Chapter 4: You Never Know...
~Albus~

I did not want to leave the comforting cocoon of my blankets. Perhaps if I stayed really, really still, my housemates would overlook my continued presence in the dorms and leave me be. There was an unspoken agreement amongst us Hufflepuff boys – myself unwillingly included – that should one member oversleep then the others would be sure to wake him up before they left for breakfast. Unfortunately, though I never remembered participating in this consensus, my dutiful peers always take the time to include me in the consideration. But today, if I was really still…

Of course, then it hit me that it was Saturday, and I released a sigh of relief. Thank God for that. The first week back to classes had been hell. No revision period for seventh years; such tedious recapping of the past terms content was expected to be done in our own time. No, we dove straight into the thick of things, with each Professor beginning their first classes of the year with "now pay attention, because this will most likely be in your N.E. ". As if we needed any more reminders.

I could be studying. I could be. Though my body clock is slowly getting back into the swing of school hours, I have a suspicion that it may be later into the day than I had at first anticipated. I hadn't exactly thrown myself into studying with the vigour of some of my classmates, but I have the sense to know when I should tuck my chin and at least try to put in some effort.

It's just… the blankets are so warm, and I can smell the faint sweetness of my Harproot on my bedside table. Even unburned it released a pleasantly sweet scent that was naturally calming. It helps me sleep, actually; I've not had difficulty sleeping since Neville gave me the plant years ago.

The thought of my godfather brings a promise to mind and I feel a twinge of guilt that I'm lazing the day away without either A, studying, or B, trekking down to the greenhouses to help Neville nurture the new Salamander Sprouts. They were notoriously finicky, especially in the early days of their eruptions; it would be hard enough for Neville to handle half of the Sprouts and keep them crackling under a flame without the other half spluttering sparks in disgruntlement behind him.

With a heave, I pushed myself to sitting, rubbing my eyes with both hands to clear them from their grogginess. With one foot I kicked back the curtains surrounding my bed and let the morning – the late morning – light do its job of waking me up the rest of the way. Sliding from the end of my bed and casting a hazy glance around myself, I was gratified to notice that I wasn't the only one who was revelling in the first sleep in of the year. Only Dillon was out and about, actually – to be expected; he's jumpier than a cricket, can hardly sit still for two moments. Ainsley was lazing in half-sitting, propped on his pillows and flicking through a book idly, but I suspected from the glazed sheen to his eyes that he was likely more asleep than awake. Of course Xander was still deeply embedded in the dream world; his curtains were half pulled around his bed. One foot stuck out from his blankets having drawn them open to let in a partial glare of light. He's a tosser and turner, that Xander; he couldn't lie still to save himself. Funny, considering how slow and mellow he was when awake.

Dressing in an old pair of jeans and t-shirt, I paused beside my collection of potted plants arranged atop and around my bedside. Half a dozen I've got now, and those just the ones I keep in my dormitory. I repossessed them from Neville within days of returning to school; they're my babies, and confident though I may be in Neville's ability to care for them, he can't possibly love them as much as I do.

I cast a quick Imberio charm over each of them, showering them with tiny droplets of untainted water. I may not be much for charms in general, but gardening charms are something of a speciality for me. Call it a product of sufficient motivation, but I'm quite satisfied that I'm the only one in our year who can actually cast and interpret the readings of a soil composition charm. I guess the main reason is that no one else in my year really cares enough to learn how.

Still, it's gratifying to be good at some aspect of actual magic. It's the most applicable anyway, in my books.

Departing from the common room after pausing to scratch a sleeping Caesar perched atop his cage, I swung by the kitchens before heading outside. Everyone in Hufflepuff is on a first name basis with most of the house elves, a result of our dorm room being so close, and I frequent there quite often. They made the best vegan tartlets, and one can never have too many apples handy.

I wandered out to the greenhouse crunching on one of many such pilfered fruits. The sun had already trekked a significant length across the sky, past midmorning, or there about. I suppose I'd overslept more than just a little. The grounds were already speckled with students enjoying the warm radiance of the autumnal sun. It wouldn't last long, not up here in Scotland. I'll most likely be making the most of it over the coming weeks too.

Neville was in the supply greenhouses when I finally found him, those out the back and strictly 'no students allowed' with a side note of 'except for those who know how to wield a spade'. They held the half-grown subjects that would be used in Herbology throughout the year. The Salamander Sprouts were for the sixth years, but they weren't equipped to handle them before they passed adolescence. There was more involved in caring for the sprouts than just setting them alight; one needed to know where to focus the fire, for how long, and the intensity of the flame, all variables that differed between individuals. It took a practiced eye to determine the signs of distress or intolerance in particular individuals, an eye that most sixth years seemed in adamant refusal to hone.

Neville was bending over a selection of the twitching plants as I watched, his worn coveralls already streaked with dirt and patches of darker colouration that looked suspiciously like burns.

"Morning, Neville."

"Oh, so you finally decided to join me, Albus?" Neville spare me a reproving glance but there was amusement in his tone that diverted possible suspicions of disgruntlement at my absence.

I offered a sheepish laugh. "Yeah, I had something I had to take care of this morning."

"And would that something be sleep?"

Opening the supplies cupboard, I tugged one of the coveralls from their hangers, unzipping the front to clamber into it. "Precisely. I'm a teenager. Sleep is very important for my growing brain."

Neville finally fully turned to regard me at that. A smirk quirked his lips, tugging at smile lines that were already streaked with dirt from the morning's work. "You keep telling yourself that, Al. There's such a thing as too much sleep."

"Never," I countered, stepping up to his side. I scanned the potted sprouts, mentally arranging them in order of those that most needed exposure to fire; they were paler, those ones, their short, thick stems a sickly yellow-green and a their tiny orange starburst leaves slightly drooping. I hesitated for a moment, chewing my lip before muttering a subdued, "sorry I'm late. It wasn't intentional."

