'It has been a very rare thing to have known you, very strange and wonderful.'

F. Scott Fitzgerald

The next morning at breakfast, as everyone finishes and the food begins to disappear from the tables, Dumbledore approaches Darcy and begs a private word, giving each of her friends and her brother a small smile and an acknowledging nod. She looks to Harry for an encouraging smile, and he obliges, and then she glances at the teacher's table, hoping to get another encouraging smile, but Lupin is deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall. Darcy stands and follows Dumbledore silently through the corridors until they reach his office, where she follows him up the spiral staircase.

Darcy has only been to Dumbledore's office on a few occasions, most of the time with Harry at her side, but being alone in his office makes her uneasy. She has never cared for the portraits that cover the walls, portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses. Some are sleeping and snoring, but most of their eyes are fixed upon Darcy as she takes a seat at Dumbledore's desk and he settles into his overlarge chair across from her. It's uncomfortably warm in his office, despite there being no fire. Darcy clears her throat, tugging at her collar.

Dumbledore smiles at her for a few minutes, or what feels like a few minutes. She can't meet his eyes, but looks at her shoes, her mind bringing forward every possible thing she's done in her seven years at Hogwarts that could possibly warrant a call to Dumbledore's office, but there is one in particular that comes to mind and her heart sinks. He knows, she thinks, horrified. He knows about Lupin and me. He saw us. Someone told him. He's going to expel me and fire him.

"I am not sure if congratulations are in order," Dumbledore begins finally, and Darcy sits in a stunned silence, looking up into his face. He smiles at her genially.

"I—I'm sorry, Professor?"

Dumbledore chuckles. "Arthur told me he was planning on offering you a job at the Ministry," he replies. "Did he not? Or did he ask and get refused?"

Darcy clears her throat, sitting up straight in the high-backed chair and crossing one leg over the other. "Yes, he offered," Darcy answers quietly, smiling in relief. "I told him I'd think about it, but I've been… distracted, and haven't really had the time."

He doesn't seem very surprised at her response. "Forgive me, Darcy," Dumbledore says, resting his hands atop his desk. Darcy frowns at him. "But I was under the impression that you wanted to enter the Ministry after graduating. If I may ask—why does his offer give you such pause?"

She considers him, unsure if she wants to tell the truth or not. With Dumbledore, however, there's always a risk that he already knows the answer to the question he's asking. Darcy looks down into her lap, his gaze far too intense for her liking. "It's—it's not the position I had hoped for," she answers, partly truthful. Darcy looks back into his blue, blue eyes and falters. Lowering her voice, she adds, "I am not ready to leave Harry, sir."

"You are a good sister, Darcy, and Harry is extremely lucky to have you," he tells her softly. Darcy can't help but to smile.

"Thank you, sir."

When she looks at him next, she isn't positive, but she thinks she sees a flash of pity in his eyes for only the briefest of moments. She slumps her shoulders, sighing. Dumbledore takes a long time to respond, and the small smile on his face slowly disappears, making him look grave. "There are so many things you do not yet know, Darcy," he whispers. Darcy thinks about this, unsure of what things he could be talking about. "I am glad you are not ready to leave Harry. There will come a day when you will have to let him go, but there is still time."

Darcy blinks at him. "What?" she asks. "What don't I know?"

"You will learn, in time," Dumbledore answers. Darcy purses her lips. "Would you do a very old man a favor, Darcy?"

"Of course, sir. What is it?"

Dumbledore smiles at her again. "When the time comes and you are a graduate of this prestigious school," he starts, his eyes twinkling, "I ask only that you stay at your aunt and uncle's house. Harry will be gone by autumn and I know that Arthur Weasley will not cease to ask you about his offer until you finally accept or find another position. Lately, however, I have been appreciating a thought of mine that I think you will enjoy very much."

