Forty chapters?! Am I insane? That feels mind-blowing to me. We're so close to the end of this one and I am both excited to move on to the next one, and wildly anxious about it. The next book is so dark in comparison, and so much happens. And the closer we get to the end of the series, the crazier it feels. It's wild.

For those asking, I would say that I don't have a definitive time frame for when Method to the Madness takes place, I would say in my head that it takes place some time between this chapter and next chapter for all of you who wanted to read things chronologically.

Anyway, I digress! Enjoy!

Catherine . alice: Thank you for reviewing! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!

Guest: Thank you for reviewing! I totally understand the frustration with the current storyline, believe me. It's such a hard concept to consider when I write, but I totally feel for Sirius. Remus and Vanessa have such a healthy relationship (in my opinion, though of course this is subjective), but the circumstances are so different for her than Tori and Sirius. Vanessa has never known familial love and support other than Harry, so accepting Remus is much easier. Tori and Sirius can't say the same. Tori does have a family that has loved and cared for her for years, and now there's someone else who wants that role and that's confusing to her. As readers, knowing what happens to Sirius (and I will not confirm or deny whether I intend to keep his death canon), it's hard not to be protective of him, and even though everything in my entire being wants to make his story with Tori easy and simple, I just don't feel it would be realistic. Both because of Tori's more prickly, dismissive personality and because the situation itself is so complex and complicated. Sirius wants everything to be normal, often putting pressure on Tori to let him be a father simply because he wants it so badly and unfairly missed the chance to be one (which I feel is unfair to Tori, but, again, reading is so subjective) and Tori is struggling with caring about him because she knows he's her father, but already having a father figure (I.e. Arthur Weasley) and not knowing how to balance that in her head. In my head, I guess Molly is a surrogate to her mother because Tori knew her mother and remembers her vividly enough, but Arthur is the only "father" she's ever known, and she has to reconcile that with the fact that she actually does have a father now. If that makes sense? It's hard to put into words how my thoughts work in that regard, so hopefully that makes sense. It's such a tricky situation, and I agree it can be frustrating. I come from a very blended family, and two of my siblings were adopted by my dad and they both took the news very differently (one pushed him away for awhile, and the other clung to him as the only father they knew) so all situations are a bit different. As I'm not totally familiar with how or what that must feel like, I sort of draw on their experience and work from there. As far as the odd name thing, it's just an odd personality quirk for each of them. Sort of like when someone chooses to go by their middle name instead of their first name. Vanessa and Victoria are not intended to be perfect, and I think they both have some growing to do for sure. I sometimes have to remind myself that these characters are still children because when I write them, I want it all to be perfect and pretty. Or beat them over the head when they're stupid or immature tbh haha. They've got growing and soul-searching to do. It's all about the journey for each of them. Anyway, long story short — I totally get it, believe me lol! I appreciate your feedback, always!

Gi-L-Ha: Hello, lovely! I totally understand. I feel so bad for Sirius too! It's such a hard situation, and I'll not confirm or deny if I intend to keep his death canon, but Tori has big feelings that she ignores often and I agree with you on that. I won't advise how or if their relationship evolves either as it's all part of the gut-wrenching process unfortunately lol. The best books I've ever read are the ones that have drawn out every emotion in the book, and in this situation, I don't think there's a true right answer. Sirius missed out on so much and is having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that life (and his daughter) moved on without him, and Tori is trying to reconcile her happy (albeit complicated now that her and Fred are more than friends) life with the Weasleys with the expectations of Sirius. It's a hard pill to swallow, and while I considered making it easier for him knowing how his fate ends, there's a chance I'll change things and Tori doesn't know that's how it could end for him and it would be too idealistic, so I keep her decision making as close to realistic in that situation as possible. The destination is sweeter when the journey is a little bumpy along the way. Enjoy, enjoy!

Chapter Forty

Nessa wasn't sure how to cope with things when they came back to the castle. While Sirius had been talking to them, it had felt…unreal. Surreal. A bit preposterous.

There was so much else that she was worrying about when they'd been in the cave — Tori's nervousness, her tension, her barely concealed effort to not stare at her father. She'd let herself become so enraptured in her concern for her best friend's more complicated family and emotional problems, and had made Sirius' words secondary to the entire experience.

Now, though, with the silence of the castle pressing in on her, his words played around in her head like a sounding board, bouncing off of the empty walls of her brain until they were the only things she could hear.

There was so much to unpack about the entire thing, and her brain was simultaneously stalled and whirring. It made her feel almost numb. She couldn't even remember the journey back other than the horrid trip down, which, of course, she and Tori had to lead because of Tori's stupid skirt.

Who even wore a skirt in the middle of winter anyway? It was ridiculous.

As far as Nessa could remember, she'd gotten down the mountain grateful she hadn't broken her ankles, and walked back to the castle in silence as the twins and Tori made casual discussion as if they weren't being followed by a convict disguised as a mangy dog. Sirius had disappeared after a hesitant scratch behind the ears from Tori, likely in search of another paper that had been tossed out by one of the wizard families in town. By the time they'd all gotten back to the castle, Nessa had split with an excuse to write to Remus.

And not because Sirius had mentioned that she hadn't, but because she couldn't avoid it forever and because she…

Well, she missed him. And wasn't that such a silly thing? She hardly knew him, hadn't even known he existed before last year, and yet she felt like he was the only person she could stand to talk to at the moment. With George out of commission for the time being, Fred out of commission by default, and Tori having her own issues to deal with, she was feeling a bit alone. Although that was ridiculous as well. She and George had only started fighting the evening before, but it felt like ages.

