Thank you for your kind notes! I'm doing well, just lack of time due to work! I hope you are taking care of yourselves. To my friends in India, I hope you are staying safe. My thoughts are with you.

Much love to my readers: ChanceToBeImmortal, ReticentReader, LoreleiLorelei, fangirling2.0, air-please, yellow 14, jelly-hoppers, Aryam, MrsCharmander, roseweasley394, misskangas, lilvictoire, weasley, raspberryrainx3, blue Hedwig, LuvYouMom, mlcm, crushHP, whatapileofshit10, teddyvictoire'slovechild, Hefty, Helo, MyCellyine, AMBERJANUS, Bamberrr.x, movies2560, Scorprosetvd, 5ilverReader, veeRonniekins, tulipfields, Chanel Forsk, Sophia, Pilarofdoom, glassycry, HPDWTWD, scose, Formenial, Rose, syranzra, BlackRoaseargh, Anna CL, Crystal Jupitar, hpdude-4life, As1hey, lllllllau and all the wonderful guests/anons who constantly lend their support. I'm really touched you that you keep coming back to this story. Special thanks to Pummelkuh (dot tumblr) for her amazing ABoS art! Please visit her and love her.

A lot more to come in this story. I hope you like this one!

Added to the playlist to capture the mood for Rose and Poppy – Begin Again by Taylor Swift :)

Chapter 42: The Escape

After a private meeting with Pomfrey and McGonagall that afternoon, Poppy headed to the Great Hall for a coffee. Upon arrival, however, she was greeted by the sight of Rose and Scorpius huddled together at the end of the Gryffindor table. Most students were still out at Hogsmeade, but the few who had returned were studiously focused on not staring… which only made Rose and Scorpius' sudden reunion all the more conspicuous.

Rose and Scorpius, of course, were too absorbed in each other to notice their surroundings. The previous gloom that had plagued them both had lifted, as though the curtains were suddenly drawn on the pair of them. Judging from the twinkle of her blue eyes and the silky ease in his demeanor, it seemed the two of them had returned to normalcy—whatever that meant for them. As Poppy neared, it was hard to miss the frequency of their flitting smiles, the intimate undertones of their quiet conversation, and the lingering softness of his gaze on hers.

Not to mention the almost casual way Rose's fingers were caught loosely between his, their joined hands rested on her lap as Scorpius stole a kiss. Between them, a half-eaten strawberry tart sat long forgotten. Though gauging from the look on Scorpius' face, his appetite went beyond mere dessert.

Merlin. They were hopeless.

Rose's face lit up as Poppy approached. "Poppy," she exclaimed, gesturing her friend closer. "Won't you join us for tea?"

"I would much rather leave you two alone," Poppy admitted wryly, keeping a straight face as Rose's ears turned pink. "But if you insist…"

"We insist." They both glanced at Scorpius in surprise, but he cleared his throat and fixed Poppy with a look that was almost friendly. "Join us, Langdon."

"It's Poppy."

"What?"

"You can call me Poppy," she said lightly, moving to sit across from them. "If you don't mind."

Rose beamed, looking pleased. But Scorpius didn't make a fuss about it, which suited Poppy just fine. "Right," was all he said. "Well, Poppy. Rose and I were just discussing the ghastliest option for dinner later. Our contenders are cabbage stew, broccoli cheese pie, or eggplant lasagne—"

"Don't make fun of me just because you don't like your greens," Rose returned dolefully, as a fond smile quirked into Scorpius' mouth. She regarded Poppy then, hesitation colouring her features. "Poppy… um. I wanted you to be the first to know that—"

"We're dating. Officially." Scorpius gave Rose an expectant look. "When are we telling your family?"

"Scorpius."

"What? I'm making it clear to my family."

"Not to your grandfather, surely—"

"Especially my grandfather. One only hopes he dies of the heart attack this time."

"I actually agree with Scorpius, Rosie," Poppy said carefully, tapping the edge of her mug to fill it with coffee. "There's really no point beating around the bush if you're official. The world already thinks you're dating… your family shouldn't be the exception." She grinned. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks," Rose said, looking queasy. "I really just wish there's a way for us to leave it all as it is. Dad… he wasn't happy about the idea in the first place. He might make a big deal out of this."

