A/N. A long chapter to make up for some of the irregularities of the past few weeks. I'm putting my A/n at the beginning however, because this chapter has some pretty sad moments in it among the general story. Therefore, this chapter is rated T+.

Chapter Fourteen

…

19th December

The Great Hall

07oo hours

…

During the last three weeks if term, Hufflepuff played Ravenclaw and, though they lost, it was far closer than anyone had anticipated. The Gryffindors were glad of the fact, pleased that neither team had managed to pull ahead on a strong point lead, meaning that the scarlet and gold players were most definitely not out of the running for the cup.

The last Hogsmeade trip of term came the last weekend before the Christmas holidays began and Rose, who had been planning on enforcing an all day practice, decided to let her team make the trek through the snow and sunshine to the village. A decision, as it turned out, that suited everyone.

…

'I was going to make you guys complete suicide runs for me all day today before half my team swans off home for Christmas and eats their bodyweight in mince pies-', Rose began as the team, and some notable additions such as Albus, paused with their breakfast to listen. '-But even I am susceptible to the festive spirit around us.' She gestured good-naturedly to the ceiling where snowflakes fell from the enchanted sky only to evaporate before it could melt on the house tables. 'So I have decided to give you all the day off to do whatever you want. Consider it an early Christmas present from me.'

Lily and Erin let out cheers, and conversation bubbled forth once again. Rose, with a small smile, returned to her breakfast, scooping scrambled egg whites onto her fork. Scorpius, beside her, nudged her arm.

'Good call', he muttered under his breath.

'They would only forget everything over the holidays anyway', she whispered back, her breath tickling his ear.

'Nice try, but I know you better than that', he reached out, and squeezed her arm. 'You actually listened to Lily.'

'Family always comes first, and she was speaking sense.' Came her reply, and Scorpius swallowed back a laugh as her warm breath ghosted across his skin again. 'But she's not the only one who's told me a few truths this year. I guess I just started listening.'

'What are you two love birds whispering about?' Albus's loud voice broke through their quiet speculations, and they shifted, space growing between them again. But still, by some unspoken, perhaps unconscious, agreement they remained close together so it would only take the smallest of effort to reach out, to caress a face, to squeeze a hand, to simply brush skin. Neither seemed to notice this, but Albus certainly did, and though he managed to keep the grin from his lips, he couldn't hide it in his green eyes.

'So who's actually staying at Hogwarts this Christmas?' Dinah seemingly hadn't noticed anything amiss, and asked the group in general.

'I'm heading for the warmer climate of Egypt', Jenny answered around her mug of coffee, 'And I know Karen and Lisa are both heading home.'

'Looks like you'll have the dorm to yourself then Rose', Dinah said to Rose who pouted theatrically. 'I'm not staying either. And I get two Christmases', she added, a slight swagger behind her words. 'Which means double presents losers!'

'My family doesn't do presents', Jenny said. 'We prefer not to be spoilt rotten and actually think about the true meaning of Christmas.'

'Yeah', Dinah sniggered. 'Presents!'

'You sound exactly like my cousin Daisy', Lily piped up. 'She always throws a fit if Uncle Dudley and Aunt Sylvia don't buy her more presents than last year.'

Albus shuddered. 'Please never compare Dinah to Daisy, Lils. Nothing could be more insulting!'

'Hey!' Dinah moved to kick Albus under the table, but accidentally caught Sean instead who kicked her back, laughing at her pouting face.

'Who else is staying?' Keegan asked, over the noise of Dinah and Sean apologising in a highly non-verbal way.

'Professor Marchling gave me a copy of the list, seen as I'm Head Boy and all.' Al puffed out his chest. 'Only Sean and Mack are heading home from our dormitory.'

'Ah Mack', Lily sighed, 'Do you think it's time we forgave him yet? I've barely seen him since that disastrous match.'

