Chapter 5: Why Should I Not?

~Scorpius~

If one of my classmates had told me a week ago that I would be getting high with the three oddballs of seventh year come Sunday, I would have stared at them blankly for a moment before assigning them a detention and deducting house points for being an idiot. That, and interrogating them over who had set them the prank.

If anyone, classmate or teacher, had told me that it would become a regular occurrence? I think I would have reported the school to the ministry as going off the rails. That or initiated an investigation into whatever lingered in the air to initiate such wayward accusations.

They'd be right though. Hard as it was to believe, I left the little common room on the sixth floor – what I had discovered was fondly termed 'the Niche' – for the second time in as many weeks after spending time with Potter, Hamphyn and Ipping. Potter's Happy Gum was… really something.

No, that wasn't right. It was Albus, Rhali, and Oscar now. Albus had withheld the Gum from me the second time I'd met with them until I'd agreed to call them all by their first names. Odd as it seemed, that was motivation enough.

It terrified me, to be honest. I had no idea what drove me to follow Albus up to the sixth floor the previous Sunday, and I have equally no clue as to what drove me to stay. I was a prefect – probably one of the most persistent of all prefects currently assigned – and I did not take illicit substances. I didn't want to, either. It has never even been on the cards for me. I was a solid student; my weekends were spent in my books, not lounging around on sofas contemplating the ceiling as though it explained the every existential theories of life and the universe.

That's not me.

So why did I stay? If I was going to confess to a teacher, I might have claimed that I was concerned for my fellow students taking a backyard drug and wanted to make sure they were alright, that no one dropped dead, and that if any problems arose then I would be on hand to provide assistance.

Technically, this was true. It was just not the whole truth.

For, quite aside from that, I was a little heartbroken. I'd just told my favourite teacher of my best and favourite subject that I had no intentions of furthering my career in that profession, and the expression of disappointed acceptance on his face had left me shattered. On top of that, I'd been pushing myself on a rigorous study schedule all week, surviving on less than five hours of sleep a night, and frantically attempting to commit to memory all that I'd been revising for the summer. I had a larger than normal workload for classes, even more extensive than Rose Weasley's, and it took every ounce of my focus to keep up with everything.

Maybe it was a bit too ambitious of me. I didn't technically need ten N.E. , but I was eternally paranoid that there may be some content that could be useful in my future business career that I'd have missed the opportunity to learn.

I was exhausted already, almost before term had begun. A bundle of frazzled nerves and worries I was, and it weighed me down. When Yeong had bid me goodnight, I had very nearly fallen to pieces, aching to tell him that yes, I wanted to make my father proud and follow in his footsteps because that was what was expected of me, but I would love to continue Potioneering.

I hadn't. It had taken all of my willpower, all of my practice, to remain stoic and keep my lips shut, but I hadn't. That wasn't the Malfoy way.

When Albus had told me I looked miserable, it wasn't a surprise. I might have been avoiding telling myself as much in so many words, but I was not oblivious enough of my own feelings to not have realised I wasn't exactly happy. When he told me I'd burn myself out… again, hardly surprise. I knew I couldn't keep up the exhausting pace I'd racing along at for long. I only hoped that I could maintain it until the end of the school year, and after that… at least I would have a period of recovery before throwing myself into the cesspool of business and verbal warfare.

It was the way Albus had looked at me when he said it, though, that had caught my attention. I'd barely spoken to his at all, ever, and yet something about his words, his tone, made it seem like he actually cared that I was running myself into the ground. I didn't know why he would care, what motivation he had behind feeling as much, but it just seemed like…

Like he actually wanted me to slow down because it would be the best for me.

I'd followed him up to the sixth floor. We were halfway there before I'd realised our destination, and it took only a moment of contemplating Albus' words and his suggestion to 'follow him' that I concluded his version of seeking relief from a stressful situation, of 'chilling out', almost certainly meant popping something illegal.

I should have turned back then. Should have pulled him up for a detention that I should have given him a week ago. But I didn't. And within ten minutes, I was secreted in that cosy little room, wedged in an armchair, trying to avoid staring at the Gum Albus had given me while being subjected to a one-sided conversation with Rhali.

She was saying something about Albus, professing her absolute confidence in his Herbologist's green thumb that I found nothing if not a little overwhelming. She sounded so proud, more like the splicing the plants to produce the Happy Gum was her own accomplishment rather than her friend's. Then she started talking about the distinction from Happy Gum and Bubble gum, which apparently traditionally came from rubber trees, which faded into a spiel that sounded more like propaganda for Muggle sweets than anything else.

