They're coming. The words reverberated over and over again in my head like a terrible ominous mantra. It had been two days since I had received the message from my father, and the last few days had been arduous. I didn't know what to do. Should I tell someone? Mr. Potter, perhaps? I didn't want to. I didn't even want to think about it. But as was my nature, I couldn't stop thinking about it. So what did I do?

Then there was the message itself. Who were the 'they' to whom my father had referred? I had a horrible feeling I knew exactly who 'they' were, but wished desperately that I was incorrect.

The signs did not bode well though. My father's handwriting was botched and messy, as though he had been in a great hurry when he wrote it. The parchment appeared to have been rolled quickly and unceremoniously, and did not even bear the Malfoy family seal. Maybe it wasn't from him at all then. Perhaps it was simply sent by some wicked prankster to psyche me out. Well if that was the case, mission accomplished.

I sighed and stared out at the Hogwarts grounds. I'd woken from a troubled sleep in the early hours of the morning and had been unable to drift off again. I'd dressed, caught an early breakfast, and slipped through the great double doors to emerge into the crisp morning air. I had found a tall boulder overlooking the vast, icy grounds and had planted myself upon it. The sky was gray and dreary, but beautiful in a solemn sort of way. The melancholy sky accented the sparkling white of the snow and the calm serenity of the evergreens shifting in the light breeze. The Whomping Willow twisted and writhed in a comfortingly familiar way every time there was a strong gust of wind.

The scene was peaceful and serene, but not enough to calm my swirling thoughts. Where were my parents? Were they in danger? Did they even know that I was? I almost growled in frustration. For the first time in my life I desperately wanted to speak to my parents and for the first time in my life they were more than an owl away. I wanted so badly to know – to understand why they'd run off and gone into hiding without taking Scorpius or me with them, or even telling us about it. I was so filled with anger, resentment, frustration, fear, misery, and anxiety that I actually let out a small screech when a hand gently touched my shoulder. I whipped around to find James standing behind me, holding a steaming cup of tea and looking bewildered at my reaction.

"You okay?" He asked tentatively, handing me the teacup. He took a seat beside me and stared at my face speculatively.

"Er, yeah fine." I muttered, blowing the rising steam off the surface of the beverage.

"You weren't at breakfast." He stated, his expression calculating.

"I woke up early. Couldn't sleep." I said, sipping the tea. I smiled inwardly as I recognised the taste. He'd brought my favourite.

"Why's that?" His tone was almost conversational.

"Just thinking."

"About?" He prodded.

I sighed. "Everything really."

I wanted to tell him now, about the book, about the letter, about everything. But at the same time I couldn't. I wanted communicate the message to him, but I somehow wasn't able to find the courage to form the words with my mouth. He gazed into my turquoise eyes, which I knew were probably sparkling with anxiety.

"Something's wrong." He decided. I opened my mouth, not knowing what I was going to say. I closed my mouth and simply nodded. He reached forward and brushed a strand of hair back from my eyes before resting his hand on my cheek. "Tell me." His words sound like a purr. I bit my lip and shook my head. "Vera," his voice turned assertive, almost commanding. "Tell me what's wrong."

The cold bit my cheeks as I gazed back at him, deliberating. At last, I reached into the pocket of my robes and out pulled my father's crumpled letter, which had resided there since I'd received it. I passed it to him slowly and he took it, eyeing me questioningly. James slowly unrolled the parchment and stared at the two words written there. It was a full twenty seconds before he looked up at me.

"Who is this from?" His voice was low and smooth. It adopted this quality every time he was upset or angry.

"My dad." My voice crackled slightly as I spoke. To my surprise, his eyes suddenly blazed. Then his hand was tangled in my hair and he pulled my lips against his. He kissed me fiercely for a moment before pulling away to rest his forehead against mine.

"It's going to alright, okay? We're going to figure this out. Don't worry."

I nodded, trying to feel reassured. He pulled me into his side and I moved in willingly, reveling in his warmth.

"What do I do?" My voice sounded hopeless. He let out a long sigh and rested his chin on top of my head.

"I think…" He sounded hesitant. "I think that – and just hear me out on this, Vera – we should tell my dad."

"I can't." I muttered in defeat.

"Listen, I know its…difficult but – "

"No." I interrupted impatiently. "I didn't mean that I don't want to. I meant that I'm not able to. I don't know how to contact him without anyone finding out. I can't owl him because the letter might get intercepted. I doubt a muggle telephone would do much in the way of security either. So what do I do?"

His brow creased in thought. There was a beat of silence before he said,

"I have an idea. Come with me."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, then led me back towards the castle. The entrance hall was bustling with so many students heading toward a lengthy Sunday breakfast that no one even noticed us weaving through the crowd, hand in hand. Seven floors, one portrait hole, and a set of stairs later, we were standing in his dormitory. I set the empty teacup I was holding on his bedside table and watched as he knelt down to dig through his trunk. After several moments of rummaging around, he pulled out an object wrapped in brown paper. He swiftly and deftly removed the paper to reveal a small, ornate, handheld mirror.

"I'm not sure if this will work, but we can give it a try." He said, moving to sit on his bed. I raised an eyebrow at him,

"Er, James," I said, still finding it in myself to joke around, "You're a good-looking bloke and all but I'm not sure a mirror will fix all our problems."

He rolled his eyes at my jesting. "It's not a mirror, Vera. Well it is, just not in the traditional sense. There are two of them. With this, we can communicate with the person in possession of its partner. Who would be – "

"Your father." I finished excitedly. I plopped down beside him and stared at the reflective surface.

"Show me Harry Potter." James commanded of it. "Mind you," He was speaking to me now, "I'm not sure if he still carries it with him but…"

His sentence was cut short by the flickering of the mirror's surface. It refocused to reveal the face of Mr. Potter. However the image only showed a fraction of his face, as though he only possessed a section of the other mirror.

"Dad." James said in relief. "I didn't think you still carried this with you."

"What can I say? I'm a sentimental old sod. But what's wrong?"

"Well, er…" James glanced briefly at me before saying, "I'm here with Vera and something sort of happened. I'll let her explain."

He passed the mirror to me and I gazed at it, still fascinated.

"What is it, Vera?" Mr. Potter asked, slipping into his auror voice. I sensed he knew that anything I contacted him about couldn't be good.

"Well," I said uncomfortably. "You told me I should tell you if my parents tried to contact me again. And… I got a letter from my dad."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the mirror. "What did it say?"

I glanced at James. Gaining confidence from his face I said calmly, "They're coming."

