A/N: Another update! Woohoo, I'm on a roll! I figured I should make up for my sporadic updating of late, so enjoy!

Chapter 13: Someone Looking Out For Me

~Scoprius~

"No, Al."

"It wasn't a question, Scor."

"I don't care. The answer's still no."

Al pursed his lips in a way that was far too distracting to be constituted fair play and propped his chin on one hand, elbow on the table. "Are you saying you're going to make me go by myself?"

Sighing, I placed down my butter knife and turned towards him more fully. Sunday in the Great Hall wasn't terribly busy at this time in the morning; many people forewent breakfast entirely at the prospect of a longer sleep in. Al used to be one to sleep in more too, but I'd noticed that since we'd been sharing our mornings that he made more of an effort to get down here before eight o'clock. Most of the time, anyway, and grumbling all the way, of course – Al wasn't a morning person – but he managed. I wasn't sure if I should feel guilty or delighted that I'd pushed him into making the effort. Maybe a bit of both.

As it was, the Great Hall was only about half full. There was no particular need for me to strain my ears over a ruckus, but I the expression of petulant disgruntlement on Al's face suggested he wasn't inclined to giving me a choice in monopolising my full attention. I abandoned any chances of eating breakfast until we'd sorted out the issue.

"I told you why I don't want to go."

Nodding at me slowly, as though I were simple, Al replied with equal slowness, "Yes, and I told you that your reason is exactly why you need to come along in the first place."

"That would be counterproductive, Al. I have numerous essays that require completion before the coming week, and reports, and an analysis of –"

"Give me three." Al interrupted me, holding up three fingers. "Give me three essays that you actually still have to finish – actual essays, not one of the one's you're doing in your spare time for practice or whatever – and I'll admit you have a workload full enough to abandon me into going to Hogsmeade alone."

I sighed. He got me. Three essays? I had two that were, admittedly, so close to completion they could have been passably submitted already. But other than that… Yes, my work was mostly extra study. I'd hoped to get in another re-writing of the hyper-conversion of tin into copper for Alchemy, but… Al's words, particularly the very pointed 'abandon', spurred me towards guilt once more. "You do realise we're in seventh year, don't you?"

Al rolled his eyes. "Yes, I believe you have mentioned it once or twice."

"And you understand that to achieve the best marks I possibly can, I need to study."

"You spend your life studying, Scor. What you need is to let loose a little sometimes or you'll burn yourself out."

"I let loose –"

"Really?" Al raised a sceptical eyebrow. "What time did you get up this morning to start studying?"

"It wasn't that early –"

"And what time did you finally go to bed last night after studying."

"Most people stay up late to study. You're just the exception –"

"When was the last time you picked up a book and read simply for the fun of it? Or last rode a broom? You always say you used to love quidditch but you don't even fly anymore."

"That's because I'm studying, Al," I finally managed to cut in, exasperated. He was making me sound like a machine whose sole purpose in life was to study. Which… actually sounded pretty accurate of me at the moment. "I'll get back to enjoying myself more after exams have passed."

"Really? You really think so?" The scepticism was thick in Al's tone, reflecting his dubiously raised eyebrow. "Because it sounds to me like you'll be pretty bogged down with your dad's business right off the bat."

"Please don't call him 'dad'. It sounds so horrendously informal," I muttered. It was the only objection I could make to that statement because really, Al was right. I'd be surprised if I woke up the day after my exams had completed and found less than half a dozen owls at my window scrambling for attention with messages in hand. Or… in claw.

The last month and a half had been… trying, to say the least. Every morning, with the blessed exception of Sundays, found me assaulted by at least a pair of owls laden with expensive parchment envelopes embroidered with precise calligraphy and discussing my father's company, my future position in it, congratulating me on my dedication to my studies and requesting the attendance to a formal dinner to introduce themselves. Because really, most of the letters I received were from people that I'd never met before. Half of them were from foreign nobles, Lord and Ladies with a desire to step into the international business world through LeFay Connected. And they saw me as a stepping stone to that goal.

But they weren't the worst of the bunch. The worst, the ones I hated the most, were those that asked for things. Asked me to put in a word with my father, to consider looking favourably upon their company in future and to consider them 'a friend', those who even went so far as to almost-threaten me to look upon them with a warm gaze or risk losing them as valued clientele. Those were the one I hated.

I wasn't even working for LeFay yet. How bad would they get when I finished school?

It was wearing me down, truth be told. On top of my study load – all ten units clamouring for attention that I could only give sparingly – it was exhausting. I was living off minimal sleep and studied through every opportunity that presented itself, taking a pause only when physically ladling food into my mouth or, on the now infrequent instances, when I joined Al, Rhali and Ozzy in the Niche to chew on Happy Gum. Or when –

"We haven't had sex in three days, either."

