A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews for the past few chapters! They really mean a lot. I want to assure any of you who might be wondering that I intend on continuing this story as far as I've planned it, which comprises approx. fifteen more chapters. Obviously there can be no guarantee for this kind of thing, but I will try my absolute best to see this story through to the end, because I want to tell it all and I'm hoping that you want to read it all!

A brief refresher: James and Summer had a big argument before the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match, as did Lily and Santini. Scorpius got a Memory Potion off Professor Nott, the Potions master, back when he and Rose were going off to Knockturn Alley to find his father. Scorpius's mother, Astoria, was broken out of Azkaban by this gang called the Truthseekers, and she warned Scorpius that his father is involved with them. Cassie got very drunk at the match afterparty and was mean to Rose. Penny Alderton attacked Tony Mason, the Hufflepuff Keeper, after the match on Orchid and Torrance's orders and was found out by Albus, who says he'll keep her secret... For now.

Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling

Chapter 21: Changes

Dusk was settling over the narrow, cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, but Draco Malfoy was in no hurry to get home. No one would be there to greet him in the dark, empty townhouse; that was, assuming that Blaise Zabini hadn't decided to pay him a visit. Draco almost hoped he had; he was that starved for human company these days. He hadn't spoken to anyone properly since his conversation with his son by Floo last week (the goblins and Bill Weasley at work did not count) and it was beginning to drive him over the edge.

Even Scorpius's sullen presence in the house at Christmas had been such a relief to Draco. It had been hard to say goodbye to him when the time came for him to return to school, harder than ever before, undoubtedly because of Astoria's absence this year.

Knots of witches and wizards lined the streets, talking in small, sombre groups. Draco gave them a cursory glance as he passed by, wondering what the latest shocking news was. He didn't particularly care; it probably had something to do with Zabini's crowd. Everything seemed to, these days.

Draco shook his head as he stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and back into the Muggle world, having replaced his cloak with a coat. If this did concern the Truthseekers, it meant that they were finally coming out of hiding. Zabini had told him that this would happen, but he hadn't really believed him. He had found it hard enough to believe that Pinkstone was back in the country permanently; the only time he had met her since all this had started was when she had been posing as the old runologist in Knockturn Alley, Moribund.

As he made his way along Charing Cross Road, Draco began to notice something strange. On street corners, in doorways, at bus stops, beneath the awnings of busy restaurants, solemn groups of Muggles were gathering, talking together in low voices like the wizards and witches in Diagon Alley that Draco had just observed, their faces drawn with worry. He heard the words terrorists and King's Cross repeated more than once, and finally, even he was curious.

Coming to a halt at the open door of a public house, Draco glanced inside, at the large television screen that dominated much of the back wall. A crowd of Muggles had gathered before it, muttering amongst themselves, and on the screen Draco saw footage of one of the platforms of King's Cross Station on a busy afternoon.

A train pulled up, and in the next shot, clouds of smoke rose into the air as cloaked figures disembarked from the train, causing the hordes of Muggles on the platform to scatter with screams. Draco saw, with shock, that they had their wands raised – all this had been captured on camera. How was the Ministry going to erase this from Muggle memory? He pressed forward instinctively, further into the pub, and was jostled by several other newcomers who had the same idea, all staring at the news screen.

The footage cut off, returning to the announcer, but then, in the next instant, Draco felt his stomach plunge. His wife's face filled the screen, frozen horribly in one of those still Muggle photographs. It was soon followed by an image of Blaise Zabini, then that fair-haired traitor Auror who had been at Hogwarts, then several more individuals whom Draco did not recognise, and finally, Carlotta Pinkstone. She was relatively young in this photograph, staring insolently into the camera, and lingered on the screen for much longer than the rest.

At last the report ended, the announcer moving on to another topic, but squinting, Draco followed the writing in a moving bar at the bottom of the screen, which read: London police say three arrests have been made after a violent demonstration in King's Cross Station this morning.

"Shocking, isn't it?"

Draco started, realising that this was directed at him, and turned to see a dumpy Muggle woman with grey hair standing beside the bar. Her eyes were fixed on the news screen, and she shook her head slowly. "Thank goodness no one was hurt. Those smoke bombs can cause some real damage."

"Yes," he agreed calmly, making to turn away. "Thank goodness."

Something in her voice held him there for an instant longer. "But the police are lying. No arrests have been made yet. I doubt they'll ever find the people who are responsible for this."

"Why do you say that?" Draco couldn't help asking, as he watched the woman.

She turned to look at him, and there was something in her eyes... "Because they've got magic," she said, very quietly.

Draco stared at her for a long, long moment. Then, in a hiss, "Astoria? Is it you?"

"Not here," she said forcefully, as he moved to embrace her. Her eyes returned to the news screen. "It's not safe."

"Have you been following me?" Following her lead, Draco looked back at the television screen, though it pained him to look away from her, even when she was in disguise. He hadn't seen her for weeks… Months.

"Didn't you know?" she replied, and Draco frowned.

Now that she mentioned it, there had been moments… Uncanny moments when he had been returning from work, when he had felt the back of his neck prickle and turned to see nothing but an empty street behind him – or, once or twice, a shadow darting into a doorway. He had always assumed it was one of Zabini or Pinkstone's underlings, keeping tabs on him, but it had never given him a bad feeling. And now he knew why.

