14/02/2018


Clear Skies

Knowing you, you'll wait for clear skies
To tell us how changes come about with the sunlight
So we'll count every drop that falls
While you throw us some old line
This will pass, this will pass
And I'm spending your time, wasting your time
You're with all you've ever wanted


He was woken by his leg the following morning. It had been a difficult sleep, struggling to fight down the bouts of pain, but eventually he had been too tired to keep himself up anymore. He waited until his dormitory was silent before he tried to get out of bed; he wasn't interested in talking to anymore until he could help it, but if he stayed in bed any longer, he'd be late for Quidditch practice.

He eased himself up in bed, trying to keep his leg still, and managed to pull back the curtains around his four-poster. He tried to move his leg and gave a gasp of pain, clutching at it.

'Don't move it, James.'

He was surprised to find that he wasn't alone: Finlay was on his own four-poster, a book open in his lap. He had been so still and quiet that James hadn't noticed him.

'Morning, Fin,' James replied. 'Good night last night?'

Finlay didn't reply, but tossed his book aside and crossed the room to James's four-poster. He leant over James's leg to examine the wound.

'Looks gorgeous,' said James. Finlay's handiwork had turned the blackened burn into wide, purple scab. 'You're an artist, Fin.'

Finlay ground his teeth and folded his arms. 'You can't fly today.'

James took hold of the four-poster's headboard, pulling himself upwards and easing his legs over the side of the bed. 'You worry too much.'

Finlay watched him wobble to his feet, unsmiling. 'You probably shouldn't walk on it.'

'Back off, Mum.'

'Oh, fuck off, James.'

James cocked an eyebrow. 'What's your problem?'

Finlay turned away. 'You know what it is.'

'Oh, come on,' sighed James. 'Poor little Finny's sulking. Do you want a hug?'

Finlay didn't smile. 'Don't make me do that again.'

'Stop being dramatic.'

'Go fuck yourself.'

James hesitated, taken-aback. 'Fin …'

'You should go the hospital wing. I'm not a healer. And you shouldn't play next week.'

'It's the first match of the year!'

'I'm just telling you what's what. I didn't expect you to listen.'

He turned towards the door, and James scrambled forwards, hobbling on his leg. 'Finlay, wait … listen …'

Finlay eyed him guardedly.

'Could you just … can you help me get my robes on?'

Finlay's face hardened, as if he was disappointed. 'Do it yourself,' he bit back. 'I'm done fixing your problems.'

And with that he was gone, slamming the dormitory door behind him. Now alone, James allowed himself to slump back on the nearest four-poster, succumbing to a groan of pain.


Godric's Hollow was silent in the mornings when his children weren't around. It was something that had attracted him so forcefully after the war; the empty streets and branches scraping against thatched rooves, no voices or car engines or bellowing journalists to drown it out.

He paused on his way down the stairs, inspecting the day out of the arched windows. The sky was cloudless. The field that served as his backyard was struggling in anticipation of winter; the birch trees were standing bare and the overgrown grass was no longer green. Had he had the time, he told himself, he ought to do something about it.

He found his wife in the kitchen, sitting at the table. He knew she had been waiting for him; a teapot sat steaming and The Daily Prophet lay splayed before her as if in question.

'Morning,' he said to her.

'I thought I should let you sleep in.'

'Thanks.'

'I made tea.'

'Great.' He took a seat and poured himself a cup.

She let him drink in silence, the paper lying between them, urging him for some type of justification. He read the headline without meaning to: Disaster strikes Hogsmeade – blood equality to blame.

Her question came later than he was expecting, and far less accusatory. 'What happened to James?'

He glanced up at her over his tea. She wasn't looking at him, but rather had her gaze fixed out of the window. There wasn't much to see out of it other than the crumbling brick of their owlery. He couldn't help but reach for her hand.

'He's okay, Ginny. He's fine.'

She seemed to wince at his assurance. Falteringly, her fingers squeezed his, before she withdrew her hand under the pretence of refilling their teacups.

'The paper says Rowle's claiming that it was the same people who killed Gamp,' she said. 'Pureblood haters.'

'There's nothing to suggest that.'

'But that's what everyone's going to think, isn't it?'

'Probably. When the Wizengamot convened last night he presented two new bills: one to have a curfew imposed on Wizarding streets and another to have Muggle-studies removed as a compulsory subject.'

'What does Muggle-studies have to do with anything?' demanded Ginny.

'He says it's to make a point to the perpetrators: that pro-Muggle ideology isn't to interfere with our traditions.'

'Do you think the Wizengamot will pass them?'

'They all seemed pretty happy about it last night.'

Ginny shook her head in dismay. She turned her gaze back to the window, frowning in thought. Several minutes passed before she spoke again. 'I feel like going up to the school and seeing James and asking him where the hell he was all day.'

'Leave it the professors, Ginny.'

'Where was he? What was he doing going missing for so long?'

'He was probably off with his friends.'

'You said all his dorm-mates were back in the common room.'

'With a girl, then. I don't know.'

'Stop defending him, Harry. I could tell you were furious when you got home last night. He can't go wandering off like that.'

'The thing is that he can; he's seventeen,' said Harry placidly. 'He doesn't need his mum and dad going up to Hogwarts and scolding him.'

'He's seventeen, but he's still our son. He still needs to follow school rules. He can't act like an adult when he's still at school and still living in our house.'

'Well, perhaps we need to accept that fact that he won't be for much longer.'

Ginny gave him a venomous look, and he continued before she could snap at him.

'You know he's going to want to leave home as soon as he can, Ginny. You could tell how jealous he was when Fred said he and Juniper were going travelling. He's going to go too as soon as he's done with school.'

If Ginny thought he was right, she covered it with a sharp, bitter laugh. 'Right, and with what money? You think he has any interest in getting a summer job and saving up like Fred?'

'We opened the Gringotts vault for him. What else is that money going to be used for?'

'That money's for his education - so he can find a career. We're not rewarding him for behaving like this.'

'If we set limitations for what James can do with his money then we're setting a precedent. We'll have to do the same for Al and Lily, or James will never speak to us again.'

'We won't need to set limitations for Al and Lily. They've got sensible plans. Lily's been wanting to go to Paris to be a seamstress since she was five, and Al wants to do a potioneering apprenticeship.'

Harry raised his eyebrows. 'He told you that?'

'I found pamphlets in his desk.'

'You go through his desk?'

Ginny's eyes narrowed. 'I was looking for a quill, Harry. You and your children hoard them and I'm the only one who ever buys more.'

Harry raised a hand in defence. 'Alright. Sorry.'

'The money in those vaults is for their future.'

Harry made a face, drew a breath, and considered how to proceed. 'Ginny, you know their futures are going to be fine. They could all go travelling and all do three different apprenticeships and all buy their own manor houses and they'd be fine. We have money.'

'I know that,' said Ginny coolly. 'But that's not how I want them to grow up. I want them to learn how to work for things.'

'And I want them to be able to do the things I couldn't when I was their age. If James wants to travel, he can travel.'

'He can travel after he's learnt how to work towards something. You never make him work for anything.'

