Chapter Thirty-Four: Albus: The Womanizer

"Al Al Al Al Al Al AAAAAAAAAAL!"

Who. Is. That.

Better question, are they asking for a death wish?

I groaned and swatted off tiny hands that were poking my head, pulling my hair, pinching my nose and sticking fingers in my ear. Emily moaned beside me, turned away and stuck her head underneath the pillow.

Thanks for the help, Em.

I opened my eyes, almost immediately clenching them shut again against the bright sunlight. See, this is why I don't go camping: the first thing I see in the morning is sun, or smell the inside of a sweaty tent; the second thing I see is my seven-year-old cousin Chris on top of me.

I mean, I understand the little guy admires or idolizes me. I'm pretty awesome like that. But does he have to place all his weight on my abdomen? I'm not a bloody body builder, and having a thirty-kilogram boy squeezing the life out of me is not my idea of fun.

Teddy and Victoire really should learn to control their kid.

He shook me again. "Al," he whined, "come play!"

Seriously? Play? "No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's – what time is it?" I demanded, sleepily feeling for my watch in the grass somewhere. Did I take it off? Did I put it on?

"It's six-thirty!" He pulled my ear again. "I let you sleep in!"

"You – oh, bloody hell," I groaned again. "I didn't go to sleep until about an hour ago, Chris!"

"Why?"

… shit.

I found Chis' curious brown eyes blinking at me. I could practically see the devil child's brain working furiously. I'm pretty sure no one had corrupted his mind, but here's the thing about Chris – or all little children, really:

They have big mouths.

And I didn't want Chris running around everywhere, telling everyone that I'd been up all night, nonetheless that he found Emily and I in the same sleeping bag. Maybe he didn't understand what it could mean, but everyone else would.

They already joked about it. The last thing I needed was more evidence. And judging by my sexually frustrated self, nothing had happened, so the rumour wasn't even worth it.

Shit.

"Hey, Chris," piped up a sleepy voice from beside me. I watched her blurry figure sit up and pull Chris off of me and in her lap. "I have a mission for you, okay? It's really important."

He bounced up and down, grinning wildly. "Really?"

"Yeah," she said softly, turning to look over her shoulder. "You see all the parents sleeping in tents in the front?"

"Yeah?"

"They all need to be woken up." Emily kissed his cheek. "Can you do that for me?"

He stood up, placing his hand over his heart. His cape flapped wildly and slapped me in the face. I winced. "I promise I will!"

"Good." She paused. "And don't come back for two hours, okay? Al's really worried about his dad, and he couldn't sleep last night."

"Okay!" He bounded off, dodging around sleeping people and tripping slightly on his cape every few steps. Emily laughed and lay back down. I pulled her flush against me, and her hands landed on my chest.

"You're a genius," I muttered, closing my heavy eyelids.

"Nah."

"You're perfect, you know that?" I don't think I was even aware what I was saying. I was too sleepy. I kissed her right under her ear. She shivered. I kissed her again, except lower, along her jaw. "So… bloody… perfect…"

She laughed softly. "Go back to sleep, Al."

"I can, thanks to you." Something in my head began to spin. "Merlin, I'm still drunk."

"If you don't go back to sleep, I'm going to knock you out."

"I'm sleeping, I'm sleeping."

"Al – Merlin, Al, if you don't wake up, I'm going to douse you with the hose!"

My eyes snapped open. Then shut. Too bright. Too loud. Head pounding. Definitely hung over. "Whazzgoinon?"

But then I heard it, loud and clear.

"Where's Emily? I need to check on her leg before I go to work."

"I'm not sure, Mr. Goyle," said my brother, clearly stalling. As though he knew Emily and I were sleeping here. Crap, I'll never hear the end of this. "I'm sure they're somewhere in the back field somewhere."

"Too many bodies," Mr. Goyle joked. "Can't find them."

Emily and I looked at each other.

Shit.

"Get off me!" she whispered frantically, pushing on my hands off from around her waist. In those thirty seconds, I realized the downside of sharing a sleeping bag. In case you've never done such a thing, let me lay it down for you: your limbs get really tangled.

I'm serious.