I had no idea how she got onto the subject. I wasn't an active participant in the exchange, really, only an ear to talk into. Across the room, Albus and Oscar were chatting amicably – something about hiking than in some way led into contemplating abstract artwork – and seemed to be paying myself and Rhali no attention at all.

They were all talking. Talking a lot. I would never have picked any of them to be able to run their mouths like they were; apart from one very distinct incident I could recall, none of them had said more than two words in class, and only spoke when directly spoken to outside of the classroom. It almost seemed like they were making up for lost time with the speed of their conversation.

At first it was one of the most awkward experiences I'd ever experienced. I'd simply sat and listened, and for the most part, the three outcasts that seemed so comfortable with one another talked around me. It had startled me at first, when Albus first turned to me to ask my opinion on something quidditch related, and it had taken me an embarrassingly long moment to gather myself enough to reply. It was a rather stilted reply, at that.

No one commented on my delay, or my response, simply continuing with the conversation as though it fit perfectly into the context. Which perhaps to them it did. They really seemed to be… happy. I don't know if it was the effects of the Gum that was staining their lips darker or if they were just that comfortable with one another, but watching them so relaxed, so easy in their conversation… I felt faintly envious.

I couldn't help myself. In a split decision that moved my hand before I fully realised what I was doing, I folded the blue leaf into my mouth.

And regretted it instantly. The shocking assault to my tongue was almost painful, and it was all I could do maintain a blank face rather than gasp, splutter and spit it out. Until suddenly it wasn't. A tangy taste settled in my mouth, completely overriding the whiplash of the shock, and right on its tail a steady warmth flooded through me. Immediately I felt… lighter. My head actually felt clearer, and the nagging melancholy that had been burdening my shoulders since leaving the dungeons abruptly lifted. It just drifted apart.

And suddenly, the conversation wasn't so awkward. It was easy, as easy as brewing a Forgetfulness Potion. I'd even laughed with the three other seventh years.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed.

It was only the next morning that I really considered what I'd done the night before. And, horrified though I knew I should be, I couldn't quite bring myself to regret following Albus when he'd told me to. The effects of the Happy Gum had worn off, and the weariness had come alongside a detached yet mad scramble to consider everything I had to do the next day, every thing I had to prepare for in my final year, and every possibility that I could encounter.

But even so, even with all of my worries crashing down around me, I could remember that brief respite as one might look back upon a happy memory. It hadn't been productive in the least, yet for those few hours I had experienced a reprieve. It was enough to assist me in sleeping better than I had for months, and enough that when I awoke I could approach my perceived tasks with resolution and without fear of caving beneath the weight of everything that piled up before me.

I didn't talk to Albus, Rhali or Oscar at all in the following week. I couldn't even bring myself to make eye contact with them when I truly wanted to, to even express a modicum of gratitude for including me in their one-off adoption of a frazzled classmate. For whatever reason, however, I couldn't do it. Not only did I struggle to even glance at any of them, but whenever I did they were always huddled into their public guises of the silent shadows that faded into obscurity at the back of the classroom. I'd never noticed before how unnoticeable each of them were; it was like a well-honed skill. Their very lack of presence detracted from the adeptness they demonstrated in removing themselves from careless onlookers. It was such a sharp contrast to their jovial, carefree attitudes I'd witnessed the past Sunday that I was having difficulty wrapping my head around it.

I failed to initiate any form of contact between us, failed dismally, and considered that it to be a very deliberate movement of the part of the three outcasts in their exclusive group. Until Sunday at dinner, however, when Rhali swept up to my table and paused right beside me. No one seemed to even notice her arrival, though I'm not sure she would have cared if they had.

When I made eye contact with her, she stared at me penetratingly, as though attempting to communicate without the use of words. A second later, she raised on eyebrow as if in question, tilted her head to the doors of the Great Halls in a directional gesture, and raised the other eyebrow.

Uncomprehending, I'd frowned in confusion. I didn't understand this sign language; was she asking for something in particular? Did she need me to come with her somewhere? For Prefect duties or something? Did someone need my help? I didn't know, and my response was apparently perceived. Leaning into my side, she whispered so quietly I had to strain to hear, the hiss of her breath louder than her actual words. "You coming tonight, Mr Prefect, or was once enough for you?"

She didn't wait for a reply, and I was left staring after her in bewilderment. Understanding clicked a moment later however, as she cast a final sardonic glance over her shoulder before disappearing. I was on my feet before I knew it.

