A/n After the overwhelming support and having some rest (which apparently I did need), I decided to continue posting and try to be more thick-skinned. Let's see if I'll manage to do it, considering what kind of juicy content lies ahead. In any case, enjoy the next chapter.
"Are you planning to go to Slughorn's tea party?" – Lily asked, dipping her bare feet into the warm waters of the Black Lake. Gentle ripples spread outward, distorting the lake's dark, glassy surface under the spring sun.
"I'm not sure." – Catherine replied, stifling a yawn. Reclining comfortably on the fresh grass, her black hair glinted faintly in the sunlight as she tilted her face toward its soothing warmth – "It's the last party of the year, so he's really pushing us to attend. But honestly, I try to avoid Slytherins as much as I can. Plus, with the Quidditch Final the day after, who knows what they might try to pull to stop me from playing."
"I doubt they'd risk doing something so obvious and end up causing another season's cancellation." – the other witch shrugged.
"Why do you even care?" – Catherine inquired with curiosity – "You've never been a fan of these events."
"I'm still not." - Lily admitted, her gaze drifting to the willow branches swaying above them - "I just thought it might be a good opportunity to silence all those blabbermouths who keep poking their noses into our business and claiming you stole Greg from me."
A smirk tugged at the black-haired witch's lips as she watched a group of fifth-years chasing each other across the grounds, their laughter ringing through the air—a brief escape from the mounting pressure of OWL exams. "Does it bother you that much?"
"It irritates me." - Lily replied with a scowl, her emerald eyes snapping back to her friend - "But mostly, I'm worried about your relationship with Greg drawing too much attention."
Catherine smiled warmly, a rare sense of ease washing over her. The feeling of being able to truly be herself with Lily—who had accepted and supported her unconditionally—was entirely new, and she liked it immensely.
"You don't need to worry too much about this." – she said, trying to sound cheerful – "Soon enough, they'll find something else to gossip about. It's not like Greg and I are going to start dating."
Lily gave an awkward chuckle, though her embarrassment lingered from having considered the possibility herself. "Alright, fine. But it won't hurt if we're seen together. And it's the last party of the year." – she insisted with determination – "You need to relax before the big game. Plus, Frankie's going to be there, along with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Patricia Rakepick. We'll make sure you're safe."
"You really have your mind set on this, don't you?" – Catherine remarked, sighing softly before adding – "Okey, I'll come with you - but I'm not dressing up."
"Then you'll stand out even more! Everyone will be wearing their best." – Lily said, her tone edging into a playful whine – "Don't worry! I'll make sure you look nice."
The other girl shrugged, knowing it was pointless to argue once her friend had made up her mind. And so, she found herself walking toward the small rose garden behind the Greenhouses, wearing a pastel green A-line dress with subtle polka dots. A white sash tied neatly into a bow at the back accentuated the classic cut of the dress. Her matching cardigan rested on her shoulders for when the breeze picked up. White ankle socks with lace trim peeked out from her shiny patent leather ballet flats, while her short hair, parted to one side, was held in place by a delicate silver clip.
Despite appreciating the timeless elegance of her outfit—and Lily's determined efforts—Catherine couldn't help but compare herself to her friend. The witch looked effortlessly beautiful in her light blue gingham dress with ruffled edges. Her dark red hair was tied back in a low ponytail with a pastel-coloured scrunchie, perfectly framing her gentle, refined features. Catherine sighed inwardly, feeling plain by comparison, but decided to just silently admire her friend and not think about her own looks.
Professor Slughorn greeted them with a beaming smile, clearly delighted by the strong turnout for his final party of the year. The rose garden, normally modest in size and maintained by Professor Sprout for potion ingredients supply purposes, seemed much larger now. Additional bushes and flowers had clearly been added—likely at the Potions Master's insistence—to create a more inviting and festive atmosphere.
Small white tables were scattered across the garden, each with a steaming teapot at its centre. The tables were just big enough for four people, allowing Catherine and Lily to join Frank Longbottom and Emrys Clearwater, a Ravenclaw who appeared particularly interested in Lily. As they sipped tea and nibbled on scones, the black-haired girl became acutely aware of the glances being cast in their direction. She could almost feel the whispers swirling around them, spinning wild theories about why she and Lily appeared to be getting along so well after Catherine's so-called "betrayal."
About an hour into the party, guests began to drift between tables, forming small groups and chatting casually. Slughorn fluttered from one cluster to another, his booming laughter ringing out.
"Sweet Salazar!" – he suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands – "I thought you wouldn't come! Welcome, boys! Better late than never!"
Catherine followed his gaze toward the garden's entrance and immediately choked on the biscuit she was eating. A group of young men had arrived, all dressed in elegant robes in varying shades of green. Corban Yaxley, Ambrose Travers, Rabastan Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy strolled in, their smirking faces radiating confidence as they surveyed the gathering. Slughorn bustled around them like a doting mother hen, his excitement palpable.
"I'll go for a walk." – the Gryffindor girl muttered, springing to her feet before any of her friends could respond. She headed briskly in the opposite direction of the newly arrived former Slytherins, determined to avoid them at all costs.
After spending a tedious half-hour loitering behind Greenhouse One, the young witch began to feel utterly silly. Not only was she bored out of her mind, but the fact that the Slytherins now targeted her more openly made her wonder if Lucius Malfoy had finally stopped caring enough to intervene. His indifference, if that's what it was, had certainly left her exposed to their unchecked hostility.
'I'm being ridiculous.' – Catherine thought, steeling herself as she gathered her courage and headed back to the rose garden. By now, most of the students had left their seats, forming groups of various sizes as they chatted animatedly. House-elves weaved through the crowd, balancing trays of finger foods and drinks.
Scanning the clearing, the fourth-year spotted Frank and Lily standing with a few other Gryffindors near the centre of the gathering. Determined to ignore everyone else, she moved swiftly in their direction, weaving through the clusters of guests as discreetly as possible. She was almost there when a dark figure stepped into her path, stopping her short.
"Excuse me." – she muttered, attempting to sidestep the obstruction, only for him to move deliberately to block her way. Irritation flashed across her face as she looked up, her annoyance quickly morphing into unease.
"You're not in a hurry, are you, Little Bird?" – Lucius Malfoy's voice was smooth, his lips curling into a grin as his sharp grey eyes locked onto hers.
"Actually, I was about to…" – the girl started, her voice trailing off as he gently took her hand. With a light, deliberate motion, he spun her gently, his touch unnervingly soft. His eyes roamed over her appraisingly, as though she were a prized doll, their possessive gleam sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine.
