HARRY:

When Ron's birthday rolled around, Lucy was no longer the only one who didn't feel like playing truth or dare. I remembered too well Hermione's birthday, when the first words out of Ginny's mouth as soon as I'd swallowed the truth candy were "Tell us, Harry, who do you fancy?" I couldn't risk letting that happen again, especially considering I had a very different answer almost six months later. I remembered, too, that she'd asked Lucy the same question, and that Lucy had responded with "No one at the moment."

I'll admit I spent the better part of the day worrying about what I'd do if truth or dare was suggested, or worse, if we actually played it. As it turned out, though, I didn't have any reason to worry. After how chaotic everything had been as of late, Ron didn't want a party, he just wanted us all to be together. The common room was crowded since it was a Friday night, so Hermione and Lucy headed up to our dorm for the evening.

Lucy smiled when she looked at my section of the room. I had started using the camera she'd gotten me for Christmas, as evidenced by the picture from the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match and the couple of sunset pictures now hanging around my bed.

"Be sure to have the camera ready," she said, "because I want photographic proof of my victory against the birthday boy in wizard's chess."

Unfortunately, Ron won all four games they played, but the camera did make its rounds that night. By the time curfew arrived and the girls had to leave, there were several pictures strewn across my bed.

Lucy studying the chess board with her thumb pressed over her mouth, something I had realized she did when she was really concentrating.

Ron and Hermione laughing hysterically while flinging Chocolate Frog cards at each other as fast as possible both with and without magic.

A series of pictures consisting of Hermione attempting to braid Lucy's hair by hand the way Ginny did, then sighing and attempting a braiding charm, then sighing again and putting it back into a ponytail and doing the same to her own hair.

Ron and Lucy tossing a Quaffle back and forth as Hermione ran back and forth trying and failing to snag it out of midair.

Then, apparently, Hermione got a hold of the camera at one point while I was distracted, because the final picture, my favorite picture, was of Ron, Lucy, and myself sprawled on the floor with four scrapbooks of Chocolate Frog cards between us. Lucy had brought Cedric's Chocolate Frog collection up, and I was helping her combine his with hers into one scrapbook. In the photo, I was firmly placing the Lucy card on its own page, Ron was laughing, and Lucy was blushing clear to the tips of her ears.

That blush was the most significant detail about the last photo, truly. The fact that we could tell she was blushing at all only a couple nights before the full moon was nothing short of a miracle, because it meant that the Weasleys' hypothermia candy was working.

It wasn't entirely without side effects, as the magic warred within her. Lucy had to take more and more to try to keep up with the ever-increasing fever, leaving her with not much of an appetite for anything else. She was having a hard time focusing, too, and her eyes were often distant. Just the same, though, whenever the twins dramatically kissed her on the cheek or Ginny cuddled up close to her in the common room or I reached out to feel her forehead for myself, there was no fever, and she seemed to welcome the relief.

The full moon itself was blessedly uneventful. Lucy tried the twins' Fever Fudge to combat the cold she felt after the fact, but it worked too well, giving her an uncomfortably high fever, so she just ate the other half of the sweet as well to neutralize it and said she'd be alright.

"Besides," she said with a bit of a mischievous twinkle in her tired eyes as she looked at me, "I do believe I have a duel to win after Harry's Occlumency lesson tonight, and the hypothermia candy weakened my magic a bit. I can't lose my winning streak just because I was a little cold."

As it turned out, she was more than "a little cold" throughout the day, even shivering outright in the dungeons during Potions class, but she still refused to try the Fever Fudge again, maintaining that she'd rather be too cold and have a clear mind than be too hot and not feel like herself.

I hated that I had to leave her for my Occlumency lesson, shivering despite being directly in front of the roaring common room fire, but unfortunately, Snape was waiting for me. I trudged down to the dungeons with the pitiful goal of surviving long enough to lose my duel with Lucy afterward.

Once the lesson began, Snape once again combed through memories of my childhood. Nothing too traumatic that night, nothing worth remembering by any means, but I recognized with horror a scene from the nightmare about Voldemort and Rookwood I'd had a couple weeks prior. Suddenly, Snape was out of my head, and I was on my knees in his office again.