Harry was silent, staring at her from across the kitchen. She looked riled, her dark eyes fixed upon him sharply. The way she spoke to him was full of vitriol, but he himself relished in. He liked these types of arguments; the type that made him feel normal. This was what normal people did; bickered over children and discipline and money. Normal people didn't get called to put out cursed fire on a Saturday afternoon.

He tore his eyes away from her to glance at his watch. 'I need to head into the office.'

Ginny seemed to deflate slightly, and said in a would-be gentle voice, 'You don't have to. It's a Sunday.'

'The Heads of Department need to be briefed. We didn't have the time last night.'

'Call in sick.'

'I don't want to give Rowle the opportunity to spin the story his way. I shouldn't be gone long.'

'You're going to work yourself to death.'

'What's new?'

Ginny laughed. He found himself smiling.

'It's not too late to become a professor, you know,' she told him.

'Yeah, but the scars make me look so rugged.'

Ginny rolled her eyes and got to her feet. 'But you're going grey: you look old. I'm meeting Luna in Diagon Alley. Do you need anything while I'm there?'

'No, thanks. Say hello for me.'

'I'll get you some rosehip essence. I'm sick of looking at the bags under your eyes.'

She picked up the teapot and moved to the sink. She turned on the tap to give it a rinse. Watching her, he pulled himself up and moved towards her, laying a hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him, questioning.

'I don't mean to be gone as much as I am, you know?'

Ginny turned back to the sink, turning the teapot over beneath the running water, washing the leaves away down the drain. 'I know,' she said slowly. 'You still are, though, aren't you?'


She woke up early that morning to the sound of Chandra's cat pawing at the door, wanting to get out into the common room. She lay still for a moment, hoping somebody else might get out of bed to let the cat out, but when they didn't she pulled herself slowly up. Pushing her hair out of her face, she crossed to the door, eased it open and Sage dashed out.

She considered trying to return to bed, but decided against it: she was too preoccupied with what had happened last night. She mulled all of this over – the fiendfyre in Hogsmeade and her suspicions around Malfoy and her bickering with Albus – as she showered, dressed and left Gryffindor tower.

She and Albus were ill-fitted friends, and yet he had been her only companion for the first eleven years of her life; she was too difficult, and he was too soft, but they had grown into each other, stomached each other when very few others could.

Arriving at the Great Hall, she saw that it was mostly deserted; most students took the opportunity to sleep in on Sundays. There was one person there, however, who she took note of: Albus. He was sitting alone, his head propped up in his hand, picking at a bowl of porridge. Holding in a sigh, she crossed over and joined him.

'Hey.'

He looked up at her and forced a smile. 'Hi.'

She dropped down into the seat across from him. Neither of them made much eye contact as Rose poured herself some coffee and Albus picked at his porridge. The mood seemed low and tense in the Great Hall, especially between the two cousins. Neither of them spoke for several minutes until the beating of wings announced the arrival of the morning post. One of the well-pruned Daily Prophet owls landed near Rose.

'Do you think that's Chandra's paper?' asked Albus.

The owl had come over to them and was watching them expectantly. Rose gave a sigh. 'Seems like it.'

'Here – I've got a knut.'

'Thanks.'

They exchanged the knut for the paper and the owl took off again towards the ceiling. Rose unfurled the newspaper, knowing before she saw it that nothing good could be expected.

BLOOD EQUALISTS STRIKE AGAIN
PUREBLOOD COMMUNITY CALLS FOR ACTION

'Oh, for God's sake,' sighed Rose.

She laid the paper out on the table so both she and Albus could read the article. At the sight of the headline, Albus gave a little groan, before they were both silent again as they scanned the article. It clarified that there had been no deaths of serious injuries, but Rose felt it was far from good news; ten homes in Hogsmeade had been destroyed.

'… Deputy Leader of the DMLE Mikhael Rowle has this morning called for protections for the Pureblood Community,' Albus read aloud. 'He told reporters, "Purebloods have been villainised for too long in our society and this attitude has resulted in carnage". But how do they know it's got anything to do with blood equality?'

Rose gave a shrug. 'I suppose they just assumed. The target was that stupid House of Magical Ancestry and Artefacts – the one Binns was going on about in History of Magic. It was full of artefacts stolen from Muggles and Muggle-borns and all of its displays were about how bloody brilliant Purebloods are.'

The Great Hall was starting to fill up more now, students trickling in for breakfast, and Albus gave a low sigh. 'Look, I'm not even hungry. Do you want to go for a walk?'

Rose could tell by the way he said this that he wanted to talk to her without the risk on eavesdroppers. Rose gathered up Chandra's newspaper and they left their unfinished coffee and porridge on the table.

It was a clear, crisp morning, the grounds covered in a sheet of half-melted snow. Neither of them said much as they started along the path to the greenhouse gardens, both lost in their own thoughts. It was only when they were deep into the orchard of fanged plums that Albus seemed confident that they wouldn't be overheard.

'Look, Rosie,' he began, looking at his feet, 'I'm sorry about last night.'

Rose gave no acknowledgement of this, and so Albus kept talking.

'I think I was just … just a bit freaked out about what happened. And I … I didn't mean what I said …'

Rose knew that this was her cue to apologise. However, Rose being Rose, her apologies were very underused. She gave Albus a shrug and said, 'I don't care, Al. Forget it.'

Albus seemed vaguely disappointed by this. He frowned and then continued. 'Look, I … I'm sorry I didn't believe you about Scorpius …'

'Don't apologise, Al. I'd be upset if somebody told my best friend had destroyed ten houses.'

Albus rolled his eyes but managed to continue. 'But I really don't think he did anything, okay? I know you don't believe me, but he's actually an alright guy.'

Rose nodded. 'Yeah, nobody who lends you a broom could be a bad person, could they?'

Albus shook his head. 'Alright, fine. Believe what you want. But I'm not going to ask Mei about it, alright? So if you want to, you'll have to do it yourself.'

Rose was slightly taken aback by this show of agency from Albus, but she decided not to say that. 'Alright, fine. I will.'

Albus seemed unhappy with this news: he grimaced. 'Okay, but … Alright, fine. You can ask her but don't make it sound like I want to know, okay?'

'God, is she really that scary?' asked Rose. 'This doesn't bode well for your budding romance, Al.'

Albus now turned vaguely pink. 'I'm not scared of her. I just … Just don't want to ruin it, okay?'

'So the date went well, then?'

'Yeah, I guess so. Well … well, as well as it could considering the fyre.'

'And will you see her again?'

Albus made a face in thought. 'I'd like to, yeah.'

Rose was unhappy with this news, but she knew she already owed Albus an apology for last night, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. Her middle ground would be not insulting Mei anymore, so she sufficed to nod.

'Look,' said Albus, and he stopped walking, pulling Rose to a halt. Even though they were deep in the orchard, well-separated from any possible eavesdroppers, he lowered his voice. 'I'm worried about James.'

Rose raised her eyebrows. 'Why?'

Albus nodded. He seemed unable to meet her eye, his eyes fixed on one of the fanged plums that was swaying slightly on the branches of the trees overhead. 'He's doing something. I mean, I know he's always doing something. But … but this somehow feels worse than usual.'

