Recap: Even with a war raging outside the walls of Hogwarts, Mandy is finding time to attend a party with Slug Clubber and possible (very, very possible) crush, Regulus, even though Sirius thinks he's using her. Her DADA professor either really likes her or really hates her (there's a fine line). Her father is going to die of Cancer, unless she finds a way to cure it with magic. All Slytherins seem to have it in for her. She accidentally set up her best friend with an annoying bloke when she was supposed to be setting her up with a very slightly less annoying (but much more likable) bloke. And her ex-best mate refuses to accept that "ex-best mates" is all they'll ever be.

All in all, life is good as it's gonna get.

You're an Idiot, Sirius Black

Ch. 16 The Confrontation

The winds grew colder and, with them, so did the news. Every day, the Prophet reported more attacks, more deaths, more uproar – it was all the same: names, faces, and news articles blending into one war. Nothing changed and if it did, it was always for the worst. Eventually, teachers stopped discussing recent events in lessons and some students even canceled their subscriptions to the Daily Prophet.

But that wasn't all.

Kids were being pulled out of school. You'd see someone crying one day over breakfast and the next thing you knew . . . they were gone. With a few tudents, though, there wasn't even a warning – they would just disappear, and you'd be left praying that everything worked out for them. Hoping that the possibilities of where they were now, what trials they were undertaking, didn't invade your nightmares.

Naturally, people were frightened. They were hiding, or as much as anyone could hide at a boarding school for magic. But there was always the odd person out, who seemed to take it upon themselves to be bold, brave, stare the darkness in the face and say, "Get the hell out of my life."

One of these rarities happened to be a slightly deranged Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who enjoyed making me squirm.

"Who can tell me what a Horn of Horror is? Johnston!"

"A – a trumpet like object that, when played, blows out the ear drums, rendering everyone in the vicinity, but the user, permanently deaf."

"Corpse Robes?"

"Erm . . . those are – those are . . . robes that try to – to strangle the wearer on contact!"

"Blade of Mortality?"

I racked my brains desperately. Regulus had said something about a Blade of Mortality, hadn't he? "Er . . . it . . . um. Oh! It sucks the life out of a person, when stabbed."

"And what is the difference between a Dementor's kiss and being stabbed by the Blade?"

"With the Blade, you just die. Your soul remains intact."

Professor Meadowes smirked and, with nothing but a curt, "You've been paying attention," she moved on to her next victim.

As soon as her eyes directed themselves elsewhere, I slumped against my desk in exhaustion. "That woman hates me," I mumbled into the worn oak surface. "Hates. Me."

I felt Lily carefully playing with curls in my ponytail, bouncing them, braiding them together, like we were a couple of preteens stuck with a boring substitute teacher in maths class. The sensation of her soft fingertips skating across the back of my neck was comforting, though, in a sense – like friendship, like love, like home.

"I think she likes you," she murmured. "And one too many curses to the head permanently damaged her ability to show affection like a civilized human being."

I cracked a small smile at that, and lifted my head. "I missed this," I whispered. "Missed you. I'll never take these little moments for granted again."

Lily smiled softly, too, but she shook her head. "Well, don't get too caught up in cherishing them. Part of the fun is taking them for granted every once in a while."

I quirked an eyebrow and we both burst into a fit of hushed giggles.

"Oi!" Something poked me in the back and I turned to see Alice mock-glaring at me, from her place crammed between Marlene and Mary. "Well, don't keep it a secret!" she hissed. "What's so funny?"

Lily and I exchanged glances, full of questions and answers and everything in between. "Nothing," we said in unison. "Everything." Of course, this just made us laugh harder.

Mary giggled, Alice huffed affectionately, and even Mar, who seemed to find smiling more and more beneath her these days, couldn't help the slight twisting of her lips, the warmth brimming her gaze.

The moment was small and it was meaningless in a time when no one could afford small, meaningless moments. But maybe that was why it meant the most of all.

-X-

One day, as the year drew to a close, Professor Meadowes stormed into class, announcing a last minute change in the lesson plan.

"Professor Flitwick, the nasty little bugger – er, don't tell him I said that –," she hastily amended. "Well, he has expressed his desire to get his seventh years started on charming Patronuses to deliver messages. And then he found out that you haven't even been taught how to make a Patronus yet. The little dwarf had the nerve to insult my height! Merlin." She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, but I could tell she was enjoying putting on a show for us.

"So, now, I have to teach you how all how to conjure a Patronus in the next couple of weeks. Lovely."

At this news, we all sat a little straighter, eyes glowed a little brighter. We knew what a Patronus was – a magical guardian that protected against Dementors, among other dark creatures and objects – and that it was extremely difficult to create. In fact, rumor had it that on occasion, even Professor Dumbledore still had trouble conjuring a Patronus. Each one of us wanted to see if we had what it took.

"Now, a Patronus," Meadowes began, picking up her usual pacing routine around the room, "requires some very tricky magic, yes. But the most vital point in its conjuring is happiness. You need a thought, a memory, something that makes you extremely happy, makes you want to sing in the rain, and scream from the rooftops. Don't give me that smirk, Rosier – or I'll put you up against a Dementor intent on sucking out your soul and then you'll see how easy it is to be happy."

I glanced over my shoulder at Rosier; his smile was long gone.

"The incantation is simple. Repeat after me: Expecto Patronum."

"Expecto Patronum," we obeyed.

She demonstrated the proper wand movement – some sort of complicated twist – and we practiced it until each and every one of us had it memorized like the back of our hands. By the time it came for us to actually put two and two together, we were nearly jumping out of our seats in anticipation.

"Don't be discouraged if you don't get it right this lesson," she said. "It's a very tricky spell. Now, think of your happy thought. Picture it clearly in your mind. Take your time."

I closed my eyes, wracking my brains for a memory that gave me joy like no other. There was the pungent scent of my mother's homemade biscuits . . . the dog licking my face in the morning . . . laughing with my friends, setting things right with Lily, playing with my little brother at the park . . .

My father, cradling me in his strong arms on Christmas Eve, crooning in his deep, throaty voice the lyrics to Silent Night. If that wasn't the epitome of happiness, of love and joy and contentment, I didn't know what was.

"One . . ." Meadowes counted softly.

I pictured it, every detail: the warmth of his chest, fading woodsy cologne in the crook of his neck, dry lips just barely brushing my ear: "Silent night . . . Holy night . . ."

"Two . . ."

A sort of hollowness filled me, and tears sprung to my eyes. That man, who cared for me, held me, made me feel safe and secure, was now ill at home, being cared for himself. Helpless as a small child.

"Three."

