Hello lovelies!

I tried to finish this chapter over a week ago, but the last scene was giving me a bit of trouble. Anyway, I truly hope you enjoy the chapter, it's a soothing ish chapter after the last few ones. Again, so sorry about all that. I really wanted to make sure this chapter was right. If that makes any sense at all.

I got a few questions about this, so to clarify, I have the rest of the story planned out, I just need to write it (when I have time). And, I will most definitely finish this story. Just thought I should say that.

Please leave a review ;)

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, only the storyline and any OC's belong to me.

Alfred Pennyweather was a strange, imposing man of great stature, despite his spindly physique. His arms were a touch too long for his body, a perpetual frown tugged at his brow and gave the impression that he was permanently displeased. He favoured the colour periwinkle for his attire as he thought it complemented his complexion.

Alfred was a year above Charlus in school. A few grey hairs that had sprouted around his temples—only to disappear into the waves of his chestnut brown tresses—were the only indication of his age. One never wished to linger in his presence for longer than necessary as there was an unsettling quietness that clung to him. He was a kind man, but had no patience for frivolity.

When James Potter had flooed him earlier that evening, with little-to-no information (except that the situation was dire), he'd no idea what to expect. He certainly did not expect to see an old colleague and good friend die.

The war hadn't truly affected Alfred Pennyweather until that moment. He'd treated wix who'd gotten into skirmishes with Death Eaters. But, he had not suffered any personal losses.

Charlus Potter was a lifelong friend and they'd drifted apart in the last decade or so, as they led vastly different lives. He truly regretted that now. Alfred wished things would have gone differently; that they'd stayed in touch.

One thing was a surety in his mind now. This war would wreak havoc on their lives. Not to mention their society would never be the same, regardless of the outcome.

Following Charlus's passing—as a precaution, in case their grief exploded into disastrous displays of accidental magic—Alfred sedated the Potter twins, and levitated them to a guest room Mipsy directed him to. He'd requested assistance from the redheaded witch in treating her friends, as she seemed the least shaken by the series of events.

James had flooed the Shacklebolts earlier. Within minutes of Alfred commencing his work, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye Moody were in the Potters' home; having been allowed passage by the boy. James was covered in his Father's blood, and he'd collapsed beside him, stroking his Father's hair off of his forehead. The last Alfred saw, James was pressing a kiss to his Father's temple, and the Aurors were coaxing him away from Charlus's body.

There aren't many we can trust now, Alfred thought somberly.

The girl's physical injuries were far more extensive whereas the boy's body intermittently spasmed whilst he slept. The Cruciatus curse is to blame, Alfred mused, frowning deeply as he examined Hermione Potter's leg. It was a deep, nasty wound and it would take weeks to heal properly even with the magical arsenal at his disposal.

Lily Evans—as Alfred discovered—was a capable witch, and she aptly followed his instructions whilst tending to her friend. Draco Potter's nose was broken, and he was covered in shallow nicks and cuts. It was the torture that worried Alfred. The extent of that damage would become clear in the subsequent days.

As Alfred used his magic to shift the witch's bones back in place, and repair the muscles and sinew, he became intimately familiar with Hermione's own magical signature . A peculiarity came up; deeply embedded glamours woven into her magical core. Some of said glamours had cemented themselves into her core, their strings far more taut and integral to the witch's essence.

Who is this girl really, Charlus? Alfred wondered to himself. He was curious, intrigued, but it was not a question he needed answered.

Hours after completing his initial treatment, Alfred Pennyweather sat perched on the windowsill of the sole slender window in the room, a pipe in hand. Smoke flowed from his mouth, curling in the air. Dawn came, its colours seemingly muted. The twins were lying in their respective single beds, slumbering away.

At some point during the night Alfred and Mipsy moved them to the bathroom to scrub them clean and change their clothes. Mipsy also changed their bedsheets.

"Master Pennyweather?" Mipsy's voice came from behind him, meek and small. The House Elf was in mourning too; he recalled an outspoken young House Elf scolding him for crude language years ago. Charlus convinced me to drink too much that night, the sombre wisp of thought clouded Alfred's mind.

"Yes, Mipsy?" Alfred asked, he withdrew his timepiece from his waistcoat, peeking at it quickly. The gold glinted in the dim rays. He took several quick puffs from his pipe.

