"By the way, Alex, I feel like our relationship should not be built on lies, so let me tell you, quite frankly, that your father's served the Dark Lord faithfully for the last sixteen years, and that your mum's currently held prisoner in the cellar beneath my home. By the way, you don't fancy a snog right before Defense, do you?"

Regulus Black did not see that scenario going anywhere smoothly. Growling in frustration, all he managed to do was straighten his robes in the bathroom before exiting quickly into the rest of Hogwarts Express.

He gained little clarity from the rest of the break. The thought of Alex's mother—whom Alex missed dearly, Regulus knew—kept him from sleeping soundly in his bed, which was, according to the architectural plans, at least twenty feet above the cellar. His parents' requests—he should call them demands at this point—to meet his obligations, attend functions, meetings, and go over the family finance, history, and contacts, exhausted him. At the same time Regulus knew that this was only the tip of the ice berg, and that much more was to come as he grew older—late-night discussions between the sacred Twenty-Eight houses of purebloods, mingling with the "older crowd," and—

The rattling of the train shook him physically, pulling him out of the mental dark road that he seemed to be descending every minute these past few days.

The thought of joining the Dark Lord's mission and aiding him in any way should've excited him. Damn it, it did excite him, less than a year ago. Fourth year was spent researching the history of blood purification and the "Slytheirn" ideology, even though the cause was by no means restricted to Slytherins alone—that is, when he wasn't too busy having inappropriate thoughts about his best friend. His best friend who was now not supposed to be his best friend but whom he was secretly dating.

Alex. Alex, who was there for him, and kept him sane, and made him feel like—just made him feel without being ashamed of the fact that he could have feelings. Who made him have improper thoughts at the most inopportune moments with her dark eyes and full lips. It wasn't that—he didn't want to say that she made him doubt the Dark Lord, because it stood in his mind without doubt that the magic of magical creatures ought to be protected and treasured and that the breaking down of the division between magical and non-magical beings was a threat to the magical community. The Dark Lord was trying to protect the magical community, and while some people took advantage of his power to take some things for their own gain and "have fun," Regulus believed with certainty that these people would gradually recede into the background as the Dark Lord's grand plan unfolded in the world. And Alex was—hesitant about the Dark Lord, because she saw all the reports of violence in The Daily Prophet (the most biased reportage of his mission if there ever was one—there wasn't a single pureblood columnist providing his opinions!), and she should rightly be hesitant, if what The Daily Prophet reported was the whole truth. But it wasn't the whole truth, and the knowledge that she was a pureblood—the Dark Lord wouldn't possibly let someone of muddied origins close to his intimate circle—must enable her to see the whole truth that the magical community should at least beware the nonmagical.

But in order to tell her about her bloodline he would need to explain exactly how he met her father and how he knew him and what plans he himself had for the future and that, Regulus thought, would prejudice Alex—especially if Sophia Wilson was really the member of the Order. Regulus knew that Alex's mother meant everything to her—that she was the only person that Alex really had for a long time, but perhaps Regulus could make her see that she had him, too, and that she could depend on him…

So tell her, his head whispered slyly. Tell her about her father, and tell her that she could be with him, too, if she joined the Dark Lord's circle.

She would never listen, another side, more insidious, yet more rational, argued back. She wouldn't want to join.

Does it matter? The first side grumbled. You want her with you forever, don't you? The other side, apparently, ran out of an argument for a while, until it suddenly popped the question:

But do you really want her to join?

The impatient looks that he'd gotten from his cohorts about forcing Alex to join the ranks (the Corridor Meetings were still going strong, and Lestrange's annoying decision to involve Alex in this still hung thickly in the air whenever the talk of recruitment came along) certainly induced him to answer yes, that he would much rather have Alex by his side through the entire war than have her fight for the opposite side, or constantly worry about her being targeted for being "undecided." But images of Alex and him alone in a cabin in middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but wind and nature and their breaths, kept creeping back to his mind, interrupting his thoughts. What it would be like to be away from it all, away from the politics of blood purity and ideologies and people, and just be with her—but his conscience didn't allow him this kind of indulgence. Of course he should do something to make the world better.

