'You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing.'

E.B. White

On the way back from Lupin's classroom, Darcy and Harry take their time, talking aimlessly about things they haven't had time to discuss. Harry tells Darcy the complete story about how Snape had come to find the Marauder's Map, and what had happened when Snape tried to reveal its secrets. Darcy laughs out loud upon hearing that a piece of parchment had insulted Snape not once, but four separate times, and her laughter rings up and down the corridors, making Harry smile. He also tells her what Lupin had said to him, which seems to her to be more or less the same thing Lupin had said to Darcy when he'd returned to his apartments with the Marauder's Map. Darcy fills Harry in about what had happened when Lupin found out she, as well, had known about the map, but regretfully informs him that she hadn't been lucky enough to see anything insulting about Snape written on it.

"I tried to get it back, I promise," Darcy says with a smile. "But he wouldn't give it back."

"What did you do?"

"Well, I—I asked for it back."

Harry groans, running a hand through his dark hair. "You thought if you asked, he'd give it back to you? What's wrong with you, Darcy?" But Harry laughs anyway.

Darcy then tells Harry about Mr. Weasley sending her a letter expecting an answer to his job offer, and explains what she, Lupin, and her friends had done earlier that day in regards to Dumbledore's offer. She recalls how Emily had been so angry, how she'd stormed out with Carla, and how Lupin and Gemma had a very short, vague conversation about her parents. However, Harry doesn't know anymore about Gemma than Darcy does, so he's unable to answer all the unanswered questions about her family that have left Darcy curious. And then, with a sideways look at Harry, Darcy slowly opens up to him about the time she's been spending with Lupin (leaving out the parts that involve any physical contact and also the fact that every word that comes out of his mouth makes her heart race). Within no time, with the words tumbling out of her, Darcy tells Harry quietly about Lupin reading to her, playing chess with him, eating dinner by the fire, and taking walks on the grounds. It feels so incredibly good to tell someone that, when they reach the portrait hole, she asks Harry if he wants to make one more loop around the school, to which he agrees eagerly. Too late, Darcy remembers that Lupin has the map, but doubts that he studies it all hours of the night—she pushes the thought to the back of her mind. It's not as if she's walking around with Oliver Wood. Lupin wouldn't bother she and Harry, would he?

"I like him," Harry admits, as the Fat Lady attempts to call them back to the portrait hole. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets, rounding a corner with Darcy and putting the Fat Lady behind him. "Where's he been these past years? Why didn't he write to us?"

"I asked that same question," Darcy says, and Harry looks quickly at her, eyebrows raised. "He said he didn't want to write because we didn't know who he was."

"He could have explained. I mean, how hard would that have been?"

Darcy smiles down at Harry. "That's what I said, too." She considers, just for a very brief moment, telling Harry how she really feels about Lupin, just to see what he would say. Darcy looks around, to make sure no one is near, and opens her mouth to speak, but finds that she can't say the words. What would I even say? That he makes me want to faint whenever he gets to close? That I dream of being able to kiss him whenever I want? That I want to jump his bones whenever he smiles? Closing her mouth again, Darcy sighs heavily. "Let's hurry up before the Fat Lady tears us a new one."

The common room is quite empty when they enter, but Emily, Hermione, and Ron are seated at the best chairs by the fire. All three of them look up when the portrait hole opens, and Emily gets to her feet, crossing the room to Darcy. Harry joins his friends and he speaks quietly to them, quickly busying himself with an open book lying open on the table.

"I'm sorry—Darcy, I'm so sorry," Emily breathes, holding her arms around her tightly. "I know I may have been a little—overbearing—and I'm so sorry if I've made you feel like you're making the wrong decision or—oh, I don't know, Darcy, I know I was being stupid."

"It's all right," Darcy smiles, squeezing Emily's arm reassuringly. "I knew you meant well. I appreciate you coming to lunch today."

The mention of lunch in Lupin's office makes Emily slightly discomforted. She shifts from foot to foot for a moment, staring at her shoes and apparently deep in thought. "You know I'll do anything for you," she replies finally, laughing to herself, still looking at the ground. "Almost anything, anyway. There's a few things I wouldn't do." Emily looks up at Darcy and sighs, lowering her arms to her sides and shaking her head, as if she's going to regret what she's about to say. "He just—he makes me angry. I don't know why you insisted we had to have lunch with him."

