A/N: As promised, the third chapter. Enjoy!

'Born of lack of your own kind, born of no one to talk to, no one who will wait and sympathize when you quaver plaintively: "I'm so ner-r-r-vous; so lonely; I can't sleep, and I'm so tired." Old, old, you are...a deep and pathetic loneliness.'

Sylvia Plath

Darcy tries to get Harry alone that evening, but everywhere he goes, Emily seems to be at his side, along with Ron and Hermione. Darcy waits outside the Great Hall when dinner begins, watching Harry come down the steps with his friends, Emily bringing up the rear. Harry smiles weakly at his sister as he passes her, entering the Great Hall, but doesn't say anything. As the students filter around her, shuffling her amidst them, Darcy sighs heavily, looking around for a familiar and friendly face. Her heart feels lighter at the sight of two friendly faces coming down the marble staircase together—one of them tall and graceful, dark hair pulled into a high ponytail, and the other, flashing a wide grin with curly hair that bounces with each step she takes.

"Waiting for someone?" Gemma calls out over the heads of the other students. She takes Carla's arm and drags her towards Darcy, pushing her way through some fifth year Ravenclaws who are doing nothing but taking up space. "You look lost. Have you forgotten where you're supposed to sit?"

"Gemma," Darcy breathes, suddenly struck with a sudden thought. She grabs Gemma's arms, looking in through the doors to where Harry and Emily are sitting side by side. "I need a word with Harry—a private word, but I can't get him away from Emily."

Gemma thinks for a moment, turning to Carla and tapping her chin. Her eyes scan the Great Hall, and then Gemma turns around, looking up and down the corridors. "All right," Gemma says, smiling slyly. "Wait here."

As she strides off into the Great Hall, standing tall and looking important, Darcy and Carla exchange a quick look. "What is she doing?" Carla asks, as Gemma makes her way past Harry and Emily, without even looking at them. "Where is she—?"

Darcy almost laughs out loud as Gemma approaches the staff table, leaning forward and beckoning Professor Lupin to lean in, as well. She whispers something in his ear and he whispers back, tilting his head slightly and narrowing his eyes, finally standing after Gemma nods eagerly. Gemma sweeps back down the Great Hall with her chest puffed out as Lupin moves slowly towards the Gryffindor table, leaning down to mutter in Harry's ear this time. With the same confused look Lupin had just given Gemma, Harry gets to his feet. Lupin leads Harry towards the large oak doors as Gemma appears at Darcy and Carla's side again. Darcy looks past Harry and Lupin to see Emily watching them warily, defeated.

"What did you tell him?" Carla wonders outloud, her eyes on Lupin and Harry.

"I told him Darcy wanted to speak with Harry privately, but to make it look inconspicuous, though nothing gets past Emily," Gemma explains, looking immensely proud of herself as Lupin and Harry approach the three girls. Emily watches from afar, finally turning her back on them. Gemma beams at Darcy and Carla.

"That was... smart, Gemma," Carla adds, nodding her approval.

"Thanks. It's the Slytherin in me." Gemma gives Carla a sweet smile.

Harry gives Darcy an anxious look. "Is everything all right?"

"Here," Lupin says, starting up the marble staircase, not bothering to wait for Darcy to answer Harry. "Come with me."

Darcy, Harry, Gemma, and Carla follow Lupin up the stairs, down a corridor, and he holds the door to his classroom open for them. With a flick of his wand, candles and lamps are lit, making the classroom seem very warm and welcoming, but Lupin continues to lead them up to his office. He lights the candles in here, as well, and starts a fire in the small hearth off to the side. Gemma and Carla wait in the threshold, watching, and Darcy sits down in Lupin's chair, Harry in the one opposite her.

"Is this all right?" Lupin asks them both, smiling and raising his eyebrows. "Would you like some food brought up?"

"No, thank you," Darcy answers, affection surging through her for all of the people crowded in the office. "We won't be long."

