A/N: Last chapter, folks. Thanks to everyone, including the anons, who have reviewed and favourited this story so far! I really appreciate the feedback, so please leave me a comment if you liked it!

And I'll do my usual spiel for anyone who hasn't read any of my other fics: All my HP stories are on the same timeline and feature the same characters, so if you're interested in my Next Gen (or the odd other gen fic in the same universe), or you want to read more about James and/or Hazel, do check out the others! There will be at least one more multi-chap to come in this universe, and probably a few oneshots at some point as well. :)

It took James a second to realise what had happened. One minute, they had all been strolling along, laughing, chatting, and enjoying themselves. The next, disaster had struck. Several people screamed. Gillian hung over the railing, shouting Dylan's name.

James let go of Hazel's hand, and raced towards the edge of the pier. It was half-dark, and the water that roiled round the huge struts of the pier seemed almost black, except where the foam showed white. He leaned over, searching for some sign of Dylan. Had he fallen clear, or had he hit the pier on the way down?

Strangers were gathering around them, all talking at once, shouting and asking questions. There was an argument over whether to call the police or the coastguard. Someone was on their phone.

James's wand was in his hand. He'd drawn it without thinking, but nobody was looking at him anyway. The trouble was, he didn't know what to do with it. His mind raced, trying to come up with a plan. Someone like Dad would probably have Dylan out of the water by now, without anyone knowing what had happened. But James had no idea what to do.

He glanced wildly up and down. A little further along, two people were wrestling a large, orange ring off a post. A life buoy. The memory popped into James's head—a beach holiday they'd had when he was little, Albus asking what the big orange thing was, and Dad explaining.

Without stopping to think, James elbowed his way through the knot of people beside him to the two with the buoy.

"Give it here!" he ordered without preamble.

They stared at him.

"You what?" one of them said.

"Give it to me," James repeated, trying not to lose patience. "I can throw. Properly."

"He can! Let him have it!" Hazel arrived beside him, her face pale in the darkness.

There was no time to argue. The man holding it let James take it, and James, sticking his wand in his back pocket, turned and clambered part-way up the white fence. He used one knee to balance himself on the top. He hadn't been lying—he could throw well. It was a necessary part of being a Chaser, and James had practised for long hours. Even as he climbed, he was taking in the wind speed and direction, and calculating how much he'd have to compensate for it. But where was Dylan? Had he gone under? There was no sign of him in the dark water, and James's heart sank.

Lights from mobile phones flashed in every direction onto the surface of the water, but they weren't strong enough to show much, and the water was too rough. People shouted Dylan's name, but there was no audible reply.

There was only one option. James balanced the ring over one shoulder, grasped his wand in his hand again, and took a deep breath. If he was quick, nobody would notice, at least so he hoped. He just wished he was better at non-verbal spells.

"Homenum Revelio," he murmured quietly, and cast the spell out and downwards, towards the crashing sea, and the place he knew Dylan had to be.

The spell was just visible, but only—James hoped—if you knew what you were looking for. A dark shimmer of air, its edge marked by tiny red sparks, skimmed out from the end of his wand, spreading out as if he'd thrown a huge, wide net across the water. Was there anything there? Yes! The red sparks lit up brighter, a cluster of them in a sudden glow, marking human presence.

James didn't dare maintain the spell. He let his wand drop, and it was over in a second, but he knew where to aim for now. Dimly, he was aware of Hazel leaning on the rail beside him, but he focused only on that spot in the water. He put his wand between his teeth so he could use both hands, took aim, and flung the thing in a strong, swinging motion, the type he'd use for a long-distance pass on the Quidditch pitch.

He held his breath as it arced through the air. His aim was good, but he couldn't see his target. There was a faint splash as it hit the water.

"Is he there? Can you see him?" a voice—Gillian, he thought—called from behind him.

He didn't answer. The bright orange ring showed up well enough as it bobbed about, except when it disappeared behind a wave. But was that moving shape Dylan, or just a shifting shadow? Could he risk Homenum Revelio again? Everyone was watching now, but he had to do something.

Then a sudden parting of the water, just where the the light from a lamp on the pier shone, showed him that the shadow was indeed a human head. It was the only part of Dylan above water. How long did it take a person to drown? James didn't know, but he knew that Dylan was too far away from where the life buoy had fallen. He'd never reach it without help. James could haul it up and try again, but precious seconds were ticking by.

He didn't stop to think longer. Never mind if people saw. If it saved a life—his friend's life—it was worth anything that came afterwards.

