LUCY:

When I first opened my eyes, I had no idea where I was. I would have shot up to a sitting position to better take in my surroundings, but I was exhausted and disoriented so I settled for rolling over and rubbing my eyes.

"Good morning," Harry's voice said from somewhere across the room.

I kept rubbing my eyes, trying to force the heaviness away. "'Morning. Where are we?"

"12 Grimmauld Place," he replied, with no shortage of amusement. "You've been sleeping for close to 18 hours, so I'm not surprised that you're confused."

"Eighteen—" I forced my eyes open and looked around. Surely enough, we were in the downstairs sitting room of 12 Grimmauld Place with a couple of weakly-flickering candles for company. Harry was in an armchair across the room with Flying with the Cannons propped open on his lap, and I was on the couch practically buried under two blankets. I blinked a couple of times, trying to remember how I had gotten here. Right. The snake. The Portkey. The hospital. The escape attempt. Right. I pulled the blankets tighter around me and closed my eyes again. "Then why am I still tired?"

"You can go back to sleep if you want, everyone knows not to bother us."

I pulled the blankets tighter still, but a sharp pain shot through my shoulder, and I couldn't help but wince. I had forgotten about ditching my sling.

Harry didn't miss the wince. "What is it?"

"Shoulder," I muttered, opening my eyes. The pain kept building, so I pushed myself up to a sitting position and dragged a hand down my face. I opened my mouth to ask how he was feeling when the doorbell sounded and Mrs. Black's portrait started screaming. I jumped, then swore under my breath when I realized how ridiculous I was being.

Ridiculous or not, though, Harry didn't make light of it. "It's okay," he said, locking eyes with me and setting the book aside. "Probably just an Order member."

I nodded, pressing my hands over my ears until the screaming stopped. Once it did, I drew a deep breath and smiled weakly at Harry. "How many times have you read that book?"

"Er... enough to lose count?"

I managed a laugh. "Fair enough."

"Have you read it?"

"No, of course not, it's blasphemous."

"Blasphemous?" he repeated with a grin.

"Reading Magpies in Flight is clearly the better way to spend your time," I said. "Such a shame Ron got to you before I did."

"You fell asleep in the middle of the Quidditch conversation, so I suppose you didn't really stand a chance."

I laughed. "Sleep is the enemy."

"No it is not," Harry said, shaking his head even as his smile widened. "Speaking of blasphemous. Sleep is your friend."

"It gets in the way of other perfectly enjoyable ways to spend time," I protested. I was going to go on when there was a knock at the door.

"I know you're in there and I want to talk to you!" Hermione shouted.

"Oh, bloody hell," Harry muttered, getting up to open the door. Hermione had snow clinging to her hair, and she was shivering. "What are you doing here? I thought you were skiing with your mum and dad."

"Well, to tell the truth, skiing's not really my thing, so I've come for Christmas. But don't tell Ron that, I told him it's really good because he kept laughing so much. Anyway, Mum and Dad are a bit disappointed, but I've told them that everyone who's serious about the exams is staying at Hogwarts to study. They want me to do well, they'll understand. Anyway, let's go to your bedroom, Harry, Ron's mum lit a fire in there and she's sent up sandwiches."

I groaned as I pushed myself up off the couch and shed my blanket shell. I followed Harry and Hermione up the stairs, still feeling half-asleep. Ron and Ginny were already there and sitting on Ron's bed, so I made a beeline for Harry's bed and flopped stomach-first onto it, burying my face in his topmost blanket. It was all I could do to stay awake enough to identify the various voices in the room.

Hermione. "I came on the Knight Bus. Dumbledore told me what had happened first thing yesterday morning, but I had to wait for term to end officially before setting off. Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungo's and he'd given you all permission to visit. So how're you feeling?"

Harry. "Fine."

Hermione. "Oh, don't lie, Harry. Ron and Ginny say you two've been hiding from everyone except since you got back from St. Mungo's."

Harry. "Oh, they do, do they?"

I lifted my head. "In my defense, I was asleep until about five minutes ago." I let my head drop back onto the bed.

Ginny. "Well, before that, you have! And you won't look at any of us, especially you, Harry!"

Harry. "It's you lot who won't look at me!"

Hermione, in an amused tone. "Maybe you're taking it in turns to look and keep missing each other."

Harry, in a not-amused tone. "Very funny."

Hermione. "Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood. Look, the others have told me what you overheard last night on the Extendable Ears—"

Harry. "Yeah? All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it—"

Ginny. "We wanted to talk to you, Harry, but as you've been hiding ever since we got back—"

Harry. "I didn't want anyone to talk to me."

Ginny. "Well, that was a bit stupid of you, seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels."

I lifted my head. "For the record—" I pushed myself to my elbows and propped my chin in my hands as everyone turned to face me. "I only just woke up, and I was asleep quite literally all day or else I would have told Harry to go talk to you. I tried last night, but seeing as it was after midnight—"

"Why were you upset, Lucy?" Hermione interrupted.

