'Night is breathing close to us, dark, soft.'

Denise Levertov

"Ew! No one here wants to know how much tongue he uses!" Emily hisses, shaking her head and cringing slightly. "I can picture it, and it's the stuff nightmares are made of."

Gemma snorts. "Someone needs to tell him he uses too much tongue. You can't just let him go kissing other girls like that—that's cruel."

Darcy scoffs angrily, her cheeks red. "I'm not going to tell him how to kiss. When he gets a girlfriend, she can correct him all she wants."

"I think he thinks you are his girlfriend," Gemma replies, eyebrows raised, the corners of her lips turned upwards.

"No, I'm not," Darcy snaps, rounding on Gemma. "No, definitely not. I'm not his girlfriend."

"You kissed him. By all the laws of teenage boys, you are now his girlfriend—or so he thinks," Emily says very seriously. She glances around, to make sure he's not nearby. "You should not have done that without consulting us first. I thought we were a team, here. When have I ever kissed a boy without talking to you guys about it first?"

Gemma and Carla exchange a look. "Emily, when was the last time you ever kissed a boy?" Carla wonders outloud.

Emily's nostrils flare and her eyebrows knit together. "It's none of your business whether or not I've been kissing boys."

"Then why are you making it your business who Darcy kisses?" Gemma responds, throwing an arm around Darcy's shoulders. "You're making a big deal out of nothing. It's only Oliver Wood. I think it would be a bigger deal if it was someone truly horrible…"

Darcy stops in the middle of the corridor and her friends stop with her. Gemma lowers her arm back to her side, smiling. "All right, let's get one thing straight—I'm not going to consult any of you about any boy that I want to kiss. I didn't even really want to do it in the first place, anyway. I was just bored, and there wasn't anyone else to kiss."

"You don't just kiss boys because you're bored," Emily adds, as if her word is law. "If you were that bored, I would have given you more homework to finish or something. You're seriously falling behind in Ancient Runes."

"Shut up!" Darcy frowns. "I'm doing fine in Ancient Runes. Just because that class isn't my first priority—"

To Darcy's displeasure, Carla agrees with Emily. "Yeah, I've got a Potions essay that I'm really struggling with. I could've used your help, but no… you had to go off and kiss Oliver Wood instead."

"Oh, god…" Darcy whispers, running her hands through her hair and rubbing her face. "Am I going to have to break up with a boy that's not my boyfriend? I'm not good at stuff like that."

"You could do that," Gemma nods, stroking her chin and deep in thought. Then, she grins again. "Just tell him to fuck off. Or you could just ignore him for the rest of your life, but avoiding him would be hard work, considering you see him about everyday."

"Oliver can't take a hint, Gemma," Emily argues heatedly. "Even if she did ignore him the rest of her life, he wouldn't just give up. He hasn't given up with Darcy for seven years now."

"First year, he tried to kiss me on the lips," Darcy explains. She pauses, remembering how eleven-year-old Oliver Wood had tried to give her an innocent peck on the mouth, but Darcy had moved too quickly and his lips had brushed her eyebrow instead. "I screamed. But in my defense, I didn't know what to do—I'd never been kissed before."

"How did you end up getting away from Oliver anyway?" Carla asks, chuckling.

"Professor Lupin came for me," Darcy answers casually, glancing towards Emily. Her face has softened, beautiful as ever. "He had something he wanted to discuss with me."

"Professor Lupin…" Gemma sighs contentedly, brushing her hair back out of her face. Her dark hair catches the light, momentarily making it shine. "There's a boy I wouldn't mind kissing."

"Gemma!" Emily's face is contorted again, her nose scrunched and her forehead creased.

"Please," Gemma says quickly, not looking the least bit abashed. "Don't act like you weren't trying to get Professor Lockhart to notice you last year. Smiling every time he looked at you, showing off your tits whenever you could, hoping he'd fuck you senseless—don't Gemma me. Besides, I've never kissed anyone with a beard before."

"I didn't show off my—I didn't want him to—" Emily growls, her face reddening. When she starts to stutter, her friends laugh at her, Darcy included. "Are you done?" she snaps at everyone as their chortling comes to an end.

"You certainly spend a lot of time with Professor Lupin," Gemma notes, wrapping her arm around Emily's as she looks at Darcy. "What do you talk about when you're locked up in his office together?"

Darcy shrugs her shoulders, and her left one twinges. "My parents, mostly."

"That's depressing," Gemma blurts out, frowning at Carla. "I was expecting something a little more cheerful, or a little more—juicy, I suppose."