Silently—it was one spell that he could do non-verbally—he cast a levitation spell as strongly as he could. Not on Dylan, but on the buoy, which rose slightly from the surface of the water. James, his wand held surreptitiously close to his body, his eyes screwed with concentration, pushed it straight at Dylan.

Could he get hold of it? Did he still have the strength? If not, James would have to try levitating Dylan himself. That wouldn't work—couldn't work. Wingardium Leviosa didn't work on humans, and he'd have to hoist Dylan by his soaked clothes, through water rather than air. His clothes were entirely submerged, and he'd be virtually impossible to lift. Panic coursed through James at the thought, but then he saw a movement, the dark shape of an arm flung over the orange ring.

"Has he got it?" Hazel asked breathlessly beside him.

"I think he has!" James twisted round to the crowd behind him. "I think he's got it! Try pulling, someone!"

Several pairs of hands seized the rope and hauled. James watched anxiously as the rope tightened—and pulled tight. No light buoy flying back up to the pier, but the weight of a person hanging onto the end of it. He pushed his wand back into his pocket, out of sight, and hung over the rail, putting his weight to the rope. He couldn't help this part with magic without someone noticing, but he could at least lend his strength.

It seemed to take a horribly long time. The rope swung wildly, and all James could do was hope that Dylan neither let go nor hit one of the huge posts of the pier. Then, finally, he was within reach.

James stretched down and grabbed his arm, cold and slippery with water. Someone else—a stranger—leaned over beside him, and between them, they hauled Dylan up and over the railing.

He collapsed onto the ground despite James's supporting arm, coughed, retched, and brought up a lot of what looked mostly like sea water. Then he stayed there on the ground, soaked and shivering, his eyes dazed and his face white in the light from the pier lamps.

"Hey, are you okay?" James crouched beside him. "Are you hurt?"

"Dylan!" Gillian pushed through the crowd and dropped to the ground with them. "Is he okay?" She looked at James, then back at Dylan. "Oh my God, Dylan, I can't believe you!"

James looked up. The others were crowded round him, along with a whole bunch of random strangers.

"Dylan, you fucking idiot!" Matt put his hand on Dylan's shoulder. "Can you hear us? Can you talk?"

"Hey, stand out the way there! Let's come through!" a new voice called.

Matt was pushed aside, and two men in green uniforms were there, carrying bags and boxes.

"This him? Right, let's get a look at you, son," one of them said, and looked at James and Gillian, as the two closest. "Was he conscious when you pulled him out?"

"Yes," James said, standing up so that the men could get in.

"How long was he in the water for?"

"I don't know." James looked helplessly at the others. He hadn't been paying attention to time when he'd been trying to think how to get Dylan out. It had felt like ages, but it couldn't have been that long really.

"Ten minutes, maybe," a stranger answered for them. "Maybe a bit more. Not long. This lad got the buoy to him on the first throw…"

The stranger's tone was admiring, but he trailed off. Nobody was paying attention after he'd answered the initial question, which was a relief to James. How much had people noticed of what he'd done? The men were concentrating on Dylan now, talking to him, and Dylan was croaking out answers as they helped him pull his t-shirt off and wrapped a blanket round his shoulders. A woman in a blue jacket—another uniform, but James didn't know enough about non-magical emergency services to recognise it—was making everyone move back. Blue lights flashed at the end of the pier. James found that his own hands were shaking, and he felt slightly sick. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to stop the trembling. Until now he hadn't stopped to think, but now it was sinking in. Dylan could have died.

A hand slipped under his arm, and he looked down to find Hazel there.

"James…" she whispered.

He put an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close to him. It was comforting just to feel her there. But there was something he had to say, and he had to say it now, before he bottled it.

"Hazel, I did magic just then," he muttered, close to her ear. "I'm sorry, I know I promised, but…"

She pulled away just far enough to look up at him, her eyes wide.

"James! God, Jamie." She turned so that she was facing him, and put a hand on his chest. "You saved his life. D'you seriously think I'm going to be upset about that?"

She broke off, glancing over his shoulder. Dylan was being helped to his feet, and Anna, who'd stayed closer with Matt and Gillian, came up to them.

"They're taking him to the hospital," she said. "They think he's okay, but they want to check—Matt and Gillian are going with him."

The little group passed close by them, Dylan flanked by the two men in green. As they passed, however, Dylan suddenly paused to look at them, staring at James as if he was seeing him for the first time.

"Hey, dude," he said, his voice still rough. "They said it was you who threw that thing—so, um, thanks. I mean… that was…"

"All right, time for that later," one of the men said kindly. "Come on."

Dylan went with them, saying no more, though he looked over his shoulder at them as he walked away. Hazel squeezed James's hand.