"Come home," he pleaded in a whisper, after a moment's silence had passed between them, broken only by the hum of Muggle conversation.

Astoria swallowed, and did not seem quite equal to meeting his gaze for a moment. "You know I can't do that, Draco."

"I'll make it safe for you," he promised, but she shook her head.

"You have visits from Truthseekers every other day. I know you do, Draco. What happens if one of them recognises me? They've been looking for me since I was broken out."

Draco said nothing. He couldn't deny the truth of what Astoria was saying, but something inside him had been deeply wounded by it all the same. Perhaps it was the feeble hope that he had been nursing for all this time: the hope that Astoria would return to him, and things would return to normal. He would have his family again.

Her next words tore him apart. "You chose them."

"How can you say that?" he breathed. "Astoria, I did this all for you."

"I asked you not to. I warned you." Her voice was low, bitter. "You didn't listen."

"I couldn't." Draco stared at her. "I couldn't have just left you there in that cell, Astoria."

"I was safe there." His wife's fist clenched by her side.

"Safe? In Azkaban?"

"Safer than I am now."

"Astoria - "

"You shouldn't say my name here." She cast a glance around the crowded pub, ever alert. "I have to go soon."

"Wait, please." He reached out and took her arm. She didn't shrug off his grip, but turned to look at him. "When will I see you again?"

"When will you stop working for the Truthseekers?"

"It's – it's not like that." Draco felt his heart beating harder under her appraising gaze. "I'm protecting you, and Scorpius."

Astoria shook her head, her eyes sad as she regarded him. "You know that's not true. Not really."

Draco was silent. He removed his hand from her arm, the skin on his forearm tingling as though in memory, and she averted her gaze again.

"I told you," he said at last. "I told you I hadn't changed."

"I didn't believe you then." Astoria gave him a long, hard look. "Now I do."

"Settle down, please, everyone!" Professor Harris looked rather flustered, having entered the Charms classroom a few minutes late on Tuesday morning to find it in utter chaos. Various books on the shelf behind her desk had sprouted wings and were whirling through the air, loose pages fluttering to the floor, and most of the class was gathered in a large group at the back of the classroom, chattering all at once. "Now – I understand that you must have a lot to talk about, after the news this morning, but we must get on with things."

In a matter of seconds, she had returned the books to their shelves, the errant pages following after. It took rather longer, however, to restore her students to their correct places. When at last they were all reluctantly seated at their desks, in near silence, Professor Harris began to speak again.

"Now, as you know, the midterm exams are coming up." Ignoring the collective groan of her students, she continued, "For your Charms assessment, half of your overall grade will be determined by a class test, and the other half by a project. I will be dividing each of you into groups of twos and threes, and every group will be assigned a different topic to research and present before the class in two weeks' time. You may – Miss Weasley, please - " Rose, who had leaned over to mutter in Albus's ear, blushed and cast her eyes downwards as the professor continued, " – you may choose these groups among yourselves."

The class broke into chatter once more, this time concerning the groups. Rose looked over at her cousin expectantly, on the point of suggesting that they form a group, but found that he had already been claimed by Jackie Saunders and Rory Finnigan.

"Hullo, Rose," the former said cheerfully, as Rory sat on his friend's other side. "Any plans for Valentine's Day?"

Rose was not particularly grateful to Jackie for reminding her of the annually dreaded date, and so she replied, with more politeness than curiosity, as she gathered up her things, "No, how about you?"

Jackie smiled broadly, this being the desired response to her query. "Luke's going to surprise me when we get to Hogsmeade. He's been so secretive all this week, I know he's planning something special."

"That's lovely," Rose exclaimed as she gave Jackie her seat, hoping her insincerity was not as apparent in her voice as it sounded. With a barely audible sigh, she moved rather aimlessly across the classroom, dragging her things with her.

"Do you want to pair up?"

Turning, she beheld the Hufflepuff Keeper, Tony Mason, who was sitting at the desk she had just passed. He was smiling at her in a friendly, non-threatening way, indicating the seat next to him, and she slipped into it, attempting to hide her relief.

"Sure," she said, trying not to sound too eager.

"Great. I'd prefer to work in a pair than in a group of three, to be honest. And you're one of the smartest girls in the year, so I suppose I'm in luck."

Rose was flustered by this unexpected praise. "Thank you."

Tony Mason shrugged his broad shoulders. "It's the truth."

A rather awkward silence ensued as the rest of the class sorted themselves into groups, with the obligatory swapping, negotiating and, in some cases, downright pleading. Rose found herself watching Tony as he moved to put something in his bag. Not bad-looking, she reflected. Nice eyes, and a light dusting of freckles on his nose. His brown hair was cut quite short, which she liked. And those shoulders…

Without warning, the Hufflepuff boy turned to look at her questioningly, and she blushed.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing – nothing." Rose stared at the surface of the desk, wishing it would swallow her up.

He exhaled, and then said, more quietly, "I suppose you're wondering… about what happened to me last week, after the match."

