Sirius thought his lungs might actually explode as he sprinted through the corridors of the school. He had to beat her to it, he had to.
He flashed past portraits and disturbed astonished students, illicitly canoodling in the nooks and crannies of the Castle. He dashed around corners, spinning suits of armour around at their posts, blind to anything except reaching the lake. He could barely hear over his pounding feet and thudding heart, sounding like a timpani drum inside his skull.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't think.
But there was nothing that was going to get in his way – he wouldn't let it.
Wrenching open the door to the Main Staircase at high speed, he careened into Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, sending all three of them to the ground like skittles.
In moments, he had disentangled himself from his teachers and was back on his feet, solidly ignoring his fresh bruises. Professor McGonagall's enraged roar sounded oddly muffled above him as he sprinted down the stairs, vaulting over the occasional uncooperative staircase.
At the door to the Greenhouses he ran straight through the Fat Friar, who cried out in alarm and floated rapidly after him, startled.
Gasping for breath, he somehow managed to shout out what he was about and where he had left McGonagall and Flitwick, and the Fat Friar shot off through a wall, his expression grim.
The cold night air slapped him in the face as he burst out of the greenhouse enclave and into the moonlit grounds. He skidded around the edge of the lake, praying that he wasn't too late.
Not even bothering with his shoes he leapt into the still and silent waters of the lake, swimming hard and fast down to the bottom.
His race from the Astronomy Tower had taken its toll, though, and after only a glimpse of the bottom he was forced to return to the surface.
He splashed around for a few, frantic seconds, trying to fill his lungs with precious air and orientate himself in the water. With a great gasp he plunged underwater a second time and swam downwards, desperately casting around for his friend.
A considerable amount of thrashing had churned up the lake bed, and the water was murky, making everything into vague, indistinct shapes in the gloom. Just when he thought that his lungs might burst he saw the edge of her white t-shirt in the murk.
He shot back to the surface again, gulping at the air before dropping down and swimming towards her as hard as he could. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
Jenny was floating in a cloud of what turned out to be silt and blood, her long golden hair flowing out behind her like the tendrils of pondweed that tangled about her limbs. It was if she was frozen in time, suspended above the bed of the lake.
He grabbed hold of her leg and tried to pull her up, but she was stuck fast.
He moved further down, using her body to pull himself along; he was terrified by her stillness in the roaring silence of the water.
Again, he tried to move her, looping his arms around her chest – but still she wouldn't budge. He grazed his arm on something sharp on her neck and cried out, letting out a stream of valuable air, his blood mingling with hers in the freezing water.
Ignoring it, he yanked at her arms, finally seeing through the darkness that her hands were locked defiantly around a large root.
Pushing any thoughts connected with why she might hold on to a large root at the bottom of a lake, he pried her fingers loose and she came free; desperately, he pulled her upwards, his lungs burning with the effort. Just when he thought he could do no more he broke the surface and took a great, welcome gasp of air; frantically he made for the bank, trying to keep Jenny afloat.
She was heavy and limp in his arms, like an oversized rag-doll; he tried not to think about it as he dragged her onto the bank.
"Jenny!" he shouted, between coughs, the awful, yawning silence of the lake still ringing in his ears. "Wake up – come on – please!"
He rolled her onto her back, intending to pound on her chest until she woke up, but gave a shout of horror at what he saw.
Her flesh was slick with silt and blood, but it couldn't disguise the long, sharp spikes that had ripped through her skin and clothes.
With an awful finality, Sirius realised what she had done, and why: the demon had tried to come out, and Jenny had tried to stop it.
Shoving unwelcome reality away, he pressed down on her chest, clearing her airways and trying anything – everything – he could think of to make her breathe again. He pressed his ear against her heart, grimly searching for the heartbeat that he just couldn't hear.
Distantly, shouts began filtering into his consciousness; the sound of running feet pounded at the earth, some way away.
He tried again, and again, pleading with her – with the sky – with any gods that would listen – but to no avail. He just couldn't seem to coax the life back into her.
