33

OF FRIENDS AND FRAUDS

"It's a basic Woodley strategy, really; never lose your face."

A/N: I know. It's been forever. But, by Merlin, I am going to finish this story.

I held my breath as I pressed my knees into my chest, listening intently to the muffled voices that echoed softly from the high ceiling. I knew I didn't really want to hear this, but for anyone trying to have a private conversation at Hogwarts, the castle's acoustics were a nightmare.

"My sister was in DADA with her last year. She said she always thought she was weird."

I bit my lip, contemplating the possibility of flushing the toilet, simply to tune out the answer, but it came so promptly I couldn't even reach the lever.

"Do you think it's true then?"

There was a short pause and I hesitated, my finger hovering over the flush.

"It must be, mustn't it? Why else would James Potter do something like that?"

"I hope she gets what she deserves."

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the tightening feeling in my stomach; I should not have been doing this to myself; I should have opened the bathroom door with a bang and strutted past the two girls with my head held high like I couldn't care less.

But the problem was, I did; I cared that, over night, I had become the most hated person at Hogwarts.

"I wonder what it would cost if she made Liam Dalton fall in love with me," one of the girls said, just as the door fell close behind them, plunging the bathroom into complete silence once again.

I waited a little longer than was necessary before leaving the stall, my heart hammering against my chest as though I had just run a race. My throat felt tight and I could feel the contents of my meagre breakfast pushing upwards as I doubled over one of the washbasins, my fingers gripping the edges of the ceramic bowl to keep my knees from buckling.

"Breathe", I told myself, inhaling deeply despite the lump in my throat until - slowly - the heaving sensation subsided, restoring enough strength to my legs to allow me to let go of the basin and turn on the tap. The cold water that drenched my hands made me feel less shaky and I bent forwards, splashing some of it onto my face before looking up into the mirror; despite the warm glow of the candelabra above, my skin was ghostly white, except for the bluish-purple smudges underneath my eyes.

I really needed to get some sleep.

I rounded the corner quickly, not caring that I must have looked like a lunatic. After all, everybody seemed to have made up their mind about me anyway. The group of third year Ravenclaws that had huddled around the brass knocker on the common room door, scuttled when they saw me approaching, looking both awestruck and scared as they lined up against the wall to let me pass.

"The more you take, the more you -" The bronze eagle began to recite its riddle when I had gotten close enough, but I cut it off mid-sentence as I practically yelled "Footsteps!". The door sprang open immediately, allowing me to stride right on through into the common room.

I saw him at once – he had been waiting for me of course, standing by the staircase. His mouth was slightly open as though he wanted to speak but had forgotten how to. Sam looked at me like he had seen an especially terrifying ghost.

The few people that had ventured out of their dormitories on a rainy Sunday morning gave us curious glances, but I barely noticed the whispers as I grabbed Sam's shoulder and pulled him with me into the depths of the labyrinthine common room. He didn't resist. His limbs felt slack – almost dead – under my grip, allowing me to direct him as though he was under a spell.

When we finally stopped, I could feel my legs shaking, though I wasn't sure if it was from fear or from sheer exhaustion. I wanted to say something, but the words had gone and all I could do was stare at the boy I had believed to be my friend.

Sam looked back at me, his mouth still opening and closing mutely like a fish. "I'm so sorry." He finally said, his voice sounding very small.

"How?" I asked. My brain was still struggling to form a coherent thought and it took all my willpower to hold on to the question that had formed in my head. "How is this possible?"

Sam shook his head, the words tumbling out of his mouth like a strange mantra. "Sorry, I'm so sorry, so sorry, I'm-"

"Sam!" I snapped at him, mostly because he was beginning to scare me.

"It's all my fault." He looked at the floor. Then, suddenly, he howled like a wounded dog and dragged his hands down his face. "I lied, Seth."

I had taken a step back, trying to breathe through the horrible clenching sensation in my chest. It was obvious that Felicity couldn't have taken the potion – I had known this from the moment McGonagall had produced the sealed vial in her office last night – yet, it still felt as though someone had sucker-punched me in the gut.

