Dora was two days into her second monthly cycle, and she was beginning to regret the newfound feeling of womanhood. Her lower body was sore and achy, and every few minutes it felt like a snake was squeezing her from the inside out. She whimpered and turned over on her bed, where Iris greeted her with a frown.

"Dora, just go to the hospital wing."

"No . . ." Dora clutched her abdomen and groaned. "I'm . . . fine."

"Madam Pomfrey doesn't care," Iris insisted. She stood over Dora's head with her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her lips. "You're crampy and you know Pain Relief doesn't work as good for this. Just go."

"It's embarrassing."

"Girls go all the time," said Amelia, from her bed. "She's really nice about it too."

"It's past curfew," Dora protested, looking at the little clock on her bedside table. "I can't."

"Ask a prefect to take you," Maisie said. "Heather was still in the common room. She said Louisa would be back from rounds soon, so they could both take you."

"Or my cousin Francie could take you," offered Flora. "I'll run up to the fifth years' dormitory and ask her, if you want."

Dora grunted into her pillow; having her cycle at school was decidedly harder than at home. She wished she was at Travers Court, where she could ask Tippy or Goldie for the Enchantress's Elixir. Instead, her four dormmates were looking upon her pityingly and forcing her to get up.

"I'll ask . . . Heather," Dora gasped, after another cramp ripped across her abdomen. She scrunched her eyes together and got out of bed. It didn't hurt as much to walk, and just as she was about to turn back, another cramp convinced her to keep going.

To Dora's relief, the two older prefect girls were together and understood what she needed. Heather, now a sixth year, was happy to let Louisa, the seventh year, stay in the common room and continue studying. The trip to the infirmary was short and uneventful, with Heather making light conversation on Dora's proposed electives for her third year, and they reached the hospital wing doors without incident.

"It looks like Madam Pomfrey is busy with another student," said Heather, peering inside the infirmary. She reached into her pocket and gave Dora three Chocolate Frogs.

"What's this for?"

"I always keep some in my pockets for occasions like this," Heather replied, smiling. "Go on in. Madam Pomfrey help you soon, okay?"

Dora nodded and slipped inside the infirmary, hoping that the other student was unconscious or injured enough that they wouldn't notice that Dora was there.

"Miss Travers?"

Dora's hopes were dashed as soon as Madam Pomfrey spotted her.

"Erm, hi," Dora said, wincing. "I need, erm . . . elixir?" She craned her neck and saw that the student in the bed behind the hospital matron was on their back.

"Sit down, Miss Travers. I'll be with you in a moment."

Dora sat down on the nearest bed. She knit her brow together as another cramp tore at her insides and looked up when Madam Pomfrey walked by, but the matron wasn't going to her.

"Mr. Lupin, are you able to sit up?" asked Madam Pomfrey. Dora would've perked up, had it been any other night, but Remus was among the last people she wanted to run into. She couldn't let her cousin or the other Gryffindor boys know she was having her monthly cycle.

While Madam Pomfrey fussed over Remus, Dora contemplated bolting from the spot, but an involuntary whimper dropped from her lips.

"I'll be right with you, Miss Travers—"

"Dora?" Remus croaked. "What are you—"

"None of your business, Mr. Lupin," said Madam Pomfrey. "Now please stay sitting up and take your potions."

Dora stared at Remus. He was definitely ill with something, given how pale and worn he looked, and Dora felt guilty for coming into the infirmary for cramps while Remus clearly needed the matron's attention.

"Madam—"

"Just a moment, Miss Travers," Madam Pomfrey said. "Please be patient."

Grimacing, Dora gave up and stayed quiet. If she left now, the matron would come looking for her, or she'd be caught out of bounds by Filch.

Remus coughed into his elbow and tried to speak. Madam Pomfrey patted his back and helped him swallow another vial of potions. "Can I have some water, please?" Remus said hoarsely, as his coughing fit subsided.

Madam Pomfrey nodded and summoned a stack of pillows to put behind Remus's back. He sat up, and in the dim light of the infirmary, Dora could see faint color creeping up his neck and cheeks. His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing half his chest, which had silvery lines cutting across it. Dora looked away, remembering it wasn't polite to stare.

The matron clucked her tongue from her cupboard. "I have to brew yours, Miss Travers. It won't be long—perhaps twenty minutes—so make yourself comfortable. You may as well stay the night so I can send you off with more."

