Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling
A/N: Hi, all! Thanks for the fantastic reviews, they mean a lot! This is a relatively lighter chapter than the last (as well as a good deal shorter) but since there are a lot of characters to keep track of, I've a little refresher here:
Albus has a huge crush on a pretty witch in sixth year, Summer Birchgrove. Rose told James what she found out about Andromeda, but hasn't told anyone else in her family. Nina Meyer is Potions-partners with Rose and has grudgingly accepted her - someone is trying to freak Nina out because she is a Mudblood. Scorpius has found out that his uncle-by-marriage, Blaise Zabini, orchestrated his mother's arrest. He doesn't know that Draco recently robbed a Gringotts vault for Zabini to get a Remembrall in return for the promise that Astoria will be freed from Azkaban. Cassie Miller is Rose's Quidditch-loving best friend, but her parents won't let her play anymore because she did badly in her O.W.L.s. Carlos Santini, a frenemy of Scorpius's, made a bet with Torrance Bole that he can seduce Lily Potter by Valentine's Day, to get back at James for winning the match against Slytherin by dishonest means.
If you want to check out the playlist for this story, you can find it on my tumblr blog: White Nights (url: andinthedarknessbitethem)
Chapter 15: Secrets
The wizard considered the two teenagers standing before him. One, the witch, had a stubborn mouth, and dark green eyes that glittered at him eagerly. He knew that look, had seen it many times – it was a lust for action. But that did not necessarily mean that she was fit for the task he was about to set them.
As for the other one… well, he did not look like much at all. A stocky, brown-haired youth with pasty skin and dull eyes, he looked like someone you would pass in Diagon Alley and never look twice at. But that could be an advantage – and as well as that, there was something in the confident, easy way he held himself…
Orchid Ottelby broke the silence between them, her eyes darting left and right around the deserted courtyard of the castle. "Are you sure it's safe to be meeting here, like this? Anyone could hear us."
The wizard shook his head. "I've taken care of that."
"So what do you want us to do?" It was the other one, Torrance Bole, who spoke this time. He had the same eagerness in his expression, though it was more subdued.
At the wizard's silence, Ottelby said sharply, "You've kept us out of the loop long enough. We need to start planning, but we can't start unless you tell us exactly what you need us to do. What she needs us to do."
"Orchid…" Bole said in a low voice, looking slightly abashed. His eyes flicked to the wizard, who raised a placating hand.
"She's right." He regarded them both, closely. "What our leader needs is as many allies in the school as possible. When the time comes, strength in numbers will be essential."
"So you want us to keep recruiting." Torrance Bole's voice was flat, and Ottelby looked crestfallen. The wizard had to suppress a smile.
"Yes. Until more orders arrive, you must keep recruiting."
Freezing hail was pelting down from the cold December sky. Albus Potter looked up, cursed, then grabbed Summer Birchgrove's hand. "Come on!"
They broke into a run, leaping over puddles of mud and dodging past other students, some of whom were holding books over their head as shelter, others who had cast the Impervius Charm. Summer's hand was small and warm in his, and Albus found himself laughing with exhilaration as they ran, the hail soaking them to the skin. She joined in, giggling as he pulled her along. Turning around at one point, he saw through his foggy glasses that her face was glowing, her blue eyes sparkling.
Then the greenhouses were looming up before them, and Albus slowed reluctantly, dropping Summer's hand. He was resigning himself to going in to Herbology when she grabbed hold of him again, pulling him back from the door of the greenhouse to let the other students pass. His heart was suddenly thumping as he turned to look down into Summer's face.
Beads of moisture stood out on her skin, and her blonde hair was plastered to her scalp, but she didn't seem to care. Grinning at him, Summer flicked her wand so that the mist was cleared from his glasses. Albus stared at her.
"I have to tell you something," she said eagerly, raising her voice over the sound of the hail around them.
Albus's throat felt dry. It couldn't be… He felt something leap within him, as hope drowned out every other sentiment, and suddenly he knew what she was going to say - he had waited so long to hear her say it - but was he ready to hear it? A thousand thoughts whirred through his mind as he gazed at Summer Birchgrove.
"It's supposed to be a secret," she continued, still grinning at him. "But I've wanted to tell you for weeks – it's been so difficult not to."
A secret. He frowned. That didn't sound right – still, maybe…
"I'm going out with James."
Albus blinked. And blinked again. He felt as though she had just punched him hard in the stomach. If she had, it would not have made any difference. "W-what?" He hadn't heard her right. He couldn't have.
Summer appeared oblivious to the fact that she had just brought the world crashing down around his ears with a couple of words. "Ever since the Gryffindor-Slytherin match. We kissed at the party, but James wasn't sure if he wanted anyone to know… So we decided to keep it a secret until we were sure it was going to last. And now – I really think it is." Her face split into a beatific smile, and Albus could barely breathe.
"So – are you going to start telling other people now?" he heard himself ask, though his voice sounded very far away.
"I hope so. I thought you should be the first to know – not just because you're his brother, but, well, because you've been such a good friend to me these past few months." Summer's smile widened, and her blue eyes dropped from his as though she were suddenly shy. "Sometimes I think I must be dreaming – I mean, James Potter. I've liked him for so long, but…" Tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear, she shook her head. "I didn't think he'd ever feel the same way about me."
They were alone now; all of the other students had gone into the greenhouse. It struck Albus that they were late for class, but he could not bring himself to care. He was rooted to the spot, staring at Summer as her words echoed in his mind, again and again and again. I'm going out with James. I'm going out with James.
Then, he noticed that her smile had faded, and a worried crease had appeared between her perfectly shaped eyebrows. "You're… not happy?"
"No, I am," Albus said at once, though his voice sounded wholly unconvincing to his own ears. "Just surprised, that's all." With an effort, he smiled at her, and Summer looked relieved.
"I'm so glad. Come on, we'd better get out of this." Casting a glance upwards at the stormy sky, Summer Birchgrove looped an arm through Albus's, grinning, and led the way into Herbology.
Rose's jaw dropped. "You're not serious."
"I am," Albus said, his voice barely discernible over the clatter of plates and rumble of voices. It was dinnertime, and the hundreds of floating candles above lent a warm glow to the crowded Great Hall. "She told me this morning."
"James and Summer?" Her gaze flicked over to the Hufflepuff table, where the latter was chatting happily to her friends. "They have nothing in common. Nothing! I mean, apart from the fact that they're both extremely popular – they make quite the power-couple in that sense, but…"
Rose trailed off, her roaming gaze seeking her older cousin now. It found James at the other end of the table, flanked by a couple of other seventh-years. He was laughing uproariously at something one of his companions had said.
How in Merlin's name had he found time over the past few weeks to get a new girlfriend and somehow conceal that fact from her? From everyone? After everything he had on his mind, Quidditch training and preparation for exams and - well…
And everything that she had told him. Rose was not surprised to feel a sharp sting of resentment as she stared down the table at James. Despite everything he knew about Andromeda and her mother, he was still able to do the things that teenagers were meant to do. Be normal. A feat that she herself had not achieved for months.
Frowning, Rose flattened the piece of pudding on her plate with her spoon, her appetite suddenly gone. Even last night, she had dreamed that same awful dream… where she was back in Knockturn Alley again, this time by herself, forced to face Andromeda again and hear the terrible truth that had fallen from the witch's lips. She had woken in a cold sweat just before a smiling Zabini had snapped her neck.
It was the same dream that she had been dreaming for weeks, but as she lay in her four-poster bed, there had been one difference. Damning words, that reverberated through her head as though they had just been spoken to her a moment before. Words that she had almost forgotten in her chaotic haze of memory. They had a wand on Teddy at the wedding. One of the Aurors… the boy…
That was what Andromeda had said that night, in a trembling voice. She might have been lying. Or mistaken. But ever since, Rose had not been able to forget those words, of which her dream had reminded her. She had not told James that part of the story. He would not have believed it, in any case - that one of his father's Aurors could have driven Andromeda to do what she had done.
"I can tell that you're not thrilled by the news either," Albus said dryly, breaking the silence between them, and Rose was tugged back to reality. She stopped staring at James and looked at his brother instead, willing herself to notice, for the first time, his downcast expression, his hunched shoulders. The flicker of anger that then coursed through her was of an entirely different nature.