Remus was her only safe place at the moment unless she wanted to bare her soul to Harry. Which she didn't — he was so horribly awkward and she didn't have the emotional stability to deal with that at the moment.

She also didn't think she could look at him right now without crying.

It's possible that more than one of us will have to protect Harry with our life.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

She didn't want to know, she really didn't. What she wanted was Remus, but seeing as he was hundreds of miles away, she would have to settle for an owl.

She found a random classroom on the third floor, conjuring a parchment, quill, and inkwell without even a thought — and a real pity she was so depressed all of a sudden because she'd certainly never managed that before — and she let the words leave her with barely a thought.

Remus,

I'm sorry that I haven't written back to you. I'm sure you were expecting an owl this morning, but I…well, truthfully, I haven't been in a great place since the article came out yesterday morning.

Before you start, I know I shouldn't have bothered her. I swear I was listening to you when you told me to toe the line with her, but she — she's a horrible woman! It's not an excuse, but it's the truth. She wanted Harry to talk about our parents and if Hagrid was a replacement for them, and it just…it was disgusting. And Hermione nearly lost it completely — if I hadn't said anything then she'd have targeted her and then it would have gotten back to Harry somehow, I'm sure, and —

I'm rambling at this point. The point is that I know I should have let things be, and if you're upset with me for antagonizing Skeeter, I understand. At the moment that article is the least of my concerns.

Everything feels a bit like a mess at the moment. I don't even remember what I told you last…I suppose I'll just start at the beginning to be safe.

Cedric Diggory and I have had a bit of a complicated relationship of sorts, and he did buy me those stupid books at Christmas. I don't even want to fathom the cost at the moment, but we should really applaud Skeeter for at least being partially honest, don't you think?

Anyway, I didn't tell George. Stupid, yes. It was Christmas and I knew he'd be upset, and I wanted to keep the peace. Well, Skeeter ruined that a bit. He hasn't spoken to me much since the article came out, not that I blame him. I don't really know how to bring it up and he seems a bit too livid for a conversation with me at the moment. And I have no confirmation, but Tori said he punched Cedric. Not for the first time, unfortunately.

Writing this down really makes it seem a bit more childish than I was hoping. Perhaps you ought to pretend you didn't read any of it. You've got far more serious things to be worrying about then my ridiculous love life.

Have you ever had a serious girlfriend? I don't think I ever asked you that.

Totally unimportant. My brain is scrambled.

We went to see Snuffles today. He looks…well, horrible to be telling the truth. I hardly want to think about how he's managing. It was horribly awkward between him and Tori, but I think they're getting somewhere. She's agreed to try and have a relationship with him, though she reminded him (rather awkwardly) that she doesn't see him as her…well, you know. I don't want to say much in a letter, but I'm sure you can read between the lines.

He told us quite a few things that are…concerning. I think we agreed that Barty Crouch and Snape don't have it out for Harry, but that leaves us back at square one as far as these things go. And I certainly don't like Crouch any more than I did before. He seems like a horrible human being, if you ask me.

They still haven't found Bertha Jorkins, and Snuffles said that Bagman wasn't being entirely truthful about her being forgetful. Do you remember her from school? Snuffles made her disappearance sound much more concerning, and I have to say, it makes me a bit nervous that she went missing in Albania. I don't suppose you think that's a coincidence, do you? I keep telling myself that I'm overreacting, that there's no way that Voldemort could gain power again, but Snuffles seems to be hinting at that being a possibility, and I can't get it out of my head.

Anyway, those are my only current crises, and I'm still studying for O.W.L.s so you don't have to nag me about them. I actually conjured these writing supplies without thinking about it, and I have no idea how I did it. McGonagall would have had a stroke if she'd seen it. Being a prefect is also equally as ridiculous as it was before. I need more rule-abiding friends — perhaps that would make it less tedious.

I hope you're doing okay.

Write soon,

Nessa

The letter sounded as chaotic as the thoughts in her head no matter how many times she re-read it, but there was simply no way she could sort it all out now. It would have to do.

She hoped that maybe he might not notice her anxious wonderings and general sadness, but that was likely a fool's gamble. Remus Lupin was not a stupid man, and he'd definitely catch on. There was nothing to be done for it at the moment. It was honest, and that was the best she could do in her current state.

Sighing heavily, she meandered lazily through the halls toward the Owlery. Harry had been letting her use Hedwig since he couldn't use her to send things to Sirius, and she was certain that the owl was coming to like her more because she was giving her something to do. She'd been a bit testy with Harry lately, but she'd been more than happy to deliver her owl to Remus, nipping her on the finger affectionately before she took to the sky.

Nessa swore under her breath, sticking her finger in her mouth as she made her way back to that classroom she'd been in before. No one had touched anything since she'd left, that same quill and inkwell sitting on the desk she'd occupied.

She flung herself into the seat again with a heavy sigh.

The entirety of her life was hanging on by a thread. Her sanity was hanging on by a thread. She had so much to do — O.W.L. prep, speaking with Cedric, working things out with George, studying for Madame Pomfrey. But at the moment all she could think about were Sirius' words. Something about them didn't sit right with her, though she couldn't figure out what.

Was it Barty Crouch?

She didn't think so. She hadn't gotten a good read on the man, but she knew he wasn't the sort of person she'd have been caught dead hanging about. For one thing, Percy adored him. She tried not to be too horribly harsh with Percy, but he was simply not her favorite Weasley. She typically avoided him at all costs, and anyone he found worth worshiping, she'd stay well clear of too.

