Remus and, as it turned out, Remus had a particular weakness for sweets. After lunch they sat together in the Hospital Wing, wondering at the decorative sumptuousness of the goods inside the pale box.

"Blimey," Remus said. "And I thought that eating chocolate frogs was indulgent." True to his words, there was a stack of chocolate frog boxes stacked on his bedside table with a small note sticking out at the bottom. They were from Potter, Remus explained.

"Well," Alex said, thoughtfully peering at the layer of cream perfectly squeezed between the two macarons. "This certainly does put things in perspective." Without further hesitation she took a big bite into the small macaron. An inadvertent smile crept up her face.

"Heh," she said dreamily like a five-year-old.

"Mmm," Remus agreed, picking up the crumbs that had fallen onto the bed sheet before quickly putting them in his mouth. "I swear—I'm getting a job in France after I graduate."

"Can you take me with you? I'll pay half the rent..." Alex trailed off, now observing another macaron. Shame—how quickly they disappeared. "Hazelnut?" she asked Remus, who had taken a similar one.

Remus nodded. "With chocolate filling. It's lovely." Alex hesitated before gingerly putting it down, taking care not to squish its shape. Remus looked at her oddly.

"What's wrong?"

Alex looked up, feeling oddly guilty. "It's nothing," she said quickly. "I was thinking that I had enough."

Remus looked slightly alarmed. "I mean, if you want to save them for later—" he began.

"It's not that," Alex protested. "It's just—well—" she looked around helplessly, trying to come up with a reason other than the one in her head. Remus raised his eyebrow, looking curious and inflexible. Alex tried to shrug nonchalantly.

"I just know someone who really likes hazelnut and… I figured that he would like to have it more than I do." Alex cleared her throat. "I mean, he's probably had dozens like this before, but..." she trailed off again, fiddling with the ribbon that held the box together. Remus was looking at her thoughtfully and Alex felt an unwilling flush creep up her cheeks.

"You can have more, if you want," she said almost defensively.

"It's not that," he said slowly. "I already had more than enough. Thank you. It's just that—well, forgive me for asking, and I don't want to intrude, but—" now Remus seemed hesitant. "Do you honestly like him?"

His words made her heart sink. Was she that obvious? But then she told herself that it may not be Regulus that he was talking about. For all she knew, Remus could have been talking about Rabstan or Filch or even Peeves the Poltergeist.

"Who do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.

Remus now looked rather uncomfortable. "Well—it's just that you've been friends for years, and Sirius was always going on about his brother—" he stopped. "Sorry. It's not my business. It's just that Sirius said some things this year that made me pause. That's all."

Alex didn't know whether she felt intrigued or helpless. So he had noticed. She cleared her throat. "What exactly did he say?" she said, failing to meet his eyes. Remus, it seemed, was not feeling any more comfortable.

"Nothing specific," he said vaguely. "Just that he had some juicy dirt on his brother and that it might be fun to tell you and see what happens." He began to fiddle with a chocolate frog box. "I mean, I wouldn't have said anything, but Sirius can be a tad obtuse about these things, and after what happened in the Transfiguration class, I figured—I might as well tell you." Now he was looking earnestly at Alex and Alex got a sense that she was supposed to understand something without it being spelled out but she couldn't for the life of her understand what Remus was trying to tell her.

"I don't understand," she said plainly. Remus sighed.

"Well," he said. "I guess I'm trying to tell you that—Sirius means well. You know. What he did. During Transfiguration class. He didn't mean to harass you, or anything like that. He was trying to help. I think. I hope. He just noticed that you two had been drifting apart for a while and he wanted to help Regulus out. I think. I hope."

Alex looked quizzically at Remus. "That was more than a month ago," she said. Remus made a frustrated gesture with his hand.

