The stone bounced off the surface of the water, once, twice, three times before it sank beneath the surface, on sunny days a pleasant sapphire-blue. Yet it was named the Black Lake: for on the other side, farthest from the castle, there was an opening to a cavern, a cavern so massive the depths below were utterly black and uncharted by humans; and the merpeople did not speak of it.

James picked up another flat stone, giving it a cursory examination before he flung it and watched it skip its way across the glittering surface. One of the tasks would probably be here, in the waters. He didn't know what exactly; it wouldn't be the exact three tasks as in the books, as they had told him the premise of the first task already — and it had nothing to do with dragons. Who knew how his and Lyra's actions changed that around.

He bent down again for another rock, before glancing at his watch. It was ten minutes from four; he had a meeting at that time, and he wouldn't dare be late to this particular one. He just threw the rock as far as he could, walking away before he heard the splash. Once again he had to wonder what manner of events beyond his knowing had unfolded that he might receive a letter three mornings ago:

Dear James,

I would like to invite you to my home for an informal, private afternoon tea. It will be hosted on the Third, at four o'clock in the afternoon. Lucius will not be present, you need not worry. Come alone and dress well. Light finger foods will be served.

Narcissa Malfoy

Right away he knew his wildest dreams hadn't come true, but still… it certainly wasn't a meeting he'd been expecting. Receiving a letter from Narcissa Malfoy at all was new. He might have been somewhat liked by her, but that certainly didn't extend to an invitation to Malfoy Manor for tea. That was reserved for pure-bloods like Parkinsons or the Greengrasses, not for mere Muggle-borns like him. Though he suspected Narcissa even now used a less charitable name for his kind, somewhere deep in her mind.

He appreciated the little memo that Lucius wouldn't be attending. For all that he joked, Narcissa was an intimidating individual, whose thoughts were opaque to him, beyond whatever she wished him to see. Lucius was even worse, knowing his history. Considering what little James could glean of the man's personality, he was merely indulging his daughter by not killing him. James half wanted to ask Lyra to come with, but she was always so exhausted and busy nowadays, even if she wasn't already out of the country for the weekend. Maybe that was the reason for the letter's timing.

So what was it for? Initially he'd thought to return a RSVP in the negative; after all, his first task was coming up, and he had already burned through much of his designated two weeks' preparation doing senseless things, even as Viktor and Fleur had more or less locked themselves in their rooms working on their own equipment; James had only finished his boots after a week, and if he planned on remaining competitive, a single enchanted set of boots wouldn't be enough. But Narcissa wouldn't send this invitation if it wasn't for something important. Just what was so important that she broke her character like this, he didn't know.

He took the stairs at a run, bounding over four steps at a time. Finally reaching the seventh-floor corridor, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, there was an empty stretch of wall; he paced in front of it, keeping an eye on the masonry. On his third repetition a door was present, a door he could never actually catch blooming into existence; it was as though it had always existed, yet he clearly remembered it had not been there a few moments before.

Inside, the Room of Requirement had appeared in the form of a plain room devoid of any decoration, not even any light, and James couldn't tell how far away the walls were. Only the Vanishing Cabinet was illuminated by a small will-o'-the-wisp, trapped inside a glass jar which sat atop of the cabinet. James approached, his footsteps fading away into nothingness before they could bounce off the walls, hiding deep inside the darkness. As he walked towards the pale little lantern, he couldn't help but think of it as a lure for him, like that of an anglerfish patiently waiting for prey.

He opened the cabinet door and stepped inside, where his indecision had given way to calm acceptance; or perhaps resignation was the better word. Inside the cabinet, there was no sound except for his own heartbeats and the ticking of his watch, impossibly loud in this cramped space. A moment later, the door swung open without his input and he stepped out onto the Malfoy Manor guest room. The pale marble floors glowed like gold with the afternoon sun, peeking in through the westerly windows.

"Master Stark," said a squeaking voice, and James turned to see Pokey bowing to him. Dressed in a clean pillowcloth embroidered with floral patterns, she was clearly better treated than Dobby had been, which was good to see. Had Lyra stitched those flowers for her? He couldn't imagine anyone else doing it. "The Mistress is in the games room, if you would like to follow?"

"Thank you," said James, and Pokey flushed a little with delight.