The footsteps rang out against the hard ground around him and hands landed on his shoulders, trying to pull him away. Sirius clung to her, unwilling to relinquish his last, fleeting hope.
"Come away now," Professor Flitwick squeaked, his voice sounding oddly flat and lifeless. "Come on, Black, there's nothing you can do…"
Reluctantly, he let go of her, laying her gently down on the grass; he sat back on his haunches, stunned and defeated.
A blur of robes and hands were pulling at Jenny and gently edging him away; he watched, forlorn, as they checked her pulse, shook her gently, stroked her hair.
Abruptly, as they, too, came to the inevitable conclusion, the movement around her prone body ground to a halt. No one seemed to know what to do or say.
Beside him, Professor Flitwick burst into noisy tears.
Sirius couldn't take his eyes from Jenny's pale skin, or her tangled hair, stained red with her own blood. He stared at the vicious blue spines protruding through the fabric of a once-white t-shirt. The blood had swirled around her in the water, staining her ragged jeans.
Jenny…
Abruptly, he felt bile rising in his throat and he staggered to his feet; he stumbled to the edge of the forest and vomited, over and over again.
When it was over, he clung to the trunk of the nearest tree, feeling hollow and violated, like something vital had been ripped from his chest.
In a way, he supposed it had.
0o0o0o0
It had been a long night – and only a day after full moon, too. Perhaps taking on a late-night patrol had been a bad idea, but Remus wasn't one to shirk his responsibilities, full moon or no.
His visit from Jenny had shaken him badly, and he had been in an appalling temper all day, even snapping at Lily and Alice when he got back to the Common Room. He had badly needed to get outside, and his patrol duty had seemed just the thing.
In his rush to get away, he had forgotten that his partner was Frank Longbottom.
It had led to a rather trying patrol: the pain and exhaustion of his transformation had yet to fade, and every step jarred his aching muscles – and on top of this, Frank was still being ferociously polite.
He and Frank had always been good friends, each finding in the other a sturdy and studious ally amongst the ranks of insanity they cohabited among, but since the business with Jenny things had been rather strained. Since neither boy wanted to fight, they tried to keep conversation to safe topics like homework or Alice, but after a few minutes tense banter they would fall silent, each nursing their own grudge. It inevitably led to an uncomfortable and interminable patrol, and tonight was no different.
He could tell that Frank was bursting to say something, too, he kept glancing at him oddly. He was grateful that he was resisting: with the mood he was currently in he'd probably snap and start hexing him, and he didn't want to lose another friend.
It was incredibly wearing.
Tiredly, the two boys left the Owlery and continued their patrol. Tonight, their route extended to a cursory glance around the Grounds, hunting out amorous teenagers.
"Remus," Frank began, as they rounded the corner of the Clocktower.
Inside his head, Remus swore.
"I need to talk to you about –"
"I don't want to hear it, Frank."
"It's important –"
"No!" Remus snapped, rounding on his friend. "I want nothing more to do with her! Whatever you're going to say, just don't."
Frank sighed, looking as if this was the reaction he had expected, which irked Remus even more.
"Do you have any idea how much it hurts?" he asked, suddenly. "Watching her stumble through school – even just seeing her? Hearing her voice? All the time knowing that she preferred someone else?" He gave a hollow laugh. "Well, there are better ways for someone to find that out."
Frank was watching him with a pained expression. It struck Remus that it must be killing him to be stuck between his two friends like this, and he relented, the flash of anger fading as fast as it had struck.
He shook his head to clear it; he really didn't want to fight.
"I'm sorry Frank, it's just been a bastard of a day."
His friend nodded, sadly.
"I'm afraid I'm going to insist on making it worse," he said, quietly. "Hear me out – at least until we get to the end of the patrol, and then I promise I'll never bring it up ever again – on my honour."
Remus sighed, heavily.
"Fine," he said, irritably. "But I'm not going to be particularly pleasant about it. It's not in me."
His friend nodded, soberly.
"Ok," he said, and took a deep breath. "Jenny isn't pregnant."
"Go fuck yourself."
"Seriously, Remus, she can't be."
"Oh, and you're a fucking medi-wizard now, are you?"