'You're kidding right?' Rose looked askance and the very idea. 'He-'

'I know, I know, he ruined your chances at the cup and the tournament, honestly Rose, you're a stuck record!' Lily interjected, brusquely, a slight edge to her voice.

'I was going to say that he hurt Scorpius, and I'm not ready to forgive him that.' Rose said quietly and Lily flushed slightly, embarrassed.

'Right, sorry Rose.'

Under the table, Scorpius found his best friend's hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She didn't pull away from the contact.

'Well I'm going home.' Erin said over the silence that had fallen. Both Rose and Scorpius looked hastily up from their entwined hands and pulled apart. 'It's just me and my dad so I can't wait to see him.' There was something of forced cheeriness about her statement, but sincerity shone through when she spoke of her father. 'What about you Alex?'

Alex gave a slight start. 'Oh, yes I'm going home. I get to do Muggle and magic Christmases, which is enjoyable.'

Lucy lent forwards. 'How do muggle traditions differ from ours?' She queried.

Keegan, under cover of Alex's reply, whispered to Lily: 'Are you staying?'

'Yeah', she replied. 'I've got a mountain of studying to do which I know won't happen if I go home.'

'I'm staying too', he whispered back. Then, steeling himself: 'Maybe we could study together some time?'

'I don't know if that's a good idea', she answered slowly. 'You know what happens when we're alone together.'

'What if I don't care?' Suddenly brave in the knowledge that their friends were still discussing their Christmas plans, he reached out and grabbed her hand under the table, entwining their fingers. 'What if we just screw Rose's rules and go for it anyway?'

'You already know why we can't', Lily tried to be serious, but his sudden burst of courage was contagious. 'We've lasted this long-'

'And I can't last any longer! Look, don't give me an answer now. Come to Hogsmeade with me today, on a proper date, and then give me an answer. Don't worry', he added, seeing her open her mouth to spout difficulties. 'We'll keep in on the down-low. What do you think?'

She opened and closed her mouth. It was a very tempting offer, especially when his thumb was tracing patterns on the back of her palm. But all the reasons they'd agreed to put their relationship on hold were still applicable, and seemed even more prominent with her cousin sat only a few seats down from them.

'Yes', she answered, surprising both of them. 'But it has to be a secret.'

'It's a date.'

...

Whilst, unbeknownst to anyone but themselves, Lily and Keegan were making plans, a barn owl swooped down amongst the Gryffindors and deposited a letter in Albus's breakfast. The owl paused to dip her beak into his goblet of pumpkin juice, then took off again with a flutter of wings. Albus wiped tomato ketchup from the parchment with the sleeve of his robes and slit the envelope open, scanning the contents quickly. Then, breakfast forgotten, he rose to his feet.

'Where are you going?' Scorpius asked, and he mumbled something about being right back before crossing the hall to where Lizzie and her two best friends Belinda and Rosemary were sat. He hovered for a moment, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, but then Natalie Rivers looked up and noticed him and the seventh year girls fell silent.

Things had been, not frozen perhaps, but definitely frosty between the two heads over the last month. Albus had tried apologising, tried reasoning, tried giving her space, but she had remained stubbornly resistant to everything. Their patrols were frankly painful, their meetings with the prefects stilted and terse. She spoke to him, when she spoke to him at all, with excessive politeness, and no warmth at all.

He supposed he did deserve it. But today was a last ditch attempt to get her to forgive him before she went home for the holidays.

'Hello, how are you all doing?'

'Good morning Potter.'

Belinda Bones seemed to have appointed herself spokeswoman for Lizzie where Albus was concerned, but Albus discounted any rudeness that might emanate from her. He understood her loyalty to her friend, and respected her for it.

'Lizzie, can I speak to you for a minute?' Albus asked.

'Of course Al', Lizzie sighed, twisting her body towards him, her face set. 'What is it?'

'Are you going to Hogsmeade with anyone today?'

