24/04/2018

Rage Flows
Bad weather, pain and tension
The young girl in the mirror
Checking out her scars
But she's never going to live
One second of life
Until she lets the rage flow
Swaps it for the paranoia

She was late leaving her dormitory, as she often was. Evenings usually found it empty as Chandra would be with Connor Davies, and Elena, Sue and Kim would be out somewhere. She liked those hours; she liked being alone.

Descending the stairs to the common room, she found it was packed to the brim with students. It was the last night of term, which always gave way to some form of activity in Gryffindor tower. This evening James and Finlay lad snuck in a cask of fire whiskey and were sharing it around the sixth and seventh years. She hurried through the crowd, not wanting to be seen by Xan or Finlay who she knew would coax her into drinking, and climbed out of the portrait hole.

'Weasley.'

She looked around. There, at the end of the passageway getting to his feet, was Scorpius Malfoy. It had been almost a month since the evening they had spent looking for James, and it seemed that it had given rise to a mutual attempt to pretend the other didn't exist.

She considered turning on her heel and walking away, but suspicion held her in place. 'What are you doing here?'

'I've been waiting for you and Potter to leave the common room. We need to talk.'

'Well, Albus is in the library and I'm late for prefect duty, so it's a nice offer but goodbye.'

She turned away and started along down the corridor. In her curiosity she wasn't at all determined to leave it there, and so when she heard his hurried footsteps start after her she made no attempt to evade him.

'We have a problem,' he hissed at her. 'About what happened in November.'

'Lots of things happened in November. You'll have to be more specific.'

'For fuck's sake, Weasley, I'm serious.'

'Fine. But be quick about it, I need to go.'

'Not here,' he told her irritably, and he gestured for her to follow him. She did so, but not before closing her hand around her wand in her pocket. He led her down the first flight of stairs and ducked into the first empty classroom he found, and she followed him inside.

'So, what?' she asked.

'Shut the door.'

'Oh, for Merlin's sake.' She did as he asked, rolling her eyes. 'What's the terrible problem?'

Scorpius perched himself on the professor's desk. She noticed now, looking at him closely, that he appeared anxious. His pointed face was even more sallow than usual, dark bags hanging under his eyes.

'Zaina's been asking about that night,' he informed her. 'She wants to know where I was.'

Rose was silent for a moment, frowning in thought, before she said slowly, 'That sounds more so like you have a problem, rather than we have a problem.'

'Keep telling yourself that, because she says if I don't tell her where I was she's going to the teachers.'

Rose raised her eyebrows. 'Is she your girlfriend or your master?'

'Don't think she won't. She's been going on about it for weeks.'

'God, Malfoy, do you really need me to solve this for you? Tell her you were in detention.'

'I did tell her that. She doesn't believe me. She thinks I was out in the grounds with some girl.'

'Well, how did she get to the conclusion?'

'There were leaves in my hair.'

Rose gave a sniff of laughter. 'Well done.'

'It's not funny! If she turns me over I'm not taking the blame alone.'

'Why can't you just tell her you snuck out of the castle and explain you came looking for James?'

'She won't believe that. Why would I want to find James Potter?'

'Very good question. Why did you?'

'That's not the point.'

'Fine. Goodbye, then.' And with that Rose turned back to the door and pulled it open, only to have it snap shut again in front of her. She rounded on Malfoy to find him aiming his wand at the door.

'Don't point your wand at me,' she warned him.

'I'm pointing it at the door, not at you.' But he never the less stowed it away in his pocket. 'I want you to tell Potter that he needs to tell her we were in detention the whole time.'

'Why should we do any favours for you when you can't tell us why you followed us out of the castle?' she asked him. 'Why did you want to know where James was?'

Scorpius hesitated, scrutinising her from across the room before he looked away. 'If you must know I was hoping to turn him over and get him taken off the Quidditch team.'

'I don't believe you.'

'Why not? It's the truth.'

'Because if that was true you would have gone to the teachers already.'

'Well, I changed my mind, okay? I'd rather win the House Cup properly. I know you love being right, Weasley, but it's not that big of a mystery.'

'Like I said, I don't believe you, so I guess there's no point discussing it,' she informed him. 'I'm leaving now, and I'm getting my wand out so don't try and stop me.'

He heeded her warning and gave no further protest as she took out her wand and left the room. She hurried down the stairs through Gryffindor tower. She was properly late now, and she was furious. She was furious with Scorpius Malfoy for being the way he was, but more so she was furious with herself for letting herself dwell on it; she was used to having people at school degrade her, but it was the audacity of Malfoy to deceive them and then expect them to help him.

Because whatever he said, she knew he didn't want James off the team; he was after something, and she wanted to know what it was.

'You're late.'

She didn't know why Mei Zhao bothered to say this anymore; she had been late to every prefect patrol since the beginning of term.

'I was studying,' she replied, as she did every time Mei critiqued her tardiness.

'Well, then we'll need to do an extra five minutes at the end of shift.'

They had this conversation every week. 'Well, you can go and I'll do the extra five minutes alone.'

Mei pursed her lips and they started walking.

'We need to be extra cautious of kids sneaking out,' Mei told her after fifteen minutes of silence. 'My common room was mad; it's always like that on the last day of term.'

Under other circumstances, Rose probably would have given some form of retort; this evening, however, she held her tongue. The opportunity had presented itself.

She turned to Mei and said as loftily as she could, 'I was talking to Hamish the other day and we both think we need to do something about students leaving the common room after curfew. What do the Ravenclaw prefects do about it?'

'We don't really have that problem,' said Mei. 'Traditionally Ravenclaws have always been better behaved the Gryffindors.

'Well, I've definitely seen Malfoy out after curfew,' said Rose. 'Have you ever asked him where he goes?'

Mei was silent for a moment in thought before she replied matter-of-factly, 'You're unbelievable, Weasley.'

'Pardon me?'

'You're still trying to get Malfoy thrown off the Quidditch team. First you force Albus into asking me about it and when you're not satisfied with his attempt you decide to badger me.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'Well, forget it: I'm not helping you get him in trouble. I'd prefer it if we just finished the patrol in silence.'

'Fine with me.' And they did just that.

Patience was not something that came easily to Dominique Weasley. She was passive and submissive and timid and impressionable, but she had a huge capacity for frustration, and nothing made her more frustrated than waiting.

One hour, she told himself as she scribbled upon the memos before her. One hour and that's it.

