Disclaimer: Copyright JK Rowling
A/N: Not much to say here. A little progress in this chapter on the shipping front, so just... enjoy :)
Chapter 16: The Boy, Part 1
The Minister for Magic was sitting at his desk, enchanted sunlight streaming in through his windows, in the middle of reading a report on a particularly suspicious disappearance of one of his members of staff when he heard a tentative cough.
"Yes, Gamp?" he said wearily, without looking up from his parchment. The ugly wizard in the portrait that hung in the corner of his office had been appearing more and more discomfited since the Azkaban breakout; Percy was often interrupted from his work by ominous mumblings and reports on the Muggle Prime Minister's mood.
"She's not looking happy, Minister," Gamp had tutted to him only yesterday, having returned from his portrait at the Prime Minister's office looking paler than usual.
"You don't say," Percy had bitingly replied. Normally he would have been politer, but the strain of the past few weeks had been getting to him. The first Azkaban breakout since the War, and under his watch.
Worse still, it had culminated in the escape of Astoria Malfoy, drawing even more attention to the high-profile case that had attracted so much attention in September. Letters were flooding into the Department every day protesting her innocence. The Quibbler had even published an article suggesting a mass conspiracy against Ministry Obliviators that was being headed by Percy himself – to 'bring down the system from within'. Ordinarily such tripe would not have concerned him – it was The Quibbler, after all – but in recent months, support seemed to have grown for some of the views that the magazine presented… particularly the one that involved a mass Ministry conspiracy.
There were certain types of people who liked to imagine elaborate conspiracies when things went wrong, Percy bitterly reflected. Those people were making his first term of office particularly difficult. Nowadays, even the writers at the Prophet, who had been supportive of him during his campaign (a small part of him acknowledged the fact that he was a Weasley as a contributing factor to their support) were calling him 'the next Fudge'. This particularly stung Percy, though he never let it show. Being compared to that infamously incompetent Minister was his worst nightmare.
The fact that the Hogwarts inquiry had ended so inconclusively hadn't helped matters. But that was a whole other kettle of Plimpies, and one with which his Senior Undersecretary was currently dealing. The recent disappearance of his Junior Assistant had Percy's full attention at the moment. Randall Bradley, an enthusiastic but rather hapless young wizard, had vanished on his way to the Ministry two days ago, and the Prophet had already seized on the incident.
Percy had thrown his copy away this morning without even reading it; a gesture which had shocked Gamp with its recklessness. He did not care – one glance at the front of the paper, which held a huge photograph of Bradley's smiling young face, and Percy's stomach had turned. He had spent the whole morning going through the details of the Aurors' investigation, in a haze of shock and guilt. Only a few days ago, Bradley's cheerful prattling about his newborn niece had been a great source of irritation to Percy – and now…
No body had been found yet, he reminded himself. But a strange symbol had been found in Bradley's house, painted on the wall. A symbol which had been plaguing him more and more often in the past few months. It had been in Astoria Malfoy's empty cell when he had visited Azkaban shortly after her breakout, it had been discovered in Derek Podmore's office when he was arrested for revealing details about the wizarding world to a Muggle reporter, and the Aurors stationed at Hogwarts had reported sightings of it in the castle and the village. His researchers had revealed it to be an old symbol for truth, but Percy was still at a loss as to why it kept cropping up in the investigations.
"Er… Minister?" Gamp was speaking to him now. He sounded even more alarmed than usual. With a sigh, Percy wrenched his eyes from Harry's latest report from the Auror Office and raised his eyebrow at the portrait.
"The… er… the Muggle Prime Minister…"
"What is she doing now? Throwing things at you?" Percy straightened his horn-rimmed glasses and folded his arms.
"Not quite yet, Minister. She has…" Gamp had paled, and he was staring at him. "She has requested a meeting with you."
Percy rose from his desk so abruptly that he almost knocked over his chair. "What?"
"It is very rare," the wizard in the portrait agreed, smoothing his silver wig in an attempt to collect himself. "Not in two hundred years has - "
"Yes, yes. Tell her I am far too busy." Percy ran a hand over his jaw, shaking his head in disbelief. The Muggle Prime Minister wanted to meet him? Only last week had he visited her, following the Azkaban breakout, and she had seemed so disconcerted by his presence that he had ended the meeting early. No doubt she had grown accustomed to Shacklebolt's easy charm, and Percy's manner had jarred her.
"She is – rather insistent, Minister. Says that it is an urgent matter."
Percy frowned. For a moment, he considered sending Reeve instead, his Advisor; but undoubtedly that would only anger the Muggle Prime Minister further. Best to get this over with quickly; perhaps then he would not have quite as many daily interruptions from Gamp. Things must be dire indeed, if she were summoning him.
"Tell her I will be there presently," he said at last, sitting at his desk once more. Looking relieved, as though he had expected the Minister to put up more of a fight, Gamp left his portrait.
Once Percy had finished reading Harry's report (the details did not sink into his distracted mind quite as they should have), he rose, strode to the fireplace and scattered Floo Powder on the dying flames. One sickening, spinning journey later, he came to a halt in a considerably larger fireplace, made of fine marble.
Attempting to fix a neutral expression on his features, Percy Weasley stepped out of the fireplace, brushed the ash from his robes and faced the Muggle Prime Minister.
A tall, middle-aged woman with grey-streaked brown hair, she looked even more weary and harried than when he had seen her last. Percy would have sympathised if he were feeling more charitable. She was standing in front of her desk, arms crossed, and glaring at him, not a hint of fear in her eyes. All hostility.
"I can only stay for a minute," he informed her after shaking her hand, not bothering to keep the impatience out of his voice. "As I told you before, the happenings of the wizarding community are entirely my responsibility. Should they concern your population in any way, I will visit you, not the other way around…"
"I was driven to this, Minister," she interrupted. With a dry laugh, she spread her hands. "I don't desire this meeting any more than you, believe me. But I've been answering questions for the past week on the security of our prisons. The opposition have seized the opportunity to accuse us of over-spending on education. They -"
"With respect, Prime Minister," Percy cut across her, "I have enough of my own government's pressing issues to deal with. If this is all you wish to discuss…" He turned towards the fireplace, cloak flaring, but she hurried forward and grabbed hold of his arm. Outraged, he turned back to face her, reaching instinctively for his wand.
"That is not all," she said sharply, looking only a little cowed at the sight of his wand. Releasing his arm, she stepped back to a safe distance. "There have been protests, Minister. All over the country. The escape of this woman, this Astoria Malfoy…"
"I assure you, she is not highly dangerous."