"What did you do, Sam." I whispered, not sure I even wanted to hear the answer.

"It was only about the ingredients at first," he said, the words spilling from him like someone had slipped him Veritas Serum. "I was told to steal them and cover everything up. But I couldn't go through with it." He stopped and looked up at me, looking as desolate as he had done that night in the common room a few months ago. "I gave them to you to turn me in. But you didn't. And they found out. They found out and told me to let you brew the potion. They promised they'd leave me alone if I delivered the potion to them. They said-" Sam swallowed, his eyes finding the floor again. "They said that if I didn't do it, they'd ruin my life."

"Who?"

Sam looked at me, his face pale, and for the first time I realised that he was terrified. "I don't know. I swear, I wanted to tell you so many times. I wanted to – I wanted…"

I shook my head, unable to properly process this new piece of information. There had to be an explanation – a solution – something to end this craziness. "But, how can you not know?"

"I – I," Sam said almost helplessly, his brows furrowed as he seemed to grapple with his own thoughts. When he finally looked up at me there was a bemused expression on his face, almost like he had been confunded. "I can't remember them."

I could feel the hairs on my neck stand up as Sam's words sunk in and my knees buckled, forcing me to lean against the wall to keep myself upright. "What?"

"I know I talked to someone, but it's like – like they had no face."

"But that's…" I had wanted to say 'impossible', but before I could finish my sentence, realisation washed over me like cold water. "Occulto."

"What?" I heard Sam ask, but I barely registered as I pushed myself off the wall, my ears ringing as I began to run.

Katie was sitting on my bed, her legs curled underneath her as she watched me close the door behind me. Next to her sat a small wooden tray containing a sloppily built sandwich and a glass of pumpkin juice.

"I made this for you from lunch," she said, obviously trying to sound upbeat for my sake. I had been skipping meals since yesterday, living only on the stash of Ginger Newts I kept in my nightstand drawer. "I'm sure it tastes better than it looks."

"I just talked to Sam," I said, my words ringing strangely in the empty room. Dormitory 24 had been conveniently abandoned lately, which I doubted was sheer coincidence; Ursula still jumped every time she saw me, giving me as wide of a berth as was possible within the confines of the dorm room, and even Bernice seemed to be around less, not talking to me as much as she had used to.

"And?" Kaite sat up straight, causing the tray to slide dangerously close to the edge of the bed. "What did he say?"

"He said someone threatened him."

"What? Who? Do you believe him?"

I exhaled slowly, still trying to sort through the sea of wild thoughts in my head. Nothing made sense, no matter how I twisted and turned it. There was no logical explanation for why anyone would blackmail Sam, first for the ingredients, then suddenly for a potion that clearly had not been used.

"He looks scared, Kat." I sat down next to her, feeling another wave of nausea clawing its way up to my throat. The smell of cold chicken and tomatoes stung in my nose, goading the sickening feeling, but I pushed it down, not allowing it to take over.

"Well he better be." Katie said as she punched the cushion she was sitting on. The chicken sandwich did not survive the impact and fell apart on the plate.

"Katie."

"What?" Her voice had gone up an octave. "He lied to all of us!"

"I know." I closed my eyes for a second and rubbed my throbbing forehead, which, strangely, only seemed to make it worse.

"And he got you into an awful situation." Katie looked at me, her eyes wide. "You have to tell McGonagall."

It had crossed my mind as well. It had seemed reasonable, gratifying even, to report Sam; for a glorious second there had been a way to absolve myself of all the false allegations and rumours. But I knew that it was more complicated than that.

"I'm still guilty, Kat. I still brewed the potion and James –" I trailed my fingers along the edge of the tray, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tug in my stomach. "James's fingerprints are still all over the vial."

Katie seemed to deflate a little as her shoulders slumped. "This sucks."

"That about sums it up, yeah."

We both fell silent, looking at the sad pile of bread, tomatoes and meat that had once been a sandwich.

"Kat," I said after a while, my lips twitching as she looked up at me. "I love you, but I'm not eating this."