She had a two-week break over Christmas. It wasn't much, but for somebody who loathed their job as Dominique loathed hers, it was an exponential blessing. The two-weeks would be dominated by applying for new jobs and finding a flat to move into, or at least that's what she told herself. Something in her life needed to change, and seeming she had been unable to change herself in all of her eighteen years, it would need to be her job and living situation.

'What are you writing so furiously?'

She dropped her quill at the sound of Teddy's voice. That type of response was something that she definitely needed to change, but it was perhaps the thing she most incapable of. She looked up at him; his hair was long today, reaching his shoulders and coloured Hufflepuff canary yellow.

'Just memos,' she told him hurriedly. 'How are you?'

'Bored,' he sighed. 'They've delayed most of our projects until the Ministry starts up again after the break. I'll be on call though, but there's not much to do other than sit around waiting.'

She gave him a sorry smile as he sat down upon her desk. 'That sounds dull.'

'It is. So I've been shopping.'

'Oh, that's nice.'

'It is. And I got you a present.'

'Me?'

'Don't look so surprised. I'm not that bad of a friend, am I?'

'No, of course not… only...'

Only Victoire.

'…only I didn't get you anything,' she told him.

'Forget it. You're busy lately, what with all the Wizengamot bullshit.' He reached into the pocket of his trousers and withdrew a small, red box, wrapped in a gold ribbon. He set it down on the table before her, smiling. 'Here: you deserve it.'

'Oh, Teddy,' she said, picking the tiny box up in her hand. 'I don't want to open it. It's so pretty.'

'If I had known that I would have just gotten you the box and saved the galleons. Come on, Dom, open it.'

Gingerly, she set the box back down on the table as if she was handling something very fragile. With shaking hands she undid the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box, to reveal a delicate gold chain, adorned with a gleaming ruby pendant. She lifted it out of the box, gazing up at the gemstone.

Don't cry, she told herself furiously.

She cleared her throat. 'Oh, Teddy…'

'Do you like it?'

'I love it.'

'Put it on then.'

She tried to but, looping the chain around her neck, she found her hands too unsteady to do up the clasp. Teddy got to his feet and moved behind her chair. She felt his gentle hands sweep her hair back and her skin erupted in goose bumps. His warms fingers grazed her spine as he fastened the necklace.

'There,' he said, stepping around to face her. 'Looks good.'

'I feel terrible,' she said in a small voice. 'I don't have anything for you.'

'Just promise you'll stay all the way through the evening at Christmas, okay?'

Guilt sprung upon her. For the last few years, she had usually snuck off during dinner at the Burrow, inventing some lie about needing to meet friends. She didn't have any friends close enough to want to spend Christmas with her,, and would instead return to Shell Cottage to relish in her solitude, leaving Teddy and Victoire at the Burrow with the rest of the family.

'Okay, I promise,' she told him.

'Good. So what's happened when the Wizengamot convened? Did Rowle's laws go through?'

Dominique bit her lip. 'I'm not supposed to say. Harry hasn't made a statement for the press yet.'

'Oh, right. I was just wondering.'

'Well, you can't tell anyone,' she said, lowering her voice so nobody else in the busy room could hear. 'The changes to the Hogwarts curriculum were rejected, but the lock-out laws went through. No groups of four or more in Magical towns and no more than two people out together after one in the morning.'

Teddy looked aghast. 'That's insane. That's an invasion of human rights.'

'He justified it to the Wizengamot by saying it's only temporary,' said Dominique glumly. 'Only until the Ministry finds out what's going on with the anti-Pureblood stuff.'

'What's to find out? People hate Rowle and the other fascists. No big mystery.'

'Teddy,' said Dominique, trying to sound stern. 'A lot of people got hurt in Hogsmeade.'

'Well, yeah, but that might not even be connected to the vandalism. If people want to protest Rowle then they should be allowed to.'

Dominique remained silent. It was hard not to agree with Teddy.

'So, anyway,' he continued, 'let's talk about something more uplifting. Do you get any time off for Christmas?'

'Yep, two weeks.'

'Nice one. Does the whole Auror Office close?'

'It's supposed to, yeah.'

'But what about the field officers? Are they on call?'

'Yep, same as you. Plus, Harry will have a few stationed at the homes of the Head of Departments and the Minister's staff. Just to keep the media happy, basically.'

'He thinks of everything, doesn't he? So how many memos have you got left?'

'Just a few.'

'How about you finish them in the pub and I buy you a drink?'

'Oh, Teddy, I shouldn't.'

'Yeah, but at the same time you definitely should.'

It wasn't possible. She told herself it wasn't possible. Teddy had been with Victoire since he was fifteen years old. She was the only girl he had ever loved. They were made from each other, forged from the same matter. What right did Dominique have to intervene?

And yet, here was Teddy, standing before her, his eyes watching her unwaveringly, his pendant hanging from her neck, begging her to leave with him. If this wasn't fate, then what was?

'Well, alright,' said Dominique quietly. 'But you can't tell anyone.'

'Of course not.'

She got to her feet to stuff the memos into her bag and pulled on her cloak. She turned back to Teddy to inquire where he wanted to go, but found, all at once, the atmosphere of the room had changed. Amongst the business of her co-workers darting around and the babble of conversation, some soft quiet had come over the office. Heads were turned in the direction of the door and the conversation had quietened. This was what happened when Victoire stepped into a room.

She was in the doorway, wearing black trousers that hugged her hips and cream woollen jumper. Dominique was sure she had seen the exact same outfit on the cover of this month's Witch Weekly. Victoire was smiling as she approached them; the other occupants of the room seemed to fall away as she passed them, standing aside to gaze at her fully. She reached Teddy and laced her fingers through his hair, giving him a deep, awful kiss, before she finally spared a glance for her sister.

'What's the matter with you, Dommy?' inquired Victoire, in her sickly-sweet drawl. 'Are the memos giving you trouble?'

Dominique did not reply. The world was falling back into place; the awful truth of her existence blatant once again.

'She's a bit busy actually,' said Teddy. 'And I should really be getting back to work.'

Dominique looked up at him. He was lying – lying to Victoire – for her: for Dominique.

Victoire pouted. 'Busy, are you, darling?'

'Yeah. Sorry, love.'

'Mhmm. So busy you can find the time to pester my sister during work hours?'

Teddy hesitated, but only for an instant, and then he began to laugh. Dominique's heart was pounding with fear; fear of what she wasn't exactly sure, but she somehow knew what she had done was wrong, even if it was only accepting a necklace.

'Come on; stop making up excuses and take me to lunch,' said Victoire. 'Or have you emptied your bank account again? Is that it?'