"Yeah—yeah. I guess it was. Blimey, this is harder than I thought." He sat up straighter. "You know, I had to break it to James once that Lily just wasn't interested in him—I thought that was hard. And Sirius was there, too, with Peter. Took us almost three hours before he even conceded to the possibility that she may not be interested in him. That was a long night." He laughed uneasily and Alex tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. Potter's unhealthy obsession with Lily may have been funny had it not been for the fact that it was scary—the amount of disregard Potter displayed toward Lily Evans was scary. And he was supposed to like her. Were all boys like that? Remus in front of her seemed decent enough…

"What I'm trying to say is," Remus said. "Is that Sirius said that Regulus was avoiding you for a reason. A justifiable reason. And that it was a stupid reason and that Regulus should get it together and be a man. The last part was from Sirius, not me."

"Remus," Alex sighed. "What are you trying to say?"

"Regulus Black likes you," Remus blurted out. Almost immediately, he seemed to regret having said something like that out loud. He looked warily at her for her reaction.

Alex stared back blankly. "I beg your pardon?" she asked politely.

"Well, what Sirius said was a bit different," Remus said, shifting uneasily. "But stripped down to the essentials, that's about it."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "Exactly what did he say, then?" she asked. Remus now looked acutely in pain.

"Forget I said anything," he muttered. "It was a bad idea to begin with, anyway. You guys should be able to figure things out on your own, and Sirius just thought that it would be fun to mess around with his brother again—"

"Remus, exactly what did he say?"

"I—" Remus hesitated. "Look, it's not as if we go around talking about this kind of stuff all the time, okay? It's just that, well, sometimes Sirius likes to talk about his brother, and I admit, most of the times it's nothing complimentary, but James doesn't really like to hear about Regulus and I've become sort of a sounding board for him. About his brother. You know? I mean, I don't mind hearing about his brother, it's not that bad, honestly, and I don't have siblings, so it's sort of funny at times to watch Sirius talk about Regulus, you know, until he gets to the bad stuff, but—I mean, so their rooms are on the same floor and, you know, the same house, they sort of get in tuned with each other's habits, you know? Even though you don't really intend to. And Sirius sort of said—well, implied, really—that he's seen his brother sort of—well—I don't know what's a good way to put it—sort of thinking about you."

"Thinking about me."

"Yes, thinking about you in a—well—in a different context. From friendship."

"In a different context."

"Okay, I mean, in a very specific context."

"A specific context."

"I have to confess that thinking was a bad word choice. I meant to say—no, not what I meant to say, but that Sirius sort of implied that Regulus was sort of—fantasizing about you." Now poor Remus' cheeks were redder than ripe strawberries.

Alex frowned. "What does that even mean?" she asked. Remus looked like someone had jut announced to him that Honeydukes was closing.

"Oh, Merlin," he groaned into his hands. "I should have never brought it up. It was the macarons. I blame the macarons."

"It's not that I don't know what fantasizing means," Alex said defensively, feeling a bit of blush spread in her cheeks despite herself. "But, you know. Most of it's just talk. Just talk and… stuff. It doesn't really mean anything. Right? Right?" She managed to look straight at Remus, who only looked back at her with what almost looked like pity.

"Alex," Remus said gently. "I know that you two have been friends for a while, but… Regulus is a boy. A fourteen-year-old boy. I'm not saying that he said anything obscene to Sirius—or anyone, for that matter—but…"

"That doesn't have to mean anything," Alex protested. "Fourteen-year-old boy. You make it sound like a crime. Just because he's a boy and he's fourteen doesn't have to mean that—that he sees girls that way."

"Alex," Remus said. "We've all witnessed his relationship with Rebecca. I think the whole school noticed."

Alex rubbed the place between her brows. That was one mental picture that she could completely do without. "Don't say that," she muttered.

"Look, I'm not saying that Regulus suddenly turned into something that he isn't. I think he spent most of his time denying it. Threatened to hex Sirius to the next decade when Sirius approached him to talk to him about it, actually." Remus chuckled. "Blimey. I would have loved to see that." At Alex's reproachful look he quickly grew somber. "Sorry," he said. Alex looked down at her hands.

"He can't possibly see me that way," she said quietly. Next to her Remus' brows furrowed.