As they reach the doors of the Great Hall, Gemma breaks off to join her fellow Slytherins. Darcy, Emily, and Carla linger at the threshold as other students push past them to get to the feast. Carla purses her lips and pats Darcy on the shoulder. "Gemma means well," she says awkwardly, before hurrying off to the Hufflepuff Table. "Don't listen to her."

"It's all right," Darcy smiles, shaking her head. "I know."

Darcy's always loved the Halloween Feast at Hogwarts, partially because it always reminds her that winter break is very near. The Great Hall is always done up beautifully with bats soaring around the hall, and candles and glowing pumpkins fresh from Hagrid's garden light the cavernous dining hall. Bright stars flicker at the very top of the ceiling, giving the illusion of the clear night sky that's outside. Though she's never been overly fond of sweets, Emily takes lollipops, chocolates, peppermints, and the like and she stuffs the candy in her pockets until her pants are bulging.

Despite all that she'd eaten in Hogsmeade, Darcy fills her plate with pork chops and mashed potatoes with thick, rich gravy. As she spoons a medley of vegetables onto her plate to mix with the gravy, she spoons some onto Harry's plate, across the table. Harry looks at her, a look of disgust on his face, but she insists. "Eat them," she says sternly, and she goes back to her food while Harry pushes the vegetables to the side of his plate and Ron snorts.

"Should we skip the ghosts this year?" Emily whispers in her ear. "If we get back to the common room first, we can claim the seats by the fire and knock out that Defense homework."

Darcy considers it. The ghosts do their silly performance every year for Halloween, and while it may have been exciting and scary the first three times, it's quite old now, and the good seats by the fire are much more enticing. "Yeah, let's go."

As the feast comes to a close, Darcy and Emily sneak out of the Great Hall, walking a bit more slowly after eating their fill. Darcy puts a hand on her swollen stomach, groaning. They can hear the other students laughing and clapping as they make their way up the first staircase towards Gryffindor Tower. By the time they're halfway to the common room, the other students have begun to file out of the Great Hall, and the two girls can hear their voices growing nearer as they stop outside of the portrait hole—but something is wrong, very wrong.

The Fat Lady in the portrait is gone without a trace, and there are three long, violent slashes across the canvas. Chunks of the portrait are at her feet, and Darcy kneels, picking up the ribbons scattered on the floor, rolling them between her fingers. Heart racing, she runs her fingers over the slashes in the portrait and then turns to her friend.

Emily shakes Darcy slightly, as if waking her from a dream. "Darcy…" Emily says breathlessly, grabbing onto Darcy's arm. "We need to find someone…who would have done this?"

"What's going on? Why aren't you going inside?"

Darcy turns around quickly and Percy Weasley, Head Boy, struts towards them with his chest out. He pushes Darcy and Emily aside as if he doesn't even know them and stops dead at the sight of the marred portrait. Percy's face falls and the color leaves him, and his false confidence turns to worry and fear. "Get Professor Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall. Anyone." He looks again to Darcy and Emily, who are frozen where they stand. He raises his eyebrows and shoos them away. "Now."

But Professor Dumbledore is already there, squeezing through the crowd of students now huddled around outside Gryffindor Tower. Darcy and Emily move aside for him instantly, unsure of what to think, but knowing that Professor Dumbledore will makes things right. As Dumbledore moves to speak with Professor McGonagall with a severe look on his face, Emily and Darcy grab each other, holding each other close and looking out amongst the sea of students.

"We need to search every portrait in this castle. The Fat Lady could be in any one of them," he mutters, but his voice echoes throughout the corridor and students begin to whisper. "Tell Mr. Filch—"

A cackling makes Darcy jump and she looks up to see Peeves floating down towards them, casual as can be. His arms are folded over his short body, and Dumbledore's eyes follow him carefully. Darcy has always hated Peeves, ever since first year when he tossed water balloons on her in front of everyone, but Peeves ignores her right now. He almost floats in her, but ends up lying in midair a few inches from her face, looking at Dumbledore with a twisted, wicked smile.

"As it happens," Peeves begins dramatically, rolling over in the air. "I've seen her. Absolutely dreadful scene—running through portraits and crying something truly awful." Darcy sees the poltergeist smile wider. "I've heard the story she's telling and let me tell you, your Professorhead will not be happy to hear."

"Peeves," Dumbledore says curtly, a crease appearing between his gray eyebrows. "Who did this? What did she say?"