Teddy grinned at her. 'You got me.'

'Oh, you naughty boy. Well, I forgive you. Come on, I'll pay. Dominique, you need sleep, darling. You look awful.'

And without another word, she bid her sister and kiss and took Teddy's hand, leading him towards the door. Victoire did not spare Dominique another glance, but, her heart pounding in her chest, Dominique caught Teddy glance back over her shoulder to look at her.

Godric's Hollow in the winter looked like a town from a picture book; snow over thatched rooves and ice frozen beneath the cracks in the cobblestones and naked birch trees lining the roads. The wisteria that obscured Hecate Hall's façade has shrivelled away in the winter, and the messy, overgrown front garden was coated in a sheet of white.

The house always smelt the same when he returned to it; like his father's aftershave and his mother's perfume and the Darjeeling in the kitchen. It was silent when they stepped inside, but the arrival of James and Lily disrupted that.

'He's not that good.'

'He's a better flyer than you were when you were his age!'

'What's the problem, Lil? You like him or something?'

'I do not!'

'James, enough,' ordered Ginny.

'Bring him round for tea, Lily. Us and Farouk and Mei Zhao. It will be spectacular.'

'You're such a prat, James!'

'Lily, don't let him bother you,' their mother beseeched. 'Come on, who wants tea?'

'I will,' said Albus.

'He probably wouldn't like you, Lil. You're too scrawny.'

Ginny's hand flew to her daughter at the same time Lily reached for her wand; Ginny restrained her before she could get it out of her pocket. 'James, go upstairs.'

'I'm only teasing!'

'I don't care. Go.'

'But I've been gone since September. Didn't you miss me, Mother?'

'I did until you started talking.'

'Right, well, I see when I'm not wanted,' said James jovially. 'Finlay's having people over tonight, so I should be heading over.'

Ginny's scowl immediately disappeared. 'But you just got home, James.'

'I know. And my own mother doesn't want me here. I'm hurt.'

'Your dad will want to see you.'

'Well, presumably one more evening without me won't kill him, will it?'

Ginny didn't have a reply. She watched as James rapped his trunk with a wand, vanishing it to appear up in his bedroom, before he stooped to kiss her cheek.

'What time will you be home?' she asked him.

'Sometime tomorrow.'

'You're staying the night?'

'You want me to apparate drunk? That's illegal, Ginny.'

'You don't have to drink, you know.'

'Hah. Very funny. Alright, see you lot later.

And without another word, he retreated back out of the wide oak doors they had just entered through. Albus watched him traipse back across the front garden to the boundary of their property, before he disapparated.

Frowning, Ginny closed the door. 'Alright,' she said bracingly. 'Tea.'

Lily didn't bother with an excuse as she turned away and started up the stairs towards her bedroom. Ginny watched her go, still frowning.

'I'll have tea, Mum,' said Albus.

Ginny turned to him and gave him a small, thankful smile. Albus followed her to the kitchen and took a seat at the table while she set the pot to boil. The room looked just as it had before his departure, only rather than the overgrown green of the backyard out the window he could now see was a paddock covered in snow.

'How's school been, Ducky?' Ginny asked him as she poured them each a cup. 'Lots of work?'

'A little. Not too much. How are things here?'

'Oh, the same,' she told him, taking a seat beside him. 'What are your movements over the break?'

Albus sipped his tea before answering. He considered his response and said very carefully, 'I think I might go visit my friend in Aberdeen.'

Ginny looked up at him. 'I didn't know you had a friend in Aberdeen, Ducky.'

His mother's surprise had to be forgiven; other than Rose, he didn't have friends anywhere. 'It's a new friend.'

'What's their name?'

'Mei.'

Ginny hesitated. Albus knew she was thinking of James's teasing; Us and Farouk and Mei Zhao. 'And what are they like?'

'She's nice. She's in Ravenclaw.'

'When are you going to go visit?'

'Er, well… she suggested tomorrow evening.'

'Oh, that's soon.'

'Yeah, well, she… she wants me to stay the night.'

Ginny gave him a sly look. 'So, is she your girlfriend?'

'No, Mum.'

'No?'

'Well... yeah, I guess. Just for a few weeks though.'

'And when are you planning on letting Dad and I meet her?'

'Uh, well… never, really.'

Ginny laughed, but Albus could see a shadow of hurt across her face. 'Are we that embarrassing?'

'No, I just… it's kind of a long way for her to come.'

'It's just as far for you to go to Aberdeen.'

'Yeah, but I've already said I'll go. Is that okay?'

'Of course it is, Al. I'm not telling you that can't go. I'm just saying it would be nice to meet her.'

Albus didn't have a reply to this and so he sipped his tea.

'If you don't want her to endure James we can kick him out for the evening.'

Albus couldn't help but grin. 'Maybe. So, can I stay in Aberdeen?'

'If her parents are alright with it, then of course.'

'Okay, cool.'

'Will you be sharing a room?'

'No, Mum, of course not.'

'I wasn't asking to tell you not to, Al. I was just asking so I know.'

'I need to go send her an owl.'

'Don't you not want to talk about this with me?'

'No, I just really should write to her before dark.'

'Perhaps I could come with you to Aberdeen?

'Mum.'

'Your dad and I could stay the night up there, meet her parents…'

'Mum, you're not funny.'

'Okay, fine,' sighed Ginny. 'You're no fun.'

Albus got to his feet, trying to avoid his mother's eyes. He could feel his face burning. He started towards the door, but found himself brought to a halt when she caught his hand. He looked back at her; she was wearing a strange look on her face as she got to her feet and pulled him into a hug.

'Mum…'

'I miss you when you're at school, you know?'

'Yeah, I miss you too.'

'And now you're leaving again. I'm heartbroken.'

'Mum, it's… it's only one night.'

'I'm only joking, Ducky.' But when she released him the look on her face told him she was very serious.

He didn't know what to say to her, and so he asked, 'When will dad be home?'

'Oh, I have no idea.'

'He... he doesn't know?'

'No, he just doesn't tell me.'

'Oh.'

There was a very pregnant pause, before Ginny got to her feet to refill the teapot. 'You should go send your letter, Al. It will be dark soon.'

'Right… yeah. Okay.'

She had her suspicions that the creaky step three doors from the bottom of the stairs had been intelligently designed by her mother. She did her best to miss it most days, but after three months away from home she was out of practice. She remembered as soon as her boots made contact, and at once she heard her name called from the kitchen.

'Rose?'

'Yes?' she bellowed back down the passageway.