I snorted. Yes, that. When Al and I were intimate was one of the few instances when I was so completely focused upon something else that I didn't even consider studying. How could I, when something so utterly gorgeous, so fascinatingly addictive, was right in front of me and within my grasp? Was pushing himself into my grasp? Al honestly didn't seem to even realise how smitten I was with him that he could so draw me from my focus. And I was most utterly smitten. It was actually a little worrying at times, and I tried to keep it under wraps as much as possible. I must have done a good job of it, too, because Al didn't run screaming from me in terror as I'm sure he would have done if he knew just how much I liked him.

I cast a quick, unnecessary glance around us to gauge the proximity of our fellow students before replying. They were well out of hearing distance, which I had actually anticipated; there was no way Al would be speaking so openly if they weren't. "You say that as though it's something exceptional. Three days isn't really that long."

"For us it is. Am I the only one of us that's been aware of just how frequently we've gotten together since term started?"

No. No, he certainly wasn't. How could I not be aware, when, despite being embedded firmly in my own studies, those escapades were what I lived for? It was almost strange, how utterly captivated I was by Al when I had so much else on my mind. In all consideration I should not have had the time to give him half a glance. But Al? Somehow he'd worked his way into my mind and placed himself in a seat at least on par with the importance of my studies. No, it had to be higher than that even, I think. How else could I explain the fact that, no matter what, he was at the forefront of my mind?

"I am well aware of such. I am an active participant in these incursions."

"Are you really?" Al smirked. "That's gratifying to know. I had worried that perhaps you were running Charms revision spells in your head throughout the duration."

"You really think I'm that obsessed with study?" I was more curious than affronted to hear him say as much.

"Oh, I don't think it's much of a stretch to think that way, Mr Prefect," Al replied with a sigh, using Rhali's nickname for me. It didn't quite hold the same derogatory connotations coming from Al; he sounded more fondly exasperated than derisive. "But really, I have to wonder if you just want me for my body…."

"Excuse me?" I felt incredulous bemusement spread through me and raised my own eyebrow at the beginnings of a smile tweaking Al's lips.

He glanced at me sidelong, his lips quivering on the verge of widening his grin, before sighing again. His tone was that of a theatre player, grandiose and thick with drama. "Oh, woe is me that my boyfriend will only look at me when we're having sex. What have we become?"

"What are you going on about?" I couldn't help my own smile from spreading across my face. Such a drama queen. If only the rest of the school knew.

"Only that we don't talk anymore, Scor. It's either sex or avoidance. I almost have to wonder if you've got someone on the side." He turned to me balefully, eyes wide in that puppy-dog expression he pulled so well, bottom lip pouting.

"You're trying to make me feel guilty," I smirked. It was all in jest, I knew, and ridiculous and irrelevant as his claim was I actually found I was enjoying the farce. Al could be weird like that sometimes. He always managed to liven up any situation he wanted to.

"Of course I am! You need to spend more time with me rather than this bitch called Study."

"We study together, in case you didn't realise."

"Exactly." Al abruptly dropped his posturing, and raising both eyebrows pointedly at me as though I'd just slipped up and revealed a crucial fact. "We study. That's it."

"We're seventh years –"

"Who should be living life outside of the dusty depths of the library."

"I did suggest we could study in the Niche," I reminded him, finally turning back towards my plate of cooling toast and raising the butter knife.

"Blergh!" Al pulled a face. "You would taint our Niche with such a pervasive stain? Scor, how could you?"

"It was just a suggestion."

"Yeah, and a suggestion made to very pointedly diverge from the topic at hand. You're avoiding my question." Folding his arms across the table, Al fixed me with an unshakeable stare. I knew there was no avoiding him now; I knew I was set to spend the day at Hogsmeade with him doing God knew what, and surprisingly, though the guilt at avoiding a day of study flooded through me, I couldn't bring myself to feel all that regretful. It was spending a day with Al, after all. "So?"

"So we really shouldn't."

"That's not an excuse. Not a valid one, anyway." A smile crooked the side of Al's mouth. He knew he'd won before I'd even officially caved. "So we're going?"

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

I sighed, frowning at the square of toast I balanced before me on my fingers. "Manage to get your way so often."

"So often?" Al snorted, reaching for his cup of pumpkin juice. "Hardly." He paused with the glass half-raised to his lips. "Although, today I'd be more than happy to accept that yes, I am getting my way."

"Of course you are."

"Damn straight. You do what you're told, boyo."

"Boyo?" I raised an eyebrow and narrowed my eyes at him. He didn't reply, only offering his wide, adorable smile in return. And in the glow of that smile, any further resistance I had on the subject evaporated.

Hogsmeade it was.

"So, where exactly did Rhali say she had an appointment today?"

Al chuckled at my side, kicking a pebble to skitter off into the distance along the muddy main road of Hogsmeade. He thrust his hands further into his pockets as a particularly bitter gust of icy wind buffeted us. "I believe it was deeply embedded in the Slytherin dormitories beneath a heavy blanket with her eyes closed."

"Ah. Of course. And Ozzy?"

"Ozzy's a wind-sprite, Scor. You should know by now that when he says he's 'got something to do' he's off with the fairies."