"I can't believe James," she said quietly. "He must've known how you feel about Summer."
Albus smiled tightly. "Maybe he didn't. Besides, I don't feel anything for Summer. Not anymore." His green eyes met Rose's, suddenly stern. "Don't say a word to him about it. Promise?"
"But…" Rose squirmed in her seat. She hated being made to promise things like that – particularly since a part of her very much wanted to march up to James right now and demand an explanation.
"Promise me, Rose," her cousin repeated firmly. "Whatever I felt for Summer, it's in the past." He paused, his eyes moving to linger on the Hufflepuff table, then said, more to himself than to Rose. "I should have seen this coming."
"How could you have?" Rose gave a snort. "Believe me, I'm as surprised by this little development as you are." Catching his look, she slumped in her seat and sighed. "Fine. I promise I won't say anything about it to James."
Albus looked relieved. "Good." His gaze returned to Summer Birchgrove, across the Great Hall.
Rose watched him for a moment, feeling a pang of sympathy. Then, reaching under the table, she gave his hand a brief squeeze. "I'm sorry, Albus."
Her cousin gave a crooked half-smile. "It's fine. I don't know what I expected, really. I knew she liked James a lot. Last year, he was all she'd talk about. I just never thought he'd…"
"I know." Troubled, Rose looked at James again. "Me neither."
Scorpius Malfoy unfolded his copy of the Evening Prophet and stilled, drawing a sharp breath.
His neighbours at the Slytherin table were suddenly crowding around to peer over his shoulders at the huge, glaring headline as the remains of dessert vanished from the plates before them. Their presence was suffocating.
"An Azkaban breakout," Jem said numbly.
"Bloody hell," Orchid muttered from Scorpius's other side. Beyond her, Nina Meyer was examining her own copy, while Torrance hovered behind his girlfriend, looking uncomfortable. He had obeyed Scorpius's wishes and stayed well away from him over the past few weeks.
Now, Scorpius was grateful, for he did not feel he could cope with any more people looking for his reaction at this present moment. He felt like rising to his feet and bolting from the table. Perhaps that would be his best option. For a little way beneath the headline, his mother's face stared out at him, her chin turned up proudly and a defiant gleam in her bright green eyes.
His eyes skimmed the report below. The Minister of Magic released a statement this morning confirming that Astoria Malfoy escaped from Azkaban last night… Desirable Blaise Zabini is thought to have been involved… The Muggle Prime Minister has been notified and will aid the magical community in a nationwide search for the wanted witch… Percy Weasley says he is confident that Ms Malfoy will soon be apprehended.
Something was building inside his chest – fear or hope or gladness or perhaps all of them at once – and Scorpius could not bear it anymore. He rose to his feet with a scrape of his chair as others in the Great Hall, oblivious to the piece of news he had just received, began to do the same, and strode out, paying no heed to his friends as they attempted to call him back.
Only when he reached the dungeons did he halt, pressing his forehead against the cool stone wall. The tension in his chest released in one burst, and Scorpius dashed a few tears from his eyes. His mother was free. She might soon be caught, but she was free. His father had done something unspeakably dangerous to bargain for it, but she was free.
But who had freed her? Suddenly the fear in him was overwhelmingly strong once more. Scorpius straightened up, bracing his back against the wall, and passed a hand over his jaw. The report had said that Zabini was involved. Given that his father had performed some task for him, that made sense, but it couldn't have just been Zabini. He had to have had help… from many others, and perhaps the guards had been bribed too.
Instinctively, his father's words came echoing back to him. Blaise Zabini has been playing us from the very beginning. Was that all this was? Another trick of Zabini's, to gain more control over himself and his father by freeing Astoria Malfoy?
"Everything all right?"
Scorpius turned from the wall to see that Rose Weasley had rounded the corner. Her hair was woven into a thick braid, which she had cast over one shoulder, and she had changed out of her school robes into a pale blue jumper – which, incidentally, he noticed, matched the colour of her eyes - and a pleated skirt that reached her knees.
Her timing could not have been worse, but for some reason, Scorpius bit back a sharp retort, silently holding out his crumpled newspaper instead. A little crease in her pale forehead, Rose stepped forward and took it, glancing only once at the headline before her eyes darted back to his.
"You were expecting this. Weren't you?"
Still leaning against the stone wall, Scorpius stuffed his hands in his pockets and lifted a careless shoulder. "Did you follow me, Weasley?"
"Yes, I did," she said after a moment, her brows slightly raised as though daring him to question her further. "I heard someone mention the news at dessert, and then I saw you leave the Hall, and I thought -"
"That I'd want someone to talk to. Well…" Scorpius heaved a sigh. "Not to offend, Weasley, but I really would prefer to be alone right now."
"Of course." Rose mimicked his posture, leaning her back against the stone wall a few paces away and staring straight ahead. Scorpius sighed again, turning his face up towards the ceiling.
"And I take it you're not going to oblige."
"Afraid not."
"And why is that, Weasley?" He did not bother trying to keep the edge out of his tone.
She paused for a long moment. "Because you wouldn't leave me alone. That morning by the lake, with the Thestrals. When I was upset about Andromeda."
Scorpius snorted. "So this is your revenge?"
"You could say that."
"Wonderful."
They were silent for some minutes, listening to the distant thudding of footsteps from the floor above as students began to vacate the Great Hall. It echoed through the stone wall that they were leaning against, reverberating through their backs. Rose had taken out the newspaper and was perusing it when Scorpius spoke again. Something about her presence – unusually quiet – made him want to be honest. For once.
"I was expecting this to happen. But not – not exactly in this way."
"How did you know?" Rose's eyes were alight with curiosity as she turned to face him, her left side still brushing against the dungeon wall. Scorpius met her gaze momentarily, then looked away again.
"I just knew. I figured Zabini was planning something else – and an Azkaban breakout was entirely in his interests. Think about it… it plunges both the wizarding and Muggle worlds into a panic they haven't seen since the war, provides a good distraction."
"And undermines the authority of the Ministry," Rose muttered. She did not seem to have detected his lie, her eyes now fixed on some point a little way past him. "But a distraction for what, exactly?"
"I haven't a clue."
"Neither do I," she said glumly. "It must be a relief, though. Knowing that your mum's free – for now."
"For now," Scorpius echoed. Then, with a sideways glance at her, "Yes, it is. A little."
"And once I tell my parents what we found out about Andromeda," Rose continued, almost more to herself than to him, "They can pardon her." But something had darkened in her expression. "If only it could be that simple."
"You haven't told them yet?" Scorpius was only vaguely surprised. "Have you told anyone?"
"Have you?"
"No, but it's not really my secret to tell, is it?"
Rose gnawed on her lower lip so hard that it looked quite painful. Staring down at the paper in her hands, she muttered, "No, I suppose not."
"You're too afraid to tell them," Scorpius said coolly, folding his arms and turning to face her. "Isn't that right?"
Her blue eyes flashed up to his. "Not afraid. Just…"
"Ashamed? Guilty? It's all the same, Weasley." He watched her for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, it makes no difference, anyway. Whether you tell your parents or not. I doubt they could be much help to my mother, even if they wanted to. It's a bit too late for that, now that she's in Zabini's debt."
Rose Weasley drew herself up, and he was amused to see some of that hauteur return to her features. "My mother is head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, while Blaise Zabini is one outlaw."
"A powerful outlaw." Scorpius kept his eyes fixed on her, his voice barely louder than a hiss now. "More powerful than you know, Weasley."
"He pulled off the first Azkaban breakout for years." Rose's tone was scornful as she flicked her braid over her shoulder, but he had caught her faint shiver at his words. "Of course he's powerful. But he's still just a wizard."
"A wizard with many people behind him. And someone else commanding him, too, if he was really waiting for someone that night. The witch, whoever she is."
"And the boy," she said softly. "The Auror."
Scorpius frowned. "The one Andromeda mentioned, who was at your cousin's wedding?"
"Yes. The wedding." Rose's eyes widened. Suddenly she had sprung away from the wall and quickly turned, skirt whirling around her knees, to face him. "Where was Hobspawn at dinner?"
