2 October, 2038

Too hot. Definitely too hot.

Albus Potter set his coffee down on his desk. Every morning, the receptionist would make coffee for all the on-duty officers of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and every morning, it would be hotter than the centre of the sun and undrinkable for some time. He could never quite get the Cooling Charm right.

This was the heaviest thought in Albus's head when a paper aeroplane memo landed on his desk from Richard Jenkins, the director of the MLE. All it said was to meet him in his office at half past ten and to bring the case file with him. That was fifteen minutes from then, so Albus scrambled to assemble everything he could for his current assignment.

This case was the same one he'd been on for nearly three years, and he had been elevated to the lead on the project. For centuries, the Knights of Walpurgis had operated in secret, conducting rites and rituals that were meant to sanctify the purity of blood. Though the idea of pure-blood supremacy was fairly squelched at the present day and age, the Knights remained unified. They were allowed to have their own opinions and preferences, but the history of their organisation — mainly that they were the direct predecessors of the Death Eaters — begged for a watchful eye.

And that eye, as it so happened, was Albus's. For the most part, they merely gathered, drank too much, and said derogatory things about Muggle-borns, which never really hurt anyone. However, recently their activity had spiked, which gave Albus reason to increase surveillance on the group. That was his best guess as to why Jenkins wanted to see him.

Arms full of folders, Albus entered his supervisor's office one minute ahead of schedule whilst mentally preparing for a presentation of facts. When he was settled, Albus picked up the first file and opened his mouth to start his discussion, but Jenkins cut him off.

"Potter, I've been reading your reports, and the Ministry thinks it's in the best interest of everyone if we up the ante on the Knights."

That was certainly to the point. "Yes, sir, I agree." Drawing out tables of figures and a list of dates, he pointed to certain ones and added, "As you see here—"

Jenkins shook his head. "No, Potter, that's not what I'm talking about. They're up to something, and we both know it. Just watching them isn't going to give us answers."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I need you to go inside their circle and learn some of their secrets."

Albus was sure that Jenkins's tie was on too tight or something, because what he was suggesting was pure madness. "You do realise who I am, right? The day that lot lets me within a league of them is the day that hell turns into an ice cream parlour."

Opening a file on his desk, Jenkins said, "Oh, we've made provisions for that. You'll be in disguise."

He slid a slip of parchment to Albus, whose face turned nearly as white. "Please tell me you're joking. This is… this is completely insane. There is no way they're going to buy it."

"If you play your part right, they will."

The tone of Jenkins's voice told Albus that this wasn't a joke. The mere thought made him want to crawl into a hole and die. "So, there's no chance of someone else doing this, right?"

Leaning toward Albus, Jenkins said, "Now, I want you to listen closely. I don't care who your father is; if you don't do this, you'll find yourself in the Centaur Liaison Office faster than you can say 'Holy Hippogriffs'. You got that?"

With a gulp, Albus squeaked, "Yes, sir." Recovering his voice, he asked, "Anything else?"

Jenkins handed Albus the whole folder and said, "Read this. This is your cover story. You need to know this better than your own life history. Not only does the operation rely on you to do this, your life very well might, as well." He leant back in his chair. "Dismissed."

And that was that. Albus stared at the paper in his hands, which would probably cause him to have some sort of mental episode, or at the very least, an identity crisis. He was being sent into the heart of pure-blood society as a spy, and he was going to do it in disguise — as a woman.

Albus turned over the innocuous-looking capsule in his hand almost reverently. "You've figured out how to turn Polyjuice potion into pills?"

Smiling triumphantly, Ernie Macmillan, one of the officers in the Intelligence Office, said, "Not only that, but we've managed to make the effects last six hours. Apparently, if one tweaks the balance of Boomslang skin and lacewing flies just so, the effects are much more stable. Not only that, the transformations are even less painful."

Now regarding the almond-sized pill with renewed respect, Albus finally dared to ask the question that had been burning in his mind since he received his lamentable assignment. "So, do you have any idea who the girl is that I'm supposed to be, you know…turning into?"

His face much more serious, Macmillan said, "About that. The donor of the genetic material happens to be my cousin Irena from my mother's side of the family from Poland. I'll have to ask that you, er, respect her privacy."

