'What is so pure as grief? A wreck / set sail just to be wrecked again.'

Melissa Stein

With four of them under the Invisibility Cloak, it's not so easy to maneuver—it never has been with the four of them underneath it. Darcy and Ron, the tallest of the four, lead Harry and Hermione slightly. Their long legs cause the cloak to lift a little bit with each step, and Hermione continually hisses at them to slow down, but Darcy is eager to get to Hagrid's as quickly as possible. Every so often, she glances over her shoulder up the sloping lawn and towards the front doors to Hogwarts, half-expecting Lupin to come bursting through them to drag the four of them back up to the castle. Surely Lupin knows she wasn't going to listen? Darcy turns back towards Hagrid's hut, sharing a wary, sideways look with Ron, feeling Hermione's bushy hair tickling the back of her neck, and Hermione's hot breath on her skin makes Darcy uncomfortable. Once, Harry steps on the backs of Ron's shoe and he nearly trips down the path, but Darcy catches his arm just in time and they continue down the grounds as the sun lowers in the sky. Darcy checks her watch and hurries, Ron keeping pace; Hermione grabs the back of Darcy's shirt and inches closer, trying to keep hidden under the cloak.

Darcy knocks furiously on Hagrid's door when they arrive, and when she hears the heavy footfalls inside and Fang's cautious barking, she takes a step back. The door opens almost immediately, and Hagrid looks about a foot above where Darcy's head actually is. "It's us—" Harry hisses, and Hagrid frowns, looking at the spot where Harry's voice has just issued. "Let us in, Hagrid—we need to take off the cloak."

Hagrid obliges, and as soon as Hermione steps foot into his hut, Harry tears the Invisibility Cloak off the four of them. Darcy inhales the fresh air deeply, running a hand through her slightly damp hair, sticking up in the back from the static. Ron throws himself into an overlarge armchair, sighing. "Yeh shouldn've come," Hagrid tells them all weakly. "Thought you of all people, Darcy, would know better than to let them all come down here—yeh'll get into big trouble! Jus' after finishin' yer N.E.W.T.'s!"

"Hagrid, you should have known we'd come," Darcy answers with a small smile, looking around the cabin. Taking Hagrid's large arm, she guides him to the table, sitting down beside him with a hand still upon his forearm. Hagrid looks down at her with shining eyes. "Where's Buckbeak?"

"Outside," Hagrid says, looking wistfully towards the window facing the pumpkin patch behind his house. Harry and Ron look outside, as well. Looking around at the four of them, Hagrid makes to stand. "I'll make some tea…Darcy, I know yeh don' like it, but…"

"It's fine, Hagrid," Darcy replies. "Tea sounds wonderful."

"Hagrid, I'll make it," Hermione adds, trying her best to sound cheerful. Hagrid nods and allows Hermione to rummage through his cupboards, trying to find mugs and milk. Darcy watches her carefully, noticing the tears welling in her eyes and eventually falling down her cheeks.

Harry, seated on Hagrid's other side, asks, "Isn't there anything we can do?"

Hagrid sighs heavily, looking down at the table. Darcy gently squeezes the part of Hagrid's forearm she can get her fingers around. She locks eyes with Ron for a moment, who seems absolutely defeated, and her heart begins to ache for Hagrid. Through the window, she can see the tips of Buckbeak's wings as he unfolds them for a moment. "Dumbledore tried," Hagrid explains softly. "S'nothin' he can do to overrule the Committee…Yeh all gave me some great stuff—and Emily and Professor Lupin—thank 'em for me, Darcy…I appreciated all the help, but…" Hagrid's eyes swim with tears. "Dumbledore's gonna be here with me when it happens…and until then, at least Buckbeak will get to enjoy the fresh air…'spect he's tired of bein' cooped up in here…"

Hermione, still bustling around making tea, says, "We'll stay with you, too, Hagrid."

"No, yeh won't!" Hagrid answers quickly, his voice growing gruffer all the while. "None of yeh should even be here! I don't want yeh watchin', and I don't want to see yeh in trouble 'cause of me!"

And then, Hermione screams, and Darcy jumps to her feet. Everyone looks around at her, and Hermione turns around to face them, the milk jug in her trembling hands. "What?" Darcy asks, her heart pounding again. She clutches at her chest, the interruption quite unexpected. "What's wrong?"

"Ron—it's Scabbers!" she shrieks.

Ron's eyes go as wide as dinner plates, and he sits up a little straighter in the chair. "What?"

Hermione sweeps over to Ron, and gives the milk jug a slight shake. To everyone's surprise, Scabbers drops out of it and into Ron's lap, squeaking madly. Ron wraps his hands around him, holding him tight. Darcy scrunches her nose, looking at Scabbers with an impossible to hide look of disgust as the rat wriggles madly in Ron's grip. Not that she's ever thought Scabbers particularly cute, but he has seen better days—to Darcy, throwing Scabbers out of the window and letting Buckbeak have a final meal would seem very much a mercy. The rat is thin—too thin now—and Darcy imagines Ron's grip on him must be crushing his ribcage. Half of Scabbers is now completely bald, with awkward and patchy tufts of hair growing in random places, and when Scabbers turns eyes on Darcy, giving her one of those uncomfortable stares (though she feels quite foolish being made uncomfortable by a rat), Darcy wishes Ron would stuff the rat in his pocket just so she doesn't have to look at it anymore.