Lupin hesitates, giving Darcy an encouraging nod. Then he turns on his heels, and waves Gemma and Carla out of the office. "Come on, ladies, let's leave them," he says, closing the door behind them. Darcy can hear them shuffling through the classroom, Carla's laughter, and only when she hears the outside door shut again does she look Harry in the eyes.

"I took the job," she says, a weight off her chest. "I accepted Dumbledore's offer. I'm coming back next year." In spite of everything, she grins, and Harry tries—but fails miserably—to hide his excitement. Darcy leans back in Lupin's chair running a hand through her hair. "I'm coming back," she says again, incredulously. "And Dumbledore said you and Hermione and Ron and Carla can visit me whenever you'd like—as long as you're not out past curfew—"

"And this is what you want?" Harry asks, the smile fading slightly from his face, looking mildly uncomfortable. Darcy knows he means well and continues to smile. "I mean—are you sure? This is what you really want? Because I don't want you to feel like you have to come back here because of—"

"Harry, I'm not only coming back here because of you," Darcy says, leaning forward on the desk, her small smile never fading. "Hogwarts is the only true home I've ever known and I'd be crazy not to want to come back here. And I am pretty good at Potions."

Though Harry doesn't seem entirely convinced. He looks down at his hands, fingers laced together on the desktop. Darcy hopes that her forced grin will bring him some small comfort, but she knows the damage is already done. She curses Emily silently in her head, pressing on, but this time deciding to go about it in a different way.

"You know Emily has never understood what it's been like for us," she tells Harry. "You know she's never fully understood what we've been through, how we grew up at Privet Drive. She will never understand the relationship that we have, Harry, but that's all right—the only people who matter are you and me. We have nothing to prove to her. Let Emily say what she likes—let her say what she thinks, even if she's wrong. She won't ever change my mind about this."

Harry nods very slightly, looking up at his sister. "You don't have to do this," he mutters. "You don't have to come back. If you want to go into the Ministry, then I think you should go."

Darcy chuckles, exasperated. "I'm not coming back because I feel I have to be here for you," she repeats, her affection for Harry growing with each passing second. "I'm coming back because I want to be here with you. It's always been us, and that doesn't have to change." When the corners of Harry's lips turn upwards, Darcy adds, "Unless you'd rather I be far, far away from you? But then who would I fawn over?"

"No," Harry replies, smiling back in earnest for a moment. "No, I do want you here, if you want to be here. To fawn over someone else would be—Darcy, you can't betray me like that. But you can't fawn over me while I'm in class or in front of my friends, and you have to keep Snape in line during classes, and you can't cry anymore when I get hurt during Quidditch."

"If you think for a second that Snape will listen to me just because I won't be a student anymore, then you are sadly mistaken," Darcy laughs. "No promises about the crying thing, though. It's in my maternal nature."

They both laugh together, and Darcy wants nothing more than to sweep Harry up into her arms—Harry, able to make her smile and laugh on the bleakest days. For weeks during previous summer holidays at Privet Drive, Harry had been her salvation. Darcy had been able to get out of bed somedays for one reason and one reason only—to make sure that Harry made it through the day. But Harry's smile slowly disappears, though not completely. He seems deep in thought, knocking lightly on the top of Lupin's desk. "Is it true?" he whispers, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door of the office. "What Emily said about you and Professor Lupin?"

Darcy looks at the door, as well, her stomach churning. She trusts Professor Lupin enough to know that he likely wouldn't be at the door listening, and he certainly wouldn't allow Carla and Gemma listen in on their private conversation. Darcy sighs heavily, wondering how much of the truth Harry should hear. They've always been quite open with each other—Darcy had always spared Harry the gory details about herself and previous boyfriends she'd had in the previous years, but she'd always—always—been honest with him. "Yes," she answers in a hushed voice. "Yes, we held hands." Darcy watches Harry carefully for a reaction, an indicator as to how he might take the entire truth, but there isn't one. "Professor Lupin has been here for me during these past few months when I needed someone. He has been a good friend to me, and Harry—I will tell you everything, but you must promise to keep it between us, do you understand me?"

"Yes," Harry replies eagerly, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

"I need you to tell me you understand what could happen to both Professor Lupin and me if this were to get out."