Blushing furiously, Albus stuttered, "I'll do my best, sir, but it'll be a bit difficult not to see, you know…bits." At that moment, he fervently wished that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"Just so long as I have your word that you will be as much a gentleman as possible, I'll be able to tell my Uncle Wojtek that you'll treat his daughter's body as if your life depended on it."

Scowling, Albus said, "But my life does depend — never mind. I promise I won't look on purpose." As he'd had enough of the uncomfortable subject, he asked, "So, I'm assuming that this new identity of mine is also a relation of yours?"

Shaking his head, Macmillan said, "Not exactly. Though your new 'parents' existed, they never had a daughter — or any kids, for that matter."

He was, of course, referring to his great-uncle Armin and great-aunt Delilah Macmillan, who had been the British Wizard Ambassadors to Eastern Europe for decades. They were relatively unknown outside of those in the business of diplomacy, so that they did or did not have a child was an easy fact to skew. Albus's disguise was to be that non-existent daughter, Melinda.

It could only be assumed that a member of the same family had been used in order to form a passable resemblance. Like Delilah, Irena had dark, wavy hair and a petite frame, though they weren't technically related. She also shared distinct facial features. Albus had to hand it to the Intelligence Department; they had done a hell of a job.

Having received a generous stock of the Polyjuice Pills, Albus took his profile home to study. He had been relieved of all in-office duties until further notice until his mission was completed. That gave him some time to get used to his new form and to procure himself some more feminine attire, even though he had no idea what to look for.

This wasn't even the hard part, though. He still had to find himself a way in.

3 October, 2038

Smoothing out the jumper that he had borrowed from a very suspicious Lily, Albus examined his reflection in the mirror. All the garments, to his knowledge, were on properly, and the undergarments were fastened in the correct places.

Admittedly, if he had been himself and not the visage of Irena, he would have most definitely been gawking at her. She was quite pretty, if a bit diminutive. Her height was barely over five feet, whereas Albus stood at five-foot-eight. It was a challenge to see the world from that much lower of a perspective.

That day, he was headed to Diagon Alley to purchase some female clothing and to subsequently spread the word that the prodigal daughter of the Ambassadors Macmillan had returned to London. It wouldn't take long for the news to spread.

Albus hated shopping, but even he had to admit that it was almost fun spending hundreds of Galleons of Ministry money on frivolous things that were 'necessary for the disguise'. Plus, behaving like 'she' was rich would be sure to attract the upper crust and possibly even garner an invitation to an event of some importance.

It was on this shopping excursion that the solution to Albus's problems came in a flurry of boxes and some unidentified root. His packages piled high, Albus could barely see over them. He hadn't bought a purse yet, so he didn't have anyplace, as most handbags came with an Enlargement Charm, to stow his purchases. The lack of stature made it difficult to see over the stack in his arms and it was only inevitable that he would crash into something. That 'something' was a display at the Malfoy Apothecary Shoppe.

The shopkeeper came out in a flash, and he was not happy at all. "Were you born yesterday, woman? Those gurdyroots are three sickles apiece, and you've ruined over half of them!"

Albus felt bad, because this man was just looking out for his stores, and he had destroyed a lot of what seemed to be a valuable commodity. "I'm so sorry! It's just that I couldn't see over my packages and—"

"And I suppose you're not going to pay for it, either. Figures. You silly little rich girls who don't care about nobody but—"

His interruption was cut short by a third voice coming from the direction of the shop door. "What's all the commotion?"

Scorpius Malfoy walked out to peruse the damage, but his attention was diverted to the irate employee. "This girl managed to destroy half a barrel of gurdyroot, sir. Likely isn't going to pay—"

Holding up his hand to stop the rant, Scorpius made eye contact with Albus. There was something in his eyes that made Albus want to run and hide, because he knew what it meant. "Don't be silly, Bartholomew. Accidents will happen." He knelt to gather Albus's packages in a neat pile and smiled dazzlingly. "Why don't you come inside and collect yourself."