The time taken to walk from the guest room to this games room was probably about the same as the great hall to the library at Hogwarts, which really hammered home just how big the Manor was. Certainly, magic twisted time and space to its whim, and most magical homes had more space on the inside than out, but there was a limit to even those spells, depending on the stability of it. Malfor Manor was palatial, with or without magic. No wonder Lyra had been entirely uninterested in the Tournament's prize purse.

Pokey stopped in front of a set of carved double doors, and she knocked. Without waiting for a response from within, she opened one of the doors for him, and James nodded again at her before stepping inside. This particular room was large enough to host a ball in; there was even a raised platform for dueling. Right now, it was empty, all tables and benches pushed against the walls to create space. A single table had been prepared along the dueling platform, with cakes and biscuits arranged on a tower and a copper teapot next to it.

Narcissa Malfoy appeared as beautiful as ever, dressed in a pale gown, seated elegantly upon her carved chair, one leg crossed over the other and a book open in one hand. Hearing his approach, she slid a ribbon between the pages and snapped the book shut. Pokey took the book from her and disappeared; James hesitated, unsure of the etiquette, then he just sat down on the other side.

"Hello, James." She gave him a rather lukewarm smile. "How do you do?"

"Well, thank you," he said. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting an invitation."

"You are my daughter's friend, are you not?" Narcissa gently took the teapot and poured into James' cup.

It was a dark-colored tea, with a few leaves spinning on the surface, smelling primarily of malt, a pinch of cloves, and maybe a hint of citrus beneath. James lifted the teacup off the saucer, taking a moment to simply let the steam waft into his face.

"How does she fare?" she said.

He didn't mean to let the moment linger, but he didn't know the best way to say it. "Not great… She doesn't sleep well. Buries herself in work and research. It's better than before, I suppose. She's eating more, if nothing else."

Narcissa didn't say anything for a moment, staring off, seemingly lost in her thoughts. Then she said, "That's good. I suppose Hogwarts is helping."

James nodded. "She likes teaching. Maybe not the paperwork, but she really gets in her element in the classroom. Takes it seriously and everything."

Narcissa pursed her lips a little and hummed. "That is good to hear. I had wondered before what Dumbledore was thinking, allowing her such a position of authority, but Draco shares the same opinion. He claims she's the best Defense teacher he's had, though he may be biased…"

"Quite a lot of people feel that way. My friends are usually torn between her and Mad-Eye Moody. I think it's what Dumbledore was hoping for," said James, "that if he gave her something to take seriously, she'd rise to the task, and it'd take her mind off whatever it was on."

She digested that new information. Whether that revised her opinion of Dumbledore was unknown, but it meant that she knew Lyra was as happy as she could be, at least for the moment. Silence took over again. James masked his awkwardness with a sip of the tea. If only he were in a state of mind to appreciate it more.

"And you?" he said, for the sake of making conversation. "It's been a bit since we saw each other last. Are you doing okay?"

Narcissa took a moment to contemplate her response. "I am fine," she said. "Draco is doing well, by all reports. It is Lyra that concerns me. She tells me little in her letters, and Andromeda has similarly heard nothing from her. I am glad to know she is excelling at Hogwarts still, but I suspect there is much I do not know."

James nodded, uncertain of what to say. He had never experienced a more awkward tea in his life. It didn't help that Narcissa seemed perfectly content to sit in silence, either not noticing his nerves or, more likely, intentionally unsettling him.

"Tell me of your schooling, James," she said gently. "It has been some time since I last saw you."

"Well, I suppose I'm just studying for my Alchemy N.E.W.T., now," he said. "Right now George and I are studying about immortality, the greatest pursuit… I'm also making a few extra sickles on the side as Lyra's teaching assistant, grading essays and such. And then the Triwizard Tournament happened, so now I'm preparing for the first task."

"The Triwizard Tournament?" Narcissa said. "You were chosen?"

"Yeah?" James scratched his neck. "I guess Lyra didn't tell you, then? Yeah, I wasn't really expecting it. I'm still not entirely sure if I'm the best pick for it, but I guess there's no point worrying about that now."

"Indeed," said Narcissa. "You undersell yourself, James. You are a very capable wizard, especially for a Muggle-born. I have faith."

James sucked in a sharp breath. He smiled, doing his best to make it appear genuine. "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," he said. "I appreciate your support. Although if you forgive my bluntness, I suspect you invited me with a reason."

