The Revolt: Volume I

by Van's Scribbles

Rose Weasley is about to begin her fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But while she is waging a cold war with Scorpius Malfoy on the home front, the Wizarding World is about to break out into political and social revolution.

26. Chapter Twenty-Five

—CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE—

The towering beech tree by the lake had thick roots that acted much like chairs and a large canopy that could protect one from both sunshine and light rain. It was sheltered, yet it was outdoors. He felt calm surrounded by leaves. That's why Scorpius loved it.

Rose loved that tree, too. She wasn't accustomed to the Slytherin Dungeons, even after nine months living there. It felt claustrophobic and dark. However, Rose did like living underneath the lake and migrated to the beech tree in order to stay near it. She felt calm near water. It was a perfect spot to study.

It was Sunday the third of June, the day before their first week of exams. Their first ever exams at Hogwarts. All the first years were a bit frantic, not knowing what to expect. Stewart Mumps was convinced that they would have to face a werewolf or a fire crab in Defence Against The Dark Arts. For the most part, Rose and Scorpius were composed but studious. Both were taking their final year tests very seriously.

Scorpius wasn't surprised to find Rose at his favourite spot, under the beech tree, several books stacked on top of her skinny scabbed knees. Scorpius climbed over the roots and took a seat beside her.

"Not nervous are you?" he asked by way of greeting.

"For Defence? I'll ace Defence," Rose said confidently. "Charms and Transfiguration will also be dead easy."

"Well…I don't know how I feel about Defence," Scorpius admitted, looking over her textbooks. "But you're right. The others won't be too bad."

They had been rivals all year, but it was a good-natured rivalry. Healthy competition, he called it. They tended to sit beside each other at the front of every classroom, and the lessons became a race of who could put their hand in their air first. Rose was quicker, but often she would raise her hand without being sure of the answer, and her guesses were always off. Scorpius answered his questions with less frequency, but with more accuracy. The two first-years had accounted for half of Slytherin's house points.

Rose tried hard. Scorpius had noticed this from their very first class. She tried really, really hard. She had read all their prescribed texts and taken notes. She had gone ahead and practiced all the wand movements. She always did the homework, even if it was optional. Scorpius never needed to work as hard as she did to get the same marks. And he thought it was a bit unfair that he always did so much better than her. Probably because he had a better memory, or because he could articulate himself more clearly when under pressure. It was unfair, because she put in so much effort and only just kept up with him.

They were both far brighter than the other children in their year. Not because they were smart, but because they were both fiercely ambitious.

"What are you studying?" Scorpius asked, peering around her knees to get a glimpse at her book cover.

Rose assisted him by holding it up indicatively. "Potions. Honestly, I think I'll fail it."

"You won't," he reassured her.

"Oh, I most definitely will. I'm not a genius like you are," she accused, rolling her eyes. She got comfortable beside him, linking her arm through his. His stomach jumped uncomfortably, but it was not an unpleasant feeling. "Mum reckons I got Dad's genes when it came to Potions."

Scorpius loved watching her talk. He loved that her cheeks were always flushed and her eyebrows jumped with every other word. She was really expressive, and he admired that.

"You'll be fine with Potions, I'm sure," Rose continued obliviously. "And the only reason I've done so well this year is because I've been sitting with you. I'll probably melt my cauldron during the exam."

"You'll do okay on your own," Scorpius said, but a bit more doubtfully now. Rose was bad at following instructions and she was careless in her preparation. Put simply, she was awful at Potions. He knew, because he was inexplicably good at it, and had sat beside her all year. "Anyway, if you did fail, it's not as if they make you repeat. Not in first year."

"I don't care either way," Rose replied, her blue eyes wide. "I just can't fail. I have a bet going with Albus that I'll top every subject."

"That's a bit vain," Scorpius laughed.

"I know, but I'm not doing it for the bet." She unlinked her arm and sat back against the tree trunk.

"How come you're doing it then?" Scorpius queried.

"Do you really want to know?" Rose prompted, giving him a very serious look. Her friend nodded earnestly.

Rose pursed her lips. It was such a Rose expression, Scorpius thought, as he watched her carefully. He knew that she was withholding the information only to create suspense, because she liked to do that. Rose liked suspense. She liked the attention and the tension it created. Because she was always doing that. Asking questions that needn't be asked, like 'guess what?' or 'Did you know who I just saw?'

When he was first getting to know her, Scorpius thought she must have been quite daft. He was very measured with his words, thrifty in his language. If it were Scorpius, he would omit the guess what, and just begin with the what. If it were Scorpius, he would simply state, 'I just saw so and so.' He didn't see the need for asking questions with obvious answers.

But, after almost a year of friendship, he had grown quite fond of this particular quirk. Rose talked like a book character or a fictional persona in a play. She talked like there was an audience listening. She talked to entertain—both herself and others—and there was something quite nice about her building up suspense. He rather liked watching her talk.

"My Mum is very smart, and my Dad is very competitive, right? Well, they both expect me to be some great scholar. And you know what my Dad said on platform nine-and-three-quarters at the start of this year?"

At first, Scorpius assumed she was doing her odd rhetorical question thing again, but it appeared she was quite solemnly expecting an answer. "Er…that he would disinherit you if you weren't in Gryffindor?"

"No, after that."

"I wasn't there, Rose," he reminded her, hiding a smile.

"He said to me," and now she raised her eyebrows significantly, "that I have to beat you in every test."

"Me?" Scorpius said, actually pointing at himself in the chest.

"Yes. He actually said, 'make sure you beat him in every test.'"

Scorpius, who was accustomed to the apparent animosity between their two households, found this amusing. He shook his head in disbelief and Rose returned to her Potions textbook, grinning. "That's why I'm reading over Potions," she said, good humoured. "Because I'll probably melt the cauldron and you'll get the top mark. And my Dad will disinherit me for being a Slytherin as well as a failure."

And it seemed a bit unfair, really. Because Rose tried twice as hard as he did. And getting top results would mean much more to her than it did to him. And, at the very bottom of it, he liked seeing Rose happy.

And although Scorpius was not conscious of it at the time, that conversation under the beech tree on the third of June would lead him to do something very foolish.

---

"Damocles Rowle?"

"Established Azkaban Prison in 1718."

"Josephina Flint?"

"Got into power in 1819. Very anti-muggle. Hated muggle technology."

"Priscilla Dupont."

"Loathed the muggle prime minister of the time," Rose paused, a slight line appearing between her eyes. "Lord Palmer-something."

"Palmerston," Albus supplied.

"1865?" Rose guessed.

"1855," Albus corrected, his finger on the number in his A History of Magic textbook.

Rose slumped over the desk, which was crowded with a little wall of books. Her head was pulsing with dates and names, many of which felt useless.

"I'm going to fail History, Al."

"You aren't going to fail anything," Albus replied, now flipping through the chapters. "Anyway, the first section is multiple choice, so I'm sure you could guess your way through if worse comes to worse."

"I'd rather avoid worse coming to worse," she replied, propping her chin on a Transfiguration textbook. "Test me on short answer questions."

"Alright," Albus sighed, turning to the chapters on the Eighteenth Century Goblin Riots. "Tell me about Ug the Unreliable." He almost sounded bored.

"Oh, oh, I know this!" Rose cried, a bit too loudly for the library setting, causing her to receive a stern look from the librarian and several glares from studying students. She mouthed an apology and dropped her voice. "Ug the Unreliable belonged to a group of racketeers and he was peddling leprechaun gold. The Ministry of Magic arrested him, sparking a huge revolt from the goblin gangs."

"Mhm," Albus said. "See? You won't fail."

But Rose didn't feel so certain. She pressed her clenched fists against her eyes and tried to clear her head.

It hadn't been clear for a while. One thought was running through it, twanging like a chord on repeat.

You're lovely.

Perhaps she was stubborn and annoying and an exhibitionist—Merlin knew she loved getting his attention—but all of those descriptors sounded positively delightful in light of the two words that followed. You're lovely.

He had said it, which meant (at least, for a boy like Scorpius) that he must have thought it to himself about a hundred times first. Scorpius always thought before he spoke.

A group of Hufflepuff fifth-years entered the library, shuffling by like a swarm of bees. They whispered furiously as they passed Rose and Albus, who only watched them with despondency. Vaguely, they both wondered what gossip they were no longer privy to, that they were probably the subject of.

"What's going on with you and Lucy?" Rose asked.

"What's going on with you and Isabella Nott?" Albus retorted, closing his textbook.

"She's spiteful and passive aggressive."

"Because she knows about you selling out her father, or because she knows about you snogging Zabini?"

"She doesn't know about me selling out her father," Rose replied, dropping her voice. "And don't act so self-righteous. You made me sell out her father."

"You made me date Lucy Bird."

"Did Lucy Bird break up with you?" Rose asked, while the Hufflepuffs took their seats.

Albus shook his head miserably. "She's also spiteful and passive aggressive. She's convinced I'm going to redeem myself, though. And then she gets mad because I'm not trying hard enough to redeem myself."

"Some girls just don't know when to quit," she observed.

"Yes," Albus replied, sending her a pointed look.

Rose met his stare, unblinking. She knew her cousin well enough to read the look in his pale, green eyes. "Malfoy called me lovely." It was defensive.

"I also noticed that he isn't speaking to you."

"He spoke to me the other week. He called me lovely."

"Yes, you just told me. And has he spoken to you since?"

"We've been studying for exams," Rose reasoned, with a pretense of conviction. Scorpius hadn't spoken to her since. At least, not really. The sort of things he had said were mundane and trivial, like we should pick up the seventh-years prefect patrols so they can focus on their N.E.W.T.s. He had not confessed how lovely or clever or wonderful she was, but this hadn't exactly removed her hopefulness.

"All of this will get brought out into the open eventually," Albus accused.

"Right. Let's hope that we can keep it out of the open until after O.W.L.s."

---

It felt like every one of his bones would break, like his skin had turned to hot wax. It hurt. He had never known for his transformation to hurt like this, and he wondered if this was what it felt like for a man to transform into a werewolf. He had tried it twice before, and had to reverse the alteration well before it was done, because he simply couldn't take it.

This time, Teddy was determined. He was in his godfather's study, surrounded by knickknacks and maps and books that all felt like they detailed another world. He was in pain, and it was a pain he had never felt before. Everything felt far away, like he was peering down the wrong end of a telescope.

Then, very suddenly, with a very loud pop, the feeling vanished. He could breathe freely. He could see properly. His skin still itched, but otherwise it had settled into its new shape. Unsteadily, he approached the mirror propped up over the Pensieve. A short, stout goblin with a long, flat nose stared back, beady eyed and relieved.

Teddy's heart soared. He had finally done it. After night upon night of practice, he had finally accomplished his metamorphosis.

"Good," Rueben growled. It was the first bit of praise he had received from his mentor. "Once you become accustomed to the transformation, it should be instant. And it shouldn't make a sound."

"I don't know if I can do that again," Teddy heaved, leaning against the desk for support, "let alone do it instantly and silently."

"You will once you've practiced a bit more."