"He's right, though," Saied said, coming up behind them. "I mean, you basically saved him. If he'd stayed in there much longer…"

The whole thing still felt unreal. James supposed what they said was true, although surely someone else would have been able to get Dylan out somehow. It was hard to believe that the fun, light-hearted weekend could have turned into a tragedy so easily.

"I didn't do that much," he muttered.

The others—Saied, Lei and Anna—looked at each other.

"It was a pretty incredible throw, though," Lei said. "Seriously. I don't know how you managed to get it that close to him."

"Luck, mostly," James said. He was feeling lucky, although not for his throw—more because it seemed as if, in all the confusion, nobody had noticed his spells. And he didn't want to give that luck a chance to run out. "Should we head back?" he said hurriedly. "I mean, there's nothing we can do here, right?"

"Matt said he'd call when they know anything," Anna said. "I suppose we could go to the hospital too, but I doubt if they'd let us see him. Not all of us, anyway."

They drifted away, to James's relief. Hazel's friends might not have noticed anything too strange, but there were a lot of other people around too. He suspected that people would have questions, and he didn't want to have to answer any. This was one situation where he'd much rather not have been the hero.

"I hope Dylan's okay," Hazel said as they walked, before anyone could start talking about James's throwing skills again. "And I hope he's not in any trouble either. I mean, he did sort of try to jump before he fell."

"D'you think we should ring his mum?" Saied said.

There was a gloomy pause. James was pretty sure they were all imagining parental reactions, and foreseeing a sudden end to the trip.

"We should wait until we've heard from Matt and Gillian," Anna said at last. "Someone might have already called her."

They reached the hotel, and gathered together in the room being shared by Lei and Gillian. Nobody talked much. Everyone was tired, but no-one wanted to go to bed until they knew what was happening. After they'd been there about half an hour, idly chatting, with long pauses in the conversation, Anna's phone rang.

"Hey," she said, picking up on the second ring. "How is he?"

Matt's voice buzzed for a minute on the other end, but they couldn't hear what he said. However, after the first few seconds, Anna gave them a smile and a thumbs up. Although James had been fairly sure, after seeing him walk away on the pier, that Dylan was going to be okay, seeing that gesture was still a relief. It seemed as if everyone else felt that too—there was a sudden relaxation in the room.

"So, what's going to happen?" Anna asked at last. "Have you told his mum?"

She paused again for Matt to reply, and James thought there was a slightly irritated note to the faint voice he could hear.

"Okay," Anna said. "Well, I can come… Oh, yeah, maybe I shouldn't. Are you sure? Well, we can all give you some money. Okay. See you in a bit, then."

She hung up, and looked round at them.

"Well. Dylan's fine, but they're going to keep him in overnight to be sure. Matt and Gillian are getting a taxi back—I'm pretty sure me and Lei both drank too much for us to be driving yet, and none of the rest of you are insured on our cars. I said we'd help pay."

James stayed silent. He could have Apparated up there and fetched them, except that, of course, he couldn't.

"The police have been there too," Anna went on. "Apparently, they told him off, but they're letting it go as an accident."

"White boy privilege," Saied interrupted, with a faint grin.

"Basically," Anna agreed. "And he wouldn't let anyone ring his mum—Matt's kind of pissed off with him, but he's saying he doesn't want to wreck the weekend."

"You'd have thought he'd already done that," Lei commented.

"Yeah, well. He's eighteen, so the hospital and the police can't do anything if he doesn't want them to. So unless one of us does…" She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, he swears he's fine, and if we tell his mum, she'll make him come home, which would mean ours would probably do the same, so he's got a point. But I suppose we'd better wait until we see him tomorrow." She sighed. "For what it's worth, apparently he also says he's really sorry."

It was well after midnight by the time James and Hazel were back in their own room, which wouldn't have been particularly late if they'd just been out having fun, but James felt bone-tired as they made their way down the hallway. He was cold, too, since he'd never changed out of his wet clothes; they were pretty much dry now, but still felt unpleasantly chilly, and sticky with salt.

He also hadn't had a chance to talk to Hazel alone. She wasn't upset that he'd done magic—he supposed he had had a fairly good excuse for it—but he was still uncomfortable about it. He'd had to cast spells in front of a whole crowd of Muggles. Nobody had said anything, or apparently noticed anything, but what if there were strangers going around right now, talking about the weird way the life buoy had floated over to the kid in the sea? What if the police decided to ask more questions?

And aside from that, whether Hazel was angry or not, it had highlighted, all over again, the reasons she'd come close to breaking up with him. The fact that he could do magic, that sometimes he had to do magic, and she couldn't.