"So going for a run around the lake, then?"

"Most probably."

"Even in this weather?" I cast a deliberate glance around us at the damp pavement of the streets and passers-by bundled thickly in coats, scarves and gloves. "He's really taken to this fitness regime, hasn't he?"

"You're telling me," Al muttered with a shake of his head. I smirked. Al was definitely not one to partake in physical activities, and certainly not if it meant leaving the comforting warmth of The Indoors. Not even flying, which, all things considered, took more balance and coordination that physical exertion to achieve. I'd seen him shudder at the word 'cardio' when Ozzy brought it up.

We'd been wandering through the streets of Hogmeade for nearly three hours, spitting in the face of the poor weather to persist and doing little more than window-shopping. Al urged us to stop by at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to wave a greeting to the assistant – his cousin Louis who was reportedly working there part time at present – and showing me some of the wares. His uncle was a bit of a mastermind when it came to joke products. I would have been sceptical, condescending even, in any other situation, but really, some of his stock was ingenious. Even something as cheap as the two-for-three packs of Anima-Drops were incredible; the skill taken to embed a semi-animal Transfiguration into the candy was exceptional. Al and I spent a good half an hour working our way through several packets, briefly acquiring talons and goat eyes, lizards tongues and whiskers to our mutual enjoyment.

I felt guilty, of course. Guilty that I was spending hours away from my books, of the precious time I should have spent stuffing my head with necessary facts for the future and the fast approaching exams. On top of that, I felt a different kind of guilt, a guilt that accused me for enjoying myself at such a critical time when I should have been acting the prefect and role model and demonstrating to the younger years exactly how a seventh year was supposed to act.

Instead, I was nearly falling to my knees as Al and I snickered over the pig's snout and webbed fingers we'd temporarily grown.

Because even with that guilt, I couldn't say I regretted it. Not really. Just spending the time with Al, it was… it was just so liberating. Al often made me feel that way, even, to a lesser degree, when we studied together in the library and barely exchanged a word for hours on end. Definitely when we briefly shared our meals and most certainly in our trips to the Room of Requirement. I regretted, really, that I hadn't had more of a chance to spend time with him sooner; if only I'd known how much… yes, how much fun I could have with him, maybe my previous years at Hogwarts would have been a very different experience.

I let Al lead me most of the morning. Hogsmeade wasn't a big village, but there were a couple of newish stores that I'm quite fond of. Bizarre Books for one, from which I purchased to the eye-rolling audience of Al a selection of advanced coursework texts. I couldn't help but take a brief glimpse into 'YWWG: Young Witches and Wizards Galore' that, apparently, held 'every possible need for the young witch and wizard'. They did have quite an impressive display of the latest quidditch gear, which I had to very deliberately turn away from. I knew Al saw me looking and though his expression became slightly regretful it was thankfully free of pity or even sympathy.

By the time lunch-time rolled around, we'd exhausted the limits of Hogsmeade, even going so far as to stick our heads into the ever-silent and horribly stuffy interior of the gypsy hedge witch's nameless shop. Everyone at school called it the Cave of Doom, and it truly did appear to be rather cave-like, if not quite do doom-some. Dark and musty, I wasn't entirely sure what the wrinkled old woman sold except for a bit of everything. And when I said 'a bit', I truly meant 'a bit'. As in, halves or things. What the possible function of half a gyrometer could have was a mystery me. How could it even fly with only one propeller?

Making our way down the main street of the village and pointedly ignoring the wind that rose and fell in variable fluctuations, Al and I chatted of nothing but the trivial. We barely spared a glance for those we passed, villagers and fellow students alike. The guilt that clung to me had settled into the back of my mind to brood silently as the sun drifted across its apex, and I found it a welcome relief to be at least partially free of the overhanging cloud.

Al, for all his exasperated bemoaning of the absence of Rhali and Ozzy, seemed himself to be in a happier mood than usual. I knew that he too wasn't removed enough from his studies that the weight of exams didn't press down insistently upon him. He was actually quite studious when he put his mind to it, especially to the studies he had an affinity with. I knew from Ozzy, and a little directly from Al too, though he tended not to talk about it, that he was prone to falling prey to anxiety. I'd witnessed it myself several times, most outstandingly after the first newspaper article, the one of our kiss.

Seeing the relaxed smile on his face, I was relieved that I had caved and agreed to join him today. I'd regret it later most likely but the break was as much for him as it was for me.

Eventually, we worked our way into the Three Broomsticks. It was a large establishment, the largest in Hogsmeade by quite a significant stretch, and was systematically refurbished and renovated every three years or so. Old Madam Rosmerta worked alongside her nephew to run the joint, and they basically managed the entire inn single-handedly between the two of them.

And manage they did. I actually quite liked the inn, though I knew my extended family would be horrified that I felt anything more than distasteful acceptance of its presence in the village. It was always clean, had a comforting, homely smell of polished timbre and burning pine smoking gently from the fireplace, and there was always enough seats at the widely spaced tables to ensure that no one was left standing.