That did not unfortunately mean that his resolve remained steadfast when he saw her for the first time in a week.

She was in the Great Hall having dinner, but she was sitting by the Hufflepuff table, the table arrangements having become somewhat wonky during the break due to absence of students. She stared intently at a chessboard, tapping her fork impolitely against the wooden table. Lee sat next to her, watching her strategizing over the board with an amused smile. Next to him sat Lupin, looking quite entertained by the duo. Jealousy stabbed straight at Regulus' heart. So Lee could sit there—she would move tables to sit next to him—and be seen with her in public and smile at her. He couldn't.

As if she could sense the intensity of his stare, Alex looked up and their eyes met.

A strange list of emotions played across her face. Gladness, shown by an emergent wide smile, which was quickly suppressed by caution, followed immediately by dissatisfaction at having to hide her emotions. Something level came over her face, as though she had mastered all her emotions and felt nothing for him, but the ways she straightened her back told him a different story.

Seventh floor, he mouthed silently. Having seen her nod, he turned away and joined his housemates in the Slytherin table.

He at dinner perfunctorily, not really tasting anything that he put in his mouth. His heart slammed against the ribcage, making his throat constrict uncomfortably. Tonight. He had to tell Alex everything. He couldn't just go on pretending as though nothing had happened. Tell Alex. Tell Alex. Tell Alex.

The said person stood up from the Hufflepuff table and, packing her chess-pieces, left the Hall without giving it a second glance. Regulus looked down at his food glumly, pondering whether he had any energy left in him to swallow. Hogwarts food, which rivalled Kreacher's own cooking, shouldn't have put him off like this. But the exhausting merry-go-round in his head left no other room in his thoughts for anything like food. He stood up wordlessly and left the Hall, feeling his feet carry him to the Room of Requirements more than his thoughts.

But the sight that greeted him there took his breath away.

The room was cheerily lit as ever, with armchairs and a table in the middle. In the corner was the bed that he nor Alex seemed to be able to vanish, but the bed was an especially welcoming sight that evening. Alex was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire, her ancient-looking chess set spread out in front of her. She was polishing one of the rooks with a rag, her face radiant in the firelight. She didn't hear him come in, and it wasn't until he crouched down in front of her, examining the pieces with mild interest—they looked old, and Regulus wondered where she got them, seeing as Alex wasn't really in the habit of buying non-necessities. She looked up and the genuine smile, which she'd so carefully suppressed in the Great Hall, came up again.

"Hullo," she said, putting down the marble piece. "How was your break?"

Tell her. Tell her.

But the warmth of her eyes made him want to ignore every rational thought in his head.

"It was fine." His voice sounded like nothing of his own. "Yours?"

"It was quiet," she answered, frowning slightly. "Is something wrong?" But of course she would notice. They always noticed each other.

Tell her.

"Nothing interesting?" he murmured, his long fingers caressing the smooth surface of the play-things, feeling how the cool marble surface had heated slightly in the direction of the fire.

Tell—

Alex smiled, puzzled. "You didn't answer the question," she said. Regulus let go of the marble piece, his hand pressing into the soft curly carpet.

"Didn't I?" his voice was so low that even he couldn't completely hear himself. His mind was hazy, filled with nothing but the warm fire and Alex's unique scent—bittersweet lavender, mixed with something crisper—like snowfield in a winter day.

"No," the bemused smile mixed in her low voice was the last straw. He saw his face reflected in her dark eyes—saw his dark, needy expression, her surprise, her willingness—and touched her lips with his, shutting his eyes close. He couldn't see his face anymore, and that made him glad.

Something took over him, commanding his body despite the messages from his brain that cried out otherwise. He pushed her down the carpet, pressing his body against hers. His hands searched her greedily, losing their usual caution. Regulus grinded his hips closer to hers. Alex gasped. But this wasn't enough. Somehow, tonight, nothing felt enough.

