'Sometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there's no room for the present at all.'

Evelyn Waugh

Sleep does not come so easily that night. She lies awake, with nothing but her thoughts, until the sun peeks out from behind the snowy peaks of distant mountains. Exhausted, Darcy drags herself out of bed for breakfast as the sun begins to rise in earnest and light floods her dormitory. Part of her is glad Emily is gone—she never would have let Darcy walk out of the portrait hole looking this way. She refuses to brush her hair, too exhausted to even drag a comb through it once, and there are dark circles under her heavy eyes. Even Sir Cadogan shouts after her about finding a brush somewhere, but she only hisses at him to shut up. Darcy shuffles through the corridors alone, not bothering to wait for Harry and his friends.

The castle is completely silent devoid of her dragging feet, and completely still. With the snow that continues to fall around the castle, the corridors are chilly, and Darcy wraps her arms around herself, wishing she'd worn something warmer. As she makes her way down to the Great Hall, the smells of breakfast find their way to her. The smell of eggs and bacon and butter intoxicates her, and she quickens her steps, hoping some food will work its magic as well as any Pepper Up Potion of Madam Pomfrey's.

When she finally does make it to the Great Hall, she finds that she's not the first one there. Dumbledore is seated atop the small platform that raises the teachers table a foot or so off the ground, giving them a good view of all the students. Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Lupin are there, as well. Dumbledore and McGonagall both acknowledge Darcy with small smiles, Lupin gives her a nod, and Snape watches her for a moment, looking away when she takes her seat at the Gryffindor table. Food has already been served, though it's nothing like the usual feasts—the house elves have definitely cut back on the food, but there's more than enough for Darcy to eat her fill, plus a few more platefuls.

A single Gryffindor is seated at the long table, a doe-eyed first year with blonde hair sticking up in the back, clad in his robes. Darcy chuckles to herself at the sight of him, sitting up straight before his plate, piled with sausages and picking at them nervously with his fork, his eyes darting about the Great Hall at the other few students. She sits a few seats down from him, on the opposite side, and finally helps herself to some food.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron join Darcy twenty minutes later, looking tired. Harry seats himself across from his sister and next to Ron; Hermione sits beside Darcy, promptly scooping some fresh fruit onto her plate. Darcy sips at her coffee, letting its warmth spread throughout her body, hoping it will give her some energy. The Great Hall is comfortable this morning, twelve enormous Christmas trees spread throughout, pushed back against each of the four walls, partly white from the enchanted snow that sprinkles on them from above. The sconces around the hall give off enough warmth to keep Darcy content, as well, like a heavy blanket that's been draped over her. It's much more comfortable than her empty dormitory.

The four of them eat in silence, enjoying their food. Max is the only owl that flies into the Great Hall that morning and he gives her the day's paper. As she thumbs through it, she feeds him the fatty bits of bacon she hasn't eaten directly from her palm, and Harry allows the owl to eat one of his sausages. Max takes it gratefully and nuzzles into her, nipping affectionately at her ear. Darcy laughs and strokes his feathers, smiling at her owl. With every passing day, she finds him cuter and cuter, and he is just as fond of her as she is of him, it seems. Plus, it helps that Max will never say no to a quick, warm snuggle, and sometimes that's all she needs.

At least I know you'll never lie to me, or hurt me. All you'll ever do is be good to me, she thinks, scratching under Max's chin before he takes off, flying back through the window and towards the owlery.

Instead of going back to sleep after breakfast, Darcy decides to enjoy the comforts of the Great Hall as much as she can. She does accompany Hermione to the library first, making good on her promise to Harry to help with Buckbeak's case. Darcy takes out all the books she think may help, and though Madam Pince gives her a wary and suspicious glare, lets her borrow all of them anyway. Hermione politely declines Darcy's offer to join her in the Great Hall, deciding to stay in the library instead, but Darcy's partially grateful, wanting to be alone much more.

Darcy spreads out at the Gryffindor table once more, pouring over several old books with photographs that depict headless hippogriffs with their heads rolling out of the frame, werewolves being subdued by powerful spells, and even a drawing of a troll crushing several wizards and witches with its oversized club, looking quite like the troll that had once roamed Hogwarts' corridors and bathrooms. All of the books are dreadfully dull, and Darcy has a hard time finding anything that would help strengthen Buckbeak's case, but she doesn't want to give up. She has all day to read these books, and Harry's right—Hagrid is their friend, so she owes it to him. Maybe Darcy isn't the greatest of his friends, but the least she can do is offer her help to him in his time of need, despite her mixed feelings towards him at the moment.

