"...but I have a particular tenderness for you, and one I have never felt for anyone, up to now.'

George Sand

The walk back to Gryffindor Tower seems to take forever. Darcy and Lupin walk together in silence up the many flights of moving stairs, side by side. Whenever they turn a corner, Darcy can feel Lupin's fingertips ghost against the small of her back, bringing her comfort. Down one of the corridors, Lupin grabs her arm and pulls her inside a broom closet, swearing under his breath at the sound of Peeves making his way towards them. They hold their breath, pressing their ears to the door to make sure the poltergeist is well out of the way before continuing down the drafty corridor. Light filters in through the cracks in the door, giving them some visibility.

"Do you think he's gone?" Darcy breathes, her ear still to the door. The last thing she wants right now is Peeves finding her wandering the corridors with Lupin after she should be back in her common room. "Just make him go away."

"I think so," Lupin answers, his face turned towards hers. "I'd rather he not see us." She can't help but notice how close their faces are, and the adrenaline his kiss has given her surges through her still. They look at each other for the longest minute Darcy's ever known, so long that she's sure she'll never forget the exact color of his eyes afterwards, almost gold in the light peeking through the door.

Before Lupin opens the door to let them out, he hesitates with his hand on the doorknob, and his eyes sweep Darcy up and down. He opens his mouth to speak, but only smiles and shakes his head. She blushes furiously, looking away from him, feeling as though he's just seen her completely naked. Down another corridor, they cross paths with Mrs. Norris and hurry past, trying to shoo her away, but Darcy is sure that she hears Filch's heavy footsteps coming up the stairs quickly, following the sound of his cat's mewling. They pick up their pace after that, trying to ignore Mrs. Norris as she watches them until they're out of sight.

Lupin walks her all the way to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Darcy wrinkles her nose at the smell of the armored trolls guarding the entrance, but they pay Darcy and Lupin little attention, too busy examining their clubs and stamping their feet on the hard ground. The Fat Lady looks at them critically, however, looking up from her nails to stare into their guilty faces. Darcy's eyes are still swollen from crying, her cheeks blotchy and bright red. With Lupin, stone-faced, at her side, she doesn't doubt they must seem like an odd couple to be wandering the halls so late at night, and for a horrible second, Darcy is sure the Fat Lady won't let her in. The Fat Lady only mumbles under breath, however, then addresses Darcy directly.

"Your brother arrived nearly an hour ago," she huffs, but Darcy is far too tired to argue with her. "Let me tell you something—seven years you've been skulking around these halls after curfew—and you, Lupin—you and your friends most of all—and I have—"

Darcy glares at the Fat Lady through puffy eyes, interrupting her to give the password. The Fat Lady rolls her eyes and her portrait swings open, unable to deny her entrance after giving the correct password. Turning to Lupin, Darcy pauses, running her fingers through her knotted hair. She can't think of anything to say, can't even bring herself to thank him for walking her all the way up to Gryffindor Tower. They both look at each other awkwardly, and Darcy finds it slightly endearing to see him look so nervous. She wonders then why she hadn't kissed him in the broom closet, why she hadn't told him to touch her after he'd looked her up and down. Feeling rather warm and flustered, Darcy decides to say nothing, afraid that something stupid will come spilling from her mouth. Finally, the Fat Lady clears her throat, and Darcy climbs through the portrait hole and Lupin turns to leave her. As soon as she steps foot in the common room, Darcy glances over her shoulder, watching Lupin walk away, hoping that he'll turn back just to look one last time at her, but he doesn't—or maybe he does a few seconds later, but the Fat Lady's portrait swings shut quicker than Darcy would like.

Emily is still awake in the common room, half reading and half dozing in an armchair, a blanket pulled over her. There are a few others awake, as well—two fourth year girls play wizard's chess near the fire, Oliver Wood is pouring over magical Quidditch diagrams, and a couple of first years are huddled together on a sofa finishing their homework, bleary-eyed. At Darcy's entrance, everyone looks up to see who's coming in, and they soon return to their games and busy work, all except for Emily. Closing her book and standing up quickly, she leaps over to Darcy and the incredulous and slightly angry look on her face suddenly turns to worry at the sight of her friend.