Wandering down the hall back to the Ravenclaw Tower, I contemplated my second gathering with the odd trio. It had been very much like the previous time, with Albus handing around the clippings of tough, chewy leaf, the shock of the attack on my tongue, and then the relief of being able to consider that, possibly, my life wouldn't crumble into ruins if I wavered even the slightest from the strict rigidity I enforced upon myself.

We talked, the four of us, and it was comfortable in a way that I had never expected it to be with any of them. With any of my classmates, really. I just… didn't get along with them particularly well. I found their topics of conversation – largely fluctuating between bemoaning about their classwork and prevailing upon those in the nearest vicinity their current relationship status – to be by and large rather immature. Tiresome.

Albus, Rhali and Oscar, they didn't talk about schoolwork much. I got the impression they were pretty much biding their time to get out of school. That they were simply gritting their teeth to plough through and move onto the next stage in their lives, though what those stages involved I hadn't yet discovered. They didn't talk about any potentially amorous relationships; as far as I knew, none of them were engaged in any, least of all with each other. They appeared at times to be more like siblings than potential love interests.

No, when we spoke it was of other things entirely. Nothing particularly deep on a personal level, but I found them interesting nonetheless. There was no rhyme or reason to the direction of the flow of conversation either. Someone would simply have a thought, voice it aloud, and the ball would roll from there.

"What do you think they decided first, to put Hufflepuff's Basement next to the kitchen or the other way around?"

"You know, Asprin works heaps better for a headache than a Pepper-Up Potion. I really think they should consider integrating Muggle meds into the Hospital Wing."

"Have you heard that down in Greece they've managed to breed a chimaera that's swapped its goat's head with a bird's? That's kind of stupid, right? I mean, it's not really a chimaera anymore then, is it?"

"I can't swim, I've realised. I mean, I've been taught but I'm pretty sure I'd drown if someone threw me in the Black Lake. You've got to take these things into account when you're planning our graduation trip, Rhali."

It was all rather random, usually impersonal, and rarely seemed capable of pausing except for very brief moments of contemplation. I found that I actually… enjoyed it.

I had never experienced anything so simple in my life, not even when Hamish and Tatsuya were still at school. And more than that, I was revelling in the effects of the Happy Gum.

It would have worried me, if the effects had been stronger, had lasted longer. I've always been a little sceptical of anyone who dabbled in substance use, even if it was only short-term. Though no one could really claim they were quite so consistent in their use as Albus, Rhali or Oscar, I wasn't deaf and I did hear the odd story of trying whatever was the latest and greatest here and there. Almost always Wizarding strains, thankfully. I'd heard some of the stories of Muggle drugs. None of them were good.

Except that the Happy Gum only lasted for two hours at most before slowly dwindling at such a rate that there was no shocking blow as reality set back in, no crash from a euphoric high that left one listless and depressed. It was basically the perfect drug, this gum that Albus had grown. All of the benefits without a hint of negative side effects.

It seemed too good to be true, but I couldn't bring myself to object. I was simply too grateful to consider the impossibility of something that seemed to be having such a positive effect on me. And I could feel the effects, even after just two tries. The next Sunday was much the same. And the one after. And the one after that. Before I knew it, after dinner on the second night of the weekend my feet naturally would naturally lead me up to the Niche. I was looking forward what I saw as my weekly break.

A month back into school, after my usual fix of Happy, I stepped into the Ravenclaw common room and I cast my eyes in a customary scan around the room to determine the state of things. It's a habit I'd gotten into, and I'm a little embarrassed to admit that it set in even before I was nominated as a prefect. I couldn't help it; I like knowing what's going on where.

The majority of the occupants of the room were fifth years and up. Good; the younger students were finally realising that late nights weren't always such a good thing. It often took a while for the first years to come to terms with the responsibility of setting their own bedtimes. Usually the latest to realise such finally kicked their then-sleep deprived brains into gear by the end of a month. This year, whether it was by the suggestion of a prefect or Winona, or whether they were just a particularly level-headed bunch, all of them appeared to have realised the benefits of sleep rather rapidly.

Good on them.

I exchanged a nod with Winona as I passed – she always took the time to greet everyone as they enter the common room – and made my way towards my dorm. Only Callum was in his bed, the rest still likely upstairs studying, and he was buried in a book himself, curled up on his bed.

My dorm mate raised his head as I entered, however, following my progress to my own bed as I passed him by. "Hey, how's it going?"

I shrugged. "Fine."

"You studying tonight too?"