"My people don't know that." The Muggle Prime Minister stared at him. "Some are attributing her escape to our negligence. I can handle that – but the ones who are accusing my government of some kind of conspiracy -"
"Conspiracy?" Percy felt a chill run down his spine.
"I am glad that you appreciate the seriousness of this matter, Minister." There was a hint of satisfaction in the Prime Minister's tone at his surprise. "These protests – they're like none I have ever seen before. Vicious, and widespread, and organised… I think some of your kind must be involved."
"That can be easily dealt with. The Obliviators -"
"Don't appear to be doing enough." The Prime Minister was steely-eyed now, her jaw set, and Percy blinked at her assertion. "You have told me that your so-called Obliviators are good at clearing up messes to do with your kind – but can you explain to me why more and more reports of unexplained incidents have been filling the newspapers recently? There are some people who have been interviewed – I've even spoken to a few myself – who say that they remember. They all remember these strange things that have happened to them; a woman vanishing into thin air before their eyes, a fire-breathing creature sighted in Wales…"
Percy now felt very cold all over, but maintained a façade of calm as he faced the Prime Minister. "As I have said, our Obliviators will deal with that. I don't have time to read your newspapers, but I can assure that my support staff keep my updated on all matters Muggle by the day. Now, if you'll excuse me -"
"That's not enough," the Muggle Prime Minister repeated, her eyes flashing. "My people are in danger, and my government is being blamed for your security problems. You need to take decisive action, Minister. If this Astoria Malfoy woman can cause so much trouble, what happens when someone more dangerous breaks out of your prison?"
"Azkaban is well-guarded," Percy snapped. "Break-outs are extremely rare; we haven't had one since -"
"Since your war. I know. Your predecessor – Shacklebolt - told me." The Muggle Prime Minister took a step closer to him. "He also told me that your Ministry used to have much more efficient guards on this prison. What were they called… Dementors?"
"Yes. I assume Shacklebolt also told you that Dementors are extremely dangerous and disloyal creatures, and have thankfully diminished in number since the War. Bringing them back to guard Azkaban would have disastrous consequences."
This was not the first time that Dementors had been mentioned to Percy, however. There had been whispers all over the Ministry, ever since Astoria Malfoy's escape. It was as though some scale had been tipped, and suddenly the multitude of ethical reasons that Dementors had been removed twenty years before did not matter. People could not help but wonder if Astoria Malfoy would have escaped her cell had the Dementors had still been guarding Azkaban. Hearing the same argument from the Muggle Prime Minister's lips now gave Percy Weasley no small amount of discomfort.
It was ridiculous, really, that he should feel so threatened by a Muggle. It should have worked the other way around; it had, up until now. But he could not deny that the fact that even she, who was so ignorant of his world, was urging this move… scared him a little.
"This discussion is over," he said firmly, fixing the Prime Minister with a stern gaze. "Do not contact me again."
She moved forward again as Percy swept to the fireplace. "Weasley." He was surprised that she even remembered his name when she had been so unimpressed by him at their previous meetings. "I may not know about flying broomsticks and magic wands. But I know politics. You've a problem on your hands, and it looks to me as though the only way to fix it is to make a bold move." The Prime Minister crossed her arms, stony-faced. "Get these Dementors back. Show your people that you can protect them. You won't last too much longer in office if not."
Percy had too much dignity to bristle at the warning, and smiled tightly instead, adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses. "Good day, Prime Minister."
He did not look back as he climbed into the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of green flame.
His Advisor, Stewart Reeve, was waiting for him when Percy returned to his office. The older wizard looked even more grim than usual, and watched as the Minister for Magic strode to the window without so much as a nod, tense with anger. "What did the Muggle want?"
"To advise me on how to run my country," Percy said with a snort. "Among other things. Most of which included telling me a lot of information that I knew already, and spewing some half-baked nonsense about Dementors. A waste of time."
"Dementors, Minister?"
"Yes. She thinks I should reguard Azkaban with them. Ridiculous." Percy glowered out the enchanted window, which now revealed a clouded sky that threatened rain. To reflect his mood – to reflect everyone's mood. "As if she knows anything about those creatures."
His Advisor was silent for so long that the Minister for Magic spun around to face him. "You're not going to tell me…"
"It should be considered, Minister," Reeve said carefully. "If Blaise Zabini stages another breakout -"
"His involvement is not yet confirmed," Percy said stiffly. "Besides, there would be public outcry, Reeve! Are you mad?"
"Maybe I am, Minister." Reeve folded his arms, stared down at the floor. The colour seemed to have leached from his sharp features. "But it seems to me that the Muggle might have a point. Dementors are the only thing that will guarantee full security now. There's no Dark Lord for them to swarm to now, so their loyalty…"
"… is still just as questionable!" Percy looked at his Advisor hard. He suddenly had a dreadful sinking feeling. "Where's this coming from, Reeve?"
The older wizard finally met his gaze. "Blaise Zabini's involvement in Astoria Malfoy's escape may not be confirmed, but his involvement in your Junior Assistant's disappearance is. The Aurors just discovered Bradley's body a few minutes ago. There was another one of those symbols painted nearby, and – a message from Zabini himself."
"What message?" Percy's throat was dry.
Reeve swallowed. "Antonin Dolohov. That was all it said."
"A warning," the Minister for Magic whispered. He reached out and clutched the edge of the desk, Bradley's innocent young face flashing through his brain. "He will free Dolohov next if I don't do something."
"What, Minister? What will you do?"
"I don't know." Percy Weasley stared bitterly out at the beginning rain. "I don't know."
The snow crunched under Rose Weasley's booted feet as she and Albus emerged through the snow-laden firs to see the village of Hogsmeade spread out before them, a collection of curved white rooftops framed by the majestic mountains that soared behind. Laughter tinkled before them and behind them as students chased each other along the path, wrapped up tightly against the bright, fierce cold.
"Well, thank Merlin they're over with, anyway," Rose remarked to her cousin as they entered the village. "I was having nightmares about the Transfiguration exam, but Broadmoor's questions were quite fair." She heaved a contented sigh, stuffing her gloved hands under her arms for warmth.
"Looking forward to going back home?" Albus turned his head to look at the festoons of mistletoe that bedecked the shop windows they were passing.
"Yes," Rose said, a little too quickly. "Of course. You'll be coming to the Burrow too for Christmas Day, right?"
"Of course." Her cousin smiled. "That's always my favourite part of the holidays – spending the day in the Burrow. Granny Weasley's stuffing is unrivalled."
