Tosha Patel: so happy that the mystery is working :) I think there will be quite a few surprises, but the pieces of the puzzle are coming together, and I think things will make sense in retrospect once the finale chapters are completed and out.

Warnings: discussion of eating disorders/mental illness. If that's something you don't want to read, skip the last scene in this chapter.

edited because I forgot to copy in the recap, sorry!


"Take your time, Lil. Tell me what you saw."

"She's not human, Dad. She doesn't bleed. She bleeds ichor."

"What do you mean, Lil?"

"Dad, she cut herself and her blood was gold, not red! I saw it when the moon came out!"

"You're sure?" He didn't seem surprised. Was he expecting this? What the hell did I just find out?

"Certain."

Dad nodded resolutely. "Mum is going to take you home. And I'm going to call in a favor."


Chapter 16: The Burrow/The Malfoy Problem, Part 4

Dad put down the Daily Prophet as James, Teddy, and I washed the dishes.

"I don't know why we do this to ourselves," said Mum as she added the Daily Prophet to the ever-growing stack of newspapers reporting on the Ministry Ball.

"Because every once in a while there's something funny," Teddy responded while drying a plate. "Like that conspiracy theory that James is the Heir of Slytherin and actually Voldemort's kid because the camera gave him red-eye."

Dad rubbed his forehead. "It's all so confusing, even after I spoke with Hagrid last night. Last time I checked, Draco Malfoy bleeds red."

Mum frowned. "I still can't believe you dragged Lily into this Malfoy bullshit."

"She handed herself really well, Ginny!"

"Does it matter?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Lily and Albus have been embroiled in the Malfoy Problem all without my interference for a while now. Without Lily's help, the case might have gone cold, and we can't afford to lose our hold on Astoria now."

"She's a child, Harry!"

"Tell that to the newspapers!"

Dad pushed the newspaper that he was reading across the kitchen table towards me with a grim expression. It was opened to the third page.

There was a picture of me snapping "I do not!" at the cameras. It was accompanied by a picture of Malfoy standing between me right after he'd tugged my braid, and another one of me and Astoria talking.

"I don't think I want to read that," I said. At least my outburst took some of the heat off of Al. He's usually under a microscope.

James snatched the paper, his hands leaving wet, sudsy fingerprints.

"Ooooh, this might beat my funniest headline. Harry Potter's Unassuming Daughter has a Secret Slytherin Boyfriend?"

I put my head in my hands. "Please tell me you're pulling my leg."

Albus shook his head, laughing a bit. Traitor.

"But what I want to know, Dad," said Albus, "is how someone got cameras inside the ballroom in the first place?"

"Harry?" Mum asked.

"My job is to apprehend Dark wizards, not some bloody Scorpius Malfoy fangirls with cameras. Those pictures could have been taken by any of the guests."

Teddy pulled the newspaper closer to him as Mum got up and left the kitchen. "What about the loopy sister with the weird blood? Could she have taken them?"

"Aurelie Malfoy? What's the motive?" asked James.

Dad looked pensive. "More to the point, James, what's her mother's motive?"

Teddy looked at Albus. "Maybe she wants Scorpius and that girl in Lily's year to break up?"

I shook my head. "Not a chance. She's a pureblood Slytherin - Imogen Zabini."

"Then, what?"

"Remember what I told you about jumping to conclusions, Teddy?" Dad said. "We don't know for certain if it was Astoria. Let's not go down a path where the scent is dead."

Teddy sighed. "Right. Assuming it's not Astoria, what's the motive."

Dad shrugged. "Slow news day? Anyway, let's worry about all of that later. We're going to the Burrow for Christmas, and I want you to keep your eyes on Scorpius Malfoy."

Albus frowned.

"Dad, he doesn't have anything to do with-"

"No stone unturned, Al. I'm sorry, I know he's your friend, but we can't afford to miss anything."

"Right, onto more important things!" said James. We all looked at him blankly.

"Cast anything, Al," he said eagerly.

"Anything?"

"Yeah."

"You won't be mad?"

"Yeah, do your worst."

Dad looked suspicious.

Albus pointed his wand at James. "Langlock!"

James shouted, "Mutare!" while grinning from ear-to-ear. A strange red ripple moved through the air between James and Albus, like a pebble disturbing a still pond. The blue light from Albus's wand stopped in mid-air, and began to shrink back until it disappeared. James released his spell, and the ripples faded.

Albus's eyes widened as he tried to speak and failed. He resorted to making crude hand gestures at James.