We struggled, but that sleeping bag? It's really not made for two. The only reason we both fit was because we were both… you know… pressed against each other. Which was fine with us.

But with Emily's dad? Not quite.

Every self-respecting, straight male will have many fears in his life, but the number one thing to fear is his girlfriend's father. Or wife's father. Even if the man is a good guy – and they usually are – you will fear him, because fathers will go to any lengths to protect their daughters. Including castration.

So naturally, the fact that Emily wasn't exactly my girlfriend or wife but still sharing a sleeping bag with me… yeah, that couldn't end well. I was as good as dead.

We scrambled around, trying to untangle ourselves – but it really wasn't working. In fact, the sleeping bag was such a tight squeeze that I wasn't sure how I'd made it in there in the first place. It was like a panicked frenzy of untangling ourselves.

And unfortunately enough, it resulted in more tangling, rolling around and ending in Emily falling over and me falling on top of her. Straddling her.

And that's how her dad found us.

"Emily, where – oh."

Shit shit shit shit SHIT.

Mr. Goyle's face turned red. Then purple. Dear Merlin, there was a vein pulsing in neck and looked like it was going to explode. I couldn't help but stare at it, frozen. Emily nudged me. I stared down at her blankly, still in shock, like a deer caught in headlights.

She narrowed her eyes. "Al, get off."

I numbly leaned over to unzip the sleeping bag – why didn't I think of that before? – and climbed out and off of her. Mr. Goyle's glare softened slightly when I got away from Emily – but only a little. I grasped around the grass for my glasses and stood up.

"You," he grumbled, pointing to me. "Go wait over there. I'll deal with you in a minute."

Not going to lie – I was terrified.

I stumbled over and sat down a few metres away, holding my head and cursing under my breath. Damn hangovers. Damn shot contests. Damn Fred. Damn James. But maybe not James, since he just covered for us.

Actually, screw that. Damn you, James.

I watched as Emily sat up and stretched her leg out and Mr. Goyle unwrapped the bandage and took a sharp breath, pulling out his wand. He tapped her wound gently a couple of times until her skin was knitting itself back together. He siphoned off the bandage before wrapping back against her leg again, kissing her forehead and letting Emily wrap her arms around him.

"Love you, Dad," she said in a relieved voice. He gave a smile definitely reserved for his daughter. They were close, I could tell.

Bloody hell, I am so dead.

I tensed as Mr. Goyle walked over to me. I immediately stood, shaking and praying to Merlin that I would live through this. I only sort of valued my life, you know.

"Albus," he greeted when he approached me. I nodded, clenching my fists so he wouldn't see my sweaty palms. I don't think I'd been so nervous in a while… maybe that date in Rome. I was nervous then. But than I drank a little, so I was fine.

Ooh, definitely not drinking now. So hung over.

"Let's walk, shall we?" I nodded again, stumbling beside him. He didn't seem to want to be overheard by Emily. Didn't matter, I was going to tell her anyway.

I think.

"So, Al," he began, emphasizing my nickname and surveying me. I looked up at him; I hated when people were taller than me. Mr. Goyle was still holding his wand, and twirling it around in his hands. "What are your intentions with my daughter?"

I blinked. "What?"

He stopped to look at me properly, his arms crossing against his chest. "What are your intentions with my daughter?" I'd never answered this question before. Mr. Birch was always too busy to meet me when I dated Holly. I never had another serious girlfriend.

I swallowed thickly. "I – uhh. Nothing."

Wrong thing to say.

He raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? Really?"

"Uhhh…" I shook my head, trying to clear the pounding. "I mean… like… uhh… I'll never hurt her on purpose."

"Oh, so only by accident?"

Shit. "No! I mean, yes, but…" If it wasn't obvious before, I'm sure the sweat stains growing around my armpits gave away my nerves. I took a deep breath. "I mean… I'll take care of her and shit – shoot – stuff. That's what I meant. Take care of her and stuff."

Definitely blabbering.

Mr. Goyle surveyed me for a little longer as I sweat. Finally, just when I thought he was going to point that wand at me and make me explode into a million pieces, he chuckled (CHUCKLED?), shook his head and put his wand away.

Well.

Whaddya know.

