Disclaimer: I think you know I'm not JKR, but it's okay if you pretend I am. ;)

A/N: This isn't as long as the last part, but I was anxious to get it posted. It will probably take a long time to get the final part up, because I'm at a somewhat crucial point in my education. I mean, I just finished this part like three minutes ago.
No flames please. I'm happy with the outcome of this chapter, so, yeah... Enjoy!

Part Two
Essence of Death

The years went on, just as any other. Albus was now a seventh year. Grindelwald had held to her promise about being in charge, which caused grief to anyone who was most unfortunate to attend school in any of the seven years between 1851 and 1858. She proved greatly intelligent, and ranked the same number of O.W.L.s in their fifth year. She had out done him in Transfiguration, a class in which he was most brilliant, and shown him up in Astronomy, surprising everyone. When no one was around though, she turned quite nasty, and threatened Albus not to blow her cover nearly every chance she got. Albus wasn't even quite sure how one would go about blowing her cover, and wasn't even sure what her cover was. Grindelwald was quite brilliant, he had to admit, but why she was acting so strangely was a complete mystery.

There had been no new teachers at Hogwarts over the years, except there was talk that the Headmaster, Phineas Nigellus, was thinking of doing the school a favor, and at last retiring. Professor Prince was heard to be keen to move in on his job, though it wasn't entirely up to her. Professor Dippet said he wouldn't mind applying for the job one day, but wasn't sure he was ready for such a task at the time.

Meanwhile, the focus of this year at school was the N.E.W.T. Exams, to take place at the end of summer term. It was a ways away, yes, but to much studying never did Albus any harm. Now to say it couldn't do any harm at all would be a false statement; many seventh years had been taken to the Hospital Wing for stress attacks, and too much pressure just building up. "Don't let more than one day attack you at once," Gideon was heard telling Oliver in the Common Room one evening.

"Well, if you end up in the Hospital Wing, make sure you ask for Lady Dounia. Viscount Abraxas is a complete nutter. He'll cart you away and put you in a strait jacket if you're not careful, and to top it off, he'll try testing some of his funky concoctions on you."

"Lady Dounia is preferable, yes, but she's not a bag full of happiness you know. She's right nasty at heart," Gideon replied dully. "No wonder the Slytherins were all cheering when they started work here."

"I don't know how you two can be babbling at such a crucial time in your education. With the N.E.W.T. exams a near two months away, you should be studying any chance you get. The results of this test may make or break your career path," Albus said, peering over the top of an enormous book titled Numerology and Gramatica.

"Oh, you're know fun Albus. Do you really have to be studying every second of the day?" Oliver asked, ever so slightly in a mocking sort of way.

"Yes!" he replied, setting down the book he was reading, and picking up another (Moste Potente Potions). After about fifteen minutes, he changed his mind and instead picked up Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage. He had recently overheard Professor Prince telling Professor Slughorn that in her seventh year Potions class, they would soon be doing a project that involved having a partner. Somehow, Albus got the feeling that he would end up doing all the work on the project, no matter who he might end up with.

"Dumbledore, Grindelwald; Dippet, Peak. . ." The names were called by Professor Prince, in Potions on Tuesday. Albus started to put his things in his bag so he could go over to Grindelwald's table, but instead, she came to his.

"Well, Head Boy and Head Girl, best in Potions, let's see how we do as partners," said Grindelwald, her pronounced smirk showing itself yet again.

"Now that you've all got your assigned partners, please listen carefully. This project accounts for twenty five percent of your grade. You are to first choose a potion adequate to earn such points, and I don't mean seventh year level. If you wish to gain my approval, I would advise choosing a complex potion, that you have not yet learned in this class. You all have my personal permission to use books from the Restricted Section of the library. That's Potions books only. Please put every effort into this project. It is due in precisely one month. Any questions?"

"Yes. How can you ensure that both partners put in the same amount of effort?" Melantha asked.

"That, Miss Dippet, is entirely up to you. I can't go around trying to decipher how much work each person put in. If that is all, I bid you all good day. Class dismissed."

Everyone made their way to the courtyard to wait for the next class. Next, for Albus, was Transfiguration, but he had lunch first. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and swiveled around.

"You forgot your bag again Mr. Dumbledore," Professor Prince said, shoving it into his chest, as she too made her way to the Great Hall for lunch period.