And she didn't think that he had it out for Harry. She had not a single clue what he needed Polyjuice Potion for, but he hadn't shown any interest in her brother. Not at the World Cup, and not when his name had come out of the goblet earlier in the year. He hadn't appeared concerned for Harry's well-being by any means, but he hadn't even seemed…interested at all. He'd sounded more robotic than anything — like he couldn't quite believe he had to agree to the entire thing or like he had better things to be doing. A bit bored.

Of course, he hadn't looked well at all, so it was possible that he just hadn't felt well.

All the same, she had no reason to think that he was out for her brother. A bit of a weirdo, clearly partially unhinged based on Sirius' recount, but not out for her brother.

Although, considering how much he appeared to despise the Dark Arts, she wondered why he wasn't more interested in Harry. She'd have thought he'd be ecstatic that it had all ended, but if his power-hunger was to be believed, perhaps he didn't like Harry much because he'd taken his opportunity to rise within the Ministry when the war had ended. After all, there wasn't much to fight when the leader was dead, was there? Less reason to approve Unforgivable Curses on Death Eaters when there were no Death Eaters.

Perhaps it was that that disturbed her.

She wondered what would possess him to have approved something like that. What must the times have been like that there were people that had agreed with that approach? Did it make them any better than their evil counterparts?

She didn't know. She really didn't. And that disturbed her just as much. If it were Harry that she was protecting…would she have used an Unforgivable Curse?

She wanted the answer to be no. She'd seen the worst of them — her parents had been killed by one, her best friend's life torn apart by another. It should have been a simple no for her. Except it wasn't because she couldn't think of a single thing that she wouldn't do to protect Harry.

I wonder if your friends know what lengths you might go to in order to protect your brother. What atrocities you might commit.

Mr. Malfoy's words from the World Cup came back to her now, the cruel taunt of his voice echoing in her head. He'd known the words would bother her. He'd known they would because she couldn't claim to have empathy for another human being and protect her brother no matter the cost at the same time.

Could she?

She'd tried her best to forget the words altogether, but she couldn't help but think of them now.

What kind of a horrible person didn't know if they would refuse to use an Unforgivable Curse or not? Protecting her family or no. What sort of person did it make her?

It made her want to be sick. She wanted to judge Crouch for his behavior, but she felt like a hypocrite. Perhaps she was one — she'd certainly been judging Moody for using them all year, but here she was, trying to find the gray area in their usage.

And as far as she could tell from Sirius, Moody had morals in that regard. Sirius had said he'd never used an Unforgivable Curse if he could help it. Had always brought them in alive.

Her brow furrowed.

Odd, though, wasn't it? That Sirius had said that with such certainty when the man had been using one of them on his students quite religiously.

It was almost like a game at this point. They'd moved on from learning how to fight off the Imperious Curse, but Moody would often interrupt them all mid-class, selecting one of them to curse while they were mid-hex deflection. An exercise in fighting it off when they didn't know it was coming, or so he said.

And all with that sick glint in his eye. As if he enjoyed it. All with that weird tongue tick that she hadn't noticed until that night he'd been in the Hospital Wing with her several months before.

Perhaps she was overthinking things but…well, it didn't sit well with her that he would have been so against using an unforgivable fifteen years ago, but so comfortable using one now.

Of course, there was a big difference between the Killing Curse and the Imperius Curse.

Perhaps she was overthinking the whole thing. She wanted a reason to hate the guy. He pissed her off at least once every class period, and he freaked her out every single instance in between. And not knowing whether she would be the one that he'd hit with an Imperius Curse next meant she spent every DADA class in a constant state of tension and anxiety.

And what the hell was he doing talking to Harry outside of class?

She was spiraling, she thought dejectedly, staring at that quill and inkwell. She needed a distraction. She hadn't had much time to practice handless magic of late, and seeing as she couldn't pull herself together enough to focus on any of her O.W.L. essays, and the only thing she really felt like doing was staring at the wall until her vision blurred and her thoughts went silent, but that felt unproductive and useless. It certainly wouldn't help the panic building in her chest.

She huffed at herself in annoyance and crossed her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes on the quill in front of her. Her emotions were clearly tied to her magic, though this was true of everyone. She simply had no idea why she had such an inability to control the intensity of the magic as much as she did. Most people didn't have bouts of odd magical power, and she couldn't figure out what triggered hers.

Perhaps it was more intense because she had such a hard time regulating her emotions? Clearly an issue, but maybe one for another day.

She nearly rolled her eyes at herself, uncrossing her arms and sitting up straighter in the seat, debating her next move. She could move the quill or inkwell, but she'd really mastered the levitation charm nonverbally. She could send it careening into the wall, which was somewhat tempting, given her mood. Perhaps shattering the inkwell and having ink paint the wall would ease some of the pressure in her chest and head.

But she needed something distracting, and not something easy. She'd flung enough things across a distance before, with and without her wand, the last of which had been Lucius Malfoy. Another very stupid mistake.

Back to the fire it was then, she thought, lifting her palms out in front of her, and muttering the spell under her breath. The orange flames appeared immediately, and she tilted her head to look at them in intrigue. Last time she'd done anything with them, she'd turned them colors and ended up nearly burning her hands and the ceiling.

So perhaps something more measured than that. She wasn't particularly looking to borrow burn paste from the twins or have to go to Madame Pomfrey and explain what had happened.

