“This can’t be about us,” Albus said, frowning as he handed the book back to Scorpius. “It says ‘woman.’ Twice.” He leant in and pointed it out, as though Scorpius couldn’t read. “And it’s a love poem.”

“Never mind,” was the quiet reply as Scorpius slammed the book closed and climbed off Al’s bed then into his own. Al stayed awake and listened for the change in his friend’s breathing to indicate he’d fallen asleep, then he crept over and took the book off the bedside table. He opened it to the dog-eared page and read the poem again.

“Oh.”

- END -

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