Alright, Here's the update. Sorry if it gets a little fluffy/OOC at the end:

Enjoy!

The next morning, I wake up early to practice Quidditch. If I was really so behind, I would need all the practice I could get.

Shivering my way out of my pajamas and into my new Quidditch warm-ups, purchased from Spintwitches, I pulled on my fur-lined cloak and retrieved my broomstick from under my bed.

I made my way through the empty Common Room, into the corridors and outside onto the grounds. No one would dream of being up this early be out and about.

But when I got to the pitch, I saw another figure above me, a blur in the sky. I squinted, unable to make out who it was from the distance away I was. I decided to continue on; after all, I was already up and the Pitch was big enough for two people.

When I'd walked into the area, I mounted my broom, grabbing a practice Quaffle. I glanced up at the other person, who'd just dove into a spectacular spiral-dive, and realized that I was looking at Albus.

Didn't it figure. Did he have to be everywhere?

I decided that I was just going to ignore him and work on my drills. He was the one who had insulted my abilities, let him see me practice.

I mounted my broom, grabbed my practice Quaffle, and practiced my catching capabilities first, which I had to admit were pretty solid. And it may or not have been in the hopes that he was watching me do it.

After about a half hour, Albus loses altitude, clearly done for today. Dismounting, he walks past me in silence, clearly brooding from the tense, dark expression on his face.

"What's your problem?" I interrupt the silence that has taken over. If I'm going to be yelled at by all the Rose Weasleys' in the world, I may as well know what I'm doing wrong.

"What problem?" he speaks rather softly, carefully avoiding my gaze, instead focusing on peeling off his gloves.

"The problem that you so obviously have with me."

"I don't have an issue with you, Trotsky. I don't know you well enough."

"Which is your nice way of saying that you don't care."

"That's not true."

"Or saying that you don't want to care."

He stays silent.

I shake my head. There was no getting through to this guy. Grabbing my broom, I make for the sky again.

"Wait."

I turn to Albus. "What?"

"You want some help?"

"I'm fine," I muttered in clipped voice.

"Is that your nice way of saying that you don't want me here? Or that you don't want to want me here?"

I swiveled around to meet his eyes, hearing my own voice in his words. "Do you really want to help? Or are you just going to criticize me?"

He looks genuinely shocked. "I would never. What kind of a person do you think I am?"

I, quite wisely I thought, chose not to answer that question.

To my complete surprise, we managed to collaborate for the next hour. I taught him a few tricks that I'd learned through trial and error, but he ended up doing most of the teaching, showing me the exact place to put my hands on my broomstick for my height; how to do a Wronski Feint, which I'd definitely impressed him with my ability to do, and how to use Bludgers to my advantage instead of just dodging them.

We eventually flew down, the scent of breakfast gently wafting its way towards us.

Pulling down my leg warmers, I addressed Albus again. "Thanks," I said sincerely.

He turns to me, brushing a thick, wayward black curl out of his eyes, "It's not a problem. You're much better than I expected."

It's a half-assed compliment, but at this point I'd take what I could get with this prickly character, him being as cold and arrogant as humanly possible. Swallowing the urge to tell him that he'd been much worse, I settled on a simple, "Thanks."

We part ways after that, as I'm determined to have a shower before breakfast and he's determined to have breakfast, I was sure.

When I got to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, I was soon confused by the smile that Albus barely ghosted my way as I walked towards them. Surely I'd been imagining things.

I sat at my customary space beside Lily, and I didn't miss the wink that she shot me. So she knew.

I knew that she was blowing things way of of proportion. She'd clearly stuck to her guns on the whole 'Albus and Annalea' thing that only transpired inside of her head and not in any corporeal shape.

We settled in comfortably enough, I munching on my spring rolls, because who didn't have Chinese food for breakfast, and the others quietly chatting about the coursework they'd been assigned.

It was a pleasant breakfast, and I was glad for it. Drama wasn't my friend, and the amount that I had gotten myself into was alarming in and of itself.

So the day passed smoothly, Herbology and DADA coming and going without any trips to the Hospital Wing, lunch spent in camaraderie between Scorpius and myself out in the courtyard, no Potters to be found.

I found myself falling into a steady rhythm. In the mornings, I would practice Quidditch with Albus and sometimes James and Lily, who, for as much as she complained, seemed to genuinely enjoy the practice, and improved her skills every day. I knew that her parents were happy, because after the third week, Lily had been sent a Cleansweep Fifteen, a decent leisure broomstick. Then I would have breakfast with the Potters, go to classes (paired with Albus for group projects, for who else was there?), and then have lunch with Scorpius. After the rest of my classes, there would oftentimes be Quidditch again, homework, and then, thoroughly exhausted, an early bedtime that Lily would tease me relentlessly for, though I stuck fast to my bedtime.

