A/N: Chapter Fifty! Honestly, when I first set out writing this story, I had no idea how large it would grow, or how hard writing parts of it would be. I'm so grateful for those of you still reading, for the reviews you send, the kindness and warmth of which often take my breath away. I'm so grateful for the motivation you give me to keep writing. Though I've never met you, I read your messages like those of a dear friend, and it means so much to think I can bring a little bit of joy to your lives through this story. I don't think words can ever adequately convey how happy that makes me.

This chapter was originally a bit longer, but I cut it off because the final scene isn't quite finished yet and I was desperate to update and give you guys something to read. I know many of you will be stuck inside, and the world is a strange and uncertain place at the moment. In my own small way I hope this can provide a distraction to the turmoil going on right now.

I hope wherever you are, dear reader, you are staying safe and well and happy :)

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~ Roses are Red ~

Seventh Year, Part 16

You trust me, don't you?

Rose's eyes blinked open. The hand that had been supporting her disappeared and she sank, with what little grace she could muster, onto her knees.

For a long while the only sound was the unsteady rhythm of her breath. Her ears rang, and colours swam before her eyes, blurred, then refocused gradually into recognisable objects. Rose stared around dazedly, struggling to process what she was seeing.

It looked like McGonagall's office, if a bomb had exploded in it since the last time she had visited. The portraits on the wall were familiar, but debris littered the floor, and several upturned tables and a shattered display cabinet spilled their contents across the carpet. Strange, whirling contraptions mingled with the more mundane aspects of broken glass and splintered wood to create an odd sense of magical mayhem. Rose's eyes drifted over the mess, and her heart sounded an alarm at the implication of violence.

Then her gaze lifted, catching on a bright splash of colour in her periphery. Against the far wall, a beautiful red bird sat preening itself inside a gilded cage, supremely untroubled by the chaos engulfing it.

"Fawkes." A flood of relief washed over her that was so intense she tilted sideways and landed with a thud on the carpet. If Fawkes was there, then she was safe. Safe. The word ran like a shot of pepper-up through her veins, warming her from the inside out. Rose ran trembling fingers through her hair and took a deep, steadying breath. Safe.

Idly, it occurred to her that the silence had been interrupted. Someone near to her was speaking in a hushed, furious undertone. Someone familiar.

"... just what in Merlin's name you two were thinking! You could have been killed, Albus. Do you understand that? Imagine your father having to bring that news home to your mother. Imagine what that would have done to her!"

There was a mumble in reply that Rose's fogged brain didn't properly catch. She turned her head, and stared at the figures occupying the centre of the room. One, tall and dominating, paced back and forth across the floor as though trying to wear a hole in the carpet; the other slumped against a bookshelf, chin tucked into his chest and dark hair obscuring his expression from view.

Rose blinked, taking in the scene. All at once, questions exploded in her brain like fireworks.

"Albus!" she threw herself to her feet, swaying dangerously as vertigo hit her like a steam-train. Fighting it off, she strode over to her cousin and seized his shirt with her hands. "Al are you okay? Are you hurt? What - "

"Ow, Rose, I'm fine," he shifted out of her grip with a wince, contradicting his own statement. Rose saw him clutch his left arm, and guilt swelled like a cloud in her chest.

"Oh God, this is all my fault. I should never have - I should have listened - I should have - "

"Rose." Her father stepped in front of her, momentarily obscuring her view. Ron placed his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. "None of this is your fault, sweetheart. And everything's going to be just fine." He touched a finger very gently to the bruise on her cheek, and his features darkened. "We need to get you to the Hospital Wing. Albus, can you manage the stairs?"

"Yeah."

Rose tried unsuccessfully to step back. "I'm fine, dad," she began, but he was already turning away, dragging her with him in the direction of the stairwell. Albus pressed in behind her, and Rose found herself shuffled down the staircase and out into the fifth floor corridor before she could articulate a sensible argument for staying put.

The castle seemed deserted, though Rose knew it couldn't possibly be. How long had she been gone? Hours? Days? Merlin, she had no idea. Were the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students still there? Would Scorpius -

"Scorpius!" she choked out his name as recollection crashed over her. Frantically, she twisted her head, as though he might be lurking somewhere in the shadows behind them. Instead she met Albus' green eyes, and flushed at the look he was giving her.