"There's no way – physically I mean," Frank said, sounding incredibly uncomfortable.
Remus did the mental arithmetic and overtook him.
"She told you she hadn't –" even with Frank this was a weird conversation to have with one of his mates. "And you believed her?"
"I did," he said. "I do. You've clearly never been with her –"
Despite his anger, Remus felt himself blush, right up to his ears.
"We were supposed to be waiting," he said, bitterly.
They fell into step, silent for a few minutes.
"When was the last time you saw her?" Frank asked, carefully. "I mean, for more than a few seconds."
"She came to see me in the Hospital Wing this morning," Remus admitted, morosely.
"Really?" Frank looked up at him, surprised. "Why?"
"Apparently to profess her undying love," he spat. "Does it bloody matter?"
"No, not…" he trailed off, apparently feeling that he had intruded. "Did you get a good look at her?"
"I couldn't help it," Remus snapped. "It wasn't like I could leave, was it?"
"Well then," said Frank, reasonably. "Did she look pregnant to you?"
"Yes," he snapped, without a pause.
"Really?"
"Yes…" he repeated, but this time he was much less certain. She had been sat in the chair beside him, and he'd been trying to avoid looking at her… He tried to recall her face: it had seemed pale and tired, not flushed with what he imagined would be the glow of motherhood…
"Yes," he said again, more firmly. "She must be."
Remus got the distinct impression that Frank was rolling his eyes at him.
"Look, I know you're angry Remus, anyone would be, but you can't let that stop you paying attention to things that are right in front of you."
Remus thought hard, trying to reconcile the image of Jenny with the motherly figure that had been tormenting his dreams.
"She'd be what – nearly six months gone, now?" Frank asked, and Remus felt himself nod. "Well where is it? Surely we'd be able to see it by now…"
Remus looked across at him, surprised.
"Sometimes women hardly show at all," he said, dubiously. "Our neighbour back home had a daughter and she never once looked like she was pregnant."
Frank gave him a look that plainly told him he was clutching at straws.
"No," he said, stubbornly squashing the panic that was forming in his chest. "Madame Pomfrey will have done tests and things."
"After her original 'diagnosis', Jenny wouldn't let her near her," said Frank, quietly.
They were heading back around towards the lake now, and they fell silent – largely, Remus suspected, so that he could digest this troubling nugget of information.
"Hey, what's that?" he said, suddenly, glimpsing a light up ahead.
"Don't change the subject –"
"No, I mean it," said Remus, pointing at the light. "Look."
There were a group of restless shapes, silhouetted against the silvery lake; one of them was holding their wand high, the light spilling on the others' faces.
It illuminated a group of apparently distraught teachers, swarming around something on the ground.
Frank and Remus exchanged a look; their teachers were usually fairly unflappable – it came from years of teaching in a school where 'Here be Dragons' could be a quite literal map annotation. Tonight they looked… lost.
And that frightened Remus a great deal.
Wordlessly, the two boys strode forward, wands already drawn, all thoughts of Jenny or enmity buried in the face of this new emergency. As safe as they were within the Castle grounds, the Daily Prophet brought news of battles and mysterious disappearances each morning. If their solid and dependable teachers looked that freaked out, there was a fairly high likelihood that the war had come to Hogwarts.
Without warning, Frank stopped dead; Remus nearly walked into him.
"What?" he hissed, suddenly wary.
"Merlin's beard," Frank whispered. "Look at McGonagall's face…"
Remus followed his friend's gaze: the usually imperturbable head of Gryffindor House looked as though she had been sobbing. Her long, silver hair hung loose down her back as if she had been running and she was wringing her hands distractedly
"Someone must be hurt," Remus mumbled, in horror.
If McGonagall had been moved to tears someone was more than hurt, but he didn't want to think about that. That sort of thing happened outside, not at Hogwarts.
For reasons that he couldn't fathom at all, he thought of Jenny, sitting by his bed that morning, looking pale and drawn.
He started forwards without really thinking about it, Frank keeping step with him; he caught glimpses of something lying on the ground between the swishing robes of the disarrayed staff. Something white…
No, he thought suddenly. Someone. Someone wearing something white… Oh Gods…
"No!"