"Expecto Patronum," I whispered, eye flying open, resting on the tip of my wand, waiting.

Nothing happened.

My shoulders slumped.

Groans filled the classroom, tearing reluctantly from each student's throat – well, except for James'. In fact, he was grinning from ear to ear as he watched, awed, the silver mist emitting from his wand, fogging his glasses.

"Very good, Potter!" Meadowes praised, beaming. "That, class, is a non-corporeal Patronus – it is not as effective as a fully formed one, but more than excellent for a beginner. Really, really well done, James."

At my side, Lily muttered, "Just what he needs. A bigger head."

I nudged her to be quiet, but chuckled slightly all the same.

Meadowes instructed us to try again and I forced myself to focus even harder on my memory, the happiness it should have ballooned me with. But I still couldn't fill the emptiness inside me. I couldn't shake the sadness that came along with his sickness, the pain losing him was causing.

Once again, James was the only one to conjure anything resembling a Patronus.

"Alright, don't get discouraged!" Meadowes cried, tipping up the downcast chin of a Ravenclaw. "Most witches and wizards can't manage this charm until they're long done with schooling. Some never quite grasp it. Let's try once more."

I clenched my eyes shut tightly. Maybe I needed a new memory. Maybe this one, for whatever reason, wasn't happy enough.

Baking with my mother.

"One."

My mad Aunt Jeannine's sporadic visits.

"Two."

When Sirius told me I was a witch.

"Three."

Sirius . . .

Go.

I didn't even bother saying the incantation, allowing my eyes to fall open. Why was it so difficult to pick a bloody memory? Why did none of my honestly happy ones seem good enough?

Over my confusion, I heard someone holler and turned my head to the noise: James was standing, hazel eyes brighter than I'd ever seen them, and by his side stood a magnificent silver stag, proud, strong. Entranced by the spectacular creature, I straightened.

The stag loped leisurely around the room, hooves entirely soundless. It cantered closer to me, cautiously; I held my breath. But when it reached my desk, it paid me no mind; rather, its luminous eyes, like mini moons, stared intently into Lily's. She raised her hand, reached out shaking fingers – but just before her fingertips could graze its forehead, it disappeared in a shower of silver mist.

Lily blew out a huff of air and dropped her hand, dejected looking, but a bit hopeful too.

Professor Meadowes was the first to break the quiet. "Marvelous, Potter," she said. "Simply marvelous."

-X-

The Reductor Curse, originating from the English verb "reduce," meaning "to bring down or destroy," is a spell of average skill-level that is used to blast solid objects into pieces. Accompanied with the incantation of "Reducto," the wand movement necessary to perform the spell combines a simple flick of the wrist with a slightly more complicated jerk upward . . .

I jotted down the note in my journal, allowing my quill to linger over the hastily dotted period. A Reductor Curse. Why had I never thought of this before? If there was a way to channel the spell into the human body with blowing it to bits, cancerous cells could be destroyed entirely upon impact . . . It was genius!

Now, if only it was possible . . .

Shuffled footsteps. I glanced up, smiling slightly at the sight of Reg plopping down across from me.

"You look focused," he remarked, pulling some notes from his bag.

"Oh, I just had an idea." I waved his comment away, pushing aside my journal and leaning tiredly against a tall stack of books. I would further contemplate this theory later. "So, how's your day been thus far?"

He sighed dramatically, yet somehow coolly, as only a Black could. "Not very well, to be honest. Emmeline Vance wants to give us another go."

My stomach muscles clenched. Must have been those exercises I did last week. Granted, I grew bored and ended up quitting after about two minutes, but still. Those two minutes were vigorous.

"Oh?" I carefully plucked at a stray thread in the carpet. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her I only ever liked her for her shiny hair and that she made my other ex-girlfriend beat me up." His voice dropped an octave. Just one. "And that I fancy someone else. Quite a bit."

I gulped.

"Well . . . at least you let her down easy," I tried to joke, forcing an awkward laugh. Why was my face so damn hot all of a sudden? "My day hasn't gone brilliantly either, as a matter of fact. We're learning Patronuses. James was the only one to conjure one. And – I know it was only the first lesson, but . . ." I sighed, long and hard.

Soft fingers closed around mine. I stared at the tanned skin, a stark contrast against my pale. He was so different from Sirius, in every aspect; Sirius, who was nearly as fair skinned as me. Sirius, whose fingers were rough, hardened and calloused and wide from lugging around a beater's bat.

This – smooth finger pads, narrow hands, dark skin, expressive eyes – was different. New. But I could get used to it.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head," he said. "Patronuses are some of the most difficult magic. In any case, I never really saw the point in them."

I looked up, intrigued. "What about Dementors? I heard they're floating around rampant these days."

Lazily, Regulus brushed the notion away with a wave of his hand. Too lazily. Like he didn't even see a reason to discuss this issue at all. "Why would you care about Dementors, of all things?"

"Um . . . because they will take away all your happiness and suck out your soul?"

His eyes were intense. Glowing in the filtered sunlight, framed by the dust motes.

"Not if you're on their side."

The way he said it sent goose pimples running for safety down my spine, and left my mind reeling with questions: what side were the Dementors on?

What side was he on?

Regulus continued on as if nothing just happened. His eyes lightened. Smile grew cheerier. Voice . . . normal. "So, I was wondering what dress robes you were planning on wearing to Slughorn's gathering? My mother says we should color coordinate. I, personally, don't see a reason too, but if it makes us seem more distinguished . . ."

I allowed myself a moment to adjust to the sudden switch of demeanor. Cleared my throat. "We need to wear dress robes?"

"Well, obviously. What were you going to wear?"

"Er . . . my regular robes?" Regulus' expression would have made Merlin himself feel stupid. "Don't look at me like that! We do wear uniforms here, you know!"

Regulus simply shook his head. My knowledge, or lack thereof, of formal events must have been a lost cause, too tragic for his humongous, cultured mind to hope to comprehend. "Fine," he sighed. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it."

"No! I couldn't ask you to –,"

"Mandy," he laughed, and he clutched my hand in his. Warmth spread from my fingertips, coursed throughout my bloodstream. "I'll take care of it."

I blinked. And, just barely, my lips quirked upward. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he smiled.

-X-

Days passed and Patronuses continued to be a complete hassle. I wasn't expecting their conjuring to become easy, per se . . . simply possible.

But they weren't.

Impossible barely began to define their difficulty.

Each class began with my picking a memory. A memory with my parents. My brother. My godforsaken dog. Hoping that it would be strong enough, that it would hold enough power – that it would give me power.

And yet, it never did.