"Hospital Wing," Ron ground out, his grip on her arm tightening as if he expected her to break free and go sprinting in the opposite direction. "One thing at a time, Rose."

She wanted to argue, to dig her heels in and refuse to move another inch until she saw him. But the rational part of her brain knew that wouldn't achieve anything. Scorpius was thousands of miles away, and after all, hadn't he asked her to trust him? If she did, then she had to trust that he would find her when the time was right. Throwing a tantrum in the middle of the corridor wasn't going to help anyone.

Reluctantly, she let herself be tugged the rest of the way to the Hospital Wing, then ushered into bed by a flustered looking Madam Pomfrey. The elderly witch fussed over her like a mother hen, clucking in sympathy as she examined the bruise on her face and shone a light into her eyes with a worried frown. Rose tried to make herself sit patiently, but anxiety stewed in the pit of her stomach, and the sight of Albus, pale and wincing in the bed opposite her, was doing nothing to ease her nerves.

"He's more injured than me," she pleaded eventually, gesturing at her cousin. "Honestly, I'm fine."

"You are nothing of the sort," answered the Mediwitch crisply, casting a harried glance at Albus over her shoulder. "You have a clear concussion and you are in shock. And you have - " she stilled, her wand hovering over Rose's chest, where it had just emitted a strange little whine. A flash of alarm flit across the nurse's face, and she glanced sharply at Ron. A message Rose couldn't decipher passed between the two adults.

"What - " she began, but the Matron cut her off, her expression smoothing back into a careful neutral.

"It's nothing dear. Now eat this." She conjured a square of chocolate from nowhere and pressed it into Rose's hands. "Eat," she repeated sternly, and Rose sighed, shoving the chocolate into her mouth and biting down without tasting, too tired to fight. Madam Pomfrey waited until she swallowed, then handed her a vial. "Now drink."

Recognising the potion instantly, she shook her head. "No. No way. I - "

"Rose," her father interjected wearily.

"No!" Furious, she made to stand up, but found herself held to the bed by invisible restraints. Rose glared at Madam Pomfrey, then swivelled to her father. "Dad I'm not - "

"Enough!" he shouted, his voice breaking slightly, and Rose was so stunned by the anger in his tone that her protests died on her tongue. "Please," he went on in a gentler manner, running a hand over his face. His fingers, Rose noted, were shaking. "For once, just do as you're told Rose."

She glanced between him and Madam Pomfrey, sensing something heavy and unspoken in the air. Instinctively, her gaze dropped to the spot where the matron's wand had hummed when it scanned her. A cold trickle of realisation ran down her spine and she looked back at her father, sudden understanding making her stomach tighten.

It's the residue of magic on your clothing. From Jean tearing your shirt open.

Rose bit down hard on her bottom lip, her body curling inward and her arms wrapping around herself as shame and embarrassment cringed through her. Get it together, a voice whispered in her mind, but it was impossible to stop the sting of tears in her eyes. She was acutely aware of three sets of eyes fixed on her. Humiliation curdled in her gut, and she flinched away when she felt Madam Pomfrey's hand on her shoulder.

"There now dear." The nurse's tone was gentle. "It's alright. You're safe now."

"What's going on?" asked Albus, confusion roughening his voice. "What happened? Rose, what's - "

"Not now, Albus," growled Ron.

"But - "

"I said, not now." Ron's tone brooked no disagreement, and Albus lapsed into a mutinous silence.

Rose sucked in a deep breath, willing herself not to break down. Her skin crawled, and all at once the only thing she wanted in the whole entire world was a hot, scalding shower and an hour alone to scrub her skin raw, until the memory of Jean was scoured from her mind.

Instead, she lifted her head and made herself meet her father's eyes. "He didn't…" she said, her heart breaking a little at his expression. "He just ripped it, that's all. He didn't - "

Her dad gave a short, sharp jerk of his head. She watched him take a long, deep breath, before he squared his shoulders and reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's going to be okay, Rosie. You just sleep, and everything will be fine."

His gentle, protective tone threatened to undo her, but with an effort Rose kept herself from bursting into tears. Avoiding Albus' burning gaze, she accepted the vial of sleeping potion from Madam Pomfrey and raised it to her lips.

