CHAPTER 51

I spend time every day now reminding myself why I cannot live in Hogsmeade with Zoe and leave Hogwarts altogether. Voldemort would surely kill her if he found out that I had run away from Hogwarts to stay in Hogsmeade with a Muggle-born witch, but tonight—the one night this week that Zoe had to work later than usual—as I look across the Three Broomsticks at her cleaning off the last of the dirty tables while Rosmerta delivers a bowl of chicken soup to one of the guests at the inn, all I want to do is stay here forever. It's peaceful, and it feels safe.

Madam Rosmerta smiles at me when she returns. "If you always work as hard as you have this week, you're more than welcome to come work here when Hogwarts lets out for the summer holiday," she informs me.

I glance at Zoe, who smiles sadly. "I'd love that, but I unfortunately have other responsibilities."

"Very well," she sighs.

"But I sincerely appreciate the offer."

"Zoe tells me this is your last night with us?" I nod, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest when she says this. "Jesse's shift starts in twenty minutes. You and Zoe should come stay here and have dinner with me—on the house—as a thank-you for helping around here this week."

Zoe shrugs behind Rosmerta, and I accept her offer on our behalf.

Thirty minutes later, after Jesse—a tall, pale man who watches Zoe intently—arrives for his shift at the Three Broomsticks, Zoe and I are sitting in the back booth with Rosmerta, far away from all the other patrons and quite isolated from any other conversation. "Jesse is the closest thing I have to a co-owner," she says, motioning to the man behind the bar right now. "He's been working with me since the summer after his fourth year at Hogwarts."

He sees us watching and comes over to our table. His light eyes watch Zoe for a short moment before glancing at me. He says, "I don't believe we've had a chance to meet, but I've seen you around here this week. How do you know Zoe?"

"She helped me study for the O.W.L.s while she studied for her N.E.W.T.s," I say.

"Don't lie. She was in Slytherin with me. She yelled at Draco Malfoy in front of everyone, and our friendship became inevitable."

"Not a fan of Draco Malfoy?" Rosmerta asks me.

I shrug. "He was saying some awfully prejudiced things, and it set me off."

Jesse almost smiles. "I was lucky enough never to cross paths with him, really. I was a fifth-year when Malfoy came to Hogwarts. Never really had to deal with him, but there were a few prejudiced Slytherins in my time. You can imagine my surprise when Zoe came to work here. A Slytherin—a Muggle-born Slytherin who didn't seem to hate everyone. It was refreshing." He looks back at her, his eyes softening, and smiles. Then he brings his focus back to the task at hand. "What would you like to eat?"

I've never actually ordered food like this at the Three Broomsticks, which makes me think that this is just a special occasion at Rosmerta's behest. I'm surprised she's being so nice, but then again, I doubt Zoe would respect her so much if she wasn't kind like this to her workers. But I could be overthinking it.

Perhaps I should have turned down Madam Rosmerta's offer. It's my last night here in Hogsmeade, and I should probably spend it alone with Zoe. Of course, that very thing is what caused all of this—the breakup, the heartache, the loss of a loved one—in the first place, so maybe it's better for us to spend the evening with Rosmerta, in public at the inn so that when Zoe and I return to her flat later, we're too tired for any conversation, meaning we can just go to sleep and I can completely ignore this growing desire to tell Zoe what I've probably known for a while but was simply ignoring until Fred pointed it out to me. I never should have come to Hogsmeade to stay with her. I should have gone to the cottage after Bellatrix offered it, avoided this situation entirely, prevented myself from being in the position where I must make a choice I'm afraid of right now.

"Do you live in Hogsmeade?" I ask Rosmerta when Jesse walks away.

"On the outskirts."

How much would a house in this village cost, and would my mother be willing to funnel me that much money? No, I could never ask that much of her. Despite how much she cares for me—even loves me in her own way—it would be far too suspicious for me to randomly be able to afford a house in Hogsmeade. And I'm sure word would get around to the Death Eaters, and then there'd be a whole ordeal while people tried figuring out who I am and how I came by the money. Not to mention how angry that would probably make Voldemort. Heaven forbid Bellatrix bestow any affections onto anyone who is not the Dark Lord. And on top of that, there's no way that I'd be allowed to live on my own here as a normal person. No, no, I must be kept under watch by Voldemort and his Death Eaters lest I run away and disappear and inconvenience the Dark Lord in any way.

"Do you like living here?" I ask.

