A/N: Okay, so... I feel like I should apologise for the sort of preachiness of this chapter? No, not preachiness but... something like it. It was sort of written at my own crisis point - which I'm sure most people have experienced at least once - and that probably comes through quite prominently. So... sorry? I guess?

Hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 18: My Afternoon of Realisation

Approaching Godric's Hollow was a very different experience the second time to that I'd undertaken the first. This time I barely even glanced at the white walls, sparing half a glance for the rich sprouting of greenery on the front lawn that had previously been hidden by snow. I was jittery with eagerness, with apprehension, though of an entirely different kind to that I'd felt last Christmas; this time I nearly ached with it.

Behind me, Rhali and Ozzy strode with similar feverishness. There faces, usually so blank and shadowed in their public facades, were tight with apprehension, with Ozzy's jaw periodically clenching and unclenching and Rhali's eyes flashing beneath lowered eyebrows. They'd been that way all morning, the pair of them, since breakfast and continuing two hours later when we'd finally been permitted off school grounds.

With accompaniment, of course.

Mother strode ahead of us. Yes, Mother. Apparently, when Weatherwell had sent a missive to each of our families requesting temporary leave this weekend to visit Al, Mother had replied post-haste with the suggestion that she accompany us to act as an escort of sorts. I'd been in Weatherwell's office, seated to the right of Rhali and Ozzy and receiving very careful instructions that a two year old could comprehend when she'd received the letter back from my mother. The image of the Deputy's eyebrows disappearing into her hairline and her mouth popping open would stay with me for a long time, I'm sure.

It had left me blinking in surprise when Weatherwell had relayed the message. I would likely have continued to be so if not for the fact that a greater surprise had not knocked that unexpected reality down a peg. Because apparently Mother had visited Godric's Hollow before. On a number of occasions, in fact. To my continued incredulity, Mother professed upon picking us up and under my careful questioning that she and Ginny Potter had become something of friends in the past months. It was no wonder why; Mother had been the primary supporter – and an enthusiastic one, at that – of my relationship with Al. It really shouldn't have been so surprising that she would endeavour to push herself onto the Potters, sliding into their good graces. She was good at that. I still wouldn't put it past her to have planned out a wedding. Father had told me she'd had the ceremony practically booked for years and had been heartbroken with I'd confessed that what I'd had with Winona would not, in fact, blossom into marriage.

At first I'd thought that the relationship between Al and I was astounding. Unexpected. Unlikely to the extreme. But the wives of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy becoming friends? That was something else entirely. How Mother managed to keep her friendship with Al's mother out of the public eye was a mystery to me. I'd have to ask her sometime.

Not today, though. Since setting out from the school, my attention had been focused entirely upon one thing: seeing Al. We'd messaged one another on Friday night, though only once, and throughout the day yesterday as I'd hunkered down on a receptive hotspot to maintain the tenuous thread of contact. It had been a physical strain being unable to visit him on Saturday, knowing that he was awake and moved back home. But the school and its Responsible Adults wouldn't allow it; they informed me that I must wait until Sunday, when the visit was scheduled. Rose had caught me in the morning just before she'd left, filling me in in clipped words that today was the 'family day'. I didn't anticipate how much that hurt.

The messages Al and I had exchanged had held little enough by way of content and only superficial reassurances. It wasn't enough. I felt the desperate need to simply see Al for myself. I needed it. Something inside of me wouldn't fully accept his wellness until I witnessed it with my own eyes.

That, and there was the issue with the message I'd sent. Of the confession of my Love. True, it had been written in the heat of the moment, when I'd been sagging in relief that Al was actually awake enough to message me. I couldn't summon up even the dregs of the irrational and selfish resentment I'd felt simmering beneath the surface of my composure all week. I was just so relieved. Enough that I'd spouted out the word 'love' before I'd really considered it.

Not that I didn't mean it – I did, and that reality reasserted itself every second of the day. But the silence from Al on the subject, on the Word, left me nauseous with nerves. I'd never been physically sickened by a thought before, not until I'd met Al. This was a new experience for me.

I didn't like that one in particular one bit.

I was fidgeting in my step with the desire to slip around my mother as she lifted the hem of her robes to climb the short steps up the veranda. It was a fight to stand still as she rearranged her skirts – honestly, she had to be taking her time on purpose, just to vex me – and reached a delicate finger forwards to press the doorbell. A chime rang through the house, distant and tinkling familiarly. Barely a minute had passed before the sound of footsteps down the hall indicated a recipient of our arrival.

Ginny Potter opened the door with a smile. I guessed that was a thing with the Potters, to always smile when opening the door. Al did it too. It was obvious that it was a bit of a strain, though. While Ginny didn't seemed particularly worried or stressed in that moment, there was weariness in the set of her shoulders, a wanness to her face and a slight dimness to her eyes that bespoke sleepless nights and emotional exhaustion.

But she did smile. And that smile I found reassuring.

Mother stepped forwards the moment the door opened. In a display of fond familiarity, she immediately reached for one of Ginny's hands wrapped it in both of her own. I couldn't see her expression, behind her as I was, but I could envisage it anyway. It would be calm, compassionate, a small smile tilting her lips and her eyes soft. Most people generally attributed my mother – and just about every Malfoy – with coldness and aloofness. If only they knew.

"Ginny, dear, how are you?" Mother filled the doorway and nearly fell through when Ginny took a step backwards to welcome them in. Far from the surprise that immediately sketched itself across Rhali and Ozzy's faces, Ginny's flooded with warm affection and weary gratefulness that seemed to actually draw some of the paleness from her cheeks.

"Hello, Astoria. I am quite alright, thank you. Just…" she gave a shrug, "tired."

"Understandably, of course," Mother clucked, bustling into the house with far more bluster than her slender frame would suggest was possible. She didn't spare a glance over her shoulder as she beckoned my friends and I after her. "I've wanted nothing more than to trip to St. Mungo's these past days, I can assure you."

Offering a welcoming smile over Mother's shoulder to Rhali, Ozzy and I, Ginny closed the door behind us. "That's sweet of you, Astoria, really. But honestly, I doubt anyone could have really done all that much. They probably wouldn't even have let you into the room." She heaved a heavy sigh that encompassed her weariness wholly. "I'm just glad the worst of it seems to be over for now."