"How are they?"

"They will recover. It will be slow, and I shall check in every few days for the time being. It is essential they do not push themselves too quickly."

"Thank you Mister Pennyweather," Mipsy sniffed, clutching her skirts as she bowed in appreciation.

Alfred cleared his throat, tucking his timepiece back into its place, "floo me immediately if there are any changes."

"Of course."

Alfred rose, righting himself. He smoothed his hair back absently as he said, "it will…it will not be easy, they are most assuredly going to be traumatised by the ordeal they went through, not to mention the loss of their Father." His thumb stroked along the length of his pipe.

Alfred paused, letting his thoughts brew. "Also, keep an eye on James, he may not be physically injured, but his mental state should be monitored."

Alfred did not tarry much after that. He feared if he stayed for too long then his emotions would get the best of him, and it would not do to unravel at the seams on the pristine hardwoods of Potter Manor, rolling around in a ball, sobbing his eyes out. It would be unseemly.

Alfred carried out his duties to perfection, he checked in on the teenagers every few days, and their physical recovery was moving along marvellously. Although he rarely heard either of them speak, and they were oft sleeping whenever he visited. He delivered a sizable batch of dreamless sleeping potion at James's request. He had refused at first, as it was highly addictive and should not be used for prolonged periods.

He changed his mind when he visited once in the late hours, only to find James, Lupin and the Black boy restraining his patients as they let out blood curdling screams; their nightmares bleeding out of them. True pain was held in their voices. That pushed him to provide James with what he'd asked for.

Time passed as it did. Tragedy struck, but time had no time to wallow in their sorrow. It had a duty, an endless mission to be fulfilled.

And so it passed. Before any of them knew it, two weeks slipped by.

The rustle of leaves outside roused him. Draco's head rolled to the side, the softness of his cushion caressing his cheek. He listlessly gazed out the window at the too blue sky.

Draco and Hermione had been bedridden for two weeks, recovering and healing from their injuries; the proximity of their pack members having sped along the process.

Draco was better, he knew that, yet he hadn't found his way out of his bed yet. The only time he'd left was—with Mipsy's assistance—to use the loo.

The two Potters missed a crippling amount of school for most in their NEWT year (they forced James to go back a few days after term resumed). James flooed home at the end of every day to deliver notes and homework. Truly he needed to see his siblings daily, it was part of the thin thread holding him together like a patchwork doll.

Hermione had laggardly poked through some of it, but Draco's ever growing pile remained untouched. Sirius and Remus returned to school when James did; they tried to visit every other day, but with Draco and Hermione gone that left Sirius and James in charge of the Quidditch team, and Remus to assist James in his Head Boy duties.

Draco sat up sluggishly and with great effort. His whole body tingled from the exertion, his bones creaked and his muscles twinged. Draco swung his legs over the side of his bed, back curved, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of him.

Everything was different now. They were orphans.

Dorea's death had fractured them, tearing their hearts into itty bitty pieces. Charlus's death broke them. Their souls were pulverised. The hefty weight of the loss of both their parents was tremendous.

Charlus Potter was a yew tree. Sturdy, strong, wise. He was an unmovable object.

Charlus Potter was a yew tree, whose roots burrowed deep into the ground and laid the network for their stability. He was their rock, their constant, an immovable force.

A vast snake had slithered through the grass, wrapped itself around his trunk and constricted with such impact that his bark splintered, broke off, and then the wood of his great yew tree crushed, snapped, shattered. And his tree fell. The force of his crash echoed and vibrated through the forest; felt by all.

Charlus Potter was their constant, and now that was changed; forever.

Charlus had been their confidant, a man who felt deeply, who wasn't afraid to show his emotions but could also keep them in check.

An ear to bend as they spoke about everything; from mundane and frivolous to philosophical and intellectual topics. Strict when necessary, nurturing as he cultivated their upbringing like he would the garden he tended and adored.

Most importantly, he was their Father. He was their Father, and now he was gone.

It was worse than when Dorea died, because now he wasn't there to hold them all together.

"You getting up today?" Hermione's soft voice drifted over to him. Draco peered over his shoulder at her through hooded eyes.

"Have to get up sometime," Draco replied simply. Hermione's body was tangled in their pale blue sheets, her wild mess of curls was knotty and thrown up haphazardly; she hadn't done anything with it in days.

