Hullo again! Only just over 10 days, and I'm back! 8D Hopefully this chapter will be up to par with the rest. I ended up with quite a few anon reviews last time which is a new thing for me, but hello to you all haha! Glad you're enjoying the story. As usual I'd love to hear what everyone has to say - you love it, you hate it, whatever - just drop me a line in the box below and I'll give you all plentiful cookies.

IMPORTANT: Over the time between the last chapter and this one, I've actually planned out how the rest of the story is going to go, and I'm warning readers now that there will be quite mature plotlines here - if you don't want to be reading something that might get a little edgy, I'd stay away from this. I don't want to ruin the story by delving into them now, don't say I didn't warn you. There will be some mature themes.

Another random point - I went back and rewrote a lot of the first chapter, so don't be alarmed if it suddenly looks a little different. You don't have to re-read it, none of the events are different, but as I mentioned in my A/N of chapter one I wrote the beginning of this story eons ago and my writing and the way I narrate has since changed, and the fact that the first chapter felt different annoyed me. So yeah, if you want to go back and re-read it you're welcome to, but all the events are the same!

But without futher ado - here is the third chapter!

Chapter Three: Something's Afoot

"Since writing on toilet walls is done neither for critical acclaim nor financial gain, it could be considered the purest form of art. Discuss."

Art? You laugh - you can't help it.

If you walk along the second floor corridor, turn left, then right, then left again then you'll find yourself at a door. Boys, do not be alarmed by the sign that says 'Girls Only', no one really pays attention to that in this case. Open the door. Walk past the faucets, down the tiled floor until you reach the cubicles, it's the third one on the right that you're looking for. You open the door and step inside. You feel guilty for being here, you almost don't want to look - but it's impossible for you to resist the temptation of the cubicle with the power to crumble someone's reputation. One door, three walls. You pray to Merlin that you won't see your name, and find yourself relieved when the most recently added writing has nothing to do with you;

#3: Elle Hewitt broke up with Teddy Lupin and he spent the whole night wasted in the Hufflepuff common room. Heartbroken or relieved, Ted?

"Teddy, are you even listening to me?"

Truthfully, I wasn't. Not really. I was too busy drowning in my own misery and trying desperately not to think about my ex-girlfriend-as-of-yesterday and wondering if she was sitting at the Hufflepuff table at that moment. It was a sparkling winter Saturday, but all I could think about as my gaze trailed out of the window of the Three Broomsticks was how much better it would be if the sun hadn't bothered coming out at all. Or didn't shine so bright. Or didn't exist. The pounding in my head was relentless, and bluntly I was more interested in trying to piece together what had happened the night before than I was in whatever Harry was talking about.

It was rare that I ever really drunk myself under the table, but I felt like I was more entitled to let myself get completely plastered considering what happened yesterday – clearly Guy and Lawrence shared that opinion, as I couldn't exactly recall an occasion when my hand or my glass had been empty all night. I remembered a lot of music, dancing, the usual flashes of colour and flying furniture (I never walked into things when I'd been drinking, things walked into me) but for some reason I was feeling some strong vibe to do with Lawrence and the Weird Sisters, and I couldn't quite work it out. I never did, actually. To this day Lawrence denies any of my suggestions with such venom that I get the feeling it's probably a bad memory for him. We'll just not mention it to him then, shall we?

"Earth to Teddy," Harry waved a hand in front of my face and I snapped to attention.

"This is Teddy, Earth, do you copy?" I replied without really thinking, stifling back a yawn as I straightened up in my seat. Harry simply raised his eyebrows at me. "I'm just really tired this morning Harry, sorry."

I looked more than tired – to be perfectly honest I looked hungover, and I had a feeling it probably showed. I got a glimpse of my reflection in the pub window and spotted dishevelled clothes (something I'd only thrown on bleary-eyed this morning when someone informed me Harry was downstairs waiting for me), hair in disarray (no time to comb it) and huge bags under my eyes, as if it were a struggle to even keep my eyes open.

(It kind of was).

"Rough night, huh?" He shot me a knowing smile, and I'm sure he was just trying to be cute but it actually served in only irking me a little bit.

I sighed and sloshed my butterbeer around, offering him a weak smile. "You could say that."