Mother's face became shrouded more thickly in sympathy. "I'm sure you would be. How is Albus?"

Ginny glanced tellingly up at the roof overhead. "He's… better. I think he's feeling better being home. Still very tired; he slept for most of the day yesterday, even when Ron and Hermione brought the kids over." Ginny turned towards me – or, well, my friends and I – once more and offered another small smile. "He's a bit more with it today, though. You can head upstairs if you'd like. He's in the sitting room."

"Thank you, Ginny. That'd be great," Ozzy thanked her from behind me. I made a noise of agreement.

"Can I get any of you anything? Some tea and biscuits, maybe?" At the unanimous shaking of our heads, Ginny nodded. "Alright, then. Call me if you need anything. Tea, Astoria?"

"Yes, thank you, Ginny. I'll get it myself," Mother offered, already turning down the wide, brightly lit hallway towards what I could only assume was the direction of the kitchen. She acted like she owned the house, which was fairly typical of Mother. The fond, knowing smile on Ginny's face as she slipped past me in Mother's wake suggested she hardly minded. The pair disappeared through the doorway to the sound of muted conversation.

I shared a glance with Rhali and Ozzy. Well. That was that, then. I'd wondered if Mother might want to fuss over Al; she did have something of a soft spot for him, after all, and I thought it was only that she had deemed it improper to impose that she hadn't already stopped by the house, if not St. Mungo's itself. I wouldn't have put it past her to seat herself at Al's side and offer her roundabout, saccharine-sweet and formal questioning of his wellbeing. I knew from experience that such a confrontation was more intimidating than being grilled by a drill sergeant.

"Shall we…?" I pointed upstairs. Rhali spared me a 'well, obviously' roll of her eyes before slipping past me and starting up the stairwell. She took the steps two at a time and didn't glance behind her to ensure Ozzy and I followed. The same old Rhali, returned from her unexpected and unprecedented bout of hysteria. I can't say that I didn't see her differently now after witnessing that breaking down of her walls. I'd always suspected she wasn't quite as hard as she let on, but now I had proof. Proof that Rhali would undoubtedly deny within an inch of her life.

The interior of the Potter house was as welcoming and homely as the exterior suggested. Pales walls sat atop half-wall panelling of dark timber in a classical offset, contrasting to the pale carpet beneath our feet. Pictures, both normal and

Static, lined the walls, the faces of the Potters and their extended family beaming at me as I alighted the stairs after Rhali. I saw a scattering of images of Al in a variety of ages, each one smiling shyly, or sarcastically, or long-sufferingly at the camera in a way that I found completely characteristic of him in each persona. Lily featured just as prominently, as well as James, and I saw a couple of pictures of Rose and Hugo, more Weasleys and even one of my cousin Teddy – his hair was grass green in that one. Each were illuminated by Muggle lights embedded like tiles on a mosaic in the ceiling, casting a warm, comfortable glow upon everything below them.

It wasn't like my own house. Malfoy Manor was, in a word, grand. Whereas the Potter's house, while respectably large, featured mostly modest sized rooms that I peered briefly into as we passed along the upstairs hallway, the Manor appeared to have been built to hold a party in each space. There was none of the cosy warmness of the Potter house; the closest that came was probably the third floor living room that my mother had furnished for just such a purpose. Or perhaps my own rooms, but even then my sparsely outfitted suites in contrasting colours lacked the lived-in quality of Al's house. Everywhere I turned were very visible signs of habitation, signs that the house elves in my own house would immediately erase.

A towel thrown over the balustrade.

A single slipper wedged under the door of the bathroom we passed.

A mangled toy mouse that obviously belonged to the cat that lay curled very pointedly in the middle doorway of what I could only assume from the disorder and sprawling school supplies was Lily's room. Al's would have had plants in it, I knew.

There was even a small stain of a child's handprint on the white wall just above the panelling, obviously a simple passing smear but just as obviously left there deliberately. I found myself smiling slightly as I walked past it and wondered if it might have been Al's. It didn't invoke the disdain I would usually feel at such a display of 'messiness.'

My house didn't have any of that. For the first time I actually found that to be a detriment.

Rhali led us with deliberate steps, obviously acquainted enough with the layout of the house to know where she was going. At possibly the furthest point from the front door she paused in another doorway. It was a very conscious and feigned slouch and huff that she offered to the unseen occupant of the room. "Finally found you. Are you trying to hide yourself up here?"

"Hardly," Al's voice replied. "The upstairs TV is just the only one that's linked in to WEN."

I felt my chest tighten at the words. They were so casual, so normal. I had to swallow down an upwelling of emotion in my throat. What was this? Surely not another sob fest. I'd fallen prey to waterworks once this past week; that should set me up for the next few years, at least.

Rhali, in her own display of casualness, slouched into the room. I couldn't follow her fast enough, with Ozzy right beside me. We stepped into a small, cluttered room and in an instant my eyes were drawn to Al.

As Ginny had suggested, he still looked tired. He still looked pale, too – too pale to be anything but sick. There was that faint blueness to his skin, the slight purpling to his lips that might have been overlooked as being mildly hypothermic to an outside observer. An impression that would have only been enforced by the thick, too-large jumper that drooped over his fingers and the loose slacks bunched at his knees.

But that was all. Besides that paleness, the tiredness, he was very much my Al. From the steady green of his eyes to the illogical strip of dyed fringe that hung loose from his half up-do. Even the recline he posed, stretching like a cat along the chaise lounge, was so typically him; he was, naturally, upside down, with his feet propped on the back cushions where his head should and head nearly hanging off the end barely a foot away from the quietly chattering Muggle television.

He was my Al, and thank Merlin he was very much alive.

I didn't think I'd fully believed it until that moment, yet seeing him as he offered us all a small smile, pushing himself upright, solidified the reality of it. He was alive. I nearly sagged where I was standing in sheer relief.

Rhali had already thrown herself on the couch beside him before I'd fully regained my senses. She didn't beat around the bush, that girl, and with typical bluntness slumped back in her seat, folded her arms across her chest, and scowled at Al. "I hope you're happy with yourself. You realise you just about gave me a heart attack, don't you?"