Teddy closed his eyes and tried to remember why he was doing this. This, relatively speaking, was the easy part. He was simply donning a costume, learning a routine. He still had to learn fluent Gobbledegook, which would undoubtedly be a challenge, and then needed instruction on behaving convincingly like a goblin. And that was just his preparation. Entering the goblin kingdom, posing as a goblin, gaining intelligence for the Order—the prospect of espionage terrified him. It made him feel ill.

Last summer, he had been riling up riots for the goblin cause. Now, he was spending the warmer months training as a spy against the goblins.

He was not doing this to simply aid the Order, or to bring down the goblin rights movement. He was doing this to redeem himself. Victoire flashed through his head, like moonlight across water, but he immediately banished the image. He just didn't have room in his head to dwell on that anymore. He had to abandon his hopes if he were to focus properly on the task at hand.

"I have a question," Teddy began. "If I can transform into a goblin, wouldn't a human be able to transform into a goblin using a Polyjuice Potion?"

Reuben smiled without warmth. "It has not been possible before. Perhaps, with what we know now, depending on the brew."

"So why not train a whole bunch of Order members to act like goblins and drink the potion? You could have battalions of us in there."

"Goblins aren't stupid, Lupin," Reuben replied, as if Teddy had suggested this. "They have charms to a detect falsehood. The Goblin King's quarters are surrounded by A Thief's Downfall. A Polyjuice Potion, or a concealment charm, or any other kind of magical form of deception would be washed away."

"Not for a Metamorphmagus though."

"Right now, your body is a goblin's body. To The Thief's Downfall, there is no deception."

Funny, that in the act of deceiving, there was no deception.

Teddy glared at Rueben distrustfully, as had become his habit in their private lessons. Being a Metamorphmagus made someone all the more difficult to trust, he realised.

"There are only two of us in England," Teddy simply said.

"I will be accompanying you on this mission," Reuben replied, answering the unasked question.

Agitated, Teddy pulled on his long, pointed ear before wondering if this was something a goblin would do. He stopped fidgeting and examined Reuben, who was bald and short today, broad shouldered and thick fingered. His usual rings on each thumb. Entering the Goblin Kingdom as a trespasser and infiltrator was not a comforting thought, but it was only made worse by the idea of Reuben Reid being alongside him. Somehow, he couldn't pin Ruben's loyalties. If it came down to it, he didn't want his life in this man's hands.

Reading the look Teddy was giving him, Rueben crossed his arms. "It's not my job to be likeable. Now, transform back into your human state."

Teddy gritted his teeth but stood straight. He closed his eyes and focused on every cell in his body. It felt as if his nerves were snapping, as if he was burning inside out. His skin began to bubble. It hurt. He had never hurt this much in his life.

At least, he had never hurt this much physically. He was not accustomed to this sort of pain.

---

The night was cool, the sky a veil of grey tumescent clouds that threatened to release their rain onto the Quidditch pitch below. It was risky being out so late during the evening—in fact, without a good reason, he may have even received a detention—but Scorpius did not feel compelled to leave.

It was odd. He was not the rule-breaking sort. Yet, he had no desire to be in the castle, not after weeks of endless studying and revision. He liked the outdoors, but didn't like wide-open spaces. Scorpius was accustomed to containment. It was why he loved the greenhouses. The glass panels and greenery gave the illusions of being outdoors while keeping one safe within four walls. It gave a sense of freedom while preserving his need to be cottoned in.

The Quidditch pitch had a similar vibe. It was an open space, but a sheltered one. The stands that looped around the pitch made it feel like a harbor or a wall, protecting what was within. It would have been nice if the night was clear; if he could stare up at the stars. Scorpius loved staring at the stars. But there was nothing but cloud above, swelling ominously.

It looked like it would rain.

Now that the season was over, he missed Quidditch more than ever. He missed having something to obsess over, to distract him. He missed the physical exercise and the structure to his evenings.

The night was still, except for the pleasant whisper of the wind, so Scorpius heard the familiar footfalls over the grass well before she arrived. He didn't look around. Instead, he stared up at the sky.

"Not studying for Astronomy, are you?"

She sat down beside him, her knees curled up to her chest.

"Not likely with all this cloud," he replied vaguely. It shifted over his head, as if it were offended by his remark and choosing to shuffle away. "How'd you find me?"

"I guessed you might have been here."

Funny, that she had guessed. She was more perceptive than he gave her credit for.

The girl was lethal.

Not in the usual ways. She was not conventionally pretty or likeable. In fact, based on a first impression, she was down right unlikeable. The need to always be right, the impulse to speak without tact, the urge to redirect all conversations to suit her currents. She was not a likeable sort of girl, until you got to know her.

And once you got to know her, she was lethal.

"Is there a reason you've dropped by?" he asked.

Rose looked at him. He felt her eyes travel over his jaw, and she did not try to hide that she was staring at him. She didn't bother with being coy. Scorpius blushed faintly and was careful not to look her way. This was why Rose was lethal; her unabashed, brutal honesty. The way she had asked him out, right before the match, still made his skin burn. The way she leapt without looking, the way she laughed from her belly and cried from her lungs.

"I need to know if you've spoken to Isabella," she finally said.

"Since you told her, you mean," Scorpius clarified.

"Yes…I, er, never thanked you for keeping quiet about it. About Zabini, and the Potion."

"You were mad to tell her at all," he said, keeping his tone carefully cool.

"If she heard it from someone else, she would have hexed me."

"She may never have heard."

"I don't like keeping secrets," Rose said bluntly, and now her tone was hard. The kind that's ready for a fight.

"I haven't really spoken to her about it," Scorpius answered, turning over to look at Rose. Her wild hair was braided down her back, but a few wispy curls escaped near her forehead and ears. "But she's mad at you."

Rose nodded. "She'll be even madder if her father is imprisoned," she added, and he noticed that she looked quite ill at the idea of it. "I think I should tell her about that, too."

"That is…a terrible idea."

"I'd rather people know the truth, no matter how messy it is," she said firmly. "Carrying it around is the worst."

Scorpius shook his head. The truth for him was best kept omitted and trimmed, edited like a manuscript. Revised, over and over, like a history book. There were various versions, some even unknown, with many details left to the wayside. "What you need to understand about Belle is she doesn't care for politics or business. Her father is insatiable when it comes to wealth, but the Notts are old money. Even if we fall into a Depression, they won't suffer like…like you might."

He said this tentatively. Rose grinned, her eyeline level with the stands. "You're old money, too."

"So are the Potters." He was defensive.

"The Weasleys aren't," Rose said, and her smirk faded. "But dad and mum were always quite strict about that, anyway. Not living beyond our means. You only want enough to be comfortable," she said, and it sounded like a quote. "I never had the best broomsticks or the flashiest robes or fancy house-elves, and I didn't mind all that much."

Perhaps Scorpius should have felt guilty for being born into so much wealth. He didn't.

"Edgar Nott will not stay in prison for long, if he's imprisoned at all. It's not worth telling Isabella the truth—even if you did, she wouldn't hold it against you."

"She wouldn't hold it against me?" Rose repeated incredulously.

"Belle isn't the sort to hold a grudge," he replied, getting back to her question. "You kissed Zabini, but Zabini has kissed plenty of girls. She's always forgiven him."

"But I knew she fancied him," Rose sighed. "She thinks I've betrayed her."

"And Zabini is the innocent party in this debacle?" Scorpius queried.

"No, I'm not saying that. Zabini doesn't know—that is he does know, but Isabella hasn't actually told him to his face that she fancies him, so for all intents and purposes, he does not know. Whereas I did know, and I still kissed him."

"She kissed James Potter," Scorpius recalled, as if it were important.

"James is in love with the barmaid at the Three Broomsticks," Rose corrected, as if it were important.

There was a short break in their conversation.

"I think that may have been Isabella's first kiss," he mused.

Rose was surprised by this. "It isn't," she said, with conviction. "Fleischer was in third year. I remember her telling us all afterwards."

Scorpius sat up. He seemed offended. "She-she never told me."

"Of course not," Rose laughed. "You're a judgmental prude."

This only offended him more. "What kind of accusation is that?"

"You scolded me the first time I kissed Zabini," she reminded him.

"That's not because I was a prude, it's because I was—" jealous. He choked on the last word. Rose seemed to guess what had been on the tip of his tongue. She grinned coyly, and the silver clouds lit up her smile like the hidden crescent moon. It was as if she were testing him. Scorpius tried to ignore that Cheshire grin and stay offended. "How could she kiss Fleischer and not even think to mention it?"

"I've kissed plenty of boys and not once did it really mean anything to me."

"Plenty?"

"Well…maybe not plenty."

"You've kissed Nathan Corner," Scorpius said (quite begrudgingly), counting him off on his fingers. "And Zabini."

"Repeat offender," she agreed.

"I sort of assumed Zabini at the New Year's soiree was your first."

"Oh, no," Rose laughed, tossing back her head. "No, I was eleven when I had my first kiss."

"Eleven?" Scorpius was scandalised, eyes wide and incredulous. "That's a bit young, isn't it?"

She gave him a playful push. "Prude."

But this suddenly bothered him—this was something he ought to have known. Because he knew Rose when she was eleven, and he hadn't known about this. "Who was it?"

"Oh," she chuckled nervously, and he could have sworn in the pale light of the ghostly night that she was blushing. "I probably shouldn't tell."

"You've told on everyone else you've pashed, at least tell me who was the first."

"You'll tease me."

"I swear on my mother's most expensive pearls I won't."

"Not much to swear by."

"I swear by my Potions' grades—" but here he faltered slightly.

Rose drew a deep breath and examined him under he brilliant, starburst blue eyes. She studied him like her Ancient Runes notes, and the hardness of her gaze did not falter. "Alright," she said, having made a decision. "You can't react to what I'm about to say. Or make fun of me."

Scorpius nodded, his most practiced solemn face already in place.

Rose's eyes flickered away. "It was Lorcan Scamander."

It was a mumble, but the name was unmistakable.

"Lorcan Scamander?"

Rose shot him a filthy look and Scorpius hastily readjusted his expression into what he hoped was neutral.

"Er, right. Cool. You mean, the prat who almost beat me into a pulp at the start of the Quidditch season."

"The prat who won us the whole Quidditch season."

"Mm. Funny that. Almost as if fate has a sense of humour. You know, if you believe in that sort of thing."

Both their mouths twitched at the corners.

"Scamander though, really? How'd that happen?"

"It was James' twelfth birthday party," Rose said, and now that she had spilled the beans she had no reservations. In fact, she was enjoying the attention. "There were a whole bunch of us playing truth or dare, and we spun James' wand and it landed on me and I was dared to kiss him. It was nothing really," she shrugged, embarrassed a bit. "You know, your first kiss is awkward. I was as red as a tomato. I used to fancy him a bit then, because well, every girl just about did, so I found it humiliating. Plus, it was in front of half my family and friends."

Scorpius nodded, trying to picture the scene until he suddenly decided he didn't want to.

"Who was your first kiss?" Rose asked, bursting with curiosity.

The wind ran its fingertips over his hot skin, and he wished he had never started out on this conversation. "I'd er…rather not say."

"What!" Rose exclaimed, leaning back defiantly. "You just forced me into telling you mine. Now you have to tell me yours."

"Is that a rule?" He started pulling the grass out of the ground—a nervous habit.

"I share, you share. That's the rule. Don't make me draw my wand, Malfoy."

