Wren slowly drifted in and out of a fog.

"They said her mind needs time to heal. Don't wake her yet." Albus' voice trailed circles in the haze around her, but then he'd be gone.

The place she'd thought he would fill remained empty. Each time she drifted back from the void, emptiness closed in on itself, shrinking into a point far beyond her reach. Wren was left alone, rediscovering what it meant to be herself.

Sometimes his voice met her in the stillness, angry, sad, pleading - sometimes it was her dad, telling her how sorry he was that he hadn't done more… she had a vague awareness of someone holding her hand, stroking her hair.

Sometimes it was Rose or Callie or Trudy. Wren couldn't react, she could only feel. The sensations around her triggered hidden anxieties of falling, being left behind, watching people die...

Sometimes there was no one at all. That's when the emptiness nagged the hardest, begging to be filled with something… anything… anyone. Relentlessly gnawing at her unrest with tiny teeth. It took her a while, but she finally came to terms with the line between fear and uncertainty… the wall between loneliness and being alone.

Wren woke, feeling miraculously whole.

The first thing she reached for was the glass of water near her bed. She gulped it down on impulse to soothe the dryness in her throat. Flowers sat on her bedside table, because Callie sent them to everyone who felt blue, next to a stack of parchment with neatly quilled lettering, obviously notes from Rose. An assortment of cards stood like a horizontal frame around the hardcover edition of Meditation and Advanced Occlumency, which could only be from her dad... Wren shifted her gaze which landed on a familiar hand-drawn picture on a bent piece of parchment that jutted out from under Rose's notes, a stick-shaped thestral with an empty bubble above its head, like it had been abandoned mid-creation.

She lay back on the pillows. There had been so many voices. What had the Healers done? How many potions had she been drowned in? Countless questions bounced around inside her mind. The sheets were soft, she noticed as she snuggled into them, and the pillow… something bumped against her cheek. She felt around and discovered her lens cover wedged under her pillow. Without thinking, she reached over to the bedside table, tugged open the top drawer, and found her lens sitting inside, right where it should be. She squinted out at the sunlit room, bathed in warm red and gold rather than cold white light, and saw the chairs assembled around her bed, as if people had been sitting around watching her sleep. Wren sat up gingerly and took in her surroundings.

She wasn't in St. Mungo's. And she wasn't alone.

Trudy. Leaning against a pile of pillows, she stared at a blank spot on the wall across the room. Someone had set a collection of miniaturized Beater bats in a Quidditch helment and placed it near Trudy's bed. The bright yellow bow around them was a dead giveaway that Callie had done it. Trudy didn't appreciate flowers, but she'd love something like that.

Wren fought the sick sensation that washed over her, that her friend might not be whole and sat up. "Trudy?" she ventured.

Trudy sat up straight as a board and tore off her augrey feather headphones. "You're awake! Thank goodness!"

"Are you alright?" Wren asked, her voice hoarse.

"I'm fine. How are you? Wait, don't answer that." Trudy slid off her bed and rushed to her side. "You're supposed to drink this when you wake up. Don't try to get out of bed yet." She picked up a light yellow potion next to a package of Wren's mum's coconut cookies. "They wanted to be here when you woke up, but nobody knew how long it would be, and the Medical Wing was so busy, so they moved you up here, which pissed off Albus, but he'll get over it now that you're awake."

Trudy hovered as Wren drank the potion. "They said you'll get this tunnel vision and the things around you won't seem real. Is it like that?"

"No," Wren said, surprised that it wasn't. "I think I just got dizzy sitting up too fast."

Trudy settled into one of the chairs near Wren's bed and shuffled through a Quidditch Days magazine, the Bludger on the front cover exploding and reforming every few seconds. "By the way. I know what you did in the Medical Wing."

Chills went down Wren's spine at the memory of leaving Trudy behind in that rabbit-infested room. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you out …"

"No, not that. That wasn't anyone's fault. I meant the tea. That little bit, they said it made my recovery faster than most. I was only out for an hour."

Wren looked at the stack of notes from Rose. "How long have I been asleep?"

Trudy snorted. "Well you haven't missed Christmas, if that's what you're worried about. Ten days. Halloween's on Monday. You're the last student to wake up. They had to take Mister Summers and Madame Pomfrey to St. Mungo's, along with Madame Pince, who lost a lot of blood, as well as being bloody old. Rose is upset about the state of the library. They've closed it until further notice. And your friend Berkshire has started an Unenthralled Support Group. I'm supposed to tell you that they're meeting Wednesdays at six-thirty in the Hufflepuff common room."

