Thicker Than Blood

by MissusWitch

Prejudice runs rampant even in a world without Lord Voldemort, but when a Potter boy is sorted into the House of Slytherin, the next generation is set to change forever. This is the story of Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy, and how their friendship guided each other in times of love and strife. AL/OC, SM/RW

8. Occupational Hazards

Chapter 8: Occupational Hazards

Disclaimer: JKR is the OG, and so are her OG characters; I just tinker tanker

AAA.

"Have you given any thought to your future after Hogwarts?"

Silence.

"I asked, have you ever wondered what you're going to do after you graduate school?"

"I heard you, Professor."

"Well then, Miss Nott, how about a little more enthusiasm?" Pause. "Don't smile if you don't mean it."

"I'm being enthusiastic."

"I can't very well continue on with this session with you acting like it's your mother's funeral."

"Sorry, Professor. To answer your question, what I meant is that I haven't really given much thought to my future. I didn't realize that this session meant I had to decide now."

"Ah." Papers rifled. Shuffle, shuffle. "Well, as your career advisor, I'm here to provide an idea as to what sorts of paths you might be partial to. What are your interests?"

Skiving. Cigarettes. Devon Lynch. "I don't know."

"There must be something you like doing during your free time. Do you have a favorite class? Care of Magical Creatures, perhaps?"

"Eh."

"Yes, you have been rather…erratic with your attendances lately." Shuffle, shuffle. "Hm. Not to worry-"

I'm not.

"—despite the fact that your coursework has taken quite a nose-dive in the last couple months, I see that you have still maintained consistent marks in that course." Pause. "Your Transfiguration marks aren't too shabby either. For your final term paper last year, you chose to conduct research and write about-"

"Animagi."

"Indeed." Shuffle, shuffle. "So…flora and fauna, is it? There are some career opportunities here and there in that field."

Silence.

"For instance, St. Mungo's is opening a new Non-Wizards ward and specializing specifically in the care of non-human creatures. They'll be needing volunteers soon enough. Have you ever considered-"

"No, not that."

"Ah. Well. Another illustrious path is Research Potioneering. Breaking new frontiers, that one. It's about learning the properties of magical creatures and how certain extracts can be used to-"

"No."

"Then tell me, what exactly do you have in mind?"

Silence.

Shuffle, shuffle. "Miss Nott, you're just going to make my job difficult, aren't you?"

Silence.

"Oh, for Agrippa's sake. Just…do well on your O.W.L's then."

AAA.

Carpathia took a long drag from the cigarette in her hand and leaned against a giant oak tree. She watched the hazy sky above her, tracking the swirling movement of pollen seeds as they fluttered across the clouds, and then realized that in her stupor she'd been holding her breath for a while now. Concentrating, she expelled the drag in intervals through her mouth, which was held firmly in an O shape, and three smoke rings floated up into the air.

"That's pretty, Pegs."

Recognizing the voice, she smiled to herself. She looked over her shoulder to see seventh-year Devon Lynch ambling towards her through the trees, his dark curly hair brushing the tips of the branches. As always, he looked noncommittally and devilishly sexy, with his robes askew around him and the top of his shirt unbuttoned so that his neck and part of his sternum were visible. As always, he wore something dark. Today it was navy blue.

"Don't be patronizing," said Carpathia as he leaned against the tree right next to her. She avoided his eyes, deep brown and intense, which had on many occasions caused her heart to sputter awake like a car engine. She bent down and pretended to wipe the ash off her stockings.

"What have you got there? Muggle fags again?" said Devon amusedly. A dimple indented into his left cheek as he smiled. She tried not to notice.

He leanead in and reached into the pocket of the blazer she was wearing.

" 'Lucky strike'?" he read from the label. "That sounds adorable."

"They do the trick," she replied, taking back the box. "And half the price of Wizarding ones, may I add."

"That may be, but there's not much of a ride. Fancy a real one?" he grinned, pulling out a metallic, silver box out of his pocket. "I'll treat you."

Carpathia's heart dropped in shocked as she recognized the silver box and the warning label stamped tantalizingly over the lid. She shook her head and grabbed his arm with a hiss. "Are you crazy, Devon? You can't just wave those around on campus. They're banned. I mean, if they are—what I think they are-"

"They are," he cut in with satisfaction. He appraised her open mouth with a softer expression, the way an adult might look at a child.

Carpathia's face hardened at the thought. It was painful when she was reminded of how truly solid that age barrier could be and she'd gotten a full taste of it only just recently.

He registered the sudden blankness of her expression with a frown. "Some other time, maybe." He pocketed the metallic box and folded his arms.

"Please tell me you didn't buy them off the black market. The last time you nearly got caught-"

"I got them for you, Pegs." His tone was slightly accusatory despite the affectionate nickname.

"I doubt it."

"Why would you say that?"

Because it's never just about me. It's Erin or Adara or some other girl you're trying to impress. Especially Adara.

As if he heard her thoughts, Devon shook his head with an irritable look on his face. "You didn't mind the last time." He eyed her cigarette again and stated, "You're out."

Carpathia's eyes traveled to her hand and noted the smoking stub. Devon swiftly plucked it out of her hand and ground it into the crisp leaves under his shoe.

Carpathia bit her lip in disapproval. "You shouldn't litter."

He took note of her expression, sighed in resignation, and pulled out his wand. "Vasiliere." The smoking stub dissolved into a pile of earth and melted into the ground. Devon pocketed his wand and turned to face her, eyebrows raised. "Happy?"

She didn't say anything for a while and as usual, he took that to mean an invitation.

He put a hand under her chin, and used the other to tuck a corner of her short raven hair behind her ears. His fingers were so tantalizingly tender. Stop it.The words rose up within her, pushing up against her lips, but then he gazed down at her with the same tortorous intensity and said gently: "Don't you remember how amazing it felt, when it was just the two of us in that forest and it felt like—like the stars were coming down on us? I'll never have that with anyone else, I promise, even if you're still angry with me."

And down the words went, swallowed once more. He was so close that she could catch his sharp earthy smell that reminded Carpathia of the forest after a spring rainfall.

Devon's hand went to her cheek. "You're something else, Carpathia."

She stood there, frozen, urging herself not to betray any emotion.

"How is it that you can say so little and so much at the same time?" murmured Devon. He was looking at her, his eyes half-lidded, like she was the last cup of water in the desert.

"Dev-"

"I know I was wrong before to treat you the way I did before," he said, his voice sharpening slightly. "I was an idiot, because you—you mean moreto me than anyone else in this bloody place. More than anyone." He buried his head into her neck and Carpathia closed her eyes.

"What we have…it's electric," he continued, and when he spoke his mouth vibrated against her skin. "So, cross my heart, the Quaffle is in your half. I won't do anything you don't want to do…"

Unlikely,thought Carpathia briefly, but she couldn't help it; the smile, it was tugging at her lips, unraveling before him.

"…unless you ask otherwise," he whispered. She felt his smile, too, as it drew a crescent path on her neck.

"Devon," she tried to say firmly, but her voice came out embarrassingly breathless. "I'm asking you to-"

"To what?"

To let me finish my smoke in peace.But the image of him turning around and walking off into the distance was repellent, and suddenly all Carpathia wanted to do was forget about this morning's stupid Career Advice interview and do something crazy to compensate, and Devon smelled like the forest after rainfall-

"Oh bugger it," she said, her voice quiet.

Without a second's hesitation, she reached up and kissed the surprised smile that had just about made it across his face. The familiarity of his mouth moving against hers, and the gentle roughness of his faint stubble against her cheek, was enough to make Carpathia drop her pack of Lucky Strikes to the ground and lose herself to his hands. She couldn't believe that this was happening on such an ordinary morning with the sun out and with classes starting in fifteen minutes, but then again, she'd never believed in butterflies in her stomach or fanfares sounding her head when the boy you liked kissed you. Devon had, after all, taken her first kiss without much fanfare at all, and now it seemed that he was the closest thing she knew to home.

Later, when they had broken apart, Devon pulled out his packet of wizarding cigarettes, a popular brand label called 'Incendium' that the two of them had smoked together on countless occasions. He popped a deep purple cigarette in his mouth and said cheekily:

"Do you want to see real smoke rings, Pegs?"

