𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒-ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 ℙ𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣❥

𝐇𝐁𝐏 𝟏𝟐

That night, in the dormitory's, had started to become a regular image in Emily's mind.

She felt herself constantly looking at Harry, watching his every move. In class, when he had to take his cloak and jumper off to do potions or wrestle the plants, her eyes travelled up and down his arms, imagining them on her.

That night had also seemed to take a toll on Harry, he too stared at Emily wherever she was, he couldn't keep her hands off her and couldn't wait until they had five minutes alone.

Snow was swirling against the icy windows once more; Christmas was approaching fast. Hagrid had already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees for the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armor and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors.

Large groups of girls tended to converge underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Harry went past, which caused blockages in the corridors; fortunately, however, Harry's and Emily's frequent nighttime wanderings had given him an unusually good knowledge of the castle's secret passageways, so that he was able, without too much difficulty, to navigate mistletoe-free routes between classes.

Ron, who might once have found the necessity of these detours a cause for jealousy rather than hilarity, simply roared with laughter about it all.

Although Harry much preferred this new laughing, joking Ron to the moody, aggressive model he had been enduring for the last few weeks, the improved Ron came at a heavy price.

Firstly, Emily and Harry had to put up with the frequent presence of Lavender Brown, who seemed to regard any moment that she was not kissing Ron as a moment wasted; and secondly, Harry and Emily found themselves once more the best friends of two people who seemed unlikely ever to speak to each other again.

Ron, whose hands and forearms still bore scratches and cuts from Hermione's bird attack, was taking a defensive and resentful tone.

"She can't complain," he told Harry and Emily. "She snogged Krum. So she's found out someone wants to snog me too. Well, it's a free country. I haven't done anything wrong."

Harry did not answer, but pretended to be absorbed in the book they were supposed to have read before Charms next morning (Quintessence: A Quest).

Emily always stormed away whenever Ron mentioned Hermione, she was amazed by his foolishness.

Determined as she was to remain friends with both Ron and Hermione, she was spending a lot of time with her mouth shut tight.

"I never promised Hermione anything," Ron mumbled. "I mean, all right, I was going to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her, but she never said . . . just as friends . . . I'm a free agent. . . ."

Emily finally had enough and decided that she and Harry should go on a 'walk' which always ended up with the two finding an empty cupboard.

Hermione's schedule was so full that Harry and Emily could only talk to her properly in the evenings, when Ron was, in any case, so tightly wrapped around Lavender that he did not notice what Harry and Emily were doing.

Hermione refused to sit in the common room while Ron was there, so Harry and Emily generally joined her in the library, which meant that their conversations were held in whispers.

"He's at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes," said Hermione, while the librarian, Madam Pince, prowled the shelves behind them. "I really couldn't care less."

She raised her quill and dotted an i so ferociously that she punctured a hole in her parchment.

Emily said nothing. She thought her voice might soon vanish from lack of use.

Harry bent a little lower over Advanced Potion-Making and continued to make notes on Everlasting Elixirs, occasionally pausing to decipher the Prince's useful additions to Libatius Borage's text.

"And incidentally," said Hermione, after a few moments, "you need to be careful."

"For the last time," said Harry, speaking in a slightly hoarse whisper after three-quarters of an hour of silence, "I am not giving back this book, I've learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or Slughorn have taught me in —"

"I'm not talking about your stupid so-called Prince," said Hermione, giving his book a nasty look as though it had been rude to her. "I'm talking about earlier. I went into the girls' bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's party, and they all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work —"

"Why didn't you confiscate them then?" demanded Emily.

It seemed extraordinary that Hermione's mania for upholding rules could have abandoned her at this crucial juncture.

"They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom," said Hermione scornfully. "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt whether even the Half-Blood Prince" — she gave the book another nasty look — "could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just invite someone to go with you, that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night, they're getting desperate."

"They just need to give it a rest!"

"Well, Harry, just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business," said Hermione grimly.

She hitched up the long roll of parchment on which she was writing her Arithmancy essay and continued to scratch away with her quill. Emily watched her with her mind a long way away.

"Hang on a moment," Harry said slowly. "I thought Filch had banned anything bought at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?" asked Hermione, still concentrating on her essay.

"But I thought all the owls were being searched. So how come these girls are able to bring love potions into school?"

"Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions," said Hermione. "It's part of their Owl Order Service."

"You know a lot about it."

Hermione gave him the kind of nasty look she had just given his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

"It was all on the back of the bottles they showed Ginny and me in the summer," she said coldly. "I don't go around putting potions in people's drinks . . . or pretending to, either, which is just as bad. . . ."