Darcy flushes. "Because I value his opinion, just as I value yours, Carla's, and Gemma's," Darcy replies firmly. "I wanted to hear what he had to say, and I think he had some good advice. I thought you liked him—you seemed quite fond of him before, and he's kind to us."

Emily rubs her temples, as if the thought of Lupin gives her a headache. When she moves her hand away, Darcy notices her deep, blue eyes seem colder than usual. "I'm not as fond of him as you are," Emily says, and they both look at each other for a moment, the only sound the crackling of the flames in the hearth. "I don't like it. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be spending so much time alone with him. You're going to get yourself into trouble, and you can't afford to be in trouble, Darcy. And the last thing you need is to be kicked out before you can finish your last year."

Scoffing, Darcy shakes her head, but she can feel bile rising in the back of her throat. Emily is so confident in her words, so certain that she's in the right—is it possible she knows something? Is it possible that Emily had come across them doing something? Darcy and Lupin had been careful to keep their distracted and lazy touches to a minimum in front of others, and their few kisses had been in the privacy of his own room, but even so—Emily could have heard a whispered compliment when they'd been careless, or seen fingers brushing against the small of Darcy's back as they turned a corner. "Professor Lupin is my friend," Darcy says again, trying to keep her anger at bay. She tries to find answers on Emily's face, tries to determine whether or not lying would be stupid, but Emily's face is set and unreadable. "I respect what he has to say just as much as I respect what you have to say, Emily. He didn't say anything hurtful or rude to you—all he wanted was to make it clear that it was not about what you want, but what I want."

Emily's cheeks turn slightly pink, just as they had when she'd stormed out of Lupin's office. "I know that," she snaps. "I don't know why he thought I needed reminded. I know perfectly well that it's your decision in the end."

"Emily," Darcy says again, and instead of feeling anger, she fights the urge to laugh now. A small smile crosses her face. "Why does that upset you so much?"

"Because he thinks he knows you so well, doesn't he?" Emily hisses, and Darcy's brow furrows. There is venom in Emily's tone that Darcy's rarely heard before, and the idea that Lupin could possibly get her so worked up over a few sentences in incredible. "He thinks he knows what's best for you, doesn't he? He thinks he knows you better than I do? Better than Gemma or Carla do?" She runs her hands through her hair. "You know very well why I don't like him—"

"And you also know very well that you're worrying over nothing—"

"Hagrid told me about you and Lupin holding hands on Christmas," Emily suddenly says, and as soon as the words leave her mouth, she seems relieved. Darcy stiffens, but knows that if that's the worst thing Emily has against them, Darcy can breathe for a moment. Holding hands—that's nothing compared to what she could have said, but Darcy's heart still thumps furiously. "He said he was feeding the thestrals and you two were holding hands near the edge of the forest."

Darcy can't think of a single thing to say. Her eyes flick to the corner of the room, where she's momentarily forgotten that Harry, Hermione, and Ron are still sitting. Harry looks at Darcy with a blank and surprised expression, and Hermione's eyebrows are raised to her hairline as she looks from Darcy to Emily and back again. Ron looks horrified, but quickly rearranges his face when Darcy looks at him. "Harry," Darcy mutters. "Go upstairs, now."

"But Darcy, I want to st—"

"Now," she repeats in her most dangerous voice. "All three of you."

Hermione pulls the boys along and they slowly climb the spiral staircase. Darcy hears two doors shut, but she doesn't really think Harry, Hermione, and Ron have gone inside their dormitories. Regardless, Emily presses on. "You told me nothing was going on," she continues, her voice a little quieter than before, giving Darcy the impression she's aware that the others are listening.

Darcy is quiet for a long time, shaking her head more vigorously. "Nothing is going on," she replies, ashamed of her lie. "That was nothing—you don't understand—Hagrid doesn't understand—"

"Understand what, exactly?" Emily asks, hurt briefly flashing in her eyes. When Darcy doesn't answer, Emily fills the silence. "You want to come back to Hogwarts because he'll be here, is that it? Do you actually believe that anything could happen between you and him?"

"No," Darcy answers quickly. "No—it's not—I'm not—" She can feel the blush creeping up her neck, tinting her stinging cheek. "I want to come back because Harry will be here and I won't have to stay with the Dursleys all year." It's only partially a lie—of course, Harry is the main reason the Hogwarts job is incredibly tempting, and the idea that she could escape the Dursleys for almost an entire year is the cherry on top—but to be back at Hogwarts, not as a student anymore, and to be able to spend time with Lupin without the teacher and student conflict hanging over them is also a reason she's eager to return. Is it stupid to think something could happen between us?