"Harry said you'd stayed behind—I thought I'd wait up for you," she whispers, tucking Darcy's hair behind her ears, out of her tear-stained face. "Are you all right? What's happened? What did Lupin say to you?"

Emily's touch is warm and nurturing, and serenity seems to wash over her, a state of calm that only Emily's ever been able to provide to her. The evening's events don't seem to bother her so much anymore, and she nuzzles into Emily's palm, closing her eyes. "Do you love me, Emily?"

When she doesn't answer, Darcy opens her eyes, feeling her heart break inside her chest. But Emily is only smiling, brushing tears off her face, running her fingers through Darcy's hair. "Of course I do," she breathes. "You're my best and oldest friend. Now, will you tell me what's going on?"

She considers it for a moment—considers telling Emily everything that had happened in the classroom (except for their kiss). She needs to hear 'I love you' over and over again, if not from Lupin's mouth, than from Emily's—from someone's. Darcy needs to hear that she is not alone, despite how she feels. If she's being truthful, all she wants is for Lupin to hold to her, to comfort her, to drag his fingers through her hair and kiss her over and over and over again until all of her terrible thoughts and feelings are pushed from her mind, even if just for a little while. But instead of saying anything of the sort, Darcy only says, "I'm tired."

Emily lowers her hands, shrugging slightly, still looking worried. "Okay."

Darcy stays awake for a long time that night, reading Lupin's poetry book by wandlight, curled up in her blankets. She reads each poem herself before examining Lupin's notes in the margins, and then she rereads the poems again, trying to understand the way he reads them, trying to understand the way they make him feel. Darcy disagrees with some of his interpretations, and wholeheartedly agrees with others, but she cherishes them all the same. Feeling like a young girl again, Darcy remembers many of these poems as if she'd just recited them yesterday by the fireplace at Privet Drive with a pink tint to her cheeks and Aunt Petunia staring at her from behind her friends' backs, her eyes nearly popping. Whenever Darcy had recited a poem correctly, without stumbling over her words, Petunia would let her choose a treat from the refrigerator before bed. Darcy had always been fond of the pudding cups, or leftover meat from dinner, and sometimes she would pick a soda, but it always left her feeling sick and even hungrier when she did crawl into bed.

She dreams of those days after her eyes grow too tired to keep open, after Lupin's messy handwriting is burned onto her retinas, after her head begins to pound and her body begs for rest. She dreams of herself at seven-years-old being dropped off for dance classes, reading poetry for gossiping women, being forced to drink disgusting tea with those women, Petunia cutting her beautiful auburn hair when it would grow too long. Darcy tosses and turns all night, unsettled by what are probably the better memories of her childhood, and when the sun finally begins to rise, it's a sweet relief. When the sun shines on her face, Darcy finds herself wishing she'd dreamt of Sirius Black again, or Lupin, or even her mother—at least then she wouldn't have felt so alone in her dreams.

She decides to skip breakfast in the Great Hall, instead eating in the chilly courtyard by herself, stuffing her face with dry biscuits and lukewarm fried eggs. It's still cold out, but at least she doesn't have to worry about looking up to see Emily's anxious expression or Lupin's smile from the high table. Max comes to the courtyard to deliver her morning paper, and Darcy lets him eat her leftovers off her plate, stroking his feathers and letting him rub against her face before he flies back off to the Owlery. Darcy flips through her newspaper eagerly, hoping for something in regards to Sirius Black, but for once, she can't find his name in any of the articles.

At the end of Transfiguration that morning, Professor McGonagall holds Darcy back for a quick word. Emily and Gemma leave them alone to head up to the library, planning on spending their free period to finish their Charms homework that's due after lunch. McGonagall waits for Darcy's friends to leave until addressing Darcy directly. "Professor Lupin told me at breakfast he'll be accompanying you to Hogsmeade tomorrow," she says with a small smile, as though approving of Darcy's decision. "Though, he seemed to think that you would be perfectly fine without a teacher at your side—"

"I didn't tell him to say that, Professor," Darcy interrupts quickly, "I swear."