"Promise me you'll let Scorpius in," she said, meeting her dad's gaze with the most determined stare she could muster. Under the circumstances, it wasn't much, but Ron still regarded her with what might have passed for disbelief. "Promise me," she insisted, and he sighed, nodding once before he turned away, as though to hide whatever had passed across his face.

Madam Pomfrey was looking between them in bewilderment. "The Malfoy boy?" she spoke into the silence, voice clipped with disapproval. "I don't understand. What has he got to do with this?"

Rose threw back the sleeping draught with a grimace. "Everything," she said, then closed her eyes as the sensation of falling swept through her. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Darkness pressed against her eyelids. Fingers clawed at her chest and she screamed, the sound muffled as though she was underwater. She twisted, trying to get away, but it was everywhere, green light wrapping around her, and him, and her breath sucked out of her lungs as she realised what was happening, and she couldn't move, she couldn't move and there was death flying toward them at the speed of light and he was in its path and she couldn't watch she couldn't watch she couldn't -

"Shh. It's okay. You're safe Rose. You're safe now."

The voice broke through the fog of her nightmare, soft and reassuring. Hands cupped her face, and some of the blackness faded as she focused on that familiar touch. Rose clung to the thread of its presence, desperate to keep the darkness at bay.

"Sleep, Rose. It's okay. I've got you."

She didn't want to sleep. She wanted to throw herself into the voice's arms. She wanted to spend eternity tracing the outline of it, reassuring herself that it was really there. She wanted to -

Something warm and soft pressed against her forehead. A kiss. She reached out towards consciousness, fighting the effects of the sleeping draught. But the potion was strong. It dragged her back into oblivion even as she fought against it.

"It's okay. You're safe. Just sleep."

"Don't…." It was a struggle to get words out, her tongue thick and heavy. "Want to."

She heard the voice's laughter echo in her ears. It was the last thing she heard, that fierce, delightful sound, before the darkness stole her away once more.

The next time she woke, it was to daylight streaming through the window and her mother sitting in a chair beside her bed.

"Well hello there, Sleeping Beauty," greeted Hermione. "Welcome back."

With a groan, Rose dragged herself into a seated position, running her hands through the bird's nest masquerading as her hair and trying unsuccessfully to sort her thoughts into working order. "Hi mum. What, um, what day is it?"

"It's Monday afternoon. You've been out for quite a while." Her mother's voice was warm, her brown eyes soft as she regarded her daughter. "How are you feeling?"

Like I came off second best in a duel with a blast-ended skrewt. "Okay," she said, rolling her shoulders and wincing slightly at their stiffness. There was a glass of water by her bed. Rose reached out and downed it in three swallows. "I'm kind of starving."

Hermione chuckled. "I'm sure you are," she agreed. "Here." With a flick of her wand, she conjured a tray of sandwiches to the table.

"Thanks." Rose took one and bit into it with relish, chewing slowly. Her mind clicked gradually into place, invisible gears clanking as she shed the lingering effects of the sleeping draught and sorted through her hazy thoughts. Finally, her brain snagged on a coherent one. "Albus," she said, her gaze drifting to the opposite bed, frowning when she saw it empty. "Is he alright?"

"He's gone to St Mungo's," replied Hermione. "But he's fine," she hurried to add, when Rose stared at her in alarm. "It's only precautionary."

Rose studied her mother for a long moment, searching for a hint of a lie. When she was satisfied she was telling the truth, she asked, "When can I see him?"

Hermione gave a tight laugh. "How about you focus on your recovery, and let the rest of us worry about Albus, alright?"

"Hmph." Rose finished eating and sat back against her pillows with a sigh. Questions piled up in her mind, and she chewed her lip, wondering which to ask first.

Her mother pre-empted her. She leant forward with her elbows on her knees, and fixed Rose with a solemn gaze. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" she asked gently.

Rose swallowed. Even though she'd expected it, it didn't make the question any less confronting. "Um…" she picked at a loose thread on the blanket, stalling for time. "I guess… there's not much to say, really."

Hermione pressed her lips together. "Rose - "

"Did you get Jean?" she asked, her gaze darting up to search her mother's expression. "And David Cheren, did you - "

"Both Dmitry Cherenov and Orelio Lestrange are in custody," Hermione answered calmly.