Just as Darcy opens her mouth to ask Ron to put Scabbers away, Hagrid stands up beside her. What is visible of his face turns a sickly white color, and Darcy turns towards the front door, listening carefully. Voices are echoing across the grounds, and for a moment her heart sinks, expecting to hear Professor Lupin calling their names furiously—but it's not Lupin. She checks her watch again and looks out of the window, where the setting sun has casted a red-gold glow over the pumpkin patch and Forbidden Forest.

"Yeh need to go…" Hagrid mutters, looking out of a window. Darcy joins him, trying to keep her face hidden. Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge lead the group, while the Ministry official and Macnair, the executioner, trail behind them. Darcy feels a sickness in her stomach at the sight of an axe in Macnair's hands. "Don't want 'em to catch yeh here…C'mon, out the back way, then…"

Hagrid opens the door for the four of them, and Ron steps out into the evening light first, Darcy right behind him. When Harry steps over the threshold, an overwhelming sense of guilt washes over Darcy at the sight of Buckbeak looking at all them helplessly. The hippogriff raises his head slightly, as if expecting Hagrid, and lowers it again at the sight of them. He digs his beak into the ground, pecking for bugs, and Darcy purses her lips, turning back to Hagrid. But it seems that all of her friends have also had the same idea—

"Hagrid, we'll stay—"

"We saw what happened, we'll tell them—"

"We can't leave you—"

"I'm of age, they can't say anything about me—"

"Go!" Hagrid urges them quietly as someone knocks on his front door.

Darcy looks into his face as Hermione throws the cloak back over the four of them. Ron has to give Hermione a push to get her to move, and they quietly make their way around Hagrid's hut, keeping a distance from the front door as the four men shuffle into Hagrid's house. Darcy looks back at Buckbeak one last time, willing Harry and Hermione to keep up with her and Ron's long steps. All she wants to do is get as far away from Buckbeak as possible, not wanting to hear the swooshing of an axe, not wanting to hear Hagrid's screams or Buckbeak's terrified squealing or whatever sound hippogriffs make seconds before their life ends…

When Darcy takes a sudden step towards the castle, the cloak catches her face and suffocates her. She adjusts herself, looking back to see what the matter is, but Ron has stopped, and Harry's walked right into him. "Let's go!" she whispers, and Hermione pleads with Ron to keep moving away from Hagrid's cabin. "What are we waiting for?"

"It's Scabbers!" Ron snaps in Darcy's face, holding up the struggling rat. Darcy takes a step backwards, stepping painfully on Hermione's foot. Darcy's eyes flick down to the rat in his hands, who seems to be desperate for escape. "Stop it, Scabbers! There aren't any cats here to get you!" He grunts, fumbling with Scabbers and almost dropping him. "It's just me, you idiot!"

"Come on!" Hermione gives Ron a small push in the small of the back and Ron continues to walk, his strides shortening as he fights with Scabbers still. "I hear them! Oh—please—please!"

They make it a few more feet up the lawn when Ron stops again. Over the squealing of Scabbers, Darcy can make out faint voices down at Hagrid's cabin, but can't hear what they're saying. She looks up at the doors to the castle again, hoping that they'll make it back before Lupin even notices what they've done. "We have to go," Darcy growls, grabbing Ron's arm, but he jerks away from her. "Ron, come on!"

Ron looks at her, making to protest, but before any words come out, Darcy hears only complete silence, a lack of voices, and her other friends seem to notice this ominous sign. Within seconds of noticing the silence, Darcy can hear the swishing of something very heavy cutting through the air, the dull thud of something heavy hitting the ground, and Hagrid's howling cries. Darcy sways on her feet, clutching her stomach, and without warning, vomits at her feet. Harry jumps back in alarm, looking pale and sweaty. Hermione scrunches her nose, tears flowing down her face, but Ron continues to fight with Scabbers, trying to force the rat into his pocket, his face tinted slightly green.

"Hagrid…" Harry mutters, and he casts a fearful look at Darcy before turning to run back towards the cabin. Darcy and Hermione grab him, attempting to pull him and force Ron to continue up towards the castle.

"We have to go back—" Darcy sighs, releasing Harry's arm and looking pleadingly at him. "Please—we have to go back—there's nothing we can do anymore."

Ron nods in agreement. "Let's not make it worse by going back down there."

"How could they?" Hermione whispers, hands shaking violently. "How could they?"

The four of them start to walk back up towards the castle, their pace a little slower. Darcy walks on shaky legs that threaten to collapse beneath her, and every so often clutches Ron's shoulder for support, but when she reaches out for him for a third time, her left knee buckling, Ron jumps and yelps. "Ouch! He bit me!" he cries, holding up his finger to show Darcy the tiny teeth marks where Scabbers has indeed bitten him. A few drops of blood trickle down his finger, but he wipes it on his shirt, squeezing Scabbers a bit harder than before. "What the hell is wrong with you, you idiot?"