At midday, the inn was barely a quarter full despite it being a Hogsmeade weekend. By-passing Madam Rosmerta to order our lunch, I followed Al to his chosen table and slipped into the bench beside him. The seat afforded us a decent view of the entire room and all of its occupants, something I'd noticed was a common and apparently unconscious inclination on Al's part; he didn't like being around too many people at once, and unless he had visible proof that no one was close enough to hear him speak, then he... wouldn't. Simple as that.

I'd noticed that about him too. Al was a talkative person. Really, he was remarkably chatty, something that had surprised me in the early days of our friendship. The same could be said for Rhali and Ozzy; each of them seemingly had the capacity to talk and talk on end, spouting like water from an enchanted tap. Not always about meaningful subjects, too - rarely did the conversation in the Niche descend into solemnity, and on those occasions Al always came prepared with a supply of Happy Gum or Harproot.

I found that quite relieving, actually. I had only tentatively partaken in such conversations myself – I wasn't much for big heart to hearts, though the three of them were certainly attempting to instil it in me – but when I had it had been with such assistance. And it really helped. Really.

And yet, in spite of their natural ability to chatter, there was their public personas. The flip side of the coin, if you will. For throw any of them into a room with other people and they were as close-lipped as a mute and as wary as a child beneath the stern eye of their mother. They were the polar opposite to the friendly affection - or hard love in Rhali's case - that I had grown to care for so fiercely. Truly care for, I realised, in a way that I had never experienced with friends before. My family, certainly, but friends? Comparing Rhali and Ozzy, comparing Al who was so much more, to Tatsuya, to Drisella and Hamish and Phillippe... different didn't even begin to cover it.

I only regretted that my newer friends felt the need to become entirely different people when around the greater populace. If only everyone knew, if they only knew what they were truly like, they would hardly be considered the oddities, the social outcasts, the 'strange' that they were frequently labelled as. The fact that they partook of recreational drugs was hardly even a feature I considered prominent of any of their characters; there was so much more to them besides that I almost cringed whenever I considered how I had passingly thought of them as 'the stoners'. And Al's Harproot and Happy Gum? Such hardly even seemed in keeping with the stereotypes I knew of drugs.

In the Three Broomsticks, with at least three empty tables between us and the other diners, Al was the friend and boyfriend that I had so come to care for. He didn't huddle in his seat, shrinking from the view of others and keeping his mouth clamped firmly closed unless directly spoken to. He didn't cast me sidelong glances that desperately pleaded for me to 'keep my trap shut and please don't ask me anything'. No, without direct onlookers, without the chance of eavesdroppers picking up a stray word or phrase, he smiled, he chuckled quietly, he spoke.

I had to wonder where this duality of character had originally come from.

Madam Rosmerta arrived with our lunch and a pair of butter beers as we chatted idly. As soon as the woman approached, Al fell silent and waited until she had unloaded herself and left. He wasn't glaring exactly, nor did he actively seem to be resenting her presence, but it was very clear to me, and likely to Rosemerta even, that he would maintain his silence until she left. She did. Quickly.

Picking up my fork, I paused in the act of tucking into my steak and kidney pie to glance at Al. I sighed in exasperation as he hefting his own cutlery. "Really, Al? Are you trying to starve yourself?"

Folding a leaf of lettuce into his mouth, Al glanced at me with an eyebrow raised and spoke in a muffled mumble. "What?"

I gestured to the very minimalistic garden salad before him. "That. It's not got anything of substance to it whatsoever."

"James calls it rabbit food," Al replied idly, taking a sip of butterbeer.

"That is a very apt description for it," I concurred. "Have you considered eating something other that an entire lettuce head for lunch."

"Hey, don't judge my eating habits," Al grumbled, pointing his fork towards me before spearing a sliver of carrot. "Veganism is a lifestyle choice. You should respect it."

"And I do. But that 'rabbit food' can hardly be constituted a meal. It can't be healthy. You're skin and bones as it is anyway, and only getting skinnier."

It was true. I wasn't one to particularly notice such superficial features of, well, anyone, but someone I was familiar with as intimately as I was Al? Yes, I'd noticed he was slight. Noticed also that he'd thinned out further since Christmas and it worried me.

Al shrugged, disregarding my concern. "'S okay. It happens all the time."

I frowned. "What happens?"

"Getting skinny. When I get stressed, or homework piles up or... other stuff." He shrugged again, as though it was hardly more than a trivial fact. "It happens."

I felt my frown deepen further. "That can't be healthy."

"Probably not," Al agreed. "But whatever." He glanced at me sidelong, jabbing his fork towards me once more. "Are you going to partake of that poor cow's leg at some point today, or are you going to waste it?"

There was amusement in his tone, a continued lack of regard for my concern, but I let it pass. Raising an eyebrow, I turned back to my own lunch. "What was all that about respecting dietary choices?"

"I was talking about veganism."