She seized on the excuse gratefully. "Well, yes – but if you don't want to talk about it…"

Tony shrugged again, the smile faded from his lips now. "There's not much to tell, really. I don't really remember much, except, well, that it hurt. A lot."

"Merlin, I - I'm sorry." Rose was a different kind of embarrassed now. "How long were you in the hospital wing?"

"Just for a day or so. I wasn't injured or anything, you know, so it wasn't really a big deal."

"And you don't remember who it was?"

He shook his head. "Not a thing."

"Well," Rose said after a moment, in a lighter voice, "On the plus side, your team gave Gryffindor quite a thrashing."

Tony chuckled, revealing white, even teeth. "True. Hope you won't hold it against me."

"We'll see about that," Rose quipped in response, then, as the class began to quiet down, the rest of the students having finally settled into groups, she said eagerly, "Oh, I wonder what topic we'll get."

They found out soon enough. Professor Harris handed out slips of parchment to each group, and Rose smiled in satisfaction when they received theirs.

"A history of protective enchantments and their applications," she read out. "Fantastic!"

"Is it?" Tony asked, looking slightly bemused at her enthusiasm.

"Well, for one thing, the research part of it should be fairly straightforward," Rose explained. "There are all kinds of books in the library about protective spells. We can always order a few from Flourish and Blotts, too, if we need to. And for another, it's interesting! Fidelius Charms, Imperturbable Charms..." She trailed off as she noticed that Tony was looking at her thoughtfully and now it was her turn to say, "What?"

"I was just thinking you ought to have ended up in Ravenclaw." Tony smiled. "Swot."

And somehow, he didn't make that last part sound like an insult.

The slam of the dungeon door was loud in the Potions classroom, making Scorpius start in his seat, but when he looked around, he saw with some relief that it was only Rose. She appeared to be pleased about something as she came to a halt in the aisle, surveying the desks for an empty seat. The rest of the class having arrived some minutes earlier, there were few free places, Nina sitting beside Jem and her cousin, Albus, beside Jason Kloves, and Rose seemed to consider for a moment more before taking the seat beside Scorpius, at the very front of the class.

He nodded to her, and she smiled in response as she pulled her textbook out of her bag. "I thought I'd be late."

"Nott should be along soon," Scorpius muttered back as he shuffled through his notes. He was suddenly very aware of his friends' gazes. Nina and Jem would not be too surprised, but Orchid and Torrance, in particular, would be wondering why he had greeted Rose with nothing short of cordiality. Still, she'd had nowhere else to sit… and it wasn't like he had asked her to sit beside him…

"What are you looking for?" she chirped.

Scorpius sighed. "My essay on Golpalott's laws. I was sure I brought it with me this morning, and Jem just told me that the deadline's today."

"It's not," Rose said brightly. "Nott told us we should have it finished by today, but it isn't due until tomorrow."

"You're sure?"

She nodded, swinging her legs under the table. "Of course. I'm going to do mine tonight in the library."

"Isn't that leaving it a bit late?"

"Not really. I've got the sources and information, I just need to put it all together."

"Well," Scorpius said thoughtfully, "I could use a few extra sources. Why don't I join you?"

"Good idea." Rose was positively beaming now. "Meet you there after dinner?"

"All right."

"Great!"

At this exclamation, Scorpius turned his head and regarded Rose curiously. Apparently unconscious of his gaze, she was idly flipping through her textbook and humming under her breath. "What are you so cheerful about? Didn't you read the news this morning?"

"Y-yes," she said, her good spirits seeming to falter for a moment before she gave a little shrug, resuming her humming.

Scorpius stared at her. "And… don't you have anything to say about it?"

"Well, what can I say that will make any difference?" Rose took out her quill and began happily doodling in a corner of the page of her textbook. "The Obliviators will sort it all out, the Muggles will forget they saw anything at King's Cross, and we'll all be back where we were. Either way, it's not something any of us can control, so why bother worrying about it?"

"Maybe because you've met the woman who's responsible for it? The woman who also kidnapped your brother?" Scorpius was whispering now, though they couldn't be heard anyway over the noise of the class. "Who endangered your family?"

Rose put her quill down and turned to him deliberately. At least she had stopped humming now. "Scorpius, I'm nothing to her. The only reason she took any notice of me or Hugo in the first place was because we were poking our noses where they didn't belong."

"You don't know that."

"But I know this," she said patiently. "I'm sixteen, and it's about time I get back to worrying about things that normal sixteen-year-old girls should be worried about."

"You mean homework and clothes and parties and boys and…" Scorpius trailed off, suddenly feeling inexplicably irritated. "You're not like that, Rose."

"What's wrong with being like that?"

She looked at him questioningly, her blue eyes fixed on his, and he could not find an answer. After a moment, she released him from her gaze, picking up her quill again.

"They say that your years at school are the best ones of your life. That when they're over, when you leave… when we leave Hogwarts, we'll always want to go back; we'll always feel that we should have cherished our time here more. I don't want to feel like that. Like I missed out on something." Looking down at the page before her, she returned to her drawing. "I want to really enjoy being here, and…"

"I know," Scorpius said. At her glance, "I don't agree, but I know what you're saying." There was a pause, then he added, "But if these are supposed to be the best years of our lives, then I don't think there's much hope for the future."