With Scabbers squeaking louder than ever, Darcy looks down at the rat in Ron's hands. Finally deciding the best course of action, she reaches for her wand, prepared to Stun it, or Transfigure it, or make it shut up—whatever it takes to keep him from distracting Ron. She wraps her fingers around the handle of her wand, preparing to pull it from her back pocket as if unsheathing a sword.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione moans from behind her, and Darcy releases her wand, spinning around and nearly tangling herself in the cloak. "Crookshanks, no! Go away!"

Darcy squints through the growing darkness, but sees Crookshanks almost immediately, his wide yellow eyes visible even with darkness settling around them. She looks from the cat to Scabbers and back again, sighing heavily and running a hand through her hair. Scabbers continues to squirm, continues to attempt to bite at Ron's fingers, accidentally biting himself in the process. Crookshanks watches all the while, and Darcy holds back a loud scream, looking at Ron with a very exasperated expression. "Sorry, Ron—" she says roughly, pulling her wand out from her pocket and pointing the tip directly at Scabbers, who seems to have realized what she's about to do. "But this ends now—we need to get back up to the—"

As Ron's eyes widen with comprehension, his grip on Scabbers loosens a little. And in the split second before his fingers clamp tightly around Scabbers again, Scabbers seizes his opportunity. Out of the corner of Darcy's eye, she watches Crookshanks creep nearer and nearer, his eyes upon them despite the Invisibility Cloak, but she doesn't doubt the cat can hear Scabbers's desperate attempt to free himself—and he does. Scabbers slips through Ron's fingers and hits the ground hard. Without taking a moment to recover, Scabbers rolls onto his front and scurries away through the grass and into the darkness. Crookshanks follows, moving quickly across the grounds, and Ron chases after them, exposing himself and leaving the three of them still huddled under the cloak.

"Ron!" Hermione says through gritted teeth, looking back at Harry and Darcy when he doesn't respond. Without another moment's hesitation, as if all three of them have the same idea, they tear the cloak off of them, letting it sink to the ground behind them as they sprint after Ron, Darcy leading them. The summer night air whips her in her face as her legs carry her quickly towards Ron, but just as she reaches him, he stops abruptly, diving at the ground. Without having time to stop herself, Darcy's foot catches Ron in the side and she falls face first onto the ground, rolling away from him and feeling a sharp pain in her wrist.

Darcy attempts to get to her hands and knees, her head pounding from the fall, slightly dizzy. She looks up to see Ron cradling Scabbers in his hands, but looks past him as something darker than the night catches her eye—something that looks eerily familiar, that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The eyes of it shine in the darkness and Darcy pushes herself to her feet quickly, narrowing her eyes at the shadow as she reaches for her wand, for Ron doesn't seem to have noticed it watching him…

And before she can cast a single spell, Darcy watches as the creatures leaps at Harry almost as if in slow motion. Four legs and shaggy, black fur—a large dog the size of a small bear, snarling and growling and baring its long, pointed teeth. Its front paws hit Harry hard in the chest and Harry is knocked to the ground with a loud grunt; Hermione runs towards him as the dog continues towards Ron without a second look at Harry. Up close, Darcy recognizes it instantly as the creature she'd seen all those months ago in Privet Drive, just before the Knight Bus had caused it to flee. Darcy shivers, and the dog charges her instead of Ron suddenly—but instead of pouncing as it had done to Harry, the dog merely paws hard at her wand arm, knocking her wand out of her grasp, and then it turns away from her and opens its mouth wide. The dog's teeth clamp around Ron's leg and he shouts, falling to the ground and reaching for Darcy, who's nearest him, his one hand still holding Scabbers tight.

Darcy grabs Ron's sweaty hand, trying to keep the dog from pulling him away, but the dog is much stronger and Darcy's feet slide in the grass and she feels that Ron's arm will surely pop right off if she continues to hold on and play tug-of-war with such a large dog. Hearing Harry and Hermione screaming and crying out incoherently behind her, Darcy turns her head very slightly to look at them, still holding Ron's hand very tightly, but his hand is drenched with sweat…and it's so hard to hold on…

WHAM!

Darcy screams as pain shoot through her face. Something has smacked her hard across the face, feeling as if her entire head has been split open. Ron's hand is torn from her's as he's pulled away, disappearing into the darkness, and Darcy watches as the dog pulls him down a small opening at the base of a trunk, or attempts to, as Ron hooks one of his legs around a tangle of root—and suddenly, Darcy drops to the ground, dodging another incoming branch the Whomping Willow aims at her. She frantically searches in the grass for her wand, but before she can find it, a branch strikes her across the chest. Darcy lies flat on her back, breathless, the wind completely knocked out of her, and she struggles to sit up. Gasping for breath, Darcy forces herself into a sitting position when she hears a loud CRACK throughout the grounds, and Darcy watches, horrified, as Ron's now broken leg is dragged down into the roots at the base of the tree—the same passage that Darcy had once followed Professor Lupin down…

Darcy crawls out of range of the next branch that comes towards her, and Harry and Hermione dash forward, helping Darcy to her feet. Darcy moves backwards a few more paces and collapses between them.