As much as Albus wanted to run screaming in the opposite direction, he didn't. The opportunity was too good to pass up. If he managed to ingratiate himself with Scorpius Malfoy, whose family retained ties to the Knights, he could gain access into the pure-blood social circles even more easily than he'd thought possible. He would just have to grit his teeth and go forward.

Allowing Scorpius to take his hand, Albus was led into the shop and to the office in the back. The chaise along the wall was proffered as Scorpius sat on the edge of the desk. "I've never seen you around before."

Desperate not to let his discomfort disrupt his mental processes, Albus took a deep, calming breath before answering. "Oh, I was born abroad. My parents died a while back, but I hadn't come to England until recently."

"Ah, a foreign flower. No wonder you are so striking."

It took everything that Albus had not to roll his eyes at this obvious pickup line. Putting an insipid smile on his face, he said, "Oh, I'm no flower, and I'm definitely not striking." The only 'striking' Albus planned to be was what he would do if Scorpius put his hands where they didn't belong.

"You sell yourself short, madam," Scorpius cooed. "Perhaps you simply haven't met the right person to change your mind."

And I'm guessing that's supposed to be you? Albus thought dryly. He had no earthly idea how a woman was supposed to tolerate such obviously suggestive behaviour. "I guess not," he said as coyly as he could.

Walking over to sit on the seat next to Albus, Scorpius made a conscious effort to brush against him as he sat down. "Come to lunch with me. Consider it repayment for the gurdyroot."

By this juncture, Albus would have merrily paid for every last destroyed root, but that wasn't an option. Forcing a pleasant look onto his borrowed face, he nodded eagerly — or at least he hoped that was what it looked like. "Of course. I would love to."

Not fifteen minutes later, Albus found himself across the table with Scorpius effing Malfoy in the finest restaurant in Diagon Alley. The wallpaper alone probably cost more than his whole flat. He could not be more uncomfortable if he tried, and his face was beginning to ache from all the fake smiling.

"So, tell me about yourself," Scorpius said, staring at something a bit south of Albus's neck.

Fighting the urge to hex him, Albus said, "Oh, I grew up in all sorts of places. My parents were the ambassadors for Britain to Eastern Europe. I've lived in Russia, Poland, Slovakia — you name it." It was more of a plea than anything, because Albus couldn't remember any more countries.

"Fascinating! I toured Europe myself after Hogwarts. Speaking of…where did you learn magic?"

Albus blanched. This wasn't in the provided information. He would just have to make something up and hope he remembered it later. "Oh, I, um…attended a few schools, but mainly, my parents taught me."

But Albus's hesitation went unnoticed when Scorpius shifted uncomfortably. "That just reminded me that I don't, er, know your name exactly."

Doing his level best to grin at Scorpius's glaring faux pas, Albus said, "Melinda. Melinda Macmillan."

Nodding, Scorpius asked, "Of the old, pure-blood Macmillan family?"

"That's them," Albus said, trying to stave off his distaste for what he was about to say next. "Don't consort with them very much, though. Dad said they're a bunch of Mudblood lovers."

With a chortle, Scorpius said, "Well, my grandfather ought to like you. Not even my dad dares to use that word anymore in public."

Feigning ignorance, Albus asked, "Oh, is that not proper? Last time my parents were in the country, it was perfectly acceptable. I will try not to say it again." At least Albus hoped that he wouldn't have to. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I wouldn't worry about it. They can't arrest you for saying it."

With yet another fake grin, Albus said, "You're too kind, Mr Malfoy."

"So, you know me and I barely know you? That's hardly fair."

"Oh, it's just that I've seen pictures of your family in the papers here and there, plus with the name of your shop and the blond hair, I sort of assumed…"

Scorpius laughed. "Now I don't feel bad, because you probably don't know my given name either."

"And I am found out," Albus lied, subjecting himself to the most unpleasant act of giggling.

Taking Albus's hand and kissing it, never breaking eye contact, he said, "Please, call me Scorpius."

31 October, 2038

"This is completely mad," Albus said to himself while looking at his reflection. Scorpius had invited 'Melinda' to the Halloween Masque at the Greengrass Estate as his 'plus one'. Of course he'd had to accept, but as he perused himself in the mirror, he nearly wished he hadn't.