He stared at his feet and he was glad for the cloak of the night, because he was certain his face was bright pink. "I, erm…I haven't had my first kiss."

There was a beat of tense silence, where Rose blinked twice and hastily turned back towards the stands. "Oh," was all she said.

Scorpius' embarrassment bloomed in the silence that followed, and as he had for most of his life, he desperately felt behind everyone else. Because it would have been nice, to be eleven years old, and to have shared a chaste kiss with Rose Weasley under the beech tree by the lake. But that had never happened. Scorpius lacked nerve. He lacked it even now. And now she really would call him a prude, and lose the little desire she still (inexplicably) had for him. He wanted the pitch to open up and swallow him.

"Have you…I mean, have you ever wanted to?" she asked quietly, meanderingly.

The implication made his stomach turn. He didn't like feeling inferior in moments like these. Like there was an imbalance of experience or intentions.

"I've thought about it, and earlier this year I almost…I mean, there was a girl that fancied me and I had a near encounter but…"

"Who?" Rose demanded, a bit possessively. She leaned away.

"Mary Boot."

"Mary Boot? Mary Boot? She's the most straight-laced prefect in our year! What—how—when did you two have a near encounter?"

"When you were dating Corner," Scorpius said, a bit sour. "And she and I started studying together in the library. In fact, we were studying together quite a bit. Partnering in class. You were always so distracted on your," with sarcasm, "study dates, and I enjoy reviewing work in the company of others, and I had to find a replacement study buddy. We were in the library one afternoon and we both retreated towards the back to find an Arithmancy book." He could see her face just then. Her dark eyes half closed and dark hair neatly pulled back into a sensible ponytail. She had paused, one hand on the bookshelf, so that he was boxed in. It hit Scorpius very suddenly—the nerves. It wasn't like the constant presence of butterflies that he experienced with Rose. It was a very sudden lurching feeling in his stomach. She had leaned in, and he realised what was about to happen. "While we were between the shelves she leaned in and she tried to—I mean, it was quite apparent she was about to, er, kiss me."

"What did you do?" Rose asked, gripped by the story. In fact, she looked positively emboldened.

"I ducked," he admitted sheepishly. "And I bolted."

"You ducked!" Rose laughed.

"And bolted," he finished.

She was satisfied with this story. Far more satisfied than he was with hers.

"Well, at least you didn't let yourself get pressured into anything you didn't want to do."

There was the slightest resentment in her tone there. Scorpius hesitated. "Like you were with Lorcan," he said. "And I suppose with Zabini."

"And even with Corner," she added, rolling her eyes. "It's all he ever wanted to do. I suppose I've never kissed anyone I've really had sparks with." She sent Scorpius a sidelong glance and then smiled to herself. "Don't waste your first kiss."

"What?" he said, surprised.

"Don't kiss someone for the sake of it."

"I wouldn't," he said delicately, dusting the grass off his school robes.

Rose frowned at him, unsure of his tone, before taking his wrist to look at his watch. "We have to go. It's almost curfew and we'll be in a lot of trouble if we're caught outside."

"Right," he nodded, retracting his wrist. "You head up."

Rose dithered, but then got to her feet. "Don't you want to cram in some last minute study? We start exams tomorrow."

"I feel rather confident that I'll be topping the year."

"Hey," Rose said quietly, trying to maintain her earlier teasing. She nudged his ribs with her foot. "I beat you across all subjects in first year—even Potions, remember?"

"I remember that," he said. He was silent for a minute, and then sighed. "I'll be along in a minute."

She gave him one last look before leaving the Quidditch Pitch.

Scorpius slowly turned his face heavenward once more, and he felt the first raindrop hit his cheek. She was lethal, and avoiding her would be the death of him.

---

Alice was levitating Sonia Selwyn's hairbrush, her face pinched with concentration. The floating hairbrush bobbed precariously above the dressing table, and with great effort she managed to raise it up into the air. Sonia was reading over her Charm notes, her mouth silently moving as she revised. All the girls were in various states of study when Rose entered, still smelling of the grass from the Quidditch pitch. She looked at the others and then dug out her pyjamas from her trunk, heading to the lavatory connected to their room.

The sound of the running water did not distract her roommates, but when Isabella Nott entered, both of them looked up.

"Where've you been?" Sonia asked.

"I was at the library," she replied, dropping her book bag and unraveling her scarf. "I lost track of the time."

"It's almost curfew," Sonia said, suggesting that she didn't believe Isabella's excuse. The other girl shifted uneasily and took a seat on her bed.

"Well, really, I was supposed to meet Zabini tonight. He never showed."

"Rose is in the bathroom," Sonia warned, returning to her parchment.

"Oh, brilliant," Isabella muttered churlishly.

The other two girls tried to return to their studying.

"Where's Estelle?" Isabella prompted.

"On a date, apparently," Alice sighed, twirling the hairbrush in the air. "Literally the weekend before exams begin and she's on a date."

"Estelle doesn't care about O.W.L.s," Sonia replied. "Her career aspirations are to marry into old money."

"Did she say with who?" Isabella prompted. "Who is she going out with, I mean."

"I couldn't care less who Urquhart is shagging," Alice snorted. "Take it up with her."

"I suppose…" Isabella began worriedly, but Rose stepped out of the bathroom in that instant, now showered and in her nightgown. Isabella's face hardened. "I suppose it's none of my business."

Rose stared at her and then walked past her, digging around in her bag. It wasn't just Isabella; their whole dorm was beginning to get on each other's nerves now that the stress of exams was at its climax. The prefect pulled out a square piece of parchment with a roster on it and proceeded to stick it onto the wall. "Turpins handed out the exam timetable today," she explained, hoping to break the tension.

"I guess you didn't have a chance to share it earlier," Alice replied, a bit scathing.

"Er, I'm just as busy as you lot, if not more busy," Rose retorted. "I've had to pick up extra prefect patrols to cover the seventh-years."

"Oh, poor Rose," Isabella lamented in a whiney voice. She yanked back her sheets. "All that free time she could have spent playing teacher's pet or snogging boys at parties."

Alice dropped the hairbrush on top of Isabella's head. She squawked loudly, gripping her scull where the offending object had hit her. She glared at Alice.

"Oh, sorry," she said blithely. "I really do need work on my Levitating Charms."

---

Toxteth, Liverpool, was a run down area painted black by the slick Sunday night. The buildings were lines of monotonous red brick and barred windows. The smell of saltwater and oil lingered in the air, and the tar road was still wet from the rain. Otherwise, this particular backstreet was quiet, and the team of Aurors progressed quickly and silently up the street.

There would be a lot of muggles about in the morning, which was why the Bandits would have chosen the location. It was surprisingly easy to evade the Ministry's eye in heavily muggle-populated areas. They would need to move swiftly, or else they would have witnesses who would need Obliviating. Of course, Ron had briefed the team on this half a dozen times, but it did not curb his own nerves.

Since the wanted posters had been released—and it had been a stupid move on the Ministry's behalf, essentially sending out a warning to those involved—the Bandits had moved locations twice. The latest tipoff about their Liverpool warehouse was from Cattermole's most trusted source. They had been spying on them throughout the last fortnight.

For Ron, it was his first raid as Head Auror, and his first time in the field without Harry beside him. It felt as if his right arm had been cut off. Bearing the responsibility for the entire department made him feel a bit green, and he could have choked on it if he thought too much about it.

They reached the warehouse, which looked abandoned from the outside. Without needing to discuss it, the Aurors set about placing Anti-Apparation charms around the building. There would be no escapees.

"Cattermole, take the A Team and descend from the top. Dawlish, take the front entrance with Blake. I'll go around back."

Ron paused, giving his colleagues a final look. "Leave Bullstrode to me."

They separated, as planned. Ron hastily departed from the back entrance, while the A Team scaled the side of the building to enter from above. The gang would be meeting tonight, as was their pattern. They met on Sunday, late into the night, which bothered Ron immensely. If it weren't aggravating enough that they had to Apparate to Liverpool, they had to do it on what should have been their only night off.

What bothered Ron most was the sense that the entire raid was a wild goose chase. He knew (and it was a sickening feeling) that arresting these petty hitmen would not stop the Ministry from targeting Harry.

He stood outside the back entrance, a metal rolling door that looked as if it had been locked. He had his wand ready, but he was looking at his watch. One minute to midnight.

Gladstone didn't trust him. He knew this. Harry had expected this. Yet, it still bothered him. It was not the first time they had been on the wrong end of the Ministry, but Ron sensed that Gladstone didn't trust the Aurors altogether. That he questioned their loyalty.

And so he should. A new and radical Minister could not erode twenty years worth of allegiance to Harry Potter. The Aurors respected their disposed Head of Department and only carried out Gladstone's instructions because it was their duty to.

Thirty seconds.

When it came down to it, Gladstone would get rid of the Aurors. He would get rid of anyone who didn't stand beside him with complete and utter support.

This was Ron's first mission as Head Auror, and probably his last.

It was midnight. The Aurors would be entering the building from every possible access point, like a swarm of bees returning to their hive. Ron pointed his wand at the rolling door and unlocked it, sending it up just enough to roll underneath, before bringing it back down again.

He entered a back room, ideal for the storage of files. The air was musty. A table and four chairs took up most of the space, but there were also stacks of boxes with large warning labels stuck across the top. Two figures sat at the table, and they reacted just as the door hit the ground again.

One of them, Silas Norton, looked up from the table and managed to fire one spell (easily deflected) before they were both bound to the table by a spiral of Ron's wand.

Millicent Bullstrode was a big woman, over six feet tall, with a strong jaw that jutted out belligerently as she summed up her captor. The sounds of yells and firing spells leaked beneath the door separating the back storage area from the rest of the warehouse. The Aurors were clearly busy at work duelling the six other gang members, and Ron wouldn't have much time before he had to join them.

"Nott sold us out after all," Bullstrode grunted, unimpressed. "Should have made him do an Unbreakable Vow."

"I have a few questions for you, before I make my arrest," Ron said simply.

Millicent didn't say a word. She only gazed at Ron as if she was not in the least bit interested answering his questions.

"You were working with goblin gangs up until this year," Ron said. Both of them were surprised, clearly not expecting this line of questioning, clearly not thinking it was important relative to their arrest. "Why'd you stop?"

"We were working with Romnuk the Rough because he shared a keen dislike for Gladstone," Norton supplied in his slippery voice. "Goblins are good with gold, and we had artefacts to trade. But we parted ways."

"Why? And why this year?"

"Why do you think?" Bullstrode's eyes were as hard as gravel. "The Kobold Könige switched sides. They started working for the Ministry."

This was the answer Ron expected. The answer he needed to confirm the Order's suspicions. Even then, hearing it made his head spin. It set everything on edge. "I need you to tell me everything," he said.

"Give us one reason," Bullstrode grunted.

"I want Gladstone gone just as much as you do."

Again, this seemed to surprise them. Not because they hadn't expected his answer, but because they hadn't expected him to admit it so freely. Very quickly, the two ringleaders seemed to consider him. Norton cracked first.

"Since the beheadings in Diagon Alley," he supplied, his body relaxing under its bonds. "The Ministry made a deal with the goblins. Gladstone would give into their demands if they started working for him and not against him. That's why they released their captives, and that's why they've got wands. The goblin gangs acted as if they had been shut down. They're just operating underground now, protected by the Ministry."