"We have to get help!" Hermione pants, gripping her bleeding shoulder. Darcy looks at Harry, whose cheek is bleeding, and then back at Hermione. "We have to—"

"Are you mad?" Darcy asks incredulously, wide-eyed. "We can't leave Ron!" She turns desperately to Harry. "Professor Lupin, Harry—he's got the map—he'll see we're here—"

Harry catches his breath for a moment, looking down at his sister, looking slightly unconvinced. He nods regardless, and then looks at the tree again, still waving its thick branches around, ready for its next target.

"We won't be able to get to Ron!" Hermione replies, her voice a little higher than it had been. "How are we supposed to—?"

"I know how," Darcy says suddenly, and both Harry and Hermione look at her, narrowing their eyes. "I know how to get through—I need my wand, though—it's there—"

But before she can finish her sentence, or even start to tell either of them how to get the tree to freeze, Crookshanks is at the base of the tree. He looks at them with his big, yellow eyes and pushes on the knot Darcy had once prodded with a broken branch, and at once, the tree freezes. The branches become still, and once more, the tree is nothing more than a normal tree. Darcy lays back in the grass for just a second, to sigh a heavy sigh of relief, and then she gets to her feet and urges Harry and Hermione to follow her to the place where the dog had just dragged Ron. On the way there, Darcy finds her wand, grabs it, and without instructing Harry or Hermione on what to do, slides down the small opening, hoping with all her heart that Lupin is watching the Marauder's Map.

This time, Darcy doesn't scream as she slides down the earthen chute, landing on her feet in the dark passageway. She moves forward a little, and Harry hits the ground next, followed by Hermione, who nearly knocks them both over. Darcy hesitates, looking down the tunnel, and she lifts her wand, giving her wrist a small flick; the tip of her wand lights up, casting a blue-white light around them. Darcy looks down at her hands, one of which is bloodstained, and she touches her jaw, where the Whomping Willow's branch had hit her and broken skin.

"Where does this lead?" Hermione asks quietly, her whisper echoing throughout the tunnel.

Darcy holds her wand up higher, wiping her bloody hand on her skirt. "It leads to the Shrieking Shack," she explains softly, avoiding Hermione's gaze. "Come on—let's go."

"How do you—?" Harry starts.

She gives Harry a withering stare, softening slightly at his concerned expression. "I've been down here before—I'll explain later—let's go find Ron."

Darcy follows Crookshanks down the tunnel, holding her wand high to illuminate their very limited surroundings. Harry and Hermione follow her, their footsteps ringing in Darcy's throbbing head. Her heart pounds loudly in her chest, and Darcy feels as though it's that autumn night again, as if she's chasing after Lupin again. Eventually, Darcy finds herself at the trapdoor and she lifts herself through it, pulling Hermione and Harry up quietly by the hand. She brushes herself off, extinguishing the light at the tip of her wand, and looking around for a second.

Dust has already covered the footprints she, Lupin, and Snape had made all those months ago. Now, there is only a wide, shining stripe where Ron's body had been dragged, and pawprints from the dog that had dragged him. All is quiet except for the occasional settling of the house and Darcy looks up the half-collapsed staircase. She looks at her brother and Hermione—Hermione's eyes are wide and she's holding tight to Harry's arm. Darcy suddenly wishes Lupin were here, if only to have some source of comfort and reassurance, and she listens for a sign that he's coming, but all she can hear are soft moans coming from the upper floor, some muffled scuffling.

Darcy motions towards the staircase, and the three of them tip-toe up it, wands held at the ready. Upon reaching the landing, Darcy spies the wall that Lupin had thrown her against—the wooden wall seems to have splintered and broken when she'd hit it, but Darcy never noticed, having been too busy worrying about the werewolf about to attack. Even remembering the terror she had felt as Lupin looked down at her with his jaws wide open, prepared to bite or kill her, Darcy flexes her fingers, wanting to hold his hand, wanting to feel his fingers twine with hers.

The sounds are coming from the same room where she'd glimpsed Lupin before. The door is closed, and Darcy reaches out for the doorknob, her hand shaking. She isn't sure what will be behind the door—isn't sure if the dog is still there, if the dog will attack her next. But knowing that they must help Ron before it's too late, Darcy opens the door slightly and Harry bursts in, shouldering past her.

Purring fills Darcy's ears, and she spots Crookshanks on the dusty bed in the corner, waving his bottlebrush tail in the air happily. Ron's bright red hair is all that's visible to her as Harry and Hermione crowd him, cooing over his broken leg and attempting to help him to his feet. Ron pushes them aside, pointing at a place just over Darcy's shoulder, fear in his eyes. "It's a trap—he's the dog—he an Animagus—"

Darcy spins around quickly, startled at the sight of someone in the other corner of the room. He shuts the door quickly, and Darcy takes a few steps back towards Harry, Hermione, and Ron, placing herself in front of them.