"You look quite nice today." – Malfoy said, his tone dripping with amusement – "I assume the choice of colour was for my sake? What a delightful surprise!"
"In your dreams!" – Catherine hissed, her face flushed as she felt pretty pissed at herself for indulging Lucius' insane whims – "I just happen to look good in green. It's not like Slytherin owns the colour."
The young man chuckled lightly, clearly enjoying her reaction. "I see you haven't changed much." – he winked at the annoyed girl – "Still so quick to speak your mind, with no thought for the consequences."
"Why should I change? I'm quite content with who I am."- the witch shot back boldly, standing her ground – "Feel free to pass that along to your former Housemates. I'm not the least bit intimidated by any of you."
"I've heard about the unfortunate incident you were involved in." – Lucius said, his smile fading into a sharp scowl – "Alas, there was little I could do in that particular instance. Bella is… not someone easily controlled, and she seems to have some personal grudge against you. Perhaps it's due to your peculiar closeness with her cousin, although rumour has it he's not as keen to stay close to you anymore."
"Sirius and I are as close as ever." – Catherine snapped, her voice taut with anger. Whether her frustration stemmed from Malfoy sticking his nose where it didn't belong or from the uncomfortable truth in his words, she couldn't quite decide.
"If you say so." – the blond wizard smirked – "But it's for the best. He's hardly someone who could keep you safe, let alone use you to your full potential."
"I don't fancy being used for any purpose." – the girl retorted, lifting her chin defiantly – "And I certainly don't need anyone to keep me safe. I can protect myself just fine. What happened with Bellatrix was solely because she's a cowardly bitch who doesn't have the guts to face me in an honest duel."
"While I do admire your ridiculous Gryffindor bravery, you'd do well not to underestimate Bella." – the former Slytherin remarked condescendingly – "What she did was merely a warning. If you keep playing with fire and refuse to show a little humbleness, you might end up seriously hurt next time."
"Oh?" – Catherine exclaimed sarcastically – "Should I then kneel and beg to be allowed to exist in the same space as the noble pure-bloods? Or perhaps I should take one of those trays and replace the house-elves?"
Lucius' lips curled into a slow, predatory grin. "If I ever have you on your knees, Little Bird, you'll be begging for something very different." - he murmured, his voice low and husky. Catherine flushed furiously, the crimson creeping up her neck to the roots of her dark hair.
"You have far too much pride for someone of your blood."- the young man continued, his grey eyes gleaming - "I'd hate to see you suffer because of it. Of course, I could punish Bella or anyone else who harms you, but wouldn't it be far better if we avoided such unpleasantness altogether? I'd rather not see my little toy broken—unless it's by my own hands."
Catherine's jade-green eyes flashed dangerously. "I don't know where you got the impression that I'm your toy, Malfoy, but you might want to reconsider your behaviour towards me." - she snapped, her voice icy - "I've been patient with you, but even my patience has its limits. You might be surprised by how capable I am of punishing those who displease me—without anyone's help."
The wizard's grin widened, his arrogance undeterred by the Gryffindor's fury. "How very intriguing!" -he drawled, clearly enjoying her anger - "I may just take you up on that challenge. After all, I'm quite curious to explore your hidden… talents."
With that, the former Slytherin's arm snaked around the fourth-year's waist, pulling her close, his other hand firmly gripping her right wrist. "For example," - he whispered in her ear, his breath brushing against her skin - "I'm curious to see if a remarkable Quidditch player like yourself is as graceful on the dance floor as you are in the air."
Catherine wrenched herself free, her heart pounding wildly as her fury surged. She fought the overwhelming urge to unleash a torrent of flames onto the wizard's smug, handsome face. "Keep your hands off me, or you'll regret it!" - she hissed, aware of curious glances turning their way. The onlookers' poorly concealed interest only fuelled her humiliation.
Lucius smiled lazily, clearly pleased by her reaction. Undeterred by her threats, he raised a hand to gently cup the girl's cheek, drawing her face closer to his. For a moment, he wondered if this fiery, unpredictable creature might actually bite him. Her green eyes sparkled with rage, and her soft skin radiated a heat that hinted at the inferno she was suppressing.
"I'm not particularly worried about my hands." – he murmured, his grey eyes scanning the young witch's thin frame, his voice almost tender – "But I'm quite worried about you."
"I'm fine." – Catherine replied sharply, though confusion flickered across her features as she avoided Malfoy's piercing gaze.
Lucius tilted his head slightly, his expression momentarily unreadable. "You've truly started to resemble a little bird since I last saw you." - he said, almost to himself - "So thin, so fragile... as if the slightest force could shatter you."
Before Catherine could react, he plucked a chocolate-coated strawberry from the tray of a passing house-elf and abruptly pushed it into her mouth. His fingers lingered for a brief moment, savouring the warmth and softness around them as her eyes widened in shock. Stepping back, he licked the remaining chocolate from his fingertips with a deliberate slowness, his gaze never leaving hers.
"You'd better take proper care of yourself, or you'll see a very different side of me, Miss Plantier." – the blond wizard declared with a smirk. Turning on his heel, he strolled toward the Greenhouses, calling back over his shoulder – "Good luck tomorrow. You'll need it if you want to beat Slytherin."
Severus Snape loathed Slughorn's parties. He had attended plenty over the years, but once there, he might as well have been wearing an Invisibility Cloak. His housemates never spoke to him unless they wanted something, and, given the current state of affairs, it was a relief if they kept their distance. True to his threats, Rodolphus and the rest of the Basilisks had turned Severus' life into a waking nightmare. From frog eggs in his food to dragon manure on his toothbrush, there was no safe haven left in Hogwarts for the young wizard.
Today, he'd hoped for a moment with Lily, some fleeting reassurance amidst the chaos. But she was glued to her Gryffindor friends, offering nothing more than a brief smile when their eyes met. She hadn't made any effort to speak to him, and Severus's heart sank at her indifference. To make matters worse, the unexpected arrival of the former Slytherins filled him with an ominous sense of unease. He had caught Rodolphus whispering something to Rabastan, followed by both brothers casting sharp glances in his direction. That was all the warning he needed to leave the rose garden. Seeking refuge, he slipped behind the Greenhouses, determined to avoid whatever torment his housemates were planning.
Unfortunately, even here, safety eluded him. Not long after, Catherine Plantier appeared, her arrival forcing the boy into the shadows of the Rowan trees. He was far too mentally drained to deal with the vexing Gryffindor and her inevitable sharp tongue.