Professor McGonagall continues to smile, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "I have no doubt in my mind that Professor Lupin is right. I'm sure that nothing will happen." But as Darcy opens her mouth to protest, McGonagall puts on her stern face again. "Yes, he still must go with you, or you will stay here. I will not put your life at risk, Potter, not even for a minute. That's exactly the reason I wouldn't allow your brother to go, although it was very nice of you to sign his permission form."

"I thought it would be fine if I signed it," Darcy admits, having forgotten she ever did at all.

McGonagall's lips tighten, though not in anger. It seems as if she's holding back a smile, and it makes Darcy smile, as well. "I couldn't possibly accept a signature from you knowing that you're equally as irresponsible as your brother. One Potter was trouble too, and he was just one—imagine the chaos two Potters on the loose could cause. You'll thank me later, Potter."

Exhausted after a long day of boring lessons and rich foods, Darcy collapses in her bed right after dinner. Emily follows her up to the dormitory, using her evening to catch up on the homework for Lupin that she's been putting off the entire week. All Darcy can hear is the scratching of her quill on parchment, and every so often Emily flips through the pages of her book, looking for an answer. And then, about fifteen minutes later, Darcy feels her entire body relax and she falls asleep before the sky is even dark.

At breakfast Saturday morning, Gemma and Carla find their way to the Gryffindor table. Ignoring the angry glares and scoffing up and down the table, Gemma sits down on Darcy's left, and Carla squeezes in between Emily and Ron, elbowing him out of the way. Unlike herself and Emily, Gemma and Carla are already ready to go down to Hogsmeade; Gemma has decided to put her faith in mother nature, abandoning her thick, black cloak for a black sweater with green and silver trimming, but Carla hasn't forgotten her own cloak, and it's wrapped tight around her shoulders, a little small for her already tiny figure.

Darcy glances at the nearest window and can't deny the coming of spring. The bright sunlight has melted most of the snow over the past week, leaving small patches here and there in the shade of large trees, and in the cooler areas up against the castle walls. Green is starting to make its way back to the Hogwarts grounds as the grass becomes visible again, small flowers begin to bloom, and leaves start to grow back on the branches of wild trees. Even the giant squid enjoys the change of weather, showing off his tentacles more often now that the top of the lake isn't frozen solid.

"We have to stop by the Hog's Head today—you know he always serves students," Gemma whispers, but Hermione hears her, looking up to give Darcy a stern look, as if Darcy could change Gemma's mind. Darcy only smiles back at Hermione innocently.

"I need a new quill," Carla sighs. "I broke my last one last night after I couldn't failed my own practice test. I mean, I made it! How could I fail it?"

"I was hoping to stop by the Post Office anyway," Emily adds, finishing her breakfast quickly and pushing her plate away. "It's been a while since I've had a letter from mum and dad. Just want to make sure they haven't forgotten about me…"

Darcy inhales deeply, trying to determine the best way to let her friends know they'll be spending the day alongside Professor Lupin. "My candy stash could use replenishing," Darcy begins, scratching at her chin, looking away from her friends awkwardly. Then she adds very quickly, her words jumbled together, "Also, it's whatever, but Professor McGonagall told me a teacher had to go with me, but I mean—"

"Hang on, hang on, hang on— Professor McGonagall's coming with us?" Emily hisses, looking as though this is the worst possible news she could have gotten at this time. "Good luck sneaking shots with McGonagall watching you like a hawk."

"No! No, no—she told me I could choose…" Darcy continues, trailing off as everyone starts to talk over her, overwhelming her.

"Please tell me you asked Hagrid to come," Carla sighs, stretching across Emily and looking up at Darcy with wide eyes. "He'd let you go off with us, wouldn't he?"

"Not likely," Emily counters with a small snort. "Hagrid would probably keep her tucked in his coat pocket for good measure."

"As long as it's not Professor Snape…" Carla says seriously, raising her eyebrows and glancing over at Snape, to make sure he's not able to hear her. "No offense, Darcy, but I'm not going if Professor Snape is."

"I'm with Carla," Emily quips, nodding her head. "Though, Professor Snape would probably leave us alone for the most part… I mean, he's not going to want to spend the whole day with us, is he?"