"He already did the first time," Poppy pointed out gently. "In case you've forgotten, the two of you made headlines in the Prophet."

Rose nodded, chewing nervously on her bottom lip as she met Scorpius' inquisitive gaze. "Do you like Howlers? Because you should be prepared for several."

Scorpius paused, noticing her troubled expression. "It'll be worth it," he said at last, leaning in to nuzzle briefly into her cheek. "To me."

Rose's face softened, her jitters momentarily soothed. Poppy was just thinking that it was the right time to leave when a pair of familiar voices caught her ear. As if on cue, Albus and Fawley approached over her shoulder, the latter pulling along a scratched-up leather trunk behind him.

Rose had stumbled to her feet, eyes wide. "Oh, Fabian—are you leaving already?"

"Well, yes," Fawley said brightly, looking around at them. "Mission accomplished, you know. I just came to bid you all farewell." He smiled kindly at Poppy. "Now that the matter is in Headmistress McGonagall's hands, I trust any poor business that arises will be well taken care of."

He was speaking of Crossley, of course, and the possibility that the professor will deny all charges and counter-sue the girls for defamation. But Poppy refused to think of it, choosing to put on a brave face. "We couldn't have done it without you," she said sincerely. "Will you not stay for tea, Mr Fawley?"

"I'd like some tea, actually," Albus piped up, dropping into the seat beside her. "Pass the scones, Rosie."

"You say tea, but I smell coffee," Fawley said, sniffing the air with a pained face. "Thank you for offering, Miss Langdon, but I have a train to catch. I need a ride to Muggle London before Apparating to Nice."

The location was obviously of some significance to creature-lovers, because Rose was now looking alertly at him. "Surely you aren't looking for Fibberts next?" Her voice dropped conspiratorially. "Isn't their habitat located on private Muggle territory?"

Fawley was already slinking away from them. "Er, about that…"

It was hard to avoid Rose once she was enthused about something. "Have you spoken to the landowner? Have they given permission? How long will you be there? Oh, wait up—let me walk with you to the gates—"

"We'll both see you out," said Scorpius firmly, rising from his seat. Beside Poppy, Albus had raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but Scorpius had barely acknowledged him since he'd sat down. Whatever grudge he was holding against Albus, he was certainly in no mood to let it go. "Anyway, I owe you an apology, Fawley."

"Do you, now?" Fawley said, getting interested. "I do like apologies, for I am owed so many but given so few. Come along then, you can tell me all about it on our way."

As the three of them headed off, their chatter merging into the bustling sounds of the Great Hall, Poppy became all too aware that Albus was still beside her buttering his scone. She'd been sure he would follow the rest of them… and perhaps he would have, if Scorpius hadn't given him the cold shoulder. Poppy stared blankly into her coffee mug, unsure about what to do next. If he wasn't going to leave, then should she? Usually, it would be a no-brainer to walk away.

But things were no longer the same.

Albus—wasn't exactly the enemy anymore.

Especially not after the way he stealthed her into Crossley's chambers, then threw himself in the line of fire when they were on the verge of being discovered.

Even so. They weren't friends.

Oh hell. This was weird.

"You don't have to stay," Poppy blurted out, the same time Albus said, "So how's it going?"

They blinked at each other in surprise, then—

"I'm doing alright," she said in a rush, just as Albus went, "I'm here for the scones." To prove his point, he took a bite. "Damn, this is pretty bomb."

Poppy took an unceremonious gulp of coffee as Albus chewed leisurely on his scone. Poppy was comfortable with silences—in fact, she much preferred them—but somehow that same silence felt… palpable when it was with Albus. Like it was its own living, breathing person, waiting for either one of them to acknowledge it.

This wouldn't do. Rude was better than awkward. She would leave.

But her next words were tumbling out of her before she could stop them.

"You're still fighting with Scorpius, then."

She half-expected him to tell her to mind her own business, as he was wont to do. But Albus merely shrugged and leaned back into his seat. "It's a lost cause." He glanced idly towards the doors, even though Scorpius and Rose had long gone. "Neither of them are going to listen to me."

