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TWENTY-NINE RIGHT OR EASY?

("SHE WON'T REBEL...")

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       SOMETIMES, IT FEELS as though the world is on a stand-still. Sometimes, Margo looks around at the world she's engulfed by and she feels as if nothing monumental is truly happening, as if all of the clocks have stopped. Sometimes, she'll be outside in the school grounds with her boyfriend and his head will be resting in her lap, or she'll be sitting on his legs, her arms wrapped around him, and she'll be surprised by the normal pace the watch on her wrist ticks. It's strange to Margo, how sometimes the world is so at peace that it feels as if time is no longer existent.

       Like right now. She's nearing her final year of school, and everything feels like it's sped up — but then there are moments of clarity, beautiful little afternoons that seem to never end, where she'll be outside enjoying the limited sunshine they actually receive, and she'll be dreaming of the life she's about to step into. A life where she doesn't have to worry about the girls in her dorm seeing the mark on her arm, or refuse to wear short sleeves, because of the intricate Dark Mark inked into her skin, covering freckles.

       She cannot wait to finish school. She's been speaking to the Dark Lord for the past six months, suggesting ways for her to be meaningful to the cause. And even without all of that, she cannot wait, on the first morning of freedom, to leave her parents behind and live elsewhere with her boyfriend. She cannot wait to get rid of her parents. Soon, she won't have parents anymore to think about, to skirt around their comments like, 'Honey, there's a heatwave. Maybe take off your cardigan...'

       They don't get it. They don't understand the impact she's going to make in this world. One day — and she hopes it will be soon — the name Margo Valen will not just be of the Slytherin Quidditch captain, or the current head girl. Margo Valen will be a woman of great power, the sort that people use in examples, discussing the amazing things she's done... Maybe she won't be Margo Valen, but rather, have a different surname. That is, if she can figure out why her boyfriend's been acting off recently...

       But here she is, walking through the corridors after her last exam. At the start of the day, when she sat to eat breakfast with her best friend, her boyfriend had walked up to them, about to eat with them like he often does, but instead, he kissed her cheek and said, "I need to speak to you about something. Four o'clock, the old Transfiguration classroom?"

       And she had nodded. As he walked away, her best friend had frowned.

       "Reg is acting off," said Atticus.

       "You always think that," said Margo.

       So off she walks, back to the Transfiguration classroom where Regulus used to tutor her in, back before she got surprisingly good at it, halfway through her sixth year. The hallways are empty, and she's grateful that that idiotic suck-up Rita Skeeter was the year above and no longer attends, because for fuck's sakes, it was a miracle Margo went that long with her believing they were the best of friends, practically sisters. They were not. Skeeter just suggested the idea of finding an Animagus, when Margo complained about wanting to hear the other team's tactics to Atticus (Skeeter was eavesdropping) and since Margo thought the idea was actually a smart one, Skeeter fell under the impression that they were as thick as thieves... They were not.

        She lets herself into the classroom. Regulus is already in there, pacing up and down the classroom, his arms crossed. Margo frowns, waiting for the door to click shut before she makes her toward him, stopping him in his tracks. Her hands are on either side of his neck, her fingers brushing against the ends of his hair.

       "What's wrong?" she asks.

       "I—" Regulus stops himself. He looks at her with a desperate expression, and for a minute he doesn't continue, just stays silent. Margo frowns. "I love you, Margo, please remember that. I love you more than I thought I ever could love someone." The frown stays on her face. The last part makes her wonder if his mother's been saying things. Walburga Black doesn't like her, says that she'll ruin her perfect boy.

       He pulls her into this awfully strange hug, because she's incredibly confused, whilst he looks nervous about something. She feels him kiss her forehead before he steps backwards. She doesn't like this.

       "You're going to hate me once I say this, Mar, I know you are, but please, listen to me, you'll understand."

       "What—What's going on?"

       Regulus looks at her for a minute, hesitating.

       "I won't hate you."

       "You will."

       "I could never hate you," she says, looking at him dead in the eye. Her brows are still furrowed as she steps forwards, a little closer to him. "Please just tell me."

       Regulus hesitates for a minute, as if he's struggling to say whatever he needs to tell her, before he breathes in, breathes out, and looks at her.

       "I don't want to be a Death Eater anymore." 

       Well. It's safe to say that Margo is very confused.

       "Why not?" she asks.

       "He isn't a good man, Mar, can't you see?"

       And he begins to explain his greatly-constructed explanation, a thing with points and an introduction and conclusion tying everything together. The whole time Margo stands there, listening, her brows furrowed, and at one point she begins to turn, completely shocked by this turn in views. He moves forwards, holding her, quietly saying, "You know I'm right, Mar."

