Fourth Year

"Albus please, will you at least blink so I know that you're alive?" Isla snapped.

Albus looked at her, blinking distractedly around the deserted library.

"Eh?" He said.

"You've been staring in to space for the past ten minutes," Isla explained, "What's wrong?"

Albus sighed. Isla, a Muggle born Ravenclaw girl, was his second closest friend. They had first struck up a friendship in Defence Against the Dark Arts when she had hit Albus with a Giggling Hex so powerful that he had spent the whole night rolling around a bed in the Hospital Wing in fits of laughter. She was an extremely clever witch, if not a little cynical and sarcastic. However Isla was the only person in the whole world that Albus knew would tell him how it was.

"Scorpius has been avoiding me for the past week," Albus explained, "I don't know what I've supposed to have done wrong. He won't speak to me properly, and even then I have to practically corner him to get a word out of him. It's a miracle if he even passes me an ingredient in Potions."

Isla frowned. "He hasn't been off with me," She said. Since Isla spent so much time with Albus, she had become close to Scorpius too.

"Maybe something's gone on at home?" Albus suggested.

"I don't think it's that," Isla shook her head, "He would have said."

"Then Merlin knows," Albus mumbled. He rested his head on his arm, closing his eyes as if wishing he could shut off everything else just as easily.

"Maybe it's because he knows you're in love with him," Isla said in an offhand sort of way.

Albus jumped up so violenty he sent a stack of books by his elbow flying. He stared at Isla, stunned. "What do you mean, he knows I'm in love with him?" He cried. Isla raised an eyebrow.

"So you don't deny it then," She observed.

"Fine," Albus snapped, "Maybe I do like him. A bit."

"A lot," Isla argued, "I'm one of your best friends, Al. Plus I'm a girl. So it was kind of obvious to me."

Albus groaned. "I don't know what to do. I never set out to like him, it just happened. I've tried to switch it off but I just can't."

"Of course you can't," Isla said wisely, "This is love we're talking about, not a television."

"A what?" Albus said blankly.

"Never mind," Isla shook her head, "I'll speak to him."

"No! You can't," Albus cried.

"It's the only way," Isla retorted, "Don't worry, I'll word it carefully."

"I'm sure you will," Albus snorted. Isla's idea of careful was usually waiting a few seconds longer before getting to the point. She gathered up her books, winked at Albus, then flitted from the library. Albus put his head in his hands, running his long fingers through his thick brown hair.

He just couldn't see this going well.