I meant it to sound guarded, but it only seemed to amuse my Godfather. "I'm not taking you away from enjoying that storming headache, am I?" Bloody adults. Thought they were so mature just because they were old enough to have been in my position more times than I could count. On a normal day, Harry and I got on just fine – he was the best Godfather I could ask for. Attentive, caring, welcoming; when Gran went into St. Mungo's over the summer he gave me a place to stay and my connection through him had given me the family I'd always wanted in the form of the Weasleys. Not to mention he'd been named Godfather by my parents themselves, and that in itself meant a lot more to me than anything else we shared – he, a bond with the friends he had lost, and me, unconditional love for the parents I never knew. I valued Harry above a lot of things.

But that didn't mean he didn't really piss me off sometimes.

"Don't patronise me, Harry," I glared, adding more bite than I felt but using it as a suitable warning not to press the subject. I was more than aware of his opinion of drinking at my age, but the response that I always kept inside my head because of how inappropriate it was did flash across the forefront of my mind. At my age he was stopping a Dark Lord, of course he'd never given himself over to the joys of getting wasted until his teen years were nearly a thing of the past.

But hell, if Harry had spent his seventh year drinking then the chances were I probably wouldn't even be alive today, so I bit my tongue. Of course Harry was wonderful, and I couldn't let my sour mood destroy that.

He had the good grace to look sheepish, though. "Sorry, Ted. I probably shouldn't have dragged you out to lunch without owling ahead first anyway."

"Why are you here?" I asked, slurping my butterbeer and grimacing at the sudden movement, but I was still curious.

"A talk to OWL level students," he shrugged. "About the importance of Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was somewhat unscheduled, but the usual deal." Ah, the perils of being Head Auror, subjected to many guest-speaking roles at public and not so public events. In my younger years I'd often wondered if Harry did more Dark-Wizard-Talking than Dark-Wizard-Catching in his time on the job. Of course now I knew better.

I nodded in understanding, but said nothing. I could see concern pass over Harry's features, but I wasn't in the mood to be my normal bantering self with him – quite simply I didn't have the energy. It'd been completely drained from me since my stint into the Entrance Hall last night, and I had a feeling this dejected cloud hanging over me wouldn't leave for a while yet.

"Did you get my letter?" He asked, poking some salad around his plate and looking to move the conversation along.

I tried not to laugh at the irony of it all, and nodded. "Yeah."

He hesitated before replying, and I knew instantly what he was going to say before the words had even formed on the tip of his tongue. "Have you considered the internship I wrote about?"

"I don't really want to talk about it right now." With everything else, my future was the last thing on my mind when making it through the present seemed to be such a top priority.

My brush off caused him to frown disapprovingly. "Look Ted, I know, but graduation is just around the corner and you really can't—"

"No, Harry."

My tone was firm and resolute, and I stared determinedly out the window. The air became thick between us, space there that I wasn't used to, but I didn't want him to keep pressing the subject when thoughts of what would happen after Christmas, let alone the summer, were turning my stomach.

I almost allowed myself to sigh in relief when he let the subject drop, but the next words he spoke in an attempt at peace only served in shattering that conception.

"How's Elle?"

It was a clear-cut attempt at sticking to a safe subject, after all we had been dating steadily for a good year and a half until this point, so it had always been one of those subjects which people around me had come to rely on and fall back on in conversation. Now it simply left me feeling just as empty as the night before, but now with my thoughts well within my coherent clutches, more than anything I felt a little pissed with the whole thing.

I let out a bitter laugh. "We broke up, actually." I felt awful for taking a minute pleasure in the way Harry's face fell along with his attempt at conversation, but the awkwardness that settled between us served to rid me of my satisfaction. His every attempt at talking to me today had been rebuffed and a complete disaster, and guilt was beginning to gnaw at my insides when I saw him turn his gaze back to his food.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he muttered quietly. I could tell part of him wanted to ask why, but I wasn't particularly in the mood to care and share about how I'd been dumped (even if it was temporary) for the sole purpose of the Head Girl maintaining her no-nonsense pristine reputation, even if there really was no nonsense for her to be trying to detach herself from. I felt like a bloody scapegoat, and it was beginning to make me angry.

I sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm actually not really that hungry. I'm feeling really tired so I might just head back up to the castle?" I finally met his gaze, pleading with him to understand that he hadn't done anything wrong – I just needed to be on my own for a bit, and away from the stifling table and even more suffocating conversation.

"Let me walk you back –"

"Uh, I'd rather go alone, if that's okay," I hadn't meant it to sound like a harsh rebuttal, so I offered him a compromise at his defeated expression. "I'd love to come to yours for Christmas, though."

He blinked, as if he didn't actually believe I'd agree to what he'd suggested in writing. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," I agreed without abandon. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be." The warm smile that broke out across his features made it feel worth it, and we exchanged a few departing words before I left the pub.

I hated the way everything had become so jutted and awkward, when the Three Broomsticks always used to be a place we would visit together. When I was a kid Harry had always done his best to be involved in my life, and while I loved Gran to bits that didn't mean she wasn't an old woman, and as a young, energetic boy growing up with no siblings, Harry had been such a dose of fresh air that I'd clung onto him like a lifeline. He'd take me out for afternoons where we'd talk about everything and nothing, and he'd let me come for lunch with him at the Broomsticks and treat me as an adult and spoil me like a child in equal measure, to the point where I quite simply adored him. Now, of course, things were different.

Harry had his own children to raise – second year James, and his younger siblings Albus and Lily, and over time he had less time to spare for me. At first through my tumultuous early teens it had been a source of deep resentment, but once I'd matured I was able to see just how readily Harry wanted me as a part of that family, not as a separate one altogether, and I was more than pleased to grant him that wish. That didn't change things, though; the intervals between him writing got longer, the time between us seeing each other only expanding, but I had to remind myself he wasn't my father. He had responsibilities to his own children, children that weren't me. Harry wasn't my dad.

I couldn't expect things from him that a son should. Still, I couldn't quite help myself.

Later that afternoon was a good representation of how I usually spent my Saturdays in my teens. What a lot of people don't understand about Hogwarts is that it's far more a community than a school, that the amount of time we spent outside of classes and left to our own devices far outweighed the time set aside for learning, so essentially all that it was to us was a castle with hundreds of students aged eleven to eighteen within it. So the simple decisions were; what do you do to occupy your time outside of lessons, and who did you choose to spend it with?

I'd been pretty set from day one. I'd always attracted a lot of attention with my name and my colour changing hair, and that was what brought me to Guy and Lawrence in the first place. Maybe one day I'll tell you about that, but right now I don't really have the energy.

We were sat outside one of the Greenhouses – Three or Five, I couldn't remember, the glass wall stretching behind us in both directions and the expanse of the grounds in front of us. If you hadn't noticed by now, I spent a lot of time in or around the Greenhouses. While Hufflepuff didn't have their links with Herbology that they used to when the Head of House was the Herbology Professor, the legacy of it still lived on. Plus the current Professor just so happened to be an old family friend who doted on me while I was in school, so he turned a blind eye to us spending so much extra time in there. It was a place where Hufflepuffs were comfortable, and more importantly it was where I was comfortable, so it seemed like a suitable place to be.

I turned to lazily look at Guy, who had pulled a cigarette from his pocket and had lit it, not really caring who was around to see. Well, he acted like he didn't care, but there was a reason we were sat on the south side of the Greenhouses – so he didn't have to, as we were hidden from the main bulk of the castle. Lawrence held out his hand for the light and Guy passed it over to him. He caught me staring and held out a cigarette for me. I shook my head.

"If you ever had an excuse to smoke up, Ted," Lawrence pointed out, a crooked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Being dumped by Elle would be it."

I shook my head. "You know I don't smoke." I never had, really. It was just one of those habits they had that I'd managed to ignore.

"I'd always thought," Guy muttered as he breathed out smoke through the corner of his mouth. "That you'd grow out of your little saint act someday – that just one of these days you'd be lighting up with the rest of us. Now of course I know it's not an act." He placed it back in his mouth and breathed in deeply. "I admire you for that."

Taken aback by what I thought was a compliment (I couldn't be sure), I shrugged. "Thanks, I think."

"You're welcome."

"What happened, Ted?" Lawrence asked, tapping the tip so the ashen ends of the cigarette floated to the ground. "Last night you weren't really in the mood for talking."

I still didn't particularly want to talk about it. "Did you sing some Weird Sisters songs yesterday?"