But fire had interesting implications — it was cleansing, used in a lot of purification rituals or used to clean stone; it was a bit intimidating — the heat and destructive quality of it was more worrisome than other elements. Particularly, though, it had interesting implications in defense, which would make her feel more secure.

That was the thing she needed at the moment — security. Because at the moment, she wasn't feeling secure about her ability to defend herself against Murton, let alone Voldemort, and if Sirius was serious about his concerns, she absolutely couldn't stand the thought of what would happen next.

Yes, she definitely needed to feel more secure, more strength, more in control.

She narrowed her eyes, clapping her hands together once and watching the flame disappear. If she was going to do something stupid, she ought to direct it at something. She used her want to conjure old parchment and books and empty vials, and sorted them out in front of her in a neat line on the desk at the very head of the class. With a wave of her wand and a muttered spell, she sent the other desks in the room toward the walls with loud scraping noises and stood instead as far away from the desk she'd used to line up the random objects she'd conjured, lifting her hands again and reigniting the flame she'd been using before.

She stared at it, wondering how she was supposed to go about flinging it across the room. For starters, she needed to get it to only one hand instead of cupping it within both. She was only mildly surprised when she tipped her hands so that she could hold the flames in her right hand instead, and the magic complied, even after she lowered her other hand.

In her experience, magic was never so accommodating.

She eyed that ball of flames in her hand before eying the objects across the room. Tilting her palm out, the flame moved with her again, and she sighed in relief.

"Oppugno!"

Nothing. Not even a twitch from the flames in her palm, though she was fairly certain that the stack of parchment on the desk had stirred. Not nearly what she wanted either.

She tried not to let her disappointment take control. If she'd gotten it on the first try, it would have been surprising. Instead, she used her go to technique, picturing in her mind's eye that funnel of power, trying to pretend like she was drawing from it internally. It was merely a visual exercise, but it worked for her, so she hardly cared that it was unrealistic. When she thought she'd managed to concentrate enough to draw the magic toward her, she opened her eyes again, tilted her palm out, and muttered "Oppugno!" again.

She startled this time when the flame jerked outward before it fizzled out. She frowned in disappointment — she'd done something, although it had only gone forward about five inches before it had flickered out to nothing, leaving not even a puff of smoke in its wake.

How incredibly irritating, she thought to herself. There were obvious implications to being able to throw fire, and something she could particularly use to defend herself in an attack, though this wasn't coming any time soon as far as she knew.

Perhaps reading up about fire magic would have been more helpful, particularly as they didn't really use fire in such a way. She knew the spell to attack only in passing from something else Flitwick had been teaching them about, and the fire charm had been taught in her first year as a means to light someone's way or keep them warm. They'd hardly been instructed to use the spells together in an attempt to attack an object.

Sighing heavily, she opened one of her palms and conjured that ball of flame again. She was going to do the goddamn thing until she managed it, her irritation be damned.

Again and again, she attempted to fling that ball of flame across the room, letting the minutes tick by idly as she focused all of her energy on the flames in her hand. She was merely met with a general irritation because no matter how many times she said the spells, no matter how many times she pictured exactly what she wanted to happen, no matter how many times she stomped her foot or huffed in frustration, she couldn't get the damn flames to go more than a few feet.

Which was better than the several inches she'd managed the first time, but it was hardly enough to get across the room.

She huffed again when she muttered the spell and the flame shot forward several feet before it went out.

"What is the issue here?" She snapped at absolutely no one, tugging at the hair at the sides of her head. "The flame is there. The spell clearly works the way I want it to, but it won't go that far." She paced back and forth, trying not to tantrum about her unsuccessful attempts. She was a bit too emotional at the moment to be doing this, but it was too late now — she was a perfectionist by nature, totally neurotic, and she couldn't let it go now. If she couldn't get it to go far enough there was no point in the spell. If someone was going to stand that close to her, there'd be no reason to use the spell like that — not without risking herself going up in flames as well, which was a bit counterintuitive. "What is the problem? If I can throw it, then it's got to be the technique. Or…well, is it not hot enough?"

She paused her pacing, staring unseeingly at the desk across the room.

An interesting consideration — the flame would have to be hot enough to make it across the room without fizzling out, which she hadn't considered. It was very cold in the castle this time of year, though the room had become stiflingly hot. Regardless of whether or not she was managing to cross the distance with them, the fire was doing its job, single-handedly raising the temperature in the room so much that she'd had to shed her sweater, and her hair was beginning to stick to her forehead.

It certainly felt like it was hot enough in here, but given the speed that they had to travel through the air, perhaps she was underestimating. Plus she'd always been a bit more sensitive to temperature than most people, so she might have just been being dramatic about the heat in the room.

"This is stupid," she huffed, conjuring the ball of flame again and preparing to hurl it. "How am I supposed to make the flame hotter? I hardly think that I could get more pissed off…you'd think that would work on its own —"

"Who in Merlin's name are you talking to?"

She squealed in an attempt to smother the scream in her throat, whirling around to face whoever had come into the room unannounced. The flame in her hand went hurling rapidly toward the door without even a thought from her.

George ducked, swearing viciously in surprise, and Nessa gaped at the place the flames had disappeared.

"Well, how did I do that?" she exclaimed in frustration, wanting to growl under her breath.

George stood again, looking somewhere between exasperated and amused, and raised a pointed eyebrow.

"That's what you're worried about?" he said dryly. "How you did it? Not the fact that you nearly singed a line down my head?"

