HARRY:

After lunch, the girls headed to Ancient Runes while Ron and I headed to Divination. I opted for a seat in the very back of the room — after the incident with my scar a few months prior, I wasn't too keen on sitting in the middle of the room in case it ever happened again — and I had just set my dream diary on the table when Ron elbowed me and jerked his chin in the direction of the trapdoor.

The pink venomous tentacula had arrived.

She smiled as she stepped up into the classroom. "Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney. You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?"

Professor Trelawney nodded, and I noticed her hands were shaking as she passed out copies of Dream Oracle. Umbridge settled herself in a chair just behind the one Professor Trelawney often occupied and drew her clipboard.

Once the books were distributed, Professor Trelawney addressed the class as a whole. "We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today. Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each other's latest nighttime visions with the aid of the Oracle."

As I opened my book, I glanced at Umbridge, who was already writing notes. After a couple of minutes, she got up and started walking around the room, making her way from group to group, asking questions, listening to discussions.

I turned to Ron. "Think of a dream, quick, in case the old toad comes our way."

"I did it last time, it's your turn, you tell me one."

I wracked my brain. "Oh, I don't know. Let's say I dreamed I was, I don't know, drowning Snape in my cauldron. Yeah, that'll do."

"Okay, we've got to add your age to the date you had the dream, the number of letters in the subject... would that be 'drowning' or 'cauldron' or 'Snape?'" he asked with a stifled snort of laughter.

"It doesn't matter, pick any of them," I replied, glancing over my shoulder to see where Umbridge was. She was talking to Neville, poor soul.

"What night did you dream this again?"

"I don't know, last night, whenever you like." I returned my attention to our table and listened hard. What I would give to have Lucy's sense of hearing right now...

"Now, you've been in this post how long, exactly?"

"Nearly sixteen years."

"Quite a period. So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?"

"That's right."

"And you are a great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?"

"Yes."

"But I think — correct me if I am mistaken — that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of second sight?"

"These things often skip — er — three generations."

"Of course. Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?"

There was a long pause.

"I don't understand you," Professor Trelawney said finally.

"I'd like you to make a prediction for me."

When I turned around to see the showdown for myself, curiosity finally getting the best of me, I found I was not the only one watching as Professor Trelawney straightened up and puffed her chest.

"The Inner Eye does not See upon command!"

"I see."

Umbridge made a small disapproving noise and started scribbling on her clipboard.

"I — but — but — wait! I — I think I do see something — something that concerns you! Why, I sense something... something dark... some grave peril... I am afraid that you are in grave danger!"

Umbridge scribbled another note. "Right. Well, if that's really the best you can do..."

With that, she walked away, and Professor Trelawney descended upon us. She interpreted my dreams loudly, the predictions getting worse and worse as she went, but I didn't mind... well, I did a bit, but not really. I was very much on her side in this fight, even though I knew just as well as everyone else that she was a fraud.

Finally, the bell rang, and Umbridge left in a hurry so she'd be in her classroom by the time DADA started. Ron and I caught up with Lucy and Hermione on the way and started to explain what had happened, but we arrived and were silenced before either girl had time to ask questions.

"Wands away," Umbridge said with a smile, her gaze sweeping the room. A couple of optimistic people tucked their wands back into their bags, sighing, but Lucy didn't move.

Her wand remained in her pocket, just where it always was.

I didn't touch mine either, also in my pocket.

"As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."

I wonder if there are enough chapters in this brick of a book to keep us reading through the entire year, I thought bitterly to myself. I was about to check the table of contents to see when Hermione raised her hand.

Umbridge, rather than ignoring her, crept quietly to Hermione's desk and knelt in front of her. "What is it this time, Miss Granger?" she asked in a whisper so soft I could barely hear it even though Lucy and I were sitting right behind her and Ron.

"I've already read chapter two," Hermione replied in a clear voice that carried through the room.

"Well then, proceed to chapter three."

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."

"Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He says that counterjinxes are improperly named. He says 'counterjinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable." Umbridge looked impressed for half a second, but then Hermione continued. "But I disagree."

"You disagree?"

"Yes, I do. Mr. Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, I'm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger." Umbridge was no longer whispering, and she had risen to her feet to properly glower down at Hermione.