"No." His reply was a little too quick, but I'd press him about it later. "Ted, come on. You and Elle... you've been it for ages. What went wrong?"

"I still don't really want to talk about it." I echoed my thoughts.

Lawrence shifted uncomfortably where he sat, and took another drag for lack of something to do. "Look, I know we don't really talk about the serious shit that often –"

I rolled my eyes. "Or ever?"

"Or ever," he conceded with the tug of a smirk. "But you can talk to us, right? If it's important to you it's important to us. Or something."

I looked between him and Guy – Guy said nothing. He simply kept smoking and staring straight ahead as if we weren't even here, his expression vacant. I was used to that.

"Truth is, I'm still working it out myself," I muttered. Lawrence raised an eyebrow, Guy remained detached. "Apparently people think Kirsty Tinner and I are having some kind of thing."

Stubbing the cigarette on the ground, Guy finally spoke. "You're not?" It was smarmy and I resisted the urge to swat him upside the head.

"No, of course not. I'm not you."

"I'm insulted."

"Shame," I shot back. He said nothing, and lit up his second – I vaguely wondered if he was stressed out about something. "Well apparently people expected Elle to do something about it," the thought made me scowl and I looked away. "So she did."

Lawrence let out a long breath, pushing some of his blonde hair out of his eyes. "Wow. Sucks, man."

Sucks, man didn't quite seem to cover it, but I appreciated the effort he'd made.

"It's her loss," Guy returned indifferently, and I was bizarrely warmed by the firmness of his tone. "Bitch can be so uptight sometimes."

"Guy," I frowned. He didn't apologise. A companionable silence took us for a few moments, as the pair of them smoked and I adjusted my jacket to fit more comfortably around my shoulders. "She wants to get back together," I let it hang in the air. "After Christmas."

Lawrence paused in his attempts to blow smoke rings and looked at me. "Do you want to get back together?"

I shrugged. "I guess so."

The conversation ended there, but I didn't feel dissatisfied. That was all we needed to say.

Guy broke the silence. "How was lunch with the saviour of our time?"

I snorted. "Awkward. But I decided to go to his for Christmas. Sorry, I know we had plans." Lawrence shrugged, and I got the impression the plans weren't that exclusive.

"I guess," Guy mused thoughtfully, taking another drag. "I could go home... might be fun."

I raised an eyebrow. "You hate going home."

"I feel inspired."

"What's up with you today?" He was acting weird, even by Guy standards. Like Lawrence said, we may not talk about the serious stuff often as the three of us, but that didn't mean we didn't talk about it full stop. These guys had been my companions since first year, and we owed a lot to each other. Even Guy, as aloof and uncaring as he tried to act, we'd watched his exterior crumble before – the fact that he'd let us see it said more than he would ever be able to express in words, and likewise. I was at one of my lowest yesterday, and they'd taken me straight back in and had me running a high before the night was out.

The serious stuff? That's what I had Victoire for. My beautiful and unblemished Victoire – completely untainted by everything in my circle of friends. Of the smoking and the drinking and the untamed teenage nightlife I had been sucked into; she was unaffected by it all, and I loved that about her. I could escape and live through her, and she would let me. She let me every damn time, and with my wonderful gift of hindsight I hate her for it. Oh, Merlin, I hate her for it.

Guy didn't react to my question and ignored it. "I might throw a Christmas party," he suggested, shrugging.

"By which you mean you want us to organise something at your place?" Lawrence supplied with a dry edge to his tone. Guy's smirk was his answer and I sighed because I knew we'd do it. Guy's house was magnificent – well, I say house, but what I really mean here is some kind of mansion.

We'd spent many a summer in the past out in his back garden right where his patio met the grass, hidden from view of the main house by the old shed wall, with a couple of bottles of firewhiskey and something to smoke, using it as a getaway and pretending we didn't have to go back to school in September. I always remembered those days as a haze of heady warmth where every moment blended peacefully into the next, something to remember fondly but never speak of – those were private moments, just for the three of us. No one else ever needed to know. So no one did.

"Guy," I broke the silence once more, something bothering me in the back of my mind that I hadn't exactly managed to get rid of. "What did you do to Cassadee Brenup yesterday?" The thought was there in the back of my mind, and it was inescapable.

