And I find peace when I'm confused, and I find hope when I'm let down
Not in me, but in you
I hope to lose myself for good; I hope to find it in the end
Not in me, it's you, it's all I know
-You by Switchfoot

So. tired.

Well, inktounge asked for another chapter from Oliver's point of view, and I agreed that it would be a good idea, and so here is one. Mostly one, anyway.

Of all the things I was trying to focus on, I was trying to focus on Aly's breathing. It was supposed to help me remember to live in the now and ignore all that other stuff; the war that was going on, my allegiance to a certain Dark Lord that Aly thinks the equivalent of the devil. I'm trying convince myself that they are all trivial matters in comparison to Aly, sleeping next to me on the couch, right now.

After informing me that everything was wrong with her life, Aly spent an hour crying and ranting and raving about her idiot ex-boyfriend and ex-best-friend to me, leaving me to play the understanding, caring boyfriend role, even if in the end Aly and I know I don't care much about either of them.

And after that hour of crying and ranting and raving, she felling into a fitful sleep which eventually calmed down as I held her against me, trying to decide which would be better – to wake her, or to let her sleep? She's got to be exhausted – she apparently stayed up 'til all hours of the night worrying about this. But then again, is tossing and turning actually sleeping?

Of course, at that moment, my mark started to burn, leaving me cringing and squirming underneath her. So much for living in the now – I'd rather be in the five-minutes-ago time frame. I knew what the burning meant – a Death Eater meeting, and whether or not I was going wasn't a fact of the matter – I couldn't attend meetings; it would blow my cover. That didn't mean the signal discriminated and left me alone. Rather, I think it burns worse for me because it knows I'm not coming.

And now I'm trying to use Aly as a distraction, much like she used me as a distraction, from contemplating a rather important decision – the kind of decision that shouldn't be put off. Because if she's going to react badly to the news, I'd much rather it happen now then after graduation.

To tell Aly, or not to tell Aly. I suppose, if any of this lasts passed school, I'll have to tell her. Otherwise she'll expect me to come to Order of the Phoenix meetings, and then wonder why I'm not allowed there anymore. I'm just lucky Fred and George haven't had the heart to tell Ginny; if they had, Aly wouldn't have let me have a first chance, so much for a second one.

But the longer she doesn't know, the angrier she'll be when I tell her the truth. She's going to know, no matter what happens. When this war ends either I'll be prosecuted, or she'll be all but enslaved, subjected to every whim of the Dark Lord and I'll have no choice but to watch him try and break her spirit.

I don't know which I'm hoping for – to be put in jail but know she's safe, or watch whatever torture the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will have cooked up for her. Would I be brave enough to try and save her, to get her out of it? She probably wouldn't want my help, but I could try. Merlin knows I can always try.

She moaned a little in her sleep before burrowing her head into my neck, and I felt my body go stiff. She'd done this before, on the occasion that she fell asleep with me; her favorite position to sleep in seemed to be with her nose buried into the crook of my neck. Of course, it never makes anything easier, or clearer. It just makes me feel tense, and guilty. She's so comfortable with me.

I have to tell her, straight away. Either do it now or I'll chicken out.

I took a deep breath, my left arm wrapped around her shoulders as I started to shake her gently; she wasn't a light sleeper by any means, but I can always hope that one day, a simple shake and a breathy 'Aly' will wake her up. Heh, hope. I can have hope.

I started to shake her a little harder, using my indoor voice instead of the breathy whisper, "Aly." At that moment, I hissed, the pain becoming more problematic, and I knew what that meant, as well. He wanted a meeting, and he wanted it straight away.

Maybe tonight wouldn't be such a good idea, I reasoned, my fist clenching as I attempted to stifle the scream that was so desperately fighting its way through my body, She just went through that whole ordeal with Siren, and to find out I'm a Death Eater? No, no, not tonight. Another time, for sure.

I pushed Aly, slightly desperate, and with an attractive snort she bolted awake, "Wha-"

"Aly, I hate to wake you, but you really need to get going; I don't want you to get caught out after hours," I lied. She had a half hour, and therefore more than enough time to walk the three steps to the portrait she used to get into the Head's Common Room.

"Hmm," she questioned, forcing her head under my arm and shoving her head into my chest.

I paused for a moment, smiling at her antics, "Aly, really, you need to go." I wonder if she noticed if my right arm were to fall off… "I," I sucked in air between my teeth, hissing in pain, "I need to… grade more papers."

"What papers?"

"Quidditch stuff, very official."

"I was kind of hoping I could spend the night."

I froze, my position only a quarter of the way off the couch with Aly still clinging to my chest – she… she couldn't possibly mean what I really honestly think she means, can she? I mean, I understand, we're both young and… excitable, but-

"W… What," I finally was able to get out, realizing that I probably looked like an idiot, both for the pause and for the stuttering. Not that Aly is noticing – she's so far into her own world I'm surprised she's coherent.

