'It was not one man that she needed, but through one man a view of other things, a sensation of other ways of being, she wished to feel herself attached to the world.'

Margaret Drabble

Since the night she and Lupin had their unusual and intimate dinner in his apartments, Darcy finds it a little easier to find joy in things, even in the smallest of things. While the idea of her boggart still haunts her, it's easier to push it to the back of her mind lately, surrounded by friends and people who care about her. Her nightmares seem to subside again, as well—though she's sure that they'll come back soon enough, just like always—and Darcy begins to smile for what feels like the first time in a lifetime. Between the increase in free time to spend with her friends, and another dinner with Lupin (where she'd found it quite difficult to look him in the eyes for a little while), Darcy's heart is full to bursting. And with the nearing Quidditch match of Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, Gryffindor House is loud and in high spirits, and with Oliver Wood's constant reassurance that they will win even if Harry has to ride an old broomstick, Darcy can't help but to share their excitement and confidence.

To catch up, Darcy and Emily convince each other and their friends to take a night off from homework and studying to catch up with all they've missed. It feels like it has been such a long time since she's had a good evening with Gemma and Carla, and she's glad for something to look forward to. They decide to meet on Thursday after Darcy and Harry's Patronus lesson. It goes reasonably well, and Darcy does get an entire Herbology essay done as Lupin locks up the boggart for the last time. Darcy leaves right away, leaving Harry and Lupin to talk amongst themselves, as she rushes up to Gryffindor Tower to drop off her homework, change, and grab the Invisibility Cloak and some alcohol.

When Darcy finally enters the abandoned classroom and tears off the Invisibility Cloak, her friends scream. Slightly breathless and red in the face, Darcy clears her throat and takes her bottle of firewhisky out from under her cloak and sets it in the middle of the four of them, along with a bottle of wine, a few beers, and—"Ew, who brought gin?"

"Gemma got it for me for Christmas," Carla snaps defensively, holding up another large bottle of unlabeled juice. "I brought pumpkin juice to wash it down with." They all scrunch their noses at the idea of mixing the two. "All right, all right… once we're a little drunk, it won't seem so bad…"

"You guys started without me?" Darcy asks not unkindly, tossing the Invisibility Cloak on the ground and sitting next to it, in between Gemma and Emily.

Gemma laughs. "I can only look at a bottle of alcohol for so long until I have to drink it," she says, pouring Darcy a full glass of wine. "Anyway, you're late. We agreed on nine-thirty and it's—" she checks her watch, looking very serious, "ten o'clock."

"I had a Patronus lesson tonight," Darcy replies quickly. "You knew that, then I had to run back to the common room for this stupid bottle."

"Patronus lessons," Gemma chuckles. "Is that what the kids are calling it now?"

Darcy flashes her in impatient look, her cheeks turning pink. "Harry was there."

"How've they been going?" Carla wonders, stretching her legs out front of her. Her wild, dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail, but some ringlets still fall into her face. "Professor Lupin hasn't taught us anything about Patronuses. We're only just now starting non-verbal spells. I didn't realize how far behind Professor Lockhart left us…"

Darcy doesn't look at any of her friends, only drinks her wine. The wine is stronger than usual, a deep crimson color and very dry, and she can feel it all the way down her throat. "Well," she says, shrugging her shoulders and allowing Gemma to refill her glass. "I mean… I'm learning the theory—"

"We learned the theory on the first day of class," Emily reminds her. She helps herself to some of Darcy's firewhisky, taking a swig from the bottle and groaning before pouring a little into her empty wine cup. "Darcy, please tell me that with all of these lessons, you've actually managed to produce a Patronus?"

