Molly's plan had been the same plan she had the night of the party. Stay out of it. She had no stakes involved in anything that had happened the night before. It didn't involve her, she had no responsibility over anyone but herself. She knew this. She had lived her entire life with this mantra, with this comfortable distance between herself and the rest of the world, and she had always enjoyed the invisible veil between her and everyone else, keeping her from reaching out and feeling like she was apart of the living.
But she had been bothered.
She found herself disappointed in Apollo, angry with Margo, unsettled by Christian, guilty about Charlotte. The guilt, that was the bit that was strangest of all. She had accepted her strange loyalties to the twins, and no one could deny her intimacy (as much as she could have) with Margo. But her relationship with Charlotte had always been one-sided and reluctant, and the few times she worked to make it a mutual acquaintanceship had been more to humor Charlotte than because of actual driving emotion.
So why did she feel guilty?
She wasn't responsible for Charlotte. The other girl was grown, she could have said no to alcohol, and if she knew she didn't want to lose control, she could have skipped the party. She was always going on about her school record and wanting to be Little Miss Perfect - why had she even been there? And she certainly wasn't responsible for Margo. Margo being insensitive to what was best for the people around her did not reflect on Molly.
But she still felt so shameful when she ran into the Jericho boy.
She had skipped breakfast and gone to her first class early, trying to finish up an essay before classes began. The signs of the hangovers were heavy in some of her classmates, especially Julian who seemed to be more than happy to bear the signs of a successful party. Molly didn't look around, glad when Apollo Zabini sat next to her before Margo could - who seemed more than happy to force her way between the Yaxley brothers.
But it did strike her that Charlotte wasn't there. She glanced around and almost asked Christian if he knew where she was - but she swallowed the question, feeling ill at ease when she did so, and instead asked one of their dormmates.
"I think she's still in bed. She didn't go to breakfast."
Molly had been really good about not skipping class. Not because she felt any sort of moral obligation to attend classes (having ditched almost half of her classes just the year before) but because she enjoyed the excuse to be left alone in class, to be spared the dribble and gossip usually laid against her ears when she chose to do something else.
So why was she considering abandoning that chosen peace to track down Charlotte Waldorf, who would almost certainly guarantee her a headache.
And yet, while her classmates turned towards the dungeons for Potions or the grounds for Care of Magical Creatures, she headed upstairs for the common room, answering the riddle with a murmur, and slipping inside.
There was Charlotte, sitting in the common room. Molly immediately dropped her gaze as she crossed to take a seat in an armchair, reaching into her bag for a book, doubt trickling into her head.
She didn't know what to say. She never had anything to say.
"Hey."