The shout took him by surprise, and both he and Frank had their wands raised by the time Sirius reached them, appearing as if from nowhere.
He pushed Remus back with one hand and grabbed a handful of Frank's uniform with the other.
"Sirius!" Frank cried. "What the hell?"
"No, don't go any further," he begged them.
Remus put his wand away and tried to hang on to Sirius's arm; his friend was swaying dangerously.
He was caked in mud and water, fearfully pale and bedraggled; he looked like he'd just faced down a particularly unpleasant Boggart. He was soaking, as if he had fallen in the lake; his clothes clung to him, making him seem smaller than Remus remembered – he seemed to be trembling slightly, possibly with cold, though he wasn't so sure. There was a stench about him that Remus's over-developed senses immediately identified as vomit and blood.
"Please," Sirius panted, and met his eyes.
There was something indescribable in his friend's face – some unspeakable pain.
That did it; Remus felt himself begin to panic.
He had to see who was hurt.
"Get off, Sirius," he said, and tried to push past him. Despite his obvious weakness, Sirius put his whole body in the way and pushed back; Frank, seized with fear at Sirius's alarming appearance and evident desperation, took the opportunity to duck under his other arm.
"No!"
Sirius made another grab for Frank but missed and stumbled to the floor.
Trying to convince his heart that it belonged in his chest and not his throat, Remus followed Frank towards the circle of teachers; they had heard Sirius's cry and some of them were moving to intercept the boys.
Madame Pince put a hand on his shoulder, and for a moment Remus was tempted to stop, to leave whatever had reduced his stalwart Professors to tears to them.
In front of him, Frank fell to his knees, and for a moment Remus was certain that his friend had been hexed.
He let out a terrible roar of agony – like a wounded bear – and it distracted Madame Pince sufficiently for Remus to see beyond her to the broken, lifeless body lying on the bank of the lake.
It was as if time had stopped entirely, with no thought of how everyone was supposed to get along without it. Remus stumbled forwards, numb.
It couldn't be her –
It couldn't be real.
He dropped to the ground beside her, no longer able to hear the adults' pleas for him to come away.
She looked so small, lying there… like a broken doll.
Jenny had never been so small.
Someone had closed her eyes.
He couldn't connect the fractured corpse in front of him with Jenny… with anyone. It didn't seem real…
It must be some kind of cruel trick – why couldn't his teachers see that? It was so obvious…
Delicately, he picked up her cold, wet hand; it hung limply in his, lifeless and macabre.
Through the strangely muffled tangle of sounds behind him, he heard Sirius's voice.
"Come away, mate," he said, softly, a hand on his shoulder. "Let them see to her…"
But he couldn't – couldn't any of them see that this wasn't Jenny – could never be Jenny? There was just too much life in her. It was some kind of appalling illusion, he was sure of it.
He reached out and gently pulled a strand of pondweed out of her hair, not really knowing what he was doing. He felt oddly disconnected, as though his body wasn't taking orders from him anymore.
He heard himself telling Sirius that it wasn't her: Jenny wasn't this fragile, or small, or colourless…
No – they were all wrong.
Had to be…
He ran a finger along one of the six-inch spikes protruding from her body; he saw, rather than felt the cut form on his hand and watched in fascination as his blood pooled and dripped onto her white, imperfect cheek.
0o0
It was Hagrid that had pulled him away in the end, lifting Remus and Frank as though they were lost toys. He practically carried them into the Castle, Sirius trailing despondently behind.
Hagrid deposited his charges on two of the beds in the Hospital Wing, and stood for a moment, unsure how to help them. He glanced at Sirius, who looked helplessly back; the big man shuffled off into Madame Pomfrey's tiny office, where it sounded like he was doing something with the kettle.
Frank curled up on his bed, turning away from the others. Sirius had a strong suspicion that his good-natured friend's heart had just been broken, and he dragged himself across to his bed, pulling a blanket over him as he shivered and wept.
