Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you to .Paige and GraceMonroe for your reviews!

Chapter Twenty-Eight: It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To

"By now, I'm sure most of you will have heard that Sturgis was sentenced to six months in Azkaban."

Sirius scowled and drained his wineglass at Dumbledore's words. All the talk of Azkaban over the past week had had more of an impact on him than he cared to admit. It didn't help that the house was more funereal and miserable than ever now that Mairead had moved out. He understood her reasons, of course, but Sirius had not fully understood what a ray of light her presence was until she was gone.

"Is there anything we can do for him?" Molly spoke up tentatively, her face pale.

Sirius ground his teeth. His patience with the Weasley matriarch had been at rock bottom since he had forced Remus to tell him why he and Mairead had decided to break things off, a decision which had been helped along considerably by a conversation Moony had overheard between Arthur and Molly.

Sirius's anger at Molly had only been compounded when she had stopped by midweek under the pretence of "looking for a few bits and bobs the children forgot" and, instead of making so much as a half-arsed attempt at pretending that was why she was actually there, gave Sirius a sanctimonious little lecture about how he might want to be more mindful of the things that were happening right under his nose in his own house. Sirius had responded by suggesting that Molly might want to be more mindful of what was and was not any of her goddamn business. They had not spoken since.

"Well," Dumbledore answered, "Tonks has already graciously agreed to watch over Sturgis's cat while he is in prison..."

"Yeah, it's been going great so far," Tonks drawled sarcastically, picking at one of the many long, angry-looking scratches that covered her hands, wrists, and neck.

"But she did mention that when she was picking the cat up, she noticed Sturgis appeared to have quite the collection of houseplants."

"He was always such an enthusiastic student," Professor Sprout said a little mistily. "I wonder if Mairead wouldn't mind looking after his plants while he's... gone?"

Mairead, who had been apathetically tracing one finger along the grain of the wooden table, looked up at the sound of her name. "Hmm?" she said distractedly. "Sorry, I missed that...?"

"You've got plant duty at Sturgis's," Tonks said. "I can take you over there if you want."

"Oh, okay," she said softly, her shoulders coming up protectively around her ears when she noticed that everyone was watching her.

"Thank you, indeed, Mairead," Dumbledore said. "I am sure that Sturgis will be very grateful, as well."

The meeting moved onto other topics that did not interest Sirius at all. Instead, he let his eyes shift between Moony and his girl. This was the first time he had seen Mairead since news of Sturgis's arrest - and of her affair with Remus - had reached the Order's ears. She had not even told him that she was moving out. He had found out on Tuesday when, worried that he hadn't seen her since Sunday at dinner, he had gone to her room to find that she had removed all of her things.

He couldn't say that he blamed her. He would also like not to live in this hellhole. What was more, as shocked as the Order had been to learn that Sturgis had been arrested, his plight had quickly become the secondary topic of conversation amongst visitors to Grimmauld Place. It seemed as though everyone instantly knew that Remus and Mairead had been sleeping together. For nearly the entire week Sirius had been approached with questions - had he known? What were his thoughts? Was this new, or was it an affair that had begun at school and then been picked up again? What precisely was the age gap? How serious were they? - and he had also been pulled into conversations that relied rather more heavily on speculation and opinion than fact.

Emmeline, for example, conjectured that Mairead had simply been putting on airs of being this innocent, unassuming, shy little thing when in fact she had just made a cold calculation that this personality type would be most likely to succeed in an attempt to seduce Remus. Doge, in a bit of "thinking out loud," wondered if Mairead's talent with potions might not have extended to Amortentia, and should her work in the potions lab perhaps be monitored more closely? Emmeline had hastily jumped in to add that Mairead was, after all, supplying Remus with the Wolfsbane Potion once a month. Did anyone know how difficult it would be to combine the two potions? Hestia, on the other hand, had wondered whether it wasn't the other way around. Wasn't Remus the one with all the power in their relationship, after all? He was older, a more experienced and skilled wizard, an original member of the Order, and had been Mairead's professor, to boot. Could Mairead even consent to their relationship? Hadn't anyone ever noticed how afraid she was to make eye contact with Remus, and how flustered she became whenever he spoke to her?

Tonks, to her everlasting credit, had shut down all three of these avenues of speculation with a brusque and only slightly bitter, "Mairead would never do anything to hurt or coerce Remus. And neither would he. You lot are all idiots if you can't see they're in love with each other."

"I agree," Bill had said. "And I don't think this has been going on as long as we might think. I think Remus probably felt too guilty to act on how he felt - or even acknowledge how he felt - for a long time. But he's been gone for her from the beginning."

"You're right!" Dedalus had piped up excitedly. "He walked off mid-sentence when he saw her in Hagrid's hut the very first meeting - don't you remember, Sirius?"

"'E must be in love with 'er," Fleur had added. "Eet is not as eef she is attractive enough to seduce 'im on 'er looks alone."

"Don't you remember how upset he got talking about the night she was stabbed?" Charlie had recalled.