'Are you joking Potter?' Belinda exploded. 'I would have thought that you would have gotten it into your big head by now, she's not interested!'

'Belinda, that's enough.' Lizzie said, quieting her friend. 'No, I wasn't going to go at all, actually. I have homework to finish.'

'Okay, that's a shame because I was hoping you could meet me in The Three Broomsticks so we can go over the patrol schedules for next term before you leave for Christmas.' Al replied, crossing his fingers in the pocket of his robes.

Lizzie thought for a minute. 'Okay, I'll meet you there. Butterbeer does help with the paperwork.'

'Thanks Lizzie', he returned. 'So, I guess I'll meet you there at eleven?'

'I'll meet you there.'

'Thank you.'

'You already said that.'

…

With Albus across the hall and Lily and Keegan deep in conversation Erin busied herself with her breakfast, trying to wake up with the help of strong coffee. She and Amélie had been up late the previous night, ostensibly searching records, but mostly they had just talked. Not about their parents which still sought to divide the overly optimistic Erin and the cynical Greengrass, but about everything else.

About their plans for after Hogwarts (Amélie who wanted to study theoretical rune physics and five-dimensional architecture, and Erin who really didn't have a clue), about their love lives (Amélie, who almost no experience at all, and Erin, who had dated a boy from their year, and a girl from the year above and couldn't decide which she preferred), about their favourite literature (Amélie - A Revised Hogwarts: A History, collector's edition and Erin – The Dragon Rider, a little juvenile perhaps, but a classic).

It seemed so easy. Perhaps it was because they only met at night, when things took on a greater meaning, but Erin looked forward to their meetings more than she would care to admit.

Still, when she looked up from her plate and saw Amélie hesitantly walking towards her, she was a little shocked. Beyond a casual nod in the corridors when they passed, they saved most of their communications for the library and the night, when it could just be the two of them. Sensing her discomfort, Erin hastily waved to Amélie and beckoned her over to the empty seat next to her, which she gratefully sank into, ducking her head from the inquisitive glances of the other Gryffindors.

'I found her.' Amélie said.

'You- What?'

'Last night, after you went to bed. I stayed behind a bit longer and I found her, your mother. She lives in Cambridgeshire.' Amélie pulled a scrap of parchment with an address on it from her pocket and laid it on the table by Erin's plate.

Erin opened her mouth, then closed it again. She opened it once more, but no sound emerged.

'Did you-' Amélie hesitated. 'Did you want to go and see her?'

'I don't know.' Erin confessed. 'All this time, it's all I could think about, and now I'm scared.'

'Don't listen to my cynicisms.' Amélie was suddenly all business. 'You are constantly telling me to be more optimistic about things. This is fear talking, and I though you lions didn't know the meaning of fear!'

'Don't be daft, everyone feels afraid.' Erin answered. 'Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the ability to set it aside, and continue anyway.'

'Well there you go then.' Amélie smiled. 'When are we going?'

'We? You mean you'll come with me?'

'Of course dummy', Amélie laughed. 'I'm probably as invested in this project as you are. Anyway you need me.'

'You have no idea how true that is.' Erin said softly, and felt heat on her cheeks. 'But how are we going to get there, we're both underage.'

'That's why you have me!' Amélie laughed. 'I'm one of a kind. And I happen to have a sister who has her apparition licence. If you want to go today, well, I cashed in a favour and she says she'll take us by side-along apparition.'

'Really?' Erin gasped. 'She'd do that for me?'

'She's pretty decent, for a Slytherin.' Amélie returned. 'But it does have to be today, unless you want to wait until next term.'

'No, we can go today. Hogsmeade doesn't have apparition wards around it. Where did you want to meet your sister?'

'Cecelia said she'd meet us outside The Hogs Head, less noticeable that way.'

Amélie made to stand, but Erin reached out and caught her arm.

'Thank you so much', she beamed. 'You can't imagine what this means to me.'