       Margo nods.

       "I have a plan," he says. "We can help them take him down for good. You and me, Mar. We can do this."

       And he explains, yet again, a greatly-constructed master-plan —

       Holly frowns. The next sentence stands out from the others, the ink smudged slightly by a left hand. I am not telling the truth. I am sorry, if anyone reads this. That was what I wished happened. The truth is this:

        "He isn't a good man, Mar, can't you see?"

       And he begins to explain his greatly-constructed explanation, a thing with points and an introduction and conclusion tying everything together. The whole time Margo stands there, listening, her brows furrowed, and at one point she begins to turn, completely shocked by this turn in views. He moves forwards, holding her, quietly saying, "You know I'm right, Mar."

       Margo feels her heart breaking into pieces. He's leaving her. She only has him and her best friend, she relies on Regulus so much. He's the only one that can truly calm her down when she gets angry about her terrible parents. He's the one that's always there for her, even when she doesn't realise she needs someone to be there. She loves him, so much. There have been moments where she's thought about how they're both Death Eaters, how they joined together, and she's truthfully thought to herself, I would die for him.

       "You don't mean that," says Margo. "You don't—"

       "I do, Mar," says Regulus. "We're not on the right side." She looks at him through her tears, her confusion and sadness quickly turning into anger. He's left her he's left her he's left her. Her heart hurts. "Mar, listen — we can get a way out of this. He's been using dark magic to make him invincible, but we can stop him." He takes hold of her hand. She looks disgusted. Fucking traitor. "We can still do something important. We can kill Voldemort."

       Margo snatches her hand away from him. Hot tears slide down her cheeks, and she looks up at him. He looks upset by her anger. He fucking deserves to be.

        "What makes you think I won't tell him?" she asks, her voice a snarl.

        "Because you still love me," says Regulus, speaking quietly. "I know you're going to say that I'm dead to you, but you still love me. I know you do. And—And whatever happens, I love you, Mar, I love you so much. If I can help stop him, the world will be safer. And maybe then, we can meet again and you'll realise why I'm doing this. I'll still love you, no matter what happens."

        Margo thinks about this a lot.

        It's January now, and Margo's sitting in her family home. She's in deep shit, that's all she can say about this whole fucking travesty. She's fucked everything up. The actual love of her life is probably dead, and if he isn't, the Death Eaters will be the first to kill him if he does reappear. Her best friend joined them, too, because he wanted to protect her. Sometimes she thinks Walburga Black was right, whenever she gave Margo nasty looks and told Regulus that if he let Margo Valen into his life, it would be ruined. Margo killed Regulus. She was the one that suggested joining, because they believed in it, why not join at sixteen? She's killed him and now she's done the same to her best friend.

       And now, it isn't just her she's got to look after. Last month she fully realised that Regulus Black was dead and the last time they spoke, she told him that she hated him, and she made a real bad fucking decision, and now she's pregnant. So, fuck. But, not even that, her idiotic brain made things worse by going to a muggle pub, thinking, let's see how awful this things are, because they're not, are they? We're just a piece of shit that killed Regulus Black, so now, not only is she pregnant, but, the father is a muggle. So, shit.

       Regulus was right, about Voldemort not being the good one. He really isn't. But the world is still dark and distorted and regardless of who wins this war, she must make sure that her child survives. She cannot change the world but she can make things as safe as possible for her. And she's going to do everything to keep her little baby safe. She will move the world if she has to, if that keeps her child safe.

       She holds her wand, her hand shaking. Her parents have been transfigured and are buried in the garden, next to the great big apple tree. They would've taken her child if they were alive, they would've seen the baby as a new start for them, to prove that they can raise a child without abandonment issues. But Margo is not allowing this. She has the entire world set out for her child and she's going to make sure everything is sound for the time they're born.

       Her parents will no longer be an issue, will no longer ask questions and show up out of the blue, horrified by their daughter's decisions. They were never there for her. For years great-aunts and uncles and grandparents moved into the spare room at the Valen House, a stately home on the outskirts of a small muggle town, because her parents were more concerned on their jobs than they were on her. Her parents are not her carers, her guardians. She never had one specific person always there for her, not until she went to school and befriended Atticus... And now she's dragged him into this mess.

       They've had to fake a romance, a dreadfully wonderful story about how two best friends finally fell in love at the most inconvenient of times. In reality, Atticus knows that Margo has fucked everything up, and she needs someone to help her, and right now, he's the only person she has. Regulus is dead. Everyone else is two-faced, you never know nowadays whether or not someone's being truthful.