"What, so the flip side doesn't count."

Al shook his head vigorously, offering me a grin around the fork he held to his lips. "It's the right of any vegan, Scor, you should know that; I can judge you for what you eat but don't even think about judging me."

I snorted. "That's a bit of a double standard."

"Vegan prerogative," Al replied with another impish grin. I shook my head, chuckling in my own amusement, and set to tucking into my lunch. Cow's leg or not, it certainly was tasty.

It was as we scraped the last of our plates clean – or, well, as I did, for there wasn't really all that much for Al to scrape – that the thought occurred to me. No, it didn't just occur. It simply niggled loudly enough for me to speak of it. "You lose weight when you get stressed, then?"

Al was still shaking his head and smiling from the identification and joking reference I'd made to Matthias Snarfle's little sister – I can't for the life of me remember her name, but she was certainly making an idiot of herself pretending to be drunk on butterbeer halfway across the room. He glanced towards me at my words, his smile rapidly subduing. "Yeah. It happens."

"It's… it's pretty bad, then?" I was appalling at these kinds of conversations. Awkward didn't even begin to cover it. Still, I felt like I should at least make an attempt. He was my boyfriend, after all, and I did care.

Al shrugged nonchalantly, but the deliberate redirection of his gaze across the room suggested he was anything but. "Sometimes. At the moment?" Another shrug. "Yeah, just some things."

I frowned. Surely I should know about these 'some things'. But then… it couldn't be anything particularly unknown, could it? I would surely be aware of such a catalyst for distress. "Study?"

"Yeah, study and… stuff."

"You're avoiding answering the question."

Al sighed, sending me a hooded half-glare that was faintly accusing. "I'm not 'avoiding answering', it's just… nothing all that huge. I mean, nothing set in stone."

"What's not set in stone?" I was curious now. Concerned if it was concerning Al, but mostly curious. Something I didn't know about? I wasn't going to drop the subject anytime soon.

Al evidently perceived as much, for he met my gaze shrewdly, pursed his lips and huffing an exasperated sigh. "It's silly to be worried about it," he said.

"About?" I persisted. In this instance, I found myself with a sudden well of patience. I could prod him like this all day if I had to.

Running a hand through his hair – it was a nervous tick that I'd glimpsed and never really taken much notice of before except for noticing it – Al sighed again. "It's just… okay, so don't laugh at me, alright?"

"Would I laugh at you?"

Al gave me another half-glare. "I don't know, Scor. You tell me."

A crooked smile settled on my face at the suggestion. "True, you've got me there. Proceed anyway or I won't leave it alone."

Appearing on the verge of scowling at me, Al hesitated a moment more before abruptly speaking. In a spurting flow, the words hastily spilled over the top of one another. "I… I've applied for a couple of universities. Not Wizarding unis or colleges or anything but Muggle unis. Well, not Muggle unis but Dual unis, because it's pretty hard for a witch or wizard to get into a mainstream uni without the foundational knowledge from Muggle secondary education, you know? It's only a couple that I've applied for – you have to apply really early for these things 'cause they're really competitive – and I don't know my chances of getting in or anything, but I'd really, really like to go, and I won't know the results of my applications for another couple of months now but it's still kind of freaking me out a little –"

"Wait. Hold on. Slow down." I held up a hand to stem the flow of word vomit. It was a bit of an information overload and I found myself blinking rapidly in an attempt to process it all. "You applied for at a Muggle University?"

"A Dual University. And several, yes."

"Dual University?"

Al shifted uncomfortably in his seat and wouldn't look me in the eyes. He raked his hand through his hair once more before dropping his fingers to the table top to settle for picking at his fingernails. "They take both wizards and Muggles, teaching both curriculums, though the Muggles don't generally know about the other courses."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm well aware of what a Dual University is, Al."

"Well, you did ask," Al replied petulantly, though his voice was low and subdued.

I sighed. This was what he was feeling nervous about? His applications? Well, I personally wouldn't have seen much point in worrying over a college or university application; after submission, there wasn't an awful lot one could do about it. But I knew Al wasn't the sort of person able to see it as such. He would worry, incessantly, and it would likely be fraying his thoughts. No, I didn't know the nitty gritty details of his anxiety, but I was beginning to realise that it might be a bit deeper, run a little more strongly, than he let on. Than I had realised. Evidently so, as he was nearly writhing in his seat with nervousness that couldn't be entirely because of his confession to me. Though why he felt nervous at all for telling me was unfathomable.

Still, if he was this worried about his applications on top of our current study load that I knew stressed him more than he let on, it was no wonder that things were being a little upset. It was like… like my own situation with Father's business partners and their nagging; just another thing lumped atop the wobbling tower of commitments and demanding concerns.