"I know," Neville replied cheerfully. "No harm done, so long as you can give me a hand for a couple of hours. You'll just be my slave."

I shrugged. I wasn't even irked at the prospect. I couldn't think of a better enslavement, personally. "Sure. I'm yours for the rest of the day."

"No," Neville corrected, raising his wand from where he'd dropped it to his side. "I'll keep you till lunch. You should be studying."

"Really, Nev? First weekend back, and I should be studying already?"

"You can never be too prepared."

"There's such a thing as burning out. And working yourself up to torture."

Neville chuckled, shaking his head, but didn't object. "Till lunch." And he set to casting a steady flame over the palest of the sprouts. Fumbling to pull my own wand from my pocket – I probably should have disentangled it before I clad myself in coveralls – I joined him.

It was, overall, quite relaxing, even with the occasional stop, drop and roll when a particularly dissatisfied sprout spurted a firework of sparks from the warm yellow centres of their flowers. It was quite funny, actually, watching Neville throw himself at the nearest water trough and nearly tumble inside to smother a conflagration up his arm. At least, it was funny until I followed his emergency procedure not half an hour later. Then he was laughing at my expense.

We work well together, my godfather and I. It's probably a result of having been gardening partners for years. I don't know if it was that I spent more time with Neville when I was younger or if it's just an innate fondness for greenery, but for as long as I can remember, whenever I visited Neville at his house the procedure would be a brief welcoming by his wife, Hannah, consuming the offered nibblies, and following Neville out into his garden. He was teaching me school coursework before I was eight years old.

A by-product of this love of Herbology – or botany, really. I'm honestly not exclusive, and there's quite an array of non-magical plants that take my interest. Two reside at my bedside– is that since fourth year I've been engaged in tertiary level studies. Not openly of course, but whenever I have a spare chance, or if Neville takes an interest in an unusual species that similarly sparks mine. I don't think anyone except Rhali and Ozzy know that I do so, actually. I would never tell anyone; not for any sense of humility, but because I already get enough comments about my overwhelming interest in Herbology to the exclusion of my other subjects. What can I say, plants just do it for me. It's probably the only subject that I'd willingly study, anyway.

We lost track of time a bit, setting fire to plants and watching them not-burn, but when the last of the sprouts had darkened to a deep green Neville cast a Tempus charm and grinned in satisfaction.

"Perfect timing. Just finished for lunch." He took a step away from the rack of sprouts, wiping a hand over his head with the other secreted his wand in his pocket. He cast me a grateful glance. "Thanks for that, Al. You really helped me out."

I shrugged one shoulder, already unzipping my coveralls and nearly falling over myself as I stepped out of them. "'S okay. I quite enjoyed myself." I bent to pick up the crumpled, stained garment from the ground. "If you need help with anything else –"

"No no no no," Neville overrode me, stepping forward to relieve me of the coveralls. "You, kiddo, need to study. Your mum would have my head if you failed your N.E. because you spent to much time with me."

"What are you trying to say about my academic abilities, Nev," I pouted, feigning hurt. There was no 'trying'; my mediocre grades were common knowledge throughout the family and our network of friends. Throughout the entire Wizarding world, actually, but I tried not to think about that.

Neville gave me a fond smile. "You're not fooling anyone, Al. I know all about your marks; teachers talk, you know." He reached forward and ruffled my hair. "But I also know that you're bloody intelligent when you put your mind to it. Got a good head on your shoulders."

"I think we might be exaggerating here a little," I replied. Yeah, I'm not an idiot, but I'm realistic enough to know my limits.

"I'm serious," Neville persisted, and he did sound it. The smile had slipped from his face and he had adopted an intense frown, the likes of which always made me uncomfortable to be the subject of. Light-hearted banter is fine, but bring up any sort of deep and meaningful topic and without a stash of Calming Draughts I turn into a jittery mess. Neville overlooked my slight step backwards, however, nodding to himself. "Yeah, you might not be ace in your theory, but I know you can nail practicals when you put your mind to it."

"That's just for Herbology," I muttered, looking down at my feet.

"What about potions?"

"You know I suck at –"

"The theory, yeah. Your essay-writing skills could use a little work." The crooked smile Neville gave me eased my awkwardness slightly. Or enough for me to stop avoiding his gaze, anyway. "But Yeong was raving about your Sleep Meister Potion last year. And Weatherwell says you've a hand for organic transfiguration when you stop second guessing yourself."

I didn't reply. The suggestion that Weatherwell knew of my 'second guessing' was discomforting enough. I shifted my feet, fidgeting in an attempt to halt a hasty retreat.

Thankfully, Neville appeared to have reached the end of his pep talk. He gave a thoughtful hum, almost a sigh, before ruffling my hair again. "Enough of that, though. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. Go on, off with you."

And that was it. My freedom was afforded. I gave my godfather a poor attempt at a smile, murmured something that could have been construed as a "see you later", and fled. I'm never eager to leave the greenhouses, but I can't say that I wasn't sort of happy to be heading back into the comforting unobtrusiveness of the castle.

A quick shower back at the Basement – I don't know how it happened when I was barely touching them, but somehow I managed to get dirt all over me. Just on the hands and face, of course, what with the coveralls taking the brunt of it – before heading down for some lunch. I'd just relieved the Hufflepuff table of most of its carrot sticks and a bowl of hommus when Rhali approached me.

We don't speak in public, Rhali, Ozzy and I. Not unless directly spoken to. It was never a deliberate decision on any of our parts, but just sort of happened. I don't know why; call it a product of our communal weirdness, but there's something about opening my mouth and speaking my thoughts where others can hear me that freaks me out a little. I'm not trying to be a snob or anything. It just is.

So when Rhali approached me and paused, she didn't say anything. She simply halted in her step long enough to catch my eye and jerked her head towards the doors of the Great Hall, raising an eyebrow as she did so.