His sweater came off. He couldn't remember how, but he felt the heat of the fire caressing his bare skin. His stomach met hers—her knits have come off as well. But when?

Alarmed, he pulled back. "Is this too much?" he asked frantically, looking down at the sight of the girl lying under him, her hair fanned out on the floor widely, her cheeks flushed from the heat, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes, unusually bright, looked back at him and his own eyes darkened.

"No," Alex murmured, pulling him down again by his shoulders. Her eyes roamed over his torso, as if she liked the sight that she saw as well. "Come back here."

The words broke down what remaining restraint that he had. The new heat from her skin transferring directly to his own—it addled his mind. Regulus could barely remember where he was (the knowledge that they would probably remain undiscovered was more than enough), forgot the piece of news that he had to tell her—he could remember no compulsion but what he felt right now, to be with her completely, closer to her, inside of her—

A sound came from her mouth, an unexpected breath, and she threw her head back, her mouth opening in surprise. The sight tipped him over the edge and Regulus let out a ragged breath as ripples of sensations ran up his spine from his stomach. His whole body slumped into her, a ragged bag of bones and muscles, and she clung to him, his whole frame, as though he was the only one keeping her safe from falling away completely. He reached out for her instinctively, burying his face in her hair, feeling her timid, careful pecks on his cheeks. They lay there a while in silence, listening to the burning log crackle.

Eventually, Alex pushed him gently to his side, rolling onto her side to face him. Her eyes refused to look at him directly and her fingers played awkwardly with the trail of hair leading south on his stomach, but a small smile on her lips that told him that it hadn't been completely horrible for her. Regulus couldn't suppress the grin that was threatening to erupt on his face and quickly kissed her on her lips, pulling her close again in his arms.

"Hello," he said. Alex smiled again, a bit more widely, and kissed him back in return.

"Hi," she murmured shyly. Regulus nuzzled into her cheek, letting the grin take over his face. Damn propriety. "That was—"

"Shh," Regulus said, kissing her again. This closeness, this intimacy, made him feel safer than he'd felt in months, and the sensation made him bold. "I know." She snugged closer to him, letting their scent wash over them.

"Reg?" she asked after a while, drowsiness clear in her voice.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think we could—" yawn— "stay like this a little longer?"

"'Course we can, sweetheart," Regulus murmured, kissing her forehead, but Alex didn't respond. When he looked down she was already fast asleep.

Regulus was hiding something.

That is, he was hiding more than usual. Alex knew that Regulus was a reserved person—always had been, even as an eleven-year-old—and that Slytherins in general were not in habit of divulging family or personal secrets to each other—possibly because there was always a chance that others would use that information against them in some way. But Regulus was forthcoming with her. Or maybe that was what she liked to believe, Alex wondered as she briskly walked to the Great Hall from her Ancient Runes lesson one early May afternoon. God knew what Regulus Black was not saying to her.

But it wasn't simply his reticence. Regulus was becoming erratic in his behavior, as well. Whenever they had some time alone together, Regulus would either completely overwhelm her with polite, meaningless conversation asking her a thousand things about the mundane daily routine and explaining all the things he'd done in the past week, making her laugh with his dry humor (Alex supposed that this wasn't so bad—she'd missed their meaningless chats in the library), or wordlessly snog the sense out of her—usually going much further than just snogging. The memory of what happened a last evening in the Room of Requirement made her blush in the corridor despite the May breeze. Since Easter break—it was more than a month ago—these… events became something of a regularity, but whenever she tried to bring up the subject, Regulus kissed her again, making her forget what she wanted to discuss in the first place. And it wasn't that she minded these events—quite the contrary—but at the same time…

It felt as though Regulus was aging a year each day, as though it was a sheer miracle that he didn't collapse on the corridor floor any second. Something was going on, but he wouldn't tell her, and it hurt that he felt unwilling to say anything. Had she done something to upset him in some way?