"Get up, Potter," he snapped. "That last memory. What was it?"

I blinked hard, trying to remember what memory of Dudley's bullying he might have thought worthy of such a question. "I don't know. You mean the one where my cousin tried to make me stand in the toilet?"

"No. I mean the one concerning a man kneeling in the middle of a darkened room."

"Oh, it's... nothing." Snape stared at me, but I remembered that Legilimency required eye contact so I glanced away.

"How do that man and that room come to be inside your head, Potter?"

"It was just a dream that I had."

"A dream." Snape exhaled sharply through his nose, his voice deathly calm. "You do know why we are here, don't you, Potter? You do know why I am giving up my evenings to this tedious job?"

"Yes."

"Remind me why we are here, Potter."

"So I can learn Occlumency."

"Correct, Potter. And dim though you may be—" For the first time, I looked back at Snape, glaring. "I would have thought that after two months' worth of lessons you might have made some progress. How many other dreams about the Dark Lord have you had?"

"Just that one," I lied.

He appraised me with cold eyes. "Perhaps you actually enjoy having these visions and dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special — important?"

"No, they don't."

My fingers tightened around my wand. How dare he.

"That is just as well, Potter, because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."

"No, that's your job, isn't it?" I fired back.

I was scared for a second that I'd gone too far, that he'd say or do something even worse to me in return for that, but he didn't.

Snape nearly smiled. "Yes, Potter, that is my job. Now, if you are ready, we will start again. One — two — three — Legilimens!"

I was launched back into a memory, of the dementors on the edge of the lake in my third year. I could see it well enough, but this time, I could still see parts of the office. I could still see Snape.

I pointed my wand at him. "Protego!"

Snape's wand shot out of his hand, and all of a sudden, I was seeing memories that didn't belong to me. A man yelling at a frightened-looking woman as a young boy watched, a teenager shooting down houseflies with his wand, a boy trying to climb onto an out-of-control broomstick as someone laughed in the distance.

A shout interrupted the memories. "ENOUGH!"

It was as if someone had shoved me, and hard. I stumbled back across the room and crashed into glass jars. Something cracked and broke, wetting the back of my robes, but Snape didn't seem to care and neither did I.

I think I just saw Snape's memories. Good Godric, I'm going to pay for that.

After a moment, Snape managed to compose himself, repairing the broken jar as I staggered to my feet. He glared at me. "Well, Potter... that was certainly an improvement. I don't remember telling you to use a Shield Charm, but there is no doubt that it was effective. Let's try again, shall we?"

I gulped. Yeah, I'm going to pay for that.

Before I could so much as think about trying to protect myself, he cast the spell again.

I was back in the Department of Mysteries, the same hallway I'd been dreaming about for months. This time, though, the door at the end actually opened.

The room was a circle, black from floor to ceiling save the blue flames lighting it. There were other doors in that room, doors everywhere I turned, but I didn't know which to take.

"POTTER!"

And just like that, it vanished. I was back in Snape's office, on my back on the ground with my head throbbing from where I had apparently hit it in my fall. I felt sickly again, my face covered in a sheen of sweat.

Snape marched over and stood in my line of sight. "Explain yourself!"

I pushed myself to my feet with some effort. "I don't know what happened. I've never seen that before. I mean, I told you, I've dreamed about the door, but it's never opened before."

"You are not working hard enough! You are lazy and sloppy, Potter, it is small wonder that the Dark Lord—"

"Can you tell me something, sir? Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord, I've only ever heard Death Eaters call him that—"

Snape opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, we heard a distant female scream.

I froze, and so did he.

"Did you see anything unusual on your way down here, Potter?" he asked.

I shook my head as a second scream sounded.

Oh Merlin, please don't tell me that's Lucy—

Snape hurried from the office, but I darted past him and didn't stop running until I found the source of the screams. Fortunately, Lucy was alright, I could see her standing with Henry and Fred and George across the entrance hall. Her eyes found mine, and we exchanged a brief look before both looking back at who had screamed in the first place.

Professor Trelawney.