'Can you come to the kitchen?'

'What for?'

'Come here. I don't want to yell.'

Sighing, she jumped the last two remaining steps and hurried down the passageway. She knew better than to step fully into the kitchen, because that meant she would committing to a conversation, and so merely leant in from the doorway, finding her mother and father sitting at the dining table.

'What are you all dressed up for, Rosie?' asked her father.

Her father often asked her this, no matter what she was wearing. Today it was a pair of old jeans and a woollen jumper. 'I'm not dressed up, Dad.'

'Where are you off to, darling?' pressed her mother.

Rose couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes. Her parents liked to fool themselves into believing they were laid back, but they were not. They maintained their lofty, inquiring tones, hoping to sound merely interested, but she knew this was not the case; they wanted to know if it was somewhere they could either stop her going or somewhere to which they could accompany her.

'I was going out to get a coffee from down the street,' she told them. This was not strictly speaking a lie; she had intended to get a coffee. However, in addition to the coffee she had intended to meander around London for several hours so as to avoid listening the bellowed shouts of Hugo and his friends from the backyard throughout their endless Quidditch match. 'Is that allowed?'

'Oh, I'll come with you,' said Hermione, getting to her feet. 'That's just what I feel like.'

'I'll just bring you back one.'

'But I want one too,' said Ron. 'You can't carry all three, Rosie.'

She heaved a sigh and leant heavily against the doorframe. 'True.'

'Let me get my coat,' said Hermione cheerfully.

Once her mother was fully bundled up against the cold, she and Rose left the house and started down the steps into the garden. While Rose was sullen, her mother was seemingly jubilant; this, Rose knew, was an attempt to distract Rose from the auror stationed whose concealment charm her parents believed was beyond detection of s sixteen-year-old.

The walk to the coffee shop at the end of Pembroke Road took no more than five minutes, and yet it was enough for Rose's frustration to build. Her mother pressed her for information on everything – OWLs, prefect duty, her favourite subjects – and yet Rose had long ago abandoned any attempt to ask her mother about the Ministry. They found the coffee shop packed to the brim with locals escaping the cold; this only exacerbated Rose's anger. They pushed their through the crowd to the counter, ordered their drinks, and then tried their best to push themselves into a corner where they would be out of the way while they waited.

Rose offered nothing in the way of conversation, and so her mother said to her, 'Your hair's getting very long, Rosie.'

'I need to cut it.'

'It suits you.'

'There's too much of it.'

'Well, I can cut it for you, if you like.'

'I can do it.'

'It was very crooked last time you did it yourself.'

'Well, I don't really care.'

'Well, if you don't mind then go ahead.'

Rose turned away, rolling her eyes, to gaze out the window.

Rose wouldn't have believed it possible, but when her mother spoke again her voice was even more forcefully bright. 'Have you been reading the Prophet?'

She had been waiting for this since arriving home yesterday. 'A bit.'

'So, you know, because of what happened to Gustav Gamp we might have some aurors at our place over the Christmas break. Not because there's any threat – just a bureaucratic thing.'

'Yeah, I know.'

'But don't let it worry you. You'll just have to let me know if any of your friends are coming over.'

'The only people who come see me are Chandra and Albus and she's gone to France for the break and he'll be in Aberdeen with his girlfriend.'

'Albus has a girlfriend?'

'Yeah.'

'Oh, that's nice. What's she like?'

'Awful.'

'Rosie.'

'Well, she is.'

'You shouldn't talk about her like that if Albus likes her.'

'She says worse things about me, I'm sure.'

Hermione frowned. 'What on earth would she have to say about you?'

If Rose had not been feeling so annoyed, she may have laughed at that. 'Forget I mentioned it.'

'Why is Albus going out with her if she isn't nice to you?'

'Because he's a person of his own free will and his personal life isn't dictated by my preferences.'

Hermione gave a sigh, finally relenting. 'Alright, Rose. I'll stop talking.' She stepped forward to receive their coffees from the barista. 'Here, take yours.'

'Thanks.'

They turned towards the door of the crowded coffee shop, Rose finding her path impeded. She looked up at the person in front of her and her heart gave an unpleasant jolt and she forced herself not to scowl. 'Oh, hello.'

'Rosie, hi,' said Andrew, beaming down at her. He seemed to have grown another foot since she had last seen him, only exacerbating his resemblance to a skinny, blond beanstalk. He was wearing a pair of neat Muggle trainers, jeans, and a Fulham football club sweater. 'I didn't know you were home. How are you?'

'Fine. How are you?'

'Good now that the term's over. Did you get any snow at school before you came down south?'

'Yeah, a little.'

'Cool. So, what GCSE subjects are you taking?'

'Oh, you know… English, history, maths. Just the boring ones. Sorry, Andrew, but I should go…'

'We're not in a hurry, Rosie,' said her mother quickly, looking between her daughter and the blond.

'No, Mum, it's fine… I have homework, so, you know, need to get home.'

'Yeah, no problem,' said Andrew brightly. 'But we should catch up before you go back North. When are you free?'

'I'll have to let you know.'

'Okay, sure. I don't think I have your number?'

'My phone's still broken,' she said quickly. 'I'll knock on your door if I'm passing. I better go.'

'Alright, cool. Bye, Rosie.'

'Bye, Andrew.'

And with that she pushed her way out of the café, ignoring the disgruntled looks she received from customers she jostled them out of the way. Her mother bid Andrew goodbye and followed her outside, hurrying to keep up with her pace as they traipsed down the street.

'I didn't know you two were friends,' said her mother as they walked.

'We're not. I've just chatted to him on the street before.'

'He knows you go to school in Scotland?'

'I told him Manchester.'

'Why Manchester?'

'I don't know. It came to mind.'

'And how long has your phone been broken?'

'About a year now.'

'You know, if it would make your life easier I could buy you a phone.'

'I don't want a phone.'

'It wouldn't work while you're at school, but you could use it in the summer if you want to talk to him.'

'I don't want to talk to him.'

'Why not? He's gotten very tall.'

'Is that how I should decide whether to talk to somewhat or not? Their capacity for conversation correlates with their height?'

Her mother sighed. 'You're impossible, Rose.'

'I just don't see what his being tall has to do with anything.'

'It doesn't, but he seems like a nice boy. You could give him a chance.'

She had already done so, and been unimpressed, but she wasn't going to tell her mother this. 'He's not my type.'

'Who is your type?'

'God, you don't even know that boy. For all you know he's a murderous psychopath.'