"Stay at my aunt and uncle's house throughout the school year?" Darcy shakes her head slightly. "Harry will be gone for school—I'll be alone—sir, please, I promise I'll come back during the summer at least—"

"May I make my offer before you refuse it?" he asks politely, and Darcy hesitates before she nods. "I have no wish to separate you and your brother. I know you are very close and care very dearly for each other, and I am not so big a fool as others may think—I know that Harry attracts trouble wherever he is. Which is why I have been thinking, perhaps you'd like to come back to Hogwarts? That is, unless, you have your sights set on the Ministry already, in which case I fear I may have waited too long to ask you and the fault rests with me and only me."

"Come back to Hogwarts?" Darcy repeats softly, chewing on her bottom lip. "You mean… live at Hogwarts?"

"And work," Dumbledore answers with a small nod. His tone is playful, and Darcy chuckles. "Surely you don't think me a fool, as well, Darcy? Who knows what kind of trouble you might get in with all the time in the world to explore Hogwarts and all its secrets?"

"What would I do, sir?"

Dumbledore stands from his chair and begins to pace around his office, fingering his many trinkets and stopping by the empty perch where Fawkes typically sits. Finally, he looks out of his window, down upon the white grounds of Hogwarts with his back to Darcy. "You take after your mother," Dumbledore tells her, and Darcy finds it safe to look at him again without having to worry about whatever he might read on her face. "With all that you've inherited from her, you've also inherited her Potion-making skills."

Darcy's heart sinks. She knows now where Dumbledore is going with this, and as much as the idea of working at Hogwarts tempts her… "No, no, no, no," Darcy scoffs, thinking afterwards that maybe she's being too rude. "I'm sorry, and I appreciate it, sir, but—no."

He turns around, and to Darcy's surprise, he's laughing to himself. "Is it the prospect of helping teach Potions or working closely with Professor Snape that discourages you?"

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, feeling her face growing warm. "It's not that—"

"For what it's worth, Professor Snape has agreed to take you into his classroom if you are willing to work," Dumbledore replies, noticing her discomfort. "I know that this is something you need to think on, Darcy, so I will leave our conversation there for the night. Think on my offer, and return when you have your answer, whether it be yes or no. I look forward to discussing it more with you."

There are so many questions in Darcy's head, but why? is the biggest one. In her seven years at Hogwarts, there hasn't ever been an assistant to any teacher, nor a teacher fresh out of Hogwarts. While she can't say that it's a terrible offer—she would get to be at Hogwarts for another year, with Harry, with Carla, and she'd have a real job, though not one she really, truly wants—it seems odd that Dumbledore would be so dedicated to keeping Harry and Darcy together unless he suspects something will happen in the following year. Or perhaps he's just being cautious, she thinks. Regardless, she suddenly feels that the start of next term can't begin soon enough, and she itches to see her friends and get their opinions on the matter.

Before she can say anymore, Dumbledore offers Darcy a hand and she takes it, getting to her feet. The Headmaster walks her to the door, but stops her as she crosses the threshold. Darcy turns and Dumbledore is smiling at her apologetically, making her slightly more nervous.

"There is just one more thing," he adds quickly, giving her a once over. Darcy shivers as his eyes wash over her, and she feels naked and suddenly vulnerable. "I am glad that you have found in Professor Lupin a friend, given the incident at the start of the year."

Darcy blushes in earnest and looks away from him. "Yes, sir," she replies softly.

"Oh, Darcy, I am even embarrassed to bring it up around you in fear of sounding foolish, but I just want to remind you that Professor Lupin is still your teacher, despite his convenient connection to your parents and your past, and it would be inappropriate to ignore any boundaries set in place while still a student at Hogwarts." Dumbledore sweeps back to his desk and sits down, and Darcy is frozen to the spot, horrified. "However, as I said, I know that I am being foolish—you would never disrespect the rules set in place to protect both you and Professor Lupin, I'm sure?"

Darcy opens her mouth to reply, but no words come out, and her entire body feels hot.

"You are a bright young woman, Darcy. Do not throw away all that you have worked for these last seven years." He waves a hand at her. "Now, run along, and why don't you pass my words along to Professor Lupin when the two of you have dinner tonight?"