'It's cool.' Amélie hesitated. 'Just remember, that things might not go the way you want them to-'

'Oh tush, don't spoil the moment!'

…

Rose and Scorpius finished their breakfast, oblivious to the plans hatching around them. Instead they simply took pleasure in each other's company. When the last of the food faded from the golden plates, and the tables had emptied as students began to head back to their dormitories to get ready for the visit to Hogsmeade, Scorpius finally broke their companionable silence.

'What are you plans for today?'

'I thought we could go to Hogsmeade, just the two of us.' She answered. 'We haven't hung out properly in ages. It'll be just like old times', she added, and he looked sharply at her.

'Is that what you want?' He asked softly, and somehow Rose was nodding.

'Yes, that's what I want.'

…

Outside the Shrieking Shack

09oo hours

…

The Shrieking Shack stood ominously dark against the swirling grey skyline, and the two girls leaning against the rickety fence that enclosed the building gazed at it, half horrified, half fascinated. The snow that had settled along the ridge pole had made it bow, or maybe that was just the progression of time, or maybe the violence of the trapped spirits in side it. Whatever the reason, the shack stood silent now, its windows dull and staring.

'Hi, Cecelia! Over here.' Erin jumped, turning away from the shack and tugging nervously on her hat as Amélie's older sister trudged through the snow towards them.

Cecelia Greengrass was shorter than her sister, with golden hair and very dark eyes and lashes that stood out starkly on her pale, pert face. She had neither the glasses, or the embarrassed stoop of her younger sister, nor did she suffer from any lack of confidence when talking to complete strangers.

'This is a terrible idea.' She said, without greeting or preamble. 'Don't poke this hornet's nest, you never know what will fly out and sting you.'

'It's nice to meet you too', Erin quipped, but Cecelia didn't smile. 'There must be something very special about you to make my sister forget all her her realistic expectations of the world.' She said.

'Shut up Cecelia', Amélie said. 'We don't have all day.'

The two sisters exchanged stony glances, then Cecelia held out both her hands.

'Hold on tight', she said, and they did.

There was a crack, and the most uncomfortable sensation Erin had every felt, as though she was being squeezed through a very narrow tube. Her lungs jumped, seeking air that was crushed from them, and everything was spinning, the Greengrass sister's hands, the only thing she was certain of at all. So she gripped them tighter, and held on.

Early morning sunlight was painting the sandy Cambridgeshire stone a pale gold when they landed, gasping in the middle of a small cobbled square. The row of houses were quaint, with sash windows and gardens of neat rows of flowers and shrubs. Many of the curtains in the windows were still closed, their occupants enjoying the Saturday morning lie-in. There was no snow here, but lights adorned many of the houses, from plastic reindeer to more refined teardrops of golden light.

There was a small war memorial in the centre of the square, with a bench to one side. Cecelia pulled away from the two younger girls, and sat down upon this bench, but Erin held on to Amélie's hand, sudden nervous.

'Which one is it?' She whispered, but her voice carried on the still air.

'Number sixteen', Erin replied. 'I think it's in the next street.'

Cecelia was watching her little sister through narrowed eyes. 'We can still go back', she said. 'It's not too late to forget this and go back to Hogsmeade.'

'A little support would be nice, Sis', Amélie said, forcing her tone to be light.

'Support should not be ignorance.' Her sister replied. 'Amélie, you know how this ends.'

'Erin and I are not the same person', Amélie said forcefully. 'Our cases are not the same.'

'Haven't you become the optimist', Cecelia said, closing her eyes. 'I'll be here when you need me.'

Amélie squeezed Erin's hand. 'I think it's this way.'

They found Number Sixteen halfway down the next street, neatly fenced in by trimmed laurel hedges. A blue front door. Neat curtains. A gnome too ugly to be muggle in the front garden.

'Are you ready for this?' Amélie whispered, and Erin nodded.

'I've never been so ready.'

