LIONHEART ❃ george weasley

045 | a confession of faith

"We need to talk," the girl insisted darkly, continuing to tug at her robes. She didn't fully meet her gaze.

"Yeah, we do," Albany agreed, tearing her robes out of her former friend's grasp.

"Not here."

Albany clenched her teeth. "Planning on killing me again?"

Faith tensed, and her lips parted as if to argue before she shut her jaw firmly. She nodded her head in the direction of the hallway, and took a few steps towards the door, lingering to see if Albany would follow.

Albany stood her ground, guard up and wary. "Why should I go with you?"

Faith kicked at the carpeted floor, gaze low. She was quiet for a long moment, due to contemplation or reluctance, Albany wasn't sure. "Because you know more about the magic we're using than I do," she muttered eventually, scuffing her shoes. "We have answers for each other."

She made a fair point, as much as Albany hated to admit it - and all the research in the world wouldn't tell her everything she needed to know about Faith. Only Faith herself could do that, and now she had come to her willingly. She was either stupidly walking into a trap, or stupidly walking away from her only opportunity to properly confront the girl. Merlin and Arthur had said they were "looking into it", but surely whatever they were doing in the background would be far less informative than discussing everything face to face.

Faith narrowed her eyes, glancing sideways to her. Her glare was frosty. "Are you coming, or what?"

Albany bit her cheek and flexed her fingers. "Okay."

Instinctively, she tightened the strap on Evander's watch, and kept her other hand on her wand in the pocket of her robes. Perhaps she was walking into a trap, but she'd be damned if she came unprepared.

Faith led her to Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor. Fortunately, it wasn't far from the library, so she didn't have to endure the tense silence that thickened as they walked for long.

Faith cast a silencing charm on the bathroom once they were inside, and locked the door. Albany felt her skin prickle with discomfort at these actions, though didn't object. She didn't exactly want anyone walking in or overhearing either, and convinced herself that was their purpose. The bathroom had been fully restored since her last visit; it was impossible to tell any destruction had taken place if she hadn't witnessed it firsthand.

"Where's Myrtle?" Albany asked, glancing around the room warily. The bathroom ghost didn't care much for keeping secrets; if they were silencing the room and locking the door, they might as well wrap up all the loose ends.

"Dealt with," Faith responded vaguely. She must have felt Albany's glare on her back, as she turned around with an eyeroll. "She'll be fine, calm down. I just can't let anyone else overhear this."

"Overhear what?" Albany asked, stepping forward with squared shoulders. "What did you bring me here to tell me-"

"No, I didn't bring you here to tell you anything," Faith snapped. "I brought you here to get answers. If you give them to me, then I'll talk."

Albany bit her cheek hard. "Fine," she spat after a moment's contemplation. "What do want to know?"

Faith regarded her with a critical glare. "You were in the paper," she began, stepping slowly forward. "With George Weasley. What happened in that photograph? What did you do to him?"

Albany was strongly reconsidering her agreement to this interrogation. Her whole body had tensed, and she stepped back only to hit a sink.

"If I don't get answers, neither do you," Faith reminded her, voice harsh.