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TALKING TO GEORGE was far easier said than done, and ignoring her better ideas, Albany found herself avoiding a serious conversation with the boy at all costs. Nervous butterflies erupted in her stomach merely being in his presence, and the thought of actually expressing her feelings was downright nauseating. Her thoughts were in shambles as things stood - how she would even go about saying them aloud, she had no idea. Fortunately, she had other priorities to address first.

"Congratulations on your success," Merlin praised as Albany slumped against a desk in a spare classroom. His proud smile was evident in his voice as he and Arthur appeared across from her. "Your magic was very impressive."

"After nearly dying, yeah," Albany sighed, rubbing harshly at her weary eyes. She'd been feeling incredibly drained in the days following the second task, and was laying the blame on her overwhelmed mental state. "I guess. Thanks."

The two ghosts quickly picked up on her less than enthusiastic mood, and as Albany lowered her hands from her face, she noticed Arthur hastily covering up a frown.

Albany huffed in their wary silence. "Traumatic as it was, there are things I need to discuss, so if we could talk about it...." She gestured openly with her arms, and sighed in relief when Merlin finally opened his mouth.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, catching Albany off guard. "For not properly acknowledging your worries beforehand. You clearly had good reason to panic, but I didn't listen."

Albany winced, not entirely comforted by the words. Arthur shuffled awkwardly on the spot.

"We thought you were gone, Albany," the blond mumbled reluctantly, not quite meeting her gaze. "When the grindylows got you, we were pushed away suddenly. We couldn't see you or even hear you... we were worried sick. Which is why it's not easy for us to talk about it either."

Albany bit her cheek, fighting a cold shiver. "Well..." she began, and then sighed, meeting the ghost's gaze. "You're gonna have to get over it, because I'm the one who nearly died. If it weren't for Freya, I wouldn't even be-"

"Freya?" Merlin echoed, eyes widening in surprise.

"Yeah, thanks for telling me about her, by the way," Albany snapped. She took another short inhale and attempted to release the tension in her shoulders. "Sorry. I just...." I just wish you would trust me. I wish I could trust you. "It's been a long week."

"I didn't think you'd ever meet her," Merlin admitted softly. Arthur's jaw had tightened as he eyed his companion warily. "I didn't think she was still... around."

"Freya," Arthur said, frowning at the taste of the name on his tongue. "As in...."

"The Lady of the Lake," Merlin answered shortly. He didn't meet Arthur's hard stare.

"My other direct ancestor," Albany added, unimpressed. "But not like that would've been important to mention at all, right?"

Merlin winced. "I'm sorry, Albany," he said, and the apology, genuine as it came across, only furthered Albany's frustration. "What happened?"

"She saved my life, there's not much to it," Albany said. "She made this giant bubble of air underwater. Then we talked a bit, and she had to go."

Merlin didn't miss the heavy emphasis she put on talked. "What about?" he asked after a beat, tentative.

"Did you know you were her soulmate?" Albany didn't hesitate, taking in the expressions of the two ghosts carefully. Arthur's face was tight with carefully concealed emotion; Merlin's was shocked and confused.

"How?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing. "That doesn't make sense, Arthur is-"

"You didn't know?" Albany shot back, narrowing her eyes. "Are you serious?"

"It's not possible," Merlin said decidedly.

"But neither was Faith being the descendant of Morgana, remember?" Albany challenged, angry heat rising to her face. "How much do you actually know? Are you just pretending to be all-wise?"

"How do you know Freya was telling the truth?" Arthur asked, voice quiet but firm. A line was creasing his forehead.

"What reason would she have to lie?" Albany retorted, and then took a breath, sitting back against the desk. "She said that Merlin was her soulmate, but she wasn't his. That's all I know."

"How could she be sure?" Merlin asked quietly, more to himself than either of the other two.

"How does anyone know who their soulmate is?" Albany argued wearily, raising an eyebrow.

"You just... know," Arthur answered, though seemed suddenly doubtful. He had yet to look at Merlin, and Albany had a sneaking feeling there was some amount of jealousy involved.

Merlin was silent for a moment longer. Eventually, both Arthur and Albany did glance to him in questioning. He looked up and was caught off guard by their gazes.

"There are... certain spells, that will tell you," he murmured. "But Arthur's right too. Everything just clicks when you're with them."

"Did everything click when you were with Freya?" Arthur questioned sharply, and Merlin's head snapped up to meet his gaze with a pointed glare.

"You know you're my soulmate," Merlin snapped. "Don't be childish."

"Oh, I'm being childish?!"

Albany rolled her eyes, standing to leave before their bickering got any worse. She had to grip the desk for a moment, dizzy. Her movement caught their eyes, and she glared at them both.

"Thank you for your great help and counselling," she said drily. "When you've figured out your own issues, we can talk again. Until then, I don't need any more cause for stress in my life."

"Albany-" Merlin started, face falling as she headed for the classroom door, but Albany did not falter in her steps, and the ghosts disappeared.

She was rubbing at her eyes again as she left the room, and was caught off guard as she bumped right into Moody, who was standing outside. Immediately her heart dropped into her stomach, and she stumbled backwards, eyes widening in horror.

"Miss Bronwen," the professor greeted her gruffly. His magical eye burned right through her soul, and she froze where she stood, terrified he had overheard. "Are you finished using my classroom?"

"Your classroom's on the other side of the castle," Albany managed to respond, barely aware of the words leaving her mouth as she stared.

"My classroom is wherever I want it to be," Moody growled. His breath smelled disgusting. "Are your friends going to leave, too?"

Albany's mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a moment that lasted far too long. "I was talking to myself," she said weakly, her stomach knotting. "There's nobody else in there."