The pair had been sharing a bed for most of their bedridden stint in order to keep each other company. Now that their injuries were almost fully healed, they spent most of their time in each other's arms, their bodies entwined as the days dragged by.

Hermione absently traced a pattern on his back. Draco peeked at her left leg that was resting on top of the sheets; her jagged raised flesh the focus of his attention. The dark spell Macnair inflicted on her left its mark. A physical reminder of their anguish.

"How are we gonna survive this war?" Hermione murmured. She was thinking aloud, he could tell by the faraway, glassy look in her eyes.

"We'll find a way," Draco replied. The question wasn't meant for him, not really, but he answered regardless as he knew she needed to hear the words.

Whilst they were out of commission there had been several developments in the Wizarding World:

There was no mention of the incident at Malfoy Manor in the Daily Prophet. Which revealed to the Order that the Prophet had been infiltrated by the Dark Lord's followers; thus no word of the events was published.

There was no official documentation from the Ministry that mentioned Charlus's Potter's death. Yet, the Order ensured news spread, and by word of mouth the entirety of Wizarding Britain knew within a couple days what had transpired.

Charlus Potter was buried in the Orchards alongside his wife. Hermione laid a bouquet of white anemone flowers littered with dainty blue forget-me-nots on his grave.

Charlus had planted the anemones later than usual, but he was sure they would bloom in the Spring. He'd been right.

Mipsy—with James's assistance—had buried the Potter Patriarch in the Orchards the day after his death.

News hastily flew through their society of another death; Abraxas Malfoy. Dragon Pox claimed his life hours after Charlus passed.

The loss of two prominent figures in their society shook the nation. The Potters may have kept a low profile and didn't frolick in most social circles, but they were well respected members in their society.

Numerous owls carrying letters expressing their sorrow and condolences arrived at Potter Manor, and one day, in his grief, James gathered them all and set them ablaze on the front lawn. The scorch marks remained.

James went to his room and didn't emerge for three days, not even when Lily begged him to. When he did, his eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and he looked as if he hadn't slept a wink. James was hit the hardest out of all of them.

James buried his feelings, and he became numb.

Seeing their brother in such pain only struck a deeper, more cruel ache in Hermione and Draco's souls.

Draco cleared his throat curtly. "We always find a way," Draco added quietly, hands now folded in his lap. He stared at the creases that formed as he clenched his fists, his vision blurring after several moments. "We will."

A blur. The following weeks were a blur.

A blur of formality: the prim Ministry fellow gladly told them what they'd inherited as per Charlus and Dorea's wishes, whilst pretending to console them; they couldn't care less about their inheritance, what they wanted was their Father back.

A blur of sorrow: when Hermione and Draco finally got up and out of their beds for good, the Marauders gathered together to hold a small vigil in the Orchard. A few close family friends and loved ones were present as they officially said their farewells and put their Father to rest beside Dorea.

Lora Shacklebolt looked like lady Death dressed head-to-toe in black (including her black veil that hid her tears); she spoke little but held each of the orphans in a tight embrace before she departed.

James's walls broke and a dam of emotions came gushing out for several long hours. He swore, he thrashed about, he wailed, he sobbed, he fought off Draco as his brother held fast to him and made soothing noises. James broke.

Afterwards, it was a blur. They were numb.

They cemented their feelings behind thick walls, and buried them at their cores.

Returning to Hogwarts was an otherworldly experience, so much had changed, yet it was all the same.

Snape and his cronies gave the Marauders a wide berth for the remainder of the year. Draco dully wondered if it was for the Marauder's sake or theirs. In the end, he found he didn't care.

The Potter siblings weren't afforded the time that they needed to grieve. The harsh realities of the War had shown their hideous colours and they hadn't the luxury of asking for a timeout.

The Marauders vaulted themselves into their studies. They allowed the gruelling examinations that were on the horizon distract them. They went through the motions that were required of them as the months churned onwards.

Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup, and as the Marauders hadn't the heart nor the time for pranks, Gryffindor was actually a contender for the House Cup as well this year.

Truthfully, they buried themselves in their studies for another reason as well. Now, studying isn't just for the sake of studying, now it's because any errant piece of information could be what keeps them or their friends alive.

Their fellow Seventh years—even those that don't plan on fighting in the war—also wanted to prepare themselves for the inevitable as best as they could. In war there are often those that are caught in the crossfire; those that want no part in the violence, but become a victim of it anyways.