It came out much more gravely than he had intended it to, and Rose frowned.

"Well, that's depressing."

Before he could reply, the door swung open again and Professor Nott entered. As the Potions master made his way to the front of the classroom, Scorpius glanced over Rose's shoulder to see what she had been drawing. It was a pretty poor attempt at the school crest; the Slytherin snake was not much more than a squiggle, and the Gryffindor lion was missing an eye.

The class seemed to drag on for much longer than usual that day, as there was no pairwork; Nott spent the entire time lecturing them on what potions he expected them to have prepared for their practical assessments at midterm. When at last they were dismissed, the chairs scraped back across the stone floor in unison and the eager buzz of conversation resumed. Scorpius was about to follow Rose and Nina out of the dungeon when he was stopped by Nott's voice.

"How's the essay coming along, Malfoy?"

Surprised, Scorpius turned to face the Potions master. "It's almost finished, sir."

"Good." Nott continued to look at him, as though he had something more to say. Uncomfortable, Scorpius shifted from one foot to the other, conscious of the fact that the classroom was empty now. At last, the professor said, more quietly, "Did you find some use for that Memory Potion that I gave you?"

Caught off guard, Scorpius spoke truthfully. "Er, no, professor, I never got around to using it."

"Oh. Indeed." Nott's face was expressionless, but Scorpius thought he could detect the faintest hint of annoyance in the professor's tone. "Strange, as I do recall you saying that you had some 'unpleasant memories' to forget."

"I lied." Once again, Scorpius surprised himself by speaking the truth. "The potion was meant for my father, sir, not for me. But as it turned out, he didn't want it."

That last part was not exactly true, however. Scorpius had never told his father about the potion; he had never considered giving it to him after finding out that he had not been taken captive by the Truthseekers, after all.

"Your father?" Now Nott looked thoughtful. "It does not surprise me that he had no use for that Potion."

"Does it not, professor?" Scorpius said, a little wearily. He had Transfiguration in a few minutes, and it was looking less and less likely that he would be on time for Professor Broadmoor.

"No," the Potions master replied, apparently oblivious to his student's increasing impatience to leave. "Your father is the kind of wizard who would prefer to remember than to forget, no matter how painful the memory. But you, on the other hand…"

"What about me?" Scorpius said defensively.

Nott looked at him in a still sort of way, and at that moment it became clear to Scorpius that the Potions master knew more – much more – than he had given him credit for.

"You were so young when it happened," Professor Nott said softly. "Your parents could have protected you from the memory of it."

"My mother always said that taking someone's memories is like taking a part of them away," Scorpius said firmly, though his heart was thumping in his ears. "From her work, she knew that it was not something to be taken lightly."

"And yet, if you believed that, you wouldn't have asked for the Memory Potion for your father, would you?"

"That was a mistake," Scorpius snapped back. "He didn't need it, and neither did I. I'd prefer to have all of my memories, too, like him."

"You expect me to believe you didn't even consider using the Memory Potion for yourself? Not once? You could have chosen what to forget, and what to remember…"

"No." Scorpius swung his bag onto his shoulder, glaring at Nott now. "I never wanted that. To forget." He started down the aisle, then turned around again. "Why bring this up now, professor? You gave me that Potion months ago."

"Did you read the papers this morning, Malfoy?"

"Of course I did," Scorpius said, recalling his conversation with Rose before class, then adding a pointed, "sir."

"If your mother were still working as an Obliviator, she would be busier than ever before at the present moment. Muggles all over the country are having their memories wiped as we speak. All to protect us, and even then it might not be enough." Nott moved back behind his desk, finally looking away from Scorpius. "Perhaps I agree with your mother, Malfoy. We are the sum of our memories, and losing one is akin to losing a part of ourselves. Perhaps reading that report in the Prophet this morning reminded me of your request, though it was months ago, as you say."

Even though he knew he was late for Transfiguration at this point, and Nott's words had been as good as a dismissal, Scorpius still found himself lingering on the spot. "It's not the same thing, professor. When we lose our memories and… when Muggles lose their memories. It's not the same thing."

Nott smiled grimly, and did not look up from his desk, at which he had seated himself.

"Isn't it?"

James Potter was not used to being ignored.

Of course, Albus had given him the silent treatment plenty of times before when they had been fighting, but with Summer, it was different. James was so accustomed to her hanging on to his every word, to those glowing looks she would send him when she thought he wasn't looking, to her warm smiles that seemed to be reserved especially for him, that when she had vacated the Great Hall that day after lunch without so much as a glance in his direction, it had been something of a shock.

Cassie was not speaking to him, either, since the night of the post-match party (a night regarding which there were astounding gaps in James's recollection to rival those of a Memory Charm), and Summer's friends frequently sent him glares and scowls in the corridors, which were both uncalled for, in James's opinion, and unpleasant. He had even started to notice Albus being distant with him, for some reason James could not fathom and didn't particularly want to.

"You should apologise to Summer," Rose had told him in the common room one evening.

"Why? I haven't done anything wrong."

His cousin gave him an exasperated look over her Charms essay. "Come on, James. You made fun of her in front of all of us and you made her feel bad for supporting her own House at the match."