"There you are," Leila said, feigning annoyance when Alex arrived at the Great Hall. "You do realize that I took the precious time out of my busy schedule to accommodate this review session, right?"

"We both have O.W.L.s in less than a month," Alex said drily, rolling her eyes. Leila shrugged, stuffing a potato in her mouth.

"Whadev," she said. "If I have to recite one more time the twenty-seven troll leaders in the 1347 Uprising I'm going to puke."

"But you need—"

"History of Magic, yeah," Leila glumly stabbed at her carrots now. She confided in Alex when the first began to study for the O.W.L.s that she was actually vying for a position at the Daily Prophet as a sports writer—Quidditch reporter, to be exact. Alex knew that it was a very competitive position and that most people who did not have background in Quidditch had almost no chance of getting it, but didn't think it was wise to tell Leila something that she already knew. Besides, it was admirable that Leila already knew what she wanted to do, while Alex was still struggling over the brochures that Slughorn had carelessly spread in front of her during their mandatory meeting.

"It'll be fine," Alex said reassuringly. "I made flashcards."

"Oh yes, the Muggle flashcards," Leila said dully, but there was no malice in her words. "More magical than magical… non-flashcards."

"More magical than not studying," Alex said, trying to sound light, but the sight of Regulus entering the Great Hall with Rosier, Avery, and Rebecca in tow caught her attention, making her falter. Next to her Leila groaned.

"Great," she drawled. "Just what I need."

"Come on!" Rebecca was laughing in her high, tinkling voice. "That's just so not true."

"It is," Avery said, guffawing. "Go on, tell her, Parkinson—"

"Come on, Leila," Rebecca's blue eyes shined brightly in mirth. Alex felt like the corner she and Leila occupied exuded darkness in comparison. "It's just not true."

"What's not true?" Leila asked without a smile. Rebecca shook her head exasperatedly.

"Just because a couple is in a physical relationship they're not going to be emotionally intimate," Rosier mimicked Rebecca's words in falsetto. "What a load of crap—you should know, Parkinson." Alex could see that Leila was stung by Rosier's casual reference to their relationship, but Leila, to her credit, regarded her ex-boyfriend coolly.

"But it can be both," Rebecca argued. "Look, it's not that I don't enjoy physical aspects of the relationship—"

"Is this one of your New Witch nonsense, Rebecca?" Avery drawled. Several boys sniggered around them, and Alex felt like kicking Avery under the table.

"Shut up," Rebecca said without venom. "Look, just look at me and Regulus in fourth year—" several boys sniggered at the reference and even Regulus looked up from his plate, his face the epitome of serenity except for his eyes, which roved in discomfort. Snape, who had been sitting in the vicinity without saying anything, pressed his thin lips together—it seemed that all but Rebecca shared the knowledge that as far as Regulus was concerned, "Rebecca and Regulus in fourth year" was the very proof that physical relationships and emotional intimacy couldn't go together.

"Do you want to murder someone, Alex?" Leila asked slyly under her breath as Leila began to explain why, according to the mocked New Witch column in the Daily Prophet, a woman could be in a loving relationship and still be sexually active.

"Pardon?" Alex asked blandly, reaching for her pumpkin juice.

"You're wrong, Rebecca," Avery said in a loud, obnoxious voice. "I'm telling you, if the thing's getting physical and physical only, it's not going anywhere else. Take it from a guy." As if he'd sufficiently expressed his masculinity, Avery went back to his food with a puffed chest.

"Git," Leila muttered. "As I was saying, Alex, you looked like you wanted to murder someone."

"Avery's being a git," Alex said defensively, hoping to hide her face with her hair. The question that kept emerging in her head would not leave her alone.