She looked him over carefully.

"I could have grown your hair back," she said apologetically. She hadn't even realized what she'd said until after it had already come out of her mouth. "I didn't know you were there…"

The room was suddenly much too small for her liking, despite the fact that she'd been wishing it would have shrunk not even ten minutes before. But the awkwardness between them was palpable, like she could have reached out and plucked it like a guitar string.

And she was suddenly unsure what she was supposed to be doing or saying because there were a lot of things she needed to say. But maybe he wasn't ready to talk about it yet, and he'd come in here for a different reason. She'd fought all of her base instincts to follow him around until he talked to her, and it would be horribly embarrassing to ruin that now.

She hated herself. Why was he so much better at this than her?

"Where are Fred and Tori?" she said, clearing her throat and wrapping her arms around herself awkwardly.

They'd fought before, it shouldn't feel so awkward, but what was she supposed to say?

"In our dorm," he said. "Talking…I hope because I don't want to think about what else they could be doing," he muttered to himself. She snorted, rolling her eyes, but he spoke before she could mention how ridiculous he was. "She's having some sort of crisis about if she was too harsh with Sir — Snuffles — and if she should have just pretended to be okay with him trying so hard to be her dad."

Nessa's concerns evaporated immediately and she swore under her breath, looking frantically for her sweater.

She'd been in here practicing spells and having a breakdown about a hypothetical situation, and her best friend was in the middle of a very real emotional crisis. What was the matter with her? What was she doing?

"Dammit, I didn't even think about Victoria," she said, shoving her arms back in her sweater and huffing when she noticed she'd put it on backwards but too worried to care. "I shouldn't have left her. Is she alright? I'll go talk to her —"

George reached out immediately, stopping her before she could make a beeline past him.

"She's fine, Vanessa," he said gently, forcing her back into the room several steps so that they were near the teacher's desk she'd been using. "Fred's handling it, and you don't have to take care of everyone. And not to be critical, love, but I think you should put your sweater on frontwards before you go running off to comfort people."

"Tori isn't going to care what way my sweater is facing —" she said, rolling her eyes.

"Well, she ought to," George snorted. "You wouldn't see me taking advice from someone who can't dress themselves properly."

"You don't take advice from anyone," she said dryly.

"Don't need it," he said, grinning at her arrogantly. "I'm very well put together. Not a single thing in my life out of place."

She had to work very hard to hold back the eye roll she wanted to release at these words. She'd never known a single individual who was more chaotic than George Weasley. Except Fred Weasley, that was.

"What are you even doing in here anyway?" he said, looking around at the oddly organized classroom. "It's very warm."

She hesitated, biting her lip and eyeing the door anxiously. She still felt an overwhelming desire to find Tori because she felt horribly selfish for having left her, but George was looking at her expectantly, and she really felt like he might tackle her to the ground if she tried to make another escape.

And he'd said Fred was taking care of it, and she believed that.

She was pretty sure.

Sighing heavily, she said, "I was trying to hit that stuff on the desk with a fireball. Which was next to useless."

"Okay," he said slowly, dragging the word out as if she weren't making much sense. "Why?"

She flung herself into the teacher's chair, wishing she could rip her brain out of her head. A moment's peace from the concerns bouncing around in there would have been nice.

"Because my life is falling apart, George," she said in frustration. He opened his mouth, looking as if he were going to argue this point, but she spoke over him. "One of Cho's friends tried to trip me in the corridor earlier —"

"Who?" he said, straightening indignantly. She ignored him.

"Cedric has a black eye, you're talking to me about things as stupid as the weather as if I care about that at all, and what the hell was Sirius talking about when we left?" She said, her voice rising in pitch with the panic behind her chest. "What am I supposed to do with Harry? And why is everything always a mess? Why can't Harry like — like knitting or yoga or something? Why's he got to be in some stupid tournament, drawing out murderous sociopaths?"

"Well, he didn't sign up willingly for that," George pointed out. She gave him a dry look. "And I don't think Harry knows how to knit. And I've certainly never seen him doing yoga…I'd have had Colin take a picture if I had."

"This is very helpful, George, thank you," she said, rolling her eyes. She ran a hand over her face. "What are you doing in here anyway?"

"You missed dinner."

Her head shot up to look at him, her mouth hanging open.

"Dinner?" she repeated incredulously. "I — what time is it?"

He blinked at her before raising his arm to look at his watch.

"Seven."

How in the hell? She'd been in here for hours. It didn't feel like it had been that long at all. She thought she'd been in here for an hour tops. She'd thought that the practice hadn't been working to distract her at all, but if she'd really been in here that long then she'd managed to distract herself quite well over that length of time.

She groaned, letting her head fall back against the wall.

"I was supposed to help Snape grade essays," she said. "He's going to kill me —"

"You grade his essays?" George said incredulously. "Since when?"

"Since last year," she said. "And I don't know if I'd really call it grading. It's more like listening to him talk about how useless everyone is in his class while I mark grades down in his grade book. Or do inventory. Or clean out cauldrons. I think he's just lonely."

George stared at her as if she had three heads.

"Are you mental?" he said eventually. "He doesn't have the capacity to feel loneliness. He's got as much personality as Binns —"

"Don't be rude, George."

"You're right," he said, sounding surprisingly apologetic. "That's insulting to Binns, isn't it?"

She didn't know what she'd expected.

"I'm sick of you," she said dully, wanting to kick him when he grinned at her.