The gate creaked slightly as she opened it, and frost crunched beneath her feet as she made her way up the neatly weeded garden path to the front door. She hesitated for only the fraction of a second at the blue front door, then reached up and banged the brass knocker twice.

Stepping back, she arranged her face into what she hoped was an appropriately friendly smile, and waited. A moment, and the sound of footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal a woman in a dressing gown, her dark hair messily piled on top of her head. She looked at Erin questioningly.

'Can I help you?'

Erin was almost all her father – his dark skin, his tawny hair, his warm brown eyes. But she could see parts of this woman in her own features too. The slightly Roman nose, the full lips, her narrow shoulders and hips. It was like she was looking at herself but with deliberate mistakes.

'Mum?' She managed, and the woman stepped back, a hand flying to her throat.

It's okay, Erin thought to herself, trying to quell her panic. So she doesn't recognise me, that was to be expected.

'Erin? That can't be you, you're supposed to be in Scotland.'

'Can we come in?'

'I- no- I mean, yes of course. Come in.'

She held the door a little wider, and Erin and Amélie slipped through.

'My husband's just left for work', she said. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'

'That would be lovely.' Amélie said, when it was clear that Erin wasn't up to forming words. 'Is the kitchen this way?'

'Er- Yes, I mean, follow me.'

The kitchen was spotless, all in white with muggle appliances lining the walls. A large range stood against the wall at one end, a table and chairs at the other.

'Please, take a seat.'

Amélie watched as the woman bustled about, making the tea. Then sat on the edge of her seat as they drank the scalding liquid.

'So Erin', she said her daughter's name as though it felt uncomfortable on her tongue. 'What are you doing here?'

'I wanted to meet you!' Erin replied excitedly, leaning forwards and spilling tea onto the pristine white table cloth. The woman's eyes followed the stain.

Amélie wondered why Erin couldn't see the signs as the two spoke; Erin prattling away about everything and anything she could think of, her mother shifting in her seat, eyes flicking to the clock above the table. They were subtle sure, but Amélie would have known them anywhere.

She gazed around the kitchen, and then out of the window that overlooked the back garden. Rows of picture frames lined the sill, and in each stood two boys, at varying stages of their lives from toddlers, through to young men.

'Excuse me', Amélie interrupted Erin's flow of babble. She pointed to the photographs. 'Who are they?'

The woman, she had introduced herself as Mauve Shirley, followed the direction of Amélie's finger, and her face broke into the first true smile either girl had seen.

'They're my sons', she said. 'Charles and John. They're all grown up now, of course, but-'

'I have brothers?' Erin gasped.

'Half-brothers.' Mrs Shirley corrected, her words sharp. 'They're fine boys. Charles is twenty-two and John is nineteen.'

'But then', Erin said slowly. 'My dad. I mean...'

'Look', said Mrs Shirley, pulling the lapels of her dressing gown more firmly together at her throat. 'Your father was an indiscretion, a year of madness when my boys were little. My husband forgave me, took me back. But this house, this family, that's my life.'

'What do you mean?' Erin's voice quavered. 'Mum, I-'

'Don't call me that.' She said sharply, turning away. 'Look, whatever you want from me, money or-'

'You think I'm here for money?' Erin's voice was high and unsteady. 'I wanted to get to know my mother, to see who you were and what you were like! I always thought that you would have some great reason to explain why you left. I'm not some dirty little secret you can bury away!'

Amélie pulled Erin to her feet, clutching her hand tightly in her own.

'Let's go', she said, giving her a tug. 'No good can come from staying here.'

'What happened to a mother's unconditional love?' Erin asked, staring at the women still sat in that neat kitchen. 'I thought that mother's were supposed to love their children, no matter what.'

'You should never have tried to find me.' Mrs Shirley said. 'I have a life here, a good life. I won't let my biggest mistake ruin this. You need to leave. Now.'