"That he is," Leila conceded. "Come on, then, let's go to the library. History of Magic awaits." Leila stood up and Alex followed quietly, debating whether she should say anything to Leila. On the one hand, she was very knowledgeable about boys, or at least acted like she was, and it was always comforting to get second opinion. On the other hand, Leila didn't like the fact that she and Reg were still together, and what she might have to say would strengthen that opinion even more. On the other hand—

"So I have to tell you something," Alex blurted out on their fifth turn around the moving stairwell. Leila rolled her eyes.

"Obviously," she said.

"You can't tell anyone," Alex immediately said, biting her lip nervously.

"Alright," Leila answered easily.

"Well, I guess it's more of a question?"

"Okay." Another easy answer.

"Although I'm not really sure, do you think—"

"Alex, just ask me the damned thing."

"Okay," Alex said, her embarrassment getting better of her defensiveness. "Y'know what Rebecca was talking about back there, about—physical—thing—and everything else?" Leila gave Alex a bored look.

"Yeah, sure."

"Do you think it's true?"

"Alex, you watched me and Rosier for the better part of last year. Do you think Rebecca the slag's right?" The exasperation in Leila's voice made Alex feel like the most immature child at Hogwarts.

"I mean, I don't really know what happened between you two—"

"It was physical. From the beginning. Rosier was clear about that, and I was clear about that." Leila looked out the lance window, apparently distracted by a Quidditch game, but looked back at Alex with unexpected frustration. "I thought it was obvious," she said.

"Kinda," Alex said sheepishly. "And kind of not? I don't know these things." Leila shook her head.

"Tell me about it," she muttered darkly. "But why do you suddenly ask? It's not like the Slytherin Prince is going to do anything more inappropriate than looking at you for more than five seconds." Leila looked at Alex expectantly. Alex looked away, trying to hide her face again. Leila's eyes widened.

"You didn't," she said in a hushed voice. Alex's eyes widened in response.

"Wha—no. No." She shook her head vehemently. "We didn't!"

Leila still looked at her suspiciously. "What is it, then?" she asked.

"Well, I mean, we definitely haven't, but, y'know," Alex looked around uncomfortably. "We've done some things."

Leila rolled her eyes. "So what exactly is going on?" she asked.

"I don't know," Alex said, looking out the Quidditch field again; it seemed that Leila had unconsciously led them to the field instead of the library (sometimes her friend's tenacity was scary). The Hufflepuff team was playing. "It's like—it's not that we don't try to talk, but whenever we do, we end up—not talking." Leila scrunched up her nose.

"You sure you're not avoiding talking?"

"What?" Alex looked at her, bemused. "No, I don't think so. At least, I don't think I am." Her suspicion about Regulus resurfaced. "Reg, though—"

"Oy, you think you can call yourself a Chaser with an aim like that? Wheezers have better aim, and they don't have any arms!" Leila shouted suddenly across the field, then looked at Alex with a half-apologetic look. "Sorry, couldn't resist," she said abashedly. Alex shook her head in amusement despite herself.

"You think that's what happening?" she asked instead. "We're avoiding talking?"

"Nothing better than to shut up a conversation like good ol' snogging," Leila grunted, pulling her backpack with her up the stands.

"Thanks a lot," Alex said sourly. Leila shrugged.

"I don't know exactly what it is," she said. "I don't know Black all that much, to be honest, even though we've known each other since we were three. But what I can say is, if you feel like the relationship's getting too physical without making much progress everywhere else, then you should be able to decide what you want to do, you know? Maybe he's not worth that much investment. Maybe you're both having fun. I don't know," she ended the tirade bitterly. Alex stole a look at Leila's frown.

"Okay," Alex sighed, leaning into the chair. The afternoon sun was unusually warm and pleasant, and Alex imagined that she could almost feel unguarded in that place, soaking up the sun, smelling the spring breeze.

"Time!" Diggory, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team captain, called out. "Take break for fifteen, guys." Leila scoffed.

"I swear," she said, "Diggory's letting off his team too easy—"

"And you talk too much about other people's teams," a new voice entered the conversation. Alex opened her eyes and squinted at the sunlight.

"Hullo," she said, closing her eyes again and letting her head fall into the benches above her.