At the thought, I felt a surge of irritation that was immediately overwhelmed by guilt. An entirely different kind of guilt to that I'd felt throughout the rest of the day. I was annoyed that Al hadn't told me something that worried him so much – I was his boyfriend, wasn't I? Weren't we supposed to let each other about these sort of things? – but more powerful was the guilt that I hadn't been able to offer him support. He'd done enough simply offering his listening ear and steady presence over the past weeks when I'd needed it, which was exactly what I'd needed. Didn't I have the right to offer the same?

Taking a calming breath, I blinked very deliberately at Al. "What universities have you applied for?"

Al raised his eyes to me guardedly. "I… you're not annoyed with me?"

I adopted an expression of mild surprised. "Annoyed? Why would I be annoyed?"

Shrugging, Al went back to picking at his fingernails. "I just thought you might, I don't know, get indignant and all that because I hadn't told you."

I had to take a pause to keep from jumping on the truth of his words and validating them. Another steadying breath – I really had no reason to be annoyed. I didn't. It would pass – and I tilted my head to the side in what I hoped was the expression of an avid listener. "What universities have you applied for?"

Al paused, freezing for a moment as though caught in the lull before the storm hit, before slowly raising his eyes to meet my own. Was he really so worried about my opinion, or was his nervousness at the situation at large just spilling into everything else? I strove to keep my face open and it must have worked to a degree for a sliver of the tension in his shoulders eased and he finally replied.

"I applied for the University of Glasgow and Manchester, and Aberystwyth too, and Edinburgh. Canterbury Christ Church too; it's supposed to have a really good graduate employment rate. I'll probably be applying at the straight Wizarding unis when N.E. finish up."

"That's a… pretty widely flung selection of locale, there," I murmured, swallowing down the lump that had arisen in my throat. Oh. Maybe that was why Al was worried to tell me. Maybe he was worried I'd protest him moving away. I certainly felt the urge to. I cleared my throat, I replied as off-handedly and sarcastically as I felt I usually would. "Just a few, then? Keeping the number down, are we? That's awfully confident of you."

Despite the persistence of the lump half choking me, I knew it was the right thing to say when Al cracked a smile. A little more of that tension fell from his shoulders. "Yeah, well. I want to keep my options open."

"What do you want to study?"

This time, the expression Al turned upon me was pure exasperation. "Really, Scor? Do you even have to ask?"

I forced out a chuckle. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Herbology, then?"

"Botany, actually, or Plant Sciences, though yes, the Wizarding units are grouped under the generalised term Herbology."

"No need to be so condescending."

"I'm not. You're just an idiot," Al replied with a fond smile towards me. It warmed me despite the persisting tightness in my chest.

"What brought this up, then?"

Shrugging, Al reached for his near-empty butterbeer, though he merely fiddled with it rather than drinking. "I've been thinking about it for a while, what I wanted to do when I got out of school and all. There's not a great range of careers in plant studies in the Wizarding world so I figured I'd look further abroad. Maybe try to incorporate Muggle botanical studies into my education."

"Why would you want to learn about Muggle plants?" I couldn't help but ask.

Al shot me a faintly disapproving glance. "Now you just sound prejudiced."

"I didn't mean it like that," I muttered. It wasn't quite a sheepish mumble but it wasn't far off.

"Yeah, you kind of did, Scor. I'm not judging or anything; I know the Wizarding world is on the road to embracing the Muggle one, but there's still a long way to go." He shrugged, the last of the tension falling from his shoulders. "Maybe I can help with that transition a little."

Sitting back in my seat, I regarded Al with new eyes. This… this revelation of sorts, it showed me a whole new side of him, one I'd never beheld before. Al had always been motivated towards studying Herbology; I likened his love of plants to my rapture with potions. It was the sort of passion that spared no room for anything else even close to the same level of interest. It was this similarity between us that had been a key factor in my initial draw to him.

But in contrast to me, who disregarded that passion to pursue a life in the business world amongst the high-class tycoons of the British world, Al was following his dream. More than that, he was building upon it, going so far as to venture into Muggle fields of studies because he was just that interested. I sorely admired that, despite the natural condescension I felt towards Muggle academia in general. It was a personality flaw, I knew, but one that I defensively claim was fairly prevalent in Wizarding society still, despite the increasingly blurring boundaries between our worlds.

Al was disregarding those boundaries. More than that, he appeared to be stepping straight over them as though they didn't even exist in the first place.

That was admirable.

"Have you talked to anyone else about this?" I asked. Because to me, as much as I would like to think I would start headfirst into that which took my fancy, I would never have done so in such a situation concerning my future career and studies.

Al glanced up from his butterbeer bottle once more at my question. He frowned slightly and I quickly rearranged my features to settle at carefully neutral. I didn't know what he'd seen, but if it elicited a frown it could hardly be favourable. He spoke slowly after a pause. "Not really. I mentioned it to Mum and she said to go for it and apply if I felt like it was what I really wanted. I'm still holding out on telling Dad, though." He paused again. "And Rhali."

"Rhali?" I knew I sounded a little indignant but I couldn't help it. Why Rhali and not me?