Mr. Potter's eyes widened. "I see." It looked as though he was trying to remain calm so as not to frighten me. "We need to address this immediately. Vera, find your brother and meet me in McGonagall's office in ten minutes. You can come as well, James. And don't tell anyone what you're doing or where you're going. Got it?" We both nodded vigourously. "Good. See you in a minute."

His image flickered out. James replaced the mirror in its original place in his trunk and pulled the Marauder's Map from his pocket. He tapped his wand against the surface and muttered,

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Help me look for him, Vera."

We carefully examined the map for a moment before I said,

"There! In the Slytherin common room with Sebastian Goyle."

James made a small noise of irritation but only said, "Mischief managed," before grabbing my wrist and pulling me from the room.

Another seven floors and a flight of stairs leading down into the dungeons later, we stood opposite a stone wall. James looked at me then.

"Er…do you remember the password?"

I closed my eyes and wracked my brain, trying to remember the top of the patrol schedule I had been given at the beginning of the semestre. It was on the tip of my tongue. Asinine? No…Antietam? No…

"Oh!" I exclaimed as the answer suddenly came to me. "Aconitum!"

Beyond the stone wall was a short passage leading to the common room. I stopped and stared for a moment when we entered. The room was a distinctly strange place. It was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and a ceiling, from which round greenish lamps hung on chains. There was a fire crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece positioned directly opposite the entrance. I instantly disliked the room, from the bizarre portraits on the walls to the eery greenish lighting.

My brother sat on one of black leather couches beside a tall, slim, auburn-haired youth I knew to be Sebastian Goyle. Luckily for him, he took after his mother. I wished I could say the same thing for his sister…

I rushed over to them, James trailing behind me.

"What are you doing here, Oli?" Scorpius exclaimed when he caught sight of me. He was the only one who called me "Oli." I suspected he only did so because he knew it aggravated me.

"Hey Scorp." I said, nonchalantly.

"Well hello, little Malfoy." Sebastian interrupted, taxing me up and down as he never had before. "When did you turn into such a looker?"

I heard James make a quiet noise behind me, almost like a growl.

"Around thirteen." I replied, dismissing him completely by answering his rhetorical question. I turned back to Scorpius, "We need you to come with us."

My brother perpetually wore this unreadable, calculating expression that only broke when he was angry or smiling sarcastically. In fact, in my memory I'd only ever seen him wear those three expressions. Right now was no different.

"Why?" He drawled, glancing at James distrustfully. James returned the look with enthusiasm.

"It's about mum and dad." If one did not know my brother as well as I did, they would've missed the minute widening of his eyes. He stood in one fluid, elegant movement and muttered to Sebastian,

"Gotta go, Seb. See you later."

Without a word, I led both James and Scorpius out of the common room. We ascended the spiral staircase in silence, only speaking when we came to a halt in front of the golden gargoyle concealing the headmistress' office on the third floor.

"Er, Vera, any chance you know the password to this one too?"

I shook my head, distinctly frustrated that I didn't know the answer. Then to my surprise, a voice came from my left.

"Winter's thaw makes robes grow soggy."

The gargoyle leapt aside and the staircase began to rotate slowly. Scorpius wordlessly hopped on, with James and me close behind him.

"How did you possibly know that?" I demanded incredulously.

Scorpius shrugged and said simply, "Rose."

James and I nodded comprehendingly in response. Rose Weasley did know everything.

The staircase brought us to face an ancient brown door. I knocked twice and heard McGonagall's crisp voice say,

"Enter."

We did so, with me in the lead. McGonagall was at her desk, reading through a stack of papers in front of her. She barely glanced up when we entered

"Ah yes. Ms. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. I just received the message from your father, Mr. Potter. He should be here in a moment."

"Harry Potter?" Scorpius hissed in my ear. "Did you tell the whole world about our parents?"

I was about to formulate a snarky reply when the fireplace suddenly burst into green flames and out stepped Mr. Potter.

"Good afternoon, Potter. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet, won't you?" Said McGonagall idly, returning to her work.

"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall." His gaze turned to Scorpius, James, and me. "All right, you three?"

James and Scorpius nodded while I simply cast my eyes to the floor.

"So Vera," Said Mr. Potter, apparently prepared to jump right into business. "May I see the letter your father sent you?"

I nodded and pulled the crinkled parchment from within my robes and handed it to him.

"Dad sent you a letter?" Scorpius asked, sounding (did I imagine it?) jealous.

I didn't answer him. I was too busy watching with baited breath as Mr. Potter examined the letter. After a moment he asked,

"You're certain this is from your father?"

I nodded. "The family crest wasn't on it but that's definitely his handwriting. And his owl delivered it."

"Can I see it?" Scorpius asked tentatively. Mr. Potter nodded and handed it to him. I saw his eyes widen infinitesimally as he read the two words scribbled upon the parchment, but otherwise his expression did not change. "That's definitely his handwriting. But it could be a forgery."

"It could be." Mr. Potter agreed. "Luckily there's a way to find out. Would you like to do the honours, Professor?"

He set the parchment in front of her. She at last set down her quill, stood, and directed her wand at the letter. In a deep, thrumming voice she said,

"Simulacrum recreare escritor!"

I jumped as a silver cloud burst from the face of the parchment. It levitated upward and began to form into distinctive shapes. I inhaled sharply. The cloud had formed into a scene depicting a man with pale skin, cold eyes, a receding white-blonde hairline, and wearing a black coat buttoned up to his chin. He was standing at a desk, scribbling furiously on a scrap of parchment. As I watched, he finished writing and hurriedly rolled the parchment into a tight scroll, continually glancing to his right as he did so. He seized a leather thong and tied the scroll to the leg of a waiting screech owl. The owl took off and the man suddenly ducked down below the desk. A split second later there was a flash of green light and the cloud dissolved into smoke. There was an eery silence as the five of us stared at each other, stunned. Then Scorpius whispered,

"Dad."

My chest tightened. I couldn't breathe. That wasn't a hyperbole. I literally could not breathe. Air slipped from between my lips in short puffs and I knew that any second I would be hyperventilating.

"Vera?" James' voice loomed out at me. "Are you okay?"

"I…" I tried to focus. "I…" Why couldn't I think straight? "I…" And then words burst from my mouth without conscious thought. "Of course not!" I exclaimed. "I'm scared. I'm fucking terrified. And…" I started to pick up momentum. Expressing my feelings felt too cathartic to stop now. "And I know I'm a Gryffindor and I'm supposed to be brave and above all this but I'm not! I'm just not. My father might be dead and that fucking scares the shit out of me!" My voice had collapsed into sobs by the time I finished. I felt my knees go weak at the very thought of my predicament. James seemed to sense this and lurched forward to wrap an arm around my waist. He guided me over to a chair and started muttering soothing shushing sound sounds in my ear. I was shaking now. I couldn't believe what I'd just seen. Green light. I knew what green light meant.