"I think he left for the Ministry this morning. Inquiry business." Scorpius tilted his head. "Why?"
Rose shrugged again, though her attempt at nonchalance was as laughable as could be expected of a Weasley. "No reason."
The idea had struck her during the conversation with Scorpius. Why she hadn't thought of it before, Rose did not know. All she knew was that her heart was suddenly pounding, her skin positively humming with excitement, as she raced back up to the crowded Entrance Hall.
James was emerging from the doors of the Great Hall, and lifted a hand to her in acknowledgement. "What's up, coz?"
"I need your help," she said, halting before him when she reached the phoenix monument. "Annoyed at you as I am."
"Annoyed? At me?" James assumed a very innocent expression, placing a hand on his chest. "Whatever for?"
"Summer Birchgrove." Rose placed her hands on her lips, fixing him with a stern glance. It took an extraordinary effort not to mention Albus – but she had promised him.
Her cousin looked startled for a moment, then grinned widely. "The news was bound to get out some time, I suppose. Aren't you happy for me, Rose?"
"No," she said grumpily. "You might have told me."
"Well, we all have our secrets," James said airily. "You, for example."
Rose glowered at him. "That's not the same."
"Is so." James folded his arms decisively, as though that settled the matter. "What can I help you with, coz?"
She sighed. "I need to know if Hobspawn's office is empty. And if it is, when he's coming back."
"Planning on sneaking in?" His brows rose. "I'm surprised at you, Rosie."
"I might need you to create a diversion, too, if there are Aurors outside."
"This sudden rebellious streak of yours is quite shocking, particularly in a prefect aspiring to be next year's Head Girl. Let's hope it's just a phase – after all, we've all been there… "
"James."
"Fine, fine." The Quidditch captain dug out the folded piece of parchment, glanced around at the emptying entrance hall, then tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good…"
(***)
Rose gingerly pushed open the door of the Headmaster's office, peeking her head around the corner. Sure enough, it stood empty, crimson rays from the winter sunset breaking through the windows. A chorus of muttering started up from the headmasters and headmistresses in their portraits as she started across the carpeted floor, but she did her best to ignore them.
The silver basin of the Pensieve was stowed in the black cabinet in the near corner of the office, and she pulled the door open fully, lifting it out and placing it on the desk. Ripples spread across the liquid in the basin, which was clear of memories. Hobspawn evidently had no use for Pensieves of late.
Now came the tricky part.
Reaching into the pocket of her jumper, where she had also placed one of her parents' old Dumbledore's Army coins, which James would use to warn her when Hobspawn was returning to his office, Rose raised her wand to her temple, slid to her knees on the carpeted floor, and concentrated, shutting her eyes tightly.
Tricky, indeed. She had read about the extraction of memories before, but had never attempted it. There were certainly dangers involved in the process. It was not generally recommended for underage witches and wizards, but – as Rose liked to tell herself frequently – she was not one's average underage witch.
Ignoring the ensuing gasps of shocks from the portraits, she cracked an eyelid open and looked to her left. Nothing. Rose gritted her teeth, then shut her eyes again. She sifted through the roiling pit of memories inside her mind that had gathered over the past few months, tossing them aside – her encounters with Malfoy, the attack in Hogsmeade, her argument with Hugo, Cassie's confession that she could no longer play Quidditch…
Back, back – right back to August, to a balmy evening in Devon. A sunlit meadow. The rushing of water. Teddy smiling as he slid the ring onto Victoire's finger. A ruined cottage – the wedding banquet inside. Her mother collapsing to the floor, choking…
There. Rose winced as she forced the memory to cut itself off at that point, then, tightening her grip on her wand, pulled it out of her temple. It was the strangest feeling – like something wet and slippery was crawling its way out of her head. She opened her eyes to see a stringy silver strand, shimmering strangely, emerging from her left temple. As it curled around her wand, her head felt curiously lighter.
Rose stood. The portraits had grown silent now, and she noticed some of them gazing at her with admiration in her eyes. Ignoring the swell of pride that made her feel – for there was no time - she turned to the Pensieve on the desk, lowered her wand to the surface of the water and watched as the strand of memory detached itself into the basin, swirling and undulating.
When she pressed her face into the surface, she was immediately swallowed into icy blackness, Hobspawn's office disappearing. For a second she was falling, blind, then…
There she stood at the wedding reception, in the middle of the vast hall, dancing couples all around her. All was exactly as she remembered it. The bright candlelight flooded the dance floor, and Rose lifted a hand to her eyes, momentarily overwhelmed. Upbeat, jazzy music was playing from the platform at the other end of the hall, yet it sounded strangely distant, as though she were underwater. She blinked, then began to move, passing through the figures like a ghost, making for the perimeters of the hall.
As she passed the banquet table, she pulled short. Astoria Malfoy stood alone, a goblet of wine in her hand. Her features were tense, strained, as her green eyes scanned the dance floor; she seemed to be searching for something. Or someone.
Rose felt herself shrink back, out of shame or guilt or residual fear, then reminded herself that the witch could not see her. Stepping closer, she examined Astoria more closely than she had before. There was something of Scorpius in the set of her jaw, the smooth planes of her face, though he looked much more like his father.
Frowning, she wondered what the witch was really doing here, at the wedding of someone whom she barely knew. If she had not come here to poison Rose's mother, then why had she come?
A peal of girlish laughter reached her ears, and Rose turned to see – herself. Giggling and carefree, her red curls dancing around her face as she spun around the floor with Lily a few feet away, pretty in her fluttering blue bridesmaid's dress… could that really be her? Had she really been so happy? So… normal?
Catching sight of black robes a little way beyond the drinks table, Rose recalled her mission and wrenched her gaze away from her memory self, moving away from Astoria and towards the Auror she had glimpsed near the doorway to the cottage. She reached him in a matter of seconds, and stopped again. He was simply standing there by the doorway, wand in hand, looking extremely bored. Though she remained by his side for a few minutes, no one approached him, and she was forced to move on.
There had been at least five Aurors on guard duty at the wedding; she knew that much. A couple had stayed near her uncle Harry at all times, another had been roaming the halls, and the last two were guarding the doors. Rose passed them all, once, twice – as she circled back a third time to check that none of them were doing anything suspicious, she let out a groan of exasperation. She was wasting her time.
"You must consider it." Astoria Malfoy's voice sounded somewhere behind her, forceful, and Rose turned again to see the witch conversing with Bill Weasley in the middle of the dance floor. Her uncle looked profoundly uncomfortable, his eyes roaming the hall as though searching for some method of escape. She moved closer to hear him say, in a low voice,
"This is not the time or place, Mrs Malfoy. I am at my daughter's wedding –"
"I am well aware of that," Astoria Malfoy snapped. "But since you haven't been answering any of my owls, Mr Weasley, I had no other option but to approach you…"
"The answer is no," Bill Weasley said shortly, his eyes finally landing on the witch's.
Astoria Malfoy's lip curled impressively, and then she drew herself up to her full height, staring at Rose's uncle. "My husband has been working under you in Gringotts for almost twenty years. He deserves some recognition for what he has done, Mr Weasley; it is only fair."
"If your husband wants a promotion," Bill Weasley said, his voice cool and measured as he averted his gaze once more, "then why doesn't he come to me himself? Why send you instead?"
"You know why," Astoria Malfoy said impatiently. "He is too proud to approach you. But I, on the other hand -"
"You're an Obliviator," Bill said baldly. "Surely that pays well enough to satisfy you both."
Astoria fixed him with a stony stare. "My work is irregular. Muggles are unpredictable – they can sometimes go for months without any magical sightings -"
"Then what of the Malfoy fortune?" There was a sarcastic bite to her uncle's tone that Rose had never heard before. "I'm sure Lucius and Narcissa would be happy to lend a hand to you and your husband if they knew of your predicament -"
"Their liquid assets were seized after the War, as you know well," Astoria Malfoy said, very quietly. She did not meet Bill Weasley's gaze. "The manor house is all they have left now."
"So get them to sell it."
Astoria looked up at the wizard again, clearly appalled. She opened her mouth to respond -
"Oh, I'm so sorry!"