'She looks like she's hiding from someone.' – he thought, observing the young witch from his concealed spot. She paced nervously, her eyes darting around as though expecting an ambush – 'Honestly, I'm surprised she even showed up to the party after everything that happened.'
Occupied with his own troubles, Severus hadn't paid much attention to the swirling rumours, but he was fairly certain Plantier had been thoroughly humiliated and mocked after Bellatrix left her butt-naked in the middle of the corridor. The Slytherin knew his own cutting remark had added fuel to the ridicule, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. His anger at her audacity—flashing her wealth and daring to claim she did it for his benefit—still burned hot. Yet, a small, unwelcome voice in his head whispered that he'd said it because, deep down, he had yearned to see more of her tears.
This thought disturbed him. Severus prided himself on his logic and control, and the idea that he might have acted out of such odd impulse made him uneasy. He was adamant that he wanted nothing to do with the Gryffindor girl. If it were up to him, he'd avoid her entirely.
Thankfully, Catherine finally left and after some time Severus emerged from his hiding spot. He settled onto one of the stone benches in front of Greenhouse Three, letting out a long breath as he closed his eyes and let the breeze wash over him for a while. Days like this brought a rare kind of peace. In moments of stillness, he could almost hear the wind whispering faint words he couldn't quite decipher. Over the years, the voice had grown clearer, which unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone—being labelled as the boy who heard voices would only make things worse.
"Coming to a party and then avoiding all the guests is a bit counterproductive, don't you think, Severus?" – Lucius Malfoy's voice cut through the quiet, startling the fourth-year.
Snape opened his eyes, frowning up at his friend. "Between being socially awkward and being beaten, hexed, and left helpless somewhere, I prefer the former." - he retorted, his tone sharp.
"Yes, I've heard about your trouble with the Basilisks." – the blond wizards sighed heavily – "Honestly, Severus, you make it incredibly difficult to protect you, let alone build up your reputation. Why do you always end up neck-deep in these predicaments?"
"I warned them to leave Lily Evans alone." – the younger boy replied with a casual shrug – "They should have known what would happen if they so much as touched her. I merely followed through on my warning."
Lucius raised a pale eyebrow, leaning back slightly as he considered this. "As far as I understood, the Evans girl was attacked because she's Greg McMahon's girlfriend." - he said thoughtfully.
"They already broke up." – Snape corrected immediately, his voice tinged with irritation – "And the reason hardly matters. That prat McMahon obviously has a thing for younger Muggle-born witches. I'm fairly certain he dumped Lily because of Plantier—though Merlin knows why…"
Lucius' brows arched higher, his thin lips pressed into a tight line of dissatisfaction. "Are you sure?" - he asked sharply - "I saw Catherine sitting at Evans' table. They didn't seem to be on bad terms."
Severus hesitated for a moment. "Well, Lily refused to believe me when I told her I saw Plantier and McMahon looking fairly… intimate." - he admitted gloomily - "But I did see him kiss her on the forehead."
The former Slytherin's expression hardened as he processed the information. "Keep that to yourself." - he ordered, his tone brooking no argument - "I won't have Catherine get hurt because of whatever fleeting connection she may have had with that ridiculous aristocrat."
Severus's brow furrowed, surprise flickering across his face. "Why do you even care?" - he snapped, his own irritation catching him off guard.
Lucius's eyes turned cold, his voice cutting. "That is none of your concern." - with a dismissive gesture, he changed the subject - "Now, tell me—what has our virtuous lord been up to these past months?"
Severus bit his tongue and dutifully recounted everything he had observed McMahon doing, sparing no detail.
"Interesting…" – the blond wizard murmured once his former housemate finished – "This should suffice for now. I must admit, I'm surprised Duke McMahon comes and goes so freely. It seems their bond with Dumbledore is far stronger than I anticipated."
Malfoy reached into the inner pocket of his robes and retrieved a small black purse, handing it to Severus with a faint smirk. Without meeting Lucius's gaze, Severus tucked it into his own pocket, his expression carefully neutral.
"You've done well, Severus, and the Malfoys always reward loyalty." – the former Slytherin remarked with a smirk, his sharp eyes catching the nervous ticks in his companion's pale face – "I'm sure you'll put this gold to good use. And there's more where that came from, provided you maintain this standard of… excellence." His smirk widened, the expression both condescending and calculating. "You should not be ashamed to work for me. Quite the opposite—you should be proud of the things we'll accomplish together. Focus on what's best for you, and no one will even care that you're half-blood. I have great things planned for you, Severus."
Snape scowled, his mind racing as he dissected Lucius' words. He knew his former housemate well enough to recognise that the he never gave compliments without an ulterior motive. He was certain there was a hidden purpose lurking behind the thinly veiled praise.
"Are these plans connected to the Dark Lord?" - Severus demanded bluntly, his tone sharp and probing.
Lucius chuckled, his pale features relaxing into an almost amused expression. "You should learn to be less direct, my friend." - he said with mock reproach, casting a casual glance around to ensure no one was listening - "Still, your instincts are impressive, considering your lack of ties to proper pure-blood families."
He paused, his expression turning more serious. "Yes, I've already pledged myself to the Dark Lord, as have several of the Basilisks. His vision is one of salvation for Wizarding society, Severus—a cause worth dedicating oneself to." – the blond wizard leaned in slightly, his grey eyes gleaming - "You're still young, but when the time comes, I'll ensure a place for you among us—a position most could only dream of."
"What's the catch?" – Snape asked straightforwardly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Catch?" – Lucius' grey eyes widened in an unconvincing blend of surprise and hurt – "We're friends, aren't we? I've always appreciated you for who you are, and I want to continue having someone as talented as you among my closest acquaintances. You don't believe me? Shall I prove my good intentions? I'll make Rodolphus and the rest leave you alone—not just about Lavinia, but in general. How does that sound?"
"Too good to be true." – the fourth-year admitted, though the temptation to accept Malfoy's offer tugged at him.
Lucius's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Ah, but I can make it happen. Of course, it would be helpful if you lifted the curse from the girls. That would strengthen your case as a potential future Basilisk."
"I don't care about Lavinia or her wrenches." – the black-haired boy replied sharply - "I'll do it as a favour to you, but I doubt that alone will ever earn me a place among the Basilisks, even with your support." He kept his tone as disinterested as he could, though his guarded expression betrayed him.