"Maybe if we were annoying enough, he'd leave us alone…" Carla wonders, and Emily seems convinced, still nodding in agreement.

"If you did choose Professor Snape, I'd at least go with you. I'm not afraid of him," Gemma laughs. Darcy turns to look at Gemma, who's smiling at her kindly and propping her head up with her arm on the table. "Go on, Darcy," she grins, almost knowingly. "Tell us you chose for the day's adventures."

Hesitating, Darcy shrugs. "Er—Professor Lupin."

Emily and Carla groan dramatically, though Carla's outburst seems good-natured, only teasing. Emily, however, looks slightly irritated. Both of them start to talk at the same time again, asking what had possibly possessed her to choose Lupin over Hagrid. Darcy scoffs, feeling her cheeks turning red, and she turns back to Gemma, who is still flashing Darcy a toothy grin. As Emily and Carla continue to talk in Darcy's ear, Gemma shrugs. "Fine with me," Gemma says, brushing her dark hair out of her face. She leans in close to Darcy, lowering her voice to barely a whisper. "You chose the one teacher who wants to fuck you—he'll let us do whatever we want."

Darcy's entire face flushes scarlet. She can't think of anything to say for a moment, and then stammers, "Wh—what—? Gemma!" Glancing across the table, Darcy sees Harry looking at them curiously, noticing Darcy's red face. Darcy clears her throat. With her confidence wavering, she snaps in a furious whisper, "He does not want to fuck me!"

Gemma doesn't stop smiling, but it's not an accusing smile. She seems amused, as if this is all some big joke to her. Darcy has to remind herself that, to Gemma, it is only a joke. Gemma doesn't know what has happened between Darcy and Lupin behind closed doors, doesn't know about their stolen kisses, doesn't understand the closeness they share. Gemma sits up straighter on the bench, her back to the high teachers' table. "I see the way he looks at you in classes. I'll give you five Galleons if Lupin isn't looking at you right now smiling that stupid smile of his."

Frowning, Darcy doesn't look away from Gemma, afraid to look up and find Lupin's eyes fixed on her. "It's not st—" She shakes her head, pushing the thought of his smile to the back of her mind. "You don't have five Galleons on you anyway."

"You don't know that. Is he looking?"

Darcy looks past Gemma reluctantly, and sure enough, Lupin seems to have looked up just in time to meet her eyes. He is, of course, smiling at her from across the Great Hall, and Darcy can't help but to smile back weakly. At the look on Darcy's face, Gemma turns around to find Professor Lupin sitting in between Professors Flitwick and McGonagall. Lupin notices Gemma watching him and he looks away quickly, sitting up straighter in his chair. As Emily and Carla's bickering dies down, Gemma mentions In an undertone to Darcy, "You owe me five Galleons, and that dewy eyed schoolgirl look suits you."

The walk down to Hogsmeade is quiet and awkward. Darcy and Lupin walk slower than her other friends, and this time she doesn't hold onto his arm. Emily and Carla lead them, while Gemma walks by herself in the middle, enjoying the weather. Other students look at Darcy as they pass, and Darcy feels shame rising in her, feels absolutely humiliated, and she almost turns around halfway down to the village to return to the castle. As she's considering this, Hermione and Ron greet her enthusiastically; Ron grabs her arm and pulls her away from Lupin slightly so he's unable to eavesdrop. "Harry's coming to Hogsmeade later… he's using the Invisibility Cloak this time," he whispers in Darcy's ear. "If you want to get together…"

"Sorry," Darcy frowns apologetically, shaking Ron off her arm. For a brief moment, she wishes she'd have thought of using the cloak, and not having to worry about being publicly shamed by this display. She wonders if Harry would allow her to join him underneath it, granted there was room for the two of them to comfortably fit while being shuffled around by rowdy students and hurried villagers. "McGonagall said I have to be with a teacher."

"We'll catch up with you later, then," Hermione calls, waving goodbye to Darcy and pulling Ron along with her, further down the path.

Once in the village, however, the five of them linger awkwardly on the High Street. Emily mentions that she needs to visit the Post Office again, and Carla trails after her, bidding Darcy a quick "see you later". Gemma smiles at both Darcy and Professor Lupin, patting Darcy's shoulder and winking quick. "I have to run some errands, but I'll meet up with you guys afterwards."