Sirius had quickly grown tired of all the gossip surrounding his best friend and had taken to making himself scarce when anybody came over, though not as scarce as Remus and still not as scarce as Mairead. Sirius wasn't sure where she was staying now that she was not sleeping at Grimmauld Place, but wherever it was, he doubted the accommodations were fantastic.

Looking at her now, she looked pale, haggard, and positively miserable. She had slipped into the room in the last seconds before Dumbledore had called the meeting to order. A hush had fallen over the crowd when she had made her appearance, and she had ducked her head and scurried over to a seat next to Snape, who always had a vacant seat on either side of him. She had slunk down in her seat as far as she could go without sliding off to the floor below and to all appearances seemed to be trying to be as invisible as possible.

Unfortunately, she was not invisible to Snape. Sirius watched, fire and rage building within him as Snape periodically leaned over and muttered in Mairead's ear. Each time he did this Mairead's eyes went wide and round, a shocked and mortified expression on her face. As the meeting went on, Mairead subtly leaned further and further away from Snape, blushing in humiliation.

"Can you hear what he's saying to her?" Sirius muttered to Remus out of the corner of his mouth.

"No, but I can guess," Remus growled.

Unlike Mairead, who hadn't raised her head to look at anyone until Sprout had called on her, Remus had scarcely been able to take his eyes off the young Squib. For all his noble, martyr bullshit he had been trying to feed Sirius all week about how this was right and how he was happy that Mairead could now be free to live her life unshackled to an old, poor werewolf like himself, Sirius knew that his friend was heartbroken. In fact, Sirius recalled from previous heartbreaks he had borne witness to that, the more of a good sport Remus acted like, the more he was suffering. He hadn't even been able to muster up an attempt at hiding the way his head shot up when she had walked into the room. He had stared at her as she had crossed the room and taken her seat, as though he were drinking in the sight of her. Sirius had seen him frown faintly at how poorly Mairead looked, but Remus had quickly become aware that he had an audience who were all dying to see them interact now that their secret was out, and he had wiped his face clean of all emotion - as was a singular talent of his - and only stolen fast, if extremely frequent, glances over at Mairead since then.

Mairead was on her feet the instant Dumbledore adjourned the meeting and made a beeline for the door. Sirius felt rather than saw Remus's tension as he watched her go.

"I'll go and check on her," Sirius said to Remus, rising from his chair.

Remus shot a grateful look over at him. "Will you see if you can find out where she's staying?" he asked, barely moving his mouth.

Sirius nodded. "'Course."

Sirius thought that Mairead would be hurrying out the door by the time he reached the entryway, but instead saw her heading up the stairs to the upper levels as quickly and quietly as she could. He followed her all the way to her potions lab. Sirius waited a few moments after she had closed the door behind herself before knocking. There was no answer.

"I know you're in there, Mairead," he said, his mouth to the doorjamb. "I saw you go in."

If a door could swing open reluctantly, this one did. Mairead stood by a large cauldron in the center of the room, looking wary. Sirius held his hands up in a nonthreatening gesture.

"I come in peace," he said. "Just wanted to see how you're doing."

Mairead sagged almost unnoticeably. "Oh, I'm grand, thanks," she said, smiling in a painful way and clearly trying her hardest. "How are you?"

Sirius folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. "All right, let's try that again," he said patiently. "How are you? Really?"

Irritation unexpectedly flared in Mairead's eyes. "Who's asking?" she asked, mirroring Sirius by folding her arms.

"We both are," said Sirius. "He wants to know where you're staying. He's concerned you're living out of your car again."

Mairead's mouth tightened. "He really doesn't have any right to keep tabs on me."

Sirius's eyebrows twitched together. "Look, I know you're upset," he said, trying to puzzle out the reason behind her bitterness. "But he's hurting too, you know."

Mairead scoffed. "Okay," she said, her voice dripping with scorn and sarcasm. She turned her back on him and began gathering potions ingredients around her.

"Where's this attitude coming from?" Sirius demanded. "I didn't do anything to you."

Mairead's hands paused. "You're right," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

And then she was crying.

"Hey, whoa." Sirius crossed the room and put an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay, I'm not angry."

Mairead shook her head and hid her face behind her hands. "It's just - I - I h-hate that I'm losing you, too," she said, her voice squeaky and high-pitched as she cried.

"I'm not going anywhere," he reminded her. "I'm standing right here."

"But you're his friend."

"I'm your friend, too."

Mairead shook her head again. "But you've taken his side. Which I don't blame you for doing."

Sirius frowned. "There's no need to take sides in any of this," he said. "You made a mutual decision to break up. I don't agree with that decision, but it wasn't mine to make."

Mairead's head rose and she looked at him sharply. "Is that what he told you?" she demanded. "That we decided together?"

"Yeah, he - oh, for fuck's sake." Sirius clapped a hand over his face, feeling like a damn fool. "That's not what really happened, is it?"

Mairead shook her head.

"He broke things off on his own, didn't he?"

Mairead looked down at the table, fiddling with the peeling label on a jar.