She folded her arms. 'You're not suggesting …'

'He's stupid enough to do it.'

Rose shook her head. 'No way. Whoever did this hates Rowle – James doesn't care about the Ministry. Blood equality has nothing to do with Quidditch or who he's currently shagging.'

She had intended this to make Albus smile, but he didn't. If anything, he looked more and more forlorn. 'I just … I don't trust him not to do something stupid.'

'Well, no, neither do I.' At Albus's obvious anxiety, Rose gave a sigh. 'Look, Al, come on. James isn't like that - he's stupid but he's not an idiot. I really think you should be worrying about Malfoy more than James.'

At this, Albus gave her a warning look. 'Rose, seriously …'

'I'm not telling you that you have to do anything,' she assured him quickly, 'but I'm going to find out from Mei exactly when he got back last night, okay? And then I'm going to tell the teachers what I saw.'

Albus gave a reluctant sigh but seemed to relent. 'Alright, fine. But don't mention my name, okay?'

'I wouldn't dream of it.' And she held up the folded newspaper. 'I should take this up to Chandra. She'll want to wake up her to horoscope after what happened yesterday.'

Albus nodded. 'Yeah, I should go get changed. I've got practice.'

They started walking again, out of the orchard, and Rose asked, 'How is James going to balance his captain's duties with his newfound political activism?'

Albus didn't smile. 'Not funny, Rosie.'


When he arrived at the Quidditch pitch for practice, their captain was conspicuously absent. His five other team mates were already present: Finlay, Xan and Louis were lounging on the grass, while Kim and Adam practiced passing to each other.

'Where's James?' asked Albus when he reached them.

'Who knows?' sighed Xan. 'Probably sleeping off whatever he did last night. Was he awake when you left the dormitory, Fin?'

Finlay said nothing, but continued to swing his beaters' bat absently between his fingers.

'Should I go look for him?' offered Adam.

'Perhaps he doesn't expect us to practice today,' said Kim. 'After what happened yesterday it feels pretty bad to be worrying about Quidditch.'

'Kim, promise you will never, ever say that around James,' warned Louis. 'It will be the last thing you do.'

'If he doesn't turn up on time, I don't see why we should sit here waiting,' said Xan.

Nobody protested this, but Albus silently agreed, and by the scowls on most of his teammates' faces he was sure they agreed with her.

'Right,' said Finlay after a few moments silence, pulling himself to his feet. 'I'm not waiting any longer. I have an essay to right and …'

Finlay was cut short, however, by a bounding silver streak that burst into the centre of the group, materialising into the gleaming form of a maned lion. It hung in the air, brilliant and shimmering, before it opened its jaws and James's voices spoke from its mouth.

'Running late. Get moving. Twenty laps of the pitch and practice passing until I'm there.'

And the lion evaporated like mist as quickly as it appeared.

Adam gaped around at them. 'Was that …'

'… a Patronus?' said Kim uncertainly.

'A lion Patronus,' said Louis, grinning.

'Can James cast a Patronus?' asked Adam in awe.

'We've been learning in defense,' said Xan, who seemed to be unable to suppress her surprise. 'A few people have produced corporeal ones, but we've never learnt anything about messenger Patronuses. James must have taught himself.'

'He has to be good at something, doesn't he?' said Louis. 'Alright, what are we waiting for?'

'Okay, let's get started,' instructed Xan, mounting her Cleansweep. 'Everyone up. We better not be sitting around when he gets here.'

One by one the Gryffindors pulled themselves up, mounting their brooms and taking off. Albus, scowling, climbed onto the school broom he had borrowed. Discovering another of James's talents was enough to quell any joy that Mei had sprouted.

Kicking off, he noticed Finlay level with him. Finlay was not someone Albus would generally consider glum, but as they soared upwards Albus was sure that he wasn't the only one irked the lion's appearance.

As instructed, they did their laps as instructed, and then they practised passing, and then they played a mock game. It was only when Louis pointed out that an hour had passed without James arriving that they stopped.

'Jesus, something serious must have happened for him to miss Quidditch,' said Louis as they landed.

'Do you think he's okay?' asked Adam.

'Who cares?' sighed Xan. 'He's probably just hungover or something. Come on, let's leave it there – it's freezing out here.

Xan was right: snow clouds had set in around lunch time and watery sleet had begun to drizzle down. They packed up their equipment and went back to the change rooms to shower and get into dry clothes. They hurried back up to the castle together, not talking much, their heads bowed against the icy rain.

After returning his broom to his dormitory, he went in search of Chandra and Rose and found them in the library. They had their schoolbooks spread out on the table in front of the, but neither of them seemed to be studying particularly hard: Chandra had her tarot cards spread before her and Rose was reading a novel.

'Al!' said Chandra brightly as he took a seat beside her. 'How are you? Oh, gosh, your hair's all soaked – you didn't have to go to practice in the rain, did you?'

Albus nodded. 'Yeah, James would never cancel practice – not that he showed up though.'

He was pleased to see Rose looked up from her book at this and Chandra frowned. 'He wasn't there?'

'Nope.'

'Oh, I hope he's okay,' sighed Chandra. 'Did he say why?'

Albus looked at Rose and then back at Chandra. 'I don't think he'd tell us that.'

Rose gave a sigh and shut her book, leaning forward to say to Chandra, 'He thinks James started the fyre in Hogsmeade.'

Chandra's eyes swelled. 'Oh, no. No, he wouldn't do that, would he? Surely not. He … He wouldn't want to hurt anyone … Why would he have done that?'

'Forget it, Chandra,' sighed Rose. 'Reason doesn't work with this.'

It seemed Chandra may have been wanting to avoid another argument between the cousins, as she ignored Rose and asked Albus briskly, 'Did he say anything to you about it, Al? To … to make you suspect …'

Albus shook his head. 'No, I just … I just have this weird feeling. He snuck out that night we had detention and came back with a bloody lip. And he snuck out the night that Diagon Alley got vandalised and his face was all cut up afterwards, remember? It just feels like he's been doing something he shouldn't.'

'Al, he's always doing something he shouldn't,' insisted Rose. 'He's not exactly a model of good behaviour, you know?'

Chandra seemed unwilling to agree with either of them because she said now, 'I know – Al, let me do a reading for you. This will clear things up.'

Albus highly doubted tarot cards would do anything to quell his worries, but he didn't want to say no to Chandra, so he agreed. He watched dutifully as Chandra shuffled the cards and laid them out before him and he picked his cards.

'Alright, Al, pick your cards.'

But Albus wasn't paying attention; two Ravenclaw girls had come into the library and were looking for a seat. Mei Zhao was one of them, her long black hair pulled back in a braid, talking to her friend as they took a seat across the library.

Chandra turned in her seat to see what Albus was looking at and then gave an excited gasp. 'Are you going to go talk to her, Al?'

Albus had spent a lot of Quidditch practice thinking about the next time he would speak to Mei, but now that it was presented to him, he couldn't bear the idea of approaching her. 'Er … Maybe later. I have to do this reading.'

And in an attempt to put it to rest, he picked out three cards and laid them out in front of Chandra. Chandra, chewing her lip, turned the first one over.