Rose started backwards as she saw her memory self knock into Astoria Malfoy, spilling some Butterbeer onto her immaculate robes before being dragged on by James. With a sigh, Astoria produced her wand to Vanish the stain, casting a glare in the offender's direction.
"Mr Weasley, we are not finished," she said, stepping after Rose's uncle as he turned to go. She reached out to grasp his sleeve, but he shook her off.
"I think we are, Mrs Malfoy."
"Do you want me to beg?" People nearby were turning to look now. Rose – the present Rose - still stood where she was, gaping at Astoria Malfoy and Bill Weasley, the latter of whom looked considerably vexed at this point. "Because I will, if necessary, Mr Weasley. My husband needs this promotion. We are in debt."
"I'm sorry, but that is not my problem." Bill Weasley cast one final glance at the witch, then strode away.
Rose hung back, watching Astoria Malfoy's face slacken, her shoulders slump in defeat. Her mind was reeling from all she had just heard. Scorpius's parents were in debt? That was why his mother had come to the wedding – to try and persuade her uncle to promote Draco Malfoy? Did he know that?
She knew what James would say. As a former Death Eater, Draco Malfoy had been lucky to get any kind of permanent work. Expecting a promotion was pushing it too far. But all the same, she could not forget the fear that she had seen in Astoria's eyes as she pleaded with Bill Weasley. The Malfoys needed the money. They were desperate for it.
Rose pushed away through the crowd, barely seeing the guests' faces, filled with merriment as they danced and chatted and laughed.
She had wondered, back then, why Astoria Malfoy had looked at her with such intense dislike in her eyes. After all, she had only spilt a goblet of Butterbeer on her, and by accident. A mistake easily fixed.
But it had been more than that. Rose came to a halt near the other side of the hall, turning her face up to the stone ceiling, which was rippling slightly in the memory, like water. Seeing her memory self, flushed and giggling as she whirled around the dance floor with Lily, had been like seeing a stranger. A pretty, pampered girl – spoiled and careless. A cosseted little princess. That was the way Astoria Malfoy must have seen her, that night.
How Scorpius Malfoy must have seen her, too, up until recently. Or perhaps he still saw her that way.
Rose gave herself a firm shake. She was here for a reason, and that reason was not to spy on Astoria Malfoy. Ducking around her uncle George, who was talking animatedly to some relatives, she emerged by the platform where the band were playing, and spotted her memory self again. She was talking to Granny Weasley and her father – and over there, to the left, was the best man, Geoffrey Alderton, talking to… talking to…
Her stomach plunged, and the memory itself seemed to grind to halt. She felt the coin burning in her pocket, a warning from James to get out, but couldn't bring herself to care. The prospect of seeing Andromeda alive again had crossed her mind, but she hadn't thought it would be so – so smothering. To see the fussy old witch chatting and laughing, so lively and real – and to think that all the while, she had been waiting for her mother to drink the wine, waiting for her to drop to her knees, choking…
Rose didn't know whether she wanted to strangle the witch or embrace her. Scream at her or simply cry. But she could do none of these things, she reminded herself, because this was just a memory. All the same, she found herself striding forward, passing her brother and her cousins, right up to the table where her mother sat.
A tide of conflicting emotions rose within her, boiling anger and simmering guilt and sharp fear and hollow, aching grief…
It was just a memory. But that did not make it any less real when Rose's mother set her goblet down hard, put a hand to her throat and turned a terrible, ghostly white, while Andromeda sat across from her, face set like stone. Only when Hermione began to rasp and choke, when the other guests began to turn around in alarm, did the older witch spring to her feet and pull out her wand.
Rose stood beside her memory self, silent and helpless, just as she had been then. She felt as though she were underwater again, unable to breathe, struggling towards the surface, fighting a vast weight from above that threatened to crush her…
A warm hand closed around hers, and she turned to see James – the real James. He was staring at the scene before them, the colour drained from his face.
"We need to get out of here," he said at last. "Hobspawn's on his way – I sent you a message on the coin…"
"I know," Rose said quietly, a hint of apology in her tone. Closing her eyes, though it pained her to leave her mother behind again, like a punch to the gut, she willed the memory to dissolve around them, the enlarged cottage plunging into icy blackness.
Then they were back in Hobspawn's office. Rose retrieved the memory from the Pensieve, hurriedly placing the basin back in its cupboard, and James pulled her out the door.
They clattered down the staircase as the sound of voices approached, and pressed themselves into a corner at the bottom. The Headmaster strode past, in conversation with one of the Aurors, and did not even turn his head to look at them.
"You shouldn't have gone back to that night," James muttered, once they were safely out of the tower. "It's not – healthy, you know? Did you even find anything useful?"
Rose stared at the silvery strand of memory trailing from her wandpoint. "No. It was a waste of time."
At Cassie's third groan, Rose looked up from where she sat on the couch in her pyjamas, her legs stretched out before her and a thick book in her lap. The fire was dying down in the hearth, no more than a disorderly pile of glowing embers, and the common room around it was gradually clearing of people.
"Do you want me to look at it?" she said through a yawn.
Cassie hesitated. She hadn't let Rose correct her work for a long time – not since fifth year – but she had such a pounding headache; all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep through the N.E.W.T.s. She sighed. "Yes, please."
As Rose reached over and seized the scroll of parchment, setting her book down, Cassie slumped back in her armchair, her eyes moving up towards the ceiling. It was folded, like a thick carpet… she had never noticed that before…
Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, the ceiling blurring before her, until she allowed herself to fall into a doze, the little sounds around her like the scratching of Rose's quill, the roaring of the fire and the weary murmurs of other students fading into the background. She was on her broomstick now, watching the Quidditch pitch hurtle away from her – people were cheering.
"Cass. Cass." She jerked awake to see Rose before her, holding out the parchment. They were the only ones in the common room now, and the light of the fire was considerably dimmer.
"I've made some corrections," her friend was saying. "It was really good already, though, Cass, I'd say you'll get an 'A' at least…"
Cassie squinted. The parchment before her was covered in marks from Rose's red quill; she could barely make out her own writing. She raised her wand and tapped it against the essay, watching the corrections in red fade entirely, until they were absorbed by her own writing, as she had done countless times before. Then she sighed. "You don't have to do that, you know."
Rose raised an eyebrow – or at least attempted to, before yawning widely again. "I don't mind, Cass. It only took a few minutes."
"No." Wearily, Cassie pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes for a moment. "I mean you don't have to do your tactful thing. Your 'this was really good already and I just made it a little better' -"
"It was really good," Rose insisted, with a defensive edge to her tone. "I wasn't just being nice, Cassie, your essay was really – I mean, I liked the… the points you made, and some of the wording was really – er – concise…"
"You don't have to pretend," Cassie said, her voice rising slightly in frustration. She sat up to face her friend, who was blinking at her. For the first time, she noticed how tired Rose looked; the dark circles under her eyes stood out against her skin, which had an unhealthy pallor. "I know I'm not smart like you – it doesn't matter."
"You are smart, Cass!" Rose reached out her hand, but Cassie jerked away, and tried not to think about the flash of hurt in her friend's blue eyes.
"I wish you'd just – I wish you'd stop -"
"Stop what?" Rose looked wide awake now, her arms folded over her chest. Her book slid to the ground with a thump as she adjusted her position on the couch, but she didn't seem to notice. "Stop what, Cass?"
"Being so fake," Cassie huffed at last. "Whenever you're around me, I can just see the pity in your eyes when you look at me, and – Merlin, it's insulting!"
Something in her friend's expression had hardened. "I don't pity you."
"Of course you do. It's bloody obvious, Rose. I mean -" Letting out a low, humourless laugh, Cassie held up the scroll of parchment before her, "– how many classes have you helped me pass with these corrections? How many 'A's in History of Magic and Transfiguration have I scraped because you tutored me? If not for you, Mum and Dad would have banned me from Quidditch a long time ago… they mightn't even have let me join the team in the first place!"
Now Rose looked perplexed. She tilted her head and looked at Cassie. "You're saying all of this like it's a bad thing."