Hazel kicked her shoes off as soon as she was through the door, and sat down on the bed.

"God, I'm tired," she said. "He's such a stupid twat! I can't believe he did that!"

James shrugged. He didn't feel very angry with Dylan himself—only relieved that he was all right.

"Well, I can't say much. I've done things just as stupid."

"Really?" Her eyebrows shot up. "Things I don't know about?"

"Yeah." James pulled his own shoes off, sat down beside her, and then flopped backwards so that he was lying on the bed. "Wow, I might just fall asleep like this."

She lay down beside him, and rolled so that one arm was over his chest, her eyes dancing at him.

"You think you're getting away with that? What things have you done?"

"Do I have to list them now?" He tried to think of one of the slightly less embarrassing ones. "When I was fifteen, I ruptured my stomach by swallowing exploding chewing gum as a dare. That count as stupid?"

"Oh my God!" She looked torn between laughter and horror. "Were you all right?"

"Well, clearly. I got rushed to St Mungo's pretty quickly, though. And it was probably the most pain I've ever been in," he added thoughtfully. "Except maybe the broken leg last year. They were just about equal."

"Well, okay." She laid her head down, her cheek resting on his chest. "But the broken leg wasn't your fault, and the chewing gum thing was when you were fifteen, not eighteen."

"Well, I could go on listing all the other times I've been an idiot if I really wanted to make the point, but I'm not going to," he said sleepily, lifting his hand and running his fingers through her hair. "Hazel, are you really okay with the fact that I did magic?" he asked abruptly.

She lifted her head again.

"James, you saved my friend's life. I don't care about some stupid promise! And anyway…" She paused, and sat up, looking down at him, a worried frown on her face. "I was… Well, I think I was wrong about that whole thing. Not about you doing magic on people—I still think the same about that. But… but it wasn't fair of me to ask you not to do magic in other ways, when nobody was even around."

"You didn't," James broke in. "I offered to do that. To learn about your world."

"Yeah, you offered, because you knew how I was feeling, so you did it to make me happy," she countered. "Which, don't get me wrong, I really appreciate. But I… I don't know how to explain this, Jamie. My whole life, I've thought about magic. I was almost obsessed with it when I was a kid. I always thought it was just incredible, and, well, magical! But then I saw what it could do, what it could really do, and I don't know, I got freaked out. And ever since then, I've been thinking of magic as this huge, scary thing. But the problem is, I always saw it as something that sort of existed by itself, outside of us. I mean, I never really saw Scorpius doing magic, except once or twice when we were younger. So, I literally saw it as this whole other world, a big separate thing. But it isn't like that, is it? Magic isn't a thing that you just do, it's a part of you. And I'm not going to ask you to hide a part of you when you're around me. I don't want that!"

James stared up at her. He'd never even thought of it in that way—he'd never thought about it much at all—but what she said about magic was true. And the fact that she'd thought of it, that she cared like that, made his heart twist in the best possible way.

"I didn't mind," he said at last.

"I know." She leaned down and kissed him. "But it still wasn't fair. I love you, James—every part of you, including the magic. You've got your world, and I've got my world, but we can make our own world in between both of them—can't we?"

"Yeah." He smiled at her. "Yeah, we can. I'd like that."

He put a hand up and pulled her down again to kiss her, his fingers tangling in her hair, her heart beating close against his.

"James…" She broke away a moment later. "Are you actually so tired you want to go to sleep right there?"

He laughed. "Well, I'll probably manage to get properly into bed first. If I make an effort."

"Okay." She smiled at him. "But what I really meant was… Are you too tired to finish what we started earlier?" As she spoke, her hand moved down his abdomen, over his belt, and then lower still.

His breath caught, and sleep seemed a lot less appealing.

"Tired?" He rolled, and took her with him, so that she was the one on her back. She giggled up at him, and he kissed her hard, then pulled away just far enough to breathe against her lips. "Who the hell said I was tired?"

Anna drove to the hospital the next morning to pick Dylan up, and he arrived looking slightly pale, and shadowy round the eyes, but otherwise entirely back to normal. They ate a large brunch in a café, and by the time they were finished, there was no evidence than anything had ever happened to him.

"Are you seriously not even going to tell your mum?" Lei asked at one point.

Dylan shrugged, swallowing a mouthful of sausage and mushrooms.

"It'd only worry her for zero reason. And you know she'd tell me to come home, which is stupid. I'm fine. Let's stick to the plan and have a good time for the next couple of days, and I'll tell her when I'm home. Maybe."

"She'll kill you, you know that, right?" Matt said. "And probably us too."