"It can get so crowded, though," Rose countered. At Albus's look, she shrugged. "I dunno… there are just a lot of us, you know? A lot of Weasleys. And - Celestina Warbeck."
He snorted as they passed in through the door of the Three Broomsticks. "True enough. It's the same every Christmas, though, isn't it?"
"Maybe that's the problem." Rose frowned.
"Or maybe you just hate people."
"You're awfully snarky today," she accused, giving him a little shove as they joined their classmates at one of the tables near the bar.
"The Christmas spirit must be catching on," Jackie Saunders remarked cheerfully. She was leaning back against her Ravenclaw boyfriend's shoulder, their gloved hands joined. "I hope someone got me new earrings."
"You've only hinted about fifty times," Penny Alderton said with a smile.
Cassie Miller raised her hands. "If anyone's wondering what to get me, I would love the new Sirens album." She caught Rose's raised eyebrow and grinned. "And no, subtle hinting is not my strong suit."
They had not quite made it up since their argument, but things had almost returned to normal between Rose and Cassie – at least when they were among their other friends. Rose returned her friend's smile and curled her fingers around the warm goblet of Butterbeer that Rory Finnigan had just set down before her. "So, are you all going back home for the holidays?"
She was greeted with a series of nods. Only Luke Rokonski, Jackie's handsome boyfriend, shook his head. "My parents are going to the Caribbean with my little brother, so I'm staying here."
Jackie hummed in sympathy and squeezed her boyfriend's hand. "Hope you won't get too bored."
"He won't be the only one staying," a voice from behind them said. Turning, they beheld James Potter, who had his arm slung around Summer Birchgrove's shoulders. She was looking radiant as ever, her cheeks glowing from the cold. Rose noticed that Cassie's expression soured, and Albus simply smiled blandly, without turning his head to look at the couple.
"Are you staying, too?" Jackie said with some surprise.
"Briefly considered it," James conceded with a shrug, "But my mum would throw a fit. Summer is, though."
His girlfriend smiled at them all in turn, her expression a little unsure as Albus still refused to meet her gaze. "A few of my friends are, too, so I won't be alone. I just love Hogwarts at Christmas."
There was a chorus of agreement, particularly from the females of the group, and then James cut through the din once more, shaking his head at Rory's offer of a seat. "No thanks, we're going on to Madam Puddifoot's." (Rose noticed that Albus's knuckles had turned white as he gripped his Butterbeer.) "I was actually wondering if you've seen Lily."
No one had seen Lily Potter, for she had left the castle earlier than her classmates, stomach fluttering with nerves, and hurried along the path to the village with her hood up, hoping that the damp air would not ruin her elaborately-curled hair, hoping that the knitted sweater dress she was wearing was not too baggy on her, hoping that the makeup she had so laboriously applied that morning was sufficiently subtle yet noticeable at the same time, hoping that her words would not fail her during the date…
Carlos Santini was waiting for her outside Honeydukes, looking handsome as ever, his dark hair neatly gelled, a green scarf knotted around his neck that set off his olive skin nicely. Lily, who had expected him to be late, came to a halt, flustered, as the sixth-year caught sight of her and straightened, smiling.
"Hullo," he said, briefly taking her hand and sending a thrill coursing through her. "How have you been?"
"I – er – fine," Lily stammered, struggling to meet his gaze. Her palms were already sweating through her gloves. "You?"
"Very well, thank you." Carlos gave her one of those admiring glances that always left her feeling a little dizzy. "Would you like to go for a walk?" With one hand, he indicated the path ahead that led out of the village, winding into the foothills of the snow-covered mountains.
"Of course," Lily breathed, then paused as he started to walk ahead. "But…"
"What is it?" His brow was creased with concern now as he turned to face her.
"My brother, James," she said apologetically. "If anyone sees us together, he'll find out, and I don't want him to – yet. It's just – he can be a little over-protective. And he's not your biggest fan, either."
Carlos nodded. For a moment, she thought she caught a glint of mischief in his dark eyes, then it was gone, and he was looking at her seriously. "I understand. I'll make sure he doesn't see us when we come back."
Lily felt herself blushing under his gaze, but continued nonetheless. "It's not that I care what James thinks. It's just - " she forced herself to speak the next few words, to meet his deep brown eyes, " – I like you a lot, Carlos, and I don't want him to spoil things."
The sixth-year stepped closer, his lips curving up in a crooked smile. Lily felt her breath catch as he reached out, tenderly tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, cool against her warm cheek, then dropped.
"I like you too, Lily," he said at last, his eyes still fixed on hers. "A lot." His smile widened.
"Why?" she heard herself say, before she could help it.
Carlos blinked, thrown off for a moment. "Well – why not?"
"You're older," she said quietly, scuffing her toe in the snow beneath her. "And there are plenty of pretty girls in your year who you could go for – who aren't in Gryffindor."
"They aren't you," Carlos said softly, and Lily had difficulty meeting his eye again. "You're not only the prettiest girl I've ever met, Lily… you're the smartest, too. Not to mention that you're fantastic at Quidditch. I've liked you since the moment I first saw you."
Was that why you broke my nose at the match? a painfully pragmatic voice in the back of Lily's mind demanded, but it was soon drowned out by the intoxicating warmth of Carlos's sweet smile. He had apologised for that… He hadn't meant it. It had been done in the heat of competition.
Finally, Lily returned the sixth-year's smile. "Thank you – Carlos."
"I meant every word," he replied warmly, offering her his arm. She took it, and they set off down the path together, the village disappearing behind them.
"Was that Nina Meyer?" Albus said curiously as he, Rose and Penny passed a knot of girls crowded outside Gladrags who were examining the festive displays of holly-adorned robes.
"Yeah," Rose said nonchalantly.
"And did she actually just smile at you, or was I imagining things?"
His cousin rolled her eyes. "She's not that bad, you know. We've been studying together."
"I'm aware." Albus shook his head in disbelief. "Well, I suppose people can surprise you."
"I don't think I've ever seen her smile before," Penny said candidly.
"Maybe I just bring out the best in people," Rose said smugly as they entered Honeydukes, a wave of chocolate-scented warmth embracing them. The shop was thronged with students, and they squeezed around a group of boys ogling a stack of Cockroach Clusters. "One of my many talents."