"It's okay, Vera. Calm down." Mr. Potter said, coming to kneel in front of me so that we were on the same eye level. "Listen to me," He paternally placed a hand upon mine. "Being brave is not the absence of fear, but rather the ability to overcome it. It's okay to be scared. I was bloody terrified the entire time I was running from Voldemort. You are a Gryffindor. You are strong. And we're going to figure this out, together. Okay?"

I nodded slowly, trying to control the passage of air through my lungs. I looked at my brother then, feeling as though he may be the only person who really understood the fear I felt. His shoulders were rigid and his jaw was tense, but otherwise he had not moved from his original position. He turned his eyes onto Professor McGonagall.

"How did you do that?" He asked calmly.

McGonagall eyed him closely before responding. "Personal objects – for example a letter or a hairbrush – often contain memories of their owner. The emotion the witch or wizard ties to them creates energy which lingers even when the object is no longer in his or her possession."

"So you charmed the object into showing us the memory it contains."

McGonagall nodded. "Precisely."

Scorpius nodded thoughtfully. I stared at him blankly. How was he not losing his mind?

It was Mr. Potter who spoke next. "Scorpius, have you received any correspondence from your parents since the school year began?"

Scorpius turned his eyes upon the older man. He stared at him, calculating as usual. Mr. Potter stared back, seemingly not intimidated in the slightest. I wish I could say the same about me. After a moment he said,

"Just one."

"May I see it?" He prompted.

There was a pause while Scorpius visually appraised Mr. Potter.

"I destroyed it after I read it. I did manage to memorise it though."

"Could you share it with us please?" Mr. Potter asked politely. Scorpius looked distrustfully at James before speaking.

"Dear Scorpius,

On the day you turned ten, you asked me something that has stuck with me. Not a day goes by that I do not think about it. The day in question was warm and the sun shone like it never had before. Green grass grew quickly and exuberantly. Our house was filled with the innocent laughter of the children at your birthday party. Before the sun set that evening, your mother and I took you and your friends up the hill to watch the day change to night. After we settled ourselves, you came and sat upon my lap. Keeping your eyes on the sunset you said, "Father, when I was born, were you happy?" To which I replied, "It was the happiest day of my life." My smile was large as I answered you. All my smiles were large when I was with you. Later on, when you had gone to bed, your mother and I sat at the dining table. For us, it had been a very long day. Our spirits were high, however. Your existence made us so happy. Many hours were spent sitting there, discussing you. And I do not consider a moment of it wasted. Nor does your mother, I'm sure. Our lives were full because you were in them. Remembering your childhood makes me happy, and you are forever on my mind.

Sincerely,

Your Father."

"That seems…innocent enough." Mr. Potter said uncertainly.

"To the average person it would. But there were a few problems with his recollection. For one, we spent my tenth birthday in Paris, not at the manor. For two, I've never had a birthday party in my life. And finally, my father has never – and I mean never – told me that my existence gives his life meaning. Nor has he communicated to me any of the other rubbish he mentioned in this letter. My father is not a man to wear his heart on his sleeve. The letter was in his handwriting, but he would never write anything like this to me in a million years."

"If I understand correctly, you're saying that the letter was a code." Mr. Potter replied.

"My thinking exactly. I spent some time examining it. In the end, it was an easy code to break. In fact, that was the genius of the code: it's simplicity. Only I would know that this account of events had never occurred. To anyone but me, it would appear for all the world to be an affectionate letter from a father to his son. After realising he was trying to tell me something, it took only minutes for me to decode its message. I took the first letter of each sentence and put them together."

"What did they say?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Scorpius looked at her, then at Mr. Potter, then at James, and finally at me. His iron-grey eyes locked with mine as he said, slowly and clearly,

"Don't go back to Malfoy Manor."

I was, I hope you understand, completely freaking out. Not just because my life was in danger. That was indescribably frightening, but unfortunately took a back seat on "Vera's Vehicle of Concerns" as January transitioned into February. School was absolutely hectic. All of my classes now assigned more homework for one night than they had in an entire week of my first year. On top of that, I had prefect duties three to four days a week every week until past midnight. Every evening during the month of February would also find the Gryffindor team out on the field, practising moves, strategies, exercises, and anything else James could think to throw at us. The game against Hufflepuff was scheduled for February 14th, incidentally the same day as the dreaded Valentine's Day Ball. I wasn't sure what genius decided to put two school-wide events on the same day, or why I was so nervous about the aforementioned dance. I supposed it was because the dance would mark the official "outing" of James and my relationship, as agreed the night I had rescued him from the clutches of Levine Bordeaux. I just kept picturing the moment when it would happen, when we would step into the Great Hall together. In my mind's eye, I saw him looking sharp in the same suit and tie he had worn at the Christmas party, and me dressed in the scarlet dress I had acquired for the occasion. We would enter through the grand doorway, and people's heads would turn as we made our progress through the Hall. Whispers would rise up behind us like a cloud of angry bees. Pretty, petty girls would glare unashamedly at me as we passed them. I'd see faces in the crowd of people I cared about. I would watch their reactions, some happy, some dumbfounded, some furious. James and I would hold each other close and dance to the music, trying and failing to not notice the negative energy being channeled toward us.

The image in my head was positively nerve-wracking, and didn't become any less so as the day neared ever closer. But as the ball neared so did the match against Hufflepuff, and I was frequently forced to turn my attention back to the subject of Quidditch. Ravenclaw had humiliated Hufflepuff in the match just before Christmas, and Slytherin had flattened Ravenclaw during the match in January. From this record, Gryffindor's chances of winning the Interhouse Cup were very high.

February 14th dawned the same way all the other days had. I awoke from a nightmare around eight o' clock and simply lay in bed a moment trying to recapture my sleep. I was unsuccessful. Sleep had eluded me frequently lately. Due to my busy schedule, I generally did not get to sleep until around midnight. But even then, my sleep was fitful and unsettled. I would awake at odd hours from terrible dreams and not be able to relax again. I'd been having a reoccurring dream as of late that did nothing to improve my mood. In the dream, I was locked in a plain white room with no windows or doors, and every so often the walls would move inward, until at last I was trapped in a tiny box and losing oxygen.