Moody examined her carefully for a long moment, before he brushed past. He lingered in the doorway. "Talking to oneself isn't a good look for a young witch," he advised lowly. "People might think you're... crazy."

Albany's fists clenched. "People can think what they want," she retorted, swallowing the bile in her throat. "I'll be the judge of what I am or am not."

Faith brushed past her then too, and Albany was so surprised by the sudden appearance of her former friend that she failed to form words. Was she listening too? But Faith kept her head down as she hurried into the classroom after Moody. The only glimpse Albany got of the girl's face was as she turned to close the door; the bags beneath her eyes were prominent.

Albany stepped back, left thoroughly sickened by her encounter with the pair. Part of her weighed heavy with regret for denying Faith help; instead, she'd told the girl to go to Moody, and Faith had never looked worse. She had always kept herself clean and everything around herself neat and tidy; even her space in the dorms was now a mess. Yet Albany couldn't bring herself to try and fix things.

She's kind of possessed by an evil sorceress who has now made multiple attempts on my life.

Albany wanted nothing more than to head to bed and spend the rest of the day under her duvet. The mere thought of heading back to class filled her with dread - but that said, her lessons were a distraction from everything else that clouded her mind in her free moments. In the long run, it was better to throw herself into her work than endure restless periods of sleep, was it not?

Of course, the Weasley twins would have had a third, much more preferable option. And running into them on her way to a Transfiguration class they were clearly ditching made that option all the more available.

Pranking people.

She heard their laughter and rushed footsteps echoing in the corridor ahead ever before they turned the corner, and the sweet sound alone relieved some of her stress. As they skidded around the bend to head her direction, there was certainly a sight to behold; both twins were red in the face and covered in white feathers, the joyful grins on their faces a drastic contrast to the furious sneer of Argus Filch, who was chasing them as fast as his feet could carry him. George's expression lit up even further as he noticed his bemused friend standing ahead of him, and Albany felt warmth rush to her face as they met one another's gaze.

"Lionheart!" George exclaimed happily, and Fred whooped as the two of them made a mad dash right for her.

"What-" Albany began, but had no time to finish her question as she was scooped up by the mischievous pair. She shrieked as Fred helped heave her into a piggyback around George's shoulders and back, and had no choice but to roll with it as both boys continued their sprint. George laughed as he held her thighs where they wrapped around his waist, and Albany threw her arms around his shoulders, sure her face was beet red.

A feather flew into her hair and she shook her head vigorously, catching a glimpse of Filch behind them. Running with the old caretaker were, to her complete confusion, several squawking chickens, the apparent source of the feathers. She turned her head back around, holding on tighter as George continued to run with little effort.

"What's with the chickens?" she asked, trying not to giggle as she bounced against the boy's back.

George's laugh was wheezy in response, and the sound alone elicited a wide smile from Albany.

"Transfigured as much furniture as we could in the staffroom!" Fred explained with a huge grin, glancing over his shoulder from a few steps ahead. "Into chickens!"

"Including Mrs Norris!" George added cheerfully, and Albany's eyebrows raised in amusement. That explained Filch's rage.

"Why are you running?" she laughed. "Haven't you been caught?"

"Of course not!" Fred replied happily. He grinned at her. "You're our alibi!"

Albany rolled her eyes playfully, though the sarcastic remark she had planned in response was lost as George's hands slid a little further up her thighs and her breath hitched. He adjusted the way in which she was clinging to his back so his hips had more freedom for running, though his hands remained in place. Albany tucked her face into the crook of his neck to hide her violent blush; her cheeks were so hot he could surely feel it.

He likes you, her thoughts reminded her helpfully, as her heart rate sped up to a point that had to be unhealthy. He likes you like that. Don't you like him too, Lionheart?

"Any plans on when you'll stop running?" she asked instead, voice weak and muffled by George's robes. Each inhale carried his scent, sweet yet sour and smoky.

"Old Filch can't keep up forever," George responded mischievously, his throat rumbling against Albany's palms. "Move your hands? I can't breathe."

"Oh! Sorry," Albany apologised, moving them away from the boy's neck hastily.

"It's okay," he laughed, shoulders shaking as he did. "What class do you have now?"

"We have Transfiguration," Albany said pointedly, though her smile didn't falter. "Need I remind you."

"Be sure to say hi to McG for us," Fred snickered, turning a left in the direction of their classroom.

"Feeling too unwell to attend?" Albany teased.

"Chickenpox, actually," George joked in response. Albany giggled. "Dreadful thing."

"So I've heard. As long as it's not contagious."

"Oh, it is," George said as they arrived outside of the Transfiguration classroom. His expression was grave as Albany slid down from his back and turned to face him. "Very contagious."

"Pity," Albany sighed. "I might have enjoyed hanging out with you."

George grinned again and Albany's heart skipped a beat. His eyes momentarily glanced down the corridor to where Filch had just turned the corner, the old man horribly out of breath and struggling to catch up with them.

"You don't have to say it back, by the way."

Albany glanced at George, surprised. "What?"

The boy's ears had turned redder than his hair. "We can just... forget I said anything, if you'd prefer."

Albany blinked, struggling to fully comprehend his words. Say something, a part of her was urging. But I'm not ready-

"George!" Fred called, halfway down the hall already. Filch was hurrying closer, chicken Mrs Norris on his heels.

George nudged Albany playfully with his elbow, before offering her a small smile and starting after his brother.

"George-" Albany called, half surprised by her own voice. The redhead paused, glancing at her hopefully. She faltered. What do you feel, Lionheart? "Don't get caught."

George grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it."

And then he took off running after his twin, the two whooping and cheering as they continued on again. A pleasant warmth remained in Albany's chest in their absence, and she brought a hand up as though to hold it in. Whatever the feeling was, it was something to be treasured. That much she was sure of.