I wasn't a sad person, not really. Especially not now. I had all my mates. I had the Marauders. I had Regulus and my family and good marks in school. Sure, my personality was a bit more melancholy than, say, James' but whose wasn't? My life was chalk full of happy memories. So many happy memories.

So why did they mean so little?

-X-

I sat in the Common Room, the rapidly fading sunset casting a light glow over the lingering students. A couple of Second Years murmured to each other over a game of exploding snap; a girl in the corner fed her tawny owl what looked suspiciously like mouse legs; and filling the room was a steady chorus of quills scratching over homework assignments.

Hand cramping slightly, I set my own quill down to stretch my fingers and relax my mind. I absently rolled my wand across the table, catching it before it could fall to the carpet. My fingers immediately found their rightful placement against the cherrywood.

I glanced around the room to make sure was everyone was involved in their own projects; they were.

"Expecto Patronum," I whispered. I knew nothing would happen, of course, since I didn't even bother thinking up a memory this time. Still, the wand's failure to react disappointed me.

"Damn you," I told my wand, the spell, myself, with no real vehemence behind the words. "Damn you to bloody hell."

"Harsh," Sirius said, perching on the table in front of me.

"Go away. Not in the mood."

"Aren't you eloquent." He eyed my slumped shoulders, taut mouth, and sighed. "I saw your attempt at the Patronus charm. If you could even call it that."

My cheeks flamed, knowing someone noticed. "Shut it," I snapped. "Just because you got it in the second lesson . . ."

I crossed my arms against the sudden tightness in my chest.

"Hey," he said, much gentler. His fingers caught my chin, pushing it up, nearly forcing me to meet his eyes (but not entirely; he couldn't force me to do anything). "I was just joshing. It's a difficult spell, I know that. Take your time."

I swallowed thickly, unaware of when a lump lodged itself in my throat; unaware of why it felt so unyielding. Totally unaware of when his eyes transitioned from their usual murky to clear, kind, and maybe a little trustworthy.

"I can't," I simply stated.

"What are you on about?"

"I can't do the charm."

"Of course you can. Just give it a little –,"

"No!" I bit out. In answer to his mildly surprised expression, I leaned forward and hissed, "I physically can't perform that charm, ok?" I could see that he wanted to deny it, tell me that if a charm existed it could be performed – exactly what I had tried to tell myself. But I'd started this rant and, so help me, I wasn't about to stop! "Charms, even tricky ones, have always been fairly easy for me, or at least doable – but this one, I can't –,"

"We've only had four or five lessons, Amanda. And the wand work is really complicated, especially if you're as klutzy as you tend to be –,"

"I can't think of a memory," I blurted.

Sirius froze, momentarily blindsided. I pulled back, only slightly, because I hadn't meant to say that. I should have allowed him to think that the physical aspect was what troubled me; after all, no matter how often I complained, having weak muscles was far preferred to having a weak mind.

"I can't think of a memory," I repeated, slowly, as if that would make it easier to take the words back, should I feel so inclined. "I don't know why . . . I have plenty of happy memories. But I just can't make myself feel happy about them."

And, dammit, now my eyes were stinging.

Screw it all.

I massaged my eyes with the heels of my hands, praying Sirius overlooked their glassiness. Embarrassment consumed me, prickling at my skin like a wool blanket.

"I can't. And I hate it," I whispered brokenly. A sole tear broke free from the ocean in my eyes and streamed down my nose, lips, chin. I could almost taste the saltiness left in its wake.

Sirius' fingers gripped my upper arm – and then, he was pulling me forward and my head was resting on his shoulder and his arms were so tight around me; it was everything I tried to barricade myself against this past year, everything I told myself I didn't want from him, everything that was so, so wrong – but, at the same time, everything that wasn't.

I didn't remove my hands from their defensive position against my eyes, and I most certainly did not lean into him – but I didn't bother pulling away either.

"It's ok," he whispered. "You're ok, I promise."

"It's not," I said. "It's so not. What's wrong with me? Why is it so hard?"

"Give yourself a break, Mandy. People can go their whole lives without accomplishing this spell. Because to be happy . . . I reckon it's one of the hardest choices a person can make."

"That makes no sense."

"But doesn't it?"

I fell silent, allowing his warm breath to caress the shell of my ear.

"I can help you," he said. "If you'd like. If it means that much to you."

My first instinct was to deny that I needed his help at all. But I was sitting in his arms, trying and failing to reign in tears, spewing my heartbrokenness over the fact that I was having trouble with a charm. What more did I have to lose? My pride?

Hate to break it you, my subconscious chimed, but you lost your pride a long time ago.

"If you wouldn't mind," I said. "I'd appreciate that."

He lowered me off of him and pried my hands from my face, as gently as possible. He busied himself with examining each finger as he loosened its steel hold on my skin. I was grateful for the opportunity to blink away the remainder of saltwater that haphazardly pooled against my eyelids.

Sirius took my wand and pushed it into my hand, before pulling out his own. Fear began to trickle through my defenses: "Sirius . . . I don't know if I can . . ."

"Hey, there'll be none of that," he playfully admonished. His eyes dropped to the dark wood he turned over and over in his hands. "You know, the first time I conjured a Patronus, I didn't even pick a memory."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Then how did you . . .?"

"A Patronus doesn't happen because of a memory," he explained. "It happens because of happiness. And if memories make you sad . . . well, you just have to find another way to be happy."

I shook my head, willing him to hear the unasked question; if memories didn't make me happy then what possibly could?

"I know this is a big thing to ask of you. I know it's tricky to just let everything go. But you must."

His eyes captured mine. I knew then that he had been intentionally allowing me to gather my bearings because if he truly wanted me to look at him, my will meant next to nothing.

"In this moment, there's no reason to be sad," he told me, in this matter-of-fact way that made me feel silly for crying in the first place. "There's no past, no future. No Black, no Johnston. No Muggle-born or Pure Blood."

In spite of the tenderness of this moment, I still felt my eyes nearly roll, of their own accord. I restrained the urge, though. "Life isn't that simple, Sirius," I reminded.

To my surprise, Sirius snorted; apparently, he didn't have the same concerns about maintaining delicacy as I. "I'm not talking about life, now, am I?" he asked, somewhat caustically. I shrunk back and his voice softened."Just now. Just us. Two kids who really care about each other."

My heart beating in my ears. His breathing, slow and deep and even. The only sounds I could hear.

Two kids who really care about each other.

For the first time in a very long time, I could honestly believe that's all we were.

I raised my wand and, in a voice that was a mere whisper of breath, said, "Expecto Patronum."