Albus sat down at the Gryffindor table, just as the golden plates filled themselves with delicious food. He took out his book on Ancient Runes to do some studying, and a piece of parchment to write the translations. All of a sudden, the parchment he was about to write in the first translation did something very odd. Words were forming on the parchment before his very eyes.

Hello Albus. Meet me on the seventh floor corridor this evening at eight. Bring your bag and potions book. I'll bring my cauldron and some ingredients.

Desdemona

Albus did the only thing that made sense: write back. He quickly dipped his quill into the bottle of ink he had sitting out, and scrawled a reply.

Eight o'clock? Uh, sure. I'll bring my cauldron too, just in case. Well, actually, it's already there --

I know it is. Bring all your ingredients then. We want our potion to be the best, don't we? I'll bring some books too then. You best do the same. See you then.

With that, all the ink on the page disappeared. Albus suddenly understood why he had left his bag in the dungeon after Potions; she had taken it, in order to bewitch the parchment or something.

Transfiguration went well, extremely well. Albus had, again, transfigured today's object with a mere brandish of his wand. Professor Slughorn said he ought to teach the class one day. Perhaps he should. . .

Eight o'clock came quicker than Albus thought possible. He had just started to gather together his potions things when he looked at his watch, and was shocked to see that it was fifteen minutes until eight. If he hurried, he could probably make it in time.

Albus skidded to a halt as he reached the seventh floor corridor, with a stitch in his side from running the whole way there. He swiveled around, looking for a good place to set down his things.

"There you are," said Grindelwald, carrying her cauldron that was packed to the brims with books and ingredients. "Where shall we. . . ?" Albus turned around, looking for the best place to brew their potion without being disturbed. He turned around again, and again. As though it had been there the whole time, a golden door suddenly appeared in the wall.

"What the. . . ?" he asked himself, more than Grindelwald. He cautiously made his way to the door, and creaked it open. He gasped, and turned back to Grindelwald who looked almost frightened. Albus beckoned to her, and she followed him in to the room, while still keeping her distance. She too gasped.

"What is this place?" she stammered.

"I have no idea. . ." The room was very big, and lined with thousands upon thousands of dusty old books, by the looks, were all potions books. Every now and then, there was a shelf devoted strictly to ingredients. At the far end of the room there was a gigantic cauldron, that looked like a person could fit inside. There was a chart on the wall covered in alchemy symbols and meanings, and different things of that sort.

"This is extraordinary," Albus murmured, almost forgetting the girl standing behind him, cowering in the great vastness of the room they had entered. Grindelwald walked cautiously towards the many bookcases lining the walls, and pulled an exceptionally battered, old one down and began reading. Albus moved towards the far end of the room, set his stuff down, and he too pulled a book of it's shelf.

"Dumbledore, this potion looks perfect," Grindelwald whispered, still in a state of awe.

"You can call me Albus if you want," he replied, hardly noticing what she had said.

"Oh, right. Um, you can call me Deedee if you like. That's what my mother used to call me."

"Alright. As for the potion, I was thinking more along the lines of an Amortentia potion."

"Amortentia?" Deedee asked incredulously. "Oh, someone else is bound to do that one. We want something that isn't in an ordinary book. Something not even in the library."

"Well. . . I suppose. But I don't really want to try anything dangerous," Albus said hesitantly. Deedee snorted.

"Not dangerous? What are you, a first year? I was thinking. . . perhaps we could make our own potion," she said, a red glint in her eye that Albus had never seen before.

"What were you thinking?" he asked, almost dreading her response. It was bound to be something either illegal, or against school rules.

"This book looks amazing. We should base it off this potion here, only, tweak it a bit," she said, the glint turning rather maniacal. She tossed the book to Albus. "Page three hundred and ninety four," she hissed. Albus turned to the page in question, and dread even worse than he had anticipated spread through him. Candles flickered from brackets on the walls, creating an eerie atmosphere.

The potion she had suggested looked more complicated than any Albus had seen. It was called The Essence of Death.

Eye of newt,

toe of frog,

wool of bat,

tongue of dog,

adder's fork,

blind worm's sting,

lizard's leg,

howlet's wing,

fillet of a fenny snake,

scale of dragon,

tooth of wolf,

witch's mummy,

maw and gulf

The potion looked dreadful, the effect even worse. If done correctly, it should replay the worst memories of one's life, almost like a dementor. What it was that Deedee wished to tweak, was unknown.

"What do you think?" she asked eagerly. "Professor Prince should love it."

"Two questions: one, how are we going to test it, two, what precisely did you want to tweak?"