       Margo and Atticus plan to marry once she's given birth, and in the mean-time, she's going to retire to her old family home, instead of the bedroom her best friend let her have at his house. She's going to hide back at home, with the curtains closed and the whole house under a protection spell, and she's going to mourn the boy she loves, and she's going to ensure the world is perfect for her little baby.

       There's a jump in time. The diary says it's May now. Holly's brows have been furrowed for the past hour, curled up in an armchair in a sitting room. Her step-dad Atticus sits on the sofa, reading a book. A happy book. Not the diary of a mother he never met, like Holly.

       She forgot to mention this before, she's been busy... Well. By 'being busy,' Margo means that she's wept on the sofa in her family home and listened to Billie Holiday. She feels sick, why did she ever think muggles were bad? But anyway. That isn't the important thing she needs to jot down.

       Before she went into hiding, she told Voldemort a cover-story. How she was pregnant but she didn't want the baby to be in danger, but believe her, she will be back as soon as she has given birth, and she will return to serve. Voldemort trusts her, it wasn't difficult to get her point across. Apparently there's something scaring him, something that made him like the idea of a new generation being on his side. He didn't say 'scare,' but Margo knows it.

       The evening before she left, Voldemort said this:

       "I want to give you an incredibly important task, Valen. You see—"

       Someone has crossed the next few lines out, scribbled lines of ink until the page is nothing but black. Holly looks up at Atticus. "Some part's been crossed out—"

        "It's too dangerous for you to know some of it," says Atticus, leaning forwards to get his cup of tea from the coffee table. Holly thinks she's scowling. "I'm not telling you what that says. You can't know that part. It isn't important, anyway — and if it is, it isn't at the minute."

       "Right," says Holly, glaring at the diary.

       Margo knows she's having a girl. A little baby girl, who she hopes will inherit her light-blonde hair. She knows she won't, but she wishes to meet her, one day. Once Voldemort is dead they can meet. And she can meet her little girl — the name will be decided by the father, a kind muggle called Gus Lippincott — and she'll be able to marvel at the wonderful thing.

       She can't wait to meet her daughter. She can imagine it now: she'll be beautiful, she'll be kind and lovely and charming and she'll be far better than Margo ever was. Her daughter will one day be back by her side, once Voldemort is truly dead — body found and all — or maybe she won't, but Margo swears by it, one day she will meet her daughter and they will be as close as a mother and daughter can be.

        Her daughter will be charming, a real Daisy Buchanan. A golden girl. Her daughter will be smart, in the sense that she's made of power — Merlin forbid someone underestimates her, because they will regret it. Her daughter may return when Voldemort is still here, and if she does, she will understand the world around her, she will understand why Margo had to do what she had to do, and everything will be fine.

       Someone's crossed out the next sentence, but only a scribbled line covers it this time. She won't rebel, she'll know it's not safe to do so.

        Holly frowns. That's bullshit.

        "I'm done," says Holly, closing the diary. She stands up, crossing the sitting room to hand it back to him. Her brain's swimming in alternating thoughts. Everything is confusing her, making her think and question and criticise what she's just read. "You were really kind... I don't get it."

        "You don't get it?" he echoes, raising an eyebrow.

       Holly nods. "Yeah, I don't get it," she says. Her brows are furrowed, as she looks over at her step-father. He's aged more than he should've done, in the same way Sirius has. Over Christmas she's started wondering if his moustache and stubble are ways to hide his aging skin. But it's clear now, as he looks at her, intrigued in what she has to say. She sighs. "You—You had this best friend since you started at Hogwarts and she accidentally ruined her entire life, and you just let the same thing to happen to yourself, to help her... I don't get it. Why did you do it? You didn't have to. You aren't in love with her. You're just best friends."

       Atticus pauses for a minute, before he shrugs. "Well, if I'm being truthful, there's this thing that Dumbledore used to say, especially at the end of my time at school, when the war was happening," he says. "He always advised us to do to the right thing, not the easy one. And I don't know, maybe I was the only one that listened, I probably was — but it stuck with me. And when everything happened with Mar, I had to do the right thing. It would've killed me to let my best friend go through everything on her own... And it wasn't just her, was it? It was you too. I wanted to do the right thing. That's why."

       "Dumbledore said the same thing, at the end of last year," says Holly. She remembers the whole dinner as clear as day: 'Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to be a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.'

       The words keep on spiralling in her head. Right or easy right or easy...

       "But what if the right thing is fighting against You-Know-Who?" she whispers, as if she's scared of what he's going to say. He looks at her, worried.

       "Then you'll be dead," he says, bluntly.