Darcy only nods and watches as her friends walk off, leaving her. Lupin sighs loudly to break the silence, running a hand through his his hair. "Go on," he says, defeated. Darcy watches him warily. Lupin raises his eyebrows when she continues to stand still. "Go on—go be with your friends."

"Is this a trap?" she asks, narrowing her eyes. "Are you tricking me? You're trying to get me into trouble, aren't you?"

"Not a trick," Lupin insists, laughing. "Stick to the High Street, and keep close to the Three Broomsticks, just in case McGonagall decides to check in on you." He clears his throat, smiling down at her. "And if you find yourself missing my company, you'll find me in there."

She pauses, thinking it over. This could go one of two ways, she thinks—either somtething is going to go wrong and Darcy will never hear the end of it, or she'll have a good day in Hogsmeade with her friends and maybe even spend some time with Lupin. "If McGonagall catches me, you'll be taking the blame, sir? After all, this is your idea."

Lupin smiles wider. "I'll take whatever blame I can, though if I know McGonagall, I don't think you'll escape without at least a stern talking to." They both chuckle, and Darcy knows he's right. "Now go, before I change my mind."

"Thank you, Professor." And with that, Darcy turns on her heel and speeds down the High Street. She checks the Post Office first, but doesn't see any sign of her friends. She weaves in and out of the crowd in the streets, enjoying the spring weather, and Darcy finds herself in Zonko's Joke Shop after Fred and George Weasley catch her eye. She does end up buying a few things from Zonko's, sneaking away from the twins before they can pull her into another shop.

Darcy searches for her friends for nearly an hour to no avail, making quick stops in a few of the shops during her searching; she leaves Honeydukes with handfuls of candy, ends up buying some flowery-smelling parchment from Scrivenshaft's, and buys the coziest looking socks she's ever seen after passing by a display in the window of Gladrags Wizardwear. With a slight skip in her step and several bags hanging off her wrists, her face falls when she leaves the Gladrags and looks down the road towards the Three Broomsticks, where Professor McGonagall has just left in a hurry. Darcy groans inwardly as McGonagall walks briskly towards her, followed by Lupin, who seems to be trying to defuse the situation. He looks almost frantic, but there's a charming smile glued to his face in an attempt to calm her.

As they get nearer, Darcy can hear more clearly what they're saying, and McGonagall is scolding Lupin as if he's one of her students. "—I thought you, Remus, of all people, would be concerned for her safety—I didn't ask her to be escorted by a teacher just so she can roam the streets of Hogsmeade with the current situation—"

"—nothing was going to happen—I had it under control. I told her to stay near the Three Broomsticks, and she's fine—look, there she is now, very alive and completely healthy—"

"—lucky I decided to come check in… who knows what would have happened—" Professor McGonagall approaches Darcy in the middle of the street, and Darcy looks past her shoulder at Lupin, who gives her an apologetic smile.

Preparing herself for a 'stern talking to', as Lupin had called it, Darcy yelps when McGonagall reaches out to snatch her ear. "Ouch—Professor! Ow—ow—ow—" Pinching her earlobe tightly, McGonagall drags a shocked Darcy to the side of the street before letting go, and Darcy's hand flies up to her ear to massage it. "I'm sorry! What did you do that for?" And when McGonagall's nostrils flare, Darcy utters a quick, "I mean—ouch, Professor."

"Potter, this is your first and final warning, do you understand me?" McGonagall says shortly. "So help me—I did you a service by allowing you to come to the village and you blatantly ignore my one rule—"

"It was my fault," Lupin interrupts, stepping between McGonagall and Darcy, holding up his hands as if calming a wild animal. Darcy peers around his torso at McGonagall, afraid of getting her ear pinched again. "I told her to go. I thought it would be all right."

"You thought wrong, Remus."

Darcy looks at McGonagall with a bewildered expression, flattening the front of her cloak and gathering up what's left of her dignity, still shying behind Lupin. "Sorry!" she breathes, fixing her hair. "I'm sorry, Professor, but it was his idea."