Stark silver, nearly blinding in its intensity, beamed from my wand, but I couldn't look away. It wasn't light so much as . . . mist, wind, the air itself in a more concentrated form – and it was beautiful. My heart seemed to stop for two seconds; and then it was making up for lost time, racing faster than ever.

The few students left in the Common Room were watching in awe, most never having seen anything like it. I was, unashamedly, one of them.

Eventually, the mist evaporated, leaving the world looking strangely dim in its wake. Still dazed, kids went back to their homework. A couple applauded.

I refused to fight the huge grin overtaking my face.

"A non-corporeal Patronus," Sirius quoted Professor Meadowes. "More than excellent for a beginner."

I giggled and repeated the incantation; again, silver mist of an unfathomable shape shot into the Common Room. A few kids glanced at me, but none really paid attention. I didn't mind, even as pride swelled within me.

No, the Patronus wasn't what it could be.

From the corner of my eye, I looked at Sirius, who was beaming a smile even brighter than the mist somehow.

But it was a start.

-X-

Later that night, I walked into my dormitory to see a prettily wrapped package lying on my made bed. Eyebrow arching, I took the package (Christmas present?) into my hands, finger carefully slipping into the tissue paper and gently tearing it open.

A bundle of fabric fell into my hands. I flapped it out, so I could fully examine whatever I had been given – and gasped.

Normally, I wasn't all that impressed by clothes. But the dress robes I held in my hands were, pardon the pun, magic: an eye-catching magenta in color, of velvet fabric that I could practically feel the galleons rolling off of, and a cut that I instinctively knew would flatter any body type.

Tearing my eyes from the robes, I noticed a piece of parchment that had fallen to the floor. I bent to pick it up and read:

Mandy –

I know it's a few days early for Christmas, but who the hell really cares anyway? I promised you dress robes, and therefore, I am going to give you dress robes.

These are enchanted so that one size not only fits all, but looks rather dashing on all, too. Not that you need any help in that department, of course . . .

Plus, the color will go rather nicely with my own robes.

And don't you even dare worry about the money! I really have too much.

I'm a bit busy now so I might not see you before the party (which is in TWO DAYS – holy hippogriffs, can you believe the new year is so close? Where did '77 go?). Meet me by the library at six on Wednesday. If that's not convenient for you, send me an owl.

I look forward to seeing you.

Reg

I waited for the usual warm, slippery feelings to assault my gut, as they had recently taken to doing whenever Regulus complimented me, or talked to me, or was plain near me. But they didn't.

Instead, all I felt was confusion.

And I had the oddest feeling that a certain brother of Regulus' was the cause.

-X-

True to his word, I did not see Regulus at all on Tuesday, or most of Wednesday. I would have liked to discuss in greater detail the going-ons of Slughorn's party, as I had never been to one before, but the girls were eager to fill me in.

"Basically," said Alice, who had attended parties with Frank; her boyfriend was one of the rare few who earned his way into the Slughorn's good graces with his smarts and courage, rather than connections, "the whole party simply consists of a lot of kissing up to Sluggy. Follow Lily's lead. You'll know what to do."

"That wasn't funny!" came Lily's voice, muffled from behind the bathroom door.

"You're right, Lils, I'm sorry!" said Alice. She turned back to me and whispered, "Yes, it was."

I cracked a grin, as I scrutinized my dressing gown clad self in the floor-length mirror. Alice had deemed herself fit to give me a bit of a makeover. Honestly, I was more than a little surprised when she pulled out a handy case of magical makeup from a kit on her bedside table, and I voiced this.

"I'm not ashamed of my masculinity, Amanda," she had told me. "Which means I shouldn't be ashamed of my femininity either." She glanced around shiftily, before leaning closer to my ear and whispering, "Plus, when I was little, I always liked to play with my mother's makeup to try and make myself look as much like an Inferius as possible."

That didn't exactly reassure me.

However, I was pleasantly surprised thus far.

Alice had spritzed my hair with some cleansing solution to make it look particularly shiny (a trait I knew Regulus admired in a girl, after his fling with Emmeline Vance), and massaged into it a leave-in conditioner that loosened my curls just enough to be manageable. She spun her wand and my hair floated on its own into a half-up, half-down style that I felt was rather fitting: it was new, but didn't leave me completely vulnerable.

"Spread this on your lips," she ordered, handing me a small tube full of a sheer gel. "Your lips are pretty pink as they are, so this will just add a bit of shine to them. Plus, the shine won't smear, or dull for a full week, unless you explicitly want it to. Brilliant, isn't it?"

Before obeying, I couldn't help a laugh. "Who are you and what have you done with Alice Elliot?" I snarked, smirking against the finger that was coating my lips with gloss.

"I'll have none of that," Alice snapped, but she was grinning, too. "Unless you want me to conveniently remember that I know more about making others presentable for an Inferi party, rather than a Slug Club one . . ."

"Have you been to an Inferi party?"

Alice groaned, good-naturedly.

She finished working on my face with a dash of mascara that was waterproof, fireproof, windproof, lightning-proof, and pigeon-dung proof to my eyelashes, and a hint of rouge to my cheeks.

"Voila!" she said at last, standing back to allow me to admire her handiwork. And admire, I did.

I'm not going to say it was this miraculous transformation where I was completely unrecognizable, or suddenly the most beautiful creature to grace the Earth . . . because, quite frankly, I wasn't. The skin on my forehead was still washed out; my lips, though pink and glossy, were still thin; I was just me with a little more sparkle, a hint more shine.

It felt bloody fantastic.

"Damn," Alice said, her mirror-eyes wide and bright over my shoulder. "I am good."

Smiling, I moved to my bed where my dress robes were smoothed across the comforter; I slid the robes over my plain white smock, careful not to disturb my hair, and slipped on a pair of strappy low heels.

"Now," I said, running my hands over nonexistent wrinkles in the lush fabric, "how do I look?"

In answer, Alice beamed and Mary began clicking wildly at her camera. Marlene didn't even glance up from her homework; I tried not to feel too hurt.

The lime light wasn't mine for long, however, because just then, Lily strutted from the bathroom and all attention was hers and hers alone.

She wore a set of twinkling cobalt blue robes that made the alabaster of her neck positively glow in the soft light of the dormitory; shimmery silver-blue eye shadow offset entrancing green orbs; and her hair was styled into a high bun, with long bangs framing her face.

She blinked demurely, like she knew exactly how great she looked and was going to work it for the rest of the night.

Alice released a low whistle. "I am having really inappropriate thoughts about you all of a sudden."

Lily giggled – and she was our friend again, not some sculpture crafted by the ancient Greeks.

"Honestly, Lils, wow," I said. "I have half a mind to ditch Regulus and beg you to be my date for the night."