Silence engulfed them again, and she didn't know what she was supposed to be doing. He hadn't ignored her completely, but he hadn't been talking to her. At least not in the way she'd have preferred. This was the first time since the afternoon before when the article had come out and he'd found her in the library, and she wasn't sure if the fact that he wasn't leaving now meant that he was prepared to talk to her about it now or not.

Every time she'd attempted to bring up the article before, he'd gotten upset and told her he didn't want to talk about it, and she was a bit nervous to bring it up now. But she wasn't exactly sure what else she was supposed to be doing.

"Are we talking about it now?" she said, wincing at the resentment that colored her words. She hadn't meant for it to come out that way — she really didn't blame him for not wanting to talk to her about it, but she was exhausted at this point.

He stared at her for a long moment before he walked around the desk to lean against it, crossing his ankles and arms. He wasn't far from her now and she could smell the hint of gunpowder and it relaxed her minutely.

Such an odd thing.

"I wasn't avoiding you, Vanessa," he said eventually. She didn't say anything. "I just didn't want to say something stupid when I was that angry."

"I didn't mean to sound angry about that," she said softly. "I'm not trying to rush you — I'm sorry —"

"You're not," he said, eyeing her as if they were having any other conversation. How did he do that? Behave so calmly about everything. What must it be like to be as calm as he was for even a day? "I came in here of my own free will, you'll recall."

"Right," she snorted, looking away from him and looking back across the room toward the door. It was weird to sit at the front of the classroom at the teacher's desk. The room looked much bigger from this position. He let her sit in silence for a long moment before he spoke again.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

That was the question wasn't it. She should have been able to answer that with all of the thinking she'd been doing about the entire thing in the last few days. Something other than a fleeting desire to maintain her happy normal.

"I was going to," she said dully, still looking out toward the door. "But he sent them on Christmas —"

"What difference does that make?"

"It was Christmas, George," she said as if he were asking something ridiculous. "I didn't want to ruin the whole day, especially with the Yule Ball. It would have ruined the whole night, and you know it."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, and she got the impression that he wanted to argue, but knew he couldn't. They both knew he couldn't — he'd have been livid no matter when she'd told him, and the fact that the Yule Ball was coming up wouldn't have made any difference. George Weasley was better than most at being optimistic and carefree, but the Weasley temper was hardly anything to prod at. Particularly when it paired so easily with a side of ego.

"Is that what he was talking to you about at the Ball?" he said instead, his voice measured.

"He was upset I'd sent them back," she confirmed. "And I did. The moment I got them. Dobby took them back for me because I thought they were inappropriate."

She'd hoped that that would help somehow, but it appeared to annoy him.

"Inappropriate is a nice way of saying it," he scoffed. "Sending them back doesn't change the fact that he sent them —"

"I don't have control over what he's doing!"

"No, but you have control over what you tell me, don't you?" he snapped. "So you didn't want to tell me with the Ball, but you had months afterward to tell me. So why didn't you?"

"I — I knew you would be upset —"

The words appeared to irritate him more and he pushed himself away from the desk to put more distance between them.

"You're starting to sound like Tori," he said angrily. "That's what she told me when I found out about her and Fred. I thought it was stupid, but — when did everyone decide to keep secrets from me? Am I the sort of person that gets so upset that you're afraid to talk to me?"

"What? No!"

"Do you just not trust me enough to talk to me?"

"Of course I trust you —!"

"So what, Nessa? What is it? You said there was nothing going on between you two —"

"There isn't!" she said desperately. There absolutely wasn't, although she was sure that omitting the information didn't make that easier to believe.

"A couple hundred galleons, Nessa," he laughed, sounding anything but happy about this information. "A couple hundred galleons. That's what he spent on those books. That's a lot of money for someone he thinks is a friend. I can't even buy you a cup of hot chocolate, and he buys you books that are —"

She had to blink several times after the words left his mouth before she registered what he'd said, and she didn't understand a single word he said after that.

"Wait, wait," she said, waving a hand to get his attention and cut him off midstride. "Is that what this is about? The money?"

He growled under his throat in irritation.

"No, Vanessa, it's about the fact that you didn't find it important to talk to me about something like this," he said angrily. "The money thing doesn't help, though, I assure you."

"I don't care about money," she said indignantly. "You know that I don't! And you could buy me a hot chocolate, for God's sake, but you need the money for the shop, and I can buy it myself —"

"Right, but he could probably do both, couldn't he?" he scoffed before huffing impatiently. "Look, that part isn't really important. I shouldn't have brought it up —"

"Don't try and change the subject, George!" she snapped. "You did bring it up, so it obviously bothers you. I didn't ask for those books — I don't want those books, and if I did, I don't need him — or you, for that matter — to buy them for me. I can buy them myself."

"You shouldn't have to," he muttered to himself. What the hell did that mean? He seemed to sense the question on her face before she even had to voice it because he said, "Nessa, we've never even been on a date —"

"Yes, we have," she said indignantly. "We've —"

"Not a real one," he amended. She had no idea what that meant either. She was so confused about what was happening now because they seemed to have devolved into an entirely different conversation than what she'd been expecting to have. "Not anything I've paid for. The best I can do is take you to a school dance while Diggory does his level best to woo you with expensive books I can't afford —"

"He's not wooing anyone," she said in frustration. "And you don't need to spend money for it to be a date. You plan things for us to spend time together — I'd say that's a date. I don't need you to buy me things —"

"You deserve to go on a real date is my point, Vanessa," he said, running his hands through his hair. "You deserve to do the whole stupid thing with dressing up, and going somewhere nice — though I think the only thing in Hogsmeade is Madame Puddifoot's and that's a nightmare —"

"Madame Pudi — you mean that place with the pink frilly bows all over the place?" She said, suddenly horrified. "I'd sooner walk willingly into an Acromantula den before I let you take me somewhere so ridiculous."