Emily clenches her jaw, thinking hard again, as if deciding whether or not to say what she really thinks. But Darcy knows Emily, and knows that what she's going to say will not be kind—however, it will likely be honest. "Have you even given thought to what I said?" she asks again, voice even quieter than before. "You are Darcy Potter—beautiful and famous and influential—and you know what it's like when people meet you for the first time. Professor Lupin took an interest in you from the day you met on the train, and—"

"No," Darcy replies, knowing exactly where Emily is going with this. "He took an interest in me because I was his best friend's daughter, but he knows I am so much more than that now. He treats me like an equal, like I'm worth something, like I'm not just Darcy Potter. He cares about me."

"You don't need his reassurance to feel validated," Emily reminds her. "Have you forgotten what he is, Darcy? Who he is?"

Darcy stumbles over her words, her heart sinking. How could Emily know? If Emily had found out, wouldn't she have told Darcy? But Darcy remembers that Emily's seen the scars, knows that Darcy had been lying about what happened. "I—I haven't—"

"He's your teacher, Darcy," Emily says, and Darcy's breath hitches. If she'd known what Lupin really is, Emily would have mentioned it already, Darcy thinks. Her heart nearly stops, and Darcy's breath comes in shakily. "He's your teacher, old enough to be your father—what would your own father say if he knew what was happening? If he knew what his best friend was doing with his daughter behind closed doors?"

"You mean holding hands?" Darcy growls. "You're asking me what my father would say if he knew we'd held hands for a few seconds?" She takes a step closer to Emily, rage flowing through her. "In case you've forgotten, my father—my parents—are dead, so they don't have much to say about it at all. You have absolutely no regard for how I feel about him—you don't care that he cares about me. You don't care that he listens to what I have to say. You don't care that he sees me as Darcy instead of Darcy Potter—is it so wrong for me to enjoy the presence of someone who cares about me? Is it so wrong for me to enjoy the presence of someone who was close to my parents?"

Emily shakes her head, frowning, and Darcy knows that nothing she can say will change Emily's mind.

"He's someone I knew, years ago," Darcy says, and she can feel tears starting to well up painfully in her eyes. She fights them back, but her eyes shine in the glow of the fire. "He is good to me, and expects nothing in return but my friendship. I have craved that, Emily, craved the genuine affection that he shows me. I have craved a family for so long, and he has been that for me. He has filled that gap I've had for so long. You have no idea what we talk about—what he says to me in private—how I feel about him—"

"Oh, my god," Emily breathes, eyebrows knitting together. "You love him."

Darcy flushes even redder, not having realized what she'd really been saying. Emily's tone makes Darcy uneasy—when Gemma had teased her about it, it had been nothing more than a joke, and she'd sounded playful and drunk when she'd said it. It was cute to Gemma. But Emily's tone is accusing and harsh, disbelieving, and slightly disgusted. "No," Darcy answers, desperately searching for an answer that will appease Emily. "I mean—not like that, Emily—"

"I thought I was your family," Emily whispers, her voice softer and gentler now. "For seven years, it's been us—and nothing ever got in the way of that. I took care of you, Darcy."

"I know you did."

"And you would choose to be with Lupin, than to be with me?"

"I'm not—Emily, I'm not choosing him over you," Darcy explains, her stomach churning, doing backflips as she tries to cover up her slip. Her face is bright red, she knows it, and her heart flutters at the mere thought of Lupin. "I have to come back, for Harry. Nothing has to change between us."

"Everything is going to change," Emily replies, her eyes now shining with tears, as well. "It won't be like this anymore. I thought this was our dream—I thought going into the Ministry was our dream."

"It was my dream," Darcy tells her, shrugging her shoulders sadly and taking a moment to compose herself. "That's all it ever was, really. But I won't abandon Harry—you know that."

"When are you going to start thinking about yourself?" Emily asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you ever going to let yourself be happy? Harry will be fine without you—you'll be fine without Harry—"

Darcy forcibly remembers one of her and Lupin's conversation a few months ago, when they'd spoken of almost this exact same thing, though she remembers Lupin had been a bit gentler about it. She tells Emily the same thing she'd told Lupin, with more confidence behind her statement this time—"Who would I be without Harry?"

When Darcy starts up the spiral staircase to her dormitory, she catches sight of someone with dark, untidy hair running fast up the steps.

"Go on in, Potter. He's ready for you."