"Yeah, now that I think of it, that makes more sense," Sirius sighed. "So what actually happened?"

Mairead shrugged. "Nothing," she whispered.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Come on, Gryffindor, I've already been lied to by one of you; don't complete the set."

Mairead sniffled and wiped her nose. "I - I went to him, and I told him I loved him and I wasn't ashamed of us, and that I wanted to be together, and he told me he didn't feel the same way, and then I left."

She said it in an offhand way, as though she were describing errands she had run that day, but Sirius winced and squeezed his eyes shut. You sure know how to throw away a good thing with both hands, don't you, Moony? he thought to himself. Out loud he said, "He was lying to you."

Mairead raised her head. "No, Sirius, he wasn't," she said dully. "That's just it: he told me right from the start that he didn't want this to turn into anything. He was very upfront. He told me nothing could ever come out of this, and he told me he was only in if no one ever found out. And I agreed," she added so softly Sirius almost didn't hear her. "And then everybody found out and I wanted more and... he said it wasn't fair of me to ask to change things retroactively that I had already agreed to. And I know that. It's just -"

Here she broke off, buried her face in her hands again, and began to cry once more.

"I thought -" she croaked, "I - I thought he was changing his mind. M-maybe. I thought that - that maybe if - if we could just... I thought that he would - that he was - that... that maybe he... but I don't know why I thought that." Without warning, Mairead slammed her fists to the counter, her face contorted in pain and anger. "I don't know why I ever thought that. I'm so fucking stupid!"

She bent at the waist, rested her forehead on the table, covered her head with her arms, and began to sob passionately.

Sirius sighed heavily. He laid a hand on Mairead's shaking shoulders and rubbed circles on her back.

"Trust me, Mairead," he said heavily. "Of the two of you? He's the one who's fucking stupid."

Mairead closed her eyes, took three fortifying breaths, and raised her fist to knock on Remus's door.

Like the coward that she was, she had begged Sirius to deliver the Wolfsbane Potion to Remus, but Sirius had refused, saying that sometimes Remus needed "to have his nose rubbed in his mistakes a little." The most he had agreed to do for her was not to tell Remus of her comings and goings to Grimmauld Place over the past two days while she had prepared the potion. As a result, this would be Mairead's first time coming face-to-face with Remus since he had broken things off a week ago. Her heart thumped with dread at the thought of having to be in his bedroom again.

"Come in," she heard Remus call.

Mairead gave a pathetic little whimper, turned the handle and pushed, then quickly stooped to retrieve the glass of water she had set on the ground. She poked her head cautiously around the door and found Remus reclined on his bed, book in hand, first couple of buttons undone on his shirt.

Remus jumped when he saw who it was - clearly expecting Sirius, not her - and scrambled to his feet. "Mairead!" he said. "What - err..."

Mairead wordlessly stuck the steaming goblet out in front of her. She saw guilt briefly wash over Remus's features before he tucked the emotion carefully away with all the others he concealed from her. "You didn't have to ma- thank you," he said.

Words stuck in Mairead's throat, so she merely nodded and handed over the goblet. She looked at his feet as he drank, afraid to be caught watching him. He did not want her anymore, and she was determined to make her very best effort not to let him see how badly she still wanted him. She heard him let out a disgusted yet relieved sigh and she knew he had finished the potion. Taking a steadying breath, she reached out a hand for the goblet and offered him the glass of water.

He hesitated for a moment before accepting it. "Thank you," he repeated softly.

Mairead nibbled on her lip and restlessly shifted the still-steaming goblet from hand to hand while waiting for him to finish drinking. She saw him lower the empty glass out of the corner of her eye and silently reached for it, but Remus did not hand it over.

"I didn't expect you to - er... I rather thought you might..." he faltered. He cleared his throat. "I appreciate that you still made the potion for me, Mairead. You didn't have to."

Mairead steeled her spine and forced herself to look him in the eye. "Dumbledore asked me to," she said. "It's still one of my duties even i-" She broke off. She raised a hand to her mouth and chewed on her thumbnail nervously.

"Ah," said Remus. "I see."

Mairead nodded. "I'll bring you some more tomorrow," she said. "Is there a time that would be most convenient for you?"

Remus looked at her in silence, his expression unreadable. Mairead felt irritation flare up in her. In that moment, she abjectly loathed him for being able to read her thoughts and emotions while betraying absolutely nothing on his part. She wanted to shout at him, she wanted to scream and cry and pound his chest with her fists. She wanted to demand he tell her what he was feeling. She wanted to fall down on her knees and beg him to take her back.

Instead she raised her eyebrows in a show of impatience, hoping that by letting him see her annoyance it would mask her other feelings, the ones that had used to fill her with warmth but which now only made her feel foolish and childish. She let her eyes flick over to his bookcase, where a small clock sat beside his gramophone.

Remus blinked. "Anytime is convenient for me," he said politely. "Thanks very much."

"...Yep."

She turned for the door, telling herself at least to be grateful that she wouldn't have to face him again until the next night.

"Mairead."

She paused.

"Are you - do you -" Remus sounded almost unsure of himself. "Where are you staying?" he finally asked.

