For probably the first time in his life, Cameron had begun dreaming about essays, boiling cauldrons, and early-morning quidditch practices. While his younger self might have identified them as nightmarish symbolism, his current self knew exactly what they were: a desperate need to be back at school, even if it meant facing all the parts he dreaded. He awoke from each dream with a sense of longing, and a sense of disappointment as well—disappointment that he was in his Irvingly bedroom, his wand tucked away and unable to be used, and his Hogwarts robes folded in the trunk at the end of his bed.

It might have been that longing that spurred his trip to Diagon Alley the next day, or maybe it was a natural need to be in a more magical atmosphere than Irvingly had to offer.

He'd made his rounds. Fudge & Sons—a secondhand bookshop—an owl emporium—and then, finally, the Apothecary.

As a younger student he'd never felt comfortable inside apothecaries, only because he'd been so insecure in his knowledge of herbology and potions that he hated having to admit that he couldn't tell the difference between a fairy and a doxy wing. Now he was older, more confident, and... well, at least better-educated, and with his hopes still set in the direction of a healing career, he couldn't help himself.

And apparently, neither could Alice.

She was the only one in the store when he entered, and she was right there. He froze in place, his gaze caught on hers as he fought the urge to flee (as if that would have helped!). Finally, he swallowed the thickness in his throat and his pride, and offered a tight smile.

"Shopping so soon?" he asked, as if he wasn't there doing the same thing.

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