I cringed inwardly. The Slytherin girl didn't hold back. Opening my mouth to reign her in, I was stopped at the last minute by a pat on the shoulder from Ozzy. Glancing towards the tall boy, I raised a questioning eyebrow to him that he only replied with a crooked smile. He stepped past me and casually threw himself onto the end of the chaise lounge beside Al. "Really, Rhali? Does you petulance know no bounds?"

"I think we established she's a little unrestrained in that department years ago," Al smirked sidelong at Ozzy. Ozzy returned the smile in kind before leaning into Al and wrapping an arm around his neck, tugging him towards him in a one-armed hug. Al let him, and neither commented nor drew away when Ozzy pressed a kiss onto the side of his forehead. Surprisingly, I didn't feel the slightest tinge of jealousy; the gesture was filled purely with affection and relief, a relief that mirrored my own to such a degree that I could feel nothing but empathy. That acceptance persisted even when Ozzy whispered something into Al's ear for him alone. Al's smirk softened into a smile and, nodding his head, he wrapped one arm back around Ozzy and returned the embrace.

And then, as though an announcement had been made, it was my turn. Very obviously my turn, from the way that all three of them turned with varying speeds towards me. I hadn't moved from my position beside the door, left in what I now realised was a rather awkward pose of waiting.

I couldn't move though. Something had glued my feet to the floor. Slowly, gradually, where once only relief had filled my thoughts, they turned instead towards the approaching situation. Towards my own reunion of sorts with Al. To being faced with the reality of what I'd sent in my message to him two days before. And suddenly, with the looming uncertainty of Al's wellbeing erased, that reality became far more daunting and immediate.

What was I to expect? I'd told him I loved him, and though he hadn't said exactly as much back, I'd been under the impression that he felt at least a little of the same feelings. It had been a bit unnerving that Al hadn't replied with exact similarity, but then Al had always been less open with deep, sincere displays of emotion. Maybe he was just too uncomfortable in saying as much?

Except that maybe that wasn't it at all. Maybe his kind, affectionate replies, the professions of "wish you were here" or that "I was there", was merely pity? It was foolish of me to be so concerned with such a thing when Al's life had literally been dangling over a precipice, but I couldn't shake my uncertainty, couldn't assume the confidence that I'd lived and breathed for the majority of my life. I was a decisive person. Perhaps slow in reaching those decisions, but when they were made I acted upon them. And when my decisions couldn't be acted upon due to those of another?

That was unnerving.

Al was the first to move, though. As though hearing my thoughts, the reasoning for my inability to move, he dropped his arm from Ozzy's waist and rose to his feet. We met one another's eyes for a moment and… I didn't know what to expect. Hi? Thanks for messaging me? That was terribly unnecessary and far too soon for our relationship and can we just pretend it didn't happen? Or worse, an awkward laugh and a pat on the shoulder that would speak a thousand words of that awkwardness and gave me my reply anyway.

Al did none of that. I don't know if that fact was more unexpected than the reality or not, for I never would have expected him to hasten across the room and wrap himself around me either. Displays of affection weren't a foreign concept between us but other than that one time I'd broken our unspoken agreement we'd never done so in public. And in front of Rhali and Ozzy could, I suppose, be construed as a live audience.

So no, I didn't expect the hug, but I was far, far from rejecting it. The feel of Al's warm body against me, suddenly in my arms as they drew themselves automatically around him, was the most satisfying feeling in the world. The sound of his breaths were like music to my ears simply because he was breathing. And, damn me, I was choking up and couldn't help it because it both ached sorely and eased every pain that had ever touched me. I never wanted to let him go. And I definitely didn't need any further words of reassurance. Such a thing hardly seemed necessary, not now.

"Merlin, I'm so… I'm so…"

"I know," Al mumbled into my chest. "I'm sorry, Scor. I'm so sorry I –"

"Why are you apologising to me? Don't be stupid."

"I'm pretty sure that I have just cause to have confidence in my own stupidity right about now."

I chuckled with little humour. It was with sad more than anything. "Not stupid. It just… happened."

Al was silent for a moment before sniffing. It was then that I realised he was as choked up as I was. "Yes. Just happened."

We could have stood there all day, I thought, with only the canned laughter and scripted conversation blaring from the television for accompaniment. I certainly would have been happy to, and I think Al would have too, given that with each passing moment his hold around my waist only squeezed tighter and tighter. I could actually believe that he never wanted to let me go either, and that was reassuring on a whole knew level.

It was Rhali, though – because of course it was Rhali – who finally interrupted us. "Not that this isn't lovely and beautiful and so sweet I almost want to puke, but Al? Scor? Really?"

I lifted my head from where it rested against Al's, glancing over his shoulder towards the Slytherin girl even as Al loosened his hold on me just enough to glance himself. Her face was an odd mixture of fondness and disgust, and she seemed to want nothing more than to sink into the couch beneath her. Huh. I never took her as one to be embarrassed about that sort of thing, but then…

Ozzy, on the other hand, was openly smiling at Al and I. That in itself was sort of strange. I'd never really come to terms with the fact that he simply accepted our relationship, accepted that I filled the shoes he'd wanted for himself for years, but he somehow managed. And sparing him a glance, I saw not even the regret that which had so often shadowed his expression over the past weeks. He just seemed… happy for us. Sincerely happy.

What a genuinely decent individual Ozzy is. It was a marvel – a much appreciated marvel – that Al hadn't fallen for such devotion.

"Rhali, I've always thought that you lacked the gene for tact. Now I truly believe I have proof," Ozzy admonished, slumping back onto the chaise lounge and prodding her with his foot. He'd somehow lost his shoes somewhere in the past few minutes and I couldn't see for the life of me where he'd abandoned them to.

"Don't touch me with your stinky feet," Rhali grumbled, batting his socked toes away. "And how have you not realised this already? Tactless is my middle name."

"I thought it was Marian," Al said as, taking a step back and slipping his hand into mine, he drew us both towards the couch. We seated ourselves beside Rhali, forsaking the chaise lounge to Ozzy who looked to be firmly grounded for the afternoon.

"Marian's a pathetically simpering middle name. It's hardly appropriate for me."

"I think it's pretty," I teased, just for the glory of being the subject of Rhali's infamous glare. She fulfilled that desire accordingly. It didn't faze me in the slightest. I doubted very much could at that moment.

"Pretty is for pansy's and flower boys."

Ozzy snorted. "What the hell is a flower boy?"