Mairead set her jaw. "Why?" she asked tightly.

"Because... someone should know where to reach you in an emergency," he said.

Mairead turned and regarded him coolly. "Isn't that what the Patronus is for?"

Remus looked at her for another long moment. Then, his shoulders slumped. "Please just tell me you're not sleeping in your car," he pleaded softly. "It's getting very cold out, May."

Mairead wasn't sure whether it was the pretense under which he had asked for the information or the fact that he had used her nickname, but she was suddenly furious. She felt angrier at him than she had been since he had first suggested their private lessons together in Dumbledore's office. "What the fuck do you care?" she snapped. "You don't have any right to judge me. You don't get to tell me how to live my life. I was perfectly fine before you waltzed back into it. What makes you think I won't be fine now that you're gone again? Don't fucking stand there and pretend you care. We both know perfectly well that you don't."

She glared at him, expecting - even hoping - that he would be stung by her cutting words. Instead, sympathy flashed across his features.

"I do care about you, Mairead," he said gently. "I care about you very much. I always have. Just because we're not together anymore, that doesn't mean I don't care about you."

She wished he had been horrible to her. She wished he'd gotten his feelings hurt and said something equally vitriolic. That she could handle. But kindness?

She turned around again, needing to get out before she began to cry. She strode over to the door and pulled it open.

"Mairead!" he said sharply.

"I'm staying with a friend," she called over her shoulder, and closed the door behind her.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, Mairead rushed down the stairs to the main landing and out onto the street. It was snowing. Rallying her mental resources enough to concentrate, Mairead turned on the spot and disappeared.

She rematerialized in a small but nice flat in Clapham. She headed for the basin in the kitchen and filled a watering can and a spray bottle she had left in there. Mairead began to cry as she wandered from room to room, watering the plants that needed it, misting others, and pruning here and there. When she was finished, she returned her tools to the basin, curled up on Sturgis Podmore's couch, and after several hours of tossing and turning and feeling absolutely worthless, fell into a restless sleep.

Mairead slept in Sturgis's flat for the rest of November. She hoped he wouldn't mind. The weather had turned bitterly cold and it seemed as though snow fell every day. In exchange for her helping herself to his flat, Mairead did a deep clean of his entire living space. At least he would come home to his place being cleaner than it had likely ever been.

When December arrived Mairead packed her healing textbooks and few personal belongings into her car and drove them over to St. John's Wood. Mr. Thompson had contacted her two weeks before and said that he was taking a month-long holiday in the Alps. One patronizing and infuriatingly paternalistic conversation about male guests later, she'd gotten the job. Once there, she largely fell back into her old routine. She picked up more hours at the libraries when other staff requested time off for the approaching holidays, she threw herself back into scrounging for house-sitting work, and she picked up her healing studies once again. She found that her old pattern kept her busy enough that she was able to keep her mind off Remus.

Most of the time.

But whenever she had a moment to breathe, to sit down, to rest, her mind inevitably wandered to the man she had never been any good at getting out of her head. She wondered how his transformation at the end of November had gone. She wondered what books he was reading. She wondered if he ever thought of her.

According to Sirius, the answer to the last question was yes. She and Sirius's friendship had grown much closer as November ended and December began. He had taken to hanging around in her potions lab when she was working, and whenever it was Mairead's turn to monitor the receivers the two of them would set the projector up in the drawing room and sit, side-by-side, watching a film. More often than not, Sirius would eventually sling an arm around Mairead's shoulders, and she would lean against his side, the receivers' volume turned to full, lying on a nearby table.

At a recent Order meeting, Sirius had reported on an "explosive" confrontation that had taken place at Malfoy Manor. Apparently many years ago the Dark Lord had given a diary of some sort to Lucius Malfoy, with instructions that he was to hold onto it until he received the go ahead to plant it at Hogwarts. Malfoy, believing You-Know-You to be dead and gone, had caused the diary to fall into the possession of Ginny Weasley some three years prior. Though Mairead had not known this when she had lived through it at the time, this had apparently been the catalyst that had led to the Chamber of Secrets being opened for the first time in fifty years, the end result of which had been the destruction of the diary. When The Dark Lord found out about this, he was furious. Sirius had described with glee how Malfoy had been tortured until he soiled himself. Mairead had clutched the table with white knuckles and prayed she wouldn't faint right there in front of everyone.

Ever since then, Moody had ordered that even the smallest activity on the receivers be recorded. But it seemed that Malfoy's misstep was grave enough that The Dark Lord no longer wished to hold his meetings in the subterranean office at Malfoy Manor. Though there had been a few other notable moments, such as a transcript from Tonks that read, "Malfoy shagging his wife in his office. She was definitely faking," nearly all of the notes contained things like, "Quill scratching on and off - thirty minutes," or a transcript of a conversation Macnair had with someone about his execution schedule (Mairead hated taking these notes down, as much because she hated the unabashed relish with which Macnair described a recent execution as because the mere sound of his voice made her skin crawl). But evidently the news about the diary, combined with the occasional tip-off here and there, made Dumbledore feel that the listening devices had been well worth the effort.