Lucius leaned back, clearly pleased. "One step at a time, Severus. You've made your point—no one will forget it anytime soon. Now it's time to show a little grace. Let Lavinia and the others show their faces without needing three layers of makeup. We all make sacrifices, after all." - his voice dropped slightly, growing more calculated - "Speaking of sacrifices… take some advice from me. It's time to let go of your relationship with Lily Evans."
Severus' arms dropped, and his scowl deepened. "There's absolutely no chance of me doing such a thing!" - he snapped, his voice simmering with anger.
The other wizard raised a hand, his tone calm but edged with authority. "Hear me out. Your blood status is… less than ideal. By clinging to a Muggle-born, you're only making things harder for yourself. I'm not saying you should abandon your desire for her entirely, but there are other ways to pursue what you want without being tied to her publicly."
Snape's dark eyes flared with defiance. "I'm not interested in anything but having Lily entirely for myself!"
Lucius sighed with exasperation. "Fine. It's not that I don't understand the allure some of those Muggle-born witches possess." - he admitted, casting a quick glance over his shoulder toward the party, where he had left one very angry and confused black-haired girl - "However, I must insist you tone down your feelings for her, just a little. It will improve your social standing—and it's a far safer option for Evans."
Severus mulled over Lucius's words, his brow furrowed in deep thought. After a long pause, he nodded slowly. He hated the idea of pretending, but if it meant keeping Lily safe, he was willing to play along.
Malfoy's expression brightened with satisfaction. "I'm glad you see reason." - the blond wizard said, clearly pleased - "I know it's difficult, but in time, you'll thank me. A few years from now, when your future is secure and everything is falling into place, you'll realize this was the right decision."
He paused briefly before adding, almost casually. "I heard your father passed away. That must be a tremendous relief. With the Muggle gone, you can finally stop associating yourself with his filth."
The fourth-year didn't answer immediately, his emotions in turmoil. Part of him felt a grim satisfaction that the abusive wretch Tobias Snape was six feet under the turf. But another part, a darker and more troubling one, suspected he might have had a hand in hastening the man's demise. The thought left a sick knot in his stomach.
Lucius took Severus' silence as agreement and pressed on, his voice smooth and persuasive. "Perhaps now that you're free from that shameful presence, you could visit Malfoy Manor." - he suggested, watching with satisfaction as Severus's eyes widened in shock - "You could even bring your mother. She's a pure-blood, after all, and it would be wise for our families to establish a good relationship—especially considering our future collaboration."
Snape merely nodded as Lucius draped an arm around his shoulder and confidently guided him back to the party.
"Are you ready?" – Catherine asked as she glanced at James. He sat hunched over on the bench in the Quidditch Changing Room, his face pale and clammy.
"I feel absolutely disgusting from that bloody transformation." – the boy muttered, lifting his head to meet her gaze. His hazel eyes were tinged with uncertainty, and his skin had a faint greenish hue – "What if we don't win today, Flame?"
"Then we hex every Slytherin who mocks us, hold our heads high, and try again next year." – the girl replied with a casual shrug.
"What kind of rubbish talk is that?!" – Sirius bellowed, striding over with his trademark confidence. He threw his arm around Catherine's shoulders, grinning from ear to ear – "There's no chance we leave that field without the Quidditch Cup, and you know it!"
"That's the spirit, Black!" - boomed Marvolo Wood, his deep voice echoing through the changing room. He clapped his hands together, his enthusiasm infectious – "It's about time lads and lasses. You know what you're here to do—make Gryffindor proud!"
With a collective cheer, the seven players in red and gold robes rose from their seats, brooms in hand. The roar of the crowd hit them the moment they stepped onto the Quidditch Pitch, a wall of sound that seemed to vibrate through the air. Catherine squinted against the blinding sun as she tilted her head up toward the towering stands. The banners and chants of their housemates filled her chest with a mix of pride and nerves.
Her heart thudded wildly, betraying the calm façade she had worn in front of James. It all felt surreal—the vibrant field, the electric atmosphere, and the sharp tang of adrenaline coursing through her veins. With one final glance at her teammates, Catherine mounted her broom, the polished wood cool beneath her hands.
Cheers erupted once more as the Quaffle arced through the air. The stakes couldn't have been higher—the winner of this final match would take the Quidditch Cup, and both teams were determined to claim that glory.
Gryffindor's Chasers—Catherine Plantier, Sirius Black, and Scarlett Porter—were working in seamless coordination, weaving through Slytherin's aggressive defence. Catherine was particularly dazzling, darting and feinting with precision, her polished Aether Wing feint leaving Rodolphus Lestrange and Aelia Greengrass scrambling.
Slytherin's Beaters, Malachi Selwyn and Draven Nott, wielded their hefty clubs with merciless determination. They targeted Catherine and Scarlett relentlessly, sending Bludgers hurtling toward them at breakneck speed. It wasn't hard to guess why—they likely assumed the girls, being lighter and smaller than Sirius, would be easier to knock off course.
Augustus Zabini, the Slytherin's Keeper, was also proving to be a formidable opponent. Despite Gryffindor's repeated attempts, his skilful saves had kept Slytherin ahead by ten points. On the opposite side, Greg McMahon was no less impressive. Gryffindor's Keeper hurled himself into every block with unmatched reflexes, his dives and lunges drawing gasps of awe as he deflected Slytherin's attacks one after another.
After about forty gruelling minutes of play, punctuated by three pauses as Slytherin's aggression escalated, Gryffindor's hopes seemed to hang by a thread. Dominic Woods had taken a brutal Bludger to the head, forcing him to temporarily leave the game, and Scarlett had nearly fallen from her broom after a particularly vicious manoeuvre. The score was locked at a tense 140-140, the chances of both Houses hanging precariously in the balance as the match pressed on.
At that moment, the Snitch glinted near the Slytherin stands. James immediately saw it and changed his course, leaning low on the handle of his broom, pushing for maximum speed. But Emma Vanity, Slytherin's Seeker and captain, was no less focused. Her sleek, newer broom gave her a distinct speed advantage, and she quickly closed the gap. The two Seekers raced neck-and-neck, spiralling through the air in a dangerous, high-stakes chase. The Slytherin's Beaters wasted no time. Like predators scenting blood, they zeroed in on James, their clubs swinging. Bludgers hurtled toward the Gryffindor at terrifying speed, forcing him to swerve and weave in a desperate attempt to stay in the race.
