For early November, it was a warm, sunny day in Ireland. Scorpius decided to spend the glorious morning lying on a blanket under the sun, daydreaming the long borings hours that were going to plague him until news from Brady or Neville came. Scorpius wondered if not writing Castora was a good idea after all. But in the end, he decided it was, after all, a parchment from him to her would associate her with him, and isolate her from her friends and family. Not to mention, the owl he sent to Brady told him to tell her he was alright.

As much as he missed his wife, daydreaming about their future together made the time seem to pass a little faster than when he first arrived at July Longbottom's cottage late Tuesday night. He loved searching for the vivid images in the back of his mind: Castora's face when she announced she was pregnant for the first time (of course, Scorpius didn't want to see this face for a few years yet), his father Draco's face when Scorpius told him the news, then after he was disowned (which he no doubt would be) he would send his father an owl anyway saying "It's a girl!" or "it's a boy!" or "Twins!" again, the look on Draco's face being priceless.

Then, of course, there were names. Draco would be furious even more when Scorpius named his son Joseph, or his daughter Anne, instead of Jupiter or Merope, respectively. Both he and Castora had their share of odd names. Scorpius would much rather have a John than a Regulus.

"Scorpius? Has the post come yet?" asked July's elderly but shrill voice from the cottage. Scorpius sat up for only a moment to reply.

"Not yet," he confirmed.

"I see. Would you like some pumpkin broth? Freshly brewed," July offered.

"I'll come in for some later," Scorpius said.

July nodded. "Oh, and don't spend all day out there, you'll get ill!"

Scorpius sighed and nodded. July frowned disapprovingly and went back inside the cottage. Scorpius lay back down on the blanket and inhaled the fresh air. July lived by herself in an old cottage in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in County Cork. It was quite a tranquil place. Quiet, no other people around for miles. Because technically, Scorpius was in hiding, July was made a Secret Keeper as to the whereabouts of the cottage were. She called it Heathered Cottage. This was because during the height of summer, the entire land is covered with bright purple heather, she explained on Scorpius' first night.

Suddenly, Scorpius heard a familiar squawk on the horizon. He shot to his feet to see Brady's owl come flying towards him. Scorpius felt his heart beat a little faster.

"News from Hogwarts!" he said excitedly as the brown-and-white barn owl swooped in low, dropping the envelope onto the grass in front of Scorpius. He picked up the parchment and ripped it open.

Scorpius,

Times have been terrible here for us Slytherins since you left. As a cruel joke, some Gryffindors hinted that we may be hiding you in our dormitories, and as a result, we are guarded by Aurors twenty-four hours a day, and we never get any privacy. Many Slytherins are out trying to hunt down the alleged Room of Requirement for a sanctuary, but so far no one had found it. Some of the Slytherin boys are also trying to organize secret underground societies. It was hard enough trying to release this owl somewhere where Aurors wouldn't track down and intercept this.

As for your poor wife…I can barely put this into words. But it must be said nonetheless. Castora has killed herself. She threw herself into the Black Lake last night. No one knows exactly why yet, but it is rumored that the suicide notice said it was because of James' death. Her body has yet to be found, but Professor Longbottom wrote to McGonagall after finding the note, and while no one can seem to find him, he write that he saw her body briefly floating in the lake before sinking.

I am truly sorry about this, it took the entire castle by complete surprise.

Your Ever Loyal Friend, Brady

Scorpius blinked. He must've had something in his eye. Her couldn't have read that letter right. He read it over again. Heh, that was funny. Brady's handwriting must've been really bad, as it sad Castora had thrown herself in the Black Lake and drowned…

"Miss Longbottom!" Scorpius called, his heart beating faster every second. July peeked out the window.

"Scorpius, you'll wake the dead!" she scolded. Scorpius held out the letter.

"I think I'm reading this wrong…please say I'm reading it wrong!" Scorpius begged. July shrugged and took up the letter. After a minute, she tsked.

"So sad, just like what it said in the Prophet this morning…" she muttered. Scorpius almost choked on his own spit as he tried to swallow. There was a lump in his throat the size of Ravenclaw's diadem.

"W…what article?" he managed to squeak out.

July went and got him a copy of the Daily Prophet. The front page bore Castora's picture, smiling and happy, along with the headline "Cousin of Recently-Slain Hogwarts Students Takes Her Life Out of Grief."