Very subtle, sub-conscious. That's a point for you then. I thought bitterly as I yanked my hangings aside and began dressing. I was nervous and jittery, and desperately wished I could get ahold of a calming draft. Trying to shrug off my anxiety, I left the dormitory full of sleeping girls and the sparsely populated common room and made my way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. I found Rose, Albus, and James there when I arrived. James was munching on a piece of toast and pouring over what I knew to be various plays for the looming game. Rose and Al were chatting lightly and picking at bowls of cereal. I took a seat next to Albus and examined the breakfast choices in the immediate area.

"All right Vera?" Rose greeted.

"'Morning, Rose." I returned the pleasantry.

James, who had looked up upon hearing my name, eyed me closely. "You're looking nervous." He commented.

"It's a Quidditch match. Of course I'm nervous."

"We'll be fine. I know we'll be." James reassured me.

"He says that," Albus muttered, "Yet still insists on obsessing over all the different game plans."

I examined James more closely then. He was dressed casually in jeans and a navy blue jumper, and wore an extremely focused expression. He'd been acting slightly different since the conversation in McGonagall's office. More protective, I suppose you could say. And also (did I imagine it?) slightly more paranoid. His hand flew to his wand every time there was a loud noise, even if it was just a gaggle of giggling girls. He watched me often, but I could never decide if he did this more than usual. I considered speaking to him about it, but knew it would just sound silly if it turned out I was imagining things, which admittedly was a definite possibility. At half past nine, James rallied the entire team down to the changing rooms. He chose a spot next to me while the seven of us changed.

"So how did you sleep?" James asked conversationally as he fished his uniform out of one the lockers.

"It could've gone better." I sighed, untying my cloak and casting it aside.

"How's that?" James asked, copying my movement. I bent over to find my own uniform as I replied,

"I had a bit of a nightmare. Nothing special. How'd you sleep?"

I straightened up, uniform in hand, and stopped, gaping at him. He had just pulled his jumper over his head, which would have been completely normal, had he been wearing a shirt underneath. I stared at him from his shoulders all the way down to his low-waisted jeans. He was perfectly fit, almost unrealistically so like a Hollywood actor or an underwear model. I mean, I'd sort of guessed he was in shape from the times I'd touched his stomach through his t-shirt while we were kissing. I'd also heard more than one rumor about it from various girls around the school who would be in possession of such knowledge. But I'd always thought they were overreacting. I'd never even considered the possibility that they weren't hyperbolising him because of his fame. I knew I was ogling him at this point, but for the life of me I couldn't look away.

"Eh. I also could've slept better." He replied, apparently not noticing my complete paralysis. "I kept thinking about all these different plays. I suppose I might be getting slightly obsessive. What do you think?...Vera?" He turned to look at me when I didn't answer. "What's wrong?" Then he noticed me gawking at his chest and a smug smile overtook his face. "You look so surprised." He commented.

"I…" I shook myself. Sometimes hormones could be distracting. I turned my tone into a joking one. "I'd always suspected. How did you even manage that?"

He shrugged, picking up a plain white shirt. "I've been on the Quidditch team since I was twelve and I've always been thin. You don't have to just look though." He took a step toward me at this. I was tempted to take him up on his offer, but knew that if I did, we'd never make it to the Quidditch match.

"Rain check?" My voice sounded slightly gruff. He chuckled, apparently very pleased with himself, and pulled the t-shirt over his head.

"Deal."

We donned our robes without further incident, after which James gathered everyone around for the age old "pre-match pep talk." At a quarter to ten, all seven of us headed out onto the field to warm up. The weather was still painfully cold, but I did my best to ignore it as Rose, James, and I passed the quaffle back and forth. At ten o' clock, Madam Hooch ordered the captains to shake hands. James briefly clasped hands with the Hufflepuff captain, Liam Rogers, after which everyone mounted their brooms. Madam Hooch's whistle sounded and fourteen brooms took off into the air. The wind whipped my ears but I still managed to make out the echoing commentary of Heidi Jordan.

"It's Hassanov with the quaffle. Passes to Nielson. She reverses passes to Hassanov who sends a short pass to Dubois – but the quaffle is intercepted by Potter – er, the older Potter that is. He passes to Weasley. Weasley to Malfoy, Malfoy to Potter, Potter back to Malfoy, Malfoy to Weasley…" We passed the quaffle so seamlessly between the three of us that Heidi barely has time to say our names. "Weasley to Malfoy, Malfoy to Potter and…he scores! Ten to zero Gryffindor. Dubois takes the quaffle and passes left to Nielson. Nielson reverse passes to Dubois who passes to Hassanov…who drops it. Retrieved by Weasley. Weasley to Potter, Potter to Malfoy – Malfoy makes an excellent swerve to avoid a bludger hit by Fisher. She's being trailed by Hassanov now. He's right behind her and – she scores. Incredible! Twenty to zero Gryffindor."

Rose clapped her hand against mine as she zoomed past me to tail Nielson, who now possessed the quaffle.

"Nielson takes the quaffle with a determined Weasley behind her. She throws to Dubois, Dubois to Hassanov, Hassanov to Dubois, Dubois drops it into the waiting arms and Nielson and…score! Twenty to ten Gryffindor."

I saw Maria cursing furiously as she tossed the ball to James.

"Now it's Potter with the quaffle. Potter to Weasley, Weasley to Malfoy and – she's just rescued by Thomas!"

Indeed, Donovan had appeared suddenly at my side as I sailed through the air and knocked away a ferociously hit bludger from the other Hufflepuff beater Nolan Walsh. "Such a lovely couple. I still don't know why they ever broke up. I did hear a rumor though that – "

"Jordan!" Came Professor McGonagall's sharp voice.

"Sorry Professor!" Exclaimed Heidi. Trying to banish the pink from my cheeks, I nodded gratefully at Don before taking off again.

"Malfoy wastes no time. She passes Weasley. Weasley must duck to avoid bludger hit by Fisher. She drops the quaffle. Quaffle retrieved by Hassanov who…drops it as well. Potter takes the quaffle. Passes to Malfoy. Malfoy reverses to Potter who throws it back. Malfoy passes to Potter again who narrowly avoids a bludger and scores! Thirty to ten Gryffindor. Dubois takes the quaffle, passes to Hassanov, Hassanov to Nielson…who is intercepted by a bludger hit by Krakowski! Fantastic hit there. This Gryffindor team is on fire! Malfoy takes the quaffle and passes to Weasley. Weasley soars neatly through Hufflepuff defences and…scores! Forty ten to Gryffindor."