From her position high above the chaos, Catherine saw it all and estimated the danger. Her heart pounded hard as she made a snap decision. With the Quaffle clutched tightly in her hand, she streaked toward the Slytherin goalposts, determination blazing in her eyes. A Bludger screamed toward her, but she twisted sharply left, narrowly avoiding the impact. Augustus Zabini darted to block her shot, leaving the goal hoops exposed. But Catherine had other plans.
With a practiced flick of her wrist, she executed a flawless Blaze Arc Pass, the Quaffle spinning in a perfect arc toward Sirius Black. The crowd gasped as Sirius, with practiced ease, caught the ball and immediately returned it in a beautifully synchronised loop. The Quaffle flew back to Catherine, and the two moved as if one, their timing impeccable.
Then, with every ounce of strength and adrenaline coursing through her, she hurled the Quaffle. The red ball soared through the air and blasted through the centre hoop. The Gryffindor stands erupted into wild cheers as the crowd roared approval, and Catherine's daring move—later dubbed the Flame Dive—secured Gryffindor's lead.
The stands awash with red and gold erupted into deafening cheers as the score shifted to 150-140 in Gryffindor's favour. The roar of celebration rippled across the stadium, but Catherine barely registered the noise. Her distraction had worked even better than she'd dared to hope. Rodolphus Lestrange, his face contorted with fury, barked frantic orders at the Beaters, his voice cutting through the chaos as he demanded they refocus their assault on her.
It was the moment James needed. With Emma Vanity momentarily distracted by the uproar near her team's goal and Lestrange brazenly usurping her role as captain, the Gryffindor seized the opportunity. He dived—swift, precise, and utterly relentless.
The crowd gasped, their collective breath caught in their throats as James executed the Falcon Snatch, a move he'd been honing all season. The Snitch hovered perilously close to the ground, its wings a blur of frantic motion like a tiny, fluttering heartbeat. James's gaze never wavered, his focus razor-sharp.
In a breathtaking final stretch, his fingers closed around the golden ball, mere centimetres from the turf. For a moment, there was stunned silence, as though the stadium itself held its breath—then it erupted. Cheers and chants of Gryffindor supporters reverberating across the pitch. James shot upward, holding the Snitch aloft, his grin splitting his face in triumph. The scoreboard blazed: 300-140. Gryffindor Wins!
Catherine landed hard on the ground, her ears still ringing and her body buzzing with exhaustion and exhilaration. Most of her teammates had surrounded James, who was being hoisted onto their shoulders by jubilant housemates pouring onto the field. Catherine tossed her broom aside, ready to join the festivities, when a pair of strong arms swept her off her feet.
Sirius twirled her in the air effortlessly, his bright, carefree laughter ringing out as she clung to his shoulders for balance. "You were brilliant, Flame!" – the boy exclaimed, his voice filled with unrestrained joy. Catherine's cheeks flared crimson as their bodies pressed together, her chest brushing against his as he held her close. His wild heartbeat pounded against her, heat radiating between them.
Their faces hovered dangerously close, his breath warm against her skin, still chilled from the fierce match. Catherine's pulse quickened as her gaze flickered to Sirius' lips, tantalizingly close. A faint tremble ran through her as the thought crossed her mind—one impulsive move, and she could close the gap between them. But instead, she averted her gaze, avoiding his intense grey eyes and focusing on steadying her breathing.
"A man will only chase for so long… Eventually, he'll choose someone who's actually loving, sweet, and satisfies his desires, not an ice queen who can't figure out what she wants…" – Marianne's cutting words echoed in Catherine's mind, making her heart sink. She lowered her eyes and mustered a small, sad smile at Sirius, who looked momentarily puzzled by the sudden shift in her mood.
"Put me down, please." – she said softly, slipping out of Sirius's grasp and making her way toward the centre of the field, where James was finally lowered to stand on his own two feet.
"Good job, sis!" – Greg whispered in her ear as he pulled her into a tight hug. Her teammates soon followed, engulfing her in a wave of pride and shared triumph.
"I can't believe we actually won." – Catherine admitted breathlessly to Remus, who had finally made his way over to her, his face glowing.
"This was your best game, yet!" – Moony said, his enthusiasm as warm as his smile – "Come on, let's get closer to the stands. Dumbledore's about to award the Quidditch Cup!"
Navigating through the thick crowd was no easy feat, but they eventually made their way to the front. With a quick, mischievous grin, Remus lifted Catherine onto his shoulders, earning an astonished laugh from her as their housemates erupted into applause. Perched above the sea of red and gold, the young witch caught sight of Scarlett, who was hoisted similarly onto Dominic Woods' shoulders, laughing with childlike joy as she clapped along with the sea of spectators.
The Headmaster presented Marvolo Wood with the trophy they were all dreaming about for years. The Gryffindor captain's hands trembled slightly as he lifted the gleaming cup high above his head, tears glistening in his eyes. Cheers erupted anew as he embraced James, passing the trophy into his hands. James grinned as if he had captured the moon itself, his teammates chanting his name so loudly it seemed to shake the stadium.
Catherine couldn't stop herself from smiling. Pride swelled within her, warm and fulfilling, as the sting of the humiliation in the past few weeks faded away into insignificance. In this moment, surrounded by joy, she wished she could freeze time and hold onto it forever.
But then her gaze drifted to Sirius. He stood at the edge of the crowd, his arms wrapped tightly around Marianne as he kissed her with unmistakable passion. The sight hit her like a Bludger to the chest. Her happiness dissolved, replaced by a sharp ache that spread through her like wildfire. The cheers around her became distant, a dull roar drowned out by the rush of blood in her ears. Quickly, she looked away, her throat tight and her vision blurred.
'The summer vacation is just around the corner.' – the girl thought forcing herself to smile once again – 'Loin des yeux, loin du cœur.'[1]
[1] Out of sight, out of mind.
The evening sun cast its final golden rays through the tall, arched windows of Dumbledore's office, filling the room with a soft, amber light. The faint hum of enchanted instruments added a steady rhythm to the air, accompanied by the occasional murmurs from the portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses, their painted faces shifting in the fading glow. The scent of parchment and wax lingered, faintly touched by the sharp sweetness of lemon sherbet. Behind his polished desk, Dumbledore sat in his high-backed chair, his half-moon glasses catching the light as he leaned back, fingers steepled in quiet thought.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted the Headmaster's thoughts. Without waiting for an invitation, Carsilion strode into the office, his handsome face marked by the strain of quite a few sleepless nights.