"Yeah, well, never mind that," said Harry quickly. "The point is, Filch is being fooled, isn't he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn't Malfoy have brought the necklace into the school — ?"

"Oh, Harry . . . not that again . . ."

"Come on, why not?" demanded Harry.

"Look," sighed Emily, "Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don't they? They're used to find Dark Magic and Dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse, like the one on that necklace, within seconds. But something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register — and anyway, love potions aren't Dark or dangerous —"

"Easy for you to say," muttered Harry, thinking of Romilda Vane.

"— so it would be down to Filch to realize it wasn't a cough potion, and he's not a very good wizard, I doubt he can tell one potion from —"

Emily stopped dead; Harry had heard it too.

Somebody had moved close behind them among the dark bookshelves. They waited, and a moment later the vulturelike countenance of Madam Pince appeared around the corner, her sunken cheeks, her skin like parchment, and her long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she was carrying.

"The library is now closed," she said. "Mind you return anything you have borrowed to the correct — what have you been doing to that book, you depraved boy?"

"It isn't the library's, it's mine!" said Harry hastily, snatching his copy of Advanced Potion-Making off the table as she lunged at it with a clawlike hand.

"Despoiled!" she hissed. "Desecrated! Befouled!"

"It's just a book that's been written on!" said Harry, tugging it out of her grip.

She looked as though she might have a seizure; Hermione and Emily; who had hastily packed their things, grabbed Harry by his arms and frog-marched him away.

"She'll ban you from the library if you're not careful. Why did you have to bring that stupid book?"

"It's not my fault she's barking mad, Hermione. Or d'you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I've always thought there might be something going on between them. . . ."

"Oh, ha ha . . ."

Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted, lamp-lit corridors back to the common room, arguing about whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.

"Baubles," said Harry to the Fat Lady, this being the new, festive password.

"Same to you," said the Fat Lady with a roguish grin, and she swung forward to admit them.

"Hi, Harry!" said Romilda Vane, the moment he had climbed through the portrait hole. "Fancy a gillywater?"

Hermione gave him a "what-did-I-tell-you?" look over her shoulder.

"No thanks," said Harry quickly. "I don't like it much."

"Well, take these anyway," said Romilda, thrusting a box into his hands. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got firewhisky in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don't like them."

"Oh — right — thanks a lot," said Harry, who could not think what else to say. "Er — I'm just going over here with . . ."

He hurried off behind Emily and Hermione, his voice tailing away feebly.

"Told you," said Hermione succinctly. "Sooner you ask someone, sooner they'll all leave you alone and you can —"

But her face suddenly turned blank; she had just spotted Ron and Lavender, who were entwined in the same armchair.

"Well, good night, Harry, good night Em," said Hermione, though it was only seven o'clock in the evening, and she left for the girls' dormitory without another word.

"Emily?" Harry asked, "We are going together aren't we? I didn't think I had to ask."

"Of course we are." said Emily, "Would've been nice of you to ask but yes. I thought the other night made it very clear that I'm yours now."

Emily went to bed comforting herself  that there was only one more day of lessons to struggle through, plus Slughorn's party, after which she, Harry and Ron would depart together for the Burrow.

It now seemed impossible that Ron and Hermione would make up with each other before the holidays began, but perhaps, somehow, the break would give them time to calm down, think better of their behavior. . . .

But her hopes were not high, and they sank still lower after enduring a Transfiguration lesson with them both next day.

They had just embarked upon the immensely difficult topic of human Transfiguration; working in front of mirrors, they were supposed to be changing the color of their own eyebrows.

Hermione laughed unkindly at Ron's disastrous first attempt, during which he somehow managed to give himself a spectacular handlebar mustache; Ron retaliated by doing a cruel but accurate impression of Hermione jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor McGonagall asked a question, which Lavender and Parvati found deeply amusing and which reduced Hermione to the verge of tears again.

This led Emily to slapping Ron across the head and screwing up two pieces of paper, launching them at the two girls head.

Hermione raced out of the classroom on the bell, leaving half her things behind; Emily, deciding that her need was greater than Ron's just now, scooped up her remaining possessions and followed her.

She finally tracked her down as she emerged from a girls' bathroom on the floor below. She was accompanied by Luna Lovegood, who was patting her vaguely on the back.

"Oh, hello, Emily," said Luna. "Did you know one of your eyebrows is bright yellow?"

"Hi, Luna. Hermione, you left your stuff. . . ."
She held out her books.