'Oh, God, look – the Two of Cups,' said Chandra breathlessly. 'Okay, Al, that settles it. You have to go talk to her – the cards are telling you to.'

Albus made a face. 'I thought the cards were going to tell me about James?'

'They'll tell you whatever you need to hear, Al. Come on – the Two of Cups is all about connection and relationships. This is the perfect time to do it. If not now, then when?'

Without looking up from her book, Rose nodded. 'Come on, Al. The cards have spoken. You don't want to upset the tarot cards, do you?'

She said this sarcastically, but Chandra nodded none-the-less. She was watching Albus with an eager smile that was difficult to ignore, and after a few seconds' contemplation he gave a heavy sigh and got to his feet. 'Alright, fine. But when I come back the other cards better be about James.'

His heart was pounding in his chest as he crossed the library. Mei wasn't looking at him, but seeming deep in conversation with her friend as they both pored over a textbook. He had no idea what he would say when he reached her: speaking to her was exhilarating in a way he couldn't explain, but the anxiety that wracked him in her presence was almost debilitating.

'Hi, Mei,' he said when he reached her.

She looked up at him. He was sure she had been avoiding looking at him until then. Was it possible that she was just as nervous as he was? 'Hey,' she said.

'How are you?'

'Alright,' she said, frowning. 'I didn't get much sleep. I had to wait up until all the students returned to the common room.'

'Oh?' he forced himself to say. 'Were there students missing in your house too?'

'Yes, unfortunately.'

'Which ones?'

'The usual ones. They claimed not to have known they had to return to the school. It's ridiculous.'

'Yeah … yeah, that is ridiculous.' He couldn't think what else to say about this, and instead stood before her, feeling increasingly panicked beneath her gaze. 'So, yesterday was … was fun.'

He watched as Mei seemed to find herself caught between blushing and frowning; the colour of her cheeks betrayed the look of disapproval she gave. 'Yes, it was nice until the village got set on fire.'

'Yeah, I … I meant … I meant having tea.'

'Yes, I thought that's what you must mean.'

There was another silence. He had to say something else – quickly.

'Do you want to go out again?' he asked.

The friend sitting beside her covered her mouth as if to stop herself from laughing, but thankfully Mei kept a straight face. She actually abandoned the look of disapproval to turn scarlet. 'Yes, that would be nice.'

'Cool,' said Albus, grinning at her. 'Only I've got practice every night this week.'

Mei frowned at him. 'Every night?'

'Yeah, the first match is next weekend.'

'Of course. How could I forget?'

'Yeah, well … perhaps the next week then.'

'Yes, perhaps.' She picked up her butter knife and returned to buttering her toast. He could feel the eyes of her friends inspecting him, and he knew he had said the wrong thing.

'Unless – unless you like Quidditch, right?'

She glanced at him. 'I do, yeah.'

'Maybe … maybe you could come watch me practice one night this week? And then we could do something afterwards?'

She hesitated, considering his offer, before she gave a stiff nod. 'Yes, I could do that.'

'Great. So – so you want to come tomorrow night?'

'Not today. I need to study. We have a test on Friday. But perhaps I could come that evening.'

'Yeah. Cool. Great. Alright, well… well, I'll see you later then,' he said, beaming at her.

She gave him a smile. 'Alright, see you.'


Friday evening found the Gryffindor Quidditch team in foul spirits. Albus had no way of knowing if this was the norm for his team-mates on the eve of matches, but he suspected it was not the case. He knew that it could be somewhat attributed to the news the Prophet had been bringing them of Mikhael Rowle's proposed curfews and the tension that had arisen amongst disagreeing students, some of whom supported Rowle and some of whom sided with Hermione Granger's objections. However, Albus was sure that the disastrous practice sessions would have occurred regardless of the political climate.

Firstly, for reasons unbeknownst to anyone, Finlay and James were not currently on speaking terms.

Secondly, Xan had taken it upon herself to attempt to bully them both into making amends, which had resulted in the two boys extending their animosities towards her as well.

Thirdly, Kim had spent most of the week telling anyone who would listen that Rowle needed to be removed from office and finally on Thursday evening, under mounting pressure from the prospect of his first match, Adam had told her to shut up. James, sulking over his own poor performance that evening, had done nothing to mediate the subsequent fight that broke out, and now two more players were currently estranged.

Albus was certain that could they win the match tomorrow all ill-feeling between the seven of them would be resolved. Winning the match, however, would most likely require him to catch the snitch, which Albus believed to be incredibly unlikely. Whatever improvement he had made since making the team in September had seemed to ebb away the closer he got to the first match. They had been practicing for the better half of three hours and in that time Albus hadn't caught the practice snitch once.

James seemed ready to burst. 'I'm going to kill all of you.'

Nobody had any words of reply. They stood around the changing room, drenched in sweat and refusing to look at each other as James bared down upon them.

'Weasley,' said James, apparently selecting Louis as his first victim on a savage whim, 'you scored once. Once. What the fuck is wrong with you?'

Before Louis could reply, James turned to Xan, pointing his finger at her in accusation. 'Do you know what a bat is? It's that thing in your hand! You're supposed to bloody well use it!'

Xan opened her mouth to protest, but James wasn't interested and he rounded on Kim. 'I don't give a fuck if you take it upon yourself to knock Farouk off his broom tomorrow; you still need to pass him the fucking Quaffle after you save! Louis and I can't be waiting by you every second to save you from having to look at him!'

Kim looked abashed, and gave a feeble, 'But …'

'But nothing!' bellowed James. 'I don't give a fuck! I don't give a fuck if he's a Muggle hater – he's still a Chaser!'

'My mum's a Muggle,' said Adam quietly.

Kim turned dangerous eyes towards him. 'Then why don't you care what Rowle's been saying about Muggle-borns?'

'I do care! I just don't see how us talking about it helps …'

'Oh, shut up!' barked James. 'Shut up the pair of you – and you …'

It was what Albus had been waiting for. James turned to him, brandishing his finger as if it was a wand ready to aim a curse at him. Instinctively Albus took a step away, backing against the wall of the change rooms. James stepped forward after him, jabbing the front of his robes.

'What the actual fuck?'

'I … I didn't …'

'Didn't catch the snitch? Yes, Albus, I bloody well realise that. You're the seeker! It's your only job! Your one, stupid, simple, pathetic job and you can't even do that right!'

'It's his first game tomorrow, mate,' said Louis from across the room, but he went ignored.

'I know it's my own fault for putting you on the team – God knows you can barely get the broom off the ground – but I don't see what's so fucking hard about catching a ball, do you?' demanded James.

'Alright, stop,' said Finlay finally, stepping forward towards the brothers. 'You're being a prick, James.'

Albus saw James flinch with anger, and he rounded on the beater. 'I'm the captain. You stay out of it.'

Finlay gave a huff of laughter. 'Yeah, you're the captain, but you've been playing worse than all of us. You missed about fifty passes today …'

'What the fuck would you know about passing, Finlay?'

'Al,' said Xan quietly, stepping towards him to take his arm. 'Come on, let's go.'

Albus looked around at her. Louis, Kim and Adam were already moving towards the door, capitalising on James's distraction. He didn't need much convincing. He picked up his broom and hurried after Xan, leaving Finlay and James to scream at each other across the change room.