"Orelio Le - "

"It's Jean's real name," her mother explained, and Rose blinked in shock. "We found several wanted Death Eaters in the chateau where you were being held. Some of them the Ministry have been tracking for well over a decade."

Rose supposed this was meant to make her feel better, but all it did was increase the churning nausea inside her chest. She remembered Jean - Orelio - saying to her in his spiteful voice, We have spies everywhere, you know. Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, the Ministry. We didn't all just disappear when your uncle destroyed the Dark Lord. A shudder ran through her.

"Rose?" her mother's brow was creased. Hurriedly, Rose attempted to fix a smile on her face.

"So - so noone was seriously hurt?"

There was something a bit too perceptive about Hermione's gaze. "No. Thank goodness, everyone came out alive. But it was…" her voice tightened, and her hands laced together tightly in her lap. "It was a close call. For a moment there, we thought we'd lost you."

Rose swallowed thickly, memories circling like vultures. Angry eyes, a flash of green, and the force of a body sending her flying sideways. She sucked in a deep breath, and looked her mother in the eye. "Scorpius saved my life, didn't he?"

"Yes," Hermione answered softly. "He did."

Rose's heartbeat grew louder in her ears. "Where is he?" she asked, already moving to throw the covers off. "I have to see him."

With a wry smile, Hermione reached out to forestall her. "Not yet, honey. We're supposed to be talking about you, remember?"

"What do you want to know?" she asked, now thoroughly distracted by the prospect of seeing Scorpius. She thought about the dream she'd had, snatches of which were still filtering through her subconscious, and her fingers twisted together on the bedspread. "That I was stupid to believe Jean was just being friendly? That I should have listened when Scorpius told me to stay away from him? That it's my fault everyone's lives were put in danger?"

Hermione was frowning. "No, Rose, that's not - "

"They were going to kill me," she found herself saying, the words flat and expressionless, like a comment about the weather. It didn't feel real, not even after saying it aloud. Rose wondered if it ever would. "If Scorpius and Albus hadn't got there when they did, they probably would have. I hope you and dad, and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny - I hope you know that."

There was a pause. Hermione looked like she was searching for the right words to say. "Of course we do," she said eventually. "But it's not quite that simple, Rose. Stealing floo powder, using a protected connection to circumvent international travel regulations, accessing a restricted criminal network - these things are against the - "

Rose cut her off with a frustrated sound. "I would have thought you of all people would understand that sometimes laws are made to be broken." She waited, eyes narrowed, and eventually her mother sighed.

"You're right," she said, with brief nod. "And that's why your dad and Harry are at the Ministry right now, smoothing things over with the French authorities and the International Floo Network." It was her turn now to give Rose a meaningful look. "Because, as I'm sure you're aware, these things are rather serious."

Rose dropped her head, picking at a loose thread on the bedspread. "Right," she said glumly. "Well, I'm sorry. And I'm sure they are too."

"The important thing is that you're all safe," said Hermione. "And yes, despite breaking numerous international laws and regulations, as well as more than a few school rules, I'm afraid your Scorpius.." she took a deep breath, and Rose lifted her head at the sound. "Is quite the hero."

Rose blinked. "A hero," she echoed, testing the sound of it on her tongue and feeling something warm and bright ignite inside her chest.

Hermione's lips twitched, and she sat back, a glint of amusement in her warm brown eyes. "Indeed. I imagine it's not a role he's very accustomed to."

Rose stared at her mother, emotions clogging in her throat and making it difficult to speak. "I love him," she said in a whisper, the words slipping out almost against her will.

"Oh honey." Reaching forward, Hermione enveloped her in a hug, squeezing tightly and pressing a kiss to her temple. "I know."

Rose buried her face in her mother's shoulder, then drew back and ran a shaky hand over her face. "When I was… with Jean," she began, and saw her mother's features sober instantly. "He told me they'd been spying on Scorpius, at Durmstrang, and that, that he'd - " she swallowed around what felt like a lump of coal lodged in her throat. "That he'd been writing to me, all year."

Hermione nodded, her face showing no surprise. "Lily let us in on a few of the details while you were sleeping," she explained. "It sounds like you and Scorpius have a lot to work out between yourselves."

"Yeah…" she thought about the dream she'd half-woken from. It had felt so right, to have Scorpius there beside her. Even if it was a potion-induced hallucination, the pressure of his lips on her forehead had seemed so real. "Do you know where he is?" she asked hopefully.