"Oh yes," said Hermione in a choked voice, taking her things and turning away quickly to hide the fact that she was wiping her eyes on her pencil case. "Thank you, Emily. Well, I'd better get going-"

" 'Mione, don't be stupid." Emily said, taking Hermione's  hand, "You don't have to hide from me. Talk to me."

"I don't really feel like talking, Emily." Hermione said.

And she hurried off, without giving Emily any time to offer words of comfort.

"She's a bit upset," said Luna. "I thought at first it was Moaning Myrtle in there, but it turned out to be Hermione. She said something about that Ron Weasley. . . ."

"Yeah, they've had a row," said Emily.

"He says very funny things sometimes, doesn't he?" said Luna, as they set off down the corridor together. "But he can be a bit unkind. I noticed that last year."

"I s'pose," said Emily. Luna was demonstrating her usual knack of speaking uncomfortable truths; she had never met anyone quite like her. "So have you had a good term?"

"Oh, it's been all right," said Luna. "A bit lonely without the D.A. Ginny's been nice, though. She stopped two boys in our Transfiguration class calling me 'Loony' the other day.

At dinner, Hermione was sitting alone, playing with her stew. Harry noticed Ron looking at her furtively.

"You could say sorry," suggested Harry bluntly.

"What, and get attacked by another flock of canaries?" muttered Ron.

"What did you have to imitate her for?"

"She laughed at my mustache!"

"So did I, it was the stupidest thing I've ever seen."

Emily had just appeared and when she saw Hermione sitting by herself, she gave Ron a glare and stormed over to Hermione, sitting opposite her.

She snatched the cutlery out of Hermione's hand and slammed it down on the table, "No, Hermione, you are not shutting away from me. Now, you are going to talk to me!"

When Hermione looked at Emily sadly and shook her head, Emily realised it was probably not the best idea to discuss it over dinner.

"Oh, hi, Hermione! Hi Emily!" Parvati positively beamed, sitting down the table beside Harry.

Emily and Hermione beamed back.

"Hi, Parvati!" said Hermione, ignoring Ron and Lavender completely. "Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

"No invite," said Parvati gloomily. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really good. . . . You're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight, and we're —"

There was a noise like a plunger being withdrawn from a blocked sink and Ron surfaced. Hermione acted as though she had not seen or heard anything.

"— we're going up to the party together."

"Cormac?" said Emily. "Cormac McLaggen, you mean?"

"That's right," said Hermione sweetly.  "The one who almost" — she put a great deal of emphasis on the word — "became Gryffindor Keeper."

"Are you going out with him, then?" asked Parvati, wide-eyed.

"Oh — yes — didn't you know?" said Hermione, with a most un-Hermione-ish giggle.

"No!" said Parvati, looking positively agog at this piece of gossip. "Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then McLaggen . . ."

"I like really good Quidditch players," Hermione corrected her, still smiling. "Well, see you . . . Got to go and get ready for the party. . . ."

"Not without me you aren't!" Emily shouted.

Up in the girls dormitory, Hermione sat behind Emily, helping her get her hair in a perfectly neat high pony.

"I know you like Ron." Emily blurted out.

Hermione coughed, "No I don't!"

"Oh come on, Hermione." Emily said, spinning around and looking up at Hermione, "You wouldn't be this upset about Lavender if he didn't!  We've never kept secrets from each other, we aren't starting now."

"Oh, fine!" Hermione spat out, knowing that Emily wouldn't drop the subject until Hermione admitted it, "I don't even realise it myself. It just upsets me. I don't even want to go to this stupid party without Ron."

Emily's face seemed to slowly move into a great grin, Hermione looked terrified.

"What?" Hermione asked, "What are you doing? What's happening?"

Emily let out a loud squeal before jumping up and wrapping her arms around Hermione, both of them falling to the floor.

"Emily!" Heroine shouted, "Stop get off!"

But Hermione's shouting soon turned to laughter, and Emily felt a warm feeling in her stomach, it was the first time in ages that she and Hermione shared a moment like this, where both of them were truly happy and laughing, having fun.

At eight o'clock that night, Emily left Hermione and found her way to the entrance hall.

She saw Harry waiting there and when he saw her, his jaw dropped. She wore a black tight dress that sat just above her knees, her hair tied on top of her head in a high pony, her makeup still natural but with extra effect.

"She-I-you-we-my word." Harry stuttered.

"You look nice." Emily started, knowing they would be here all night if she didn't.

"You too look beautiful." Harry said, pulling her in for a kiss "Shall we get going then?"

"Oh yes," she said happily. "Where is the party again?"

"Slughorn's office," said Harry, leading her up the marble staircase away from all the staring and muttering. "Did you hear, there's supposed to be a vampire coming?"