The gesture could have meant anything to someone who didn't know Rhali. But I knew her, and everything I needed to hear was spoken from her body language. It was as clear to me as if she said the words aloud. To me, she very clearly said "I'm heading to the library to study Charms. I could use a hand. Join me please?" Or, well, maybe the please was pushing it a bit, but that's it in essence. It could have been Defence that she was asking help for, except Rhali's piss-poor at Charms compared to her slightly better grasp of Defence, and she only ever asked for help in the former.

I tilted my head in a nod of affirmation, and spared her half a glance to notice she swung by the Gryffindor table and conducted a similarly silent exchange with Ozzy before leaving. I nibbled on the last of my carrot sticks and swiping a slice of pita bread from the other end of the table before departing for the library.

Neville was right about one thing, at least. I was pretty horrendous with theory; my practical marks were all that pulled me through in some of my classes. And though I might be better than Rhali at Charms, I could still use all the help I could get.

It was time for my friends and I to pool our collectively appalling efforts.

It was not the best weekend I've ever had. In fact, I'd put it up there with being one of the worst, simply because it was the very first weekend back to school and I'd spent the entire time except for the few hours with the Salamander Sprouts revising old coursework. In retrospect, I probably should have completed it before coming back to school – what had I even been doing over the summer break? – but that's the beauty of hindsight, I suppose.

On the plus side, I did manage to finish my reviews, and made marked headway on the half a dozen essays seventh year had already been assigned this term. Or, well… I started them anyway, even if it was just an introductory paragraph. It left me feeling productive enough that, when Neville apologetically caught me after dinner and asked if I could swing by to retrieve some ingredients to deliver to Yeong 's office, I didn't feel guilty about skiving off the rest of the night.

It wasn't like I really had any intention of studying anyway, but it's always good to delude oneself sometimes.

Wandering down into the dungeons with a trail of Neville's tightly wrapped packages dancing in the air behind me, I turned around the last corner towards Yeong's quarters only to pause and backpedal a moment later. Feeling no compunction against eavesdropping whatsoever – there's only so many exploits a person could pull off with an invisibility cloak before such qualms eventually disappeared entirely – I turned my head on its side and peered around the corner. The two figures stationed halfway down were talking with intense seriousness; the ambiance was almost visibly suspended in the air. My dad's cloak would have been useful right about now. It was a shame it was Lily's week of having it in possession.

One of figures was Professor Yeong. He's a short bloke, trim and with a shaved head that he seems to be compensating for with an overly long, pointed black beard. He never wore a hat to cover his baldness, or at least to keep his brains warm, but otherwise looked the picture of an oriental wizard of old with long, flowing robes that fell over his hands in richly embroidered folds of crimson and black and a thick belt wrapped tightly around his waist that came stretched up to mid-chest.

I have always found Yeong to be one of the most friendly of the professors, something that made my dad raise his eyebrows and wonder aloud wistfully at how different the current professor was to that of the past. I guess he wasn't thinking about how the apparent bastard of a professor was my namesake, because I doubt he would have said as much if he had been. But dad wasn't the only one to comment on Yeong's adeptness as the resident Potions Master. Not only was he reportedly far more amiable than Snape had been during his term, but he was also significantly better at teaching than his predecessor Slughorn had been. The current students have that much to be thankful for, at least. I often have to wonder at the proficiency of some of the past teachers at Hogwarts; from what I've heard, half of them sounded on their way to madness while the majority didn't have even basic training in education.

Thank God times have changed.

Talking to Yeong was a tall blonde that I couldn't momentarily identify as he had his back to me. The precision of his immaculately combed hair gave him away, however, and my suspicions were confirmed when Scorpius Malfoy's voice drifted into my ears.

"… do what I must if I require extra credit, though I understand I'm asking a lot."

Yeong was shaking his head sagely, an almost sorrowful cast to his expression. "You hardly need extra credit, Malfoy. That's not my concern."

"Then… I don't…"

It was strange, hearing Scorpius' broken words. He sounded like almost childlike, baffled by a situation he wasn't prepared for. I would have felt sorry for him if I had more investment in the guy himself. As it stood, I hardly knew him except that he was a prefect, was the only rival of Rose's for top of the, and he stuck to the rules like gum to the underside of a desk. A bit, no, a lot of a perfectionist, to the point of obsessive compulsive, and he wasn't above attempting to raise people to his standards of excellence. Admirable, I suppose, if it weren't for the fact that he appeared rather put out when classmates failed to live up to his expectations.

I'd barely spoken two words to Scorpius throughout our entire schooling career. He could have been the nicest person around, but we just moved in such different circles and at such different paces that the opportunity never really cropped up. Besides, I got the impression that he was probably the sort of person that saw himself as above me a little bit, if not for my marks than for my recreational pursuits. I couldn't see Scorpius Malfoy as being the sort of person to take a break, kick up his feet, and pop a couple of Sparkies or smoke some Harproot, however interesting such a situation might seem to me. He was always a bit rigid, the sort of person who didn't seem able to let himself relax or show the slightest wavering of his iron-hard persistence.

Which was why his wavering words were so unexpected.

Yeong didn't look surprised at Scorpius' response, however. Instead, his expression saddened a little further, just slightly. "There is nothing wrong with your grades, Malfoy. You're an exemplary student; you know you topped the class last year."

"Then why…?"

"I'm merely questioning your apparent change of heart," Yeong continued, his voice soft and soothing in that way he had that immediately settled a classroom of babbling students. "Until last year you were always so enthusiastic about potions. I felt sure you would have pursued a career in Potioneering, or at least a sub-study of magical experimentation. Yet I can't help but notice… do you perhaps not enjoy studying the art any longer?"

Even from where I stood, I could see the tension in Scorpius' back, tightening the spread of black robes across his shoulders. When he spoke, his voice had steadied, but there was a distinct lack of emotion in his tone. "It's not a matter of enjoying, Professor, I assure you. I do still enjoy potions, but…" Scorpius paused, and I fathomed that I could see him swallow, steel himself, and continue. "I have realised that the study of potions will not overly contribute to my future career."