"It's not my fault if she takes things that I say to heart," he retorted, but he knew that Rose's advice was the best he could hope for at the moment. His other friends, Lawrence and Philip, were no help whatsoever when it came to 'relationship stuff', and, to be fair, James would have been a little worried if they were; after all, they were his friends.

So the thing to do would be to apologise, but James was not going down that road. Oh, no. If he apologised to Summer, the next thing he knew, he would be carrying all of her books to class for her, escorting her to her common room every night after dinner and going on romantic walks and buying her things in Hogsmeade and following her around like a doe-eyed puppy. He would become one of those good boyfriends that girls cooed over, and that was the last thing James wanted. This thing with Summer was just a bit of fun. He had told her that from the start. Was it his fault if she hadn't listened?

During free period, instead of returning to the common room to polish his broom as James normally would have done, he found himself ducking behind a tapestry on the seventh floor in order to avoid Lisa Harvey, one of Summer's friends, who had given him an impressive glare in the Charms corridor earlier. It wasn't that he was afraid of her, or anything, but he could predict the feelings that would arise from such a repeat of that encounter, and they were disagreeably akin to those of guilt.

He produced the Marauder's Map, tapped his wand and murmured the required words, then watched Lisa Harvey's dot make its way down the staircase to the sixth floor. Giving the area around him another quick scan to check if any more loyal friends of Summer were about (wishing he had brought his Cloak with him), James made to lift the tapestry and then stopped.

The high, piping voice of a house-elf reached his ears from further down the corridor, and James frowned. Though the House-Elf Protection Act that his aunt had passed some years ago had removed the restrictions on house-elves' movement throughout the castle during the school day, he knew for a fact that most of the Hogwarts elves preferred to go about their business unseen and unheard.

So as not to scare the elf away, James remained behind the tapestry as the voice neared, and soon he began to distinguish two sets of footsteps, and the voice of another elf who was furiously shushing his companion.

"We are late!" the first house-elf was squeaking. "Late, late, late and Master will not be pleased!"

Master? James felt mildly alarmed. The Hogwarts elves were not supposed to have masters. No elves were, for that matter. If Aunt Hermione knew about this breach of house elves' rights, occurring right here in the castle, she would be livid.

"Quiet!" the other elf hissed. "We will be heard!"

Their hasty footsteps passed the tapestry, and James followed after them a moment later, unable to restrain his curiosity. He trailed them some way down the corridor, keeping as quiet as he could, until they came to a halt at last, and what James saw next set his heart pounding with excitement.

The pair of house-elves, both silent now, turned back and passed a particular part of the wall again. They did this one more time, and James watched in fascination as a small wooden door appeared in the wall, swinging open to allow them in. He hurried forward, but it had disappeared a moment later, and he felt a surge of disappointment.

Still, he could not keep the grin off his face. This was the Room of Requirement that his parents had told him so much about. They had thought it destroyed in the Battle of Hogwarts, and indeed, James had never had any luck in all of his years at school trying to reach it. Yet here were the house-elves, getting in so easily… He supposed it made sense, for no one knew the ins and the outs of Hogwarts better than the elves.

But who was the master they had spoken of? Who, or what, had been waiting for them inside that room?

Rose dropped her bag onto the floor of the dormitory with a sigh.

"Who's that?" came a muffled voice from the four-poster bed beside the window. Then the pale, tear-stained face of the speaker poked out of a gap between the drawn curtains, rendering any response unnecessary. "Oh. I thought it was you."

"Jackie, what's wrong?" Perplexed, Rose took a step towards the bed, but her roommate shrank behind her curtains again. "Why weren't you in Transfiguration?"

A loud sniff followed this inquiry, and Rose waited patiently, seating herself on the adjacent bed. At last, Jackie Saunders pulled the curtains of her bed aside and faced Rose head-on. Her eyes were puffy, brown hair dishevelled. "Luke broke things off with me."

"What? But I thought you two were fine."

"He's been so quiet this past week and I thought it was because he was planning something for Valentine's but – " Jackie hiccuped, " – it was because he wanted to break up!"

"Oh, Jackie…" Rose stood once more, moving to her roommate's side as she descended into tears. A little awkwardly, she put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"It was my fault," Jackie muttered through the hands that were now covering her face. "I didn't – spend enough time with him – I should have - "

"Well, you can't be expected to spend every minute of every day with him; it's school, for Merlin's sake…" Seeing that this line of argument was not much comfort to her friend, however, Rose changed tack. "If he broke up with you, Jackie, it's his problem, and not yours. You couldn't have been anything less than perfect."

Jackie sniffled loudly at this, and mumbled something. Rose went on patting her shoulder, unsure of what else to say (after all, she had never gone through a break-up herself, and was rather at a loss as to how one was to be comforted in such a situation), until, to her immense relief, the door of the dormitory opened.

Her relief was short-lived, however, for it was Cassie, balancing two steaming bowls on a tray with her wand. "The stew from yesterday was all the house-elves could spare," she said apologetically. Jackie was already sitting up eagerly, reaching for the stew with both hands.

"You're staying up here for dinner?" Rose asked Jackie.