Loosening my tie, I sighed, letting myself fall into detached attentiveness to reply. "Yeah, till dinner. I took the night off."

A confused silence rung through the room that I was only half aware of as I shed myself of my robes. "What? You took the night off?"

I paused in the act of unbuttoning my shirt, glancing towards Callum. "Yes. Why? Is something wrong with that?"

Callum shook his curly head, mouth opening to reply before closing again thoughtfully. He appeared slightly wary, and I bit the inside of my lip in self-reprimand; perhaps I had responded with just a little too much affront.

When Callum did speak his words were voiced hesitantly. "Nothing. There's nothing wrong with that. It's good actually, I think, sometimes… Nothing wrong." He turned his face down towards his open book, but from the corner of my eye I could tell he wasn't reading but simply staring blankly at the pages. I pretended not to notice, busying myself with changing into my nightwear. I refrained from glancing towards him when he continued.

"What did you get up to then?"

Slowly, my arms gradually sliding through the sleeves of my nightshirt, I turned towards Callum. What was he so interested in? Was it really so strange of me to take a night off? Though as soon as the thought arose I had to admit that yes, it sort of was.

Feigning nonchalance, though I felt uneasy with Callum's probing questions – he always liked to be in everybody's business – I shrugged. "Just with some friends."

"Friends?"

"From other houses," I replied through gritted teeth.

"Oh, that's…"

It was very difficult not to glare at Callum, even with the lingering mellowness of the memory of Happy Gum. "What? Is there something wrong with that?"

A faint smile had settled upon Callum's lips, but it was his words, not his expression or the defensive wave of his hand, that evaporated my rising affront. "No, no, nothing wrong at all. It's just… I guess it's good to hear you hanging out with friends. You need the balance, you know?"

I stared at Callum in mute surprise. My only saving grace is that I know for a fact my 'surprised' expression is about as blank as they come. With the same slowness I had turned towards him, I turned away once more and climbed onto my bed. Ten o'clock was early to sleep, so I'd get some readings done for a few hours behind closed curtains.

The readings didn't interest me as they should have, though. Callum's words echoed in my head, an echo of what Albus had said a week ago. Something about the balance and not burning myself out. Taking a break. I'd accepted as much, but Callum evidently felt that spending time with friends while enjoying this break was even better.

Friends. Even though I was the one who called them that first, could I really claim that Albus, Rhali and Oscar were my friends? Our relationship was so different to that which I shared with those I considered my actual friends, even when overlooking the fact that it revolved around recreational drug use. Though admittedly the pastime didn't seem quite so horrifying to me after experiencing it for myself – or at least experiencing that which Albus had provided – I couldn't say that people like Phillippe, like Hamish, like Helen and Tatsuya and Drisella, would look favourably upon such activities. Did that make them more or less of my friends that I continued associating with them anyway?

I pondered the complex concept while my eyes skimmed over my Alchemy textbook, filing information away with half a mind. No, I wasn't sure if they were my friends, but whether it was because of the Happy Gum or simply that when isolated from the general masses of the school in that little room on the sixth floor with the three outcasts of seventh year… I enjoyed being with them. I actually enjoyed it.

It wasn't a definitive moment that I made the decision, but as I slid between my blankets two hours later it was with one conclusion in mind: we might be completely different people outside of that Niche, but regardless I wanted to at least try to know my three sort-of-friends outside of that context.

Who knows, maybe 'friends' might actually be a benefit to my final year at Hogwarts?

Wandering down towards the Herbology greenhouses on Monday afternoon was the moment I decided to take my first tentative steps forwards in my resolution. It was a goal I'd decided over breakfast and I reaffirmed my decision to act at lunch. For whatever reason it seemed at least on par with my classwork for capturing my interest and warranting assumption in important space in my mind. A foreign concept, to be sure, but I found the prospect intriguing to consider. Besides, it helped to distract me from the sometimes-useless trekking in circles over my workload.

Greenhouse Two Seventh year was one of the biggest greenhouses that Hogwarts possessed. Located at the far end of the stretch of glass buildings, it was wide and squat and fit to bursting with foliage. I stepped inside just as the distant school bell sounded for the period to initiate.

The room appeared just as overgrown and stuffed with a vast array of plants on the inside as it did from the outside. Vines and creepers crawled across the walls in place of the portraits for decoration, and a large pot-plant that looked more like a full-sized tree than anything else sat to the right of the entrance. Along the length of the room, a sturdy wooden table was outfitted with more seats than was ever necessary for a seventh year class, and running parallel alongside the table were tiered shelving, pressed against the walls in sentinel-like formality. There's not an inch of shelf-space that didn't bear a potted plant of some description. More than there are seventh year Herbology students, actually, and I had to wonder at that; I'm fairly certain that Longbottom used the greenhouse for his personal storage.