Yeong raised an eyebrow at that. "Not contribute? There is a wide range of professions in the Wizarding world, and even in the Muggle world these days, that support potions studies." Yeong's face slowly settled into a thoughtful frown. "If you don't mind me asking, Malfoy, upon which path do you attempt to set yourself upon graduation?"

Scorpius shifted slightly from foot to foot, a motion that struck me slightly as, well… I'm not saying that I know Scorpius or anything, not at all, but it seemed very unlike something he would do. He didn't seem like the nervous, fidgeting type. "I intend to follow my father into the ministry, Professor."

Yeong's face cleared, as though comprehension suddenly dawned. "Ah, I see. But of course. You have already determined that is definitely the route you intend to take?"

"Yes, sir," Scorpius replied with a nod of his head. "I think following my father into his business it is the most suitable career path for me."

"Suitable, Malfoy?" Yeong tilted his head, considering the young man before him. "What of your personal preferences? Is becoming a businessman a path you are truly eager to set yourself upon?"

Again Scorpius shifted. "I… It's what I've chosen, Professor. And I've… I've already made plans. I know where I'm heading. The foundations have already been laid for my, erm…"

"Step into the intricate webs of economic life?" Yeong supplied with another sad smile.

Scorpius bowed his head, avoiding the Potions professor's gaze. "Something like that, sir."

"I see," Yeong sighed, and he did genuinely seem to understand. Another good thing about Yeong; he wasn't pushy, even, for instance, in the face of obvious excuses for a lack of homework. "Well, if that is truly your choice, Malfoy, I can only a agree it is an apt decision. But remember," and he paused long enough to urge Scorpius to slowly raise his head and meet his gaze. "Not everything is set in stone. You don't have to continue such a pursuit if your tastes lead you elsewhere in future. You never know, in five, ten years time, your love of potions may rekindle. You have always been so adept at it."

It could have been my imagination, but to me it sounded like Yeong was suggesting something slightly different to what his words pronounced. Scorpius didn't reply, so perhaps he thought the same. That, or he was just lost in mulling over Yeong's words.

"If that is all?" Yeong finally spoke up, his expression clearing with a very deliberate 'put this issue aside' motion.

Startling slightly, Scorpius raised his head. His nod was a little stilted, as though distracted. "Yes, I… yes, professor. Thank you for your time."

"Not at all, Malfoy. If you have any further thoughts, please see me. I would be more than happy to discuss them with you, regardless of their nature." Which, I considered, was a bit of a strange offer seeing as Yeong wasn't Scorpius' head of house or anything. But then who was I to judge?

As Scorpius slowly begun to turn, I had the realisation that, yeah, Scorpius had finished his discussion and was now turning to leave. In the direction I was eavesdropping.

Which could be quite incriminating.

Taking the bull by the horns rather than allowing it to charge at me head on, I attempted to adopt a casual stance and rounded the corner, dragging my levitating packages behind me. At my appearance, both Yeong and Scorpius eyed me with varying degrees of surprise.

"Potter? Was there something that you needed?"

Doing my best to ignore Scorpius' fixed, unblinking and faintly accusing stare, I walked straight up to Yeong and swung the dozen packages into the air before him. "Professor Longbottom asked me to bring these to you, sir. The Mock-gingeroot and scatterseeds that you asked for. The supplies for the Healthy-and-Hail as well, I think."

Yeong's face brightened as though I were giving him a Christmas gift. "Ah, wonderful! My thanks, Potter. Most kind of you to bring them to me."

"'S okay, professor," I replied with a shrug. Yeong nodded an acknowledgement, cast a levitating spell. He scooped the packages from my magical grasp and in an instant swept from the hallway and disappeared into his office. The door creaked slightly in his wake before softly clicking shut.

Turning back the way I'd come, I startled to a stop as I was confronted with the blank expression of Scorpius Malfoy and his disconcerting, unblinking stare. I don't know why it surprised me that he was there – maybe just that he was still there – but those thoughts rapidly faded as curiosity took their place. I felt a frown crinkle my forehead as I studied his countenance.

I'd not seen much of Scorpius since our rather spontaneous midnight confrontation, but he seemed to have changed since then, even in such a short time. He looked tired, wilted almost, like one of the Salamander Sprouts that hadn't spent enough time under the fire. He was still perfectly groomed, down to the last, closely cropped hair on white-blonde head. His robes were smooth and free of any indication that he had been wearing them all day, and yet there was something about his face that seemed worn. A weariness in his pale eyes, slight, dark rings smudging beneath them. He was maybe a little paler than usual, if possible, his angular features prominent and skin nearly translucent, though it was hard to tell in the dungeons and I wouldn't call myself an expert on what was deemed healthy Malfoy pallor. There was a slight hunch to his shoulders too, however, that seemed only restrained by the persistent tension along his neck.

Scorpius appeared to be studying me just as intently, and obviously wasn't as comfortable with silences as I was, for after an awkward pause he grumbled, "What?"

Dropping my gaze, I shrugged a shoulder. It's not like I particularly wanted to talk to him or anything but, well, he'd spoken first, so I guess he had technically initiated conversation. "Nothing, just… Are you alright?"

From beneath lowered lashes I saw the annoyance on Scorpius' face shift into surprise, then confusion. "What? What do you mean?"

Another shrug and I raised a hand to pick awkwardly at my hair. "Nothing particularly. Only that you kind of look like shit."

That probably wasn't the best thing to say to a prefect – he could hand out detentions, after all – but it was true nonetheless. And apparently that truth resonated with Scorpius enough that detentions were far from his mind.

He stared at me with a mixture of continued confusion and rising incredulity. Slowly, his face seemed to sag slightly; almost imperceptibly, really, and would have been unnoticeable in its final form except that I watched it appear.