"She doesn't want to run into Luke," Cassie explained. "So I got us something from the kitchens."

Rose did not acknowledge the other witch's words – did not even look at her – but simply stood from Jackie's bed, moving into the bathroom. She could sense Cassie's gaze, and it infuriated her. Why was she surprised that Rose didn't want to speak to her? After the way she had humiliated her at the party in the common room?

She splashed some cold water on her face and then stared at herself in the mirror for a few minutes while the girls talked on in the next room. She should go down to dinner, she knew, but she didn't want to face Cassie again as she passed through the dormitory, even briefly.

The sound of the door of the dormitory opening and closing gave her some hope, but then she heard the girls greet Penny, and her hand drifted away from the door handle once more.

This is stupid, she told herself more than once, but still she stayed where she was, listening to the rise and fall of her roommate's voices in the dormitory. When someone knocked on the bathroom door a few minutes later, it made her jump, for she had been lost in her own thoughts, gazing at her reflection.

"Rose?" It was Cassie. Of course it was Cassie. "You've been in there a while, and I sort of want to shower…"

Promptly, Rose unlocked the door and stepped out, brushing past Cassie without a glance. "Knock yourself out," she muttered, but her friend caught her arm, stopping her.

"What?" Rose demanded, turning back.

Cassie looked uncomfortable. Undoubtedly, the fact that Jackie and Penny were watching them silently from the corner of the dormitory had something to do with that. "This can't go on forever," she said at length.

"What, me ignoring you? I think you'll find that it can. At least until you apologise."

"I don't think I need to apologise," Cassie said wearily. "I was very drunk at that party, Rose. You can't hold me accountable for anything I said or did to you - "

"Bullshit," Rose snapped, and her roommates simultaneously flinched, for Rose Weasley was not known for using such foul language. "Anything we say or do while we're drunk is just an extension of what we'd normally say or do. It's all related."

"No, it's not. Look, Rose, you don't drink that often. You don't know an awful lot about it - "

"And there you go again. Do you realise how patronising it is when you do that?"

"She is sorry, Rose," Penny interjected. "Even if she won't say it."

This was ignored by both Rose and Cassie, who remained glaring at each other. Jackie watched them eagerly as she devoured her stew, momentarily distracted from her own distress. Had the door of the dormitory not opened then and there, admitting Lily Potter to the company, the stalemate between the two witches may have continued for a good deal longer.

"Rose, can I talk to you? Oh, er, I hope I'm not interrupting anything…"

"Nothing at all," Rose said pointedly, and with one final glare at Cassie, swept out of the dormitory after her cousin.

"I wanted to ask your opinion," Lily said hesitantly, as they passed through the common room.

"About Santini?"

"Yeah, how did you…"

"I heard about your argument. Before the match." Rose looked at her cousin sympathetically. "It sounds like he was pretty awful to you."

"See, that's the thing," Lily said slowly. "I thought so at the time, but looking back, I think I might have over-reacted a bit."

"Oh, I doubt that."

"No, I really do." Lily sighed as they stepped onto a moving staircase that began to carry them down from the seventh floor. "I was nervous about playing, and I thought Carlos might be trying to distract me, so that I'd be late for the match, but it was silly to think that. He was just trying to help me, even if he didn't go about it in the best way."

"Are you sure that's what he was trying to do?" Rose did not look at her cousin as they reached the fourth floor and squeezed past a noisy crowd of students issuing from the last class of the day. She bit her lip, wondering how she could make Lily see, without telling her outright, that Carlos Santini was no good for her.

"I am." Now Lily sounded dreamy. "You want to know why?"

"Er, sure…"

"I told him that things were over between us, that day," the fourth-year said reflectively. "And since then, Carlos hasn't approached me. I've seen him looking at me, I've seen how much he misses me, but he's kept his distance, because he knows that's what I want. And then, yesterday…" (Her voice was suddenly hushed, reverential, and Rose leaned in, curious despite herself as to what feat Carlos Santini had performed for Lily.) "… when the Slytherins had the pitch booked for two hours' training and James wanted them to cut their session short to let us practise, Carlos took one look at me and said fine. He told James that was fine."

They had come down the marble steps into the Entrance Hall, and Lily halted, twisting around to see her cousin's reaction. Rose blinked back at her, rather underwhelmed. "That was – er – sweet…"

"I know!" Lily almost squealed, then clasped her hands and said, in more collected tones, "I mean, I know. He didn't have to do it, but he did. That's Carlos."

"Lily…" Rose stopped. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, casting her gaze around the Entrance Hall. A draught of air, sharp with the tang of fir balsam, ruffled her hair from the doors that stood open to the grounds, through which students were entering on their way to dinner. The red light of the setting sun spilled onto the monument that towered above them in the centre of the hall, making the carved phoenix look as though it were bathed in real fire.

For a moment, she hovered on the brink of telling Lily the truth. The whole truth, as she had heard it from Scorpius, about the bet, about everything. It was her duty; as her cousin, as her friend, she could do no less. But as she turned her eyes to the younger witch's hopeful face, she found that she could not say it.

"You wanted my opinion?" she said at last, quietly.

Lily nodded. "Do you think I should get back with him?"