There were, of course, slight variations to my set patterns, as life interferes often with unexpected occurrences and events. Sometimes we would sneak out to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer, or, when the Common Room was too loud, off to the Room of Requirement to study or read.

It was almost easy to forget that outside of my secure castle walls was Voldemort and his new generation of Death Eaters, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. However, those dark thoughts always vanished easily when we were doing something exciting and fun.

And exciting and fun life was. Albus, out of all of us, turned out to be the most intense prankster, and even though the teachers often turned a blind eye, everyone knew that it was him behind the plans.

Even with his cold demeanor, the ideas he had were outrageous. Putting fireworks into the pitchers of pumpkin juice at breakfast, turning the stairs into slides. His uncles, I was sure, were thrilled, if the amount of pranking materials that they sent to him were anything to go by. And it wasn't just his uncles, Peeves was overjoyed and met Albus at every strike, armed with water balloons and dropping various lights on unsuspecting students, causing more panic, hysteria, and laughter to abound on the population of Hogwarts, who weren't sure whether to grin or be terrified of the next event.

If I didn't know any better, I would have said that Albus was doing it to work against Voldemort in the only way that he could at the moment, by uplifting the spirits of Hogwarts, who now knew about the Dark Lord's third rising. I, myself, had taken to writing my father bi-weekly, assuring him of my safety, and had subscribed to the Daily Prophet, as untrustworthy as it may have been.

As our first Quidditch match against Ravenclaw approached rather rapidly, James and Albus worked us harder, whether rain, or on occasion, hail. Bearing through this, I thought, made practices all the harder than they already were, even with my extra practices every morning.

The Saturday morning of the first match was October first, dawning clear and bright. During our usual practice that morning, we were all rather quiet. James and Albus tense, I woozy and nervous, and Lily simply feeling our bad vibes.

Our session went alright, aside from Albus' short barks whenever we did anything wrong. Luckily for him, we knew to ignore it, or he would have found himself without friends nor family.

After a quick, terse practice that morning, the Gryffindor team congregated in the Common Room, anxiously glancing at the clock every so often, trying to do homework.

By half past twelve, however, I'd had enough. Standing up, I left the room, heading for the Room of Requirement.

It had truly outdone itself when I paced past it three times and the door knob appeared. The room was perfect.

Soft firelight bathed the room in a warm, earthy glow, the largest bed I'd ever seen taking up much of the space, with satiny white coverlet and blood red bedskirts, bedecked in delicate, peachy rose petals.

The largest bookshelf that I'd ever seen outside of a library was taking up the entire wall, and the floor under my feet was thick with ivory rugs, the rough fibers feeling delightful under my sore toes.

Sighing loudly, I settled down onto the bed, which sunk deeply under my weight to engulf my suddenly tiny frame.

Lazily summoning a book with my wand, I laid there, reading a muggle romance called the Hunger Games.

It actually proved to be an interesting story, one full of action and adventure, contained in separate districts where family came first and you would do anything to protect them. It was rather lovely.

All of a sudden, the wooden door creaked open.

I bolted upright, "Who's there?"

"Me," and to my utter shock, Albus walks in, looking completely unperturbed by what's going on.

I must be staring at him like he's crazy, because he goes sarcastic as he's prone to when irritated, or, my brain whispers, when he's nervous. I promptly tell it to shut up. "What? Remember me?"

"No," I draw out the word. "Who are you, again?"

He rolls his eyes, walking over to me, where I am still wearing my white shirt and black, woolen tights. Luckily, my shirt's long, and covers what the tights don't see fit to.

I swallow as he stands over me, suddenly recurring all of the accidental touches, the taunting words that only bit skin deep, and the eye he had always seemed to have on me during practice. It came in little spurts, so that each little thing over the past month equated to much more that I'd thought it had.

Taking off his cloak, he speaks briskly, as if this is a perfectly normal occurrence over tea and biscuits. "Scoot over."

"What?" I ask uncomprehendingly.

He sighs, seeming aggravated. "Are you just particularly dense today? Move. Over."

I open my mouth to respond furiously, but nothing comes out.

Sighing loudly at my unresponsiveness, he sits beside me, body lining mine.