"Expelliarmus!"

It's a croaking voice, one she wouldn't have expected to come from him. Darcy barely registers her wand flying up into the air, barely registers it being caught by Sirius Black. Whatever fear she had been feeling only seconds before is suddenly gone, along with all her other emotions. Darcy is frozen, unable to move her feet, and the entire world around her seems to stop. For months she's been dreaming of him, and looking at him now, he is nothing compared to what she sees in her dreams.

Sirius Black meets her eyes for the first time, only for a split second, but to Darcy, it's a lifetime. His hair is dark and slightly graying—or maybe it's just dust and dirt—and longer than Darcy's, hanging to his elbows, and the sight of his face is enough to give Darcy nightmares for another few months—but despite his sunken eyes and waxy skin and skeletal appearance, Darcy thinks she sees a flicker of recognition in his hardened eyes when he looks at her. But this is not the Sirius Black that she had known, and Darcy remembers words Lupin had once said to her: "Whatever Sirius Black was before—he's not that young boy anymore…"

And then, when he speaks again, Darcy is brought to the crushing realization that Lupin was right. If Sirius did love her, he surely would have spared her more than a half second's glance—surely would have hesitated upon seeing her, or softened at the look of her as a grown woman…

"I thought you'd come for your friend," Sirius rasps, and Darcy suddenly feels tears well painfully in her eyes. She looks away from Sirius Black, not able to look at his face any longer—how could she possibly look into his eyes now, someone she had once loved? The knowledge that Sirius Black is the reason behind her ability to cast a Patronus makes her feel suddenly very unclean. "Your father would have done the same for me…"

Darcy takes a step back closer to her brother and friends, unsure of what will come. He will not have Harry, she tells herself. Whatever happens, he will not have Harry. Harry goes to move, placing a hand on Darcy's arm to push her aside, to charge Sirius Black, but Darcy grabs the back of his shirt and Hermione screams, "No!" and grabs his wrist, holding him back.

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us, too!"

Darcy turns around to see Ron standing, looking green again. She wants to speak, to agree with Ron, to tell Sirius Black that she would die before letting him get to Harry, but she can't find her voice. Darcy feels breathless, as if she's just sprinted here from Gryffindor Tower, and all she can do is catch Ron as he falls forward, his leg giving out. Ron holds on tightly to Darcy, his fingers digging into her arms, and she grips him just the same, looking back at Sirius Black. Darcy takes her left hand and snatches at Harry, pulling him back to her and Ron, and Hermione inches closer, standing tall behind Darcy's back.

Let him kill me, she thinks, adrenaline surging through her. Let him kill me. Please, don't let him kill anyone but me.

"Lie down before you damage that leg even more," Sirius says, and the concern in his voice makes Darcy wary.

And finally, Darcy finds her voice. "Don't talk to him!" she shouts, holding Harry and Ron tighter to her, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Hermione is still there. "I won't let you touch any of them!"

Sirius smiles—he smiles, or perhaps it's more of a grimace, as if he hasn't smiled in years and has forgotten how. Darcy frowns at him, trying hard not to remember what his smile had looked like on the day of her parents' wedding—trying hard not remember how handsome he'd once been while letting Darcy sleep on his chest… "There will only be one murder tonight," he tells her. "And it will not be yours—"

Harry wriggles in Darcy's hold. "Only one?" he snaps, and Darcy wishes he'd hold his tongue, hoping he doesn't give Sirius a reason to kill them all at once. "We know what you did—you killed all those Muggles and laughed about it! Gone soft in Azkaban, have you?"

"Harry!" Hermione whispers.

"He killed my mum and dad!"

Harry breaks free from Darcy's grip and rushes Sirius. Darcy watches, horrified, as Harry takes advantage of Sirius's moment of shock, knocking him to the ground and landed a solid punch to Sirius's temple. In Darcy's ear, Hermione screams. Darcy turns, shoving Ron into Hermione's empty arms.

"Harry, no—Harry!"

As Harry falls on top of Sirius, Darcy dives into the mix. Crookshanks leaps from the bed and lands on Darcy's shoulder, clamping onto her. His claws sink deep into the scars already present and she hisses at Crookshanks before throwing him off. Darcy grabs the back of Harry's shirt, and Sirius' elbow flies wildly around, cracking against Darcy's nose, and she tastes the familiar metallic taste of blood—"Not again!"

And out of nowhere, Hermione's foot comes swishing past Darcy's face, kicking Sirius in the side. There's a grunt and a clatter as the four wands in Sirius' hands fall to the floor, and Darcy hears Ron thump against the ground, crawling towards them. A wand rolls close to Harry, and Darcy reaches out for it, but Harry is quicker. He grabs his wand off the ground as Sirius goes to put his fingers around her brother's throat.

With a strength that surprises even her, Darcy manages to rip Harry off of Sirius' chest, just as Sirius goes to throw a punch—with Harry out of the way, his fist hits Darcy in the cheek and she falls backwards, clutching her hands to her face and crying out in pain.

