The rest of the spring passed in one great rush, as if a fast forward button had been hit on Scorpius' life. The one thing that remained entirely certain, it seemed, was the prospect of his first set of final exams looming large in the future.

Hogwarts students all seemed to have different ways of dealing with the tension that the impending tests thrust upon them.

Most of the older year students, having already taken exams at least once, studied casually in their common rooms at night, chatting with each other all the while. Only the harried fifth and seventh years, about to take the OWLS and NEWTS, seemed to match the first years in their frenzied studying.

Some older students, though, as Scorpius quickly learned, liked to use frightened first years as both literal and emotional punching bags to relieve their stress.

"Oi, Malfoy," he heard a voice call one night. "I heard about your grandfather." Scorpius turned to see Avery Collins, third year, bellowing at him across the common room. Collins sat with a circle of his own friends, among whom was James Potter, Albus' older brother.

Scorpius set his jaw, and turned back to Albus and Rose, both of whom were looking at him with concern.

"Watch out for Collins, mate," Albus muttered to him. "He's James' best friend, and oldest. I've known him since I can remember. He's not a bad bloke most of the time, but if he doesn't like you, he'll make your life hell."

"He has no reason not to like me," Scorpius muttered back through clenched teeth, trying desperately to ignore the sniggering third years and concentrate on Transfiguration, in which he was struggling. "I've never even met him."

"I know, but his uncle was killed in the war," Albus said, with a meaningful look. Even without details, the significance was clear. Scorpius wondered rather morbidly whether it was Lucius or Bellatrix that had done this uncle in.

"Decided to do the world a favor and finally snuff it, eh?" Collins was calling now. Most of his friends were snickering behind him, patting him on the back and giving encouragement, but James was looking uneasily at Scorpius, obviously uncomfortable that both his brother and his cousin were glaring at him.

Scorpius turned back to transfiguration again. "Just ignore him," he said, since Albus's hands were clenched and Rose looked like she wanted to spit fire. "I always do."

But Rose had already shoved her own essay aside and stridden across the room, and now she was standing in front of Collins with her feet planted and her hands on her hips.

"I don't like your tone, Avery Collins," she said, in a voice that was deathly quiet and filled with malice.

"What's it to you, Weasley," he shot back.

"Doesn't your mum work at the Ministry, Collins?" Rose asked, still speaking in a voice that, while barely above a whisper, carried to Scorpius all the way across the room. Perhaps that was because the common room had gone silent the moment she had stalked over to confront Collins. "With Draco Malfoy?"

Collins was starting to look uneasy. "Yeah, so?"

"Rose," James started quietly, but she spun on him, throwing him a withering look that clearly indicated that she considered him an insect of the nastiest sort and was seriously considering smashing him.

"Not a word, Potter," she spat, "Or I'll owl your mum about all this, and you'll be in for the flogging of a lifetime when you get home. Not to mention what my mum'll do to you. They're both rather fond of Scorpius." Scorpius himself knew that this was something of an overstatement, for while both Rose's and Albus's mums had stood up for him to their own children, they had yet to actually meet him. Still, James sunk back in his seat, chastised, and Rose turned back to Collins as if her cousin didn't exist.

"So," she continued, "She's rather fond of him, as a colleague. And she loves Astoria Malfoy, too, I think. That's what she was saying last year, at least, after the garden party Astoria threw. I don't think she would be entirely happy to learn that, not only are you mocking Draco's father's death, for which he's grieving, but you are also tormenting his son."

Collins had stood now, and was glaring down at Rose, for he was almost two heads taller than she was. "Yeah? And how's she going to find out, Weasley?"

Scorpius was torn between wanting to avert his eyes from what was sure to be a total disaster and being unable to look away.

If Rose was intimidated by the much larger boy, she didn't show it. She merely took a step forward, so they were nose to chest, stared him straight in the eye, and said, "She was always prodigiously fond of me when she saw me at the Potter's, Collins. I really don't think she'd mind a letter from the little girl who always admired her so as an outstanding role model." She shot him a winning grin, turned, and flounced away, patting James on the head as she went.

"Merlin, Rosie," Al breathed after she sat back down. "That was amazing! He's still flabbergasted that a tiny first year could tell him off like that. Either that, or he's still trying to figure out what 'prodigiously' means. With a face like that, it's hard to tell." The three of them swiveled as one, looking back over at Collins, who did indeed look as if he should be scratching his head in confusion.

"Yes, well," Rose said breezily, "something had to be done, hadn't it? Proof my essay, Scorp?" And the subject was dropped.

Rose herself went from frantically studying one minute, and berating the boys for not doing the same, to joining them the next for a game of Wizard's Chess (which Scorpius always won) or Exploding Snap.

"It's her parents," Albus said to Scorpius in a low voice one night, as they watched her frantically read through her color coded notes a table over. "They're warring inside her."