It went on like that. Maria saved four goals but also allowed two. Rogers, who appeared to have finally shaken himself awake, blocked five goals, three from Rose, and one from James and I each. We did however manage to make three goals. The score sat at thirty to seventy when Heidi suddenly broke off to shout,

"It appears that Potter has seen the snitch! The younger Potter, I mean. Yes, he is streaking across the pitch with Doyle in hot pursuit. I do believe they've spotted something! Potter drops into a dive. He's approaching the ground fast. But Doyle is right on his tail. Merlin, she's a quick one. They're now neck in neck. Oh my! They're going to crash!" Heidi let out a yelp and threw her hands over her eyes when the two seekers were only metres from the ground. The stadium and all the players turned to watch their progress. Albus pulled out gracefully out of the dive with Doyle keeping up right beside him. The entire stadium held its breath as each and every person tried to crane their necks to see whom had come off victorious. In that split second, a thousand thoughts flashed through my mind. We were only forty points up. If Rebecca Doyle had caught the snitch it was all over…A cheer erupted from the stands as Albus soared high into the air, raising his arm up to the sky and… holding the struggling snitch in his fist.

I screamed in delight and zig-zagged back to the ground with the rest of the team. We all landed and tossed our brooms aside as cheering Gryffindors spilled out of the stands and onto the field. I was pulled into a group hug with Al, Rose, and the broad-chested Ferdinand, and embraced them all enthusiastically. When I was released I turned to search out James. I was positively elated at the moment and wanted to share this feeling with him above all other people. I turned to find him behind me, clapping hands with Donovan and grinning at his friend as though nothing had ever come between them. Then he looked at me. His eyes blazed in that smouldering way that made my heart stutter.

We walked purposefully toward each other and I threw myself into his arms. He lifted me easily and twirled me around. Our lips collided passionately as my feet returned to the ground. He was kissing me. And suddenly, it was just the two of us; separate from the hundreds of other people milling around us. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back intensely, reveling in the combined emotions of attraction and exhilaration. He placed a hand on the side of my face and massaged my mouth open, allowing entrance for his tongue.

I don't know how long we stood there. It could have been minutes, hours, or even days – I didn't care. It wasn't until we broke apart that I noticed the muttering. I tore myself away from his gaze to observe the surrounding crowd. They were gawking at us – positively gaping. Gryffindors, Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws…everyone was staring at us as though a giant purple elephant had just crossed our path. And suddenly, I found I didn't really care. James and I had finally been "outed" by our own thoughtlessness, and I couldn't even find it in myself to bother about what they thought. I turned my attention back to James. He was grinning broadly at me, completely oblivious to the surrounding crowd.

"Let's get out of here." I murmured to him.

"You read my mind."

And with that we strolled, hand in hand, off of the Quidditch field and towards the castle.

I returned to my dormitory around four o'clock that afternoon to find all four of my dorm mates sitting on their beds, looking at me expectantly.

Oh no. I thought. Girl talk.

"Er…hey." I greeted them awkwardly.

"Hey?" Squealed Elena. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Er, should I have more to say?"

The four of them rolled their eyes at me in unison.

"Well for starters, what were you and James doing this whole time?" Asked Janie suggestively.

"Hmmm," I started, sitting down upon my bed and removing my cloak and trainers. "Well after we left the pitch, we went to change into our regular clothes and then returned to the castle. Then we sort of, er…"

Janie knew by my hesitation meant that there were juicy details afoot. "Where you sort of?"

"Well, we commandeered a narrow, secret passageway, and sort of snogged in there for a while." The four of them giggled in excitement. "Afterwards, we put on our cloaks went off to explore the grounds. Around three o' clock, we retired to the Great Hall for a late lunch. Then we came back to the common room…and here I am." I finished.

"Well?" Alicia prompted.

"Well what?" I asked, bewildered.

"Details!" She squealed.

"Okay, what would you like to know?"

"Is he a good kisser?" Demanded Elena.

"Are you two like official now?" Queried Janie.

"I suppose this means you're his 'mystery girl' then?" Questioned Alicia.

I felt suddenly overwhelmed by all this attention.

"Actually," Came Ava's voice. "We have to start getting ready."

I looked over at her. She was sitting upon her bed, which was the farthest from mine, and wearing an expression appropriate for one who had just bitten into a lemon.

"She's right." Said Elena, glancing at the clock in disappointment. Then she perked up. "I know! Vera will tell us while we get ready."

Without waiting for my consent, she took my wrists and dragged me into the bathroom. The next three and a half hours passed in a flurry of skin products, make up, and hair implements. During this time, Alicia, Elena, and Janie asked me extremely detailed questions about my relationship with James up to this point; everything from the day we'd met to the precise pattern his tongue moved in during out first kiss. I was in the middle of describing our first date (the details of which I manipulated so as not to reveal the existence of the Room of Requirement) while Janie did my hair, when Ava suddenly let out a disbelieving scoff.

"What?" Demanded Elena, apparently quite annoyed at having her story time interrupted.

Ava looked as though she was bursting to say something. She resisted for a moment before exclaiming,

"You really expect me to believe that James Potter – James Potter – took you to a romantic hideout for a midnight date and didn't try anything with you? Yeah right."

She moved to the mirror to inspect her make up, not looking at any of us. As I watched, I realised she was bursting to say something else. At last, the words spilled from her lips,

"So have you slept with him yet?"

"What does that matter?" I demanded, turning slightly pink.

She scoffed. "That's a no."

"Why do you even care?" Asked Janie defensively.

"I don't." She assured us. "I just think you're missing out, that's all. He's very good."

"How would you know that?" I asked calmly.

Ava released a noise of irritation. "I dated him for two months last year! Why does no one remember that?"

"Maybe because all of his slutty conquests start to blend together after a while." Said Janie through gritted teeth.

"Whatever." Said Ava, casually dabbing at her lipstick. "But that's how I know that he would never plan a romantic date in a million years. Especially not for the likes of you. No, his idea of a good date was a couple of shots of whiskey and a half hour in bed. Then it was, 'Sorry, love, gotta go.'"

"Maybe that was just for you, Ava." Elena replied coldly.

"Oh please. That was for everyone. I'm not the only one he shagged and cast aside. In fact, you might want to have him tested."

"Did you ever think that he hasn't tried to sleep with Vera right away because he actually cares about her?" Argued Alicia loyally.

Ava finally whipped around. "You four are so blind. No one ever changes. Especially not guys. And especially not James Potter. It's only a matter of time before you give into his charms. Then it'll be, 'Sorry, love, gotta go,' just like with the rest of us."

"Well that's no going to happen." I said coolly. "Because unlike you, I'm not a gagging slut."