"Thanks, Professor."

Dumbledore's study door creaks open, alerting him to her presence. He's standing at his desk, a smile upon his face, his eyes twinkling. He motions for her to sit in the chair opposite him, and Darcy does as Professor McGonagall closes the door to his office. "I was wondering when I'd get the chance to speak with you," Dumbledore starts, seating himself in his own throne-like chair. "I assume you're here to turn down my offer?"

"No, sir," Darcy answers, smiling weakly. "I just have a couple of questions about—what the job will entail and other small details, Professor. I made a list. My friends helped me, and Professor Lupin." She reaches into her jacket pocket, pulling out the rolled up piece of parchment. With shaky hands, she unrolls it, wishing she'd accepted Harry's offer to come along with her. "Do you mind?"

Dumbledore seems highly amused, even chuckling lightly at how prepared she is, and nods his consent. "Go on."

"I was wondering—well, if I'm to come back—" she says, clearing her throat and glancing up into Dumbledore's face. "Would it be too much to ask—I'd like Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Carla to be able to visit me. That's the most important thing, sir."

"That doesn't seem an unreasonable request. I even thought you might bring it up, should you consider my offer," Dumbledore says right away. He continues to smile. "I see no reason they shouldn't be able to visit you, as long as it's before curfew, of course."

"Of course, sir," Darcy sighs, flashing him a bright smile over the top of her parchment. She continues down her list, asking questions about the details of the job, how much her salary would be, how much freedom she'd be granted while at Hogwarts. Dumbledore answers each question cheerfully, with answers that make her heart considerably lighter, considering what she'd previously thought of the job. He promises her a decent wage, freedom of the grounds and permission to leave for weekends and evenings if she'd like, and permission to visit Hogsmeade whenever she wants. Dumbledore makes it seem a wonderful choice, less of a prison and more of the home she knows and loves. And then finally, Darcy reaches the question she's saved for last, and she looks in Dumbledore's eyes while asking it, wishing she could read minds. "How long will I have to be his assistant for, sir?"

Dumbledore tilts his head slightly. "Are you looking to become a fully fledged teacher at Hogwarts? That will take years of training, Darcy, and until such a position opens up, I'm afraid I cannot just give you Professor Snape's job. I don't know that he would—"

"That's not what I meant, Professor," she says, regretting interrupting Dumbledore, but he doesn't seem irritated by her lack of courtesy. "I mean—how long will I have to continue returning to Hogwarts?"

He considers her, sitting back in his chair and touching the ends of his fingers together. His gaze makes Darcy shrink back into her seat. "What are you hoping my answer will be?" Dumbledore smiles at her again. "You can be honest with me, Darcy. I want you to leave my office with all the information you need to be an informed decision, and I want you leave my office knowing I was honest with you."

Darcy hesitates, reluctant to tell Dumbledore how she really feels. "I don't want to be rude, sir," she says quickly. "But I—I don't want to be a hostage. I want to be able to leave whenever I want, and not kept here as long as Harry is."

"I hope you would never feel that way here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore tells her, frowning slightly. "If you were to return, you would be granted all the freedoms that every teacher here is granted. You will never be my hostage, Darcy, I hope you believe me. You've spent too long feeling that way with your aunt and uncle, I'm sure. I would not do you the same injustice."

She looks at him for a long time, wondering briefly if he'll bring up Lupin. But he doesn't. Dumbledore seems to be waiting for Darcy to talk, never taking his eyes off her. His intense gaze is something that's always made her feel incredibly small and incredibly vulnerable. She looks down into her lap, at the unrolled piece of parchment with all of her questions written down. How foolish she'd been to worry so much—how foolish she'd been to think coming back to Hogwarts, to Harry, would be a bad idea. She smiles in spite of herself, rolling up the parchment and tucking it back into her pocket.

"Have you written to Mr. Weasley yet?" Dumbledore asks, with a knowing smile. "Have you already told him you don't want the job?"

"No, sir," Darcy admits with a sheepish grin. "I've been trying to think of a polite way of rejecting his offer."

Dumbledore stands up and holds out his hand. "You'll be a wonderful assistant, I have no doubt about that. I'll let Professor Snape know immediately."

Darcy shakes his hand with a firm grip, nodding.

"Harry will be very happy."