"I believe you, kid," he said, outright laughing, now. He put his hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. "I know you won't hurt her. Especially not on purpose. But either way, if you do, you'll regret it. Got it?"

I nodded furiously.

He laughed again and walked away, probably to go to work. Only when he turned the corner and disappeared, I let out my breath. I didn't even know I was holding my breath. I made my way back to Emily, who had been watching with a smile on her face.

Never mind, the bitch was laughing at me.

"Shut up," I grumbled, pushing her off the sleeping bag so I could climb in. Just before I zipped it shut, she slipped in beside me. "I thought he was going to whip my ass."

"He probably will, if he finds us like that again."

"Well, now he's gone." She nodded and gasped as I ran my hands over her knee, on top of her wound. "How's it feeling?"

"Better," she said quietly. She turned to look at me as my hands slid higher up her thigh, smirking at me. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing," I said, smiling innocently.

"Doesn't seem like nothing."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Al, stop trying to grope me, or I'll call my dad back here." I laughed and brought my hands back around her waist. Emily dug her forehead into my chest, smiling. "You know what amazes me about all this?"

"What?"

"That we were stuck together for a total of a week, and we didn't murder each other."

"I don't think you could ever murder a face like mine, Emily."

She laughed. "Maybe we should go back to sleep."

"Mmhmm."

"If you don't stop taking everything I say inappropriately, I will smack you."

"Fine, fine."

Merlin, could she read my mind or something?

"Al?"

I groaned. "What now?"

Emily snorted and nudged my shoulder again. When did she get out of the sleeping bag? "I have something for your head. Your mum gave me a potion."

I sat up and groaned again. "Good thinking, thanks," I grunted, taking the flask and drinking deeply. As I drank, the pain slowly ebbed away, leaving a heaviness caused only by lack of sleep. Emily snuck back into the sleeping bag and rested her head in my lap. "When'd you get this?"

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, yawning. "So I went inside to get something for you."

I carefully lay back down, shifting so that Emily head rested on the pillow instead. "Why? You okay?"

"I'm all right." Emily yawned again. I felt a compelling urge to yawn as well.

"What time is it?"

"Around nine-thirty."

I glanced around. "Where's Chris?"

"Grounded," she sniggered. "As if it matters, he's only allowed on this property anyway. He got punished for invading all the tents this morning, and no one would listen when he said I told him to do it. He's eating breakfast now."

I laughed. "Good. I want to sleep all day."

"I wish I could." She closed her eyes. "I feel drugged. And so tired."

I let out a long breath as we fell silent. Her chest moved against mine, her breathing slowly becoming slower and deeper. She didn't look like she was sleeping, though – just really relaxed.

Guilt began to settle in the pit of my stomach again. I still didn't feel like I deserved her.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I burst out in a whisper.

"Not hungry," she answered sleepily.

"Just tell me."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "The only foods I know how to make are pancakes and toast." She hummed in response. "Emily?"

"Later." She smiled, her eyes still closed but crinkling. "But I'm definitely taking you up on that."

I cheered up slightly – even though I probably couldn't make it up to her with pancakes, it was a start! – and we fell silent again.

A little while later, Emily spoke again. Very quietly, letting her breath brush against my neck. "Al? I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"But I'm afraid it's a little personal."

"Okay."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Very tightly. "Are you really not a virgin?"

"… oh."

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," she said quickly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

I let out another long breath, thinking hard. Did I really want to tell her? It wasn't that I was afraid of telling her, or that it was too personal… I wasn't ashamed, either. Not being a virgin wasn't a big deal to me. I just wasn't sure how she'd take it.

"Tell you what," I said after a little while. "I'll tell you if you tell me something about yourself."

"Like what?"

I grinned at her. "Something very scandalous that no one knows about."

She laughed softly, and her breath whispered across my skin again. I didn't know why it felt so good. "Something very scandalous that no one knows about, hmm?" Her eyes sparkled with mirth. "What about the tattoo artist? She knows."

My eyes shot open, widening to impossible sizes. "You have a tattoo?"

"Yup."

"As in a muggle, real, needle on skin, permanent tattoo?"

"Yeah."

"No way," I breathed. Holy crap. "What is it? Where is it? Can I see?"