It was on one of these monitoring shifts in the second week of December that Sirius brought Remus's name up for the first time in weeks. Mairead and Sirius were watching a thoroughly depressing film about a woman with a terminal Muggle illness. Or rather, they had watched the film for half an hour before Sirius had decided it would be more fun to speak over the actors with his own dialogue, which had started Mairead laughing for the first time in recent memory.

"You know," she said through her laughter when Sirius used his fingers to hold his eyes wide open while he imitated the dramatic speaking tones of the lead actress, "most people thought Bette Davis's eyes were her most attractive feature."

"Don't you think I know that, dahhhhling?" said Sirius with a majestic sweep of his head.

Mairead collapsed back onto the arm of the couch, giggling helplessly. Sirius grinned doggishly at her, but his smile faded to something sadder, and there was seriousness flickering behind his eyes that had Mairead sitting back up and asking, "What's wrong?"

He sighed, sobering. "He misses you," he said simply.

Mairead did not know what to say in response, and so she remained silent. After a while, Sirius continued.

"He was saying this morning he misses the sound of your laugh," he said. "Gryffindor, he's just upstairs. I could ask him to come down - it could just -"

"Erm, you know, I actually -" Mairead made a show of checking her watch. "Yeah, why don't you do that? I've got to be going anyway. He shouldn't - I mean, he shouldn't have to hide in his room. It's - that's - that's not right. I'll head out."

Sirius sighed and thumped his forearm on the arm of the couch, "That's not the point, Mairead!" he said, sounding exasperated.

Mairead shook her head and began to rise off the couch. "No, I don't want him to be lonely," she said reasonably. "I'll just -"

"He's lonely for you."

Mairead paused, halfway out of her seat. Sirius seized his opportunity.

"He's always talking about you," he said. "Always. He doesn't think he talks about you, but he does. Constantly. The minute you leave he'll be down here asking how you looked, what you said, what you did, and then he'll start into this absurd fucking dance of trying to figure out a way to ask if you asked about him without actually asking if you asked about him. It's pathetic. You've got to give him another chance."

Mairead shook her head. "It's not up to me," she said resolutely. "It's up to him. And he doesn't want another chance," she said resolutely. "He's just checking up on me because he - because... because that's what he does. He's a caring person."

"He's not doing this because he's caring; he's doing this because he's mad about you and he's losing his mind not being near you."

Mairead shook her head, avoiding Sirius's eyes. "No, that's not it," she said softly.

"Yes it is!" Sirius insisted. "Kid, I've known him for twenty-five years. Don't you think I -"

"Can you stop?" All at once, Mairead was on the verge of tears. Sirius broke off at the sight of her, hand over her mouth, taking shaky breaths, blinking rapidly and trying to stave off the stinging in her eyes. "Please," she whispered. "Can you please stop talking about him?"

"...Yeah," said Sirius gruffly. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Gryffindor. I'll stop."

He settled back down in his seat and held out his arm. Mairead shifted until she was seated next to him and leaned against his side. The two watched the film in silence for a few more minutes until Sirius said, "I'm bored. Wanna watch the one about the leopard again?"

Mairead laughed softly. "Sure."

On the whole Mairead thought she was doing a fairly good job of keeping it together over the way things had ended with Remus. Historically, she had never been one to fall apart over a guy. But then, Remus wasn't just any guy. As it was, she felt she made a halfway decent show of being her normal self. She had stopped cringing and cowering at Order meetings (though she had never sat next to Snape again after the first one), and everyone mercifully got over the scandal relatively quickly. She still caught Molly Weasley giving her concerned glances every so often, but the older witch always quickly looked away, and even had the grace to look embarrassed when Mairead caught her openly staring.

By the time Mairead needed to make the December batch of Wolfsbane Potion, enough time had passed and things had settled down sufficiently that she and Remus were able to interact relatively normally. When Mairead notified him that the potion was ready, he smiled gratefully and thanked her warmly. Any tension between them was politely ignored by both parties, and Remus even went so far as to make idle chitchat with Mairead about her plans for the upcoming holidays.

"Oh, I've got a big birthday party I've got to attend at St. Hedwig's, so," Mairead said in response to Remus's polite inquiry.

"On Christmas Day?" Remus asked curiously.

Mairead nodded. "Yep."

"Whose birthday falls on Christmas? Do I know them?"

Mairead put a hand on her hip and regarded him gravely. "I don't know - do you?" she asked in a tone of significance.

She tried to ignore the way her stomach still twisted in pleasurable knots when he cocked his head to one side.

Remus frowned in confusion. "Whose birthday is it?" he repeated.

"Why, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, of course," she said solemnly.

Remus's eyes lit up in delighted surprise and he threw his head back and laughed.

Mairead held her serious face as best she could. "I've got a book that can help you. Anytime you're ready."

Remus's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Thanks. I think I've flipped through it once or twice," he said dryly.

Mairead was surprised to walk away from their encounter smiling.