"Okay," Dora mumbled. She had the bed directly across from Remus, and while she wanted to take a bed far away from him, she felt it would make it more suspicious that she was hiding something.

"As for you, Mr. Lupin, I'm out of one of yours." Madam Pomfrey came around to Remus's bedside and gave him a glass of water. "It will take longer. Do you think you can stay up for another half hour?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," said Remus. He shivered as he drank the water, and Madam Pomfrey covered him with a thick blanket, which concealed his chest and its silvery lines. The matron bustled off into her personal potions lab and Dora began hearing the tell-tale sounds of potions sizzling and bubbling.

Remus sighed softly and held his blanket up to his neck. His eyes were wet and he had dark circles under them; Dora felt sorry that she was taking up the matron's time while he was in so much pain. She felt for the Chocolate Frogs in her pocket, and despite the cramps that left her body feeling like a dog's toy, she heaved herself off her hospital bed.

"Do you want one?" she asked quietly, pulling out a Chocolate Frog for Remus. "I can open it for you if you want."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to, please." Dora held the shiny wrapper in her hand. "Will it be easier if I open it?"

"No, I can do it."

Remus hissed in pain as he sat up more and adjusted his blanket around his body. Dora handed him the Chocolate Frog and tried not to gawk while he fumbled with the wrapper. The frog within took one good jump at his face and then flopped onto his lap.

"Stupid frog," he muttered, but when he bit off its chocolatey head, he mmed.

Dora opened one of her frogs, but she snatched it before it could jump in her face. She snapped off one of its legs and joined Remus in their midnight snack, deciding that it wouldn't be so bad if she had the bed next to Remus's for the night.

"Who did you get?" she asked, nodding at his wrapper.

"Daisy Dodderidge," he replied. "I've already got one of her."

"Do you have Artemisia Lufkin?" asked Dora, holding her card up. "I've got two of her already and I haven't got Daisy yet." Remus shook his head and offered her the card. Dora grinned at the exchange and tucked the new card into her pocket.

Remus slid his new card onto his bedside table with a groan. His blanket fell off of him and Dora reached for it right away even as a new cramp made her whimper.

"Are you okay, Dora?"

"I'm all right," she groaned. "Let me fix your blanket for you."

Dora held up the blanket and finally got a good look at the raised lines on Remus's chest. Some were silvery, others pink, and there was a jagged, dark one near his ribs. He seemed to have frozen still, with his eyes wide and searching, and his breathing had grown shallow and irregular. Ignoring her discomfort at the sight of his scarred chest, Dora placed the blanket on him gently and tucked it under his torso so it wouldn't fall off of him again, like her mother would do whenever she was ill.

"Is that better?" Dora's hands were still on his chest. Remus hadn't said a word, but color was returning to his pale face. Realizing he might be embarrassed, Dora removed her hands and stuffed them back in her pockets. "Sorry if that was too much. Mama always says I should ask if someone needs help."

"S'okay," Remus murmured. "Th-thanks."

An awkward silence fell over them. Remus's gaze was fixed on her and Dora wondered if she'd offended him by trying to help him, or if he was too embarrassed that she had seen the peculiar lines on his thin chest.

"Err . . . I've got one more frog, if you want to split it?" Dora pulled out the last Chocolate Frog and held it out. "We can fight over who gets the card until Madam Pomfrey comes back with our potions?"

Remus blinked at her, as if she'd spoken in another language, and Dora tried to smile to assure him that everything was all right.

"What if we both have the same card?" he finally said, his voice cracking.

"What if we don't?"

Remus smiled weakly. "Okay. We'll split it."

Dora tugged open the Chocolate Frog wrapper and grabbed the frog before it could escape. She split it in half, gave one to Remus, whose hand trembled as he took the other half from her. She overturned the card, and before she could claim it, Remus spoke up.

"It's Godric Gryffindor!"

Remus craned his neck and groaned. Dora didn't have Gryffindor yet—the Founders always had the rarest cards, except for Merlin himself—but Remus's bright eyes shone in the darkness upon seeing the redheaded founder of his house. Dora didn't feel right taking the card from him, not when he was so forlorn and hurting.