"Oh." Emily said, "Oh, that's so exiting!"

Harry smiled at Emily's excitement; they were already approaching Slughorn's office and the sounds of laughter, music, and loud conversation were growing louder with every step they took.

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study.

The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent.
The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.

"Harry, Emily!" boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as Harry and Emily had squeezed in through the door. "Come in, come in, so many people I'd like you to meet!"

Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. He squeezed himself in between Emily and Harry and gripped their arms so tightly he might have been hoping to Disapparate with them, Slughorn led them purposefully into the party.

"Harry, Emily, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires — and, of course, his friend Sanguini."

Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed Harrys hand first and then Emily's hand and shook them both enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited.

"Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!" said Worple, peering shortsightedly up into Harry's face. "I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, 'Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?' "

"Er," said Harry, "were you?"

"Just as modest as Horace described!" said Worple. "But seriously" — his manner changed; it became suddenly businesslike — "I would be delighted to write it myself — people are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four-or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your part, I assure you — ask Sanguini here if it isn't quite — Sanguini, stay here!" added Worple, suddenly stern, for the vampire had been edging toward the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye.

"Here, have a pasty," said Worple, seizing one from a passing elf and stuffing it into Sanguini's hand before turning his attention back to Harry.
"My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea —"

"I'm definitely not interested," said Harry firmly, "and I've just seen a friend of mine, sorry."

Harry went to pull Emily with him but Worple seized her arm and held her back, "Miss Lupin-Black, how fascinating your life truly is."

"It's alright, you can go." Emily said to Harry.

Worple pulled Emily aside and handed her a drink, "I would love to know more about your parents, and your brother, Eric Lupin-Black."

Emily handed the drink back to the man, "I have another brother as well, Ethan. But, I don't talk to strangers about my personal issues, so thank you for your interest but I am going now, have a good night."

Emily had just seen a long mane of brown hair disappear between what looked like two members of the Weird Sisters.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

"Emily! There you are, thank goodness!"

"What's happened to you?" asked Emily, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil's Snare.

"Oh, I've just escaped — I mean, I've just left Cormac," she said. "Under the mistletoe," she added in explanation, as Emily continued to look questioningly at her.

"Serves you right for coming with him," she told her severely.

"I thought he'd annoy Ron most," said Hermione dispassionately. "I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole —"

"You considered Smith?" said Emily, revolted.

"Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp look a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall. . . ."

The two of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way, realizing too late that Professor Trelawney was standing there alone.

"Hello," said Emily politely to Professor Trelawney.

"Good evening, my dear," said Professor Trelawney, focusing upon Luna with some difficulty.

Trelawney seemed a bit tipsy when she waddled away from the two girls and Emily giggled.

Emily drew closer to Hermione and said, "Let's get something straight. Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Do you really think I'd stoop that low?"

Emily looked at her shrewdly. "Hermione, if you can ask out McLaggen —"

"There's a difference," said Hermione with dignity. "I've got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts."

"Good," said Emily fervently. "Because he'll just fall apart again, and we'll lose the next match —"

"Quidditch!" said Hermione angrily. "Is that all people care about? Cormac hasn't asked me one single question about myself, no, I've just been treated to 'A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen' nonstop ever since — oh no, here he comes!"

She moved so fast it was as though she had Disapparated; one moment she was there, the next, she had squeezed between two guffawing witches and vanished.

"Seen Hermione?" asked McLaggen, forcing his way through the throng a minute later.

"No, sorry." Emily shrugged, "Maybe she's gone to talk to someone who she actually likes speaking to. I don't know. . .someone like Ron."

This comment didn't seem to faze McLaggen, instead he seemed to be staring at Emily with great interest, "I don't see your boyfriend here either. Maybe Hermione and him have gone somewhere alone together, why don't we?"

"Classy." Emily muttered.

She turned around and saw Harry walking toward her, she had never been more thankful to see that boy in her life.

harry and Emily tried to walk off but instead walked straight back into Trelawney once again.

"Harry Potter! My dear boy!" she said in a very carrying whisper. "The rumors! The stories! 'The Chosen One'! Of course, I have known for a very long time. . . . The omens were never good, Harry. . . . But why have you not returned to Divination? For you, of all people, the subject is of the utmost importance!"

"Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject's most important!" said a loud voice, and Slughorn appeared at Professor Trelawney's other side, his face very red, his velvet hat a little askew, a glass of mead in one hand and an enormous mince pie in the other. "But I don't think I've ever known such a natural at Potions!" said Slughorn, regarding Harry with a fond, if bloodshot, eye. "Instinctive, you know — like his mother! I've only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybill — why even Severus —"

And to Emily's horror, Slughorn threw out an arm and seemed to scoop Snape out of thin air toward them.

"Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!" hiccuped Slughorn happily. "I was just talking about Harry's exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!"

Trapped, with Slughorn's arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry and Emily, his black eyes narrowed.

"Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all."

"Well, then, it's natural ability!" shouted Slughorn. "You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of Living Death — never had a student produce finer on a first attempt, I don't think even you, Severus —"

"Really?" said Snape quietly, his eyes still boring into Harry and Emily, who felt a certain disquiet.

The last thing Emily wanted was for Snape to start investigating the source of Harry's newfound brilliance at Potions.

"Remind me what other subjects you're taking, Harry?" asked Slughorn.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology . . ."

"All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror," said Snape, with the faintest sneer.

"Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to do," said Harry defiantly.

"And a great one you'll make too!" boomed Slughorn.

"I need a drink." Emily sighed.

A man holding a golden try walked past, the drinks on the tray contained alcohol, the only alcohol Emily had ever tried was butter beer but this alcohol was much stronger.

Before anyone could see, she grabbed the drink and downed it, placing the now empty glass back on the tray.

When she turned around, her heart dropped when she saw Draco Malfoy being dragged by the ear toward them by Argus Filch.

"Professor Slughorn," wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?"

Malfoy pulled himself free of Filch's grip, looking furious.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" he said angrily. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"

"No, I'm not!" said Filch, a statement at complete odds with the glee on his face. "You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the headmaster say that nighttime prowling's out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?"

"That's all right, Argus, that's all right," said Slughorn, waving a hand. "It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco."

Filch's expression of outraged disappointment was perfectly predictable; but why, Harry wondered, watching him, did Malfoy look almost equally unhappy? And why was Snape looking at Malfoy as though both angry and . . . was it possible? . . . a little afraid?

But almost before Harry had registered what he had seen, Filch had turned and shuffled away, muttering under his breath; Malfoy had composed his face into a smile and was thanking Slughorn for his generosity, and Snape's face was smoothly inscrutable again.

"It's nothing, nothing," said Slughorn, waving away Malfoy's thanks. "I did know your grandfather, after all. . . ."

"He always spoke very highly of you, sir," said Malfoy quickly. "Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known. . . ."

Harry stared at Malfoy. It was not the sucking-up that intrigued him; he had watched Malfoy do that to Snape for a long time. It was the fact that Malfoy did, after all, look a little ill. This was the first time he had seen Malfoy close up for ages; he now saw that Malfoy had dark shadows under his eyes and a distinctly grayish tinge to his skin.

"I'd like a word with you, Draco," said Snape suddenly.

"Oh, now, Severus," said Slughorn, hiccuping again, "it's Christmas, don't be too hard —"

"I'm his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be," said Snape curtly. "Follow me, Draco."

They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful. Harry stood there for a moment, irresolute, then said, "I'll be back in a bit, Emily — er — bathroom."

Slughorn's face screwed up in confusion, he had no clue who Harry was talking to as Emily was no longer standing beside him.

Blaise stood amongst a group of girls who smiled up at him, all of them touching his arm flirtatiously.

But, his eyes travelled across the room and over to Emily who seemed to now be talking to Cormac.

"Have you been drinking?" Cormac asked as he saw Emily's eyes getting lost in the crowd, her arms swaying wildly at her side.

"Mm." Emily hummed.

She had never experienced a feeling like this before, it was almost as if she was on a cloud, a cloud that contained marshmallows and shot lazy thoughts into her head.

Cormac took the opportunity and seized her around the waist, leaning down and kissing her neck whilst whispering into her ear, "I always knew you were easy."

He guided her behind a curtain in the corner, restricted from everyone else's view as he tried to advance on Emily.

"Cormac." A high pitched voice said, their pitch sounding like they were trying to fake being excited, "I've been looking all over for you. I've just found an empty spot on the other side of the room underneath a mistletoe, would you wait over there for me?"

Cormac took the bait and instantly ran off, a grin on his face.

Emily still hadn't realised who it was until she slid down the wall and they fell by her side, supporting her weight. It was Hermione.

"Emily, why did you drink?" Hermione snapped, "Oh honestly, that boy needs sorting out , I'm going to speak to Harry about him."

"No!" Emily shouted but it came out more like a whisper, "Please don't leave me."

Hermione managed to get Emily back up to bed, sitting by her side and stroking her hair back as she cried into Hermione's arm for no particular reason.