Picking with casual distractedness at one of the thick braids – dreadlocks, really – hanging over her shoulder, Rhali shrugged. "Basically a pansy."

"I think you made that up."

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You always spout such crap, Rhali."

"Look it up, idiot," Rhali shot back, swinging her own foot towards Ozzy in a return kick of her own. "Oh wait, your technologically illiterate, aren't you? So you actually are an idiot."

"Below the belt, Rhali," Al murmured at my side, though I think he was too quiet to be heard by either of them. His words were no less accurate, however, for Ozzy's eyes flashed as though taking up a challenge.

"I am not. I know technology."

"No, you don't."

"I do."

"Ozzy, you don't even have a phone."

"So? Scor didn't have one until Al gave him his for Christmas." Ozzy gestured towards me to emphasise his statement.

"I can hardly be blamed for that," I defended myself. "My parents are backwards purebloods."

"Yeah, and even he actually knew how to use one. He just didn't have one himself." Wow. Rhali was actually on my side for once. I felt unexpectedly satisfied by that knowledge.

"I can use things! I know how to work a TV."

"Yeah, you just don't know anything that's on the TV."

"I've watched May Day Blues."

"Ozzy, that show stopped playing about three years ago after one season," Al interrupted. He sounded faintly apologetic for taking up the battle against our friend.

Ozzy frowned. "Hey, don't you jump on the bandwagon too."

"It's the truth, Ozzy," Al sighed with mock sorrow.

"No, really. I know…" Ozzy glanced towards the television. "I know this one, I think. I recognise that guy with the beard."

"That's because he's on every Muggle billboard in London, Ozzy," Rhali snorted. "Even though he can't act for shit. Al, what are you doing watching day time TV? The Day of Tomorrow? Really?"

I couldn't help but smile at the ensuing banter. Just like that everything seemed to have slipped back to normalcy. A brief reunion, affection conveyed and regrets aired, and we were back to the easy camaraderie we'd adopted for the past few months. And if we weren't exactly in the Niche, well… I glanced around the little sitting room, running my eyes over the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stacked with papers and tomes and overflowing cupboards lining the walls. No, it wasn't the Niche, but it was certainly comfortable enough as it was. And with all four of us barely attending to the chattering of the television in the background, too absorbed in superficial exchanges of jibes and teasing, it was so comfortable I could have almost fallen to sleep in the ambiance.

It didn't last though. The serious discussion had to arise eventually, what with the very nature of our communal visit at the Potter house. And arise it did, though not until almost half an hour after our arrival. Our chatter had died down naturally to an occasional murmur and half-hearted exchange and I found myself actually watching the program on the screen with half an eye. It was both dramatic and boring enough to incite one to pick their eyes out.

"So…"

Like a whip crack, Al's words immediately drew my attention. It was all in his tone. A brief glance at Rhali and Ozzy, attending with a sidelong glance and falsely nonchalant gaze respectively, indicated they realised the same. The talk. It was always going to happen, no matter how any of us wanted to avoid it. I was just glad that Al felt comfortable enough to bring it up himself; it would have felt wrong for me to do so.

So I waited. And Ozzy and Rhali waited. And finally Al continued.

"So you know what happened?"

The tension rippling off of him was almost palpable in the air. I would have been able to feel it even it he hadn't been sitting practically on top of me, a happy arrangement that had simply happened and that I was far from dissuading. His nervousness tightened him to rock hardness and I was made blatantly aware once more of the sheer, overwhelming power of Al's battle with anxiety. As if the most recent turn of events wasn't enough of an indicator.

"Yes, we know," I replied, my voice low and more soothing than I'd actually intended. The small, grateful smile Al flashed me told me that it didn't go unappreciated, though. He actually seemed to ease slightly with the knowledge that he didn't have to provide a complete explanation.

Sinking into me slightly, he sighed. "Right, but, um… how much?"

"Pomfrey wasn't all that informative when he told us," Ozzy muttered, his eyes falling to his lap.

"But we could pretty much deduce what had happened for ourselves," Rhali added. Her voice was as distant as her gaze fastened upon the commercials flashing across the television screen, but I was under the distinct impression she was far more attentive than she pretended to be.

"Which is?" Al asked, turning his attention to the pair of them in turn. There was a note of nervousness in his voice again, of dread, which I didn't like at all. I settled my arm loosely around his waist by way of reassurance. He immediately clamped his fingers around it as though it was a lifeline.

"The MA with the Harproot," Ozzy supplied. He flicked his gaze up to meet Al's for a moment before dropping it once more. "It was pretty obvious, actually, to anyone who knew the situation."

"Which the professors didn't," Rhali muttered. She hadn't blinked once since Al had brought up the subject. It was just a little disconcerting.

I felt Al shift slightly, heard him swallow audibly. "You could guess?" Ozzy and Rhali nodded and Al swallowed once more. "Would other people –?"

"No," I cut in, offering a reassuring squeeze of my arm. "No one has. Or if they have they're keeping quiet on the subject."

Al glanced up at me from where he'd sunken into his seat. His expression was guarded yet curious. "Why? Why would they do that?"

I shrugged, attempting to appear blasé and comfortable with my assumption to enforce that feeling upon Al. "Does it matter? I suppose it's for the same reason that no one told that you three have been using for the past six years. Even though it is a widely known fact."

"I always wondered why they did that," Ozzy mumbled to himself. Very much to himself, I realised, as he obviously wasn't looking for a reply. I provided him with one anyway.

"I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps it's got something to do with teen conspiracy?" That elicited a small smile from them all. Rhali too, even if hers was more of a smirk than anything. "I'm not sure. But at least we can be grateful for that."

"So none of you have been dobbed in?" Al asked, casting his gaze around at the three of us. "You're not suspended too?"

"You're suspended?" Rhali sat up straight in her seat, finally drawing her false attention from the television.

I found myself tensing, a frown settling on my forehead. "Please tell me you're joking. After everything that happened –"

"I'd say I got off lightly." Al widened his eyes at me meaningfully, raising an eyebrow. "I grew illegal drugs in a school, Scor. What did you expect?"

"How long?" The thought physically pained me. I knew I would have been positively mortified had I been exposed to any sort of suspension, temporary or as a stepping-stone to expulsion. And Al, for all his begrudging attitude towards academia, would be at least partially the same.