       Then you'll be dead. Well that's fucking jolly, isn't it? Holly can feel her stomach twisting into knots, and she wants to cry, wants to curl up in a ball and go home to her actual house and cry into her dad's chest. She thinks of Durmstrang, thinks of all of the easy decisions she made there. She thinks of that little girl she refused to curse, and how everything went wrong after that. She thinks of the old Dark Arts lessons. She thinks of that phrase. Do you not have the stomach for this, Miss Lippincott?

       She feels sick.

       "I know it's wrong — believe me, I know that," says Atticus, stepping forwards. He puts his hands on her arms to make her sit down, and he tries to comfort her. But he isn't her dad, it's not the same. She wants her dad. She wants to go home to her dad where all of this seems like a dream away. That's why she loves her house so much — no matter how terrible Durmstrang was, she could always escape back to the world of the muggles, with her dad greeting her with open arms. She misses her dad. "But we don't have any other option."

       Holly's close to tears. She hates all of this. She hates how the Order doesn't trust her, how all summer she was sentenced to that room in the attic. She hates how she's forced to stay in the wizarding world, where the sky's always grey and you're dead if you don't glance over your shoulder. She hates how everything's turning into Durmstrang.

       "I don't want to upset you, Hol, I really don't," says Atticus, and he hugs her, but it isn't the same. He isn't her dad. She starts to cry. "But everything is changing, can't you see? Now isn't the time to rebel. Now's the time for us to pretend we're a part of this, and stick by that..."

       Right or easy, right or easy.

       Holly hates all of this.

       She looks up at her step-father, and she blinks, to try and get rid of the tears. She wipes them off of her cheeks, and she gets back to her feet. "I'm going to speak to Draco," she says. Atticus opens his mouth to protest, and she gives him a look. "Not about this. I want to forget about this... I'll see you at dinner."

      Holly leaves her step-father alone in the sitting room. She walks back to where her cousin's bedroom is, blinking rapidly to get the last of the tears out of her eyes before she reaches his room. All of this is confusing her. She doesn't think she likes how this is going.

       She lets herself into Draco's room. "I think I've spent too much time with At," she declares, and she sits herself down on his bed, where he's sitting, trying to finish homework or something. Draco frowns at her, and she's aware he's noticed how her eyes have gone crimson, but she puts on a smile anyway. "A little birdie told me that you and Pansy are going out now...?"

       "Oh, yeah," he says, as if he's forgotten. Holly raises an eyebrow at him, and he scratches the top of his head, looking a little... Well, she can't quite explain it. Her only description is ugh. "I don't think it'll last, though — you can't tell her that."

       "I won't," says Holly.

       He says this as if she's never kept a secret before. Please. Holly's a master of secret-keeping. Part of her wants to scoff and go, quit looking at me like I'm bad at keeping secrets, considering I've snogged your arch nemesis. Twice. And you don't even know. Another part of her wants to cry because she cares for that damned boy so much and she can't even show she's on his side, she's still got to pretend, choose the easy option instead of what's right...

       "I don't know... I mean, she's nice and all, I just don't think it's going to last," he says, and he shrugs. Holly frowns. She doesn't know how she feels about this. "We kissed a while ago, and it was strange."

       Holly asks, "Strange?"

       "Yeah," he says. "Strange. Weird—"

       Holly crosses her legs. "Was it a good kind of weird? Like, it was weird that it was happening, but you liked it, because you like her...?" she asks, pulling a peculiar face as she makes the suggestion. He gives her a look, like he wants to shake his head. "Oh. So it was the bad kind?" He shrugs. She takes this as a maybe, but since maybe often hides a hesitant yes, she nods. "Have you kissed anyone before? Maybe that was why. Maybe it was weird for you because you haven't kissed someone — like, when I first kissed—"

       "You what?"

       Oh, shit.

       "You will die before you know his name," she says, pointing her finger at him, trying to look menacing. She is not menacing. She's still surprised most of the D.A. members are scared — or wary, at least — of her. "But I sort-of kissed someone. Twice. But again, you will never know his name, so don't even try."

       "What house?"

       "Not telling."

       "But he goes to Hogwarts?"

       "Not telling."

       "I'll figure it out eventually," says Draco, shrugging. Holly nods, because she knows full-well that he's never going to figure it out. He's too blinded by his hatred for Harry to notice anything. And why would he suspect Harry, anyway? For all Draco knows, Holly hates Harry. (She isn't quite sure how he still thinks this, like the rest of their friends. Every time she tags in on their complaints about him, she's essentially gushing about him.) "Why are you keeping it a secret, though?"

