Sirius wandered around the edge of the forest, kicking at the moss.

It was full moon, and Remus had insisted that they leave him alone this time. The last two transformations had been rough: the wolf could feel Remus's rage and betrayal and was reacting accordingly. He'd tried to break free of his escort the first time, looking for a way to find her and appease his lust for revenge.

They had been hard pressed to keep him away from the Castle, and last month they had decided instead to stay inside the Shrieking Shack. As a plan, this had backfired quite horrifically when the werewolf realised that his pack weren't going to let him out to run (and preferably eat his ex-girlfriend).

After the initial whining and cajoling he'd turned violent and they had been forced to make a swift exit, leaving him to tear the shack – and, inevitably, himself – to shreds.

This month Remus had made them swear blind that they wouldn't go anywhere near him. There had been an immediate and silent agreement between the three boys to spend the night guarding the entrance to the tunnel, just in case.

Peter was staked out by the entrance with a large stockpile of Bertie Botts and his Charms homework. He'd volunteered to be the closest since when he transformed he was the hardest to catch.

James was skulking around the shack itself in case it all went suddenly quiet – then he'd know that Remus had found a way out. Sirius did not envy him: spending a night listening to his best friend rip pieces of flesh from his body was not Sirius's idea of fun.

Sirius rounded the edge of the forest that led up to the Castle, keeping just inside the trees, so as to keep out of the sight of prying eyes.

He hated that all this was necessary.

He had really liked Jenny, and liked how happy she made Remus. He would never have thought that it would end like this: really, he would have thought that they were both far too nice. There had been a time when he had thought that Remus would never take enough of a risk to let her in, but he had, and he'd fallen in love with her, and the twisted bitch had broken his heart.

Remus had been so utterly devastated by her betrayal that it had taken a good couple of hours before they could get anything coherent out of him, and when they finally had, the four of them had simply sat around, staring at one another in total disbelief.

He kicked at a stone.

It would almost have been better if she'd at least been honest with everyone, once the story was out, but she hadn't. Her behaviour in that respect was almost arrogant in that respect, and that had surprised him more than anything. Really, there were some things that you just couldn't hide forever, and pregnancy was definitely one of them.

As a physiological process it became pretty damn' obvious pretty damn' fast.

He didn't understand why she was still bothering.

Initially, they'd tried to work out who she'd been with, but although there were rumours – some of them quite ridiculous – there really wasn't anything solid.

Until they'd seen his obvious disgust and following depression, most people had simply assumed that she and Remus had got carried away. These days, the smart money was on Frank Longbottom, but Sirius didn't believe it for a second. True, he was the only person in the school that was still friends with the lying tart, but that didn't prove anything.

Besides, a tiny part of him forced to admit, if anyone needed a friend right about now, it was Jenny. As much as he hated what she'd done to his best friend, he wouldn't begrudge her that.

He had watched – and taken part in – the systematic abuse that pretty much the entire school was now subjecting her to, and he didn't envy her position. She seemed to have retreated into herself, as if she was fading away. It had been several weeks since she'd been in the Great Hall during a meal time, and a few shrewd glances at the Marauder's Map under the table had confirmed James's suspicion that she had taken refuge in the kitchens. It had placed an immediate embargo on the place – at least during the day.

The most worrying thing, as far as he was concerned, was her unexpected absence from class earlier in the day. No one had commented on it, but he'd noticed Professor McGonagall's eyes flicking to her empty seat more than once, and he'd guessed that she wasn't supposed to be gone.

It had affected Remus too: he'd been having a reasonable day up until that point, considering that it was full moon. Her absence was enough to remind him why he was angry with her, and he had been surly and difficult for the rest of the day, until James had frogmarched him to the Hospital Wing.

James had told him when he got back that jenny wasn't there, either.

It was with some surprise, therefore, that he found her, hunched up on a large rock by the edge of a Lake.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" he demanded, stalking towards her.

Jenny started at his shout, uncoiling in surprise. She stared up at him, as if conversation was something that she couldn't quite manage at the moment.

He took her arm, roughly, and pulled her along at a punishing pace. She stumbled and nearly fell, so he slowed down with a frustrated grunt.

"It's full moon, in case you didn't notice," he growled, as he led her around the building to the small door in the wall by the greenhouses. "And I know you know what that means."

He made short work of the lock and pushed her – reasonably gently – through the open door.

He was in the process of closing it after her when he heard her mumble:

"I had noticed."