"Darcy—" Sirius croaks, holding his hands out in front of him, not touching her. "I didn't—"

"Shut up!" Harry shouts, and Darcy peeks through her fingers to see her brother pointing at her. Harry drops to her side, circling an arm around her shoulder protectively. "Look what you've done!" And quickly, without thinking, Harry jumps to his feet again and pulls out his wand, pointing it at Sirius, still laying on the ground. Darcy notices his hands are shaking.

Hermione whimpers, but moves closer to Darcy, taking her hands and lowering them from her face. Producing a handkerchief, Hermione pinches Darcy's broken nose very lightly and holds the cloth to her nostrils; Darcy watches blood soak it. At the same time, Darcy can feel her jaw and cheek beginning to swell and bruise badly, and she tries to open her mouth, but it hurts something awful. She glances at Ron, still on the bed, still clutching at his broken leg with his face the greenest she's seen it yet.

"Are you going to kill me?"

For the span of a heartbeat, Darcy's forgotten Sirius is there with them, lying on the floor with Crookshanks curled up on his chest. He's smiling incredulously, his teeth blackened by years of a lack of hygiene, his face caked with dried blood, sweat, dirt and mud; his hair, once so well-groomed and sleek, is now matted and tangled so Sirius looks as if he has a rather bad case of mange. His dark eyes flick towards Darcy every so often, and when he does so and sees the state she is in, his smile flickers for a brief second.

"You're the reason our parents are dead," Harry murmurs, moving closer to Sirius, his wand outstretched. "You killed them—"

"I don't deny it but—" Sirius rasps, attempting to shake Crookshanks off his chest. "Let me see a wand—Darcy's nose—I can fix it—"

Harry whirls around to look at Darcy, watching Hermione's white handkerchief turn a deep scarlet as blood continues to flow from her nose. She's starting to feel light-headed, and feels the color drain from her face. "Are you all right?" Harry asks her quietly, his bottom lip quivering.

Darcy nods very slowly, despite the fact that she is not all right, and Hermione pinches the bridge of her nose tighter, starting to panic. Darcy feels tears slip down her cheeks, and she grasps at Hermione's wrist, silently begging her to stop pinching so hard. Hermione helps her sit in a slightly uneven chair, and Darcy tilts her head back, praying for the bleeding to stop, praying for the throbbing in her jaw to stop.

"You have to listen to me—" Sirius utters, trying very quickly to get his words out. "You need to understand—Darcy—Darcy, don't you remember—"

Darcy ignores him, not wanting to hear his voice, not wanting to hear him saying her name. Harry turns back to Sirius, his wand shaking more violently. Sirius stares back at him, waiting for a curse that Darcy knows will never come—that Darcy knows Harry would never be able to cast. Crookshanks still purrs on Sirius's chest, his bottlebrush tail waving casually in the air. And then, Darcy hears footsteps—heavy footsteps, that are scrambling around downstairs, leaping up the stairs two or three at a time—

"We're up here!" Hermione shouts, and she pinches Darcy's nose harder than usual. Darcy gives another yelp before Hermione stops pinching her nose altogether. "Help! We're here! Help—Sirius Black!"

The footsteps are just outside the door—the doorknob doesn't turn, however—whoever is coming kicks the door in, and relief spreads through Darcy's body as she sees who it is. Lupin looks around, eyes wide and hair disheveled. His eyes fall on everyone and everything—Harry pointing his wand at Sirius, Crookshanks still purring loudly; Ron lying on the bed, grasping at a terribly broken leg; Hermione, her blood soaked handkerchief still pressed to Darcy's nose, a weak smile on her pale face, glad they're about to be saved; and then to Darcy, white-faced, shaking, bleeding freely, and sweating. Her eyes are heavy now, and she feels dizzy…but he's here…she knew that Lupin would come for them…she knew that Lupin would be watching the map…knew that he would save her…

"Expelliarmus!"

Darcy opens her eyes quickly, startled to see Harry's wand in Lupin's hand, as well as the other three Ron had saved.

"Where is he, Sirius?" Lupin asks, his voice quiet and tense.

And very slowly, from the corner of the room, Sirius raises his arm and points at Ron. Crookshanks circles around his head, bushy tail brushing against the stiff and faded clothes he's wearing and his long hair. Darcy looks at Ron, bewildered, and for a moment the only sounds are the terrified squealing of Scabbers, wriggling in Ron's hands. Not understanding at all, Darcy looks to Lupin, hoping for an explanation, but she's afraid of one—she doesn't want to hear that Lupin has been helping Sirius—doesn't want to hear that by the end of the night, they'll all be dead, murdered the same way her parents were…She looks at Sirius on the ground and is surprised to find him looking back at her.

"But—it can't be—" Lupin's brow furrows as he looks at Ron, but when Darcy follows his line of vision, she realizes he's not looking at Ron, but at the squirming rat in his hands. "Unless he transformed—? Cut it off himself—?"

"What?" Ron shouts, his face greener than it had been only five seconds previously. "I'm not—what are you talking about?"