"I…" Rose stopped. And hated herself as she said the next few words, "I think you've got to figure that out for yourself."

"I practically lied to her. My own cousin."

"And how exactly is this my problem?" Scorpius gathered one last book from the shelf – a weighty tome entitled Lawes of Potion-Making – and carried it over to his table, with an agitated Rose at his heels.

"Because I need you to talk to Santini!" With a glance towards Madam Pince, who was frowning in her direction, Rose lowered her voice. "You've got to make him tell Lily about the bet." She planted both of her hands on the table and leaned across it to Scorpius, who was (infuriatingly) thumbing through his book.

"Why can't you tell her yourself?" he said, without looking up.

Rose threw up her hands and spoke with a passion that would have attracted Madam Pince's attention, had it not been directed elsewhere at this point. "Because that would crush and humiliate her, and she would never see me in the same way again. She needs to hear it from Santini."

"Well, that's never going to happen." Scorpius shut his book, sending a cloud of dust rising into the air. "This one's no good. There's not a thing in the glossary about Golpalott."

Rose took the book from him distractedly, placing it back on the shelf, before returning to the table to question him further. "How do you know? That Santini won't tell her?"

Scorpius finally raised his grey eyes to her, looking more than a little exasperated, but when he spoke, there was a hint of apology in his tone. "Because I know him, and he's not going to give the game away about the bet that easily. He's so pig-headed, sometimes I think he ought to be in your House."

She frowned, but did not say anything.

"Besides, even if I did try to talk him around, Rose, he wouldn't listen to me. Santini and I don't have the best relationship."

"I know that," Rose muttered. "I just thought…" She trailed off. As she was looking down glumly, she did not see Scorpius's expression soften as he watched her, and so it came as a bit of a surprise when he said,

"Look, I'll have a word with him. Even though it won't make a difference."

"You will?" She met his gaze, grateful. "That would mean a lot, Scorpius."

He simply shrugged, opening one of his books again. "Don't get your hopes up. Like I said, Santini isn't likely to listen to me. Now, shouldn't you be working on your essay?"

"Yes, Professor Nott," Rose said dryly, sitting down opposite Scorpius. A moment later, she added, more to herself than to Scorpius, "Anyway, Lily might not take him back at all. In fact, I'd be very surprised if she did…"

"Weasley."

"I know, I know. The essay."

"That is why we're here, if you recall."

"Of course it is." Rose sighed, a very quiet sigh, and bent her head over her parchment.

Albus had been sitting in the Owlery for over an hour, and still he had not come to a decision. He had written the letter and addressed it to his father; the envelope was clutched in his hands, which were near frozen with the cold now, and the family owl was cleaning her wings nearby. But still he sat on the cold stone and stared into the purpling dusk beyond the open windows.

A student had been attacked. With an Unforgivable Curse. And he knew who was responsible for it. His father deserved to know, too. He should have sent the letter as soon as he found out. But Penny's face…

That was what haunted him now. The tears in her eyes, the utter terror in her face as she pleaded with him to keep her secret. She had done it all to protect her brother, too – he could understand that. And Orchid and Torrance had been putting pressure on her; he had seen Orchid at the match, taunting Penny.

But an Unforgivable… Not just anyone could cast an Unforgivable. Penny, of all people –

What if she had been Imperiused to attack Tony Mason? Albus sat up straighter at the thought, wondering why it had never occurred to him before. It certainly would explain a lot; for he found it hard to believe that his quiet, gentle classmate, too meek to partake in the smallest of confrontations, could have committed such an appalling act of violence, against someone who had caused her no harm.

But if she had been Imperiused, then his father and the Aurors would find that out for themselves. Albus stared down at the envelope. He knew what he had to do.

"Albus? Is something wrong?"

Something within him leapt at the sound of the soft, melodious voice, for it was Summer Birchgrove's. He rose to his feet to greet her. She looked paler than usual, her hair tied back, with dark shadows under her eyes that only enhanced their beauty, in Albus's opinion.

"Just – er – sending a letter," he said lamely.

Summer nodded, hugging herself. She wore only jeans and a cardigan. "It's cold up here."

"That's because you're not wearing enough clothes," Albus said automatically, then winced a moment later. Why did he always say such stupid things when she was around?

Summer, however, gave him a watery smile for his efforts. "You're right. I came up here just to get away from everyone at dinner. I didn't expect it to be so baltic."

"If you wanted to get away from everyone – I mean, I can go…" Albus made a move towards the door, but she held up her hand.

"No, no. I didn't mean you, Albus. You're wonderful company." With a bit of a twinkle in her eye, "Besides, don't you have to send that letter?"

Albus looked down at the forgotten envelope in his hand, thoughtful once more as the owls hooted around him. "Yeah… I suppose I do, but I don't know if it's a good idea."

"What do you mean?" Summer was looking at him curiously, her lovely brow furrowed.

He drew in a deep breath, and might have told her very easily – she was Summer, after all, and the secret had been weighing on him all week, and how good would it feel just to tell someone – but something stopped him. He liked to think it was some trace of that sensible part of himself which normally disappeared in Summer's presence, reminding him that a secret was a secret, after all.

"If I send this letter," he said at last, his voice echoing in the Owlery, which seemed to have grown much quieter all of a sudden, "It'll change things."