Lupin looks over his shoulder at her, twisting quickly and looking incredulous. "Don't push it," he tells her, seeming slightly amused.

"You said you'd take whatever blame you could—"

"I'm working on it," Lupin whispers, turning back to McGonagall.

McGonagall considers the two of them curiously, glances around at the students who are watching the scene, and finally leaves, muttering under her breath and shooing the other students away. Once she's out of sight down the High Street, Lupin turns around to face Darcy, having a hard time keeping his smile at bay. "How's your ear?" he asks, suppressing a chuckle. "She hasn't pulled it off, has she? You can still hear me?"

"It's still there. She's just got a very firm grip," Darcy mutters, rubbing her ear again. "She's never pinched my ear before, but there's a first time for everything, I suppose."

Lupin nods, raising his eyebrows. "I don't think there should be any lasting physical damage," he teases, rocking back and forth on his feet. "I'm sorry. I thought she'd come down eventually to check in on us, but I didn't think it would be so soon. If it makes you feel any better, she yelled at me, as well, though I did escape the pinching. She must think I'm a bit too old for that now—where are your friends?" He looks around, suddenly noticing that Darcy is alone.

"I couldn't find them," Darcy answers, shrugging her shoulders. "I appreciate you letting me go off, sir, even if your plan didn't work out. Unless it was a trick all along, in which case I suppose it worked out perfectly well. Did you have a good laugh?"

This makes Lupin laugh again. "It wasn't a trick," he insists. "I was only trying to be nice, and look where it got me—scolded by a very angry Professor McGonagall. That's something I thought I would never have to witness again. I'll remember that next time before I try to do something nice for you. I'll have to think to myself—is this worth the scolding I'd receive?"

Darcy pauses, shielding her eyes from the sun and smiling up at him. "A scolding is a small price to pay in order to earn my favor, I should think," Darcy murmurs, as a group of Ravenclaw fifth and sixth years walk past them, waving at Professor Lupin and accidentally bumping Darcy closer to him. Darcy feels her cheeks turn pink as Lupin politely nods at them in acknowledgement, not moving away from Darcy. She takes a small step backwards, putting a small amount of distance between them.

He looks back to her almost immediately. "You think so?" he asks, not looking back once at the group of girls giggling behind him, glaring in his direction. When the girls begin to scatter, Lupin continues. "It's far easier and less embarrassing to just give you a compliment to earn favor."

Darcy tries to keep her face from turning any redder, but judging by Lupin's smile, she's failed terribly. "Flattery gets you nowhere, Professor Lupin."

"Of course," Lupin agrees, seeming amused. "But how could I possibly pass up an opportunity to make you blush? It's quite endearing." Nodding towards the nearby pub, Lupin chuckles to himself. "Should we get a drink? Maybe an ice pack for your ear? It might be easier for your friends to find us if we stay put somewhere."

Unable to refuse (not that she really wants to), Darcy follows Lupin into the Three Broomsticks, glancing around at everyone inside. She spots a wiry-haired and stooped wizard with small glasses that sit perfectly on the tip of his bulbous nose; a witch no older than Lupin who reminds Darcy forcibly of Snape with dark oily hair and an oily face to match; no less than ten Hufflepuffs aged thirteen to eighteen seated around the largest table in the pub, laughing and sipping butterbeer; Draco Malfoy and his cronies sit at a corner table, and he sneers at the sight of Darcy and Lupin, his cold eyes fixed upon her as Lupin leads her to the back of the Three Broomsticks and out of sight. Darcy is grateful he chooses a table in the shadows, away from prying eyes, and despite just eating breakfast, Darcy's stomach growls at the thought of Madam Rosmerta's delicious comfort food.

With the sounds of laughter and the excited buzz of conversation ringing in her head, Darcy frowns, suddenly wishing her friends were with her. Part of her is hurt that Emily hadn't even hesitated before leaving her with Professor Lupin. Surely Emily knew and understood that Darcy didn't choose to bring a teacher with her—surely Emily realized that Professor Lupin was one of the better choices as far as teachers went? But Darcy is glad that she asked Lupin; he orders them both drinks and asks if she's hungry—which she is—but Darcy keeps glances towards the door every time the bells tinkle to let everyone know that someone has just entered. However, her friends do not enter the pub breathless and pink-cheeked, carrying several bags from all kinds of stores, and she sighs heavily. Fifteen minutes later, when Madam Rosmerta brings out their food, Darcy stares down at her thick soup, suddenly not hungry anymore.

