Love and Glory

by GinnyWeasleyRocks

Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Hogwarts, where we lay our scene. Weasley and Malfoy are destined to come together. But for Rose and Scorpius, it isn't exactly love at first sight - or second, or third, or... you get the picture. It's going to take a lot longer for these crazy kids to get together. But trust me, it's worth the wait. Rated M for violence & dark themes

14. Truth

Disclaimer: Copyright J.K Rowling

A/N: This chapter is ridiculously long.

---

Chapter 14: Truth

In many ways, it was just an ordinary day for Draco Malfoy.

The crooked streets of Diagon Alley were bustling with shoppers, even at the early hour. It was a chilly day, overcast, and he wore his heavy winter cloak. Passing Madam Malkin's, he nodded to the smiling patroness who stood by the door, and moved around a group of young children who were gawking in the window of a broomstick shop.

Then there it was, the snowy-white building looming up before him, and Draco felt a lurch in his stomach. He did not break his stride, even as countless warnings and doubts sprung up inside his mind. There have been two known thefts of Gringotts in recent history, and only one of those was successful.

He knew about the 'successful' theft (who didn't?). It had been carried out by Potter, Weasley and Granger shortly before the end of the War, and had culminated in their escaping on the back of a dragon.

Somehow, Draco did not see himself holding onto his desk job at Gringotts if he ended up destroying most of the building with dragon fire while carrying out the task. But how did you expect to keep your job anyway? a voice in his head reminded him. After all, even assuming that his theft today went undetected, which was extremely improbable, there was no telling what Zabini and the others would do to him once he had performed this task for them. Things would not simply return to normal.

They had promised him his wife's freedom, not his own.

But that was enough for Draco. It was enough to know that Astoria would not have to spend fifteen years of her life huddled in a damp, dark cell on a desolate island. It was enough to know that she would soon be able to use her wand again, to feel fresh air on her face and see daylight. It was enough to know that she would soon see Scorpius again. Because – and Draco did not hesitate to admit this – Scorpius needed his mother more than he needed his father. In fact, a part of him sometimes wondered if his son would not be better off without him in his life altogether.

As he reached the marble steps before the building, Draco knew this much. He would rob a hundred wizarding banks to free Astoria - not because of some foolishly heroic Gryffindor sentiment - but because of the simple fact that he loved his wife. It was for the same reason that he had agreed to kill Albus Dumbledore years ago – to protect the people he loved. To protect his family.

With a wry smile, Draco Malfoy wondered if his life were destined to be one long round of history repeating itself. Recently, it seemed that all he was doing; repeating the past. He brushed this thought aside as he pushed open the burnished bronze doors, nodding to the goblin guard clad in scarlet and gold who bowed to him.

If Astoria were freed, none of that mattered. Draco steeled himself, barely sparing the warning words engraved on the silver doors inside the building a second glance.

Thief, you have been warned, beware…

The vast marble hall of Gringotts was the same as it always was: queues of people passing through numerous doors as goblins escorted them to vaults; more goblins seated on high stools behind a long counter, weighing coins and scrawling in ledgers. Draco surveyed the scene with a slight, imperceptible nod to himself. It was busy this morning; that was good. The more harried the goblins were, the less they would deliberate over procedure and formalities.

He reached another door at the back of the hall and climbed a white stone staircase to the second floor, where the main offices were located. Forcing himself to act normal – as normal as could be expected under his present circumstances – Draco swept through the crowded room. There were no goblins in sight here, only wizards and witches hunched over piles of parchment and scrolls at their desks in various cubicles, some of whom cast nervous glances up at him as he passed. That was normal, too.

His own office was situated at the far end of the room, past the cubicles. Draco inclined his head to Bill Weasley before entering, who was peering at him through the glass window of his own larger office. The other wizard nodded back after a moment's hesitation. He had been cool with him since Astoria's arrest; it was only to be expected, though his snubs still smarted Draco's pride. The self-righteous blood traitor.

There was a large pile of papers waiting for him on his desk, and Draco sighed as he slipped inside his cramped office and took a seat. He lifted the first document, a currency exchange form, and pressed his own signature to the bottom. Then the next – and the next – and the next…

It was half-past nine when the headpiece connected to his ear finally crackled, and Draco set down his quill, casting a glance around his office. It was, of course, empty, but he waved his wand at the door to lock it, just in case any of his underlings decided to bother him with more paperwork.

Blaise Zabini's voice sounded in his ear. "Any problems?"

Draco's stomach lurched again. He could imagine Zabini back in the shop in Knockturn Alley, a satisfied grin on his face as he held a wand to his throat to transmit his voice. They had installed the headpiece in Draco's ear that morning, a piece of magical technology so small that it was almost invisible, and Zabini was already making good use of it.

"No problems," he replied in a low voice, keeping his eyes trained on the windows of his office.

Zabini sounded thrilled. "Well, ready when you are, Malfoy."

---

Two weeks had passed. Two weeks since Rose had told James, and already things were getting easier.

For one thing, she was finally getting some sleep at night. She still never slept the night through, and often felt the compulsion to walk the grounds at dawn, dodging the Aurors on watch and skirting around the lake to see the Thestrals. The quiet, tranquil creatures were a strange comfort to her. She did not meet Malfoy again on her wanderings, and could not help but suspect that he had taken to avoiding the route since their previous encounter.

Winter deepened, the glittering frost on the grass often remaining for the day and snowfalls becoming more frequent, until one morning, Rose Weasley stepped out of the castle to be greeted with an extraordinary sight. The entire lake had frozen over, and the vast expanse of ice was stained with the blood-red sunrise.

She stuffed her gloved hands in her pockets as she felt the sharp bite of the air, and turned her face upwards to see a flurry of white flakes spinning towards her from far above. All around her, a light covering of snow had settled on the stone turrets of the castle, on the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, the bare, stunted branches of the Whomping Willow and even on the distant roof of Hagrid's hut.

A wide smile spread across Rose's face, and she dropped her hood despite the cold, keeping her face upturned and letting the snowflakes settle on her thick red curls as she watched the sun soar into the sky above the craggy white mountains in the distant horizon. How it was that she always managed to forget the sheer extent of Hogwarts' stark beauty during winter, she never knew. It was at times like these that she felt that old surge of wonder – the same wonder that she had felt years ago, on seeing the school for the first time. Her second home… that sometimes felt like her real home.

The bone-numbing cold that followed this initial snowfall soon pervaded every inch of the old castle, and students wrapped themselves in thick cloaks as they made their way from class to class, particularly from those that took place in the dungeons, huddling over their hot meals in the Great Hall as the ceiling above reflected a cold winter's sky.

Since their written exchange in Alchemy, Nina Meyer had taken to sitting next to Rose in all of their classes together, and the latter could not say that the arrangement bothered her. The Slytherin girl was sharp in her speech, and often made cutting remarks about others, but had a honesty about her that Rose found utterly refreshing.

After classes had finished for the day, Rose normally made a beeline for the library, alone or with friends, and got started on the seemingly endless pile of essays, projects and assignments waiting for her. With the proximity of the Christmas exams, professors had grown more and more merciless with the sixth-years. This simply made it easier for Rose to immerse herself in scholarly concerns once more. Before Hallowe'en, her grades had been slipping alarmingly; but now, she felt herself recovering something of her old motivation.

It helped her to feel almost normal. The only thing that kept her lying awake some nights was the terrifying thought of when she would have to tell her parents all that she had discovered. She had received no more threatening notes since the funeral, and had been immensely relieved to discover one morning, as she unfolded The Daily Prophet at breakfast, that Blaise Zabini was now a suspected party in Andromeda's murder.

"I knew it wouldn't take them long to figure that bit out," James had said with a shrug when she informed him. By them, he meant his and Rose's parents. "After all, they have resources to help in their investigation that we don't have. We'll still have to tell them what we know, though – and soon."

But that soon became less of a resolution and more of a vague promise with each day that went by. Before long, James was absorbed in training his team for Gryffindor's upcoming match against Slytherin, Rose in her studies, and they did not see each other often enough to plan their next move.

The news of Blaise Zabini's apparent return to Britain and involvement in Andromeda's murder had affected her other cousins more dramatically; Albus had spent the remaining week posing theories and assumptions to Rose, while she was forced to listen without providing anything more than the occasional, non-committal hmm of agreement.

Both of Rose's parents wrote to her not long after the story emerged to reassure her that a nationwide hunt for Zabini was underway. Ordinarily, Hugo would have written to her, too, but they had not really spoken with each other since their argument in Hogsmeade. Over the weekend of Andromeda's funeral, Rose had been in no fit state to apologise to him, and now she felt that too much time had passed. Better to make things up with her brother during the Christmas holidays, she resolved, when they could see each other properly.

The only other person to whom she could have spoken about the events surrounding Andromeda's death was Scorpius Malfoy, but even that was not as much of a possibility any more. She saw him on their weekly patrol, which was not the dread-inducing ordeal it had once been, though the cold in the castle after dark was always too unbearable to allow them to remain for long in any case.

Undeniably, something had changed between them since they had gone to Knockturn Alley together. Their long silences were more companionable than uncomfortable now, and their exchanges less barbed and bitter. She noticed it, and she knew that he did too, but neither of them ever mentioned it.

As a natural consequence, the details of her journey to Knockturn Alley had moved to the back of Rose's mind. Which was why, when sitting in Ancient Runes one day and listening to Professor Babbling talk enthusiastically about the Elder Futhark alphabet, Rose almost did not notice the symbol that flashed before her eyes as she turned the pages of Complex Runology.

A full moon, half-black, half-white. Rose stared at it for a moment, then around at the classroom. They were all listening intently to Professor Babbling, who was now inscribing the Hydra rune on the board. Why did it look so familiar? Then, she saw Scorpius Malfoy sitting at the other side of the classroom, his brow furrowed as he diligently took notes, and something clicked inside her.

It was the symbol that she and Malfoy had seen when they arrived in Knockturn Alley, etched in dark ink onto the back wall of the abandoned shop where Andromeda had met them. The memory had been driven to the back of her mind soon afterwards, but now…

The symbol was accompanied by mostly blank parchment on the particular page of Complex Runology that she was perusing, apart from a couple of simpler runes next to it. Rose traced them with her finger. She did not need a reference alphabet to know that they spelt out a word: truth.

Her heart began to thump hard in her chest. With an effort, Rose turned back to the required page. The building in Knockturn Alley where they had met Andromeda had been an abandoned runologist's shop, she reminded herself. It made perfect sense for the back wall to have a particular rune inscribed onto it – well, not perfect sense, but some kind of sense.

But why had she never come across the symbol before? She must have flipped past it a dozen times, and never spared it a second glance. It must be very old, Rose reasoned. That particular alphabet was standardised now, and the word for truth had a different symbol in most schoolbooks.

She did not want to return to the memory of what had happened in Knockturn Alley, that the appearance of the strange symbol had triggered. Things were almost back to normal, and she wanted to keep it that way. But all the same, as she gazed around the Ancient Runes classroom, Rose knew that she would be paying a visit to the library tonight, and not for the sole purpose of studying in peace.

---

Draco descended into the marble hall of Gringotts once more and made his way to the counter. Zabini and the others had left some of the finer details of the plan to his own discretion, so Draco had lain awake for hours in the days leading up to his task to prepare for this very moment. Now, he felt oddly calm as he came to a halt across the counter from one of the free goblins, whose name he knew to be Ternak.

The goblin had a narrow, wrinkled face and a greyish pointed beard. He was performing a tedious ritual of turning an ingot of gold over in his hands, examining it through an eyeglass and then scribbling something indecipherable in his accounts. He repeated this process several times without glancing up, until Draco eventually cleared his throat.

Draco had worked at Gringotts for twenty-odd years, and frequently encountered Ternak on a daily basis, but there was no recognition in the goblin's dark eyes as he looked at Draco, only annoyance. "What do you want?" he snapped.

"Vault seven hundred and twenty-five must be checked for thieves." Brief, but forceful.

Ternak frowned at him. "That vault has been inactive for almost half a century."

"Nevertheless, this is a necessary security measure." Draco kept his tone even. The goblin continued to stare at him for a moment, expression inscrutable, then demanded sharply,

"Documentation?"

Draco felt a brief thrill course through him. Forging the document had been the most difficult part. He had dug through his old papers to find a vault-check form. Then it had been a matter of magically renewing the date and appearance of the parchment. His own signature at the bottom was more of a formality, and Bill Weasley's signature after that had been easy enough to procure; he had been hassled this morning, and barely glanced at the document Draco had put before him.

A queue had already formed behind Draco, and the goblin squinted at the document the latter handed him for a brief moment before nodding. Draco tried not to look relieved.

"That seems to be in order. Ragnok!"

Another goblin appeared. Draco watched, concealing his apprehension with an effort, as Ternak spoke to Ragnok in a low voice, showing him the document. The other goblin nodded and moved away to one of the vault doors without even looking at Draco. His relief quickly dissipated; this was wrong.

"Where is he going?" Draco demanded. The older goblin had already resumed examining the gold ingot, and waved a dismissive, long-fingered hand.

"To check the vault."

"But I must accompany him." Draco did his best deliver the words in a smooth, even tone so as not to raise the goblin's suspicions. He had not expected this. "According to procedure, any thieves should be dealt with by both goblins and wizards employed by Gringotts, working in conjunction with each other."

"I know of no such procedure," Ternak said, and Draco felt his stomach plummet. Some of the goblins at other stools were looking at them now, and he reached into his pocket, gripping his wand. The Imperius Curse would be ill-advised in such a public place, but what other option did he have if Ternak was refusing to let him accompany Ragnok to the vault?

There was no sound in his headpiece, and he could not seek Zabini's help now without attracting attention. Think fast, Malfoy. "In light of recent security breaches at the Ministry, of which I am sure you have heard, the Goblin Liaison Office has advised that goblin-wizard cooperation be improved by the implementation of such procedure." He had always been good at bluffing.

The goblin named Ragnok had returned from the vault door, and was scowling at him. "I don't need help to deal with wand-bearers," he snarled.

Draco tightened his grip on his wand. There was nothing for it. His mouth was beginning to form the word, "Imperio," when Ternak heaved an impatient sigh, finally putting the gold ingot down.

"Ragnok, bring him with you if he insists," he ordered. "I have other clients to attend to."

Grumbling, the other goblin led the way to the door of the vault and Draco followed, heart still thumping. He could not believe he had come so close to casting the Imperius Curse and almost ruining the entire operation…

And, apparently, neither could the little voice in his ear. His headpiece crackled once more as Ragnok heaved the vault door open, and Zabini snapped, "What was that?"

