Friday night mass detention truly ought to have been an extinct practice by now, Albus thought bitterly as he paced in the Room of Requirement, running fingers through his hair, a habit that added to the overall messiness of his hair; not that Albus had ever cared what he looked like. Tonight however, he halted to check his reflection in the window glass, gazing at a narrow long face with high cheekbones and a slightly pointed chin, a straight nose with square thick black framed glasses perched on top of that nose; and through those glasses, two peculiar green eyes looking a bit weary and anxious. He had a slight stubble on his jaw, but not too much; just enough to give him an appearance of someone standing smack on that border distinguishing a boy from a man. Albus was tall, taller than most boys in his years. But he was lean like a swimmer or more specifically a Seeker. James often joked that Albus would have been a looker as a girl with his long legs, earning a hard glare from his serious younger brother.

Albus sighed at the sight of his hair and tried to flatten a wayward strand without much success. He wasn't sure why he cared. Actually, that was a lie. He kind of knew. He just didn't want to admit it. It was a certain blond haired blue-eyed girl who had him acting like, well, James. But he knew this was a fatal attraction, knowing what he knew about that girl.

As if on cue, Lola entered the room and closed the door behind her hastily. She wasn't scared, but she sure seemed a bit agitated; Albus could tell from the way her shoulders were hunched and her right hand was clutching her skirt. In all honesty, Albus hadn't expected her to show up at all. But the very fact that she was here despite of what had transpired the last time she had had an encounter with Albus spoke volumes about her courage.

She watched him cautiously, never looking away. It was an entire conversation between two pairs of eyes. Blue to green. Like sea to the forest.

After a moment, Albus' face broke into a tentative smile. "Hi," he said pleasantly.

"Hi." Lola mumbled.

"Do you want to sit?"

Albus moved the pillows on the couch to make a comfortable spot for Lola, when she blurted out, "What do you want, Albus?"

"I just want to talk." Albus said, the smile still flirting to break out at the corners of his mouth.

Lola shuffled on her feet as she said, "Look, if it's alright with you, I would really like to go back and sleep now. I am tired from the detention. Filch is a menace to the world. I have never cleaned floors for such a long time- well, actually, I have. At home, but-" And she stopped abruptly, realizing that she had probably said more than she should have.

"You clean floors at your home?" Albus frowned.

"No." She said in a clipped tone.

Albus wanted to point out that that is exactly what she had said, but decided against it. He would find out about her trials at her home. But right now there were other pressing matters at hand. He took a deep breath and said, "I want you to tell me what you are."

Lola was a bit surprised by his directness, but then again, she had asked for it. And on all accounts, she had expected this question.

She sighed and asked somberly, "How much do you know about Animagus Transfiguration?"

"Not a whole lot." Albus said. "It's an acquired skill which requires a witch or a wizard to fully grasp the concept of such a complex magic. Its an involuntary transformation and it doesn't make a person lose their human consciousness once transformed."

"That is correct," Lola said, sounding impressed. "Do you know the process?"

"Uh…something to do with mandrake leaves and a spell and a potion?"

"More or less," Lola smiled. "Its actually pretty complex. And it is not recommended unless you absolutely need it."

"Why are you telling me all of this? What I saw wasn't—"

"I know," she said quietly. "It was much worse. I am not an Animagus. I wish I was. Life would have been much simpler that way."

And Lola began to tell her story then.

People don't know much about my father. Mostly because he wasn't a significant part of the war, but also because he is very good at staying hidden. He is a master at blending in. Nobody paid attention to Theo Nott at school. He wasn't the cleverest, but he was clever enough. He wasn't the handsomest, but he could be charming when the need arose. He wasn't on the Quidditch team. He was a quiet Slytherin boy who went about his own business making sure he was playing his part without bringing attention to himself. He wasn't devout to the Dark Lord like the rest of those lunatics. He had no interest in a war which was going to end badly for him no matter what. Notts, after all, were Death Eaters and would still be under the thumb of that genocidal maniac if he ended up winning. Theodore didn't want that kind of life for himself. No. He wanted to be an academic. He wanted to learn something that went beyond the confining walls of Hogwarts and the life of a typical Pure Blood. He wanted to be the first to discover something that would make his name immortal.

No. Father had no interest in Lord Voldemort and his petty vision. He had a bigger fish to fry.

When he was eighteen, and the war was over, father left his home and the life as he knew it behind to go and live in the countryside. I am not sure why, I don't have any particulars on why he chose to live in a cottage in the middle of nowhere. You should know from here on: there are major chunks of the story that are missing from my memory, or Bart and Roman's in fact, which leads me to suspect that our memories had been tempered with at some point—or rather, several some points during the Sessions.

Anyway, we were born some time after he turned about twenty five. We don't know who our mother is though. Father says she died giving birth to us. But there is no proof to that. When I was thirteen, I tried to sneak into his study to find a photograph or any of her mementoes there. But I was caught. The outcome was not pleasant.