Harry looks wary. "I know. I understand. I promise, I won't tell anyone."

Darcy hesitates, nodding her head and leaning back in her chair. For a split second, Darcy flirts with the idea of telling Harry exactly what Lupin is—after all, that's really how it all started, she thinks—and telling him what had happened the night she followed Lupin out to the Shrieking Shack. But Darcy's seen what that knowledge does to Lupin—she has seen the guilt eat away at him—so she decides to leave that piece of information for when Lupin is ready to tell Harry himself. Instead, she slowly recalls how it had started with dinners and innocent flirting, light touches—how she'd been the one to reach for his hand first, how she'd kissed him after he was struck ill, how she'd been the one to initiate everything, making it clear that, if anyone is at fault, she is. Harry listens intently, a blank expression on his face, quite like the one he wore when he'd listened to Darcy and Emily argue. Darcy continues to explain her feelings towards Lupin—explains that she does care for him, that she relishes the time they spend together, relishes the relationship built on mutual understanding and respect—a relationship unlike one she's ever known. And when she finishes, she feels good. A little jittery, but good, and Harry digests all of this information, his cheeks slightly pink, and his silence makes Darcy extremely anxious.

It had all come spilling out of her, everything she's been thinking these past few months, everything she's wanted to say to Lupin's face—she doesn't know how it seems to impossible to tell Lupin to his face how much she cares for him. She imagines telling him, imagines him looking at her with a toothy smile, as if knowing what she's going to say, as if trying to make her more nervous. The smile that he reserves for when she blushes, her entire face going red—the smile he reserves for when he decides to toss her a sudden compliment. Darcy could never tell him something so personal and honest while he smiles that stupid smile at her, but with Harry's expressionless face, it's much easier to be honest.

Finally, Harry says slowly, "He was mum and dad's friend."

"Yes," Darcy nods, her stomach twisting in knots. "He is good to me, and to you."

Harry opens his mouth, but closes it quickly. He thinks for a minute, then continues. "The school year is almost over."

"It is."

"After it is," he says again, his cheeks turning a deeper red instead of pink. Harry looks up into Darcy's face. "We could be like a family. A proper family."

Darcy's heart stops momentarily. Harry's words take her breath away—the complete and brutal honesty with which he's just spoken makes her want to cry. "Harry," she rasps, trying to keep her tears at bay. "We already are a proper family. You and me, that's all we've ever needed."

Harry nods weakly and Darcy frowns. She wants to believe that's true, so badly. She wants to believe that she's not a part of a broken family, that all they ever will need is each other. And very forcibly, and very vividly, Darcy remembers her fifth year again—unwanted, unwelcome memories flooding her. Darcy remembers the wonder she'd felt while staring into the Mirror of Erised, remembers the aching in her heart as she had stared into the faces of her mother and father. She remembers the tears that had come that first night, and for several nights after that—the anger she'd felt at never being able to have the family she'd always craved, the resentment she'd felt towards Emily for having that loving family Darcy never had the chance to have. Darcy knows that she and Harry will never have a proper family—they will never again know the love of a mother and father, never know how to feels to be held in their parents' arms, never know their mother's proud smile or their father's barking laughter.

Tears well painfully in Darcy's eyes and she's unable to stop them rolling down her cheeks. She covers her face with her hands, crying silently. Harry watches her for a few moments, and then he stands up and walks around the desk to put a gentle hand on her back. "I love you, Darcy," he says. Harry bends down to place a kiss on the top of Darcy's head, and he makes for the door. When he reaches the door, one hand on the handle, he turns around and swallows hard. Darcy lowers her hands to reveal her puffy eyes, and Harry rubs the back of his neck and looks down at his feet. "Bye."

When the door closes behind Harry, Darcy stands up and begins to pace, running her hands through her hair. Wiping furiously at her tears, Darcy riffles through Lupin's books on the shelves, pulling an unmarked one off the shelf. The pages are old and ripped in places, ink smudged, and she closes it, putting it back on the shelf. To the side of the bookshelf and through the window, the sun is beginning to set outside over the grounds. Still, at such a beautiful sunset, the tears flow.