The question had him hesitating for the smallest of moments, before he took his time deliberating over an answer as he tipped the ash off the end of his cigarette. Eventually he rolled his head around lazily so he was looking at me, and the intensity of his gaze had me shifting where I was sitting.

"Do you really want to know?" He sounded doubtful, even a little contemptuous, and I wondered.

Did I?

I thought of Cassadee in the Entrance Hall yesterday evening calling Guy a jerk and shivering through the force of her sobs.

I looked away.

"I guess not."

I passed Elle in the corridor too, which hadn't been awkward at all. Oh no, wait, I'm lying, it was potentially one of the most awkward experiences of my life. The three of us were just returning from our jaunt outside and were headed down to the common room to relax and talk off the rest of the afternoon, or even get started on some work that was due in on Monday (who am I kidding?) and we passed as we were walking through the corridor.

"Watch out Ted," Lawrence had whispered. "Hewitt Patrol." My gaze was snapping up in an instant, and I watched her coming in the opposite direction, flanked by Alice Finch-Fletchly (her surname is just a necessity, alright?) and another Hufflepuff girl, Felicia Callister. I hated the way Lawrence laughed and smacked me on the shoulder, knowing I was completely falling over my feet.

At the noise he made Elle looked over, and our eyes locked for a brief moment. Of course, it didn't last long before she deliberately turned away and breezed past us without another word. Seriously, world, what did I do? Guy turned and followed where she walked, a look of disdain on his face.

"Is anyone else feeling the dip in temperature?" He smirked. I rolled my eyes and shoved him in the shoulder. "Look, Edward, in all seriousness – do you really want to get back together with an Ice Queen?"

Lawrence grinned. "She's not exactly bed-warming material. Especially since you guys never –"

"Alright, okay, thank you!" I cut them off. "I really do not need this conversation right now. I'm miserable, so get me drunk or something."

"We already did that."

"Well do it again damnit, because I'm still fucking miserable."

Guy pondered this. "Give us twenty minutes, don't go anywhere. I have an idea." Without another word he grabbed Lawrence's arm and hauled him in the direction of the common room.

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?" I shouted down the corridor. Guy simply smirked in response and turned the corner.

Having been momentarily abandoned and forced not to move, I shoved my hands in my pockets and went to examine one of the portraits. I'll admit, I was a little apprehensive about whatever Guy had planned, but I'll tell you now it wasn't anything big – just a few mixed drinks he wanted to test on somebody, and I was a more than willing subject. The relevant part of this event was what happened to me while I was waiting, not how plastered I ended up after it in an attempt to escape the bizarre feelings my next encounter left me reeling with.

I hadn't noticed I'd been approached until one of them cleared their throat to get my attention, and I turned around. Just great.

Gryffindors.

Get rid of any stupid misconceptions Harry, Ron or Hermione gave you about Gryffindor house back in the day, because while they might have been the epitome of all things good about the Wizarding World back then, I can guarantee you that now they're the complete opposite. It could just be a fluke year, but I've been given more Hell from the four Gryffindors in front of me in the last seven years than I could get from a bunch of Slytherins in a lifetime.

Picture this: Teddy Lupin arrives at Hogwarts for his very first year, having been rumoured to be the son of the Gryffindor war hero Remus Lupin and dropped off at Platform 9 ¾ by the great Gryffindor saint Harry Potter – the expectation is there, he's going to be in Gryffindor. But no, he's not. He's placed in Hufflepuff, because it looks like he takes after his mother a lot more than his father or his Godfather. When confronted by people in Gryffindor who had been expecting him to join them, suffice to say the eleven-year-olds weren't best pleased.

They may have "accidentally" spilt pasta sauce down his front during lunch in an attempt to make him look more Gryffindor like. He might have "accidentally" thrown the bowl of pasta at them. A beautiful friendship blossomed. Not.

Not to mention it was a widely known fact that Martin Cooper had been chasing after the hem of Elle's skirt for months before I asked her out during sixth year. If they hadn't spent years hating me before that, their ringleader positively detested me once that had happened. There were four of them to contend with – Martin, Ed Hesterson, Amanda Price and Jessica Burke. Jess had always been one of the nice ones, but she let herself get strung along by them. I knew she liked me at least a little because I helped her cat down from a tree in third year when Ed refused to do it. Of course apparently that simple act of kindness was a little too "Gryffindor-like" for their tastes, and had only hated me even more for it.

