I had never seen another human cry as much as Hazel did that day.

While Rose was charged with stabilizing the Ministry, and my father organized the Auror office, I was on babysitting duty. Officially, I was Hazel's guard in case she was being targeted for the kill next. Unofficially, I was making sure that she wasn't going to join Scorpius on his run from the law. But Auror or not, I was still Hazel's best friend. And possibly fiancé, considering she hadn't said yes or no yet.

But guard duty mainly meant I put my arms around her as she cried.

"How could he?" she whispered again and again. Her grey eyes weren't stormy anymore. They were paler, with a glassy look that stared off into nothing.

I sighed. No one could have thought Scorpius had killed Hermione Granger. But the evidence was there, no matter how much Hazel wanted to run away from it. Awkwardly I patted her on the back for hours. After a certain point, my hand felt numb with repeating the same movements. But after a certain point, I hardly cared. In the matter of Hazel Bellatrix Malfoy, I would run across the Atlantic Ocean for her.

Soon, my father came in the room. He was moving stiffly, perhaps because of his being uncomfortable with Hazel, perhaps because he was sixty years old. After watching the two of us for a moment, he sat down slowly in one of the many chairs scattered throughout the conference room.

"Is Hazel all right?" he asked me.

My friend glared at him through tears, and for a moment I felt a wave of relief. When Hazel was too sad or too sick to glare, that meant there was a problem.

"Hazel's fine," she said softly.

"Great." My father never knew how to act normal around Hazel. Mainly because she looked like her father, but also she had a knack of staring at people to make them feel uncomfortable. "Albus? You're... good?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm great, Dad. Why are you here?" The words were oddly defensive, and I could almost see my father flinch at the hostility embedded in them.

"I'm sending a team of Aurors to America— strictly undercover," he said, sounding more certain, more like he used to be. "Ron tells me that Scorpius may have fled there, with possibly more information for the Americans."

"You think he's working with them?" I said. "But they're so... brutal. Scorpius was a Hufflepuff."

Hazel rolled her eyes. Now that she wasn't crying, she was just as sarcastic and rude as ever.

"I trust Ron's judgement," my father said.

"Am I going to be part of one of these teams?" I asked, desperate to get out of babysitting. I loved Hazel, but I couldn't stand hearing her cry any longer.

Ignoring me, my father looked to Hazel. "I wanted to ask you, Hazel, to join the team of Aurors in America. You know the most about Scorpius— you might know what he'll do or where he'll be."

Feeling too much like I still lived at his house I asked again, "Can I go?"

"You'll be trying to capture him," Hazel said hoarsely. "And I'll be helping you. And if we do... he'll be sent to Azkaban, won't he?" It was a struggle for her not to burst into tears again.

"He killed Hermione, Hazel," my father said. "Of course he'll be sent to Azkaban." He sighed. "I know how much you love your brother, Hazel, but he is now being classified as a Dark Wizard."

Hazel flushed pale. "But he hasn't used Horcruxes, or Inferni— right?"

My father winced at the mention of the Horcrux, the device that had caused him so much trouble in his younger years. "Using Unforgivable Curses are something Dark Wizards are known for. Your brother made his choice, now you need to make yours. Will you help serve the Wizarding World?"

There was a silence. "Fine," Hazel growled. Her eyes dropped to the ground.

"Dad," I said. "Will I be part of this?"

"Of course," he said, leaving the room. "You're in charge of protecting her and one of the Obliviators I'm sending with you."

I frowned. "We don't need an Obliviator. I know how to erase memories— everyone does."

"You know how to erase Muggle memories. Wizard memories are a bit trickier, a bit more complex. But the person I'll be sending knows how." With that vague response, he left the door slightly ajar.

Speaking of memory. "Hey Hazel? With all of the... erm, excitement I didn't get a chance to ask you if you were going to say yes."

Looking confused Hazel began wrapping her hair around a finger. "About what?"

I must've been a worse suitor that I expected if she couldn't even remember.

"When I asked you to marry me," I said disbelievingly.

"Oh, that." The hair twiddling increased as Hazel hid her eyes from me. "Well, I have been thinking about it a little, and have decided."

It was amazing that I had any hope, considering her behavior. "And?" I nudged her.

"Albus..." she said hesitantly, "I can't marry you."

It was like a jolt of lightning hit me. Hazel wasn't the girl who I had grown up with, taken to the ball, kissed even anymore. How was it that one sentence could change my entire perception of my friend.

I thought she loved me. The lonely words pounded in my skull, oddly familiar. Then I remembered. I had thought the same thing when Cora left with nothing but a son I didn't know anything about.

Hazel was staring at me with concern in her grey eyes. "Albus?" she said gently, the way she talked to Anthony when he was a toddler, "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," I said loudly, looking everywhere but her penetrating eyes. "Why wouldn't I?" As the words left my mouth they seemed stone-like, through another mouth but mine.

She was still looking at me through concerned eyes. "You sure about that?" She bit her lip. "Albus— I'm really sorry if I hurt you. But I've never loved you like that. It's always been like a sister."

Did Hazel know that every word she said was making my heart fall into pieces all over again.

I stood up abruptly and jammed my hands in my Auror jacket. "Hazel, I'm fine. I just want to be alone— please go away."

Hazel's eyes blazed. "Don't talk to me like that. Just because you're disappointed doesn't mean you can snap at me like some kind of a crocodile."

"Just GO!" I yelled.

Hazel pursed her lips together furiously, knowing that she could easily refuse. But upon seeing the look of hatred on my face, she walked out and slammed the door so hard that a vibration went through my feet.

Looking around the conference room, I looked for something to punch, or crush, or something to spend my anger. There was nothing.

Crack! The sky lit up outside of the window as lightning flickered through the clouds that had gathered over London. Silently I watched more lightning, the clouds grow darker and darker, and the driving sheets of rain that hit pedestrians in the streets below.

Those rain drops were so similar to the tears silently sliding down my face.

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Either I'm getting too emotional or this chapter had a good reason to cry about. The entire time I was writing this (on Christmas!) tears were sliding down my face like the ones on Albus. 

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you comment or vote! Thanks again, --Brooke