Darcy assumes that, when Harry walks into the Great Hall again without her, someone will come looking. Her first thought is Gemma when she hears the quick footsteps from outside the office door twenty minutes later, but no one knocks. Instead the door is opened right away and Darcy turns to see Lupin in the threshold, slightly breathless. Darcy can't believe how happy she is to see him—how glad she is that he had not failed to notice her absence in the Great Hall. Lupin closes the door behind him, taking a few steps inside the office. She wipes her face again, trying to hide evidence of tears.

"You've been crying," he says quietly, stopping at his desk and leaning up against it. "Is everything all right?"

She clears her throat. "Is it too late to change my mind about dinner tonight?"

Lupin stands up straighter. "Never," he replies, leading her to the hidden door in the wall. Lupin takes his wand out and opens it, waiting for Darcy to enter first. "Did everything go all right with Harry?"

"Everything went fine," Darcy answers, her voice still shaky. She wraps her arms around her as Lupin closes the door behind them, kneeling in front of the hearth with his wand and hurrying to light a fire. "Everything went more than fine—Harry's so wonderful, isn't he?"

"He is." The fire springs to life in the fireplace and he stands up, brushing his hands together. "By the way—and I'm so sorry, Darcy—but I had not realized you hadn't told Gemma and Carla about your decision to come back next school year, and I may have let it slip—"

"What did they say?"

"They seemed excited," Lupin says. As Darcy takes a seat on the sofa, he moves closer to her, warming himself in front of the fire. "Though I can't help noticing you don't seem at all excited for someone who's just made, what I consider, a very exciting decision."

Darcy just looks at him, unsure of how to reply. She curls up on the sofa, then stretches out her legs. "Tell me about your family," she whispers, tilting her head. "Do you still speak to them?"

Lupin's hand finds his chin, scratching at his rough beard. He looks at Darcy carefully, laughing very softly and nervously. "Is this the conversation we'll be having?" he asks, and Darcy shrugs. Lupin looks around the room, exhaling loudly. "Maybe we could get a little more comfortable first. I'll tell you anything you want, Darcy, but you'll have to give me a little warning next time before you spring something like this on me." He smiles at her after seeing the color rise to her cheeks. "And don't apologize—here, stand up, love. You'll like this."

Wary, Darcy does as he says. Lupin puts a steady hand on her back, moving her off to the side. With another wave of his wand, the coffee table in front of the fireplace moves to the wall opposite Darcy, opening up a large space. The couch moves a few inches backwards to expand the space. With a sideways look at Darcy, Lupin has a few pillows appear from nowhere, making the space more comfortable. "What is this?" Darcy says, turning to face Lupin as his arm drops from her back to his side. "What are you doing?"

"Do you not like it? I can put it back to the way it was—"

"No, I just mean—" Darcy looks at the inviting space on the floor, surrounded by small pillows and glowing by the firelight. Overcome with affection for him, Darcy plunges on recklessly. "Professor Lupin, I—I really appreciate all that you do for me and I—"

"There is one more thing," he grins impishly, slinking towards the small cabinet across the room. "And I fear I will deeply, deeply regret this come morning, but… given the circumstances and the fact that we're likely about to have an extremely uncomfortable conversation…" Lupin reaches into the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of brandy and looking curiously at it.

As he goes to stand, Darcy calls at him, "Could we have wine instead?" Lupin's brow furrows, and he puts the brandy back into the cabinet, withdrawing a bottle of white wine. "No, the red, please."

Lupin looks reluctant, but obliges. "I don't want to know how you know what I'm storing in my own personal liquor cabinet, but I will be sure to lock it from now on." He pops the cork using magic and retrieves two glasses, pouring them each half-full. Darcy doesn't answer him, only smiles shyly as he walks back over to her, holding two glasses in one hand, and the bottle in the other. "I probably really shouldn't be doing this, but I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures, yes?"