Nodding, Al took a small sip of his butterbeer. "Yeah, she was the one that brought it up. She's been thinking along the same lines, applying at a Dual uni. She wants to study maths, you know?"

"Oh." I felt slightly mollified. That sounded fair, at least. I didn't feel quite so deliberately left out, as childish as that may seem. "She applied for the same universities as you?"

Al shook his head. "Not hardly. No, she wants to go to Cambridge or Oxford. They've got a great Dual curriculum, and are both pretty strong in Arithmancy. But they're really pretty competitive, from Muggles and magicals. She said she applied to Bristol as well and… St. Andrews I think she said?"

Wow. Rhali too. I never would have guessed. "Huh… I wouldn't have seen her as one to continue studying."

Al smirked. "I know, right?" He seemed more comfortable now, as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Or at least partially. Had he really been so worried about telling me?

We sat for a little longer in the sleepy warmth of the Three Broomsticks, talking quietly of university and the pros and cons of each Al had applied for. I wasn't looking to apply myself, of course, and had never even considered myself inclined towards such a direction, but that didn't mean I wasn't aware of the systems and which establishments held greater prestige. Of course I was. It was something Ito know so I knew it.

Al, surprisingly – or perhaps unsurprisingly, I wasn't sure – had a fairly thorough knowledge of them himself. It seemed he truly had committed himself to the idea since he'd made the decision.

Draining the last of our butterbeers, we finally heaved ourselves to our feet. The lethargy I felt settling heavily upon me was abruptly cast adrift as soon as we stepped outdoors. The wind had dropped, but it was still chilling weather. A glance overhead at the dark, roiling clouds bespoke a storm on the near horizon, possibly even hail.

By unspoken agreement, we headed back along the main road towards Hogwarts. Even revelling in good company as I had been, there was really only so much to do in a village as small and quiet as Hogsmeade. Still, even that small amount I felt had been beneficial. And even with the flooring knowledge that I had so recently acquired, I felt as though it had been a good day all round. Beneficial. Enlightening.

Al evidently felt the same, for a small smile had settled upon his face as he walked and there was a slight bounce in his step that set his arms swinging slightly. I couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"You seem awfully happy."

Al turned towards me, barely pausing to wait for a passer-by before he spoke. "I'm allowed to be, aren't I?"

"Of course. I was only wondering why."

He shrugged, turning away from me again. "I guess I just hadn't expected you to take my announcement quite so well as you have."

I raised an eyebrow towards the back of his head. "Oh really? And why is that?"

Al shrugged again, not even sparing me a glance. "You just seemed the type of person who would get in a huff about a distance relationship or something."

I frowned at his head this time at the suggestion, though I couldn't help a small shudder of relief pass through me at his words. Distance relationship. Well, at least he wasn't under any misguided illusions that we would be breaking anything off just because he was going to university. "Really, Al, are you forgetting you're a wizard? What kind of a hurdle is it to attend a Muggle university when we have Apparation at our fingertips."

This time Al did turn and flash me a smile, allowing me the deliberate 'Muggle' oversight. "Exactly. I'm glad you're seeing things so rationally."

I snorted to cover up the twinge of discomfort I felt. Stupid. It was stupid. My own words were valid enough; even if Al did study in somewhere like Edinburgh – a country away from London in which I would most likely be based at LeFay Connected – it wouldn't matter. Apparation could chew the distance between them in minutes.

It would be alright. It would be. It was selfish of me to think otherwise, and I didn't want to be selfish. Not with Al.

Still, I couldn't help my smile from fading as I followed behind Al up the hill, at least when he wasn't looking at me to see.

I should have known Al would have anticipated my descent into brooding silence and moodiness. For all that I attempted to put on a brave face, Al knew me far too well, even after such a short period of knowing me.

I'd assumed we'd spend the rest of the day studying. I was hoping we'd do as much; as soon as the castle came into view, I felt an upwelling of the guilt that had been skulking along my peripheral mind all day. It had returned with a vengeance.

Before I could even say a word on the subject, however, Al had fallen back in step beside me and linked his arm through mine. A conniving move on his part, I realised, for as soon as I attempted to lead us – with all due haste – towards the doors of the castle, he dug his heel in and tugged me in a perpendicular direction.

"No way, Scor. Not yet. I'm not finished with you yet." He gave me another tug that, pathetic as his musculature was, actually caused me to stumble in the direction he'd intended. He smirked with a hint of triumph at that.

Frowning, I huffed in exasperation. "I beg you pardon, but I've just shirked my studies for half a day because of you –"

"You enjoyed it. Don't pretend you didn't."

"Regardless! It's still half a day from studies that I've missed –"

"And you'll spend at least another hour with me. Because you love me so much." Al flashed that impish smile that I was so helpless against, and I blame that – and the careless use of the word love – for the reason that I stumbled another few steps after him when he tugged me again.

"Al…" I warned.

"Scor…" Al replied in an identical tone, and in an instant dropped his smile and fixed me with such a serious, intent stare that I felt my complaint dry on my tongue. Damn, how did he manage that? He would have made an awfully good prefect with a look like that. Or a lawyer.