"I suppose I did," she said, glancing out the window. "You're Lyra's closest friend, aren't you?"

"I am," he said simply. He didn't want to give the impression that maybe he wasn't as important to Lyra as previously believed. It was only by Lyra's grace that Lucius and possibly even Narcissa didn't erase him from existence for corrupting their daughter; and he had never felt this more keenly than now, sitting alone with her in Malfoy Manor.

If something happened here, could he escape?

"She confides in you about everything, I'm sure."

"Not everything," he said.

She tilted her head a little. "Would you explain for me?"

James' throat itched a little, and he took a sip of tea to try and rinse it down. He cleared his throat before he spoke: "Aside from the fact that there are plenty of inconsequential things on both sides we wouldn't even think to share, I think there are a few things she's keeping to herself. Especially now, with how she's acting."

"Do you have any guesses as to what they might be?" Narcissa murmured.

"She still has nightmares," James said. "And I think she wonders if those nightmares are just that, or if they're related to her visions somehow. I think she just doesn't want to concern me, so I won't mother her." He gave a polite smile at that. "I mean, she has someone else for that, right?"

Narcissa returned a small smile, but it was melancholic. "Indeed," she said. "Though I feel my role diminishing, day by day. I refused to send either of them to Durmstrang, for I feared they would become distant in spirit as well, but I see now that I have only delayed the inevitable."

James shook his head minutely. "She loves you," he said. "More than anything else in the world, probably. Whatever her faults, she definitely inherited her love for family from you."

Narcissa sighed, glancing away. James wondered for a moment if she was using that as an opportunity to compose herself, before dismissing it as foolish. Narcissa Malfoy was always composed. Even these vulnerabilities were calculated. She would never let herself show anything beyond what she wanted to be seen. It would take skill in Legilimency to discern her truths from falsehoods.

"I know," she said softly. "And I wish I could use that knowledge to keep her close. I could demand to know why she would leave me if she loves me so; but that is not the way of the world. And I would not do good by following her to wherever she went. She must become her own person eventually… although she has been her own person already for a very long time."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Mrs. Malfoy," James said.

"Thank you," she said. "But it's hard to not have doubts when she does not tell me anything. To think she would go to Azkaban of all places! My sister…" she trailed off, then, raising her cup for a sip before she continued. "Surely Lyra must know that I will not turn on her by now?" Perhaps it was James' imagination, but he heard a hint of uncertainty in those words. "I knew Lyra and Bellatrix would be opposed, that they would come to blows one day. Did Lyra truly believe I would choose my sister over her? I…"

James was prepared for this eventuality. Lyra had told him that she'd told her mother about Azkaban, and also that the cat was out of the bag with Dumbledore. It was unlikely that the latter suspected James of foreknowledge as well, when it could be just as easily dismissed as Lyra having shared her visions with him. Nonetheless, he'd admit to being surprised that it was Narcissa, not Dumbledore, who was confronting him about this first.

"Not at all," said James. "She just didn't want you to worry. About your sister, about the fact she broke into Azkaban at all. She'd carry the weight of the world upon her shoulders before she ever let anything hurt you. She's a self-sacrificing sort in the end."

"I know all too well," murmured Narcissa. She swam her spoon in her teacup, back and forth, and she spoke again without looking up. "You knew about Azkaban, then? I suppose I shouldn't find it surprising."

"I did."

"And I would suppose you knew before I did," she said, a touch of bitterness upon her tongue. "When it comes to receiving her trust, I seem to find myself eclipsed by you."

James shifted uncomfortably at the sudden turn in conversation. Only a moment ago he'd been reassuring her, yet somehow now that mixture of ugly emotions inside Narcissa Malfoy was directed at him. James took a sip of tea to mask his nerves. Narcissa didn't speak for a long time, undoubtedly cycling through words and discarding them in her mind, and James decided to take a risk. Given Lyra was already involved, he doubted Narcissa would turn her in.

"The reason I know about it is because I helped her break into Azkaban," he said.

Her eyes widened a little in genuine shock, before her face smoothed out again. "You seem to have returned unscathed," she said neutrally. A probe, and possibly an accusation.