The dress was abominable, but it was a part of the 'costume'. He and Scorpius were attending as Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere. Scorpius got to wear respectable clothing and a sword, but Albus was stuck with a skin-tight number that showed more bosom than it covered. The woman at Madam Malkin's had insisted that it was entirely appropriate for such a function, but Albus was sure that it was all a ruse to make him feel as uncomfortable as possible. He didn't even want to think about the debacle that had been applying make-up.

At any moment, Scorpius would come to collect his firmly corseted date — if 'she' didn't pass out from lack of oxygen first. He had a new respect for what women felt pressured to do for the sake of image and would make a conscious effort not to judge a girl who didn't in the future. This whole thing was simply intolerable.

A knock on the door sent Albus scurrying for his accompanying handbag and mask. It was time for Melinda to take over. "Coming," he said, trying to sound sweet.

From the other side, the bellboy who had carried 'Miss Macmillan's' belongings up to the hotel room 'she' had rented answered. "Miss, Mister Malfoy is below whenever you're ready."

Albus followed Benny, whose name he pretended to forget, out of the lift and to Scorpius, who patiently waited in the lobby. He gazed at his date in admiration. "You are…Merlin, I can't think." Taking a hand and planting a gentlemanly kiss upon it, he amended, "Resplendent."

Resplendent? Who the hell says 'resplendent?' Albus wanted to curse Malfoy simply for using such an atrocious word. Then again, a proper woman might've found the gesture to be sweet and flattering, so he forced himself to giggle, which was like sound vomit to his ears.

They Flooed to the Greengrass Estate, which was packed to the brim with people in similarly elaborate attire, which helped Albus greatly to feel less ridiculous. Many faces were familiar, and they were all the right ones. Over half of the most influential Knights were there, and all of them were drinking and making merry. Hopefully, when he managed to ditch Scorpius, he could do some eavesdropping.

Their first destination, however, was to meet Draco and Astoria Malfoy. The former ogled the brazen décolletage of the dress, whereas the latter rather sneered at it.

Sounding like a giddy schoolboy, Scorpius said, "Father, Mother, this is Melinda, the one I told you about."

Inclining his head, Draco said, "A pleasure."

Yeah, I'm sure, you randy old git, Albus thought to himself. He made a mental note to never stare at a woman's breasts again. The thought of being 'that guy' now made him extremely annoyed.

Astoria, who was less impressed, asked, "So, what is it that you do?"

"Not much of anything, really. I have no need to work, since my parents left me taken care of, but I was thinking that I might like to try my hand in…" Albus scoured his brain for a noble and acclaimed profession, but each one sounded more and more cliché than the last. "…in diplomacy, just like Mum and Dad."

"How touching," Astoria said snidely. "A true woman of the people."

The more Astoria talked, the more Albus wanted to rip her hair out. She was unpleasant beyond words, and seemingly nothing met with her approval. But saying anything in his own defence could be detrimental to his ties with Scorpius, which were crucial to his operation.

Noticing the tension, Scorpius mumbled something about seeing his Aunt Daphne and dragged Albus away as quickly as possible. When they were clear, he said, "I'm sorry about her. She's quite gauche around other women. I think she's still bitter about me not being a daughter."

"Why would that matter?" Albus asked.

"Oh, I wasn't such a fun plaything when she couldn't dress me up like her little princess."

The tone of Scorpius's voice was wrought with bitterness, and Albus felt a genuine wave of sympathy for him. However, showing it would be a different matter. Melinda would be sweet and kind. Swallowing his bile, he stroked Scorpius's cheek and did his level best to put a pouty frown on his face. His cheek muscles screamed in protest at the wildly unfamiliar pose, but his subject seemed to be receptive.

With no warning whatsoever, Scorpius's mouth descended and took Albus's lips in a soft, almost tender kiss. Not even meaning to, his lips parted to allow further exploration. It wasn't like snogging a girl; women usually let him take the lead. This time, Albus was reacting instead of acting.

When the kiss broke apart, Albus could feel his chest heaving, partly because he was annoyed that he hadn't been prepared for this eventuality and a little because he wasn't half as irritated as he should have been. He was a man. Being kissed by another bloke was supposed to feel weird and offensive, but aside from unfamiliarity, it had been neither of those.