"Hello," Henyrk sat next down to her, and Alex could almost hear him smiling. "How's the studying going?"

"Absolutely horribly," Alex said.

"It's not that bad," Leila said. "Alex made flash cards."

"Did they work?" Henryk asked, bemused.

"We'll see in a month," Alex drawled. "I'll send you the results when they come out."

"With all the time I put in? You'd better, no?" Henryk said, shifting to drink water. Alex discovered to her surprise that Henryk was rather knowledgeable in Ancient Runes—or, as Leila put it bluntly, "bloody brilliant"—and he'd helped both of them in the library when he could outside Quidditch practices and his visits to Hagrid, the groundkeeper.

"You're so lucky that you don't have to take an exam," Leila said, groaning. Henryk, as a transfer student, didn't have to take any exams, especially considering that he had enrolled several years under his actual age. "You did take exams at Durmstrang, though, didn't you?"

Henryk shrugged. "I did have to take an exam to graduate. I'd much rather take the O.W.L.s, though." Alex frowned. Although Henryk never said that he went to Durmstrang, everyone assumed that he did. After all, there weren't many schools in Bulgaria, or Eastern Europe to begin with, that taught magic—

"C'mon," Leila scoffed. "What can be worse than the O.W.L.s?"

Henryk smiled thinly. "A four-month exam?"

"Four months?" Leila repeated skeptically.

"Sometimes it goes up to a year, if the student's really bad. That hasn't happened in years, though." Something in his tone told Alex that he was sharing a secret joke with her, but Alex couldn't tell what the joke was.

"Well, whatever the case, we have to get ready for our exam," Alex said dully, sitting up. She stretched lethargically.

"Fine," Leila harrumphed. "But first let me talk to Diggory for five minutes."

"Do you mean badger?" Alex muttered, but Leila had already bounced toward the Hufflepuff captain.

"She'll go far," Henryk said, clearly amused.

"She'll be the death of every Quidditch team captain in England," Alex said, laughing. "But yeah, you got to admire that, right?" They sat in companionable silence for a while.

"I'm leaving after the last game," Henryk said suddenly. Alex looked at him.

"What do you mean?"

"The Fifth year classes are in full review mode. I'm not going to learn anything new in class, and there's not much to do except for Quidditch practice…" Henryk shrugged. "The last match's against Ravenclaw, so Diggory's not very hopeful, but with luck we might get third place, I suppose."

"So you're leaving? Just like that?" Alex's voice sounded strange to her ears. Not quite shaky, but still—

"Yeah," Henryk said. He smiled at her. "Come on, don't tell me that you'll miss me."

"Don't be stupid," Alex said, her voice thick, and looked away. She watched the grass sway to the breeze.

"I've been thinking," Henryk said. "About the career thing? Come on, you've been carrying all those brochures around," he said to Alex's surprised look.

"I don't know," Alex said. "I just can't imagine being anywhere and feeling—okay about being there. You know what I mean?" Henryk's fingers began to leaf through the brochures sticking out from her bag.

"How about this?" he said, picking out one from the pack. Alex frowned at it.

"Curse-breaking?" she said incredulously. "That's, like, really hard to get into, and—"

"Really dangerous, yeah," Henryk said, grinning. "You also have to be really talented in Defense and Charms—knowledge in Ancient Runes is a must. You fit the description rather well, don't you think? Besides, you won't have to stay at a place for more than two months at a time, tops."

Alex looked at him disbelievingly. "Curse-breaking?" she repeated in disbelief.

"And the compensation's pretty generous. Prospects in moving into other fields also not bad, though you might want to, y'know, try to keep your limbs intact until then." Alex listened to the way Henryk almost carelessly answered every worry she had in her mind about financial security and—how did he even know these things? Alex didn't remember telling him about every detail of her family affairs.

"Okay," she said. "I'll think about it." Henryk shrugged again.

"And what about you?" Alex asked after a while. "You said you graduated. You need to get a job, too, right?"