Scorpius offered his own shrug, a bunching of tight shoulders. "It's nothing. I'm fine, I just…"

Even those few words struck something in me. He didn't wave them off, didn't scowl at me or accuse me of being intrusive, that if he wanted to talk to someone of his concerns then he'd go to his friends. It might have been my imagination, but he looked one second more of classical Malfoy pomp away from rubbing his forehead wearily and slumping against the nearest wall.

He looked… tired. And strained. And unhappy.

"You look like you need a break."

Scorpius snorted, but there wasn't any malice in the sound and it seemed mostly self-directed. "It's only first week back. I don't need a break."

"Technically second," I replied. "And it doesn't matter how early into term it is. You keep pushing yourself too hard and you'll wind up knee deep in the mud and burnt out. You've gotta take it easy every now and then."

Raising an eyebrow, Scorpius eyed me with a renewed sense of interest. I might have been insulted by that, by the insinuation that he hadn't really been all that interested in what I had to say in the first place, but I wasn't. I was more disconcerted that he was taking any more interest in me at all. "What, like you?"

I frowned. That rubbed me the wrong way. I pursed my lips. "Yeah, maybe a bit more like me. All I know is that you look bloody miserable, and it's a downer to those around you. And I don't spend that much time with you, so if I'm feeling it's effects they must be pretty strong."

Scorpius seemed to deflate at each of my words until even his shoulders were sagging, slightly more heavily than before. I felt kind of guilty for that. His chin dropped and he looked to be having difficulty keeping his head from falling off to roll on the floor. As such, maybe his next words shouldn't have come as such as surprise, but they did. "I know, I'm just… I've got a lot of things on my mind right now."

Maybe it was just the confessionary attitude of his approach. I don't think I actually expected him to reply.

I nodded acceptingly, though, much like I imagine a priest would. I could understand that, at least. Seventh year and Prefect duties aside, Scorpius seemed to be putting a marked emphasis upon considering exactly where he'd be at this time next year. I felt almost sorry for the guy.

It was that stray thought that triggered it, I think. I have absolutely no idea why I said what I did next and I doubt I'll ever fully comprehend what waggled my tongue, but before I realised what I was saying the words were already out of my mouth. "You need to chill out a bit, mate. Seriously. I mean… hold on, you're not doing anything right now, are you?"

Slowly raising his head, Scorpius regarded me with weary confusion. "Now?"

"Yeah, now."

"Well, I should probably finish my Transfiguration essay…"

I rolled my eyes, releasing an exasperated sigh. "The transfiguration essay that's not due for another two weeks?" The one I haven't even started yet? "Nope, that's it. Come on, come with me."

Beckoning him with a flick of my fingers, I strode past Scorpius in the direction of the stairwell. It took a moment, but hesitantly, almost warily, Scorpius' footsteps followed after me.

"Took your bloody time, Ally," was, predictably, the first words from Rhali's mouth. The next, equally predictable, were, "Holy fuck, what's he doing here?"

Honestly, I was asking myself the same thing. A sideways glance at Scorpius suggested he was considering a similar question. We hadn't spoken a word to each other since leaving the dungeons. I don't know for sure, but I'm pretty certain he was regretting following me.

I really don't know what possessed me to invite him along to the Niche. I'm not the type to initiate any substantial degree of contact with those outside my family and closest friends. The fact that I'd urged Scorpius Malfoy, scion of the Malfoy family and all round Outstanding student, to my little pot-hole was mind-boggling.

What was almost as astounding was that said scion had actually followed me. Maybe he was just too tired to object – he certainly looked it; what lengths did someone have to go to become so exhausted after only one week of school? – but surely he wasn't so out of it that he didn't notice where we were going. I mean, Scorpius had been the one to spring us in the middle of the night not seven days ago, and I'm not naïve or stupid enough to think that he might have misunderstood what we were doing.

Resolutely setting aside my flurry of confusion and sound internal reprimands of, "What the bloody hell were you thinking, Al?" I offered Rhali a scathing, hopefully-silencing glare. "Scorpius is just looking for a place to wind down for a bit. You have an objection, Rhali?"

My friend's eyebrows crept up to her hairline, disappearing beneath her tangled fringe. Her incredulity, however, was short lived and shifted to amusement as she turned her full attention onto Scorpius. I sincerely hoped Scorpius didn't realise it for what it was, because I can't imagine he would have stood for being the trigger of such a derogatory response.

Which led me to wondering why I felt that. Maybe my subconsciousness felt even more sorry for Prefect Perfect than even my conscious self did. I wouldn't be surprised. The longer I kept my eyes subtly trained on Scorpius the more unhealthy he looked.

Rhali's not a mean person. Not really, when you get past her biting exterior. And while, as with Ozzy and I, she tends to keep her mouth closed in public, set her before a huddle of precocious first years or a prefect isolated from the hoards of seventh years and she felt no such restraint. I'd seen it before, her abrupt change in attitude, and it was exactly the same in this instance.

"Well, so long as I don't end up getting detention for it, I couldn't care less." Leaning back slightly, Rhali folded her arms and ran her eyes up and down Scorpius in an almost professionally detached assessment. "Yeah, I can see why you brought him along. Come on, then," she said as though she bloody owned the place.

Without pause, Rhali reached forwards and fastened her hands in claw-like grasps around both Scorpius' wrist and mine. Scorpius flinched, seeming on the verge of yanking himself from her holdfast, but reacted too slowly for an instant later we were both tugged into the Niche. It was a near thing that we didn't end up on the floor for the stumbling mess the three of us made at our entrance.

Ozzy, folded into the double sofa, peered at us curiously with one arm slung over the back of the seat. His lips quivered slightly, as though he found the scene nothing if not amusing, and shook his head. "Have you picked up a stray puppy, Al?"