Scorpius must have taken Albus's speechlessness as a good sign. His mouth spread into a grin, and he drew Albus close. With a whisper, he said, "Let's go outside. Get some air."

Nodding like a simpleton, Albus followed. Fuck. How in the name of Merlin's lopsided bollocks was this happening to him? First, he started the night with the sole intent of listening in on chatter from Knights, but instead, he was being dragged off to play tonsil hockey in the bushes. With a guy. Nearly in panic mode, Albus stopped in his tracks. "I…I can't do this."

Looking at him questioningly, Scorpius asked, "And why not?"

In a semi-brainless moment, Albus blurted out the first thing that popped into his mind. "I'm gay."

Instead of the serious response that he had expected from his 'date', Albus was regaled with hearty laughter from Scorpius. He couldn't help but think that, had he actually been gay, he would've been deeply offended by the lack of tact.

"Rubbish," Scorpius said.

Sensing an uncomfortable moment looming, Albus turned away. Now he had to figure his way out of this one. "I, er, like girls. I'm sorry." It was true enough, he supposed.

"No you don't," he said softly. Soft lips trailed their way down the curve of his neck, which sent a sizzle of electricity down his back and gave him goosebumps. Hot breath radiated through flesh and a sigh permeated in the air. Albus was sure that it couldn't have been his, but he never got the chance to find out as Scorpius whipped him around and crushed their mouths together in an almost savage kiss.

Scorpius leant in to whisper in Albus's ear. "You're just as straight as I am, sweetheart, or you wouldn't be enjoying this half as much." With that, he traced the delicate curve of that ear with the tip of his tongue.

Albus could hardly stay upright as a hurricane of sensation pummelled his senses. He had never felt anything so raw and erotic in his life. It was like being held hostage by the way this still unfamiliar body reacted to such potent stimuli. That was it. It had to be the body, because he had been physically aroused enough to know that it had been nothing like this.

By that point, Scorpius's hands had moved lower, snaking their way through the slits in the sides of the gown. Just as they broached forbidden territory, the sound of voices broke through the intimacy, causing Scorpius to stop his exploration.

"You've had your turn, Lucius. Further failure will not be tolerated."

Not believing his luck, Albus strained to hear any semblance of a response. This was better than he had hoped. To overhear known Knights in a public setting was one thing, but it was another entirely to listen to a conversation that was meant to be private. The assault on his personal space had nearly been worth it.

Lucius's voice cut through Albus's thoughts. "I told you I would handle it. As we speak, everything is underway as planned."

The other bloke laughed humourlessly. "I thought you might say that, Malfoy, but rest assured that we are watching you."

"I'd noticed. Your men aren't exactly discreet, Flint."

Flint, Flint… Albus searched his brain for any mention of a 'Flint' in association with the Knights, but he had none. There was a Marcus Flint in International Magical Co-operation, but that was it. This fellow had to be someone else, because Marcus Flint had no record of any kind in terms of anything illicit.

Scorpius must have noticed the concentration, but he mistook it for something else. Once the voices had ceased for a good while, he turned away from Albus and said, "And now I suppose you'll want nothing to do with me after hearing all that."

Feigning ignorance, Albus said, "I don't even know what 'that' is." Perhaps if Scorpius tried to explain the exchange, he would divulge some relevant information. "Who were those men?"

"Well, the first one was Marcus Flint. He works in the Ministry. The second…" There was a hitch in Scorpius's voice. "The second was my grandfather."

Albus had to contain his glee. Scorpius was opening up to 'Melinda', and the timing apparently couldn't be better. "But I don't know what it is I'm supposed to be upset about. What were they talking about?"

He could see the debate going on in Scorpius's head, the one that weighed whether he should keep quiet or keep talking. To Albus's delight, the latter won. "They're both members of a group called the Knights of Walpurgis. Ever heard of them?" When Albus shook his head, Scorpius continued. "They are a secret society that believes that pure-bloods are the superior race and that everyone else should be subjugated to them. To a Knight, he is the highest form of wizard, and Muggles are hardly more than filthy animals taking up space."