She hummed under her breath. "Maybe because you're giving them bad advice."

He scoffed, glancing over at her. "You don't even know what I said to them."

Well, arguing with him was certainly more familiar territory to her. Poppy straightened in her seat. "They like each other," she pointed out. "That's not going to change, whatever you think. You may as well get with the programme."

"And you're optimistic about the happily ever after, then?" Albus cut her a look. "Rosie hasn't told you, has she? About Aunt Hermione running for Minister."

This new information gave Poppy pause. She set down her coffee mug, the implications of his words catching up with her own sense of paranoia. If Hermione Granger-Weasley was running for office, then there was no question that any association with old guard like the Malfoys would be detrimental with more progressive voters. Poppy believed in Rose and Scorpius' ability to weather a storm… but this storm would be something else.

Suddenly she could understand Albus' pessimism. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed." Albus rolled his eyes, popping a biscuit into his mouth. "Still optimistic?"

"I want to be." Poppy turned to face Albus, her brows creased. "Scorpius doesn't know, then?"

"Doubt it. You know how slow Rose is to get to the point about anything."

He was certainly right about that. "Well. If anyone can get through it, it's them." Poppy glanced up tentatively at him. "They'll need your support. More than anyone's. If Mrs Weasley is really going for Minister, then I can't imagine how the media is going to be." She blew out her cheeks, her mind racing now. Rose was going to be overwhelmed, and there was no way of knowing how Scorpius would handle it, either.

A ticking time bomb.

Poppy was worried.

Albus was studying her with raised eyebrows. "Holy hell, Langdon. My aunt hasn't even started her bloody campaign and you're already fretting?"

"You're the one who's stressing me out," Poppy snapped, forgetting herself for a moment. "I'm leaving."

"Uh-huh. And where are you going?"

"Patrol." Even though there was no such thing as patrol before dinner.

Albus glanced furtively over his shoulder before pushing back his chair. "I'll go with you."

"You don't have to." It was hard to keep the panic from her voice, but Albus was already on his feet, impatiently pushing his tousled black hair from his eyes.

"Let me, Langdon. Who knows what trouble I'd get into if you aren't here to keep me in check?" He shuffled closer, lowering his head to hers. "Seriously, though… if you leave me here alone, Fayed is going to come over and try and ask me out. Again."

Fayed. The name rang a distant bell. Poppy glanced about in confusion, finally spotting the lanky dark-haired girl at the Hufflepuff table, her smitten gaze fixed on Albus. Poppy knew next to nothing about her, except that she was a rather popular Quidditch player.

"Keeper, right?" she asked uncertainly.

"My god, you really don't watch the games, do you? Fayed's definitely not a Keeper." Albus uttered a heavy sigh and made a half-hearted gesture with his hands. "Jealous, clingy sort. Might already have set a curse on you just for being beside me. Sorry."

"And what do you mean, again?" Poppy demanded, ignoring his dour remarks.

"She's followed me all day. To Hogsmeade and back. Why else would I be back so early?"

Well, that Poppy could empathise with. Being stalked was certainly something Lily and Rose had dealt with. She considered her options as they exited the Great Hall, unsure of what he expected from her. "…Do you want me to drop you off at the Slytherin common room or something?"

Albus huffed, as though the suggestion was beneath him. "I can manage back myself, thanks."

Even so, he followed her some distance out, past the entry hall and out into the corridors.

Poppy stopped them mid-step, trying to contain her impatience now. "She won't follow you here," she said, feigning a reassuring smile. "So I'll see you around. Bye."

But Albus got in her way, genuinely affronted by her attempt to leave. "Oy, give it a damn second. Who knows if she's going to pop up from the shadows?"

She stared at him, unable to hide her scepticism. "You're the one who said you could manage yourself."

"Just—hang out with me for a bit. At least you can dock points if you catch her stalking me."

Poppy shot him an exasperated look. "I can't just dock points from someone using the hallways in the daytime, Potter. They'd be well within their rights. Use your Invisibility Cloak or something."