"Sure, Rose. Just keep telling yourself that." Albus stopped at a shelf laden with Chocolate Frogs. "Hmm… I wonder if they have any Ptolemys left…"
"I will never understand your obsession with collecting Chocolate Frog cards," Rose declared. "I mean, I don't want to be staring at my parents' faces every time I munch on some chocolate. It's rather off-putting…"
She trailed off as she spotted Scorpius Malfoy down the aisle, gazing down at a barrel packed with Fizzing Whizzbees. The sight of him was strangely comical – maybe because of the look of intense solemnity on his pale face as he regarded the sherbet sweets.
Rose could not resist. She sidled up to him, arms crossed over her chest in a casual air, and said offhandedly, "Those things only make you float if you chew on them, you know, Malfoy."
He jumped, and his grey eyes landed on her, surprised. "My cousin likes them," he hastened to explain, as though his being partial to Fizzing Whizzbees were just too undignified a notion to bear. "I was trying to figure how many would make a decent present."
Across the aisle, Jeremy Sharpwood, a Cauldron Cake in his hand, was watching Rose suspiciously. She met his gaze calmly, before turning to Scorpius again. "You're not one for elaborate gifts, then, I take it?"
Scorpius glanced over at his friend, then back at her. "My cousin's only seven," he said, a little defensively. "I don't think he's expecting anything spectacular."
"You have younger cousins?" Rose feigned interest; she was having trouble suppressing a smile at the look of discomfiture on Scorpius's face at their prolonged conversation. "Other than Tobias, I mean? I didn't know that. What are their names?"
"Will and Samuel," he muttered, turning back to the barrel as though hoping that she would take the hint. Rose, however, was enjoying herself too much to leave. Peering over Scorpius's shoulder at the Fizzing Whizzbees, she then leaned her hip against a bare strip of wall next to the display.
"Those are nice names." She glanced at Sharpwood again, who was now watching her and Scorpius with a look of extreme puzzlement. "So, either of you have any special plans for the holidays?"
Decisively, Scorpius set down the packet of Fizzing Whizzbees. "No, nothing special. Jem, let's go."
Without looking at her, he moved away from the barrel. Sharpwood cast another wary glance at Rose before joining his friend's side.
"Won't your cousin be disappointed?" she called after Scorpius, but both Slytherin boys ignored her as they exited the shop. Unable to contain her amusement anymore, Rose smiled broadly, and turned to see that Albus and Penny were both staring at her with raised eyebrows.
"So now…" Albus said slowly, "You're friends with Malfoy and Sharpwood as well as Nina Meyer?"
"They didn't want to talk to her," Penny observed. "I think she was trying to annoy them."
"I have to get my fun somehow," Rose said, with a shrug. "Either of you getting anything?"
When the other two shook their heads, they left the shop once more, stepping out once more into the unforgiving cold. Rose was still grinning to herself when she caught sight of a fair-haired Auror across the street, hurrying with his head bent against the wind.
Geoffrey Alderton. Her stomach dropped, and she was suddenly breathless. Glancing at Albus and Penny, who had not seen him and were already moving away, Rose slipped back behind the shopfront of Honeydukes, cursing as a hanging of ivy tangled itself in her unruly hair. She pulled it out, roughly, then, with another glance around the corner to ensure that neither of her friends had noticed her absence yet, hurried in the same direction that the Auror had just disappeared.
Suddenly it was all flooding back – the conclusion that she had come to almost a fortnight ago, after re-examining her memories. It had flummoxed her at the time, but the stress of the impending Christmas exams had quickly taken over all of her waking moments, and the matter of Geoffrey Alderton had faded to the back of her mind.
No one would have believed her if she had told them about it, anyway. Well, James might – but he was so wrapped up in Summer these days that they rarely spoke. As well as that, Rose could not help but feel that it was her right to keep some secrets. James certainly did not tell her everything she should know, so why should she extend the same courtesy to him?
Now, as her gaze alighted on Geoffrey Alderton again, slipping around the side wall that surrounded the post office, Rose could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Here she was, only a few feet away from the wizard who had a hand in her mother's poisoning… whose threat to Teddy had driven Andromeda to do what she had done. That part she still found hard to believe – he and Teddy had been training as Aurors together since they left school, they were best friends…
Lately, Rose was feeling more and more that she knew nothing. Reaching for her wand, she cast a Disillusionment Charm around herself and crept forward, following Geoffrey Alderton around the side of the building. Footsteps suddenly sounded nearby, and she pressed herself back against the wall as Orchid Ottelby swept past, only a few inches away. She did not so much as glance at Rose.
"Just you today?" Geoffrey Alderton said in a low voice as Orchid came to a halt in the stretch of bare, snow-covered grass behind the post office.
"I thought it would attract less attention if Torrance stayed behind," Orchid said haughtily. Nearby, Rose felt a chill shiver down her spine. Of course, she should not be surprised that those two were mixed up in this. Ottelby and Bole.
"None of your friends suspect, then?" the Auror said.
"No," Ottelby said coolly, and Rose sagged, surprised how relieved she felt that Scorpius was not involved. "We're careful."
"So have you got something for me?"
Nodding, Ottelby reached into her pocket and drew a length of parchment out. Rose strained to see. It looked like a list of names…
Geoffrey Alderton suddenly straightened, holding out his hand to prevent Ottelby from saying anything else. "We're not alone," he muttered.
Rose needed no further warning. Abandoning all caution, she spun on her heel and darted around to the front of the post office again, then sprinted back down the street as fast as her legs would carry her, drawing her wand again to strengthen the Disillusionment Charm as she went. Squeezing her eyes shut, heart thudding painfully in her chest, she hoped – she prayed – that they had not seen her, that they were not following…
Only when she had reached the safety of the Three Broomsticks did she finally halt, panting, and stagger into the warm tavern to rejoin her friends, her mind still reeling from what she had seen and heard.
"Where did you go?" Albus said curiously. He and Penny had rejoined the table of Gryffindors in the corner. Rose collapsed into the free seat, still breathing hard.
"Forgot my gloves," she managed to say, and the others nodded. When she looked up, however, Cassie was watching her from across the table with narrowed eyes. It made her feel oddly guilty, and she stared down at the surface of the table once more. Lying again, are we, Rose?
"Lily!" Albus called out, and Rose was relieved to see a distraction arrive in the form of her younger cousin, who was wending her way around the crowded tables towards them.
She looked especially pretty today; her hair was curled, and she was wearing a pretty grey sweater dress. In addition, her cheeks were aflame, and she looked rather sheepish as she stopped before their table. "What is it, Al?"
"James was wondering where you were earlier," her brother said, looking at her thoughtfully. "Is everything all right?"
"Fine, fine." Lily made to move away again, but Jackie Saunders, still clutching her boyfriend's hand, made a crowing noise.