Once out the door, the full impact of what James had said to him hit him. There was no refuting it: he was useless. He was useless and they were going to lose tomorrow. They were going to lose because of him.

'Hello.'

He stopped, looking around to find Mei standing near the door. He had been so immersed in thinking about Quidditch that he had forgotten that she had been in the stands watching.

'Hi.' He hoped desperately that she had not heard what James had said to him through the door. It seemed unlikely, however, as he could make out every name James and Finlay were throwing at each other from within the change room. 'Sorry to make you wait.'

'That's okay. I thought your brother might have something to say to you.'

Albus stomach gave an unpleasant turn. 'Yeah … I … that was bad.'

'It wasn't you,' said Mei. 'It was the whole team.'

'Right … yeah. Thanks.'

'But regardless, he shouldn't have yelled at you all. It's not very fair. It's not like he's playing well either.'

'Yeah … I … yeah.'

'Well? Did you still want to do something?'

Albus hesitated. The honest answer was no. All he wanted to do was return to his dormitory and attempt to drown himself in the shower, but he knew that was unacceptable.

'Yeah, of course,' he told her. 'Should we … go for a walk, maybe?'

'There's not much else to do, I suppose. But we shouldn't be gone too long. I don't want to miss curfew.'

'Yeah, okay.'

They started away from the pitch. Instead of following the path that his teammates were taking up to the school, they trailed along the cobbled path towards the lake. It was nearly nine o'clock and the moon was reflected in the water, shimmering silver. Albus thought of the Patronus that had materialised on the pitch last Saturday. James had a knack for tricky things, he thought miserably, and particularly for knowing what to say to hurt someone.

'So, are you nervous about tomorrow?' Mei asked him.

Albus had been so immersed in feeling sorry for himself that he had forgotten to feel embarrassed about having nothing to say to her. He didn't particularly want to answer, but he didn't have the energy to lie.

'Yeah,' he replied.

'That's understandable. I'm sure everyone is before their first match – but you shouldn't worry. I enjoy watching the game, but I think people take it much too seriously. Especially considering everything that's going on in the Ministry.'

Albus had trouble agreeing with this, but nodded none the less.

'Have you been reading the papers?' she asked him.

'Yeah, a little.'

'That Rowle really is delusional. My stepfather used to work with him when he first started at the Ministry. Apparently, he's a total idiot.'

'Your stepdad works at the Ministry?'

'In the Department of Mysteries. He's a big fan of your dad, actually.'

'Everyone is,' he replied.

Albus was aware it was not advisable to reveal on a second date how truly bitter one could be, but he couldn't stop himself. They had reached the edge of the lake now and Mei came to a stop, and he followed suit. He could feel her looking at him, scrutinising him, and he immediately regretted his callousness.

'Look, Mei, I'm sorry … I just … I'm in a bad mood about Quidditch.'

Mei nodded. 'I can tell.'

He smiled at this. He was realising this about Mei – she was very blunt. He kind of enjoyed it. There was no subterfuge or unspoken things like there had been with Cassie. 'We don't have to keep walking. We can just go back to the castle … I'm sorry …'

But Mei cut him off with a shake of her head. 'Stop saying sorry, would you? You say it way too often.'

'Yeah, but most people who join the team do it because they really like Quidditch. I'd never even flown a broom properly until August.'

'Do you actually enjoy Quidditch?' Mei asked him. 'Because it doesn't really seem like you do.'

He hesitated, looking out over the lake. This was a difficult question: for the first fifteen years of his life, he would have said he hated Quidditch. He couldn't deny, however, how freeing it felt to be in the air. He thought it probably would have been enjoyable if it wasn't for James.

'I don't know,' he said to Mei. 'Kind of. I'm not sure.'

'So why did you join the team?'

'I don't know. To … to prove a point I suppose.'

'What was the point?'

'That I'm not totally useless at everything. Seems like I am, though.'

She cocked her head at him. 'Why do you think that?'

He was surprised by this. He didn't really have an answer; it just felt so ingrained in him. He gave a shrug. 'I don't know. I suppose I … I just feel like I'm not a very interesting person.'

'What do you mean interesting?' asked Mei shrewdly. 'You mean, like your brother, who never shuts ups? That's not interesting – that's obnoxious.'

He laughed at this. 'Well, maybe not like James … but I just … I just feel like there's nothing that really stands out about me.'

He didn't really know why he was saying all this, but Mei didn't seem to mind. She was looking at him closely, considerately, like she was struggling with an exam paper, and then she said evenly, 'You seem like a really nice person, Albus.'

He frowned at her. 'You do too.'

'I don't think you should try to be interesting,' she assured him. 'I think you're fine like this.'

He felt immediately embarrassed by this. He tried not to show it though by giving a shrug. 'Right – thanks. I mean … I think you're fine too. Well, better than fine, really …'

He fell silent. Mei had taken his hand. She was looking at him very strangely. There was something uncertain about it; he didn't think he'd ever seen her be uncertain. She was standing very close to him. He could count the freckles on her face. He could learn the curve of her jaw as she leant in closer to him. He could smell her shampoo as she pressed her lips against his.


The next morning dawned clear and bright, but the pristine weather did nothing to improve Albus's spirits. Not for the first time, Albus wished the change rooms were sound proofed. He could hear, with painful accuracy, the voices outside as students flocked into the stands, talking excitedly amongst himself. It was bad enough he had to play Quidditch; he didn't need to be reminded people would be watching.

He and his team mates were sitting together in the change room, talking – or at least, the others were talking. Albus felt too ill to formulate a sentence. James was across the room, inspecting the tail of his broom as he had been doing for the last half hour, until finally he got up and clapped his hands together. 'Right, listen up, you lot.'

'You don't need to clap at us,' said Kim. 'We're not dogs.'

James glared at her, and the six of them glared back at him. James had apparently crossed a line with most of them last night and Albus had even questioned whether everyone would turn up to play. James had apparently questioned this too, seeming he didn't snap back and Kim and instead launched into directions.

'Easterly wind – keep that in mind. Sun's bright today, so the beaters need to keep an extra eye out. Ravenclaw lost their keeper last year so we should take advantage of that, but they retained the rest of their team. Fawley's been made captain and he's not afraid to really go for it with bludgers, so watch out. Malfoy caught the snitch in the majority of their games last year, so if anyone gets the chance knock him off his broom.'

Albus and Adam both exchanged glances, but nobody else in the room seemed to react. Apparently, they had received these type of instructions before.

'And … well, just ...' James paused for a breath, heaved a sigh, and slung his broom over his shoulder. 'Nobody get their skull knocked in, okay?'

This was apparently as much as an apology James could muster, and they all seemed to realise it, for there was a murmur of agreement from around the room. Only Finlay remained scowling as they left the change rooms and marched out towards the pitch.

Albus was numbly aware of the bellowing cheers and boos from the grandstand as he followed his team onto the pitch. The Ravenclaws team was making their own way down from the change rooms and Albus couldn't help but notice that most of them were a lot taller and more muscled than he was. They met in the centre of the pitch where Madam Robins, the flying instructor, was waiting for them, holding the Quidditch.