"Well, what makes you think I'm carrying it?" Albus returned, folding his arms indignantly. "Special occasions only, I'll have you know."

Poppy opened her mouth to retort… then stopped herself just as quickly. Albus had obviously sought Rose or Scorpius' company to help shake off this girl, but if neither of them were here, then she supposed it fell on her to do this one thing for him. Since he did go out of his way to help her the other night.

And that was a big deal. All things considered.

So Poppy merely uttered a long-suffering sigh, and resumed her stroll with Albus at her heel.

They didn't have a destination, because neither of them were really going anywhere. Where Poppy walked, Albus followed. For some unfathomable reason, a terrible warmth was collecting in her collar, her blushing skin tickled by the falling strands of her loose chignon.

Their escape from the Great Hall came to a natural pause in the middle of a sun-filled corridor facing the wide expanse of Hogwarts grounds. It was a gorgeous late afternoon; a promise of spring on the far horizon. A pale mist had risen, painting a cloudish blur of faded gold over the gentle dips of icy grey slopes. From a distance, Poppy could spot the idle blackness of the Great Lake, where so many of her forbidden adventures took place. Where Rose almost lost her life because of her.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she glanced around to look for Albus… only to see him staring out at the same lake with the strangest expression in his green eyes. When he turned his gaze back to her, their eyes locking for the briefest of moments, there was still something of a dream in his face.

Poppy did not know what he was looking for.

Only that she had to look away.

"I forgot to thank you," she said at length, once the silence between them got the better of her again. "For helping me. Even though you didn't have to."

The words were no good, at least by Poppy's standards. But Albus didn't seem to mind. He had returned to himself, self-possessed and relaxed once more. "Anytime," he said. "I had to. It was the right thing to do."

Poppy nodded numbly. And because she could no longer bear the empty spaces between them, she filled it with the first thing that came to mind.

"Crossley's been suspended," she said in a rush, wishing she didn't sound so vulnerable. "McGonagall will let the school know on Monday, though of course she can't divulge the details until the Ministry charges him officially. We'll have to self-study for Potions. At least until they find a replacement."

Albus leaned a shoulder on the stone wall, tilting his head towards her. "Good. Then we won't have to see his ugly mug anymore."

"And we won't have any more Dungbombs set off in class."

Albus shrugged, but his eyes were crinkling. "I can't promise that. But sure, we'll have fewer incidents."

"It won't matter anyway. You can do whatever you want, because I'll no longer be Head Girl next week." Poppy didn't know why she was telling him this, but here she was. Her voice was cracking ever so slightly now. "I wasn't—going on patrol. I'll never go on patrol again."

At her outburst, the good humour faded from his face. Poppy bit her tongue and stared down at her shoes. Her hands were trembling, just as they did when she'd first received the Head Girl badge at the beginning of term. She clenched her fists, willing for the shaking to stop.

She didn't want to dwell on the loss any longer.

She'd promised herself she would be okay.

Albus' next words interrupted her thoughts. "You know the story of my dad, don't you?"

The unexpectedness of question startled her out of her stupor. "Yes," Poppy said, unsure of where this was going. Given Albus' poor impression of her, admitting this knowledge felt like a strike against her. But the fact was everyone knew the story; it would be futile to deny it. Harry Potter was the first thing Poppy had learned about in her first weeks in the magical world, when she was still wide-eyed and naïve and so excited. He had been her first superhero.

"Do you know my mum's story?"

Ginny Potter. Harry's vivacious, lion-hearted wife, who was a fixture in lifestyle columns and radio shows. She was a force to be reckoned with, highly regarded by both high society and the sports community, and well-known for her commitment to women's causes. And yet, anything Poppy knew of Ginny's background was in context of Harry's own story—as part of the famed six who took down Voldemort.

Spotting her blank expression, Albus pushed himself off the wall, raking his fingers through his unruly hair as he regarded her.

