'Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child—so high—you are,
And all this is folly to the world.'
Ezra Pound
"C'mon, Darcy… you're sweating against me…"
"Sorry… can't help it…"
Emily rolls over and takes the blanket with her, leaving Darcy feeling exposed and cool. Unable to fall back asleep within a few minutes, Darcy sits up, rubbing her eyes. Emily is snoring slightly, already fast asleep again, drool pooling on her pillow. She stands and walks over the open window, peering out to Diagon Alley. The night is silent save for the hooting of owls and chirping of insects. The streets of Diagon Alley, however, are quite empty and quiet.
The moon is still high in the sky, bathing the rooftops in a pale glow. It's clearly after midnight—well into the night—but there's no sign of dawn quite yet. A light breeze blows in through the window, hitting her full in the face. Darcy slips into her shoes and throws Emily's oversized jacket on over her pajamas, grabbing her wand off the bedside table and stuffing it in a pocket. Emily doesn't notice Darcy sneak out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Darcy makes it to the bottom of the stairs, lost in the darkness. Years at the Dursleys have taught her how to move almost silently, sticking to the shadows and walking on her tiptoes. She lights the tip of her wand and it seems eerie being in the Leaky Cauldron with not a single soul in sight. It makes it easier to wander, however, with no one awake to catch her out of bed so late into the night. She half-expects Tom to still be manning the bar, waiting for shady customers to enter, but alas—it seems that even barkeeps sleep, too. She continues to creep around the first floor of the Leaky Cauldron, not sure what she's looking for.
"Darcy?"
She whips around at the sound of her name, wand held at the ready, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. She hesitates, the light from her wand illuminating Harry's tired face. "God—Harry—I almost hexed you," she whispers, trying to keep her voice even. Darcy lowers her wand. "What are you doing down here?"
"Couldn't sleep," he says with a shrug, clearly not fazed that Darcy had her wand pointed at his heart about five seconds ago. "You too?"
"Yeah," she nods. "Me too."
"Want to go take a walk?"
Darcy smiles weakly at him. "Yeah, okay."
She leads him to the back room where the secret entrance to Diagon Alley sits, waiting to be opened. They're quiet for a while—tired mostly—and a cool breeze blows Darcy's hair into her face and she has to continually brush it away. They walk slowly down the long street, towards Gringotts in the distance, all the shops closed for the night, all lights extinguished. Except for a few light fixtures on the fronts of shops and the light from the moon, it's completely dark.
Harry digs his hands deep inside his pockets and the both of them stop outside Quality Quidditch Supplies as he takes a moment to admire the Firebolt, the broomstick that has enticed Harry (and almost everyone else) so. The window of the shop is plastered with wanted posters of Sirius Black, and all of the pictures are staring down at them, the only people in sight, and he's screaming with a manic gleam in his eye that unsettles Darcy. Her eyelids are heavy with sleep, and yet she continues to stare at one of Sirius Black's pictures, unable to tear her eyes away, thinking hard about the long and stringy hair, the uneven beard—something about him makes her stomach churn, a feeling unfamiliar, that she can't quite place—but it isn't fear, she doesn't think it is…
"Darcy? Did you hear me?"
"What?" Darcy quickly looks away from the picture and then towards Harry, who's still looking at her, one eyebrow raised. "Sorry."
"I asked you why you couldn't sleep," he repeats.
"Oh," she shrugs, looking back at the Firebolt. "Emily woke me up."
They walk away from the Firebolt, walking more slowly this time, looking mostly at the ground. "It seems—unreal—that this is the last year you'll ever be at Hogwarts," he mutters, sighing heavily after getting the words out. "Do you know what you want to do once you're out?"
"Carla wants me to travel with her for a few years, gain some experience before going to work and settling down and all that," Darcy chuckles. "But Emily wants me to join the Ministry with her. We've always fancied becoming Aurors and fighting crime or something like that."
"And you'd rather go to the Ministry with Emily, wouldn't you?" Harry asks.
"Yeah," she whispers, "I would."
Harry stops in the middle of the street, looking up with sad eyes. "You're going to move away, aren't you?" he says. "From Privet Drive?" And when she doesn't answer, he adds, "Away from me?"
"I can't stay forever, Harry."
"You said you'd stay as long as I was at Hogwarts," he says quickly. "You promised."
"I know I did."
"You can't leave me alone with them."
"I don't want to talk about it right now," she counters.
"You promised."