"It is a bad thing!" Cassie exclaimed, brandishing the parchment at her. "Because none of this is mine. None of it. Professor Harris will correct it tomorrow, and everything she puts a tick beside – everything – will be stuff you thought of."
"So?"
"So I'm a fraud." Cassie set the parchment down and rested her chin on her hands. "A failure."
Rose watched her in silence for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she stood from the couch, gathering her books into her arms. "I'm sitting my N.E.W.T.s too, in case you've forgotten," she said coolly. "I could have used these past few minutes to study, but instead I decided to help you – because you're my mate. But if I'd realised you'd have a bloody identity crisis over it, I wouldn't have -"
"Don't do that."
"What? What is it now?"
"Make this a joke! Make me seem all trivial and stupid -"
"Well, maybe if what you were talking about wasn't so trivial and stupid -"
"It's not!" Cassie's face warmed, and she rose to her feet rather gracelessly. "You don't get it at all, do you?"
Rose stared at her, then seemed to wilt, running a hand over her forehead and pushing her hair back. "No, Cass," she said wearily. "I don't get it. All I know is, I'm exhausted and stressed and then out of the blue you start accusing me of being fake – well, strange as it may seem, I've got my own stuff going on at the moment…"
"What stuff, exactly?" Cassie demanded, crossing her arms. "You're always acting like everything you do is so important, but you never tell anyone about it! You never tell me about it! You just run off places and hang out with Slytherins and -"
"Hang out with Slytherins? Merlin, Cassie, I'm a prefect, I have to patrol with Scorpius Malfoy; it's not something I do by choice…"
"That's not the point!" Cassie almost shouted. "The point is, you can't expect me to understand that you have stuff going on when you won't tell me anything about it! It wouldn't kill you, you know! Like with your family friend – Andromeda – when she died, you just wandered around the castle for days like one of the ghosts… You didn't sleep, you didn't eat, you wouldn't say a word to anyone – it was creepy! And then suddenly everything was fine again? I mean, what was I -"
"That's enough." Her friend's face had blanched the instant she mentioned Andromeda's name, and Cassie knew that she had gone just a little too far. Now it was turned to stone. "I'm going to bed."
"Go on, then," she snapped, as Rose padded away across the carpet. "Walk away – that's your answer to everything, isn't it? Having a conversation you don't like? Walk away. Doing something super-important that no one can know about? Walk away."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Rose said shortly, without turning, as she set her foot on the stairs to the dormitory. The sound of her footsteps faded into the tower, and Cassie glowered after her, then down at the piece of parchment she was holding.
It was a stupid, melodramatic, immature thing to do, but Cassie didn't care as she hurled the parchment into the dying fire, watching the flames leap up from the embers and curl around it as it shrivelled before her eyes, into nothing more than a grey mass.
She would regret that in the morning, when Professor Harris singled her out before the class and gave her detention, but right now, the grim satisfaction that coursed through her was all she needed.
"Anyone seen my earrings?" Jackie Saunders folded her arms from where she stood by the full-length mirror in the dormitory and raised her pencilled eyebrows at her dormitory-mates. "I'm in a hurry, you know."
Rose shrugged. It was Saturday morning. She was brushing out her red hair; it rippled over her shoulders in a frizzy mass. "Meeting Luke, are we?"
"Yes, and I can't be late." Jackie smoothed her own glossy brown locks, which were no longer than a boy's, then touched up her berry lipstick, looking at herself intently in the mirror.
"Maybe try Penny's things?" Cassie suggested as she emerged from her shower in a waft of steam, wrapped in a towel. "She could have borrowed them."
"They're my favourite ones. She wouldn't dare." Jackie, however, looked unsure, and made her way over to Penny's dresser. As she began to rifle through the clutter of objects on top, tossing aside a silver-backed hairbrush, she added, "So I'm guessing the chill in the air isn't because we've had an invasion of Dementors?"
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, during which Rose and Cassie made a point of not looking at each other. "We had a disagreement," the latter said at last, as she held her wand over her hair to dry it.
"No. Really?" Jackie said dryly. She turned in place, clutching Penny's jewellery box. "I was wondering what all the shouting last night was about."
"We weren't shouting," Rose said sullenly, almost stabbing herself in the eye as she applied her mascara rather too vigorously.
"I must have pretty exceptional hearing then." Jackie sighed, closing the jewellery box. "They're not here either. Look, whatever it is, promise me you'll try to sort it out? I'm dealing with enough drama these days as it is. Lisa won't talk to Summer ever since she told us about her new boyfriend."
"Oh, really?" Cassie looked vaguely interested, buttoning her school blouse. "Who is he?"
"You don't know?" Jackie said, appalled. "Everyone's talking about it. It's -"
"You won't believe this!" Penny Alderton cried, bursting into the dormitory, her blonde hair swinging around her face. She blushed when the other witches turned to stare at her. "I mean… I have good news. Really good news. I just met my brother, and he told me - why are you going through my jewellery?"
"Did you borrow my earrings?" Jackie demanded. "The cute little gold hoops?"
Penny looked baffled. "No, no of course not. You lent them to Diana Turpin, remember?"
"Damn it. I did, didn't I?" Shaking her head, Jackie moved away from Penny's dresser. "Well, that's it. I'm never getting those back now. And I so wanted Luke to see them…"
"Your news?" Rose prompted Penny, rising to her feet and setting down the tube of mascara.
"Yes, yes!" Jackie said eagerly. "The news that your devastatingly handsome Auror brother told you! Spill!"
Penny gave her friend a slightly reproachful look. "You have a boyfriend." Turning to face the other two, she smiled widely. "The Ministry have finally given up on the whole inquiry with Professor Hobspawn. Something about no further evidence being found… and they've declared Hogwarts as safe again. Which means that Hogsmeade trips are back on!"
"That's fantastic!" Cassie declared. Rose, however, said nothing. Jackie had already grabbed her cloak and fixed it around her shoulders, making for the door.
"I've got to tell Luke!" she squealed on her way out.
When she was gone, Penny wrung her hands somewhat awkwardly, looking between the two other girls uncertainly. "Is – er – is something wrong?"
"Nothing whatsoever," Rose said airily, before Cassie could speak. Slinging her bookbag over her shoulder, she gave Penny a brief smile. "I should get to breakfast."
Cassie sighed, frowning at herself in the mirror for a moment. Then she stood and followed her friend out. "Rose, wait."
They met on the stairs outside their dormitory. The other witch twisted around to face Cassie, her expression guarded. "What is it now?"
"I went a little far," Cassie said quietly, without meeting her gaze. "Last night."
Rose nodded, looking down. "Yeah… me too." They were silent for a moment, watching each other warily. A couple of third year girls who were chatting cheerfully squeezed past them on the stairs.
"Calling you fake," Cassie went on, when they had gone. "And bringing Andromeda up. I didn't mean - I just -"
"I know." Rose put out a hand and squeezed her arm. "Let's just forget about it."
"Right." Cassie smiled tentatively at her friend, and her friend smiled back. Then they proceeded down the stairs to the common room.
Something struck Cassie as they passed a knot of seventh-years by the notice board, one of them James Potter, and she came to a halt. "I'll see you downstairs, OK?" she said to Rose, who nodded again and made for the portrait hole.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she said to James. He looked surprised for a moment, then his face broke into his usual grin, and he moved away from his friends.
"Miller. How can I help you?"
"Have you heard?" Cassie said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial murmur as they reached the desks on the other side of the common room. "About the inquiry being called off? Penny just -"
"Yes, I heard." James raised his eyebrows. "What about it?"
Cassie moved closer. "Well, you ran off to see Hobspawn when I told you about the inquiry a few weeks ago – did the evidence you gave him maybe…"
"Miller," the Quidditch captain interrupted, shaking his head, "The inquiry was called off because the Ministry decided they had more pressing cases to investigate. Nothing I told Hobspawn had anything to do with it."
"What about what we found out, though?" Her voice was not much louder than a whisper now, her eyes fixed on him. "About Nott?"
James clicked his tongue, as though he were thinking hard. "Look," he said at last, "You'd be better off to just forget about all that. Everything we learnt about him, and what happened on Hallowe'en. It didn't matter – it didn't mean anything…"
"Forget?" she repeated, aghast. "You're telling me to forget that someone tampered with my memories?"