Ignoring the way Scorpius froze and seemed to bristle at Ozzy's words, I turned by scathing glare upon the Gryffindor boy instead. "Shut your trap, Ozzy. I invited him, so if you have a problem with it I'm withholding your share." Which sufficed to silence any further comment from him.

Falling into the seat beside Ozzy, I watched in suppressed amusement as Rhali prodded Scorpius to the single arm chair. It was quite gracious of her, really. I wouldn't have been surprised had she claimed the single seat for herself and forced Scorpius to find a spot on the rug. As Scorpius settled himself gingerly in the seat, I resolutely decided to do little more than ignore his presence and carry on as I otherwise would. It's not like I needed to change my habits just because Mr Prefect was here. If he had a problem with my behaviour, he could leave. I didn't particularly care, regardless of the fact I'd brought him here. So long as he didn't bring the professors down on our heads, that was.

Ozzy slumped against my shoulder heavily, stretching his long legs out before him. I elbowed him back as I idly dug my fingers into my pockets. "You actually get any work done after we left you at dinner?"

"Nope," Ozzy said with a cheerful sigh. "I added a tasteful border to my report on Selkie skins, though. Hagrid should give me points for effort in that area, at least."

"Ozzy, you have no artistic abilities whatsoever," Rhali informed him, dropping down onto the rug and crossing her legs.

"Hey, I resent that."

"It's true," I agreed, patting his shoulder in commiseration. "Don't worry, though. I'm sure your true potential will show itself some day. Just probably not through art."

"Or essay writing."

"Or giving speeches."

"Or anything that remotely requires a balancing skills."

"Or competitiveness."

"Or –"

"Alright, you two, give me a break," Ozzy moaned. Rhali and I shared a grin. "It's only first week back –"

"Second," I interjected.

"- and I don't need you telling me that my life will amount to nothing because I lack any noteworthy skills. Seventh year is depressing enough, thank you very much."

"Aw, did we hurt you fweelings," Rhali teased, sticking out her bottom lip and adopting an expression of very obviously false concern. Ozzy pulled a cushion from beneath him and lobed it at her. She caught it neatly and promptly sat on it.

"If it helps, I've got something that will make you feel better." Finally sorting through the scraps of discarded parchment, cuttings of greenery, apples and broken quills nibs – I should never have asked Rose to give me bottomless pockets – I held up a foil wrapped parcel and with a raised eyebrow. I resolutely ignored the slow frown that settled on Scorpius' face. Leave if you have a problem with it. I'm not stopping you, I thought, and it must have been loud enough because I swear he flinched.

Ozzy shifted towards me from his slouch and Rhali straightened slightly. "What is it?" Rhali asked curiously.

I smiled between my friends. "I've fixed it."

"Fixed what?" Rhali demanded, folding her arms indignantly. She hated when I dangled the bait over her head, which only made me more prone to doing so.

"Oh, is that…?" A slow, delighted smile spread across Ozzy's face. I nodded vigorously. "It doesn't trip you into blubbering in Gaelic anymore?"

"Nope," I replied, quite pleased with myself.

"Oh, you fixed your Happy Gum?" Rhali's indignation disappeared in her own delight. "Gimme, gimme! I so need it right now, honestly, I need it."

I snorted, unwrapping the foil. Of course I'd give her some, and not just because Sunday night get togethers were as much a tradition as the first night back at school. Rhali would pin me down to the floor and sit on me until I did so otherwise. She might be rangy, but that girl could bring down an elephant if she put her mind to it.

"Happy Gum? What, no Jojo Beans?"

I paused in my unwrapping and lifted my eyes towards Scorpius. Rhali and Ozzy turned towards him tandem, blinking in surprise as though they'd honestly forgotten he was here. Scorpius sounded a mixture of sceptical and, oddly, curiosity.

For a moment I didn't understand the reference. Jojo Beans? I hadn't taken Jojo Beans since… I felt my face flush brightly and raised a hand to cover my eyes, ducking my head in an attempt to cover my embarrassment. Oh God, third year. That was one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life. Any reminder was actively avoided.

Ozzy evidently realised the significance of the statement too, for he started snickering beneath his breath. Rhali caught on a moment later. Embarrassed, however, she was not. "Jojo Beans are a thing of the past, Scorpius, believe me. I wouldn't take anything that Ally didn't give me."

"Ally?" I wasn't sure if he was commenting on the nickname or on Rhali's statement as a whole.

Rhali nodded, assuming the latter. "You don't know half of what goes into that commercial stuff nowadays. Probably barely a trace of purity in them. Ally, his stuffs clean, and none of that crap that'll send you spiralling over the edge or waking up in a ditch somewhere with half your face dripping off. His stuff's tops."

"Except when it makes you speak Gaelic," Ozzy muttered, still chortling. The cushion from beneath Rhali's bum came sailing across the room once more to smack him on the head.

"Yeah, but he fixed that, didn't you, Ally? 'S'all good now?"

I nodded, but didn't get a reply in before Scorpius spoke once more. "It made you speak Gaelic? What is this gum, exactly?"

I, personally, would have rather kept silent on the matter, but when Rhali gets to talking she's a hard one to stop. I got the impression she's almost proud of me for my products; like a clucking mother preening over their son's good grades. "Ally grew it himself. Nothing like it on the market, or at least nothing that doesn't give you a downer on the other end." She paused to give Scorpius a very serious, very pointed stare. "His stuff's the best."

I felt a flush revisit my cheeks for an entirely different reason this time and fiddled unnecessarily with the foil package. But if I felt a little flicker of pride at her confidence, well, who can blame me? Even if it is only the only thing Rhali truly recognises me for is my ability to grow a bloody good drug. Hard love, she gives.

"You grew it yourself?" Again, Scorpius sounded more curious than accusatory. Still, I only nodded reluctantly.

Ozzy elbowed me jovially. "What do you think he spends all his time in the greenhouses for?"

"Ozzy!" I exclaimed, reaching up to cuff him across the back of the head. He ducked from my swing, eyes widening and hands rising either side of him as if to ask 'what?' Like he didn't know!