"Well, I thought we could tweak it just enough to make the replayed memories seem more like a nightmare rather than actually memories. Though, of course they would be bases off memories. Sound good? The only trouble would be getting the tooth of a werewolf. I wonder if Prince has one in her personal store. . ."

The potion they were making was basically the center of focus in Albus' life at the time. He really did want to do it right if he was going to make it at all. It's not like he would purposely do it wrong just because he greatly opposed the mere idea of it.

Nearly every evening after dinner he would bring his books up to the secret room and study while Deedee hovered around the room trying to make everything perfect before actually starting to make the potion, which, incidentally, they hadn't started yet. There was so much preparation involved that it had been two whole weeks since their first meeting. It would be ready to begin this evening, at last. The two of them had kept up their strange means of communication with the bewitched parchment, in order to discuss tactics of making this potion perfectly. As said, it was the center of focus at this particular point in their lives.

"It's ready! It's ready!" Deedee shrieked excitedly that evening. The gigantic cauldron they had decided on using was sitting over a bundle of flame. Albus set down the book, and walked over just as Deedee poured the base substance in. As a base, they were using the suggested Essence of Murtlap, a calming, soothing liquid that was used to deceive the drinker. It began to bubble.

"Now, let's see," said Albus, opening the book again. "We let the eye of newt stew in frog spawn over the full moon, so that's ready to put in. That's supposed to broil for seven minutes and fifteen seconds before the toe of frog goes in. Where's the toe of frog?" he asked, looking up.

"Right here," Deedee replied, holding up a jar with the frog's toe. "And we already let that soak in the murtlap on the week proceeding the quarter moon. Then it's supposed to stew for approximately three days before we put the bat's wool shavings in. So we're set to go for tonight."

They added the appropriate ingredients for that evening, and were just sitting down after counting out the seven minutes and fifteen seconds, having been on edge the entire time.

"Whew! I didn't think we'd make it there for a second," Deedee said, wiping sweat from her brow. "So I guess we can check it tomorrow then."

"I'll check in the morning, and then again after lunch, and maybe you can check it before dinner, and after your nighttime Head patrol. Sound good?" She nodded.

The potion was due in two days. It was basically finished, except that it still had yet to be "tweaked." Albus was still unsure what exactly Deedee had in mind for what to do to it.

"Well, Melantha and I are making a draft of Felix Felicis," Gideon stated proudly. "What about you Albus?"

"Oh, Dee-- Grindelwald wanted to make this creepy potion. I just assemble the ingredients, and let them soak over the full moon, or whatever, and she'll add them to the potion as needed. It's called Essence of Death. I have a feeling though, she's going to add a few secret ingredients."

"Golly. You're sure to win, I mean, the two best potion-makers in the class. . ." At Albus' questioning look, he went on. "I heard a rumor that Prince was planning an award for the best potion. What are you making Oliver? And who was your partner?"

"I'm with that Slytherin bloke Yvette Borgin. We're just making Amortentia. But she's making me do all the work, and I'm pretty sure I was supposed to put some ashwinder in, so we're bound to fail." Gideon and Albus snorted, but both managed to pull it into a hacking cough. It was common knowledge that ashwinder was the core ingredient when making any sort of a love potion.

All of a sudden, the bag that was in Albus' lap burned red hot. He quickly opened it and found that the source of the heat was his bit of bewitched parchment.

I think it's ready. You want to come up to add the other ingredients and test it out?

Alright. I'll be right up.

Albus made a hurried excuse that he had left one of his books in the library to a very confused Gideon and Oliver, and ran flat out to the seventh floor. He walked passed a certain point in the wall three times, and the golden door appeared. He opened it and bolted inside.

"There you are," Deedee said. "Now, I was thinking of putting a dash of the Draught of Living Death in. I've already made some. And perhaps a touch of this," she said, shaking a small glass vile in her hand. At first glance, it looked to be empty, but it had some sort of substance, unrecognizable to Albus.

"What is it?" he asked, puzzled. She smiled evilly.

"'Tis a memory. I can't just now tell you of what. You'll just have to find out when we test the potion." Before Albus could object, she had already dropped the last and final ingredient into the sizzling cauldron. It started fizzing violently, causing Albus to jump back in fright.