And then, her vision slightly blurry, Darcy watches as Lupin extends his free hand to Sirius. The latter accepts the hand up, and Sirius rises to his feet. Hermione gasps, but Darcy doesn't have the energy; Harry stumbles backwards to his sister as Lupin and Sirius embrace tightly, holding each other for a long moment before holding each other at arm's' length. "No—" Darcy mumbles, feeling sick to her stomach, and she's sure it isn't because of the massive amount of blood loss.

Hermione turns over her handkerchief shakily, placing the last clean spot to Darcy's nose again, and Darcy feels a rush of affection for Hermione. This can't be real, she tells herself. I'll wake in a moment, in the hospital wing. Her entire face still seems to have its own heartbeat, and Darcy's feels her own heart begin to hammer in her chest painfully. She opens her mouth to speak, to say something—but Harry beats her to it.

"I trusted you," Harry snaps at Lupin, looking sideways at Darcy. "Darcy trusted you—and you've been his friend all this time!"

Lupin shakes his head frantically, looking straight at Darcy. Holding up his hands in surrender, still holding not only his wand, but hers, Harry's and Hermione's too. "No, I haven't—listen to me—" Lupin takes a step closer. "Let me fix your nose, Darcy—"

"Get away from her!" Hermione shrieks, and everyone seems surprised to hear Hermione speak to Lupin with such an sharp tone. Lupin stops where he is, looking at Darcy apologetically. Hermione looks from Darcy to Harry. "Don't listen to him—he's been helping Black get into castle—he wants you dead—he's a werewolf!"

A heavy silence falls over them all at Hermione's words. "No," Lupin replies calmly. He looks at Hermione, looking half exasperated and half resigned. His eyes find Darcy again, occasionally glancing at Harry for a few seconds. "I have not been Sirius's friend, but I am now—I can explain—and I do not want any of you dead, especially not—" He scans the room again, eyes lingering on Darcy before looking over his shoulder at Ron, who looks as if he's just walked into a bad dream. "But I cannot deny that I am a werewolf. How long have you known?"

Darcy looks to Hermione, hoping the conversation will end so she can get real help. "Ever since I did Professor Snape's essay," she answers nervously, shying away Lupin and nuzzling into Darcy's side.

"He'll be delighted. That was, indeed, his plan all along," Lupin laughs. "You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione."

Darcy closes her eyes. Someone help me. Between the pain in her face and the aching in her heart and the churning in her stomach, Darcy feels anger start to rise in her. Why are they having such a stupid conversation when she's about to bleed out on the floor? Darcy opens her eyes again looking at Lupin, begging him for help without speaking. After all, he'd been good to her—he had never tried to hurt her—had always been so sorry about her shoulder—but then, she remembers, Sirius claimed to love me once, and now look…

"If I'd have been a bit cleverer, I would have told everyone what you are!" Hermione continues.

"But they already do," Lupin answers, his eyes flicking from Hermione to Darcy and back again. "Darcy's known all this time, in fact."

"What?" her friends ask all at once, and everyone's eyes are upon her.

Darcy looks around, taking Hermione's wrists and lowering her hands from her face. Sitting up straighter in the chair, Darcy nods, wiping the small stream of blood on the back of her hand, staining her skin. She can still taste the blood on her lips, but the bleeding has finally slowed. She shivers, remembering the night she'd come here before, the night she'd seen Lupin in his bestial state, the night he'd attacked her. "I followed him. It was my fault—I caused Snape to drop his potion one night—that's why he attacked me," she whispers, her voice uneven and cracking. "I followed him here, to the Shrieking Shack, and I didn't realize what would be here—I thought—I thought he was coming to meet with Sirius. And then, Snape found me—he'd seen me following Professor Lupin and he saved my life before any real damage was done…"

There's silence as everyone processes this for a moment. "When was this?" Hermione whispers, as if finally understanding something.

Darcy looks into Lupin's eyes, raising her fingers to the buttons on her blouse. She loosens her tie and undoes the top two buttons, pulling her collar aside to reveal the long scars on her left shoulder. Harry, Hermione, and Ron gasp and make noises of surprise. Still looking at Lupin, Darcy answers. "I never went flying that night—the Whomping Willow never scarred me."

"And Dumbledore allowed you to stay?" Ron asks Lupin, his eyes glued to Darcy's shoulder, even as she covers the scars again. "After what you did?"

"I told Dumbledore I didn't want him sacked," Darcy says to Ron. "I asked Professor Lupin to stay."

No one seems to be able to think of a suitable response to this admission. Darcy looks at Harry, who looks very pale. He frowns, looking as if holding back tears, and Darcy looks away from him. Lupin takes another step towards Darcy. "Let me fix your nose."

"Don't touch her!" Harry yells, and Lupin scowls at him.

He turns to Ron, instead. "Let me at least set your leg—until we can get you back to Madam Pomfrey—"

"Get away from me, werewolf!" Ron grabs at his broken leg, trying to move away from Lupin.