"Nothing," Draco said in as low a voice as he could manage once the door had closed behind them. Ragnok did not seem to hear, moving ahead of the wizard in the dark, steeply-sloping stone passageway. Vaguely, Draco wondered how Zabini seemed to know everything despite being back in Knockturn Alley. He must have someone watching the bank.

The goblin whistled, and a cart appeared on the tracks before them a moment later. As Draco climbed in, Ragnok looked at him for the first time since they had left the hall. He had a sharp, cunning face and dark, slanted eyes. His entire demeanour seemed to have changed, and instead of looking annoyed, he simply looked vaguely amused.

"You almost made a fatal mistake back there, Mr Malfoy."

Well, at least one of the goblins knew him. That was Draco's first thought. Then, he frowned at Ragnok as he stepped into the cart after him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The goblin smiled a rather nasty smile, but did not say any more as the cart hurtled off down the tracks, through a maze of dark, winding passageways. They twisted and turned so often that Draco began to feel queasy. Deeper and deeper they travelled, past the underground lake and rattling over a vast, pitch-black ravine.

When at last they pulled to a halt before the door to vault seven hundred and twenty-five, Draco did not move as Ragnok hopped out of the cart and onto the stone. Instead, he raised his wand and pointed it at the goblin's head.

"Tell me what you meant by a 'fatal mistake'," he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Ragnok did not turn around. "What will happen if I do not tell you? Will my memories be wiped?" He chuckled, a strange, dry sound. "Rather against the principles of the movement, wouldn't you say?"

"What movement?" Draco debated whether or not to just cast the Memory Charm now. This was why he hated goblins… They always spoke such riddling nonsense.

"You don't know?" Now Ragnok sounded thoroughly amused. "Well, Mr Malfoy, by a 'fatal mistake', I meant casting the Imperius Curse in the hall of Gringotts. It would have given you away – if your suspicious behaviour has not already." He listened for a moment. "Hear that? I would not be surprised if they have decided to pursue us. You had better take what you came for, Mr Malfoy, and quickly."

Draco could hear nothing, only the steady drip-drip from the roof of the passageway high above them, shrouded in dark. Still, he got out of the cart, his wand still trained on Ragnok. "Open the door, then," he said sharply, and the goblin obliged, laying one long finger on the door so that it melted away.

It was becoming clear to Draco now. "You work with Zabini," he said as he moved towards the vault. "He mentioned that a few of the goblins here would not be opposed to this operation. So why were you so difficult in the hall? That attracted attention as well."

"It would have attracted even more attention if I had seemed over-willing to be accompanied by a wand-bearer to check a vault." Ragnok gave Draco another of his nasty smiles. "After all, our races have not the friendliest history. But you are wasting time, Mr Malfoy. Go."

Draco cast a dubious glance into the darkness of the vault before him. If he stepped inside, Ragnok could easily seal the wall behind him, and he would be trapped in there. The thought was terrifying – of the vault being his prison and eventual tomb – and he turned back to the goblin. "You first."

Ragnok did not move. "You're going to have to trust me, Mr Malfoy." His dark, slanted eyes had a greedy gleam to them which Draco had seen before, and did not like at all. Slowly, he moved forward, aware that he might be making his most fatal mistake yet. But, as before, he hadn't much choice.

---

Scorpius hauled himself out of the trapdoor to the secret passageway that Weasley had shown him, and into the darkened cellar of Honeydukes. His muscles were aching from the lengthy, torturous training session that the Slytherin team had been subjected to by Santini the previous evening.

Training was taking up more and more of his time as the Gryffindor-Slytherin match approached. It was something of a miracle that he had managed to get away at all this evening, Scorpius reflected grimly. His patience with Santini was wearing thin. Since the Quidditch captain had exposed the identity of Tobias's father to the team and set the Hogwarts rumour mill churning once more, Scorpius did not see the point of even pretending to get on with the other wizard.

Waving his wand in a precise, careful motion, Scorpius cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself, watching as the surrounding air grew temporarily blurry. He then listened hard for a moment, and heard footsteps right above his head. "We're closing up now," called a witch's voice. "Please bring your purchases to the till!"

The footsteps moved away again, and Scorpius climbed the stairs stealthily, chanced a glance through the crack of the door, then slipped out, emerging behind the counter. The witch who had announced the shop's imminent closing was busy sorting through a crate of Ice Mice, and did not notice him as he ducked under the counter and edged across the shop, slipping around the other customers.

Scorpius let out a breath as he stepped out into the street. Though it was early in the evening yet – he had just come from dinner in the castle – dusk was falling rapidly over Hogsmeade. A few patrolling Aurors and villagers bearing groceries strode along past the shops and did not spare a glance for the young wizard with his hood pulled up, the Disillusionment Charm around him blurring his sharp edges so that he blended into the background of the cobbled street.

He passed Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, passed the post office, and proceeded up a sloping side-street to where the Hog's Head inn stood, waving his wand again as he went so that the Disillusionment Charm was lifted. The rusty wooden sign depicting a wild boar's severed head swung wildly in a sharp gust of freezing wind that seemed to blow right from the mountains, and Scorpius shivered, pulled his cloak more tightly around himself as he entered.

The cramped, dingy place was unusually crowded, though Scorpius acknowledged that he had never been there on a weekday before. He saw a pair of warlocks who seemed to be in the thick of negotiations glance up from their table to eye him suspiciously. A group of loudly guffawing hags occupied a long table towards the back of the inn. Hastily, without meeting the barman's gaze lest he be recognised as a Hogwarts student, he crossed to a shadowy corner of the room, beside the fireplace.

His aunt was already waiting at the table there. She turned as he approached, and rose to her feet, hugging him briefly and planting a dry kiss on his cheek. "Scorpius," she said, very quietly, as he took his seat.

In the next instant, the barman was before them. Once they had ordered drinks (his aunt ordered a Gillywater, and he did not miss the disapproving glance she shot at him when he opted for a Firewhiskey), Daphne Greengrass scraped her chair slightly closer to his, and fixed him with a solemn, stern look. She was even thinner than she had when he had seen her on the night of his mother's arrest. Her hair was scraped back in a tight bun, as it had been then, and her features seemed strained. But her sharp green eyes reminded Scorpius of his mother, and he felt a pang.

"You said that this was important," his aunt said, and he could not ignore the slight accusing tone she had taken on. There was a nasal, slightly whiny quality to her voice that was always present when she spoke, and sometimes made Scorpius want to shake her.

"It is," he replied.

"I can't stay for long," she said, and her eyes left his, moving over him before darting around the dingy inn. Scorpius saw, for the first time, how nervous she appeared; every muscle in her body seemed tense, strained almost to breaking point. But that was almost always the way with Aunt Daphne. "I left the boys with one of our neighbours, but she's a Muggle and if they do anything strange - " She cut off the sentence, left it hanging, as was often her habit, her eyes returning to him disconcertingly.

"Neither can I," Scorpius asserted, then added, as more of a formality, "How are they? Samuel and Will?" He had never been overly-fond of Tobias's younger brothers; namely because they were spoiled brats who were impossible to control on visits to his house and often left an inordinate mess to clean up after they had left.

"They're fine." His aunt's eyes returned to him, suddenly sharply suspicious. He knew that look well, too; it was a familiar fixture of his childhood. "I saw a few Aurors around the village when I was coming in. Are you sure you have permission to be here, Scorpius?"

The stern tone of her voice grated on his nerves, despite the fact that she did have a point. Scorpius detested being spoken to that way; he always had. "Yes, Professor Hobspawn knows I'm here," he lied. "I'm a prefect, so it was easy to get permission."

Daphne Greengrass gave a brisk nod. "And why - " she began, but at that moment, the barman emerged from the back room carrying a tray and set their drinks on the table. His aunt wrinkled her nose when she saw the musty glass that her Gillywater had been served in, and did not lift it from the table. Her gaze returned to Scorpius as he took a sip from the amber liquid in his own glass, feeling the heat course through him.

Once the barman had left, she leaned forward in her seat, towards her nephew. There was a faint rumble of conversation around them from the other occupants in the bar, that assured they would not be overheard.

"Is this about your mother, Scorpius?" There was a hint of sympathy in her voice, if a little impatient, and he could see the understanding in her green eyes… but there was something else, too. A kind of eagerness – as though she were anxious to talk about her sister. Perhaps she was. He could not blame her; it had been a while since any of them had heard from Azkaban.

"No," he replied, almost apologetically. "It's about my father. And… Tobias."

Daphne Greengrass straightened up in her seat, suddenly more alert than before. "Tobias? I hope you've been keeping him out of trouble."

Scorpius had to suppress a wry smile. So she hadn't gotten any letters home from Hobspawn. Yet. "I've been trying."

"Trying?" His aunt's tone grew sharper, and now he could not miss the note of accusation in it, that made his jaw clench. "Scorpius, while Tobias is at Hogwarts, he is your responsibility. I can't keep an eye on him. He's always been a little wild, and he needs someone to watch out for him."

"A little wild?" Scorpius raised his eyebrows. "He's practically impossible to control."

"So control him," she broke in forcefully. "You're a prefect; that's your job."

"I have better things to be doing than babysitting my cousin," he snapped back at her. Instantly, he regretted his words. What little colour had been in his aunt's face drained from it, and she recoiled from him.

"And I have better things to be doing than meeting my nephew in Hogsmeade at such an ungodly hour," she said with dignity, rising from the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the warlocks from the other side of the room glance at them.

Scorpius held out a placating hand, which she ignored. As she reached for her cloak, he said desperately, raising his voice as much as he dared without attracting the attention of the neighbouring tables, "I don't know where my father is."

Her eyes snapped back to him. "Your father?"

He held her gaze. "Yes. He's missing. I've tried Flooing the house, but it looked like someone raided it. My owl can't locate him. I don't know where he is, but - " he hesitated, then plunged into it, " – I know who he's with."

"Who?"

"Blaise Zabini."

Daphne Greengrass sat in her chair again, very suddenly. Her expression had not changed, but she said, in a very low voice, "Don't mention that name to me."

"I have to," Scorpius insisted. "I know he's with my father."

"You've been reading too much of the Prophet," she said dismissively. "How many times have I told you, Scorpius? You can't trust anything you read in that rag. Those sightings were obviously false; he's not even back in the country."

Scorpius felt like slamming his fist down on the table in his impatience. He didn't, of course, for a variety of practical reasons, but he did fix his aunt with a glare that would have made any ordinary witch – or wizard - cower. "He is back in the country. I know because I've seen him."

Aunt Daphne looked at him for a long moment, a glimmer of fear in her eyes that had not been there before. "You've seen him? How? Where?"

"That's not important," he said. "Since the Prophet published the story about the investigation involving him, I'm sure he's moved location."

His aunt still stared at him, and he could tell she wanted to find out more, yet, at the same time, a part of her was bristling at the assumption implied by his words. "You think I know where he is?" she said eventually, placing a sharp emphasis upon each word as though she were forcing it out.

"Who else would?" Scorpius shifted his glare to a more neutral stare, not dropping his eyes from his aunt's.

She shook her head slowly, the corner of her lips curling upwards in a disdainful half-smile. "My husband hasn't been in contact with any of us for seven years. Not since he left the country."

"I don't believe that," he said flatly.

Aunt Daphne scowled. "Do you think I'm lying to you, Scorpius?"

"I think," he said, choosing his words carefully, "That he may not have been in contact with you, but as for your sons…"

She caught on quickly. "Tobias." The glimmer of fear in her eyes was magnified, and suddenly she was leaning forward and clutching his arm tightly. "You said he had something to do with this."

Scorpius turned his face away, so that he was staring at the surface of the table. "I think Tobias has met his father. Recently."

"And you let this happen?" she said harshly, endeavouring to keep her voice down while her green eyes flashed with anger. "I asked you to take care of him, to make sure he didn't get mixed up in trouble…"

He was furious at the impulsive wave of shame that passed through him at his aunt's words. "I didn't know until it was too late," he hissed. "Before that story came out in the Prophet, one of my classmates let slip that Zabini is Tobias's father, and now the whole school knows. Tobias started defending him, and when I asked if he'd seen him recently…"

"Tobias has never been the best liar," his aunt finished. Her hand had left his arm. She was not looking at him anymore, but at her own untouched glass of Gillywater, her eyes distant. Around them, the rumble of conversation seemed quieter than before, and Scorpius looked around to see, with some unease, that most of the others customers, as well as the barman, were watching their exchange with undisguised curiosity. His companion did not seem to notice. "I was afraid this would happen."

"Aunt Daphne - " Scorpius began, on the verge of suggesting that they continue the conversation elsewhere, but she cut across him, her eyes meeting his once more.

"He did contact us. Not me directly, but Tobias. There was a note that he sent him. Tobias had tried to hide it, but I found it when I was cleaning his room. He asked Tobias to meet him in Diagon Alley."

"When was this?" Scorpius asked quietly, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears, the attention of the other customers forgotten.

"A few months ago. I think I found the note a few days before your mother went to that awful wedding. Before she was - well..." His aunt seemed to utter her next words with some difficulty. "I made sure Tobias didn't go anywhere, but by the time I had found the note, I think the damage was already done – he must have slipped away, somehow, to meet his father." She shook her head. "He could have been killed."

Scorpius's throat was suddenly dry. "Zabini wouldn't do that to his own son."

Aunt Daphne looked at him, and there was something terrifying in her eyes. "You don't know what that man is capable of, Scorpius. You have no idea."

Oh, I do. Scorpius grimaced inwardly as he remembered the sight of Blaise Zabini, stepping up to Andromeda Tonks and snapping her neck so casually, so carelessly – the way Rose Weasley had collapsed to the ground as it happened, her features contorted in a silent scream. But he did not say anything.

"Scorpius Malfoy?" The two of them twisted around to see that Professor Nott had just risen from a dark corner of the inn, and was making his way over to them, his eyes hard as they regarded Scorpius, who cursed inwardly. He had not noticed him when he came in. Clearly, Nott had not noticed him either. What in Merlin's name was the professor doing here, at this time of night?

"No student is supposed to leave the castle at this time – and particularly after curfew. It's extremely dangerous. I'm taking you back immediately."

Scorpius's aunt raised an eyebrow at him. Her expression was stern once more, and he felt disconcertingly like a child who had been caught red-handed stealing something. "The Headmaster gave you permission, did he, Scorpius?"

"I lied," he said simply, feigning nonchalance. His aunt looked rather taken aback by his honesty, and, frowning, the Potions master opened his mouth to say something else, then stopped, noticing for the first time who Scorpius was with.

"Ah. Daphne."