The night before, she had heaped all those same notes into one messy stack, saying "Bugger Charms," and joining Albus and Scorpius for a game of Chess. She might have done the same this evening, if the very beautiful and highly intimidating Victoire Weasley hadn't walked by as they were setting out the chess board and said, rather distractedly, for she was reading a letter, "Hello Rose, Albus. Rose, I'd thought you'd be studying." Rose had sat up with a start, flushed deep red, said "I'm so stupid!" and rushed off to reorganize her notes.

"This is her mum," Albus was saying now, jerking a chin in Rose's direction, for she was now thumbing wildly through her massive Transfiguration book. "She's saying," and here, Albus adopted a very high and squeaky voice, "don't you want to do well, Rose? Don't you want to succeed? You know you should have been studying for months now, only four weeks left, you mustn't slack off now. What would become of you if you weren't top of the class?" Albus broke off with a cough; evidentially the screeching falsetto was difficult for him to sustain. "Sometimes, though," he went on in his normal voice," it's her dad." Now he switched to a deep, ringing bass voice, "Why study, Rosie? You don't need to, especially not with brains like yours. You could ace those exams with half your brain tied behind your back. You have much better things to do than schoolwork."

"You're exaggerating," Scorpius said, laughing at Al's antics. Rose shot him a glare, for apparently their joviality was disturbing her quiet.

"Maybe a bit," Al admitted, his voice hoarse from his playacting. "But that's pretty much how they see it. And they do have loads of rows, dead useful for entertainment, really."

"They argue?" Scorpius said, a bit shocked. Somehow he had always imagined that the Golden Trio's lives would be perfect, full of sunshine and rainbows, and even the occasional daisy, but certainly not marital strife.

"Yeah," Albus said, "But not because they actually disagree on anything, or are irritated by each other, or anything like that. They're actually disgustingly in love, they snog all the time." He made a small face, for he clearly didn't think that married couples should be snogging, especially not where others might see them. Scorpius was rather inclined to agree with him; he had never actually seen his parents do what might be described as 'snogging,' but the idea rather disgusted him. "That's the only reason they argue, I suspect," Albus said with a cheeky grin. "I think they like making up." He elbowed Scorpius in the ribs meaningfully.

"If you two can't shut up," Rose hissed, whirling on them, her hair crazier than ever and her cheeks flushed, "will you kindly take your highly intellectual discussion somewhere else?"

Albus, too, studied in spurts, but never with the intensity that Rose did. It was more like he always knew that he should be studying, but could rarely work up the energy to do so.

For his part, Scorpius mostly studied when Rose did, joined occasionally by Albus, for he had found it much more enjoyable to study with a friend. He felt fairly confident in all his subject matters, especially with Rose's help, and was never unhappy when her sudden ardor for a subject died away and she proposed a night off.

And then, just as quickly as early spring had passed, late spring had passed too, the exams were over, they had all passed (Scorpius with grades just trailing Rose's, who had achieved top of the class, to no one's surprise, Albus with marks that were decent enough to take home to his parents and be sure that they wouldn't be disappointed), and the last weeks of school were upon them, spent lounging in the common room or along the banks of the Black Lake, and then the train was there to take him home, and Scorpius realized with a jolt that he would see neither Rose nor Albus for almost three months.

"It's been a good year, hasn't it," Rose sighed as she sat with the two boys in the same compartment they had sat in on the first day of school.

They both murmured their assent, since the trolley witch had just passed and they were all entering the delightfully drowsy state that comes with warm air and good food.

And then the train was actually pulling into the station, and Scorpius saw his parents, standing a little ways off to the side, and the Potter-Weasley clan, large and raucous as usual.

And then they had climbed off the train, Scorpius clutching Orion's cage in one hand, and he was being welcomed home with hugs from both his mother and his father, and over their shoulders, he saw that Rose and Albus were receiving the same treatment.

Draco had the trunk, then, and with Scorpius still clutching his owl, they made to depart through the barrier back to King's Cross Station.

"Scorpius, wait!"

He turned, to see Rose escaping the arms of one red-haired relative only to be pulled into the embrace of another. She shot him a comic glance, clearly indicating that as much as she would like to run to him, it was simply impossible.

"Scorpius?" It was his mother's voice now, soft in his ear, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Rose. "We have a dinner engagement with your grandmother," she reminded him, "we shouldn't be late."

And just as Scorpius was turning in resignation, Rose finally broke free, ran to him, and threw her arms around him. "Write to me," she whispered in his ear, just as he returned her embrace, and then she was backing away from him, giving him one last cheerful wave as she turned to her family.

He turned back to his parents, both of whom were looking at him with a rather odd expression, somewhere between pride and disapproval. "Ready?" Draco asked him.

Scorpius nodded, still smiling at the memory of Rose's hug. "I'm ready."