"This isn't about me. Ginny, do you think Harry's being possessed? It sounded different to me, but if you couldn't tell, I'm very tired and might be wrong." I dropped my head back down to signal that I was bowing out of the conversation indefinitely.

Ginny. "Well, can you remember everything you've been doing, Harry? Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

Harry. "No."

Ginny. "Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you. When he did it to me, I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there."

Harry, after a moment's hesitation, as if what she'd said had given him hope. "That dream I had about your dad and the snake, though—"

Hermione. "Harry, you've had these dreams before. You had flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year."

Harry. "This was different, I was inside that snake. It was like I was the snake. What if Voldemort somehow transported me to London—?"

Hermione. "One day, you'll read Hogwarts, A History, and perhaps that will remind you that you can't apparate or disapparate inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn't just make you fly out of your dormitory, Harry."

Ron. "You didn't leave your bed, mate. I saw you thrashing around in your sleep about a minute before we could wake you up."

Silence. I looked up just as Harry reached for a sandwich.

"So it wasn't me," he said.

"None of us thought it was," Ginny huffed. "We could have figured this out a lot sooner if you hadn't been hiding all day."

"Better late than never," I muttered, pushing myself to a sitting position and gesturing for Harry and Hermione to join me on either side.

Hermione reached for a sandwich on the way and was about to take a bite when she remembered something. "Oh! Lucy! I talked to Henry! He gave me something to give to you, I left it on your bed."

I slapped my hand to my forehead and swore. "I completely forgot—"

Two loud cracks brought the Weasley twins into the room.

"Henry?" George asked.

Fred grinned. "Is he joining our little party too?"

"No, but he got something for me for Christmas and I knew I was forgetting someone and he's the someone," I groaned. "What am I going to do?"

"You make damn good cookies," George said as he reached for a sandwich and squeezed himself between me and Harry. "Reckon those would do the trick."

I gnawed on my lower lip. I hadn't baked cookies — hadn't done anything like that, really — since Cedric died. And with the cookies in particular, I had started doing that for him. Sending him cookies while he was at St. Mungo's.

Just the same, I felt myself nodding. "That's a good idea." I pushed myself to my feet. "I'll see what I can find, ingredients-wise, and I'll be sure to make extras for everyone here, too—"

"Hang on, hang on." George grabbed my hand and pulled me right back down. "You will do this all after eating a sandwich or two, and we're going to help."

"What, no, I'm fine," I protested, trying to get back up to no avail.

Fred summoned two sandwiches and handed me one. "George is right. Eat."

"I'm—"

"Definitely hungry," Harry finished on my behalf.

I sighed, taking a bite. "Yeah."

Half an hour later, the cookie baking was in full swing, the kitchen was packed to the brim, and I found myself at the helm since I had the most experience after my summer of baking every time I was sad.

"No, wait, Ron, the eggs go in one at a time — technically, the recipe calls for one cup of brown sugar, but I usually put a little more — yes, Hermione, I promise it doesn't ruin the cookies — ACK, THIS IS THE THIRD TIME I'VE INHALED FLOUR, IT'S SUPPOSED TO GO MORE OR LESS IN THE BOWL AND NOT IN THE AIR, FRED — oh, hi Sirius!"

He leaned against the doorframe, grinning. "What're you baking and when do I get to sample it?"

"Cookies and soon!" I replied.

"Ah, better than cupcakes! I was worried when I smelled chocolate."

I whirled around, baffled. "What's wrong with cupcakes?"

"Oh, you're going to regret asking that," Professor Lupin said as he appeared behind Sirius in the doorway with a wide smile on his face.

"Oh, hi Pr— Remus!" I amended, face reddening. (He had insisted I didn't need to call him "Professor" anymore when I had been with him in September and told me to tell the others the same thing, but we were all struggling a bit with the adjustment.) "What's wrong with cupcakes, though, Sirius?"

"Why would people waste extra time and parchment to make a bunch of small cakes?" he burst out indignantly. "You can't even put layers on them, it's ridiculous!"

"You know, you make a fair point," Fred replied with a laugh. "Just bake a whole cake and slice it."

"Where's the fun in that?" George fired back. "Cupcakes are fun because you can have different kinds of cake and frosting all in the same batch, people can choose. If you just bake one big cake, you have to commit to one flavor."

"Afraid of commitment, are we?" Ginny asked.

"What? No! I'm an advocate for choice and individuality," George said with a dramatic puff of his chest. "You get neither of those with cake."

"Unless," Sirius butted in, "you bake the entire cake for yourself."

"Which he has been known to do on occasion," Remus chuckled.

"All of the house elves knew my name by the time I graduated, terrific baker that I am," Sirius bragged, sauntering into the kitchen and scanning the process.

Remus shook his head as he continued chuckling. "Terrifying baker, more like. They knew your name because you walking into the kitchen meant they should run and hide until you left with your creations a couple hours later."

"Don't listen to him, he's just bitter because I've spent years trying to convince him that chocolate chip cookies are better than just plain chocolate bars."

"That will never happen."

"Oh, never say never, Moony, you know better than to challenge me like that."

"Well, I suppose we can put it to the test today," I said with a laugh just as one of George's magical timers went off.