The cold air his Erin's face as sharply as the slamming of the door behind her. The frosty temperatures tore at her exposed skin, but she was too numb to cry, too numb to do anything but let Amélie pull her away from the picture-postcard house, with its neat rows of shrubs, and its spotless kitchen that hid the dirtiest of lies.

...

Outside The Three Broomsticks

11oo hours

…

'You actually came. For a minute there I thought you were going to stand me up.'

Albus was leaning against the red brick wall of the The Three Broomsticks when Lizzie rounded a corner, melting snow out of her path with her wand. Snowflakes had settled in his dark hair, and on the shoulders of his heavy cloak, and the smile that appeared on his face when he caught sight of her reminded her of all those times she and her brother had played with the Potters as children. It was the same grin that had graced his face when he'd first used accidental magic, when he'd swam the length of the pond in the Potter's back garden for the first time. It was the grin he wore when the pair of them wouldn't let anyone else into their tree house, when she'd dropped her ice-cream and he's given her his own.

'Funny Potter. Come on, let's get this over with.' Lizzie shifted her satchel over one shoulder and gestured towards the crowded pub.

'You wound me', Al gasped, clutching his heart. 'And I actually thought we could go somewhere a little more private.'

Lizzie closed her eyes. 'You bastard, I should have known that you weren't sincere. I thought maybe we could work on building our friendship again today and now you had to ruin it by-'

'Whoa there Lizbet', Albus raised his hands. 'Yes, I got you here on false pretences, but they come with the best of intentions, you have to believe me.'

'And why should I believe you?' Lizzie asked, trying to squash the small smile that had threatened to bubble up when he had used her childhood nickname.

'Because you may not believe it, but I care about you more than my own happiness, and that means making you happy is the best thing I can ever strive for.' Albus took a step towards her, and took her hand, his woollen gloves rough against her cold hands. 'And I know you don't like me all that much at the moment, but I also know that you trust me, which is why I'm asking you to come with me now.'

She did trust him, just as she had trusted that little boy with his infectious grin and dancing green eyes. So she let him tug her around the corner where another boy was standing.

As he had done all through the years she had known him, James Potter made her breath catch in her throat. He was wearing that worn leather jacket, and ripped jeans, the red scarf she'd knitted him for his birthday knotted around his neck and a dark grey beanie atop his inky curls. His skin was still tan, despite the winter season, and those spattering of freckles still stood out faintly across his nose, beneath deep brown eyes. His mouth was crooked up at one side, and he was staring at her like he had that first time when he's seized her hand and dragged her into one mad-cap adventure after another.

And he was staring at her as though he was tracing her features against the photographs in his memory.

'I'll, er, be going then.'

Albus tried his best not to look back as he walked away from James and Lizzie, but just before he turned the corner of the snow-covered alleyway he caved and glanced over his shoulder. They were still gazing at each other, unable to look away, and Albus knew that she had completely forgotten his existence.

So, his good deed done for the day, he went into the pub and got drunk.

…

The Three Broomsticks

111o hours

...

'Shit, that's Al!' Lily hastily seized her tankard of butterbeer and Keegan's hand, and pulled him away from the crowded bar and towards the back of the pub. She managed to find a small table, hidden behind an enormous Christmas tree decorated with fluttering fairies trapped inside coloured glass jam jars, and they sat down, peering towards the bar.

'I thought he was spending the day with Lizzie', Keegan whispered as they watched Albus order a double shot of firewhiskey, despite the earliness of the hour.

'Apparently not', she whispered back, watching her brother order another from the pretty barmaid behind the counter. 'Do you think I should go and talk to him?'

'Cruel as it sounds, I don't think you're the kind of company Al wants right now.'

Lily watched as her brother lent forward, tapping the pretty barmaid on the back of the hand. 'And I don't think you quite fit the requirements either.' She replied.

'In that case.' Keegan said, pulling his wand out his pocket and levitating the tree a little to the right so it hid them completely from the bar.