       Holly does not say the real reason, but rather, "I don't want to ruin it." Draco gives her an odd look, and she sighs, because she supposes there's some truth to this. It'll be ruined if her friends find out. "I just — he's so wonderful and I don't want to make it this whole big thing until I think it can survive, you know? Because it will be a massive thing, won't it, because the others will react the same you did when they find out about it. And if you lot know, then that means he's a step closer to the mess that is our family. I don't want that."

       This isn't the truth, but it's close. She knows it will be a massive thing. It'll be all around the school, it'll be the thing everyone talks about for weeks. Holly Lippincott and Harry Potter. Her friends will be pissed off about it. Maybe they'll stop talking to her... Pansy won't, and Draco can't, but still, the threat's there and it scares her.

       And the mess that is our family. She hasn't told Harry about Margo's bedroom at Malfoy Manor, she doesn't know how. Nor has she said anything about Atticus. Harry probably still thinks he's a complete dick for giving her up in the graveyard. And now, this whole thing with her mother's diary — there's a section where her mother, aged sixteen, complained about the marauders and Lily Evans, now Potter, for a couple pages. The whole diary is messy. Holly isn't sure if she comprehends the whole damned thing.

       "That makes sense," says Draco. "Does he know about your dad?" She hesitates for a minute, before she nods. Draco nods, too, but he makes a noise, a quiet grumble. "Hopefully not before me, but you know..."

       "Oh, shut up," says Holly. "I didn't know how you'd react."

       "Yeah, whatever," says Draco.

       Holly frowns at him. This isn't how she expected this was going to turn. So instead, she tries to swerve the direction back on a more positive route. "You would not believe how wonderful he is, though," she says, smiling lightly. "Oh my God. I think my heart hurts sometimes, he's so amazing."

       "Is that what it's meant to be like?" he asks.

       "I'm not sure, people feel things differently," she says. "Does Pansy make you feel happy? Normally if they make you feel better about yourselves, or if you feel better by them being there, that's a pretty good sign of you feeling something."

       "I don't think so, I don't know—"

       "Well, if you think that, then maybe end things sooner rather than later," says Holly, her brows furrowing slightly. Her heart's beating faster. She cannot believe she sort-of told Draco about Harry. "You're family, but she's my best friend. I don't want her to get upset."

       "Yeah," says Draco, frowning. There's a pause, and Holly glances around his bedroom, finding a broomstick leaning against a dresser. She turns back to her cousin, and he smiles smugly at her. "So, this boyfriend of yours..."

       "He is not my boyfriend, first of all..."

—✧—✧—✧—✧—

       THE TRAGEDY OF MARGO VALEN is haunting Holly, but, she has things to do and she's not letting her mother stand in the way. As soon as she gets back to school, she tries to get stuck in, focusing on her upcoming exams and making sure she's able to walk out of the hall confident that she aced all of them; the news of the escaped Azkaban prisoners is quickly pushed away by Charms revision, as well as the Quibbler article in which Harry declares who was also there in the graveyard (thankfully Atticus is mentioned — that means Holly won't get questioned the next time she's at Malfoy Manor.)

       The Wizengamot has a British Youth Representative, someone under seventeen that attends the trials and such. According to her uncle, the current representative is almost seventeen, which means that the position is soon going to open — and, Holly's hoping she can get the position herself. Apparently Dumbledore was the representative once. And he later became the Chief Warlock, like Holly aims to become (although, would she be the Chief Witch instead?) so Holly thinks it's a great place to start.

       Next thing's making herself look better than anyone else trying to apply, the same she's going to be. Holly hopes that she can get the grades and (fingers crossed) head girl in her seventh year, but for now, whilst she waits for her polite letter explaining why she would be the perfect person to be the British Youth Representative, she's got to focus on her O.W.Ls... And maybe whatever Umbridge is talking about, when she says Holly may be given a great opportunity, but she's ignoring this.

       And, OK, she's going to break this "only focus on O.W.Ls" rule a little bit, for two things. The first thing's the job she's managed to acquire at Honeydukes, when she walked in the first Hogsmeade weekend and thoroughly shocked the owners that someone offered to take up a part-time job there. And it's nice, actually. The pay isn't the best but it's decent, and now Holly constantly smells of sugar, which she thinks is cute. She's reminded of that old muggle rhyme, about girls being made of sugar and spice and everything nice.

       The second thing is the D.A.

       She makes her way to the meeting, slipping into the Room of Requirement and smiling nicely at Harry, Ron, and Hermione when she arrives. No one else has turned up yet, so she walks over to the three. "Hey, um," she says. She looks at Ron. "I know I'm late to say it, but — is your dad OK?"

       "Yeah, he's fine now," says Ron. "Thanks."