"Sexiest couple ever!" Alice cried, falling back onto her bed with a dull thump.

"Oh please, you flatter me," I laughed. I cast one last searching look at the mirror, before turning to Lily with a bright smile. "Ready to go, then?" She nodded and we left, bidding the room our goodbyes.

"Marlene's behavior is driving me mad," I said, on our way down the staircase. "She barely spoke to me at all! What if I died? What if I tripped down these stairs right now, hit my head, and bled to death? She'd have to suffer the rest of her life knowing that she didn't even say goodbye to me!"

"She's been like that for a while now, we told you. Don't take it personally."

"I don't, not really," I sighed. As we walked through the Common Room, several students' eyes followed our trek to the portrait hole, though I had a feeling Lily was more so the object of their fixations. "I'm just worried. For the past seven years, she has had every bloke in this school wrapped around her finger, she's known she does and she's enjoyed it, and now she doesn't even want a date for Slughorn's party?"

Lily shrugged. "Maybe people change."

I cast a sidelong glance, my teeth furiously working at the inside of my lip. "Speaking of people changing . . ." I tired slowly, "have you noticed that James is getting into less trouble?"

With one withering glare, Lily's eyes told me we so weren't having this conversation now.

"Ok, ok," I said, picking up speed. "Point taken."

We walked to the background noise of our shoes clicking on marble for a few minutes longer, until we were forced to split ways; I was meeting Regulus by the library and Casey Davies awaited Lily nearer to the dungeons.

The rest of the familiar journey was made feeling strangely vulnerable, walking alone through the dimly lit corridors, all dressed up. Fighting a brief chill, I wrapped my arms around my sides.

I was in the corridor that turned into the library's entrance when I heard my name.

" . . . Johnston chaos is a complete waste of time. You either need to hurry yourself, or give up all together. We only wait so long."

I stalled, debating. The voice was unfamiliar, but the one that soon joined it was entirely too familiar.

"I don't believe I asked your opinion on the matter, Lucius," said Regulus, words short. "In fact, I don't believe he asked your opinion either."

I crept closer. Held my breath.

"Don't even pretend you know what goes on in his mind, boy. You don't know a thing."

"And neither do you, apparently."

The voices fell abruptly silent and nervousness for Regulus' wellbeing racked me. I sucked in a lungful of air and plastered on a smile that was much too fake.

I rounded the corner.

Regulus was glaring up at a tall, blonde stranger, whose aristocratic features were fine and whose steely eyes were cold.

"Hello, Reg! Oh . . . hello," I tittered as if I hadn't just overheard a sinister sounding conversation that possibly involved me. I quirked a brow in Reg's direction. "And who is this?"

I had to grant it to them – their hostility automatically washed away and by their faintly bored expressions, I might have interrupted a conversation about the weather.

"Oh, hello, Mandy," Regulus smiled. "This is Lucius Malfoy, my cousin Narcissa's husband. Lucius, this is my date for the night, Amanda Johnston. Lucius here is fairly high up in the Ministry and was invited today by Slughorn. He was just leaving, wasn't he?"

Lucius didn't even blink. "Yes, I'm afraid I must be getting back to the party, and to Narcissa. It is quite rude to keep a lady waiting after all." His eyes trailed me from head to toe in a single, languid sweep. Gaze returning to mine, a slight sneer pulling his upper lip, the results of whatever test he was placing me under were clear as crystal in his eyes: failure, and nothing but. "Pleasure to meet you."

With a disdainful flick of his long white-gold locks, he left us.

"He seems . . . nice," I said, after several agonizing moments of quiet.

"He is anything but," Regulus scoffed. Nervously shifting, I waited until his eyes seemed to refocus on me, on the present. He smiled. "You look lovely."

"As do you," I returned. And it was the truth. He wore deep olive robes that did indeed offset the vibrancy of my own rather nicely. Raven hair was slicked back as usual, but in a style that made the hollows of his cheeks especially prominent. "Are we ready to go then?"

"It would be an honor to escort you to the party," he said, holding out his arm.

I hesitated a second, a nanosecond, when my mind flashed back to the conversation I had heard between Regulus and Lucius Malfoy. Sirius' words of, "He uses people," echoing in my ears.

I shoved them away and took his arm.

-X-

The party was in full swing by the time Regulus and I arrived, slipping into the crowded, magically enlarged office with ease. A jaunty tune floated through the air, intermingling with the warm buzz of idle chitchat. Immediately, a tray of drinks drifted over to us; Regulus helped himself to two cocktail glasses of butterbeer and handed one to me.

"Oho, Mr. Black!"

Slughorn was ambling over, clearly more than a little tipsy as he swayed on his feet. He clapped a hand to Regulus' shoulder – Regulus nearly toppled over – before he trained his eyes on me.

"Amelia, don't you look simply dazzling tonight!" he cried.

"Her name is Amanda," offered Regulus.

"Yes, yes, of course it is." He waved the minor detail aside. Then he literally waved me aside, elbowing himself in between my date and I. "Aurelia, be a dear and fetch me another drink, would you?"

"Er, Professor," Regulus tried, "don't you reckon you may have had enough drinks –?"

"Nonsense, m'boy, nonsense! I am perfectly well off! Besides, it is the holidays. And even pick-me-ups deserve a little teacher now and then!"

Snickering at how "well off" (on alcohol . . .) he was, I made my way to the refreshment table, grinning when I noticed Lily and Casey Davies hovered near it. Casey was as pristinely put together as usual, in black robes with blue stitching that was the exact shade of Lily's outfit.

"Mandy, you made it!" Lily beamed. "I was beginning to worry."

"Nothing could keep me away," I teased with a wink. "Now stop talking to me, I need to acquire an alcoholic beverage of sorts and your devilish good looks are distracting."

Lily giggled shrilly. I didn't miss the quick glance she shot to Casey, who wasn't even paying attention, and the subsequent slump of her shoulders.

Casey suddenly straightened. "Oh, is that the head of magical law enforcement?" he asked. He turned to us, cerulean eyes bright with excitement. "Lils, do you mind if I go share a word with him? I'm sorry to leave like this, but I simply cannot afford to pass up such an opportunity – summer internships and all –,"

"Oh, no, please!" Lily said. "Go, talk to him, this really is an invaluable chance –,"

Casey swooped in to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, love, I knew you'd understand. I'll be right back."

He approached a portly, bespectacled man in a pinstriped suit.

I quirked an eyebrow, as I poured a bottle of gin into a tall glass. "Trouble in paradise?" I asked, attempting to keep my tone disinterested.