"All right, listen—in 1825, a hippogriff was pinioned after permanently scarring a wizard, and it was allowed to reside on Ministry-owned grounds, where it was guarded day and night, up until the day that it died of natural causes. Pinioning is better than death, right? This hippogriff lived a long life—that counts for something." Lupin puts the feathers of his quill to his lips, looking over the table at her. "Or were you thinking something a little less cruel?"

"Did you know that in 1873, the Ministry of Magic tried to use Veritaserum on a hippogriff in the hopes that it would somehow tell the truth? It didn't work, of course, but—"

"Did you just hear a word I just said?"

"Yes, but we've been at this for hours, Professor…" Darcy groans, sighing deeply. She closes the book in front of her, propping her chin up with her fist, watching Lupin continue to flip through the pages. "Carla would never forgive me if we let Buckbeak get pinioned. And I can't see Hagrid agreeing to this. He won't want Buckbeak harmed at all."

"I think that's the best case scenario, truthfully," Lupin replies. "It's an awful fate, but… I mean, how often do Hippogriffs actually need to fly?"

Darcy narrows her eyes at him. "It doesn't matter if they need to fly often or not. What if someone clipped your fingers? I mean, how often do you use them anyway?"

He flexes his fingers in front of him. "Quite often, actually."

She raises her eyebrows, frowning. "Fine, I'll bring it to Hagrid, but I doubt that he'll be happy with it and I will not argue in favor of it and if he gets angry, I'm telling him that it was all your idea."

He laughs, scratching at the scruff growing in on his face. "All right. That's all I ask," Lupin says, pulling Darcy's parchment from under her elbow and jotting down the date and outcome of the trial onto it, already half-filled.

The remnants of their half-eaten dinners sit on the table still along with two mugs of steaming hot coffee. They'd taken dinner at the end of the Gryffindor table, thumbing through books and giving suggestions all throughout dinner. He'd asked sweetly to have dinner in his own room, but Darcy, shaken by Dumbledore's cryptic warning, had begged him to eat with her in the Great Hall. The students have gone by now, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall remain, however, both watching the two of them closely. Despite Dumbledore's piercing stare making her nervous, she feels being in sight of him is a much better idea than eating in Lupin's apartment. Through the windows, the sky outside is dark, the moon near full, brightening the snowy grounds of Hogwarts. Above them, the ceiling is reminiscent of the actual sky, but the many candles burning and the lights on the Christmas trees make it seem like morning. Darcy's eyes are heavy with sleep, her brain exhausted from combing through large books all day.

Since they had held hands the previous day, Lupin has not attempted to show any kind of affection, nor has he touched her at all. With her legs stretched out in front of her under the table, Lupin's legs accidentally bump hers every so often, and they both mutter a quick "sorry" and avoid eye contact until something else is said. She knows the decent thing to do would be to have a conversation, but she suspects the conversation would be ugly, full of regrets and acknowledging their wrongdoing, so she keeps her mouth shut and he does the same. Darcy knows a conversation would put an end to all of it, and she isn't ready for it to end yet. The two of them had spent the morning in his office doing research, eventually moving into his apartment to sit on the sofa, and Darcy had thought he'd bring it up then, but he hadn't. At least she doesn't have to worry about an awkward conversation in the Great Hall.

Though a conversation about their inappropriate situation doesn't scare her as badly as a conversation about Dumbledore knowing about their inappropriate situation. She isn't sure what Dumbledore knows anyway—there's no way that he could know about them holding hands, only briefly, because nowhere in his office does a window look out to where they'd been. But he could have been looking out a window in a different room, or someone may have told him, or maybe—just maybe—all he knows is that she's been having dinner in his own private apartments.

Every so often, Lupin looks at her seriously, as if about to say something, but he always decides against it and gives her a small smile instead. She knows that the conversation is coming, and soon, but she's thankful he doesn't say anything now. Darcy only smiles back at him, looking his face over. He looks worse today, tired and weary, his hair a mess and the scruff on his face uneven and patchy. She glances at his lips for a split second before he looks away, back towards the parchment, covered in she and Lupin's writing.

"Thank you for helping, Professor," she tells him. "Though, you didn't really have to."