"Theodore." She rose to her feet smoothly, extending her hand. The two former classmates shook, very briefly. The entire room had fallen silent now, watching the exchange.

"I assure you, I would not have met Scorpius had I been aware that he was breaking school rules."

"Of course not." Nott, however, looked extremely confused. "It has – ah – been a long time …"

"Please." Daphne Greengrass cast a glance around the inn, at the curious onlookers. She looked almost amused. "I don't think now is the best time for small talk. But the effort is appreciated, Theodore." Laying hands on her cloak, she threw it around her shoulders, leaving a few Sickles on the table. "You'd better take my nephew back to Hogwarts before he breaks any more rules."

"Indeed." Nott did not seem to know what else to say as the witch dropped a couple of Sickles on the table with a clatter, then reached out and squeezed her nephew's shoulder so tightly that it hurt, her green eyes boring into his.

"Look out for Tobias," she ordered, before moving past Scorpius, Nott and the other occupants of the inn with a haughty turn to her head that reminded everyone precisely who she was. She was a Greengrass, a pureblood, and in her eyes, that still counted for something.

(***)

Nott was silent as they walked back along the dark, deserted lane that led from the village to the school. The chill in the night air was so bitter that Scorpius stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cloak, regretting that he had left his gloves behind. He would not be surprised if his fingers were frostbitten by the time they returned to the castle.

"Sir," he said, feeling a need to break the uncomfortable silence without really knowing why, "I never used that Memory Potion you gave to me. If you want it back, that is."

The Potions master gave a start, as though he had been thinking hard about something, and took a moment to process his words. Then he turned to regard the younger wizard, the expression on his face a mixture of bemusement and annoyance.

"In exchange for my silence, Malfoy? Is that your offer?"

"I never said that," Scorpius replied guardedly. Nott faced forward again, shaking his head.

"You broke school rules, Malfoy. And you are a prefect, supposed to set an example to the younger students. As a professor, it is my duty to ensure that you come to consequences for your actions. I am taking you straight to the Headmaster's office."

Scorpius suppressed a groan. He should have expected no less – but all the same, he felt a rush of apprehension. How much trouble would he get in for breaking curfew and sneaking out to Hogsmeade? Would his prefect's title be threatened? Would the Headmaster forbid him from playing in the match on Saturday?

"With respect, sir, I am sure that Professor Hobspawn would be curious as to what you were doing in the Hog's Head." He feigned an innocent expression as the professor swung around to meet his gaze once more.

"For your information, Malfoy, there are no rules forbidding a professor from leaving the school grounds after classes have finished. Rubeus Hagrid frequently visits the Hog's Head on weekdays." His tone became colder, more dangerous. "Remember who you are speaking to, Malfoy. Consider yourself lucky that I have not deducted points already."

Scorpius considered it wise to refrain from saying any more. Well, I tried. With an audible sigh, he regarded the gates with the two pillars on either side, each topped with a winged boar, that were now looming up before them. Beyond, hundreds of lights glittered in the castle, which was a vast, dark shape framed against the cloudy night sky. The sight of it gave Scorpius a strangely lonely feeling.

He was surprised when Nott spoke again once they had entered the castle grounds.

"Malfoy." His tone was curious. "May I ask what possessed you to risk your own safety and standing in the school to meet your aunt, when you could have used an owl or Floo Powder like any other student?"

"I wanted to meet her in person."

"Why?"

Scorpius framed his response as politely as he could. "I'm afraid that's family business, sir. I don't think my aunt would be very pleased if I mentioned any of it to you – or, indeed, any of the professors."

Nott made a small sound of amusement. "I don't think you realise what's at stake here, Malfoy. With the inquiry, the Headmaster will be obliged to deal with any rule breakers very harshly."

"Inquiry?" Scorpius stared at the Potions master, who simply lifted his shoulders.

"It will be common knowledge soon enough. As soon as tomorrow morning. Professor Hobspawn is facing the possibility of a Ministry inquiry if he and the Aurors stationed at the school do not uncover the truth of what happened on Hallowe'en night."

Nott was a black silhouette beside him, and Scorpius could not see his expression. Still, something in his voice had made him doubt his nonchalance. He looked hard at the older wizard, noted the tension in his features, the way he seemed to be holding himself upright with an effort as he faced the castle. Was he… scared?

---

Inside the vault, there was no glitter of gold as Draco had expected. He felt as though he were back in the abandoned shop in Knockturn Alley, surrounded by a clutter of objects. Stranger still, Draco realised, they seemed to be Muggle objects.

His wand light fell upon a long, plain looking glass cast against the far wall, a round whitewood table, what looked like a crumpled gown in another corner, a rusty bicycle, a long, dust-covered telescope, a miniature train set… and many more curious-looking objects that Draco could not name. There was something deeply disconcerting about it all. Astoria would be able to name them all, he reflected. As an Obliviator, she'd had to familiarise herself with Muggle ways. But he, on the other hand –

There it was. The old wooden box. It was so plain that he might have missed it, tucked away behind the looking glass. Draco moved forward and stooped to pick it up, warily. His fingers brushed rough wood. No enchantment to burn his skin, no illusion… it was just an old box, small enough to fit under his cloak, as Zabini had described.

The question which had been at the back of his mind since he entered the vault emerged now. Why hide all of these useless Muggle artefacts away in a high-security vault, deep beneath the city? And why go to the trouble of sending Draco to collect one of these items? Was it all just a game, a test? Whatever was in the box had to be valuable, he reasoned.

At any rate, those questions could wait until later. Right now, he was in no mood to delay in the dark vault. Draco swept out through the door again, noticing that Ragnok's eyes, which had followed him into the vault, were no longer gleaming; instead, they held a look of intense disappointment.

"No thieves, then?" the goblin said dryly, but Draco heard him grumbling under his breath about a waste of security as they returned to the cart. Obviously, he had been expecting to see gold as well.

Draco felt very cold as they hurtled back up the maze of tunnels, nearing ground level with every turn. He had no idea what was waiting for him back in the marble hall. Were Zabini and Ragnok right? Had he attracted unwanted attention? And if so, were they being pursued right now?

He felt even more disconcerted as they passed into the hall and nothing happened. No security guards were bearing down on them, no goblins pointing their fingers accusingly… Ragnok returned to his post and Draco took a few steps forward, turning back to survey the scene before him. It was as before, if a little busier. Wizards and witches crowded at numerous counters, goblins spoke to them, weighed coins, wrote in their ledgers – no one spared as much as a glance for Draco Malfoy.

Zabini's voice crackled in his ear as he ascended the marble staircase behind the hall, still certain of a trap. "I cleaned up your little mess for you. A few little Memory Charms here and there and the goblins were none the wiser. Did you get it?"

"Yes," Draco said quietly, with one hand on the small bulge underneath his cloak.

"Good boy," said Blaise Zabini, and the connection cut with another crackle.

Draco Malfoy should have felt a surge of triumph. He had succeeded, he had broken into the vault undetected, he had secured his wife's freedom…

But…

Undetected? Did he really believe that? Did he really believe that he had just stolen from one of the most secure places in the wizarding world and a few well-placed Memory Charms were all that prevented him from being apprehended?

Draco Malfoy had worked in Gringotts for more than twenty years. He knew its inner workings, its intricate security system of sphinxes and dragons and enchantments. He knew that goblins missed next to nothing. He had expected to have to go on the run after this operation, to lose his position at the very least, but instead, everything was back to normal… or seemed to be back to normal.

To Draco, it seemed more like a large number of people had just turned a blind eye to what he had done. And that scared him more than the prospect of getting caught, of being turned into the Ministry and facing a trial, of ending up in Azkaban in a cell next to his wife's.

It scared him because the memory of Blaise Zabini's words had returned to him.

This is much bigger than you realise.

And what Ragnok had said. The movement…

What had he involved himself in?

Back in the safety of his office, Draco locked the door once more and sat at his desk. He produced the wooden box and set it before him. Two hours ago, he would not have been so reckless. But having broken into a high-security vault unnoticed, anything seemed possible now.

Gingerly, he pushed the lid of the box open. There, swathed in protective wrapping which he carefully removed, stood a gleaming glass ball. As Draco watched incredulously, the smoke within the ball whirled for a moment before glowing red.

A Remembrall. Well, that brought back some fond memories. Draco Malfoy stared at it for a long time, then dropped his head into his hands.

Whose vault had he just broken into?

---

"That's – good. Just loosen your grip a little bit – it'll give you more flexibility when you're aiming."

"Like that?" Rory Finnigan relaxed his grip from where he had brought his broomstick to a halt, letting his gloved fingers settle around the Quaffle.

Hovering a few feet away, Cassie nodded approvingly. She was seated casually on the Firebolt that James had given her, her head cocked and brow furrowed in concentration as she regarded her friend.

It was early – very early - on the morning of Gryffindor's match against Slytherin. Despite not being a morning person, Cassie Miller had reluctantly agreed to rise at daybreak and practice a few moves with Rory to ease his nerves. To their relief, the day had dawned bright and clear, a cold blue sky far above them promising that no rainfall would interrupt the play. Of course, there were disadvantages to that, too, Cassie reasoned – visibility would be somewhat reduced by the glare of the sun. But that was the Seekers' problem.

"Yeah, better. Now try." She manoeuvred her broom closer behind the hoops, savouring the way the sleek Firebolt sliced gracefully through the cool morning air. Not for the first time, Cassie felt a pang that she couldn't fly it at today's match – or, indeed, at any school match ever again. Pushing the thought aside, she watched as the new Chaser of the Gryffindor drew his hand back, aimed and threw, every muscle tensed in anticipation.

The Quaffle soared towards one of the huge golden hoops opposite them. Cassie lunged, but did not manage to grasp it. She swung her broom around in a full turn as Rory dived down to retrieve the Quaffle. He let out a whoop, tossing the large ball up and catching it again, then performed a cartwheel in midair in his excitement. Grinning, Cassie returned his high five as he zoomed past her.

"Not bad, Finnigan. You lot might just stand a chance."

"So kind of you to say, Miller," he quipped, still beaming. "Will we go again?"

Cassie wheeled her broom around again, casting a glance back at the castle. One by one, the lights in the many windows had winked out as the sun rose fully, and the stone towers of Hogwarts were now set against a sky streaked with pink and orange.

"We should probably get to breakfast now," she said, though the thought of leaving the air and her broom behind sent another pang through her. Practicing with Rory had been good – she had almost felt like part of the team again. "You need to eat well."

Rory's smile faded. "I don't know if I'll be able to eat anything without throwing it up," he muttered. "Any more tips?"

"Just remember not to be too careful when you're aiming to score," Cassie advised as they brought their brooms to land on the Quidditch pitch. Her boots struck the frosty grass with a crunch. "You've done enough practice now, and every second in the game is precious, so go with your gut. That's what Quidditch is all about – pure instinct."

"Of course, a little skill helps too." The pair turned to see James Potter standing with his arms folded at the edge of the grass. He was already clad in his Quidditch gear – which was rather tight-fitting, Cassie noted, highlighting his broad shoulders and agile, wiry build. His black hair, sticking up madly in all directions, was the only indication that he had just woken up, as his brown eyes were bright and alert. Then she realised that she had been staring and shook herself.

"Potter. All set for today?"

He nodded shortly. "That Santini prat won't know what's hit him."

Beside her, Rory had tensed at the sight of his captain. Now he said hastily, "I'd better get to breakfast. Thanks for the help, Miller." He clapped her on the shoulder.

"I think you terrify him a little," Cassie remarked as she watched her sandy-haired friend hurry away.

"As I should." She could not help but notice that James looked a bit put out. "That was very – er - charitable of you, Miller."

"Always happy to help a mate." She brushed a strand of dark hair out of her eyes, blowing on her fingers to warm them. Then a thought struck her. "You don't – I mean, James, he just came to me for a few tips, it's not that he doesn't like your methods or anything."

James looked confused for a moment, then shook his head. "I didn't think that for a second," he said at last, with an easy smile. "You going to watch the match?"

"'Course I am," Cassie said, feigning nonchalance, though a lump was threatening to form in her throat at the gentle understanding in his eyes. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

He nodded, still looking at her keenly. "Just don't curse our brooms or anything," he said at last, teasingly. "Or cheer for Slytherin. I mean, I would understand if you wanted to, considering…"

Cassie laughed to cover her uncertainty, shaking her head. "I'm a Gryffindor – loyal to the bitter end, whether or not I'm on the team. And I know you'll win this."

"Wish I was as sure as you," James said darkly, his gaze shifting away from her. She let out a breath, unaware that she had been holding it in the first place. "Slytherin are very determined this year – more determined than I've ever seen them before."

"I have faith." Cassie crossed her ankles as she stood on the pitch, broom in hand, suddenly thoughtful. "Wonder if Hobspawn will show up, though – with the inquiry and everything."

James's head snapped back to her. "What inquiry?"

She raised her eyebrows, shocked that, for once, she seemed to know something that the great James Potter didn't. "Haven't you heard people talking around the school? One of the Aurors leaked the news a couple of days ago."

"I don't hear much of anything these days, we've been so thick into training." James was staring at her. "So what are people saying?"

"There's talk of some Ministry inquiry about what happened with the werewolves on Hallowe'en night – or rather, what didn't happen with the werewolves." She added the last part with a significant look at James, and it made his eyes widen.

"Shit. I need to tell Hobspawn."

"About what we found out? Now? I don't know if that's the best idea…" But James Potter had already set his broom down and was sprinting away across the pitch, back towards the castle, his short cape flowing out behind him.

---

The Headmaster looked up from his desk as the Quidditch captain came staggering into his office, panting hard. "Mr Potter? Should you not be preparing for the match? It starts in less than an hour, if I'm not mistaken…"

"I – have – to – tell – you - something," James gasped out, clutching his chest as he came to a halt before the desk. Professor Hobspawn looked more than a little baffled.

"All right, all right, boy, get your breath back. No need to get yourself in a frenzy."

James collapsed in the chair across from the Headmaster without invitation, taking one last, deep gulp of air before he came out with, "I can tell you what really happened on Hallowe'en night, professor. You shouldn't have to face any inquiry."

Professor Hobspawn leaned forward in his seat, his green-grey eyes suddenly grave. "What do you know, Mr Potter?"

Carefully, keeping an eye on the golden watch that his parents had given him for his seventeenth birthday, James related everything that he and Cassie had discovered. Naturally, he omitted some details which he deemed unwise to include – her involvement in his discovery, how he had broken various school rules and avoided Auror patrols in order to gain the information he now had, the way that he had been tailing Nott since the beginning of the year.

When he had finished, Professor Hobspawn looked at him for a long time. Then, rubbing a hand along the side of his head which bore the distinctive scar, he sighed.