'I just thought… Chandra and Albus are away, perhaps you might like to – to meet some knew friends.'

'Some lovely new friends to distract me from the aurors at our front door?'

Hermione seemed taken aback only very briefly, before she recovered and said sternly, 'Rose, there's not need to get so annoyed-'

'I'm sixteen, I know how to see through a concealment charm,' said Rose coolly as they reached their front gate. 'You treat me like I'm five; escorting me down the street and then setting up playdates for me with Muggles. Here,' she said forcefully, offering her coffee out to the bewildered-looking auror who believed himself to be invisible, 'have this. I don't want it.'

Forcing it into the bewildered auror's hand, she stomped away up the front steps and into the house towards her bedroom.

She climbed the stairs, ignoring her father's call of welcome, to the third floor of the house. She shut the door of her bedroom after her and moved across to her bed, dropping down onto it. Across the room, she could see a sliver of her reflection caught in the mirror. Staring across at the freckly, lanky, bug-eyed girl, she tried to remember when she became like this.

Surely, at some point, she had been reasonable. At what stage of life, after which transgression or occurrence, had she become so difficult, so compelled to be contrarian? She couldn't place her finger on it and though, as she mulled over herself, she knew that it was some conglomeration of the journalists taking her picture when her father walked her through the park and the aurors stationed around her mother that nobody would justify and her parents wanting her to be brilliant but not brilliant enough to know fully had happened to them in their youth.

It was the compulsion not to become like they were; scarred and purposeful and marred by the war they had grown up in. She couldn't blame them for it, as there was no fault on their part, but she knew that was why she was they she was; she didn't want to be like them.

The drawing room he stepped into looked like it belonged in a history book. Lords of Scotland in the Seventeen-Hundreds, he thought to himself. Mei was waiting for him across the room, sitting on a dragon-hide settee. She looked up when she heard the flames roaring, setting her book down to get to her feet.

He stepped out of the fireplace, dusting the soot off of him. 'Hi.'

'Hello.'

'You look pretty.'

She tugged at the hem of her teal shift dress. 'Thank you.'

He was feeling nervous, for reasons he was not entirely sure of. They had never spent a full day together, let alone an entire evening. He set down his over-night bag near the hearth and stepped forward to kiss her.

When they broke apart he took an appraising look around the room. Outside the window he could see snow-capped pine trees expanding over a large estate. 'I like your house.'

'I can show you around after dinner. Come on, they'll have set the table.'

'Oh… great. Okay.'

'Don't worry, they're not picky with who they like.'

He didn't really believe Mei intended this to be insulting, but it none-the-less battered his confidence somewhat. They left the drawing room and she led him through a long, carpeted passageway and down a flight of stairs.

He had never met Cassie's parents when they were going out; she had never seemed to want him to. Hurt as he was by this, it had been far less trouble than what Mei was insisting upon.

Mei led him through a high archway into a expansive dining room that he believed could have been a painting hanging in a gallery of Georgian art. The walls were adorned in woven tapestries; the velvet curtains were pulled back to reveal a darkened courtyard full of naked, frozen rose bushes. In the centre of the room was a gleaming mahogany table long enough to fit twenty people.

His stomach clenched. For somebody from a family as affluent as his own, he had very little knowledge of anything to do with class. When he was very young, his father had placated the Ministry by attending various dinner, events, and fun-raises; but Harry had since lost his patience for it. Dinner at Hecate Hall usually involved he and his parents and siblings crowded around their kitchen table arguing about something.

Mei didn't sit at the table, however. She continued across the room and opened a small door that led into a side room.

'Mum,' she said into the room. 'He's here.'

His heart was pounding in his chest. He stood near the door, waiting for Mei's mother to appear. He had no experience with fine dining and he wondered how long it would take the woman to discern that.

But rather than anybody stepping into the dining room, Mei looked over her shoulder and she gestured for Albus to follow her inside. The room he found himself was far less intimidating than the elegant dining room; it was a small, dainty kitchen, full of steam and the smell of roast lamb. A woman stood over the stove top tending to a saucepan of sprouts, while across the room a man was setting places at a small kitchen table. They both looked around as he and Mei entered.

'Albus, this is my mum Yun, and this is Adalric.'

'Darling,' said Yun, and without another word she moved forward to pull him into a hug. 'It's lovely to meet you, finally.'

Mei's mother was small, slim, and elegant looking, but bore very little resemblance to her daughter other than her long dark hair. Albus also found it hard to imagine Mei ever pulling a stranger into a hug.

'Good to meet you finally, Albus,' said Adalric, who had moved forward to offer Albus his hand. He was very tall and considerably older than his wife, though no less goodlooking. 'Ever been to Aberdeen before?'

'Er – no. This is my first time.'

'Well, Mei will have to show you around while you're here. Who wants a drink?'

As Adalric shuffled past them to open the kitchen cabinets, Albus stumbled clumsily out of the way. Mei took a purposeful hold of his arm and pulled him over to the kitchen table, depositing him in a chair where he couldn't bother anyone. She took a seat beside him as Adalric crossed back across the kitchen, holding a bottle of mead and levitating four glasses.

'Do you like red, Albus?'

'Er… I… I don't really drink.'

'You'll like it just fine, Albus,' said Mei impatiently.

Albus could see Adalric repressing a smile as he poured them each a glass.

'If you don't like it you don't need to finish it; I won't be offended,' Adalric assured him as he passed him the glass.

Mei was already sipping her wine. Albus knew her seventeenth birthday wasn't until next year, and he also knew that she wasn't one to disobey laws; however, by the manner in which her parents seemed to behave around her it appeared they gave more credence to her maturity than his parents had ever given him. As Yun approached with a tray full of roast lamb, Mei levitated away the bottle of wine to make room and summoned over napkins for each of them from the kitchen cabinet; in his own home, he was used to watching James and Lily put up a fight whenever they were asked to do more than pour their own tea.

'So, Mei tells us you're taking your OWLs this year, dear?' said Yun as Adalric served them all potatoes.

'Yeah. I – yeah.'

'Tough year,' said Adalric. 'It's not stressing you out too much?'

'Er, well… well Mei's really good at helping me study.'

Yun, who had set to carving up the lamb, gave a laugh. 'Oh, darling, aren't you good letting her hound you into the library?'

'Mum,' hissed Mei, rolling her eyes.

Yun ignored her. 'You must learn to say no to her, Albus, or you'll never see the light of day.'

Apparently in an attempt to spare his step-daughter, Adalric turned to Albus and said, ''I'm a big fan of your mum's column. I loved her commentary of the Cannons game last week.'