He paused, suddenly very aware of how small and vulnerable Jenny had looked on that rock.

He opened the door again; Jenny hadn't moved.

He gave her an appraising look, reeling a little from the shock of her admission – if that's what it was. He had to admit, he couldn't think of what else she could have intended, willingly staying outside on full moon.

She was pale and drawn, as if she'd aged a great deal in a short amount of time; there were dark circles under her eyes and she moved her hands and arms restlessly as though peace was something that happened to other people. Her face was stained with dirt and tears.

She looked nothing like the bright, bubbly girl that Sirius remembered, and he wondered how long it had been since he'd looked at her properly.

Her eyes were focussed on the stone floor beneath her, and for a reason that he couldn't name he felt profoundly grateful for this; he wasn't sure he wanted to see what was in them.

"You wouldn't do that to him," he said, as calmly as he could; Jenny's demeanour had rattled him. "Whatever else you are, you're not cruel."

A flash of something close to pain crossed her features.

"He wouldn't remember," she said, quietly. "I looked it up."

"He'd figure it out," said Sirius, stunned. "And it would kill him."

She looked up at him then, with a long, considering stare that scared the life out of him. Eventually she nodded, and looked away.

Sirius glanced behind him at the open door and made his mind up; James and Peter would assume that he'd been caught, and he couldn't leave her like this.

He shut the door and locked it; when he turned back she had gone. He spotted her walking slowly and silently between the Greenhouses, looking for all the world like a ghost in the moonlight.

"Jenny, wait," he called, and hurried after her.

She led him into the very last greenhouse. The plants bent to her, brushing against her clothes and hair in greeting as she passed. She sat down under a shelf full of infant Flutterby Bushes, crossing her legs in the clean soil; her clothes were immediately covered in loam, and Sirius frowned at her lack of care.

He followed after her with some caution, remembering her distant, teasing threats of death-by-Venomous-Tentacula.

He hovered over her uncertainly, feeling awkward and intrusive. Jenny didn't seem to care one way or another whether he stayed or not, and that worried him even more. Reminding himself that this girl had once been his friend, he dragged another old log over and sat down beside her.

They stayed like that, silent and uncomfortable, for sometime. Sirius shot her uneasy looks in the strange, silvery glow of the moonlit greenhouse while she fiddled with something around her neck. It glinted gold in the moonlight.

"Why are you here, Sirius?" she asked, suddenly, breaking him out of his uneasy thoughts.

He gave her an odd look before answering with perfect honesty.

"Because you were trying to kill yourself," he said, and she laughed.

It was a terrible laugh: horrible and desperate, suggesting that Jenny was already thigh deep in a tide of madness that no one but her had seen approaching. It seemed to be rising fast, increasing as each echo brought the awful laughter back to them in the large glass building.

Sirius was hard pressed not to run; his fingernails bit into the bark of the wood beneath him. Normal people were not supposed to sound like that. Crazy people, murderers and the odd old lady had lived next door and had around fifty cats, yes: classmates sitting next to you in an abandoned greenhouse, no.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," she said, after the unsettling reverberations ceased. "I was trying to kill it."

Sirius stared at her.

"Not that I think you should," he said, in a tight and frightened voice. "But I think there are less lethal ways to have an abortion."

She whipped her head towards him, and for a second she looked a lot like the old Jenny – albeit with a face contorted with anger.

"Do I fucking look pregnant to you?" she demanded.

Sirius was taken aback by her fury and gaped at her in shock.

"Do I feel pregnant?"

Kneeling beside him, she seized his hand and pressed it against her abdomen. He sputtered indignantly before available information began to trickle through into his consciousness.

He splayed his fingers out across her obviously flat stomach, confused.

"But you're – you're at least five months along," he said, bewildered. "You should be the size of a watermelon by now…"

Jenny forced another dreadful laugh and slumped back onto the floor, her back against the wall.

"So you'd think," she said, bitterly.

Sirius looked around, at a loss for what to think or do.

What if everyone had got so caught up in the idea that Jenny was pregnant that they'd completely missed the fact that she wasn't?"

"B-but Madame Pomfrey –"

"I don't care what she says," Jenny spat. "She might mean well, but she had no idea what's wrong with me."

There was a long pause in which Sirius looked at her – really looked at her. In the place of the vibrant girl that he had taught himself to hate was a fragile, utterly terrified young woman.

He had never seen anyone look so lost in his life.