"You're such a snob!" She said indignantly. "I made this. For you. With my own hands."

I watched her assemble the stray bits of food into a sloppy pile, before taking a large bite. After a second of demonstrative chewing, however, she grimaced. "No, you're right," she said, spitting what was left of the food into the napkin I was holding out to her. "It's disgusting."

I felt better. Not great, but better. Some sleep and food had definitely helped, although I could feel the hastily eaten dinner lurch in my stomach as I approached the thick wooden doors at the end of the hallway.

I was early, but Filch was already there, welcoming me with a snarl as I walked in. It was a large classroom, which had clearly fallen into disuse over the years: Layers of dust covered the floor and tables, and even the books on the shelves had disappeared behind a wall of thick, grey fuzz.

"Finally," Filch growled behind me and I turned around to see James saunter into the room, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He looked good – not like he had been missing out on sleep or food – and I felt a little relieved.

"Let's begin then. I haven't got all night." Filch was barely able to hide the glee on his face as he began to detail our punishment, which entailed the full restoration of this classroom to its former splendour within the next two months. "And don't even think about using magic."

He held out his knobbly hand and both James and I simultaneously produced our wands and handed them over. There was no point in protesting, really.

"You can pick them up in my office after nine."

We watched him leave in silence, his cane dragging behind him, leaving a trail in the dust, until the doors closed.

Even after Filch had gone, we still stood there, staring at the door, and I could feel the awkwardness fill the space between us. We hadn't talked since last Saturday and, frankly, I didn't know how. With everything that had happened in the past months, the weird incidents, the rumours, Albus' poisoning, and, of course, New Year's Eve, it was hard to think straight, really.

So instead of breaking the silence, I took a cleaning rag from the bucket Filch had left us and walked over to the book shelves.

It had almost been an hour, but instead of making progress, the work only seemed to get more. I was sitting amidst growing piles of books, trying to rid them of decades worth of dust and neglect, while James was sorting out clutter across the room. I glanced over at him, feeling the urge to say something – anything – but before I could, he looked up and I quickly snapped my head back to my books.

James snorted loudly and from the corner of my eyes, I saw him shaking his head.

"What?" I asked despite myself, abandoning the book I had just picked up.

He continued to shake his head without even bothering to look at me. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm unbelievable?" I couldn't help the indignation in my voice. "You got us here!"

He practically threw the parchment he was holding back into the box and looked up. "I saved your arse!"

"What do you want me to say?"

We were both shouting by now, our words echoing strangely in the cavernous room.

"How about 'thank you'?"

I looked at James, unable to make out his expression through the particles of dust that floated between us.

"I didn't ask you to do this."

James just looked at me for a moment and then cleared his throat. "I know."

There was a familiar tug in my stomach and I quickly picked up one of the books at random, clutching it to my chest. "I wish you'd just stay out of this."

James made a soft noise that almost sounded like a laugh. "I can't."

It was an odd thing to say and he seemed to realise this as he ran his fingers through his hair and quickly turned towards his box again. "That's all rubbish. Old homework papers and forgotten quills. I think it's safe to chuck this." He nudged the box with his foot and then got up from the floor, wiping his dusty hands on his jeans before making his way over to me. "How about your side?"

"The books are good." I said as I looked around the differently sized piles, gladly taking the opportunity to change the subject. "They just need some love."

James frowned as he held up one of the more damaged ones. "Seth, they are falling apart."

"They are well used."

"This one is growing mildew." He dangled the book in front of my nose and I snatched it from him, ignoring the teasing grin on his face.

"We can't throw away books." I put the mildew-infested copy of Curious Concoctions back on the potions pile while James sat down next to me. He had propped his back up against the empty shelf behind him, watching me as I attempted to scrape a spot of mould off a particularly old edition of Hogwarts a History.

It was a couple of minutes before he spoke again. "Are people giving you a hard time?"

"No," I said, trying to sound casual. I could still feel James's eyes on me, but I hoped that the dim light would conceal my blushing face.

"Seth," He said seriously, "let me help you."

"No, don't." I sighed, abandoning the book in my lap to look up at him.