"Good evening, my friend." – the older wizard greeted with calm composure, a subtle twinkle in his eyes – "You look positively dreadful this evening."
"Thank you, Albus." – the Marquess replied, offering a crooked smile as he sank into the chair opposite – "Your observational skills are as sharp as ever, despite the wear and tear of age."
Dumbledore's lips curved slightly beneath his snow-white beard. "Age, my boy, only sharpens the mind—though I appreciate the sentiment. In truth, I was hoping to speak with you, so your arrival is most fortuitous."
"What a remarkable coincidence." – the aristocrat smirked, leaning back – "Shall I guess the topic? A certain student with a fiery disposition and powers to match?"
Dumbledore's smile deepened. "Ah, we might address that, indeed. But I was also considering a certain professor who appears to prefer spending their nights in another professor's chambers, rather than the ones kindly provided to them."
Carsilion's eyebrows shot up, though his smirk remained firmly in place. "Is there anything you don't see, Albus?"
"Very little," - Dumbledore admitted, his voice light with amusement - "But I assure you, I have no intention of scolding. My interest is merely...academic. Tell me, has love at last ensnared you, despite your best efforts to elude it?"
The Marquess groaned, his patience fraying. "Why is it that everyone seems to think they know more about my feelings than I do? Minerva and I have an understanding. We enjoy each other's company, we respect each other's boundaries, and we appreciate the chemistry. That's all."
The older wizard chuckled softly, his blue eyes sparkling. "A rather clinical description for a man of your reputation, wouldn't you say? And by that reaction, I suspect Duke McMahon has recently expressed a similar sentiment."
"Yes, you're both equally infuriatingly nosy." - Carsilion retorted, scowling - "Perhaps you could redirect that endless curiosity of yours toward matters more pressing than my love life—such as Catherine's struggles with Occlumency. Edward and I are quite concerned."
"She is indeed not showing the progress I had hoped for." - Dumbledore admitted, his tone contemplative - "It's clear she's putting in considerable effort, but the frustration is beginning to weigh on her. At this stage, I can't say for certain whether it's a mental block or something more elusive. What is evident, however, is that Catherine is growing increasingly impatient—undoubtedly exacerbated by the toll her chronic lack of sleep is taking."
"The nightmares are deeply concerning," – the other wizard replied, his expression clouded with unease - "Frankly, I'm astounded she's managed to resist their influence for so long."
"I'm not." - Dumbledore said, a confident smile softening his features - "I understand that you and her family are profoundly worried, but Catherine possesses an inner strength and resilience that is truly remarkable. I have no doubt she can maintain the seal."
"But at what cost, Albus?" - Carsilion asked, his voice dropping to a near whisper - "You've seen it yourself—she's wasting away before our eyes. How much longer do you think her body can endure this strain before it breaks?"
"That is, without question, a pressing concern." - the Headmaster agreed - "But I suspect the greater issue lies with her elemental magic training rather than the demon's leaking magic."
"Louisa shares the same opinion." – the Marquess said carefully – "She consulted her mother and plans to bring Catherine to France over the summer. She thinks living within a Veela covenant might help balance her powers."
"A most intriguing hypothesis." - Dumbledore mused, his fingers steepled - "It certainly seems worth exploring. In fact, I sought the insight of an old friend—a female fire mage—and she confirmed that wielding true fire places a significant strain on the young female body. However, my concern lies in the fact that she is a Salamander-type mage, while Catherine's potential is markedly greater. The toll on her may be far more severe, possibly even lethal."
"How can you speak of this so calmly?" - Carsilion exclaimed, a note of horror in his voice.
"It is, at present, only a theory." – the older man replied gently, his calm demeanour unshaken - "But I agree that action is required. For now, I believe it would be prudent to halt her elemental training. She has learned enough to control accidental outbursts, and her body needs time to rest and recover. Let us hope this reprieve will be sufficient."
"Edward's not going to like this." – the Marquess frowned – "We need her to be as adept in wielding true fire as possible by the time the other Houses find out about her. It's our only hope for the Council to spare her."
"I am well aware of his Grace's plans," - Dumbledore said, rising to his feet and pacing the room with the deliberate grace of a man whose thoughts travelled far and fast - "But awareness, my dear friend, does not imply agreement. It's a bold wager you're making, and one that might not pay off. Catherine might find far greater happiness if she were integrated into the ordinary wizarding world. Here, she has friends. Here, her talents could inspire celebration rather than fear."
"Really?" – Carsilion scoffed – "Even if she keeps her alias of a Muggle-born? Come now, Albus, you're not that naive. You know what's happening out there. Voldemort is expanding his influence at a pace that would make a Niffler in Gringotts look sluggish. At this rate, he could very well seize control of the Ministry before Catherine even graduates."
"Which," – the Headmaster replied, his voice calm but firm - "is precisely why we need individuals like her. Organising resistance against Tom and his supporters is not merely important—it is essential."
"So you're once again turning her into a chess piece for your grand designs?" - Carsilion snapped, springing to his feet - "I warned you, Albus. Catherine McMahon is not a pawn to be sacrificed, no matter how noble your intentions may be."
"Is it truly I who am guilty of using her?" - Dumbledore asked, his voice low but resonating with such force that Carsilion instinctively took a step back - "From where I stand, it appears you are the one eager to see her and Edward thrown into the fire to settle old scores. My role has been simple—I offered Catherine the truth and respected her decisions. Perhaps it's time you and the Duke realised that she is no fragile keepsake to be locked away, nor a weapon to wield at your convenience, but a person with her own life to live."
"Apparently, Albus, our definitions of what's best for Catherine differ." - the Marquess's voice was cold as he turned toward the door - "It's not your place to decide how she prepares for what's to come. I understand you won't teach her elemental magic, and I agree that her lessons should pause until her body recovers. However, her Occlumency training must continue. If you won't do it, Edward will."
"I strongly advise against it." - Dumbledore said darkly, his tone losing some of its usual lightness - "Occlumency is no simple discipline. If her health falters, the effort may compromise the seal that holds the demon at bay. Its weakening is already evident in the magic leaking through her nightmares. That seal is only stable when her true fire power is in balance—and that requires her to use it actively."
"So your grand solution," - Carsilion shot back, his eyes flashing - "is to do nothing and hope for the best?"
"No," – the Headmaster replied, his voice rising, though still measured - "my solution is to trust her. Catherine's instincts have carried her this far. But her body lags behind her spirit, and what she needs now is time and peace—luxuries, I grant you, in these troubled times, but no less vital for their scarcity."