"I'm working on it," Darcy hisses. Emily smiles at her, holding up the firewhisky, and Darcy smiles back, taking it from her friend and drinking deeply from the bottle. It's liquid fire in her mouth, down her gullet, in her stomach. She cringes, drinking some wine, but it doesn't help any. The combination of flavors only makes her want to throw up, but she thinks she's ready now to talk to her friends about what she'd planned on talking about in the first place. "Now!" she continues, clearing her throat and tapping her cup on the ground like a gavel. Some wine splashes over the sides, but she pays it no mind. "This council is now in session, and there are several things on tonight's agenda." Darcy takes another drink, feeling the buzzing in her head again, and she looks around at her friends' faces. "Who wants to go first?"

"Oh!" Gemma raises her hand quickly, reminding Darcy of Hermione. She finishes her cup of wine and beams at her friends, holding her hands in her lap and taking a deep breath. Everyone watches her expectantly. "My parents have secured me a place at St. Mungo's for healing classes this summer. I'm going to be a mediwitch!"

Darcy can't remember a time when Gemma hadn't wanted to be a mediwitch. In her first year, she'd spent Easter holidays at St. Mungo's with her ailing grandmother, but instead of coming back mourning the loss of her family ("I won't miss her much," Gemma had told them all, "she was as big a pureblood fanatic as they come."), she had raved about the mediwizards who'd been at her grandmother's side day and night, and loved to talk about the Healers, who'd been kind to her and given her sweets and introduced her to the world of healing medicine and magic. According to Gemma, her parents had always been supportive of her decision to go into magical medicine, which was something that had always privately confused Darcy, as her parents were Slytherins themselves who, rumor had it, were on the wrong side of the First Wizarding War. She would never admit it outloud, but Darcy can't imagine parents like that being ready to put their child through more classes only to heal, however it makes Darcy happy that Gemma is happy.

Darcy, Emily, and Carla cheer and stomp their feet. Carla claps and wolf-whistles as Gemma jumps to her feet and curtsies before sitting back down. They all hold up their empty cups and Emily pours them each a shot of firewhisky. "When do the classes start?" Emily asks Gemma, filling her cup first.

"This summer," Gemma answers, unable to stop smiling. "Right after graduation. I'll have a week between, but—"

"No rest for the wicked, yeah?" Carla japes, and they all laugh, clinking their cups together and downing their firewhisky. "All right, I'll go next. Guess who is now President of the Hogwarts Gobstone Club?"

Gemma cheers this time, slapping Carla playfully on the arm. "No way!" she cries. "What happened to the other President… what was his name?"

"He got caught cheating and rumor is that he hasn't been doing well in Potions, and you have to keep your grades up if you're in the club," Carla explains, though she doesn't seem as upset about it as she probably means to. "And everyone voted for me as his successor. I mean, once Abby and Brandon graduate this year, I'll be the oldest on the team anyway—"

"And the best," Darcy tells her. Emily pours another round of shots for her friends.

"I know it's not as exciting as healing classes, but I've been in the Gobstone club for six years now and I think I deserve this—"

"I'm going to be completely honest," Emily interrupts, stroking her pointed chin. "I'm still not sure what Gobstones is."

"You could join the club," Carla suggests, holding up her cup. "It's easy enough to learn, and we could always use more people."

Emily laughs out loud. "I'll just stick to watching Quidditch, but thanks anyway."

Carla's sister, Elena, a few years older than all of them, had always been a big part of extracurricular activities; she had been one of the top singers in the choir according to Professor Flitwick, was an avid wizard's chess player according to Percy Weasley's Ravenclaw girlfriend, and was the one to introduce Carla to the Gobstone Club, which had always been Carla's favorite. Darcy, like Emily, isn't quite sure what Gobstones really is, either, but Carla enjoys it, so Darcy does, as well.

They clink their cups together again, toasting to Carla. Drunker and drunker, they finish the bottle of wine easily, and slow down as the firewhisky bottle drains. Carla's eyes are bloodshot and droopy, half-closed. Gemma keeps pushing her hair back out of her face, sweating slightly and devoid of any color, but she still smiles at them all as they continue to drink. If there's one thing Darcy knows for certain about Gemma, it's that she can hold her liquor better than any of them. Even Emily seems drunker than usual, but they have been drinking quickly.