"Tom can get into my room," she explained, "I don't feel safe in there right now. I had a bad dream, but I think it's real because it ended with me in here cuddling with you." Leave it to Aly to be absolutely adorable, logical, and completely mental all at the same time. "I can sleep on the couch, I don't mind. I just don't want to sleep in that dorm – the doors are enchanted to never lock so McGonagall can always reach us."

"How did you find that out?"

"I have very nosy friends."

Slowly, I sank back into the chair, mulling over the proposal. It would be very fast, yes, but then again it might be dangerous for her to go back to her room for the night. Tom isn't what I'd imagine to be mentally stable; they must have been real low on Head choices this year.

But both as her boyfriend and as her teacher, shouldn't I be more concerned with her welfare than anything else? Besides, she's the only one who can get into here while it's locked; she'd have plenty of time to hide in the closet if someone stopped by tomorrow morning.

Opening her eyes for the first time since I woke her up, Aly set her chin just below my heart and looked up at me, "Well?"

My Mark seered in pain; he was getting impatient, but he knew someone was in the room. "Yes, yes," I finally gave in, despite every instinct that claimed saying no was the only choice until she knew about my… allegiance. "Just… go get something real to wear to bed and meet me back here in an… in forty-five minutes." That'll give me enough time to speak to Voldemort and go make sure the apartment is… livable.

Aly's smile was contagious for the moment she flashed it at me before moving forward, pressing her lips against mine before bouncing up, "Thanks!"

The moment she slammed the door shut behind her, I fell to my knees, my eyes watering slightly at the pain. He'd let me have it at the next meeting I went to, for sure. His head flashed almost immediately in the fire place as I crawled on my knees towards it, the pain not ending, but not getting worse.

"Took you long enough, you filth."

I was so excited and nervous about spending the night in Oliver's apartment that I tripped over my feet four times as I hurried down the stairs from my room to his. Once I actually hit my head, and magically after that doubts started to form in my mind. The suggestion was kind of, well… suggestive. In the, well, suggestive way.

Ugh – see, this is how I know that I'm not ready for sex – I think of something sexual in the real world that pertains to me as being suggestive in the 'suggestive way'. If I could, I would give myself a round of applause.

Of course, this doesn't change the facts – I asked Oliver if I could stay over, and he said yes. There very well could be expectations; he could be excited.

But… no. He knows better. We've barely been back together for a week, and now there are expectations? I know it's possible to sleep in the same bed with a girl and not have sex with her – Tom was big on cuddling; I learned these things.

My legs locked as I stood in front of Oliver's door, which is completely the wrong place. Who's on duty for the sixth and seventh corridor? Can I easily lie to them? No, no, I need to just go in. I can talk to my boyfriend about everything, right? At least, I can talk to him about how I'm not a slut. That conversation would be very much allowed. At least, it had better be.

"Straw-crow," I muttered into the door, not wanting to bother knocking in case the Prefects were close by and heard me. God, I'm such a horrible Head Girl. I don't deserve to be a student, much less the role model for the entire student population.

"Oh, Aly," Oliver exclaimed from his place sitting in front of the roaring fire, "You… you didn't knock."

"No, I didn't want anyone to hear me," I explained, dropping my small purse filled with toiletries next to the door and figuring that we'd be leaving soon enough, "You okay? You're sweating."

It's true – his brow is completely covered, not to mention he's sitting in front of the fire on his knees looking pained and bewildered. Maybe I shouldn't be leaving him alone for long periods of time.

"Uh, uh, yeah, just… did you eat dinner before you came here? I'm starved." Oh, that was… connected?

"Are you… not feeling well because you didn't eat?" That would be a connection, in crazy land where I guess Oliver spends his time when I'm not around.

"Uh, yes," Oliver replied, standing and brushing off his pants, "Absolutely starved, honestly; I'm thinking of nothing else but food."

This is getting weirder.

"Are you on drugs?"

"What," Oliver turned on me, his eyes wide, "No, no."

"You sure? No… special pills or big, weird tasting brownies?"

"Aly, I'm fine," Oliver replied, smiling at me as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, "I'm just… nervous about cooking for you. It's a… big step in our relationship."

Did eating dinner just become a euphemism? "You do realize there will be no…" I paused, trying to decide how to phrase this, "Cooking tonight, right?"

"How am I supposed to make you dinner if I can't cook for you," he questioned, standing just a few inches from me and wrapping me into a hug. He's so on drugs.

I didn't question him about the hug, though; hugs can be very nice. Especially Oliver's hugs – he's cuddly, "No, I mean no cooking. Like, you know, in the bed." That sounded just as stupid in my head, but I couldn't stop it.

Oliver snorted, "I figured as much, Darling; I'm sleeping on the couch."

Heh, right.