"James, I hope you understand that I am a very busy man at the moment. You yourself have your own responsibilities, so why not attend to those now, and we can continue this discussion at a later date…"

"You don't believe me?" James sat back in his chair, appalled.

The Headmaster fixed him with a no-nonsense stare. "Mr Potter. You'll forgive me if I find it difficult to accept some cock-and-bull story about how there weren't really any werewolves on Hallowe'en night, how a few hundred students and Aurors all imagined everything because a mass Memory Charm was cast upon them and only a few lucky Muggleborn pupils remembered what really happened because of a potion they drank which was brewed by our own Potions master and slipped into their food… somehow… for some reason."

"It's the truth!" James insisted. "Why would I lie to you, sir?"

"Well, perhaps because you want to discredit Professor Nott?" Hobspawn suggested. At James's innocent expression, he shook his head. "You made your disapproval of my appointment of him very clear at the start-of-term feast, James. It's no secret among the professors – indeed, some of them agree with you." He sighed again. "I, on the other hand, am a firm believer in second chances. That was why I was reluctant to dismiss Gregory Goyle after the Manticore incident, but when evidence surfaced against him, there was no other option." As James opened his mouth to speak again, he held up his hand. "And we are very grateful to you, James – the Aurors and I – for bringing that to our attention. In so doing, you made this school a safer place."

"But?" James prompted after a moment's silence.

The Headmaster rapped his knuckles on the wooden surface of the grand desk. "But, what you have presented before me is mere speculation – wild speculation, at that, garnered from very suspicious sources… overheard conversations, assumptions…"

"I assure you, professor, I didn't break any school rules to obtain any of that information," James said with as solemn an expression as he could manage.

Hobspawn did not even dignify that with a response. He simply looked at James, raised an eyebrow, and then exhaled heavily. "It is true that the Snarling Sons deny having transformed or even entered Hogwarts grounds on that particular night. It is true that the sightings of werewolves were hazy at best, even by the Aurors themselves who tackled them. It is true that in the past few weeks, a small number of students have approached professors and Aurors, informing them that they remember the events of that night differently from the others. And those students have been largely half-bloods and Muggleborns."

"Largely, sir?" James repeated doubtfully. Hobspawn caught his eye and looked down again.

"All," he admitted, then at the younger wizard's look of triumph, "But that does not prove anything, Mr Potter. We are still investigating the matter; we still need to see how the facts presented to us connect up. I appreciate your help, and I understand that you feel you are acting in the best interests of the school, but that is a very serious accusation which you have brought against Professor Nott. Serious, and likely unfounded."

"I can prove that he was making the Memory Potion, professor! I have the vial…" James trailed off, realising for the first time how idiotic he must appear to the Headmaster, who was now regarding him with more than a little impatience.

"Professor Nott is the Potions master, Mr Potter. It is not entirely inconceivable that he would brew a Memory Potion for the purpose of his pupils' learning."

"All right, sir." With another glance at his watch, James stood, attempting to gather the shreds of his wounded pride. He really had imagined this meeting going differently. "When you find out that Professor Nott is working against the school, sir, don't say that I didn't warn you."

Hobspawn's eyebrows lifted so high that had the wizard possessed hair, they would have disappeared beneath it. "Mr Potter, the next time you speak to me in that manner, I will not be so forgiving. Now, I believe you have a match to get to. Go."

James swung around and left the office.

---

Breakfast was a grand affair in the Great Hall that morning. Quidditch players at the Gryffindor table, many of whom were already in their gear, wolfed down steaming plates of sausages, bacon and toast while eyeing their rivals across the hall. The topic of conversation already seemed to have moved on from the imminent Ministry inquiry to whether or not Gryffindor would take the win for the seventh year in a row.

Rose was clad appropriately in a bright red jumper, a golden scarf wound around her neck. Her thick hair was reined in by a high ponytail, and she could not help but feel a thrill of excitement as she gazed around the Great Hall. The first match of the year. To her left, she could hear Cassie and Albus placing bets over which team would commit the first foul. Further down the table, her cousin Lily was shovelling down a bowl of porridge, her face pale with nerves. Rose knew better than to approach her when she was in that state, and simply sent her a sympathetic smile.

Her gaze drifted across to the Slytherin table, where it quickly found Scorpius Malfoy. His captain was slapping him heartily on the back, but he appeared disengaged from the surrounding mirth. She wondered if he was nervous, too.

"Rose!" She looked up, startled, and she saw James striding towards the table, clad in full gear. Many heads turned as he approached, and a few students got to their feet to wish him luck. He nodded briskly and brushed them aside, until he reached his cousin. "A word?"

There was none of the usual lightness to his tone, no mischievous smirk. He was breathless, like he had been running; beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. She was immediately concerned. "Shouldn't you be down at the pitch?"

"Never mind that," James said, his voice low. "Come with me."

Wistfully, Rose regarded her plate of freshly-buttered toast, then stood from the table and followed her cousin across the crowded Hall. She noticed Cassie's eyes follow them as they departed; she looked curious.

James turned to face her as soon as they reached the Entrance Hall. "I've just been to Hobspawn," he said quickly. "I told him what I found out about Nott, to help in his investigation so he doesn't have to face that Ministry inquiry. But he didn't believe me."

"Of course he didn't." Rose sighed, crossing her arms. "I could have told you that would happen, James. You should have waited till you had some proof."

He looked at her like he could not believe his ears. "Waited? Rose, do you realise that the longer we wait…"

"The more people are put in danger, I know." Suddenly, Rose was finding it hard to meet her cousin's gaze. "But – we just don't really have a choice - "

"Yes, we do. We can tell, or not tell. Either way, we're still putting people in danger. So I say we stop waiting and tell." James leaned closer, so that she could barely hear him above the bursts of laughter and clang of plates emanating from the open door of the Great Hall. "And that goes for the other thing, too."

The other thing. Rose felt as though the floor had been swept away from underneath her. The pain rushed over her like icy water, and she struggled to focus on James's words as the sounds around her grew distant, as though she were underwater. In her mind's eye, she could suddenly see Andromeda's broken body on the floor of the shop in Knockturn Alley. She had been doing so well… she had thought that those feelings were gone.

Reality returned to her when a shout came from nearby. Turning, she saw that the Gryffindor players had started to file out of the Great Hall, and Rory Finnigan, among them, had stopped to hail James. "Oi, Potter! We're supposed to do warm-ups now, aren't we?"

"I'll be down in a minute, Finnigan," his captain said with poorly-concealed impatience. Turning back to Rose, however, as the players left through the double doors of the castle, his features appeared to have softened. He reached out and patted her arm comfortingly.

"We have to tell our parents what we know," he reiterated, "As soon as we can. Teddy, too – he needs to know. But I'll be with you when we do it, Rosie, I promise. You won't be alone. You're not alone in this."

Teddy. The thought of telling him made Rose want to scream. She couldn't get rid of the memory of his anguished sobs, the way they had echoed through the house during that awful weekend… he had been so broken. Just like Andromeda –

No. Rose shook herself, and breathed in deeply, focusing on the scene around her once more. Behind them, a steady stream of students had begun to flock out of the hall, donning vibrant shades of red and gold, green and silver. She noticed James cast a few uneasy glances at the crowd.

"I know we need to tell them," she assured him, her voice a lot more measured than she felt. "And we will. Soon." There it was again, that word – soon. Ignoring the unwelcome thought, she continued, "But you need to go. Get ready for the match. OK?"

"This is not even remotely OK," her cousin said, more to himself than to her as he shook his head.

"James!" One of the younger members of the Gryffindor team, a narrow-faced boy with over-gelled hair named McCubbin, had come into the Entrance Hall from outside. "The Slytherin captain wants to meet you before the match… go over negotiations, he said - "

"Like hell he does," James said sharply, moving quickly away from Rose. "That arrogant git. I'll talk to you later, coz!" The last look he shot her was full of significance. She sighed.

"Break a leg."

Once her cousin had exited the Great Hall and the lively crowd of students heading in the same direction had thinned somewhat, Rose adjusted her golden scarf and made her way towards the grand oaken doors. She almost didn't notice as Nearly Headless Nick floated across her path, heading for the far wall.

Then, something within her jerked to attention and she looked up, her eyes following the pearly white shape of the ghost. "Sir Nicholas!"

The ghost swiveled around. He looked quite pleased that someone had used his proper title, but his smile quickly faded as he saw who had addressed him. "Ah – hello, Rose. Is the match not starting soon?"

"I don't mind being a little late." Eagerly, she moved closer to him, and noticed the way the ghost recoiled slightly. "I want to ask you something."

Now Nearly Headless Nick looked distinctly uncomfortable. He put a hand to the large ruff around his neck and fiddled with it for a moment, his eyes roaming around the Entrance Hall as though searching for some way to escape. Eventually, he began, delicately, "Sometimes, when we suffer bereavements…"

It took Rose a moment to realise that he thought she wanted to talk about Andromeda. Shaking herself before the memories returned, she said quickly, "No, Sir Nicholas, this isn't about that. It's about – this." She drew out a piece of parchment on which she had drawn a sketch of the symbol she had noticed a few days ago in Ancient Runes.

The ghost, looking immensely relieved, edged closer to her and squinted down at the parchment. "Ah, yes. The half-moon, black and white. It represents truth."

"You know it?" She stared at him.

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington sounded a little offended. "Naturally. I was a student here once, you know, and I took Ancient Runes… of course, back then they weren't quite as ancient." He chuckled at his own joke.

"Have you seen it recently?"

The ghost raised an eyebrow. "Recently being in the last hundred years?"

"More like the last few months," Rose amended. She felt a flare of hope within her as Nearly Headless Nick looked thoughtful. The hours she had spent in the library for the past few evenings, searching vainly for any depiction of the symbol, and it had not struck her once before to ask one of the school ghosts if they had seen it…

Eventually, however, the ghost shook his head. "Not that recently, no, I'm afraid. Then again, as I am confined to the boundaries of this castle, there is much I cannot see." His tone took on a familiar mournful, self-pitying quality, and Rose had to conceal her impatience. "But I will inquire among the other ghosts, if you so wish."

"That would be a help." She smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Sir Nicholas."

The ghost lifted a hand in acknowledgement. "Good luck to Gryffindor," were his last, muffled words before he drifted into the solid stone wall.

Feeling a mixture of triumph and disappointment, Rose turned back to the open doors of the Entrance Hall as the sound of distant cheering from outside reached her ears. Hopefully, she would find a good seat in the stands before the match began.

---

"This is the moment," Carlos Santini said sombrely, his eyes shifting between the players as they stood in a semi-circle around him in the Slytherin changing rooms. His dark hair was perfectly-combed, gleaming broomstick in hand. "This determines everything. We win this, we have the advantage. Potter's grown complacent. We can take it this year, if we just believe…"

Scorpius pulled on his right glove with deliberation as he stood aside from the group of players, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. Besides the fluttering of his stomach that always accompanied a match – aided by the roaring from the stands outside the changing rooms – he did not trust himself to look at Santini without laughing.

With his chiselled chin jutted out in an attempt to appear determined, the Quidditch captain looked more like a petulant child. The melodramatic pep-talk was to be expected – but Scorpius could not bear to hear that either, knowing that he should have been the one giving it.

He moved to where his broom stood propped against the wall, and made a show of checking the tail for loose twigs, nearly jumping out of his skin when a voice sounded in his ear. "Nervous?"

Orchid Ottelby had emerged from the girls' cubicles later than the others, kitted out in Keeper gear, her dyed blonde hair tied back in a tight ponytail so that her dark roots showed through more obviously. She looked relaxed as she regarded Scorpius.

"You could say that," he said at last in an undertone with a glance towards Santini, who had not paused in his speech to the other four players. "What about you?"

"Oh, I never get nervous. Not since first year." She smiled, her eyes moving to the door that led to the pitch, which stood slightly open, revealing the clear blue sky. "What happens, happens. That's my philosophy." Her eyes darted back to him, suddenly. "I heard you got in trouble with Hobspawn for sneaking to Hogsmeade."

Scorpius shrugged, running his gloved hand over the polished wood of his Starsweeper. "It wasn't too bad. I think he's been distracted by the inquiry. I got detention with Filch for a solid month – but at least I wasn't banned from Quidditch."

"That's still bad enough." Orchid clicked her tongue in a vaguely sympathetic way as Santini dramatically punched a fist into the air behind them to punctuate some part of his speech which was meant to be particularly stirring.

"What's up with you and Meyer?" Scorpius said abruptly, and the Keeper's eyes flicked away again. "She won't talk to anyone, not even me and Jem. Did you row?"

"Kind of." Orchid seemed uneasy for the first time. At last, she sighed. "Oh, you know Nina. She tends to over-react to things. Can't handle the fact that we're not as close as we used to be – if I didn't know better, I'd say she's actually jealous of Torrance." She gave a crooked smile.

Scorpius opened his mouth to respond, a frown creasing his brow, but his words were drowned out by a cheer that rose from the team. Santini had concluded his speech. There was a widespread clapping of backs, and he and Orchid was tugged into the crush of players. The sharp scent of sweat and polished wood was overpowering.

"Let's get Potter," Santini said with a complacent smirk, and led the way out onto the Quidditch pitch.

A deafening clamour rose around them from the sea of green and silver that occupied half of the raised stands, high above. Scorpius felt that familiar thrill of anticipation as the roaring intensified around him. The stands were a blur of hundreds of faces, all lit with fierce excitement, many clutching colourful banners. The castle rose up behind them. It looked like the whole school had turned up for the match; even the Aurors, black-robed figures that lurked at the edges of the pitch.

They reached the inner circle where Madam Hooch stood, the Gryffindor team waiting on her other side. Eagerly, Santini moved forward to shake Potter's hand, (Scorpius was sure that the two captains sustained a crushing handshake for longer than was permitted by game rules) then the whistle blew, the Quaffle was released, and the match had begun.

The voice of an irrepressibly chirpy Hufflepuff fourth-year named Tracy Towers came on the megaphone the moment they were in the air. "And straight away Slytherin has possession of the Quaffle – there's Laura Runcorn now, flitting off to the goal posts – ooh, she dodges not one, but two Bludgers fired by Rigby and McCubbin, and she's at the goalposts – nice save there from Gryffindor Keeper Spinnet…" A cheer went up from the Gryffindors watching the match. "And now James Potter has come into the action – of course, we knew he couldn't stay away long – he grabs the Quaffle and shoots away with it – ouch, he takes a Bludger to the arm but keeps going… now that's what I call a dedicated player, not to mention dreamy…"

Her voice was briefly cut off from the megaphone as one of the professors in the stands admonished her, and Scorpius smiled wryly as he moved higher and higher above the pitch, the grounds spreading out around him. The greens and greys and blues beneath him blurred together like a watercolour painting. He strained his eyes against the glare of the sun, searching, searching…

There. A glitter of gold, by one of the Gryffindor stands. Scorpius watched it for a moment, drew in a deep breath and then dove.