You have to understand. He is our father, as far as the biology of it is concerned. But in the true sense, he is more of our creator. We might be his children, but we are his subjects first. Or at least, we were, until he messed up. Now we are just burdens, particularly me, the living proof of his failure.

I know that you want me to tell you exactly what he did to me. But believe me: I don't know. He was trying to achieve something radical by modifying the magic of Animagus Transfiguration. But something went wrong. And it changed me. It changed everything, in fact.

That night with Viola, it was too dark for you to see me. And it is impossible for me to show it to you now. That's one of the perks of father's modification, by the way. My transformation is almost always involuntary. I could turn at any time, in a room full of people without knowing it. I have gotten a bit better at controlling the speed of that transformation over the years, which gives me some time to get away from people. It is not easy at all, though. I can also maintain my human consciousness now, thanks to Bart. He helped me with that. But I can't let anybody see me in my form, because it is deviant. It is…wrong. People don't react well to new things. Especially when they are hideous.

If anybody were to know about this, my father will kill me. He didn't even want to send me to Hogwarts. But Roman convinced him. In fact, I am pretty sure Roman saved my life. If it were upto my father, he would have killed me years ago. He hasn't been himself for some time. He has become cruel. And violent. He hates the sight of me. I am at my brothers' mercy when I am home. Always trapped in my room. That was Roman's idea. He believes that if I lay low, everything will be alright. Even here, at school, I don't interact with people. I go to my classes I do the whole thing. But I can't make friends. I can't go to parties. Most days I eat my meals in the kitchens. I am lucky the House Elves there like me enough to make me a plate. It is safer that way. For others and for me.

"So that's my story," Lola said with a deep sigh. "I'm just your garden variety freak."

Albus shook his head at her and said, "What happened that night with Viola, though?"

"Ah, yes. That is partly the reason why I decided to come here tonight. I wanted to clear the air about it," Lola said. "That wasn't me. I was kind of pissed off about not being able to go to your party—Roman literally warned me not to. So I decided to take a bit of a walk in the castle when I heard Viola scream. That caused me to change into my form. By the time I reached there, Viola was on the ground, and she looked like she was having a seizure. But before I could do anything else, you were there. So, I ran."

"You do know that Viola blames you, right? She has even given you a name- Blue Eyed Devil, I think."

"Monster. It's Blue Eyed Monster." Lola frowned, "I guess she blames me because I was the one she saw. But I felt something when I was there. I felt darkness and grief. It was horrible, Albus. I can't explain it properly, but it was the worst feeling in the world."

Albus nodded absentmindedly, deep in thought. "I have a meeting with McGonagall tomorrow. She will interrogate me about this. I don't know what to tell her anymore."

"You can't tell her about me, Albus." Lola said frantically. "If you do, I will be in a heap of trouble. Please. I didn't do anything. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. You have to believe me."

"I do. I believe you. But if they don't know, they will keep blaming you. And trust me, eventually it will come out that you are their, well…" Albus trailed off, thoroughly embarrassed. He wasn't sure it would be polite to call someone a monster in their face.

"It's okay. You can say it. I don't mind." Lola gave a watery smile and looked away.

"No, I'm sorry people are calling you names," Albus said. "And its not true, you know."

"What's not true?" Lola asked, her voice threatening to break.

"You're not a monster," Albus said firmly and then quickly added, "And you are definitely not hideous."

Lola had no response to that. But after a moment she asked, "How did you know it was me? How did you recognize me that night?"

Albus gave a sheepish smile, "It was your eyes. They are…peculiar."

Rose kept drifting in and out of consciousness. For her it was one of those nights when you are just too tired to sleep. The conversation she had with Lily kept playing in her head. Lily was right. She needed to put herself out there. She needed to find herself a boyfriend before others started getting the wrong idea about herself and Scorpius. After all, Lily wasn't the only one who read more into things. There were other people who thought there was more to their mutual animosity. Even Amelia, who would be the last person to make such assumptions had said, "Maybe you are playing the game of negative reinforcement with yourself." She wasn't sure what that meant exactly, because Amelia was often prone to throwing complex psychological terms at her, but the essence of it was quite clear.

It was ridiculous, of course. Because, sure. Scorpius Malfoy is a shaggy blond haired, stormy grey eyed, fit looking bloke—and that was her unbiased, female-on-the-brink-of-her-sexual-prime opinion. Also, his deep and velvety voice was one his big selling points. Rose didn't know him well enough (yet), but she knew that he had a sense of humour buried somewhere in there. In a nutshell, if the question was: Was she in some kind of a complex psychological debate with herself about her feelings for Scorpius? No. But, was there a slightest chance in hell that some aspects of Scorpius Middle-name-unknown Malfoy appealed to some tiny, miniscule aspects of Rose Nymphadora Weasley? Why, yes. Alas, he did.