"But-"

"James," I cut him off in mid-sentence, "people are already convinced that I poisoned you - and your brother, for that matter - with some kind of weird love potion, so could you please just leave it alone?"

He looked at me for a moment, his dark eyebrows furrowed. "Alright."

"Thank you." I turned back to my books, my face glowing once more as I took a deep breath. "And also for, you know, 'saving my arse'."

I turned the thick paper square over once more without really looking at it. The rain was pelting against the tall window, filling the vaulted rooms with a pleasant pattering sound that mingled with the muffled scratching of quills on parchment and the rustle of turning pages. February had gone and the various nooks and corners of the library had filled up quickly with the annual flood of OWL and NEWT students.

"Uh, good seats," Katie said as she took the wingback chair next to me, not bothering to lower her voice. "Is that it?"

She pointed at my hands and I nodded. "Yep. Archie delivered it this morning."

"Let me see." She held out her hand and I passed her the heavy white card before hugging my knees to my chest.

"'Mr. and Mrs. Ludwig Carrington request the honour of your presence at the marriage of their daughter Cassandra Freya Octavia Carrington to Asher Atticus Macmillan III.'," Katie read out in a pompous voice, earning disapproving looks from the table of fifth years behind us, "how fancy."

I snorted as I picked up the equally thick and posh envelope. "Have you expected anything less from the Woodleys?"

"They are not wasting any time either. March 29." Katie looked up at me. "That's, like, three weeks from now."

"Easter holidays." I nodded, taking back the invitation to study the announcement once more. I had known before that my family would not waste any time after I had majorly screwed up their perfectly laid out plans. It was damage control on the highest level. "They are just acting as though this was the plan all along. It's a basic Woodley strategy, really; never lose your face."

"Wow. Impressive."

A sharp hiss came from one of the fifth years, which Katie answered by rolling her eyes. Still she pulled a stack of books onto her lap and unfurled a roll of parchment on which she had drawn the black outline of a hand with red lines criss-crossing the palm.

I turned back to my own homework, trying not to think too much of the impending wedding and how awkward it was going to be. On the bright side, however, I was going to get a two-week break from all the whispers and glares that had become somewhat part of my daily routine at Hogwarts.

"Hey," Katie whispered and I looked up again, "Have you seen James?"

"What? Oh yeah." I leaned forwards to search the pile of books on the table for my copy of Fighting the Faceless. "He and his friends have been there for a while. Why?"

"Because he's kind of staring at you," Katie continued, unperturbed by my casual performance as she squinted over my shoulder, "or me. But I'm guessing it's you."

I hesitated for a moment but then turned my head to follow Katie's gaze. He was sitting next to Freddie, who seemed to have fallen asleep on his book with his mouth open. When he saw me, his lips curled to a smile.

"You can go talk to him if you want to," Katie said in a low voice that failed to hide her excitement. "I'll save your seat."

"Oh, um, no," I said quickly and looked down at my book again. "It's fine."

"I thought you were good? Are you fighting again?"

"No, I mean, we are. Good." I looked up once more, watching James flip through the book in front of him, his head propped up on his elbow and his hand stuck in his dishevelled hair. "We're… normal. Keeping our distance."

"Oh, right," Katie sighed. "Stupid rumours."

"Yeah. And generally." I shrugged, picking at the chipped gold embroidery on the cover of my Defence book. "I mean, we never really hung out, have we?"

"Sure," she said, lowering her voice to barely a whisper. "Except that one time you almost jumped his bones."

"Thanks for reminding me. You're such a good friend." I had opened my book again and, even though I wasn't reading it, pointedly held it up in front of my slightly blushing face, which made Katie laugh.

"I know," she sighed. "I'm marvellous."

It was the second Saturday evening that James and I spent cleaning up the old classroom, which still looked as though it was falling apart underneath the dust and clutter. It would have been a matter of minutes to restore it to its old glory with a few well-aimed spells but, without magic, our chances of ever finishing this project were slim, which, I guessed, was the whole point.

"So, you reckon you'll be coming back to school every second Saturday next year?"