'Captains, shake hands,' she instructed of the team.

James stepped forward to shake hands fleetingly with the Ravenclaw captain, Francesco Fawley.

'Don't worry, Fawley, I'll go easy on you,' James assured him.

Francesco Fawley seemed unamused, but Albus noticed that a couple of the girls on the Ravenclaw team seemed to be trying not to smile. He glanced across at the team; Scorpius Malfoy was at the back of the group, clutching his Firebolt in his hands. He smiled vaguely as Albus met his eye and Albus smiled back.

'Alright,' said Madam Robins when James and Francesco Fawley stepped away from each other. 'Everybody mount your brooms. On my whistle …'

Watching from hundreds of feet below, he had never realised just how rough a Quidditch game could be, but the intensity of the play now became immediately apparent. The first thing that happened after the whistle blew was Francesco Fawley charged into Finlay and very nearly knocked him off his broom. The next thing that happened was James slammed heavily into Fawley and sent him spiralling away. The Ravenclaw's disadvantage lasted only a second, but it was enough time for James to get possession of the Quaffle and charge towards the goals.

'And Potter – Potter's got the quaffle,' the commentary roared around the pitch over the screaming crowd. 'Passes to Adam Farouk, he's new this year – passes back to Potter – passes to Lewis - sorry, Louis Weasley has the quaffle – passes to Potter – back to Weasley – back to Potter – and Potter scores!'

There was an eruption of cheers from below. Across the pitch, James and Louis passed each other on their brooms, high-fiving. Albus, inexplicably, found himself clapping as he watched James do a brief victory lap of the pitch as the Madam Robins, the Quidditch instructor, relaunched the Quaffle.

James swooped passed him back to the centre of the pitch, bellowing as he did so, 'Get moving, you prat!'

Albus remembered, with a jolt, that he was supposedly a Seeker: glancing around the pitch, he caught sight of Malfoy who was circling below him, scouring for a flicker of gold. Albus decided to follow his lead, and as he did he heard the commentary start up as the Chasers once again launched into the pursuit of the Quaffle.

Between dodging bludgers and searching for the snitch and the crowd's screaming below, it was hard to follow the commentary. Albus knew only that the match was close: Gryffindor scored first, then Ravenclaw, the Gryffindor, then Ravenclaw, then Gryffindor. The game was painfully tense within twenty minutes; James, Louis and Franceso Fawley had already received warnings for rough play.

Albus was doing his best to ignore it as an argument broke out below over a penalty shot for Ravenclaw. James was bellowing at Madam Robins. Albus could tell by his brother's sighing and yelling that he was resisting the temptation to swear at the woman.

Please don't, thought Albus desperately as he circled the pitch, listening to James's protests as Connor Davies lined up to take the penalty shot. Please don't, James.

From around the pitch, Albus heard a great groan of dismay, which he took to mean that Connor had missed the shot. Around him the game started again, but Albus was no longer paying it any mind; across the pitch he had seen a glimmer of gold at the bottom of the goal posts.

'And Weasley in the possession of the quaffle – shoots and scores and – hang on, it looks like the Gryffindor seeker's seen something! Is that … I think it is, he's after the snitch!'

He was gaining on it, closer, closer closer. The snitch was there – right there – he only had to reach it. He knew he had it within him – he knew this was what everything had been building to. Just an inch more, just a jolt further. Its feathers were grazing his fingers and then –

'Shit!'

Something blue and heavy pelted downwards and collided with his outstretched hand and he spun off course. He felt his body swing from the broom, barrel-rolling through the air, the hands on his fingers blistering as he clung to the wood.

He pulled himself up sharply, his head spinning and his wrist throbbing from the impact. He looked around: Scorpius Malfoy was hovering a few metres away, having pulled himself out of the dive, before he glanced back at Albus.

'You alright?' called the Ravenclaw.

Albus thought this was a strange question to be asked by somebody who had nearly knocked him off of his broom, but he held up his hand to give a thumbs up.

'Albus, get-back-to-fucking-work!'

Albus looked around again; James had sped over to him, looking furious, aiming his finger accusingly at Albus. Albus didn't need to be told again; he set off once more, scanning the air for the snitch, while James flew back towards the quaffle.

'And Louis Weasley has the quaffle but – oh, I think Malfoy's seen the snitch again!'

Albus turned his broom around without looking. Indeed, Malfoy was now shooting across the pitch, bent over his broom to gain speed, but Albus was closer. He was gaining on the blond, flying better, sharper, more precisely than Malfoy who had only one hand on his broom, the other reaching for the snitch. The Gryffindors were bellowing support from the stands, and the commentator shouted into his microphone: 'Potter's catching up!'

This was enough to startle Malfoy. It was only a second, but he tore his eyes from the snitch, his head swivelling to catch sight of Albus right on his tail, his fingers retracting imperceivably in his distraction, and Albus dived down towards he earth, hurtling beneath Malfoy, and then up, and his fingers closed on the snitch inches away from Malfoy's, and his whole body seemed to scream with glee ...

'He's going to crash!' screamed the commentator.

And that they did, of sorts. They hadn't been far from the ground, and the hit it with only soft thud. Albus rolled onto his back, holding his hand up: the snitch fluttered feebly in his fist. Distantly, he could hear cheers for the grandstand.

Scorpius had landed beside him, on his side, and the Ravenclaw pushed himself up to look at the snitch. He was panting for breath before he managed to bite back, 'Well done.'

Albus sat up, his head spinning, and then he found himself engulfed. Xan was screaming in his ear, her arms around him. Louis landed beside him, tossing his broom away and pulling him into a hug. Kim and Adam were beside them, clutching hands and yelling with glee.

It occurred to him only now that James wasn't there: he looked around, seeing his brother was standing over Scorpius, who was still on the ground. He was smiling.

'Bad luck, Malfoy,' James was saying. 'Maybe Daddy needs to buy you a better broom – oh, but that's the best on the market, isn't it?'

James now picked up Scorpius's broom, which had landed on the earth a couple of metres away when they had crashed. Scorpius jumped up immediately, trying to snatch the broom off of James, but James held it out of his reach.

'Ooh, careful, Malfoy. I'm just looking,' said James pleasantly, inspecting the broom handle. 'It's a beautiful broom. Amazing what old money can buy you, right?'

Scorpius was looking mutinous, but didn't say anything. His hand was hovering near the pocket of his robes, perhaps ready to draw his wand out, and James seemed to realise this because he raised his eyebrows.

'You want to curse me, do you?' asked the Gryffindor. 'Well, you can try, but I maybe wouldn't without your little Death Eater friends around – alright, Al?'

Albus had reached them in a few strides and snatches Scorpius's broom off of James. Glaring at his brother, he held the broom out to Scorpius, which Scorpius took off of him.

'Aw, Ducky, why so glum?' asked James pleasantly. 'You caught the snitch. Course, I suppose that doesn't mean much when you're playing against this git …'

'Malfoy,' came the voice of Francesco Fawley sharply, appearing at Scorpius's side. 'Come on, let's go …'

The captain put his hand on Scorpius's shoulder, ready to lead him away, and James gave a sharp laugh. 'Cheer up, Fawley. You might play better next time.'