Darcy takes the glass and seats herself on the floor, resting back on the comfortable pillows and stretching her long legs out in front of her. Her eyes still feel heavy and swollen from crying, and when Darcy takes her first sip of wine, it's almost refreshing. The wine, combined with the roaring fire and the feel of Lupin beside her as he sits down, warms her bones. "You don't have to tell me about your family if you don't want to," she tells him, sipping at her wine. "I don't want to make you—uncomfortable."

"No, it's not—no, Darcy, I don't mind," Lupin sighs, mussing up his hair. "I know so much about your family, it's only right that you should know about mine." At the mention of Darcy's family, she covers her face with her hand again, feeling the tears coming again. "Darcy—I'm sorry, are you all right? Was it something I said?"

"We're a broken family," she cries softly. "I don't even remember what it's like to be whole, to have a family—a real family who loves me."

"Darcy, you do have a family," he replies, setting down his glass and holding out his hands. Darcy notices, sees his hesitation and she moves closer, craving the warmth that his arms would bring her. To her immense disappointment, Lupin lowers his hands back to his lap. "You have Harry, and friends who love you very much."

They look at each other for a long time, and Darcy feels that he's bursting to say more, but he refrains.

Darcy frowns, taking a long sip from her wine glass and finishing it. She holds the glass out and Lupin refills it, but from the look on his face, it seems like he's doing it against his better judgement. "I'm sorry I talk so much," she murmurs, swirling the wine in her glass. "I probably sound so stupid—I mean, I've grown up like this and it's been like this as long as I can remember, but it still hurts."

"I don't think anything that you say is stupid," Lupin retorts, looking at her incredulously. "I think that everything you have to say is important. If you want to tell me, then tell me."

"I've done everything I can to care for Harry, but some days, it doesn't seem like enough."

"Darcy," he says again, making her heart race, the sound of her name coming from his mouth. She wonders what her name would sound like as a pleasurable sigh, but she shakes the thought. "You've done more than enough for Harry, but you're his sister. No one expects you to fill the shoes of your parents, as well."

She considers him, drinking more of her wine. Lupin waits for her to continue. Darcy looks into the fire, leaning into him slightly. "Does it upset you when I talk about them?" she breathes, wiping her cheeks again. "I know that Harry and I look very much like our parents, and I feel awful even bringing them up sometimes because I know that you—"

"You feel awful because you look like your mother?" Lupin asks again, picking his glass up again and draining it. "Darcy, I see a lot of your parents in you and Harry. I see your mother in your eyes and your hair, in your tenacity and ferocity—I see your father in your wit and cleverness, even in your smile sometimes. But I've told you before and I will tell you again now and however many times you'd like to hear it—but when I look at you, I see you first, not your parents, and I would never be upset with you for something out of your control." Lupin refills his glass and holds the bottle up while Darcy finishes her second fill. He pours more into it, sighing when she sniffles.

"You promise it doesn't upset you?"

"I promise," Lupin laughs, and Darcy blushes again. She watches him clench his jaw, staring at her, and she moves closer yet again. Lupin drinks again from his glass. He goes to speak, but he does so slowly, as if choosing his words very carefully. "Listen, sweetheart, you—you have brought me such joy these past few months, and never have I been upset with you for such a silly thing like that. Please stop crying."

Darcy feels her breathing slow, his words having such an effect on her. "You've never called me that before."

"No?" Lupin asks quickly, realizing too late what's he's said. "I, er—is that all right?"

She nods very slowly, only now realizing how close they are. After a moment's hesitation, Lupin reaches out and brushes her hair aside, tucking it behind her ear and wiping her tears away with a calloused thumb. Darcy can think only of kissing him, of how his lips felt the first time, of how he'd kissed her before she left him alone that day. And when Lupin lowers his hand from her face, she feels the warmth leave her, as well.