Two hours later, Darcy is coaxing Max down from one of the shadowy corners in the Owlery, a note in her hand. Max flies down eagerly, ruffling his feathers and rubbing her face. Darcy chuckles, stroking his feathers and scratching underneath his beak. He flies circles around her head, hooting excitedly and irritating the rest of the owls. Max lands on her shoulder finally, talons digging into her skin, and she attempts to tie her note to Mr. Weasley to Max's skinny leg. He wriggles and squirms, kicking his leg out to keep the string from being wrapped around his leg, but at the sound of heavy footsteps making their way up the stairs, Max settles, startled, and Darcy's able to attach the note.

When a tall figure appears just outside the door, Darcy looks up and does a double take—Lupin's standing in the doorway, his cheeks flushed from a mixture of the crisp weather and the climb up to the Owlery. He leans against the doorway for a minute, watching Darcy fuss with Max. "Harry told me you'd be up here," Lupin says, smiling. "You accepted Dumbledore's offer, then? Or does that letter send good tidings to Mr. Weasley?"

"Take this to the Burrow, Max," she murmurs to her owl, and he flies out of the open window after nipping at her earlobe affectionately. Darcy turns back to Lupin, rubbing her ear. "Starting next autumn, I will officially be Professor Snape's lovely assistant." She gives a small curtsey and Lupin laughs. His laugh makes Darcy smile in earnest, but her conversation with Emily only a few days ago is still fresh in her mind. "Emily won't speak to me."

"Not because of me?"

"A mixture of things," Darcy shrugs casually, looking out of the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Max beyond the Forbidden Forest, but he's gone. "Hagrid told her about us holding hands. She's furious, of course, but more so about my decision to remain with Harry."

"We've been careless. It's my fault." Lupin approaches her at the wide window, looking down over the grounds and leaning forwards on the railing. "Don't let her make you feel guilty about your decision. If you're happy with it, that's all that matters," Lupin tells her. He pauses, looking sideways at her. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you'll be back."

Darcy looks up at him, examining his face. The brisk wind blows his hair back out of his face, keeps the color in his cheeks. Lupin turns his body to face her, dragging his fingers through his hair. Darcy looks back out towards the grounds again, trying to avoid looking at his face—trying to avoid thinking of what not only Gemma had said, but what Emily had said, as well. She blushes, her cheeks burning. "You're flattering me."

"I'm only being honest. Would you rather I lie? Tell you I'd rather not have you at Hogwarts after all?"

Darcy takes a minute to picture herself back at Hogwarts as an assistant—as Snape's assistant. She pictures herself prowling up and down the aisles in the dungeons, peering into cauldrons and smelling potions. She pictures herself sitting at the staff table beside Snape instead of the Gryffindor table. She pictures Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting in her room by a fire, laughing and relishing the privacy. She pictures herself and Carla together, drinking wine and grading homework while Carla finishes an essay. She pictures herself curled up next to Lupin on the sofa, kissing him over and over again as he laughs. "I'm good at Potions. I could be good," Darcy thinks outloud.

"You could be great," Lupin corrects her. "You will be great."

"I hope I'll be like you," she says backing away from the window and away from the biting wind. "Everyone loves you. You're the best Defense teacher we've ever had, you know."

"You're flattering me." He grins toothily, a goofy and slightly aloof expression on his face. "That's kind of you."

"Kind?" Darcy scoffs good-naturedly. "Kind is a very poor way to describe me."

"I agree," Lupin grins, taking a few paces forwards to keep up with her as she makes for the door. "I have a few other words in mind that describe you much better than 'kind'." They start to make their way down the stairs slowly, bumping shoulders. "If you're able to have dinner tonight, I may share one of them with you."

As much as it excites Darcy, she can't help but to feel slightly hesitant. "I'm always able, but—I shouldn't," she says reluctantly. "Emily will be even more angry, and I'd rather not be killed in my sleep."

Lupin nods. "You should be celebrating with your friends tonight, anyway. Who am I to steal you away from that?" he adds. "Harry will be very excited for you."

The rest of the walk, neither one of them speak. It's not a terribly awkward silence, but Darcy wishes he'd fill it with comforting and reassuring words. It isn't until they reach the entrance hall, where they decide to part ways, that Darcy decides to break the silence herself. "Ask me tomorrow night about dinner," she tells him. "I think I'll be free tomorrow."

Lupin looks very seriously at her. "I'm afraid I'll be terribly busy tomorrow night," he teases. "Big stack of homework that I've been putting off for an entire week." They both smile. "Tomorrow night sounds fine, Darcy. Have a good evening—and congratulations, love."