Henryk smiled an odd smile; it was as if he knew exactly how unpleasant life was going to be to him and he was about to laugh at it. "I'm sure I'll find something," he said. "Nothing glorified, but it'll keep me alive."

"That's a waste of your talents, don't you think?" Alex said without thinking. Henryk looked at her with another odd look, one quite different from his previous one. He looked at her in the eyes and something made her turn away, blushing.

"Thank you, Alex," he said quietly. "That means more than you know." Alex scratched her head uncomfortably. Thankfully, Leila returned, looking very dissatisfied.

"That idiot Diggory won't listen to what I have to say,"' she complained to Alex.

"He's the captain," Alex said.

"Most unfortunate for the Hufflepuff team," Leila snapped. "Offense intended, Lee."

"None taken."

"Let's go, Alex," Leila said, clearly too irritated to perceive any words. "We have studying to do." Alex wanted to point out that it was Leila who first led them away from the library, but had seen far too much of irritated Leila to argue. She turned back to look at Henryk, but he'd already sat off toward the Quiddditch field without pausing to look at her.

For the first time, Alex kept an eye out for a Quidditch game that didn't involve the Slytherin team (she'd been dragged to every single on since Regulus made the team—and the obligation became even more important after he became the captain and then her boyfriend). The Hufflepuff game was less than three days away, she found out immediately from Leila, and ignored the inquiring look that she received with the answer.

"No new romance on the horizon?" Leila drawled, but she sounded more like she approved than she disapproved. Alex looked at her in shock.

"What?" Leila shrugged. "If you ask me, he's the one you should be with, not the preciousReg."

"We're not like that," Alex said firmly.

"You know, the oddest thing is, I almost believe that."

The game itself went as Henryk predicted—the luckless Hufflepuffs lost the match, earning the fourth place in the Hogwarts Cup for good. Even Leila seemed rather dejected despite her commitment to fair commentary that the Hufflepuff team had lost ("The poor sods, what can you do, with that bigheaded captain of theirs—") and Alex was about to go down from the commentator's box to tell Henryk good job when McGonagall stopped her in her tracks.

"Miss Wilson," she said seriously, "we need to talk."

"Oh," Alex said. "With all due respect, professor, could this wait? It's just that I'd like to—"

"I'm afraid it cannot," McGonagall interrupted her. "Your grandparents had responded to my letter concerning your situation this summer. Your mother is still—away on work and Augustus Wilson made it clear that you were not welcome in his house." From the way McGongall's nose twitched irritably, Alex could surmise how she felt about Alex's grandfather's response to her letter. Despite McGonagall's sympathy, however, Alex felt her heart sink a little.

"Oh," she said quietly.

"Don't worry, I've found a good place for you," McGonagall continued briskly. "The Potters are more than happy to have—"

"I beg your pardon, Professor?" Leila, whose eavesdropping skills reached the level of professionality, interjected loudly. "I thought you just said—"

"The Potters, Miss Parkinson." If the way McGonagall's lips threatened to curve amusedly wasn't the proof of her grudging affection for Leila, Alex didn't know what was. "The Potters are old friends with the Wilsons, and Mrs. Potter has gladly agreed to let Miss Wilson come live with them for the summer."

"I don't know what to say," Alex said quietly.

"You can say no," McGonagall said, "but do get back to me before the week is over, Miss Wilson." With those words McGonagall left the commentator's box and Alex's feet carried her to the window, where she could see the entire field.

"Is this true, though?" Leila was going off at her usual rapid speed. "I mean, I knew your mom's from the family, but the Potters? Do you think you'll have to live with James Potter?" A strange glint came into her eyes. "You don't think you'll get to play Quidditch with him, do you?"

"He's gone," Alex said, her eyes searching the field. But somehow, she knew that she wouldn't find him no matter how long she looked.

"What?" Leila said.

"Henryk," Alex said. "He's gone."

A/N And so ends the Fifth year! Thank you to all those reviewed :0