"I didn't go inside, only carried her there," said James. A tempest raged in his mind, howling, the winds vengeful and the clouds dark, barely illuminated by the flashes of lightning as waves sharp like jagged shards of stone roiled underneath; the rime creeping along his wingtips, weighing him down, threatening to drag him into the depths below —

"I see," said Narcissa, and James snapped back to her. Her brows were furrowed slightly, and he followed her gaze down to his hands, which were shivering without his input. He clenched them into fists and smiled at her reassuringly.

"She insisted on it," he said, hiding his hands under the table. "We'd only managed to make one Patronus Pendant in the time we had, and she wanted to face her aunt on her own."

Narcissa said nothing, so he continued, "If Lyra felt like she could've accomplished this on her own, then I probably wouldn't have known about it until the deed was done. As it is, she's out of country right now and she didn't even warn me, much less tell me what she's up to."

And wasn't that infuriating. She certainly hadn't needed his help — not his witting help, in any case — to get her hands on the Philosopher's Stone. He raised his Occlumency shields a little, just enough to detach himself from the myriad emotions that plagued his mind, to observe and let go of them.

"My point is," he said finally, "I'm no manipulator like you seem to worry I am, and you know as well as I that she'd never let herself be shackled to a person or an idea. I just happen to be her friend, whom she often confides in but not always, and I try to help her as best I can with what she chooses to tell me."

With his somewhat detached voice and expression, it may have come out as more of a rebuke than he'd intended, but thankfully Narcissa did not seem to consider it worth pursuing. James watched her watching him; her blank mask remained in place, revealing nothing.

"How did you meet her, James?" said Narcissa mildly.

James scrutinized her with his detached mind. Another angle, or maybe she was just looking to change the topic, exhausted by the previous discussion. He wished he had a better way of knowing.

"After the Sorting, actually," he said. "After we were both sorted into Ravenclaw. She revealed her true self to the rest of us very quickly."

A hint of a smile appeared on Narcissa's lips. "A behavior most unfitting for a daughter of the House of Malfoy?" she said. "I have no doubt."

"The first few weeks were her constantly clashing with everyone else," said James, recalling with some fondness. It was where the one-sided rivalry from Vicky had begun; the difference in personality simply couldn't be overcome. Larissa, meanwhile, had apparently found the whole thing hilarious. "She unapologetically lost Ravenclaw fifty points when she talked back to Snape in our first Potions lesson. Still, though, she was smart, and she seemed to know things I wouldn't expect of someone like her, so I found her interesting. Then I hung out with her more, and we clicked."

"And you've had her trust ever since, I assume."

"Yeah. We got into a lot of things together, I suppose," he said. "Broke into Filch's office and stole stuff, discovered the Room of Requirement together, lost us the House Cup…"

"And those things, naturally, are the sort of things she cannot brag to her mother," Narcissa finished, the smile turning a little sad.

Her expressions were less calculated, now, at least in James' opinion, her mask more reflective of her inner turmoil. James knew, at least intellectually, that Narcissa's biases still got in her way, that she suspected foul play from the Muggle-born that had struck a friendship with a pureblood scion. It had taken for her some time to warm to him, after all, and even then it was never more than cordial. Now, she knew it was far more simple.

"Something like that," James agreed.

She traced the rim of her cup with a finger, her lips pursed, and James sipped his tea again. She looked back up at him eventually, setting her cup down on her saucer, and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I have not been the most gracious host, I must admit," she said. "I had much on my mind, but you have addressed some of my concerns. Thank you. So, tell me, what is the First Task? Do you yet have a plan of attack?"

James felt a small ember of annoyance, but then he realized this was probably the best he was ever going to get out of a Malfoy. 'Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss' was practically Narcissa's personal motto. God, no wonder Lyra was so fucked up.

"I can't remember Bagman's exact words, so I'm afraid I can't give you the proper experience," said James, pausing briefly to thank her as Narcissa placed some cakes and sandwiches on his plate. "Something about how not all the world uses wands, and that a true sorcerer needs to be able to thrive in environments without one. Hence, the First Task is the Retrieval of the Wand, in which champions must exhibit ingenuity, adaptability, and cunning to make their way through a maze featuring magical creatures and plants native to the British Isles."

"That is far more interesting than I would expect of Ludovic Bagman," said Narcissa, nibbling on a finger sandwich.

"That's what I thought, too," said James. "I have a suspicion Dumbledore had a hand in the tasks. I mean, it would make sense he does, given he's the Headmaster and any proposal would have to go through him regardless."