"Lucy's chocolate chip cookies are in fact legendary," George added, tugging on my ponytail teasingly as he slid behind me to get to the oven. "Fred and I were her first taste-testers, you know."

"Well this is bollocks, I never had taste-testers," Sirius complained.

"It would have been a death sentence, considering everything you tried to bake turned out mostly char by the time you were through with it," Remus replied dryly.

We all laughed, and the banter continued as the final batches exited the oven. Soon, I had a dozen cookies en route to Henry's house, and I sent a dozen off to the Grangers, too, since we were borrowing their daughter for the holidays. After that, the remaining cookies were a free-for-all, their aroma drawing Order members from all corners of the house.

The kitchen grew fuller and warmer and brighter with every passing minute. I could feel Cedric's absence, like a shadow always in the corner of my eye, but for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel disconnected from everyone else because of it. Cedric wasn't a bridge connecting me to other people. I... I was my own person. Capable of making my own connections. Werewolf and all. One cookie at a time.

~

Christmas Eve approached rapidly. The week before it was full of activity as we decorated the house from top to bottom. I had plenty to keep me busy during the day, but when the activity for the day started to dwindle, the shadow of Cedric's absence crept closer to me. Cedric loved Christmas more than any time of year. I missed him more and more as the day itself drew nearer.

The Black Lake nightmare returned on the 24th the way it always did, dark and silent and cold as ever. The shadow of Cedric's absence at the bottom of the lake enveloped me completely, blotting out all of the light I had managed to find in the past month.

I tried fighting. I tried pushing back against the darkness, tried swimming against the cold, tried screaming against the silence. It was pointless, though. The darkness and cold and silence suffocated me the way it always did. When the morning found me, I sucked in a deep breath and fixed my eyes on the candle on the small table separating my bed from Ginny's.

I watched it flicker. The flame danced on the wick, predictably inconsistent. Sometimes it jumped, other times it ducked. Sometimes it brightened, other times it dimmed. No matter what it did, though, it was there. It kept burning, and as it burned, the darkness of the dream slowly slipped away.

I realized with a jolt I had forgotten to write a note explaining Harry's gift, and just like that, I was glad I was awake. I silently rushed over to the desk in the corner and scrounged around in the dark for a quill and scrap of parchment.

Merry Christmas, Harry! I know you're probably a bit confused, because what on earth are you going to do with a camera, so I thought I'd explain a bit of my thought process. I know you have the scrapbook of pictures of your parents, but I thought you might want to take a few of your own, to hang up around your bed the way the other boys in your dormitory do. I noticed it on Halloween and thought you might want to decorate a bit. I'd be happy to help, of course, I could always cover your bed in glitter if you're not interested in hanging pictures.

I swiped the end of the feather across my forehead a couple of times, contemplating what to write next. Writing to Harry had always been different than talking to him. I enjoyed both, of course, but there was a certain care I felt I had to take with writing.

I know we've both had a hell of a year, but if I could choose one person to have beside me through all of this, it would be you. Life isn't always easy for me, but you make it easier. So here's to us, I suppose, and hopefully by next Christmas all of this trouble and turmoil just a distant memory, yeah? Merry Christmas, insufferable git. I'm glad you're here with me us.

Once I had finished, I crept down the hall, slipped the note on top of the package I'd already left at the foot of his bed, and returned to my own bed. I didn't remember falling asleep, but soon enough, someone was waking me up.

"It's Christmas!" Ginny announced. She kicked my bed, then Hermione's. "Wake up! It's Christmas!"

I rubbed my eyes as I sat up, finding a smile. "Indeed it is! Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas," Hermione said through a yawn, rolling over and burying her head under her pillow in a way that seemed to suggest she was still more asleep than awake.

Ginny, however, was wide awake, crash-landing onto my bed with a tissue-wrapped package in her hands. She waggled her eyebrows at me. "I reckon I know what this one is. Mum asked me about your favorite colors."

"And what did you tell her?" I asked.

"I told her you look pretty in blue and red but not to put those two together. Now come on, open it, I haven't seen it yet!"

"Alright, alright," I relented. I peeled the white paper off to reveal my very own Weasley jumper, sky blue with a black L in the center. I smiled to hide the tears that shot to my eyes. "Oh Merlin, I love it."

Ginny held one of the sleeves up to my cheek to see how closely it matched my eyes. "It's perfect! Oh Lucy, don't cry, it's Christmas." She dropped the sleeve and wrapped her arms around me, squeezing tightly. "It's okay. You're okay."

"I am." I drew a deep breath and nodded. "I'm okay."

"Good. Now come on, put it on so we can finish opening gifts!"

I laughed as I obliged, darting down the hall to change into the jumper and a black pair of trousers before returning to the bedroom.

Hermione finally stirred and got up when her gifts to us were activated: homework planners that recited funny little sayings like "Amelia Earhart once said, 'The most effective way to do it is to do it!'" I didn't know how Amelia Earhart was, but I made a mental note to ask Hermione later.

Henry's gift was something called a Walkman, with a note attached explaining how to use it. There was another note, though, a longer one, and I tuned out the other girls as I read it.