"Four weeks," Al answered, pursing his lips. He paused for a moment, dropping his chin and glancing at me through his fringe. "But I don't know if I'll be coming back this term anyway. Mum and Dad think it's better to get everything sorted out now, you know?"

My throat tightened. If it were happening to me, I'd surely have emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor at the very prospect. Yet even though it wasn't, it was a near thing. "What, ah… what are you -?"

"- going to do about school?" Al shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly, but it trembled just slightly, giving his game away. "I'm still going to study. Keep up with my homework and stuff, and there's tutors and all that Mum and Dad have looked into to help me. I won't fall too far behind. I hope." He bit his lip. "But I'm probably looking at potentially staying out of school for the rest of the year. That's, um… that's what Mum thinks."

I had nothing to say to that. I didn't really know how to respond. That would be… that would be terrible. Seventh year was so important, and though I knew Al didn't quite share my general love of learning, it wasn't as though he disliked school. Far from it in the case of Herbology, and he was actually a highly competent wizard when he wanted to be. More than that, he had plans. Plans for his future, a future that relied on how well he did in his studies. I felt a tidal wave of sympathy cocooned in horror rise within me; as if Al didn't have enough difficulties handling stress, this had to be added on top of it.

And though I understood where he was coming from, understood realistically why he stood up for the teachers and their justification for suspending him, I couldn't help but resent them for it. For Al and for me. I certainly didn't want him to be away from school for the rest of term.

That would fucking suck.

We'd fallen into a brooding silence at Al's words, each of us swimming in our own thoughts. It was Al that spoke first once more, drawing us from our muteness. He seemed to be actively pushing aside the encroaching melancholy and even attempted a very feeble smile. "But you guys didn't get routed out?"

Ozzy, Rhali and I maintained our silence for a moment, each of us staring at Al. He resolutely ignored the pointedness of our stares, though, turning towards me expectantly in what appeared to be almost a demand for an answer. Slowly, I shook my head is dissent and he heaved a sigh of relief. "No. They haven't done that either. No one found out. I guess it's because of the –"

"Teen conspiracy thing," Al finished for me, offering another small smile. For all of its feebleness, he seemed to have been lifted of a weight at the knowledge that none of us had been found out, which was as endearing as it was frustrating; he shouldn't have been worried about us in this situation. His own welfare was in a far more compromised state.

"That still doesn't make sense, though," Ozzy interrupted my thoughts. He was still frowning down at his lap as though asking his knees for answers rather than the room at large.

"What doesn't?" I asked.

Ozzy lifted his chin to meet my gaze. His stare was less questioning and more accusatory now. "All of it. I don't understand it. Teen conspiracy? What is that, rebelling against the expectations put to our age group?" He snorted loudly, derisively, in a way more characteristic of Rhali than he. "Yeah, that would make sense, maybe – everyone gets at touch of rebelliousness, I guess – but what about everything else? What about all that with what happened to Al then? What happened to both of you?"

I stared at him uncomprehending for a moment before blinking in understanding. "With our relationship?"

"And with my uni thing," Al murmured at my side.

Ozzy nodded curtly. "Right, that. If they're all so 'fight against the public's expectations', then what the hell was all that about? Why did everyone suddenly up and turn against you?"

Al's shoulders slumped slightly at the reminder and he seemed to draw in upon himself. I could have scolded Ozzy for bringing up the subject, relevant as I knew it was. Biting back me words of reprimand, I leant into Al slightly. When I spoke, it was solely for him, not for Ozzy. "I don't know that. But I suspect it's probably because they're all morons."

Al snorted, urged momentarily from his withdrawal. "That's one way of looking at it."

"It's the only way of looking at it," Rhali denied. She slumped back into her seat once more so far that she was nearly completely horizontal and allowed her eyes to drift back towards the television. "Complete and utter morons. Sheep brained cattle."

"I think that's a conflicting metaphor, Rhali." Ozzy smiled crookedly, shaking his head. His bad humour seemed to retreat slightly at that.

"I don't think so," Al continued thoughtfully. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging half of it from its tie. "I think it's probably just that they're swayed by popular opinion."

"Exactly. Sheep-brained cattle," Rhali reiterated. "They're idiots who can't think for themselves."

"No," Al corrected, speaking with forced slowness. "I mean that they're probably just so hardwired to accept everything that the media tells them to that they don't really consider anything else."

"Exactly. Sheep-brained –"

"Not exactly," Al cut her off before she could even finish this time. "I mean, it's not really their fault. Everyone gets swayed by expectations. I know James initially started playing quidditch because everyone thought he would. Or should. Even though he loves it now, that's where it all started. And half the reason Lily studies so hard is because everyone assumes she's the 'smart one' of the family."

"So you're saying that all of our classmates are basically being brainwashed into thinking a certain way." Ozzy sounded dubious but not entirely disbelieving.

Al shrugged. "I guess you could think of it that way. Everyone always preaches how 'free' our generation is and of 'the opportunities' we have, but a hell of a lot of us still have predetermined roads we're set upon. And I'm not complaining about that or anything," Al held up a hand to quell any objections, though none of us made to make any. "I'm just telling it like I see it."

Like he saw it. And like I saw it too. Al's words rung true in my ears. We'd had similar discussions in the past, but none so blatantly pointing out such specific and personally relevant flaws in Wizarding society. I recognised them for true, as resounding for my own experience. I certainly felt pressured into becoming my father's son, regardless of what I wanted. I had to wonder at times whether what I actually wanted was something entirely different.

I was a decisive person. I always had been. The decision-making process was often long-winded and hazy, and I've been known to flounder and brood and avoid until I reached my decision, which was exactly that had happened when I was confronting the reality of my relationship with Al. But when I made my decision, I stuck to it and would strive to reach an acceptable conclusion to the best of my ability. It was just how I worked.

I'd made the decision to join LeFay Connected a long time ago. That decision had remained strong and unwavering ever since. Ever since, up until now. Because Al, damn and bless him, was making me question it. Just like he'd been forcing me to for months now. And now, bringing up the topic once more, forcing me to consider the weight of expectation and the influence it would have on the long-held belief of my own autonomy, got me thinking that… maybe I wasn't quite so firm in that decision as I'd always considered myself to be.