Lily's eyes snapped from Casey's retreating back to me. "What? No, of course not! Casey is a very career driven man, it's admirable –," She caught my eyebrow creeping higher and higher. Sighed in defeat. "I don't know," she amended. "He's been the perfect gentleman, of course, kissing my hand and serving me drinks, telling me I looked lovely. But that's . . . that's it! I thought I looked so beautiful – and, dare I say, sexy –," I pushed down a mad wave of the giggles at that word leaving Lily's ever-so-proper mouth (Focus, Amanda!). "I just don't understand. Even you and Alice said that I was attractive. And, sure, I always figured Alice would experiment at least once in her life, but I'm fairly certain you prefer men, don't you?"

"Last time I checked."

"Then what's wrong with me?" she burst. "Why is everything else in this damn room so bloody fascinating?"

I gave a hesitant shrug. "Maybe he really is just a very career driven?"

Lily downcast her eyes. My heart broke for her. "I really, really like him," she murmured. "I have for so long. He's sweet and gentlemanly and bright, but . . . he doesn't make me feel . . . desirable. Is it so wrong for a girl to want that?"

I remembered the shivers that prickled down my spine when Regulus sometimes looked at me a certain way, when we were alone in the library.

"Not at all," I said.

She blew a long breath of air out, looking so dejected, so terribly sad – but only for an instant. Then she was stiffening her shoulders again and composing her features into a practiced smile. She said, "You should get that drink back to Professor Slughorn. He won't like to be kept waiting." Our talk might not have happened.

I hated how she did that. I hated how everyone did that. Including myself.

Why did we feel forced to go through life wearing a mask?

I looked to where Slughorn and Regulus were engrossed in conversation. Well, Slughorn was engrossed in conversation. Regulus was entirely focused on the tall, attractive blonde couple in the corner: Lucius Malfoy and a young woman I vaguely recognized as Narcissa Black, from when she went to school with me.

Why could we never take things at face value?

I dismissed myself from Lily without another word.

"Here, Professor," I said, handing Slughorn the gin.

"Thank you, dear, thank you very much!" he praised, throwing his head back and downing the drink. It looked as though he wouldn't be resurfacing for quite some time.

"Do you mind if we step out?" I whispered to Regulus. "I'm feeling rather ill all of a sudden."

He glanced quickly at the Malfoys once more. "Of course," he said. He grabbed my hand and led me from the room, despite my protests, saying, "It was getting stuffy in there, anyways."

We walked, hand in hand, to a deserted alcove by a window that showcased the night sky, made even darker by gray clouds. Nestling inside it, I found I didn't much mind the close proximity, the way our shoulders were pressed together, the heady scent of his expensive cologne.

In fact, I welcomed it.

"We can go back in when, or if, you feel better," he said, quietly as to not disturb the peace of the abandoned hallway. "But for now . . . this is just fine."

Slowly, I rested my head on his slim shoulder. At the stiffening of his body, I wondered if I had a crossed a line – but then his arm was encompassing my waist, drawing me even closer.

We talked. We talked and talked and talked for what felt like hours. Sometimes, we would bask in the silence, marveling at the chorus of our heartbeats drumming together. But, mostly, we talked.

About nothing. About everything.

Was there honestly that much difference between the two?

Around the time that I felt my eyes beginning to droop, Regulus whispered, "It's getting late. I should take you back."

I nodded drowsily and allowed him to lead me back to Gryffindor Tower.

We reached the portrait of the Fat Lady all too quickly. After shuffled feet, nervous laughing, and stolen glances, it became quite apparent that we were stalling the inevitable. I decided to take charge.

I know. You're shocked.

"Listen, Reg," I murmured, ignoring the blush I knew was much too evident on my cheekbones. "I know we didn't actually spend much time at the party . . . sorry about that, by the way . . . But I, erm, had quite a bit of fun tonight."

Regulus cracked a small smile. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I actually quite enjoyed not spending time in that room. Being outside, with you, was far less . . . distracting."

His eyes flickered, just a bit, and I wondered if he was remembering Lucius Malfoy.

"Well . . . I'm glad then," I said.

He nodded. Neither of us moved.

"Mandy . . ." he started slowly. There was something in his eyes. Something I couldn't for the life of me place, but something that had my legs locking and shoulders stiffening, as if any loose muscle would cause me to collapse to the ground in a mess of goo. "Could I . . . I mean, would it be alright if I kissed –?"

"Yes," I interrupted; the only thought in my head being, Yes, yes, oh my god, please, yes.

He nodded once. Gently cupped my cheek with his soft hand. Leant closer. I could see the bob of his slight Adam's apple, hear the wind he sucked up his nose, feel his cool, minty breath fanning across my eyelids, my neck, my . . . my . . .

Holy hippogriffs, my lips.

I'm not certain if all those trashy romance novels that I've – never – read were truthful when they said that when you meet the right person, fireworks explode, and wedding bells ring, and angels sing. If so, then Regulus definitely wasn't right for me, seeing as there were no lights, no chimes, no godly choruses. Only soft lips pressing ever so gently against mine in a gesture that should have been awkward . . . but wasn't. It felt pleasant and warm, which was odd, seeing as Regulus' lips were so cold. It made my stomach do somersaults and my cheeks flare hotter than they already had and ohmygod, remember to breathe . . .

"Excuse me, but public displays of affection are strictly prohibited after curfew and – Amanda?"

I jerked away from Regulus, whole body hot from embarrassment and – er – other things. To his credit, Regulus hardly seemed phased as he turned to direct a sarcastic grin at the newcomers.

"Hello, Evans, Davies, might I help you?" he asked. Lily looked shocked, like the thought of me actually kissing someone was absolutely astonishing, whereas Casey was . . . well, if I chose to believe my eyes, Casey was ducking his head and blushing. It was a known fact amongst students of Hogwarts that Casey Davies' skin did not have the ability to color any shade except porcelain white.

Neither Regulus, nor Lily, seemed to notice this odd development however, too caught up in each other.

"I – you – out after curfew!" blurted Lily. A sound bubbled from her lips unprecedented – it was a cross between a girlish giggle and a reprimanding scoff.

"Yes, well, so are you," Regulus reminded.

"That's different! We were at Slughorn's party, we had permission."

"We were at the party, too."

"You left early, I saw you! All after curfew privileges were thus revoked."

"Regulus," I said. "It's fine, honestly. Why don't you get back to Slytherin, before you get in more trouble? I'll see you tomorrow."

He sniffed disdainfully, glaring at Lily and winking at me. He flounced away.

My eyes weren't focused on his departing backside, though; rather, they were trained on Casey's eyes focusing on it.