"Indeed," said Narcissa, smiling slightly. "Perhaps he knew of your proficiency with wandless magic."

"Maybe." It was a fair deal in his mind. "The other competitors are probably going to try and find out about the obstacles ahead of time, anyways. It wouldn't be much of an advantage in comparison."

"You would surprised how useful wandless magic would be, in a wandless environs," she said. "Although I must agree. While I have never sat through a Triwizard Tournament, any competition between schools, international or domestic, usually sees their overly prideful teachers resorting to cheating."

"It sounds like you have some repressed trauma, Mrs. Malfoy," said James, lightly teasing, and Narcissa frowned prettily.

"Hardly repressed. That referee couldn't keep her personal feelings aside for her grand-niece. I would have won had they not claimed I was casting curses with intent to maim."

James wisely did not comment that, given it was Narcissa Malfoy (and likely a less composed, more fiery teenage version of her) that he probably would've agreed with the referee's ruling had he been there to witness it. Even Aunt Andromeda had been a rather volatile teenager, by all reports, so he hated to imagine how much worse Narcissa would've been. A silence descended upon them, more comfortable than before. He reached out for one of those small sandwiches. Smoked salmon with some cream cheese, with the faint taste of garlic and dill, and the bread was surely homemade, given how fresh it was. They spoke about some mundane things, then, Narcissa taking a visible interest in James himself rather than his relationship with Lyra; whether this was a genuine effort to connect with him, or simply to try and make up for her previous behavior, James wasn't certain, but he found himself relaxing into it.

"I had a favor to ask you, Mrs. Malfoy," he said, as something came to him; the woman arched an eyebrow. "This year's school list had dress robes on them, and I'm not going to pretend I know anything about wizarding fashion."

"Oh," said Narcissa, sounding very pleased indeed. "And you wish for my advice? Why, you flatter me, James."

"You, or Aunt Andromeda, or Sirius. I don't know, just that I'd rather not rely on the Headmaster again." He could feel himself cringe into his chair at that particular memory. Even if he had liked the robes themselves, he couldn't imagine himself wearing something like that a second time.

"I would be pleased to take on this endeavor," she assured him. "Andy might even come along, and as much as a male perspective would be useful, I'll not trust my cousin. He is a flamboyant man, frequently crossing over into gauche. Yes, indeed… I recall, it was Lucius who helped pick out Draco's outfit. Are you certain you want my aid, rather than someone else?"

Now that Narcissa was no longer interrogating him, the idea of a day out with her and her sister, getting fussed over them, didn't sound too bad at all. "Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. You're among the most refined people I know."

She smiled at him, seemingly genuine. "You are too kind. It would be lovely to get to know you better as well, I admit," she said. "I shall arrange this with Andromeda, and we will find a time that is suitable for us. Have you a partner already? You'll need to match with them, if so."

"Not at the moment," said James, with a slight grimace. He knew he'd have to find someone eventually, lest he end up like Harry at the very last minute. Speaking of, would Harry and Ron end up with the Patil twins again this time? It would be a bit cruel, but then again, if he remembered what Ron had said to Hermione in the books, then he needed to learn this particular lesson…

And Hermione. She still wasn't speaking to him, ever since she found out about the time-turner and the true identity of 'McGonagall' when the whole thing had happened. He'd have to absolutely ensure this time that, even with the different tasks, Viktor would get the opportunity to meet her. He'd treated her in a perfectly gentlemanly manner, from what he remembered, going so far to keep up correspondence after the Tournament, and Hermione could use a proper friend. Especially after what he'd done to her. God, that had been such a shitshow. Still was, even after his attempts to apologize.

"Seems someone is on your mind already," said Narcissa neutrally, though her eyes crinkled a little with amusement.

"Oh, no, that was something else," said James, turning his attention to who he would be going with. There were a few people he could ask and they'd undoubtedly say yes. The question was who, and if it was even appropriate to make the approach from his side. At the same time, he'd rather not scramble for a dance partner because he didn't shoot his shot…

It's just a dance, he told himself.

"Well, whoever it is," said Narcissa, her tone hinting that she didn't quite believe him, "I should like to know what color they'll be wearing, at least. It will be a struggle to find something for you elsewise."

"I'll ask around," he promised. "Thank you for today, Mrs. Malfoy."