Ava cast the four of us a murderous expression before make a "humph" sound, and storming from the room. There was a beat of silence.

"Don't worry about her, Vera." Said Elena. "She's just jealous."

"Yeah." Agreed Alicia. "She just wishes he'd liked her as much as he likes you."

"Thank you all for backing me up." I said, gratefully. "And don't worry, I know James. What she said doesn't bother me."

If only that were true. Came a small voice from inside my head.

Ten minutes later, Elena, Alicia, Janie, and I entered the common room. I met James beside the portrait hole and he stopped to drink me in. I wore a strapless, mid-thigh red dress and black heels. Janie had braided a section of my hair and pinned it back, and then styled my hair to fall in cascading waves. My make up was heavier than my everyday wear, but decidedly not overdone.

"You look lovely." James informed me.

"Looking rather sharp yourself." I replied, eyeing him up and down. He was wearing a well-fit, black suit and tie as he had done during the Potter Christmas party, and somehow managed to look like a Hollywood actor despite the commonness of his background.

"I try." He said, winking. "So should we be off then?"

I nodded and he climbed out of the portrait hole and held out an arm to help me through. I rolled my eyes and ignored his proffered arm. I slid down to stand beside him and went instead for his hand, which I entwined with my own.

People stared shamelessly when we arrived in the entrance hall. I looked around and spotted some familiar faces. I saw an uncomfortable looking Albus with his equally uncomfortable looking girlfriend, Delilah Wood, at his side. To my left I spotted a sour-looking Donovan with an evidently bored Levine Bordeaux. Then to my right a grinning Mark with…

"Janie?" I gasped as we approached her. She blushed upon seeing me.

"Hello again, Vera."

"When did this happen?" I asked curiously, staring pointedly at their interlocked hands. They looked at each other and grinned.

"Well," Began Mark. "We've always been good friends…"

"And we're both single…" Continued Janie.

"So we figured we'd give it a shot." Finished Mark.

"I know I should've told you…" Janie started.

"No, don't even worry about it. If you two are happy, then I'm happy."

The pair of them beamed at me. A moment later, James guided me away toward the entrance to the Great Hall. I stopped to gape upon entering the familiar room. The Great Hall had been completely transformed into an explosion of twinkling lights, floating cherubs, raining hearts, and whole mess of other Valentine's Day cheer. Teachers milled around wearing smart dress robes and trying their best not to look as excited as the students. There was a stage set at the end of the Hall featuring a band I knew to be called the Wicked Witches of the West.

The Hall was positively packed by half past eight. At a quarter 'til, James' lips found me ear and he whispered,

"I'll be back in just a second. I'm supposed to help Fred spike the punch bowl around now."

I shivered slightly as his breath caressed my skin and nodded my consent. He slipped away silently and I looked around for a familiar face. I saw Rose several metres away talking animatedly to Lily and made my way toward her. I had taken only a step when a hand suddenly caught my forearm and spun me around. A second later, I found myself staring up into the pale, furious face of my brother.

"What the hell do you want, Scorpius?" I said, shaking my arm roughly from his grasp.

"You know what I want. I want to know why the hell you're here with Potter."

"Don't be such a hypocrite, Scorpius. You're dating Rose!"

Scorpius glared at me, and I returned the look unwaveringly. "This isn't about him being a Potter. This is about him being Potter."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded defensively.

"It means that he's a rotten old tosser."

I scoffed. "Takes one to know one, I suppose."

"Not to mention," He continued coolly, "The fact that he's probably slept with more women than Don Juan himself."

I felt anger rise up inside of me. First Ava, now Scorpius. How many more times tonight would I have to hear about all of James'…exploits.

"Not any worse than you." I retorted. "I've heard a thing or two about your midnight escapades and I know you have no right to be judging anyone."

Scorpius growled angrily. "That's not even the worst of it. He's not…he just isn't…good, Oli. I want you to stay away from him." For the first time in my life I saw my brother struggling for words.

"Stop acting like the protective older brother. We both know this has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with your stupid, bloody feud! The details of which, you might be surprised to discover, I know very well!"

"What in the hell are you on about?"

"He told me, Scorpius! He told me what you did at the Quidditch World Cup. And I can't believe you. I always knew you were arsehole, but I had no idea you could do something so…evil!"

Scorpius looked positively taken aback. "He…he told you about that?" His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Yes! So don't act so innocent. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than be belittled by my stupid, overbearing brother!"

I made to leave but he grabbed my arm and yanked me around again.

"I suppose he didn't tell you why, did he?"

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, barely listening to him.

"Well I suppose Potter wouldn't know the full story. To him that's what it probably looked like…"

This caught my attention. "What more is there to the story?"

"Plenty. I'll tell you if you shut it and listen."

I bit my lip and then nodded. Scorpius led me by the forearm to a far corner of the Hall.

"Alright," He said, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "What Potter told you was true. But there was a reason I was there, and not the one you think either."

I crossed my arms and waited for him to continue.

"Just after the match that day, Adrian Nott, Caroline Vasey, Noel Rookwood, and Jonathon and Arnold Carrow approached me and told me they wanted to invite me to an 'initiation ceremony.' I agreed, thinking it would be fun to hang out with the 'cool,' older kids. I had no idea what they had planned. They came to get me around midnight and told me that what we were going to kidnap the muggle daughter of the owner of the campsite and…and teach her why she was the muggle and we were the wizards. I was horrified. I tried to refuse but then John Carrow said, 'Well if you're too much of a pansy, maybe we can teach you the lesson. I know of another little girl who we could easily get our hands on.' He motioned to you then. You were still asleep and had no idea what was going on. I agreed after that, and they left you alone.

"I stayed silent while they took the little girl, not stopping them or helping them. Every time I made a comment one of them would say, 'It's not too late to turn back and nab your sister.' After that we all went to a clearing and they all pulled out their wands and started…torturing her. I watched them do it, trying to pretend like I was having fun. Like they had convinced me of our own supremacy. After about ten minutes, someone came barreling out of the woods and hit Adrian and Caroline over the head with a tree branch. Arnold caught up to his senses after a moment and turned his wand on the person. When he collapsed I realised who it was. James Potter. John, Arnold, and Noel crowded around him then. I quietly snuck over to the tree branch and picked it up. The three of them were enjoying themselves too much to even notice me coming up behind them. I took out John and Arnold but Noel managed to get her wand on me before I could take a swing at her. She yelled, 'You're going to pay for that, Malfoy.' She started to speak a spell but before she finished a flash of light hit her and she fell to the ground, stupefied. Then Teddy Lupin came out from behind the trees.