They both finish their wine rather quickly, and Darcy sets her glass to the side. She looks up into his eyes once, moving as close to him as she can. Lupin tenses, allowing her to rest her head on his chest. Darcy clutches his shirt, closing her eyes. She's surprised that his heart is beating faster than she'd expected instead of a slow and steady drumbeat. Her head is buzzing from the conversation she'd had with Harry, and possibly the wine. Darcy allows the silence to fill her, to calm her and empty her mind, and then Lupin wraps an arm around her, just barely touching her. She sighs contentedly, curling up at his side.

"My parents died years ago," Lupin tells her, his fingers gently tracing small circles on her arm. "They were kind people, dedicated, and loving and I know they were afraid sometimes, but—they did the best they could with a son like me."

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, tilting her head back to look up into his face. "I had no idea."

"Don't be sorry," he replies, wiping her tears with his free hand again. "There's no way you could have known that." His heartbeat slows to a steady thump-thump again. "What were you going to tell me the other night about you running off with that boy? What were you thinking?"

Darcy's face turns a bright red, but the wine has given her courage she likely wouldn't have had elsewise, especially when about to say something incredibly embarrassing. But here, curled up on Lupin's chest, warm and safe and wanted, Darcy finds it hard to keep anything from him. "You," she admits, in a meek voice that Lupin barely hears. "I was thinking about you. I wanted to come here, but I was afraid—I was afraid you'd see that I was drunk and turn me away."

Lupin looks down at her, open-mouthed, and instead of saying anything, Lupin kisses her hard on the mouth, tangling his fingers in her hair and holding her tight to him, and Darcy crumbles in his hold. For the first time, Darcy reaches up to comb her own fingers through his disheveled hair, brushing it back out of his face. This only makes him kiss her harder, but only for a few more seconds until he pulls away, breathing heavily. "I'm sorry," he pants, not letting go of her. "We've been drinking and—"

"Why are you sorry?"

His cheeks turn pink. "I'm sorry—I mean—I know we shouldn't, but—I wanted to—I shouldn't have just—"

"It's all right," she says breathlessly, wanting to kiss him over and over again.

"Do you feel any better now?"

Darcy smiles weakly. "I'm not sure," she says. "Could we try again before I make a decision?"

Lupin laughs outloud, shaking his head. "Cheeky."

They lay in front of the fire for a long time, talking about everything and nothing, holding hands and nuzzled beside each other. They talk about their years at Hogwarts, unable to stop smiling when speaking of her parents. Darcy talks about Harry for a long time, and then tells Lupin about Aunt Petunia, Hagrid, Mr. Weasley—all of the important people in her life that have changed her in some way, for better or for worse. The rest of the bottle of wine is long gone soon enough, and their cheeks are flushed, their foreheads slightly damp. Darcy talks for the majority of the time as Lupin listens with a smile on his face, his eyes fixed on her's as she goes on and on and on. And eventually, as the hours slip by without either of them noticing, Darcy's eyes grow heavy again. It isn't long until the fire and Lupin's voice lull her to sleep, her arm around Lupin's middle and their legs tangled together, dreaming of blurry faces and soft hands and green eyes.

"Darcy—Darcy, love—wake up—"

It seems as if she's only been asleep for five minutes, but when she looks out the lone window and sees the moon high in the sky, Darcy begins to panic. The fire has died down, now only a bunch of red hot embers glowing faintly. She sits up quickly, turning to look at Lupin, and judging by his tired eyes and his hair standing up and disheveled, he'd been asleep, as well. Darcy checks her watch and reads 2:47. "Oh—I am so sorry—" But she would give anything to fall back asleep on his chest, to have Lupin hold her until the sun comes up, and every night after. "It must have been the wine—I drank too quickly, and—"

"Of course," Lupin agrees, getting to his feet with Darcy. He looks uncomfortable, grinding his jaw. "Darcy, maybe you shouldn't go back to your dormitory tonight."

"What?" she blurts out. "You want me to stay here?"

Lupin's eyes widen. "No, no—not that I—I only meant… it'll look suspicious if you enter the dormitory so late at night."

Darcy looks back at him, horrified. "Right," is all she can manage to say in a very soft voice. "Good thinking." She turns around to leave, humiliated, thankful for the semi-darkness that hides her beet red face.