Hey, merry Christmas, Lucy!

   I hope you have fun with the Walkman. I put as many of Cedric's favorite songs as I could on the cassette, they're listed on the back of the instructions I wrote out. "Magic Works" was still his favorite song, insufferable romantic that he was, but he certainly enjoyed these songs too.

   I wanted to invite you to the Hufflepuff Christmas party this year, but you left before I got the chance, so I figured I'd try to bring the party to you. Chances are you'll have a better time with your Gryffindor friends anyway, truthfully. I'm sorry my house has given you so much grief lately. I hope you know you're loved, so loved, and there will be always be people who support you independently of your brother. I know you'll never forget him and nothing will ever be the way it was, but he tried to live by the mantra "Some things never change" and I happen to think it's wise even when it's difficult. The sun always rises. The storm always passes. You'll — we'll — be alright.

   Have a great Christmas, Lucy. I'm always just a letter away, and you know how to find us on the Floo network if you want to come by. You're welcome anytime wherever I am. You're family the way Cedric was.

      Wishing you all the best, Henry Furls

I folded the note with care and reached for the Walkman. Hermione helped me figure out what buttons to push, and soon enough, music started coming through the player.

"Don't go changing to try and please me, you never let me down before."

Ginny laughed. "Henry nailed this one for you, Lucy."

"Oh, shove off," I muttered, pushing the button to make it stop as my face burned and I slipped the Walkman into my pocket for safekeeping. I opened my gifts from everyone else then, saving Harry's for last. Like my gift for him, his package had a note on top as well.

Happy Christmas, Lu! Well, first and foremost, I sincerely hope these work. How you managed this when we were second-years, I have no bloody idea. You're just extraordinary like that. I know you won't believe me, but I mean it. As much as it's in my power to do so, I won't let anything come between us again, and I hope these help with that mission. I'm glad you're still here, Lu, I'd we'd be lost without you.

P.S. I had to get a bit creative with the charm this Christmas, since we haven't exactly had any adventures worth remembering as of late, so I drew inspiration from our conversation on Halloween.

Curiosity thoroughly piqued, I lifted the lid off the box. On top was a charm of a club not unlike the one the troll in the girls' bathroom had been wielding our first Halloween at Hogwarts. I laughed as I showed Hermione and Ginny attached it to the bracelet, surprised that he still remembered that I had been the one to destroy the troll's club.

The box was still heavy, though, so I looked inside again. At the bottom was a thick leather diary with a cursive L on it. Suddenly realizing what he had done, I lifted the diary out of the box and opened it to the first page.

Ron and I are awake whenever you girls decide to roll out of bed and come give the proper season's greetings. Oh, and don't worry, we're fully clothed, though it was quite funny to see your horrified reaction when you and Hermione came into our dormitory on Halloween and we were not. At this point I'm just rambling because you have yet to make an appearance, but I want to still be writing whenever you get around to opening this so I can prove it worked. Twenty questions, maybe? I'll start. What's your favorite type of cookie? I personally don't have a favorite yet, so I suppose that means the two of us will have to bake more cookies until I figure it out. If you could apparate anywhere in the world, where would you go? I think I'd like to go to

I squeaked, shoved the diary back into the box, and sprinted to the boys' room.

"HARRY JAMES, YOU FIGURED IT OUT!" I shouted as I burst inside.

Harry grinned. "Lake Tahoe. How about you?"

"Same here, if we'd go together."

"What the bloody hell are you two on about?" Ron asked.

"Harry is a genius, that's what."

"Says the one who first did this three years ago," Harry retorted with a roll of his eyes. "Anyway, happy Christmas!"

"Happy Chri—"

I was interrupted by two loud cracks of apparition, and the Weasley twins appeared in the bedroom.

"We were wondering when you'd all wake up—"

"—then we hear Cub hollering about Harry James—"

"Because he's brilliant," I interrupted stubbornly.

Fred grinned when he saw the jumper I was wearing. "Ah, L for 'Loser of gnome-throwing contests!' How sweet!"

"Actually, I think it stands for 'Lover of truth or dare games,'" George said with an identical grin.

I rolled my eyes. "Right."

"Anyway, welcome to the family, merry Christmas, don't go downstairs for a bit," George said.

"What's wrong?" I asked, a bit startled by the whiplash of those successive statements.

Fred sighed. "Mum's crying again. Percy sent back his Christmas jumper."

"He — what?" I managed after a second.

George nodded. "Without a note. Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything."

"We tried to comfort her. Told her Percy's nothing more than a humongous pile of rat droppings—"

"—didn't work so Remus took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon."

"Oh, this is absurd, it's Christmas. I'm going down there."

"Well, don't tell her we told you, she'd be embarrassed—"

"I'm not going to," I said. "I'm going to act like nothing happened at all and do what I can to make up for him being a continued git."

Without leaving room for any more protest, I started running, not stopping until I reached the kitchen.

"I love it, thank you," I said as I rushed to hug Mrs. Weasley. Emotions surged up inside of me, so I laid it on a bit thicker than I otherwise would have, letting my voice crack a bit as I rambled. "I don't know how you managed to find the exact right color, but it's absolutely perfect, the same shade as my Yule Ball dress."