'Oh, cool, I'll… I'll let her know.'

'It sounds like a fascinating job, what she does,' said Yun. 'What is it that you plan on doing after school, Albus?'

'Er, well… I…'

'He's not sure yet,' Mei finished for him. 'Anyway, is everyone ready to start eating?'

It was snowing feebly when he arrived. Stumbling from the apparition, he trudged forward and kicked the gate open. He had forgotten his coat at Finlay's house, but the mead warded off the cold better than he had hoped. He stood huddled at the foot of the front door with his wand held aloft, tapping the lock, trying to remember the counter-charms. It took him several attempts before he managed to let himself inside.

Hecate Hall was silent, his family asleep above, and he moved uninhibited through the foyer towards the kitchen. He wasn't finished drinking. Flicking his wand, he ignited the torches and stepped inside. He had, it seemed, been too optimistic in anticipating his solitude. His father was sitting at the kitchen table, still in his auror's cloak, looking thoroughly dishevelled and older than James remembered. A plate of baked beans on toast sat in front of him.

'Oh, hello,' said Harry. 'Do you live here too?'

He recovered from his surprise in time to reply, 'Unfortunately.'

'Ah, yes. I do vaguely remember a third child. It's been so long though, I was beginning to think I'd imagined him.'

Caught off guard at finding his father, James had forgotten why he had come into the kitchen. He pulled out a seat at the kitchen table and dropped into it. 'You can talk.'

'I can? That's clever of me.'

'When did you get home?' James gestured clumsily towards the plate of baked beans. 'Clearly you missed dinner.'

'I'm an adult. I can do as I like.'

'So can I – I mean so am I – I mean… you know what a mean.'

Harry gave a wry smile. 'Have something to eat.'

'Nah, not hungry. Could go for some mead though. You got any?'

'Haven't you had enough?'

James, in his drunkenness, did his best to look severe. 'Harry, please. Be serious.'

'There's some in the cabinet. Pour me a glass.'

James got swaggeringly to his feet. Harry observed him from across the room, wrenching the cabinets open unceremoniously. Harry warned him to be quiet, knowing he would go ignored, and watched as his son uncorked the bottle of mead and poured them both a glass.

'Thank you,' said Harry as James passed it to him.

James collapsed back into his chair and drank deeply. 'This is shitty mead.'

'You're welcome.'

'Ginny's not going to be happy with you.'

'I think I'll be spared. I have you to thank for that. She told me you were out the door again as soon as you arrived on Saturday.'

'Your head's bleeding,' was the only reply James bothered with.

Harry raised a hand to his temple, touching his fingers to it and pulling them away to inspect the droplets of blood. He stifled a curse and took out his wand, conjuring a handkerchief and putting it to his head. With his free hand he returned to his beans on toast, trying to look unfazed.

'What were you doing tonight?' James asked him.

'James, I've made a point of not asking you that question. Can we respect each other's privacy?'

'I'll tell you what I did. What do you want to know?'

Harry smiled and sipped his wine. 'I don't want to know anything.'

'I got off with this girl called Corrina. She wanted me to go back to her place tonight but she's a real pain to get away from in the morning, so I told her I was staying at Finlay's. I would have stayed at Finlay's, but he got off with some bloke, so I had to come back here.' He took another greedy gulp of mead. 'Your turn.'

Harry hesitated and sipped is wine. 'Well, your night sounds a lot more interesting than mine.'

'It's because you're old and boring.'

'I know.'

'And you need to retire. I mean, seriously? Can't even fix your own wounds before coming home? And you wonder why Ginny's always railing at you.'

'I think it's time for us both to go to bed, James.'

'You're seriously not going to tell me where you were? I'll tell you what colour knickers Corrina was wearing,'

'James.'

'Was it more of this blood equality stuff? Like what happened in Hogsmeade?'

'No, it's far less interesting. Come on, get up.'

'So why can't you tell me?'

Harry picked up both glasses of mead and crossed to the sink, emptying them. 'Because I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn't talk about my work with my children.'

'But I'm all grown up now.'

'Really? I'd never have known.'

'Now that's just mean.'

Harry put his hand around James's arm, trying to ease him up, but James wouldn't co-operate. He looked up at his father with the eyes he shared with his mother.

'I'm very stubborn, you know, Harry?'

Heaving a sigh, Harry let go of James to pull out his wand and vanish the bloodied handkerchief. 'We were acting on a tip-off regarding some stolen cauldrons. Nothing to do with the Hogsmeade case. We have no leads on that.'

James cocked an eyebrow. 'None at all?'

'No more than what was reported in the papers.'

'But is it the same people who vandalised Diagon Alley? And the same people who killed Gamp?'

'I can't tell you that,' said Harry, 'but even if I could it wouldn't matter, because we have no idea.'

James's brow creased. He sat stationary for a while, thinking, before he pulled himself to his feet. 'Is this like… bad? Like worse than the other cases you've worked on?'

'I've been an auror for a long time now. There's been a lot of worsts.'

They left the kitchen and climbed the stairs as quietly as they could, but with James's heavy, stumbling footsteps, it was hardly very quiet. They started down the passageway and reached James's bedroom, Harry pausing as James opened the door. He peered inside; it was the first time he had seen it since the first day of September. It remained unchanged; his mess was in the same place he left it, clothes strewn across the floor, Quidditch posters tacked half-heartedly into the wall paper.

'Well, goodnight,' his father said to him. 'Enjoy your hangover.'

He turned away from his bedroom to look at his father. 'You know what Finlay told me the other day?'

'What?'

'He said he wants to join the Ministry.'

'Does he?'

'Because of Rowle. To stand up to him or some rubbish like that. And then tonight I heard him talking about enrolling in the auror programme.'

Harry did not reply immediately, but creased his brow in thought, dried blood glistening over the old, faded scar. He raised a hand to cup James's shoulder and said evenly, 'Don't let him.'

And with that he gave his son's shoulder a brief squeeze before he turned away and disappeared down the darkened corridor towards his own bedroom.

It was near midnight by the time they returned to the manor house. They had donned scarves, gloves, and heavy coats for Mei to show him around the gardens, and yet they were still shivering and their faces were flushed from the chill as they climbed the stairs to Mei's bedroom.

'We can go into town tomorrow,' she told him, keeping her voice low so as not to reach her parents' room. 'Would you like to see the coast?'

'I'm happy to do whatever you'd like to do.'

'You always say that.'

'Well, I am.'