His lips twitched, despite his clear irritation with their line of conversation, though she didn't know what he thought was funny because she wasn't at all joking.

"That's not the point —"

"It certainly is now!" she said, stomping over to him to poke him hard in the chest. It was comical, really, given their severe height difference, but she didn't care how ridiculous she must look craning her neck back so far. "Do you think me so shallow that I care about a single thing that you're saying right now?" He rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. "Don't talk, George Weasley! Everything you're saying is ridiculous and I don't have time for it. I don't care about the stupid money or the books and I certainly don't care about whether or not you've bought me a hot chocolate or taken me to some ridiculous shop — which, by the way, you would look ridiculous patronizing. I am perfectly capable of deciding what I deserve, and if it bothers you that much then take me on a real date — whatever that means to you, I don't know — when you open the shop, but don't make this about me because this is clearly some pissing contest between you and Cedric and I want no part in it, you understand?"

He rolled his eyes.

"It is not a pissing contest —"

"Well, I don't see what else it could be because I've certainly never expressed to you that I was unhappy you didn't pay for my hot chocolate four months ago," she snorted angrily. "Anyone on the planet could have bought me those books, George. I could have bought me those books if I'd wanted them that badly, and there's nothing horribly exciting about that at all. But I assure you that not anyone could have made some — some ridiculous button that lets me look up at the sky when I'm too depressed to leave my bed. And they certainly couldn't have made me a bracelet filled with memories because I'm such an anxious mess that I can't function on my own, but you did, didn't you? Most people wouldn't have even considered making me something so — so — so unbelievably thoughtful because they could just throw money at me instead, how romantic! So don't you tell me what I deserve, George Weasley! If you'd like to tell yourself that that's nothing important then that's really your own problem because —"

She could have gone on a rant for ages because the entire thing was so ridiculous she could simply kill him right on the spot, but he covered her mouth with his hand to cut her off.

"Alright, alright, I got it," he said firmly, his tone marked with amused affection. "I'm listening to you. I know it doesn't matter to you, but I just…it's a bit frustrating, Nessa, that's all. And it doesn't exactly make it all that much easier to digest to have to read it in some ridiculous magazine instead of having heard it from you."

She flinched away from him at the reminder.

Right. That's what they'd been talking about originally, wasn't it? She'd gotten so distracted telling him off for being so utterly ridiculous that she'd forgotten her own stupidity in the process.

She stepped back from him, moving back until the desk behind her blocked her path.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have told you."

"So why didn't you?" he said, sounding exhausted. "You had plenty of time to and you didn't. And maybe I was being ridiculous caring about how much he spent, but it doesn't change anything else about this, Nessa. You keep telling me that you're not interested in him, and I believe you," he added hastily when her eyes sparked. "I'm not saying that I don't — I trust you. I just don't understand why you would hide it from me if you weren't doing anything wrong."

"I didn't want to upset you," she said again. He huffed angrily, opening his mouth to retort, and she made a frustrated noise. "George, I know that's a stupid reason, I don't need you to tell me that, okay? I do trust you, it had nothing to do with you at all. I just — you don't get it."

"So explain it, Vanessa," he said, immediately annoyed again, some of that earlier anger coming back to him all at once. "Explain to me what you were waiting for. Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you weren't going to tell me anything at all —"

"I would have told you," she muttered, although she was sincerely starting to doubt that assertion. The longer she'd waited, the harder it had gotten, and if she could have forgotten about it entirely and not mentioned it all, she might have just done that.

As if he were reading her thoughts, he gave her a very pointed look.

"You keep saying that, but you didn't," he said seriously. "You didn't say anything at all, but you told Tori. You talked to Diggory about it. The only one you didn't talk to was me. And I'm trying not to take that personally, but if all you can say is that you didn't want to upset me then I —"

"I was happy, George, alright?" she snapped, breathing through her nose to keep her eyes from watering because it really wasn't that serious, but saying the words out loud made her feel…heartbroken. Had she ever really been that happy before? She couldn't remember it, and it felt like she'd ruined it, and she wanted it back, and the whole thing was simply so stupid. "That's why I didn't want to tell you."

He waited for a minute, looking totally bewildered, but when she didn't say anything else, he said, "I'm gonna need more than that, love."

She laughed humorlessly, and looked away from him, staring out the window as if she could see anything at all in the pitch black that was on the other side.

"I'm a mess, George," she said in frustration. "All of the time. Constantly. I'm worried about one hundred different things at once, and over-analyzing everything from every angle, and overthinking every word that I say. Just…everything feels like a mess to me most days, and it — there was a moment there when everything made a little bit of sense. I was content. I was in our stupid little bubble, thinking that it was just me and you, and nothing else existed or mattered. I was happy and giddy and disgustingly sappy, and I didn't want to ruin it. I didn't want to leave the stupid bubble, but then he went and gave me those stupid books. And I should have told you, but I — but then you'd get upset and do something stupid like give him a black eye and then it's not just me and you anymore, is it? I've invited in a whole mess of…shite." Possibly not the most elegant word to use, but it's exactly what it felt like. She couldn't even think of another word to describe it all at the moment. "And I realize that it's stupid, okay? You were going to find out somehow and I knew that, but I — I wanted to just…be happy for a little bit longer. I wanted to just be wrapped in the stupid, ridiculous, sappy look on your face and listening to Fred and Tori whine about how disgusting we are and worry about if you'd notice that I'd knocked over that first year's goblet of water because you winked at me for no reason at all or any other stupid, giddy thing that really has no importance at all. I wanted to not have to worry about anything else for just a little bit longer, and I'm sorry that I don't have a better answer for you, but that's the truth, George. I was being selfish and I'm sorry about that."