"Well, George left his tie from that night in his closet back home — go figure, really, it's not like he needs it at school or would wear it even if he did — but I did manage to find the right color to match your beautiful eyes and — oh, I'm so glad you like it, I wasn't sure if I should since you lost your family so recently but I thought you could always save it for when you were ready." She had gone from sobbing over Percy to hugging me and stroking my hair in a matter of seconds.

Remus and Sirius were staring at me looking torn between being impressed and being concerned, so I flashed a small, smug smile to show that I was alright and I knew exactly what I was doing. They both relaxed, Remus looking proud and a bit exasperated and Sirius looking more amused than anything.

"Remus, I like this girl," he said in a whisper so soft only a werewolf would be able to hear it.

I blushed a bit and rolled my eyes.

When Mrs. Weasley finally released me, Remus and I helped her with setting up a quick breakfast while everyone else went with Hermione to give Kreacher his Christmas gift from her and feed Buckbeak. Once we had all eaten, we set out for St. Mungo's to visit Mr. Weasley in the car Mundungus Fletcher managed to "borrow." I was wedged between George and Harry in the back seat, so I wrestled out my Walkman, draped the headphones around my neck, and pressed play again, turning it up loud enough that all three of us could hear the music.

"What is that?" George asked.

"It's from Henry," I explained. "It's called a Walkman. He put a lot of Cedric's favorite songs on it."

"So I should shut up so we can hear the music?"

I rolled my eyes. "That might be a good idea."

He grinned. "You really think so?"

"Possibly."

"Are you sure?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?"

"Oh, I'd love to hit you with a silencing charm right now."

"Be my guest," Harry interjected with a humored huff.

George and I lapsed into silence as what I guessed was the chorus started.

"I would not leave you in times of trouble. We never could have come this far. I took the good times, I'll take the bad times. I'll take you just the way you are."

Both boys turned to look at me with knowing looks, and I slumped down in the seat. "Oh, shut up."

"For once, I didn't say anything," George commented, grinning as he tugged on my ponytail.

"For once," I repeated with a reluctant smile. I could see why Cedric would have liked that song.

The drive to St. Mungo's was fast because of the lack of traffic, so we were only halfway through the next song — something about a bridge over troubled water — when we arrived. I pocketed the Walkman and steadied myself with a deep breath as we approached the hospital.

Harry glanced at me out of the corner of his eye in a silent "Are you alright?" I managed a small nod. The back of his hand grazed mine, leaving a tingly and warm feeling in its wake. I tried another deep breath as we left the reception area, but all of the air left my lungs at the sight of the warning on the sign again. Harry's hand found mine again, but this time, he looped his pinky finger around mine.

"You're not dangerous," he whispered in a voice he knew only I would hear.

Or, well, Remus and I. He turned around a bit, eyes solemn as they met mine. He looked for a minute as if there was something he wanted to say, but he seemed to think better of it and followed Mrs. Weasley into the ward.

I tried a third deep breath as we stepped inside after him. I released Harry's pinky and helped make sure Mr. Weasley could reach all of his gifts without straining too much. I tried to stop myself from glancing at the werewolf at the other end of the room, but I couldn't help myself. He just looked so sad. So lonely.

I tore my eyes away as Mr. Weasley started opening his presents. He seemed jumpy, though, and I could tell from the way that he was moving he was more uncomfortable than he wanted to let on.

Mrs. Weasley didn't miss this either, asking, "Everything alright, Arthur?"

He nodded. "Fine, fine! You — er — haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?"

I stiffened a bit. I knew that name. Head Healer of the ward. I knew that name and I knew it well.

"No...? Why?"

"Nothing, nothing. Well, everyone having a good day? What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, Harry, this is absolutely wonderful!"

Mrs. Weasley would not be deterred. "Arthur, you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow."

"What? No, no — it's nothing — it's — I — well — now, don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea. He's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in, um, complementary medicine. I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies — well, they're called stitches, Molly, and they work very well on Muggle wounds."

She was clearly not thrilled about that idea, and the noise she released hurt my ears. It apparently bothered Remus too, because he headed in the direction of the werewolf. I wanted to join him, but with Mrs. Weasley right there, I couldn't risk exposing myself like that.

Bill and the twins left in search of tea. I started backing toward the door after them, waiting to see what would happen next. I was curious about the Muggle remedies; maybe if Muggle healers found my dad after his fight with Greyback, they would have been able to help him even without powdered silver or dittany, I wanted to know more, but I didn't want to be around if Mrs. Weasley was going to explode.

Explosion seemed imminent, though. "Do you mean to tell me that you have been messing about with Muggle remedies?"

"Not messing about, Molly dear. It was just something Pye and I thought we'd try, only, most unfortunately — well, with these particular kinds of wounds — it doesn't seem to work as well as we'd hoped—"

"Meaning?"

"Well... well, I don't know whether you know what — what stitches are?"