'You're making me feel like my mother's right; perhaps I do hound you.' He made to protest, but Mei stopped him when she came to a halt at a set of double-doors. 'This is your room.' She opened the door to reveal a handsome room furnished with the same elegance of the rest of the house wide double bed. 'Are you ready to go to bed?'

'I – what?'

'To sleep. Are you tired? It's quite late.'

'Oh, I… I can if you are.'

'Not particularly. Do you want to see my room?'

He told her he did, and she led him further down the passageway to another set of double-doors. She stepped through them and he followed her inside, suddenly enveloped by a rich, sweet smell that was something like lavender and old books and very much like Mei.

He gazed around him; there was the same regal decor as the rest of the house with the Georgian furnishings and tall bookshelves, but there was something much more familiar about the room; a corkboard hung on the wall sporting an array of pictures of Mei's friends; a polished desk sat in the corner, overwhelmed with school books and piles of parchment; her bed was beneath the window, covered in delicate floral linens.

'I like your room,' he told her.

She shut the door behind him. 'I don't want to wake my parents up.'

'Oh – will you get in trouble if I'm in here?'

She sighed, taking a seat at her desk. 'No, Albus. I'm just being considerate.'

'Oh, right…'

Unsure of what to do with himself, he crossed the room to inspect the corkboard. He recognised the Ravenclaw girls Mei was with in each of the photos, none of whom he had ever spoken to. He imagined, somewhat horrified, at what Mei would find if she ever came to his house; he had no pictures of friends on his walls.

He paused over a photograph in the corkboard's centre; the people pictured were moving feebly, waving at the camera. The Mei in the picture looked around eight and was smiling more broadly than he had ever seen her.

Mei moved in her seat to see what he was looking out. 'That's my dad.'

'He looks like you.'

'A little, I suppose.'

'Is that in Dorset?'

'Yeah. That was right before he got sick. I don't have many pictures of him up. It makes Mum sad.'

Albus nodded, as if he understood, but of course he did not. He decided he didn't much want to look at the picture anymore and so he turned towards the bookshelf, inspecting the titles on the spines.

'Hey, Albus?'

He looked around at her. Beneath the soft light of the torches, she looked very gentle. 'Yeah?'

'Thank you for coming. I know you didn't want to, but thank you.'

'Oh, it's – it's nothing. I did want to come – I wanted to see your home.'

'Yes, I know that, but I know meeting my parents made you nervous.'

'Yes, well… do you think they like me?'

'I'm sure they do.'

'I didn't have anything to say to them, though.'

'They were happy just asking you questions. I've never brought a boy home before. Mum was pretending it wasn't a big deal, but before you got here it was all she was talking about.'

'Yeah, well, I've never met a girl's parents before, so this is a first for me too.'

'Cassandra Kettleburn didn't want you to meet her parents?'

'No, not really. I would have been too scared, anyway.'

'You were scared this evening, but you still came.'

'Yes, well, me and Cassie…' He paused; he wasn't sure what he was meaning to tell her. 'I don't think I liked Cassie the way I like you.'

Mei cocked her head. 'And how do you like me?'

'Well… well, quite a bit, I suppose.'

Mei's brow creased, as if confronted with a tricky sentence in a textbook, before she said carefully, 'I like you quite a bit too.'

'Thank you.' There was a silence, before Albus told her, 'I like your house. There's something good here. Like… your parents seem to give you space. It's kind of… peaceful. I wish my house was like that.'

'Yes, I suppose you're right. I've always gotten on well with my parents, I suppose. They never treated me like a child.'

'You don't argue?'

'Well, everyone argues, but not very much.'

'My family argues a lot.'

'Well, there are three siblings in your house.'

'I suppose, but it's more…'

'More what?'

'Well, it's just… if it was just James and Lily arguing I suppose it wouldn't bother me so much. But Mum and Dad do it too. It makes me feel like… I don't know. Seeing you parents it makes me think my family might not be – not be normal, you know?'

'Nobody thinks their family's normal. And Mum and Adalric certainly argue. Not always, but they do.'

'I suppose.'

'And anyway,' said Mei, 'I don't think anyone could expect your family to be wholly normal, after what happened to them.'

'Well, yeah, but… but then when I come home it's just so… Lily and James started fighting the second we left King's Cross, and then when we got home James immediately went out, and Mum didn't say so but I could tell it upset her, and then Dad got home late as always and they argued about that and – and it's just so loud.'

'Well, your mum should be expecting him to come home late. She married an auror, after all.'

'I guess,' said Albus. 'They got married before he was an auror, though.'

'But he joined the auror office when he was eighteen, right?'

'Yeah, but they got married really young,' he explained. 'Like – like a few months after the war ended or something like that.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. Once Mum turned seventeen. So August. And the war ended…'

'May,' she finished for him. 'She was only seventeen?'

'Yeah.'

'That's way too young.'

Albus wasn't sure how to respond to this. He tried to imagine if James announced his engagement. He decided Mei was probably right. 'Yeah, I guess so.'

She glanced at her watch and got to her feet. 'We should probably sleep if we want to have time to go to the beach before you need to be home.'

'Oh, right, yeah. I forgot I was leaving tomorrow.'

'You can stay longer if you like.'

He paused near her doorway. 'I would like that, only… only I feel like my mum's lonely. I don't think I ever realised it before, but I think she is.'

Mei gave a slow nod, before she reached to take his hand. 'You're a very nice person, Albus.'

'I… thank you. I'm – I'm glad.'

'I think I ought to be more like you.'

'No, you shouldn't. You're good as you are.'

He saw her cheeks darken somewhat, before she raised a hand to his cheek and inclined to kiss him. She hadn't kissed him like that before; it was always fleeting, nervous, hiding from prying eyes, but this was something more. Deep and ongoing and longing for more. He laced his arms around her, his hands trailing through her long, smooth dark hair. He wanted more – he wanted to touch more of her, a kind of hunger he had never felt fully before…

He pulled away from her, retracting his hands. He realised now that he was breathing heavily, his chest pounding. She was looking down at him with dark, searching eyes, and he knew she felt the same.

'Mei…'

'Yes?'

'I… Your parents are down the hall.'

Her eyes flittered past him to the closed door. For a second it looked as if she would protest, before she seemed to remember herself, and she gave a slow now. 'You're right.'

'I'll – I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Yes. Goodnight, Albus.'

'Night, Mei.'

He didn't know why he was there, other than because it was expected of him. He supposed that was why he did a lot of things – because it was expected of him. It wasn't pleasant to admit that about himself, but he supposed it was the truth.