~

LUCY:

I had been the first person in the Great Hall to realize anything was amiss. I heard a crash in the entrance hall and decided to investigate, the twins hurrying after me and Henry and Emily hurrying after us to see where we were going. We had arrived as Professor Trelawney raced down the stairs after her trunk and Umbridge followed with a smug look on her face. A crowd began to gather when Professor Trelawney screamed, and I spotted Harry join the crowd at one point, looking sick with dread but considerably relieved when he saw me.

Professor Trelawney's renewed sobs drew my attention away from Harry. "No! NO! This cannot be happening — it cannot — I refuse to accept it!"

Umbridge smiled. "You didn't realize this was coming? Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realized that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable you would be sacked?"

"You can't! You can't sack me! I — I've b-been here sixteen years! Hogwarts is m-my home!"

"It was your home, until an hour ago, when the Minister of Magic countersigned the order for your dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us."

Professor McGonagall — who had been watching the proceedings with what looked like equal parts revulsion and fear — hurried to Professor Trelawney's side with a handkerchief. Professor McGonagall, who had never particularly liked Professor Trelawney.

I got the sense that this sacking was much, much, much more than a sacking.

"There, there, Sibyll, calm down," Professor McGonagall said gently. "Blow your nose on this. It's not as bad as you think, now... you are not going to have to leave Hogwarts."

Umbridge stepped forward, cocking her head. "Oh really, Professor McGonagall? And your authority for that statement is...?"

"That would be mine," Professor Dumbledore said, walking through the front doors, finally intervening in the situation. Why he had been outside, how he had chosen that precise moment to enter, I had no idea, but I was glad to see him nonetheless.

Umbridge, on the other hand, was not at all glad to see him.

"Yours, Professor Dumbledore? I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister of Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation, and sack any teacher she — that is to say, I — feel is not performing up to the standard required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her."

"You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers," he said with a smile. "You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid that the power to do that still resides with the headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."

Trelawney managed a hysterical laugh. "No — no, I'll go, Dumbledore! I shall l-leave Hogwarts and seek my fortune e-elsewhere—"

"No. It is my wish that you remain, Sibyll. Please follow Professor McGonagall back upstairs."

Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick helped as well, leaving a livid Umbridge and a placid Dumbledore in a stand-off behind them.

"And what are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?" Umbridge asked in a falsely sweet voice.

"Oh, that won't be a problem. You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor."

All sweetness, false or otherwise, disappeared from her voice. "You've found—? You've found—? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Twenty-two—"

"—the Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if — and only if — the headmaster is unable to find one. And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you? This is Firenze. I think you'll find him suitable."

He gestured toward the door, and the answer to the question of why he had been out on the grounds walked through the door. Firenze, one of the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest's herd.

Before Umbridge could even find a word to say in reply, Professor Dumbledore smiled at those of us who had gathered.

"Go on now, students, enjoy your dinner. Classes will proceed as planned tomorrow."

Rather than head immediately to the Great Hall, I turned to Henry, a sudden lump rising in my throat.

"Predictions," I whispered, suddenly horrorstruck. I'd heard over the years how ridiculous Trelawney's predictions were, but there was one that had come true. She had predicted four years ago that my brother would die, and he had. "Henry, she — she wasn't a fraud. She — correctly predicted that Cedric..."

Henry nodded slowly, his eyes soft and sympathetic. "I was hoping you'd never remember that. It, er, doesn't change anything about the past, though, so please don't lose sleep over it, alright?"

"Alright," I managed after a moment.

He pulled me into a quick side hug and followed his friends back into the Great Hall. I remained rooted to the floor, unable to breathe, trembling from head to toe.

She had made that prediction about Cedric. Two years later, she had made the exact same prediction about Harry.

She had been right once. What if she was right a second time, about Harry?

"You alright, Cub?" George asked.

Fred shook my shoulder gently. "C'mon, let's go eat. At least get you something warm to drink, you're still shivering."

"No, I... I don't..." I tried to swallow back the tears, but they were fast approaching. "I'll be in the common room."

With that, I turned on my heel and hurried away. My body was moving of its own accord, my mind spinning with the same emotions that fueled all of my worst nightmares.