She also doesn't fail to notice the teachers checking on her from time to time. They rotate, as if in shifts, but every so often she looks up to see either McGonagall, or Sprout, or even Dumbledore smiling at her from the doorway. Darcy takes to ignoring them, too tired to get upset. She hopes that Madam Pomfrey may pop in, however, looking forward to asking about something to help her sleep without having to dream. But Madam Pomfrey doesn't pop in, and Darcy becomes so engrossed in her research that she soon forgets about being watched over. She scribbles some dates and and notes down on parchment, putting exclamation points beside the important ones that may be of some help, otherwise doodling on the corners of her parchment, her eyes growing heavier with each passing hour.

Darcy spends a long time in the Great Hall, time slipping away. Max visits once, to sit on one of her books, and he keeps Darcy company for a little while before he grows bored and impatient and hungry and flies back through the open window. She's thankful the pot of coffee on the table continues to refill, and Darcy pours more into her mug, not even bothering to pour some of the lukewarm cream still sitting on the table. Taking a long drink, the coffee burns her tongue, distracting her for a few moments before she forces herself to return to her work.

"The Evolution of Magical Creatures from 1200 to 1600. An interesting read, I suppose—considering a career change?"

She looks up to find Lupin looking through one of the bigger books she's pushed off to the side. He meets her eyes as she lowers her quill and closes The History of the Hippogriff: Volume IV. "To help Hagrid," she rasps. She hadn't realized how dry her throat is and hopes that lunch is sooner than later. "They've set a date for the hearing. For his hippogriff."

Lupin's small smile fades and he slowly puts the book back on the table. Darcy watches him, narrowing her eyes.

"What?" she asks quickly, misliking his skeptical look. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures won't hear a word of it," Lupin says softly. "The entire Beast Division—well, the whole Department is made up of—stubborn folks, for lack of a better word. Nothing will change their minds no matter what evidence or defense you lay before them."

Darcy stares at him with blank eyes, giving a frustrated sigh. "I thank you for your kind words of encouragement, Professor Lupin. Really makes me feel like I'm not wasting my time on all of this," she replies coldly, opening another book. "Professor McGonagall was just here not thirty minutes ago to check on me. I'm still alive. Don't think I haven't noticed all of you poking your heads around the door one at a time to get a good look at me."

Lupin rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and clears his throat. Darcy looks up at him with her eyebrows raised, waiting for him to answer. "I'm sorry," he mutters, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "May I sit?"

She hesitates, finally shrugging and gesturing for him to join her. Lupin settles himself on the low bench across from her, putting his hands on the table. Darcy looks down to her book again, scanning the pages for something that could help, but Lupin's words ring in her head and she knows that he's probably right, that it's highly unlikely for the hippogriff to get off with its head still attached to its body. She barely comprehends anything, her eyes glued to one spot, rereading the same sentence over and over again, but not wanting to look up and catch him staring.

When it becomes clear Darcy is in no mood to talk, Lupin looks around the hall, glancing over both shoulders. He leans in closer to her, leaning over the table, but Darcy ignores him, focused on her book. "Darcy, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Sirius Black," he whispers. "I didn't think it was my place to tell you. Had you asked, I would have given you the complete truth, but I didn't think I was the right person for you to hear it from."

"I'd rather have heard it from you," she hisses, looking up at him. Darcy sees his face soften when she meets his eyes. She thinks of what happened between them behind closed doors and she sighs, suddenly flushed. He doesn't look well, but he never does look great. She can't say anything, though, because she's sure she looks just as bad. But he's still as handsome as ever, and Darcy feels her heart begin to race. Darcy clears her throat and shakes the thought from her head, tucking her hair behind her ears, burying her nose in the stale smelling pages of her book. "I'm sorry that I hit you, sir. That was wrong of me."

Lupin smiles weakly. "You were angry and upset," he answers. "I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you. I did deserve it, didn't I? After everything?"

Darcy's shoulder twinges and she flinches, hoping Lupin doesn't notice, but when she looks up again, Darcy sees that his eyes have found her shoulder. "You aren't going to give me a detention, are you?"