Which was how I found myself – reluctantly but not really reluctantly – being tugged after Al around the grounds of the school. True, the wind had dropped, but it was still bitingly cold and I couldn't help but scowl at Al each time he glanced towards me, at each encouragement he sent my way as though urging a flighty colt to follow his lead. He returned each scowl with either a glaringly bright smile or that solemnly intense expression that brooked no argument. I found myself pathetically helpless against both of them.

What had gotten into me today?

It took me until we were nearly upon the quidditch pitch for me to realise where we were going. I attributed my lack of awareness to the fact that I unconsciously kept myself half turned towards the nearest entrance to the school. I didn't know why I did that; maybe it was the misguided supposition that, in the event that Al released his hold of my arm, I would have an added advantage in flight. Though in all honesty, I doubt I could ever see myself fleeing from Al.

"Al, no."

Al paused in his forward movement to spare me a glance. "Scor, yes."

"Al, I'm not going to spend the afternoon flying –"

"You don't have to spend the whole afternoon flying," Al overrode me. He started forwards once more towards the change rooms. "Just a little while. Give me a couple of hours."

"No –"

"Come on, just a couple of hours."

"You don't even like flying!"

Al paused again at that. The look he gave me wasn't by any means a glare – far from it, in fact – but sufficed to still my tongue nonetheless. "No. I don't really. But you do." His eyes narrowed with intensity once more. "You really do, Scor. And just because you're studying doesn't mean you have to put the rest of your life in the trash, never to be seen again."

"I –" I swallowed down an upwelling of unexpected emotion. It wasn't rational, hardly even felt like my own, but was more a direct response to that which coloured Al's tone. "I'm not throwing it away. It's just… put to the side. For the moment. I'll… I'll fly again. I will."

It was a lie. I knew it as soon as I said it. I couldn't see myself ever really having the time, nor the lack of inhibitions as a public figure, to truly revel in the joy of flight. Certainly not when I was a respectable businessman. And from the flicker of sadness on Al's face, he knew it too. I didn't fight him anymore when he turned and tugged me towards the change rooms once more, nor when he harvested a pair of school brooms and thrust one in my hand.

I moved as though I was in a dream. As though I watched myself from an outsider's perspective and had no control over myself as Al urged me onto the quidditch pitch. My eyes were glued on the polished wood of the old-fashioned Nimbus 2020 grasped between my fingers and I didn't even realise I'd slung my leg over the broom until I was in the air.

I shouldn't. I wasn't supposed to fly. I should have been studying, or, in failing that, drawing my attention to analysing the texts my father had sent me regarding the inner workings and duties of LeFay. It was complicated enough as it was; there was a reason so many people said they didn't actually know what the business did. International relations, purchasing of shares in upstanding companies, supporting investments through generous donations of the excessively wealthy, donations obtained through the use of a silken tongue and sincere promises. I should be learning it all.

Instead I was flying. I was flying, for the first time in months, and I was enjoying it. As I launched through the air, the icy wind licking my face with whiplash intensity drawing tears to my eyes, I revelled in the feeling of weightlessness. The unerring steadiness of the broom beneath me, the reflexive motion of my muscles as they shifted to urge the broom higher, faster. It was all so familiar, so satisfying, that within moments the tears provoked by the painful coldness swum with emotion instead.

Humiliating. It was humiliating, to be so effected by the simple act of flight. But I couldn't bring myself to care in that moment.

As I turned the Nimbus in an arc, curving to the left, I caught sight of Al. He too was astride a broom, drifting lazily. He looked quite comical in the thick coat, scarf and gloves, shrouded heavily against the February chill, but that didn't detract from the grace of his flight. No, admittedly there was no love for flight itself in his motions; he did not have the need to fly, not like I had. The need that I had been thurstnig aside with quivering muscles since I'd first made the resolution to avoid flying. But that didn't mean he didn't fly well. I guess he got it from his mother. Or his father, perhaps; Harry Potter was apparently an exceptional flyer back in the day.

Al must have felt my gaze upon him, for in the midst of a curving arc of his own he turned his eyes towards me. He gave me a smile that I could make out even across the half-pitch distance between us. There was so much affection in that simple smile, a touch of relief, a little satisfaction and, laced throughout it all, understanding. Somehow, without even feeling that same almost insurmountable urge that I did to fly, he understood the struggle I had. And against my own conscious objections, fighting against my innate desire, he had acted upon that understanding. Al was… he was looking out for me in a way that I'd never had someone do for me before.

Merlin, who could ask for a better boyfriend?

As I fell into a sharp dive, dropping swiftly to his side, I reached my own resolution. I would strive my very hardest to be a man worthy of that affection. To offer the same in kind if I could. And if that meant supporting his future studies, even at the risk of him moving away, then I would.

I would.

A/N: Hi, everyone. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you get a chance, please please please leave a review. It would be muchly appreciated :) xx