Numb. The world filled with lacklustre colour, and impending darkness loomed; the remainder of the Marauders seventh year was painted many hues of grey. With the exception of one evening in May. An evening they permitted themselves to forget, where they allowed themselves to simply live.

Saturday, 13th May, 1978

Empire Pool, Wembley, London, UK

Queen Concert

"It would be a waste of epic proportions if we didn't get to see Queen live at least once", Hermione had stated, her bottom lip jutting out as she spoke with James and Draco.

Sacrilegious some might say, Draco snorted.

"Precisely", Hermione squealed. In an uncharacteristic move, she hopped twice on the spot, clapped her hands together and with a happy twirl skipped off. "That settles it! We're going to go see QUEEEN!"

"She does realise we are going to have to acquire tickets," James laughed softly, a genuine rush of affection crinkling his features.

"She knows we'll figure it out."

"I'll go let Lily, Riley, Sirius and Remus know that we are continuing with our tradition of concerts before important examinations."

Draco merely chuckled. "Tell them not to get their hopes up until we are in possession of said tickets. It's rather close to the event, who knows if we'll be able to snag any."

"We'll find a way."

And so they did, they'd only had a few weeks, but they had obtained enough tickets, and now the group of teenagers were lost amidst a sea of buzzing, excited muggles (Peter was not in attendance, he hadn't wanted to come; he also didn't elaborate with reasons for his disinterest). Although, there was bound to be at least a few wix amongst them.

It was the third consecutive night Queen had performed at the venue, and it was also the final one. The crowd was pumped full of adrenaline.

"I still think this is a bad idea," Lily said, but the glow emitting from her and her beaming grin betrayed her glee and elation.

The line-up outside of Wembley Arena (as it was officially named now as of February, which Lily commented would take some getting used to) was less of a line and more a tightly packed group that slowly inched forward as more people entered the indoor arena.

"Really, what is it with us and going to concerts before life altering examinations?" Remus asked, bemused.

"Not our fault they schedule all the best concerts at inconvenient times," Hermione replied, adjusting the waistband of her emerald corduroy skirt that barely hit mid-thigh.

Eventually they ended up inside, and the wait for the band was a bit lengthy, but ultimately worth the wait.

It was magic. To the best of her knowledge, the members of Queen were muggles, but the electrifying way they ensnared the crowd was otherworldly.

At one point James hoisted Lily onto his shoulders so she could get a better view, and she had to rearrange her hot pants so she didn't get a wedgie. James told her to stop wiggling and securely grasped her thighs to stop further movements.

Lily didn't seem to care as she belted out lyrics alongside Freddie Mercury, hands raised to the heavens.

Hermione tucked herself into Draco's side, one hand firmly in his back jeans pocket. She cheekily squeezed his arse and he sent a playful gaze her way. He pressed a kiss to her temple. Lily was too enraptured to notice.

Time didn't exist inside the bubble that Freddie created, he was a magnetic presence and he performed as if he was born for it.

Hermione found herself in a similar position to Lily on Draco's shoulders, and she toyed with his soft raven hair as she sang.

Song after song, Hermione sang, and she knew she would be hoarse on the morrow, and her throat sore and raw. She couldn't have been happier, nor could she have cared less.

Then it started. Bohemian Rhapsody. Hermione found renewed energy as she sang with all her might. She swayed and danced with vigour, and if Draco didn't have such a tight grip on her she surely would have tumbled to the ground.

Is this the real life?

Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide,

No escape from reality.

Freddie, Brian, Roger and John had harmonised for the opening and it gave her goosebumps as the rhythm began to build.

The song seemingly had no end, but also was over far too quickly, and entranced, Hermione was swept up in it.

Keep Yourself alive and Tie Your Mother Down. They were the final songs in the set and even though they'd listened to numerous songs during the concert, it felt like nothing now that it was over.

The band waved and thanked them and stayed for a few minutes, but the lights went out and they left the stage.

The crowd cried out for their return, and she couldn't say how it started, but soon the masses were clapping and stomping their feet in tune to We Will Rock You.

Minutes later, the crowd's pleas were answered as Queen ran back on stage for an encore, and another round of music kicked off with Sheer Heart Attack.