Fawley's eyes lingered on James briefly, as if considering answering him back, but Finlay stepped in and put his hand on James's other shoulder. 'Come on, James, let's go get changed – I want a drink.'

Xan, Adam, Kim and Louis had already started towards the changerooms, walking ahead with their arms around each other. James's eyes lingered briefly on Fawley and Scorpius, as if considering goading them once more, but he apparently decided against it.

He turned away and started off of the pitch with Albus and James, towards the crowd that had begun to congregate at the edge of the ground, shouting their names. He was numbly aware of people clapping him on the back and congratulating him; this type of attention was totally new to Albus. Amongst the crowd, Albus caught sight of Rose and Chandra, waving at him. He felt vaguely embarrassed but couldn't help but smile back as Chandra pulled him into a hug.

'That was so good, Al! So good!'

He managed to shrug. 'It was alright. I missed the snitch earlier …'

Rose rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. 'Shut up, Al. You know it was good. Well done.'

Then, emerging through the crowd, he saw another familiar face: it was Mei and she was smiling at him. She gave him a hug and both Rose and Chandra shrunk back a bit to allow him to hug the Ravenclaw. He was very aware of where he was putting his hands as he hugged her. He was momentarily frozen before he managed to hug her back.

'That was really good,' she said to him, leaning back a bit to look him in the eye. 'Really, really good.'

He shrugged. 'I didn't do much.'

'Course you did,' said Mei. 'Enjoy it. You deserve to celebrate. Go on – your team's heading off.'

He looked towards his team mates who were traipsing away up the sloping hill: Louis had pulled Adam onto his shoulders to piggy-back him, while Finlay, Xan and Kim were walking with their arms around each other.

He looked back at Mei. 'Yeah. Or … or maybe we could go for another walk. I don't know if I want a party.'

Mei looked at him and gave him a smile. 'You don't want to celebrate?'

'Course, I just …' And he gave a shrug. 'I think I just want a bit of a break.'

Mei nodded. 'Alright, if you're sure.'

'Cool. I mean – great. I'll go get changed and shower … Meet you in the Great Hall?'

'Yeah, sure.'

Nearly tripping over himself, he started back to the change rooms. His other team mates were no longer in sight, presumably having gone ahead, all except for James: he had stayed lingering, talking to some fifth year girls, twirling his broomstick in his hands. As Albus passed him, he heard him saying, 'Well, I'll see you three later … The password's "treacle tart". Don't be strangers.'

While the rest of the crowd were starting back up the hill to the castle, Albus and James went the other way, across the pitch to the change rooms. Albus had the sense James was hanging back slightly, as if he didn't want to talk to him, and he saw his brother pull out a tin of tobacco and begin to roll it.

'James, the teachers are right there.'

At this, James looked up, as if only just remembering Albus existed. He seemed unimpressed at being addressed by his brother. 'I'll worry about smoking in front of the teachers, and you worry about how you're going to go next match when you don't have your little friend to hand you the game, okay?'

It took Albus a moment to realise what James was meaning, and then some of his elation dropped away. 'He didn't hand me the game. He nearly knocked me off my broom, actually.'

James licked the edge of his rolling paper and lit the cigarette. 'Oh, please, Ducky. He was going easy on you. Word of advice: I know having friends is new to you, but don't stop for a chat in the middle of the game.'

Albus hadn't anticipated this, but he didn't know what he had expected. Did he really think James would praise him? James never praised anyone. Still, his indignation wasn't going to let him take this. 'I won us the game. And you know I did.'

James gave a harsh laugh and dragged on his cigarette. 'What? You managed to catch a snitch right in front of you? Congratulations.'

They had reached the door of the change rooms now, but it seemed neither of them wanted to go inside. Albus stood glaring at his brother, while James looked out over the pitch, smoking his cigarette lazily. Albus hated this about James: his look of carelessness, his unkempt hair.

'That's bullshit and you know it,' Albus thundered back. 'I flew well. You know I did.'

'You fly like shit. You always do. You're only the team because Finlay and Xan felt sorry for you.'

Albus was ashamed that he allowed this to sting him. 'You've been flying badly all week.'

James looked at him and dragged on his cigarette. 'I could fly with both hands tied behind my back and I'd still be better than you.'

'Maybe, but that doesn't mean it wasn't crap,' retorted Albus. 'All week you've been missing passes. What happened to your leg?'

'I'm sorry?'

'Your leg. You've been limping – don't think I haven't noticed. That's why you've been flying differently and that's why you were late to practice on Sunday. What did you do?'

James seemed to consider him for a moment, his brow furrowed slightly, before he tossed his cigarette away. 'I don't know what you're talking about. And I have ale I need to go drink, so if you don't mind …'

James attempted to step past Albus towards the changeroom doors, but Albus moved in front of him to block his path. He only realised now that he'd been waiting for this; for an opportunity to barrage James, and he was revelling in his righteousness.

'You did something in the village last weekend,' Albus accused, 'and you got hurt. Where were you?'

James pushed passed him and continued walking. 'God, Al, do you hear how boring you are sometimes?'

'Tell me it wasn't the fyre.'

James came to a halt so suddenly Albus almost crashed into him. He rounded on his brother, his eyes glinting dangerously. 'What did you say?'

'The fiendfyre,' said Albus. 'Tell me that wasn't you.'

James moved so quickly Albus almost expected a punch in the face, but instead James seized the front of his robes, forcing him forwards. James glowered down at him. Albus was often afraid of what his brother would do to him, but he couldn't remember ever being properly frightened of him.

'You think that was me?' James hissed. 'That's actually what you think?'

Albus seized the anger within him, forcing back the fear, and asked evenly, 'Tell me it wasn't.'

'It wasn't,' said James without hesitation. 'What is wrong with you?'

He relinquished his hold on Albus and the younger boy stumbled back, still staring up at his brother, full of distrust.

'I'm going inside,' growled James. 'Are you coming?'

Albus shook his head. 'No.'

'Good.'

And James wrenched the door of the change room open and went inside. From the other side of the door, Albus heard calls of glee and shouts of victory from the rest of the team at the sight of James. Albus would have liked to be part of that, but he had no interest in being around James.

With his anger dissipating, Albus realised suddenly how exhausted he was. Begrudgingly, he started back away from the change rooms: he would go shower in his dormitory rather than be around his brother. He could then go and meet Mei, forget about James, forget about the injustice of it all …

'Shit, sorry – oh, hey.'

He had rounded the corner of the changerooms only to nearly collide with Scorpius Malfoy, leaving his team's change rooms. Unlike Albus, Scorpius had already showered and changed out of his Quidditch robes and was wearing a sweater and jeans. He looked somewhat sullen, but Albus supposed be often did, and despite this he still gave a smile when he saw Albus.

'Hey,' said Scorpius. 'Good game.'

Albus gave a shrug. He wondered if Scorpius was only saying this because he had overheard the fight with James. 'You too.'

Scorpius shrugged. 'Hardly. We lost.'

'Yeah, but you still played way better than me. It was just luck.'