She shrugged and grinned mischievously. "Let's just say I demanded the tattoo artist be a girl, since no guy would ever see the place on my leg where I got it." She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Except – maybe – you. And then you can see what it is."

I groaned, pulling her back against me. "That is so hot."

She giggled as I kissed her neck. "Come on, then, fess up. You're not a virgin, are you?"

I paused, lifting my lips from her skin to look at her.

"Does it bother you?" I asked nervously.

Emily shrugged, closing her eyes and snuggling back into me. "I'll let you know."

"No. Absolutely not."

"But –"

"It's not even an option."

"But I –"

"Albus, no means no."

"This isn't fair!" I burst out loudly, attracting the attention of some sleepy-looking aurors at the dining table. I ignored them; my mum was tapping her foot impatiently, her arms crossed in front of her and glancing at the stove every now and then to make sure lunch wasn't burning. "I don't want to sit here and do nothing, I want to help."

"For the millionth time, Albus, it's too dangerous!" She let her arms go and grabbed a rag to scrub the counter. Which pissed me off. She could just point her wand at it, and it would be clean. "I'm not letting James go, either. Both of you are too young."

"We're of age!"

"Your father is well over age, and look where that got him!"

I pressed my mouth tightly in a line. "How old were you when you fought at the ministry?"

She spun back around, still holding the ratty cloth. "That was different."

"In what way?"

"My mum didn't know I was going."

"Well, that settles things," I said sarcastically. "Hey mum, can you forget this entire conversation and let us sneak out later?"

She laughed – laughed! Can you believe her? – and brought me in her arms. I kept stiff and unrelenting. Plus, there were a lot of people around that I really didn't know, and the last thing I wanted was for anyone to think I was a momma's boy.

Of course, that hug pretty much sealed the deal.

Crap.

She didn't seem to notice, but I didn't really care – it wasn't the pressing subject, here. The fact of the matter was that she was refusing to let James and I help Teddy and the other aurors because we were too young. It's true, we were also unqualified – neither of us were aurors – but it wasn't as though we would just stand there. We could do something.

If anything, it would make us feel like we were useful.

"Albus, I just don't want you getting caught up in this. You too, James," she called over my shoulder, where my brother was leaning against the wall and watching. "You have to pick your battles."

"This is a pretty good one, Mum," I tried to reason.

"Not for you." She squeezed me one last time and turned back to the stove. I sighed and James came up behind me, throwing his arm over my shoulder.

"You gave it your best shot," he said, trying to cheer me up.

"You did, too." He'd been pulling mum's leg all morning – I'd only just taken over. I sighed again as we headed back outside. "I guess there's no chance of sneaking out of this force field, is there?"

"Nope," he said morosely. "But on the other hand, there haven't been any attacks since they got Dad. Teddy says that it might've been because there were aurors surrounding the place, but if they've got the entire place on lockdown…"

"There must be a way in and out," I said reasonably. "But if they've got dad, and he's Head Auror…"

"They've got to be pretty amazing to keep the place locked up."

"Maybe they're doing magic we don't know of," I suggested thoughtfully. "Dark magic, maybe. They might've created some spells – but we can probably figure out the counter-curses if we detect the origin." I paused. "Shit, we don't even know who these people are."

James paused as his hand rested on the doorknob to the backyard. "I always forget you're a fucking genius, you know that?"

I rolled my eyes.

"No, seriously!" he exclaimed, flinging the door open. "You never show it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, looking around. It was noon, and by this time, most of the yard had been cleared of sleeping bags – they were stacked in a corner – and the picnic benches had been expanded in the middle of the yard. Kids were playing and running everywhere.

My stomach growled. "I'm hungry."

James sighed impatiently. "Al."

"Right. Pressing matters." I turned back to him. "Teddy said there weren't any attacks, right? Do you think we'll probably leave soon, then?"

"Yes, we're planning to go home tonight, and aurors are setting up in every town," he said quickly, "but –"

"So just a few more hours of this hell." I shrugged. "Want to go back and get some food?"

James ignored my feeble attempts to change the subject. "Al, come on, you know what I'm talking about. You never use your brains. You could've been the best auror out there – even better than Dad."