Longbottom himself was busy at the far end of the greenhouse with what appeared to be a giant venomous tentacula, the plant towering over him in a way that would have had me taking at least three large steps backwards. Its exceptional size entailed exceptionally sized tooth-like structures; I'm not entirely sure that a plant that size wouldn't at least try to consume a human if given the opportunity.

Our Herbology practical lessons this term focused upon self-appointed research projects. Working either independently or in groups of two, the assignment was to pick a plant of moderate to high difficulty rearing and conduct an experimental study into the effects of various contributing factors to the growth of the chosen plant. Just before Christmas, a ten-foot report on the ecology and experimental outcome was to be submitted.

It was a broad – very broad – project, which I found actually harder than receiving obsessively specific instruction. How was I supposed to know what to focus on in my report, let alone what plant to chose and what factor to measure with such hazy guidelines? I suppose that's part of the challenge, though.

Heading towards roughly the centre of the shelving, to the location I kept my own experiment, I cast a quick glance around myself in search of Albus, Rhali and Oscar. We all shared Herbology as a class, something I'd found surprising until Oscar had logically pointed out that, growing up with Albus as a best friend, how could they not have at least some interest in magical plants? I noticed Oscar directly across the greenhouse from me, and as I turned Rhali entered the door – late, which I'd come to expect. She usually just got away with it because no one seemed to notice her presence when she was here. I couldn't see Albus, but that wasn't particularly surprising. He was kind of elusive like that when he apparently wanted to be.

Shifting my attention back towards my plant, I pushed the thought of my Friend Experiment to the side in favour of my Herbology one. No matter how curious I was about pursuing the former, schoolwork would always come first for me. Of that I was certain. Besides, given that the project was largely self-driven, if I got my work done with relative speed I could potentially pursue my other endeavours afterwards.

The species I'd chosen was, as directed, of moderate to high difficulty to raise. Something that would ensure I could handle it – nothing too difficult; I'm not that exceptionally proficient at Herbology – but similarly ensuring that I wouldn't lose marks for choosing something too simplistic. A Chattering Water Lily, it was a rootless plant that requires incredibly saline water to survive, not to mention lots of it, as well as utter stagnation as a seedling. As a precaution, I'd set up wards all around it that physically barred access of everyone other than Longbottom or myself. I was studying the effect of the addition of different salinity-influencing charms upon the water, to determine their overall effect and if it is more influential than physically pouring in the alternate water.

Fortunately for me, there was not too much do by way of caring for the plant except to leave it untouched and record my observations. I did as much before pulling out my Defence homework to head a head start on Friday's theoretical. I don't know why I chose the Chattering lily, except for maybe its usefulness in potions; the incredibly salt-dense roots acted as a neutraliser for particularly volatile potions. Other than that, there was nothing exceptional about the plant; small white flowers of a mediocre lustre, plain green roots of a colour I typically associated as being 'plant green'. Nothing… except for that which gave it it's name. Chattering though it may be dubbed, the sound was only audible when the surroundings are completely silent. It was supposed to echo the most prominent conversations the listener has experienced in their whole life. I've read descriptions of people considering the sound 'poignant'.

I've only heard it once, when I had to make a trip down to the greenhouses to ask Longbottom for clarification with the project. Though it was a merry little sound, almost like the idle chirping of conversing birds, I couldn't say I could discern any 'past conversations' from the chatter. I found it oddly fascinating that such a sound could only be heard when there was practically no one around to listen. It seemed sort of beautiful in that regard.

When the bell tolled for the initiation of the second half of our period, I glanced up from my readings around the classroom. I'd been caught up in my homework, but the disruption of the bell alerted me to my other experiment. I'd reasoned that, by allotting myself time to get some additional work in, I was also providing time for Albus, Rhali and Oscar, to get a degree of their own completed before interrupting them.

Glancing around the room, I noticed that, at least for Rhali and Oscar, my reasoning was invalid. They were standing either side of a tall, thin flower with a drooping head of pale violet, a pair of shears in each of their hands. They appeared to be trying to cut something, I had no idea what, but the tall flower – it looked like a Starburst Blossom – was remarkably dextrous at sweeping out of their reach. It was sort of funny to watch, and I'm sure I wouldn't be the only one to think so except that, well… this was Rhali and Oscar, two of the three Invisible People of our year. I doubt anyone else even noticed their efforts.