"Ah, it's nothing," Lupin says with a casual shrug. "Hagrid is a friend of yours. A friend to all. I should at least try to help."

Darcy smiles weakly at him, noticing the lack of color in his face, the general air of weariness and exhaustion, the perspiration beginning to form at his hairline, dampening his forehead. She suddenly feels awkward, as if intruding on something private, something intimate, something she shouldn't bear witness to. However, part of her wishes she could help—wipe his brow with a cool cloth, give him comfort as he falls into a restless sleep, hold his hand as the full moon grows ever closer with each passing hour.

"Something on your mind?" he asks after she doesn't answer.

She nods slowly. "I spoke with Dumbledore this morning," she says, tracing her teeth with her tongue as she thinks. Darcy glances at the staff table. Dumbledore and McGonagall are getting to their feet. "He offered me a job helping Professor Snape next year."

Lupin laughs, but not to mock her. It makes Darcy smile. "You're not even graduated yet, and you've already been offered a job at the Ministry and a job at Hogwarts?" he teases. "I had not realized you were so desirable."

His jape makes Darcy smile wider. "No?" she retorts, lightly punching his loose fist resting halfway across the table. He laughs again, pulling his hand away and rubbing his knuckles. "Is that so surprising to you, sir?"

He doesn't reply, only grins at her. Dumbledore passes them out of the Great Hall, offering each of them a warm smile. McGonagall places a hand on Darcy's scared shoulder, squeezing as she follows Dumbledore out. "Goodnight, Potter. Don't stay out past curfew."

"I won't. Goodnight, Professor McGonagall."

Lupin's eyes follow the two out of the Great Hall. When they're alone, he looks back at Darcy. "Did Professor Dumbledore's offer appeal more to you than the other?"

"I mean…" Darcy trails off, shrugging her shoulders. "It sounds wonderful—I'd be able to live here, be with Harry all year long, and Carla will be here, but it's not what I wanted." She relays to Lupin the vague and cryptic conversation she'd had with Dumbledore, leaving out the last part of it about him. Lupin listens, rubbing at his chin.

"It could be good for you—a year before going off into the real world. Not many have this opportunity, and it would give you more time to think about your future," he offers after Darcy finishes. "You don't have to stay here forever."

"Is it only a year, though?" Darcy wonders. "The way he said it—I'm not allowed to leave my aunt and uncle's, but for how long? Doesn't it feel like—perhaps hostage is too strong a word, but—" She frowns, sitting up straighter. "If I return, I'll be with Harry, but I'll be a prisoner. If I accept Mr. Weasley's offer, I'll be without Harry, but I'll be free."

"Darcy," Lupin states, catching her attention once more. Her eyes snap back to his face. "Those are not the only two choices that you have. Once you graduate, you are free to do whatever you wish. Don't let either of them make you feel guilty for not accepting their offers. You've worked far too hard to be pushed into a job that you don't want. You have time to think about things."

But if Darcy is being honest with herself, being close to Harry is something that truly appeals to her. She knows she'll have to speak with him about it, of course, but Hogwarts isn't so bad… after all, she was as good as a prisoner at her aunt and uncle's home for how many years… and no one will treat her so cruelly—except Snape. She rubs her eyes, groaning, then lowers her hands and props her head up on her elbows again. "If I decide to stay at Hogwarts, you'll be here."

A smile finds its way onto Lupin's face again. "Yes," he answers. "I hope so. But please, don't give up your hopes and dreams just to spend some more time with me." His tone is playful, and Darcy feels suddenly sheepish.

"You'd be a welcome sight after a summer at Privet Drive," Darcy admits, sighing heavily. She bites her lip, looking at him, her heart sinking. She has to tell him everything—if she doesn't, Dumbledore would.

"You're a flatterer, Darcy," Lupin says, the corners of his lips still upturned slightly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me."

Darcy goes bright red, and his words seem to have the exact effect Lupin had been hoping for, because he laughs loudly. She can't deny how handsome he looks when he smiles, when he laughs, his eyes bright and his face flushed. His laugh makes her smile, albeit a shy and nervous smile.

I'll tell him, she promises herself, but not today.