"Time is not something we have!" - the Marquess hissed. Before either could say more, a sharp knock at the door silenced them both.
"Professor Dumbledore, I'm here for our lesson." - Catherine said as she opened the door to his office, only to freeze mid-step at the sight of her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Her expression hardened almost immediately.
"Ah, come in, my dear!" - the Headmaster said warmly, his usual twinkle in place - "Professor Thorne was just leaving."
"Of course." – the other man muttered gruffly, brushing past without sparing her so much as a glance.
"He looked really pissed." – the girl remarked with a smirk as she slid into her usual seat across from Dumbledore's desk.
"As is often the case with youth, Professor Thorne believes he sees the larger picture more clearly than anyone else." - Dumbledore said, his tone kind yet amused - "His heart is undoubtedly in the right place, but like many Air Mages, he is prone to overestimating the reach of his intuition."
"Is that some kind of inside joke among Elementalists?" – the young witch asked, her smile widening.
"Not so much a joke as an accumulation of centuries' worth of observations." – the Headmaster replied with a small chuckle, settling into his chair - "But tell me, how are you, Catherine? Has the euphoria of your recent Quidditch victory begun to wane?"
"More or less."- she said with a shrug - "It's been replaced by the euphoria of preparing for exams."
"Ah, an equally thrilling adventure." - Dumbledore smirked, the familiar sparkle in his eye - "I trust you're managing to study properly despite your difficulties with sleep?"
"Not sleeping does give me plenty of extra time to review." – the girl replied with forced cheerfulness - "But thanks to the Dreamless Sleep Potion, I've been able to rest a bit more. So, thank you, sir."
"It is a temporary solution, nothing more." – the Headmaster cautioned gently - "You are still very young, and such potions, while helpful in moderation, can quickly lead to dependence."
"I know." – the young witch said, her tone sharpening with frustration - "But I can't just sleep and risk my uncontrolled magic hurting someone again. What happened in Lily's presence was bad enough—it can't happen a second time."
Dumbledore nodded, his expression both grave and understanding. After the fateful incident in the Gryffindor girls' dormitory, Catherine had confided in him immediately, though she had chosen not to inform her parents, fearing the uproar it would cause.
"And how is Miss Evans?"- he asked suddenly, his voice lighter.
"She's been amazing." – the girl said without hesitation - "Kind, understanding… I don't know how I'll ever repay her, especially after all the lies I've told her over the years."
"I am glad to hear it."- the older wizard nodded - "Friendship is a most precious gift, my dear, particularly in difficult times. Miss Evans's maturity and compassion are a credit to her character."
"They really are." – Catherine smiled - "I feel lucky to have friends like her—and the boys, too. Can you imagine? They didn't even freak out when I used true fire in front of them. I know I shouldn't have, but I needed to prove a point, and… it turned out fine."
The girl's words faltered as she noticed the stern expression on the Headmaster's face. Regret pooled in her chest as she lowered her gaze, bracing herself for the scolding she was certain would come.
After a pause, Dumbledore's voice broke the silence, soft but heavy. "Catherine, I believe it would be wise to pause your practice of Elemental magic for a time."
Her head snapped up, disbelief etched across her face. "What? No!" - she burst out, leaping to her feet - "I'm sorry I used my power in front of the boys. I'll take any punishment you think I deserve, but please, Professor—I can't stop now. I have to grow stronger! It's the only way to be free!"
"This is no punishment, my dear girl!" - Dumbledore replied, his tone laced with concern as he leaned forward slightly, his piercing gaze steady - "Your health, both physical and mental, is a matter of great importance—not just to me, but to your family as well. Surely you've noticed how much weight you've lost over the school year. Your fire inclination, while extraordinary, seems to take a considerable toll on your body. The more you wield true fire, the more it consumes you."
Catherine froze, her hands trembling as she clenched them into fists. "So you're telling me that if I use true fire, I'll die?" - she demanded, her voice trembling with both anger and desperation. Tears welled in her eyes - "And yet I've made no progress with Occlumency! I'm completely defenceless against the demon. What am I supposed to do? Go home, sit quietly, and wait to lose control?"
"Not at all!" – the Headmaster responded, his voice firm but warm. Rising from his chair, he took a step closer, as though to bridge the gap between them - "You are far stronger than you realise, Catherine, and I have every confidence that you will find a way to resist Alecto's powers. Isolation, however, is not the answer—it would do far more harm than good. What you need is patience. Rushing forward without care will only set you back further. There is a way to continue your training, but it must be done with caution and respect for the limits of your body."
Catherine let out a bitter laugh, her expression hardening as she turned toward the door. "Sure… taking it easy sounds nice." - she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm - "Too bad it's a luxury I've never had."
Before Dumbledore could reply, she dashed out, slamming the door behind her.
"Do you understand the difference between using dried and fresh asphodel?" – James asked, flipping through his battered copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
"I haven't gotten that far yet." - Remus replied, frowning as he glanced up from his meticulously annotated Transfiguration notes.
"Where's Flame when you need her?!" – James huffed, ruffling his hair in frustration as he scanned the Common Room.
"She has a lesson with Dumbledore tonight." - Remus said with his usual calm, turning his attention back to his notes - "She's usually back by 9:30."
Just then, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and Catherine stormed in, her face pale and streaked with tears. She didn't pause, making a beeline for the girls' dormitory stairs.
"Oi! Flame!" - James called after her. When she didn't stop, he jumped to his feet and hurried after her, catching her just as she reached the staircase - "What's wrong with you? Why are you crying?"
"It's nothing." – Catherine sniffed, trying to pull her arm free - "Leave me alone!"
"Not gonna happen!" - James retorted, tightening his grip on her hand. He dragged her back toward the fireplace, where Remus watched them with growing concern.
"Flame?" – the amber-eyed boy asked gently, clearing a spot on the plush carpet and gesturing for her to sit - "Come on, don't cry. Whatever happened, we'll figure it out together. I promise."
Catherine hesitated, then slumped onto the carpet, her jade-green eyes glistening with tears as she tried futilely to wipe them away.
"Don't be silly!" - James teased with a lopsided grin, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at her cheeks - "If this is about Sirius, I'll kick his arse, no questions asked."
"It's not about Sirius!" – the girl retorted annoyed – "It's Dumbledore. He said he won't teach me elemental magic anymore. He thinks using true fire is making me lose weight, and he wants to figure out how to stop it first."