"I've got him already," Dora lied. "Gryffindor's yours." Remus, though pale and ill, grinned at her.

"Thanks, Dora. My friends aren't going to believe I got him." Dora suppressed her disappointment and flopped back on her bed. Remus, frowning at her, said, "Are you okay?"

"Just a little achy, that's all." She pulled the covers over her body, settled against her pillow, and prayed that blood wouldn't show up anywhere on the white sheets. "How long have you—"

"Miss Travers, where are—" Madam Pomfrey came out of her office and clucked her tongue upon seeing that Dora had moved beds. "Mr. Lupin, is Miss Travers disturbing you?"

Remus shook his head. "No, ma'am. She can stay here . . . if she wants?" He turned his head toward Dora.

"I won't move again, I promise," said Dora. "I split my Chocolate Frogs with Remus."

"Very well." Madam Pomfrey shoved a vial of a shimmery pink potion in Dora's face. "This will last through the night. In the morning, I'll give you a few more to take with you. Take one each night until you're through."

Dora drank the Enchantress's Elixir and almost instantly felt relief from her cramps. She didn't know what was in it, and it would be a few years yet before she could brew it on her own, but it was just what she needed.

"You can go to sleep now, Miss Travers," said Madam Pomfrey. "Mr. Lupin, I'll need you to stay awake for another few minutes."

Dora tucked herself into bed and turned on one side so she could look at Remus. He turned his head toward her, his eyes were wide again, and Dora offered him a smile. She pitied him, being ill so often, and wondered how many nights he spent alone in the infirmary.

"I'll stay awake with you," whispered Dora, once the matron had turned back to her office. "I reckon it must be lonely here."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh. What electives are you taking next year?"

"Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes."

Dora smiled softly at him. They spent the next few minutes discussing their options, and while she wouldn't remember when she started feeling drowsy, she knew she'd fallen asleep with a smile still on her face.

She had made Remus feel better, and for that, she felt proud of herself.

Andromeda's head ached. She sat back in one of the wing chairs by the fireplace in her bedroom, with her husband at her side, neither of them speaking after the failure of a dinner they hosted that evening. It was another in a string of several disappointments, although unlike previous misfortunes, which had been largely Claudius's doing, the newest disaster was due to the guests. Andromeda had the good sense not to rub the failure in Byron's face, though she was sorely tempted to do so, given it was his idea to host the Carrows in the first place.

"I believe I understand your objections to the family," Byron said at last. "The young Carrows are uncommonly close."

Andromeda pursed her lips. She had reminded him of Bellatrix's warning, and despite his reassurance that he took her opinion into account, he invited the Carrows anyway to entertain the possibility of dual betrothals. Andromeda saw the plan fall apart within ten minutes at their dining table: Alecto and Amycus Carrow fed each other frequently from their utensils or even their fingers. All the Traverses had looked up in disgust when Alecto licked her brother's fingers clean on more than one occasion.

"Although Claudius was better behaved tonight," Byron continued, his thick moustache twitching as he spoke. "Perhaps he finds their closeness . . . a sign of familial devotion. His responses to the other witches has been lackluster, to say the least."

Earlier dinners raced through Andromeda's memory.

The Greengrasses were the first to respond to the Traverses' invitation. Andromeda was eager to meet them, as their youngest daughter was one of the patients Ted had helped heal. The dinner had progressed well enough, until Claudius insulted the family by implying that their bloodline was tainted, as they had produced a sickly witch. Andromeda tried to control the damage after supper, but there was no going back: Claudius ruined his chances with any of the Greengrass girls.

The Rowles came next. Their youngest and only available daughter was just shy of 17, a sixth year at Hogwarts. Claudius ruined the potential match by insisting that the marriage take place on Miss Rowle's 17th birthday. He demanded the earliest available date to begin bedding his young wife and see her grow round with his child. The elder Rowles were affronted by Claudius's crassness and departed before dessert was served.

Andromeda had commented to Byron that it seemed Claudius was more interested in the heir making process than the heir itself, but Byron was confident that given the right woman, Claudius would settle down from his wild ways and become a model husband and father.

By the time the Parkinsons arrived, Byron had threatened to cut Claudius off from his allowance should he continue with his antics in front of another possible match. All had progressed well until Andromeda realized Claudius had been drinking all day. When he passed out halfway through the dinner, the elves took him away, and the Parkinsons chose not to return for another dinner.