"I should be thanking you, James," she said, waving it away. "You have been very informative today and pleasant company. I will speak to Andromeda about this as well, and we shall arrange for a time and date after your First Task. My best wishes on that, by the way."

"Thanks," he said, giving her a small but nonetheless genuine smile.

Pokey led him back out again, and he made sure to thank her before he left. The cabinet stood tall, no longer casting shadows with the sun having sunk below the horizon. Feeling a little foolish as he always did, he opened the door and stepped inside, hugging his knees to ensure his fit.

There was no indication that he'd teleported anywhere, except for the sudden absence of light coming from the windows of the Malfoy Manor guest room leaking through the cracks in the wood. When he stepped out, it was not to a dim chamber as when he came in, but to a brightly lit circular room, desks and bookshelves in formation around a central figure. James blinked; he'd have expected the Twins here, who often (mis)used the Room for their business, or maybe Lyra had she not had her own tower anyways. Not Vicky, though, who sat in the center of a horseshoe-shaped table, almost hidden behind the tomes she was working with.

He stepped beside her, and tapped her shoulder. She jerked violently, almost upsetting the towers of books and falling off her chair, before she turned around to look at him, a hand on her chest.

"Don't do that," she said, her eyes wide behind her spectacles, and James only smiled at her in a way he knew would only serve to infuriate her more.

"Surprised you're here. Whatcha working on?"

Victoria released a shaky sigh before turning back to her notes. "It's my thesis for my Arithmancy T.O.A.D.," she said.

"Your what, sorry?"

"Torturously Onerous Academic Dissertation." James resisted the urge to laugh at the sheer bitterness in her words. "I thought I could handle it. I'm already a fair bit advanced in the N.E.W.T.s, including for the other subjects, so I thought I might as well get started on the thesis, but…"

James had to wonder what her schedule looked like. N.E.W.T.s were plenty extensive on their own — most students in Britain graduated after O.W.L.s, and the fact that the majority of Hogwarts students stuck around for their N.E.W.T.s was in part why it was the premier educational institution of the Isles. But to throw in a dissertation on top of that? That even her adult, former Head Girl of a sister hadn't yet done? At seventeen?

"You'll do fine," he said, for lack of anything better to say. "You're far more clever than you think you are. Don't stress too much, inspiration will strike with time."

"As you say." Victoria sighed. "Did you want the Room? I can go back to the library."

"No, it's fine," he said, thumbing at the cabinet still standing in the corner. "I was just passing through."

"So that's where you were. Did you have a productive discussion with Mrs. Malfoy?" Her tone suggested she found Narcissa far more agreeable than her daughter.

"I think so." He looked over Vicky's shoulder, glancing at her notes. It seemed like she was still in the planning stage, so he could follow along; something about the Arithmantic prediction of weather, and her proposed version compared to existing formulae. "So you know how our school list said dress robes on it? Do you already have them ready?"

"Yes?" she said, some suspicion coloring her words. "Why?"

James shrugged as naturally as he could. "It came up while I was talking to Mrs. Malfoy. I'm not going to pretend I know anything about dress robes, so I didn't get them."

Victoria hummed. "I'm not the most knowledgeable individual either. I had my mother help."

"Yeah, Mrs. Malfoy was kind enough to agree to help," he said. "She told me to find out what my friends were wearing, so I know what I should be aiming to pick out. Is there like a style, or a color, that's in vogue?"

"I wouldn't know, James, certainly not about men's dress robes," said Victoria, causing him to deflate a little. "As for colors, well, pick out something that suits you."

"I guess," he said. "What color did you choose?"

"Blue."

James peered into her glasses, and the eyes behind them. "I suppose that would suit you," he said. "Like your eyes, or a darker blue than that? Like cobalt, maybe? Royal blue?"

She averted her gaze. "Yes, darker. Royal blue is a good descriptor, if we're thinking of the same thing. A little darker than the blue on the Ravenclaw crest."

"Good to know," he said. "I guess I'll have to ask a few other people, too. I'll leave you alone, now, although I should mention it's getting close to dinnertime before you forget about it."

"Is it?" Victoria thought for a moment, before she shut the book she was reading and stood, gathering her notes. "I might stop here for today, in that case. I don't think I'm going to get much more done." She held her things to her chest, and turned to him. "I'll walk with you. Shall we?"

James smiled. "We shall."