Don't worry though, it's mutual. Lawrence and I hate their guts. Guy is, as always, indifferent.

"Lupin," Martin sneered. "All alone again I see?"

"Cooper," I returned with a dry laugh. "I didn't even realise you knew how to get to the Dungeons."

He was undeterred. "I heard about you and Elle," I narrowed my eyes. "Such a shame." His voice was dripping with malice and I did my best to ignore it. This was just the first of many shots, and I knew he was just trying to get to me. "Maybe now she'll realise she'll need someone with a little bit more to offer than you."

I blinked, feigning misunderstanding. "Oh, you mean you," I laughed, flapping a hand. "Sorry, I just find it so hard to take you seriously when you think you're being clever."

There was a small laugh off to my right – Jessica, but a sharp look from Ed had her shutting up. "Listen Lupin, we're here to make you a proposition," Ed pressed, folding his arms.

"Why would I even be interested in anything you have to say?"

"Because we know there's something going on between you and Victoire Weasley."

I choked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard us," Amanda raised her chin defiantly. "We saw you yesterday, going off into that passageway yesterday, alone. Don't bother denying it."

"And we're going to write it all over the Walls if you don't agree to our terms."

I was completely dumbfounded. These guys had the gall to come over here and tell me that I was having some kind of thing with one of my best friends, and to even try and blackmail me with it? It was bad enough that rumours like this were the reason Elle and I were broken up at the moment, and to take advantage of Kirsty was one thing – but to try and take advantage of a lifelong friendship like mine and Victoire's? That was bullshit.

"Try and write what you want," I muttered calmly. "Because there's nothing going on, and the Walls only allow the truth to be seen, remember?"

"Sure we do," Martin shrugged, his eyes revealing nothing. "But we can write what is the truth and let Hogwarts students do what they do best; assume. Imagine... Teddy Lupin going straight to Victoire after breaking up with Elena Hewitt, spending the next hour in a secret passageway with her, alone, emerging with their arms around each other." I could see he took some kind of vicious delight in this. "I heard you tell Guy Fitzburton and Lawrence Mavis you want to get back together with her. Rather sends the wrong message, doesn't it?"

I narrowed my eyes. "What's your problem, Cooper? Haven't we grown out of all this by now?"

He actually threw back his head and laughed. "Listen, as much as we don't like you Lupin, this wouldn't actually be just to ruin your reputation."

"Victoire's?" I asked, bemused by the turn of events. "What the hell did she ever do to you?"

His jaw simply set in response, and Ed jumped in. "You think your cute little childhood thing is all that, but don't pretend like you know her."

"What the fuck is your problem?" I growled. "I know her plenty better than you do."

"Look, are you going to let us blackmail you or are we going to play Who-Knows-Who-Best for the rest of the afternoon?"

I shook my head, already getting irritated by them. "I don't know what you're trying to achieve, but you can forget it. Write whatever crap you want, it's not going to make any difference to her reputation or mine." I shoved past Martin, not wanting anything more to do with them, ready to search out Guy and forget the whole encounter.

"You know her well then, do you?" Martin hollered after me. "How about what she was doing on Halloween this year?" I froze in my tracks and I could tell my reaction had been exactly what he wanted, but I couldn't help it.

Halloween had been a mess this year. After the feast the Houses retreated to their respective common rooms for the traditional follow-up parties, in which the younger years would be sent to their dorms with snacks and treats, and the older ones would stay in the common room and get drunk and celebrate the true spirit of Halloween. This year had been different, though. I was talking with Guy about nothing in particular over a bottle of firewhiskey, when she'd stumbled in. Her hair was a mess and she was wearing what seemed like the remains of some kind of costume (the Hufflepuffs had endeavoured to avoid that particular tradition) and her eyes were wide and darting around the room, searching. I had no idea how she'd gotten in, but thank Merlin I noticed her before no one else did.

I'd left Guy and was at her side in a flash, taking off my jacket and wrapping around her and she simply clutched the front of my shirt tightly, fisting it into creases until she was beginning to hurt me. "Vick, what's wrong?" I'd asked, completely stunned.