Casey suddenly shook himself and looked up; our eyes locked. And in his crystalline blue orbs, I saw something I never expected to see, something I never wanted to see, because it would be so easy to hate him, to sabotage him for making James hate me, if I didn't: fear.

And shame.

And more than a little bit of pleading.

Well, things were suddenly a lot more complicated, weren't they?

-X-

The final Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the year, and only two of our number had managed fully corporeal Patronuses: James and Sirius. Lily, Alice, and I, along with a handful of the Ravenclaws and Hupplepuffs, could produce non-corporeal Patronuses. No Slytherin had managed even a wisp of mist yet.

Apparently, happiness truly was one of the hardest decisions you could make.

Professor Meadowes was a few minutes late to class, so we were left to our own devices. I noticed Peter and Remus had taken up a game of chess in the corner. James and Sirius watched their Patronuses, a stag and dog respectively, parade around the room with expressions reminiscent of proud parents. Groups of girls giggled over the latest Witch Weekly issue.

Beside me, Lily was furiously scribbling in her notebook. I peeked over her shoulder and saw numerous sketches of hearts with the initials "CD" plus "LE" etched inside. My heart clenched.

I couldn't allow her to continue this . . . this sham of a relationship. She deserved more.

But what was I supposed to say? "I have a stinking suspicion that your perfect prefect boyfriend is more attracted to my maybe-boyfriend than he is to you?"

Yes, that would blow over nicely for all parties involved, I'm sure.

Besides, for some reason, it felt like a betrayal on my part. Which made no sense, since I barely even knew Casey – only enough to feel slight disdain for his perfection.

But then again, if I just happened to let it slip around James that Lily's boyfriend might chase for the other team . . . well, it granted me a one-way ticket into his good graces again, didn't it?

But that wasn't me. I couldn't go and spread a rumor – much less, an unconfirmed one – about a person as revenge for something I screwed up. Especially when I remembered the look in his eyes; the silent, broken plea of, "Don't tell anyone."

I massaged my aching forehead and hoped listlessly for a distraction.

The answer to my prayers came in the form of one Professor Doris Meadowes levitating a large wardrobe into the room.

"Pardon my tardiness, all," she said, as she deposited the wardrobe in the front of the class. "I just had to pick something up."

James, of course, simply couldn't help asking, "Are we finally getting that course on warding off the darkest of the dark – the unfashionable?"

I joined the majority of students in low giggles, while Lily joined the minority in rolling her eyes.

"Ho ho ho," said Meadowes, "very clever Potter. Did you steal it from someone who actually studied for the Dark Objects quiz last week?"

James visibly pouted, muttering what sounded like, "Studying's no fun."

"I know, mate, I know," said Sirius, patting his neighbor on the shoulder.

"What you actually have here is a boggart," Meadowes explained. "Could anyone tell me about them? Ms. Evans?"

"Boggarts are shape-shifters that take the form of the viewer's worst fear," Lily dutifully answered. "No one knows the real shape of a boggart, however, though there has been speculation that a boggart's appearance is simply fabricated in the viewer's own mind."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Meadowes said. "Now, I know you all faced and conquered boggarts as a part of your Third Year curriculum, but I just wanted to use this one as a little exercise. Producing Patronuses is extremely tricky at the best of times – I'd just like a few of you to demonstrate how difficult it is when you're faced with something that honestly frightens you. It's perfectly ok if you can't yet handle the spell, this is just a demonstration." She flicked her wand; all of a sudden, James' chair bucked and he went sprawling to the head of the classroom. "Potter, you're up."

James straightened his robes, before setting into a ready position, eyes fiery as he waited for the boggart to appear. Meadowes murmured a spell, the wardrobe door snapped open, and out stepped a man. I didn't recognize him; his age was evident in his gray hair, wrinkles, and laugh-lines, but there was certain youthfulness, a lively charm, to his hazel eyes – James' eyes.

This must have been his father. Or grandfather, or –or something.

Suddenly, the man crumpled to the floor and was left staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes.

James' posture changed in the slightest of ways; his shoulders dragged downward and his elbows retracted to his sides. His footing seemed off balance.

Crack!

Before our eyes, the man on the floor transformed into a woman of the same age, with graying auburn curls and misted brown eyes. James' body seemed to quiver.

Crack!

And then there was Peter, blood trailing the length of his chubby face. I searched my classmates for the real Peter, just to ascertain that he was still alive, and he was – but the way he looked at his dead body, the fear and horror etched over his face . . . it was chilling. I tore my gaze away.

Crack!

Remus was next: paler that ever, even on his sick-days, with scars marring his face. He was the only person so far whose cause of death was very clear to me: wild animal attack. A quick glance at the actual Remus revealed him to be running a hand over his smooth face, as if to remind himself that the maiming was not real.

Crack!

My blood ran cold. Lying in Remus' place was Lily, just as dead and just as terrible as the others. My Lily. My best friend.

Murdered.

Finally, James kicked to life. With a roar of, "Expecto Patronum!" his signature stag sprung from his wand and ran to circle Lily's corpse, again and again, faster and faster, until she was completely obscured from view. My shoulders sagged in relief.

No one applauded.

"Elliot, your turn," ordered Meadowes.

From her seat behind me, Alice obediently and silently replaced James. The stag disintegrated, allowing another dead man to be seen. For a moment, I thought the boggart had somehow gotten stuck on James' fear – until I realized that the man was Frank Longbottom.

"Ex – Expecto Patronum," Alice muttered, voice much too broken and fearful to truly belong to her. "C'mon . . . Expecto Patronum!"

Nothing happened. I was sure fear had beaten her, for maybe the first time.

But then Alice squared her shoulders.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A lithe coyote jumped to attention, silver and alert; just as the stag had, it circled the boggart with alarming dexterity, until it was but a blur of mist and light.

"Very good, Alice," said Professor Meadowes. "As you can see, class, even situations that are meant to break you may leave you even stronger than before."

Even after watching her worst fear play out in front of her eyes, Alice still found it in her heart to smile.

Professor Meadowes' eyes scanned the room; I slunk farther and farther down my seat.

"Ms. Johnston, why don't you give it a go!" she called, sounding far too cheerful. Bloody mad woman.

I gulped down air, as saliva rapidly made itself scarce, and dragged my leaden feet to the front of the room. I knew what my boggart would appear as of course, remembering the form it took in Third Year: a lifeless note, devoid of emotion, a note I would read even though I knew I shouldn't. A note telling me I had failed to save my father.

But does knowing what your fear is make it easier to face, or more difficult?

I steadied my feet, squared my shoulders, raised my wand. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

The final remnants of mist from Alice's coyote faded, and staring me straight in the eye was Sirius Black.