       Holly smiles softly. She glances at Harry and Hermione. Mostly at Harry. She tries to forget that she slept with her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't stay at Grimmauld Place," she says. "I hope you all had a nice Christmas, though."

       "Did you go home, then?" asks Hermione.

       She shakes her head. "Apparently it's unsafe... I stayed with my cousin," says Holly. She can already see the look on Harry's face, and she rolls her eyes. "When's everyone else getting here, though?"

       "Well," says Hermione. "It starts in ten minutes."

       "Why am I early, then?" asks Holly.

       "The thing is," says Hermione. Holly's brows are furrowed, in the sort of manner that's accidentally made the younger years fear her a little. She doesn't mean to look scary when she frowns. But, thankfully, her confusion doesn't have the same effect over Hermione, who opens her mouth to explain the rest, but Ron beats her to it.

       "Harry misses you," says Ron.

       Holly looks at Harry, who's frozen.

       "I didn't say that—"

       Ron looks at Holly. "He did say that."

       "You kept on saying you couldn't go to the kitchens," says Harry.

       Hermione smiles at Holly. "He thought you hated him," she explains. Holly raises her eyebrows. "Which you obviously do not, but things have gotten worse recently, and it may be unsafe to sneak out, in the middle of the night, to go to the kitchens." She looks at Holly, to see if she's right. Holly nods. Things are a mess, essentially. "

       She sees Hermione give a look to Ron, and give up trying to be discrete, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to another part of the room, so that Holly and Harry can speak privately.

       As the door closes, Holly turns to him. "Well, I'm here," she says. She sees the frown on his face, and she feels confused herself. "You look worried."

       "Do you know anything about the Death Eaters escaping?" he asks.

       She shakes her head, but she gives him an odd look. "I hope that's not the only reason you wanted to talk," she says. She is joking. She knows this isn't the case, but still, he looks frantic, and before he can ramble, she takes a hold of his hand. "I don't think that... And I don't know anything, honest. All I know is that both Draco and I weren't allowed in one area of Malfoy Manor, but that's been the case since summer, so maybe that doesn't mean anything."

       "Maybe there's some there — maybe your step-father—"

       Holly looks at him. She doesn't think she told him that.

       "He isn't evil," she says.

       "What?" says Harry.

       "He isn't evil?" she says, pulling a face. She feels bad. She should've said this ages ago — he told her about Sirius almost a year ago, and here she is, forgetting to tell him the same thing about her step-father. She's terrible. "He only joined the Death Eaters to protect my mother, his best friend... It's a weird story, I promise I'll explain it properly, but I don't want to now, in case anyone's early." She frowns. "I should've told you. I'm sorry."

       "It's fine," says Harry. For a second he smiles at her, before he looks like he's realised something, and he frowns, stepping closer to her. "Wait — I mentioned him in the Quibbler—"

       "Which is good," says Holly. "You-Know-Who would ask questions, wouldn't he, if you said everyone's name but my step-father's?" Harry shrugs. "It's a good thing you did, honestly."

       She thinks of what her mother said: she will not rebel.

       "Ooh, I forgot to tell you," she says, remembering the reason why she's trying to ignore the thoughts her mother's diary brings up. She smiles brightly. "I've applied to be the British Youth representative in the Wizengamot — so I'll get to see all of the trials, and I'll already be on my way to be in the Wizengamot by the time I leave school. But that's only if everything goes according to plan. My uncle's hopefully putting a good word in, but can you imagine, if I do get it?" She's grinning now. "It'll be amazing."

       "Isn't that where I—?"

       "Almost got expelled?" she says. He nods. "Yeah. But, they're so much more than that — they're the highest court in the U.K. for wizards. The old trials for Death Eaters went on there, all of the big stuff does." She holds onto his hands, failing miserably at hiding her excitement. "I really hope I get it."

       Harry smiles at her. "I hope you do, too."

       She grins at him, and kisses his cheek.

       A couple minutes pass and the others begin to appear. Holly stands far back from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all of whom had moved back to the front of the room. She watches the others arrive, standing around in their own groups. Holly's on her own, but she doesn't mind. She isn't really on her own. She has Harry.

       Once everyone's arrived they're told that they're going to be continuing their work on Patronuses, which frustrates Holly. She can do all of the dark magic, everything that requires nasty thoughts, but the lighter stuff is new to her. She knows how to produce the desire to hurt someone, the wicked thoughts that Cruciatus requires, but happy memories?

       She has happy memories, her entire childhood was a string of happy memories. But she's never had to use them before, not when it comes to magic. Every time she's been made to use a memory it's the nasty ones. She knows how to summon the strength to cast curses, she has her own collection of memories and thoughts to help with those. She doesn't have the same experience with happy memories, however.

