There is something profoundly isolating about being the daughter of a famous war hero. People want to meet you, because your dad is famous, and they want to be friends with you, because your dad is famous. By the time I was fifteen, I understood this very well, and as a consequence I tended not to make friends with the sort of people who eagerly introduced themselves to me. Honestly, I was usually rude to them, especially to the boys, who were usually seeking a future recommendation to the Auror's office from my father.

Maybe that was what had attracted me to Julia in the first place - she had never so much as deigned to glance in my direction of her own accord. It was hard to be a social climber when you were already at the top of the mountain, as she certainly was, being so closely related to the Minister. She wasn't well-liked, despite her standing, and my choice to hang around her made people less interested in me.

Jules wore her skirts short and her sweaters tight. She borrowed perfume from Priscilla Nott. The boys drooled over her legs, but never approached her unless she encouraged them, which she did only when she felt like it. She ordered seedy romance novels by post and smuggled bottles of her mother's wine in after every holiday. She was careless and thrived on the adrenaline of breaking rules, sometimes in clear view of the school authorities.

I, who had always been the well-behaved Potter child, found her unabashed disobedience alluring. Since partway through fourth year, I had made a tradition of sneaking out to join her at least once a week down by the Black Lake late at night. At first, I must admit we spent much of our time either reading passages of her naughty books aloud to each other or talking of our own daydreams. Boy-related daydreams, that is. The sort you would find in the aforementioned novels.

Then, of course, there was the alcohol, which Julia started bringing almost weekly after that night in November. Sometimes firewhiskey, sometimes her mother's wine. I was careful at first, to drink only enough to give myself a decent buzz, but as the weeks passed, I'm afraid I lost caution. The last night before the Christmas holidays began, she brought two whole bottles of firewhiskey, and I'm afraid we went a little overboard.

I squinted at the castle as we stumbled towards it, both of us laughing a bit too loudly. Everything was blurry around the edges, and the thoughts in my head were all muddled together. "We're drunk," I said out loud, as if it were the most satisfying thing in the world.

"You fucking bet we are," Julia giggled.

"Why are we drunk?"

"'Cause it's fun, you silly bitch." Jules paused, then slurred, "Bitch. I like that word. Do you like that word? It's fun to say..."

I tilted my head. "Bitch," I said, trying it out, although I had said it a thousand times before. "Bitch."

"You're a bitchy bitch," said Julia.

"You're a bitchier bitch," I shot back.

"You're the bitchiest bitch."

"You're the bitchiest bitchy bitch."

We both broke down in another fit of giggles. We were nearing the entrance to the secret passage that we always used to get in and out of the castle. Jules looked at me and put a finger to her lips. "Shhhhh," she said, rather loudly. "We've gotta go in."

Winking at her, I grabbed my wand from the waistband of my fleece-lined leggings and pointed it at a seemingly nondescript crack in the castle wall. What was that spell again? Apartum... no, Murperta?... no, ugh... oh, it was... "Aperta murum," I pronounced, slurring the words slightly. A light flashed in the crack, and then it spread, creating the outline of a human-sized arch. I tapped my wand in the center of the space, and the solid stone slid upward, revealing a narrow passageway. I nudged Jules. "Light," I demanded.

Julia took out her wand and whispered "Lumos" very solemnly. Then she stepped into the tunnel, and I followed at her heels.

This particular passageway was one Albus had told me about last year. He knew of its existence only because he used to watch James to see what he was up to, and apparently he'd gone out this way a lot with girls. About halfway through it, there was an outcropping that housed an old sofa. I shuddered to think what activities it had facilitated.

The walls of the passage were fitted with sconces every ten meters or so, but we never lit the candles that sat in them. On the chance that someone else entered the passageway while we were in it, the lights would have given us away for sure. Using our wands, which could be extinguished with a whisper, was much less risky.

The consequence of using our wands to light the way was that we couldn't see very far ahead of us, which often resulted in stepping on things we'd rather not have. I was in socks tonight, because last time we came out I had worn shoes that squeaked with every step I took, and it had made me extremely nervous. As we crept up the passageway, my toes came down on something that made a crunching noise as it was smashed.

I jumped away, fighting the urge to squeal, and squeezed my eyes shut. Merlin, please tell me that wasn't a spider. I didn't want to look to find out, but Julia was giggling. When I opened my eyes to see why, she was crouching, her lit wand pointed at the ground where I had stepped moments ago.

Something you should know about me: I loathed spiders. They were the most horrible, gruesome creatures ever to exist, and the sight of one sent me into near hysterics, no matter its size, no matter how far away from me it was. So you can imagine how I felt seeing what Julia's wand illuminated: a spindly black arachnid nearly the size of my palm, crushed against the stones, its prickly legs sticking out in all directions, its sticky innards oozing out onto the floor. Its body was still twitching.

I shuddered and retched, emptying the sodden contents of my stomach onto the passageway floor before stumbling back and colliding with the wall.

It was Jules who squealed now, stepping back and making a face. "Ugh," she groaned. "We should clean that up, right? But I don't wanna."

I massaged my forehead, willing my alcohol-filled stomach to calm itself. "What's the cleaning spell?" I mumbled. My wand was clutched awkwardly in my hand as I waved it at the vile stuff on the floor. "Um... scroungimus? Scrubimertum?" Nothing happened. Merlin, why couldn't I think straight? I normally had an exceptional memory, but the firewhiskey addled everything.