"Only Professor Snape would be cruel enough to hand out detentions over Christmas break," Lupin japes, laughing softly to himself and tearing his eyes away from her shoulder. "No, I won't give you a detention. Consider it your Christmas gift, and don't say that I've never done anything for you."

She looks at him curiously for a long time. "Thank you," Darcy says warily, picking up her quill and dipping it into the ink bottle. "Still, Professor, I'm sorry."

"It could have been worse."

"You think so?" Darcy asks distractedly, scribbling on her parchment.

"You could have slapped me. I know the kind of devastation that your hand can bring. I witnessed it first hand, remember?"

There's a heavy silence that falls over them for a few seconds, and then Lupin smiles and his smile is contagious—they both start laughing heartily. Darcy doesn't think it's funny at all, but it's hard not to laugh along with him, and Darcy doesn't have to heart to tell him off right now. He brushes his shaggy brown hair back from his eyes, and Darcy glances at his lips. For a split second, Darcy wonders what he would do if she were to reach out across the table and put her hand on his, but she decides against it, afraid that someone might walk in and see them.

"Not one of my finer moments," she admits, blushing. "But I suppose it did get the point across." She nearly melts at the fact that he continues to smile at her. "Have you come to help me or distract me, sir?"

"To distract you, truthfully. I don't plan on doing more work than necessary over break. Perhaps some fresh air would do you some good?"

"Sorry, Professor, but I should really get this finished," she replies. Smiling a tired smile, Darcy's heart races inside her chest at the idea that Lupin has come to distract her, to converse with her, to invite her on a walk. Suddenly, she has no idea why she's refused him. Then she remembers—he kept the knowledge of Sirius Black from her, and she frowns again.

Lupin nods and examines her face, his eyes flicking from her eyes to her lips and back again. "Have you slept at all? You look—exhausted."

"No, I haven't," Darcy replies, sighing heavily. "I can't. But I have had about five cups of coffee between breakfast and right now, so I think I'll be fine."

He laughs again. "Go get some rest, love." Lupin gets to his feet, but Darcy calls out to him. He smiles down at her. "Yes?"

Darcy opens and closes her mouth, searching for an excuse to make him stay. "I could use some help," she tells him, frowning and looking up into his face with sad eyes. "All this work to do and no one to help me, all of my friends at home with their families."

"Or," Lupin says slowly, dragging out the word. "You could stop doing work since you're on break, and you could keep me company while I wander around the grounds. I could show you the favorite spots of my youth."

She shakes her head, failing to keep her smile at bay. "It's cold out. I hate the cold."

"Then dress warmly."

"We'll miss lunch."

"I will make sure you're fed one way or another."

"You're persistent, sir."

"And you're stubborn, Darcy."

Darcy considers him, finally closing her books and rolling up her parchment. "Fine, but I'll need help carrying my books back to the common room."

Lupin gives her a toothy grin, picking up a few of the books. "Fine."

Thirty minutes later, the both of them wearing several layers, Lupin escorts Darcy out the main doors of Hogwarts into the courtyard. The snow comes up to the middle of Darcy's shins, soft and powdery. The wind carries the fresh snow all around them, and soon her red hair is wet and the tip of her nose reddens. Lupin's cheeks are bright red before they make it out of the courtyard and onto the grounds, and he walks slowly through the snow as it deepens on the uneven ground. Darcy moves at a slower pace, as well, her arm hooked around his. She pulls her scarf up over her mouth and regrets coming outside at all, wanting nothing more than to be warming herself by a fire and defrosting her fingers.

She becomes increasingly paranoid and embarrassed, assuming that sooner or later, Lupin will surely bring up their almost-kiss. It's not like he can forget it happened—it did happen. He's ignoring it. If he doesn't talk about it, it didn't happen. Maybe that's for the best, she thinks. Maybe she doesn't want to know what he thinks about the situation. Maybe he hadn't meant to kiss her at all, and he knows now that she was waiting for it. But if he doesn't say something soon, she'll burst, and she doesn't want to be the one to bring it up.