Lupin seems to have expected this reaction. He runs his hand through his hair and turns back to Darcy, a pleading look in his eyes. "Please, let me fix your nose, and I'll explain everything—"

"Be quick about it," Sirius snaps, staring at Scabbers all the while. "I don't know how much longer I can sit here and wait…"

Darcy, against her better judgement, nods her head. To have Lupin close to her would be a blessing, and part of her can't really believe he's working with Sirius Black…It's impossible, right? He had been so sweet to her only this afternoon, had smiled at her and told her secrets and allowed her to wear his clothes…As Lupin moves quickly towards her, Harry and Hermione jump in between them once again, and Lupin sighs in frustration. "Let him come," Darcy whispers, looking up into Lupin's face. "It's all right."

Harry scrunches his nose, staying put while Hermione moves aside. "What are you going to do to my sister?"

"I'm going to—you know what—" Lupin quickly holds out everyone's wands. He passes them around to Harry, Darcy, Hermione, and Ron, and then Lupin holds out his own wand, pointing it at Darcy's face and speaking directly to her. "I'll fix your nose, give you my wand, and I'll explain. Do you trust me?"

Darcy swallows hard. "Yes."

Lupin nods, offering her a small smile, and he keeps his wand steady. Darcy closes her eyes and holds her breath, hoping she won't regret this, and Lupin mutters, "Episkey."

There's a sharp pain as Darcy's broken nose fixes itself and she cries out, touching her nose, but the pain slowly subsides and becomes nothing more than a dull ache. Lupin pulls out a clean handkerchief and touches the tip of his wand to it, where a stream of water issues and dampens the cloth. Lupin then hands her his wand without hesitation, hunching over her in the chair and touching her face, making sure that her nose is fully healed.

Pressing the damp cloth to Darcy's bloody lips, Darcy knows that he could just use a spell to clean her. This small gesture, however, is to Darcy a sign of loyalty. And she knows, as Lupin wipes her face ever so gently, that he does care for her, that whatever explanation he has to offer will surely be the truth. Lupin's face is so close to her own now, and she looks at his lips, desperate to be kissed. Then her eyes find Sirius again, who is watching their interaction very closely.

"Darcy was with me earlier," Lupin begins, speaking to a silent room, save for the mad squealing that comes from Scabbers. "Emily came to tell us about Hagrid's hippogriff, and I told Darcy she wasn't to go, but…" He lowers his voice, speaking to Darcy with another small smile. Lupin's free hand touches her cheek as he dabs at the slick blood on her face. "I knew you weren't going to listen."

"You were watching the map," Darcy says breathlessly, her jaw still aching. "I knew you would be."

"Yes," he answers, speaking to the room at large again. "I saw the four of you going down the path to Hagrid's—"

"You know how to work that map?" Harry asks.

Lupin jumps slightly, as if he's forgotten there are other people in the room with him. He continues to wipe blood off of Darcy's chin, his eyebrows furrowed. "The map—of course I know how to work it—I helped make it," Lupin says quickly, as if this isn't an important fact in the slightest. "Moony was what my friends called me in school—anyway, I saw the four of you enter Hagrid, but there were five of you coming back up to the school—"

"No," Harry interrupts again. "It was only us—"

"No, Harry," Lupin says calmly, lowering both hands from Darcy's face and looking at Harry. Very slowly, he gets to his feet. "There were five of you—you, Darcy, Ron, Hermione and another, by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

"That's impossible," Darcy murmurs, holding her jaw. "Peter Pettigrew is dead—we were all in the Three Broomsticks that day—we all heard them say Sirius killed him." She chances a glance at Sirius, and panic floods her again. All those things she wanted to say to him, to his face—she wants so badly to say them, but is so terrified of hearing the answers. To know that, maybe, Sirius never loved her, and the disappointment of knowing such love was never real would surely break her heart. To know that, maybe, it was all just a dream…

"I thought so too, Darcy," Lupin continues, speaking very quickly now. Then he stops, breathing very heavily, and Lupin turns to Ron, making him jump. Scabbers begins to struggle harder against Ron's hold. "Ron, do you think I could have a look at that rat?"

"Scabbers?" Ron looks down at the rat in his hands. "What's—what Scabbers have to do with any of this?"

"That's not a rat," Sirius says suddenly, and Scabbers seems to be desperate for freedom. "That's a wizard."

Ron scoffs, looking nervously at Darcy, Harry, and Hermione. "No, he's a rat!"

Darcy looks at Lupin curiously, getting to her feet very carefully. It can't be possible…surely Lupin and Sirius are just mad, and yet…she had just allowed Lupin to fix her nose, to clean her face, and he had done so with the utmost tenderness…If he did mean them harm, wouldn't he have taken advantage of that moment? Why would he suggest such an outrageous explanation if he and Sirius were just going to kill them? "Professor Lupin," she whispers, turning her gaze upon Scabbers, her fingers brushing against Lupin's arm. "Who is that?"

"An Animagus," Sirius responds before Lupin can open his mouth to speak. Darcy looks at Sirius for the longest time since she's been in the room with him. "Peter Pettigrew."