"James Sirius Potter, fix your brother right now!" snapped Mum from the doorway.

"He did it to himself, Mum!" James protested.

"Fix him, James. Now."

"Ugh, fine. Finite Incanatem."

Albus coughed as his tongue loosened from the roof of his mouth.

"You're a foul git, James. How the bloody hell did you do that?"

"Do what?" James responded with faux innocence. "Oh, just something I've been working on for a while-"

"James, you cannot test spells on your siblings!" Dad snapped, "We've been through this before!"

"I tested it on myself first, to great peril!"

"He lost an eyebrow," Albus said dryly.

"Can you teach me, James?" I asked.

Dad chuckled. "I don't think it's a good idea for Lily to learn any more offensive spells for the time being."

"Seconded."

"Teddy, whose side are you on?"

"But Dad, I let Lucas Zabini disarm me! I can do better!"

"If James teaches you, do you promise not start any more fights?"

"I didn't start it!"

"Lily."

"Fine, Dad, I promise."


I practically skipped inside the Burrow as soon as we arrived to hug Victoire, my oldest cousin. She was refined, clever, and beautiful, and since I could remember I'd always wanted to be like her.

Victoire was like a fairy queen, or maybe the good witch Glinda from the Wizard of Oz. I could imagine Victoire wearing Glinda's poofy pink dress and totally rocking it.

She grinned. "Ça va?"

"Incroyable, now that I'm here. How's St. Mungo's?"

Victoire worked as a Healer.

"Same old, same old," she said. "Come inside and get warm- oh, hello Scorpius!"

"Potter knits?" asked Malfoy from the living room. I wondered when he had arrived. Victoire and I sat down on the couch opposite him. James was holding a slightly misshapen jumper.

"Knitting is a very manly art, I'll have you know," said James as he inspected his handiwork. "Nice, don't you think?"

"Yes. It's only slightly lumpy," Dad teased as he walked by.

"Astoria wanted me to give you a gift," said Malfoy. "It's the small one in the gold paper."

Victoire took my hand. "Come on upstairs, we need to get dressed for pictures.


"Look up, Lil."

I felt the soft scrape of a pencil against my eyelids. I couldn't stop myself from blinking in response.

Victoire tapped a brush against the edge of the eyeshadow container to shake off the excess, then carefully applied a dusting of Ravenclaw blue to her eyelids, squinting in the mirror to assess her work.

"Rose ne peut pas dessiner droit si tu clignes, Lily."

"Sorry, Vic."

Lucy was outlining her eyes in a heavy, dark coat of mascara and eyeliner, making their light blue color pop. Her lips were ruby-red and her auburn hair was shiny and gently waved.

Molly was doing Roxanne's hair, and Dominque had finished getting ready and was in the corner talking softly on the phone in French, probably to her family on her mother's side.

I wasn't very close to any of my older female cousins except Rose and Victoire. The rest of them were beautiful, mature, and strange, and most of the time I was too scared to speak to them.

There was a sharp rap on the door, and then Albus's voice.

"Aren't you ready yet?"

"No!"

"You've got to be kidding me."

Rose rolled her eyes as she dusted blush on my cheeks with a large brush. I tried not to sneeze.

"Beauty takes time, Al," she responded levelly. Rose handed me a stick of lipstick.

"You can put that on, right? I'm going to ask Dom to undo my rollers."

I nodded and scooted closer to the mirror. Victoire smiled warmly.

"What are you wearing for the picture?"

"What I've got on." I was wearing a pale greyish-pink rubbed turtleneck that Mum bought for me, and black jeans.

Victoire regarded me critically.

"It's too casual. You should wear a dress over that jumper instead."

"Vic, I don't think-"

"Ne t'inquiètes pas, je promets que tu l'aimeras!"

I sat with my hands in my lap as Victoire excitedly produced a dark red dress in thick, warm-looking fabric with white buttons down the middle. I had to admit that it seemed like an okay dress.

Victoire clipped my hair back off of my face. I tugged at the hem of the dress as I followed Rose down the stairs.

Albus glared at us. "Finally, you're done."

Malfoy was standing a bit behind Albus, smirking as usual.

"Surprise, surprise. You clean up decent, She-Potter."

"Shut it, Malfoy! Nobody asked your opinion, you womanizing bastard." I gripped the hem of the dress. I was still on edge from the incident at the Ministry Ball.

He sniggered.

"Don't worry, She-Potter, you're not my type. I don't date shrill, righteous midgets like you."

"Oh yeah? Well, I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole if we were the last two people on Earth."