After his first draw, he expelled a breath of smoke that evolved and twisted into a dragon before her eyes. It soared gleefully through the air on wispy wings and then, after several moments, dove straight for her with its jaws wide open. It passed harmlessly through her and dissolved into the morning breeze, causing Carpathia to shriek with laughter and turn her head to marvel at the only person in the world that seemed stranger than her.

AAA.

"A Quidditch player, Potter?"

"Ah. Yes?"

"When did you become such a bleeding idiot?"

"Are—are you actually allowed to use that sort of language, Professor?"

"Oh to hell with the language! Anyone with sense in their heads knows that a Quidditch player's life is bound for several years of glory and then a lifetime of meaningless, dithering oblivion. Ha! I've had my share of Quidditch-bound students and the whole lot of them are so caught up in their own fantasies they forget studying for their required subjects and do you know what that does to them? It means that after their careers are finished they are completely pizd'ets—excuse my Russian, they have no bleeding clue what to do next. You are the most promising student in my class, Potter, but you are absolutely the thickest person I've met today."

"Sir, I thought you were supposed to respect my career decisions, not, er, shoot them down."

"Precisely. I'm a career advisor not a suicide coach."

"I love Quidditch. It's the only thing I've ever been sure of. Isn't that the point? To do what you love?"

"If that was point, we would have a lot more broomsticks in this world and a lot less medical breakthroughs."

Silence.

"Potter, you are a fine flier…there's no doubt about it. You are also incredibly talented at Potions and that is something that is rarer than Quidditch talent, something that only a handful of people possess."

"All due respect, sir, I think you're a tad biased."

"Of course I'm bloody biased, but my position only makes it a more credible assessment of your skills! I don't speak highly of many people but you…you could do so much more with your life. You could be a Healer, or—or a frontier-breaking Potioneer, discovering new cures for magic!" Pause. "Don't you ever want more for yourself off the pitch, Potter?"

There was a sigh. "Honestly, I'd just like to fly."

Silence.

"Ch'vortz mi, didn't I warn Sandra Fell that having career sessions now was a waste of time? Youth have no clue what's good for them." Papers shuffled. "I'll leave it alone for now, boy, but mark my words: don't you cock up your O.W.L's just because you think you'll be the next hotshot for the Holyhead Harpies. If you're not enrolled in my N.E.W.T course next year, I will see to it that your broomstick is chopped into kindling."

AAA.

Al entered his first class period of the day with his ears still ringing from Astrakhan's harangue and his arms filled with career pamphlets. Professor Vipula eyed him beadily, having been cut off mid-sentence by his arrival, and gestured at the nearest empty seat.

He responded to the greetings of his classmates with a curt nod and then realized that the face he'd been looking for was once again absent.

He found Rose with his eyes. She read the question in his expression and responded with a shrug.

On cue the door opened and Carpathia stepped in, a picture of nonchalance. She was wearing a tight-fitted black blazer over her uniform. Her hair, which had used to be a neutral brown, had been dyed ink-black several months ago and was styled in a bowl-cut so that a fringe swept cleanly above her clear eyes. A black pendant in the shape of a talon stood out against the whiteness of her neck.

Al felt a prick of relief at this familiar sight, but when she slid into the seat beside him, he caught a whiff of smoke emanating from the strands of her hair.

"Miss Nott, tardy as usual. Do you have an excuse for me this time?"

Carpathia responded to Professor Vipula simply with a faint smile that curled the corner of her lips.

Vipula's expression tightened. For a moment it seemed as if she was about to say something, but then thought better of it and returned to her lecture instead.

"You missed some informative stuff," whispered Al as the class was once more filled with the scratchings of quill against parchment.

"As if you'd know. You came in two seconds before I did," responded Carpathia, dead-pan.

Al rolled his eyes. "Either way, you didn't do a good enough job of cleaning up. I could've smelled you from across the room. I suppose that's what happens when you're in a hurry." He pulled out his wand and pointed it in the direction of her head, "Dissolutis."

The acrid scent of smoke vanished immediately. Carpathia shot him a grateful smile. "Thank you. You're getting better at Charms."

"That's because I actually turn up to class once in a while."

"Al," said Carpathia sharply and their playful banter abruptly ended.

The animated tones of Vipula's lecture spilled into the silent void between them for several minutes. Carpathia tapped her desk silently with alternating fingers, her face blank with expression, which Al took to mean as a symptom that he'd ticked her off.

"Sorry for nagging," conceded Al, lowering his voice as Professor Vipula shifted towards them, "I'm not a bloody prefect but you shouldn't be skiving off with Lynch on revisions week. Doesn't the bloke have N.E.W.T's to study for?"

"So now we're talking about Devon again, are we?"

"He's not good for you."

"You've said that before."

"Right, so please understand that this is your mate giving a shit about you, not trying to piss you off."

"So why does it piss you off when I tell you the same about your girlfriend?"

"Because it's not the same," replied Al with gritted teeth, quickly averting his eyes from Carpathia's rigid body as Vipula flashed the pair of them a suspicious look. He lowered his voice so that it was almost inaudible. "Izzy doesn't feed me narcotics or alcohol or y'know, any kind of illicit material that might get me expelled."

"No, she's just a controlling bint who won't let you spend time with anyone besides her."

"Don't call her that. She's always wanted to get to know you better. You're the one with the problem."

"Maybe I don't want to be 'that friend' that hangs around you and your girlfriend all the time. Remember the days when you and I used to do things together?"

"Remember the days when you weren't hanging around some twat who makes you cry?"

Carpathia blinked rapidly, as if it was the only way to quickly absolve the words that had just shot out of Al's mouth.

"Thought we weren't going to mention that again," she said curtly.

Al stared back at her, his gaze resolute. "The hell we aren't, Thia. You can't expect me to forget what happened."

Carpathia's eyes darkened and her mouth pursed into an inscrutable knot. There was a loud scrape as she stood up from her chair, her black handbag swinging from her shoulder.

Professor Vipula turned to face her with a frown. "Yes, Miss Nott?"

"I'm feeling ill," she declared simply, "I think I need to go to the Hospital Wing." There was a collection of snorts around the room.

One of Vipula's finely plucked eyebrows twitched. "With what, exactly?"

Carpathia shrugged and tilted her head so that she could throw Al an expressionless look that borderlined scorn. "Growing pains."

Vipula opened her mouth for what no doubt was going to be a severe scolding, but Carpathia seemed to have no other agenda but her own. Al gave her a desperate look that he hoped she could take to interpret as: 'Don't be stupid.' On any other occasion, he had always been able to pull her down to earth whenever she floated too far away, but it seemed lately that she was beyond tethering.

He watched her leave the room and spent the remaining class period feeling angry and unsettled.

When class ended, Rose sidled up next to Al and elbowed him.

"So what was that about?" she muttered.

Al shook his head moodily and swung his bag over his shoulder, feeling his books thump heavily against his back. "What else was it about? I was trying to be a decent friend and now I feel like Dad when he tells us to put away the firecrackers on New Year's Eve. Is it wrong that I don't want some idiot to ruin her life?"

Rose's brow furrowed. She took a strand of her red hair and fiddled with it agitatedly. "Well, I didn't want to worry you, but I was going to tell you that she hasn't been sleeping regularly in the dorms. She's been heading out after hours a couple nights a week for about a month now. Really crafty, too. I almost didn't catch it till last week when Carter…" She caught herself, coughed in embarassment, and carried on: "Anyway, she came back at four in the morning and I reckon it wasn't the first time."

Al stopped in his tracks and stared at Rose incredulously. "Why haven't you stopped her?"

Rose flushed. "For God's sake, Al, I'm not her mum."

"You're a prefect!"

"Do you really think Carpathia will listen to anyone once she's set her mind on something?"

She listened to me. "Just…just keep an eye on her," he answered, deflated. "Do it for me, Rose. It'd make me feel loads better."

Rose's eyes softened. "Yeah, of course. "

"And another thing," he said, ruffling his own hair sheepishly. "Does it seem like Izzy and I are together all the time?"

Rose raised her eyebrows and smiled wryly. "Not allthe time-"

"That's what I thought-"

"—assuming you still sleep in different dormitories and follow standard lavatory rules separating boys from girls-"

"Oh, shut up."