"Emily, you're up," Gemma announces, and Emily only shrugs with a shy smile.

"I haven't really got anything," she admits, rubbing the back of her neck. "But Snape did give me a perfect score on my essay last week, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I think that perfect score is going to carry me through the rest of the year."

Darcy and Carla exchange a pleasantly surprised look. Gemma nods, looking surprised. "That is impressive," Gemma notes. At these words, the girls erupt into cheers again and drink more firewhisky.

Finally, when it's Darcy turn, they're all drunker than they'd like to be. All of their eyes are heavy and Carla sways a little bit from her spot on the floor across from Darcy. Gemma leans against a desk a few inches from where she had been sitting before, and Emily's shed a few layers, leaving her clad in her thin undershirt, her sweater and cloak in a pile next to her. Darcy takes a moment to organize her thoughts, remember what she was going to say and in what order to say it in, but her speech is still slurred when she says, "I've gotten two job offers," she smiles, and all of her friends suddenly lean in towards her, listening closely. "I've been meaning to tell you, but I wanted to tell you all at once and I haven't gotten the chance to—"

"What are they?" Carla asks, a sense of urgency in her tone. "Have you decided? Is it at the Ministry?"

Darcy nods. "Mr. Weasley offered me a job as his assistant—but I wouldn't be getting paid, and it's—well, it's not exactly what I'd hoped for, but—"

"Mr. Weasley offered you a job at the Ministry?" Emily repeats, looking more excited than Darcy feels. "When? Why didn't you tell us? What's the job, Darcy?"

"When he visited that day, in Hogsmeade," she tells them, feeling very warm and on the spot. "I don't know, though—" Darcy turns to Emily and grins apologetically. "You know that I'm not really interested in Mr. Weasley's department."

"Doesn't matter where you start," Emily adds. "It's where you end up. You'd have a foot in the door straight out of Hogwarts. When does it start?"

"As soon as I graduate, I suppose," Darcy shrugs. "Mr. Weasley is willing to take me right away."

"Wait, wait—you said you had two offers?" Carla says. "So what's the second one?"

She's a little more nervous about telling them about this job. Darcy isn't sure how they're going to react, but she knows that her friends will not make a fool of her. "I spoke with Professor Dumbledore and he'd like me to return here, for the next year, as an assistant to Professor Snape."

There's a short silence, where everyone looks at her, completely stunned. Then everyone speaks at once, astonished.

Emily cackles. "Snape?"

Carla pulls her knees hurriedly to her chest. "That sounds amazing!"

Gemma seems impressed, as well. "What's the salary? Conditions? Terms? Where will you sleep?"

Darcy stutters, tripping over her own words, trying to answer everyone's questions at once. Emily saves her from her rambling, and asks again, "Is there a reason he wants you back at Hogwarts?" She blushes, realizing her words. "Not that I'm saying you wouldn't be a great assistant—or whatever you'd be—I'm just saying, why would he ask you? Are you sure there isn't another reason?"

"I don't know," Darcy sighs, shaking her head. "That's what's strange about it. The way he was talking, it seemed to me like he expected something to happen. He said that he didn't want to separate me and Harry, and—"

"So Dumbledore wants to keep an eye on you? Or he wants you to keep an eye on Harry?" Gemma says slowly, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think I like that. It's a brilliant opportunity, but you've spent seven years in this place, don't you think it time to move on?"

"Well, Harry would be here, that's true," Darcy slurs, waving an impatient hand. "And you, Carla. Hermione and Ron, and Professor Lupin—"

"Professor Lupin?" Emily hisses, and everyone looks to her. "You would take a Hogwarts job over a Ministry job because of Professor Lupin?"

Darcy's heart flutters in her chest and she mentally kicks herself. "No, I—" Darcy stammers, flushing a deep red. "I just mean—I would—he thinks I should take the Ministry job anyway—"

"Hold on," Emily continues, holding up a hand and frowning. "You told Professor Lupin about this before us?"