Her mother shook her head. "He came back with his father. Draco left a while ago to deal with things at the Ministry, but I'm not sure where Scorpius went. I'm sorry."

Do you trust me? "It's alright," said Rose, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. "There's actually a few things I need to do first, before I see him." She caught the quizzical expression on her mother's features and smiled. "Like, shower. And… I need to talk to Lorcan." Her dear friend hadn't been far from her thoughts, and she knew he deserved to hear things from her first, before anything else.

"Ah yes, Lorcan." Her mother's smile was tight with understanding. "He was here a little while ago. I told him I'd let him know when you woke up."

Rose smiled at her mother, noticing the lines of fatigue around her eyes and feeling a stab of guilt at all the worry and stress she had put her through. "I'm sorry for causing so much drama," she mumbled, but her mum was shaking her head almost before the words were out.

"No. None of this is your fault Rose. You don't have anything to apologise for."

She tried to absorb the words into her conscience; to make herself believe them. Then she gave a strained laugh, in a feeble attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "So, am I allowed to leave quarantine, or have you all got me on an indefinite lock-down?"

Hermione's lips stretched into a conspiratorial smile. "Well, Madam Pomfrey did leave me with very strict instructions regarding your care. But…" she trailed off, suddenly looking very much like the rebellious law-breaker Rose had grown up hearing stories about. "I suppose I could turn my back for a moment and lose sight of you."

A flood of warmth filled her at her mother's understanding. "Thanks mum," she said, reaching out and kissing her soft cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too Rose. Now go on. If you're quick enough, you should be able to shower and change and be back before your dad arrives for his hourly check up."

Not needing to be told twice, Rose scrambled out of bed, surprised at how newly invigorated she felt after water and food. Or perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins at the thought of seeing Scorpius again. Either way, she felt better than she had in a long time.

The rush of energy maintained her all the way to the fifth floor. But the closer she came to her and Lorcan's shared chamber, the heavier Rose's feet felt, and by the time she reached the hidden door and muttered the familiar password under her breath her shoes may as well have been filled with cement.

Lorcan was in the living room, reclining in the centre of the sofa. From a distance, his posture looked relaxed, but Rose had known him long enough to recognise the telltale tension in his shoulders, and the stiffness in the way his arms rested by his sides. The sight of him made her heart clench.

At the sound of the door opening, his head whipped around, so quickly she wondered he hadn't hurt himself.

"Rose!" He was on his feet in an instant, and across the room in two quick strides. His hands reached out to hold her shoulders and he gazed searchingly into her face. "Are you okay?"

She offered a weak smile, closing the door behind her. "Honestly, I've been better," she said, and saw his forehead crease in a frown. "But I'll be fine. I promise."

He didn't look overly convinced. "I was so worried." His hands ran up to cup her face, thumbs brushing against her cheeks. "I'm glad you're safe now."

She lifted her hands to lace her fingers with his own, detaching his grip from her face. "I'm sorry for worrying you. And for messing up the tournament. I'm pretty sure I've ruined Professor McGonagall's dreams of intercultural unity for good."

Lorcan didn't smile. "I knew something was wrong the moment Malfoy started running," he said, and Rose's throat tightened. "I've never seen him look like that before."

She swallowed thickly, trying to conjure something to say to this. "He found me," she managed at last, in a hoarse voice. "He and Albus. In France. I don't know how they did it but - I'm probably alive because of them."

Lorcan nodded. He didn't appear at all surprised by this revelation. She wondered if he'd heard the story already. "I knew he'd do whatever it took to get you back. He had the same look in his eyes as my father did the time mum was trapped by flash flooding in Malawi."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he just stared at her thoughtfully. "What look?" she asked when she could no longer contain herself.

A smile crooked the edges of Lorcan's mouth, though his eyes remained solemn. "The look of someone madly in love, of course."

Her breath left her in a rush. Rose made to pull her hands away, only to find him holding tight. "Lorcan…" she began, not entirely sure what she wanted to say.

He shook his head, silencing her. "It's okay. Remember I told you once that you can't help who you love? Well, I meant it. I still do."