"Oh, it's lovely, and nothing beats being able to walk to the inn in the mornings. Hogsmeade at sunup is just gorgeous."

Perhaps one day I can find a way to justify buying a house here, maybe convince Bellatrix to ask on my behalf or something.

Jesse returns with three small glasses of firewhiskey and three butterbeers. "We never get service like this," Zoe says. "We usually just . . . get our own food and bring it to the tables. I should keep you around more often. These are some nice perks."

I smile at her. "Perhaps I'll find my way around here more often this summer. After all, I've no longer got Fred to go see." My heart suddenly clenches.

"Don't do that to yourself. You can be happy without him."

"Fred Weasley?" Rosmerta asks. "He and his brother are trying to buy Zonko's, from what I hear."

"Yeah, that's their goal. They're shop in Diagon Alley is doing very well, so they thought coming to Hogsmeade would be a good idea—Hogwarts students just love Zonko's." My spirits deflate, and I clear my throat, then take a long swig of butterbeer to distract myself. From the corner of my eye, I see Zoe shake her head slightly at Rosmerta, and the subject of Fred's success dissolves, for which I don't know how to thank her.

It takes about an hour for Jesse to return with the food—after multiple trips back to our table with more drinks. We're having roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and beans for dinner. It takes us half as long to eat it as it did for it to arrive at the table. I should find it strange that Rosmerta is drilling us with alcohol, but I'm enjoying myself far too much to care. Besides, it's not like she's given us enough to get completely drunk, just drunk enough to loosen our tongues. And once we reached that limit, which was about twenty minutes ago, she told Jesse to bring only water to the table. But she's been asking a lot of questions—questions that don't even really seem to matter. I don't understand why. Maybe she's just nosy? Or maybe—no, I don't even really want to think about why she might be so interested in our lives. There's no way she's secretly working for Voldemort.

My head feels light and relaxed, the tension having dissipated about three drinks ago. I'm warm and comfortable here with Zoe and Rosmerta.

"How much longer do you have at Hogwarts, Charlotte?"

"I'm a sixth-year right now."

"And what are you planning to do after you graduate?" The dishes from the table rise into the air and float over to the sink, where the water is already running and rinsing off each dish.

"Honestly, I'd like to be an Obliviator."

Zoe chokes on her drink, causing Rosmerta to give us both a suspicious look. "Charlotte argued with Snape about that," she explains for me. Though she and I both know that her reaction was likely due to the fact that I used that ability to change Umbridge's memories after her torture, I keep this to myself. We easily delve into the stories of all the fights between Snape and me, and some forty-five minutes later, Zoe and I are saying goodbye to Rosmerta and leaving the warm inn for the chilly streets of the village.

The sun long gone by now, the firewhiskey coursing merrily through my veins, Zoe and I work our way to her flat. I don't believe I've ever felt this carefree. I look over at Zoe, thanking my lucky stars that I met her when I did because I don't know where I'd be right now without her.

No, I know where I'd be: Lestrange Cottage, which is where I honestly should be right now, where I should have gone when Bellatrix offered it. I could have (relatively) easily convinced her to go with me, and this entire week could have been spent with her, building a relationship with her and never having to face these conflicting feelings about Zoe. I wouldn't desire to tell her the truth, I wouldn't desire to sleep in her arms—I wouldn't desire any of that.

I could simply be sleeping next to my mother and developing a better relationship with her rather than struggling with my feelings for Zoe.

I'm so stupid.

"That was nice of her, but she didn't have to give us the bottle," I comment, motioning to the scotch in Zoe's hand.

"I don't think she was just being nice," Zoe says, sliding her arm through mine, which sends comfortably nervous jolts of energy through me.

"Then why—"

Zoe glances over her shoulder. "Rosmerta was totally trying to get us drunk to spill all our secrets. She's a good boss and a nice person, but she is devastatingly nosy."

I laugh loudly at this. "But she didn't ask us anything overly personal!"

"That's not how she works. Trust me, she learnt everything she wanted to know in those few hours we were with her."

The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Zoe interjects, apparently knowing exactly what I was worried about. "She'd never suspect what you've got to do for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

I lean against her, resting my head against hers. "You know me so well."

"I felt you tense and knew exactly what you were thinking."

"Are you planning on us finishing that bottle of scotch tonight, or can I expect not to have a bad hangover in the morning?"

Zoe smiles. "Oh, we're finishing this tonight. Why else do you think Rosmerta gave it to me?"

"She's got a big heart?"