"Harry, I said I don't want to talk about it right now," Darcy snaps. "The school year hasn't even started yet and we don't know what's going to happen. So quit asking about it."
Harry grumbles under his breath.
Emily returns home a few days later after she finishes all her school shopping, exhausts herself of gossip, and makes sure to buy Harry a belated birthday present. This makes Harry feel incredibly appreciated and he makes sure to thank her several times for the brand new pair of shoes she decided to get him. After Harry finishes his goodbyes, Emily promises to meet Darcy at Platform 9 ¾ in a little while and leaves via Floo Network from the Leaky Cauldron, arms laden with shopping bags and a new pair of robes slung over her shoulders.
Darcy can't say she's sorry to see Emily go—she's quite looking forward to having her bed back. Not that she's ever minded sharing a bed with Emily, but the Leaky Cauldron's beds are tiny and uncomfortable enough, and sharing a dormitory all year with Emily will make up for the weeks spent apart during the summer holidays.
Incidentally, Darcy does receive a long letter back from Carla the day Emily leaves, describing the adventure she and her parents had in South Africa and Kenya over the summer, and while she's sorry she isn't able to visit Diagon Alley until they get back a few days before term from Tanzania, she's looking forward to discussing Darcy and Harry's narrow escape from the clutches of Uncle Vernon.
Harry and Darcy end up spending a lot of time together during the following week. Their favorite place to sit is the same table at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor they sat at the first day. Darcy "breaks in" her new cauldron, trying out potions that Snape had never gotten to the previous year. Some of the smells revolt Harry, but he ignores it, amazed at the Darcy's concentration and successful creations. Each time Harry compliments her potions skills, her ego inflates a little more, her chest puffed out.
A few of their acquaintances stop to chat over the days, exchanging a few words, but never really staying to chat at length. The only people Darcy really wants to talk to, however, are her best friends. She's getting antsy, itching to get back to Hogwarts, to ride the Hogwarts Express with her best friends and do nothing but laugh and joke and gossip and eat.
While Darcy adjusts well to unprecedented freedom, she begins to crave structure to her days, something other to do than sit outside an ice cream shop and brew potions or help Harry with his homework. She even starts waking up early to try and structure her own day, but around mid-afternoon on her first day of attempted planning, she gets too hot outside to do anything except relax under the shade of Florean Fortescue's colorful umbrella.
She still continues to push her chair back on two legs while Harry tries to kick them out from under her, and once Florean threatens to glue the chair legs to the ground, Darcy mumbles to Harry, "I'll be able to get it unstuck," and Florean, overhearing her, smiles as he send a jinx her way that makes her fall to the ground and double over with laughter. Real laughter. A laughter Harry has not heard from Darcy in years. The three of them laugh so hard they start crying and, as an apology for jinxing Darcy (even though she finds the entire thing hilarious), Florean gives her the biggest ice cream sundae she's ever seen. And to top the whole thing off, he doesn't even charge her for it.
But she has to admit, it's nice to not have Vernon or Petunia nagging in her ear. It's nice not having to do chores almost all hours of the day. It's nice being able to wake up whenever she wants to, and eat breakfast whenever she wants to, and she isn't even yelled at when she accidentally spills coffee on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron. Tom just cleans it with a flick of his wand and a flashes a warm grin at Darcy, letting her know that everything is all right.
Harry forgets all about his Hogsmeade form during these days he spends with Darcy, too happy to care about the idea of staying behind one weekend every so often. He's too excited to be able to spend as much time with his sister as he wants, without one of the Dursleys telling him to "leave her alone and go do something useful".
A little after a week of their hanging out together, Carla does show up to Diagon Alley with her parents in tow. Carla's parents, both very talented in Transfiguration magic, are what Carla calls "field researchers." They're always traveling, especially over the summer, and sometimes during holidays, so Carla is never entirely sure whether or not she's staying at Hogwarts over holidays. It's because of them that Carla so values experiences and adventures, eager to graduate and travel the world for a year like they used to do back when her parents were young.
Carla talks a lot, which Darcy doesn't mind because most of the things she talks about are the things she's seen with her parents while away on vacation. But Carla hates the word vacation—to her, it's another "adventure". She tells Darcy all about Kenya and about how it might be her favorite country to date. And Darcy remembers how excited Carla had been after her trip to the Wetlands in America one year over winter break.
They eat lunch together at the Leaky Cauldron, a medley of just about everything, picking off each other's plates and sharing graciously—something Darcy and her friends do almost every time they eat together. Carla starts to go on about how much different the food is in Kenya and how she had to learn to not ask about ingredients and just eat it or else she would have chickened out.