Trudy rushed through her words until there were no more. She hadn't said so much to Wren all at once in all the time they'd been roommates. "Anyway, do you want me to get someone, your dad, or Rose, or…"

"I'm kind of enjoying the quiet," Wren said. Snatches of time were slowly catching up with her, people bustling around, talking over her, strange fleeting dreams that made her warm.

She fingered the hand-drawn card, wondering how much had changed in ten days. "What's everyone doing right now?"

Trudy smirked at her question. "Albus just left, actually. He was threatening to move in so he could sit with you through the night, but McGonagall wouldn't let him. Anyway, he's on the pitch. Slytherin tryouts are today."

"Today?" Wren grabbed her camera hanging by its strap from the bedpost and snapped on the lens, thumbing through the dials and checking the film. She silently summoned her camera bag. It came without resistance. Her magic was back, strong as ever. Wren heaved a sigh of relief.

"I'm going to grab a quick shower." Wren slid out of bed on shaky feet, but the strength potion was already starting to work. By the time she made it across the room, her fatigue had faded. Finally, her head was clear. She drew in a sharp breath and added, "Then I think I'll go down to the pitch and take some pictures. And find Albus. I have to talk to him."

"Ha!" Trudy shot at her, relief evident on her face too. "It's about time!"

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On the way to the pitch, McCormack and Ferguson jogged across her path, winded but still pushing themselves. Wren breathed in the crisp fall air and slipped her shoes off to feel the grass between her toes, every sensation hers alone. Her heart ached, missing the sense of connection but not the intrusion. She didn't want to see another rabbit for a long, long while.

"You're awake!" Serena ran down from the top of the Ravenclaw stands and squeezed Wren's breath away. "I covered for you. Jealous that you got this job by the way, but you deserve it, and really, I can't play on the team and be the photographer at the same time."

"Are they done already?" Wren asked, feeling prickles of disappointment that maybe she'd missed everything.

"Halfway," Serena said. "You look… good. A little pasty." She shrugged. "Nothing a good moisturizer can't fix. I was on my way down to the dressing rooms anyway to get suited up for the second half. The captain said that no one's a shoe in from last year."

Wren climbed the steps and perched on the rails by the goals - the cool breeze felt good against her skin, raising goose pimples on her arms. She'd not thought to take a jacket, but autumn was swiftly giving way to the colder season. She readied her camera as a pair of fliers did some complex maneuvers and snapped them as they passed by.

Scanning for the next player, her heart flipped when she saw the dark haired boy leave the ground. She turned her flash up and aimed at the nearest metal object, the goal post. The flash went off, and as his head popped up, she quickly ducked down, instantly feeling guilty for being so impulsive and possibly messing up his drill if she'd been spotted.

After the last trial, a race of five laps around the field, she scrambled down the stands and squeezed between helmeted shoulder padded Slytherins to get to their captain.

Nevvins smiled wide when he saw her. "It's good to see you up, Wren."

"Thanks," she said. "It feels good to be moving again. I'll get these pictures to you before dinner."

"Wren!" Rose came out of nowhere and threw her arms around her.

Wren hugged her back and asked, "What are you doing down here? I thought you didn't watch the tryouts, especially when it isn't our team."

Rose's cheeks got red. "I lost a bet," she stage-whispered. "Scorpius made me come."

"Oi!" he said, appearing at her side with a sweaty helmet tucked under his arm. He squinted at Rose. "I thought you were giving me a fair shake."

"I guess it's not that bad." Rose rolled her eyes for effect. "We're occupying the same space and nobody's died yet."

Wren left them stupidly grinning at each other and couldn't help grinning a little herself.

She found Albus outside the changing rooms, half-surrounded by a group of Hufflepuff girls, with Lori hovering dangerously nearby. He was gesturing excitedly to the rest of the Quidditch players, talking plays and steadfastly ignoring the girls.

"Albus is the real hero," Lori was saying as Wren elbowed her way closer. "He saved my brother from the rabbits, and… oh, hi Wren. We'll catch up later." Lori led the other Hufflepuffs away, and Wren found a clear path to Albus. She tugged on his sleeve to get his attention.

"Hi."

There was a full beat of silence and then Albus swallowed her in a tight hug. He mumbled something into her shoulder that sounded like "worried". His hair was matted to his head from the Quidditch helmet, and his cheek was smudged with dirt. The relief on his face told her everything she needed to know. She could probably get away with not saying anything at all, but somehow that wasn't enough.

Except his teammates were staring at them.

"I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere without people?"

He nodded and led her behind the changing rooms where a large tree hung over the building.

Wren looked around, checking that no one had followed them. It was quiet except for the beating of her heart and the low creaks of heavy branches swaying in the wind above them.

Albus stopped under the shade with her. "I know what they said, that you needed to sleep it off, but seeing you like that for days… you're back, right? All of you?"