Their final song, God Save the Queen, was engraved into her memory. It was an unforgettable moment. Time slowed, the lights almost blinding, Hermione peered around at her friends, at her pack.

Riley, Sirius and Remus's arms were round the other's shoulders and they rocked from side-to-side as they vociferously sang their hearts out. James and Lily, so full of life and so in love as Lily was lowered from his shoulders so they could watch the remainder of the concert in each other's embrace. Eyes only for each other as they sang to each other, in a world of their own.

It was an unforgettable moment.

A couple hours later, after the concert was long done, they ended up at a small chinese restaurant whose food was remarkably good. The place was tucked in an odd nook beside a rundown shoe shop and a barber's, and normally might have gone unnoticed if not for their heightened sense of smell.

"That was brilliant, and lucky for us, NEWTs are still a few weeks away," Sirius said as he dug into his white takeout container of chicken chow mein. They hadn't been able to decide whether they were eating there or not, so they got it all to take away. Sirius's neon blue eyeliner stood out sharply under the white light in the restaurant. Riley sat on one of Sirius's knees, drinking a coke out of a glass bottle with a bendy straw as she waited for Remus to hand her her food.

Lily was surprised at how good Sirius was at using chopsticks, and stared in awe as she discovered that Hermione was equally as skilled with them. James could use them, but it took him much longer to eat.

The biggest shock was how rubbish Draco was with them, which irked him endlessly, and a tiny frown puckered his brow as Hermione fed him some spicy beef with hers. He didn't complain however, just accepted the food and focused on trying to master the utensils for the umpteenth time. Hermione patiently gave him a few pointers.

Draco was pleased when he managed to get some food successfully from his container into his mouth. He always ended up using a fork, but not until after trying with his chopsticks like the stubborn wizard he was.

"Still far too close for comfort," Remus muttered, gingerly sipping on his piping hot soup.

"Stop worrying Moony, we all know you'll ace them," James smirked. There was a bit of rice on the corner of his mouth, that Lily brushed away with pink cheeks. He smiled at her in thanks, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

"Seeing how haggard you all are makes me both grateful mine aren't till next year, yet terrified for when the time comes," Riley sighed wistfully. She turned her straw towards Sirius and he gladly took a few sips of her drink.

They had pushed two tables together, Hermione and Sirius did all the ordering, and then they had laid all the food out in the middle. As per usual, they all shared and passed around containers, and they'd requested a couple plates for certain items and so they could pour some dipping sauce for their rolls.

"You all seem so…comfortable here," Lily said softly. "Well, in…the—" her voice lowered significantly, "—muggle world."

"We've been sneaking out of the castle on a regular basis for years now, Lilypad. This isn't our first time getting chinese food in muggle London," Draco supplied. A pleased smile tweaked at his lips as he got a handle on his chopsticks and gripped some broccoli with them.

"Muggleborn," Riley teased.

Sirius tickled her side and responded with, "very cute, love."

"It's just…it's nice," Lily smiled gently, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Agreed, now can you pass the wontons, Evans?" Sirius asked, and the group laughed.

Hermione rested her head on Draco's shoulder, hoping Lily would think nothing of it. Thankfully she was too preoccupied by James and Sirius trying to toss wontons at each other from across the table. It was nice. It was the best night they had had in a long while.

Charlus Potter was their yew tree, the one who held them together, and even though he was no longer physically with him, she swore she felt his presence. He would always be with them, in some form or another, just as Dorea was.

For the first time in months, Hermione cried, the tears streaming down her face at an alarming rate, but she was smiling. James noticed first, and her pack descended on her with worry, wiping away her tears, kissing her cheeks, hugging her close.

"He would want us to be happy," Hermione heard herself say, and they all froze. Similar expressions to hers, tears brimming. He would've wanted them to be happy.

That night felt like a new beginning, and the greyed hues of the world faded away into an eruption of vivid colour once more.

The moment all of their lives began to feel back on track again, it threatened to be derailed in the middle of their examinations. It was well into June when Lily Evans was delivered grave news.

McGonagall wished to wait until after all of their exams were finished, but Dumbledore thought otherwise. Making a unilateral decision, he provided her with the envelope from her sister; its seal had already been broken.

Lily gathered all of her friends together before she dared to read the letter's contents. In all of her years at Hogwarts, Petunia had written her one letter. Dumbledore also warned the Head Girl of the letter's grave contents.