"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together, but even you, Arthur, wouldn't be that stupid—"

I backed toward the door faster and faster.

"I'm a bit thirsty, too," Harry said.

We all slipped out of the room just as Mrs. Weasley exploded.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?"

Ginny laughed. "Typical Dad. Stitches, I ask you."

"Well, you know, they do work well on non-magical wounds. I suppose something in that snake's venom dissolves them or something," Hermione reasoned. "I wonder where the tearoom is?"

"Fifth floor," I said quickly. Too quickly. Everyone's eyes turned to me. "I'll, er, I'll show you the way up there."

I hurried off in the direction of the stairwell that would bring us there. The various portraits called out diagnoses and remedies to all of us, but me in particular. I was successfully tuning everyone out, used to this, but Ron was livid when one suggested he had spattergroit.

"And what's that supposed to be?" he asked, glaring at the man as he ran through portrait after portrait, trying to keep up.

"'Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young master, that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome even than you are now—"

"Watch who you're calling gruesome!"

"The only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind it tight about your throat, stand naked by the full moon in a barrel of eels' eyes—"

"I have not got spattergroit!"

"But the unsightly blemishes upon your visage, young master—"

"They're freckles! Now get back in your own picture and leave me alone!"

But the healer had already seen me. "What variation of spattergroit afflicts you, young maiden?"

"I'm not sure," I called back. "Nobody knows what spell it was that did this to me."

"If you could only come closer, I could—"

"I'm alright, but thank you!" I responded, turning on my heel and preparing myself to head up another flight of stairs to the fifth floor when I heard another portrait call out from nearby.

"I know your voice," a man said. "In the blue jumper."

I turned to see a portrait bearing the name Pellinore Clarke peering at me intently.

"Lucy, who is that?" Harry called.

"I — I'm not sure," I called back, not turning around as I heard my friends coming up after me. I cleared my throat. "You know me?"

"You were here on this fourth floor when I was here," he said.

My breath hitched in my throat. I was hot and cold all at once. Everyone's footsteps were approaching. I didn't have time for this. I couldn't — Ron and Hermione and Ginny didn't know — they couldn't know.

"I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken," I said. "I, er, only acquired these scars when I was eleven years old, and I don't remember being on the fourth floor since then."

"No one ever does, do they?" he replied in a dry voice.

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, I heard Ron go "Blimey!"

I looked in the direction everyone else was looking and saw none other than Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Oh my goodness! Professor Lockhart!" Hermione exclaimed.

He sauntered over to us, cheesy and fake and unsettling and disturbing smile fixed firmly in place as always. "Well, hello there! I expect you'd like my autograph, would you?"

"Hasn't changed much, has he?" Harry wondered aloud in a voice only Ginny and I could hear, as the people closest to him.

I instinctively stepped in front of Ginny. Lockhart wasn't going to save her. He was never going to save her. He was never going to try. I didn't have my wand. It was in my trunk back at Grimmauld Place. If he tried to attack us, I would have to — have to do whatever I'd done without my wand in the past. I settled for glaring at him. Daring him to try to hurt us again.

"Er — how are you, Professor?" Ron asked.

"I'm very well indeed, thank you! Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"

"Er — we don't want any at the moment, thanks."

"Don't humor him, Ron," I muttered. "This is the nutter who tried to wipe our memories." And tried to leave your sister for dead, but the three of us agreed never to tell anyone that detail so I won't mention that.

"Professor, should you be wandering around the corridors? Shouldn't you be in a ward?" Harry asked.

Rather than answering, Lockhart asked a question of his own, narrowing his eyes at Harry. "Haven't we met?"

"Er, yeah, we have. You used to teach us at Hogwarts, remember?"

I felt like I was going to be sick. Was I like this after my memory was wiped? Did I have that same vacant look in my eyes? As much as I loathed Lockhart for how horrible of a person he was with his memory intact, seeing him before me, a shell of himself, someone with the possibility of being exactly who I was for a time... I felt like I was going to be sick.

"Teach? Me? Did I?" His eyes unfocused, grew sharper, then glazed over again as he beamed. "Taught you everything you know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say a round dozen, you can give them to all your little friends then and nobody will be left out!"

A nurse rushed forward suddenly. "Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?" She looked around at all of us briefly and smiled. "Oh Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How lovely, and on Christmas Day too! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?"

Lockhart nodded. "We're doing autographs! They want loads of them, won't take no for an answer! I just hope we've got enough photographs!"

"Listen to him! He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a little bit. Will you step this way? He's in a closed ward, you know, he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents, the door's usually kept locked, not that he's dangerous! But bit of a danger to himself, bless him. Doesn't know who he is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back. It is nice of you to have come to see him—"

Ron tried to protest, but the healer's smile remained firmly in place so we ended up following the two down the corridor. I brought up the rear, feeling altogether off. Light-headed and heavy-headed and light-limbed and heavy-limbed and hot and cold and fast and slow all at once.

Eventually, we reached the Janus Thickney ward. I wasn't sure if I recognized it or not. I wasn't sure if I had been there or not. I might have been five or fifteen, I didn't know. Everything felt odd.