"I know that look," she said slyly. "You were on a date, weren't you?"
"I was not!" Lily pouted as there was a chorus of oohs at the table. Only Albus looked vaguely displeased. "OK, so maybe I was. But it's none of your business."
"Of course not," Jackie said smoothly, then leaned forward eagerly in her seat. "Who was it? Steven McCubbin?"
"No."
"Clarence Gudgeon?"
"No…"
Jackie paused. "Don't tell me it was Nicholas Hornby. You can do so much -"
"Jackie," Rose broke in firmly. "Lily obviously doesn't want to tell us. Leave her be." As her cousin smiled at her gratefully, however, Rose turned and mouthed tell me later. Rolling her eyes, Lily crossed the tavern to join her friends by the window.
"I'll find out," Jackie said confidently. "There are only so many blokes in Hogwarts, after all."
"And I wish you well in your quest," Albus said, his expression slightly pained, "But there are some things I don't particularly enjoy discussing and one of them is my sister's romantic life…"
The sound of her friends' voices started to fade into the background, and Rose found herself staring at the circle of damp that the goblet before her had made on the wooden table. Her gaze strayed once, twice, to Penny, who was sitting demurely and doing her best to look as though she were part of the conversation, making the occasional tentative contribution. With her heart-shaped face and short little bob, the witch looked sweeter and more innocent than ever, and Rose felt a pang of sympathy for her. If she knew what her brother was really up to… it would crush her.
Suddenly, she did not want to look at Penny anymore, because it made her too sad. Excusing herself, Rose stood and went to the bathrooms. She did not see Scorpius Malfoy rise from his table, grim-faced, and cross the tavern to follow her.
She had just stepped inside to the inner hallway with the row of marked doors when he caught her arm, causing her to turn in alarm.
"What was all that about?"
"All what, exactly?"
"In Honeydukes. Coming up to me. Acting like we were friends." He spat out the last word as though it disgusted him. "We're not friends, Weasley."
"That was the joke," she said flatly. "Now, I was sort of planning on going to the bathroom…"
"Joke?" Scorpius stared at her incredulously. "You think what we have going on is a joke?"
Very slowly, Rose prised his hand off her arm and then raised her eyebrows at him. "What we have going on?" she repeated, very carefully.
A dull flush coloured Scorpius's pale features, and for a moment he seemed at a loss for words. Then, "You know what I mean. Alliance, agreement, arrangement… call it what you will, but it is not a joke, Weasley, and it most certainly is not a friendship."
"Right, because you'd know so much about friendship," Rose muttered, unable to help herself.
"What's that supposed to mean?" A muscle tensed in Scorpius's jaw as he watched her.
"Only that perhaps you should choose your friends more carefully," she said snidely, the image of Ottelby conversing with Geoffrey Alderton still fresh in her mind.
He was suddenly dangerously close, and glaring down at her, his grey eyes fierce. "I've been exceptionally patient with you, Weasley. I've stood by as you go about stealing one of my closest friends, but I will not let you -"
"You think I stole Nina?" Rose shook her head in disbelief, a humourless smile breaking across her lips as she met his hard gaze. "You drove her away, Malfoy."
"Oh, but you have nerve," Scorpius breathed, his grey eyes glinting into hers. "You really enjoyed making a fool of me in Honeydukes today, didn't you? I bet you had a good laugh about it with your friends. Because everyone is just there for your amusement, isn't that right, Weasley? You spoiled little princess."
"Don't call me that," Rose whispered.
"What, princess?" Scorpius smirked savagely, leaning even closer, so that she could feel his cool breath fanning her cheek. "It's what you are, isn't it? Everything's always just fallen into your lap. But has it ever occurred to you that things aren't quite so easy for the rest of us? For me?" He straightened, the height difference increasing the space between them, and Rose found that she could breathe more easily again.
"It was just a joke," she said again, and Scorpius snorted.
"I don't care."
Turning abruptly, Rose swung away into the bathroom and left him standing there, slamming the door behind her. When she re-emerged, some minutes later, he was gone.
The Great Hall was splendid to behold. Twelve towering Christmas trees crowded the vast room, garlands of holly bedecked the tables and swathes of ivy and mistletoe draped the walls. Above, the enchanted ceiling showed a fine purple dusk that seemed to reach its arms into the castle to touch the faces of its occupants in a cold glow.
"It was easier than I expected," Carlos Santini informed Torrance Bole, with the barest hint of a smirk on his face. "Much easier."
"Can't say I'm glad to hear that," Torrance murmured, casting a glance towards Lily Potter at the Gryffindor table and thinking of his ten Galleons.
"I'm not surprised," Orchid interjected, leaning across her plate of roast potatoes. "What girl can resist the charms of Carlos Santini, after all?"
"What are you going to do when her brother finds out?" Jem said in a low voice, following Torrance's gaze to the Gryffindor table. "He'll kill you."
Santini shrugged. "I can take James Potter."
Scorpius, who was beside Orchid, simply stared at the people around him – his friends – and wondered when he had stopped understanding them… when they had started changing. Or if it were him that had changed. Rose's words echoed in his mind. Perhaps you should choose your friends more carefully.
Damn it – when had he started dwelling on things that Weasley had said? Scorpius speared a potato on his plate with unnecessary force. It wasn't as though she knew anything about him… or his friends.
His eyes found Nina, who was eating a little distance away from his friends. Her face was a mask, emotionless, and he wondered, for the umpteenth time, how she could think so little of him. How she could trust Weasley and not him.
"What's wrong?" Jem's eyes were on him; he realised that the others had gone silent. Scorpius shook his head, staring down at his plate again.
"Nothing."
Jem exhaled, a little impatiently, and then Santini made a scoffing noise. "Go on, Scorpius. Spit it out."
Slowly, Scorpius raised his eyes to meet those of the Quidditch captain – dark, calculating.
"Fine. I think you're disgusting." His gaze left Santini's, roved over Orchid and Torrance's faces, and Jem's. "All of you. Making some bet over a girl you don't even know. Acting like she's not even a person – like she doesn't have feelings."
"She's just a -" Torrance began, but Scorpius scraped back his chair, rising to his feet.
"Disgusting," he said again, and strode away from the table, not caring who had seen or heard.
Jem caught up with him as he was entering the dungeons. "What has gotten into you?" he demanded.
"Me?" Scorpius raised his eyebrows at his friend. "I'm the one with the problem here? How about you, making a bet that Santini will shag some fourth-year? Since when do you stoop to his level?"
"I made a bet that he won't shag her," Jem corrected him, blinking through his glasses. "It's just a bit of fun, Scorpius."