She was less surprised to break down crying as soon as she was out of earshot.

She brooded over this interaction with Remus for her entire shift the next day at the Diagon Alley library. She had thought that things could not feel any worse than when things had been painfully awkward and strained between them. It had been like there was an enormous dragon standing in between them whenever they were in a room together, which they both saw but which neither of them ever mentioned. She would have thought it would have been a relief for the phantom dragon to be dispelled. But now that things were starting to feel like they were getting back to normal, she found that she felt even more depressed than she had been when things had been awful between them. By the end of her shift, she had worked out why.

Because if things were getting back to normal, then that meant they were moving on. And if they were moving on, then sooner or later Mairead would have to accept that it really was over between them.

As soon as this thought occurred to her, it felt like a three thousand pound weight had been draped around her shoulders. She felt completely sapped of energy. She donned her cloak and scarf, thinking that she would go to bed as soon as she got home, when her supervisor, Gerald, poked his head out of his office.

"Oh, Mairead?" he called. "Could I trouble you to do me a massive favor? I know you're about to leave."

"Yes, absolutely," Mairead said at once, smiling her best smile. She had now been at this job for six months - the longest she had ever held a job since graduating - and she was determined to keep it up for as long as she could.

Gerald smiled and nodded at what looked like several books wrapped up in brown paper and tied with twine. "I've had a request from St. Hedwig's," he said. "They're quite busy with the upcoming holiday and can't get away. They've asked if we can deliver those books. Would it be terribly out of your way to drop those off on your way home?"

"No, of course not!" said Mairead, eagerly stepping forward to grab the package. She weighed whether or not to tell Gerald that she used to live at St. Hedwig's and decided against it. No need to invite him to ask questions.

"Thanks ever so," he said. "Have a great night!"

Mairead tucked the package under one arm and waved goodnight. Stepping outside into the cool, evening air made Mairead pause and tilt her head up towards the sky. She took a deep breath, inhaling the smells of woodsmoke and snow that would soon fall. Remus had told her once that he loved the snow. She hoped there would be snowfall tonight. For him. Smiling sadly to herself, Mairead set off for St. Hedwig's.

She had been lying to Remus when she had told him she had plans to celebrate Christmas at St. Hedwig's. She hadn't wanted to seem pathetic for having no holiday plans, and the last thing she wanted was his pity, or worse: a sympathy invitation. She had considered asking Sister Mary Agnes if she could join them for Christmas, but in the end had decided against it. No one else who graduated from St. Hedwig's came back. They all spread their wings and flew off to live their own lives. They didn't return to the nest, scarcely a year after leaving it, to admit failure and defeat.

Edgar was, of course, an exception to this rule, but it wasn't as though he had moved back in because he was a destitute societal reject, like Mairead. He had a purpose. He was giving back. He was making the world a better place with his gifts and talents. Mairead had no gifts to bestow upon St. Hedwig's. Indeed, the more time passed, the more Mairead came to feel that she didn't have anything to offer anyone, anywhere in the world. She was merely treading water, and would continue to do so for her entire adult life, until the day came when she couldn't anymore, and then... well, whatever happened, it wasn't the job of anyone at St. Hedwig's to keep her afloat.

She was feeling thoroughly sorry for herself by the time she reached the stone steps of St. Hedwig's, and she snuffled in a desultory way as she trudged up the steps. Perhaps she would just leave the package and go without speaking to anyone. There was a table just inside the door, and she could leave the books there to be found. It would probably be for the best if she didn't run into anyone who could see her and be disappointed in how little she was doing with her life.

Mairead tensed when the door squealed loudly as it swung open. Best to be quick if she didn't want anyone coming to investigate the sound. She stepped into the entrance hall, which was lit much more dimly than she recalled being the norm, and saw the table she'd had in mind. The moment she set the package down on its polished surface, all hell broke loose.

Doors all down the hall flew open, and Mairead threw up an arm to shield her eyes from the lights flaring up on all sides of her.

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Mairead's arm fell limply to her side. Nuns came streaming out of doors to her left, identical beaming smiles on their faces, while on her right, all of the children who were too young for Hogwarts were lining up in a messy cluster. Edgar and Ansel were there, helping them get into formation. Then, both wizards stood back, Edgar raised both arms, and he began to conduct the children. In relative unison, the children began to sing an only slightly off-key birthday song to Mairead.

The lights from the wands, candles, and lamps that the nuns were holding refracted into hundreds of jagged pieces as Mairead's eyes filled with tears. She held a hand to her mouth, laughing and crying at the same time. Ansel came over to her and put an arm around her, pulling her close to his side. When the children finished, everyone applauded, and Ansel dropped a kiss onto Mairead's hair.

"Happy Birthday," he said in her ear.

Mairead was so stunned that she stupidly asked, "How did you know?"

Ansel laughed. "Lucky guess," he said, giving her shoulder a friendly shove.

They did not have a chance to talk any further, as next thing Mairead knew she was surrounded. Everyone wanted to give her a hug, to squeeze her hand, to kiss her cheek. Mairead quickly became so overwhelmed that she started to blubber, and Sister Mary Agnes suggested that they all go through to the dining hall for cake and tea.