James laughed as he leaned on his broom. "That doesn't sound too bad, actually. I'm going to miss this place."

"Yeah." I wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand, admiring the newly dust-free bookshelves. "I can't imagine living anywhere else, really."

I could feel James watching me from the side, still leaning on the old broomstick like it was his Silver Arrow.

"I'm cleared for the game before the holidays next weekend."

"I know." I took a step back and turned around to look at him. There was a dark smudge on his cheek from scrubbing the walls. "I've stopped getting hate-mail filled with Bubotuber pus."

James frowned.

"I'm joking," I said quickly, but noticing the disbelieving look on his face, added, "a little."

He considered me for a moment before propping the old broomstick up against the wall and sliding onto one of the freshly cleaned desks, watching me as I continued to put away books.

"It's a Potter Perk."

"A what?"

"Potter Perk. Comes with the name. It's not so bad, sometimes," he said, now playing with the small pile of books I had placed on the desk. "Mum's pretty relieved too."

"I guess she wasn't too happy when she heard you got into trouble over me." I didn't know why I had said it; it had simply slipped out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

James shrugged. "It's not really new – me getting into trouble, I mean."

It wasn't exactly what I had meant and we both knew it, but I was still glad we had somehow evaded the more complicated issue of Ginny Potter and the flood of uncomfortable topics that inevitably came with it.

"How about your family?"

"Oh, they don't know," I said as I climbed the mouldy stepladder with a pile of books to reach the upper parts of the towering shelves. It creaked ominously under my feet and I proceeded with more caution, testing each step before trusting it to carry my weight. "I mean, my mum knows, of course, but she is surprisingly supportive."

"No lecture?" James had slid off the desk and positioned himself underneath me, his hands holding the rickety ladder as he watched my slow progress to the top.

"Oh, there was a lecture," I said as I leaned against it, trying to find a more secure stand to put away the books. "But she believes me. And that means a lot."

James was still looking up at me, his brows furrowed. "Just for the record, I do too," he said, and I felt a sort of tug behind my navel that, surely, had to do with the fact that I was about three metres above the ground on a wonky ladder of questionable quality.

"OK, I'm done," I said quickly, expecting that James would move to the side again as I began to descend. However, to my absolute horror, he didn't, and as I reached the ground, we were suddenly face to face, his arms still encasing me as he held on to the ladder.

"So, I know this is the possibly worst timing," he said softly, his dark brows furrowed as he examined my face, "but, um, I was wondering if-" He tousled his hair and my heart skipped a beat as it seemed to drop to my stomach. Images of the crowded phone booth flooded my mind; James's hands on my hips, my hand in his hair, and my insides clenched.

"Is there any way that you would consider tutoring me again?"

"Oh, um-" I swallowed quickly, feeling the blood rush to my head as I struggled to get my bearings. What was I doing? This was ridiculous.

"It's just, my potions marks have reached their all-time low and I don't want to risk being banned from Quidditch again."

I pushed past James and walked towards the desk with the piles of books, hoping that he hadn't noticed my strange reaction. "Isn't Helen McFarley tutoring you?"

"Um, yeah. But she's no you," he said and, apparently afraid that I would get the wrong idea, quickly added: "When it comes to potions, I mean."

I finally put down the books and turned to look at James again, my arms crossed in front of my chest. Did he really think it had been necessary to add that last part? "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"I get that. It's just-" He looked at me with that stupid crooked smile of his, which he had probably used on countless smitten girls before. "I could really use your help, Woodley."

I sighed, feeling more stupid by the second as the mortifying memory of the night of New Year's Eve flashed before my mental eye like a cringeworthy movie. Of course he needed me to help him with potions; what else could James Potter possibly want from me?

"I still have a ton of homework so...," I said for lack of a better answer and quickly picked up my bag from the floor. I needed to get out of this stuffy classroom; away from Potter.

James looked taken aback as he watched me. "Oh, um, sure."

"See you." I barely glanced at him as I turned around and walked towards the door, only faintly hearing the quiet "yeah" as I stormed out of the classroom.