Rose grinned and tousled his hair affectionately. "I've got to run but don't let it bother you too much. Carpathia's always been your friend and she will still be your friend even if she's off the rails now. Besides," she gazed over his shoulder with a pointed look, "There's your other half to cheer you up." She broke into a quick jog with her deep auburn hair streaming behind her.

Al turned and felt instantly lightened by the presence of the one person that reminded him how much better his life had gotten in the past year. Isabel Marrieto, dressed today in a light blue sundress beneath her Hogwarts robes and wearing a single blue ribbon in her brown hair, was engaged in what looked like an exasperated conversation with his brother. The company was not what Al had in mind but he had no doubt that Isabel was telling James off again. Though Al had protested on numerous occasions, Isabel had insisted that she was "obliged" as his girlfriend to try and patch things up between the two of them. It was an awfully sweet gesture even if it had proven to be futile.

"Hello, you two," said Al, mustering a bright expression as he marched up to the two of them. Isabel started as his hand fell upon her shoulder, but when she turned and registered that it was Al, her eyes softened in relief. James reacted quite the opposite. A dark curtain shuttered across his features and his shoulders noticeably stiffened.

"James-" began Al, but the elder Potter grunted and shoved past Al without glancing him in the eye. Al watched him go, feeling disappointment sink into the pit of his stomach despite knowing that this type of exchange had become a typical form of interaction between them.

"Honestly," said Isabel, her eyes scrutinizing James with a dark expression. "I don't know what his problem is. You okay?"

Al tore his eyes away from his brother's retreating back and glanced back at her. Dumbledore's beard, she's so pretty, was the first thought that entered his mind. It was a thought that would have earned a slap from Rose for being so cheesy and warranting less than intelligent conversation. Even though he and Isabel had passed their six-month relationship mark, Al still could not grasp that the girl he'd goggled at for over two years was now his to look at every day.

"Fine now," he replied and kissed her gently on the cheek. "How are you?"

She sighed and cast a strand of her long hair over her shoulder. "I could be better, I suppose. Lots of drams this morning. Darryl Roswood claimed to have photographic evidence of having gotten off with Tricia during the bonfire party last weekend so naturally there was a bit of a spat between Tricia and Harriet. Now they're not speaking." Isabel grimaced and the freckles on the bridge of her nose danced up and down. "My friends are so stupid."

Al knew Tricia. He knew Darryl just barely and had no idea who Harriet was, but ultimately, they were Isabel's friends and Isabel had a lot of friends. He hid his bewilderment with a nod. "Ghastly. Heard the party was a blast though."

"It was just a lot of drama. I wish you'd been there," sighed Isabel, slipping her arm through his.

"I know, but I-"

"Caught the flu, yes I remember, love. What a pity. If there's one thing I actually like about James it's that he knows how to throw a party."

Al nodded again, watching his girlfriend swallow the lie he'd manufactured with a pinch of guilt. "Next time. Promise." He leaned in for a kiss. Isabel smiled and met his lips with hers gently and the electrical current that ran through his neural passages short-circuited.

Every single time, he thought until they broke apart.

"Oh! I forgot to ask!" exclaimed Isabel, clapping her hands. The ribbon in her hair fluttered to mirror her excitement. "How did your career's session go?"

"Astrakhan wasn't pleased, obviously. He still thinks I should follow Potions."

"That old coot," said Isabel in distaste, "I don't understand why he won't let you do what you want. You're a fantastic Quidditch player."

"Just concerned, I suppose."

"He's not doing his job properly then," said Isabel firmly, "If you want to play Quidditch then you should play Quidditch. I can certaintly see why—it's a lot sexier than a bunch of dusty vials and animal parts. Imagine if you actually played for the Harpies!"

Al nodded, losing himself in thought as Isabel continued to project her thoughts beside him. He had not thought about his Career's Advice session since he'd left Astrakhan's office this morning, and the fact that he'd come to a cross-road was just now registering. Pursuing a career path other than Quidditch was an interesting thought, one that Astrakhan had wormed into his brain after years of being convinced that nothing could be short of perfection if he was on a broomstick. Who had ever heard of someone giving up a chance to play professional Quidditch? But then again, digressed Al, who could think of the future when there were other present issues at hand? Al's thoughts wandered back to Carpathia, stupid, reckless Carpathia, and the distressing idea of her sneaking off into the grounds late at night with some bloke whose intentions were unknown, probably harmful…

"Al, are you listening?"

Al blinked and the sounds of reality crashed down around him. He realized that Isabel was waiting for his reply. "Sorry, what was that?"

Isabel fixed her pale blue eyes on him. "Do you want to tell me what the matter is? You've been distracted since you left class."

"I…" Whatever excuse Al had concocted up inside his head failed to reach his mouth in time. "It's nothing. I had a row with Thia this morning and it's been on my mind."

Isabel's mouth enclosed into a small 'O'. Her eyes were glued now to his every expression as though he was a puzzle she was trying to solve with her very gaze. "She's been sort of going out with Devon Lynch and I've tried to be cool with it but I reckon I should be looking out for her. Merlin knows she's looked out for me a million other times already."

He knew he shouldn't have said so much. He knew Carpathia was a touchy subject for Isabel, even if she never admitted it. Please don't let her be upset.

"Al…it's just…" Isabel's tone was surprisingly even. She paused and looked away into the distance for several seconds with her lips pursed speculatively. "She's always been…difficult, right? That's just the nature of your friendship. You let each other be."

"I know, but-"

"No you sayyou do, but you don't, not really," interrupted Isabel firmly, "If Carpathia wants something, you're not supposed to interfere with it! That's what friends are for. They support one another. She wants Devon and that's simply what you've got to come to terms with. And it'll be better, you know," she added as a quiet afterthought, "Now that she's moved on."

Al cocked his head, puzzled. "Moved on from what?"

Isabel stared at him as though he had a question-mark stamped on his forehead. "I—I thought you must have had some inkling."

"What are you on about?"

Isabel shrunk suddenly in size and bit her lip uneasily. "It's obvious, Al. She's liked you for ages."

Al registered her tight, uncomfortable expression for seveal seconds without saying a word, and then burst into a howl of laughter. "No. Thia?Come off it. Dumbledore's arse—hairs and wrinkles and all—that is the funniest thing I've heard all week."

"I'm being serious."

"I know. You're—" Al gasped for breath, and then pulled her to him with a swell of affection in his chest. "You're so adorable when you're jealous."

"Al!" She yanked herself away from him, chin wobbling in anger, and he felt the smile fade from his face. "Stop. Why do you think it took me so long to agree to go out with you? You're sweet and wonderful but I knew from the way you two were always hanging out together, the way she cared for you…there had to be something going on. All the girls in my year thought so."

"We are…friends," frowned Al, lingering on the last syllable particularly for emphasis. The thought of Carpathia romanticizing their friendship was like trying to visualize Astrakhan romping wild and naked in a field surrounded by nymphs. "Half the time we just bum around in silence looking at nothing and the other half we bum around and talk about nothing—quite literally. The best conversation this week has been about whether Professsor Longbottom would look better bald or as a woman. That's not what Carpathia is looking for in someone and honestly, me neither. If there was something going on, don't you think I would have picked it up by now?"

Isabel stood there in silence, chewing her lip, and Al thought about how he dearly wanted to kiss it again. Finally, her shoulders slumped in consent and she looked up at him, with a slight wink in her eye. "So. Shaved Longbottom, hm? That does it for you?"

He grinned and drew her to him in a tight embrace. "That's my girl."

AAA.

"To start off, Miss Weasley, you're one of our most promising students."

"Thank you, Professor."

"You're probably aware of this already, but your marks are outstanding. I daresay you could be the top in your year if you perform just as well on your O.W.L's. Not too surprising, hm, considering your mother is Hermione Granger-Weasley!"

"Something I'm never tired of hearing."

"The object of our session today isn't to figure out what you can do, but what you want to do. It's not too hasty to say that the world is your oyster. Any ideas, Miss Weasley?"

Silence.

"Have you heard of J.D Salinger, Professor Fell?"

"Mm yes, Muggle writer. English?"