Summer shrugged, the fabric of the cardigan slipping back a little to reveal the white skin of her shoulders. "Things change every day." There was an unfamiliar tang of bitterness to her tone, and Albus tried not to think about what that meant. That James had been cruel to her… that he had made her unhappy…

"You shouldn't be afraid of it."

He looked at her. "Of change?"

Summer Birchgrove nodded her head, her blonde ponytail bobbing up and down as she did so. "It'll come, either way. May as well have some control over it."

"I think you might be right," Albus murmured.

"Well, don't sound so surprised." But her accompanying smile took any possible sting out of the words, and Albus could not help but smile back, his decision made.

"That is an extraordinarily long title."

Rose looked up from her work for the first time in what must have been more than an hour. Her vision was momentarily hazy, and a dull headache had begun to throb dully at her temples, but she smiled to see Scorpius peering at the spine of one of her books.

He sat across from her with his long legs stretched out before him, a book lying on the table that he seemed to have abandoned some time ago. His blond hair was messy; unusually so, from his having run a hand through it several times over the past hour, and he was squinting with the effort of making out the title. The sight was inexplicably amusing.

The library was almost deserted now, and Madam Pince was already prowling the bookshelves just beyond Rose's line of sight, awaiting her chance to throw out any diligent hangers-on at closing time.

"It is long," she admitted. "It's also extremely boring."

"So take a break. You look tired."

Rose ignored the foolish flutter of her stomach at this, or at least she put it down to hunger, and shook her head, returning to her book again. "I'm not giving up now, not so near to closing time. The essay's due tomorrow, after all."

"A real slave-driver, isn't she?" They both jumped in their seats as Tony Mason appeared out of nowhere and dropped into the seat beside Rose, laden down with books. He was still clad in Quidditch gear. "Harris, I mean. The essay and the project. I only just got out of training there, and now I won't have enough time before closing to get any real work done."

Instead of correcting him apropos the essay, as Scorpius had expected her to do, Rose blinked in surprise at Tony, then smiled a slow, tentative smile, and resolutely shut her book a moment later.

"I'm sure you'll get something done," she said reassuringly. "And anyway, you don't have to worry about the project; that's not due for another while."

"I don't want to be that partner who leaves you with all the work though," he protested.

"No fear," Rose said, with a little giggle. "I won't allow that."

Tony Mason grinned at that, and she smiled back at him, and on the heels of Scorpius's initial feelings of bafflement as to why the Hufflepuff Keeper and Rose were suddenly chatting away in the library as though they were the best of friends, there arose a little suspicion, that could not be done away easily.

That suspicion was, in short, that Tony Mason rather liked Rose Weasley. And that she, in turn, liked him back.

Scorpius later reasoned that the displeasure immediately following this suspicion was purely due to his having been inconvenienced. After all, Rose had agreed to compare sources with him once she had finished her essay, and now it did not look like that was likely to happen. Her new companion was continually asking her about this hex, and that charm, always listening attentively to her answers, though Scorpius found it difficult to believe that Mason, Hufflepuff as he undoubtedly was, lacked such basic wizarding knowledge. Besides that, didn't he see that he was distracting Rose from finishing her essay? It was unforgivably selfish of him.

Except, Rose didn't seem to mind.

She did not look at Scorpius once in the intervening half-hour, and he tried, in vain, to focus on his essay, despite the incessant whispering from across the table. When eventually he gave up trying to make sense of his own thoughts, packing away his books and quill and parchment and rising from the desk, Rose gave him a parting smile, and Tony said, cordially enough, "Have a good one, Malfoy."

Scorpius simply nodded in response, and left the library in a considerably greater state of confusion than he had entered it.

"Are you two study partners?" Tony inquired of Rose once Scorpius had gone.

She considered for a moment, her quill hovering above her parchment, then said, "We're friends."

"He's an all right bloke," Tony said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, he is." Rose could not help a little smile. She raised her quill again, but before she had written out another word, Tony spoke again.

"Listen, I know I should probably leave you to get back to your essay, but I – er – wanted to ask you something."

Rose's heart was suddenly beating a little faster, and she turned to look into Tony Mason's soft brown eyes, which were regarding her with something unmistakeably like admiration in them. "What?" she heard herself ask. The quill was still dripping ink onto the parchment beneath her, but she barely noticed.

"What are you doing on Valentine's Day?"

"Nothing," she breathed.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade together?"

"Y-yes," Rose replied, gazing at Tony as though she could not quite believe her ears. It struck her that they were sitting very close – that in another instant, he might close the gap between them and –

"Closing time!" Madam Pince announced with unbridled glee, rounding the bookshelf opposite them so suddenly that she caused Rose's quill to stab a hole in the parchment. "Gather up your things!"

Tony smiled at Rose as he stood – a broad, unassuming smile that made her feel warm inside. "I'll see you then."

"See you then," Rose echoed, and it was not until she had left the library and was walking back to Gryffindor Tower by herself, through the deserted corridors, that her state of bewilderment lifted, and she was able to smile as broadly as Tony had.

A date in Hogsmeade. So this was what being a normal teenage girl felt like.

Rose rather liked it.