"And what's this? It looks like the Seeker Malfoy has spotted the Snitch!"

The cold air battered him as Scorpius plummeted downwards, towards the green of the pitch, and for a moment the cheering from the onlookers faded, along with Tracy Towers' magnified voice, and nothing existed except himself and the Snitch…

And Lily Potter. Her fiery hair streaked past a few feet below him, and Scorpius jerked on his broom, recalling where he was. She had seen the Snitch too. He pulled himself out of the steep drop and followed a more diagonal, more direct course, which he knew would take him to the stands before her… He was a faster flier; he could intercept her just as she reached the Slytherin stands to his far left and –

Without warning, Santini streaked across their path, causing both Seekers to jerk to a halt on their brooms. His bat was raised, a look of frenzied determination on his face. In the next moment, a Bludger struck the Potter girl on the head, causing her to tumble right off her broom. There was a shout of outrage from the sea of red and gold as a couple of Aurors rushed forward on the ground, wand raised to cushion Lily Potter's fall. Tracy Towers sounded shocked.

"Well, the Slytherin captain Carlos Santini has dealt a hard Bludger and Lily Potter is down only a few minutes into the game… Blocking the Seekers like that has got to be a foul, though – that's right, Madam Hooch has just granted Gryffindor a free shot… not a smart move on Santini's part. Looks like Malfoy has lost sight of the Snitch, too."

Sure enough, the tantalising glint of gold by the Gryffindor stands had vanished. Scorpius spun his broom around and pulled up level with Santini, who was heading towards the other side of the pitch once more.

"What the hell was that, Santini?" he yelled across at the captain. He knew that he should be looking for the Snitch again, but could not suppress his frustration. He could have had the Snitch in his grasp if Santini hadn't felt the need to interfere.

Carlos Santini cast a glance over at him without slowing, and looked unperturbed. "I just saved your reputation, Scorpius. That Potter bitch was going to get to the Snitch before you, and then where would we be? Make sure you see it before she does next time – it's your only job, after all." He winked at him, as though he had just done him a favour, then sped on while Scorpius hung back, seething.

"Malfoy doesn't look happy," Tracy Towers' cheerful voice buzzed in his ear. "I'd say he's just been scolded by Santini for missing the Snitch – and James Potter is taking Gryffindor's free shot, no surprises there – ooh, that was a close one. Slytherin Keeper Ottelby has just about managed to ward him off. Hard luck, Potter."

The groan from the Gryffindor stands was loud in Scorpius's ears, and several of the other players looked surprised. Scorpius could understand why. It was rare that James Potter missed a shot. Orchid Ottelby's apparent lack of nerves seemed to be working in her favour. Casting another glance down at the pitch, he ducked as a Bludger came flying his way. The other Slytherin Beater, Saul Burke, came hurtling after it.

"Better keep out of the way, Malfoy," he called out to the Seeker as he passed. "Don't want you getting knocked out, too."

Scorpius nodded in agreement, angling his Starsweeper upwards and riding an air-current that carried him high above the pitch once more. He did not mind Saul Burke giving him orders; the seventh-year had been on the team longer than Scorpius.

Burke had never let his flying skills go to his head, Scorpius reflected resentfully as he relaxed on his broom and cast his eyes over the pitch below him once more.

---

In the Gryffindor stands, Rose Weasley was peering through a pair of binoculars at her cousin's twitching form on the grass of the Quidditch pitch, a worried frown on her face as the wind seized her golden scarf and set it flapping like a beacon before her. "Merlin, I hope Lily's OK."

"That was a nasty foul if ever I saw one," Cassie replied, reaching out to take her binoculars back. "Stupid, too, besides everything else. Dunno what that Santini bloke thinks he's playing at. There's no excuse for making a foul that early in the game." She sighed, shaking her head, as a groan went up among the other spectators; Slytherin had just scored a goal. "Malfoy would have been a way better choice for captain. I know he's horrible, but even he wouldn't pull a stunt like that. And he's a brilliant Seeker."

Catching Rose's sceptical look as she lowered her binoculars briefly, Cassie shrugged her shoulders. "Not as good as your cousin, sure. But he's still excellent."

"And you think he'd make a good team captain?" Rose said, attempting to make her voice sound nonchalant. She squinted at the pitch; it looked like her cousin was getting to her feet. "Scorpius Malfoy?"

"Sure, yeah. It's obvious that they only chose Santini because of his family connections." Cassie did not take her eyes off the game. "Malfoy's easily the best player on the team – none of the others really stand out."

"Orchid Ottelby's quite a Keeper, too," Albus countered. He was sitting in the row behind them with Mark McLaggen and Jackie Saunders, and had his own pair of binoculars. Leaning forward, he continued, looking a bit smug, "She made a spectacular save back there. I don't think James is used to missing."

"That was a fluke," Rose said loyally. "Ottelby's nothing more than a - "

But her words were drowned out by a thunderous cheer that went up around them. All of a sudden, the crowd of spectators seemed to surge forward in the stands and Cassie Miller leapt to her feet, shrieking in triumph at the top of her lungs. "Yes! Yes!"

Over the din, Rose Weasley was saying excitedly, "Was that us? Did we score?"

"Rory did," Albus said, grinning.

"Yeah, he's the one over there in red-and-gold, Rose," Cassie said dryly, pointing with her free hand as she resumed her seat. "Do you see?"

Rose smacked her friend's arm with a grin. "Shut up, Miller. I'm not that clueless."

---

James Potter watched from the air as his pale-faced sister got back on her broom. "Are you sure you're all right to play?" he asked, rather distractedly. "We can get in the reserve if not – "

At the sound of another ear-splitting roar from the stands, the captain twisted anxiously towards the Slytherin hoops and saw with some relief that it was his own team that had just scored.

"Rory Finnigan, the new Gryffindor Chaser, has just made the first score of the game for Gryffindor," Tracy Towers was declaring dramatically. "May many more follow – er, I mean, may the best team win, of course…"

"I'm fine, James," Lily said, smiling thinly as she joined him in the air. "Still a bit dizzy, but otherwise fine."

"Good. Good." He was too harried to contradict her, and pointed to the Slytherin Seeker's distant form high above them, hard to discern against the hard sun's glare. "Gain some height, like Malfoy's doing. Stay out of the way…"

James raced away as his sister obeyed his orders. Pulling up beside Steven McCubbin, who was deflecting a Bludger that had been struck in the Gryffindor Keeper's direction, he said sharply, "Keep an eye on Lily. Make sure that Santini bastard doesn't get near her again – we can't afford to take another hit. "

He saw the look of surprise on the Beater's face at his words, but did not stay to hear his response before zooming off again, towards the Slytherin hoops. James knew what McCubbin must be thinking – they was already ten points ahead of the other team. They were winning. Indeed, James knew he should feel more confident, but this match was not going as he had expected it to. First, Santini pulling that foul on his sister, and then the fact that James himself had actually missed a goal - and a free shot, at that. Ottelby was a decent Keeper, he knew, but she wasn't that good. A surge of frustration coursed through him.

As a proper captain should, James always flew to where the action seemed to be thickest. From what he could see as he pulled up beside the hoops now, the three Slytherin Chasers had flown in triangle formation before the goals and were blocking Rory Finnigan from scoring again, while the third Gryffindor Chaser, Jack Lewis, was shouting at him to pass the Quaffle.

The sight of Finnigan set James's blood boiling. Why was the new Chaser suddenly so detestable to him? It must be because he had scored that goal a few minutes ago, James conceded. A newbie had scored, and he still hadn't. That was a frightening thought. Was he off his game today or something? He blamed the whole affair with Hobspawn and the inquiry.

"To me, Finnigan," he called, pulling up directly below the Chaser and shoving his frustration aside. "Pass it. Quickly."

Rory Finnigan stared down at him. His eyes were wide, a look of utter panic on his face. "I can't! I can't move!"

James cursed inwardly. He had seen new players freeze up during a match before, but had hoped fervently that it would never happen to one of his own team – especially during the first-season match. Cassie Miller would never pull this. He shrugged the thought away and held out his hand to Finnigan, attempting not to let his impatience surface.

"Rory, it's OK. You're fine – just pass the bloody…"

One of the Slytherin Chasers who was still hovering nearby let out a snort; James noticed that the others had deserted to the other side of the pitch. He frowned.

"Rory - "

"I can't move!" the Chaser repeated desperately, and then James saw what he meant. The sides of Rory's legs were stuck stiffly to the wood of his broom, and his elbows appeared to be permanently bent as he clutched the Quaffle.

"Shit." He didn't have his wand on him; he never brought it along to matches, and anyway, it was against the rules. But that, apparently, had not stopped the Slytherin team from casting a jinx on his Chaser. As a distraction, James suddenly realised…

He twisted quickly on his broom, just as the Bludger struck the side of his neck with force. James was blinded with pain for a moment, and when his vision returned, he saw with dismay that the Quaffle had left Rory's hands and the hard-faced Slytherin Chaser was speeding away with it. This really was a disaster.

"Don't go!" Rory begged, still frozen in the same position, his elbows pointed outwards. It would have struck James as comical if he hadn't been so furious at himself and his team and Slytherin and everyone. "I don't know how much longer I can stay in the air - "

"Deal with it, Finnigan," James Potter snarled before streaking away in hot pursuit of the Quaffle. He willed his broom on, as fast as it could possibly move. It was a Thunderbolt, he reminded himself, the fastest, most expensive broom in existence, and besides that, he was James bloody Potter and he was not going to let Carlos Santini beat him.

"A clever ploy on Slytherin's part," Tracy Towers announced. She sounded quite stunned; indeed, the stands did not seem to be making quite as much noise now. They had not noticed Finnigan's predicament yet. "Slytherin's Colfer has got the Quaffle now, and he's got a good head start on Potter, he's making for the goalposts while the Keeper Spinnet has just been hit with a heavy Bludger to the nose – that's got to hurt… But what in Merlin's name is wrong with Rory Finnigan?"

James caught up with Colfer just as he released the Quaffle. The Gryffindor captain felt his heart sink as he watched the solid ball swoop cleanly towards one of the golden hoops. The Keeper made a wild dive for it while attempting to stop the flow of blood from his nose, and predictably missed. There was a collective groan from the spectators in the stands, but James barely heard them; he was already flying back to the Slytherin hoops and gesticulating wildly at Madam Hooch.

"Potter is calling a time-out for his team," Tracy Towers observed. "He certainly needs it, with two players down…"

"What was it?" James demanded a few minutes later, as his team stood assembled on the pitch, sweaty and panting, with slumped shoulders and downturned heads. "Some kind of broom jinx? Does anyone know who cast it?"

"Probably someone in the crowd," Tessa Rigby, the Beater, said dejectedly. A burst of laughter reached them just then from the Slytherin team, who stood in a circle with their arms linked several feet away. Carlos Santini met James's eye and grinned savagely.

"I didn't see anything," Rory said, rubbing the stiffness from his legs as he sat on the grass. His face was still ashen. Madam Hooch had hurried over as they landed and cast the counter-jinx on the Chaser. "I felt it hit me, when I was trying to score then, the next thing I knew, the Slytherin Chasers were surrounding me, trying to get me to drop the Quaffle."

"A dirty trick," Sam Spinnet said thickly. He was still nursing his bloodied nose.

"That's definitely another foul," Lily supplied, her arms folded.

James nodded. "Madam Hooch thinks so, too. We'll get a free shot when we get back up there. I'll take it."

"Are you sure?" Rory said, and the captain twisted to face him as he rose from the grass. "I mean – seeing as you took the last one…"

"Seeing as I missed on the last one, you mean?" James said, his voice dangerously low. The other members of the team seemed to shrink back. "Go on, say it, Finnigan."

"I – didn't mean that - " the new Chaser said uncomfortably.

"Nah, he didn't, James," Spinnet said hurriedly. "We've all been a bit off our game today. But I still think you should take the free shot."

"I agree," Lewis, the third Chaser, said at once, and the other members of the team nodded. With an effort, James wrenched his eyes away from Rory Finnigan and swallowed his anger. He regarded the golden watch on his wrist. They had been playing for only a half-hour, yet it felt like so much longer. Beckoning, he held out his arms, and his team moved closer until they all stood in a tight circle.

"Right," James Potter said, feeling a swell of determination within him as he heard the Slytherin team let out a loud whoop somewhere behind. He met the eyes of each player in the circle in turn, letting none of his doubt or impatience show.

"Slytherin's thirty points ahead. That's a lot, considering there hasn't been much scoring in this match. True, we've got the free shot when we get back in the air, but after that… who knows what other bullshit Santini and the rest of them are going to pull? They'll target us again." With one hand, he indicated himself and the other Chasers again, as well as Spinnet. "Which is why your role is key, Lily. If you stay high, and stay quick, you can dodge anything or anyone they send your way and keep your eyes peeled for the… for the…"

"Snitch?" his sister finished with raised eyebrows. The others were looking uncertainly at their captain, whose eyes seemed to have grown distant all of a sudden as he trailed off, staring at his wrist.

"James?" Rory said worriedly. "What's up?"

Suddenly and bizarrely, James Potter looked up at them and smiled. It seemed to the others, at that moment, that the sun above caught the light in his brown eyes, making them shine with a sudden hope.

"Speaking of dirty tricks," the Gryffindor captain said slowly. "I've just thought of one that might work."

---

Scorpius Malfoy was feeling considerably more cheerful as the Slytherin team returned to their brooms and lifted off into the air again. Santini had been unbearable in his pomposity as he took credit for the masterful orchestration of Colfer's score that had rendered James Potter so furious, but even Scorpius had been forced to admit the ingenuity of it. Eliminating Potter and Spinnet like that in one stroke had been a smart move, and if they could only replicate that for the rest of the game, they might just stand a chance.

But that was not his concern, Scorpius reminded himself as he climbed higher in the air, letting the biting wind waft his blond hair off his forehead. Bringing his Starsweeper around in a graceful turn, he came to a halt with his back to the sun and surveyed the pitch beneath him. The other players were distant figures now, and his only clue as to the game's progress was Tracy Towers' commentating. A little way below him, to the right, he could see Lily Potter, her gaze also fixed on the pitch.