The Macmillans' visit had been the only highlight. Elodia made it clear from the beginning that she was not interested in discussing a match with her daughter Iris, but she would gladly support a union between her son and Nymphadora, should both be interested. While Claudius was Byron's primary concern, the prospect of a good match for Nymphadora had intrigued him, particularly if it could be secured before she was a fifth year. Andromeda and Elodia shared an unspoken agreement to continue the ruse as long as possible for their husbands' sakes, and leave their children to find their own happiness.

"You wrote to the Yaxleys, no?"

"I did," Andromeda replied, staring ahead at the fire crackling in the hearth. "Their daughter is Nymphadora's age."

Byron grunted into his fist. "It won't do to burn that bridge so soon. Would you happen to know of any young widows, besides that Zabini woman?"

"The youngest one I know is Mrs. Avery, but she's nearly 40."

"Unlikely she's looking for a new husband. Avery had more than enough money and he left two sons." Byron folded his hands together on his stomach, his eyes never leaving the fire. "Claudius needs to settle down. He's long past the age of recklessness. A good woman will calm him."

Andromeda quietly disagreed. Even if Claudius had a dedicated mistress, like Malcolm, Andromeda doubted that getting married would change Claudius's ways.

"Given that we still don't know the sex of Malcolm and Eunice's baby," said Andromeda, "what if we waited until the birth to reassess? If Eunice gives birth to a son, perhaps that can give us more options for Claudius."

"Options?" Byron raised a dark brow at her.

"A foreign pureblood?"

Byron rolled his eyes. "An English-bred witch is best, Andromeda. You ought to know that."

"Yes, but—" Andromeda bit the inside of her cheek. Though she felt pity for the witch who would become Mrs. Claudius Travers, if she were a foreigner, Claudius might be willing to move out of the country.

"You may continue," Byron said, sighing. "Claudius is difficult to please."

"It isn't a practical idea," she murmured. "If we tried to find a foreign witch, it would require us to travel or send Claudius abroad. If he's wild here, he'll be wild anywhere."

Byron exhaled heavily and pressed his fingertips together. "Sending him abroad would make him impossible to keep in line, but perhaps a young woman can be brought here. If her family are desperate enough, something can be arranged quickly. My patience is running thin."

"Druella has many connections on the continent," Andromeda offered. "I can ask her—"

"I will arrange it," Byron interrupted. "If my son must marry a foreigner, I would prefer a Catholic nation. They will have a good sense of duty and tradition. I don't want my son being led astray by a woman without morals."

Andromeda lightly drummed her fingers against the side of her chair. The fire sizzled and popped before her, spitting embers along the hearth's edge and dusting the floor with ash. Apprehension grew deep in her stomach; Byron didn't have as keen an eye as she did, at least not in the matter of matchmaking, and she feared that whoever Byron chose would make a poor addition to the family. Andromeda didn't dare risk the fragile peace she had cultivated between her and her stepsons, and she knew that with enough assertiveness, Claudius's wife could upset the balance Andromeda had so carefully fought to maintain.

"I wonder," said Andromeda, "if you might allow me to ask if our bishop or any of the elderly witches at St. Aelred's know of any available young women?" She paused, taking a moment to glance at Byron's face. His eyebrows twitched as he considered her offering.

"Send their recommendations to me," Byron replied. "I will conduct my own investigation." He exhaled forcefully, stood, and held his hand out for Andromeda. "Come. We have discussed enough business for tonight. I desire your company."

Andromeda took his hand and followed him to her bed. She removed her dressing gown, exposing the new lace chemise she'd purchased in another attempt to encourage herself to be bolder with her husband. It had its intended effect: Byron's eyes darkened immediately and his hands came to cup her breasts.

"D-do you like it?" she asked, searching her husband's face for any trace of affection.

"Your dedication to my pleasure is becoming on you, Mrs. Travers," he replied softly. "I am pleased with you."

Andromeda parted her lips with a question on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked and answered.

Do you love me?

Byron seized her by the hips and kissed her. Andromeda responded as she always did, following his lead and complying to his wishes.

Please say you love me.

The words never came. Andromeda closed her eyes when it was over and pressed her wet lashes against her pillowcase.

She wasn't ready to give up yet.