Packing my books into my bag, I drifted towards their little project. Apparently they were working together, though I didn't know where that left Albus. Maybe because he was more adept at Herbology, they'd made the decision that he could handle the project alone better than the other two. Personally, given the continued flailing of their shears, I thought they could probably use another set of hands and someone who actually knew what they were doing.

I stopped several feet away from them, pausing to watch and see if they were anywhere near finishing for the day or, in failing that, if there was an opening for an interruption. Neither appeared particularly forthcoming, so I glanced around the greenhouse for Albus instead. It seemed, however, to my confusion, that he was still missing.

When I turned back to Rhali and Oscar, it was to find the Slytherin girl paused in her attempted clipping and fixing me with a stare. There shouldn't have been anything particularly intimidating about her gaze, except that, for whatever reason, there was. Maybe it was just her ability to stare, and stare, and stare without blinking. She looked like a snake hypnotising her prey.

Taking the proffered opening, I stepped forwards. Considering for a moment the best approach, I let my tongue decide for me. "Hi. Having a little trouble?"

Rhali stared at me.

Of course she stared. Silently. But then she blinked, slowly, and I don't know why but that for some reason it just made her seem even more intimidating. And she not to say a word.

Fighting the urge to sigh in exasperation – not uneasiness – I clicked my tongue quietly and shifted in a motion that was definitely not an awkward fidget. Definitely. I changed tactics. "You two work together, right? What does Albus do, then?"

Still Rhali didn't speak. I didn't like the way she was grasping her shears. She looked like she was on the verge of stabbing me with them. How different she was to the chatterbox that arose under the influence of Happy Gum.

Thankfully, however, my attempts finally attracted Oscar's notice. Pausing in his own attempts at shearing, he spared me a questioning glance. "Albus?" Thank God Oscar was at least slightly more willing to converse than his two friends in a public environment.

Nodding, I turned my attention from Rhali to Oscar. I didn't miss the very distinct 'snip' of the girl's shears, however, that seemed pointed directly in my direction. "Yeah. Just curious to see what he's chosen for his project."

Oscar regarded me with raised eyebrows. There might have been a hint of suspicion there – what, did he think I was going to steal his work or something? – before his eyes cleared and he gave a slight shrug. "Honestly, I don't really understand what he's doing for his project. If you wanted to take a look, though, I'm pretty sure he's still out the back."

"The back?"

"Out towards the Forbidden Forest." He gestured towards the backdoor of the greenhouse with a swing of his shears that breezed dangerously close to Rhali's head. "It's not like he's keeping it private or anything. You can go have a look if you'd like."

"Alright." Then, because it seemed appropriate, I offered a small smile. "Thanks."

Oscar shrugged, shifting his attention from me in what was apparently a loss of interest, and went back to attempting – and failing – to clip his flower. A moment later, Rhali joined him. I left them to it; obviously they weren't particularly keen to talk.

When I exited the back door of the Greenhouse Two, it was to find no Albus. Not obviously anyway. Scanning briefly about myself, I turned towards the Forbidden Forest, making my way down the slight decline.

He had his back to me when I finally saw him. I would have missed him, too, if I hadn't been scanning the edge of the forest so closely. Not because of his natural tendency to be overlooked as he was in class, but because he actually stood about a dozen feet into the forest. Quiet daring, to be honest; it was commonly accepted that no one step past the very edge of the tree line.

Albus didn't appear to be posing as his usual shadowed self either, which I found interesting. No bowed head and slightly hunched shoulders, clinging to the nearest wall – or tree in this case – as though attempting to merge into the obscurity it provided. Instead, he had himself set in a wide, firm stance, feet planted and hands resting upon his hips. Though I couldn't see what he was looking at, he almost appeared to be scolding someone.

I don't think I was being that quiet or sneaky in my approach, but when I voiced a deliberately casual, "Albus, what are you doing in the forest?" he spun around so fast he nearly tripped over.

Eyes blown wide for a moment, Albus slowly blinked them shut, released a shaky breath and pressed a hand to his chest. "Jesus, Scorpius, you nearly gave me a bloody heart attack?"

"Oh, are you Christian? I hadn't heard, but I'm sure the tabloids would be more than eager to gauge your perspective on religious matters."

Albus blinked. "What? What are you talking about?"