I didn't hear what the healer said to the others over the roar of blood in my ears, but she left us alone with him as he started enthusiastically autographing pictures and handing them to Ginny. I forced myself to stare at a single picture on the wall above Lockhart's bed, not trusting myself not to fall apart if I let myself do anything else. I studied every aspect of that picture, and I had almost completely zoned out when I heard "Oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?"

I whipped my head around in their direction. Surely enough, Neville was there with his grandmother.

He locked eyes with me, and the pain that lay there made my chest tighten. He silently begged me not to attract attention his way, but it was too late.

"Neville!" Ron called excitedly. "It's us, Neville! Have you seen? Lockhart's here! Who've you been visiting?"

"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" Mrs. Longbottom asked as she turned and started heading in our direction, Neville trailing behind her.

Knowing he wouldn't want to answer any of those questions, I sprinted toward him and hugged him.

"It's okay, it's okay," I whispered almost inaudibly before pulling away and smiling as well as I could manage. "Happy Christmas, Neville, it's great to see you," I said at a normal volume.

"Lucy, is it?" Mrs. Longbottom asked.

I nodded and turned up the brightness on my smile, accepting her handshake. "That would be me."

"You were Neville's first friend, he speaks most highly of you. He speaks highly of you too, and I know who you are, of course," she said to Harry. "And you two are clearly Weasleys. Yes, I know your parents — not well, of course — but fine people, fine people... and you must be Hermione Granger? Yes, Neville's told me all about you. Helped him out of a few sticky spots, haven't you? All of you? He's a good boy, but he hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid to say."

I opened my mouth to defend Neville, but before I could, Ron asked, "What? Is that your dad down the end, Neville?"

Oh no. Neville looked at me, dread in his eyes.

Mrs. Longbottom straightened up. "What's this? Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville? Because it's nothing to be ashamed of! You should be proud, Neville, proud! They didn't give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm not ashamed," Neville managed as he looked at his toes.

"I knew," I interjected softly. "We've talked about it before."

"That's good," she said with an approving nod. "Your mum was close friends with the pair." She turned to the others. "My son and his wife were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."

I heard a collective gasp, feeling a pang in my chest at having to hear it again, put so bluntly. Not that sugarcoating the truth would have made it any more palatable, nor should it have been sugarcoated, but just the same...

"They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the wizarding community. Highly gifted, the pair of them. I — yes, Alice dear, what is it?"

She had appeared behind me, holding something out to Neville. He accepted it with a trembling hand. It was an empty bubblegum wrapper.

"Very nice, dear," Mrs. Longbottom said with false cheerfulness.

"Thanks, Mum," Neville whispered as she turned on her heel and returned to her husband.

Mrs. Longbottom cleared her throat. "Well, we'd better get back. Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now."

"Nev, wait," I whispered as he turned. I pulled him into one last hug, having to stand on my tiptoes because of how tall he'd gotten. "You're perfect just the way you are. Don't forget that."

He managed a feeble nod as he pulled away, and he didn't meet my eyes again. He stuck the wrapper into his pocket as he left.

As soon as he was gone, Hermione turned to me. "You knew?" she asked in a choked voice.

I nodded. "He told me third year, one night when we were trying to catch Crookshanks one night. Crookshanks ran outside, but Neville froze up because he felt safer in the castle." I sighed. "He was afraid of Sirius, and he can't shake the fear that one day Bellatrix Lestrange will escape too, since she's the main one who — who, you know."

Her eyes widened. "Bellatrix Lestrange did that? That woman Kreacher's got a photo of in his den?"

Heavy silence fell then, interrupted by Lockhart a moment later asking if we still wanted his autographs. Ron mumbled something about us needing to go, and we made our way back to the stairwell. I was going to slip away from the others and head down to see Sloane downstairs when I heard her laugh from above us, so I pivoted and started hurrying up the stairs.

Surely enough, when we at long last reached the tearoom, Bill, Fred, and George were making Sloane laugh. Like she was just a normal kid, and not... not a girl whose disease practically orphaned her.

That was the final straw for me. I wanted her to have that moment. I would just serve as a reminder of who she was. I turned on my heel and ran out before she could see me, tears streaming down my face. I ran until I reached a quiet part of the stairs where I could curl up and cry without being bothered or bothering anyone else.

I buried my face in my hands and let everything begin to go in the form of tears that coursed down my arms. It was Christmas, my first without Cedric. I was wearing a Weasley jumper, but I wasn't a Weasley, not really, I was a Diggory, but I wasn't a Diggory, not really, I was an Everlin, but I wasn't an Everlin, not really. I wasn't really anything, I wasn't really anyone.

I was just Lucy, with the L on her jumper and the tears in her eyes.

With the Walkman in her pocket, I realized as my tears started to dry a while later.

I shifted my weight on the stairs and fished it out, hoping something, anything could drown out the deafening roar of, well, everything. I slipped the headphones over my ears and started the song again, the bridge song. The song was just beginning to wind down when I became aware of Harry's footsteps fast approaching. I pressed pause and dropped the headphones to around my neck.