"It just came up in conversation—last week, I—" Darcy clears her throat, trying to get Lupin off her mind. With the alcohol starting to take hold of her brain, it's hard to push off thoughts of him, but she tries. Though she finds it increasingly difficult to stop picturing the feel of his lips, and the dreams of his hands running up and down her body. The thought makes her hot and she wants to run away, back to the dormitory so she can hide under the blankets and force herself to ignore the aching she feels for him. "It slipped out, and I meant to tell you first, I just wanted to tell you all at the same time and—"

"It's all right, Darcy," Gemma cuts her off, her polite tone making Darcy feel slightly better. "But maybe next time, you could invite Professor Lupin to drink with us and he can share his opinions on all of our achievements." Her smile is genuine, and Darcy knows Gemma is only joking, but it shuts Emily up. Carla looks uncomfortable at the look Emily and Gemma share for a moment. "I think going into the Ministry would be great for you, Darcy, but if you want to come back to Hogwarts, then come back."

"You can go into the Ministry anytime," Carla scoffs. "How many people our age can say they were an assistant teacher at Hogwarts just after graduating? The Ministry will love that, when you do decide to pursue that. Plus, that's a whole other year I get to spend here with you—and you can boost my grade in Potions up—you'll do that, right?"

Darcy chuckles. "Yeah, I'll—"

Gemma jumps, and all four girls freeze. "Did you hear that?" Gemma whispers, looking towards the door.

Footsteps draw nearer as they come down the corridor and everyone scrambles. Gemma dives for the cups and near empty bottles, spilling alcohol on the floor, gathering the bottles in her arms. She stuffs the cups in her pockets and tucks the bottles in her shirt and in the front of her pants, looking ridiculous. Emily throws her sweater and cloak back on, holding onto a desk to steady herself as the footsteps grow closer. Carla lurches to her feet, turning green in the face, and Gemma grabs her hand, pulling her towards the door. Darcy picks her Invisibility Cloak up off the floor, and they all place one of their ears to the door, listening silently.

They all hold their breath as the footsteps walk right past the door, heavy footfalls of someone tall, someone heavy, like a teacher. But thankfully, they keep walking down the corridor. By then, they all decide to leave and head back to their dormitories, not wanting to risk getting caught with so much alcohol, so intoxicated, and out of their common rooms so late at night. Gemma scurries off towards the dungeons, while Carla walks with her down a few flights of steps, and Darcy and Emily huddle together underneath the Invisibility Cloak and start the ascent to Gryffindor Tower.

Emily doesn't say much the whole way up, but Darcy knows she's only thinking up arguments about Professor Lupin that Darcy will likely hear tomorrow. When they do find their way to the portrait hole, Sir Cadogan scolds them before allowing them entrance. The only person in the common room so late is Harry, and he looks ecstatic. She barely registers what he says—all she knows is that the Firebolt has been returned, free of any jinxes and deemed safe enough to ride for the coming match, Ron and Hermione aren't speaking once again, and Ron's rat, Scabbers, may or may not be dead, but is probably dead in Crookshanks' stomach, according to Harry.

Darcy grunts at him in response, throwing the Invisibility Cloak at Harry and following Emily up the stairs. It's only when Darcy settles in bed does the smell of herself overwhelm her—all she can smell is the alcohol that she's consumed, and it makes the room spin around her. Emily buries her face in her pillow, and in seconds it seems she's snoring, but it takes Darcy a little while to fall asleep. She has to stare at the ceiling, her eyes fixed on one unmoving point, for the room to stop spinning—or at least it spins a little slower.

She suddenly vomits over the side of her bed violently, and then she feels good enough to go to sleep without even cleaning it up.

