I'd like to dedicate this chapter to those of you that have kept this story on watch all these years. I think about this story often, and I've wished to finish it for you, but- obviously- it didn't go well. Thank you, so much, for giving me something I can still feel proud about, at least a little bit.

Scorpius began to regain colour as April advanced into May. Too much time spent in Divination led Albus to joke extensively about the renewal of life, at least until he caught Scorpius frowning at him once. He was 90 percent sure it meant the same thing, anyway: Scorpius had fixed him with an unwavering gaze, his mouth pressed in a line, before turning his eyes to high heavens and letting himself sink don the headboard until he was horizontal once more.

As much as Albus would like to say that Scorpius was improving the weather, the fact was that whatever lost bit of the French coast Beauxbatons had been built upon did not improve with spring, but rather reminded him mightily of home. wind lashed against the stony cliffs, the foam of high waves bleaching the rocks. It was humid when it didn't outright rain, and more often than not he found himself running between the Scarlet Express and the main hall for meals in one of his grandmother's sweaters, his hair matted down and dripping cold down his neck as his hands scrubbed away gooseflesh vigorously.

Scorpius rejoined the other six years for classes at the end of May. Albus was extremely embarrassed, on that first day, to discover that Scorpius had not been keeping up with his classes thanks to the headmaster at all, but because a Hufflepuff he barely knew had been bringing him classwork and notes, as Albus had done in fourth year. He'd never seen her- ostensibly that as because she as an early riser, and Albus had the habit of tarrying in the breakfast hall as long as possible before trudging back to the train for classes, preferring to visit Scorpius in the afternoon.

Of course, Scorpius had never said anything, nor did he seem to have any particular rapport with the Hufflepuff in question, though a little asking around illuminated at least the basics for him. Her name was Gwyneth Jones, she had Arithmancy with Scorpius last year, and she had now been sending him Valentines gifts for the second year running. She also sat on Scorpius' other side on the first week of the boy's return. If asked (and Albus did, in a way, with a long look and a raised eyebrow) she said that it was so that she could fill in any information she may have failed to transmit beforehand. Albus seriously doubted that, considering she blushed for a solid hour during their first lesson. The weather finally lightened up in June, giving way to such sunshine and breezy heat Albus almost missed the whip of spring wind. Though Scorpius moved slowly on some days and frequently went to bed immediately after dinner, he generally seemed to have recovered, and so when finals rolled around at the end of the month, he was ready to finish the last task.

The Beauxbatons staff knew what it was doing. The end of the Triwizard Tournament, coinciding with the end of finals and the beginning of summer holidays, was cause for celebration, and they made it so. The final task would take place in the disused building that had once been the Girls' Education Hall. The key that each Champion had found at the end of the second task would open the service door for them, a little side entrance reached by delightful cobblestone steps.

The rest of the students, therefore, had nothing much to do except try to see if anything went on in the windows or watch the front doors, so the faculty and staff had set up a great picnic. Blankets big enough to sit twenty spread all around the lawn. Charms to ward away insects made the edges of them fizzle colorfully. wicker baskets the size of small plates sat in the center of each blanket, and Albus discovered to his great joy that all you had to do was ask nicely for an item on the menu pinned to the basket-top before opening it up and it would produce a meal from seemingly nowhere. (A young first-year student couldn't seem to get enough of the basket, and would order for everyone that approached her basket herself, in awe every time. "She is muggleborn, I think" Mirabelle explained with a dainty smile. Albus envied her a little. She sure was having fun.)

Despite the sprawl and gaiety of the picnic, it only took a single voice-augmented command to reduce the entirety of the Beauxbatons student body and their guests to drop to the merest whispers, teenage eyes turning to face the headmistress smiling at them from the arched doors of the empty building.

"welcome," she waved an arm, a shower of pale blue sparks dripping liberally from her wand, to "the Triwizard Tournament's end. Our lovely champions are ready for their final task. They will enter one by one," she told everyone in a hushed, private tone, magnified into a boom, the sparks rising as if blown by a wind to loop around the three champions. "who shall be the first one to emerge? will it be-" Albus tuned out of her speech, less interested in the grandiose introductions that had pockets of students at a time screaming for their friends. Instead his eyes fixed on Scorpius, a sudden anxiety filling his chest. He remembered, abruptly, the conversation he had overheard between his own headmaster and Draco Malfoy, all those months ago, and a resonant anger struck him hard in the face. Scorpius had nearly died in the second task, what the hell were they thinking, letting him go again?

Scorpius had his hands behind his back, still, waiting for the introductions to end. He would enter first, having the highest score if only by the slimmest margin. He had spent most of the time staring at the sky, perhaps trying to diving something in the cloudlessness of it, looking past it perhaps to the waning moon. His gaze shifted and locked with Albus's watchful eyes.

The young Potter began to stand before he even intended to move, wanting to fetch Scorpius, bring him to the blanket and sit him right between himself and Mirabelle, but a delicate hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to look at its owner, to argue, but his cousin only smiled, her eyebrows raised, and yanked him hard until he was sitting again.

He turned forward again but Scorpius was no longer looking at him. He was already moving for the door. He slid the delicate-looking thing into the keyhole- for a moment nothing happened, the audience collectively holding its breath- but then it swung open into a dark hallway, and inexplicably a cheer rose up among the students.