"American, actually. Have you read any of his books?"

"I can't say I have."

"The Catcher in the Rye. That's his most famous onw and most muggle schoolchildren read it when they're in their final years of school. It's about self discovery, isolation, and what it means to be an adult. It's...brilliant."

"Oh, well I'm pleased to hear you've expanded your reading material to muggle-written books, but what does this have to do with our session?"

"It's just one of the books I've read that I can understand, actually. Most of them just make me wish I could relate more."

"Relate?"

"There are so many parts of the muggle world I've never bothered to understand. I've never played muggle sports or watched muggle television. I don't know how the inside of a phone works-how they can just make one for everyone at such a fast rate and transport them across the world, even to remote villages in the middle of the jungle. I've never even taken an airplane before."

"There are some law programs in Wizengamot that have exchange opportunities at muggle institutions, if you would like a dual perspective."

"Everyone I know expects me to end up in some high-profile job as a Healer or an Auror or, god forbid, a lawyer just like mum, but what if I just want to find out how an airplane stays in the sky? Figure out how someone invented the iPhone or put a man on the moon? What if I just want to learn how to use the internet?"

"I am not sure what you are trying to say, Miss Weasley."

Silence.

"No, I reckoned you wouldn't. So Wizengamot, Professor?"

"Well as your advisor, I think you'd be happy there and your parents would be very proud."

"Of course they would be."

AAA.

Rose was glad to see Rowan standing outside Professor Fell's office when she exited. She knew that if she were to have another conversation that was as mundane as the one she'd just experienced, there would be simply nothing left to do but to lock herself in a broom closet and curse humanity.

"That bad?" quipped Rowan with a grin, scanning her expression as she walked towards him.

"Abysmal," responded Rose, looping her arm through his. "Let's go throw rocks at the Giant Squid."

Rowan had grown substantially over the last winter holiday. He had also gotten thicker, whether it was because the mounds of food his mother continuously shoved into his mouth had finally caught up to him or that had actually decided to hit the gym once or twice. In any case the scrawny, cocoa-skinned boy that Rose had grown so accustomed to had disappeared. Perhaps that was the reason why Rose had begun feeling more secure around Rowan in a way she'd never had before, as if his broader shoulders had somehow created larger space for the two of them to talk in private.

Then there were always things that stayed the same. The way his curly hair spilled over the sides of his head like an unruly child, for instance, or the Indian spices forever embedded into his clothing.

"What are you looking at?" said Rowan, looking at her with his eyebrows raised and drawing her out of her reverie.

"What? Oh, nothing," replied Rose, shaking her head. "I'm just thinking about how I'm going to get you a really unbelievable birthday present."

"My birthday's not till August."

"Well, then you've got four months to squirm over how unbelievably unbelievable it's going to be."

Rowan's mouth twitched in amusement. "Not saying that your presents haven't been unbelievable in the past, but why this year?"

"Because of how fantastic of a friend you've been," stated Rose with a straight face, "In all seriousness, I think you've totally smashed Drew's chances of winning Best Friend of the Year."

Rowan snorted. "Don't insult me, Red. Drew was never even in the running." He bent down and scooped up a pebble into his palm. He hurtled it as far and with as much strength as he could into the lake. The stone collided into water with an impressive splash, followed by the familiar disgruntled moan of the lake's deep-sea inhabitant from the water's murky depths. Rowan slapped his palms in satisfaction and turned towards Rose.

"What's wrong? You're usually not this sentimental."

Rose blinked several times, combed her mind for a playful reply, and came up with nothing. She exhaled slowly, gathering her thoughts. "I just feel like there's a whole lot of figuring out to do with my life and I haven't really come close."

"None of us have."

"Right. Yeah." Rose paused, and continued on in a contemplative tone, "No one's really listening to what I have to say. Especially the grownups."

"Ah, angst." Rowan silently turned over another pebble in his hands. "I understand you, don't I?"

"Yes."

"And what about Carter? You've been going out for…what…nearly two years now. Can't you just talk to him?"

The thought of Carter made Rose's heart whine painfully. She couldn't remember the last time she had had a sound conversation with Carter, or at least one that didn't end with one of them rolling their eyes at the other.

"It's been a bit rough," said Rose with an attempt of nonchalance. She was reminded of what she had promised herself months ago, that she and Carter could still be together no matter how turbulent their relationship would get. A hand subconsciously itself placed over her sternum as if it was the only way to hold that promise there. "Do you think I'm evil?"

Rowan uttered a loud snort and dropped the pebble in his hand so that it thumped onto the grass beneath them. "You're joking, right?"

"No. Sort of. Well, not really."

"Blimey, what has Carter been saying to you?" demanded Rowan incredulously, grabbing her arm. "Do Drew and I have to schedule a visit?"

Rose fixed him a solemn stare. "I'm serious. Sometimes I think I intentionally hurt people who are good to me."

Rowan sighed and put his face into his palms for several moments in exasperation. Then he took Rose's hand into his own, clutching her fingers firmly. She could feel the warmth of his skin radiating from beneath his woolen gloves. "Merlin, Red."

She raised her head and met his soft brown gaze, trying not to feel the mixture of embarrassment and misery that was welling up inside her. "You are about as dark as a Pygmy Puff. Sure, you're a bit cynical and your temper is never smooth sailing, but those of us who know you better understand it's because you give too much of a shite. I don't care if Carter thinks otherwise. I never wanted to say this but…" Rowan paused and the corners of his mouth tightened. "He's a peach that bruises too easily, if you get what I mean."

Rose expelled a breath and felt the relief pour into her ribcage as Rowan squeezed her into an embrace. She forced back the ache behind her eyes and smiled gratefully at Rowan. "Thank you."

As much as Rose wanted to feel that her relationship could be magically revitalized by her best friend's assurances, she was convinced that resolving the rift between her and Carter was a matter of her own proactiveness. She walked with newly-instilled confidence towards the Herbology section of the library, where she knew Carter liked to study because he had once remarked that he found the green walls soothing.

She found him huddled behind a mound of books, his curls askew over the parchment that wound down the table. He always liked to lean in close to his work, as though he could somehow breathe the words onto paper.

"Hi," said Rose brightly.

Carter's head bobbed up from behind the books and registered her presence with wide eyes. He ackowledged her with a quick nod. "Hey. Didn't see you come in." Pause. "I waited for you."

His tone was deceivingly polite but Rose detected the accusatory undercurrent. "Do you still want me to go over Cheering Charms with you?"

Carter stared at Rose for several seconds and he folded his arms rather impassively. "No need to stress yourself, love. Ellie came by and gave me a hand."

She felt ice-cold uncertainty wash down her back and the smile on her face abruptly felt like plaster. "Really? You asked Easy Ellie to give you a hand?" The nickname was allocated to Hogwarts' beautiful, blonde Hufflepuff stereotype, a girl who was Carter's teammate and known widely as a simpleton.

"That's unkind," he said, "She's not that stupid."

"No. But she likes you." Rose tried to keep the jealousy out of her words but it flooded the air like smoke. "Is this your way of sending a message?"

"It's my response," he said, rather casually, "I came by to pick you up after your session with Fell and imagine my surprise when I see you and Rowan having a grand old time by the lake. Well, I heard you loud and clear."

She opened her mouth and closed it, blinking rapidly. He's a peach that bruises too easily, Rowan had said. The irony. "I didn't realize you were watching." Oh bugger, shouldn't have said that.

"Apologies," he shot back with sudden brusqueness.

"Please, it's not at allwhat you think. I was a bit upset over what Fell said during my session and we were having a chat-" Rose gazed at him, trying to suppress the mixture of anger and despair threatening to spill over. This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all.

"I assume Rowan fixed you up then," he responded and with that, he turned away and promptly began packing his things.

So that's what this is about. Rose closed her eyes momentarily and opened them up again, hoping that when she did he would be looking at her with contrite blue eyes and his hands in his pockets, ready to forget and reconcile as he'd done before. There he was, the first boy she'd ever loved, shoving his things in his bags as if he couldn't wait to get away from her.

"We've been through this. Rowan's a friend," she stated through gritted teeth, refusing to move from her spot even though his back was turned towards her. "Why do you have to act like the sky's falling down every time I breathe around a bloke who isn't you? Why do you have to act like such a child?"

