'You learned to run from what you feel, and that's why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control.'

Megan Chance

"You were talking in your sleep again last night."

Darcy looks at Emily, incredulous. "And you just let me? You didn't think to wake me up?"

"You've been having nightmares now for seven years." Emily waves an impatient hand. "I've taken to just ignoring you. I've come to accept that it's going to happen, and so have the rest of the girls in our dormitory."

Darcy doesn't answer and instead decides to load her plate with as many scrambled eggs as she can, grumbling under her breath. If there's one thing she misses more than doing magic all summer, it's the breakfasts at Hogwarts. She eats her eggs in silence, shoveling food into her mouth and thinking hard. However embarrassing it is to have nightmares every night while other girls sleep around her, Emily's convinced her that it's all right to have bad dreams because she has a good reason to have bad dreams. It may have taken her a few years to actually get that through Darcy's head, but it's still awful nonetheless.

But with the knowledge that Sirius Black is out for blood—Harry's blood, according to Mr. Weasley—and after the encounter with the dementor on the train, Darcy's last nightmare was one of the worst in a long time. Her mother, dead on the floor and Harry, screaming in the crib, red eyes flashing at her before a flash of green light. For years she'd worked on forgetting what happened that fateful night; she'd deny remembering anything when people asked (and people couldn't help but ask what she remembered upon finding out she's a Potter), deny remembering the flash of green light that should have ended Harry's life. And after so many years of convincing others that she couldn't remember a single thing, her brain became convinced, too.

The nightmare is forgotten by both Darcy and Emily when Professor McGonagall gives them their schedules and they comb through them. "Double Defense Against the Dark Arts first," Darcy reads. "Not a bad way to start our first day back."

"You'll have to tell us everything," Hermione gasps from across the table, taking Darcy's schedule from her hands and looking it over. "Professor Lupin seems promising, doesn't he?"

"Good morning, Gryffindors!" Everyone lifts their heads at the sound and someone squeezes between Darcy and Emily. Gemma, a bright smile on her face, sits herself at the Gryffindor table, swiping a piece of toast off Darcy's plate. "How are my little lions on their first day at school?" She smiles at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, chewing loudly, not seeming the least abashed when neither one of them answer. Instead, she turns to Emily, her short, dark hair hitting Darcy in the face. "What do you know about this Professor Lupin character? As much as I did enjoy Lockhart, I don't know that I could handle another year of someone like him."

"Let's find out, shall we?" Emily says, raising her eyebrows and getting to her feet. "Come on, Darcy. If we leave now, we can get the good desk."

"Sit with us at lunch!" Hermione calls after them, scrunching her nose when Gemma looks over her shoulder and winks.

It's a huge shock walking into Lupin's classroom. Everything feels so empty, so boring. After getting used to seeing pictures of Lockhart smiling down at them from every open space on the walls, Darcy feels quite relieved that there aren't any pictures of Lupin on the walls, his eyes following them like Lockhart's did. It seems to Darcy that he hasn't quite taken the time to unpack and decorate with whatever he fancies. The two take their usual spot at a desk in the back, and Gemma slinks into a seat with another Slytherin girl. Darcy and Emily look around for Lupin before talking quietly amongst themselves.

"What are we doing for your birthday this year?" Emily asks, scooting closer to Darcy. "Gemma said she could get us some firewhisky. And she said she'd get us into the prefects bathroom."

"Sounds great, but isn't she still dating Robert? He sold us out last time, remember?"

"No, they broke up a while ago."

"Why?"

"Because he sold us out."

As the classroom fills in and more students take their seats, talking excitedly, it's easy to hide their conversation. They continue to gossip—Emily gives Darcy details about how Gemma had broken up with her boyfriend of nearly two years without shedding a single tear (though, according to Gemma, Robert had she'd quite a few). Emily continues to tell her how Gemma's parents had been the one to introduce her to Robert in the first place, and whispers with a grin that Gemma's parents had been disappointed when they broke up.

Emily suddenly raises her eyebrows, looking very serious. "I want to talk to you about this dream, though—"

"Ladies!"

Darcy and Emily jump and their eyes snap to the front of the classroom, where they hadn't even noticed Professor Lupin talking to the class. Having become accustomed to a professor that never really taught, they're both surprised that Lupin has had the audacity to call them out in front of the class. Gemma snickers from the table beside them. Lupin isn't angry, but is smiling at them politely, and everyone in the classroom turns to look at them, grins on their faces. "Sorry, Professor." Emily smiles her most charming smile. "We're listening."