"Well, it does make sense, doesn't it?" - Remus said nervously, his hand resting lightly on Catherine's back - "You have lost a lot of weight this year, and if the Headmaster thinks stopping the lessons will help, maybe you should trust him."
"You don't understand!" - Catherine snapped, springing to her feet. Her frustration seemed to radiate off her as she paced in front of the fireplace - "It's extremely important that I continue my training. I have to be able to protect myself—and my family!"
"Protect them from what?" - Sirius's voice broke the quiet, his eyebrows raised as he approached, raking his fingers through his hair – still damp from the recent shower.
"From everything that could hurt us!" – the girl muttered, avoiding Sirius's gaze as her pacing became more frantic. Her hands trembled, and her breathing quickened.
"Relax, Flame!" - James interjected nervously, shooting a glance at Sirius - "Padfoot, do you still have that bottle from Christmas? Maybe a little would help calm her down."
"No, mate." - Sirius replied, his brow furrowed as he watched Catherine with concern - "I didn't bring it back after you swore off drinking forever, remember?"
"Right." - James muttered, scratching the back of his neck - "Anyway, she's upset because Dumbledore cancelled her elemental magic lessons. He thinks using true fire is making her sick—and causing the weight loss."
"I don't care about my weight!" - Catherine shouted, her voice cracking with emotion. The room fell silent as heads turned toward her. Her delicate body shook as she lowered her voice, the desperation in her tone cutting through the air - "You don't understand… it's not just about me. It's a matter of life and death."
Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, her silent sobs wracking her body. James and Remus exchanged helpless glances, unsure of what to say. Sirius, however, wasted no time. He dropped to the floor beside her, wrapping his arms around her trembling form without hesitation.
"I'm not going to pretend I understand what you mean by life or death." - he murmured softly above her head, his voice steady but filled with conviction - "And I don't fully grasp why becoming a Fire Mage matters so much to you. But listen—if you're worried about your protection, you don't have to do this alone. We'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means protecting you from yourself. I promise."
Catherine tilted her tear-streaked face upward, startled by his words. Sirius grinned at her, his trademark cheekiness shining through, though his arms stayed firmly around her.
"I told you," - he said gently - "You can keep your secrets if you need to, but I'm not letting you push yourself to the point of collapse. We'll find another way. Trust us, Flame."
Her breath hitched, but she closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the comforting scent of cedarwood and mint seemed to envelop her, pulling her from the edge of her panic. Exhaustion crept in, and for the first time in quite a long while, she felt a faint sense of peace.
The morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Gryffindor Common Room, casting warm, golden streaks across the cozy space. James Potter emerged from the boys' dormitory, his hair as untamed as ever, and paused to take in the sight before him. Sirius was still seated in front of the empty fireplace, Catherine peacefully sleeping in his arms.
"Did you two spend the whole night here?" – James asked in a low voice, stepping closer.
"Yes." – Sirius replied with a nod, his voice equally quiet – "I didn't want to wake her. She needed the rest."
As if prompted by their conversation, Catherine stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked at her surroundings, her gaze landing on Sirius, and her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Quickly, she adjusted her clothes and stood on unsteady legs.
"I'm so sorry!" – she blurted out, avoiding his eyes – "You should have woken me up. I can't believe you stayed like that all night—it must have been so uncomfortable."
"It's really not a big deal." - Sirius said with an easy smile as he rose to his feet, stretching to work out the stiffness in his back – "Anyway, I need to head out for a bit. I'll catch you both later."
Before Catherine could respond, he slipped out of the Common Room, leaving her staring after him in confusion.
"Where's he going?" - she asked, turning to James.
James shrugged. "No idea."
"You shouldn't have let him stay like that the whole night!" – the young witch said, her tone soft but reproachful - "He didn't have to sacrifice his comfort for me."
"You looked like you desperately needed the sleep." - James replied defensively - "I'd have done the same if I were him. You know that, right?"
The girl's lips quirked into a small smile as she ruffled his hair affectionately. "You kind of did." - she teased - "That night after our duel, when I got hurt."
James frowned, the memory clouding his expression. "That was different. It was my fault, and you were having terrible nightmares."
"True…" - Catherine murmured, her tone contemplative. She crossed her arms, her gaze drifting to the fireplace - "The weird thing is… I didn't dream at all last night. That never happens unless I've taken Dreamless Sleep Potion."
"Weird indeed…" - James muttered, his brow furrowing as an idea began to take shape in his mind.
"So, what do you think?" - James asked, pacing nervously as Remus sat cross-legged on his bed, his expression unreadable - "It sounds plausible, doesn't it?"
"I suppose." - Remus replied slowly, his brow furrowed - "But we'd need to test it. It might just be a strange coincidence. And if anyone finds out… well, we'll be in a world of trouble."
"But if it helps her get some proper sleep—finally, regularly…" - James pressed, his pacing growing more erratic.
"You're missing my point." - Remus cut in, his tone sharper now - "Of course, we'll try it. We'd be idiots not to. I'm just saying we have to be careful. We need to experiment, figure out what works best for her. And even then, she might not agree to it. It's a bit… unconventional. She'll need convincing. If it works, though, we'll have to make it sustainable for her."
James stopped pacing and nodded enthusiastically, his mind clearly racing. Before he could respond, the dormitory door creaked open, and Sirius walked in, his face set in a grim, determined expression.
"Where did you disappear to, mate?" - James asked, frowning - "We've got something important to talk about."
Sirius ignored the question at first, running a hand through his hair and avoiding their gazes. "Sorry. I had to take care of something." - he hesitated, then added - "I broke up with Marianne."
"What?" - James exclaimed, taken aback - "Why? I thought things were going great with her."
Sirius swallowed hard, stealing a glance at Remus, whose face remained carefully neutral. "I wanted to believe that too." – the young wizard admitted, his voice low - "But after last night… Prongs, you were right. It wasn't fair to Marianne—not when my heart wasn't fully in it. I needed to end it. I may never have what I truly want, but I've made my peace with that. I'll focus on being there for the people who matter and being the kind of friend Flame needs."
James stared at him, momentarily stunned. "Mate… what are you on about? You're not to blame for this whole thing with Flame being sick."
"I'm not saying I am." - Sirius replied, his tone resolute - "But I should have been doing more. We all should have. From now on, my priority is the well-being of my friends—and especially my sister, Catherine!"
James raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching into a smirk. "You have a seriously weird understanding of sibling bonds, Padfoot."
Remus turned away, biting back a laugh, but not before James caught the amused glint in his eyes.