"Keep your voice down." James glanced around the common room, which was still crowded, then back at her. "It seems a bit counter-productive, I know. But you really should -"
"You've had it in for Nott since the beginning," Cassie said, feeling a flare of impatience within her. "And now you expect me to believe that you've just handed over the investigation to the Aurors and Hobspawn? That you have no further suspicions about him? You're James Potter, of course you -"
"Cassie." James cut her off, not unkindly. His brown eyes were apologetic as they fixed on her. "I really don't have time to argue. I've got to meet Summer. Just don't worry about it, all right?"
Without waiting for her response, he turned away and left the common room, his friends in tow. Cassie stood there, her face hot, as Jackie's words returned to her.
Lisa won't talk to Summer ever since she told us about her new boyfriend…
You don't know?
"Of course," she said aloud. "Of course."
No wonder Albus had been wandering around the castle for the past few days looking as if a Grim had paid him a visit. No wonder Lisa Harvey was upset – all of Hogwarts knew she'd had a crush on James Potter since first year.
And she wasn't the only one. After all, what girl could resist that roguish grin, that easy charm, that smooth confidence?
Certainly not her, much as she'd tried to deny it. Cassie leaned against the wall of the common room, suddenly in no mood to go down to breakfast. She felt as though she'd just been slapped. To think that she'd fancied James Potter would like her back. To think that she'd bothered liking him at all.
Then again, these things weren't exactly determined by choice.
Rose Weasley was climbing the marble staircase after dinner and processing what she had just read in another issue of the Evening Prophet – that some Muggles had reported a sighting of Astoria Malfoy in northern France and Hogwarts was therefore out of immediate danger, hence the lift on the Hogsmeade ban – when a glowering Cassie caught up with her.
"Hi, Cass! I haven't seen you all day – what…"
"Why didn't you tell me about James and Summer?"
Rose blinked. "I – I assumed you'd hear from someone. Should I have?"
"It's the kind of news I would have liked to hear sooner rather than later," Cassie said through gritted teeth. "That's all."
"Oh…kay." Baffled, Rose gathered her books to her chest as they emerged onto the first-floor corridor. "You're in the same camp as Albus as regards the news, then, I take it?"
"I'm not," Cassie said, too quickly. Turning, Rose's eyes widened, and she stopped in the middle of the corridor.
"No. You don't like him, do you? James?"
"Don't talk rubbish," Cassie said shortly, but Rose ignored her, grabbing her friend's arm.
"How long have you liked him?" she exclaimed. "Why didn't you say anything? Merlin, you like my cousin – that is too weird…"
"I shouldn't have had to say anything." Cassie shook off her arm, fixing her friend with an accusing stare. "You should have known I liked him."
Rose let out a disbelieving bark of laughter. "Right, so now I'm supposed to just guess if you like a bloke? In case you haven't noticed, Cass, I'm not the most perceptive of people -"
"No, I noticed," Cassie said coolly.
Rose looked at her for a moment, then crossed her arms. "I thought we were okay after this morning. But you're still angry at me, aren't you?"
"It's just – this is exactly what I was talking about!" Cassie threw up her hands in frustration. "You not telling me things! You didn't tell me about James and Summer, just like you never tell me about anything else -"
"Just stop, Cassie." Rose glared at her. "I can't do anything right, can I?"
Cassie pressed her lips together, and did not say anything more. Shaking her head, Rose strode away down the corridor, suddenly eager to retreat to the stacks of the library and lose herself in some schoolwork.
"She's just impossible," she fumed to Nina Meyer, some ten minutes later, as they sat at a desk in the corner of the library, their textbooks and parchment spread out around them. "You know, I think she wants to be pissed off at me. I think she's enjoying it."
"Right." Nina held up her copy of Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science. "Did you find anything in this about transmutation? I need it for that assignment Nott set us the other day…"
"There's a paragraph on it in chapter thirty-four," Rose said, without even looking at the book. She scowled at Nina. "You know what? I bet all of this drama is because Cassie doesn't do Quidditch anymore, and she feels inadequate and useless and she's taking it out on me!"
Nina sighed as she leafed through the book to the desired chapter. "Weasley -"
"I know, I know. That's mean." Rose propped her chin up on her hands, sighing.
"Actually, I was going to say that -"
"It's just – she's changed, you know? She didn't used to be so petty about stuff! But you know -" Rose paused, and for a moment, her blue eyes grew distant, "- I think I've changed too, this year."
"Well, you're not quite as obnoxious as you used to be," Nina said calmly, marking the page in her page. "Or so I thought until a few minutes ago." At Rose's glare, she shrugged her shoulders. "What? You want my opinion, don't you? Isn't that why you're telling me your life story when we're meant to be studying?"
"Right." Rose heaved another sigh and looked down at the Transfiguration textbook open in front of her for the first time since she had arrived to the library. "It's just hard to concentrate when I'm so angry. The way she's been treating me these past few months is just unfair! I can't help that I've changed…"
"By all means, continue," Nina Meyer said acidly. "It's not as if our N.E.W.T.s matter or anything."
Rose acted as though she had not heard. "You know what else she said? She said that hanging out with Slytherins is all I do. And here I am, proving her right – making friends with you."
"We're not friends, Weasley," Nina said firmly. "We're study partners. So – can we get to that part now? Studying?"
Rose pouted. "Of course. No one would want to be friends with someone as fake as I am, now would they?"
Nina snorted. "You may be a lot of things, Weasley, but you're not fake. You're not subtle enough to be fake." She paused, watching Rose's glum expression, then sighed, setting her quill down at last. "Look, Weasley, believe it or not, I know what you're talking about. I have a friend – or rather, I used to have a friend – who I just can't get on with anymore. It happens. People change."
"What friend?" Rose straightened in her seat, suddenly curious. Then her face twisted in a kind of bitter grimace. "Orchid Ottelby."
The other witch rolled her eyes. "She wasn't always as bad as she is now, you know. When I met her in first year, she was the only person who would talk to me. Always bringing me to lunch with her friends, making sure I felt included. But things are… different now."
"Why?"
Something in Nina's eyes shuttered, as though she had revealed too much. She shrugged. "Like I said. People change. We just – drifted apart, I suppose."
Rose studied her. "That's not the full story, is it?"
"Very perceptive of you, Weasley." Firmly, Nina returned her gaze to her textbook. "But unlike you, I don't feel the urge to spill my life story right now. Can't think why – maybe because of the pile of homework and projects and assignments that I have to get done before Christmas."
"Point taken." Rose was smiling, in spite of Nina's dry tone. "You know, Meyer, I think we're more alike than you'd care to admit."
"Please," the Slytherin girl said, without looking up from her book. "Don't make me laugh. Madam Pince is just itching for an excuse to throw me out."
"What's that about?" Jeremy Sharpwood said in an undertone. He and Scorpius were seated at a desk in a corner of the library, where they had a full view of Rose Weasley and Nina Meyer. "We're not good enough for Nina anymore, but Weasley is?"
"It's not that surprising," Scorpius said, without looking up from the Astronomy essay that he was writing. "They always sit together in Alchemy and Potions."
"So you think they're friends?" Jem stared at the two girls in disbelief. "That doesn't make any sense."
"I think she's afraid." At last, Scorpius cast a glance towards Rose Weasley and Nina Meyer. The witches appeared to be studying intensely, but there was the occasional smile and few words exchanged between them. The sight disconcerted him, more than he would have liked Jem to know.
"Who? Weasley?"
"No, Nina." Scorpius frowned. "I've seen it when she looks at us. She doesn't trust us anymore – for whatever reason."
"You think?" Jem raised his eyebrows, then looked back at his friend. "Because of all the stuff that's been going on in the school?"
"Maybe." Scorpius leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his blond hair absentmindedly. "She isn't the sort to easily scare, though. If I had to guess, I'd say Orchid has something to do with it. She's the only one who doesn't seem too bothered by the way Nina's been acting."
Jem smiled crookedly. "I don't think Carlos is too bothered, either. But he never liked her much." His smile faded. "You might be right about Orchid. Merlin knows those two have had their issues."