My first thought was, what the hell, Sirius, out of my way! My second thought was, Oh my god, that's not Sirius.

There was no warmth, nor coldness to his mouth set. Neither affection, nor hostility in his stance. As if he was merely an illusion of my mind, a trick of the light.

But those eyes still retained the ability to capture mine in their depths.

"Figures," I heard Rosier's clear voice say, "the only person that a blood traitor could possibly scare is a Mudblood."

"Shut up, Rosier!" James snapped. "No one gives a fu –,"

"Quiet, both of you!" said Meadowes. "I will not tolerate that sort of language in my classroom." She hesitated, before adding, "Focus on your happy memory, Amanda. Nothing else matters."

I tried to clear my head of all negativity. "Expecto Patronum," I said. Nothing happened.

"Some witch she is," Rosier stage whispered, his remark clearly intended for me to hear. "And people wonder why we're trying to get rid of 'em . . ."

"Ex-Expecto . . ." My voice quivered.

"Aw, the wittle Muggle is going to cry because of the big bad Black boggart?"

Another voice chimed, "Someone cast a water repellent charm, we need to protect ourselves from the flood!"

And another: "Just don't ask Johnston to, she might end up killing you instead . . ."

"Dirty squib."

"Muggle whore."

"Shouldn't be allowed to go to this school –,"

"A disgrace to magic –,"

"Mudblood."

"SHUT UP!" I shouted, spinning around, wand held high.

BANG!

All was silenced, except for my jagged breathing rushing loudly in my ears. Every set of eyes stared in awe and fright at the sizzling hole I had blown through the door.

Quietly, I grabbed my book bag from beside my seat. I passed through the desks, hyperaware of the hot gazes of my peers on my face and back. Not bothering with the doorknob, I hopped through the hole. Walking, holding back tears, walking some more.

Only when I was certain they couldn't hear me did I take off at a sprint.

-X-

I was pacing in the empty common room.

"Oh my god . . ." I muttered to myself. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god . . ."

Would I have to pay a fine for property damage? Would I be suspended? They wouldn't cart me off to Azkaban, would they?

Not only was I humiliated, but I was a fugitive, too!

". . . I should transfer to Beauxbatons . . . never able to show my face in this school again . . ."

"If you ask me, that's the quitter's way out."

I spun around, hand clutching at my chest, and found myself face to face with the cause of this entire mess.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped.

"Looking for you, of course," Sirius said. "Honestly, I'm shocked this is where you chose to run to. I figured the Astronomy Tower would have better suited the drama of the moment."

I averted my eyes, flushing in anger or embarrassment; I couldn't tell which. "Well, get it over with then."

"Sorry?"

"Go ahead, laugh at me, call me names. That's what everyone else did, right?"

He sighed, deep and low, and took a single step forward. "Amanda, those people in there are not everyone else – you know that. They're a few stupid elitists, quoting their mummies and daddies. Actually . . . I reckon there's something else we need to talk about." He took another step.

"No," I said immediately. "Nothing to talk about. In fact, I'd rather we just . . . forget everything that ever happened in that room." I stepped back, but he followed me forward.

"Did you know what the boggart would turn into?" he asked.

"No," I whispered brokenly. "I thought I did, but . . . no."

"What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid!" I shouted, startling us both. I wrapped my arms around myself, wanting nothing more than to run far away – but my feet seemed unwilling to move.

There was quiet. Simple quiet.

"The way you make me feel," I admitted at last. "How you held my heart in your hand, and then every time I think I've finally gotten it back, I realize . . . you'd never given it up in the first place. And I hate how open and raw I am around you, and how it's like, when you look at me . . . you're looking into my soul. And my father is on his deathbed, and there are so many people in the world right now who want me dead for something I have no say in, and I just . . ." With a deep breath, I met his eyes. "I can't, Sirius. I can't afford to be as vulnerable as I am around you. I need to let go of all the hurt you caused me –,"

"But you're not, though, don't you see?" he cut in, surging forward. He stopped just short of touching me. "You're holding on to it, like some sort of shield to keep you safe. But it's not doing anything except hurting you more." He reached a deliberate hand up to cup my cheek. I closed y eyes, reveling in the feel of rough skin, his warmth. "It's time to let it go, Amanda."

My eyes flew open. "But I don't want to!" I cried, jerking backward. Once again, he'd gotten too close. "You hurt me, and I don't want to set myself up for that again!" The age-old argument sounded tired and boring, even to my own ears.

Sirius raked a hand through his hair; he, too, was nearing the end of his patience. "For Merlin's sake, you don't think I know that?" he hissed. "You don't think I've always known?"

"It certainly didn't stop you all those years ago –,"

"I was fourteen!" he yelled. "I was an idiot! But you were, too – everyone was! Hell, most people still are. But that's what happens when friends grow up together – you're idiots, and you make mistakes, but, in the end, you still love each other." I was shocked to see that his eyes were shining – with tears, or sheer emotion, or both. "I was a complete arse to you, I know I was. I was an arse to everybody! But you were one of the only people who saw that beneath the douche there was an actual person, who was worth a second chance. It meant the world and more to me."

Each word was a punch delivered straight to my gut.

"I can't change what happened. So I've apologized," Sirius said, voice deathly still, "and I've meant it – I mean it. But . . . unless you can accept it, I suppose there's nothing more to do."

He broke eye contact, turned around, calmly walked to the portrait hole. He hesitated just before it, and I some twisted flashback to four years ago. I marveled at the irony. For ages, I tried to keep him at arm's length, fought with everything in my power to prevent this scene from playing out again – but if maybe I had stopped fighting so hard, if I gave myself permission to move on . . . maybe then, it never would have done so.

"I am done chasing you, Mandy," he said. "But, if you're ever ready for me . . . I'll always be waiting."

And for the second time in my life, Sirius Black left me to a silent room and a shattered heart.

-X-

A/N: So, one day, I sort of realized that my updating periods have hit rock bottom. I've also seen how selfish it is of me to keep you such kind people waiting for so long, and I truly apologize.

I am now having a self-staged intervention and I promise that updates will be quicker in coming. Chapters may be a tad shorter, but you deserve better. Plus, I'm on summer break now, so I have a lot more time to write:)

About this chapter: I know it's frustrating, but things have to get worse before they can get better. And I really think that Mandy needed to be told to get the heck over herself; that yeah, he was a jerk, but she's not perfect either. Some of you may not agree, some of you may have wanted him to punch her – 'tis life, I suppose! ;-)

Next chapter: Just when Mandy thinks things are all over with Sirius, she finds they're only beginning.

I am so sorry, guys. But here's to a quicker update!

Squid