"I swear I've never seen anyone look that angry. He demanded to know what happened and I told him. He glared at me for a while afterward, but then told me he was going to call the authorities, and that I should get out of there before they arrived. He said he would make sure to exclude my name from the situation. Then he woke Potter up and told him the same thing. I didn't wait to see the conclusion though. I took off into the woods and back to the tent and never told anyone about it."

"You – you were trying to protect me?" I gaped at him. This was not at all characteristic of him. Scorpius shrugged.

"I…" I didn't know what to say. The idea of Scorpius doing anything to help me was too much to process. A voice suddenly sounded beside us,

"Is there a problem here?" I looked around to find James standing there, holding two glasses of red punch.

"Not that it's any of your business, Potter. But I was just having a chat with my dear sister." Said Scorpius scathingly before pushing roughly past him and stalking away.

"What was that about?" James asked, watching his retreating back.

"Nothing. We were just talking. Is that for me?" I pointed to the glass in his hand. He handed it to me and I downed it in one gulp.

"Vera," His voice was serious. "I can tell something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong." I smiled sweetly at him. "It was just a sibling squabble. Now let's go get more of this." I took his hand and pulled him off in the direction of the punch bowl, which was the same approximate size and shape of a hot tub. What Scorpius had said was too much to process at the moment. I wanted to shut out the stupid voice in my head, and had an idea or two about how to do that."

By ten o' clock that evening, every member of the Hogwarts student body and staff (excluding most first through third years) was completely plastered. I was no exception. I leaned heavily against James while we laughed stupidly and rocked back and forth. I wasn't even sure if we were dancing to the beat but couldn't really find it in myself to care. I don't know how much time passed before James lips were at my ear again and he murmured,

"Hey, let's get out of here."

I gazed up into his blazing, amber eyes and nodded wordlessly. His fingers laced with mine and he led me slowly from the Great Hall.

An intricate maze of tall rose bushes had been set up just outside the main doors. Fairylights were thrown like a net over the tops of the bushes, and black iron benches were place periodically about the maze. There seemed to have been some sort of warming charm cast over the entire space, as there was no snow on the ground and I felt no overwhelming cold as James pulled me enthusiastically through the maze. We passed innumerable snogging couples, all in varying states of undress, though none, luckily, completely starkers. James at last came to a stop before a secluded bench and we collapsed into it, laughing and grinning at each other. James pulled me in for a kiss. When we broke apart he murmured,

"Have I mentioned you look absolutely stunning?" His words slurred together as he tried to focus on my face.

"Just a few hundred times." I giggled. He kissed me again, this time longer and more passionately. When we broke apart I rested my head against his shoulder and gazed up at the winter sky. Then something that had been wiggling in the back of my mind came to the forefront of my consciousness.

"James," I said slowly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." He replied, staring at the stars as well.

"So, erm…Have you…" I struggled for a way to phrase my question. "How many…girls have you slept with?" My sudden state of intoxication gave me the confidence to utter the words.

James sat up straight and stared at me as though I had grown a third eye. "Why do you want to know?"

"Its just…people have been telling me things all day. I wanted to hear from you how much of it was true."

He tilted his head and examined my face. "Are you sure you want me to tell you?"

I nodded. He gazed at me for a few more moments before looking down at his feet and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "eleven."

"Eleven?" I gasped.

He looked sheepish. "Is that a lot?"

"I guess not in the grander scheme of things but compared to my tally of zero, yeah, that's a lot." I said, my tone turning cold.

"You mean you and Don didn't – "

"Of course not! Why? Did he say we did?"

James shook his head. "No. He never said anything. I just sort of assumed…"

"Well you assumed wrong." I snapped. "Good Lord James, eleven?"

"I mean, it's not like I had them parading in through one door and out another." He said defensively. "There weeks, sometimes months between them."

"Tell me their names." I commanded.

"Vera, I don't want to do this." He said resolutely.

"I need to know." I replied forcefully. He stared into my eyes for another moment before sighing and saying,

"Fine. Clarissa Barton was my first. Just after I turned fifteen…"

"Clarissa Barton?" I gasped. "But she was a seventh year then!"

"I know." He muttered ashamedly. "Do you want me to go on?"

"Yes." No.

"Okay. Later that year there was Karen Rochester. During the summer before sixth year there was a muggle girl named Alyssa Brighton who lived in the village. After her was a girl…She had an old fashioned name like Betty or Agnes…no Gertrude! That's right, Gertrude Girard. Then a few weeks later there was one of Dominique's friends from Beauxbatons. Her name was…Moretti? I think her first name was Christine. I don't know. I'd have to ask Dominique. During sixth year there was Jessica Jones and Lorna Durand. Don't give me that look! They weren't at the same time! Don't worry. Then Ava King near the end of the year. Then this last summer I was with Polly Shawe and Marlene McCarthy. Then Viola Toledo at the beginning of this year. That's all."

"That's all?" I repeated incredulously.

He looked at me in concern. "Are you angry?"

"No…well yeah but I know I don't have any right to be. I mean I knew going in that you'd been with a lot of girls. But I had no idea your tally came to eleven. It's just…too much for me to handle right now." I stood up and paced away from him. He sprang to his feet and followed me.

"Vera, listen to me." A hint of fear crept into his voice. "I haven't even kissed anyone but you in the last three months. As soon as I realised how I felt about you I cut off ties with all those other girls. I knew I only wanted to be with you. Besides, none of those girls really meant anything to me. Take Ava for example. I was with her for two months and I can't even tell you her middle name. Every time I was, you know, with her, with any of them really, I felt awful afterward. I felt so empty, so…hollow. And sort of sick to my stomach. Like how it feels when you skip dinner and then gorge yourself on cookie dough. So I tried over and over again to compensate for that emptiness. Nothing I tried worked. It wasn't until I kissed you on Christmas Eve that I understood what was missing. It was passion. Please just look at me." He grabbed my arm and pulled me around to face him. I stared at his shoes, not wanting to get lost in his eyes. We'd come to a stop under a glass-plated canopy with what looked like potting shelves running the two walls. "I realised what I was really missing…was you. Vera, how many times do I have to tell you? I feel more strongly for you than I've ever felt about a girl. So please tell me what I can do to prove that to you once and for all."

I at last met his smouldering eyes. My heart pounded thunderously as I formulated a reply. "I…I can't think of anything. It's just…how do I know it's going to be different this time?"

"Because I'm different." He replied forcefully. "Please Vera, just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

I contemplated the issue for a moment. "I need you to prove to me that I can trust you. That I'm not going to end up cast aside like all the other girls."

"How do I do that?"