"Right. A bit of fun between you and Carlos and Torrance. May I remind you that a few months ago, you despised Carlos as much as I did?"
"I never despised him." Jem shook his head. "You know, maybe if you could get past the fact that he's captain of the Quidditch team and you're not…"
"Then what, Jem? What?" Scorpius glared at him. "Maybe if you could get past agreeing with everyone and actually have a mind of your own, you'd see how twisted he is."
Jem flinched at the insult, and when he spoke again, his voice was more subdued. "This is about Weasley, isn't it?"
"This has nothing to do with her."
"Then why were you talking to her in Honeydukes today?" Jem paused, then clicked his tongue. "First Nina, now you. You realise what she's doing, Scorpius? She's getting to us, one by one. Some strange kind of…"
"Do you even hear yourself?" Scorpius scoffed. "Look, I'm not friends with Weasley. She's just gotten the idea into her head that we might be."
"That so?" Jem shrugged his shoulders, dropping his eyes. "Well, I suppose I should get back to the others. Seeing as I don't have a mind of my own."
"Jem, wait." Scorpius followed him as he started back towards the Great Hall. "I didn't mean - that part – I just -"
"No, you meant it." Jem's voice was cool, and he didn't turn to look at him. "You know, at least Torrance and Carlos have a sense of humour. Your doom-and-gloom act is getting pretty old, Scorpius. And it's really not what I need right now."
Scorpius pulled up short, swallowing as the words cut through him. "What do you mean, right now?" he heard himself say.
"It's nothing."
"No, really. Jem, what is it?"
Exhaling loudly, the other wizard turned, and Scorpius saw, with a shock, that his friend's eyes were suddenly moist. "My dad's sick," he said tonelessly. "Really sick. Like might not make it through the next six months sick."
"How long…" The words died on his lips. Scorpius ducked his head. "I didn't know, Jem. You should have told me."
"You didn't ask," Jem said coldly.
"How was I supposed to -" He broke off again. "I'm sorry."
"Just leave me alone." His friend resumed walking, and this time, Scorpius did not follow.
"I couldn't find you all day." Rose halted just outside the portrait hole on her way back from dinner, to see James standing there.
"I was with Summer," he said with an apologetic smile. "Say, do you remember the password?"
"I think it's bauble." The Fat Lady swung open accommodatingly, but Rose reached out to catch James's arm. "I need to talk to you."
"Oh?" His face darkened as he met her gaze properly. "Is it bad?"
"Pretty bad." Glancing around to check that the corridor around them was empty, Rose then took her cousin's arm and led him away, out of the earshot of the portraits.
"Well?" James regarded her sombrely once they were alone.
She hesitated, gnawing on her lip, then blurted out, "Geoffrey Alderton helped Andromeda to poison my mother."
"What?"
James was utterly silent as Rose explained about 'the boy' Andromeda had spoken of the night she died, what she had seen in the memory, and then in Hogsmeade today. "Ottelby and Bole are helping him do something," she concluded. "Maybe the symbols painted around the school were their doing – maybe they were behind the Manticore planting too, and the werewolf attack. It makes sense, after all."
Her cousin was staring at the opposite wall, his eyes distant. "I still can't get my head around this," he murmured. "An Auror – one of my dad's Aurors…"
"I know." Rose swallowed. "And we don't have much proof yet. But we need to tell Hobspawn as soon as possible."
"He won't be back from the Ministry until tomorrow morning. They're wrapping up details about the inquiry." James frowned deeply, still processing all that she had told him.
"So tomorrow morning, then. I'm sorry you had to find out like this."
Rose took James's arm, for he seemed to need some support at present, and steered him back towards the portrait hole. Neither of them noticed the figure that shifted slightly in the gloom of the corridor as they passed.
Penny Alderton stepped out from behind a suit of armour when their voices had faded, a hand at her throat, her face white as a sheet. Her brother. Her brave, noble brother. It couldn't be true.
The disjointed hooting of the owls only served to disorient Scorpius more. He stood beside one of the open windows, hands resting on the stone sill as he listened to the rushing of the wind outside. He breathed fast, trying not to think of the expression on Jem's face – the way the colour had drained from it, the catch in his voice as he had talked about his father…
Merlin, he had been stupid.
"Oh, it's you."
Turning, Scorpius saw that Rose Weasley had just entered the Owlery. Her hair, damp from a shower, tumbled around her face in messy curls. She was clad in pyjamas – a pair of plaid trousers, slippered feet and a navy cardigan draped loosely around her shoulders. Somehow it made her look much younger. He wondered that she didn't freeze.
"Don't worry, just posting a letter," she said pointedly, brandishing the parchment envelope in her hand. "I won't try to talk to you or anything."
She moved among the owls, fixing the envelope to the claws of one and freeing it through the window. The fruity scent of her shampoo reached Scorpius where he stood in silence. Only when he heard Rose's slippered feet padding away across the stone floor did something within him urge him to speak. He did not exactly know why – maybe because he did not want to be alone right now (for once), maybe because everyone seemed to be angry at him these days.
"I'm going up to the Astronomy Tower," he found himself saying. The sound of Rose's feet against the stone faltered.
Silence, then, her voice, dryly prompting, "Would you like some company?"
Scorpius finally turned to look at her. She was watching him, head slightly tilted. "Yeah. You might want to grab a cloak, though." He eyed her plaid trousers dubiously. "It's going to be cold up there."
Unexpectedly, the corner of Rose's mouth twitched upward. "I think I can handle it."
Some minutes later, they were sitting on the cold stone of the Astronomy Tower, the darkness arrayed around them. Above, stars were beginning to twinkle into life in the velvety sky, some obscured by wafting cloud. Rose leaned back on her hands to watch them.
"A bit of a late hour to deliver a letter," Scorpius remarked. He sat a short distance away, closer to the parapet at the edge of the tower, where he had a slightly better view of the night sky beyond the dark shape of the vast, hulking forest.
"Yeah." Rose was quiet for a moment. "I only decided at the last minute, when I was about to go to bed. It was for my brother."
"Ah, Hugo. How is he?" He was surprised to find that there was not a single hint of irony in the question.
"I wouldn't know." Scorpius glanced at her as she grimaced. "He hasn't written back… for a while."
"Oh."
"Yeah." There was a rather uncomfortable silence for some minutes, then Scorpius heaved a sigh.
"Listen – about today…"
"You don't need to apologise," Rose interrupted, adjusting her position so that she was sitting cross-legged instead. "I was trying to get a reaction out of you. In Honeydukes. Bored, I suppose. I thought it was funny at the time, but I suppose it wasn't, really."