"I think it's... um... oh, oh! Scourgify!!" Julia burst out laughing, as if the spell were the funniest thing in the world.

I sighed deeply and muttered the spell, which swiftly cleansed the floor. "Let's go," I muttered, feeling rather annoyed with the whole thing. I supposed I was really just annoyed with myself. I should have known better than to get smashed.

When we came to the alcove midway through the passage, Julia slowed. "You know," she said, "I'm tired. Really... fucking... you know... tired?"

I giggled at her repetition, perplexed and amused by it all at once. "Okaaaay?" I said.

My friend proceeded to fall down on the sofa and mumble something unintelligible.

I put my hands on my hips. "Seriously, Julia?" The only response I got was a moan. "Are you seriously just going to collapse here?" I huffed.

No response whatsoever. I shifted uneasily on my feet for a moment, then was forced to hiss lumos as the light on Julia's wand faded. "Bloody hell," I groaned, eyeing her slumped figure. She didn't look like she would be eager to get up again.

I supposed I would have to leave her here. I certainly needed to get back to my dormitory before the girls were awake. Oh, well. Jules would be fine... she had her wand. Muttering a "good night" that she certainly didn't hear, I continued down the passageway. I assure you I only ran straight into the wall once or twice on the way.

When I reached the end, I simply had to tap my wand against the stones for them to part — a spell was only needed for entering the passage. This particular tunnel opened on the basement level of the school, not far from the kitchens. I peeked my head out to glance around and make sure there was nobody between me and my exit, then stepped out into the open.

My sock feet slid along the floor as I headed for the stairs, swerving slightly as I went. My head felt clearer than it had, but still, well... not especially focused. Certainly not aware of much of anything. The portraits on the walls looked soft around the edges, and my hearing was a bit fuzzy. Which is probably why I didn't notice a creak of a door swinging open, or cautious footsteps behind me.

What I did hear was a quiet, uncertain voice saying, "Lily?"

I froze. Or, at least, stopped moving forward and wobbled on my feet. The voice entered my mind sharply, and almost gave a sense of clarity, but also made me want to vomit again. Letting out a shuddering breath, I turned to look at Mason Bones.

The light from my wand was dim, but his dark hair looked damp and was sticking against his forehead in places. It was longer than it had been at the beginning of the year, which was the last time I had paid much attention to him. He was wearing loose pants and a fitted tank top. Almost without meaning to, my eyes grazed over his biceps. Mason wasn't buff, but he was fit in a wiry sort of way, which was honestly more attractive in my opinion. Not that I thought Mason was attractive. That would be weird.

My eyes flitted to his face, then away. He was standing a few feet away, looking at me with something like concern on his face, and I didn't like it. I said, "Hello, Mason."

He said, "What are you doing down here this late? You could get in trouble, you know."

"So could you," I mumbled.

"My common room is right down there," he said, waving down the hall, "and Hufflepuffs have permission to go visit the kitchens whenever they'd like to."

"Spoiled bitches," I said, and then frowned. That was sort of mean, wasn't it?

Mason made a noise that I assumed was disapproving. "You still haven't told me what you, who live all the way up in Ravenclaw tower, are doing here."

"'s none of your fucking business," I told him defiantly, as I finally looked him in the eye. I may have slurred slightly.

His face flickered with sudden recognition. "You... you're drunk."

"Shut up," I muttered, ducking my head. I didn't want him to know that. But I supposed there was no hiding it.

Mason sighed deeply. "Lily... you should go back to your dorm." That concern I had seen in his expression earlier was creeping into his voice.

I swallowed hard, peering over at him uncertainly. I expected him to shift under my gaze, but he did not. He only looked back at me, his eyes speaking words I wasn't sure I wanted to hear. "Mason?" I said in a hoarse voice.

"Yeah?"

"Is it stupid that we're not friends anymore?" The words slipped out before I could stop them. "I mean... do you think we should... do you think we're..." I bit my lip, trying to find the words. "Would it be crazy to start over?"

His mouth slipped into the barest hint of a smile, and for a moment I felt the old love for him rush through me. I had never once considered saying anything like that to him... the alcohol had left my lips loose. But maybe that was a good thing? Or not. Maybe he was going to laugh in my face. I probably deserved that.

Mason did not laugh in my face, but the smile faded after a moment, and he shook his head slowly as he continued to look into my eyes. "Now's not the time, Lils. You... you're not yourself. Go to bed, alright? Sleep it off." He had drifted closer to me, now within an arm's length, and it struck me that I sort of wished he would hug me. He always used to give the best hugs.

He lifted his arm slightly, and for a moment I thought it was towards me, but instead he scratched his neck. "I've gotta get back to my dorm... I... I'll see you around. Okay?"

"Okay," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Mason started to turn around but hesitated, and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else. But after a moment he sighed and headed down the hall without another word.

I watched him walk away and took a second to remind myself that it wasn't the first time he'd done so, and I had made the decision not to associate with him out of common sense and concern for my own wellbeing. But my half-hearted lecture to myself did no good. I spent the whole walk up to Ravenclaw tower hating myself for the yearning in my heart.