The next morning after breakfast, Darcy vomits more into a foul-smelling toilet. The entire day, she feels the drink, and during her free period, goes to Madam Pomfrey. The matron insists to check her shoulder, as well, and Darcy—too tired to argue or protest or feel any shame—moves her cloak and sweater aside so Madam Pomfrey can inspect the scars. She doesn't say anything, but tuts, giving Darcy the potion she's asked for and sending her away again.

Even at dinner that night, snug in Lupin's apartments, Darcy holds her head in her hands, barely touching her food. Her head still pounds, and every crackle in the fire makes a sharp pain shoot through her temples. The food makes Darcy wants to vomit, so she pushes her plate away after a few minutes. Lupin talks more than normal, and despite Darcy caring very much what he has to say, all she wants to do is tell him to be quiet. Finally, she has to, or else her head is going to burst.

"I am so sorry," she begins, sounding harsher than she'd like, "but if you say one more word, your couch is going to be covered in vomit."

Lupin looks as if he wants to laugh, but knows he shouldn't. "You smell like a pub."

"I couldn't stand long enough to shower this morning," she groans, "and if I had taken a bath, I'm not sure I would have gotten out."

"You can't just tell me that." He chuckles all the same, though.

Darcy lowers her hand and looks at Lupin. Looking him in the eyes is still difficult, but she manages; even though Darcy knows that he can't read her mind, she's afraid that even the slightest flicker of shame on her face will give her away. She wonders, just for a moment, if he thinks of her at night, lying in bed. She wonders if, in his dreams, she's the one kissing him and smiling into his skin, her red hair tickling his face as she hovers over him, lips trailing down his body. Darcy wants so badly to kiss him again, to pull him by the front of shirt on top of her, to feel his body pressed against hers—she wonders what his body looks like underneath all the tattered clothing, wonders if his shoulders are as strong as she thinks they might be, wonders if he's as lean as he seems.

She grows flushed again, clearing her throat and sitting up straighter. It's one thing to think of him in the privacy of her four-poster, but thinking such things while sitting beside him seems dangerous to her, and it excites her. His voice brings her back to her senses.

"May I speak again?" he asks with a slight smirk. "Or are you just going to keep staring at me?"

"I told everyone about the job offers," Darcy says suddenly, feeling the need to change the subject as quickly as possible. "Last night, I told them."

"And did they give you the advice you wanted?"

"No, not really," Darcy admits. "I was hoping they'd all be in agreement, but I was wrong. Carla seemed the only one excited about the Hogwarts job. Emily and Gemma were more excited about the Ministry job." Feeling bold, she adds, "None of them flattered me, though. I would have been much more partial to their opinion had they thrown a few compliments my way, you know—maybe just a throwaway comment about how pretty I am, or how smart."

Lupin nods, rubbing his face and laughing softly to himself. "Sorry, you've exhausted me of compliments for the week." He looks at her for a moment, shaking his head and laughing again. "Did your friends help you reach a decision? Or is it still too early to decide?"

Darcy hesitates, thinking for a moment. "Two out of three votes were for the Ministry," she says slowly. "I trust Emily and Gemma's judgement, and I know whatever I decide, Gemma will support me—and of course I trust Carla's judgement too, of course, but—I think I always expected her to get excited about me staying here at Hogwarts." Darcy inhales deeply. "Your advice was wonderful, as well—it always is."

"I'm glad you think so. That means a lot, coming from you."

"Does it?"

"Of course it does." He surprises her then, by leaning in towards her. Lupin reaches out for her face and Darcy freezes as his thumb rubs at her cheek for a second. His finger is calloused and tough, but he touches her with a softness that no one has ever touched her with. He pulls away and shrugs. "Something on your face." But his touch makes her smile, even if it was just his thumb.

It's his touch that Darcy thinks of that night, when she's the last one awake in her dormitory. Her entire body shudders when she finishes to the thought of Lupin touching her in places other than her face, touching her with gentle hands and making her breathing irregular and her body tremble, kissing her with soft lips, and afterwards she sleeps better than she can ever remember.