"Yes," she said, feeling like she was answering more than just a simple question. "Albus, I… umm…"

His hand wrapped warmly around hers and she struggled to define the bubbling sensation that rose up inside, this strange, inevitable pull. This time she allowed herself to be swept up in it. She tugged at his Quidditch jersey to bring him closer. Maybe if she whispered it in his ear?

"Yeah?" he questioned, so close, so sweet…

This wasn't like Dillon's persistent overwhelming lure. She could ask herself what this was, and what it meant, fall into it or away from it… the choice was hers.

Everything she wanted was so close, she could taste it. So she did, standing on her toes to reach. Her lips touched his briefly, tentatively, and then she pulled back, blushing.

"Sorry. I didn't know how to say it."

Albus' blue eyes changed from surprise to an intensity that Wren had never seen before. "I heard you," he said, and kissed her back. Everything clicked together, almost audibly, just above the breeze - leaves rustled above them… the crackle of the branches. Feeling was everything, his hand pressing into her back, his breath on her face.

When they broke apart, his hair flopped into his eyes. Wren's fingers tingled as she traced a line around the side of his face, tucking some of the strands behind his ear. His hair was damp with sweat, half his Quidditch gear still hanging around his shoulders. Wren couldn't help thinking how perfect he would look framed just like that.

"So what do we do now?" he asked, twining their fingers together.

Wren adjusted the camera strap that had dug into her shoulder. "I was going to go and develop these pictures, get some of the shots ready for the Slytherin team. It takes a few hours, so if I start on it now, the photos will be ready by dinner tonight."

"Let's go." Albus started pulling her towards the greenhouses.

"But Albus, it's going to be at least an hour of..."

The thing about photography was that it only took a few minutes for the actual doing, and the rest of it was waiting around in the dark on the lumpy couch to make sure no one interrupted the process.

Wren rethought that last bit. An hour. In the dark. With Albus.

"Oh."

He grinned down at her like a Kneazle who had eaten the Snitch, reeking of sweat and leather, which wasn't so bad out in the open, but the tiny room could get stuffy...

Wren's cheeks practically caught on fire. "You should change," she said. "And shower," she added.

"Right. I'll meet you there." He gave her a last peck on the lips, which could have lasted ten times longer if she'd allowed it, but some things like soap took precedence over other things, like knobbly knees.

The tree above her crackled, and then laughed.

Laughter.

Someone was laughing at her.

Serena practically fell out of the lower branches, but somehow managed to land on her feet. "Oh wow, that was… just, wow!"

Wren stared at her, embarrassed, but angry too. "You were watching us?"

"Better!" Serena tapped her camera that still swung from side to side across her chest. Wren hoped Serena was getting strap burns on her neck from it. "I got the whole thing. All the unspoken words!"

Red-faced, Wren stared at the camera. The tree where she and Albus had just been… kissing.

Serena was still talking. "It's all right here. I had to finish the roll anyway, because of Quidditch pictures, right?"

"What?"

The cartridge popped out of Serena's camera, making a sound like smacking gum. "This is going to be epic!" She rolled the film into a small metal canister and snapped the lid shut. "Should have happened ages ago, if you ask me."

Which she hadn't. Wren thought she heard a cackle escape from Serena's lips, and fought the urge to slap her. This was supposed to be her private moment, and…

"Here, take it." Serena held out the canister. Wren stared at it like it was on fire. "It's yours, darling. You need those Quidditch shots anyway. But I want a peek at the rest. You two are so nauseatingly cute together. I can't wait to see what develops." She shoved the canister into Wren's hands and brushed back her hair. "See you later!"

Wren blushed furiously as Serena sauntered away. What had just happened? Her bubble had burst. The dreamy atmosphere had been forever shattered by that nosey… and here she was, holding hard evidence that it hadn't been a dream at all.

She clutched the canister to her chest and practically sprinted to the greenhouses.

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The rest of the term flowed swiftly. Charms became almost as easy as Potions (not so much Transfiguration, but that was what study sessions with Albus were for..). Photographing the Quidditch teams took up a lot of Wren's time, and so did Albus. She couldn't have been happier.

Albus had made good on his promise that things wouldn't change. He continued feeding her with normal best-friend banter - with occasional eyebrow raises, a suggestive comment thrown in, and pecks on the lips when no one else was watching - encouraging the flutter in her stomach that she'd learned to welcome when he was around.

Okay, it wasn't just like always. It was infinitely better.

She talked now, about anything and everything to Rose and Callie, and sometimes Nate, but mostly Albus. Sometimes Albus talked too, and then they didn't talk at all sometimes, because being with each other was sometimes worth more than words.