Ozzy was talking and to my surprise I found I'd missed half of what he'd said by the time I tuned in once more. That in itself concerned me with the depths of the consideration Al had provoked from me. "… doesn't always have to be like that. Rhali's right; it's stupid. They can't expect you to do what you're 'supposed to' any more than I can be expected to…" Ozzy paused, fingers waving in the air as though searching for something. "I don't know, become a mathematician or something."

"Some people just don't have the gift." Rhali shook her head, smirking smugly.

"Shut up, Rhali." Ozzy silenced her with a roll of his eyes. "What I mean is, why should anyone really 'expect' you to do anything but what you want to? I mean, is it really so hard to imagine that you'd want to go to a Muggle uni?"

I felt more than saw Al shrug beside me. "I guess it is. Even though Potter's are supposed to be the darlings of the Wizarding world, people seem to forget a lot of the time that Dad was actually basically raised a Muggle. It shouldn't be that much of a stretch to assume I'd have an interest in that world. Especially with Grandad."

"What about your Grandad?" I asked distractedly. I didn't really care, but I was struggling to draw my thoughts away from their attempt to get away with themselves and back onto the topic at hand.

Al waved away my question. "Oh, Grandad's just a Muggle nut. He loves anything Muggle, though he still sucks at grasping how to use any of it. Try and picture teaching your Dad how to use Inscribed Technology." He nodded his head emphatically at my cringe. "Yeah. Exactly."

"I think you should just be able to do whatever you want," Ozzy reasserted, frowning slightly as though he dared anyone to object. "I mean, honestly. Who's it hurting?"

Who exactly? I didn't know, couldn't think that anyone else in the world save perhaps family should have any right to direct one's own career path. Hypocrite though that may make me, a hypocrite in my own situation, I couldn't see how, logically, that should be fair. "So then… you're still going to a Muggle university."

"Dual university," Al corrected, glancing up at me once more. "And yeah, of course. If I can get into one. Why?"

I shrugged uneasily, turning away from his open expression. "No reason in particular. I just…"

"What?"

Wonderful. Now I had the attention of all three of them, trained with overwhelming focus upon me. I shrugged once more. "I just wondered at your inclination to continue with such a pursuit when it obviously distressed you so much. Don't get me wrong, I fully support it, just that I had to wonder: if it leaves you so anxious, and worries you so much when the world responds so negatively to your decisions, how can you keep making those decisions knowing the consequences?"

Silence met my words. Al, Rhali and Ozzy presented identical expressions of blank-faced surprise. None of them spoke, leaving me to struggle with the urge to fidget under their gazes. Letting my eyes drift unseeingly towards the television, I muttered, "I just don't think I'd have the courage to do that, personally."

It was a testament to how comfortable I felt with my friends that, though it made me feel uneasy, as though irritated by an itch, I could confess as much. I was a proud person, I'd admit that much. It felt wrong to confess my failures, to admit that I wasn't as strong as perfection would have me. And yet… with Al, with Ozzy and Rhali, it didn't feel like what I was saying was wrong exactly. That it would make me appear weaker. It was just stating a fact.

Still, it took an effort to shift my gaze towards them once more. This time, each face was wrapped in an entirely different expression to those of their fellows. Rhali's open exasperation clearly indicated she thought me an idiot, while Ozzy's was filled with quiet understanding and sympathy. Strangely enough, it was Al's that I couldn't quite read. Strange in that I would have thought I was the most familiar with him, that I would perceive his thoughts the easiest. Such was not so.

He looked on the verge of utterance. The tightening of his lips, the crossing of his brows and narrowing of his eyes, it all bespoke a fierce passion that he was barely withholding. That was strange, too; he'd been fairly sedate today. Understandably, given both his physical and mental weariness. I wouldn't have blamed him for steadfast silence.

Finally, however, he appeared to shake himself loose of that passion, dropping his gaze from mine and turning a mirthless half-smile to his fingers folded in his lap. When he did finally speak it was in a low voice filled with self-deprecation. "Maybe you're right. But I don't think it's so much a matter of courage." He picked at his fingernails idly. "I just figure I'd rather be miserable with my anxiety and doing what I love than miserable doing something I hated with what was expected of me."

I stared at him for a moment before a snort of a chuckle somehow made it's way from my lips. I shook my head and dropped my forehead onto his temple. "Well, that's one way to look at it I suppose." I pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I tend to think its something rather different, though. Definitely courageous."

Rhali made a retching sound and Ozzy promptly swung his foot at her once more. "Shove off, Rhali. If you don't like what you see, go somewhere else."

I smirked into the side of Al's head and felt a smile spread across his own face as Rhali grumbled and prodded Ozzy right back. "I'm not leaving. I was here before they started all," she flapped a hand towards us, "that."

"Actually, I do believe that Al was here first," I murmured into Al's temple. Rhali didn't even spare me a glance of acknowledgement.

Ozzy snorted. "You don't have a romantic bone in your body, do you, Rhali?"

"Nope. I most certainly don't. And I have every intention of remaining single and proud for the rest of my life."

"You're jeopardising any possibility before it even gets the chance to arise, Rhali," Al reasoned.

Rhali waved her hand at him again, though it looked more like she was smacking at the air then brushing the words. "And that's exactly the way I like it!"

"Where's your passion, Rhali?" Ozzy teased, leaning towards her with a grin spreading across his face. "What happened to those raging hormones of youth?" He got a shoed foot in the face for his efforts.

"I have passion. Just not for romance."

"For maths?" Al and I guessed, speaking in synchrony. We shared a grin.

"Exactly. Cold, hard, logical and complete-able. Perfect."

I shook my head. "That's a rather depressing way of looking at it. 'Complete-able'? Why would you want something you feel so passionate about to end?"

Rhali rolled her eyes towards me, sighing, and spoke in slow tones as though addressing a simpleton. "Be-cause. If there's nothing to work towards then there's no point in working."

"Have you ever considered simply enjoying the journey?"

"Journey's are for time wasters," she huffed, folding her arms once more and turning her attention back to the television.

"Our Rhali's never been one to appreciate the scenic route," Ozzy stage whispered. He snickered when she glared at him.

"At least I actually get to my destination. You don't even have one."

Ozzy frowned. "I feel like you're insulting me but I'm not quite following where you're headed."