Fingers aching from the cold, he inclined the find another stone. He hadn't thought to bring gloves and he was regretting it now, shivering so badly that it made it hard to aim at the window above. He had only been at it for a few minutes, and yet he was very nearly ready to secede; he knew she was most likely ignoring him anyway.

He arched his arm back and tossed the stone forward. It clattered against the window pain, the faint rattling reaching him from above. He waited for the light of her bedroom to flicker, for the curtain to be nudged back, for her face to appear at the window, but it did not.

Well, what did you expect?

He didn't have an answer, and so he turned away, burying his freezing hands deep into his pocket to prepare for the walk back to the road.

'Scorpius?'

He rounded back on his heel. Zaina was peering out of her front door, wearing a coat over her night dress, having cracked it open just enough to poke her head out to glare at him.

'Hi,' he said to her.

She stepped out onto her doorstep in her slippers, closing the door behind her. 'What is wrong with you? It's the middle of the night. You woke me up.'

He knew she was lying. Her curls were hanging too artfully and the wings of her eyeliner were too pristine. She had been sitting in her bedroom as he threw the pebbles at her window, making him wait. He decided against telling her this, however. 'I just wanted to see you.'

To her credit, she gave a laugh, unconvinced. 'Is that slag you've been seeing busy tonight?'

He did his best not to snap at her, but he couldn't stop himself from sighing deeply in frustration. 'I told you, Zaina. I was in detention all night. You need to let it go.'

'No, I will not let it go. Not until you tell me where you were.'

'I was in detention! You can ask Potter if you like.'

She gave another scandalised laugh and turned away, making to shut the door in his face, but he moved forward quickly enough to catch her hand. 'Zaina, wait…'

'No thank you.'

'Zaina, come on. I came all this way to see you. I just want to talk, okay?'

'What is there to talk about?'

He hesitated, unsure of what to tell her. She would never understand it, and he had no way of making it so that she could. There was nothing much to say when it came to his family. Defeated for anything of worth to say, he asked her instead, 'How are your parents?'

She jumped on the opportunity to scold him. 'Very concerned that I'm still seeing you after what's been in the papers. It's been very difficult, you know?'

This was not the topic he wanted to arrive upon. 'Yes, it must be hard for you.'

'Oh, don't pretend like you're actually bothered. You'd love to see him out of the way, wouldn't you?'

'Okay,' said Scorpius slowly. 'Forget it. I'll go home if you're going to be like that.'

'Well, what do you want from me?'

'I just…' But he wasn't sure what he wanted; he didn't want to argue with her; he didn't want to be shivering on her doorstep; he certainly didn't want to go home. 'I just wanted to see you,' he said again.

'Well, I don't want to see you,' she informed him. 'Not until I ask Potter where you were.'

'Fine.'

'Fine.'

'Goodbye, then.'

'Bye.'

He knew, as he started down the path to her front gate, that she was watching him. She wanted him to protest; she wanted him to beg her to speak to him, beg her to let him stay, but he wasn't prepared to. He had no patience for it; had no desire for it, even. She wasn't going to give him what he wanted, and yet what it was he wanted he wasn't sure of.

It was an hour on the Knight Bus from Zaina's home in Norfolk back to Wiltshire. No roads led to Malfoy Manor; the driveway wound for two miles through their estate until it reached the nearest town, and this was the closest the Knight Bus would take him. He was ashamed to have made such a trek for no other reason than to see Zaina, and yet there was no rush for him to be home; his mother would sleep until morning and his father would not check on him.

He was frozen by the time he reached the manor, so much so that he was almost pleased to be there. The wrought iron gates swung forward for him, slowly and silently, and he started towards the house. It glistened beneath the moon, silver amongst the snow-covered garden. He supposed that it was beautiful, and yet it was hard to think of it as such when he knew what was inside.

He strode into the foyer, his footsteps echoing off the arching ceiling. He could see it's light dancing on the marble floor, leaking from under the doorway to the drawing room; somebody had lit a fire. For a moment he feared it would be his father, but his worries were quelled when the door war nudged open to reveal the bulging blue eyes of the head house elf.

'Evening, Master Scorpius.'

'Hi, Dinny.'

Dinny bent into a bow to gesture him into the drawing room. 'Come and sit by the fire, Master Scorpius. You look frozen.'

'I'm fine. I'm just going to go to bed.'

'Dinny can bring you tea if you would like, Master Scorpius.'

'It's okay, Dinny.'

'You have been gone for hours, Master Scorpius. It has been snowing.'

Sighing and repressing a shiver, Scorpius nodded. 'Yeah.'

'Mistress Astoria would be worried if she were to know, Master Scorpius.'

'You won't tell her, will you?'

'Do you forbid it, Master Scorpius?'

'Well, no but... I'd appreciate it if you didn't.'

'Then Dinny will not.'

'Thank you.' He stood in silence for a minute, trying to avoid Dinny's gleaming, questioning eyes. He wanted to retreat to his bedroom, but he felt some obligation to the elf; he knew he deserved an explanation, having waited for him all evening, and yet Scorpius knew he would never ask. 'I just went to see my girlfriend.'

Dinny gave a nod; he had probably already assumed as much. 'Master Scorpius, you best be in bed. You are shivering.'

Knowing he had been dismissed, he climbed up the marble staircase to his bedroom. He climbed into bed immediately, grateful to discover Dinny had stowed a hot water bottle in bed for him, and nestled beneath the covers and shut his eyes, willing sleep to come.

Lying alone in his bed he had no other option than to confront the truth. The reason he had gone to Zaina's, and the reason he couldn't admit to her, was for the sake of comfort. He should have known he wouldn't find it, and that was his own fault because he would never allow her to. He liked her to see him as cool and bold and normal, and yet he was none of those things. He didn't want her, or anyone, to see his life for what it was.

He turned over beneath the covers and stared up at the ceiling, the moonlight through his window illuminating the ornate cornices. He wondered, not for the first time, who had had the patience to carve them so delicately; his ancestors or their house elves or Muggles under the Imperius Curse?

He shut his eyes again, but sleep would not come. When he was younger he would have been willing to call Dinny for a sleeping draught, but the elf would probably already be in bed and he didn't want to disturb him. He would lie awake for hours as he often did, thinking of his parents and who had built Malfoy Manor and the cursed fire in Hogsmeade.

Song credit:Rage Flows by the Born Ruffians.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I know I updated not too long ago, but I capitalised on a break between assignments to get ahead with the writing.

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought in a review, I'd be very grateful! xx