"Teddy," she got out, her bottom lip wobbling. "Teddy, Teddy." Without another word I'd led her from the bustling common room and through the tunnels of the Hufflepuff dominion until we reached the seventh year dormitory. She was shaking, and my concern levels were through the roof.

"Victoire, what happened? Are you okay?" She couldn't focus on me and her pupils were dilated.

"Teddy," she murmured again, and without warning burst into tears. I brought her close to me and she sobbed without abandon into the front of my (rather nice) shirt, and all I could do was hold her and rub soothing circles into her back. "Teddy I'm so stupid." she shook with the force of her outburst and I held her gently by the shoulders.

"Tell me what's wrong," I pressed, but she shook her head.

"I can't."

She shook her head so determinedly and looked so desperate that I didn't feel like I could protest. "Victoire, please," I begged. "I hate seeing you like this."

"Then – then don't, I'll just go—"

"No," I stopped her, and pulled her back to me. "Sorry, I just – I'm scared shitless here V, tell me what to do. What do you want me to do?"

"Just let me stay here for a while," she pleaded, and wrapped her arms around my middle once more. She ended up staying the night in the boy's dorms; a sharp look from me curled up with her on the bed stopped Guy, Lawrence and our other roommates from making any comments or too much noise as they traipsed in in as the party came to a close – she was sound asleep, and I couldn't do much else but make sure she was comfortable.

In the morning I'd woken up to find the space next to me empty, and also cold – she'd clearly left a lot earlier. When I pressed her about it that morning she simply threw me a huge smile, thanked me for being there for her the night before and asked if I would kindly forget about it. Of course I didn't, but over the following weeks she began to get increasingly irritated whenever I brought it up, to the point that I'd just stopped. But that didn't mean I didn't want to know. Merlin knew it was rare that Victoire ever lost her composure around anyone, and for to have come to me in such a state really worried me. I didn't want anything to happen to her, and most of all I hadn't wanted her to suffer alone.

But, of course, once she'd reassured me a hundred times that she was okay and she'd just drunk a little too much, I'd let the matter drop. On the other hand the four people stood behind me right at this moment were Gryffindors, and they might even know what happened.

The temptation to turn around had caught me, and my hand twitched.

"Don't know her so well after all then, Lupin?" I heard Martin taunting me. I so wanted to be the bigger man and to ignore him, but this was my best friend. I couldn't just let it go. "You have a choice. Either we tell you what happened... or we write it on the Walls. Feeling a little more like negotiating now?"

I stiffened, and finally turned to face them. "What do you want?" I eyed them warily, and watched as their faces lit up in triumph.

"Nothing at the moment, thanks darling," Amanda tossed some of her black hair over one shoulder. "But we'll be in touch. Just know for now that you better do everything we tell you to, or Victoire's biggest secret ends up in a place where the whole school can see it."

And that, my friends, is where it all really started fucking up.

I couldn't do it to her, I couldn't. I didn't even know what I was defending her from, but the look of desperation and the fierceness with which she'd cried in my arms on Halloween night was enough for me to know that I had to protect her from something, no matter the cost. I hated them – I hated every one of those stupid Gryffindors, even Jessica Burke at this point because she was helping them. Victoire was a Gryffindor too, she was one of them, and they would still do this to her. Then of course there was the matter of what the four of them wanted me to do.

You'll find out, but it wasn't pretty; it started off reasonably lightly, but as their demands got more and more out of hand the situation got worse and worse. My first order of business, though? Definitely find out whatever Victoire was hiding, and then I could prepare a proper defence if the time ever came when they asked for something I couldn't fulfil.

Am I entertaining you so far? I'd hope as much. Don't worry, I won't call you a sadist or anything, that's what I have Guy for, but feel free to keep following. There's at least a thousand other things and seven more months to get through before you work out why I'm sitting here writing everything in some dumb journal like a twelve-year-old-puff-princess, contemplating just how I managed to simultaneously ruin my seventh year, future career prospects and drive away the woman I'm in love with so completely that I'm sure she'll never even consider speaking to me again.

"Teddy?" There was a sharp rap at the door that pulled me from my writing reverie. "Victoire's here, she says she wants to talk to you."

Oh, shit.

Let me know your thoughts! Reviews are like chocolate frogs after Dementor attacks,

~MyWhitelighter