But what Lily suggested as a solution was outrageous. Dating Lorcan would be like dating herself. And that wasn't for the lack of trying. Nobody in her family knew this, but she and Lorcan had tried going on a date, "tried" being the operative word here. It was supposed to be one of her Hogsmeade trips in her fourth year. But instead they had ended up spending their evening in the library, because Lorcan had to finish some urgent literature review for Professor Abernathy in Ancient Runes. Rose was only too eager to oblige; after all, she had her own work in Arithmancy to catch up with. They had ended up helping each other. It was amiable enough. But it was not a date. It was more like a study session. Rose had gained a friend that day, someone who understood her love and need for the library. But she had lost yet another potential boyfriend. Usually it was Rose's bookishness that drove boys away from her; they always assumed that because Rose was studious and came from a famous family, she would be a snob. But in Lorcan's case, it should have worked. Only, it didn't. And she ended up gaining a study partner.

After that, she had tried dating a couple of other boys. Most notably Morgan Lee, a fellow Gryffindor whom she had started dating right after that non-date with Lorcan had been her longest relationship yet: Five months, three weeks, and four days. That wasn't bad. In fact, it worked well. Morgan was two years her senior. He was sweet and kind. He understood her. He was also her first kiss, and it was wonderful. But then Morgan went to Japan last summer, and ended up staying in Japan for his last school year. So they broke up. There were no hard feelings and they had parted as friends. But the very fact that Rose had felt no heartbreak in the aftermath of the relationship made her believe that she probably never loved him. If she did, maybe it was just a fleeting kind of love. Morgan still wrote to her sometimes, telling her stories about Japan. He asked her about school, Hugo, Quidditch…and it was nice. But again, Rose had lost a boyfriend, and gained a pen pal this time.

Over the course of that summer, she had started appreciating her newfound singledom, and decided to stay single. In her eyes, having a boyfriend was not essential for a fifteen year old. She had her OWLs to worry about, she had friends. And she wasn't unhappy. The only thing she missed perhaps, was kissing.

Maybe you should make Scorpius Malfoy your kissing friend. That way all your problems will be solved, said a snarky voice in her head. Rose shook that thought away. Stupid head.

She clearly needed to stop thinking about him. But she couldn't help it.

There is an ice cream shop near her grandparents' residence. In summers when she stayed a couple of weeks with them, her grandfather used to take her and Hugo to that ice cream shop every weekend. Her grandmother didn't like it. Ice cream is bad for your teeth! She would say crankily. But grandpa would just huff in response and say, "Life is short, Jane. A little scoop isn't going to rot their teeth. And besides," he would look at them both with great pride, "These kids floss twice a day, don't you?" So, they would go to the ice cream shop. The shop would have these daily specials written on a blackboard. But these daily specials would always be cotton candy or vanilla & raisin and some such awful flavour. Reading these names, Rose would sigh in defeat, and ask for a scoop of whatever version of chocolate ice cream caught her fancy. She lost hope on that board after a few summers. One day, however, things changed. The board said "Chocolate chip cookie dough" in big bold letters. It felt like a birthday surprise. And Rose was over the moon for no reason.

Scorpius Malfoy was that blackboard for her. She always expected the worst from him. But recently she had been surprised. There was a certain tenderness to his overall undecipherable character. She had always seen him as Albus' friend, or the arrogant Slytherin, or someone who has got things he doesn't deserve. Until now, she had only looked at him with jealousy and contempt. And after a point, Scorpius had reciprocated with his complete indifference towards Rose, which had bothered her more often than she had liked. But she had begun to see that she had the capacity to affect him as much as he affected her. And that made her happy for no apparent reason.

Exactly like that blasted blackboard.

She decided to give up on sleep and picked up her wand from the bedside table when a soft clicking noise came from the window.

It was a handsome tawny owl with a little note tied to him. Rose let him in and fed him a treat as she saw who the note was from.

Rose,

I appreciate your good intentions but I wish you hadn't interfered the way you did. Telling McGonagall about my personal issues is not something a potential friend would do. I don't mean to throw accusations at you as that is not in my nature. But there are things you don't know about, consequences that I will have to deal with tomorrow.

I will be going home tomorrow for a week to see my mother.

Good-bye.

Scorpius Malfoy.

Rose wasn't sure what made her more furious: what he had said or the way he had said it.

She picked up a parchment and scribbled hastily:

Scorpius,

I think we need to talk before you leave tomorrow. Can you meet me in the Astronomy Tower in twenty minutes?

-Rose Weasley.

A/N: Hey, everyone! I'm back! And yes, this story is still alive. I am just a very slow (and an inspired-with-great-difficulty) kind of a writer. If you are still interested in reading, please stick with me. Your patience is deeply appreciated, as are your inputs. Please review and comment!

PS: I am not sure how well written this chapter is. I went through it a million times. But I am awful at proofreading. Pardon me if there are any blunders.