"This is it!" Deedee shrieked excitedly, on the tips of her toes peering into the cauldron. "Alright. I guess we should try it out." With a whisk of her wand, a ladle was dangling in mid air. She set her wand on the nearest book shelf, took hold of the suspended ladle, and scooped it into the potion, which was now emitting little bursts of flame. The second the ladle touched the surface, it quickly changed it's appearance to that of an emerald, glowing, rather innocent looking drink. It was almost as if it was trying to look inviting, and pleasant.

"Deedee – are you sure? I don't think it's a good idea. . ." Albus said weakly, entranced by the emerald glow. She slowly started to tip the ladle to her mouth, but Albus grabbed her by the shoulder, snatched the ladle out of her quivering hand, and drank the potion.

Memories began to swirl before his eyes. He could see his mother. . . and his father. . . They were both arguing about something. . .

"Stop your bickering!" Albus shouted. They both turned towards him, frightened. He raised his wand, ready to strike. No, I don't want to. Don't make me. . . Please don't make me. I'll do anything. Take me instead. I don't want to. . .

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, and both his parents fell flat on their backs, dead.

"Albus! What did you do?" came the voice of Aberforth. No! Not him too. . .

"Get out of it, Aberforth. Don't meddle in things you don't understand," Albus stated firmly. With that, he murdered his beloved brother. Nooooooo! Why? Why? KILL ME!

"Albus! Albus! Wake up," said a hysterical voice just ahead of him.

I'll kill you too Desdemona. You've caused nothing but heartache. Please, move aside. Move aside you silly girl. A firmer voice took hold. No. Please don't make me kill her too. She's been so nice to me.

"ALBUS! WAKE UP!" A stream of ice cold water rained down upon him. "Are you alright? Did it work?" Deedee asked urgently.

"Are you insane? What are you playing at? That was a nightmare!" Albus roared, fury breaking his smooth surface. He had not been this angry in many years. Or at least, he'd never let it show.

"What do you mean? The potion worked!"

"You could have killed me! Or worse, I could have killed you! Do you have any idea how danger--"

"Calm down Albus. Everything is fine now," Deedee said calmly. Albus was only now aware that he had toppled over, and was now lying on his back, with Deedee bent awkwardly over him. Cold sweat was pouring down his face. Deedee's face didn't look remotely worried or sympathetic. If anything, she looked triumphant.

"You and your crazy ideas!" Albus went on. ". . .demonic, perverted--" His mouth was blocked; he could no longer rave about how crooked this girl was. The girl who had just locked lips with him. Albus tried to sit up, but couldn't. He broke away from her, and she looked into his eyes, quite nonplussed.

"Good night Albus," she said, getting up. She left him there on the floor, confused. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but certainly not this. He felt sort of used. Or perhaps, Deedee felt that she had just embarrassed him or something. Whatever it was, it was rather awkward. Albus sat up and rubbed his eyes. He never wanted to take that potion again. They knew it worked, and that was all they needed to know. One of the greatest curiosities of the world, was what future held in store. This was not to be the last time Albus had to drink Essence of Death.

The next day, Deedee and Albus didn't talk much. They past each other in the corridors a few times in between classes, but didn't say anything. It wasn't until later in the evening when the bewitched piece of parchment burned in Albus' school bag. He quickly took it out, and read what Deedee had written.

Sorry about last night. It was rather awkward, you know, just leaving you after you'd tried out the potion. How was it, by the way?

Utterly dreadful, Albus wrote, in swooping cursive. It made me feel like someone else; sort of like I wanted to kill. It was the worst feeling I've ever felt.

I'm sorry you had to go through that. Did it effect you straight away, or was it a gradual change?

It's hard to explain. Moving on. . .

Okay, I suppose you really don't want to talk – or, write about it. I could go on for hours about the potion. I was just awful to watch. It was an extraordinary experience though. But, the way you were screaming. . . Makes you wonder. . .

Now really Desdemona, I thought we just agreed to get off the subject. And it doesn't make you wonder if you were the one trying it. I know perfectly well what I saw and I don't wish to share. Moving on. . .

Okay, okay. Talk about touchy! I'm just very curious, that's all! I want to know what it was like--

Don't you dare go and try it. You'll regret it, and it might give you bad ideas.

Did you call me 'Desdemona'?

Well, I figured it would have a greater effect on you. You know, it is your name. . .

Oh, alright. I suppose that will have to do. Names are so interesting. They can bare so much meaning. What's your full name?

Albus Brian Dumbledore. Why?

Oh, just curious. I'm always so curious. I just have to know how much there is, or what lies beneath, or how far or deep something can go.