"It was that simple," Ron said quietly.

"That's when we parted ways with those swine," Bullstrode spat. There was a loud explosion from the other side of the door, and the ground shook. Ron hastily moved towards the door, but he didn't take his eyes off of Bullstrode. She kept talking, as if nothing had happened. "We wanted Gladstone gone, but the goblins want to keep him around like a puppet."

"Which is why we jumped at the opportunity to kill both him and Grigarex."

"We'll be safer in Azkaban," Bullstrode said, and it seemed incongruous that she wasn't even trying to resist. Especially with the battle ensuing on the other side of the door. "Azkaban isn't too bad. There's no Dementors, and you get a decent feed. We'll have our freedom after this regime falls."

"And if it doesn't fall?" Ron asked.

"Then the two of us will share a cell," Bullstrode said, nodding at him calmly.

"One more thing," Ron now had his hand on the doorknob. It had grown quiet on the other side. "The Kobold Könige are protected by the Ministry. So where are the goblins now?"

For the first time, Bullstrode smiled. "You really are thick, Weasley," she said. "They're with all those missing children."

---

The first week of exams arrived, bringing with it an abundance of nerves. The Charm exams were first, and the breakfast table was wrought with fifth-years practicing tricky spells or double-checking notes. Isabella looked quite sick, which was unlike her; she never cared much for marks, and only aimed for average Acceptables. She kept mouthing spells to herself quietly, practicing her wand movements, and when a sudden bout of panic gripped her, she would dive under the table to retrieve her notes from her schoolbag.

"Why do they always have to put the theory exams first?" she complained, rifling through her notes. "I would feel much better if I got all the practical stuff out of the way."

"As if," Rose scoffed, her nose in a book. "It's better to get all those facts out of your head so you can focus on the practical afterwards."

"Honestly, it's Charms. Why even worry?" Estelle Urquhart asked, by far the most relaxed among the fifth years. Her only rival was Zabini, who was candidly wolfing down his bacon and eggs while listening to Scorpius recite various counter-charms.

"Is that them?" Alice demanded. "The Examiners?"

She must have been right. A group of witches and wizards that all appeared to be quite ancient were progressing up the hall, escorted by a grimacing Professor Drummond. They reached the teacher's staff table, were several extra seats had been conjured for them.

"Merlin, I think I'll be sick," Isabella complained, thumping her head against the table.

"Stop being such a drama queen," Zabini snapped.

"Why are you so confident?" Isabella bit back. The animosity between the two old friends was startling.

"I've established ways to make sure I won't fail." His expression was a picture of mischief.

"I suppose you mean cheating," Isabella replied scathingly. "You'd probably be very good at it by now."

Estelle Urquhart laughed very loudly at this and returned to her meal.

With the stress of the O.W.L.s and the circulating drama, one would think it unwise to put the fifth-years in a single room without staff supervision. Nonetheless, after breakfast, the fifth-years shuffled in the Entrance Hall to wait for the Great Hall to be transformed into an examination room. No one seemed glad to be there.

Albus Potter approached Rose. He had chewed his lip so much he had split it open. In a low voice, he asked her, "Do you reckon they'll ask about Memory Charms?"

"Memory Charms?" Naomi Bones repeated before Rose could respond. "But we hardly covered those! Do you really think they'd test us—"

"I doubt it," Mary Boot cut in drolly, sending her a harsh look. "That's N.E.W.T. standard magic."

"They sometimes throw in N.E.W.T. level questions to differentiate the Exceeds Expectations from the Outstandings," Rose said. She wasn't sure if this was true, but she wanted to psyche Naomi Bones out.

"Do they? But that's so unfair!" Naomi cried, looking as pale as she was panicked. "How can we be expected to learn five years worth of magic, as well as the year after!"

"I'm sure you can make an intelligent guess," Imogen Abercrombie replied.

"A guess? A guess? After all these months of studying you just—you just expect me to just—what's the point of all this if I go in there and just take a guess? I suppose I should just guess my whole way through the exam!"

Quite overwhelmed by this self-imposed stipulation, Naomi stumbled towards the marble staircase and leaned heavily against the balustrade. Mary Boot sighed heavily and dragged the other prefect to her feet, steering her towards the Hospital Wing for a Calming Draught.

There was still time to kill before the exam began, but none of the fifth-years seemed willing to return to their Common Rooms. Instead, they lingered around the Entrance Hall, looking over notes and testing one another. Imogen Abercrombie sauntered over to join her fellow prefect partner, leaning against Albus, her long mangy hair in a messy ponytail. She twiddled a Quill between her fingers.

"I confiscated three Auto-Answer Quills today," she remarked dryly. "All from Slytherin."

"Which Slytherins?" Rose asked.

"Mumps, Zabini and that Selwyn girl."

Albus shrugged. "There's always someone who tries it."

"I confiscated Dragon Claw off a few seventh years," Rose shrugged.

Imogen raised her eyebrows. "You know, I wouldn't mind a bit of that."

The other girl grinned and shook her head, just as Zabini approached, smirking widely. Clearly he had been eavesdropping. Albus straightened a bit, eyeing the newcomer suspiciously. Imogen seemed amused.

"C'mon Weasley, don't tell me you flushed that Dragon Claw down the drain?"

"You know I did," she replied smoothly.

Zabini leaned in tauntingly close. His brown eyes were twinkling with mischief. "I reckon you snorted the whole bag yourself."

Rose didn't even flinch. She narrowed her eyes and smiled. "Do you really think I'd need the help?"

They were dangerously close, no more than an inch between their faces. He wore an intimidating smirk and she wore a menacing sneer. Rose wasn't sure what she was more in danger of—being hexed or being snogged. Either way, there was a wild sense of retaliation in his eyes, and she found herself reaching for her wand. If André caused a scene here, outside the Great Hall before their first exam, she would definitely use an Unforgivable Curse on him. She was not in the mood.

"Oi! What's going on here?"

Both Rose and Zabini flinched away from each other, looking around for the source of the voice. It was a female voice, and Rose half expected Isabella to slap her right across the face. But it was not the brunette Rose had expected, but a petite blonde who was furiously marching towards them. She walked right between Zabini and Rose and stopped abruptly in front of the two Gryffindor prefects among their number.

"What are you doing with my boyfriend?" Lucy Bird demanded.

Albus tensed up, trying to shuffle away from Imogen, but the other girl wasn't having any of it. Imogen smiled coldly, the expression not touching her tawny eyes. "I was having a conversation with him. You should give it a go some time."

"Well, I'd prefer if you didn't," Lucy Bird replied heatedly.

"Lucy, you're overreacting," Albus muttered in a fast undertone as several students turned to watch.

"I really don't think I am," Lucy said as loudly as ever. There was fire in her eyes, and they were still fixed on Imogen. "I know what you're up to, you slag. I know that you spend every spare minute with my boyfriend and that you're trying to get him to leave me."

"Funny, that your boyfriend wants to spend every spare minute with me," she challenged. "And I think you've given Albus enough reasons for him to leave you."

Albus continued to mutter, "Please, can we all just remain civil…"

But both girls were drawing their wands now. Rose was far too amused to interfere, in spite of her better judgment.

"Girls, please," Albus said, trying to regain some firmness in his tone. Never would anyone have thought two girls were about to start a fight over Albus Potter.

"I don't trust a slag like you patrolling the halls with my boyfriend," Lucy snapped.

"Call me a slag again and I'll hex your cute little nose off," Imogen retorted icily, her wand in a tight fist.

"Do it," André Zabini said, quite suddenly. For the first time, both girls faltered and looked at him. It was as if they had forgotten that they had an audience. Not only had they interrupted Rose and André, they had also attracted the attention of most of their year group. "Go on," Zabini said, looking quite vicious. He was looking at Lucy, urging her on. "I want to enjoy the hypocrisy of this."

Lucy Bird faltered.

Rose suddenly sensed what was about to happen, what was about to spill over. Other people's truths. Rose was not fond of secrets, she really wasn't. But they were about to begin their first week of exams, and turning over stones in the Entrance Hall was the worst possible idea imaginable.

"How about we all spend what little time we have left to review our notes," Rose said, trying to sound both calm and authoritative.

"I want to know what Zabini means," Albus frowned. "The hypocrisy of it."

"Work that one out yourself, mate," Zabini replied coolly. "I'm not here to give you all the answers."

Zabini left, squeezing through the crowd in pursuit of other entrainment. Albus was staring at his girlfriend intently, his green eyes bright. Lucy Bird stared back, something fluttering over her face. Rose recognised it as suppressed panic.

"What does he mean, the hypocrisy of it?" Albus repeated quietly.

"You're taking Zabini's side over mine now?" Lucy countered desperately.

"Albus," Rose insisted urgently, "you don't want to do this here or now."

"Have you been cheating on me?" Albus asked, in a near whisper.

Lucy Bird's face paled.

"I-I haven't been cheating," Lucy said quickly, as white as a sheet.

"Have you cheated?" he asked again, remaining steely. But Rose could tell he was about to break. It was terrible, too, but Albus hardly ever broke. He hardly ever got mad or upset. He was the peacekeeper by nature, and here he was about to snap.

Lucy didn't seem to realise this. Perhaps she was used to walking all over him.

"It wasn't cheating! It was just once—at the after party. I was mad at you and you didn't seem to care—you went downstairs with the others for dinner and just left without me. I was mad and I—well, I—"

"You've been dragging this pathetic relationship on for ages and all the while you had cheated on me?.

"Albus," Lucy pleaded. Most of Gryffindor were watching them now.

"Who was it?" Albus demanded, his voice ringing through the hall. "Was it him? Did you actually cheat on me with Zabini?" But before Lucy's guilt could betray her, another voice interrupted the fight.

"It is time to enter the Examination Hall," a stooped wizard announced, his voice surprisingly loud despite its tremor. Albus gave Lucy a final look, one filled with a surprisingly vehement disgust. "We're done," he said without remorse.

It was precisely half past nine. The students were called according to their class, and then shuffled into the Great Hall with the assigned cohort. Desks had been spaced neatly apart in several long rows that spanned the length of the room. A large hourglass had been set up on the teacher's plinth. There was a deathly silence, with no chatter whatsoever; only the sound of footsteps and the scraping of chairs.

Albus and Rose were sitting several desks a part, and he could feel his cousin's eyes on the back of his head. He could also feel his now ex-girlfriend's eyes piercing his skull. He had never felt so mad in his life, but he also felt exceptionally free. He looked at his exam paper, which was facing down on the desk, a fresh quill and inkpot residing beside it. He picked up the Anti-Cheating Quill and waited for the examiner to speak.

"You may begin," the wizard said.

With a flurry, everyone in the room flipped their papers over.

Before Albus even opened his, he knew he would blitz it.

He was finally free.

---

"Well, that wasn't too bad," Isabella shrugged as the fifth-years exited the Hall.

"I'm just relieved that the extended response was on Cheering Charms," Alice agreed. "Wicked easy."

"I'm sure Rose was able to identity the common side effects of a Cheering Charm," Isabella smiled scathingly. "Did you get them all, Rose?"

Rose refused to answer.