I really didn't want to have this conversation. "What're you getting at, James?"

He sat down on the tabletop of the bench. He looked like he wanted to say something – something I knew he'd been keeping in for a long time, but never said it when it mattered. "You got accepted at every program without applying to any of them, and it wasn't because of Dad. They saw your N.E.W.T. papers. You could've done something great."

I felt my tips of my ears grow hot. "I want to be a writer."

"But –"

"Writers can do great things, okay?" I interrupted, trying to ignore the sensation in my stomach. "They're responsible for recording the events of the world. They bring out emotions in people. They create a world – so when someone's being bullied, they have a place to escape to. That's important, too."

James stared at me for a long while. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but I had a feeling it had something to do with how he thought I was wasting my talent in writing. Like it wasn't important enough. That what I really loved to do didn't matter.

In the end, he gave in.

"Whatever," he spat distastefully.

"Piss off, James," I muttered, pushing myself off the bench.

I went back inside, kicking the door open and murmuring under my breath. My parents had never been ones to push me towards something I didn't want to do. It was as though my brother had taken that role. I suspected he was jealous – he barely passed his N.E.W.T's – but I hadn't asked for my brains. Spells and potions… they just came easy to me. Writing was a challenge I enjoyed.

Most of the time, I wished my brother had my brains so there wouldn't be that tenseness between us, but I liked to think we were still close. That we were beyond that. He just pissed me off sometimes, because it felt so condescending.

I made my way through the crowded house, grabbed some spare parchment and a quill and sat at a table in front of a tall, dark-haired guy. I didn't know who it was, but when I sat, he immediately turned to me.

"Adam Finnegan," he said, holding out his hand. "We went to Hogwarts together."

"Yeah… you were in Hufflepuff, right?" I asked, putting down my stationary and shaking his hand. "Al Potter."

"Everyone knows who you are," he said bluntly. I snorted in agreement. "Say, it's not me who's the, 'Blasted prick who should keep his jealous fucking nose out of other people's decisions', am I?"

"No," I said gloomily. "That'd be my brother."

"Ah." He paused. "I don't have any siblings."

"Lucky you." He laughed. "So, are you a friend of the family?" I asked, picking up my parchment. "I don't remember you coming 'round for dinner."

"My father and your father shared a dormitory at Hogwarts," he said. "We live a little far away, but when we heard about your dad, we came over straight away. Your mum offered my family a place to stay for a couple of days." I nodded. He watched as I unscrewed the lid of my inkbottle and began to write. "What are you writing?"

"A letter to the Prophet." I bit my lip, thinking of my next few words. "I'm going to resign."

His eyes bulged out. "You work at the Prophet? As a journalist?"

"Used to," I said absent-mindedly.

"Bloody hell, you must be good," he said, voice full of awe. "I've been pushing for an internship there for ages. I finally got an interview last time, but I didn't get in."

"I wouldn't work there when the ministry's mad, they control every word you say." Suddenly, my head snapped up in realization, eyes widening at Adam. "Wait, you write?"

"Hell yes."

"Shit, mate. Let me read something." He grinned and took a piece of parchment from my stack and plucked the quill from my hand.

"Pick a topic," he said.

"A topic?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. He nodded. I searched around the room, thinking of something. My eyes fell on the clock on the wall. "Time," I said, turning back to him.

He immediately furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, staring hard at the parchment. His expression cleared as he began to scribble. In that moment, Adam had transferred into another world. I watched as he wrote out a short poem.

On the spot.

"Here," he said a couple of minutes later, tossing it at me. "Not my best, but it's something."

'The ticking clock stirs

In the midst of

Empty,

Yet fluttering minds.

Marking the beginning

Of every day life,

Marking the end

Of absolutely nothing at all.'

I glanced up. "This is amazing. I can't write poetry for shit."

He grinned and took it back, folding it multiple times before shoving it in his pocket. "I write everything. Poetry, stories, articles…"

"So do I, but I've got my weaknesses," I said, laughing. "I do better with short stories, but I've written one novel."

"Wow, a novel? When'd you finish it?"