"I don't know! That's the problem!" I cried in frustration.

"Okay, how about this," He clutched my hands tightly. "Be my girlfriend."

"What?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"You heard me. Be my girlfriend. We can be together. Really together. I haven't had a girlfriend since I was fourteen but it's a commitment that I'm willing – that I want to make."

"I – I don't know."

"Oh come on. Do I have to get down on my knees and beg? Because I'll do it."

He made to swoop to his knees but I grabbed his elbows and pulled him back up to his full height. I brought his face down to mine and kissed him. I pulled away after a few seconds and whispered,

"Oh shut up. Of course I'll be your girlfriend."

He cast me a dashing half-smile and kissed me again. The kiss grew in intensity with every passing moment. His hand moved to my lower back and pressed my body tightly against his. I tangled my fingers in his hair, my heart rate accelerating rapidly. In one swift movement, he wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me onto one of the waist-high potting shelves. My back hit the glass wall as he pressed his body close to mine again. His educated hands caressed slowly down my sides and I shivered in anticipation. His right hand stopped at my hips while his left hand found my knee, sliding slowly and tauntingly up my leg and beneath my skirt. A voice in my head screamed at me to stop him but the rest of me wanted so badly for him to continue that I couldn't even form the words. Just when things were creeping toward the point of no return, there was a flash of light and James and I broke apart in surprise. I stared dazedly at my surroundings and found a horribly familiar face to my left.

"Vera Malfoy!" Exclaimed Clive Tyler as though we were old friends. "So lovely to see you again."

"What – what are you doing here?" I asked, sliding from the shelf and turning to face him.

"Oh Alonso and I were doing a story on the Wicked Witches of the West." He said, motioning to a bulky man to his left with a camera around his neck. "But we never dreamed we'd stumble upon such a fascinating human interest piece as this, did we, Alonso?" The enormous cameraman simply shrugged and looked unimpressed. Clive Tyler glanced at his unconcerned coconspirator irritably before continuing. "Anyway, I'll need interviews from both of you. Oh! And from your friends and families. Maybe even a classmate or two. Whatever we can do to report this juicy piece of gossip."

"Er, who the hell are you?" Asked James asked the strange man in confusion.

"I'm Clive Tyler of course! And I know exactly who you are Mr. James Sirius Potter."

"You're a reporter?" James clarified.

"Why yes I am." Said Clive, showing all of his crooked teeth.

"And you've met Vera before?"

"Yes I met her at her friend's house and interviewed her for a story."

"You mean you ambushed me at my friend's house and harassed me into giving you answers." I corrected pointedly.

James looked back and forth between the two of us, "So this man has bothered you before?"

I nodded and crossed my arms, glaring at the flamboyant man before me.

"In that case, Mr. Tyler, I think we may need to have a chat." James' voice was dangerously smooth and calm. He reached for his wand and began twirling it casually between his fingers as he spoke. "So Mr. Tyler, I suppose you work for Witch Weekly?"

"Indeed." Said Clive Tyler, eyeing James' wand warily.

"I see. Well you seem like a reasonable man so I hope you will understand that I'd like you to leave Miss Malfoy alone."

"I'm not sure I can agree to that." Said Clive, his hand disappearing into his pocket where his own wand probably resided. James' complete lack of fear following this gesture seemed to throw Tyler completely.

"That's such a shame. I didn't want to have to do this but – Expelliarmus!" Clive and Alonso's wand shot from their pockets and landed with a clatter out of sight. James then turned his wand deliberately upon the two. "Now I'll need you two to listen closely. I don't care how interesting the story is, if you ever bother Miss Malfoy, myself, or any of my family members ever again, I will have to ensure that my aunt, uncle, and father take a special interest in you. You remember them don't you? Hermione, Ron, and Harry? The three highest ranking members of the auror office?"

Clive Tyler now looked appropriately frightened. His face twisted into a furious expression that I had never seen him wear before.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," He said the last part scathingly. "I'll leave you and your little girlfriend alone… for now."

Then he and Alonso turned and disappeared from sight.

"Er, James," I said once the two men were no longer visible. "Again, I appreciate you defending my honour and everything, but do you really think it was wise to threaten a man with the power of the press behind him?"

James shrugged unconcernedly. "These gossip journalists are all the same. They'll try to rip apart my reputation with vicious rumours and wicked words, but eventually they'll go too over the top and lose all credibility. I've seen it plenty of times."

"If you say so." I replied doubtfully. He grinned at me, banishing my fears, and swooped to kiss me again.

"Don't worry about it. Let's go back to dancing shall we?" He held out a hand for me to take.

"Why is it that we always dance when you're completely pissed out of your mind?" I joked, taking his hand.

"Because I only dance when I'm completely pissed out of my mind." He replied lightly. I giggled affectionately as we made our way back toward the castle.

Author's Note: This is going to be an incredibly long author's note but please stay tuned.

Sorry about the cliffhanger in the previous chapter. I couldn't resist. I also want to apologise for the sickeningly sweet moments in this chapter and for forcing James into a distinctive stereotype. Stereotypes are, of course, unavoidable in literature (considering they've pretty much existed since the dawn of humanity) but I hope you'll forgive me nonetheless.

So this chapter was twice the length of my average one. I hope you enjoyed that. I generally try to make my writing nationality neutral, but I used some words in this chapter that I realised had the potential to change the meaning of the sentence if misconstrued. So to any readers not familiar with British/ British Columbian slang: 1. The word "gagging" probably sounded really bad if you didn't know what it meant. It's just a really rude way of saying someone is desperate. 2. "Pissed" and "plastered" are both mildly derogatory ways of saying shitfaced or VERY drunk. Hope that cleared things up.

Finally, I've received more than one complaint about messing up Scorpius and Rose's ages. I haven't fixed it up until this point because it is going to be a pain in the arse to do so. But I've come up with a few solutions and would greatly appreciate your input on what you would prefer:

First, I'm going to move Scorpius and Rose down one year into the same age group as Albus and Vera. To satisfy the fact for two siblings being in the same year I'll either make them very distant fraternal twins or put exactly twelve months between them (I've looked into it and not only is this physically possible but also not uncommon). Secondly: Since Vera being on the Quidditch team and a prefect are both important vehicles through which the story progresses, I'm going to move Rose into Ravenclaw and replace her on the Quidditch team with Roxane or Lucy Weasley. Which do you think?

Special thanks to everyone who made me smile with their reviews: welcome2michaeland, Nimea, magical origami, and rose 013.

I encourage all readers to leave reviews. They don't have to be long and glowing, I just enjoy hearing thoughts from readers.