I, being the sensible person I am, move to stand up. There's an armchair on the other side of the room, and, while it may not be nearly as comfortable as what the bed was, it was distinctly Albus-less, which was all I wanted anyways.

What catches me off guard is the strong arm that is placed about my waist, anchoring me and pulling me back down. I give a startled yelp, the hand holding me seeming to burn at my flesh. "What are you doing?"

Looking up at me innocently, he says, "What?"

"You know exactly what," I reply, not fooled by the way his eyes have gotten big and his lower lip is jutting out in a pout.

When the said arm still refuses to budge, I relent, sitting back down, hoping it would move itself away from me. No such thing happens, if anything, it grows tighter, as if to make sure that I won't up and fly away.

"What are you reading?" he eventually asks as I continue to read as if nothing unusual is occurring. For some reason, it isn't working, my eyes wandering over the same paragraph over and over, the words on the page nowhere near as enthralling as they had been earlier.

Damn him. Damn him to the deepest pits of hell.

Unusually persistent, he prods my side. "Well?"

"What is this? One of your famous pranks?" I'm past cross by now, by both him and my inability to want to move away from him.

"Nope," he says cheerfully. Giving up on asking me, he tilts the cover of my book. "Oh, I've read that one."

I eye him skeptically. "Right."

Either he doesn't hear the skepticism in my voice, or he's just ignoring it.

I return to my book, trying not to lean into Albus' intoxicating warmth, even though he clearly has no qualms with it, moving both arms to encircle my waist, head on my shoulder and slow breaths in my ear, blowing my hair into my face.

"Just relax, Anna," he says, voice soft and deep, "You're much too tense."

"Wondering why?" I can't help the sarcasm that leaks into my voice.

He shakes his head. "You wound me."

"You don't know the meaning. Seriously, did someone slip you something?"

"Do I look like someone 'slipped me something'?"

"Can't see you," I replied.

He exhales again. "Cheeky."

"That's me."

"You are quite an interesting specimen."

"How so?" Mistake.

"Kissing guys to get the upper hand in a duel? That's plenty interesting, as well as very unfair."

"I won, didn't I?"

"Not by much. Dirty, foul trick."

"You're still upset, aren't you?"

"No."

"Yes." I lean back into his chest, because he's just so comfortable. "You wouldn't have brought it up otherwise. Admit it."

"Nope. I thought nothing of it, but the rest of the castle did."

"Whatever," I reply, dropping the subject, not wanting to get into whether or not it was something to think about. "Why are you here again?"

"To remind you about Quidditch, obviously!"

"We have another hour."

"It doesn't hurt to be prepared."

"Right," I cross my arms over my chest. "You're warm."

"You're cold."

As odd a situation as this is, it's comforting. I'm seeing the lighter side of him today, the one I'd been trying to coax out for the past month, because, as much as he'd like to believe otherwise, he's just as vulnerable as the rest of us.

I could tell that he was scared by his emotions. Didn't want like them, didn't want them, didn't need them. That had been the secret, gently unlocking each of those emotions and letting the outside world see them from underneath the great facade.

It had been a glorious morning, when, in Herbology, I'd actually gotten him to laugh, a honey butter, rich, resonating sound. It had shocked me, and not just me, but the rest of the class as well, who looked at him with something akin to shock.

He pulls the blanket closer around me, bundling us up in the warmth.

"You do realize that the only reason that this is happening is because you're like a space heater, right?"

"What's a space heater?"

I roll my eyes. "Warm. You're warm."

"Are you sure that's the only reason?"

I can hear the smirk playing across his lips. "Quite sure. Now shut up before I change my mind."

Hearing no further noises, I check my watch, making sure that we have time before the game, and settle back into my book, burrowing further into the perfect Annalea shaped space under his arm, my legs entangled in his.

I read, and Albus fell asleep, head bent into my shoulder, silky black curls tickling my cheek.

I sighed, this was not the way I'd seen today going. My head tried to deny that this wasn't an intimate position at all, that the warm feelings in my stomach where nothing, and that the boy beside me, the arrogant, cocky Potter Albus, meant absolutely nothing to me.

Right. Of course I was right!

I returned to my book, shifting my weight slightly, careful not to nudge Albus too much.

Yawning, I fought to keep my eyes open as they fluttered, finally succumbing to the sweet call of sleep.

Alright, thanks for reading! If you liked this fic, please feel free to leave me, even just a one word review-I mean it. I'll jump up and down anyway.

If you didn't, well, tell me that too :) I wanna know.

Till Next Update:

Brenda