Hermione bristled when she saw the broken seal, and was on her way to give Dumbledore an earful when James stopped her. Lily was reading, lips moving silently, shaking as tears fell one by one.

Further tragedy had struck as Lily learned that both of her parents perished in a fatal car accident; her Father upon impact, whilst her Mother succumbed to her injuries days later. She had been in a coma the entire time. The letter was dated the last week of May.

There was no funeral. Petunia cremated Mr and Mrs. Evans and the ceramic urns housing their ashes were displayed on her mantle. (So they were always close, she wrote.)

Curtly, Petunia informed Lily that she'd already put the house up for sale upon talking to a very successful realtor friend of Vernon's, and they had received some generous offers.. Petunia callously stated she had no need for the house since she'd moved to Privet Drive a few months prior.

Lily's belongings had been boxed up, and were ready for her to retrieve them at her convenience. "Before the end of June. After that I am afraid they'll have to be thrown out. The new owners will want to move in straight away I'm sure."

Lily had dropped the letter, stumbled over to the small kitchenette inside the Head Dorms, and retched into the sink. Sobbing and dry-heaving.

James rushed to her side, holding back her hair, rubbing her back and quietly inquiring as to what had transpired.

Hermione picked up the letter with trembling hands, eyes flying across the page as she took everything in. Alice peered over her shoulder, reading its contents as well. A horrified gasp left Alice's mouth, and she shakily trod over to Lily.

Alice hovered just behind the couple, unsure what to do.

They were all at a loss. No one knew what to say, or do. Marlene hugged Mary tightly, mouth opening and closing but unable to say anything.

Lily had one exam remaining the following day, and Hermione cursed Dumbledore from head-to-toe for not waiting until the following afternoon. She would give him a chunk of her mind later, but for now she needed to comfort her best friend.

James, Hermione and Alice escorted Lily up to her room.

Alice prepared a steaming hot bubble bath whilst Hermione and James sat with the listless witch on the edge of her bed.

Lily was dull, her aura grey as she leant against Hermione. Hermione stroked Lily's hair, humming a soft melody Dorea used to sing errantly. Lily's crimson hair had lost some of its sheen.

Several minutes later, Alice came back into the bedroom, clutching a fluffy white towel. "The bath is ready."

"I'll stay with her, you go see what the others are up to," Hermione instructed softly, and Alice's frown indicated she wished to argue, but after a moment she nodded. Alice moved to hand James the towel, and then padded out of the room. She worriedly glanced over her shoulder before she closed the door shut behind her.

Draco, Remus and Riley were downstairs busying themselves by fixing tea for everyone. Sirius brought out a tray with sugar cubes, honey, milk and cream so that the group could add it to their cups as they liked.

Marlene added a single sugar cube to her darjeeling tea, and she stirred slowly, the small silver spoon occasionally hitting an edge. She stared blankly into the roaring flames of the fireplace across the room.

"Lily's sister is a wanker," Dorcas said after a time.

"Dorcas," Emmeline scolded with a sharp look.

"Just saying what we're all thinking."

Draco leant back against the counter, sipping his tea, gazing at all of their friends, and it pained his heart to know that the war would dwindle their numbers significantly.

Kira normally would voice her opinions on matters at hand, but she was unnaturally mute.

Nancy had her violin on her when they bumped into her and Frank on the way here, and was now next to the fireplace, playing a solemn, haunting tune.

"She's not going to have to sit her exam in the morning is she?" Frank asked. A thought that had not even occurred to Draco.

Bugger, Draco thought with a perplexed brow.

Lily's bedroom door opening and closing drew everyone's attention. Alice. She strode towards them hugging herself, bottom lip quivering.

"She's not…"

Alice couldn't finish, but they all understood.

It was a grave night, one that promised a different kind of beginning. One that chilled Draco to his core.

His friends disappeared before his eyes in puffs of smoke, one after the next until a handful remained.

I can change it, Draco's soul cried. I can fix it. Draco straightened out, contemplating and planning out how he could do just that.

Without warning, a searing pain stabbed into his skull. It caused him to curve inwards on himself and he dropped his cup of tea. The Unbreakable Vow must have sensed his resolve.