There was a familiar prickling at the back of her eyes. Rose blinked it away, frustrated. "I never meant to hurt you," she choked out. "I swear Lorcan, I - "

"I know." He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and tucking her head under his chin. "And you didn't, Rose. Not really. You can't be hurt by what makes the people you love happy."

Giving in to the temptation, Rose buried her face in his shirt. "I don't even know what to say to him," she said, the words half muffled by his chest. "He's going back to Durmstrang and I don't - I'm not even sure if - "

"You two have a lot to go over," agreed Lorcan, running a comforting hand over her hair before drawing away and holding her at arm's length. "I'd suggest you put it all down in a letter for him but - " his lips twisted in a mischievous smile - "Maybe that's not such a good idea."

She choked in surprise at the joke, and whacked him a little harder than necessary. "Lorcan!"

"Too soon?" His grin stretched. "Sorry. Lily told me what happened, about Draco stopping Scorpius' letters. Have you heard of a Muggle movie called The Notebook, Rose?"

Dragging a sleeve across her face, she shook her head.

"Ah, well then." Lorcan's smile became indulgent. "Can I recommend you add it to yours and Malfoy's next date night?"

She stared at him, unable to understand how he could be so nonchalant when her own feelings were such a tumult inside her. "You're acting way too cool about this," she remarked, studying his expression in an attempt to find the emotions she was sure he must be hiding from her. "You know it's okay if you want to scowl or yell at me or - " she made a vague gesture. "Anything."

His smile faded, and he let his arms drop. Rose felt an instant pang of regret at ruining the mood. "And what good would that do?" asked Lorcan softly, in an entirely different voice. "I see the way he looks at you, Rose, and I know how you feel about him. Or are you forgetting that I've been here the whole time?"

She winced. "No, I haven't forgotten. I just…"

"I'm not going to stand here and say that I don't have feelings for you," said Lorcan. He turned and walked toward the window, staring out over the grounds. "But I'm also not stupid enough to try and stand between you and Scorpius. That would be like trying to get between a Crumple-Horned Snorkack and its Wittle-tailed Humbug." He swivelled back to face her, smile re-emerging at her blank look. "In other words, impossible."

"Right." She shook her head to clear it of thoughts of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and Lorcan's convoluted metaphors. "But I don't - I mean, I have no idea where Scorpius even is, so - "

"He's right here," said Lorcan mildly, and Rose pulled up short.

"What?"

He pointed out the window, as if he'd spotted a particularly interesting cloud formation. "Right there, see?"

She hurried to his side, pressing her face against the glass and growling in annoyance when her excited huff of breath made it fog up. Rubbing it clear with her sleeve, she tried again, her gaze scanning the grounds wildly.

"Where?"

"There," repeated Lorcan patiently. Rose followed his finger, her eyes travelling to the other side of the lake, to an old oak tree that she had sat beneath more times than she could count. Under its stark winter branches sat a very familiar figure, blonde hair glinting in the weak sunlight.

Her heart stuttered. For a moment Rose had to lean against the windowsill, faint and breathless. "He's here."

"It appears so," said Lorcan, still in the same neutral tone. "The question is, for how much longer? All the other Durmstrang students have already left."

His comment made her spine snap straight. Resolution chased away the fear and uncertainty, and she found herself saying in a determined voice, "I have to go out there."

Lorcan's eyes were sad, but when he turned to look at her it was with a smile on his face. "Yes," he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You do."

She was already halfway to the door when something made her hesitate. "Lorcan I…" she began inadequately, all the unspoken things she wanted to say to him bottling in her throat, tumbling one over the other until none of them made sense at all. "Will you…?"

The flash in his eyes told her he understood. He always did. "I'll still be here when you get back. I've got some reading to finish," he said, indicating something on the coffee table. Rose choked back a laugh when she realised it was a copy of the latest Quibbler. "And after all, where else would I be?"

She nodded, trying to convey her gratitude with her eyes. "Thank you," she mouthed, and then she was gone, pouring out the door and into the corridor before taking off at a sprint, feeling like Dumbledore himself was shadowing her footsteps.

.

A/N: So as some of you already noticed, I was overseas when this crisis began. I'll be returning home shortly, flights and airport-chaos pending, and entering an enforced mandatory two-week quarantine. So wish me luck, and lots of happy writing time while I am holed up in a hotel room somewhere trying not to go crazy!

Till next time, stay safe, ~A