Hagrid emerged from the office, looking – as he always did indoors – as though he was too big to be allowed. He found another blanket, which he draped over Sirius; he realised that his teeth were chattering and pulled the rough woollen fabric around himself.
Remus was silent, shaking harder than Sirius thought a person should, blood and mud smeared on his face and hands. Frank was still sobbing noisily, his head in his hands.
Sirius sat between them, shivering. His earlier adrenaline had left him now, and he slumped forward, his elbows on his knees.
He took the cup of hot, sweet tea that Hagrid pushed into his unresisting hands, and then took Remus's too.
His friend didn't appear to be processing events at all; Sirius put the teas down on the folding table at the end of the bed and took him by his shoulders, feeling powerless.
"Are you in there, mate?" he murmured, aware that Hagrid was still hovering awkwardly nearby.
Remus didn't respond, just kept muttering.
"It can't be her…"
Something hard and heavy formed in Sirius's chest. He had known, of course, that however much Jenny had appeared to hurt him, Remus was still very much in love with her. Looking at his friend, trembling with fear and the sheer force of his denial, Sirius wondered whether he would ever be the same again.
He rather doubted it.
Sirius frowned deeply and buried his grief: there would be a time for tears later. Right now, Remus needed him; Jenny would understand that.
Would have understood.
All three boys looked up as an inconsolable Professor Flitwick led her forlorn, covered stretcher into the Hospital Wing. Someone had put a crisp, white sheet over Jenny, but her hand had fallen out somewhere along the way, and it hung below the stretcher, delicate and oddly elegant.
They stared at the small, vulnerable thing as it passed them.
Suddenly frantic, Remus grasped the front of Sirius's sodden shirt and stared up at him.
"It's not really her, is it Pads?" he begged him. "It's a trick – she's alright – somewhere else, I mean…"
Sirius's heart broke for his friend; some of his emotion must have showed on his face because Remus crumpled. He broke down, finally having to accept recent events as truth. He collapsed against his best friend and Sirius wrapped his arms around him while he sobbed.
"What happened to her?"
0o0
It was some time before their distraught Professors let them leave that night. Sirius had sat in Madame Pomfrey's tiny office and explained to the assembled staff members what he'd found out, and what he had seen.
He tried to comfort Professor Sprout, who was almost inconsolable. He understood: she had lost one of her own.
Madame Pomfrey was bustling about the Hospital Wing, forcing Calming Draughts on anyone who stayed still long enough and trying not to look at the screens that Professor Oakley had wisely erected around the bed at the end of the room. Sirius had a shrewd suspicion that she too had pushed away her grief, and they shared a look of pained understanding as she handed him his Draught.
Sirius tactfully left it on a table, just out of sight, certain that Madame Pomfrey would understand that, too.
Professor Oakley had emerged from behind the screens with a ghastly expression on his face. He had given Sirius a look of deep sorrow and patted him on the back. Before he, too had been ushered out by the listless matron, he had whispered in Sirius's ear.
"You couldn't have helped her," he had said, softly. "But you tried, and I think she knew that you did, and that was the best anyone could have given her."
It had been a while before Sirius could meet anyone's eyes after that.
They had decided to keep Remus in the Hospital Wing overnight, which Sirius thought was probably for the best. The shock of Jenny's death had been compounded by the realisation that they had been inescapably, unforgivably wrong about her.
It had been a costly mistake, and one that Sirius was certain Remus would never fully recover from. He would blame himself, as he always did, and turn inward, and Sirius didn't know how to stop him. Particularly as it wasn't fair – Remus might not have believed Jenny, but neither had anyone else.
There had been a myriad of opportunities to save her that every one of her teachers and schoolmates had missed. They were – as far as Sirius was concerned – all equally culpable.
Except Frank.
Sirius shot him a concerned look as they stood, disconsolate and lost outside the Hospital Wing.
"Come on," said Sirius, coming to a decision. "You'll sleep in our dorm' tonight."
Frank followed him dumbly, and Sirius guessed that he, too, was castigating himself.
If only they had listened to her.
If only there had been something that Frank could have done.