"I see," Albus said vaguely, already very much aware of the purpose of the Knights. However, he did notice Scorpius's interesting choice in pronoun. "You said 'they'. You don't agree with them?"

Shaking his head, Scorpius said, "It's just not practical anymore. There are so few pure-bloods left that anything they do would be useless. There are far more half-bloods and Muggle-borns than any of our lot, and they run the country. Logic dictates that they are the future, and men like my grandfather who can't let go will be relics of an embarrassing and nearly-forgotten page of history."

Gobsmacked by Scorpius's obvious scorn for his family's ill-doings, Albus blurted, "With your family's history, I'm surprised that—"

"That what?" Scorpius hissed. "That we're not a flock of blood purist maniacs? Well, maybe they are, but they are not me! My father may have been too much of a coward to realise it, but I refuse the let myself be a pawn in the games of foolish old men who just don't know when to quit!"

The tirade floored Albus. "I…I never said you were," he said lamely. Unbidden, a modicum of respect rose in his chest for Scorpius. Even surrounded by the influence of Knights, he had still held on to his logic and ideals. Under vastly different circumstances, Albus might have even liked him, but at the moment, what he really needed was to keep Scorpius talking to him and to be sure he knew that 'Melinda' could be trusted.

"I'm s-sorry," Albus said, his voice shaking due to an onset of shivering. Now that the adrenaline had ceased, he was acutely aware of the autumnal chill that surrounded them. He ran his hands up and down his arms briskly, hoping for at least a sliver of relief from the cold.

His previous anger gone, Scorpius came to Albus's aid. He whisked off his decorative cape and draped it around his date's shoulders. With a grateful smile, Albus pulled the fabric tightly to him. "Thanks."

Frowning, Scorpius said, "Perhaps we should go back inside before you catch your death out here in that ridiculous dress."

"Oi!" Albus said without thinking. "You're the one who wanted to be Lancelot and Guinevere. This is just what the shop woman told me was appropriate."

"Only if you're popping out of a cake, love. I don't know what the girls wore to parties where you come from, but here, looking elegant and respectable is the way to go. I think the shop witch was having one over on you." Smirking, he added, "Not that I minded looking, though."

Albus wanted so badly to hex the man for being such a cad, but even in his own mind, he realised that Scorpius was merely being honest. In his line of work, he knew better than to rely on complete strangers for accurate information, and this was no different. In retrospect, the whole thing was completely ridiculous. With an unladylike snort, he said, "No wonder your mum hated me on sight."

At that, they both laughed, and they were in good spirits when they arrived back at the party. Almost immediately, both of them were asked to dance by different partners. As much as Albus wanted to tell them all to piss off, he didn't. He needed to ingratiate himself with the members of the pure-blood society.

The first prospective dancer was Gregory Goyle, who had been in the same year as Albus's sister. He was on the list of likely Knights but was classified as a minimal threat. "Mr Goyle, how lovely to meet you."

His interest definitely directed toward the south-of-neck region, Goyle said, "Likewise." They danced awkwardly in silence, partly because of Albus's inability to manoeuvre in such maniacal footwear and Goyle's inability to manoeuvre in general. After a series of trodden toes and grumbled apologies, Goyle pulled them off the dance floor. "Say, what are you doing with a sot like Malfoy, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing special. We just sort of bumped into each other in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago, and he needed a date for this thing, so here I am." That sounded sweet enough, though what Albus really wanted to say was along the lines of 'what the hell is it to you?'.

From there, Richard Greengrass, Scorpius's maternal grandfather, snatched Albus. He was much more amenable and less inclined to ogle 'her' chest. "So, my dear, I hope you won't be put off by my daughter's attitude. You seem like a nice girl, and Scorpius could do with one of those."

"Thank you, sir," Albus said genuinely. This one seemed like a respectable bloke, unlike most of the people in attendance. From there, as dancing with Greengrass was far easier than the arrhythmic stumbling with Goyle, they chatted. As Albus shared his rehearsed personal history, he took the measure of Greengrass and determined that, while slightly prejudiced toward Muggle-borns, he was definitely not a radical or a Knight.