Elsewhere in the library, Lily Potter was seated alone by the window and trying her best to focus. Her straight red hair was tied in a high ponytail, and she was wearing Muggle clothes; a pretty peasant blouse paired with jeans.
Every time she lowered her eyes to her parchment, it seemed, her fellow fourth-years – a knot of girls mostly from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor – who were seated at a nearby table, broke into another bout of uncontrollable laughter at some whispered scandal. Madam Pince had already admonished them twice, but that did nothing to rein in their mirth.
Lily longed to join her friends, to hear the latest school gossip (though most of it centred on her brother and his new girlfriend recently) but if she didn't hand in her Defence against the Dark Arts assignment tomorrow morning, Professor Cattermole would murder her. Pouting, she lifted her quill and continued her writing.
"Sorry, you wouldn't know where the Legal Section is, would you?"
Lily's forehead creased in a frown, and she did not look up from her parchment. She knew the smooth intonations of that voice very well – yet in a politer tone than she had ever heard before. Briefly, she wondered if he had been addressing the librarian. But the words had been uttered so close by…
Finally, she lifted her gaze and beheld Carlos Santini. Tall, olive-skinned and handsome – she could never have failed to notice that, despite the fact that he was an arrogant prat – he was leaning against the nearest bookshelf and looking at her questioningly. Suddenly, the whispering of her friends at the nearby table quieted, and she felt their eyes on her.
Lily's face warmed as she sensed their attention, but she looked the Slytherin captain in the eye and said, in as cool a voice as she could muster, "It's at the other side of the library." She pointed half-heartedly, but he did not turn, his gaze fixed on her, lips curved in a slight smile.
"Thank you." He looked down, as though suddenly bashful. "I don't have much experience in the library."
I'll say. The sight of the lanky Quidditch captain among the bookshelves was bizarre, to say the least. In fact, this whole thing was pretty bizarre. Lily raised her eyebrows at the sixth-year to cover her uncertainty, as he still had not moved. "Can I help you with anything else?"
There was a faint giggle from the onlookers. Lily cast a glance at her friends, most of whom were staring at her – a few were signalling wildly, as though she could understand them. When she looked back at the Slytherin boy, his smile had faded, and he now looked very serious.
"Actually, there was." He gestured towards the unoccupied chair at her desk. "Would you mind?"
Lily shook her head – she was so confused that she did not trust herself to speak.
With the easy grace of a seasoned Quidditch player, Carlos Santini slid into the seat, and simply gazed at her for a moment. There was such sincerity in his dark, dark eyes… such warmth and honesty… that Lily felt herself blush fully. At last, he spoke, in a voice low and gentle and smooth as velvet.
"I wanted to apologise. For the way I behaved to you – at the Quidditch match. The truth is…" He sighed, as though it were difficult for him to go on. "The truth is, I've never seen anyone play the way you did. Our Seeker never had a hope against you." His eyes met hers again, deep and admiring. "I guess I'm a bit of a sore loser, too."
The girls at the other table had fallen completely silent. Lily could not bring herself to look at them – could not bring herself to think of the warnings coursing through her mind, all the furious words her brother James had ever spoken about Carlos Santini.
All she could think about was the way the older boy was looking at her… as though she were a flickering flame that he was afraid would flare out if he tore his gaze away. As though what she thought of him mattered – mattered more than anything else in the world.
"It's all right," Lily breathed at last, and then Carlos Santini's well-chiselled features split into a warm smile that made her stomach flip over.
"That's a relief." He unfolded himself out of the seat, winked at her. "I'll see you around."
Lily sat still for a minute after he had left, her heart thumping in her chest – a not altogether unpleasant feeling – her forgotten Defence Against the Dark Arts essay before her. Then, as her friends swarmed around her table with a thousand questions ("What did he say?" "What did you say?" "Did he ask you out?" "Did he really say sorry?"), she finally allowed herself to smile. It was a small, surprised smile, intended only for Carlos Santini, a testament to the bubbly warmth that was spreading through her.
"Nina."
His friend swung around to face him in the corridor outside the library, where he had caught up with her, and a shadow passed over her features. Scorpius folded his arms. "What's wrong, Nina? Why have you been avoiding me?"
She brushed her curly dark hair back from her face and dropped her eyes. "I haven't. I just…"
"You haven't been talking to anyone," Scorpius continued. "Not even me and Jem. If you're upset about Orchid -"
Her eyes flashed up to meet his. "Yes, I'm upset about Orchid. I'm upset about a lot of things, Scorpius. But it's more than that – I feel threatened."
He frowned. "Threatened?"
Nina looked pained. Drawing in a deep breath, she said in a rush, "Someone painted Mudblood on my window a few weeks ago."
Scorpius's grey eyes widened. "What?"
"It was… frightening. I'm not going to lie." She held his gaze. "Orchid seemed to think one of you were involved."
"She did?" Scorpius shook his head as if to clear it. "Nina…" Then the full meaning of her words struck him, and he stared at her. "You think I would do something as sick as that?"
There was a flicker of doubt in Nina's eyes. She rolled her shoulders. "I don't know."
"We've been friends for years," he said slowly, taking a step closer to her.
Nina looked distinctly uncomfortable. "You've been friends with the others for much longer," she reminded him. "You and Torrance go right back to before school started, and you had that crush on Orchid in first year -"
Scorpius winced. "Don't remind me."
"– and I was the latecomer," she continued, looking at him significantly. "I came into the group when you all knew each other so well already, you had your own inside jokes and I – well, I was the outsider."
"You may have been then, but you're not anymore. You're part of the group now, Nina."
"It hasn't felt that way these past few months," she said shortly. "With Orchid and Torrance being so secretive, and Jem so wrapped up in – basically everything to do with school, and you running off places without telling anyone where you're going..."
Scorpius was still staring at her. "I've had stuff going on, Nina. With my mum and – everything."
She held up a hand, still avoiding his gaze. "I know that. But still – things have been different. Too different. And, frankly, I don't… feel safe anymore."
"You don't trust me?" Scorpius said quietly.
Nina bit down hard on her lip. "I don't know, Scorpius, OK? I don't know what kind of things you get up to. Maybe you and Orchid and the others thought it would be funny, maybe…"
"You can't really believe that I would do that, Nina! I've never had a problem with you being a Muggleborn, I -"
"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about," she cut across him, her features hardening. "A problem. Why would my being a Muggleborn be a problem at all?"
"It's not," Scorpius said, biting his words out in frustration. "That's what I'm saying. No one buys into that rubbish about Muggleborns and blood traitors anymore -"
"Yes, they do." She looked up at him. "You know they do."
He was silent for a moment. Then, at last, "But I don't, Nina."
"How do I know that?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips. "Your father was a Death Eater, after all…"
Scorpius's jaw tightened, and he took a step back from Nina, feeling suddenly cold. "My father. Of course this comes back to him."
"I'm just saying that it's not completely inplausible for you to have some of the same beliefs as he does! Scorpius, your family is kind of notorious for their blood prejudices…"
"I am not having this conversation." He turned away.
"It's the truth!" Nina insisted. "How can you expect me to trust you, Scorpius?"
Scorpius swung around to face her. "Because I'm not my father," he snapped. "And you, of all people, should know that."
"I do. Or at least, I thought I did." Nina scowled at the fiery streak of sunset visible through the windows to their left. "But I don't really feel like I know you anymore."
"So Rose Weasley's your new best friend, then?" Scorpius demanded, an edge to his voice. "You trust Weasley, but you don't trust me? Is that it?"
Nina opened her mouth as though to hotly deny what he had just said, then shut it, looking thoughtful. When she looked back at him, her eyes were hard. "Yeah. That's it." Turning and hoisting her book bag onto her back, she walked away briskly, down the corridor. Scorpius's jaw clenched as he watched her go.
"I couldn't help but overhear…" a familiar voice from nearby said tentatively, and he glanced over his shoulder to see that Rose Weasley had just emerged from the library.
"Weasley, now really isn't the best time," he bit out. Rose, however, frowned after Nina's figure.
"Why is she angry at you?"
"I don't think that's any of your business."
"It is if she's been spending her time with me instead. I was wondering why she was so friendly all of a sudden…" Rose looked slightly disappointed. "It had to be because she fell out with you lot."