"Well, since you ladies were listening so well, why don't you come up here and demonstrate to the class how to produce a Patronus charm?"

The two girls look at each other for a moment and Darcy blushes. "Oh my god—how long was he standing up there talking?" Darcy hisses in Emily's ear, but they get up all the same, clearing their throats and walking to the front of the class with their shoulders back, trying to look dignified and confident.

"Excellent," Lupin claps his hands together and the class sniggers as the reach the front. Emily shoots them all a cold look. "I'll need one of you—Miss Duncan, why don't you stand here at this end—Darcy, stand over here—" Lupin shuffles the two of them around and they're soon standing face to face, as if preparing to duel. "Which one of you would like to go first?"

Neither of them speak, egging each other on silently behind Lupin's back. After a few moments, Lupin laughs.

"Thank you for volunteering to go first, Miss Duncan! After all, wasn't it you that suggested I teach you this?"

Emily scowls at Darcy, but as soon as Lupin looks at her again, Emily smiles a sweet smile. She readies her wand and clears her throat, looking to Lupin expectantly, suddenly realizing she isn't sure how to conjure a Patronus. Darcy, arms hanging at her sides, looks out at the class and then at Emily again, chuckling.

"Of course, you were listening so well, but just in case you need a refresher—" The class and Darcy laughs again. "You need to think of the happiest memory you have," Lupin instructs Emily, circling her and Darcy, hands folded behind his back. "Think hard back to the happiest you've ever been and channel that happiness through to your wand and use it to power your Patronus. When you're ready, you'll use the incantation Expecto Patronum."

Emily shuts her eyes, deep in thought. Darcy, although thankful that she's able to have more time to think of a happy memory, feels her heart sink. What happy memory of her's could ever help produce a Patronus? She thinks quickly of the first time she ever came to Hogwarts, but even then, she missed Harry so terribly and was so disgusted she left him alone with the Dursleys that there was an ache in her stomach for months—for years. She thinks back to before Hogwarts, trying to remember a time when she was five years old—trying to remember a time before Voldemort, to a time when she had a family, a real family. Trying to remember a time before everything…

She continues to search for a happy memory even as Emily raises her wand and hesitates only for a split second, before shouting, "Expecto Patronum!" Darcy, who expects to see nothing at all, is impressed to see something that resembles vapor coming from the tip of her wand. Emily immediately huffs and grips her wand tighter, opening her mouth to speak to try again, but Lupin stops her.

"An excellent and admirable attempt. It's a complicated spell that many fully trained wizards and witches still struggle with," he smiles. "Why don't we let Darcy try?" Lupin turns to Darcy instead.

Darcy opens her mouth to protest, but finds it too dry to even speak. Her heart is hammering in her chest. As prideful as she is, she thinks it too humiliating to admit she can't think of a happy enough memory to help with casting a Patronus. With the class's eyes on her, she flushes deeper red, catching Gemma's eye and finding some shred of courage from the thumbs-up she gives Darcy. Lupin seems to understand her hesitancy and claps a hand on her shoulder before quickly pulling it away. The place where his hand touched burns hot for a few seconds before she forces herself to think of something happy again. It's one of the hardest tasks she's ever been asked to do.

"Relax, Darcy," he murmurs to her, offering her a warm smile. "You aren't getting graded on this, nor will I judge your attempt. Go on, I'm sure you can do it."

"Okay," Darcy groans, defeated. Emily watches carefully as Darcy raises her wand now, the palm of her hand sweaty. She takes a final moment to gather her thoughts and she shuts her eyes tight. She remembers something, something so long ago it may not have happened at all, but it's real enough for this moment, real enough to prove to the class that she's able to produce something. The image of a happy family, eating dinner around a table, laughing at a small baby with thin, dark hair and bright green eyes—the feeling of belonging somewhere, the feeling of being accepted and loved—"Expecto Patronum!" And something real does erupt from her wand. Not a fully fledged Patronus, but more vapor that Emily had produced and she claps for her friend when Darcy lowers her wand, suddenly terribly exhausted.

"Well done!" Lupin claps along with Emily. "Take five points each for Gryffindor! And you ladies can return to your—riveting—conversation."

Darcy and Emily pay a little more attention during Lupin's class after the horrifying demonstration. His eyes flick across them more often than the other students, and each time he catches them whispering to each other, all three of them smile awkwardly before he moves on.

