AN: I'm sorry to the people who followed this story for dropping off the face of the earth for a little while. I had school to finish and a new job to get in the swing of, and it took a lot more time than I expected. Hopefully this will go back to being at least semi-regularly updated in the next few weeks because my schedule has slackened a bit and I have more time to write. Thanks for sticking with me!

The castle floors were freezing on her bare feet this early in February, and Ever cursed herself for not thinking to wear a pair of shoes, or at least socks, in the stone corridors. Prefects were about, of course—it was long after curfew—but she was rather small and able to fit easily between nooks and crannies around the castle, especially on a virtually moonless night. A few candles were lit here and there, just enough for her to see a few yards in front of her, but she'd been bright enough to wear her robes and let her hair loose around her face, and she supposed she blended in well enough. Anyway, she knew a passageway—courtesy of Fred, George, and Lee pointing it out to her—from the fourth floor down to the kitchens, so really she only had to worry about three staircases, and those weren't very well patrolled.

Star was waiting outside for her when she finally got to the lowest level of the castle, his arms wrapped around his skinny frame. Here, he didn't look particularly tall. There wasn't a sea of students around him for him to stick out from. Still, she had to crane her neck to look up at him, and as soon as he saw her eyes—she supposed they were still red-rimmed and puffy, something that she'd passed off as allergies to the Gryffindor boys, though she wasn't sure they'd believed her—he swept her up into a hug. The blond was gangly, but stronger than he looked, and easily scooped her off the ground so she could rest her head comfortably on his shoulder, throwing her arms around his neck. Ever didn't cry again; she thought that perhaps her tears were all cried out for the night.

"I needed that," she whispered when he finally set her on her feet a few minutes later. His mouth quirked up at the corners, and he was still pale, paler than she liked, but there was more color in his cheeks than before and he was gradually losing the look of someone who'd lost a lot of weight in a short period of time. "Now come on. I've got a place to show you."

It took so long to get down the passageway that Ever started to wonder if maybe, somehow, there had been a turn that she hadn't noticed the first time she'd walked down it with the Gryffindor boys. Maybe it was just the time of night, or maybe it was just how much darker it seemed to be—neither she or Star could manage a very bright lumos charm just then, it seemed—but the simple forty-five minute walk seemed to take hours.

When they got to the end of the passage, she breathed a sigh of relief and motioned for the third year to head up first.

"You can help me up a lot easier than I'd be able to help you," she explained when he blinked at her nervously.

"I wish I wasn't so tall," he muttered as he made his way to the trapdoor that hid the sweet shop. He shoved up on it easily enough—he towered over Fred, and was stronger, and barely even grunted at the effort—and pulled himself up into it, turning around almost immediately and pulling her up with ease.

"I like it that your tall," she whispered as she grabbed his hand, leading him up the stairs. "It makes it much easier for days like this."

"Is this—Honeydukes? I didn't come to Hogsmeade on the last trip," he mumbled, his eyes darting around the room, taking everything in. "I got the letter about my—well, you know, just before it was supposed to happen, and—Ever, how did you find this?"

"Trade secret," she whispered back, grinning up at him, and it felt good to smile, it did, and she felt guilty about it all the same. "Come on, I wanted to find something for the boys and for my dad for Valentine's Day. You lot do celebrate that, don't you?"

"Yeah, we do," he replied distractedly, looking around the shop. "I've seen wizard sweets before, of course, I mean my mum was a witch and my dad—well, I don't know—but she was muggle-born so I saw a lot of muggle candies too and this is just," he shook his head, as if he didn't have the words.

"I know. The boys showed me some on the train, but...well, this is another level entirely."

"Yeah..."

For a few moments the two of them poked around quietly in the store, Ever picking up any candy that she knew the boys had picked up last time. Sugar quills...Lee was particularly fond of those, he'd gone through the dozen he'd nicked last time in less than three days, one for each class he was in, she wasn't sure how he'd managed to keep his teeth from turning black and falling off. Chocolate frogs...Fred was fond of grabbing one from the pack and quickly biting off the head to "put an end to its misery", or, if he was in a particularly foul mood, he'd chomp off one leg, then another, and then the third and fourth with excruciating slowness because if he was suffering his candy must suffer with him. Fizzing whizbees...George adored how they crackled and popped in his mouth, like little fireworks, and had made a game of trying to eat one in absolute silence so that he could munch on them in class. And for her dad...Ever didn't know what to do about him. Candy was one thing—he liked jelly beans, and she plucked a pack of Bernie Bott's Every-Flavored Beans in her bag because she knew he'd enjoy the novelty, if not the taste—but...Emily.