What's your full name?

Desdemona Lilith Grindelwald, and proud of it.

Hey, do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me this Saturday? We could go to the Hogshead Pub, if you want.

Sounds lovely.

Saturday came quickly, and Albus was just finishing some last minute homework when he looked out the window and saw a few people heading towards Hogsmeade. He had lost track of time reading a fascinating book on lycanthropy. The Essence of Death potion had been turned in the previous day, and they would find out how they did on Monday. Albus was anxious to find out what Professor Prince thought of it, seeing as though it was ever so slightly made up.

Albus turned up his collar against the wind. It was mid December and snow was pelting towards the ground like there was no tomorrow. He made his way down the street and eventually made it to the dingy little Hogshead Pub. He didn't much like it there, but he knew Deedee did, and after all, it was all about making the other person happy, right? This theory had gotten him this far, so it seemed to be successful.

"There you are Albus. Get inside!" Deedee called towards him. She was standing in the doorway. Albus got inside as quickly as he could, and found that Deedee had already ordered him a butterbeer. It was so warming taking his first sip of the pleasant drink. Deedee was scanning through the pages of today's copy of TheDaily Prophet.

"Anything interesting today, Dee?" Deedee peered up at Albus over the top of the paper.

"They've announced the candidates for the sixth and seventh Wizengamot chairs. I think Professor Prince should get it."

"Prince was nominated? You're kidding!" Albus said, aghast, while pulling his chair closer to Deedee's in order to see the paper for himself.

Candidates For the Wizengamot High Court

Madam Evelyn Prince, writes Araminta Meliflua, special correspondent, has been announced to have been nominated for the sixth open chair in the Wizengamot Court. She is currently Potions Mistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and is also in good place to take over as Headmistress after the departure of Phineas Nigellus if the Wizengamot nomination proves to be in vain. The nominations were announced in the early hours of the morning, and barely made it to the press. "I just want to be able to give justice to those who deserve it, and delve deep to discover the truth," says Prince, at a press conference this morning. She is in good league to take the place of Dilys Derwent (official Wizengamot name, Rhondin Wulfric) who was also a previous Headmaster of Hogwarts, who announced his departure of the High Court on the sixteenth of December the last.

Others in the running are The Misuse of Magic Office's Griselda Marchbanks, and The Department of Mysteries popular Unspeakable, Tiberius Ogden. The Ministry has not released at this time any further candidates.

The Ministry of Magic has also refused to release the name of the other retiring Wulfric member. It has been speculated though that it might be Alambil Wulfric (birth name, Jennet Quibble), who at this time approaches her one hundred seventh birthday.

For those who don't know the rules of the High Court, let me explain.

There has always been seven members, or judges shall I say. It is up to them to pass decrees (the most recent one being the one legalizing Muggle hunting), and on special occasions, determine the fate of those accused. The Minister or Ministress of Magic is able to impose on few accounts, but that makes an unlucky eight. Once nominated (how, unknown), the witch or wizard finally selected to join the High Court is dubbed a new name. The same person or thing that chooses them also chooses their name. The High Court members are always given the surname of Wulfric. That name is only to be used in court, and they are allowed to keep their birth name on regular days. Their Wizengamot name is then stuck between their first name and their middle name. For example, judge Alambil's court name is just as you would guess: Alambil Wulfric. On regular days though, it would be Jennet Alambil Wulfric Beatrix Quibble. Who makes the rules, I haven't the faintest idea.

The selection of new judges on the Wizengamot High Court is to take place on July the third.

"Well that was one heck of a long article. Very informative; I like that writer," said Albus.

"Ah, but little do you know, the blurb about legalizing Muggle Hunting was her idea. She's a Black; Cassiopeia's Aunt, I think," Deedee replied. "There's know way any other writer for The Daily Prophet would have let a blurb like that just slip in."

"So, do you want to go anywhere? I need to clear my head. I think I had too much butterbeer," Albus said, rubbing his head.

"You get high on butterbeer?" Deedee asked incredulously. "You only drank one bottle," she said in an undertone. "Alright, we'll go to Madam Puddifoot's to get some coffee."

They made their way slowly through the snow to the cozy little coffee shop, heads down against the wind. When they entered a burst of snow made it's way through the door causing several customers to turn their already pink, wind-swept faces down.

"Hello, m'dears. How can I help y'all on this fine chillin' day?" asked a rosy-cheeked woman, who had a slight Swedish accent, bustling over to their table.