Zoe's laughter rings nicely in my ears, and I wish to hear it forever. Unfortunately, forever is cut short when we reach her building and walk uneasily up to her flat. "You didn't leave your keys, did you?"

"I'm offended you think me that irresponsible." She then fumbles in her pockets for the keys before shakily trying to unlock her door, only dropping the keys once.

"Well," I say as we enter her flat, "you might not be irresponsible enough to lose your keys, but you're certainly irresponsible enough to let yourself get so drunk with your boss that you struggled to simply unlock your door."

"I'm not drunk. It's kind of worn off." Zoe smiles at me as she carries the bottle of scotch to the coffee table in the living area. "I'm changing into something more comfortable." She stops when she passes me and pats my shoulder. "I've had fun this week, Marcus. I know it sucks, the reason you're here, but I'm glad you're here."

I walk over to the sofa and snatch up my bag to follow Zoe's lead and get out of these clothes and put on something more comfortable to sleep in. As I'm pulling my clean shirt over my head, I catch sight of Zoe through the few open spaces in her bookshelf, shirtless and wearing a lacy black bra. Try as I might, I cannot look away, and it's not until she slides a t-shirt on that I manage to avert my eyes, clearing my throat uncomfortably and sitting on the far side of the sofa, making sure to put my legs up to create a sort of barrier that will stop her from sitting too close to me.

A few short minutes later, Zoe enters the room and sits down on the other side of the sofa. She puts her legs up as well, and I realize that my plan was fatally flawed because now our legs graze each other, drawing my full attention in ways I wish it wouldn't.

Her legs are so soft. I want to know if they're just as soft on my hands. No, Charlotte, get up and go to bed. If you ever want Fred back, you cannot do this.

"Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" Zoe asks, placing her elbow against the back of the couch and propping her head up with her hand.

"Yeah," I sigh.

"You don't sound too excited to return to the land of schoolwork and professors."

"Can you blame me?"

"I mean, you have to do work, but you're at Hogwarts. Hogwarts was always a happy place for me. Except for with Umbridge. And when that Basilisk was trying to kill Muggle-borns. And when that troll got in the dungeon. And when that murderer was on the loose in the castle. Come to think of it, since Harry Potter started attending, so many bad things started happening." A smile comes to her face. "Except for the Triwizard Tournament. That . . . was a lot of fun. Students from other wizarding schools? Phenomenal."

"It's a good place, and I enjoy it. I'd just rather stay here."

She waves her wand, and two cups fly over to us. Then she pours us both yet another glass of scotch. "Why would you want to stay in a small flat rather than a castle?" she laughs.

"The company," slips out before I have a chance to stop it, and now that I've said it, I cannot say that I regret it. Zoe smiles at me before taking a long swig of her drink. "Thank you, Zoe, for everything. For letting me stay here, for keeping my mind off Fred, for keeping me busy this week."

"It was my pleasure, Marcus. Honestly. This has been one of the best weeks since I left Hogwarts, and I believe I've got you to thank for that."

My heart flutters, and—I need to get out of this situation, so I quickly finish the rest of my drink and stand to my feet. "I think I'm done drinking for the night," I laugh, my arms and legs coursing with a warm glow. "I'm feeling it enough as it is."

"Excellent point." She downs the rest of hers, and I take the glasses to the kitchen and place them in the sink. Then I stop and take a deep breath and run cold water over my hands. Get it together, Charlotte. Go to bed, leave in the morning, try to fix things with Fred before going back to the castle.

But do I really want to fix things with someone who doesn't trust me? If he thinks I'm willing to cheat on him—that train of thought dies before I can finish thinking about it. I don't want to think about Fred right now while Zoe waits for me on the sofa to finish our conversation.

When I make it back to the living area, Zoe has shifted on the sofa so that she now sits directly in the middle, her feet up on the coffee table. This makes me oddly nervous. "Come sit with me, Marcus."

I do, and she slides closer to me, our legs once again touching. My skin burns where I feel hers against me. "Speaking of Marcus, did I tell you that I've finished the copy of Meditations that you sent me?"

"I'm proud of you. You finally get a feeling of what your namesake was like. Didn't you say in one of your letters that your parents were absolutely obsessed? Your dad proposed to your mom with a quote, right?"

"I guess my birth name makes more sense now that I've heard more about the two of them."

She smiles at me. "So how do you feel about him? Marcus, I mean. Not you Marcus but Marcus Marcus. The philosopher. You know what I mean."