"Is that so, She-Potter?"

"Yeah, Malfoy. Can't think of anything more unappealing than your smug face."

Albus looked mildly amused by our bickering, but said nothing. Victoire put a placating hand on my shoulder and tried to steer me away from Malfoy. I frowned. I wonder if he bleeds gold, too.

Teddy emerged from the kitchen, wearing a magenta Weasley sweater that clashed horribly with his bright blue hair and looking a tad guilty.

"What's behind your back, Teddy?" Victoire asked in an innocent tone.

"Uh, nothing."

"Chocolate!" James yelled, popping out of nowhere. Teddy frowned at him.

"Great, now I'm going to get the talk from everyone's favorite Healer about the horrors of excessive sugar intake."

"Love you too, Ted."

Victoire followed him back into the kitchen.

James had wandered into another room and was loudly retelling the story of how Albus fell off of his broom at his first Quidditch game.


A few hours later, I was sitting in the living room and listening to Mum and Aunt Hermione's conversation when Lucy told me that Dad wanted to talk to me in the kitchen.

Teddy, Victoire, Dad, Malfoy, and Albus were seated at the kitchen table as I came in.

"Lucy told me you wanted me to come to the kitchen for something."

Dad nodded. "Shut the door and sit down, Lil."

Malfoy looked afraid. "Am I being interrogated?"

Dad shook his head. "No, Scorpius, we just need to cooperate with us for a bit. You're a witness. We don't suspect you of anything, and I don't expect that we will."

"So what do you need?"

Dad nodded at Teddy.

"Information, Scorpius."

"Information on what?"

"Prove it, Malfoy," I said, holding out a knife. "Prove you're human."

He stood to take the knife from me and he glared at me as he dragged the pale blade of the knife against his palm, gritting his teeth.

"Pleased, She-Potter?" He held his hand out for all of us to see. Red blood seeped out of the cut, and he hissed as air hit the wound. I felt a distinct sense of relief.

Dad nodded. "Thank you for cooperating, Scorpius. We don't suspect you of anything, we just can't afford to leave any stone unturned."

Malfoy sat down again and Victoire healed his hand.

"Has your sister always bled that color?"

"Ever since I can remember," he said stiffly.

"And your mother?"

"Same as me."

"Is there anything else out of the ordinary about your sister, Scorpius? Anything that Astoria Malfoy could be involved with?

He sneered. "Her birth was a bit iffy, if that's what you mean."

"Can you elaborate on that?" pressed Dad.

"Astoria was never pregnant with her. Aurelie just was. One day, she existed."

Dad stared at his notes. "Let's not beat around the bush here, Scorpius. What you're suggesting is that Aurelie Malfoy was made."

"Yes."

Dad sat back. "That's a serious accusation. Are you aware of that?"

"Yes. But as you said, Aurelie's not exactly human, is she?"

Dad looked up. He frowned.

"Victoire, Albus, and Lily. I need you three to leave the room now."

"What do you think they're talking about?" I asked Victoire.

She shook her head. "Nothing good, ça c'est sûr."

Albus looked more curious than worried. "But what kind of magic allows you to do that? Making living things violates the fundamental laws of magic!"

I frowned. "What about spells like Avis?"

"They're not real, living birds. They're more like mechanical objects."

"It's Dark magic, Lily," said Victoire. "And neither of you should be asking questions about it."

Albus spotted Uncle Bill, Victoire's dad, and made a beeline towards him, probably to talk his ear off about the ins-and-outs of becoming a Curse-Breaker.

Aurelie Malfoy was made, not born.

Something about that deeply unsettled me. I thought about it through dinner, but it made no sense.

Rose nudged me. "Something on your mind, Lil?"

I shook my head and stared at the peas on my fork. "No, nothing. Just a bit tired."

I heard someone laugh.

"That's as dangerous as opening Avalon!"

That was Louis, Dom and Victoire's younger brother and the only other Slytherin in the family. He was talking to Albus.

I frowned. "What does that mean, Louis?"

Louis shrugged. "Just a saying I picked up working in Scotland. It means, uh, the same thing as opening Pandora's box."

"Why? Isn't Avalon that mythical island that Morgan le Fay and King Arthur are supposed to be trapped in?"

"And some say wizards and witches are myth," said Aunt Hermione. "There's often truth to legend."

"You don't really think they're real?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But Celtic wizards and witches of old believe Morgan brings disaster. You know, famine, plague and all that."

Hugo snorted. "That's cheerful."