"Not a lot of people know this," he began slowly, "but my mum was possessed by Voldemort when she was in her first year." He had to smile grimly at the aghast look on Poppy's face. "Yeah, it's as bad as it sounds. She told me it was due to a moment of weakness that she was taken advantage of. My dad saved her life—found a way to stop Voldemort before things got any worse, but people were seriously hurt by the incident. She felt regret about it for a long time… hated that she was so helpless and scared during most of it. After it happened, she couldn't help but think that if she'd been—smarter, in some way, then maybe Voldemort wouldn't have targeted her." He glanced up at Poppy, gauging her reaction before choosing to continue. "I'm telling you this because my mum now knows that's complete bollocks. That it doesn't matter how smart you are. If some twat out there wants to take advantage of you, they'll find a way. Because that's what they do. It happened to my mum, but she decided she wasn't going to let anyone define who she is." He snorted softly, but she could hear the affection in his voice. "Not even Voldemort."

Poppy exhaled quietly as she absorbed the words, somehow still unable to reconcile Ginny Potter with the fearful first-year Albus had just described. As though sensing her troubled thoughts, Albus pushed on.

"What happened to my mum—it's just as important as what my dad went through. She was attacked and exploited when she was at her most vulnerable. But she forgave herself for it and came out the other side stronger than before. As the story goes… she kicked Voldemort's arse at the very end." His gaze found Poppy's, and his tone gentled on his next words. "So. That's the story you should remember."

Poppy nodded blindly, trying to ignore the sting at the back of her eyes. "I will."

"You must. My mum is the strongest woman I know. Well, Aunt Hermione could give her a run for her money, but…" He fixed her with a knowing look. "You'll get better from this, too. And then no one will ever hurt you again. Or if they do, you'll be able to hurt them back." He smiled, as though reminded of something. "In my mum's case, they got my dad to deal with, too. That's a pretty rough deal."

How silly for her heart to ache at those words. But hope had swelled inside of Poppy, a tide too high for her lungs to contain. No, she told herself—she would not let herself be defined by old wounds, either. Like Ginny Potter, she would give herself a chance… and perhaps the love she deserved would find her one day. And it wouldn't be someone to save her, but a person she could grow stronger with.

"Er, Langdon." Albus' voice had broken into her thoughts once more. "You're crying."

"I'm not crying," Poppy said, her chest heaving.

Albus leaned in closer to peer at her face. "You definitely are."

"I'm not."

"I guess your eyes are just leaking, then? Should I call the plumber?"

Poppy made a sound between a sob and laugh before turning away from him, her sleeve pressed into her eyes.

"I'd like to be alone now," she managed thickly. "If you don't mind."

"How can I possibly leave when I just made you cry? Poppy Langdon only has one expression, usually. Do you even know what an achievement this is?"

Poppy choked on a laugh, but it only caused more tears to spill into her sleeve. "You truly are insufferable."

"And you're impossibly stubborn," he said, but there was a wonder in the way he said it. "My god, where does it come from?"

Even so, he let her be for the next few minutes. Poppy took a few more shuddering breaths, her face buried in her sleeve until she felt brave enough to face the light. Albus was still watching her, and the complete lack of malice in his expression made him look like a handsome stranger. Poppy blinked slowly, and perhaps she'd simply been feeling too much, but she was no longer thinking so very hard when the next words came:

"We really should try to get along."

Albus cocked his head in question, and for one wild moment, she thought she saw the beginnings of a smile. But then—

"That could never happen, Langdon," he said, and her heart would have dropped into her knees if not for the obvious amusement in his tone. "The sky would fall down. It would rain toads. Rosie would love that, but Lily would tie us both down to perform an exorcism."

And there it was again. That strange, imperceptible dream in the way he looked at her. But Poppy did not recognise it as anything; she would not for a long time. At present, she had turned quite grave, and said: "You're right—I've returned to my senses. I don't know what I was thinking."

Albus blinked in surprise, and then he threw back his head and laughed. Despite herself, Poppy smiled. In the dying light of the afternoon, she was suddenly struck by the boyish softness of a face carved out from his father's sombre image. She saw the wicked crinkle of his green eyes when he was delighted; she noticed the ease of his smiles, so freely given when he wasn't scowling. She hadn't seen Harry Potter in Albus for years. But this was the first time since meeting him, Poppy realised with a start, that she was seeing Albus.