"No, well..." Scorpius drummed his fingers against the stone for a moment. "I shouldn't have called you a princess. You're not."
"Er – thank you." Rose rubbed her hands on her arms to warm them. "So what were you doing? In the Owlery?"
He shrugged. "Just needed to think. I had a... stupid row with Jem."
"What about?"
"He has things going on at home." Scorpius glowered out into the darkness. "And – I was too wrapped up in my own problems to notice."
Rose sighed. "Tell me about it." At his glance, she flushed a bit. "I've been the same. With everything that's been going on in the school this year – apparently I've been all secretive, running off places without telling anyone why, and some of my friends are feeling… well, uninformed. But there's a good reason for it – why I've been keeping these things to myself." She dug her fingers into her hair, combing through it absentmindedly.
"Are you going to tell your parents about everything?" Scorpius asked quietly. "When you go back for Christmas?"
"I have to, don't I?" Rose hugged her knees, suddenly anxious to change the subject. "So what are you doing for the holidays?"
"Well…" Scorpius breathed the night air in deeply. He could still smell her shampoo, a faint tang that lingered next to the rich scent of pines that drifted up from the forest, and the old, dusty smell of the castle. "I don't think my dad wants us to be alone – without Mum, I mean. We'll probably go to the manor and spend Christmas with my grandparents. That's what we used to do every year when I was small, until Mum put her foot down." He smiled slightly, unconscious of Rose's gaze as he watched the faint silver glow on the horizon that foretold moonrise. "I was glad, really. It's a big place, very lonely. Christmas in the townhouse always seemed more cosy, somehow."
"Where is your townhouse?"
"London. It's near the Leaky Cauldron."
"My house is on the Welsh coast. Big, rambling place." She sketched a vague shape in the air with her hands. "A few miles from Holyhead. I think we'll be spending Christmas Day in the Burrow, though. Like we always do." At his questioning look, she elaborated, "My grandparents' house. Where all my aunts and uncles and my dad grew up. We always have family reunions there. It was a safehouse during the War."
"It must get pretty crowded," Scorpius said absently, for the prospect of spending two weeks in cold, dusty Malfoy Manor still loomed in his mind.
"Oh, yes. It does." Rose adjusted her position yet again, shifting so that she was kneeling on the stone. Scorpius cast a bemused glance at her.
"Are you comfortable there?"
"Yeah," she said. "Just - thinking." She folded her hands in her lap, then turned her whole body to face him, rather abruptly. Coils of red hair had settled on her shoulders, some strands clinging to her cheeks, which were flushed with cold. "You said earlier that this is most certainly not a friendship." Scorpius found himself smiling at her seemingly unconscious imitation of his stern tone. "But could it be?"
His smile abruptly faded. "Could it be what?"
"A friendship." She sounded unsure now. Wary, as though she expected him to snap at her. (Well, could he blame her for expecting that?) "We're talking like friends."
"Yes. I noticed." Scorpius suddenly regretted having started this conversation.
"So – Scorpius," she said. His first name sounded strange on her lips. "Could we be friends?"
He frowned down at the stone floor. "I don't know, Weasley. We're – er – very different."
"I'm not asking you to marry me," Rose said, an impatient note to her voice. "I just – think it would make things a lot easier, you know? If we stopped pretending to be enemies – because that clearly isn't the case anymore – and just acknowledged that we have things in common."
"The way you've done with Nina?"
"The way I've done with Nina," she said staunchly. "Or are your House prejudices too strong to overcome?"
"I don't have House prejudices." Scorpius scowled. "But, Weasley, it's just a bit more complicated than that. My friends hate you, for a start. And I doubt any of your friends feel all that differently about me – particularly since most of them still think my mother poisoned yours. And as for our families…"
"I know, but we could…" Rose trailed off, moving again so that her back was resting against the same parapet he was leaning against. "Merlin, it is bloody complicated, isn't it?"
Scorpius, unsure of what to say (as he often was these days with Weasley), remained silent. The pair stared into the velvety darkness for a long moment, then Rose gave a little gasp beside him.
"What is it?" He watched with a frown as she sprang to her feet. She did not answer for a moment, holding her palms upward, and took a step until she was leaning on the parapet, right on the edge of the tower. Scorpius opened his mouth again, but then he felt it – the scratchy softness of the drifting white snow that was suddenly whirring past his face, illuminated by the silvery wandlight.
With a little sigh of exultation, Rose turned her face up to the sky and shut her eyes. The flakes were settling everywhere – on her still-damp curls, on her neck, on her eyelashes, on her flimsy cardigan – and all she could hear was the swoosh as the snow fell over Hogwarts, blanketing the old stone and muting all sounds. Her feet were soaking, and her skin tingling all over from the sharp knives of cold that penetrated her thin layers of clothing, but Rose felt a deep warmth spread within her, a steady, floating contentment that she had not felt in weeks… possibly months.
She heard Scorpius begin to murmur an incantation behind her, and swung around, her hair whipping her face as she did so. "Don't cast an Impervius charm!"
He raised an eyebrow at her, batting away a stray snowflake that was drifting past his eye. "You're shivering, Weasley."
"That doesn't matter," Rose insisted. "You've got to feel the snow."
"I had no idea you were such a romantic, Weasley," Scorpius said dryly, but he lowered his wand all the same. The expression on Rose's face – one of pure, unbridled joy that he had never seen before – gave him the sense that they were standing in a shrine, and to disturb anything with a spell would be the greatest irreverence imaginable. Slowly, he unfolded himself from his comfortable position by the parapet and made his way to where Rose was standing.
A hush seemed to be falling over the whole world, and she was revelling in it. Tipping her head back, causing her mass of red curls to tumble down her back, dotted with white flakes that were rapidly melting, she closed her eyes again. A fevered flush was spreading across her cheeks, and her knuckles tightened on the parapet. With a sudden clarity, Scorpius realised that she needed this – Weasley needed this – and perhaps he did, too.
So there he stood in silence for quite some time, by her side, until the flurry of flakes receded, and they were left in dull darkness once more.
"I bet you're not feeling quite so poetic now," Scorpius remarked as they descended the stairs in the Astronomy Tower. Rose was clutching herself and shivering, her teeth rattling. The snow was melting in her hair and she was beginning to look like a drowned rat.
"I regret nothing," she said, though her statement was somewhat belied by her rattling teeth. "Just n-need to get b-b-back to the common room."
"I'll walk you."