Alice answered as if she was still in the exam. "Hiccupping, hysterical laughter, lightheadedness…is that all of them?"

"You forgot snogging other girls' blokes," Isabella replied sweetly.

"Zabini isn't your bloke," Rose replied heatedly, rounding on Isabella.

"Oh, I never said he was." She blinked back innocently.

It was so tense someone could have cut the air with a knife.

"Estelle just took off after the exam," Sonia complained, trying to divert the feuding girls' attention. "She was supposed to help me practice for the Charms practical."

"As if she'd be any help," Alice snorted. "You're better off practicing with one of the suits of armour."

Sonia pulled a face and left the other fifth-year girls in pursuit of her friend. Isabella—now with fewer allies about—left Rose's company to join Scorpius across the hall. The Gryffindors had not been dismissed yet from the examination room, but the Ravenclaws just had, and Mary Boot and Nathan Corner were stepping into the vicinity. The Entrance Hall suddenly felt too crowded. "Let's go," Rose insisted, grabbing Alice's hand. They hastily escaped up the marble staircase.

Fifteen minutes later, they were both sitting in the courtyard barefoot practicing locomotion charms before lunch. Rose's left shoe raced Alice's right over the cobbled pavement, while the two girls sat with their bare feet on the cool stone floor. The clouds above were wispy and thin, keeping the hot sun at bay. Even still, it was a bit humid.

"I can't wait until this fortnight is over," Alice sighed. "I've never studied so much in my life."

"You've been studying more than me," Rose admitted. Alice shrugged, concentrating on her shoe, which now took the lead.

"I need to make up for a year of half-hearted marks."

Both girls were silent for a little while, thinking back over the exams or perhaps the heated tension between all the fifth-years. Either way, it was Rose who spoke first, as was her habit. Alice was not usually the one to start conversations. "What's the first thing you'll do after we finish our O.W.L.s?" she asked.

The other girl shrugged, her slick black hair bobbing on her shoulders. "I dunno. Sleep for an eternity."

"And then?" Rose prompted.

"Probably spend some time with Tim," Alice conceded. "Since I've started studying, I've hardly spoken two words to him. But he gets it. He was doing his O.W.L.s this time last year."

Rose was slightly annoyed that Alice had brought up her boyfriend, if only because she didn't want this conversation sullied by a discussion of blokes. She decided to change the topic. "I think I want to fly," she said. "As soon as exams are over. I'd like to get on a broom and give it a whirl around the pitch."

"Just to bask in your freedom?" Alice asked.

"Exactly."

The girls returned to the Great Hall for lunch, surprised to find that any trace of the exam set up had been dismantled. The four house tables had returned, all laden with food. They ate quickly, wanting to arrive at the Charms classroom ahead of schedule.

Their punctuality didn't aid them in any way. There was a roster pinned to the door—alphabetically—and people were entering the room in pairs. Both girls sat out in the hall, legs crossed underneath them. After a while, Albus joined them.

"Alice," he said civilly, in a surprisingly good mood.

"Heard your Bird has been flittering around," Alice mused, half sympathetic and half amused.

Albus nodded. "I just broke up with her, officially, before lunch."

"Wow," Rose said quietly.

"Cold blooded," Alice agreed.

Albus seemed surprised. "What?" he demanded. He turned to his cousin. "You've been trying to break us up for the last few months!"

"Yes, but to do it right before an exam," Rose sighed, shaking her head. "A bit cruel, isn't it?"

Lucy Bird chose that precise moment to exit the exam room, followed by Mary Boot. The next two students on the alphabetical list entered the room. For both Albus and Rose, the presence of these two individuals made the corridor all the more tense. Lucy Bird sniffed loudly and stormed past, but Mary hesitated.

"What?" Rose asked, glaring at her.

"Is it true that you broke up with Lucy before the exam?" Mary asked Albus, ignoring the redhead who had addressed her.

"Yes—I mean—I had to. She cheated on me."

"Don't expect sympathy from me," Mary replied, rather stiffly. "You broke up with her before an exam."

"What was I supposed to do!"

"Break up with her after the O.W.L.s are finished!"

"What sort of Charms did they ask you to perform?" Alice asked eagerly.

Mary Boots' eyes narrowed into slits. "As if I'd help you lot. I'm not saying a word." And with that, the Ravenclaw prefect stormed away. Rose stared after her, wistfully wondering why she had ever wanted to kiss Malfoy.

"Merlin, half the school is going to hate me now," Albus complained, slumping against the wall miserably.

"It could've been handled better," Rose agreed, patting him on the shoulder.

Time trickled by and pairs continued to disappear into the exam room. Alice went in with Caleb Macmillan, and she was tight lipped when she left the room ten minutes later. However, she did send Rose a pointed look, before nodding towards Caleb, who had a distinctly purple eyebrow. Rose noted that she would probably be asked to do a Colour Change Charm.

It bothered her having to wait right until the end. Students flittered inside at short intervals, yet almost an hour had past before her turn had approached. There was only one other student waiting in the hall, his legs stretched out in front of him, and a smirk on his otherwise handsome face.

"At least I have a good partner," Zabini shrugged, watching Rose from across the hallway.

"I'm not so happy about this arrangement," Rose replied coolly.

Zabini's smirk stretched into a smile. He always measured his mood based on how much he could annoy her. "I'm sure one of my Cheering Charms will change that."

It was the second time that day someone had made reference to her New Year's Cheering Charm disaster, and it bothered Rose immensely. Particularly because it had been Zabini she had kissed. "Do you enjoy being repulsive and horrible?"

"Come on, Weasley. You hardly find me repulsive."

"I really do," Rose replied haughtily, crossing her arms. André pushed himself up and walked over to her spot, opposite the door. He leaned against the wall and looked down at her. She hated the sudden difference in their heights, the fact he was looming over her and she was sitting on the floor, beside his scuffed school shoes.

"You know, from this angle I can almost see down your blouse," Zabini drawled. He was trying to rile her.

"I highly doubt that." Still, Rose self-consciously tightened her green necktie. When would Sonia Selwyn and Estelle Urquhart be out? They had been in that exam room for at least ten minutes. "It was you who kissed Lucy Bird, wasn't it?"

"Kiss is a rather inoffensive word to use. So, sure, let's go with that."

"You knew she was dating Albus. Why'd you do it?"

Zabini flapped his hand noncommittally. "Albus doesn't even like her."

"But it's his girlfriend!"

"So?"

"Were you born an incurably slimy prat, or is it something you put on for show?"

He slid down the wall beside her. "If I was born an incurable prat, would you at least feel sorry for me?" he asked with a bit of a pout.

"Not even a bit."

"Not even if I told you all about my secret pain?"

Rose snorted, shooting him a look. "As if that line works for you."

"What? I'm sure that line works for Malfoy."

"Malfoy doesn't have any secret pain," Rose sighed, rolling her eyes. "And he doesn't use lines on me."

"Well, maybe he's not smooth enough to use lines, but he definitely has secret pain," Zabini smirked, and a look was in his eye—the same look he had worn when he ousted Lucy Bird. Like he knew something the others didn't. "You're his secret pain, Rose."

She faltered. The words rang with a truth that she didn't understand, like hearing a familiar song in a foreign language. How much did Scorpius actually confide in André Zabini? The two boys spent a lot of time together, usually because Isabella was their mutual link, and they had been roommates for five years. But the idea that Scorpius confided secrets to Zabini was disconcerting. Especially if they involved Rose.

He was pleased to have stumped her. "So he still hasn't told you about first year then," he said, smiling coyly. "About what happened at the end of the school year." Her blank stare was enough to inspire more from him. "Scorpius almost getting a suspension and his father forbidding him to ever speak to you again."

"Wait, what?"

"You'd think after all this back and forth, he would have at least told you," Zabini scoffed.

Rose glared at him, her blood pressure rising. What really got under her skin was the uncertainty; how could she trust that he was even speaking the truth.

"Of course," he went on, tilting his head towards the ceiling. "Malfoy's secret pain doesn't even compare to mine. I bet my story would make a girl like you weep, Weasley."

"I'm an easy crier," she said shortly.

"And an easy screamer, apparently," Zabini shrugged.

"What is your problem? Why do you keep trying to work me up like this—why me, why did you choose me as your target? Why not pick on someone else?"

The dark boy flashed his white smile and began to laugh. A wicked and charming laugh. A laugh that sounded a bit like her own. "I like you, Weasley," he said simply, light in his eyes. "You have just enough conscience to make corrupting you fun."

Rose didn't have a chance to reply. The door opened and their two Slytherin housemates both exited. The girls didn't look at each other, and Sonia's face was quite ashen. For a moment, her brown eyes connected with Rose's, and then she quickly looked away.

"Well, they certainly weren't asked to perform Cheering Charms," Zabini frowned, staring after them. Rose couldn't help but agree. The two friends were positively cold towards one another as they hastened up the hallway.

"Weasley? Zabini?" The examiner called from inside the Charms classroom. Steeling themselves, they both stood to join the wizard inside the room.

---

The girl's dormitory that evening was very quiet. The exhaustion resulting from the first formal O.W.L. exam had left everyone speechless and sleepy. There was no time to argue or fight. There was no chance to moan or mutter. Isabella barely got to shoot Rose a filthy look; Sonia hardly even managed an indignant glare at Estelle. The girls fell into their respective beds and were asleep within a few minutes.

The boy's room was more or less the same. Stewart Mumps and Toby Fleischer had already dozed off by the time Zabini had finished his shower. When he came out of the communal lavatory, a towel still over his broad shoulders, he was met by a very alert Scorpius Malfoy.

Zabini rubbed his towel over his tight curls before throwing it over his trunk. "You're not going to stay up and study at this hour, are you?"

"No," Malfoy said grimly, resting his hands on his knees. He was sitting discretely on the corner of his bed, as if waiting there by appointment. "I wanted a chat actually."

"A heart to heart?" Zabini said with his usual sarcasm.

"I need you to do a couple of things for me," Malfoy said.

Zabini, in spite of all his taunting and aggravating, respected Malfoy enough to listen. He leaned against one of the posts of his bed and waited, arms crossed.

"I need you to break Isabella's heart," Scorpius requested.

Zabini stared at him, a bit stunned. "What?"

"I need you to really hurt her."

"Why—why on earth would you ask that of me? Are you mental?"

"You're never going to have feelings for her," Scorpius sighed, running his hands through his hair. "And she's really hurt that you've kissed Rose. And she'll be hurt whenever you kiss anyone that isn't her. So, please just break her heart so she can move on."

Zabini blinked at Scorpius in disbelief. "Are you doing this for Belle or for Rose?"

"I'm doing this for both of them."

Zabini nodded. "What else?"

"Hm?"

"You said a couple of things."

"Right," Scorpius nodded, his expression as blank and business-like as someone putting gold into their Gringott's vault. "I need you to leave Rose alone."

Here, André laughed quietly to himself. He took a seat on his own bed. "That I won't do."

"You don't fancy her," the other said with certainty.

"Don't get into my head," Zabini snapped. "I don't fancy her, but I like her. She's got spunk. I'll do what I want with her."

"You're making her life complicated."

"And you're not?"

This stumped Scorpius. He leaned back for a moment and studied his hangings. It was annoying, watching him think. Zabini licked his lips. "What?"