"A couple of weeks ago, actually –"

"There you are!" said a voice in my ear, causing me to jump. I swivelled around to see Emily slide into the chair next to mine; her hair was still damp from the shower, and she was holding a plate of food. Funny, I forgot how hungry I was. I slid an arm around her waist to bring her closer. "This place is crazy, there are people everywhere."

"But none are more beautiful than you."

My gaze snapped to Adam; he was making a weird face at Emily – somewhere in between a smirk and a smile – and raising his eyebrows at her suggestively. His voice had become very deep. I instantly wanted to take my quill and stab him with it. Repeatedly and thoroughly.

Was he hitting on her?

To my dismay, Emily blushed. He reached across the table to grasp her hand and kiss it, like those douche-y men did in the old days. "I'm Adam. And you are?"

"Emily."

I could've sworn she smirked at me when I tightened my grip on her waist. I hoped with all my might and the wonky feelings in my stomach that she didn't flirt back, because I probably would've done something embarrassing. Like drag her out of the room and snogged her until she forgot all about Adam and his stupid tall, dark and handsome shit girls love.

Don't worry, I restrained myself.

"So, Al," he said, suddenly changing back to speaking normally. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Can I read something of yours?"

"Depends," I told him loftily, still pissed off at his stunt. I grabbed a carrot off Emily's plate. "How much do you like reading fillers?"

"What?"

"That's what they made me write, mostly," I said, shrugging. "Except for that last article I wrote before the minister died. Wasn't really a great job, but it was a start."

"Oh, so you didn't have a column."

"Nah."

"But what about your stories?" he asked curiously.

Shit.

"Stop eating off my plate," Emily chastised playfully (and a little hastily), slapping my hand away. I grinned and ducked around her for more. "Al!"

"Fine," I decided dramatically, finishing off another one of her carrots. "If I have to go all the way to the kitchen…"

"I'm sure you'll live, Al."

I grinned and kissed the side of her head. Adam politely looked away. Yeah, that's right, she's my wife. Err. Girl. That's right. She's my girl.

Take that.

"Coming?" I asked him as I stood. He followed me to the kitchen; as soon as we were out of the dining room, he clapped a hand to my shoulder.

"Don't worry, mate," he said, sniggering. "I'd never go after her."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He suddenly grabbed at Molly, who was passing by. She gasped as he took her hand, kissing it and giving her the same flirty-face he'd given Emily. "Girl, you must be magical, because I've fallen under your spell."

Oh.

As he let her go and continued on his way, he rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Potter, you have a lot of female cousins, hot damn!"

I must've peed myself laughing.

I think I could be friends with this git.

Emily had disappeared somewhere.

But that was okay. It's not like I only talked to her, right? It's not as though I spent nearly every waking moment with her for past two months. No, I definitely had a life of my own and still thought like a normal teenage boy who could sit in his underwear all day and fart whenever he wanted to.

Shit, I really needed to start hanging out with the guys again.

I was sitting with Adam at lunch, but he'd gone off to – surprise, surprise – hit on whoever he could find. Rose and Malfoy are sickening to be around – that, or highly entertaining. I particularly liked when Rose started going all mood-swingy and hitting Malfoy, but for the most part, they were dry humping.

I couldn't believe Malfoy was getting more action than me.

But I suppose that's my own fault.

So there I was outside the house, nursing my hand from the owl that pecked me when I gave it my resignation letter (the family owl – Hedwig II – is vicious. She hates me) and trying to ignore my constant sexual frustration when something hit the back of my head.

Hard.

Ouch.

"Oi, Al!" Adam called as I swore under my breath. I turned to see that a Quaffle had banged the back of my head, and James – who else, really? – had thrown it. He and Fred were standing further away as Adam jogged towards me. "Up for Quidditch?" he asked when he reached me.

"Do I have to get hit with a Quaffle again?" I grumbled.

"Sorry about that." Adam picked it up off the ground and tucked it underneath his arm. "Err, before we play… are you the protective type? I mean, in terms of your cousins?"

I groaned. "What'd you do?"

He slung an arm across my shoulders. "Mate, you know me so well already."

"I know you're an asshole."

"Too true."