I shook my head in reply, but couldn't keep my niggling smile from spreading across my face. Albus was talking to me, even if Rhali and Oscar seemed reluctant. Maybe it was just that we were away from everybody else – that was probably it – but it heartened me that I wasn't given the cold shoulder once more. The benefits of being outside, even if 'outside' happened to be in the Forbidden Forest as Albus worked on…

Peering over Albus' shoulder, I frowned. "What are you doing out here, anyway?"

Brow furrowed faintly, apparently puzzled by my question, Albus stared at me for a moment before jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "My research project." He said it slowly, with a slight rise in the end of his statement as though asking a question.

"Yes, I'd gathered as much. What are you doing it on?" I figured keeping the topic to Herbology and classwork, at least while we were technically still in class, was the least intimidating approach I could take to initiating conversation with any of the three publically quietest people in the school. "Why does it have to be outside?"

Still fixing me with his puzzled frown as though wondering what game I was playing at, Albus slowly turned to glance over his shoulder. He seemed to shift his attention in that moment, moving backwards a few steps from his startled immobility. "Chinese Runner Pods. I'm looking at the effect of extending the longevity of their energy on the distance of their dispersal."

Which made absolutely no sense to me. I pained me to admit it, but I had no idea what he was talking about. "Chinese Runner Pods?"

Sparing me a glance over his shoulder, Albus tilted his head in a pointed gesture. I stepped up to his side to see what he was directing me towards and felt my eyebrows rise incredulously.

"What are those?"

"Runner Pods," Albus supplied. Which, to be honest, was fairly obvious. I think my tongue just voiced the first words that came to mind because it was sort of short-circuiting in bemusement at the moment and I couldn't come up with anything intelligible to add.

Before me were what looked like little brown insects with green legs. They wavered like newborn colts, stumbling over the twigs and pebbles that covered the ground woozily as though drunk. Not quickly, mind, but their movement was obvious enough that they were distinguishable from the leaf little. It was only when I squinted at them that considering their appearance. Aside from the variable number of green 'legs', they looked rather like a walnut.

"Those are plants."

"Pods, yes," Albus corrected. He squatted down on his haunches as though to get a better look at them.

"And they're walking."

"They only walk as seeds; they sprout little shoots and use them like legs. Not particularly effectively, mind. I think 'walker' would be a better description than 'runner'."

"Why?" I asked, my bemusement overriding my surprise.

"Well they don't exactly run," Albus pointed out, as though it should have been obvious. He flicked a finger towards the stumbling pods.

I shook my head. "No, I mean why do they walk?" Not quite squatting beside Albus – such a pose wasn't really dignified enough for me, even in the privacy of the forest – I peered more closely at the nuts. Pods. Whatever. "I've never even heard of them before." Which I haven't, surprisingly. I mean, I might not be the Herbology student that Albus is, but my grades are fairly commendable. The knowledge is applicable in Potions, and I found that such an applicability was motivation enough to encourage me to study the subject in my earlier years. I've never heard of self-moving pods before. Walking or running.

"They shoot sprouts that act like legs because their pods are too heavy and too tough for dispersal from other means. Like ingestion by birds, or wind dispersal. And it's not surprising you haven't heard of them," Albus replied. He was still looking at me strangely, as though I were a puzzle he was attempting to piece together. But answered me readily enough so I could hardly find fault in it. "They're pretty rare. I only managed to get my hands on them because my Uncle Bill made a trip to China over the summer right at the time when the pods are sprouting. They cost their weight in diamond, but he knew I'd find them fascinating, so…"

He gave me a small, fond smile that, though he faced me, was directed entirely to the absent Bill. It didn't particularly bother me that I didn't even know the man; I was just happy that Albus seemed eager to converse with me in much the same manner we did every Sunday evening. Except for the continued curiosity on his face, he was acting exactly the same as normal. Talking so much that it almost made me forget that, by and large, Albus was silent.

That curious expression was turned upon me once more, and I sighed in exasperation. "What?"

Albus slowly raised a shoulder in a shrug, his study becoming less covert. He pursed his lips, considered for a moment, before speaking. "What did you want?"

I raised my eyebrow. "What do I want? What do you mean?"

Shaking his head, Albus turned back towards his pods. He still watched me from the corner of his eye, though. "I mean, why are you talking to me? We don't, really. At all, outside of our Niche."

It felt nice that he called little sixth floor room 'ours', even if he was referring more to Rhali, Oscar and himself than to me. I felt satisfied enough that I wasn't even that put out by his words. "Is it a problem that I'm talking to you?"