"You're right," Scorpius said, more to himself. "I've always said that she makes my life complicated, but it's really the other way around." He nodded to himself before shooting his roommate a look. "Let's sleep. We have another exam tomorrow."

"I want to ask you a favour, too," Zabini said, not taking his eyes off Malfoy. Deciding to give the respect he had received, Scorpius paused to listen. "Be honest for once. Either start things with Rose or end them. Don't keep her hanging in no-man's land."

---

It was on the second day of the O.W.L. exams and the day following the raid when a copy of the Daily Prophet reached the Great Hall. With the fifth-years so intent on their Transfiguration notes, no one paid any mind when the delivery owls arrived. Isabella was forcing her goblet to transform into a gerbil at wandpoint, and it was only when Tiberius Gallo, in the year above, waved to get her attention that she looked up.

"What is it, Gallo?" she asked, a bit shorter than she usually would be.

"Have you seen this?" he asked holding out the newspaper.

Isabella frowned, picking up her squirming gerbil and placing it on top of her plate before reaching over to receive the Daily Prophet. In the moment that her eyes scanned the front page, Scorpius looked up from his textbook with the epiphany of what she was about to read.

Because there was only one reason Isabella would read anything that wasn't Witch Weekly with so much intent.

"My—my father has been…"

She lowered the newspaper, her eyes meeting Scorpius'. They were wide and brown, reflecting the sunlight from the charmed ceiling above. She held out the newspaper and he took it, keeping his expression carefully controlled.

Edgar Nott Exonerated For Assisting In The Capture Of Terrorists At Large.

Edgar Nott, well known in the community as Wizarding England's capital of industry in Parchment manufacturing, has been cleared of all charges after a court hearing late yesterday afternoon. Nott was allegedly accused of co-conspiring with a notorious gang colloquially referred to as the 'Bullstrode Bandits'. However, it was on Nott's evidence that Ministry Aurors were able to carry out a raid on the racketeer's warehouse in Liverpool and charge the gang responsible.

Millicent Bullstrode, previously convicted of trading illicit Dark Artifacts and storing dangerous materials for sale is the ringleader of the gang. Bullstrode was released from Azkaban two years ago, with six months of her original sentence still remaining. Bullstrode and her gang members have confessed under Veritaserum to attempting to commit the assassination of the Minister of Magic and the Goblin King's Advisor, Grigarex. The Ministry is currently carrying out an inquiry to determine why Bullstrode was released from Azkaban ahead of her sentence, although the Minister believes this was an oversight carried out by Kingsley Shacklebolt under his term in Office.

"It's illegal to use Veritaserum to get a confession," Scorpius noted, but otherwise he just placed the newspaper aside.

Isabella stared at him for a moment, still blank. "How'd this get into the papers—how'd my dad get mixed up in this?"

"Your dad is being praised for aiding the arrest," Scorpius said, raising his eyebrows.

"How did they link him to the arrest at all? I mean, hardly anyone knew…" She stared into space for a moment, thoughtful and quiet. Then, she seemed to snap out of it. She collected her gerbil, transforming it back into a goblet. "Well, I suppose it hardly matters. Like you said, he's being praised. It's typical, I suppose."

On the other end of the table, Rose was chewing her thumbnail anxiously, pursuing the headline article. She felt a little queasy. There was no mention of her father, which was not surprising—Ron Weasley was not the Ministry's most trusted Auror—but the essence of the piece suggested that Edgar Nott had been wrongly accused. Wrongly accused. It did not sit well with her, and she felt a bit like she'd eaten something rotten, and she was aware that she would be sharing a room with Isabella Nott that evening.

Alice was sharper than she expected. Having just finished reading the article herself, she immediately followed up with a question. "It would've been your dad, then?" she prompted, tossing her own copy of the paper aside. "He would have made the arrest?"

"It's illegal to get a confession using Truth Serum," Rose said instead.

"I wonder why they arrested Nott first," Alice frowned. "It seems strange…they didn't mention any evidence."

"Mm."

"And if he confessed, I doubt they would just exonerate him."

Rose had read the first page, and was now turning to page four to read the rest of the article.

The Minister stated that the swift arrest of the Bullstrode Bandits was testament to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's new State Security measures…

"But maybe they would exonerate him if he paid them off."

"Maybe," Rose replied tersely.

Taking every measure possible to preemptively ensure the safety of the public will stamp out the possibility of terrorist threats in future…

"Merlin knows that the Notts have enough money for bribery…"

Arresting eight dangerous, anti-goblin racketeers in a single raid is evidence of the Ministry of Magic's success to quash sinister, xenophobic wizards…

"Or maybe it really was just a mistake. Maybe your dad jumped to conclusions and arrested Nott without evidence."

Rose's pride got the better of her. "There was evidence. The Aurors were tipped off."

Alice raised her eyebrows, her interest piqued once more. Rose hastily returned to the article.

The raid could not dispel Harry Potter's association to the Bandit's Bolt Terrorist Attack. The Ministry is currently investigating whether the former Head Auror's anti-goblin, anti-Ministry philosophy inspired the terrorists, or whether he was more directly involved…

"It's a shame really, that they didn't manage to snuff out Gladstone."

"What?" Rose asked sharply, looking back up at Alice.

"Look, I don't know him personally, but he's caused an awful mess getting the goblins involved."

"Yes, but to wish he was assassinated…"

Alice's black eyes were steely. "I hope you haven't forgotten that we were both poisoned by the goblin gangs last year."

"Well, sure…"

"And that they killed a bunch of wizards and witches in Diagon Alley."

"I haven't forgotten," Rose said harshly.

Alice shrugged. "All I'm saying is, history has a habit of repeating itself, especially when people are quick to keep the peace."

Rose didn't have a reply. She was thinking of Albus testing her on the goblin riots of the eighteenth century, and wondering what exactly a riot looked like.

---

Albus was glazed during his practical Transfiguration exam. He had been much the same during the theory. He had read the article that morning, and only one particular line had stuck.

The Ministry is currently investigating whether the former Head Auror's anti-goblin, anti-Ministry philosophy inspired the terrorists, or whether he was more directly involved…

That line had replaced every fact and figure he had memorised for his exam. Somehow, his father was still implicated in this mess, and that did not bode well. It was eating away at Albus. If Edgar Nott could be exonerated for attempting to kill the Minister for Magic but Harry Potter was still being suspected simply for being Harry Potter…Well, it certainly made things difficult. It certainly made things dangerous.

"Now, could you please transform these opera glasses into an owl?" Professor Tofty requested, peering over his clipboard.

"What?"

"The glasses, Mr Potter."

Albus looked at the black pair of opera glasses on the table between student and examiner. He nodded quickly, trying to recall the diagrams he had reviewed in his textbook the previous evening.

But only one thing came to mind.

The raid could not dispel Harry Potter's association to the Bandit's Bolt Terrorist Attack.

---

"Rose, I need to speak to you."

This whiney, desperate voice met Rose as soon as she came out of the Transfiguration classroom—she was quite pleased with how she had gone in the practical component of the exam and was hoping to now take a long bath in the Prefect's Bathroom as a reward. That plan was suddenly put in jeopardy.

Sonia Selwyn, who had been a few people ahead of Rose, had stayed back to wait for the prefect outside of the classroom. Her face was pale and pinched, as it had been for the last twenty-four hours, and Rose vaguely associated that expression with doom.

"What?" Rose demanded, not pausing as she stalked up the hallway. Sonia was much shorter than her, and was forced to jog in order to keep up.

"I need your advice."

"I'm awful at advice. Ask someone else."

"I can't. It has to be you."

"Why does it have to be me?"

"You're Slytherin prefect."

Rose took a sharp left and headed for one of the moving staircases, knowing it would be a shortcut and an opportunity to lose Selwyn. Somehow, they both managed to leap onto the first step before the staircase shifted directions. Rose did not pause, and continued to climb it.

"I just need you to answer one question!"

"I've been answering questions all day, Sonia, and I've only done that because I'll get a mark when it's all over."

"If your friend was cheating on someone, would you tell the person they were cheating on?" Sonia asked.

"I didn't give you permission to ask your question."

"Please?"

She sighed, stepping onto the fifth floor landing. She was somewhere in the west wing, and had to pause to gain her bearings. "If someone is cheating on someone, I'd say it's best not to say anything."

"What?" Sonia gasped.

"What?" Rose echoed, widening her eyes in disbelief. "You asked for my opinion, didn't you?"

"B-but don't you think I'm obliged to tell the truth?"

"No." She set off once more.

"But you're the one all about being upfront!"

"It's not your secret to tell."

"But I know about it."

They had reached the Prefects' Bathroom, and Rose came to a halt. She was a little bit disheveled.

"How do you know about it?" she asked, with a measure more patience now. "Were you confided in?"

"No, I saw them both going at it in the Common Room during lunch break. I may have followed them, actually."

"If you found out through dishonest means…then I would recommend from personal experience not to involve yourself. It won't solve anything."

"But I know the truth now. Shouldn't I set the truth free?" Sonia pleaded.

"Sometimes it's simpler if you just lock the truth up in a tight little box and then attach weights to that box and drop it into the lake and pray that the Giant Squib digests it." Rose smiled blandly. "I'm going to have a bath now. See you later, Selwyn."

---

Somehow, the fifth-years managed to get through the end of the week without combusting.

For Scorpius, Herbology went smoothly. He finished the written exam with over half an hour to spare, and utilised his extra time going over his answers and editing his essay. The practical was much the same, as he managed to extract the teeth of his Fanged Geranium without so much as a bite. He left the greenhouse confident that he would receive an Outstanding.

Defense Against the Dark Arts went well on Thursday. There were a few tricky questions on Werewolves—what necessary measures must be taken to treat a werewolf bite—but Albus felt surprisingly secure with his response. He wanted to be a Healer, and had always found lycanthropy an intriguing condition. He was even able to cite case studies in the extended response.

Ancient Runes was on Friday, and most of the Slytherins had the day off. Only Alice and Rose took Ancient Runes from their House, and both went in nervous and left feeling buoyant. The text they had to translate had been reviewed a few weeks earlier during a practice essay, and they were reasonably well prepared.

Finally, the weekend had arrived, and everyone could relax a bit. On Monday, they would commence their second week of exams, beginning with Potions. Rose dreaded this, but was trying not to think about it. Alice spent Friday night with Tim Buckingham, and Rose found herself quite alone in the Common Room. After a week of being heckled and sought after, this was rather a relief. She didn't open a book; she didn't give advice; she didn't break up a fight or start one. She just sat very still, eyes closed, trying to ignore the painful throbbing in her left temple.

"Are you feeling alright?" Meredith Maxwell squeaked, taking a seat beside her. "You look ill."

"I have a headache, Meredith," Rose said shortly, indicting that she wanted the first-year to leave her alone.

"It's probably because of exams."

"Yes," Rose said through gritted teeth. "Probably."

"And sometimes when I'm dehydrated I get headaches."

"Sometimes first-years give me headaches," Rose muttered under her breath. Meredith didn't seem to hear.

"I've noticed a lot of the girls in your dorm have been arguing," the young girl piped up. "Is everything okay?"

"We're all just stressed out at the moment. Getting on each other's nerves."