Lily hid her worry and instead lent forward, taking one of his hands in both of her own. She raised it to her lips, then held it against her cheek.

'In that case.' She agreed, and lent forward to kiss him.

…

Outside The Three Broomsticks

12oo hours

…

'It's getting cold sitting here', James said. 'Did you want to go inside?'

Lizzie shook her head. 'No, not yet. Out here I can almost pretend nothing has changed.'

There was a polite distance between the two of them on the bench, now cleared of snow, and their words were even politer as they discussed all those safe topics like school and work and friends. She wanted to ask him why he could never change for her, why he had never cared for her like she had cared for him. She wondered if he thought of these questions too, and then despised herself for hoping that he did.

'I had no idea you were going to be here when Al wrote to me.' James said suddenly.

'Were you pleased, or appalled?'

'I was a drowning man staring at air.'

'You always were charming.' She laughed. 'A pity that you could not be sincere as well.'

'I never lied to you about what I am.' He said quickly, and she laid a calming hand on his arm.

'I know you didn't.' She said. 'But I sometimes wish that you had. Then I might have carried on hoping that you loved me enough to grow up.'

'I did love you. I still do in some ways.' He answered slowly. 'You were a good deal too good for me. You should have been with someone like Albus, someone driven and intelligent.'

'And yet I fell in love with you.'

'And yet you fell in love with me.' He echoed.

Another silence, but this time it was less hollow.

'You were the only girl I ever even thought of changing for.' He added to the silence.

'That's a lie', she smiled. 'But thanks all the same.'

'I mean it', he smiled that mischievous smile at her. 'You were worth the bloody nose Tony gave me.'

'James, can I kiss you once last time?' She asked. 'Not because it means anything now, but because it once meant everything.'

The distance between them was no longer polite.

They were kisses that weren't meant to lead anywhere, but did. Kisses that made her heart pound and her head spin, and her knees feel weak as he clutched her to him, curving her backwards as his mouth devoured hers.

They were kisses that shouldn't mean anything, but did. Much as she'd hoped that this kiss would prove her indifference to James, she soon realised that the opposite was true. There was that half smile against her lips, and she thought of Albus suddenly. Perhaps she'd hoped that this kiss would prove that he, and not the boy pressed so close against her now, was the right choice. That the logical and reasoned argument would win out.

When it comes to love, nothing is simple.

…

Outside the Shrieking Shack

153o hours

…

Erin tried to open her eyes, but her tears had frozen them shut. Through her inconsolable grief, reason struck her, and she realised she should be cold and wet, but wasn't. Warm air coated her face, and the ice in her eyes melted.

Amélie watched Erin tentatively, scared to do more than ease her sorrow as best she could. Blue flames crackled by their folded knees, the only noise, but for the inhuman sobs and gasping, rasping breaths, in the stagnant gloom.

When no more tears came, Erin looked up, first at the shack which now seemed only rejected and as lonely as she, then the snow streaked brown with mud. Then at Amélie.

'You were right about everything.' She murmured. 'I should have listened to you.' A pause. 'People stay lost for a reason.'

'It is no consolation to me', Amélie said slowly, reaching an arm around Erin's shoulders. 'That I should be proved right. I wish I could have spared you this.'

Erin lent into Amélie's shoulder. 'I'm sorry I called you a cynic. You were a realist.'

Amélie reached out and took Erin's hand, tracing an indistinct pattern over her palm. 'You make me feel less cynical.' She said.

Their kiss, when it came, was slow and sweet, and as much a search for comfort as an admission of attraction. But in the cold, and the confusion of rejection and disappointed hopes, it was exactly what both of them needed.

…

The Three Broomsticks

16oo hours

…

'Fancy a drinking partner Potter?'

Albus looked blearily up to see a blonde girl leaning against the bar next to him, staring at him blankly. He nodded slowly and she sat down on the stool next to him, fiddling with the coaster until the barmaid set down her drink.