It seemed like hours passed before the Snitch came into sight again. James Potter scored on Gryffindor's free shot, then Slytherin scored five times more, to Scorpius's delight. The roaring from their supporting spectators sent warmth rushing through him from where he waited. A few Bludgers came his way, but he weaved around them easily.

In his boredom, Scorpius even found his thoughts straying. He thought of his meeting with his aunt Daphne in Hogsmeade, the way her eyes had glimmered with fear when she spoke of Zabini, the way she had told him to look out for Tobias. He thought of his meeting with Hobspawn, and wondered for what seemed like the hundredth time what had prevented the Headmaster from being more harsh in his punishment of Scorpius. Had it been pity? Caution? Fear?

He thought of Rose Weasley, tears glittering in her blue eyes as she stood beside the Thestrals, but quickly shoved that last image aside, forcing himself to focus once more. His gaze roamed the pitch once, then again, and again…

Scorpius blinked. Was that a glint of gold, caught by the sun's rays, or was he just imagining things? No, there it was, spinning through the air far, far below him – in seconds he had plunged downwards, the wind whistling in his ears, and saw the Potter girl spring into action as she caught sight of it, too. Tracy Towers' excited voice was suddenly filling the pitch.

"And finally, the Snitch has been spotted by our two Seekers – but who will get to it first?"

Scorpius kept his eyes fixed on the glint of gold as he picked up speed, the ground of the pitch suddenly looming up closer before him, the gasp of the crowd in the stands as he drew level with Lily Potter and kept going, passing her out – the excitement building in his own throat as he dropped past the stands – and suddenly he knew, with an unfailing certainty, that he was going to win Slytherin this match, and then Santini would be so –

He realised that it was a ruse when he no longer heard the rush of air behind him that indicated Lily Potter's pursuit, and turning his head, saw that she had streaked off in the other direction. Casting a desperate glance below him, Scorpius pulled his broom to a dramatic halt a few inches above the ground as he saw, with a sinking of his stomach, what the glitter of gold that he had been chasing really was.

A golden watch, like the kind a wizard got on his seventeenth birthday, that had just landed on the frost-bitten grass. Inscribed on the front were the initials JP.

Automatically, Scorpius felt himself speed off in pursuit of the Gryffindor Seeker, while inside him something furious was shouting very, very loudly. He passed Santini, who looked stricken, and urged his broom to pick up some speed… it was possible that the Potter girl might be feinting again –

The Gryffindor stands erupted in a deafening roar of triumph. Suddenly, the sea of red and gold was overflowing from the stands to flood the pitch below, and Scorpius knew then that it was too late. Turning to look upwards, he saw Lily Potter hovering by the Slytherin hoops, a wide grin on her face and the fluttering Snitch held high in her fist.

"Gryffindor has won the match against Slytherin, one hundred and seventy points to eighty!" Tracy Towers trilled. Stating the obvious, as always.

Scorpius felt as though he could sink into the ground and stay there forever.

---

"That was a cheap trick," Carlos Santini snarled at James Potter the instant he landed on the pitch. He shoved through the noisy crowd of Gryffindor supporters with ease and strode right up to the captain.

James Potter flashed a winning smile at his rival. "Smart, though, wasn't it?" In one hand, he was holding his golden wristwatch by its strap. "It seems that you Slytherins aren't the only cunning ones…"

"And you had to resort to cheating to win the match," Carlos said with venom. "You must have been desperate, Potter."

The Gryffindor captain held his gaze as he was lifted up onto the shoulders of some jubilant supporters who were paying no attention to the conversation, and raised his voice over the sound of their cheering. "It wasn't cheating, Santini. Malfoy chose to chase after my watch instead of the Snitch. Maybe you should think about getting a more perceptive Seeker."

"You won't get away with this, Potter."

James Potter twisted to look at him as he was carried off the pitch by his supporters, still grinning. "Don't be a sore loser, Santini. Oh, and it looks like all your spying on my team didn't pay off, either. Pity."

Carlos clenched his fists, wishing that he had his wand. So Potter knew about Tobias, too. He was suddenly aware of the presence of his team around him, a forlorn knot of players, and swung around to face Scorpius Malfoy. "How could you have fallen for such an obvious trick?"

"It was only for a moment," Scorpius said wearily. He was pale, and looked as though he did not even have the energy to argue with his captain.

"A moment was all they needed to win," Carlos Santini snapped. "How many times have I told you - "

"Come off it, Carlos," Orchid Ottelby interjected, stepping forward. She was still clutching the Quaffle in her gloved hands. "Scorpius couldn't have known what Potter was going to do. None of us could have."

The Slytherin captain opened his mouth to retort, then closed it again as a small, agile figure danced past the team to where the Gryffindors stood waiting for her, long red hair rippling behind her. Lily Potter turned back to face him and smirked, saying over the sound of her team-members' applause, "Better luck next time, Santini."

As the Potter girl was enclosed in the tight embraces of her fellow players, Carlos Santini felt his anger change to something else. He watched the Gryffindor Seeker for a moment more, contemplatively, then turned back to the others.

"We might still take the Cup this year," he said in a low voice. "But we'll have to resort to more desperate measures in the coming months."

"Meaning?" Scorpius asked, eyebrow raised.

Carlos Santini smiled. "Meaning Lily Potter won't know what's hit her."

---

Back in the Slytherin common room, the atmosphere was mournful and dejected. Most of the players were drowning their sorrows in Firewhiskey, and talking together in low, resentful voices. A few forlorn banners of green and silver had been hung in anticipation of their victory, and no one had the heart to take them down.

Scorpius was sprawled in one of the carved armchairs, his head back as he regarded the stone ceiling. He had not bothered to change out of his Quidditch gear. Beside him, Jem was humming some Hinkypunks tune under his breath, as though he knew it would be disrespectful to show any signs of merriment at such a dark time. Nina Meyer was curled up in a corner reading, and did not glance at them once. Carlos Santini's brow was furrowed as he stared at the window, through which the waters of the lake could be seen.

"You were fantastic out there," Torrance said to Orchid, breaking the silence. "Pity that jinx I cast on Finnigan didn't help you all out a bit more." His girlfriend shifted in his lap, settling her head against his shoulder and not bothering to reply as she closed her eyes. Gently, he began to stroke her hair.

Very suddenly, Carlos Santini slammed his hands down on the table before him, causing his neighbours to jump in alarm.

"Right," he said, with a gleam of steely determination in his eyes. "Who wants to make a bet?"

Jem and Scorpius exchanged dubious glances.

"What kind of bet, mate?" Torrance said warily, his hand stilling. Against his shoulder, Orchid stirred again and opened one eye to regard Santini.

The Slytherin captain kept his voice low so that only they could hear, his eyes fixed on Torrance. "Five Galleons that I can get Lily Potter on a date by the end of this month."

This caused quite a stir. Scorpius straightened in his armchair, unable to conceal his surprise as he stared at Santini, while Jem made a spluttering sound. Even Nina glanced over from her corner, though she did not make a move towards their party.

Torrance merely looked confused. "She's fit for a fourth-year," he said measuredly, "I'll give you that, mate, but why would you want to – ah." A smile spread across his face. "You want to use her to get at her brother."

Santini nodded briskly, though he could not hide his own smugness at the brilliance of his plan. "Exactly. I don't know why I never thought of it before. So five Galleons that I get her to go on a date with me? Anyone?"

"I'll take that bet," Orchid said reflectively, opening her other eye. Torrance, however, was silent. His eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded the Slytherin captain, smirk widening.

A moment later, Carlos Santini nodded slowly, as though he had received some mental communication from his friend. "Fine. Fine. Ten Galleons that I shag her – but I'm going to need more time for that."

"True," Torrance conceded, ignoring the sounds of surprise that the others were making. "How's Valentine's Day, then? That's ages away."

Santini paused, considering, then nodded again. "I can do Valentine's Day."

"Need I remind you that this is a fourteen-year-old you're talking about?" Nina Meyer had approached them, book in hand, a look of revulsion on her face as she stared at Santini and Torrance. "In the Muggle world you could be arrested for that, Santini."

"But we're not Muggles, are we, Nina?" Orchid pointed out, tilting her head back to face her friend and smiling. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Lily Potter's fifteen."

"In any case," Santini broke in with a sleazy smile, "My age won't matter to her. It'll probably be a bonus, actually."

"You lot are disgusting." Nina shook her head. Her eyes flicked to Jem's when she saw that he was reaching for his wallet. "You're not going to go in on the bet, are you?"

Jem shrugged, a sheepish expression crossing his features. "Well, I want to see if Carlos pulls it off…"

Her eyebrows lifting in disbelief, Nina transferred her gaze to Scorpius, who had been watching her silently from his armchair. "What about you?"

He shook his head.

"Of course, you'd never go in on a bet that involved the Potter-Weasleys," Santini said with a sneer. "So, I'm guessing you don't want in, either, Meyer?"

Nina made a scoffing noise and moved away from them again without looking back.

"Go on, Scorpius," Orchid wheedled. "Could be interesting."

Scorpius met her eye and shook his head again, then looked deliberately at Santini.

"I wouldn't bother," he said calmly. "Because it's a bet he's going to lose. And I never make easy bets."

---

Rose Weasley stood alone, a neglected goblet of Firewhiskey clutched in her hand. The plush armchairs had been cleared by the house-elves to one end of the common room, which had been strung up with countless streamers of red and gold. Tables bearing goblets of Firewhiskey and steaming plates of food imported from the kitchens stood in the centre of the carpeted floor. Her merry Housemates crowded the tables in groups, throwing their arms around each other and singing loudly.

Rose could see Cassie standing with James and the rest of the Quidditch team by the window, which was clouded with condensation. Her friend looked very pretty tonight, she observed. Cassie had changed into a crimson slip dress after the match that clung to her slim, muscular figure. Her glossy black hair fell in gentle waves around her face and her dark, slanted eyes were dancing with glee as she described some play that she had observed during the game, gesturing comically with her arms as the others listened, grinning. Rory Finnigan's features were animated as he gazed at her… but of course, his feelings for Cassie were no secret.

James, too, could not seem to take his eyes off her. Rose noticed how the Quidditch captain burst out laughing as soon as Cassie finished speaking, and wondered for the first time if…

An inattentive fifth-year boy backed into Rose, laughing, then turned and apologised absent-mindedly as his friend dragged him towards the drinks table. She had nearly spilt her Firewhiskey, and could not help glowering at his back. Sometimes there was nothing worse than inebriated Gryffindors.

Glancing back at Cassie, who was now embracing Lily and clapping her on the back, Rose saw that her cousin, too, had changed into a dazzling dress, her red hair swept to one side of her neck. Looking down, she noted her own relatively casual attire – a pair of black trousers and a white lace top. She had done nothing with her own curls, had just left them loose in their usual style. Suddenly, Rose felt remarkably out of place.

She needed to get out of here.

Draining her drink before anyone else could knock into her, Rose manoeuvred her way around a knot of girls who had also joined the Gryffindor party from their respective Houses, Lisa Harvey, Diana Turpin, and Summer Birchgrove - all of whom sent her vague smiles - and ducked into the portrait hole. She doubted that anyone noticed her leave.

"Not in the mood for celebrating, my dear?" the Fat Lady remarked from behind her as she emerged into the corridor. A few of her friends had joined her frame, and they were clinking glasses together, rosy-faced. Normally, Rose would have given a polite answer and a false smile. But she was too tired to be anything but honest now.

"Not really, no," she said with a shrug. "Enjoy, though." She set off down the corridor before the Fat Lady could reply. The air felt cool on her face after the suppressing warmth of the common room.

Even the portraits are better at socialising than I am. The thought struck her suddenly, and she would have smiled if it hadn't been so sad.

It was just past curfew; the Aurors had not begun their patrol yet, nor had any prefects. Rose made her way down to the third floor, glancing out at the sunset as she passed the windows, and coming to a gradual halt. It seemed to be spilling across the sky in a thousand different shades of red, framing the grounds in a hazy glow and reflecting off the glass almost blindingly. This time, she did smile.

"Congratulations," said a dry voice from somewhere nearby. Turning, she beheld, with some surprise, Scorpius Malfoy emerging from a tapestry at the end of the corridor. He had changed out of his Quidditch gear, and was clad plainly in jeans and a grey Wimbourne Wasps T-shirt . His face was even paler than usual, and weary. "That was a sly move of your cousin's."

"The thing with the watch?" Rose shrugged. "James wouldn't have done it unless he had to. It was a very close match, from what I could see."

"It was." Scorpius moved to the window, a few paces away from her, and stared through the glass. "Until then. I should have made sure it was a Snitch before giving chase. It was so obviously a distraction, when I think back on it." He looked angry with himself.

Rose was rather out of her depth. "I wouldn't have known the difference," she said at last, then folded her arms. This was the last thing that she had wanted when she had left the common room – someone talking to her about Quidditch when she had no insight to contribute. And to think that it was Malfoy, of all people…

"Shouldn't you be celebrating with your House?" he asked at length.

"They won't miss me," Rose replied, attempting to appear nonchalant. "Anyway, at the rate they're downing those Firewhiskeys, most of them won't remember anything past the match tomorrow."

"I'm afraid my teammates are downing Firewhiskeys for an entirely different reason." Scorpius went back to gazing out at the grounds.

"You flew very well," Rose said abruptly. His eyes flicked to hers, then away again.

"Thank you," he said tonelessly, after a long, uncomfortable pause.

She could feel her face beginning to warm. But that was stupid. Why should she be embarrassed to say it? He had flown well, and it wasn't disloyal of her to point that out. It didn't mean she wasn't glad that Gryffindor had won. "And loath as I am to admit it," she continued evenly, "Ottelby did make some good saves."

"Not good enough," Scorpius said resignedly, folding his arms and turning to lean back against the glass so that she could just see his profile, lit strangely by the fading rays of sunlight. It struck Rose that she had never seen him this morose.

"It was Carlos Santini, wasn't it?" She watched him closely. "Your new captain. He kept making fouls. What's his problem, anyway? He seems to have a lot of… I dunno, anger."

"Carlos is a good friend of mine," Scorpius said, a new edge to his voice.

"Really? You don't seem to get on, exactly," Rose said innocently. "I mean, reading between the lines…"

"Maybe good is a slight exaggeration," he interrupted. "But he is a friend…" Frowning, "Of sorts."

Rose smiled wryly. "I think I understand. There are quite a few people in my own House that I'm sort of friends with. Rather too many, actually. I'm not one of those people who have huge groups of friends. I don't work well in groups." A second later, she checked herself. Had she really just said all that out loud?

Scorpius did not turn to face her, but said quietly, "Me neither."

There was another long pause. Rose stepped away from the window, half-intending to return to her common room and leave Scorpius to do his moping alone, but then she remembered something. Turning, she faced him again.