"Because of the serial killer." Meredith said it knowingly.

"They caught the serial killer, Meredith," Rose sighed, lowering her hands from her head. "Bullstrode and her lot. It was in the papers."

"No, no, no. Didn't you read it? They're not the serial killers! They're just hitmen. They had nothing to do with the missing kids."

The prefect raised an eyebrow. "Who is the serial killer, then?"

"Well, now I don't have any idea! I was pinning my hopes on them."

"Meredith," Rose said quietly. "Could you please go to the Hospital Wing and fetch me a potion that'll get rid of this headache?"

She didn't have to ask twice. Meredith had bounded to her feet eagerly and was halfway across the room by the time she supplied her answer. It was unsurprisingly affirmative.

The Common Room was mostly fifth and seventh years, taking up the best seats. A few of the sixth years were also there, studying for their far less important exams or else finishing assignments. A couple of third years were playing Exploding Snap, but it was relatively quiet.

For a little while, Rose was able to close her eyes and return half-heartedly to her dazed dozing. She nodded off for about fifteen minutes before waking suddenly, with the feeling that she was being watched. Her head had fallen against the cool windowpane and her back ached from falling asleep on the window seat. She started, confused for a moment, before recognising who was leaning on the wall beside her.

"You're adorable when you're asleep," Zabini said.

"You lean on a lot of things," Rose croaked, rubbing her eyes.

Zabini smiled and held up a small potion. "Mousey wanted me to give you this."

"Mousey?" Rose frowned.

"You know, the little first-year. With the long nose and mousey face and yellow ribbons."

"Meredith. How can you not know her name?" Rose sighed, taking the potion from him and examining the phial. "Everyone knows Meredith. I think the Bloody Baron knows Meredith."

"I don't bother learning names unless I need to know them."

"She gave this to you?" Rose confirmed, highly suspicious.

"Yep. Told her I'd give it to you once you woke up."

"You haven't spiked it, have you?"

"You were asleep when I found you. I had every chance to take advantage of you without having to spike it."

Rose decided this was fairly good reasoning and took the potion in a single gulp. It was bitter. The other fifth-years girls were hurriedly beginning to pack up and head to the dormitories. Rose slipped the phial into her pocket and slowly sat up. "How're you feeling about the first week of exams?"

"The same as you I suspect. Tired. But unlike you, I also feel that I've failed at least half of them."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I'm sure while copying off everyone's homework some information sank in," she cajoled.

"I am a top notch cheater," he agreed.

Rose faltered here, thinking of Albus, and then of Sonia Selwyn. "It's just Lucy Bird you've snogged recently, right?"

"I snogged you rather recently," Zabini said. "And I did more than just snog Lucy Bird."

"I don't want details."

"Don't lie. You get off on them."

She sat up abruptly and straightened her robes. "You're annoying me again. I'm going to bed."

"Can't I come?" Zabini called after her, grinning cockily.

Rose didn't bother with a response. The potion had kicked in and the throbbing in her temple was ebbing away. The pain relief was only treating symptoms, but at least she'd sleep well tonight. She stopped by the first years' bedroom to thank Meredith and wish them all goodnight.

But the reprieve from her headache would not last for very long, which Rose realised when she opened the dormitory door to find Isabella Nott sobbing loudly into her pillow, while Sonia Selwyn uselessly hovered over her.

"What now?" Rose's frustration swelled again. For some reason, she connected Isabella's hysteria to exams and thought very little of it.

Estelle looked up, far more callous than usual.

"Oh, are you going to act all innocent?"

Rose blinked at her in disbelief. She turned to Sonia, who was being equally unaccommodating. "Er, yes. Because I haven't done anything wrong."

"How can you say that!" Isabella wailed, picking up her tear-stained pillow and throwing it across the room. It fell limply at Rose's feet.

She was backing away slowly now, heading for the door, as if surrounded by dangerous lunatics and in desperate need for escape. "Look, I'm not entirely sure why everyone is so upset…"

"That's just like you!" Isabella sat up, her eyes swollen and her upturned nose bright pink. She looked furious. "Of course you won't take any responsibility!"

"For what!" Rose cried.

"We saw you flirting with Zabini in the Common Room," Estelle accused. And under her scanadalised expression, a spiteful delight lit up her eyes. She was enjoying this. Estelle Urquhart couldn't care less about Isabella's heartbreak. She just wanted the chance to have a go at Rose. "You've been flirting with him all week."

"I wasn't flirting with Zabini," Rose snapped.

Isabella wailed, her sobs renewing. "You—you—you're doing it just to s-s-spite me!"

The brunette descended into a puddle of tears. The ridiculousness of it all swept over Rose so quickly it made her head spin. She took several strides further into the room, her hands on her hips. "Did it ever occur to any of you that we have real problems to deal with? Like our O.W.L.s or—or—a crazy, corrupt Minister for Magic and gangs attempting terrorist attacks or the prospect of this Cold War actually turning into something? We're all on the latter end of a two-year recession and all of a sudden we have goblins flooding the labour market. Amid all of that you've found time to worry about André Zabini and his possible dalliance with me. Let me spell it out for you—I have not been flirting with Zabini. He's the one flirting with me."

"You've encouraged him—" Isabella hiccupped.

"He's initiated every one of our conversations, and they were just conversations."

"You admitted yourself that you kissed him at the Slytherin after party," Estelle interjected.

Rose rounded on her now. "Oh, whatever! He also kissed Lucy Bird at the Gryffindor after party, and I'm pretty sure Zabini has kissed you, too, Urquhart, so you can stop acting like a saint. Tell me someone he hasn't snogged! Perhaps you should be taking it up with him, not me!"

Isabella blanched. Rose swelled with indignation, her head fit to burst. "I'm sorry I snogged Zabini, Isabella, I really am," and this, she said with desperate sincerity. "But you need to face the fact that Zabini will never fancy you."

Isabella visibly recoiled, and both Sonia and Estelle seemed shocked that Rose had stated this so bluntly. It was as if she had stepped forward and smacked her across the face. Isabella's hurt very quickly turned to anger.

"How could you possibly know how Zabini feels about me? You of all people!"

"How could you not know? It's Zabini. If he wanted to go out with you he would have made it known to you by now."

"The only reason he hasn't asked me out is because he respects me too much to—to—" she was searching for the right words.

"To snog you like he snogged me? Or Lucy, or Estelle?" Rose offered lightly.

"No! It's because he's not mature enough to actually be in a serious relationship, and he knows I'm girlfriend material, not slag material."

"He will never be mature enough to be in a serious relationship," Rose scoffed. "And even if you were made of slag material, he still wouldn't date you."

Perhaps this had been too harsh—Rose reasoned that it was just as deprecating to herself, being said slag material, as it was to Isabella, who would always be untouchable in Zabini's eyes—but either way, she did not expect the response she got. Furious and feverish, Isabella wiped the smudged mascara from under her eyes and propelled herself off the bed. She stormed around Rose and threw open the door. Rose, Estelle and Sonia promptly followed her.

A few younger girls had heard their arguing, and were poking their heads out of their rooms to watch. Isabella stormed past them, head held high and nostrils flared. Her bare feet pounded up the stone steps and she finally came to a halt in front of the Common Room table that the fifth year boys occupied. The four boys watched as Isabella Nott, with her perfectly wavy hair and silk nightgown, with her flushed cheeks and pink nose, sucked down a deep breath and locked eyes with André Zabini. In a single exhalation, she asked, "Will you go out with me?"

Zabini stared at her, before briefly looking around at the other boys at the table. They all exhibited a range of confused expressions, but none as acute as André's. He turned back to her. "Are you speaking to me?"

"Yes, you nitwit. Yes." She took another deep breath. "And I'm asking you, will you go out with me?"

"No," he said without missing a beat.

Rose had reached the Common Room in time to hear Isabella repeat her question and so she was also there to witness his answer. She had suspected his heartless response, and Rose did love being right, but the way Isabella's shoulders sagged made it seem like a bullet had gone straight through her and hit Rose who stood behind. She felt like collateral damage. She knew firsthand how rejection felt; like a hole through the heart.

Sonia and Estelle came to a stop at the stairwell, and half the Common Room was watching Isabella now. Feeling their attention on her, she laughed shakily. It was like a performance where she had forgotten her lines. "No, you've mis-misunderstood," she stammered, regaining her confidence. "No, I don't mean go out with me as if we were a couple. I don't mean a relationship. I just want to be with you. In whatever way you want. No strings attached, no expectations."

Both Stewart Mumps and Toby Fleischer turned to Zabini with a mixture of awe and envy on their faces. The words Isabella had just uttered appeared to be most fifteen-year-old boys' dreams. Scorpius watched Zabini, cold and steely, and Zabini watched Isabella, conflicted and aggrieved. For a moment, his amber eyes flashed towards Malfoy, but it was only for a moment. Then, he turned his eyes back to the girl who had been his only true friend for the last five years. "The answer is no, Belle. I'm not interested."

Fleischer whistled under his breath. Mumps shook his head in disbelief. Isabella stood stock still, utterly stunned.

Because a girl like Isabella Nott always got what she wanted. She received a generous allowance each month; she owned a bewitched metal warming pan to keep her bed toasty; she could get magenta dragon-hide boots and new dress robes whenever she wanted them. She had never been denied anything in her life. When she wanted something, it was instantly at her disposal.

Perhaps that's what made André Zabini so intriguing, so very desirable. He was a challenge. He required her to work for his attention. The idea that he was somehow unattainable could not take root in Isabella Nott's mind. It simply could not. "I want you, André. I've wanted you for a long time," she implored. "I'm not asking for monogamy. I'm a girl, like all the others. I'm a girl who wants you. I don't understand why you wouldn't want me back."

"Are you deaf? I don't care if you want me. I don't want you." His face was as beautiful and hard as obsidian rock, and the harshness of his voice was heartbreaking. He said it firmly, unblinking. He said it like he was speaking to a dumb child. Then, very deliberately, his eyes shifted over her shoulder to the redhead by the balustrade. "I want her."

Rose took a startled step back, down the first step leading to the dungeon dorms. Isabella turned to stare. The entire Common Room stared. She could feel her face burning, turning steadily red, and the heat in her cheeks made her eyes water. She was scarlet from embarrassment, but too shocked to move. Isabella inhaled sharply, and it looked as if a year's worth of delusions and desperate fancies surrounding André Zabini had collapsed in a single second. They were all speechless. Isabella stared at Rose, and Rose gaped at André.

Most girls at Hogwarts would have called André Zabini fit, but that discredits the kind of appeal he inspired. He was exotic, nothing more than a stretching shadow disappearing with the sunset. He was gone before you even got a hold of him. He was smoke in your hands. If you got to know Zabini's body, you were no more than a tourist there. No one took up residence. He was an unusual boy, with a terrible, secret pain. He was a callous boy, adept as dishing out pain. He was a beautiful boy, and too many girls risked their hearts for him. Skin the colour of creamy coffee, full lips and high cheekbones. Cocky. Indolent. A womaniser.

By the time he was sixteen, this was all very apparent.

It was made apparent to Isabella Nott in that very moment.

After another breathless, agonising, humiliating minute had passed, she swept past Rose on the staircase and thundered back down the dungeon steps.