"It's not fair that when you have problem, you would go to Rowan or Drew or a million other blokes before coming to me."

"It is fair," countered Rose shrilly. "You can't expect me to give up all the people you don't like just because you're too insecure to feel wanted. I happen to like having male friends but that doesn't mean I have feelings for them! For Merlin's sake, if I wanted you gone, Carter, I'd just tell you. But I don't. I want to be with you."

Carter snatched the last remaining item on the table and stuffed it into his bag. "Funny way of showing it."

"Carter!" shouted Rose, gripping his arm to stop him from exiting. "Look at me. I'm coming to you now. Aren't you listening to me?"

He wrenched his arm away from her and fixed her a look full of wretched anger. She looked at the that she'd memorized, from the square robust jaw that cracked occasionally (because Carter had told her he'd tried to bite into a pebble once as a child) to the wayward freckle that floated above his left eyelid, wondering what on earth she'd done wrong in the last two years to cause that face to contort the way it did. She wished the door behind him would melt so that she could hold onto him longer.

"I just want to feel needed, Rose," he said quietly, and his words fell heavily towards the ground in pain, "It's just not enough. I don't feel like I'm enough."

With that, he walked past her and exited out of sight.

Rose didn't know how long she stared at the library aisle that Carter had disappeared into, but she abruptly tore herself away when her vision began to blur. She made her way out of the library blindly, shielding her red-rimmed eyes as several people she recognized tossed greetings her way.

When she reached the first marble staircase on her way to the Gryffindor common room, she lost her footing and rammed into a solid figure.

She opened her mouth to mutter an automatic apology but heard a familiar grunt of distaste. There was a flash of white-blond hair at the edge of her vision.

"Watch where you're going, Weasley."

Rose's insides clenched. Agrippa, not him. Not now.Out of everyone in the whole bloody school. "Don't tell me what to do."

"Cute. Now move." She looked up and saw that his blue eyes had darkened to a storm and that his complexion was more puce than sickly. Something had made him furious.

She really didn't feel like taking his shit today."You move."

Scorpius stood his ground, fists clenching beside him.

There was a loud crack and the staircase jolted awake. They both lost their balance and were thrown to the floor. Gasping, Rose gripped the stair-rail instinctively as the entire marble body groaned and swung sideways. Scorpius had been knocked to all fours. He too crawled over the steps to the other side of the stairwell and curled himself around the railing. Then the stairwell shuddered to a stop and silence descended.

Scorpius was the first to speak. "Blimey. I thought they'd stopped doing that."

AAA.

"Mr. Malfoy, I have to say, this is a bit of a long shot."

"How's that? I've got the qualifications."

"Yes, but there are external factors to consider."

"Oho, never pegged you as the sort, sir. I thought my unparalleled looks had no effect on you whatsoever, but this explains why I got such outstanding marks in Potions."

"For God's sake, boy, be serious for once. I'm trying to help you."

"Oh, it's a very serious matter to be sure. I'd say hide your wives and daughters, gents, but apparently my rare and lethal combination of bad-boy sophistication works just as well on war veterans."

"Enough. This isn't a stage and there's no one here to watch your antics. I'm going to be honest with you. If you truly want to pursue the path that you've just proposed, I believe you will have a very slim chance of success."

Silence.

"You don't need to sugarcoat your words, Professor. I'm not thick. I know exactly what you're saying. Granddaddy used to be Voldemort's golfing partner and now there's no chance in hell I can work in law enforcement. That's what you mean, isn't it?"

Papers shuffled.

"I loathe melodrama. I understand this this is difficult to hear but it's not the end of the world, Malfoy. There are plenty other career paths available for you, especially with your exceptional transcript. For example-"

"Right. You know what's really fucking unfair?"

"Are you looking for me to dock points, Malfoy?"

"This whole sodding institution is asinine with a capital arse. Tell me, Professor, how do O.W.L's matter if someone like me just ends up getting shoved into an accounting job in some forgotten hole in the Ministry?"

"You are clever and resourceful. There's no reason for you to think that way-"

"I bet this wasn't the treatment Potter got from you, was it? I bet he got a gold star for every career prospect he came up with even though he hasn't got half the marks I've got."

"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy, and calm yourself."

"That's alright, sir. I've heard enough. Career advice, my arse."

AAA.

"Blimey. I thought they'd stopped doing that."

The marble stairs beneath Scorpius' feet shuddered to a stop mid-air. Instinctively, he peered over the edge of the banister and looked into a dark crevasse lined with spiraling staircases and red carpeting. There was a flicker of candle-light somewhere far down below and he could hear the faint murmur of student voices. They were trapped.

He banged his fist on the marble railing in frustration and flopped down on the third step, his legs teetering dangerously close to the edge. "Fantastic. Now what?"

Rose exhaled behind him. "We wait it out. Unless you want to jump five stories which, in any case, I don't harbor any strong objection to."

Scorpius vehemently uttered a stream of curses. On any other occasion he would have hated losing his cool in front of Rose Weasley, but he was in no mood to be blasé. It took several minutes before his anger finally abatedand when it did, he rested his head against the cool side of the railing, half-hoping the added pressure would cause the staircase to budge.

The clatter of Rose's footsteps halted as she apparently gave up her pacing. He heard the shuffling of her robes as she too sat on the steps, facing the railing on the opposite side. It struck him suddenly that she had not said a word.

"Oi, Weasley."

Silence greeted his words.

"Weasley."

Scorpius frowned, undeterred. "Weasley, Weasel-by, Weasel-"

"What." She finally responded, but he could detect the undercurrent of tension in her voice, a different tension to the fiery sort that usually accompanied their bickering. This echoed of melancholy.

Scorpius liked to think he always had the upper hand on people; he knew what made them tick, what strings to tug on to ensure they acted in his favor, and what chords to push to guarantee they lost their temper. Rose, on the other hand had always been an anomaly. He wasn't quite sure if he could crack her open and handle whatever came out of that unpredictable mouth of hers.

"Something on your mind?"

Rose swiveled around and he could see the bewilderment written over her face. More importantly though, he saw the red tinge in her eyes, the way the loose tendrils of her hair were tossed around in a manner more careless than usual. He knew from observing her snidely during classes that she had a terrible habit of twisting her hair around her fingers when she was upset.

Somehow, it felt wrong to make fun of her.

"This is usually where you tell me to go and drown myself," he added helpfully.

A brief smile flashed over Rose's face."I could ask you the same thing. You didn't look too pleased when I ran into you."

"I thought that was fairly obvious. The running into youwas the problem."

She chuckled under her breath in response. If it were anyone else, Scorpius was certain he would have been pushing someone else's chords not tugging on their happy strings. An anomaly.

"I just left Astrakhan's office," he admitted.

"Oh. Career advice. How was it?"

"Bloody useless."

Rose snorted. "Don't I know it."

"I walked out more muddled up than when I walked in."

"Hear, hear."

"It's not like I have a chance with anything decent anyway because the whole world seems to hate my family." What in God's name had possessed him to say that out loud? Perhaps it was the adrenaline of leftover anger still racing through his veins.

Rose's smile faded. "That's not true." The quality of her tone was unusually gentle and yet characteristically Rose in its steadiness. It was the way Scorpius had always heard her speak to other people besides himself, and for that reason he found himself drawn to her face. He suddenly realized that under the dim lighting her features had blurred tenderly, bathed in cream-yellow and resembling the image of a clear moon across the lake. Her hair, which he had always thought was too ostentatious of a color in day light, had deepened into a peculiar shade of red-gold that conjured up feelings of Christmas and embers in ever-warm fireplaces.

"You just have to show them that you won't rest until you get to where you want to be," her voice swelled up into the picture, just like that, and he was pulled back. Time continued ticking and the world righted itself from its momentary spin.

Just the lighting,he told himself, the damn lighting. "You know it's not that simple, Weasley."

"Maybe," conceded Rose, "But I believe it'll change, it has to, otherwise that war our parents fought in would have been for nothing."

Her expression held no trace of insincerity. Whatever she had just said, however presposterous and idealistic it may have sounded, she truly believed it. "You're awfully sure of yourself. Or extremely naive."