"I heard that Santini bloke was only chosen because his uncle's on the Spanish team," she said tentatively. "Some people think that you would have made a much better captain."

Scorpius's eyes widened with surprise at her words, and when they met hers again, they did not flick away this time. She felt herself falter a bit under his gaze, and hastily, she went on, "I'm no expert. But if Carlos Santini only got that position because of family connections – well, that's blatant nepotism. Which isn't fair on you."

Another pause. Then, unexpectedly, Scorpius made a derisive noise.

Rose was confused. "What?"

His mouth stretched in a humourless smile, and his grey eyes were suddenly scornful as they regarded her. "It strikes me as a little hypocritical, you pointing out the unfairness of nepotism, Weasley."

Rose blinked. It was a minute before she realised what he meant, then an ugly flush spread across her face. She felt as though he had slapped her. "Excuse me?"

Scorpius Malfoy was still smiling at her - a wide, cruel smile. "Nepotism seems to be something you Weasleys are very familiar with. Maybe you and Santini have that in common."

"I – I was trying to be nice," Rose said in a low voice, hating how weak her own voice sounded. To her alarm, she felt a lump rising in her throat, and swallowed, hard. She would not cry – not here, not in front of him. "To… make you feel better."

"The sentiment is much appreciated, but I don't need your pity, Weasley." His voice was dry, mocking. She could not look at him now, her face still hot with humiliation. Instead, Rose took a few more steps back, away from the window. Away from him.

"I see that now," she said, injecting as much coldness into her tone as she could. "And I won't bother you again, Malfoy."

She pushed the tapestry aside and broke into a run in the next corridor, the lump in her throat released as tears pooled in her eyes. She did not stop, flying up a hidden staircase and onto the next floor, running down countless empty corridors, flashes of dying sunlight dancing across her vision whenever she passed windows that overlooked the castle grounds.

Why had his words stung her so much? He had said worse things to her before, things that still lingered in her brain, but she had always been able to come up with a retort. She had never let his words hurt her.

Are you accustomed to your family pulling strings to escape the consequences of their actions?

Rose came to a halt when she reached the suits of armour on the fifth floor, and angrily dashed the tears from her eyes. Since when did she care what Scorpius Malfoy thought of her, anyway? Why had she let him get under her skin like that? All those times that she had brushed aside his cutting remarks, laughed them off…

I was nice to him, she realised, setting her head against the stone wall behind her. That's what was different this time. I was nice to him, and he threw it back in my face.

But why had she tried to be nice to him? What had she expected? Rose sighed, running her hands over her face in an attempt to cool it. She had felt sorry for him, after Slytherin's defeat at the match today… But it had been more than that. Unbidden, the memory of their meeting by the lake weeks ago returned to her mind. She had been beside herself with grief at the time, and he had reassured her that what had happened to Andromeda wasn't her fault, that her anger was an understandable reaction…

She had needed someone to listen to her, to tell her that she wasn't insane, and he had been there. He had helped, whether he meant to or not. Perhaps she had simply wanted to return the favour.

He lied to you, though, Rose reminded herself firmly. He lied about Zabini. He didn't tell you that he was his nephew.

James was right. She couldn't trust Scorpius Malfoy. She couldn't get on with him. He would never see her as anything other than his enemy.

I was a fool to think that he would.

"Rose?"

She tensed and straightened up from the wall to see that Nearly Headless Nick had just floated through it, a few paces away from her. He was looking rather pleased with himself. "Congratulations on an impressive victory for Gryffindor House!"

"Oh, thank you," she said, hurriedly wiping her eyes, but the ghost did not seem to notice anything amiss. Still smiling, he came to a bobbing halt before her.

"I made some inquiries," he began, "And the Bloody Baron told me that he has, in fact, seen it. The truth symbol which you showed me this morning," he elaborated at Rose's puzzled expression. "He saw it in the North Tower."

Suddenly Rose's heart was pounding. "The North Tower? When?"

"Some months ago," Nearly Headless Nick said vaguely. "Drawn on the wall of the stairwell leading to the Divination classroom, I believe. A regular haunt of his – excuse the expression. I tried to persuade him to approach you himself, but he was disinclined…"

"That's OK," Rose said hastily. The thought of conversing with the melancholy Slytherin ghost with his clanking chains filled her with dread. "I'd prefer to talk to you, Sir Nicholas. Was that all he said?"

The ghost frowned, casting his eyes up towards the ceiling. "He said that the symbol had a habit of disappearing one night and reappearing the next. This went on for a few weeks, but ceased just before Hallowe'en. He also said that other ghosts may have seen it in other parts of the castle, but that, unfortunately, is just speculation."

"Brilliant," said Rose, with such zest that Nearly Headless Nick gave her quite an alarmed look. "I mean – I've just been really curious about that symbol. Thanks, Sir Nicholas." She bounded off towards the North Tower, suddenly in better spirits, while the bewildered ghost remained behind.

---

Albus spotted Summer Birchgrove standing across from the drinks table that had been set up in the Gryffindor common room, Lisa Harvey and Diana Turpin at her side. He detached himself from the group of Quidditch players and, taking a moment to straighten his glasses and gather his courage, went to her.

She looked exceptionally lovely tonight. Unusually, her blonde hair was gathered into a loose bun, and strands of it fell around her face, glinting gold in the firelight. She was clad in a flowing blue dress that matched her eyes. Albus had almost lost his resolve when she saw him and beckoned him over, her face brightening considerably.

"Hi," he said, coming to a halt beside the table and nodding to her companions, who were staring at him. "How are you enjoying the party?"

"It's great," Summer said enthusiastically, casting a glance around the crowded common room. "We got the password off Jackie. I feel out of place here with all of the Gryffindors, though…"

"You shouldn't." Albus made an effort to direct his words towards the other two girls as well, though he found it difficult to meet their appraising eyes. "That is – you did support us at the match today, didn't you?" he half-joked.

Summer gave a tinkling little laugh. "Well, Lisa and I did."

"I supported Slytherin," Diana Turpin interjected, then, inexplicably, she blushed. Summer gave her friend a look that was full of sympathy and understanding, then turned back to Albus.

"Scorpius Malfoy is the Slytherin Seeker," she said by way of explanation. "He went out with Di last year, but it didn't end well."

"I didn't support Slytherin because of him," Diana said indignantly, though her flush deepened. "I just thought they deserved a shot at the Cup this year, that's all."

"Right." Summer looked unconvinced, but did not press the issue. Smiling at Albus, who tried to look as though he had not just been gazing at her, she continued, "So how did you find the match?"

"It was – er – very exciting." He reached up and straightened his glasses, suddenly very conscious of the three girls' gazes on him. "The number of fouls was unusual, and it was so short, too… I was glad, really, because some matches go on for ages and then the spectators get bored. There was good weather, too, which was an obvious advantage..." Catching his breath, Albus realised that he had been babbling. "Er – can I get you anything, Summer? Or Lisa, or Diana, if you - a drink, or…"

Suddenly, a strong arm was slung around his shoulders. The sharp smell of spirits filled his nostrils. "Hullo, Al," a voice said close at his ear. Turning, Albus saw, with a sinking feeling, that it was James, who was now smiling at the girls. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

Lisa Harvey giggled. Diana and Summer were both gazing at the Quidditch captain, the awe on their faces plain to see. Albus scowled, and directed his gaze elsewhere. His brother often had that effect on witches.

"You played very well today," Summer said admiringly, and the other girls nodded in agreement. "That thing with the watch was clever."

James's smile widened, and he sketched a bow with his free hand. "Oh, that? It was just a little trick. Thank you, though."

Albus felt another jolt of irritation at his brother's false humility. "Can I get you anything?" he repeated, though the other girls did not seem to hear him. "A Firewhiskey, or something?"

"Four Firewhiskeys should do it, I think," James replied lightly. "Thanks, Al."

As Albus removed his brother's arm from his shoulders, none too gently, James gave him a conspiratorial wink. Smiling faintly in response, the other wizard turned away, and reaching up, compulsively straightened his glasses once more. "Let's make that three Firewhiskeys," he muttered darkly as he weaved his way through the crowd to the drinks table.

---

Scorpius collapsed into an armchair in the common room, thankful that everyone had gone to bed. It had been such a long day, and he was too exhausted to speak to anyone else. After his encounter with Weasley, he had wandered the castle until night had set in fully outside. Now, the common room was bathed in a faint, ethereal green glow emanating from the lake that remained imprinted on his lids when he closed his eyes.

"Where did you disappear to?"

He straightened up to see that Torrance had just emerged from the dormitories, and was looking at him curiously. Feeling a pang of dismay at his loss of solitude, Scorpius responded, "Went for a walk. I didn't really feel like being around people."

"Understandable," Torrance said with a rueful smile, seating himself on the edge of the nearest armchair. "You did your best, though, mate. It's not your fault that Potter cheated."

Scorpius sighed, tilting his face upwards, so that he was gazing at the ceiling once more. "It wasn't really - "

"It was cheating," Torrance interrupted, and there was a firmness to his tone that surprised Scorpius. "We all saw it. He was clearly desperate."

Scorpius was silent for a moment, then said suddenly, "Did you tell Santini who Tobias's father was?"

Torrance blinked. "What?"

"I know that you knew about it," Scorpius continued calmly. "Before. Why else would you have taken such an interest in Tobias when I introduced you months ago?"

His surprise seemed to have dissipated, and now there was a wariness in Torrance's eyes – the same wariness that Scorpius had seen that day in Hogsmeade, when he had gone to Madam Puddifoot's to check on him and Orchid. "I didn't take an interest in Greengrass. I just… thought he was funny. Smart for his age, you know?"

"Don't lie." Scorpius caught Torrance's gaze, held it. After a moment, his friend blew out a breath.

"Fine. I knew Zabini was your uncle. I've known for years – my dad told me."

"So you were just fascinated when you saw my cousin, weren't you?" There was an edge to Scorpius's voice as he turned his face away. "Tobias Greengrass, the son of a crazed murderer."

Torrance was a still figure at the edge of Scorpius's vision, whom the firelight could barely reach. "It wasn't like that." His voice was low. "I just thought - "

"You thought you could use him for your own little pranks. Just like Santini did."

"What are you talking about? I didn't use him for anything. I just thought I'd give him a few tips, help him get through first year."

"Bullshit." Scorpius rose to his feet without meaning to, the heat of his anger coursing through him – the same anger that had inexplicably flared into being when he had met Weasley in the corridors earlier. "If you'd cared about helping Tobias, you wouldn't have told anyone about his father."

Torrance was staring at the floor now, a dull flush colouring his cheeks. "I didn't mean to say anything. Carlos just got it out of me one night, when we were sloshed… he was wondering about your cousin, and I told him. I didn't think he'd spill to the whole Quidditch team. I'm sorry, mate."

"I don't care," Scorpius replied coldly. "You've ruined any chance Tobias had of fitting in here. The whole school knows who his father is now, and that can't be undone."

"But - "

"No." Scorpius swung around fully from the armchair to face Torrance, his whole body tensing in his anger. "From now on, you stay away from my cousin, and you stay away from me."

"Scorpius…"

"I don't want to hear it - "

"No, Scorpius, look," Torrance cut across him, his expression unreadable, and pointed towards the fireplace. Swiveling around again, still breathing fast, Scorpius saw, with a wave of simultaneous shock and relief, his father's face in the green flames.

"Dad!" He surged forward, almost knocking over the armchair in his eagerness, and came to a stop directly before the fireplace. "Where in Merlin's name have you been?"

"I'm fine, Scorpius," Draco Malfoy said. His expression was pained as he regarded his son. Then his eyes flicked to Torrance, standing a little way away, and Scorpius could have sworn that they darkened. "Can we have some privacy?"

"I'll leave," Torrance said quickly, turning away and hurrying back to the dormitory without meeting either of their gazes. Once he had gone, Scorpius cast a Muffling charm around the common room and turned back to his father.

"So? Why haven't I heard from you for more than a fortnight?"

"I couldn't contact anyone – it just wasn't possible."

"I went looking for you!" his son hissed. "I went to Knockturn Alley and I saw Zabini! He told me you were doing some kind of job for him or something…"

"Yes." Draco's grey eyes suddenly seemed reluctant to meet his. "I was. But that's done now, Scorpius, I promise you. Things can go back to normal now."

"Back to normal?" Scorpius breathed. He scarcely dared to hope. "You mean - "

His father nodded slowly, measuredly. "Your mother will be freed, in exchange for what I did."

"But - " Scorpius paused. His father did not look remotely happy. Why not? "What did Zabini make you do?"

Draco Malfoy glanced from side to side, at the surrounding walls of the fireplace. "I can't tell you here. Anyone could be listening. How about we meet, in Hogsmeade, or maybe - "

Scorpius shook his head. "I can't leave the castle without permission. I went to meet Aunt Daphne the other day, and Nott caught me. Hobspawn let me off with a detention, but if I do it again…"

His father was staring at him. "Your aunt?"

"Yes, I met her," Scorpius said sharply, "Because I didn't know where you were, Dad. I didn't get so much as a note from you, and I thought she might have some idea, since Zabini's back in the country. And… because of Tobias."

"What has Tobias done?" Draco Malfoy suddenly looked uneasy. His son sighed.

"He's been mixed up in a bit of trouble with Santini and – Torrance, too, I think. Doing favours for them. And I think he's been meeting his father in secret. Aunt Daphne seemed to think so, too."

Draco did not look as surprised as Scorpius had expected him to. Instead, he simply grimaced. "Yes, they have. Blaise told me he met Tobias in Hogsmeade on Hallowe'en."

"Hallowe'en? But that was the day our carriages were attacked by werewolves." Suddenly it was all very clear to Scorpius. A diversion. It had all been a diversion, so that Zabini could slip out of Hogsmeade unseen. His cousin could easily have taken one of the secret passages to the village.

He looked at his father again, who was watching him closely, the concern in his eyes unmistakable. "Daphne said she thought Tobias had met his father before. A couple of months ago, she said. She found a note from Zabini a few days before Mum was arrested…" Scorpius paused. The words he had just spoken held some strange significance that he could not quite decipher yet, but that his father clearly had.

Though it was difficult to tell when his face was framed by the green glow of the flames around it, Draco Malfoy was suddenly white as a sheet. He made a choking noise in his throat, as though about to speak, then stopped. Scorpius stared at him, edging closer to the flames. "Dad? What is it? Dad?"

"They were in our house that day," his father managed to get out eventually. "The day your mother was arrested. Daphne and Tobias and the younger boys. Visiting us. Don't you remember?"