"Two coffees," Deedee said flatly. Now that they were in a restaurant that comprised of adequate lighting, Albus noticed that Deedee was wearing dark makeup around her eyes. She then noticed his stare, and delved into conversation.

"So I think Prince liked the potion. Her expression when she first saw it. . ." Albus wasn't listening. Those eyes. Those beautiful, yet some how horrid eyes. They told a story, yet it was as if it had yet to be translated from some foreign language.

". . . saw the horrible version of what's-his-face's love potion, I couldn't help it. It was just so funny!" Yet laughter shown in the face, it didn't quite reach the eyes. They were quite unaffected by their surroundings, which was slightly unnerving.

"Did you hear me? Albus, are you even listening?"

"Wha? Oh, right. Yeah, Prince did look rather astounded."

"So I think this little potion-project has really made a difference. I mean, we're friends! Of all people in the world to become friends! It's kind of sad that it's over now, you know --"

"'Scuse me ma'am, sir, your coffee's ready," said a small girl. "S'there anything else I can get y'all?" Deedee looked like she was trying very hard not to curse this girl for interrupting.

"No, we're alright thanks," she said, in a very forced-calm way.

"Who're you? I've never seen you here before," Albus said curiously. The girl looked taken aback by his politeness after she saw the horrible expression on Deedee's face.

"My Aunt sent for me from Sweden. She's own the shop, she does. She said she wants 'The legacy to live on.' See, she doesn't have no kids of her own."

"How very interesting. Now if you don't mind. . ." Deedee said flatly.

"Good to meet you. . . ah, what was your name?" Albus said, ignoring Deedee's tuts.

"M'name's Mary. Um, good day to you sir, and ma'am," with that, she scurried away.

"You know Deedee, you're not very social, are you? You could have been a little nicer," Albus said crossly. She made a sour face, and they finished their coffee.

Everyone seemed to be in the stores, for the streets were rather empty. The snow was coming down even harder than before, disabling one's vision to perhaps a foot in front of them. Deedee didn't seem to want to go in a store, so they took advantage of the streets being vacant. They took shelter under a tree, and after wiping some snow off their faces the they looked at each other.

"What now?" Albus asked, while moving closer in order to stay warm. Deedee turned towards him, and again he fell under the spell cast by her haunting eyes. They held secrets, terrible truths, something you couldn't imagine; but what? Even the color was odd. . . Her eyes were like a glittery brown, very dark brown. They were closer together now. Closer. . .closer yet. A smile played across the face of the woman standing before Albus. Her fair skin made the snow look filthy, yet somehow there was a sick, no, troubled shade of gray singeing her cheeks.

Before Albus knew it, he had kissed her. All he remembered afterwards in the Common Room by the toasty fire was that it had been a very cold kiss. He wished now that it had lasted longer, though he wasn't sure why. He didn't even know if he loved her. He did enjoy her company, though she seemed to always be the one in charge of things. Did he love her? Did she love him? Was love a real thing? Albus wondered what Deedee was thinking about at that very moment, and in the Slytherin Common Room, she was wondering the same about him.

While life, love, and other mysteries went on, school progressed just as well as any. The romance between the two most brilliant and popular students went by unnoticed. They wanted to keep it secret. They would sometimes go to Hogsmeade together, but generally in the evening. They were only allowed to stay out late because they were Head Boy and Head Girl. It became known to the entire school about their potion, and how pleased Professor Prince had been, which made a few people suspicious of Albus, wondering if he was going out with Deedee.

"I love you, my princess," Albus said quietly one evening in The Hog's Head pub. Deedee's eyes snapped to the young man sitting next to her, and her eyes seemed to slacken, if that makes sense. Albus wasn't sure, but they looked like the were glistening slightly. Had no one ever sad that to her before? She quickly turned away to cover up the fact.

"I've never felt like this for anyone before now Albus," she said weakly. "You're the only person who has ever loved me, you know."

"I thought I should tell you. I wouldn't want you to go to bed tonight not knowing. If I didn't tell you, you may never know. Terrible prices must be paid for breaking the bondage of truth." It was obvious now that the woman's eyes were full of tears. It was a moment like no other. No price could ever be put on it. It was one of the best moments of their life, yet it felt as if it shouldn't be. There were many secrets still kept in this relationship; Albus knew she wasn't lying just now, but she often did; Deedee had an ulterior motive in getting to know him; and soon things would change.