"But — "

"That is enough. Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House."

"What for?" I challenged immediately.

"Don't you get involved!" Hermione hissed over her shoulder, but it was too late.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions. I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them — with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection — "

"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher. There was just that minor drawback of him having Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head," I retorted.

"Please, not another detention," Lucy whispered in a voice so quiet I don't think even I was supposed to hear her.

"I think detentions for the rest of the week would do you some good, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said. "Back to work, everyone."

Lucy stiffened beside me, and even as her hand rested on the table, curled into a fist, it trembled. I lightly bumped her knee with mine in what I intended as an It's okay gesture, but she shook her head and returned her attention to the book. She didn't turn a page the rest of the class.

I didn't head down to dinner before reporting to detention, not wanting to face Angelina's wrath. The entire time I was writing, I didn't let a single sound escape me.

It somehow hurt even more the second time.

But I didn't give her the satisfaction of knowing she had gotten to me.

I was in no particular hurry heading back to the common room that night. My hand was stinging, I had three more nights to go, Sirius's words from the night before were still ringing in my ears, and I wanted nothing more than to just forget it all for a while.

But I couldn't.

I mumbled the password to the Fat Lady and climbed through the portrait hole, expecting it to be empty.

But it wasn't.

Lucy was curled up in the window seat, balancing a book on her knees but staring out the window with her wand in her hand.

She turned her head when she heard my feet hit the floor. "Oh, hi Harry. How was it?"

"Well, what do you want me to say?" I said as I made my way over to her. She didn't make room for me in the window seat, so I sat on the arm of a nearby chair and held out my hand for her to see. "Want me to tell you it was fun? Want me to tell you it was educational? That the lesson sank in?" I laughed harshly. "All I learned was that it hurts worse the second time."

"Yeah, well, I could have told you that much," she muttered. "Oh, and since you didn't go down to dinner, I thought you might be hungry." She jerked her chin in the direction of the nearest table, where a roll was waiting. "I brought more up, but Ron got hungry and didn't realize it was for you."

"It's okay, this is perfect," I said, taking a large bite. "Thanks, Lu."

"Yeah, of course," she replied.

"What did McGonagall say about Snape?" I asked after a moment, not feeling much like talking about Umbridge anymore.

"I, er, haven't talked to her yet."

"What? Why not?"

She shrugged, dropping her eyes from mine. She sighed before I could press further. "You weren't even lying this time. Not that we've ever lied about what really happened, but... I understand that not everyone believes us."

I didn't miss the fact that she said "us" and not "you." Like this was our problem instead of my problem. But it was my problem, it wasn't her problem.

I pushed myself to my feet, feeling frustration surge in me. "Yeah. And I'm still not good enough for the people who do believe me."

There. I said "me."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"It's just..."

It's just Hermione telling me not to defend her when Umbridge is clearly being unfair, as if I were a liability.

It's just Ron looking at my hand every time we're alone in the dormitory and telling me I should report it, as if that would accomplish anything.

It's just Sirius in the fire telling me that I'm not as similar to my dad as he thought I was, as if I didn't already wonder every single day if my parents would like me.

As I tried to find a way to say this all out loud, I found that none of it mattered. She couldn't do anything to fix it, so what was the point of telling her anything? What was the point of giving her a problem with no solution? The last thing she needed was one more thing — or person — to worry about. Especially me, the person who was supposed to be taking care of her.

🩵💛❤️

LUCY:

Harry shook his head after a moment. "I think I'm just tired."

"But you're..."

But you're my best friend.

But you're worth the world to me.

But you're... hiding from me.

I was pressed up against the invisible barrier, the unnecessary shield charm, tempted for half a second to break it and force my hand through and beg him to take it...

"But I'm what?"

...but I didn't. I backed away from the invisible barrier, the unnecessary shield charm, and pulled into myself, burying my emotions a bit deeper.

🩵💛❤️

HARRY:

"Actually, you do look tired," she said after a moment. "I'm tired, too. Maybe we should both go to bed."

"Maybe we should," I agreed. I started to tuck my hands into my pockets, but her hand shot forward.