Peeves the Poltergeist chuckles darkly, making the hairs on the back of Darcy's neck stand up. She knows that whatever Peeves is about to say will not be good, and she waits with bated breath. "She wouldn't let him in without the password, you see," he explains with a cocked eyebrow. "And he got angry with her." Peeves zooms up towards the ceiling and howls with laughter. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

The name reverberates inside her head, and Darcy's heart stops momentarily. He's lying, she thinks. Peeves lies, that's what he does. He doesn't know what really happened. It's just another prank of his. But everyone seems to take him at his word. All at once, all of the students around the portrait begin to scream and squirm and talk loudly. Even Emily sees paler than usual as she grips Darcy's arm, digging her sharp fingernails into her skin. Darcy forcibly remembers her dream—Sirius Black, choking her with those long, skeletal fingers of his, and Darcy scratching at his hands, scratching his face, making him bleed as he strangles her… Her fingers touch her neck, her smooth neck, and she breathes heavily for a moment, having forgotten to.

Darcy looks at Emily. "Harry," she gasps.

Emily doesn't hesitate and follows Darcy, grabbing tight to her hand. They both rush through the crowd, pushing past older students and younger students and crying out Harry's name over the yelling Gryffindors. It's after Emily pushes four second years aside that they both run into someone who doesn't fall or stumble or protest, but grabs both of their arms and looks at them with wide eyes.

"What's going on?" Lupin asks them. "Peeves said—"

"Where's Harry?" Darcy asks at the same time. "Have you seen him?"

"Sirius Black tried to get into the common room," Emily says with a shaky voice, tripping over her words. "The Fat Lady is gone—"

"Darcy!"

Darcy sighs a huge sigh of relief as Harry runs at her, and they both wrap their arms around each other, squeezing tight. She kisses his head, adrenaline making her tremble and shake as she holds onto her brother to steady her. "Oh, Harry—"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine." Harry sounds annoyed, irritated, but he allows his sister to show affection towards him, and hugs her back. "It's all right, Darcy."

Harry's first year, Darcy knew he'd been embarrassed of her. She had been overbearing at times, worrying over trivial injuries and small worries. Darcy had held him to her as a mother would, she'd kissed his forehead and always worried so damn much—it seems sometimes worrying is what she's truly good at. Harry had pushed her off mostly, always flushing a deep red when she came running towards him, but after everything last year, Harry had not stopped Darcy from crying over him, kissing him, and holding him after he woke in the hospital wing.

"Come on," Lupin says hastily. He places a hand on the small of Darcy's back and his other hand on Harry's shoulder. "We need to get the two of you out of here."

Dumbledore sends the rest of the Gryffindors to the Great Hall to sleep, and soon, the rest of the students in other Houses file into the Great Hall, confused and swapping stories and rumors. Carla and Gemma find Darcy and Emily almost immediately, and Emily recalls to them what happened—according to Peeves, anyway. Darcy sits a little bit away from her friends, beside Harry, fingering the zipper of the purple sleeping bag that Dumbledore had summoned. She can't bring herself to lay down, not with all the thoughts rushing through her head. Dumbledore and the other teachers leave the Great Hall soon, leaving Percy Weasley to yell at everyone and take unnecessary control. In the end, after Percy hovers over her for a long two minutes during which he chastises her for nothing, Darcy lays down beside Harry, who is staring up at the ceiling.

She wishes Professor Lupin would come talk to her, to hear her complaints and grievances, to not laugh at her worries and fears. He would understand her fear about Sirius Black—how had he gotten into the castle? Lupin would know. He'd have an idea. Sirius had tried to get into Gryffindor Tower—he tried to get to Harry, to kill him, to possibly kill her, just like Mr. Weasley told her. How many others would he have killed in the process? As many as necessary to get to Harry?

Darcy frowns. If he had meant to kill Harry and Darcy and whoever else he wanted, why had he tried to enter Gryffindor Tower while the feast was going on? Surely Sirius Black knew that it was Halloween, had heard the voices coming from the Great Hall, had seen the empty corridors and figured that all the students couldn't possibly be in the common room… but it could be that he'd lost track of time. After all, the dementors probably twisted his mind… and Azkaban surely muddled his sense of time…

The dementors. How could Sirius have gotten past the dementors? They were everywhere, surrounding Hogwarts incase of a scenario just like this—and they hadn't done anything to stop Sirius Black from getting in. He had to have passed them, had to have seen them, had to have felt them. He should be weak from living on the run, weak enough for the dementors to capture him easily should he set foot near Hogwarts. Dumbledore had said at the first feast of the year that they couldn't be fooled or tricked—was he wrong for once?