Scorpius' pale, perfectly plucked eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead. "In the greenhouses?" He sounded horrified, and his face wore the expression perfectly. "And Longbottom? Does he –?"

"No," I assured him, shaking my head adamantly. "Neville does not grow drugs on campus."

"Unless you count Blackeye berries, but Yeong uses their leaves for potions," Rhali amended. As though that titbit was even relevant.

Scorpius still looked faintly horrified, but at least now he didn't seem on the verge of either passing out or having a fit. He shook his head slightly, as though questioning the very idea itself. A moment later, however, he continued. "You know, you could get expelled for growing illegal substances at school."

Ozzy, Rhali and I exchanged glances. Yes, in fact, we did know. Not to mention that word of such a deliberate breaking of rules would be plastered all over the media. I could see it now: 'SCHOOL SCANDAL – POTTER'S BOY UNDERCOVER DEALER?' Yeah, I could see that going down well. It left me feeling a bit nauseous when I thought about it so, naturally, I chose not to think about it.

Rhali was waving her hand towards Scorpius' in a clear gesture of disregard. "Whatever, how many years has it been and we haven't gotten caught?" She raised an eyebrow at me questioningly but didn't await a reply. "Besides, this is our last year. I'll stick with our chances of slipping under the radar if it means I've got something that will help me get through the exams. Pretty sure we're safe. Unless…" Rhali narrowed her eyes at Scorpius, "someone in particular chose to wag his tongue like a preschool tattle-tale."

Surprisingly, rather than get offended, Scorpius only snorted. "You do realise that the entire school knows you at least use and they've unanimously decided to keep your secret hidden?"

"Yeah, we sort of got that impression," Ozzy acknowledged, appearing far too satisfied with the prospect as he slumped back in his seat. "Huzzah for teen conspiracy."

Scorpius snorted again, but didn't continue, and concluding that the conversation had apparently reached a natural close I finished unwrapping the Happy Gum. A folded sliver of tough, blue leaf unravelled itself into a ribbon as soon as the packaging was removed, which I set about bending and snapping into four pieces. Ozzy and Rhali took theirs immediately, Rhali nearly taking it from my hand with her teeth. When I held out a piece to Scorpius, however, he only regarded me wryly.

"Really?"

I shrugged, holding back the urge to glare at him for the condescension in his tone. Yes, really, you tosser. "Suit yourself. You don't have to, but I'd reckon you'd probably appreciate it." I lifted myself slightly from my seat, reaching out to place it on the arm of his chair.

Scorpius shifted away from the absolutely harmless and unintimidating piece of leaf as though it was a venomous spider. "You think so." It wasn't a question. "And how, exactly, would you know?"

Rhali answered for me, nearly spitting as she attempted to enunciate around the chewed piece of leaf. Her lips were tinged slightly purple. "Because, oh regal Prefect, sir, it makes you happy – duh – and you look absolutely miserable."

Her words were so exasperated that Scorpius seemed to skip right past affronted and onto thoughtfulness. He cast another glance at the leaf beside him. "What is it, exactly?"

"It's gum," Ozzy supplied redundantly, holding up his own piece as though in demonstration before folding it into his mouth.

"Yes, as you have said."

"It's a hybrid," I explained, bending the leaf between my fingers to make it more flexible. I'd… practiced a little, in my own time, and knew that it was easier to chew that way. "I spliced a Tipsy Toes with a Miscanthus subspecies. It didn't work out so well at the beginning –"

"The unexpected linguistic repercussions?"

"Yeah, that. And before you ask, I have no idea why it's gaelic of all things. But I was experimenting with it over the summer a bit and fixed it up. Brought some seeds with me; they grow like troopers if you manage to balance the soil pH right. Not too much salinity and all that jazz."

Scorpius regarded me with an expression that I couldn't quite work out. "You… spliced the plants? And grew them yourself."

Rhali giggled – obviously the effects of the gum were already setting in – and offered my a sympathetic glance. "The disbelief is heartbreaking, Malfoy. So little faith in our Ally?"

I ignored that comment and set about to working myself into my Happy place.

I'm not sure if Scorpius replied. The immediate effects of my Happy Gum are a little like getting your tongue lathered in paint stripper. It's achingly sour in a way that brings tears to the eyes, but only for about three seconds before it disappears to a really, really tasteful citrusy flavour. I've grown quite fond of it actually. But better than that, it hits fast and lasts long, so within moments I felt myself rising on the induced effects of an alternate sort of high.

My plants, the ones that we use for recreational purposes, are very specific in what they induce. I'm utterly avoidant of negative side effects – experimenting with Muggle products in fourth year turned me off ever using a needle or directly smoking a joint again, ever – and even those that cause arguably neutral effects I tend to steer clear of. I'm all about safety in my drug habits.

Happy Gum is a little like Harproot in that it doesn't wrap your mind up in a blanket, tip it upside down and shake your brains until every last piece of loose change tumbles from your pockets. None of that 'off-your-face' mindlessness of ECE that's doing the rounds in the Wizarding world at the moment, nor ice that makes its appearance in Muggle clubs – I never drifted anywhere near meth; nasty stuff – but instead gives one a rather profoundly positive outlook. It's sort of like being on one of those exhaustion-induced highs where everything seems funny, except it lacks the actual tiredness.

Sure, initially I'd had some problems. Thankfully, Tipsy Toes, when harvesting from the leaves rather than the roots, completely avoids the crash that is a common side effect of many potions it's used in. It does, however, unfortunately have a rather extended effect, up to several days at a time, that is not only exhausting but a little counterproductive. There's such a thing as too much positivity; there's no way to get anything done by simply brushing aside reminders with 'don't worry about it, I'll get round to it'. Because you won't. You really, really won't.

Well, that and the unexpected and, as far as I can tell, largely inexplicable inducement of Gaelic-speaking capacities to the exclusion of the English language. I have no idea what that was about.