That puzzlement was back in full force and Albus shifted his attention directly towards me once more. "No, not a problem. It's just… Scorpius, you never talk to me. Ever."

Which was a bit of an exaggeration – what was Sunday evening, then? – but I immediately felt guilty. It was true; I'd barely spared a moment to nod my head at any of my late-night friends during the week, and then not even that when it became apparent that they were hesitant to respond. None of them had experienced the decisiveness that I had last night. I supposed my abrupt inclination to befriend them in a more active approach was a bit spontaneous. It explained Rhali's wariness, anyway, though then again that could just be Rhali's personality in its entirety.

Peering down at my fingernails and idly scrubbing them free of the coat of dirt they'd accumulated – a natural occurrence from even stepping within the greenhouses – I strove to appear casual. "Maybe I realised that I quite liked talking to you. And that I might want to do it a little more."

"But… why?"

"I think I just explained that."

"No, I mean," Albus shook his head like trying to clear his ears of water. "I don't know, I just thought that you'd probably not want to be seen talking to someone like me."

"Someone like you? A Potter? Or –"

"A stoner. A burnout. A junkie. Take your pick." He shrugged as though the names didn't hurt him, and they truly appeared not to. "I didn't think you'd want to be seen associating someone that is largely considered a drop-kick."

I scowled, a little because of the truth of his words than because I was offended at the thought of them labelling any of the three oddballs. But mostly because, at least until recently, I'd thought largely the same of them. Now I knew better; they weren't, at least, 'drop-kicks'. Not really. "I hardly care about that. And I don't care if people see me associating with you."

"You don't care? You?" Albus' voice was a clear expression of disbelief, a mirror of the expression that replaced his puzzlement. Not contemptuous, but sincere disbelief. "An A grade prefect with a greater reputation for adhering to school rules and procedure than even my uncle Percy? You don't care?"

His tone left me disgruntled, though again I could hardly dispute it. He spoke the truth as far as I could tell, though I didn't know Percy Weasley personally. "Look, I just enjoy spending time with you all on Sundays and thought that we could possibly be friends outside of that. Though if you all find it so disagreeable I won't protest to the way things stand now. I don't mind, either way." Which was a lie, but Albus didn't need to know that.

The Hufflepuff boy was silent beside me for so long that I lifted my eyes from where they stared blindly at my nails just to ascertain if he was still there. He was, still squatting with the top of his head barely reaching my waist height and peering up at me with an expression that I could not read at all.

"You want to be friends?"

My scowl intensified, though more from embarrassment than annoyance. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Albus was quicker in replying this time. He shook his head, a small smile curling his lips. "Nope, nothing wrong. I'm just surprised, is all."

"So…"

"So sure. If you'd like." Albus' smile widened to a grin that I'd only ever seen under the effects of Happy Gum. "I'd love to be your friend, Scorpius. As long as you can put up with me." And his grin turned cheeky, a cheekiness that rarely even showed itself with the Gum.

I couldn't prevent the answering smile from blossoming on my own cheeks had I wanted to. It was impossible not to in the face of such good-humour. Deliberately turning back towards the Runner Pods, I sniffed and gestured with a finger. "How long do they keep going for?"

Albus took the hint. He shrugged. "That's what I'm trying to find out. I've charmed them with special enhancing charms to see if it will make their sprouts last longer."

"Last longer?"

"They fall off when their energy stores reach a certain limit. That's where they settle down and set their roots."

"Brutal," I replied, because if they weren't plants than the evisceration would have been horrifying. Still, Albus' experiment sounded a lot more interesting than my own. "Will it be much longer, do you think?"

"No idea. Which is why I'm basically just following them at the moment."

I sighed. "Do you think it's the wisest decision to follow mindless nuts –"

"Pods."

"- into the Forbidden Forest? It's 'forbidden' for a reason, Albus."

"Well, I can't exactly let them wander off by themselves," Albus replied with a return of his grin. His expression was doting, like a mother with her children. "And if we're going to be friends, Scorpius, proper friends, call me Al."

I felt warmth kindle and abruptly begin to spread through my chest. "If that's what you'd prefer." And, because I couldn't help myself, "Not Ally?"

Albus rolled his eyes, but his smile remained affixed. "God, please not Ally."

His following laugh was the first I'd ever heard without the boost of the Happy Gum. It sounded distinctly different.

I decided liked it.

A/N: Hi everyonne! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it. If you get a moment, I would love to hear what you think. Comments, questions or - hopefully not but I won't object overtly - criticisms. Thank you!