       Holly raises her wand, thankful that this magic doesn't require a partner. She tries to think of happy memories. Time and time again she focuses on the happiest moments in her life, but nothing works. Nothing works. She keeps on looking around and seeing everyone else grinning at their Patronuses, and here she is, still unable to produce one.

       Apparently Dark witches and wizards can't produce them. Maybe that's why she can't, because she's been bathed in the darkness ever since she stepped into the wizarding world. She's not meant to be here, is she? She's meant to be in the dungeons still, obeying what her mother says, what her step-father told her to do. Right or easy comes back.

       "You'll get the hang of it," says Harry, as he walks over to her.

       People are looking at her. Holly's hand is shaking. She can hear her old Dark Arts teacher sneering, Do you not have the stomach for this, Miss Lippincott? She has the stomach for this, just not the heart. She isn't cut out for this. This is useless. She isn't good enough.

       "I don't think I will," says Holly.

       This is the only magic she cannot do. She can cast curses, exclaim hexes. She knows how to defend herself, how to fight. She knows how to get past a dragon, through a lake, dart to the centre of a maze. But not this. She can't do this.

       "You can," says Harry.

       "I can't," says Holly.

       She can't think of her dad without an intense longing sensation rattling her bones, making her feel sick to her stomach. She misses her dad so much, she can't feel happy about memories of him, they just upset her. She can't think of her mother, she's never met her. She can't think of her friends, because she starts to think, yeah, but what happens if they find out you were here? Pansy's fine but what about the others? Are you even sure Draco will forgive you for this? Nothing works.

       "You can," he says, again. "I know you can."

       Holly frowns at him. She looks down at her wand, and she stands back a little so she can stretch her arm. I know you can. He confuses her sometimes. Half the time she wonders if someone can be as oblivious as he is, and other times, she thinks the complete opposite. Like this. He knows she can do this? And all of the times in the past, when she's started to explain why she said what she said to her friends, she didn't mean it, and he already understood completely.

       This boy... He's so weird.

       "Expecto Patronum!"

       A silver mist erupts from her wand; a silver, translucent cheetah pounces into the air, darting  around. Holly's eyes light up, and without thinking, she wraps her arms around Harry. "Look!" she says. "I did it!"

       Holly steps away from him, admiring the silvery cheetah stalking in a circle around her, its tail curling. Vivien the Dragon's on Holly's shoulder again, and she jumps, a little confused by the wispy animals in the air. Holly supposes it's the same thing dogs get, when they see ghosts.

       "Harry Potter, sir..." she hears a couple metres away from her. Holly freezes for a second, slowly turning to see Dobby looking up at Harry, horror plastered across the house-elf's face. Her brows furrow. Her heart starts to beat faster. Something's wrong. "Dobby has come to warn you... but the house-elves have been warned not to tell... Harry Potter... she... she..."

       Holly stops watching her Patronus. She watches Dobby whack himself, hard, on the nose, until Harry holds onto the house-elf's fists to stop him from continuing.

       "Who's 'she,' Dobby?"

       The realisation hits Holly. 

       "Umbridge?" asks Harry.

       Holly's heart is hammering. She's frozen in fear; the Room of Requirement feels like it's losing it's colour, she feels as if she can see the bricks turn to grey and the warmth leave the entire castle. She feels like she's out of bed at Durmstrang — it happened once, and it was because she felt sick — and she can hear Karkaroff's footsteps looming in the background, growing louder and louder. She feels her stomach twisting.

       "What about her?" asks Harry. "Dobby — she hasn't found out about this — about us — about the D.A.?" Dobby looks up at him, terrified. "Is she coming?"

       Dobby starts howling, slamming his feet against the floor in an attempt to harm himself for going against orders. "Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"

       Holly glances away from them. Everyone else has stopped practicing the charm, and instead, all eyes are on Harry and Dobby.

       "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? RUN!"

       Everyone bolts towards the door, and Holly regrets freezing, she should've been out that door the instant she saw Dobby looking scared, the instant she felt something was wrong. She would've done that at Durmstrang, she can't believe she didn't do that now. There's a hoard of students trying to get out through the one door, and Holly darts towards Harry, accidentally getting pushed into him.

       "I didn't tell them, not about tonight!" says Holly, speaking frantically. She looks at Harry, panicked. This wasn't to do with her — or did she leave them here? How else would they have figured it out? "Harry, I swear—"

       "Pretend to grab me," he says. Holly looks at him in disbelief. Someone runs past them, making Holly stumble into Harry again. "This will keep you out of trouble, won't it?"