Dylan grinned. "Yeah, but we'll have had the trip by then, won't we?"

And so they went along with it, and, as they walked through the Pavilion Gardens and along the seafront, the sun and the wind seemed to chase away everyone's worries.

James's mind was lighter than it had been for a long time. Of course, he was still hanging out with a bunch of non-magical people, so he still had to hide what he was. But that didn't matter if Hazel was comfortable with him again.

Their own world in between, she'd said. It was a good thought, not least because it suggested she was thinking of a future with him, a future that went beyond this summer. They both had new lives ahead of them—his playing for the Bears, and hers at university. But they could build those lives, and whatever came after, together.

It wasn't until they were eating fish and chips in the early evening, sitting on the stony beach, that Dylan came and sat beside him.

"So, I never really properly said thanks," Dylan said quietly.

"Yeah, you did. Right after, on the pier."

Dylan shook his head. "I don't remember a lot of that. Anyway, I'm going to say it again. Thank you. You saved my life."

The others were all laughing over something not far away, and James almost wished he was too. It was hard to know what to say when Dylan didn't even know what James had really done. He needed everyone to move on from talking about it as soon as possible.

"Any time," he said, forcing a smile.

Dylan laughed. "Well, hopefully there won't be another time. I was kind of stupid."

"Well, you were drunk," James pointed out, taking a bite of a chip. "Everyone's stupid when they're drunk."

For a short beat, they were silent. Then Dylan looked sideways at him, and lowered his voice.

"So… What did you actually do?"

"What?" James blinked at him. "I… um. I threw the life ring thing for you. And helped pull you up. That's it, really. It's just lucky I can throw straight."

Dylan narrowed his eyes.

"Look," he said. "You're right, I was drunk. And I was also almost drowning in really cold water. But I'm not always a total idiot." He grinned. "However good you are at throwing, you can't make things fly sideways across water, when you're up above them. And maybe I imagined this bit, but I don't think so. Something happened when I was in the water— right before you threw the ring. It was really weird, like something sort of flying over me, right by my head. Only there was nothing there." He tilted his head as he looked at James. "So… what'd you do?"

The world, which a moment ago had seemed a pleasant, sunny place, was coming crashing down. It was happening again. He couldn't keep Obliviating Hazel's friends, could he? What the hell should he do? His brain said, deny everything, and, in faint hope that it would work, James put on the best puzzled expression he could.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, hearing the falseness of his own voice. "I threw you the buoy. That was it—I didn't do anything else."

"Right. You did nothing. Same nothing you did when you got us served at Hazel's party." He grinned triumphantly at James's shock. "Same nothing Scorpius Malfoy did last Christmas when he stopped a whole bunch of glasses falling and smashing, and said he just managed to catch the tray, even though he never fucking touched it. Nobody saw that except me…"

This second shock almost jarred James out of the first one.

"What?" he said again.

He shouldn't feel any sort of delight over this revelation. It was bad—the whole thing was bad, because Dylan had guessed even more than Anna, and James would have to do something about it right now.

But at the same time, Malfoy, with all his smug acting like he'd got it all sussed, had apparently made mistakes too. Did Hazel know about that? Somehow, James didn't think so.

"Come on," Dylan said, though the smallest note of doubt had crept into his voice. "I know you can do weird shit. I've seen it, dude! I'm not going to tell anyone. And I won't ask any more questions if you don't want me to. But I'm right, aren't I?"

James looked at him. Dylan was still smiling, and it was a genuine, friendly smile, even with the question in it. Did he trust someone who got drunk and jumped off piers? Well, his family and friends would probably say that was the sort of thing they'd expect from James himself, so why not? At least he wasn't freaking out like Anna had. And it was easier than Obliviating him.

"It's not about what I want," he said quietly. "I can't answer any more questions." He met Dylan's eyes, and saw supressed excitement in them. Well, what the hell? "But yeah, you're right."

Dylan's eyes lit up, and James could see the questions fighting behind them.

"I knew it," he murmured exultantly. "Shit. I knew I was right, but holy shit." He grinned as he looked at James. "Thanks. For telling me, I mean. And I won't say a thing. Secret's safe."

And James believed him. Whatever else Dylan was, he was trustworthy, James was sure of it.

"Hazel knows, right?" Dylan went on.

"Yeah, she knows." But James was thinking about something else. He glanced at the others, who still weren't paying any attention—probably assuming that Dylan was saying some heartfelt thanks for being rescued. He leaned in slightly. "So, I'm going to need you to tell me. What exactly did Malfoy—I mean Scorpius—do?"

~The End~