Together (A Harry Potter love story) 3

25

MILLIES POV

I didn't have a very clear idea of how I managed to get back to the castle once more. All I knew was that the return trip seemed to take no time at all, and that I hardly noticed what I was doing because my head was still pounding with the conversation I had just heard.

Why had nobody ever told me? Or Harry? Mum, Dumbledore, Hagrid, Mr Weasley, Cornelius Fudge...why hadn't anyone ever mentioned the fact that Harry's parents had died because their best friend had betrayed them?

I understood why Dad hadn't, as it was obvious that he was still be scarred from that night. At first, I had considered sending an owl and asking some questions, but then I realised how pointless that would be - I got my stubbornness from my Dad - there was no way on Earth I would get him to write about something like this in a letter.

I sat at the Hufflepuff table at dinner with Elwood, hoping for a distraction, but none came. Harry didn't even come into the Hall. When I went upstairs to the crowded common room, it was to find Fred and George had set off half a dozen Dungbombs in a fit of end-of-terms high spirits. I didn't want Fred and George calling me over like usual, so I sneaked quietly up to the empty dormitory, and headed straight for my bedside cabinet. I pushed my books aside and quickly found what I was looking for - the photo-frame that Hagrid had given me two years ago, which held a photo of my Dad in the school grounds when he had been a student at Hogwarts - a photo of my Dad with four other boys...

I sat down on my bed, drew the hangings around me, and looking down.

There was Dad waving up at me, beaming, alight with happiness, his arms strewn around two of the boys...I had never given them a thought before.

One of them had untidy black hair and glasses, so resembling my boyfriend that I had to look twice - James Potter. He was grinning, too, nudging a smaller boy - Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew was giggling childishly, watching James in complete awe. On the other end, a boy with light brown hair sat, smiling, and looking extremely relaxed with the four other boys - he looked strangely familiar, but I couldn't put my finger in it. I then forced myself to look at the boy who Dad had his other arm wrapped around...

If I hadn't known it was the same person, I would never have guessed it was Black in this old photograph. His face wasn't sunken and waxy, but handsome, full of laughter. Had he already been thinking about the Dark Arts when this picture had been taken? Was he already planning the death of James Potter?

The Dementors don't affect him, I thought, staring into the handsome, laughing face.

My heart panged painfully as I observed the photograph; if only these five young boys had known their fate...and then it hit me.

Lupin.

The dormitory door opened as I pulled the hangings around my bed back and stood up hastily.

"Millie?" said Mione uncertainly.

"Mione!" I shoved the picture back into my drawer. "I'll be back in a bit, okay? I need to go and talk to-"

"No, you can't!" Mione said, grabbing my arm as I went to run past her.

I turned to her impatiently. "What, why? Mione, you don't understand, I need to go and see-"

"Millie," Mione breathed, shaking her head. "Please listen to me. Ron just tried to talk to Harry and he ignored him. He's upset, Millie, you need to go and talk to him."

I paused, staring at the door. I felt a wash of guilt run over me - if I was feeling bad, it was nothing to the way Harry must be feeling right now. I nodded at Mione, pushing Lupin out of my head - I would have to wait. Without another word, I left the room and crossed the small landing to the third-year boy's dormitory. I let out a short breath, before pushing the door open.