"Why not?" he asked, bemused.

"Because—because—I don't know. Because I'm me? And you've seen how he is with Rebecca—I'm nothing like her. He doesn't like me that way."

Remus frowned. "I should hope that he doesn't like you that way. I mean, it's none of my business, but—you deserve better than that."

Alex didn't say anything, fiddling with her hands. Her mind kept going back to Slughorn's party, the dance, his fingertips pressing against her spine. He couldn't. He simply couldn't. Did she want him to? She didn't know.

"I think you're wrong," she said at last. "He doesn't see me that way."

Remus sighed. "You might be right. I just thought that I should tell you what Sirius thought and—and what I thought, too. He can be a little inappropriate and—well, I didn't want him to surprise you in an unpleasant way. Also, I think that—" there he stopped, looking a bit far into distance.

"What?" Alex found herself asking in spite of herself.

The look in Remus' eyes was oddly glassy. Farther off than most conversations merited. "Well," he said. "It's an extraordinary happening, don't you think—when two people both care for and want each other? You see it so often that you think it's nothing, but—it's an unbelievable coincidence of feelings. I don't want it to go to waste."

Alex tried to joke it off. "Are we even talking about me anymore?" she said. She didn't want to face the enormity of the possibility. Was it—could it be—no. No. No. He couldn't. And even if he was—they were fantasies. Completely physical. Alex didn't—she didn't want completely physical. Did she? No. No, she didn't. She wanted—no, she did not want anything.

She wanted more. Which was ridiculous, because Regulus felt nothing like that toward her. He couldn't.

"No," Remus said, rolling his eyes. Alex was too caught in her own train of thoughts, however, to notice the slight, uneasy shift of his gaze toward the pile of presents on his bed table.

"Let's talk about something else," Alex suggested after gazing at the afternoon winter sun. Thankfully, Remus seemed to agree.

"Alright," he said. "Have you tried the newest chocolate frog? James sent me some, and apparently, they decided to sprinkle the bellies with sprinkles and cookie crumbs..."

So the rest of their break passed by. Remus was, to his relief, released before the new year began. Alex realized that there was much to be done in two weeks: the pair spent several hours building a snowman near the groundkeeper's hut; stayed in the dining hall until all the other professors retired; swapped chocolate frog cards; even discussed Quidditch once upon an occasion, although the discussion fell short when the topic broached the subject of Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry.

But time flew by, regardless of how Alex was feeling, and it was soon the weekend before the first week of class. Students had been trickling in by Flu Network all morning, and Alex supposed that she would be seeing Leila and—him—quite soon. She shook her head as she briskly walked down the corridor toward the Hospital Wing. The nurse witch, apparently dissatisfied with the fact that Alex's complexion was healthy, decided that the best course of action was to measure her blood for Merkel level every week. Alex didn't mind taking the tests as much as going to the Hospital Wing itself; she didn't like the place and, if anything else, Madam Pomfrey had a way of making her worry more than she ought. She entered the Hospital Wing. It was empty. Alex sighed—she hoped Madam Pomfrey would be here soon.

A noise came from a direction. Alex turned her head. Madam Pomfrey's office. The door was slightly ajar. Alex frowned. Usually, Madam Pomfrey was obsessed about keeping her office door closed, in case a strain of errant disease entered her medicine cupboard. And if it was she who was in her office, than she would have heard Alex enter and come out. So who was it then?

Something crashed in her office, followed by a low swearing. It was unmistakably not Madam Pomfrey.

Alex reached for the wand inside her robe and slowly drew herself up from her sitting position, cautiously approaching the office. The noise stopped, and it didn't feel like anyone was trying to vandalize anything—if anything, it seemed like the person was trying to put the vials back together. Alex frowned. Vials? Her hand reached for the doorknob and she gripped her wand tightly. Three, two, one…

The person she found behind the door was the least person she would have suspected of breaking in and entering.

"Reg?!" she said, and then what she saw stopped her breath short.