Suddenly, about a half hour into their lunch, Carla looks around, completely silent, eyes wide open. "Where's Harry at?"
"What?" Darcy asks, shocked by her sudden change of subject. "Probably in Diagon Alley somewhere. Why?"
"Oh," Carla shrugs. "I don't know—I'm just used to him being around, I guess."
Darcy doesn't answer, but quickly slurps some of her beef stew.
"Have you given any serious thought to what you're going to do outside of Hogwarts?" Carla asks again, finally exhausting herself of Kenya. "I mean, it's your last year. Things are getting real now, aren't they?"
"Emily and I've got a plan, but nothing is set in stone yet until we take our N.E.W.T.'s," Darcy says. "I'm hoping we'll both get top grades, but who knows—"
"Oh, shut up, Darcy," Carla jokes. "You and Emily have done nothing but dedicate yourself to your schoolwork for years. You're trying to tell me that you don't think you'll get top grades?"
"Hey, this is a lot of pressure on my shoulders right now," Darcy replies with raised eyebrows. "Who knows what the N.E.W.T.'s are actually going to be like, anyway? Besides, weren't you freaking out about your O.W.L.'s?"
"Yeah, but in hindsight, I probably could have studied more," Carla laughs. "My sister said her N.E.W.T.'s weren't bad. She said as long as you paid attention in class all seven years of school, you'll be fine."
"That makes it seem like she's downplaying it a lot," Darcy says suspiciously.
Carla grins. "My sister only got two N.E.W.T.'s, so you probably shouldn't listen to her advice, anyway."
"What is your sister doing now, anyway?"
"She's a journalist," Carla explains, as if she's explained this a thousand times to a thousand different people. "She travels around a lot, just like mum and dad. Right now, I think she's in Borneo. Been there for about three months now, so she must really like it."
"Don't you write each other?"
"Sometimes," Carla says. "But you know we've never been that close. She does send the whole family a lot of the pictures she's taken. One of her stories was even published in a Muggle newspaper—and they didn't even realize that she's a witch! She's made really great connections with other wizarding families, so I'm quite jealous there. When you're done with this year, I could give her your address and have her write to you. Maybe you could go along with her on some trips?"
"Maybe," Darcy says half heartedly. "I've been wanting to go into the Ministry for a long time, Carla, you know that."
"Well, maybe when you're not being a big shot in the Ministry, you can come travel with me."
"We'll see."
Carla's parents join them for the rest of their lunch. Carla's mother is just like her daughter—big, curly, black hair, stick thin figure, and almond shaped brown eyes. Even her skin tone is the same exact tone as Carla's. Her father, on the other hand, is exactly the opposite of Carla. He's a tall man with short and sleek black hair, arms that are toned and muscular from obvious physical labor, and a large nose in comparison with Carla's.
"Good to see you again, Darcy," her father says, shaking Darcy's hand.
She smiles up at him. "Good to see you, Mr. Thompson," Darcy turns to Carla's mother, "and Mrs. Thompson."
"Don't be a stranger next summer," Mrs. Thompson smiles, wrapping an arm around Carla's shoulder. "Come and visit sometime, okay?"
"Sure," Darcy replies.
"See you in a few days."
Once Carla is gone and Harry is sure of it, he continues to bother Darcy even more, but she doesn't seem to mind him being around so often. He makes her look at the Firebolt with him, giving her details and rumors that he's picked up from older kids talking about it. But mostly, they continue to eat ice cream sundaes outside their now favorite building in Diagon Alley, and Harry doesn't care that it's Darcy's last year, or that she may be leaving Privet Drive soon, or that Sirius Black's face stares at them from the hundreds of posters put up around them.
All he cares about is that he's with Darcy now, eating ice cream, and laughing, and reminiscing. All he cares about is that Darcy looks beautiful with a ridiculous smile on her face, and how he's always thought her to be beautiful, and how he wants her to know it but he's too embarrassed it say it outloud. So he tries to find a way to say it without being too forward. So he settles with—
"You remind me of mum."
Darcy continues to smile, obviously touched by this. "Why do you think that?"
"You look like her," he replies, his cheeks reddening. "And I've always thought mum was pretty, haven't you?"
Darcy scoffs, understanding what Harry's trying to get at now. "Yes, I have," she replies, ruffling his already messy hair. "And thank you."