A grin comes to my face. "I like him. He makes sense to me."

"Did you know he had a mentor named Severus?"

A laugh escapes me. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly. He had a mentor named Severus."

I'm oddly overjoyed by this fact, and I very much want to tell Snape. Even though he will undoubtedly not appreciate it as much as I do, perhaps he'll find it at least a tiny bit interesting or amusing.

"What's going through your mind, Marcus?"

"A few things, one of which is that I should really tell Snape what you just told me."

She laughs. "Please tell me his reaction to that."

"I swear it."

"And what else is going through your mind?"

I swallow, my eyes shifting to her lips of their own volition. Then I clear my throat and say, "A quote from Marcus Aurelius himself comes to mind."

The corner of her lip twitches as if she's tempted to smile. "Which one? 'You boarded, you set sail, you've made the passage. Time to disembark.' Or possibly, 'Close to forgetting it all, close to being forgotten.' Or what about—"

"Calm down, Socrates."

She pats my thigh jokingly. "Actually, I'm Marcus Aurelius."

"Whatever. The quote I'm thinking of isn't quite so philosophical."

"Out with it!" She smiles victoriously, nudging against me.

"'Give yourself a gift: the present moment.'"

She nods approvingly. "An excellent choice, though not the one I would have guessed."

"Obviously."

"And why that one?"

"Because the present moment is a gift."

"How—"

I close the gap between us and cover her lips with mine, and they're just as soft as I imagined they'd be when I was tempted to kiss her on the Hogwarts Express last Easter. Zoe moans into my mouth, her hand coming to a rest on my stomach. Leave, Charlotte, before you hurt her like you did Fred, before you lose her like you've lost everyone else. Leave. But then she pushes me away. "No, Charlotte."

Heat flushes my face. "I—I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't apologize," she says with a smile, a pained look on her face. "It's not that I don't want—you're not in a good place right now. You just broke up with Fred. I don't—"

"He broke up with me, and that doesn't matter right now."

"It does. You're hurting. You're not thinking clearly."

I put my hand on her cheek. "I am thinking clearly. I wanted to kiss you last Easter. I'm thinking clearly." How can you do this to Fred? You broke up only days ago, and you've already moved onto Zoe. How dare you?

She closes her eyes and covers my hand with hers. "The feeling was mutual," she whispers. Then she shakes her head and opens her eyes. "But you're not in a good place."

My breath catches in my throat, my chest aching, my eyes watering. "Zoe—"

"No, Charlotte." She removes my hand from her face and holds it in her lap. "Charlotte, I like you. A lot. I do. But right now is not a good time for you. You're hurting, and your judgment is clouded. It's natural. I've been here for you, and you're hurting, and now you're acting on a lot of differing emotions."

I close my eyes. I'm so, so stupid. I can't believe that I've done this—I've jeopardized my friendship with her. No, you didn't. She just admitted that she's attracted to you, too. If you weren't so fucked up, maybe you'd have a chance with her.

"I think you need a friend now, Charlotte, more than you need—"

"All right," I say, standing up and moving away from her. "I'm sorry. I'm—I'm so stupid. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—I never should've come here. It was a mistake. I knew—"

"Charlotte, no." She stands to her feet. "It wasn't a mistake for you to come here. This—this has been a really good week. It wasn't a mistake."

"I . . . I crossed a line." I hate myself. This could put her in so much danger. I've risked her life. If the Death Eaters ever found out . . . I summon my bag to me and sling it over my shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I should go."

"That's not necessary, Charlotte." Zoe gently grabs my upper arms. "It's not necessary. You can stay here. We just—we can't—you can stay here. It's fine. Everything is fine. Stay with me. It's all right."

I close my eyes, unable to look at her right now, my cheeks warm. I'm so incredibly stupid. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be with me like this, and now I've made a complete fool of myself. Nothing I can do now will alleviate that embarrassment, an embarrassment so strong that my whole body is hot, probably flushed red. I hate myself. Though I want nothing more than to stay with her, my pride won't let me. Right now, I cannot even look her in the eye. What must she think of me?

I'm the worst person I know. I don't deserve her, just like I didn't deserve Fred. I'm stupid and selfish and . . . and I just . . . I don't have the words to describe how much I hate myself for all of my stupid decisions. I step away from her, and though she continues to repeat over and over that I do not have to leave, that it's unnecessary, I do not listen to her. Instead, I Disapparate without opening my eyes to look at her again.