He skidded onto the landing above me, eyes wide and frantic. He relaxed a bit, just a bit, when he saw me.

"I'm here," he said, sitting beside me and scrambling for my hand. Once his fingers wrapped around mine, he squeezed hard. "I'm here. I'm sorry, that must have been awful for you, today must have been so overwhelming."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without crying again.

"I bought you a bit of time," Harry continued, "I told Sloane you had most likely gone to look for her in her room and that you'd figure out soon enough that she was up in the tea room."

"I was up there for half a second," I whispered, "and I saw her, but she was so happy with the twins and Bill and she looked just like a normal kid ought to and I just couldn't bring myself to remind her of who she is, who I am, who we are. Does — Does she really want to see me?"

"Of course she does, Lu. Once she figured out we were your friends she went on and on about how much she loves writing you and how nice you are to her."

"Oh," I managed. A tear slipped from my eye.

"Hey, it's alright," he said, rubbing his thumb up and down against my hand with a bit of stressed urgency. "It's alright. Come on, let's go talk to her for a bit, then we can head home."

I shook my head. "I — I don't feel good, Harry. Th-This is messing with me."

Harry found my forehead with his free hand. Everything about his demeanor shifted, softened. Still stressed, but slower. "C'mere," he murmured softly.

I obliged, resting my head against his shoulder.

"We can stay here. When we don't come back, they'll come looking for us, and we can explain then. Alright?"

I managed a nod.

"Oh Lu," he said. "We'll be alright one day. You know that, right?"

"I hope you're right," I whispered after a long second.

"Oh Lu," he said again, with a soft sigh. He nodded. "We will be."

I was suddenly aware of how cold it was in the stairwell, and I shivered. Harry inched closer to me.

"Hey, want to listen to more music? I can't imagine you're in a talking mood."

"Not at all in a talking mood," I agreed with a humorless huff of a laugh as I lifted my head from his shoulder and fiddled with the headphones. "Music sounds good."

Harry and I each took a headphone, putting our foreheads together so we didn't extend the headphones too far, and I started the music back up again.

There was no instrumental lead-up to this song, the singers just jumped right in.

If you change your mind
I'm the first in line
Honey, I'm still free
Take a chance on me
If you need me, let me know
Gonna be around
If you've got no place to go
When you're feeling down

If you're all alone
When the pretty birds have flown
Honey, I'm still free
Take a chance on me
Gonna do my very best
And it ain't no lie
If you put me to the test
If you let me try

I was fairly confident at that point that I had a fever, so I prayed that Harry would think that was what was causing the intensifying heat in my cheeks. To be sitting there with Harry James Potter thinking thoughts like that, thinking he would ever take a chance on me, was absurd. Maybe it was the feverish race of the day finally catching up with me or the actual feverish race of whatever was happening with me, but whatever it was, something was happening that made me somehow think that was a notion worth entertaining.

Harry laughed uncertainly. "If you'd rather not listen to something so upbeat while you feel so miserable, we can just sit in the silence."

I laughed for real. "No, this is the perfect amount of ridiculous paradox."

"You're losing it," he said with a resigned smile and shake of his head. "How long have you been feeling off?"

"It really started with that portrait," I muttered.

"You played it off well, though." Harry looked at me seriously. "Do you want to come back sometime and talk to him, privately? To see what he knows?"

I nodded. "Definitely. I — I genuinely have no idea what's familiar and what's not. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Well, as Lockhart showed, memory is a finicky thing. I saw you shielding Ginny from him, by the way. Do you think he actually remembers more than he's letting on?"

"No, I just... I'm not taking that chance."

Harry grinned, pointing to his headphone.

Take a chance on me
Come on, give me a break, will you?
Take a chance on me

I nodded, closing my eyes. "Yeah. Poor word choice."

"Perfect word choice."

I kept my eyes closed for the rest of the song, knowing I'd blush even more if I opened my eyes and looked at him during a song like this. The next song was even worse, singing about best friends being in love. After that song was over, I heard everyone starting to come down from the tearoom, so I shoved the Walkman away and let Harry pull me to my feet.

Sloane beamed when she saw me. "There you are!"

"Hi there," I managed, leaning a bit heavily against the banister.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she fixed me with a suspicious look.

I shrugged. "I feel a bit off. That's why I didn't head up there, I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be sorry," she said, rushing forward and hugging me. "It's just good to see you."

"We said we'd walk her back to her place on our way out," George explained. "You up for that, Cub?"

I nodded. "Of course."

And so we all trooped down the stairs, all the way to her room. As soon as the door was closed, George rested the back of his hand against my cheek.

"Yeah, you're burning up, Cub," he said.

I shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle."

"You look like hell," Fred added.

"This isn't exactly an uncommon occurrence," I pointed out.

"We all know the reason for it, though, this is different," Harry said, coming up alongside me and letting his hand graze mine. "C'mon, Lu, let's get you home."

~

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm sorry this chapter is so late, but I hope you enjoyed it. I proofread this chapter, but truthfully, the words are swimming together on the screen at this point so I'm sorry if I missed any typos. Thank you for reading! See you all on Wednesday!