"And where's this streak of ch-chivalry coming from?" Rose demanded, raising her eyebrows at Scorpius as they reached the bottom of the tower.
"Prepare yourself for another shock." Reaching to the clasp at his neck, Scorpius unfastened it and took off his cloak. He moved behind Rose and draped it around her shoulders, his fingers brushing against her back as she did so. When he moved to face her again, she was gazing up at him, her blue eyes swimming with torchlight, and for once he couldn't think of anything clever to say. Everything seemed rather faraway, a hush prevailing in his ears.
"This is your cloak," Rose said quietly, reaching out to tug the fabric more tightly around her shoulders.
Scorpius smiled a little. "I'm aware." Some part of him knew that they should be walking now, back to Gryffindor Tower and then to the dungeons, but he did not want to move, for whatever reason.
"Thank you." Her eyes dropped, and she smiled too, though it was more rueful than his. "I could have just done a drying spell."
"But you've got to really feel the cold, Weasley," Scorpius teased, feeling some semblance of normality returning to him. "Don't you?"
"Oh, do shut up." She stepped out of the tower door, pushing past the tapestry and into a narrow, winding corridor. He followed close on her heels.
"Rose…"
She wheeled back, surprised that he had used her first name, and saw that a sudden solemnity had come over Scorpius's features as he watched her. "What? What is it?"
"You were wondering if we could be friends." He paused, his grey eyes thoughtful. "I think we could try it. Despite all the – complications."
It was Rose's turn to feel lost for words – because there was something in his voice... She twisted around again so that she would not have to look at him and gave a nonchalant shrug. "If you think it's worth it."
"I do."
"Well – good." His cloak smelled nice, she thought absently. Like pine-needles and polished wood. She gathered it more closely around herself – for warmth, of course – suddenly very conscious of his steady tread a few paces behind her. "Lavender," she blurted.
"Pardon?"
Recovering her composure, Rose slowed her walk, fixing him with what she hoped was a normal gaze. "It's my middle name. Lavender. If we're going to be friends, you should – er – know."
Scorpius made a small noise which sounded like something between a laugh and a cough, then hastily re-adjusted his expression to look appropriately serious. But he couldn't help himself. "Rose Lavender?"
"Laugh all you want," she said haughtily. "I quite agree. I've wanted a different middle name all my life – it was my worst grievance at the age of five. They could have called me Rose Ginevra, after my aunt – that would have made a lot more sense – but no…"
"I thought nothing could be worse than my own middle name," Scorpius said, grinning as he shook his head. Catching her glance, he said reluctantly, "Hyperion."
Rose screwed up her face for a moment as though trying not to laugh, then shrugged. "It's not too bad."
"Right. If you're naming a constellation." Scorpius's smile faded. "I'm named after some proud Malfoy ancestor, no doubt."
"My middle name came from friend of my parents'," Rose said quietly. "She used to go out with my father, actually. Died in the War."
"She must have been important to him." Scorpius watched her with a slight frown.
"No. She wasn't – at all. It was actually my mother who insisted on it. I still don't really know why." She paused. "I think it was because – because she thought everyone deserved recognition. For the part they played in the War, and… everything."
"A noble sentiment."
When Scorpius came to a halt beside her, Rose looked around to see that they had reached the portrait hole. The Fat Lady was peering at her curiously. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, she turned to Scorpius, shrugging the heavy cloak off her shoulders. "Er – thanks for the…"
"No problem." He looked just as confused as she felt, the torches throwing shadows across the smooth planes of his face as he took the cloak back. "Have a good holiday."
"You too." Rose watched as Scorpius turned and walked away down the corridor, past the clumps of holly that dotted the walls and into the gloom. Just before he disappeared around the turn, his voice floated back to her.
"Merry Christmas, Weasley."
"Merry Christmas," Rose responded softly, wondering why her face felt hot all of a sudden. She had stopped shivering, too.
"Unusually chivalrous for a Slytherin, he is," the Fat Lady commented, her eyes slightly narrowed as she watched Scorpius's figure disappear into the gloom. Rose half-smiled.
"My thoughts exactly."
Geoffrey Alderton scrambled out of bed as the door to his chamber scraped open, holding up his wand up, his face set like stone. When the light fell on his late visitor, he froze. "Penny? How in Merlin's name did you get in here? The doors are…"
Penny was trembling in her dressing gown, much as she tried not to show it. "Rose Weasley thinks you're behind her mother's poisoning," she said, her words tripping each other in their haste. "At Teddy Lupin's wedding, months ago. You need to get out of here before she tells anyone else - "
The colour had drained from Geoffrey's face as he stared at her, and her heart sank a little at the sight. Any semblance of hope she'd had of his innocence was quickly dissipated.
"Penny, there's an explanation," he said at last, his face downcast. "I - "
"I don't care," Penny interrupted, surprised at the harshness of her own voice. She had never spoken to her brother like this before. "She has something on you, Geoff. You need to get out of the castle, now."
He stared at her for a moment more, as though he were looking at a stranger, then nodded, dropping his gaze. His voice was quiet, resigned when he spoke. "There's a passage on the third floor. If I can slip past a few of the others who might be on guard, I can leave through the village."
"Good. I'll go with you to the entrance."
Geoffrey shook his head. "Penny – it's past curfew…"
"I'm making sure you get out," she said firmly. "Come on."
Once he had pulled on some robes and hastily packed some essentials, brother and sister slipped out into the darkness of the Aurors' quarters. Penny did not look at her brother as they edged along the wall, wands held at their sides. She felt the thrill of being the one who gave orders, for once – the one who was obeyed. But at the same time, Rose Weasley's words kept echoing in her mind.
Geoffrey Alderton helped to poison my mother.
But there was an explanation. He'd had a reason. She just didn't know it yet.
And even if he didn't – well – he was her brother.
Only when they had reached the hidden entrance on the third floor did she turn to Geoffrey again, crossing her slender arms on her chest. "I'll always be here. You realise that, don't you?"
He stared down at her, a darkness in his eyes that seemed to only grow and grow. "Yes. Penny, I swear - "
She held up her hand, feeling a rare certainty within her. "No matter what you've done," she went on, her voice cracking only a little, "or what kind of people you've involved yourself with, I'll always be here for you. Because we're all that's left now. You and me. And Mum."
There was the glitter of tears in her brother's eyes, but he did not say anything. Instead, he hugged her tightly – an embrace which lasted all too briefly – and then he was moving into the stone passageway, the entrance shutting off behind him with an immense shudder that Penny felt sure must have woken the entire castle.
In case it had, she ran.