Darcy pushes her bowl away from her, leaning back in her seat, becoming increasingly disappointed. Lupin tries to keep the conversation light, but he seems to tire of being the only one to laugh at jokes that Darcy barely hears. After a few long minutes of silence, Lupin leans over the table, lowers his voice, and tries a different tack.

"You had asked me before what I was doing before I came back here to teach," Lupin says softly. "And I want to apologize for not answering when you asked before. I shouldn't have been short with you. I can't think of any reasons as to why you shouldn't know."

Darcy meets his eyes, stopping him before he can continue. "Please don't tell me only because you feel sorry for me," she says in a rush. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Lupin gives her a small, reassuring smile. "If you are still curious, I don't mind telling you." He waits for a response, and Darcy nods very slowly, giving her shoulders a shrug. When Darcy had asked before, he'd seemed irritable and embarrassed, but now he seems cheerful and it throws her off guard. "Dumbledore happened to catch me at a bad time, in between jobs. But before I was doing absolutely nothing with my life, I did have quite the career, if you must know. If you're interested in another line of work, I could probably get you in touch with the head custodian at St Mungo's."

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, watching him. While Lupin is still smiling at her, it isn't the same happy smile he usually gives her. Darcy feels suddenly sad for him, pursing her lips tightly. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. "For what it's worth, I think you're a great teacher. You belong here, at Hogwarts, sir."

"You don't have to call me 'sir'."

"Sorry, s—" Darcy blushes, and they both laugh. "Force of habit, I suppose. But I mean it. You belong here."

"You're very kind to say so." He takes a long drink out of his tankard, setting it back down lightly on the table. He hasn't touched his food yet, either. "You don't have to feel sorry for me, Darcy."

"Why didn't you write to me? Or reach out?" she asks suddenly. "All those years, you knew that I lived—why didn't you come to us?"

Lupin cocks an eyebrow, looking surprised. "You had no idea who I was before we met on the train again," he answers. "You had no idea I even existed, and the last time I saw you, you were four. Why would I have written to you?"

"I know, but—you could have explained everything to me," Darcy plunges on, "and I would have helped you. All you would have had to do was ask and I would have done anything I could to help you."

Lupin opens his mouth to reply, closing it after he fails to find the proper words to say. "Darcy," he says, rather breathlessly. "I couldn't ask that of you—not then, not now, not ever." Lupin reaches out across the table as if to touch her, but pulls it away quickly at the last minute, his cheeks turning slightly red. His eyes roam over the Three Broomsticks' patrons before falling on Darcy's face again. "I don't want your money, love. Your company is enough."

"I'm only saying—if you ever need anything, I—"

"I don't want your money," he says again, not unkindly. "I hope you don't think that's my intention—to get money out of you."

"No, of course not," Darcy replies. "No."

They finish their early lunch quickly, and Darcy tries to pay for their food before he can even think about paying for his own, but Lupin grabs her wrist before she can set the money on the table. With his other hand, he reaches in his cloak pocket, pulling out enough coins to pay for his food and Darcy's. Defeated, Darcy puts her money away. "Will you ever let me do anything for you?" she asks as they leave the pub, basking in the warm sunlight. Darcy glances around the High Street, looking for her friends, but they're nowhere to be seen and she sighs heavily yet again, more disappointed than ever.

"No," Lupin answers with a smile. Darcy looks at him and sees his smile fall slightly, and she furrows her brow, frowning. "You know, I've got a huge pile of homework and essays to grade that I've been putting off. I could use some company."

She wishes she could hug him then—all she wants is to show him how much he means to her. Darcy needs him to know that she appreciates him and his efforts to cheer her. "All right."

"And, er—" Lupin looks around nervously, putting a hand on her shoulder to lead her back up the High Street. "If you don't mind, of course… my favorite sweater has a hole in it…"