Rhali propped herself up slightly in her seat and bodily turned towards Ozzy. I felt like an audience member at a show. "I mean just that. You've got itchy feet, just like your Mum, but no place to head to. You just wander and wander aimlessly; that's your passion."

I cringed internally at the brutality of Rhali's words. Yes, brutal was a very good description of Rhali. And tactless. And emotionally stunted.

Ozzy, however, didn't seem the slightest bit fazed by the image she painted of him. Tilting his head slightly, he began a slow nod that only became more confident. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that. I always sort of resented Mum for always jumping about places and never settling down in one place. It's rough on a kid, you know?"

"Oh, get out the bloody violins," Rhali sighed long-sufferingly. Al sniggered beside me.

"No, I'm serious," Ozzy continued, propping himself up to and leaning across his seat enthusiastically. "It was hard. And I didn't like it, not at first. There never was one spot that we were headed to, and never one place that we would always come back to." He paused, frowning thoughtfully for a moment before, like clouds parting for the sun, his face cleared and he smiled. "But now, I think I kind of like it. I don't think you guys realise how much of the world there is to see closeted up in this little nook of the UK. You know, when I spent Christmas in Spain two years ago, there was this street that had half a dozen houses on it, right, and –"

"Jesus Christ, Ozzy," Rhali groaned. "If you're going to give us the story of the 'little villa that looked like it had stepped right out of a history textbook' again, I will rip your tongue out."

Ozzy grinned. "Fine. I forfeit the story. But I'm just saying, the journey isn't all that bad, Rhali. You should give it a try sometime. Maybe focus less on the destination."

"I happen to think that the way I look at things is very suitable for my own lifestyle. And everyone else's too, for that matter." Rhali glanced towards Al and I – well, mostly Al – and jabbed her thumb towards him. "Al agrees with me, don't you?"

"What?" Al raised a bemused eyebrow and drew back from Rhali as though she'd threatened him.

Rhali shuffled towards us slightly along the couch. "You're the same, what with your plants and all."

Al scratched the side of his head. "Are we still talking about journeys and destinations?"

"I think so," I muttered into his ear. "It's all very existential." I was rewarded with another chuckle. Rhali scowled at Al as though he'd personally insulted her.

"Honestly, Rhali, I don't see much of a destination in Herbology. I'd probably have to side with Ozzy on this one; it's more about the process for me, I think."

Al's smile only widened as Rhali's accusatory scowl grew fiercer. Ozzy promptly leaned over and offered Al a high five that Al, after shaking his head and muttering something about immaturity, lazily returned. Which only served to shift Rhali's scowl to Ozzy instead. Surprisingly, though, she didn't comment on it further. Or not to them, at least. Instead, her gaze shifted to me.

I doubted I'd ever been more terrified to face off against another person in my life. I felt like I was stepping up to a duel. Except that my expectations were shattered when Rhali spoke. "Well how about you, then, Mr Prefect? Your passion is all 'destination', right?"

"My passion?" My mind skidded to a halt. My passion? By passion… what did she mean? What I wanted to do with my life? Where I was headed with my career? "You mean my father's business?"

Rhali sighed heavily, shaking her head like a teacher mourning the stupidity of her pupil. "No, I did not mean 'your father's business'. I'm talking about Potions."

"Potions?"

Rhali fixed me with a flat stare before very deliberately turning her attention towards Al. "Ally, I think your boyfriend is a dumbass. He's broken; you need to get a new one."

Al shifted so that his arm wrapped around my waist. "Don't be mean, Rhali. You're being deliberately obtuse. Can you blame him?"

"I'm confused." I frowned, glancing between the two of them. "What are you -?"

"Your passion," Rhali reiterated. "Yeah, you're going to work at LeFay or whatever, but your real passion is for potions, right?" She raised her eyebrows towards me. "Or, wait. For studying in general? Are you that broad with your specificity?" The way she said it made it sound like an insult. The crooked grin Ozzy had adopted and threw towards me over her shoulder only served to enforce my suspicion. Or maybe he was just happy to be out of her direct line of fire.

I frowned thoughtfully. My passion was… I wanted to live up to my father's expectations. To be the best son I could be. But was that truly a passion? It was a goal, my goal, certainly, but the passions that my friends spoke of seemed entirely something else. What came to mind was indeed potions, or reading and studying, or flying my broom and playing quidditch or… or Al.

Al, and his passion for Herbology… he was following that passion to the best of his ability. He was integrating it into his future wholly. Such a possibility was so far removed from my own circumstances that it was almost incomputable.

"Yeah… I think you broke him, Rhali," Ozzy's voice swept into my thoughts. I glanced towards him and narrowed my eyes. I may have been a little unnerved by the situation, by the possibilities that were quite simply very obvious but I'd never really considered before, but that did not mean that I should be teased. I made sure Ozzy knew it, too.

"Shut up, Ozzy," Al laughed affectionately. It was a real laugh, and though he still sounded a little weary doing it, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief because of it. Each time he showed that glimmer of normalcy, of Al, after such an abnormal and horrifying experience, it eased me further. I could accept Ozzy and Rhali teasing me if it elicited such a response from him.

Al wasn't finished, though. Fidgeting around in his seat, he repositioned himself until we were facing one another. "You know you love Potions, Scor. You know that, right?"

I nodded because, yes, it was true. And the fact that Al was treating me a little condescendingly… I could live with that without it hitting a nerve. At least for today. I would gladly take anything he could dish out.

"Well, why do you love it?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Are we still on the journeys and destination subject?"

Al smirked. "Yeah, whatever. If you'd like." He paused expectantly. "So?"

I sat back a little in my seat, considering. Why did I like potions so much? Well, it was because… "I just… love it. I love working with my hands on something for once, to create something and know I've been fully invested in it. I love the precision of measuring, I love how everything needs to be just so for it to work. I love how just one drop of Blue Krait venom can cause the Bishman Potion to increase in potency tenfold, but if the same is added to a Stasis Draught it won't do anything, even though they're basically the same potion at that point in the procedure. I love experimenting and coming up with alternative methods, and thinking about how the use of one ingredient instead of another could be both more feasible and have a profound effect. And I love that they're useful. I mean, potions are useful…" I trailed off, raising my eyes towards my friends.