"You come through when you're ready, dear," she said to Mairead, pressing one of her hands between both of her own.

Mairead turned to Edgar and Ansel, who were waiting with her. "You planned all this?" she asked, her voice so hoarse she barely sounded like herself. Ansel nodded at Edgar, who shrugged.

"Well," he said modestly, "it may have been my idea initially, but I hardly did all the planning by myself."

Mairead looked over at Ansel. "Tell me you didn't come all the way over here for this."

He smiled in a self-effacing way. "Well... no," he admitted reluctantly. "But the timing worked out well. I was coming back for Christmas anyway, and then Edgar wrote to me that he wanted to do a big bash for your twentieth, and I just altered my plans to come back a few days early."

Mairead gave him a watery smile and threw her arms around both Ansel and Edgar. "Thank you," she said, her voice muffled in Edgar's shirt.

"I hope you don't mind I didn't check with you first before planning this," Edgar said when they pulled apart. He looked at her keenly when he asked, "Did you have any... other plans?"

Mairead could hear the subtext to his question. Smiling sadly, she shook her head. "No. No, erm... no other plans," she said. "That's over now."

Edgar looked at her sympathetically and gave her arm a comforting squeeze. Ansel looked back and forth between the two of them.

"What's over now?" he asked.

Mairead made an uncomfortable noise, not wanting to get into it, but Edgar stepped in for her. "She was living in sin with some bloke," he said briskly. "Didn't like the sound of him, myself. In my opinion you're well shot of him."

Mairead laughed thickly. "Well, thanks for chiming in," she said wryly. "Has there been any word from Sophie?" she asked, wanting a change of subject.

"I invited her, but she said she had a commitment she couldn't get out of," Edgar said regretfully. "She wishes you a happy birthday, though."

"That's nice," Mairead said a little wistfully, missing her sassy friend.

"Well, shall we?" Ansel asked, gesturing grandly towards the dining hall. Even from where they were standing, Mairead could hear excited noises from children hungry for cake and ice cream. She giggled.

"Lead the way," she said, wrapping her hands around his elbow.

Mairead walked into the dining hall to find that it had been decorated for her birthday. Balloons filled the air as well as much of the walking space, and a clearly hand-made banner read,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAIREAD!

Most of the children were wearing paper party hats, and Mairead laughed when one of the children, seized by a brilliant idea, tore the hat off his own head, dashed for a statue of Jesus Christ hanging limply from the cross, and perched the hat atop the stone figure's bowed head.

"Joseph Perkins, you take that off this instant!" Sister Mary Agnes scolded. Joseph complied, but he did not quite pull off the look of contrition that he seemed to be going for.

"Well! Twenty years old!" Sister Mary Margaret exclaimed happily. "I can't believe it!"

"Never thought you'd make it this far," Edgar teased with a wink.

"Lost a bet on that one, you did," Ansel commented placidly.

"So, how does it feel to be twenty?" Sister Mary Agnes asked with an indulgent smile.

Mairead smiled shyly at the Reverend Mother. "A lot better than it did an hour ago," she said gratefully, feeling another tug of emotion.

"Birthday crown!" Hazel Shoemaker chimed, jumping up from her seat and prancing up to Mairead. She placed a plastic crown bedazzled with fake jewels atop Mairead's head. Mairead looked sideways at Edgar.

"Do I have to wear this?" she muttered out of the side of her mouth.

Edgar shrugged. "Your other option is made of thorns; your choice."

Mairead clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound of her laughter. She somehow doubted that the occasion of her twentieth birthday was special enough to be excused for blaspheming right in front of Sister Mary Agnes.

Sister Mary Ingrid and Sister Mary Elizabeth entered the hall then, carrying between them a cake that was lit up with candles. Mairead blushed when everyone sang to her once again. As soon as she blew out the candles the children began clamoring and jockeying for their preferred piece of the cake.

Soon the dining hall was filled with the sounds of scraping forks and laughing children. Mairead took it all in, feeling warm to her toes. She basked in the comfort of being home. Edgar and Ansel seemed to know whenever she was feeling a particularly strong surge of emotion, because whenever she thought she might start to cry again, she felt one of them grasp her hand, put an arm around her, or lean over to nudge her shoulder.

Mairead wished the party could have gone on all night, but all too soon, after the last of the cake had been devoured and the cups of tea or milk had been drained, the younger children started to fade. The three friends jumped to their feet to help clear the table while the Sisters helped get the children off to bed. Together, they washed up and chatted aimlessly. Edgar told them about his minibreak to Paris, Ansel modestly admitted that he had been promoted at the Embassy, and both very kindly chose to ignore the way Mairead refrained from talking about her life, having no accomplishments or distinctions to speak of, though Ansel did hint at there being openings at the Ministry in France, if she "knew of anyone who might be interested." When they had finished, they turned and saw Sister Mary Margaret standing in the doorway, watching them with a smile on her face.