       "But it'll get you into it!"

       "I'll be fine!" says Harry. She keeps on shaking her head. She's tempted to grab him and take him back to his common room, so he doesn't get into any trouble. Hell, she knows the way to the dungeons quicker, by this rate she'll run there with him. If anyone asks she'll finally say one of her many secrets. She'd rather that than him get into trouble because of her.

       Holly glances over at the door, where people are still pushing their way out. "You've been saying it for months — this might not be just a school thing for you," he says. "Pretend you were in on this, Hol, I'll be fine."

        She ignores Hol.

       "No you won't — you've never had a teacher like her before—"

       "She already knows I'm a part of this!" says Harry. He's practically shouting, due to the noise in the room. "I don't care if I get into trouble, I'm used to it — you're the one who could be in danger because of this, I'd rather it be me than you that gets into trouble."

       Holly shakes her head. "You don't need to do this."

       "You know why I am," he says, and he looks into her eyes. She thinks she knows what he's talking about, and it's enough to send her into a state of shock, for her to give in and nod.

       "She's probably nearby," says Holly, speaking quietly. The room's empty now. She isn't quite sure what to say for herself. You know why I am. She feels like she's been hit in the stomach and winded. "I guess I should, uh," she takes a hold of his hands, trying to look like she's restraining him. She's essentially holding his hands in a very uncomfortable way.

       They walk into the hallway, and quickly, she sees her cousin appear out of nowhere, a massive grin plastered across his face. "You got Potter!" says Draco, looking proud of her. It's bizarre. "Hey, Professor — PROFESSOR! Holly's got one!"

        Umbridge appears in the same fashion as Draco, out of nowhere. Holly avoids looking at Harry. She hates this. She wishes he hadn't said that last thing, You know why I am, because that caught her off guard completely. She wasn't expecting that, and when he said it, the realisation slapped her across the face and she agreed whilst her brain was still fuzzy. This is what Hogwarts is doing to her... It's taking away her paranoia.

        "It's him!" says Umbridge, looking like a delighted little toad. Holly wishes she could curse the living daylights out of her. "Excellent, Holly, excellent, oh, very good, I expected nothing less from a wonderful student like you!" (Holly wants to die?) "Fifty points to Slytherin!"

        Umbridge seizes Harry's arm, forcing Holly to let go of him. For a split second she forgets she's supposed to hate him, because she catches herself about to glare at their teacher, try and stand up for him. "Holly, how about you help your cousin and the rest of your friends, try and round up some more?" she says.

       "Maybe I should stay with Potter—"

       "Oh, no, I'm fine on my own—"

       "But you never know—"

       "You will do as I say," says Umbridge, her sweet smile dissolving for a second. Holly looks at Harry in panic. What does she do now? "Tell the others to look in the library — anybody out of breath — check the bathrooms. You and Miss Parkinson can do the girls'— Draco, you can do the boys'. Off you go."

       Holly doesn't move. Draco has to grab onto her arm and pull her way for her to actually leave  Harry with that awful monster. Holly feels her knees going weak.

       "What do you think they'll do?" asks Holly frantically, as Draco continues to pull her away. Everything's building up. Right or easy. She won't rebel. Do you have the stomach for this, Miss Lippincott? She thinks of Durmstrang, of the way Walburga Black's portrait screamed at her in the summer, of the way she's looked at constantly, like she's her mother, like she's an evil being. She makes mistakes but she doesn't mean this.

        She thinks of the little girl she refused to curse at Durmstrang. She thinks of the ones she did. She thinks of their faces, of their eyes, of the ways their eyes went glassy as if pleading, please don't hurt me — but she did, again and again, because she didn't think she could rebel, the right option wasn't safe, she had to protect herself or else no one would.

       She won't rebel she won't rebel.

       Right or easy, right or—

       Draco and Pansy speak quickly. Pansy frowns at Holly, and personally walks her into the nearest girls' bathrooms, quickly checking that the place is empty before she turns to Holly.

        "What's wrong?" asks Pansy.

        "I think he loves me," says Holly.

        Pansy's eyes widen. "Potter — is in love—?"

        Holly nods. But she still feels like the world is crumbling around her — this is meant to be exciting, this is meant to make her heart race and butterflies flutter in her stomach. She's not supposed to stand here, thinking about her mother, about Durmstrang, about all of those children in detention.

       She isn't supposed to be standing here, less concerned on You know why I am, but rather, a simple question, the same one that has been haunting her ever since Dumbledore raised the question last summer.

       Right or easy?

—✧—✧—✧—✧—

so things happened.