He teaches enthusiastically, showing them complicated wand motions, eyes alight with excitement, captivating nearly every student in the class. Lupin talks with his hands, showing them pictures and diagrams out of their books, writing incantations on the blackboard in rushed and sloppy handwriting, and laughing along with the class every time a joke is made. Seeing Lupin in the thick of it, in the middle of an eager, ready-to-learn class, Darcy feels as if she's seeing him for the first time.

His patched, frayed, and shabby robes hang off his thin frame, giving Darcy the impression that he's skipped a few meals before coming to Hogwarts. But however unkempt his robes appear, he seems well groomed—his brown hair, streaked with more gray than a man his age should have, is combed and clean and set in place, the five o'clock shadow he'd had on the train is cleaned up, completely shaved. Lacking any facial hair, Darcy can now see the faint, pink lines on his face, scars that appear to have been there for years.

And yet, though he is excited and clearly knowledgeable (or more so than Lockhart was, anyway), Darcy can't help but think he just looks sad. Sad in a way that she's very familiar with. There are what look to be permanent shadows under his eyes, premature lines on his young face, and an all around somber, hardened feel to him.

When the bell finally rings to signal the end of class, Lupin lets them go without homework and, in that moment, becomes everyone in the class's favorite teacher. They all leave happily, strolling through the threshold talking loudly and laughing. Darcy, Emily, and Gemma are the last students to leave his classroom. Gemma leaves them to head to Arithmancy while Darcy and Emily continue through the door and towards the greenhouses.

"What did you think?" Emily asks, sounding genuinely curious. "What's the verdict? We'll have to tell Hermione something or else we'll risk an angry Hermione."

Darcy laughs, looking at Emily. "It was good," she answers, but she suddenly narrows her eyes, shortening her strides until finally coming to a halt in the middle of the grass. "It was—too good."

"You sound surprised," Emily sniggers, realizing Darcy isn't next to her a few seconds after she's already stopped. She turns towards Darcy.

"I guess I'm just so used to having Lockhart around." Darcy thinks hard, but can't come up with a single complaint about Lupin's first class. "There has to be a catch, right? I mean—Defense Against the Dark Arts classes aren't good without there being a catch."

"There might not be a catch this time," Emily says hopefully. "Maybe Dumbledore's just finally found a decent teacher."

Shrugging, Darcy catches up to Emily and the two continue down the corridor. "In my seven years at Hogwarts, there has only been one thing I've ever truly learned—one thing that's ingrained in my brain and will haunt me for the rest of my days."

Emily looks sideways at Darcy, smirking.

"There's always a catch."

Word of Professor Lupin's first Defense Against the Dark Arts class spreads quickly and soon, students of each year are raving about their first classes too, save for some of the meaner Slytherins, who see nothing past the shabby clothes. But as the days wear on, and as people continue to talk highly of Lupin, the only thing on Darcy's mind is her eighteenth birthday.

She's eager to relax, to spread out in the large bathtub and drink with her friends, celebrating her final year at Hogwarts. With everything going on at school, she needs an excuse to forget about it all for at least a few hours. However, knowing that this will be her last birthday ever at Hogwarts, she feels a kind of sadness that she can't explain. The only birthday celebrations she's ever had were at Hogwarts. Maybe Petunia is often times kinder to Darcy than to Harry, but that doesn't mean Darcy's ever had elaborate parties and day trips and presents like Dudley's birthdays. Birthdays at the Dursleys were always a depressing matter—an unwelcome reminder of how much time had passed without a real family to love her, how much time she had spent confined in a house full of cruel people with no regard as to how Darcy and Harry felt.

Emily continues to plot a secret birthday party in the prefects bathroom and Gemma tells Darcy she's secured enough alcohol to get them good and drunk. Even Carla's mind seems to wander time to time, wistfully wishing Darcy's birthday could come sooner. The four of them enjoy the weekend and what could be the last of the autumn weather. They flip through school books in sweaters and knit hats, attempting to do homework even with the breeze hoping to steal away their parchment. The giant squid seems subdued, as well, hiding beneath the surface of the lake, keeping the splashing to a minimum.

"You know, for our last year here, they are not holding back with homework," Emily groans, placing her inkwell onto one corner of her parchment and her Transfiguration book onto the opposite corner. "Pressure's on."