"What do you think is wrong with you?" he asked, and it was Jenny's turn to be surprised.

She frowned at him, perplexed that someone would bother to try to find out what she thought after so many months of being belittled and ignored.

"I think that there's something growing inside me," she said, with a deeply serious expression. "Something terrible… I think that it's going to use me up until there is nothing left of me than a husk, and then it's going to get out of me and hurt people."

There was an awful, yawning silence.

Sirius longed to crack a joke, or tell her that it just wasn't possible, or insist that she was mad, but he didn't.

He stayed silent, unnerved by the intense stillness of her body, the calm way she had spoken, and the bleak, cavernous pain in her eyes… He didn't want to believe her, but the way she was looking at him frightened him, suggesting that maybe – just maybe – what she had said was true.

He swallowed, never taking his eyes from her dreadful, intense expression.

"Why?"

Slowly, and with the glint of fresh tears in her eyes, the shifted the neck of her school shirt. There, under her skin, were a series of ridges, running down her neck and under her shirt. They were raw, as if she had been scratching at them, and her skin was red and taut, as though something was trying to break through.

"They came up yesterday," she whispered, and her voice was both fragile and hoarse. "I can feel it getting stronger. It wants to get out – and I don't know how to stop it."

With that, she burst into noisy sobs. Sirius pulled her to him without a second thought, and she collapsed against him completely, fairly screaming into his chest.

He held her tightly, wracking his panicked brains for a way to help her – chances were there would be nothing he could do.

He didn't like the thought of that at all.

As he rocked her shaking form he thought of Remus, pacing back and forth in the Shrieking Shack. He was going to hate himself when he found out about this…

Sirius rubbed her back as she cried.

"I'm so sorry, Jenny," he said, into her hair. "We should have listened to you… It's going to be ok…" he added, after a moment's thought. It didn't sound convincing, even to him.

He didn't know how long they were sat there, but when Jenny finally straightened up the air inside the greenhouse was cool and still, and none of the usual domestic sounds of the Castle winding down for the night could be heard.

"We'll figure it out," he assured her. "I promise."

Jenny rubbed her hands over her face, which was blotchy and red from her tears.

"I mean it," he said, getting to his feet and wincing at his cramped muscles. "Whatever it is, Jenny, it's not going to win."

He held out his hand.

She swayed slightly as she stood, and he offered her an arm, which made her laugh, wetly.

It was a much less frightening sound, this time.

"You need to get some sleep," he said, leading her out of the greenhouses.

She offered him a watery smile.

"Such gallantry," she said, and Sirius was glad that there was still some of the old Jenny in there.

They parted outside the kitchens, and she pressed his hand briefly.

"Thank you," she said. "For believing me." She kissed him lightly on the cheek, and he found himself blushing. "Look after Remus for me, would you?"

She let go of his hand and walked steadily towards the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

Sirius watched her go with a frown on his face. There was still something in her eyes that unsettled him – that he couldn't quite place.

As soon as the barrel had fallen back into place behind her, he turned up the Main Staircase, expression grim.

He had work to do.

0o0o0o0

Ron lay on his back, one arm haphazardly flung across his eyes.

It was an unreasonably warm day and three two-hour revision sessions had taken their toll on his sanity. He had been dozing, he knew, and he had a nasty suspicion that he'd missed dinner, but he just couldn't bring himself to move.

He barely even flinched when he heard the dormitory door open. Both Seamus and Dean were in detention with Professor Flitwick for nearly demolishing his classroom – albeit accidentally. Harry and Hermione had been bravely trying to get more homework done, but Ron hadn't been able to stomach it.

"You alright?" Neville's voice asked.

Ron cracked an eyelid. He was hovering next to Ron's bed with – of all things – a plate piled high with food.

"Just dozing," he said, sitting up.

"You missed dinner," said Neville, dropping the plate on Ron's bed.

"Cheers!" said Ron, surprised. "Where'd you get this?"

"The kitchens."

Ron paused with a sausage roll halfway to his mouth.

"Fred and George told me where they were," he said, dropping his schoolbag on his bed with a grin. "And I felt like breaking the rules."

"Bloody hell, mate," said Ron, with his mouth full. "Umbridge must really be getting to you… although right now I'm glad she is."

Neville laughed.

"Pass me a bit of that cake, will you?" he asked, spreading his Herbology homework out on his bed. "I'm going to need the fuel."

"Why aren't you working downstairs?" Ron asked, throwing the requested cake at his friend's head.