They had obviously been waiting up for them – worried about their continued absence. Before he was through the Portrait Hole, Lily was on her feet, her arms on her hips, worry and annoyance printed all over her face and body.
"Sirius, where the hell have you been?" she demanded.
Sirius sagged a little: he really didn't want to be the one to tell them, but right now he had little choice. He met Lily's eyes, miserably.
"My God," she said, all anger evaporating in the face of his distress. "What's wrong?"
They were all on their feet now.
Sirius stared around the circle of his friends, so brave and so noble – Gryffindors to the core… how they'd hated Jenny for what they'd thought she'd done.
He lowered his head in self disgust.
Behind him, Frank climbed through the Portrait Hole, wearing the same, shattered expression.
Alice ran to him, and his fragile, exhausted control broke; he sobbed, quietly, into her shoulder.
"Where's Moony?" James asked, urgently, suddenly beside Sirius. He hadn't even noticed him move.
"In the Hospital Wing," he said, thickly. "Jenny –"
He struggled for a moment, unable to form the appropriate sentence; Remus was right: none of this felt real.
"Jenny's dead," he said, every syllable falling heavily on the room.
James's mouth fell open in disbelief; his best friend stared at him in shock.
Sirius looked around at them all. He had never before felt so utterly, inescapably young.
"What?" Lily asked, weakly, stunned out of hovering between her two, stricken friends.
"How?" Peter demanded.
"Is Remus alright?" James asked, urgently, clearly trying hard to resist the urge to shake his friend.
"We should talk upstairs," said Sirius, sadly. "McGonagall should be the one to tell the younger ones, not us."
"But-" James sputtered, still trying to process something so unpalatable.
"Sirius is right," said Lily, suddenly business-like; Sirius could see the tears on her face. He gave her a grateful look.
She hurried up to her own dormitory, fetching blankets and bedding while Peter and Alice helped Frank – rendered helpless by grief – up the stairs.
He felt James take his arm, a wonderfully solid presence in a world that seemed to have lost its footing. He leaned on his friend, suddenly aware of how tires he was.
"Are you alright?" he asked in an undertone.
"No," Sirius laughed, and he didn't sound like himself. "I pulled her out – I couldn't – she was already –" He stopped himself, fighting back the sorrow that was trying to force its way out of his chest. "They gave Remus a sleeping potion – he's a mess."
"He's not the only one," James muttered. An uncharacteristically ugly look crossed his features. "We should –"
"We should leave him alone," said Sirius, firmly. "He'll need us soon enough – and we'll be there – but right now he needs to grieve. And sleep."
James nodded, deflating slightly.
"You need to change," he said, eyeing Sirius's ruined clothes. "You're freezing…"
Firmly, he pushed him up the stairs.
0o0
They sat on the ends of their beds, shocked and numb. They had listened, horrified, to Sirius's story, and had all broken down. No one had said anything for some time – there was nothing really left to say.
Lily was still clutching the envelope that Jenny had given her that afternoon. None of them had any doubt about what it contained now: her final goodbyes.
The usually bright and cosy dormitory felt cold and over-bright. They had lit the stove, despite the warmth of the spring evening, and huddled together, desperate for comfort.
It was Alice, in the end, who broke the silence.
"I'm so sorry Frank," she said, quietly. "I should have listened to you."
"We all should have," said James, scrubbing at his red-rimmed eyes – he had discarded his glasses hours earlier, and Sirius was almost certain that he couldn't see. "And to her."
He and Lily had their free arm wrapped around one another, seeking and receiving comfort; Frank and Alice were the same. Sirius felt a wave of irrational jealousy, wanting – with all his heart – someone to tell him that everything would be ok. Even if it wouldn't be, ever again. He pushed it away, guiltily.
"It's not your fault," Frank mumbled, wetly. "It's no-one's really. If what Sirius says is true, there wouldn't have been anything anyone could have done."
Jenny would have been less miserable, Sirius thought, unhappily, but he kept his mouth shut. There was more than enough self-disgust in the room as it was.
"Poor Jenny", said Lily, to assorted mumbling.
Poor Jenny.