"Darcy?" Harry's soft voice interrupts her thoughts, and she rolls over in her sleeping bag to face him. "Are you all right?"

No. "Yes," she lies. But Harry looks at her as if he already knows how she's feeling. With a sigh, Darcy continues. "He was so close tonight, Harry. What if we'd been in there? What if you'd been sleeping?"

"But I wasn't," Harry assures her with a small smile. He reaches out for her hand and she takes it, giving his small, soft hand a squeeze. "If he's still in Hogwarts, they will find him. He can't hide forever."

"And if they don't find him?" she asks, quieting when Percy walks past her with a scornful look. She waits until he's out of earshot before continuing. "What if he's already gone and planning to break into the castle again? This time, not during a feast?"

"There won't be a second time," Harry tells her, but Darcy can't tell if he's lying or not. "Dumbledore will make sure this won't happen again. He'll make sure precautions are out into place."

"Isn't it supposed to be me reassuring you?" Darcy asks with a nervous chuckle.

"Don't worry."

Sleep doesn't come easily to Darcy that night. She's afraid to dream, afraid to see Sirius Black again. Each time the doors open to admit another teacher to check on the students, Darcy sits up, hands shaking and sweating, hoping for good news. When the doors open for McGonagall around one in the morning, she looks at Darcy, sitting up in her sleeping bag, and purses her lips, but doesn't say anything.

The next hour, when the doors open and Darcy sits up to see who it is, her heart soars at the sight of Professor Lupin walking in, closing the doors quietly behind him. He walks up and down the aisles of sleeping students, chuckling to himself at the sight of Percy dozing up against a wall. He comforts a few first year Ravenclaws who huddle together in their sleeping bags before making his way back down the aisles. Darcy hugs her knees to her chest and he makes his way to her. When he finally reaches her side, he kneels beside her.

"You should get some sleep," he whispers. "I can't have you falling asleep in my class tomorrow morning." He offers her a smile, but it doesn't help.

"Have you found him yet? Or any sign of him?"

Lupin frowns, considering her. He looks at Harry, snoring slightly, but Darcy has a feeling he's not really asleep. "No, not yet," he answers, frowning. "We've almost finished searching the entire castle, but there's no sign of him."

"He's just gone? How could he do that?" she asks again, running a hand through her hair. "What about the dementors? They'll find him, won't they?"

"They might," Lupin agrees. "But Dumbledore won't let them in the castle."

"But they—"

"You'd rather they come in? After what they did on the train?" Lupin looks around again, then turns back to Darcy. He lowers his voice so Darcy has to lean closer to hear him. The light of the few candles still burning around the Great Hall illuminates half of his face in an orange light. "Listen, you have nothing to fear. Sirius Black will not stay here while everyone is looking for him. Dumbledore will make sure something like this will never happen again."

Darcy looks at him for a long time, unsure of what to say. His face is so honest, his smile so warm, that she wants to believe him. But she's wary—both Harry and Lupin seem to put so much trust into Dumbledore, but she can't bring herself to. Not after all that's happened, not after all they've gone through.

"Get some rest, now," he says, getting to his feet slowly. "You're safe here."

"Professor, no, please don't go—" she whispers, clutching at his sleeve as he moves to stand up. Lupin waits patiently for her to continue, his eyebrows raised, and Darcy releases him. "I can't sleep, I'm afraid."

"Don't be," he smiles. "There are teachers outside of the doors, and no one will come for you or Harry while you're here. Would you like something to help you sleep?"

"Please don't go."

He smiles wider. "I have to get some rest, too. I'll talk to Madam Pomfrey for you. Goodnight, Darcy. We'll talk in a few hours now."

She watches him go. He wakes Percy, who jumps and clears his throat loudly as he opens his eyes. When Professor Lupin leaves the Great Hall, all is quiet again, and Darcy looks at Harry, who's looking her. Darcy glances at her friends across the aisle; Gemma and Carla are fast asleep, curled up next to each other in their sleeping bags, but Emily is awake, staring up at the ceiling with her hands tucked behind her head.

A little while later, Madam Pomfrey comes hurrying in with a goblet in her hands. She rushes past sleeping students until she finally comes to Darcy. Darcy takes the goblet gladly, thanks her, and drinks it. Though the taste has never been good, Darcy swallows it like she would a shot of firewhiskey, smacking her lips and trying to get the taste off her tongue. Madam Pomfrey helps her down into her sleeping bag as Darcy's world grows blurry around her, and within minutes, she's fast asleep and her nightmares don't haunt her.