"Wait," she murmured, tossing her book behind her as she walked over to inspect my injured hand. "It doesn't look nearly so deep this time."

"She has three more nights for it to sink in."

Lucy bit her lip.

"What is it?"

"It's just... I-I'm trying to think like Cedric. And I can't remember if it would scar more from a one-time trauma, or if it would scar more from repeated, less intense trauma. I-I mean you'll have both types come Friday, but — " She swallowed hard and released my wrist. I found myself missing that warmth as she retreated to the window seat. She held up the book, which I realized wasn't really a book, but more of a medical encyclopedia that more closely resembled a brick. "I mentioned that Cedric wanted to be a healer, right?"

I nodded. I noticed she had left room for me. I accepted the unspoken invitation and slid in next to her, reading over her shoulder as she flipped between bookmarks.

"Oh, here it is." She pointed to a picture of a bowl of Merlin-knows-what. "Cedric flagged this remedy because it supposedly helps with cursed lacerations. He... well, he was probably thinking of this when he put the bookmark here," she said, tracing the thin scars of her hand, "but I reckon it might help with your hand too. I'll talk to Hermione tomorrow and see if we can figure out how to harvest essence of murtlap."

"Essence of what now?" I asked.

Lucy almost smiled. "Murtlap. They're one of the only creatures I'd classify as truly ugly. See?" She pointed to the sketch on the next page.

I nodded. "I can see why you'd classify it that way."

"Yeah, well, they're nice enough as long as you don't step on them. My dad knew someone once who had the misfortune of stepping on a murtlap barefoot, and he lost a toe or two."

"I'll be sure to wear shoes next time I'm in murtlap habitat, then," I remarked, hoping to draw a real smile from her.

But it didn't come.

She nodded. "Good idea. Well, I think I'm heading to bed if you are."

"Yeah, I am," I replied. I offered a smile as we rose to our feet. I'm going to get her to smile tonight if it's the last thing I do. "Thanks for waiting up for me."

Lucy blushed and shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous, I wasn't waiting up for you. I was reading and working on... well, and I lost track of time and you walked in and interrupted me just seconds before I was planning to stop anyway."

"Alright, if that's what you want to tell yourself, that's fine," I said lightly. "I know the truth, though."

"And that is?" she scoffed.

"You were positively sitting on pins and needles awaiting the return of your dearest friend, Harry James Potter himself, from his most awful and unfair punishment," I replied in the most obnoxious grandiose manner I could possibly manage. "When others retired to their bedchambers for a night of slumber, you and you alone toiled away in your window seat, your eyes wandering to the portrait hole every couple of seconds as you fervently prayed for my safe and timely arrival."

Come on, Lucy, please, smile, make this worth it...

"Alright, if that's what you want to tell yourself, that's fine," she replied with the most ridiculously impish little smile I had ever seen on her face.

"You know what, that is what I want to tell myself," I replied, walking backward toward the boys' dormitory stairs. "I want to tell myself that even if no one else in the world waits up for me, you will. Even if no one else in the world believes me, you will."

"I could have told you that much," she said, and her smile became more genuine. "And what would you say if I wanted to tell myself that at the end of the day, we'd always have each other, no matter what?"

"I would say by all means, keep telling yourself that, because it's true. I'll always come back to you, and you promised me the same exact thing once upon a time."

Lucy grew serious. "I did, didn't I?"

I nodded, growing serious as well. "You did. When you went back to Ottery St. Catchpole. You promised me you'd always come back, and you did." I backed into the door, but I didn't open it. "Just keep on keeping that promise, yeah? That you'll always come back, even when you go somewhere I can't follow for the night?"

Something flickered through Lucy's eyes. Something so quick I couldn't quite catch it. Something so powerful I couldn't exactly miss it, either.

After a moment, she nodded. "I'll always come back. I promise."

I nodded back at her, feeling it was important that I make the same promise to her. "I promise, too. I'll always come back to you. Starting with tomorrow morning." I opened the door and smiled one last time. "Should be easy enough to keep that one, don't you think?"

"Should be," she whispered, hugging the book to her chest and glancing out the window up at the stars. I looked at her for just a second longer before closing the door behind me and quietly climbing the stairs to bed.