"Don't fret, Weasley. I'm sure you have plenty of friends of your own." But there was a flash of unexpected hurt in her eyes at those words, and Scorpius felt curious despite himself. He deliberated for a moment before continuing, "Besides, why would you want to be friends with Nina, anyway? It's not like you have anything in common."
"We do," Rose Weasley said softly. "More than we realised."
She looked at him, and Scorpius looked back at her, and there was something in her light blue eyes that made him feel a little uncertain – just for a moment, a heartbeat of charged silence. Then it passed.
"I should go," he said shortly.
"I heard about your mum," Rose said as Scorpius turned away. He stopped, and she caught up with him, standing in his path. "She was sighted in France. At least, people think they saw her. How do you feel about that?"
Scorpius stared down at her in disbelief. "How do you think I feel, Weasley?" He brushed past her, knocking into one of her shoulders in the process. "I would appreciate it if you stopped interfering. I know it may not be in your nature to do so, but none of this is your concern. It's mine."
"It is too my concern," Rose said petulantly. This time, she did not attempt to pass him out again, and he did not bother turning to face her. "You said we'd work together, Malfoy."
"That doesn't mean we have to start telling each other everything," he snapped. "Leave me alone, Weasley – I mean it this time."
A silence. Then, a moment later, Scorpius heard her footsteps fade away down the corridor. He did not turn.
"Where are we going?" Summer Birchgrove giggled, putting her delicate little hands up as though to undo the blindfold, but James grabbed them in his own, grinning.
"None of that, now. You promised, remember?"
"I didn't," she insisted with another giggle, but he tugged her along anyway, down the third-floor corridor. When they reached the statue of the one-eyed witch, he dropped one of her hands, flicked his wand and muttered, "Dissendium." Summer started beside him, and he squeezed her hand.
"Hold on tightly," he murmured, and she gave a little squeal of feigned fright.
"Where are we going?" she demanded again, hearing the grinding of stone as the statue was pushed aside. James stepped in first, then gently led her in by the hand, into the darkness.
Once they had reached the bottom of the steep slope, he lit his wand and gently reached up, removing Summer's blindfold. She gazed up at him, then around at the walls of the tunnel around them, her eyes wide with excitement.
"We're in one of those secret passages to Hogsmeade, aren't we?" She gave him a little shove, attempting to look stern. "I'm a prefect, James. I'm not supposed to use these."
"Even to enjoy a romantic evening in the village?" He raised his eyebrows, and her expression softened. "With your charming boyfriend?"
"I wasn't aware that you were my boyfriend," Summer said coyly. "Thought that was just a rumour."
"No, it's true." The Quidditch captain leaned in closer, returning her smile. "And now you get all the benefits of dating James Potter. Don't you feel lucky?"
"Careful," Summer teased, her smile widening as she wound her arms around his neck. "Anyone might think you were conceited."
"Conceited? Me?" James assumed an expression of utter innocence. "I am a paragon of humility."
"And I really should be getting back -" Summer began half-heartedly, but he silenced her with a long, deep kiss. When they broke apart, her eyes were shining into his.
"So, Hogsmeade?" James said lightly, lifting one eyebrow.
"Hogsmeade." Summer's arm wrapped around his back as they turned and walked down the passageway, and James Potter felt quite pleased with himself.
"What are you writing?" Albus, who had just plopped into an armchair beside hers in the common room with a gloomy expression, did not seem to care much about the reply, but Rose gave it anyway.
"A letter to Hugo. I haven't talked to him at all since everything that happened with Andromeda – since our stupid argument, really – and I figured I'd better start making an effort." She cast a sympathetic glance at her cousin from where she was sprawled on the hearth, a length of parchment before her. "How are you?"
"Fine," Albus said unconvincingly. He was silent for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder at the other occupants of the common room. Cassie was seated beside the window, hugging her knees and staring glumly out at the growing dusk. "Speaking of arguments…"
"I know," Rose said, her voice hushed as she followed his gaze. "I've given up on trying to make things right with her, though. She seems to just want to be angry at everyone." She looked back down at her letter, but seemed reluctant to write any more. At last, she propped herself up on her elbows and met Albus's gaze. "Did you know she liked James?"
Albus blinked. "No, actually." He glanced at Cassie again, then sighed. "But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After all, he's… well, James. You think that's why she's so angry?"
"I don't know. Maybe." Rose shrugged, almost knocking over her ink-bottle. She returned to her letter after a moment's silence. For some time, the only sounds were the scratching of her quill, the rumble of conversation and the gentle tap-tap of winter rain against the windows.
"She's jealous of you, I think," Albus said quietly, after such a long pause that Rose had almost forgotten what they were talking about. She squinted up at him. "A lot of people are, you know, Rosie. You're so good at – so many things."
"So are you," she pointed out. "I don't see Cassie blowing up at you for that."
"It's different." He folded his hands in his lap. "All I'm saying is, don't give up on her completely, Rose. I know what it's like to live in someone's shadow, and… it's not fun."
Rose gazed at him, but did not prod him for answers. She set down her quill, having finished the letter. "It's not my fault if she feels like she's in my shadow," she said defensively. "But… I won't give up on her." Moving forward, she reached out to touch her cousin's hand. "You shouldn't give up on Summer, either, Al."
But he shook his head, and she thought she saw the glitter of tears in his bright green eyes. "I should have given up on her a long time ago."
(***)
Rose sat cross-legged on her four-poster bed, the hangings drawn around her. Her wand was lit, and she gazed at the little glass vial that she had stolen from Potions, clouded with the rippling silver of her memory. That was where she had placed it, after James had fetched her out of Hobspawn's office.
She could not believe how much lighter she felt, now that the memory of the wedding had been removed from her mind. She still remembered what had happened, of course, but the details were more vague – blurry, and they did not pain her as much as before. That was what she needed. Perhaps she might actually get some sleep tonight.
Tucking the vial into the pocket of her robes, which she folded at the end of her bed, Rose pulled the bedclothes back and snuggled down underneath her sheets, extinguishing the light of her wand. She had delivered the letter to Hugo after her conversation with Albus. The knowledge of that made her lighter, too – she felt sure that he would reply soon, and perhaps they could finally put their argument behind them.
Discontent still lurked in the corner of her mind when she thought of Cassie, however. When she had returned from the Owlery, her friend had still been there, sitting in the common room, its sole occupant. The look she had given Rose had discouraged her from attempting to make any conversation, and she had proceeded up the dormitory alone. Even now, an hour later, she had not heard Cassie come in.
Spending time with Nina was so much easier than talking to Cassie – so much less complicated. She had not forgotten the Slytherin girl's words to Scorpius; she had not denied that she and Rose were friends now. That made her smile, even though she now knew that Nina had only warmed to her because she had fallen out with the other Slytherins. It was enough, for now.
Rose sighed into her pillow. It had been a strange few days. All that trouble she had gone to, sneaking into Hobspawn's office and examining her own memory, almost getting caught – had been for nothing. Well, almost nothing; she had learnt that the Malfoys were in debt. But what possible use was that knowledge to her now? If she told Scorpius what she knew, he would probably never speak to her again.
She hadn't found out who the Auror Andromeda had mentioned was. There had been five on duty at the wedding, and she couldn't have monitored them all at once. Maybe if she examined her memory again, dissected it, pieced it apart – perhaps then, something would become clear…
Rose's breath caught, and suddenly she was sitting bolt upright in her bed, the sheets in a tangle around her as she stared into the darkness. Oh, Merlin.
There had been five Aurors on duty that night at the wedding – but another Auror, too, who hadn't been there to guard her family, but for another reason entirely. As a guest. The best man, no less. She had seen him talking to Andromeda minutes before her mother was poisoned. But it couldn't be – he had been Teddy's best friend for years, surely Andromeda couldn't have meant him when she told Rose that someone had a wand on her grandson at the wedding -
Your devastatingly handsome Auror brother. That was how Jackie had described him to Penny. Rose shook her head, unwilling to believe it. But the terrible conclusion was crashing over her like a wave upon sand, all-encompassing…
Geoffrey Alderton had helped to poison her mother.