Next, he was swept away by Marcus Belby, who worked in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, mainly as the one who made travel arrangements for the national Quidditch teams. He was on the list of suspected Knights, as well, although he seemed far too nonchalant to be a crusader for anything.

"I hear your parents were diplomats," Belby observed.

Albus nodded. "Yes, sir. I'd spent my whole life abroad until recently."

"Really," Belby said rather than asked. "Did you pick up any special tricks? After all, it is Halloween."

The mere idea of the innuendo to which Belby was referring made Albus want to punch his lights out. "Oh, I don't do tricks. At all. I'm more straightforward." Hopefully, the man would be able to read between the lines that his advances were unwanted.

"Right. If you say so, sweetheart." With that, Belby flagged down a passing server bearing a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Albus watched in disgust as he inhaled half a dozen finger sandwiches, all the while chewing with his mouth open. Apparently blood status didn't translate to basic manners.

Much to Albus's relief, Scorpius spotted him and spirited him away from his rude dance partner. "I think I've had about as much as I can stand rubbing elbows."

Though Albus could have used the entire night for surveillance, it was getting late and his feet were screaming bloody murder. They made their way to the foyer where the Floo was and travelled back to Albus's hotel. From there, Scorpius insisted on being a gentleman and accompanying Albus to his door.

Not wanting to part on a bad note, Albus agreed. He would be staying there for the duration of the assignment, so it didn't matter if Scorpius knew where he lived or not. They stood at the entrance, neither of them moving. Albus knew what was going to happen this time — a goodnight kiss. Perhaps it wouldn't catch him off guard so badly this time if he knew it was coming.

But surprisingly enough, Scorpius only kissed Albus's hand and smiled. "You were brilliant tonight. I had much more fun than I usually do, and the credit all goes to you."

Maybe because you had your hands where they didn't belong, Albus thought chidingly. Instead of betraying his true thoughts, he lowered his head in what he hoped looked like a demure manner. "I had fun, too."

"Then maybe I could impose my company on you in the future?"

Albus knew what this was. Scorpius was essentially asking him to be his 'girlfriend'. Though the idea made his mouth taste like sawdust, it was exactly what he needed. Scorpius was his ticket into more parties such as this one, and if all of them were as informative about Knight activities, the case would be over and done before he knew it. "I'd love to," he said in reply.

"Excellent!" Scorpius said, excitement obvious in his voice. Albus couldn't help but feel sorry for him, because when this was over and done and Melinda was gone, he was going to end up heartbroken, or at the very least sad. Considering everything, he didn't deserve that.

As Albus contemplated this, Scorpius stole his breath with a kiss. This time, with the added stability of a well-lit hallway and something more substantial to lean on than a tree, Albus felt much less inclined to fall over. Though that would have been a welcome distraction.

And just like that, it was over, and Scorpius was backing away, a secret smile on his face. "Good night."

"Good night."

The second he let himself in, Albus kicked off his diabolical shoes and flung himself onto the bed. The night had given him a lot to think about. First off, he confirmed the identity of two Knights, and one hitherto unknown member of the group was discovered, as well. The Ministry's suspicions that the Knights of Walpurgis were up to something was definitely well founded, and two of its most important players had already been identified.

But there was one other thing that Albus couldn't get out of his head — Scorpius. At first, Albus had known that Scorpius would end up being collateral damage, so to speak, that he was the obvious means to an end. But knowing what he knew about his unwitting operative's viewpoints, the eventual outcome to the investigation saddened Albus in that the other man would eventually be hurt.

Nonetheless, that didn't matter. If the Knights were plotting anything dangerous, lives could be at stake, and that was Albus's true concern.

1 November, 2038

"Very good, Potter. I'm impressed that you could get this kind of information in one night. I trust you have further ventures scheduled?" When Albus nodded, Jenkins added, "But I do have one question, though. Are you certain that you heard the name 'Marcus Flint'?"

"Yes, sir. That's exactly who Scorpius said it was, and after that, I did recognise the voice."

Jenkins frowned. "Well, that is bad news. Have you shared this with anyone else?"

Albus shook his head. "No, sir. I was under the impression that this mission is completely top secret."

"And you would be correct. Keep up the excellent work, and I hope your next visit is just as fruitful."