The hot liquid went flying, the cup shattered on the ground, and he swore as spots danced before his eyes. The pain subsided, ebbing away slowly, as if warning him that it could return at a moment's notice.

Everyone was looking at him.

"Headache," Draco explained weakly. Curious, worried eyes were all fixed on him. "I'm fine. I should probably just sit down."

Remus was picking up the broken pieces of Draco's cup, and with bleary eyesight Draco squatted down to help him. Remus wryly whispered, "vow?"

"Maybe," Draco muttered. He wandlessly and nonverbally vanished the remainder of the cup and used a swift Scourigfy on the floor. He didn't feel like repairing, or looking at it any longer.

Draco opened the cabinet door under the sink—bending at the knee slightly— and they disposed of the cup pieces in their hands.

"I—I'm going to lie down," Draco declared gracelessly, grey met hazel. Remus sighed. The strain of exams was abundantly clear looking at how haggard his friend was; how they all were. The threat of the war outside the relatively safe halls of Hogwarts, and the stress of studying for their exams had taken its toll.

The dreadful news Lily had received could not have picked a worse moment, and Draco feared that it would whittle Lily down to a shell of herself.

We can't allow that to happen, Draco promised himself.

"That's probably a good idea, I think we should all follow suit."

Remus spoke to the entire room then, informing them that they still had exams and whilst they were worried about Lily, it would do them no good to not try and get some rest in preparation for another rigorous set of testing the next day.

Riley subtly squeezed Sirius's hand on the way out, eyes speaking volumes. She wanted to stay, but knew she shouldn't.

Just two more hellish exams to get through, Draco thought, breathing in and out deeply. He closed his eyes, feet planted firmly on the ground, and he felt it beneath him through his cotton socks. He focused on it, something hard and concrete to ground him.

Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. They had a big hand in determining their future, and the price they charged was great. The pressure that accompanied them was suffocating.

Aside from Lily, the rest of their friends had two more exams left. It turned out they were all overachievers since most of them opted to do five or six NEWTs; most of their peers had done three or four.

"I still think you are mental, doing seven NEWTs and all," Sirius's voice echoed in Draco's ears. "You and Hermione."

Draco's eyes snapped open, to find Sirius hovering in front of him. Upside down. Draco blinked in confusion as Sirius spun through the air, contorting his face as he inched back towards the living room.

Normally, Draco would ask why, but he did not possess such a desire currently. He wanted to sleep, so he strode around his floating friend, and headed for the nearest couch.

Draco flopped onto it without looking, and landed on something hard. Something that groaned loudly. Remus.

"If you wanted to cuddle, you should have just said so," Remus grunted, fishing his arms from under Draco and heavily dropping them onto Draco's midsection. Draco patted one hand half-heartedly.

Sirius's face appeared over them, with his far too attractive face, hands on cheeks, eyes gleaming.

"Are we all cuddling now? I really hate being left out, you know that," Sirius sulked.

"There's not enough room," Draco protested weakly. Even breathing beneath him, and soft snores that tickled his eardrums made it clear Remus had fallen asleep, exhaustion claiming him.

If only the sweet embrace of slumber would envelop him too. However, thoughts of Lily and the devastation she was going through kept rushing to the surface, and he couldn't turn his brain off.

"You're a wizard, aren't you?" Sirius rolled his eyes as he did a somersault in the air and landed on the carpet on the other side of the couch. He crouched down, forearms resting on his thighs, his wand twirling between his fingers.

Sirius waved his wand. The couch wobbled for a moment, and an odd warmth radiated off it for a moment. The couch widened, extending towards Sirius.

Moments later, Sirius had crawled in with them, arm thrown over both of them and he whispered, "Hermione and James have got her. Get some sleep, Paws. You need it."

Sirius's voice and words soothed his worries and his mental war, and finally, he too fell asleep.

The next week—what was left of their examination period—was utterly horrid. Emotional turmoil, lack of sleep and stress had overrun their lives.

Given the extenuating circumstances, Lily had been allowed a few days to recoup and mourn. Lily was still devastated when she sat her final exam. The witch left her practical Charms exam on feeble legs, and she collapsed into James's awaiting arms.

The Temporary relief that came with the end of their tests, bled into tremendous tensions that wound around their windpipes as they were exhausted in every way imaginable. Their futures uncertain.

Only one thing was clear. All that remained for the seventh years at Hogwarts, was to graduate.