'Pity loves a party', the girl observed. 'And I have a lot of drinking to do if I'm to catch up with you.'

Albus hiccuped, and took another sip of his drink. He blinked a few times and turned to look at the girl properly as she downed her drink.

'Greengrass isn't it?'

'That's right Potty. Cecelia.' She held out her hand and he shook it clumsily. 'So why are you drinking alone in this fine establishment?'

'I just set my brother up with the girl I'm in love with.' He blurted, and then wondered why he was talking to this girl who, to the best of his knowledge, he had never even looked at in six and a half years of school.

'That wasn't very clever.' She commented, idly sticking her finger into her drink and licking the amber droplet. Albus watched the darting motion of her tongue, and wished suddenly that his head wasn't so clouded with alcohol.

'So why are you drinking with me?'

'I did something I should never have done today.' She said sadly, staring at the rows of gleaming bottles behind the bar. 'And I think I may have done irreparable damage in the process.'

'What happened?'

Greengrass laughed. 'I'm about four drinks too early to answer that question.'

'Then let me remedy that!' He waved down the barmaid, who rolled her eyes but accepted his gold, lining up the glasses and filling them with a liquid that steamed as it hit the bottom of the glass.

'To crappy days!' He saluted her with his glass, and then tipped it down his throat. She followed suit.

Cecelia, he stopped calling her Greengrass somewhere around their fifth drink, was hysterically funny in that way only drunkenness can inspire.

'So what did you do that was so bad?' Albus inquired, absent-mindedly hooking a leg around hers and swinging it back and forth. She peered at him, and cocked her head thoughtfully to the side.

'It's so fucking funny', she laughed, but there was a shrill edge to her tone, and the laugh was not in her eyes. 'You'd think I'd know better by now. I'm supposed to be the grown up one. So funny.'

She laughed that shrill hysterical note again.

'My sister's friend wanted to find her mother, and I said I'd help because I didn't help when Amélie wanted my help. And guess what? I was proved right, again!' She hiccuped, and though Albus didn't really understand her words, he lent forwards, clumsily hugging her.

'I should never have let her go. I knew better.' She sniffed, and a tear ran down her cheek.

'Do you want to get out of here?' He asked, and she nodded, wiping her eyes.

'Fuck yes.'

…

Hogsmeade Village

17oo hours

…

Rose and Scorpius, staggering under the weight of the many parcels they carried, laughed and joked as they slipped and slid through the snow and slush, trampled down to ice by the pounding of many feet. At the post office, they unveiled themselves of many of their new purchases, sending cards and gifts to their family members. Their burden lightened, and their money bags seriously emptied, they set off down the high street arm in arm.

At the carolers outside the pub, they sang a few verses, at The Three Broomsticks they drank mulled wine. At Honeydukes they bought each other the foulest tasting confectionery they could find and chortled when the other ate it with grimaces and much resistance.

'Do you think the team are grateful that I gave them the day off?' Rose questioned her friend as they began the walk back to the castle. He slipped a little on some ice, and she righted him without thought.

'I would imagine so.' He laughed. 'I hardly think anyone would prefer suicide runs in the snow to this!' He gestured behind them, to where the snow-covered roofs of the houses of Hogsmeade were receding into the whiteness like the houses of a picture-postcard.

They stood for a moment, sheltered from the wind beneath a broad oak tree, and gazed down at the village beneath them. Rose neatly tucked herself into the crook of his shoulder, and he obligingly wrapped his arms around her lean frame. She thought he might have pressed a kiss to her hair, but he made no further movement, and so neither did she.

…

A/N.

Goodness, what an exhausting chapter to write! Lots of ups and downs, and I hope the happy moments helped to balance out the sad.

What were your thoughts on the romances in this chapter? The dynamics of family? Has Rose shown development?

Let me know.

Review!

Love and hugs

A.A.A.