She shook her head. "I do miss having the three of you all together like this," she said nostalgically. "Just hearing your banter brings a smile to my face."

Mairead's voice caught in her throat and her eyes began to smart, but Ansel stepped in smoothly. "It's great to be back," he said sincerely.

Sister Mary Margaret looked at Mairead. "Will you stay the night?" she asked.

"I wish I could, but I've got to be getting back," Mairead said with a regretful shrug. "But thank you... thank you so much for... for all of this, it -" She felt her lips beginning to tremble and decided to stop there.

"I'll walk you out," the nun said.

Mairead hugged Edgar and Ansel and promised to visit again soon.

"Come for Christmas!" Edgar said eagerly.

"Maybe," Mairead said noncommittally.

She broke apart from her two friends and followed Sister Mary Margaret out through the dining hall and back into the entrance hall. When they reached the double doors, Sister Mary Margaret turned and took both of Mairead's hands.

"You're not doing well."

It was not a judgment, but it was not a question, either. Mairead looked down at their joined hands, sucking on her bottom lip.

"I won't pressure you by asking why, and I will not insult you by pretending I can't guess at least a few of the reasons," the nun continued. "All I wish to do is to inform you that you are not alone."

Mairead sighed. "Is this going to turn into a 'Jesus is always watching over you' thing?" she said sullenly.

Sister Mary Margaret surprised Mairead by laughing. "No," she said, still chuckling. "You do make an excellent point, but no. What I meant was that you have many people in your life who love you and care for you."

Mairead's chin began to tremble. She took a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes shut. "I know," she managed to squeak out.

"Do you?" the nun pressed. "Because I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen you since you graduated."

"I'm sorry," Mairead said shamefacedly.

"You don't need to apologize," Sister Mary Margaret said tenderly. "You have been this way since I met you. You are already shy and introverted by nature, but you still need love and friendship, just like we all do. But you learned at a young age that it is not safe to be vulnerable around other people. So when you experience a setback, you isolate yourself. It is completely understandable and a normal trauma response, but I suspect that after a while you forget that your isolation was self-imposed to begin with. You become confused about why you're all alone, and by then your own personal demons set in and tell you that you are alone because you deserve to be all alone. You begin to believe that you have no one who loves you."

Mairead wished the nun would release her hands so that she could hide her face in them. As it was she was left to duck her head as she began to weep brokenly. Sister Mary Margaret clicked her tongue.

"I didn't mean to make you cry on your birthday," she said softly. Letting go of one of Mairead's hands, she reached up and brushed Mairead's hair away from her wet face. "All I wish to say is this: you may have graduated from Hogwarts, but you will never graduate from being a member of St. Hedwig's flock. If you ever need help, come home. If you ever feel alone, come home. And if you ever, for one second, doubt that you are deeply, unconditionally loved, come home, and we will put you to rights. St. Hedwig will always be waiting to wrap her arms around you."

Mairead and Sister Mary Margaret embraced for a long time. When they broke apart, the nun repeated Edgar's invitation to come for Christmas. "We won't even make you wear that crown of thorns Edgar was offering you earlier, which I absolutely did not overhear," she added with a sly wink.

Mairead thought about Sister Mary Margaret's words as she made her way back to St. John's Wood. She had not thought about it in those terms, but now that she reflected on things, she acknowledged that, with the exception of her jobs, she had hardly spoken to anyone in the five weeks since Remus had ended things between them. With another jolt of discomfort, she realized that she and Remus had now been broken up for as long as they had been together. She concluded that perhaps she was not holding up quite as well as she had thought she was.

Tomorrow, that will change, she decided. The next day, she would go back to the Combat Arts Academy and resume her training. She would also create a study plan for getting back into shape for the Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. And as she climbed into bed and turned out the lights, she decided that she would reach out to Sophie the next day and persuade her elusive friend to meet up for coffee.

She could not honestly say that she was happy, but she was determined to find her way back there again.

This was the reassuring thought that was on her mind when she slipped into unconsciousness.

She was not sure how long she had been asleep when she was awoken by a blinding silvery light. Mairead sat upright in bed, one arm shooting out to grab her wand and the other shielding her eyes. She squinted and blinked at the figure that had suddenly appeared in her room.

When her eyes adjusted she saw that the light was coming from a silvery phoenix, and as she watched, it opened its mouth and spoke in Dumbledore's voice.

"Mairead, you are needed at headquarters at once. Arthur Weasley has been attacked."

Author's Note: I hope this isn't too cliff hanger-y! I mean, Arthur gets attacked in canon, so I figure you all already know how it ends.

What do you all think? Still enjoying the angst? And show of hands: how many of you were surprised to hear that Remus chickened out of telling Sirius the full truth of what happened between himself and May?

No song for this chapter, but the title of this chapter is derived from the song "It's My Party," by Lesley Gore. And the film Sirius and Mairead were watching was "Dark Victory."

Thank you all for reading! I can't tell how many of you are reading at this point, since ever since the website crashed a few weeks ago, hits haven't been showing up on my feed, but I hope you all are still reading and enjoying!