I fell silent again as Aunt Hermione, Hugo, Louis, and Albus struck up a lively debate about the truth of myths in various cultures.

Morgan was just a character in Carla's book. She wasn't real and certainly had nothing to do with the Malfoy Problem.

Or did she?

Even though I knew my fears were unfounded, that nagging feeling of doom did not go away.


After dinner, I went upstairs to retrieve my wand. When I walked past the bathroom, I heard a retching sound.

"The hell are you doing in there, Al?"

"It's Scorpius."

"Oh. Are you sick, Malfoy? Aunt Hermione's got some Pepto-Bismol in the cupboard - it's a, uh, Muggle potion for nausea. It's the pink bottle."

"Thanks, Lily."

Since when did Malfoy call me Lily?

Something felt wrong.

"Malfoy, is it alright if I come in?"

"Yeah, it's fine." His voice was shaky. I felt a bit guilty about grilling him earlier.

I pushed the door open slightly. Malfoy was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. He looked as if all the blood had drained from his face except for two pink spots on his cheeks. His eyes were strangely bright, as it he was running a fever.

Malfoy looked like one of Edgar Allan Poe's dying, consumptive maidens.

I did not like seeing him so weak.

"You really don't look well." I put a hand to his forehead. He felt only slightly warm.

"Thought you said you wouldn't touch me with a barge pole."

I ignored that comment and fished for the Pepto-Bismol. I screwed the cap off for him.

"Here, just fill up to the line on the cap."

He took the bottle from me but made no attempt to pour the medication into it. Malfoy cleared his throat.

"Can you keep a secret, Lily?" His expression looked serious and strangely intense.

Was this about the Malfoy Problem? About Aurelie?

"Yeah." I sat down next to him.

"I, uh-" He fiddled with the bottle cap. "It's just sometimes I get like this."

"Sick?" I asked. Maybe it was Dark magic residue from whatever Astoria Malfoy kept in Malfoy Manor.

He shook his head, laughing mirthlessly. "No, no, no. I do this to myself."

"Shit, Malfoy - why?"

He screwed the cap back onto the bottle of Pepto-Bismol.

"It makes me feel more in control."

"You feel out of control?"

"Sometimes." Then, "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm a puppy with a broken leg."

"I don't think you're a puppy with a broken leg, Malfoy. For one, you're not cute enough."

He smiled weakly and ducked his head.

"I, uh. This is weird for me. I don't usually talk to anyone about this stuff other than Al. Dad's so hard to talk to most of the time, it's like he's in his own world and his is a thousand times worse than mine."

I fidgeted with my hands, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, as if I were the one baring my secrets.

"You can talk to me. If you feel comfortable, I guess. I know we're not always on the best terms."

"It stops me from feeling. Usually I can just block whatever it is out, with classes, or Quidditch, or prefect duties, or whatever. But when there's nothing on my mind-"

He stood up and faced me, leaning again the sink, and taking a deep breath before continuing.

"-I think things sometimes. Bad things. It's like my head is filled with utter chaos, and I have to clear out all of the clutter."

"And purging makes you feel in control of your own thoughts?" I asked.

"I know it's bad and I shouldn't- but I feel better after."

I didn't know what to say. I had always been bad at comforting others.

I'd never really noticed the scars on his knuckles before. I'd always thought that they were from Quidditch or something.

Now that one of the scars was fresh, I realised that they were cuts from his teeth.

"You're going to make yourself sick, Malfoy."

"I know."

"Look, Malfoy, we don't get along sometimes, but I don't want to watch you destroying yourself. Albus, Aurelie, and your dad don't either."

"You should get back, your family is probably looking for you. Go ahead. I'll be fine."

"Drink the Pepto-Bismol. You'll feel a bit better," I offered as I left, not knowing what else to do. I sighed as I shut the door behind me.

The stack of secrets that I had accumulated in the past few months weighed heavy.

How had the Malfoy Problem gotten so unmanageable?


Translations for Victoire-

"Rose ne peut pas dessiner droit si tu clignes, Lily." = "Rose can't draw straight if you blink, Lily."

"Ne t'inquiètes pas, je promets que tu l'aimeras!" = "Don't worry, I promise you'll like it!"

"Nothing good, ça c'est sûr." = "Nothing good, that's for sure."

Apologies to any French-speakers reading, the last time I took French was like three years ago so I'm pretty rusty

If you are in the US, the Eating Disorder Hotline is 1-800-931-2237

-you can get support, information, referrals, and guidance about treatment options for either you or someone you're concerned about.