"I regret taking Transfiguration," Darcy mutters, rolling up her finished Potions essay and stuffing it back into her bag, along with her ink and quill. "I still haven't started that homework."

Emily looks at Darcy with furrowed brows. "It's due tomorrow."

"Yeah, but we have a free period beforehand."

"It's not a free period," Gemma cackles, laying on her back and letting the sun wash over her. "It's lunch."

"Then I'll do it at lunch."

"Look," Emily replies. "I'm not going to complain when I get the better grade on my essay because I actually took my time, but if you are going to start putting off essays until lunch, I wouldn't recommend you make that one McGonagall's."

"Then I'll rotate them. Happy?"

Emily looks back down at her essay, seeming quite relieved. "I was planning on doing my Defense one during lunch, too. Zoned out during the last thirty minutes and missed everything Lupin said. I haven't even started it." She rolls up the parchment in front of her and taps Carla's head with it, catching her attention. "Awfully quiet over there."

Carla has three books open in front of her, holding down the pages with chocolate frog boxes, an empty butterbeer bottle, and a shoe. While scribbling frantically on parchment, she shakes her head. She finishes out a sentence, looks it over twice, and then leans back on her hands and smiles at her friends. "I'm going to drop out."

"You say that every year," Gemma says, lifting her head to smile at Carla.

Darcy pulls out her most recent copy of the Daily Prophet and lies down in the grass, scanning the front page for anything relating to Sirius Black. "I told you not to take so many classes," she teases. "I warned you."

"I took the same amount that you two did," Carla says, exasperated. "And I feel like it's a never ending cycle of homework. How did you manage it?"

"A lot of faith in myself as a witch and a lot of using every lunch period to finish essays," Darcy shrugs. "If you perform well, teachers will be a bit more lenient grading your homework."

"I beg to differ," Gemma snorts, sitting up. "You may be good at Potions, but I read your essays. Snape went easy on you, but definitely not me. So when you're done fucking him or whatever you're doing, send him my way. I'll take all the help I can get."

"There was one," Emily recalls, tapping her chin. "You remember the one—"

"First of all," Darcy snaps impatiently. "I know exactly what essay of mine you're thinking about and that essay was brilliant for a last minute scramble and considering it was two inches too short. That was not my fault that you got a—"

Emily shoots Darcy a dangerous look. "My essay was better than yours—Snape was just in a bad mood that day and took it out on me—"

"You've been bitter about this for three years," Darcy grins. "Just admit that my essay was good. Better than yours."

"None of you are making me feel any better," Carla whines, closing all her books and packing her bag up again.

"You watched us stress out our entire sixth year," Emily retorts, also deciding to call it quits and cleaning up her area. "You'll be fine, and you'll emerge from your exams a changed woman."

Gemma follows their lead, throwing her things into her bag. "Few days and we'll be drinking and taking a nice, long soak. A very well-deserved soak."

When all four of them have packed up their things, the bitter wind begins to pick up and they decide to call it a day. They wander inside the Great Hall for dinner, stuffing themselves with roast chicken and potatoes, sneaking some extra desserts into their pockets to bring back up to the common room.

The Gryffindor Common room is always loud the first few weeks of school while friends reconnect and share stories they were unable to over the summer, and it's often hard to find good seats. But fortunately, Harry, Ron, and Hermione have secured the good chairs and loveseat by the fire. Darcy and Emily join them, holding their hands out to the dancing flames in the fireplace. There's a buzz of conversation around them, but within an hour and a half, nearly everyone has found their way upstairs to their dormitories, still getting used to waking up early in the mornings.

It's quiet between them all for a little while. Harry and Ron play chess while Hermione watches, stroking her cat, Crookshanks, who's settled himself onto her lap. Finally, when the common room is close to empty and Harry yawns after losing the last chess match, Darcy grabs his sleeve and stops him, startling everyone around her.

"I'll need the cloak tomorrow night," she whispers.

"What?" Harry snaps. "Why?"

"You can consider it your birthday gift to me," Darcy smiles up at Harry pleasantly.

Harry doesn't answer. He looks down at her suspiciously, tearing his sleeve away from her grasp. "Fine, but don't get caught."

Darcy stands up and stretches, yawning. "Don't you have homework you should be doing or something?" she asks him, pulling strange faces as she attempts to touch her toes.

"Yeah," Harry replies quietly, avoiding a piercing look from Hermione. "But I'll do it during lunch tomorrow."