Just thinking the name left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Star?"

"Mm," the third year murmured from across the room, inspecting some packet of candy or other.

"Did...your mum ever date?"

"Oh." He glanced over at her, and apparently there was something in her face because he put the candy down and came to stand by her, crossing the room in a few long strides. After a moment of close inspection, in which Star met her eyes and she had to force herself to meet his, he flopped unceremoniously on the patch of floor beneath his feet and nodded for her to do the same. She did, a bit more gingerly, and he leaned forward so that he was more or less on her level.

"She dated a bit, yeah. Once there was this bloke she was really serious about, and he seemed really serious about her, but they split up after a year or so. She cried a lot for a day and then she got up the next morning and made breakfast and sang and just did her regular mum things before she went to work and I went to school."

"Did it ever...bother you?" The more she spoke, the smaller Ever felt, the guiltier. She didn't even know Emily, and yet...

"Sure, it bothered me at first, when I was little." He shrugged, leaning back on his hands, but still looking her in the eye. Somehow, it comforted her that he did; she didn't feel like he liked her any less now than he had five minutes ago, before she'd opened her mouth. "I was around eight when she started dating again, and til then it'd just been me and her, and I was a bit jealous and I thought maybe she'd gone and forgot my dad when she got with the first bloke. But then..." Star shrugged one shoulder. "I dunno. We talked about it and she promised she hadn't. And for a little while that didn't make it any better...but then I got used to it, her going out on dates and stuff like that. It stopped getting to me."

"I guess I'm just—scared," Ever whispered. "My dad, he wrote me this morning, and he said he's seeing this new lady and—it's only been eight or nine months. Isn't that...too soon?"

"Too soon for you or too soon for him?" the blond asked gently.

"Both! Shouldn't he still be sad too?"

For a moment, Star didn't answer. He sat and picked at an invisible spot of dust on the floor.

"He probably is. I don't think that sad ever goes away. I miss my dad, and I barely remember him. I miss my mum like crazy. You miss yours, and he probably does too. But..." He shrugged that one-shoulder shrug again, his mouth pulling up in a sad kind of smile. "That doesn't mean he can't like the new lady while he misses her."

"I...guess so," Ever mumbled. She stared at the spot he'd been picking at for a moment longer before looking up at him, taking a big breath. The breath didn't make everything okay, but somehow the talk had taken the weight that seemed to have been crushing her before and made it lighter by at least half. She managed a smile for the first time since that morning, when the letter had come. "Thank you."

"Any time."

The two of them didn't dawdle much longer. Ever left a handful of coins, carefully counted and stacked correctly, with a note of exactly what she'd taken and the added sum, and a thank you scrawled at the bottom, nearly illegible. She had an idea that a professor may see it and recognize it, and though she knew it wasn't likely, it made her feel a bit better to have changed her handwriting. Compared to the trip there, she practically floated toward the castle, and it seemed to pass much more quickly.

They separated at the statue of the one-eyed witch, and, after a moment's hesitation, Star leaned down—she heard his back crack with the movement—and pressed a swift, wet kiss to her forehead.

"If you need anything tonight, send me an owl," he mumbled, rather red around the cheeks. She grinned up at him and squeezed his hand, feeling her face grow a bit pink herself; physical affection from friends wasn't something she was used to, and with Star it felt just like a cold pocket in a lake on a scalding day: refreshing and welcome and comforting, somehow. Like a brother and a sister, or what she guessed it might be like.

"You too."

The kiss halved the half of the weight, and her footsteps were light and quick as she ran up to her common room. Alicia and Angelina didn't stir as she climbed into bed, and she drifted off almost immediately. The bad dreams she'd anticipated earlier in the day never made an appearance.