"If you were there for my Career session, you definitely would have arrived at that conclusion," she replied.

"And what, that forced you to run off and cry about it afterwards?" remarked Scorpius bluntly, eyebrows raised.

The momentary conviviality between them dissipated. Rose shot him a look that plainly expressed her annoyance that he had prodded into her emotions and he shrugged. "Doesn't take a genius to notice."

Rose said nothing.

Scorpius exhaled and scooted slightly closer to her. "Look, Weasley," he said conspiratorially, "Let's say you're right. The future is incredible and people change. They start using their heads instead of their gut emotion and, miraculously, society pushes through the hatred and nulls the divides. I come back to this place one day and shove my Auror's badge up Astrakhan's arse. You—well, you do whatever it is you do. That's all you have to think about now, isn't it? Whatever happens today, by your theory and I suppose mine, doesn't matter in hindsight. We all make own destinies."

Rose cocked her head somewhat snidely but her deep brown eyes fixed on him inquisitively, drinking in his every word. "That's quaint. New motto?"

Scorpius raised a finger at her. "Not a bad idea. You know what would make a better motto, though?"

"What?"

Scorpius folded his arms and sat back. He declared, with a great amount of feeling: " 'Don't give a bloody shite what anybody else thinks.' "

" 'Don't give a bloody shite what anybody else thinks,'" repeated Rose, her mouth twitching. "Right."

"Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" commented Scorpius with satisfaction, "I should have had that in my head today instead of losing my temper but I'm certain it'll come back to bite me once I start applying for positions and Astrakhan refuses to write a damn word for me." He glanced at her and decided to add, for the hell of it: "At least I won't let anyone dictate my decisions—even thickheaded sixth-years that go by the name of Carter McLaggen."

A sharp breath hissed out from between her lips. There was a question clearly inked on her face but he chose to reply with his level gaze. I'm not blind, Weasley.

Her eyes were wide and oddly stirring. Like mirrors, the thought swam through his mind blearily, and he felt himself—whether it was concious or unconscious, he couldn't really distinguish—leaning towards her.

Her mouth had opened and she was about to say something, but before the words could come out, a groan emanated from beneath their feet.

Scorpius' hand clamped onto one of the railings again as the staircase jolted backwards and began to move. When the bottom step finally attached itself to its original place, he felt a sweep of relief. He proceeded to make his way down the final set of steps until the thought occurred to him that, for the sake of politeness, he should say goodbye. He turned and saw that Rose was already heading in the opposite direction, her red hair—flickering ostentatiously as ever—streaming behind her.

He shook his head, ridding himself of any more floundering ideas and then resumed his way to the Slytherin Common-Room. His temper from before had abated completely.

When he finally entered the premises of his House, he saw Chantal sitting by the fire with her legs tucked neatly beneath her. The firelight cast a glow on her finely-developed features, etching golden lines around her slender nose and curved lips and making her even prettier than she already was. At the sound of his footsteps her head turned, and her caramel hair melted into a gentle rosy color as it faced the light.

"That took long," she stated, arching one of her perfectly crescent-shaped eyebrows.

"Sorry," he replied, settling into the seat beside her and staring into the fireplace contemplatively. "There was a lot Astrakhan wanted to discuss."

"Hm. Your father wrote to you again."

"Oh, right. Did you save the letter?"

She let out a puff of air as if that statement had personally offended her. "I organized it amongst your things, yes."

Scorpius tried not to snort, knowing that Chantal hated the sound. "You're not supposed to go through my things. Most people would call it 'mental'."

Her soft, warm body curled up against his. "I only do it because I adore you." She tucked her chin into the hollow of his neck and he felt her lips touch the curve of his jaw. "What would it take for you to possess the curiosity to go through my things?"

Scorpius looked into her face, at her long rich lashes and gleaming expression, and the corner of his mouth lifted. "You are mental, Miss Gerhardt."

"That's alright, mon cherie. Anything you want to talk about?"

Thoughts of Astrakhan, the future, and hair the color of Christmas fluttered through his mind like silent moths. "No. Nothing."

AAA.

The Career Advice sessions passed on without much clamor, as was often the case for anything established by academic institutions. Like ticking off a checklist, the fifth-years soon became more preoccupied with the next obstacle looming before them: O.W.L's. With such emergent stakes at hand, thoughts of the future faded into oblivion only to resurface for brief ponderings before bedtime.

For Carpathia, her thoughts were fixated on a person rather than a career and they appeared far more frequently than the moments before her bedtime. On the night before her first O.W.L exam, she heard a rustling outside her window and opened it to find a piece of parchment lying on her windowsill. The parchment was etched with the symbol of a black hand. Midnight, usual spot, it read.

Carpathia smiled wryly. It was always nice to have friends that made your life a little more interesting.

She draped a black leather jacket over her night-slip, which she had bought from a muggle thrift shop to the chagrin of her parents, and briefly checked herself in the mirror. Her eyes were faded from fatigue and her skin seemed almost translucent under the moonlight, but otherwise she looked like a different animal. The thought of what Devon might say made her blood run a bit faster.

"Where are you going, Carpathia?" a soft, sleepy voice emanated from the corner of the room, and she froze.

The maroon curtains of Rose's four-poster bed parted and the girl's face protruded, her eyes barely open.

Carpathia appraised her roommate with faint amusement. "Go back to sleep. I'll be back soon."

"I'm a Prefect, you know. I could dock points for this," said Rose, struggling to her feet. She yawned and swayed slightly.

"But you won't," stated Carpathia. She watched her words register on Rose's face with satisfaction.

"No, I won't," amended Rose, shaking her head. "But that's beside the point. Honestly, Carpathia, we have exams tomorrow and-"

"I'll be fine," interrupted Carpathia, putting her hands on Rose's shoulders and steering the girl towards her bed. "Tell Al not to worry."

Rose mumbled something unintelligible. With a soft prod from Carpathia, she fell face-forward into her blankets and within seconds, seemed to have slipped into unconsciousness.

Carpathia gazed down at her for several seconds. Then, she slipped on her shoes and crept out of the dormitories.

Carpathia prided herself in her skill at sneaking around after-hours. She had roamed the hallways and memorized the corridors, to the point where she almost had a sixth sense for where the caretakers might be. Within minutes she was out on the grounds. A chilly spring breeze swept through her but she shrugged it off. She felt a familiar thrill as the dark, spindly trees of the Forbidden Forest lengthened above her as she drew close, and when she took the first step off the stone path and onto the soft, dew-blanketed ground, a sense of home enveloped her.

Here.She breathed in and out, closing her eyes in relief and feeling the tranquility of the forest roll across her skin.

There was a small caw to her left. She cocked her head to the side and saw the familiar delicate form of a baby Hipprogriff descending down the tree closest to her. Its claws scraped the bark gawkily as it struggled to remain afloat, but its amber eyes were wide and intelligent.

"Hello, clumsy," said Carpathia softly, stretching out her hand cautiously to prevent frightening her longtime acquaintance. "Where's mummy?"

The hippogriff leapt off the tree and lapped several times around her head, nipping at a strand of her hair here and there. Finally, it landed on her shoulder, talons digging into her jacket, and rubbed its soft feathers against the side of her head with an affectionate croon.

"Yes it has been getting warmer lately," replied Carpathia, reaching into her pocket and retrieving several ripped chunks of bread. "I know its not meat, but…"

The Hippogriff devoured the crumbs with uncomplicated pleasure, its beak accidentally pinching a good portion of her hand. Carpathia bit her lip as a speck of blood dotted her palm but said nothing. Animals, she thought, so much easier to let your guard down around.

"Thia!" called a voice behind her and a light flared out into darkness, casting long shadows from the trees. The hippogriff shrieked and dove into the hollow of the tree that it had come from, leaving behind several wilting feathers. Carpathia took a second to lament the sudden absence of her friend, and then patted her hands against her clothing and turned to face the source of the interruption.

"Erin," she acknowledged with a dip of her head as the light floated closer. The tanned, narrow face of Erin Stormwallis appeared, her thick voluminous hair matching against the unruly setting of the forest.

"Took you long enough," Erin responded with a twitch of her head, "Come on. We're waiting for you."