The whole thing turned out to feel mostly anticlimactic for the audience. After ten minutes, all three champions had entered the building, and there was again nothing to see. (Nothing that Albus knew about, anyway. If he had been paying more attention instead of sulking, he may have noticed that there was, at all times, a cluster of students near the judges' table. They were looking at an open-roofed miniature of the building, where you could follow the progress of the champions in form of little moving school crests, emitting little labels whenever a spell was cast by the champion's wands.)

Albus did not quite recover his good nature. Anxiety rooted itself deep in his ribcage, spreading up along his arms and coiling in his gut. He was filled with an incessant nervous energy, the need to leap to his feet and run into the building after Scorpius projecting itself in the tortured twists of his hair after he ran his fingers through them too many times, spilled drinks because he kept tapping his foot or squirming. Nym and Mirabelle, at some point having become fast friends (Albus didn't even want to know, never asked, but actually Mirabelle had expressed some strong gratitude to Nym for looking out for Albus when she had been too furious with him to do it properly herself, and Nym had a quiet but so-distracting crush on the French girl) attempted to distract him with exploding snap, wizard's chess, and a game that involved dice he was far too irritated to learn, to little avail. He played chess aggressively, snap angrily, and threw himself down on the blanket to stare at the sun when they continued on with dice.

Mirabelle took his hand, squeezing it gently at first before merely holding it, her thumb stroking soothingly over the back of his hand. He curled up on his side towards her, their hands in the cavity of his loose coil, knees brushing against her thigh. An hour passed. Maybe two.

For no particular reason he could understand, unaware of the miniature display as he was, his blanket suddenly found himself with several more occupants, chatting loudly and excitedly as they all faced the building's front door. He sat up, clustering close to Mirabelle and leaning away from whatever stranger was now sitting far too close beside him. She squeezed his hand, casting an affectionate smile towards him, and winked. His returning smile was lacklustre, half-hearted. He set his head on her shoulder; she laughed musically, patting his knee with their linked hands. "Your friend is fine," she reassured him with a kiss to the crown of his head. "we'll see..."

It didn't take long, after that. The double doors flew open of their own accord, curving in and allowing the crowd to see into the building. It reminded Albus immediately of the hall of distorting mirrors at the fair. The entrance hall's walls seemed to be pulsing. what he imagined were normally a perfectly well-behaved pair of spiral staircases against the far wall, similar to the ones in Beauxbatons's main hall, were currently twining around each other like a pair of amorous snakes, stone grinding against stone, stairs flattening against each other until one coil was more slide than anything before coming back up. Door flapped in an invisible wind. Albus felt dizzy just looking into the place. A third year a few ways down groaned and covered his face. Seventh-years on his other side were crowing about how fun such a place must be to navigate drunk, laughing raucously. Albus coiled his free hand around the one tangled with his cousin's, pressing the scorpion ring hard into the flesh of his thumb to ground himself.

There. It was hard, at first, to be sure that what he had seen was a person. They appeared in the far left corner in a slant of shadows, but with everything moving and the corridors tailing off into an impossible twist, it might've been anything. A rush of voices whispering to each other echoed his thoughts.

Yes, probably a person, moving slowly. Albus jolted up in his seat, eyes round and wide, willing his eyes to understand. was it Scorpius? was he hurt? was that why the movements seems so slow, so stilted?

A second shape appeared, rushing past the first, but before they could make it into the sunlight, a green light flashed out of the other's wand and wrapped around the second figure's legs. They fell forward, hard, catching themselves on their hands and hissing. It was Armande, the Beauxbatons champion, her dark hair falling away from her face as she rolled onto her back, struggling to detangle herself from the magical lasso. She backhanded the air, and Ylva- he could just make her out, now-'s wand flew out of her hands and smacked into the wall.

"I told you she was a gypsy!" someone told one of the Gryffindors sitting behind Albus excitedly. He could feel the way they had bounced in excitement.

Yvla inched towards her wand. She had clearly been slowed, and the determination on her face was at once wild with fury and with joy. Armande broke her legs free from Yvla's spell. She jumped to her feet with a whoop and ran for the door. Students jumped to their feet with her, jumped closer.

Yvla grabbed her wand in a sudden burst of speed, the slowing spell finally worn down. She jutted her wand forward and pulled it back in a great arc. A golden coil wrapped around Armande's ankle just as her fingers brushed the door's handle. She was yanked backwards, dragged along the floor back towards a panting Yvla. Yvla laughed wildly, shouting at the other champion, "my family has cattle, you know!"

"Are you calling me a cow?" Armande called back in her liltling voice. The students were practically screaming, shouting each for their favorite as the girls fought to reach the door first, arcs of magic slicing between them.

Just as Yvla climbed over Armande, the gypsy laughing wildly as she wrapped her arms around one of the other girl's legs, both of them tumbling through the door, a pale shape suddenly dropped just in front of them. Everyone hushed suddenly, unsure of what they were seeing, but then the shape straightened out into a tall, willowy boy with pale eyes.

The scream that went up was deafening.

Albus leapt to his feet. He threw himself forward, despite the throng of people doing the same, and with some strength beyond his own he fought his way through it to Scorpius, throwing his arms around the boy in a way he had never dared, squeezing his best friend to him, laughing into his shoulder.

"Oh my god, Scorpius!"

The clamor around them was incredible. The teachers weren't even trying for order. The other two champions had, at some point, been hoisted up on people's shoulders. The crowd was one- Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang indistinguishable. Everyone was screaming, laughing, pressing in.

Albus shook his head, the white cotton of Scorpius's uniform rubbing against his cheek. "Oh my god did you just drop from the roof what happened? Scorpius you are amazing."

The boy was warm under his hands.