They all stared at me with a mixture of affection, surprise and… approval? I didn't quite know how to feel about that. The condescension. It was practically radiating from them all. Well, mostly Rhali, with the impression rolling off of her in waves was thick enough to overpower that of Al and Ozzy. "What?"

"You really do love it, don't you?" Al was smiling up at me as he spoke.

I shrugged. "I guess you could say it's my… passion?"

Al's smile widened. "Yeah, I'd say it is."

"So…" Rhali was frowning at me but for once there wasn't any negative connotations attached to the expression. "Do you like the process more or the end product?"

"Rha-li!" Ozzy groaned, smacking his head onto the back of the couch cushions. "That's what you took from that?"

"How did you not take that from that?" Rhali seemed genuinely curious by Ozzy's response. She turned back to me a moment later, though, questioningly.

Quirking my lips, I shrugged. "I suppose… both. I enjoy the end product, of making something useful, but then the actual process. I sort of find the chopping and stirring, the measuring and precision of weighing. It's sort of therapeutic, the entire cooking process."

Rhali stared at me for a moment longer. Only for a moment of static staring before a suspicious gleam arose in her eyes. "You know, Scor, how you describe it, potion-making kind of sounds like…"

I frowned. "Like what?"

Rhali ignored me and glanced over her shoulder towards Ozzy. "Don't you think so? Doesn't it kind of sound like…?"

"Yeah, it kind of does," Ozzy replied with a grin. "Who'd have thought, Scorpius Malfoy would like that."

My curious frown unfolded into a glare. "Why do I get the impression you two are making fun of me? What are you talking about?" They were deliberately avoiding explaining what they were referring to. I shifted my gaze down towards Al. "Do you know what…?"

Al was biting back a smile. It didn't take a huge leap to deduce that he knew exactly what they didn't speak about. I frowned at him instead; not a glare – no, I couldn't glare at him – but it irked me nonetheless. "What are you all talking about?"

Al shared a smile with Rhali and Ozzy before turning towards me once more. "Scor, have you ever tried baking before?"

Sunday did not go how I expected, but it was by no means bad.

I'd anticipated awkward conversations. I'd prepared myself to be dragged down by sadness and continued worry.

It wasn't. It wasn't at all. And Al? For all that he grew markedly wearier throughout the day, and maintained his sickly paleness, he seemed… alright. Happy even. And that made me happy too. The happiest I'd been in a week.

"You're supposed to knead it. Knead it."

"Ew, no, I don't want to get it all over my fingers."

"Ozzy, you're such a baby. Just knead it already."

We started at midday and had been baking since lunch. I thought the expression on my mother's face would stay with me for life. As I followed Al into the kitchen to the sound of his call, his announcement to his own mother that they were taking over the room for the afternoon, Mother simply sat there stunned. I'd never in my life seen her stunned before.

"Is that cinnamon or nutmeg?"

"How can you not tell them apart? They smell entirely different."

"Well sorry, Mr Prefect, if I don't have the nose of a bloodhound."

"It smells like my mother's tea. That's cinnamon, right?"

"Al, how are you even friends with such incompetents?"

We started off simple. I'd personally never cooked a meal in my life. That was one of the many duties of the house elves at the Manor. Neither had Ozzy, unexpectedly enough, though Al and Rhali had something of a repertoire of cooking, cleaning and baking spells between them that they revelled in demonstrating. Though I was faintly horrified at the prospect of undertaking such a task myself, it also left me more than a little excited.

Like so many things did with Al.

"No, no, no! You're supposed to add the bi-carb soda before pouring the syrup into the mix!"

"Why does that order even matter?"

"It matters. You're supposed to follow the recipe. That's why it's a recipe."

"He's got you on that one, Rhali."

"It swells all of the syrup up and makes it foamy. It's actually pretty cool when you heat it up…"

We baked far too much to be eaten, and most of it sweet. I'd never had much of a sweet tooth, but when we took our first taste of the slightly flat scones, they weren't perfect but they must have been the best I'd ever tried.

Scone were followed by muffins. That was chased by Anzac biscuits and fruit bread. Ozzy wanted to make a tiramisu – he'd developed something of a taste for coffee, though the actual 'cooking' process was far superior to our meagre skills and his desires proved to be quite ambitious – while Rhali demanded we make brownies because a bake-off was never complete without chocolate. I requested something savoury while pondered and eventually Al asserted his desire for something spicy.

We made them all. The kitchen was overflowing with baked goods, rich scents and the warmth of steam oozing from the cooling racks.

"That cheese didn't melt enough. We should put it back in the oven."

"Never saw you as one to be picky about that sort of thing, Ozzy."

"It's not pickiness. It's a matter of refinement."

"Oh, and you'd know all about refinement."

"Well, he is the one who didn't want to touch the dough."

"I just don't like getting crap beneath my fingernails."

We laughed. Ozzy smeared tattoo-like streaks of flour on his cheeks that stood out starkly on his dark skin and marked him for the rest of the afternoon, forgotten moments later. Rhali managed to splatter the entire front of her shirt with chocolate but seemed entirely satisfied by the fact, claiming it would sate her chocolate inclination for the rest of the afternoon. Al retreated to a stool halfway through the afternoon when I urged him to; he looked about ready to drop from tiredness but wouldn't accept anything more. Suffice it to say he became something of a combined director, taste-tester and audience to our little class. We all listened to him; he actually knew a little of what he was talking about. More than Rhali, anyway.

"We should take these to school."

"Yeah, definitely. Especially Ozzy's tiramisu. Maybe we could poison some of the Firsties."

"Hey, it's not that bad. And it's your fault if it is."

"Well, coffee does taste terrible as it is. Perhaps that's what it's supposed to be like?"

"Thank…you, Scor?"

"It's enough to feed a small army to be sure. Maybe we could give the house elves a break tonight?"

"Please no. I'd be embarrassed to show anyone our pancake scones."

"Oh, come on, they're not that bad. They've got character."

We laughed. Actually laughed. And it felt fantastic.

I found that I was quite partial to baking. Contrary to what Rhali suggested, and Ozzy and Al for that matter, it was not at all like Potioneering.

But even so, yes, I found I quite liked it anyway. That Sunday was simply rife with life-changing experiences. And none of them were really that bad. Not bad at all.

A/N: Please leave a review if you get the chance. Thank you!