The light was unnecessary. Carpathia could have found the clearing in her sleep but she followed nevertheless. When she entered the clearing, she noted two other lamps that half-formed a circle and a crackling fire that had been conjured up in the middle. The recognizable figures of a sixth-year boy and a seventh-year girl, which formed the other two members of their group, were whispering and laughing with their backs turned to the fire. A bottle of Firewhiskey lay askew on the grass close to them.

"Oi, you lot. Look who finally made it," Erin announced, setting down her lamp and seating herself on the grass with a thump.

Keegan turned. He was a slight, skinny boy with skin as pale as a vampire's and dark curly hair that was styled in a manner freakishly similar to Devon's. He wore several metal rings with spikes attached on his fingers and was dressed in matching dark gray shirt and baggy trousers. A cigarette hung from his lips carelessly.

"How good of you to come!" he said in a tone that was too loud. He whipped the cigarette out of his mouth and stood up with a slight sway in his step. "You must catch up, my dear. We have so much havoc yet to wreak on our bodies."

Carpathia smiled wryly and Erin rolled her eyes.

"Keegan, please don't make a complete arse of yourself. Carpathia obviously doesn't need much help with that," said the female beside him, her smooth voice bringing to mind the image of scales sliding across damp leaves. Seventh-year Adara Silvas swiveled around with unparalleled poise, her thin dark legs protruding outward as she bent to ash out her cigarette. She tilted her head towards her Carpathia and a curtain of her raven hair cascaded down the side of her swan-like shoulders. Her haunting eyes sized Carpathia up with a barely concealed look of distaste and Carpathia felt a clench in her gut.

"Blimey, look at those legs," Keegan commented with a flip of his hair, "Tell me, princess. How do you manage to maintain that color during the cold months?"

"Dearest, there's no need for maintenance if you've got the natural genes for it," replied Adara.

"Where's Devon?" said Carpathia quietly. She had noted that there was no extra lamp lying nearby or the fact that neither of the group members seemed perturbed by his absence.

Erin coughed and opted to take a swig of the firewhiskey that Keegan silently handed to her. There was an awkward pause as Adara slowly lit up her next cigarette.

"We didn't invite him," she replied after her first drag, blowing the smoke in Carpathia's direction.

"Why?" said Carpathia, letting the smoke wash over her without blinking an eye.

"Why not?"

"Because these hangouts were his idea and we don't ever do anything without him. Because he's our friend," replied Carpathia, fixing a stern look on Adara's carefree expression.

Adara laughed. "Sorry, your boyfriend's not coming." Keegan hummed a note into the glass bottle he was holding. "Agrippa, Carpathia, don't be so easy."

Carpathia slipped her hands into the pockets of her jacket so that Adara couldn't see them clench. "Did you lot get into a fight or something?"

"Hm. You even dressed up, didn't you? Put on a black dress and a leather jacket-you know Devon goes madover leather. Did ya think you were going run off with him for a little snog when we didn't notice?"

"Stop it, Adara," cut in Erin with a sharp look, "She hasn't done anything and you're clearly just sore because Devon can't take the fact that you're a prissy bitch. You gave it a shot in fifth-year and it didn't work out. Stop whinging and leave her alone."

For a moment Adara looked as if someone had slacked her in the jaw. Carpathia struggled not to grin and when she caught Erin's eye, the older girl shrugged.

Adara rolled her eyes, though she was clearly still taken aback. "Don't pretend you've never been in love with him either, Stormwallis."

Erin muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

Keegan raised his hand and hiccupped. "I know I have."

"We all have," emphasized Adara, "That's the point I'm trying to make to our youngest." Her eyes flickered back to Carpathia. "I've had a long history with Devon Lynch and even after all these years of 'friendship', as he likes to call it, he doesn't seem to have a problem tossing me aside. And he won't have a problem doing it to anyone else."

"So you did get into a fight."

A silence descended upon the group. Then Keegan coughed. "This Firewhiskeytastes like piss."

"Call it a difference in priorities," replied Adara, narrowing her eyes at Carpathia's silent challenge. "Whatever it is you think makes you different, whatever he's said to you, Devon Lynch is trouble."

"That's the point, isn't it?" fired back Carpathia. "That's why we all started coming here and doing stupid things in the first place."

"Even I don't look at him the same way anymore, Thia," admitted Erin, blowing out her drag in a skillful spiral. "There's something about the way he acts that doesn't seem to make sense. We're all growing out of our misfit phases, but he just keeps getting darker and darker. But I don't know why he's not here tonight. I asked Adara the same thing." She looked pointedly at the girl in question.

"He's unhinged," Adara put it simply. Keegan eyed her with a slight look of alarm, but she persisted. "What? Fine, I'm exaggerating, but you know what I mean. We all used to admire him because he had the most brilliant ideas back then—it was just fun and games, you know? People used to fear us for testing out hexes in the woods and smoking before it became cool, and we thought it was hilarious." She took a small swig out of the Firewhiskey bottle. "But honestly, skiving N.E.W.T's? Buying drugs off of shady dealers?"

Carpathia's heart stopped in her chest. She could have sworn Adara had tossed a look in her direction.

"That's him, not us. I'm not throwing my bloody future away for some bloke who can afford to because his daddy used to be an international Quidditch star."

"I'd throw my future away for an international Quidditch star," blurted out Keegan with complete honesty.

"Well not all of us are poofs like you," countered Erin, tousling the boy's hair. The four of them shared a brief laugh over this and the tension cracked abruptly.

"Oi. Thia. You have got to try this," said Keegan, gesturing to the seat next to him. Carpathia finally relented and accepted the cigarette that Erin passed to her and the bottle Keegan rolled her way, relishing the night with the people she had come to accept as her friends and letting the hours wash over her one by one.

When Erin declared that it was best to get some sleep before they all took their exams, the group slowly and dazedly headed back to the castle, blinking away the sudden fatigue that crashed down on them.

To Carpathia's surprise, Adara waited several steps behind Keegan and Erin so that she could walk beside her.

"Thia, Thia," she stated, her voice hoarse but still managing to sound infuriatingly appealing. "You're not still mad at me, are you?"

Adara had a way of shaping her words to make them feel like talons wrapping around Carpathia's rib cage.

Carpathia kept her tone neutral. "'Course not. Friends don't stay mad at each other for too long."

"Right," Adara replied, echoing Carpathia's dead-pan tone with her own."Look. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it in front of the others, but I think it's in your best interest to stop seeing Devon."

That was it. For the first time, Carpathia's emotions slipped out from behind her carefully constructed barrier. "You know, Adara, for all your efforts to be so cool all the time you're painfully transparent." She stopped and faced the girl with a look of pure condescension. "Admit that you're jealous."

"Of what, exactly?" inquired Adara in a dangerously low voice, folding her arms.

"All that bollocks you spewed out about him being unhinged like he's some wild animal…how could you do that to someone that meant something to you?" Carpathia's voice trembled but she pressed on. "I don't know what it is that made the two of you fall out but I won't do that to him and neither should you. All of us are are friends but you two started all of this. I used to admire the both of you, ever since my third-year when the two of you hexed all the professors at Halloween to speak only in animal tongues as a protest against wildlife abuse in Potion experiments…" Adara raised her eyebrows, and Carpathia's cheeks flushed. "Yes, I remember that. It was brilliant. But what the hell does that matter? You never liked me, especially since Devon and I started going out, and for the longest time I couldn't figure out why because I thought, 'Not this lot. They're above all that pettiness'. But it's plain and simple, isn't it? Just bloody admit that you're jealous."

Adara's eyes flashed and she let out a loud hoot of laughter. "So you think you're special because Devon chose you and therefore you share some common understanding? What if I told you I know about your little 'secret', Pegs? The one that could easily get you expelled if I said anything?"

Ice-water flooded Carpathia's veins. She stood still, her mouth open, scrutinizing the older girl's face for any sign of a lie but realizing that for all the things she knew about Adara, the girl never spoke anything but the truth. The seconds ticked by,until Carpathia knew that there was nothing to do but concede.

"He told you?" she said, her throat dry.

"I guess he didn't have much time to watch his tongue," replied Adara, her eyes glittering with cruelty, "It must have been preoccupied."

No. He couldn't have. It puts both our futures at risk. Doesn't he care?