On the second day of Christmas Break, he hadn't needed excuses to show up and steal her away from the bustling Inn. She shoved her bare hand into his pocket when the brisk air hit them. St. Mungo's was always cooler than comfortable. Coming in out of the winter weather hadn't helped, but Wren soothed herself with the thought that they wouldn't be very long.

Mister Summers, and anyone else who'd had prolonged exposure to the enthrallment needed to be tested - for a while - regularly, until the Mediwitches were satisfied that they didn't have any long-term damage or ill-effects. Smeed had said it was unnecessary, but he conceded that one night of mutual cooperation hadn't overridden the centuries of distrust between the two cultures.

Ian appeared in the hallway, face red with angry blotches. "What do you mean, it's 'Thrall Pox'? Is that even a thing?" he yelled to the Mediwitch shoving him out of the door.

"Go home," she ordered, pushing him forward. "The vampires said it would clear up on its own. In a few months or whatnot."

Ian huffed and wrapped himself up in a thick cloak and gave Wren a severe look. She ignored him and went towards the beckoning witch. The examination room was colder than the hallway. Wren sat down dutifully in front of the indifferent witch who placed the tip of her long wand on her forehead. "Nothing," she said. "You may go."

Albus was waiting for her. She smiled up at him and rubbed the worry lines off his forehead.

"Good?"

"Good."

"Shall we say hello to her?"

Wren led him down the familiar wing. The room was identical to how Alice and Frank's had been, the usual empty dresser mostly for show. There were no personal effects. She wouldn't be here much longer.

The Mediwitch greeted them by the door. "Hello Miss Longbottom. Mr. Potter." She shook her head, meaning there was no change in condition from last time.

Madame Pince, old and frail, laid back in the bed, crisp white sheets tucket around her. Her flesh wounds had healed, her breathing was light and steady, but her chart showed that she'd lost too much blood and her brain had shut down. Wren glanced at the stones and nodded to Albus. She pulled up a chair and started talking. She paused when Pince's breath hitched, or her face tightened. After a little while, the Mediwitches came in to administer potions to keep her comfortable until the end. They said she only had a few weeks left.

It was still cold outside when they got ready to leave. Albus pulled her close and asked, "How did you know what to say?"

"I just told her what I'd want to hear," Wren said. "She didn't see the end, so I thought she'd at least want to know that everyone was okay, mostly, and that it wasn't her fault how things ended up."

She grabbed Albus' arm, clinging to his warmth. "Gran's coming to visit."

"You going to tell her?"

"What, that we finally do have some ailment in common?"

Ian and the rest hadn't been enthralled long enough to retain the sensing like she had. The Mediwitches hadn't detected it, but then they were only using wizard magic. Smeed had done his own tests and called it a gift - the ability to sense vampires. He said it made her special… useful… And then he'd given some cryptic warning about not being useful to the wrong people.

There had been a lot of changes since Bunny. Most of them around Hogwarts, the way people looked at her appreciatively, not as the Herbology Professor's daughter, but as part of the crew that had saved them. It took some getting used to, having people look at her and see her for who she was, but she was managing.

She was managing other changes too, some of them weird, like how Rose acted around Scorpius - hot and cold sometimes, and other times, like he was her only friend in the world. She spent less time fretting and more time laughing - at - with - Scorpius, which made him smirk more than he should be allowed.

Wren looked up at Albus and couldn't help smiling. Right beside her was the best change of all.

"You really didn't have to come with me, Albus."

"No, I really did. It's what oldest best friends do. And if you end up going to Smeed or Nate's uncle for whatever treatment they want to do, I'm going there, too."

Her hand felt small inside his as he squeezed it. Other things had grown too, some of them blossoming inside of her. It wasn't as scary anymore. It was wonderful, and larger than life.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Wren wasn't sure what vampires did for recovering thralls, if they did anything... most vampires didn't concern themselves with the fate of their victims, but Smeed was a good man. He made Wren feel like a survivor.

Her mum had brought the Inn through its financial rough patch - six months of eighteen hour days (and Smeed's intermittent help) had gotten them stable enough to finish the much needed repairs, open another wing for guests and hire a full-time staff.

"When is she coming?" Albus asked.

"For dinner tonight, but then she wants me to scram afterwards." Gran's last letter had been firm. She'd wanted a visit, details, and then she wanted Wren scarce, to enjoy her holiday on her own terms while Gran and her parents did boring, grown-up things like have tea and comment on the renovations.

"They don't need me anymore," Wren said.

"That's perfect, because I need you," Albus said, pulling her close, "to help me finish off Mum's toffee pudding at my house so she can make us more."

Something itched at the back of Wren's mind. Thoughts of toffee-colored swirls danced in her head, framed at odd angles. She blinked as her vision came back into focus, and then stood on her toes to kiss Albus on the cheek.

"I'll bring my camera."

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The End

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