Eventually, I found myself in my dormitory. I just wanted to feel close to Cedric. I rifled through my trunk until I found the Walkman from Henry, and I secured the headphones over my ears and headed back downstairs to the common room. It was misty outside, so it wasn't much of a sunset, but I took comfort in the dusk anyway as I lowered myself onto the sofa in front of the fire and watched the flames dance through the tears that blurred my vision.

~

HARRY:

I finally figured out that Lucy had gone to the common room, and a couple minutes later, I stumbled through the portrait hole to find her curled in a ball on a sofa, her eyes tear-filled and unfocused, her ears hidden behind the Walkman headphones.

Part of me didn't want to approach her for fear of making a delicate situation worse, but I couldn't just stand there while she looked so desperately sad. So, instead, I walked over slowly and lowered myself on the sofa next to her. I was planning on just sitting with her in silence, so she wasn't alone and wasn't overwhelmed, until she wanted to talk, but as soon as I had settled onto the cushion she threw herself against me with so much force she knocked the headphones askew.

"Trelawney was right about Cedric and I don't know what I'll do if she's right about you too," she said all in a rush, suddenly crying harder than she had in a long time.

Suddenly, I remembered. The prophecy Trelawney had made in Cedric's third year and in mine. It had been easy enough to dismiss it as the ramblings of a mad woman, but... she had been right.

I wrapped my arms around Lucy and held tight. She was shaking, violently. "I'm here, I'm here, I'm here, I'm here," I murmured. "I'm safe. I'm alright."

"No you're not!" she protested, shaking her head, still crying. "What did Snape do to you tonight, what happened?"

"I, er..." I had gotten used to people thinking about me often, far more often than I would have liked. I had grown accustomed to people thinking I was mad. People thinking I was foolish. People thinking I was weak. People loved talking about my safety as if it were its own entity separate from me, but Lucy was different. Sitting there as she cried in my arms, not just worried about my safety but worried about me, I found myself feeling more small and scared than I had felt in quite a while. I wanted to promise her that everything would be alright, that I wasn't going anywhere, but like she had said just over a week ago, there was no way for me to keep that kind of a promise. Not when I was Harry Potter. I sighed, because there was no point in telling her anything but the truth. "I, er, opened the door at the end of the hallway that's been in my dreams for a bit now. I successfully shielded myself against Snape, accidentally saw a couple of his memories, and then the next time he cast the spell, I... yeah."

Lucy held me tighter, silent for a long moment except for the occasional weak sob. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What? Why?"

"I'm sorry it has to be you," she went on, sniffling after every sentence for emphasis, intentional or otherwise. "I'm sorry you had to be the one to stop Quirrell. And you had to be the one to save Ginny. And you had to be the one she mentioned in her prediction. And you had to be the one to compete in the Triwizard Tournament against your will. And you had to be the one to see Cedric die. And Merlin only knows what's coming next for you, and I don't mean that to sound overly pessimistic but it..."

"But it's true," I finished. A storm of emotion was swirling in my chest.

How long has Lucy been carrying all of this worry on her own?

Silence fell again once she stopped crying. It wasn't perfectly silent, though. The headphones Lucy had knocked loose were lying on my lap, and soft music could be heard. I recognized it as "Take a Chance on Me" by ABBA.

Lucy managed a small laugh. "This song always puts me in a better mood. Do you want me to start it over?"

"Sure thing, Lu," I replied.

She pushed a couple of buttons, and the song played louder through the headphones.

In that moment, I let my mind wander, because in that moment, we were safe. Safety was getting harder and harder and harder and harder to come by those days, which made every moment where we were safe more precious.

If Lucy ever changed her mind about not fancying anyone, I hoped she would consider taking a chance on me, even though the world was falling apart around us and I was far from a perfect shelter for her. I hadn't been able to protect her from the hell that found her. I couldn't promise her that she would be safe, I couldn't even promise that I would be safe. Promises like that seemed to tempt fate, saying "Go on, break me."

I just hoped against hope that Lucy would decide to take a chance on me in spite of everything that would try to stand in our way. And that night, as she clung to me like her life depended on it and I held her just as tightly and music swirled around us and we found comfort in the vitality of each other, I found myself believing that my hope might one day become something more.