"Come on, Adam, you're making me nervous," I said, shrugging his shoulder off. James and Fred were waiting, probably wondering why we were still talking and not playing Quidditch. "What happened?"

And then – get this – he began to get this strange look on his face – but it was a different look than before. His other expression was smirking and smug with this creepy smile and low voice. This time, all his features slackened and he stared off into the difference, a goofy smile spreading across his face. I'm ninety-nine percent sure his voice actually got higher.

"I think I'm in love," he announced loudly.

My eyes widened. "Oi, shut up," I said immediately, pushing him further from James and Fred. "Someone might hear you."

"But I want to tell everyone, Al!" he shouted. I winced. He was full-on grinning now, becoming louder with every word. "I want everyone to know that I have met a goddess, in the form of Dominique Weasley!"

"Seriously, shut up," I muttered, clenching my eyes shut. "I thought you hit on every girl you meet."

"I do!" he exclaimed proudly. "But I've never gone out with any of them."

"Why?"

"I'm holding out for the perfect woman," he said tenderly, "and now I've found her."

I started laughing, and he looked outraged. "You can't be serious," I said through chuckles. "Dom's been in love with Lysander for the past… I don't even know. And they've been dating for years."

"Well, not anymore," he said over my laughter. "They broke up."

That shut me up.

"Since when?"

"I dunno," he said, shrugging and gripping the Quaffle in his hands. He tossed it into the air. "She's been crying for a couple of hours, now."

I couldn't believe my ears. "Shit. When Dom's upset… you really don't want to be around her."

"Why?"

I smirked. If this didn't put Adam off Dom, nothing would. "Well, first off, she cries. A lot. And when Dom cries, she needs to be comforted with hugs and ice cream. Usually Victoire or Rose takes care of that, but since they're both married, she won't want to see them. She'll insist on seeing someone who's single so she can share her misery. She will throw a fit every time something doesn't go her way, drag the first person she sees shopping. For hours."

Adam blinked at me. "Sounds like you've been a victim."

"Too many times, mate," I said solemnly. "But not the last one. She'll demand a girl's night for every single girl in the family. Thank Merlin she's never dragged me to one of those – Adam?"

He suddenly looked very gleeful. Out of the wide range of expressions I've seen on Adam, I'd have to say this one was the scariest. I backed a couple of steps from the newfound clown; if he bared his teeth, I was ready to run.

(I am slightly afraid of clowns. Shush.)

"A girl's night?" he said happily, looking as though all his dreams had come true. "Al, we have to go. We're spying on them."

I groaned again. "What the hell? I don't want to spy on my cousins doing girly stuff!"

"Well, it's not as if I could speak to her on person," he said reasonably.

"Wait, you haven't hit on her?"

"Hell no!" He tossed the Quaffle towards James and Fred, who looked quite pissed off at being forgotten. Adam turned back to me, entirely serious (and way too happy). "I need you to be my wingman."

"We're not going to a bar," I protested.

"Don't you want to see Emily in her pyjamas?"

"Been there, done that." But even in that, I realized with a jolt that she'd be there.

"Come on, Al," he said convincingly. There was a glint in his eye that I didn't like. That he'd found my weakness. Dammit. "Wouldn't you like to have an excuse to stare at her all night?"

Okay, first off: that's creepy.

Second: I could do that anyway. We shared a sleeping bag, for Merlin's sake.

(But we wouldn't if she was at girl's night, would we?)

Adam grinned. Screw him. He couldn't just say a few words about Emily and make me go crash a stupid girl's night just so he wouldn't be alone. I was not going to be a creeper. There was no chance, none at all –

"I bet she looks sexy in pyjamas."

"Eyes off," I snapped immediately. And I knew I was falling into his trap, but I couldn't help myself. "And hands, for that matter."

He sighed theatrically, taking his time to fill his lungs and . "I can't just promise to keep my hands off such a stunning girl," he said dramatically. "I mean, Dom is the love of my life – but she's still unavailable. Who knows what could happen?"

He. Did. Not.

His grin was becoming even more pronounced as he finally headed towards James and Fred. I was seething when he glanced back, calling over his shoulder, "Let's play, Al. I need you on my team, I suck at Quidditch."

I groaned. Again.

Fuck everything.