Scorpius shrugged again. 'Luck's part of the game though. Your team celebrating tonight?'

'Er … I suppose so. I might not go though.'

There was a tense silence in which they looked at each other, both uncertain, and then Scorpius said, 'Look, I wouldn't let your brother ruin your night.'

Albus winced slightly. 'You heard that?'

'It was kind of hard not to.' Scorpius pushed his hair back from his face and said, 'Just so you know, I wasn't going easy on you – you played well.'

Albus gave a sigh. 'I'm not sure about that. I can't do a lot of the moves the others can do – like that dive you pulled out of.'

'Oh, that's nothing. That's just practice. Anyone can learn that.'

'Yeah, well, I've never learnt it.'

'You will. And don't let your brother ruin your night by being a dick.'

'It's fine. I'm used to it. I'm just going to hang out with Mei instead.'

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. 'Oh, so that's working out, is it?'

'Apparently. It's early days though - I'm sure I'll do something humiliating sooner or later.'

Scorpius laughed at this and nodded. Another silence ensued, and Albus gestured towards the castle. 'You going to the castle?'

'Not yet. Zaina's waiting down at the pitch.'

'Right. Okay, well, I'll see you.'

Scorpius gave him a smile. 'See you. Good luck with Mei.'

And the Ravenclaw turned to go, but Albus felt compelled to keep talking. 'Hey … Sorry about my brother. He can be a real …'

Scorpius looked back at him. 'Fuckwit?'

Albus sniffed with laughter. 'Yeah, basically.'

Scorpius nodded. 'It's fine. I already knew that.' There was another silence in which they looked at each other, and Albus wasn't quite sure what to do, and then Scorpius said, 'Look, sorry I knocked you to stop you catching the snitch … That was stupid. But it's not personal, you know? It's just Quidditch. Sometimes I get a bit …'

'Competitive?' offered Albus.

Scorpius smiled. 'I was going to say "idiotic", but sure – competitive if a nicer way of putting it.'

Albus shrugged. 'It's fine. Like I said, I'm not the best flyer … I probably need to get used to stuff like that if I want to get better. Although I'm not sure if my brother will be willing to teach me, so …' And he gave a shrug.

Scorpius gave a nod as if he was considering this. Then he opened his mouth, shut it again, and looked away. Albus had the distinct impression he was about to say something he would have regretted.

'What is it?' asked Albus.

'Nothing,' said Scorpius quickly. 'It's stupid, only … Well, I was going to say, if you want to practice together, we can. I need to get better too.'

Albus considered this, mulling it over in his head. What would James say if we was practising Quidditch with Scorpius? What would his dad say? And what would Rose say? And, more importantly, did he even care?

'Forget it,' said Scorpius when he didn't answer. 'It was just a thought … don't worry about it.'

'No, no, no,' said Albus quickly, hoping not to be rude. 'I wasn't … I mean, that would be good …'

'No, don't worry about it,' Scorpius insisted. 'I just meant … Like, if you want to get better …'

'I do,' said Albus very quickly. 'And I'd rather learn from you than my brother – I know he'd get all cocky about it if I asked.'

Scorpius gave a sniff of laughter. 'I mean, well, I can try to teach you …'

'Yeah,' said Albus quickly. 'Please.'

Scorpius gave a resolute nod. 'Alright. Anyway, I better go … Zaina doesn't like being kept waiting.'

'Right. Me too.'

'Yeah. Good luck with Mei.'

'Thanks. And … and …'

'And I'll tell you when I'm coming down to practise next,' Scorpius offered.


'Cheers.'

'Cheers is bloody right.'

They knocked back the shots, wincing as the tequila went down. James recovered first, slamming his shot glass down onto the table, and reaching again for another.

'Alright, everyone. Glasses out, please. Another one.'

His team mates – some of them still smacking their lips from the first shot – eye him reluctantly.

'Shouldn't we wait for Albus?' asked Adam, who was looking very pink in the face.

'We'll be waiting all night then, Farouk. Albus's not one for parties – or any type of enjoyment, for that matter,' James told him.

'I don't think I can do another - I'll pass out,' said Xan. 'I'll see you guys later – good game.'

'Same here,' said Kim. 'You boys be good.'

And with that the two girls left their sides, moving through the jostling crowd to find their friends. The common room was so full and noisy that the team had been squashed up against the wall to do their shots together, with James perched up on the windowsill, his legs outstretched lazily.

'When did the girls become so boring?' asked James bitterly. 'But you're not boring, Lou. You'll get drunk with me.'

Louis gave a giddy laugh, which seemed to suggest he had already succeeded in getting drunk. He held out his shot glass. 'One more. And only because you're sulking, James.'

The cousins threw back their second shots, shutting their eyes. Louis staggered slightly and Finlay caught his arm.

'Another,' declared James sagely, holding his shot glass aloft.

'No way,' said Louis. 'It's not even five o'clock and I'm already drunk – I need to get something to eat.'

James rolled his eyes. 'Are you boring too, Lou?'

'I think I must be, yeah.'

'And what about you, Farouk? Another? I won't tell.'

The third year seemed to consider this, eyeing the bottle of firewhisky with interest, before Finlay intervened. 'Alright, pause the shots for a minute. I want a cigarette.'

James raised his eyebrows, but he looked pleased. 'Has Finny given up on his morals?'

'Seems I have. Come on, let's go up to the roof.'

Grinning, James jumped down from the windowsill, landing with much more grace than could be expected after two shots of firewhisky. They went up the winding staircase until they reached the top floor where there was a ladder leading a trapdoor in the ceiling. Both boys clambered up the ladder and James pushed the trapdoor open, pulling himself out onto the roof, Finlay behind him. The sun was beginning to set over the lake in the distant, cast long shadows over the stone rooftop.

Not much was said as James rolled them each a cigarettes. He passed the first one to Finlay, who took a seat on the stone floor. He then finished rolling his own, lit up, and took a seat on the balcony's edge that ran around the tower top.

'If you fall, I'm not catching you,' Finlay warned as he lit his own cigarette.

'Oh, yes, you will. Don't lie, Fin.'

'How's your leg?'

James dragged on his cigarette and, as if in answer, stretched his leg out in front of him. 'Feels brilliant.'

'You really should rest it now – take the next week off from training.'

'You concerned about me, Fin?' asked James with a grin. 'Does that mean I'm forgiven?'

Finlay pushed his dreadlocks back from his face with a sigh. 'If I say you're not, you won't roll me another cigarette, will you?'

James grinned and pulled out his tin of tobacco. 'Anything for you, Fin.'

As James rolled them their second cigarettes, Finlay remained silent, watching James with a. frown. 'But seriously,' he said after a moment, 'give it time to heal.'

'Yes, yes, Fin. The next game's not until March. I've got ages.'

'I don't just mean with training,' said Finlay. 'I meant with the other thing.'

'Oh, that,' said James as he sealed up the cigarettes. 'Let's not talk about that, Fin. You'll get upset with me again.'

'I'm not upset with you. I just don't want you to get arrested – or killed, as a side note.'

James lit up and passed the other cigarette to Finlay. 'It's fine, Fin. They've got nothing on me.'


Song credit: Clear Skies by The Strokes.