So I dulled the effects by splicing it with a non-magical Miscanthus. It took a couple of different tries, but I found the perfect combination eventually. The result? Happy Gum. The Gaelic problem was still an issue until I magically stabilised it over the summer, but other than that it's just about perfect. It only lasts for a few hours at most too, and serves as a great pick-me-up after enduring soul-crushing hours of study.

I felt a smile spreading across my face as lightness flooded my chest. N.E. ? Not a problem right now; they're months down the track. Potentially failing Astronomy again? Not an issue, I'll just study a little harder this time. The very real possibility that Scorpius Malfoy turns out to be a complete wanker and turns us over to Weatherwell? Whatever, at least we had fun while it lasted. I was still in my right mind enough to know that I'd probably have a bit of a problem looking for work after being expelled from school, not to mention the effects of the media, but it was easy enough to bat away. It's not like it's happened yet or anything, and turning towards Scorpius and his considering gaze as he listened to something Rhali was fervently spouting, I felt reassured that such an eventuality wouldn't come to pass.

"You know what?" Ozzy muttered, his expression thoughtful and eyes drifting towards the far wall as he propped an elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin on his palm. "I could actually be an athlete. Maybe not a team player, but still."

"What makes you say that?" I asked, lifting my legs to tuck them more comfortably beneath me on the couch. I was in a good enough mood now to humour Ozzy's random contemplation.

"Well, you know I used to go hiking when I was a kid?"

"Why does that not surprise me? Your mum's a gung-ho, pro-environmental activist who can't sit still to drink a cup of coffee."

"Ma doesn't drink coffee, actually," Ozzy muttered, his expression still considering. "But I'm serious. Maybe I should just try something different? It's not like I'm particularly good at anything in school, but there must be something I can do. Just haven't found it yet."

"You're not that bad at school," I offered. "You're better than me at Charms."

"A lot of people are better than you at Charms, Al, with the exception of Rhali."

"You're better than me at transfiguration, too. And I'm actually alright at that one."

"Yeah, maybe," Ozzy nodded slowly, scratching his chin. "But you guys were right about what you said earlier. I'm not great at classwork like writing essays or public speaking, and I don't even have the practical down pat like you do a lot of the time. And don't have any other particular skills or anything; I'm not a great artist like Julia or anything."

"It's not like you're terrible," I assured him.

"I know," Ozzy grinned, accepting the compliment probably a little more readily than it was offered. "But everyone else's attempts look kind of like a toddler's finger painting next to Julia Thomas'."

"It's called abstract, Ozzy. It's all the rage now."

"You know, I think that's probably what it is. Here, I'll show you." And, because I was in an open-minded mood, I sat forward slightly in my seat as Ozzy leant over his bag beside his feet and fumbled for his report. He unrolled it and held it before himself like a proud pre-schooler showing his parents yet another doodle he'd spent hours making look exactly the same as his last scribble.

"What are they supposed to be?" I asked, squinting slightly to try and make out the scratching of shapes in black ink around Ozzy's equally unintelligible scratching of words.

"They're all different water animals, see? I've got my Selkie here," he pointed to a blob, "a hippocampus here," another blob, "and this one is a sea serpent," that one actually looked a bit like it, but mostly because it was basically just a squiggly line, "and they're all in waves and such…"

"Well, I would certainly classify it as abstract," I offered, and Ozzy beamed as though I'd paid him an outright compliment this time. Bless the Happy Gum.

Our evening passed at such a sedate pace, between chattering in good-humour and increasingly frequent bouts of giggling. Rhali had actually managed to draw Scorpius a little into conversation while I was attempting to appreciate Ozzy's artistry, and, though it was mostly the three of us talking nonsense, he did chime in with increased frequency. Go figure; who'd have thought?

I could honestly not say what we talked about. I think the topic of quidditch came up once – maybe twice, but that may have just been a continuation from the first discussion – but far be it from the exchange of tactical speculation that Scorpius initially appeared to be directing it towards, myself, Rhali and Ozzy fell into our normal banter whenever the subject of broomsticks arose. Namely, who the bloody hell came up with such a dangerous invention, and why on earth would you ever think of playing a sport with them? I think Scorpius was more astounded than affronted by our culminated perspective. Or maybe he just couldn't understand what we were saying as we overrode each other in exclamations interspersed with loud bursts of laughter.

School came up a bit. Home, too, but we mostly steered clear of that. A good portion of the evening was spent poking fun at and commiserating over my sister Lily in equal turns; she'd very thoroughly and very publically dumped her boyfriend Kip in front of the entire school at dinner on Wednesday. It was acknowledged by all of us that we were quite proud of her for her assertiveness, even if it did border on the aggressive a little when she'd dumped a pitcher of pumpkin juice over his head. But hey, it managed to get the message across.

By that stage, even Scorpius was smiling. I didn't know he even could smile. He looked less drawn then he had earlier that evening, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back for my spontaneous decision. Not like I'd been particularly taken with the idea initially, but it seemed to have worked out. Scorpius even seemed to have alleviated himself of the stick up his arse a little bit, and he was actually a fairly good conversationalist when he wasn't trying to pressure anyone into doing their homework or studying them for untucked shirts and flipped collars to deduct house points. Who knew?

It was only when the bell sounded for ten o'clock, announcing seventh year curfew in effect in fifteen minutes, that we made a move from the Niche. By that stage, the effects of the Happy Gum had begun to dwindle, leaving a faintly warm buzz in the chest and an overall feeling of satisfaction without the inclination to spontaneously break into laughter. I like the come down from Happy Gum; it's almost as good as the actual thing.

It was only when we parted ways, a headlock hug from Rhali and a mutual pack on the back with Ozzy that I realised Scorpius had actually taken the gum. He never made it obvious that he had, but the faint blueness to his lips and the small smile he offered each of us before turning away and heading down the corridor was telling enough.