It was going to become a mantra over the last months of school, maybe even for the rest of their lives. She would never be forgotten, Sirius was certain about that.
He had been such a crappy friend while she was alive, he swore to himself he would do his best for her now she was gone. It wouldn't bring her back, and it would never, ever be enough, but it was all that he could do.
He suspected that Jenny would have understood that.
But now he needed to keep his promise to her: the dead could wait for a while – it was Remus that needed him now.
He cleared his throat.
"All the stuff I told you – about Weeping Jade," he said, solemnly. "Remus can never know."
There was an odd silence; his friends looked back at him, weary and nonplussed. Sirius sighed. This was important.
Damage control.
"You know what he's like," he explained. "He's already a complete wreck over Jenny – if he finds out that I believed her and he didn't, he'll hate himself for the rest of his life."
If he doesn't already, he added privately.
There were several nods of understanding.
Good, he thought, that's one…
"I'll talk to McGonagall and Oakley tomorrow – they'll understand."
He looked at Frank, hating himself for what he was about to suggest.
"Jenny died to save her family," he said, slowly. "And whatever else we remember about her, we have to remember that. If I could choose a way to go, that would be it…"
"Hear, hear," said James, thickly, to murmurs of assent.
"But," he said, and swallowed.
Man this was difficult.
He ran his hands through his long dark hair, uncomfortable under their scrutiny.
"But?" asked Frank, a fierce, dangerous glint in the Ravenclaw's eyes.
"Frank, I know she's – was – your best friend, and I don't want to dishonour her – or what she did – but if Remus chooses to believe that she fell… I'm not going to correct him."
There was a pause as the assembled teenagers took this in. Frank stared at him, hurt and hostile.
"It would kill him," Sirius said, feeling deeply ashamed of what he was asking.
Everybody looked at Frank, who eventually nodded.
"One death is enough," he croaked, finally. "And Jenny would have wanted to protect him, too."
Sirius nodded, and they lapsed into silence once more.
After a while, when the first, delicate tendrils of a dawn that their friend would never see began to stain the eastern sky, Peter got up, stretched his tired legs and began rummaging in his bedside cabinet. He emerged, after a few moments, with a nearly full bottle of Firewhiskey.
Lily, who understood the breaking of rules in times of need, conjured six glasses.
"To Jenny," said Peter, raising his glass.
"To Jenny."
0o0o0o0
They walked down to the lake together in the gathering darkness, and stood shoulder to shoulder by the edge of the pool that had been described in the inquest.
You could see why she chose it, Ron thought, as they stared down at the glassy water. It was almost serene, and very secluded: it was sheltered from the school by a bank of trees and isolated from the rest of the lake by a bank of earth that protruded into the water.
There was a boulder near the water's edge, and it looked like it had been pressed into service as a seat by several hundred generations of Hogwarts students. No one sat out here anymore though… he wondered if it was her, that strange, sad, unearthly feeling that had crept over him as he had approached the water, keeping people away. An odd shiver passed through Ron as he looked at it.
That must have been where they found her things, he thought.
According to the report, she had taken off her shoes and socks before stepping into the lake, leaving them with her wand on the shore. It was such a simple act, something completely safe and mundane that out here had rendered her vulnerable and childlike. There had been nothing childish about her decision, though.
She had probably known what was growing inside her, and taken action…
He glanced up at Neville and Harry.
In another world she might have been their favourite Aunt…
They stood, silently together as the light faded and the stars came out. There had been some discussion about what to say, back in the dormitories, but now they were here it didn't seem necessary. In any case, Ron wasn't sure that he could trust himself to speak.
Wordlessly, the three boys raised their wands and mumbled an incantation they had stolen from Hermione. Flowers burst into bloom above the water, floating down to rest on the surface for a few moments before slipping gently beneath the surface.
They watched them fall, one by one, until there were none left.
"We'll never forget you," Ron whispered, softly.
"Ever," Neville mumbled.
As one, they turned and started the short walk back up to the Castle, duty concluded.
Jenny, caught in the midst of an unexpected shower of brightly coloured petals, watched them go, the ghost of a smile on her lips.