Scorpius nodded, his skin prickling with apprehension. "Yeah, I do. What does that have to do with - "

"The evidence that the Ministry found when they searched our house the day after that," Draco broke in, his face blank with shock. "That allowed the Wizengamot to condemn your mother. The Bloodroot Poison, in the attic. And the symbol that I saw… Someone put it all there."

"You're not saying - "

"No one could have broken the Fidelius Charm without our knowledge," his father continued, staring at some point in the common room behind Scorpius. "Daphne and the boys were the only visitors we'd had over to the house for weeks. Who else could have planted that poison?"

Scorpius struggled to his feet. "You think that they wanted the Ministry to find evidence against Mum, so they planted some Bloodroot Poison in our attic when we weren't looking? Why would they have done that? They're family."

"Daphne and the younger boys wouldn't have known about it." His father's voice was remarkably even. "But Blaise... he could easily have persuaded Tobias to do it when he met him. He knows how to manipulate people, particularly those disposed to think the best of him. I can't believe that I never saw this before..."

Scorpius felt none of his father's impossible calm; his thoughts were whirring around each other in a frenzy. "Zabini was responsible for Mum's conviction?"

Draco Malfoy nodded grimly. "It looks like it."

The silence around him in the common room was almost a living entity. Scorpius swallowed, hard, and realised that he had been clutching part of the rug very tightly in his fist. He released the crumpled material, then met his father's eyes. "So this means…"

"We've been played, Scorpius," Draco Malfoy finished. "Blaise Zabini has been playing us from the very beginning."

(***)

The driving November rain returned with a vengeance on the day following the match, battering the castle and melting away all traces of frost and snow, turning the grounds into sinking pits of mud. As it was a Sunday, most of the castle's occupants did not venture outside at all, but remained in the cosy, dry indoors.

Scorpius had been hoping that by evening, the majority of students would have either abandoned or finished their various homework assignments to nurse their hangovers from the night of post-match celebrations. He was sorely mistaken. As he entered the library, he was greeted with a wave of humid warmth emanating from the crowds of students who had gathered together at tables, at bookshelves, beside the steamed up windows.

Despite Madam Pince's best efforts, a hum of conversation filled the depths of the room, punctuated with the occasional burst of laughter or scandalised gasp. It was unfortunate for the likes of Scorpius, who had been hoping for some peace and quiet.

Though he could not quite forget his father's ominous words, Scorpius felt a curious lightness within him. The prospect that his mother might soon be freed was heartening, and had driven away his memories of the disastrous match - for now. If she left Azkaban, he might be able to sleep the whole night through without the image of her huddled in a cell haunting his dreams. He was not so naïve as to think that everything could return to normal, after all that his father had told him, but maybe… just maybe, his life would reach a tolerable level of regularity once more.

His mood was such that when he caught sight of Rose Weasley reading alone at one of the tables, shooting the occasional glare at a group of second-years nearby who were bickering over a History of Magic textbook, he did not feel the usual overwhelming desire to avoid her company. Strange, indeed.

Scorpius dropped into the chair opposite hers at the table, folding his hands before him. She glanced up from her book with a swing of red hair, and something in her freckled face blanched when she saw him. It reminded him of the look of shocked hurt in her eyes when they had parted the previous day. Then her face hardened, and she resumed reading without a word.

"Don't I get a cold acknowledgement, at least?"

Silence.

Scorpius exhaled, leaning forward in his chair. "What are you reading, Weasley? It must be fascinating to take up so much of your attention."

She ignored him. Rising from his chair, he made his way around to her side of the table and reached for the book, turning it so that he could see the cover. "Moste Potente Potions. This is from the Restricted Section, isn't it? Planning on brewing any dangerous potions?"

Rose snatched the book back from his grasp, scowling. "It's an old favourite."

Scorpius was suddenly struck with a thought. He held out his hand again. "Let me look at it. Just for a minute."

"No!" She glared at him, covering the book protectively. "Why are you still here?"

"Tell you what, Weasley. Let me look at it and I'll leave you in peace."

Rose considered for a moment, then, very reluctantly, handed the book to him. Apparently, the prospect of his departure was too attractive to pass up. Then again, after everything that he had said yesterday, Scorpius could hardly blame her.

Casting the thought aside – for it brought unpleasant sensations that resembled guilt to his attention – Scorpius took the book from Rose. He could sense her wary gaze on him as he gingerly leafed through the yellowed pages. At last, he came to the section on slow-acting poisons and caught his breath.

"What?" His companion seemed curious despite herself, sitting up a little straighter in her seat.

Scorpius shook his head, still regarding the illustration on the page before him, of a deadly-looking white flower with small, delicate leaves. Eventually, she stood and moved to his side, peering over his shoulder, cool breath tickling the side of his neck. Her sudden closeness to him was disconcerting, and Scorpius promptly handed the book back to her. Rose glanced at the page, then stepped away, staring at him.

"Bloodroot Poison? That's the same poison that was used on my mother! Why were you looking it up?"

He shrugged, deliberately careless, and made to move away from her. "Just curious."

"Malfoy, wait." Arms crossed, Rose stared at him accusingly. "What do you know that I don't?"

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted me to leave."

She blew out an exasperated breath. "Yes, I do, but first - "

"Silence in the library!" Madam Pince had appeared around the corner and was glaring at them – particularly Rose. Scorpius noticed that some of the occupants of the other tables had turned around to look at them, too, and the hum of conversation had quietened somewhat.

When he turned back, he saw that Rose had returned to her seat. "Just leave, Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth, without looking at him. "I don't want to get thrown out of the library again."

With another glance towards the librarian, now admonishing a group of fourth-years some distance away who had been sorting through books on the floor, Scorpius ignored Rose and resumed his seat across the table from her. "Rather mixed signals you're giving me here, Weasley."

Her brow furrowed; for a moment, she looked very much as though she were in pain. Then her clear blue eyes rose from the book to meet his, resolute.

"I'm not doing this anymore, Malfoy. I don't know why you're here, or why you seem to enjoy taunting me. But I wish you'd just go away."

Scorpius watched Rose for a moment, even as she looked away, back down at her book.

I was trying to be nice, she had said to him yesterday, in that wounded voice, and the funny thing was, he didn't doubt her. It hadn't made him any less angry, though. Perhaps it had been the look in her eyes as she delivered the praise - pitying but wary. A look that he was well accustomed to. Or perhaps it had been the fact that she thought he needed the praise - as though he didn't know already that he had deserved the position of captain more than Santini. That had rankled his pride more than anything else. And besides, what did Weasley know about Quidditch?

But she did admit that at the time, a quiet voice in his head reminded him. She didn't know what she was talking about, but she was just trying to help.

Scorpius sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I'm sorry."

Rose Weasley did not look up, but he noticed that her eyes had stopped moving along the page, as though she was reading one sentence over and over. With one hand, she brushed her red hair back from her face.

"Well, that's very big of you," she replied at last, sarcastically. "An apology from Scorpius Malfoy. What have I done to deserve such an honour?"

"I was harsh," Scorpius continued, as though he had not heard her. "Yesterday, after the match. You were being kind."

Rose snorted, her gaze still fixed on the page. "For all the good it did me."

"In my defence, I wasn't in the best mood."

"That's a pretty poor defence." But something in her tone was not quite as hard as before. She traced the page before her for a moment, thoughtfully. Scorpius sat in silence, his eyes following the small movement of her hand. At last, she said, in a quiet voice, "Apology accepted."

"Good." With some relief, Scorpius resumed his dry tone, leaning back in his chair. He was surprised when, abruptly, his companion stood from the table and strode away to replace the book she had been reading on its shelf. A moment later, she returned and swung her bag over her shoulder. "Leaving already, Weasley?"

"I've got something to show you," she said shortly, avoiding his gaze as she moved away, past the crowded tables. "Come on."

---

Rose had not been expecting Scorpius Malfoy to apologise to her. Glancing sideways at him as they stepped onto one of the moving staircases that would take them to the seventh floor, she noted the proud set of his jaw, the way he always held himself so haughtily. He deserves some applause, she thought with a wry smile. After all, it's not every day that a Malfoy apologises to a Weasley blood traitor.

He hurt you, another voice in her head whispered. Any decent person would apologise for that. But the redhead shook herself, facing forward again. Scorpius Malfoy did not have the capacity to hurt her, much as he might have tried. He had disgruntled her a little, that was all. And besides, she was still not entirely sure that he was an altogether decentperson.

"What time is it?" she said curtly once they had reached the seventh floor, passing through a sliding panel in the wall, one after the other. Scorpius started, as though he had been deep in thought, then glanced at his watch.

"Nearly eight. Curfew's soon."

"Better make this quick, then." Rose halted before the entrance to the stairwell that led to the Divination classroom. She breathed in deeply as she reached for the handle of the door. Suddenly her heartbeat was very loud in her ears.

"Er, Weasley?" Turning, she saw that Scorpius was staring at her. "Any particular reason why we're going into the North Tower?"

She smiled to herself, attempting to appear calm. "Yes."

"You enjoy being mysterious, don't you?" he grumbled, following after as she pushed open the door. With a flare and a muttered word, his wand had ignited to light their way up the narrow, tightly wound spiral staircase. "It must be a novelty for you."

Not deigning to reply, Rose ascended the staircase slowly, running her hand along the rail as she did so. They glimpsed a painting of women in crinolines on the tower wall, who blinked in alarm as Scorpius's wand light passed over them.

She stopped when they were about halfway up, turning to stare at the blank stone wall. Drawing another deep breath, she raised her wand. Scorpius, who had halted on the step below Rose, watched in silence as she leaned forward, tapped the stone wall three times with her wand and said, "Aparecium!"

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, all at once, blots of black ink materialised on the previously blank stone wall. They joined together, one by one, to form a vague shape that appeared to be a semicircle, curving inwards like a crescent moon. Rose's heart began to race as the symbol that she had seen in her Ancient Runes textbook formed itself fully before her eyes. She reached out with her free hand, clutching the railing again for support.

"Invisible ink," Scorpius breathed, gazing at the symbol, then his eyes widened. "I've seen that before."

"Yes. When we were in Knockturn Alley." Rose could not drag her eyes away from it. "It's an old symbol for truth. I don't know what it's doing there – Nearly Headless Nick told me it first appeared at the start of the school year. The ghosts have noticed it some nights, appearing and disappearing."

"The night of our first patrol, in September." Scorpius had paled. "Someone must have drawn it there. We were here, but we were distracted by the screams – a diversion…"

"A diversion that your cousin created," Rose finished for him. Frowning, she tapped the stone again with her wand, and the ink disappeared. At his questioning look, she explained, "I don't want whoever put it there to know that we're onto them."

They descended the spiral stairwell in silence. Only when they reached the door did Rose spin around to face Scorpius, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. "You never told me about Zabini. That he was your uncle."

"Uncle by marriage." Scorpius looked weary. "No one was supposed to know. If Santini hadn't - " He stopped short, as though he had said too much.

Rose smiled grimly. "Ah, so Carlos Santini was the one who spread the story. Some friend."

"What can I say?" He pushed the door open, stepping out into the seventh floor corridor. "I know how to pick them."

"That's why Zabini let us escape, that night." Rose's voice was low. She sensed the sudden tension in Scorpius's shoulders, and recalled that this was the first time in weeks that either of them had alluded to what happened in Knockturn Alley. "So your cousin… Tobias. He's in a lot of trouble."

"Yeah, he is." Scorpius was quiet for a long pause, as though he were pondering something, then turned back to face her. "He must have been the one who drew that symbol." With one hand, he indicated the door to the North Tower behind them.

Rose caught her breath. "What makes you think so?"

"Because there was a similar one drawn in the attic of my house, that my father told me about." Scorpius stared down at his hands. "Where the poison that had my mother convicted was planted."

Rose didn't understand. "The… the Bloodroot Poison? That's why you wanted to see my book earlier?"

He nodded, his eyes distant. "It was all Zabini's work. He must have manipulated Tobias to do it for him. I don't know why - yet."

"But you'll find out." Suddenly, Rose felt more confident. "And I'll comb the Restricted Section, put in orders to Flourish and Blotts... whatever it takes to find out what this symbol is. It's important, somehow, and if I can find - "

As she moved past him, Scorpius reached out and caught her arm. Surprised, she halted, wheeling around to look at him. "What?"

He was looking at her steadily. "I'll help you."

Rose frowned, trying not to appear ruffled. The corridor suddenly felt too quiet around them, and she was all too conscious of the touch of his hand. "Er… why?"

As if sensing her discomfiture, he released her arm and took a step back. "Because I trust you, Weasley."

There was a pause. "Well, aren't you full of surprises today," she muttered at last, avoiding his gaze.

"I trust you," Scorpius went on matter-of-factly, "Because you were true to your word. You brought me to Knockturn Alley, and helped me find out where my father was."

"And nearly got us both killed," Rose reminded him hotly, brushing back a strand of hair from her face.

"Even so. You helped me find out the truth." Risking a glance up at him, she saw that there was no coldness in his gaze, no lingering hostility. Another surprise. "Before, I blamed you for getting my mother arrested. But now I know that it would have happened anyway. They wanted her in Azkaban. Zabini wanted her in Azkaban."

Rose looked away again, confused. "I don't need you to absolve me, Malfoy," she said eventually, a new edge in her voice. "I did what I thought was right when I identified your mother."

He sounded impatient. "Aren't you listening at all, Weasley? I'm trying to tell you something."

She looked up sharply, and met his gaze. It seemed to unnerve him momentarily; his grey eyes flicked away from her. "What, Malfoy? What are you trying to tell me?"

"That we should work together." His eyes met hers again, decisive. "To find out what that symbol is, what's been going on in the castle… who else was working with Andromeda at the wedding, and why they targeted our families. Zabini mentioned someone when we were escaping – someone who was about to arrive. A witch. We need to find out who she is."

"All right," Rose said measuredly, though she still could not believe her ears. "Fine. But… if you have any more murderous uncles, I'd like to know about them."

"Agreed." Instead of anger, she could have sworn that she saw an answering glint of humour in Scorpius's eyes at her words. As they stood opposite each other, two figures in a darkening corridor, he held out a pale hand, and she stared at it. "Let's shake on it, then, Weasley."

Without dropping her gaze, she reached out deliberately and shook Scorpius's hand. It was a quick, businesslike handshake, but once they had parted ways and she was heading back to Gryffindor Tower, Rose Weasley found herself wondering what in Merlin's name she had just agreed to.

---

A/N: Yay, I love me some Rose/Scorpius action. My updating won't always be this regular, unfortunately - just a by-product of summer and not having much to do. But enjoy while it lasts! Reviews make my day :)