"I didn't think you were that stupid, Carpathia," continued Adara, "PEGASUS, honestly? He offered some to me as well, but at least I had the sense to turn it down. Why? Because it's the most destructive magical drug there is, hence Ministry banned."

The betrayal weighed down on Carpathia, carving a hollow space in her chest. Not only had he told Adara, but he'd given Carpathia the impression that he'd saved it just for her. Never mind the actions, even the bloody intention had been wrong. What had she gotten herself into?

"Fine, suppose you're okay with breaking the law and risking permanent damage to your magical abilities and your brain, Merlin forbid, but why would you allow him to call you some idiotic nickname that spells it out clear as day? Pegs. Pegs. Can you believe that?I might be a jealous bitch—I'm not denying it, if that makes you happy—but at least I'm not getting screwed over by a selfish prick. That's the thing you have to understand about Devon, if you think he suffers from just being misunderstood," she leaned in and spat, with finality, "He is selfish."

She shoved past Carpathia, nearly knocking her backwards against a tree, and strode off into the distance. Carpathia gazed after her, her feet numb and her chest aching.

AAA.

It was four in the morning. Al breathed a sign of relief when he saw the dot labeled 'Carpathia Nott' moving sluggishly from the Forbidden Forest towards the castle. So much for Rose assuming her duties as Prefect. He whispered 'Mischief Managed' and stuffed the Marauder's Map beneath his pillow-along with his face. Sleep at last.

And yet...

It wasn't.

Al rolled over onto his back, frustrated. He'd been on Carpathia Watch all night, alternating between O.W.L review notes and poring over that bleeding map, but even after he was certain she'd gone back up to bed the feeling of anxiety was there, nestled in his chest like the flu.

She's liked you for ages.

Isabel's words echoed in his mind over and over again. The idea was preposterous. He could hear his own denial echoing in reply.

You're so adorable when you're jealous.

He closed his eyes, willing his mind to stop churning. Immediately the weariness of staying up all night took hold of his body, pulling it into sleep like quicksand, but his mind was still running and it wouldn't stop—

-until a familiar memory, which had been burning at the back of mind the last few weeks, burst into recollection and engulfed his subconscious.

Three weeks ago.

James was throwing an enormous party, something that had to do with either his birthday or April Fool's or a combination of both. It was meant to commemorate his exit out of Hogwarts and he had assured the school population that it was going to be bigger than big. Epic. Hogwarts was abuzz with it.

Isabel wanted him to go. A massive bonfire out on the grounds? Wicked.

"Please, Al, I know you and him aren't on the best of terms, but you never go to these things with me. You're myboyfriend."

He said he would try. She looked disappointed.

Halfway through the night, he looked out the window, saw the flickering amber lights, and thought of Isabel, who was no doubt hoping he would show up. It was enough to change his mind.

He changed into something button-down and casual and then added a tie so that James wouldn't make a nasty comment.

He was about to enter the grounds where the party was being held when he spotted a familiar lone figure off to the side. There was Carpathia, sitting on a patch of grass and bent over in the shadows, her short raven hair spilling into her hands. She was wearing the black animal-patterned stockings he'd gotten her for Christmas. Her shoulders shook and Al realized that she was crying.

The sight was unholy. Al had never seen his friend cry.

He ran to her without even thinking, nearly tripping over himself. "Shit. Thia, it's me. Al. Are you alright? What happened?"

She lifted her head up. Her eyes looked lost and disoriented. Tears streamed down the sides of her cheeks.

"Al," she murmured, and slipped her arms around his neck, leaning forward to collapse into his open arms. He could smell whiskey off her breath. "I'm such an idiot, Al."

"'Course you are. Let's get you inside," he replied, wondering what his dear, stupid friend had gotten herself into now. He eased her up next to him and made sure her arm was secured firmly around his shoulder. Together, they stumbled back into Gryffindor Tower. He knew the password.

He couldn't get up to the girls' dormitories so he laid her out on one of the scarlet couches in the common-room and summoned down her blankets. She was muttering to herself. He sat next to her and leaned back, watching her face contort with the distasteful consequences of binge-drinking.

"What idiot thing did you do now?" he asked, pushing the hair away from her face.

Carpathia shook her head and wiped the drool away from the corner of her mouth. "Devon—Devon said he was going to meet me outside the woods right before James' party. We were going to…" she hiccupped, and Al waited patiently. "Go for a snog. It's his 17thbirthday today, so I got him something special. Swiftsilver eggs because he's always liked birds. But then I saw him with—with Adara. They were close." She squeezed her eyes shut and a fresh batch of tears dribbled out the corner of her eyes. "I don't know why I'm so upset. I knew they used to go out and she's a friend and I was always fine with him doing what he liked because I know we're not serious. He said because he was leaving Hogwarts we couldn't be together for long but I think it just hit me that—that I really like him, Al. I like him so much and it's terrifying…"

Al said nothing. He was still stroking her hair, he realized, and that was strange but it seemed to be calming her down. Besides it was better to stroke her hair and stay quiet than let the seething emotions inside him prompt a fist in his hand instead. He didn't want to think about strangling Devon Lynch but he knew the urge was there. He vowed the next time he and Devon were alone he would sock the damn bastard for what he had done to his best friend, for making her feel worthless when she was the reason why he'd stayed at Hogwarts all those years ago.

"Right," he said calmly, and she opened her eyes. "But he's the idiot, alright? You…you are wonderful and hilarious and really weird, but you don't need him to make you feel special. Promise that you'll wake up tomorrow and end it. I couldn't stand it if he made you this sad again."

She reached up and took his hand. "I think I love him, Al."

Her words pinched him somewhere deep in his chest. He stared into her sad eyes and squeezed her hand. "You're fifteen. You don't love him. He's just the first bloke you've ever fancied."

Carpathia groaned and her head lolled to the side. He felt her hand grow slack as she drifted off into sleep, muttering, "Right. Fifteen. If only."

He held her hand for several moments and watched her eyes flutter as she lost herself into deep slumber. When he was certain she had fallen asleep, he uncurled his fingers and placed her hand gingerly by the side of her head. He conjured up another set of blankets from some poor bloke's bed in the dormitories upstairs and made himself home on the floor. The Gryffindor carpet smelled like stale pumpkin juice and cat fur.

The next day, he told Isabel he'd gotten the flu.

Al's eyes opened and he stared into the blank forest-green ceiling above him. She's liked you for ages.

What did it matter if that was true?

Whatever feelings that had existed were obviously long gone. More importantly, it was clear that their friendship had withstood and Al was not about to demolish that. They had shared every emotional hurdle, every possible obstacle their family and peers could have thrown at them, and growing up—whether it was troublesome hormones or even more troublesome significant others-was just some transient phase they'd eventually pass through.

It didn't matter if he couldn't decide between Quidditch and Potions. It didn't matter if Astrakhan thought he was thick for not having his future figured out. Al had staked his bet that no matter what, being friends with Carpathia Nott was part of that future, even if there were occupational hazards.

That was a long one!

Several notes:

Christmas symbolism – Scorpius has a particular attachment to Christmas, as evidenced in chapter four, in part because it reminds him of everything's he's lacked in childhood, including a normal family home.

Al/Thia – I hope you like this version of breaking the Carpathia news to Al. I felt that enough time had passed that it didn't need to be seen as more than just puppy love and good ol' 'secondary school crushin sitting by the lunch table to be boyfran gurlfran' kinda love. The question is whether or not their friendship will be able to progress into something else within the context of being more mature and 'grown up', hence the obvious running theme of this chapter, and that is something you'll have to keep reading to find out.

SiggyO's, short for Significant Others – I edited the previous version of this chapter because I felt my handling of SiggyO's fell very much within stereotypical channels. Hope you enjoy this version where I feel the characters are much more 3-D.

Career Advice – felt like this needed to be expanded upon in the OG Potter universe. How do Wizards/Witches get placed for their careers? What kind of careers can they choose? WHAT ARE THEIR QUALIFICATIONS AND DO THEY ACCEPT STD-1-PAGE FORMATTING IN CVS (I'm obviously in a hectic place in my life atm).

Posting more edited chapters this coming month!

Love,

Missuswitch