Lupin leads Darcy to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, to the clearing where they'd sat once before. It seems so long ago now to Darcy; she had hung from the tree's branch when it was dry, swinging beside him. Raising his eyebrows as if to impress her, he waves his wand and clears them a spot on the large, flat rock. It's still a little damp, but it's a place to sit and Darcy takes it eagerly, pulling her feet from the snow and shivering. She kicks her boots against the rock, shaking off the snow, watching Lupin do the same thing. Darcy growls to herself, growing wet through her pants.

"Mr. Weasley offered me a job, you know. He visited Hogsmeade to ask me," she suddenly says. It's like a weight is lifted off her chest after her announcement. Lupin smiles at her. "It's nothing exciting—unpaid, actually. An internship. I'd be working as his assistant."

"That's wonderful, Darcy," Lupin says. "When does it start?"

She laughs in disbelief. "As soon as I graduate, actually."

Lupin flashes her a genuine smile. "I'm so happy for you."

She frowns, hugging her arms about herself. "I can't take it," she whispers, her joy deflating. "I can't abandon Harry at Privet Drive. You don't know what it's like there."

"Harry will understand," Lupin assures her. "Getting a job at the Ministry is hard work, but you're a smart girl—you'll rise through the ranks before you know it, and Harry will forget ever being upset."

Darcy appreciates his attempts to cheer her, but it doesn't help. She looks up at the castle beyond the thin trees, getting to her feet and brushing the snow off her. Lupin watches her from the rock, running a hand through his hair angrily to allow the snow to fall from it. The snow and wet makes his hair look darker and it stays put for once, keeping out of his face. Darcy smiles fondly at him, feeling a surge of affection for Lupin.

"Lost in thought again?" he asks gently.

She nods slowly, turning back towards the castle. "I remember being so excited about going to Hogwarts my first year," she remembers. The wind seems to die down and the branches of the trees scrape together all around her. "The night before I left up until Vernon and Aunt Petunia dropped me off at the station. Even Harry's crying couldn't discourage me then—I was just happy to leave Privet Drive for such a long time." At the memory of seven-year-old Harry's red and swollen eyes, she cringes. Those eyes would absolutely break her now. "But when I got to Hogwarts, it wasn't right. I had friends—wonderful friends—Emily, and Carla, and Gemma. But Hogwarts was never home for me until Harry came. Nowhere will ever be home without Harry."

Darcy sighs and closes her eyes. She hears the crunch of snow and knows Lupin has gotten to his feet, as well. He steps up beside her, shielding his eyes from the sun and looking up towards the castle with her. "I never thought I would be able to attend Hogwarts," Lupin admits, lowering his hand. Darcy glances at him. "But Dumbledore was kind enough to invite me. He came to my house to talk to my parents—he promised he would take extra precautions, made sure that I and all the others would be safe, all so I could try to live a normal life. But, being back years later… it's not the same. Hogwarts is a better home than I've had in years, really—I eat well, I am able to sleep on a comfortable bed, I have a job, but—it's not the same without my friends."

"My parents," she breathes. Darcy tucks her hair behind her ears, feeling guilty. "I'm so sorry. I know this all must be so hard for you, and all I ever talk about is myself."

"It's all right," he tells her. "I don't mind."

"I'm sorry. Please know that I do understand. I know this is all so hard for you and—"

"You make it easier," Lupin says, so quietly that she isn't sure he said it at all.

Darcy's heart stops for a second and her breath catches. She looks up at him, feeling breathless. Lupin still looks up at Hogwarts, his face red from cold. Now or never, she tells herself. No one is here but us. No one can see us. No one will know. But she hesitates, her chest beginning to heave beneath her heavy coat. The worst that could happen is rejection, and I've been denied by boys before. And if he does reject me, I'll always have that night to remember. She tries to calm herself, but she isn't sure she can do it. If he rejects me, I'll have to look at his face everyday and feel nothing but shame. And he'll have to look at my face and he'll know that I have feelings for him like some stupid little girl.

With a violently quivering hand, Darcy slowly moves it towards his own, forcing herself to look straight ahead. She's blushing like a little schoolgirl, suddenly feeling the need to vomit. Her fingers brush against his and at their brief contact, Lupin flinches, as if her touch has shocked him. Horrified, Darcy starts to pull her hand away, but before she can move it very far, Lupin grabs her hand and gives it a slight squeeze. They continue looking up at Hogwarts, both of them shivering (or trembling due to nerves—she isn't quite sure), and Darcy smiles.