"Hermione," he said simply, brushing crumbs off his uniform. "She keeps trying to improve my revision schedule. She means well," he added, after a moment's thought.

"Doesn't mean it doesn't get on your nerves, though," said Ron. "Much as we love her, eh?"

Neville grinned, and then promptly dropped his quill as the door of the dormitory bounced noisily off the wall. Ron looked up from his stolen pastry in confusion.

Harry stood in the doorway, looking triumphant.

"Let me guess," said Ron. "Hermione finally went mad from all the stress and set fire to a teacher's robes again."

"Ooh," said Neville, who was retrieving his fallen quill from under his bed. "Please let it be Umbridge."

"That would be epic," said Harry, taking a few seconds to savour the mental image. "But no – I got some post."

"Good for you," said Neville, and frowned. "What did he mean, 'again'?" He turned to Ron when Harry remained uncommunicative. "What did you mean, 'again?"

"I'll tell you later," said Ron, who was watching Harry's enthusiasm worriedly. "Who from?" he asked him.

"Your Dad," he said. "And some for you, Neville."

"For me?" he asked, surprised. "Why would Ron's Dad be writing to me?"

Ron explained about the discovery of the box of photographs at Grimmauld Place as Harry fished around in the package and handed them over. Neville looked overjoyed.

"Oh, wow," he said, flicking through the pictures.

They spread the pictures out on Neville's bed, his homework entirely forgotten. Harry and Ron spent a pleasant half hour relating the various stories that Remus and Sirius had told them, explaining why the people in the pictures were – variously – soggy, upside-down, burnt and (at least once) covered in treacle.

"I didn't know our parents were friends," said Neville, softly, eyes glued to the flickering images.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "It's the kind of think you'd think people would mention, since we're friends too."

They were quiet for a moment, and Remus suspected that they were imagining what it might have been like, growing up together.

It would have been a better world, he thought, with a pang of sadness. He just couldn't imagine life without his family, as mad as they drove him sometimes. Even bloody Percy.

He wondered what his friends' lives would have been like… they would probably all have met up when they were younger, gone to children's parties, been taken to Quidditch matches… would Harry have read the same comics as him? Would Neville have learned to ride a broomstick?

Would they have had brothers and sisters?

Ron smiled slightly, trying to imagine either of his friends being followed around by a tiny red-headed sister or a small, blond little brother.

It was a pleasant image, and he sighed as it faded, wishing that it could have been different for them.

Neville began to gather up the pictures, selecting one – of his parents sitting side by side, somewhere on the grounds – to prop up on his bedside table. Harry put his hands into his pockets, looking suddenly awkward.

"Oh," he said in surprise, pulling out a crumpled envelope. "I forgot. This came from the Registry Office at the Ministry."

"About Jenny?" Ron asked, suddenly interested.

Harry nodded.

"Who's Jenny?" asked Neville, curious, so they told him.

"But don't tell Hermione," Harry finished. "Because she'll tell us to mind our own business."

"She'd probably try to confiscate the letter, the mood she's in at the minute," said Ron, darkly, as Neville nodded.

"We sent off to the Registry Office to see if we could find anything out," said Harry, waving the letter.

"There's practically nothing about her in the archives here," Ron explained, as Harry practically tore open the envelope. "She was pretty good at Herbology, though, you would have got on."

Neville grinned.

"What does it say?" he asked Harry.

"Dear Mr Potter, blah blah blah…" Harry scanned the letter. "I've enclosed the documents that you requested – oh, and they found some newspaper articles for us…"

He passed half of the bundle to Ron and half to Neville; he unfolded an official looking piece of parchment.

"Oh," he said again, a funny look on his face.

"What?" asked Neville, mildly concerned about his friend's sudden change in complexion.

"It's weird," said Harry. "I knew she was dead and everything, but it's like it's more real now I'm holding a copy of the Death Certificate in my hand…"

"What's the cause of death?" Ron asked, frowning down at one of the newspaper articles. "It says here that there was an inquest."

"Drowning," said Harry, a slightly hollow note in his voice. "And it talks about other injuries." He turned the paper over, frowning. "It's pretty vague – oh, that's so annoying…"

"You need to see this," said Neville, who had been poring over his part of the bundle. "It's the results of the inquest."

He passed Ron the parchment, looking pale. Harry peered over his shoulder.

They looked at one another in shock.

"Bloody hellfire," said Ron.