There was a long silence after this pronouncement, but she was refusing to look at him. She couldn't tell if it sound more stupid or depressing now that she'd said it out loud, and she really didn't want to know how he'd react or what he'd say because with a reason as flimsy as that, she had no argument and she certainly had no way to defend herself and why did she have to be so awkward in the middle of confrontation? She over complicated things of her own accord.

After a long moment, she heard him sigh heavily, sounding saddened, but she refused to look at him even when she could hear him walking toward her. She might have managed to avoid looking at him entirely except he stepped so close to her that he crowded her back into the desk behind her, and her head snapped up to him in surprise. There was an achingly gentle expression on his face, but she hadn't the time to contemplate it before he was kissing her, swallowing her surprised gasp in the process.

It took her so completely by surprise that it took her far longer than she'd have liked to relax the tension in her body and respond. And though she'd kissed him a hundred times before now, her breath caught in her throat at the tenderness of this one, the absolute feeling of respect and consideration that she felt when he held her like that, and her hands tightened without a thought on his sides, her heart stuttering in her chest before he pulled back.

She released a shaky breath, trying to make sense of what had just happened and how it related to what she'd said at all, but her brain was overwhelmed and her heart was about next to useless when he was looking at her like that.

"What was that for?" she said breathlessly.

"Because you're an idiot," he sighed fondly, smirking when she straightened indignantly. "It's still just me and you, in our stupid, little bubble —"

"It isn't," she said morosely. "Because now it's Cedric and Harry and Sirius pushing into the bubble —"

He sighed again, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"There's always going to be something else to worry about, sweetheart," he said gently. "There's always going to be something to stress over or want to avoid. It doesn't change anything about this. You can't hide things from me for the sake of keeping the peace. Maybe giving Diggory a black eye was a bit uncalled for — although I'd like to reserve judgment seeing as he's a wanker —"

"George!" she said, laughing despite her attempt to scold him for his language.

"Vanessa, I understand wanting to stay like this, just you and me, nothing else matters," he said gently. "I don't want to upset that any more than you do, and if I thought that were possible, I'd give you that, but it isn't, and I don't want to be left in the dark for the sake of avoiding an argument. We're going to fight eventually, love — about Diggory or because I said something stupid or more likely because you said something stupid —"

"More likely?" she said indignantly, drawing a laugh from him.

"Not important," he said dismissively, grinning widely when she gave him a look full of warning. "What I'm saying is that I'm not going anywhere. If we fight then we fight — there's no avoiding that. We can work through that and go right back to our bubble, and you can go right back to knocking over some first year's goblet — which I did, in fact, notice, by the way."

Well, of course he had, she thought bitterly. Why wouldn't he have? He saw her embarrass herself every time. He saw everything somehow.

He must have seen the irritation that colored her face because he chuckled under his breath. He curled a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to look at him, brushing his lips against hers.

"I'm sorry," she whispered when he rested his forehead against hers.

"I know, love," he said quietly. "We're okay. No more secrets though, alright? I don't want to open the paper tomorrow and find out you've run off to Mexico with Diggory —"

She rolled her eyes.

"I'd really prefer to go to Greece," she said snidely.

"Noted," he said, squeezing her side in retaliation for her snark and grinning innocently at her when she glared at him. "I'd be taking you a lot more seriously if your sweater wasn't still on backwards."

She huffed, rolling her eyes, and shoved him away enough that she could pull her arms out of the sleeves and rotate the shirt around.

"There. Happy?"

"I'd have been happier if you'd let me help, but I suppose that'll do."

She flushed, despite the cheeky grin on his face. Though they'd kept things between them relatively tame, she wasn't stupid enough to believe that he was entirely joking about that. He didn't pressure her by any means, but there had been a few occasions where he'd clearly wanted to take things further, but she'd clammed up nervously. Now that she was looking at him with that stupid grin on his face and that suggestive twinkle in his eyes, she found it utterly distracting.

She couldn't particularly tell if the way her stomach swooped out from beneath her was nerves or excitement at the prospect, and because she had already worked herself through one complicated situation, she decided that she wasn't going to consider that for too long.

Instead, she snorted, giving him a playful shove away from her and he grinned happily, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"Only joking, love, I promise," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "Now come on, let's get you something to eat. You can set things on fire another day."

Okay, this would have come much sooner if I hadn't had so much to write within such a short period of time. For reference, George was not avoiding the conversation for weeks. The last three chapters take place over the course of two days so it's fine.

Also, I know some people thought a break up arc was coming through here. It is not LOL. I want to admit that I'm not really a third-act breakup sort of girl (because I'm really not) but sometimes this story takes me in a different direction than I thought, so I'm going to hold out on promising anything to avoid looking stupid later LOL.

For those of you who also read Fait, I'm working on it, I swear. I can't get the chapter exactly the way I want so it's taking me ages. I'm a perfectionist.

Love you all! See you soon!