"Was this written by that lying Skeeter woman?" asked Scorpius. July searched the paper, and shook her head.

"I take it this was the one you killed and ran away for," July said, coldly. "I'm sorry, but this writer is as true and reliable as anyone."

Scorpius began shaking violently. "Boy, are you alright?' July asked. "Come on inside…"

Scorpius let out a heartbroken, terrifying scream. "DAMNIT, BRADY!! WHY DID YOU LIE TO ME?!?!" he yelled into the sky. "CASTORA!!!!"

"You'll be heard! You want the Aurors to find you?!" July warned sternly. "Get in the house this instant!"

"No!" Scorpius yelled, throwing the paper rudely back at July. Scorpius ran further away from the house, tripped over a bush and fell to the dirt. He looked down at the ground for a solid moment, then looked up at the bright, clear sky. He touched his pocket, where his wand was tucked safely away.

He couldn't believe it. His love, his wife. His Castora, was dead. Killed by her own hand.

Her body floated in the Black Lake. Scorpius knew there was only one thing left to do. If her body was at the bottom of the lake, he wanted his to be right beside her for eternity.

Scorpius looked briefly back at the cottage. July was no longer in the window. "Castora, my love," he whispered slowly to the sky. "I will lie with you, then, if you cannot come to me."


If one looked on the land around the Black Lake on Friday morning, they would think they'd come to the wrong place. They would see a mix of mourners, wearing green/silver, or red/gold, sitting with each other in perfect harmony, comforting each other, for both sides had suffered much loss.

When Rose and Brady came clean with all they knew to McGonagall, she sent an emergency owl to Kingsley Shacklebolt to come to Hogwarts. The entire student was gathered, and Kingsley spoke loud and clear. His speech still rang in everyone's ears twelve hours later.

"Three dead. That's three people too many. Dead because of petty prejudices between Slytherin and Gryffindor, purebloods and Muggle-borns. Why did it have to take human sacrifice to get you children to see that? Twenty-four years ago, the adults of our world were your gave, and they willingly sacrificed themselves for love. LOVE! And you sacrificed your own for hate. To continue a bitter and SENSELESS rivalry! Then, miraculously, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, managed to look beyond their House and blood status and see only the love they had for each other. And now one of them is dead, and I am sure the other will not be happy when we bring him back and tell him the news. How many more deaths will it have to take? How many more fights will you have to endure? Now that all is being uncovered, Scorpius Malfoy will be acquitted, seeing as the circumstances seem fitting. I just hope whatever god or goddess is looking down on you right doesn't decide to bring you more grief than the grief you've brought upon yourselves."

Tensions were still high between the mistrusting Houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin, but nothing could be done overnight. Everyone knew that while it would take time, giving peace a chance may be worth the effort in the end. So now, while the search parties for Castora's body became less and less encouraging, the students talked, cried, and comforted one another, like one big family.

This morning was the first cloudless, sunny morning the school had seen in nearly two weeks. McGonagall and Kingsley walked side by side through the crowds, both dressed in appropriate black robes.

"Headmistess!" called a voice suddenly from the edge of the crowd. Professor Longbottom, looking extremely tired and disheveled, was running at McGonagall with fear and panic in his eyes.

"Professor Longbottom? Where have you been?" asked McGonagall.

"She's not dead!" Neville yelled. Many sulking heads perked up, Rose and Brady's among them. "Castora's alive!"

"What do you mean?" asked Kingsley.

"Castora came to my office a few nights ago hysterical. She'd heard Scorpius had died, and she wanted to find the river where they found his body and throw herself in. But because of the guards, she wanted me to write a suicide note for her, creating a diversion so she could get away! I refused, so she put me under the Imperius Curse and forced me to write it and send it off to you! Then she locked me in the armoire!"

Gasps and whispered rang out from the crowd. Rose and Brady exchanged worried looks.

"Scorpius isn't dead, Professor," Kingsley said. "I've acquitted him and sent the word out so that he may come back."

"Professor! I sent word to Scorpius yesterday that Castora was dead! He would've gotten it by now—"

McGonagall looked at Kingsley, horrified. "Oh Merlin…" she whispered. "They're both headed for the river that borders Wales….to kill themselves…they know nothing about each other."