Gradually, the room collapsed back into working order. The third-years returned to their exploding snap and the seventh years returned to their books. As the humdrum picked up again, Rose crossed the room, closing the distance in five steps. Like a hurricane, she came down on them with furry. But her anger was not directed at Zabini, but at the blond boy beside him.

"Did you put him up to this?" she demanded, slamming her hand onto the dark wood. Scorpius was visibly surprised. "Well?"

"Rose," he began pleadingly.

"I saw the look you gave him."

"I didn't ask him to do this."

"You're lying! You're a liar."

"I'm—I told him to leave you alone," he looked imploringly at Zabini. "I told you to leave Rose out of this."

"I told you I'd do what I want with Rose," he replied indolently, leaning back in his chair. "And I did what you asked, didn't I? I broke her heart. I really shattered her. I gutted her. I needed Rose to do that."

"You told him to break her heart?" Rose demanded, still aiming her anger at Scorpius. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

He was struggling to explain himself, clearly upset to be on the end of her fury. "She wouldn't move on unless she knew—unless she realised he will never love her."

"Who's the manipulative one now, Scorpius? You're just as bad as I am. And you—" she finally rounded on Zabini. He raised his eyebrows. Both Fleischer and Mumps leaned back. "I am not your toy to be played with."

"Could've fooled me," he muttered.

Rose grabbed André by the front of his robes, pulling him in close. He was surprised by the aggressive gesture, but didn't stop her. "Listen up, buddy," she seethed. "I don't want you in the least. I don't want you to snog me ever again, I don't want you to speak to me ever again. What I want is for you to grovel and beg and plead for my forgiveness until the day I find it in my heart to forgive you, because you have been the splinter in my side since the start of the New Year. Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal," Zabini replied. Rose released his robes with such a firm push he almost toppled off his chair.

"We have exams," she snapped, staring at her male housemates. "We have O.W.L.s and we also have a war, and all I wanted was a weekend with some peace and quiet so I could study."

As she turned on her heel to leave, she acknowledged the throbbing above her eye, in her left temple.

---

Linda Spinelli, a woman in her early fifties with olive skin and a strong Roman nose, had looked as if she was finished crying. It was hard to imagine, how a person could cry so much, and yet it was even harder to imagine that one day that same person could wake up and not cry at all. Particularly after what Linda had been through. Ron knew that if it were him, or his wife, who had their child reported missing, he would cry buckets and gallons and rivers and seas of salt tears. He would never stop.

Linda Spinelli's tears had hardened her though, so she was now a column of bitterness. A tower of salt. She was unflinching as Ron took a seat opposite her, in the back office of Diagon Alley's social welfare agency. Her hands were knotted together, in front of the photo frame of her daughter.

"If you don't know what's happened to her, I don't see why you're bothering me again," she snarled, her voice wavering with anger.

The first time they had met, some years before, she had seemed like a warm woman. Ron had met her because Hermione had received some sort of award from the agency for establishing equal pay for elf-rights in domestic service, and it had been Linda Spinelli who had shaken her hand and handed it over. She seemed like a warm, charismatic woman that evening.

Grief had ruined her.

"I understand this has been a difficult time for you, Linda. But I need to ask a few more questions."

"I've already told you everything I know!" she burst out. "All of you are useless, all you Aurors. Why are you questioning me, when I've already told you all I know? This is out of Alexia's character. She did not run away."

"I don't reckon she's run away either," Ron said quietly, referring to his notebook. These sort of interrogations were always the worst. Having to speak to the family. He had never been good at this. "I wanted to confirm Alexia's age. She would be twelve this past April?"

Linda nodded once, curtly. Her eyes were glassy.

"She was not at Hogwarts, though."

"I already told you," Linda said, her voice wavering. "I chose to keep her at home. To be tutored."

"Which isn't entirely unusual," Ron conceded. "Who was her tutor?"

Linda faltered, but recovered quickly. "I was. I tutored her."

"You are a very busy woman, Ms Spinelli, and also a single parent. Where did you find the time to tutor your daughter in magic?"

She did not answer. It looked like she was trying to work out what he knew. Ron placed his notebook down on the table. "Why didn't you enrol her into Hogwarts?"

"In my position we couldn't just reveal—they would have insisted she grow up among muggles and Alexia is sensitive—it's always been just the two of us and I couldn't have her leave me."

Ron frowned, waiting for his answer. Linda Spinelli had not cried for some time, but drawing out this admission seemed to unlock some deep well of tears. She gave a shuddery sigh. "Alexia is a Squib."

Ron wondered if this was the first time she had said this out loud.

It was no coincidence that all three missing children did not attend Hogwarts despite being of age. Having searched the records, it was no coincidence that (despite what their parents insisted) none of these children had ever bought wands.

It was no coincidence that the Ministry of Magic did not want the Aurors asking questions.

---

She was alone by the beech tree, several books stacked by subject beside her, although the one in her hands was Advanced Potion Making. The scene jerked something in his memory that he didn't want to think about. The books by her side included Unfogging the Future and A History of Magic, upcoming exams in the week. It seemed quite ironic, having history stacked on top of the future.

"Rose."

She was lethal. She made his heart stop, every time he opened his mouth to speak to her.

"Yes?" she asked, not looking at him, but her tone expectant.

Scorpius recoiled, visibly surprised. He slipped his hands into his pockets and grimaced. "Er…I hadn't really prepared anything to say. Usually I say your name and then you interrupt with a big speech."

"Right," Rose replied, rolling her eyes. "Well, I'm done with big speeches."

"I suppose it's my turn then."

"You're rather laconic."

"I'm sorry," he said simply. Rose shook her head, still determined to pursue her Potions textbook as if she had not been interrupted. Scorpius crouched down in front of her, his knee resting on the knot in the roots, tilting her face towards his so their eyes could meet. She softened at his touch. "I always blame you. It's petty of me. Probably an old habit by now. This time, it's me. I'm sorry."

Rose folded the corner of her page and closing the book. "You're forgiven."

Scorpius sighed in relief and settled beside her, the beech tree's roots forming a crooked perch. They were getting better at this—delivering and accepting apologies. He realised then how transient all their arguments had been that year—as passing as seasons. Their fights, although frequent, never really stuck.

They both admired the still grounds, the pearly grey clouds reflected in the lake.

"To deal first with the obvious, what are you doing here?" Scorpius asked.

"Hiding from the girls in my dorm," Rose replied, sending him a sidelong glance.

"Ah. I suppose they all loathe you."

"All but Alice."

"That's my fault. That catastrophe last night was my fault."

"I was the catalyst to your catastrophe."

Scorpius frowned. "We're both really manipulative people, aren't we?"

"Well, we weren't sorted into Hufflepuff, were we?" Rose grinned.

"I suppose not. Slytherin by name, Slytherin by nature."

"I mean neither of us could keep out of Belle or Zabini's love lives," Rose mused.

"You tried to get them together, I tried to end them for good. We are, indeed, rather manipulative."

"At least you didn't use a Polyjuice Potion," Rose said, rapping her knuckles against the textbook on her knees.

He didn't want to think about Potions just then, under their beech tree. Instead, Scorpius reached over her to pick up the Divination textbook. He had never taken Divination and found it difficult to appreciate the chapters inside. Palmistry, Tessomancy, Crystal Balls, Bird Entrails. None of it sounded very pleasant. However, it did sound very subjective. Not at all like Arithmancy. In Arithmancy, you had a formula that, when used correctly, produced an answer. Divination sounded like guesswork. "You have Divination on Wednesday, when I have Arithmancy, right?"

"Yes," Rose said, placing her Potions text on the pile to the side. "I haven't really studied for it yet."

"Do you feel confident?"

"If I could predict the questions on the paper, yes," Rose grinned. "Alas, I don't have the Inner Eye. I'm just aiming for a pass."

"That's unlike you," Scorpius mused.

"I'll be dropping Divination next year anyway."

He continued to flip through the textbook. Funny that they were sitting under this tree, talking about her potential failure. That they had once sat in this exact spot, speaking about the same subject matter. How that had pushed Scorpius to make one of the most stupid decisions of his life.

"I thought you believed in fate, and all that rubbish."

"I do," Rose said earnestly. "I just don't think Divination is something you can be taught. I think you're either born a Seer, or you're not. And I am certainly not a Seer. I can hardly predict what I'll eat for dinner."

"Do you want some practice?" Scorpius offered, flipping the book shut.

"Sure. Would you mind me ripping out your entrails?"

"Very funny."

Rose leaned forward, taking his left hand instead. She held it gently in her own fingers. His hands were delicate and soft, accustomed to fine Quidditch gloves and soft soil. Rose traced her fingers over the creases on his palm. They were very close, their shoulders pinned together and their heads tilted towards their hands. One of her stray curls tickled his cheek.

"The heart line," she said, tracing it over the crease crossing his hand. "The head line. The life line," this dashed across his palm. "And you have a fate line, too. Not everyone does, you know."

"Irony, I suppose."

Rose smiled privately, still focused on his palm. "Your heart line runs parallel with your head line, which means you have a good handle on emotions."

"You don't need palmistry to know that."

"You have a very straight head line. Boring," she sighed. "Your life line is more interesting. See how it's broken?" she ran her finger from his thumb to his wrist. The sensation was dizzying and light on his skin, leaving it prickling. "That will mean a sudden change in your lifestyle."

"Appropriately vague," Scorpius conceded, but his voice was much softer now, as if it was heard from far away.

"Your line of destiny is deep," Rose murmured. She held her own hand against his, palm up, obscuring his lines with her own. "So is mine."

They stared at her hand resting against his, admiring the lines stitched into her skin, lines that were supposed to reveal her entire destiny. Scorpius stared at them, wondering how much he appeared in those lines. He felt Rose relax ever so slightly, so that her weight shifted against his shoulder. Slowly, he closed his fingers over hers, linking them together.

She exhaled and closed her eyes. Melancholy leaked out of her. Scorpius gave her hand a squeeze. "I can't do palmistry. Am I in your future Rose?"

"You're in my past," she sighed, her eyes still closed. "I wish I could read the past, not the future. I wish I could remember things clearly."

Scorpius didn't say a word. Sometimes he wished he could forget, so he could start over brand new. He wished he could forget his past with Rose. He wished he could forget his family's past. He wished that history would crumble into ruins. That it would stop haunting him.

"I don't remember anything important about that day by the beech tree, Scorpius," she said, tired. "I remember it. Not exactly what we said, but it was like any other day. The only difference was we were studying for our first year exams."

Rose let go of his hand and looked at him imploringly. Her sun flare blue eyes met his stormy grey ones and they exchanged something in the silence under the towering beech tree. They had once sat there, eleven years old, with knobby knees and high-pitched voices. It was a perfect spot, for she liked the water and he liked the greenery. Rose stared at him beseechingly and although she wasn't eleven anymore not much had changed. She still made his stomach lurch uncomfortably, although it was not altogether unpleasant.

"Tell me what happened at the end of our first year."

And Scorpius told her.

---

A/N: So much fun writing this! Lots of Rose/Scor moments. I realised half way through I would need to split the chapter because it would be too long, but I wasn't expecting it to split here. Can ya feel that climax building? Hold your breath, the next update will be out soon.

Reviews make me write like 18% faster. Much love x