Just the way you look tonight – a Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic
1.7k words, G rated
Scorpius will never forget watching his parents dance to his mum’s favourite song. So one night, when he catches his dad dancing alone, he asks if he can join in.
Inspired by this gorgeous art by @scorpiusdraco.
Read the fic on AO3
*
The record crackles into life and vibrant music croons through the ballroom. Scorpius immediately drops the toy he’s playing with and looks up. Music can only mean one thing – his parents are going to dance, and there’s nothing he loves more than watching them dance.
He watches enrapt as his mother waltzes across the room on her own, her skirt flaring out, hair flying. A broad grin stretches across her face and she closes her eyes. Lost in her own little world for a moment.
In the corner, his father is still reclining in his big, carved wooden throne. Although he hasn’t moved, Scorpius can see his gaze is completely focused on Astoria. The corners of his lips twitch up into a soft, soppy little smile. His fingers tap the arm of the chair in time to the music, the emerald facets of his rings glittering in the candlelight.
Halfway across the room, Astoria opens her eyes. She never stops dancing, but she fixes her eyes on Draco and stretches a hand out towards him.
“Come and dance with me, dear.”
Draco’s smile widens and he settles himself deeper into his chair. “But I’m quite content just watching you.”
Astoria switches her gaze to Scorpius. “Do you think Daddy should dance with me? Is he being lazy?”
Draco sighs, but Scorpius can see that he’s only pretending to hesitate. “It’s been a very long day, and...”
Astoria twirls over, and takes his hand. “And... this is my favourite song. Come on.”
“Fine, but only because it’s your favourite.”
He lets her pull him to his feet and Scorpius applauds very briefly before clasping his hands together and falling silent to watch.
Draco settles a hand on Astoria’s waist, and she beams as she alights her hand gently on his shoulder. They turn their bodies in towards one another, resting their foreheads together.
The rest of the world might as well not matter to them. They’re gazing into each other’s eyes, and it’s the most amazing thing Scorpius has ever seen. Better than any book he’s ever read, or any picture he’s examined. So much love. Intense, focused, beautiful. Just knowing something like that exists in the world makes him feel safer and warmer.
He melts against the wall and hugs himself as he watches them. Feet moving in perfect rhythmic precision. Fingers twined together. At one point, Draco twirls Astoria round and dips her. She tightens her grip on his shoulder, but he lifts her smoothly back to her feet and starts to sing along to the music as they move off again.
His voice is deep, breathless from the dancing and a little off key, but Astoria doesn’t seem to care as she blushes and giggles.
“With each word your tenderness grows, Tearing my fear apart, And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, Touches my foolish heart...”
Scorpius gazes at his parents with stars in his eyes and a heart of molten gold, and he knows he’s going to remember this moment – this night, this song – forever.
*
Scorpius sneaks down the stairs, footsteps feather light, breath held, making for the door down to the kitchen. It’s almost midnight, which means it’s snack time. His dad doesn’t seem to be around, so mission Pepper Imp is a go.
As he tiptoes towards the ballroom, however, a record crackles into life that makes him stop in his tracks.
Some day, when I'm awfully low,
When the world is cold,
I will feel a glow,
Just thinking of you,
And the way you look tonight.
The door is open and golden light spills out into the hall. Scorpius had been planning to run straight past, but now he’s frozen in the doorway, staring.
His dad has a glass of wine in his hand and is dancing on his own. He holds his arms outstretched as if he’s waiting for someone to waltz into them, and he hums softly along with the music. As he dances and sings, he rotates on the spot. Scorpius knows he should move, that he’s not supposed to be out of bed and he’s definitely not supposed to be witnessing this, but he’s transfixed.
So when his dad turns to face him, he’s stuck on the spot, and all he can do is swallows give a cheerful little wave.
“Um... h-hi, Dad!”
Draco drops his arms and takes a sip of his wine. He never blushes, but there’s a hint of colour on his cheeks all of a sudden.
“I thought you were in bed.”
Scorpius gestures over his shoulder towards the kitchen. “I needed a snack.”
“I see.”
They look at each other, at an awkward stalemate. Scorpius knows he should leave his dad to it and go and get his Imps, but he can’t. He’s tethered in place by the song that’s wound its way through his heart and into his memories.
“This was Mum’s favourite song.” He steps cautiously into the room. “You used to dance to it together.”
Draco hesitates, then sets his wine glass down on the wooden seat of the throne he used to in. “I thought you might have been too young to remember that.”
Scorpius shakes his head. “No. No, I remember! You would dip her and make her laugh. And you were so... so in love.” He looks down at his hands, heart wilting. This is too dangerous a topic for midnight on a Tuesday, even if it is the Christmas holidays.
“Yes,” Draco says simply.
For a moment, Scorpius thinks that’s all he’s going to get, and he starts planning his escape to the kitchen. He might be needing more than just Pepper Imps to cope with this.
But then Draco draws in a breath and twists one of his rings round his finger. “She was a beautiful dancer, wasn’t she?”
Scorpius looks up and nods eagerly. “She was. You both were. I...” He dares another step into the room. “Dad? C-can I, um... can I dance? With you? Would you mind?”
His dad blinks at him. “You want to dance?”
Scorpius nods. “Yes please. If it’s alright...” He trails off as the music finishes, leaving behind crackling silence and the uplifting memory of a love song.
His dad walks away, over to the record player. Scorpius watches his retreating back, pin straight and impenetrable. It feels like a dismissal.
“Never mind,” he murmurs, stepping back. “It’s not important. I should probably go back to bed anyway. Sorry I interrupted.”
He turns to flee, straight back up the stairs to the safety of his room, but before he can move an inch further, the music hums back into life. The bright beat and brassy chords ring out through the ballroom as Draco turns on his heel with a swoosh of his robes and holds his hand out to Scorpius.
“I hope you can keep up.”
Scorpius doesn’t grin. He’s so surprised that his emotions haven’t caught up. While his brain knows his dad is offering him a dance, the pieces of his heart are still scattered somewhere out in the dark hallway.
His feet carry him across the room and he takes his dad’s hand.
“You’re an old man,” he hears himself say, “of course I can keep up.”
“We’ll see.”
And then he’s flying. His dad spins him round so fast that he’s not sure if he’s dancing or falling. The room is a kaleidoscope blur of light. A bubble of laughter carries over the music and he thinks it belongs to him.
When the spinning stops he clings to his dad for dear life so he doesn’t fall, and his dad grins at him. At some point Scorpius’s heart catches up, beating in time to the music, soaring with every step across the ballroom floor.
It’s been so long since they last danced that he’s amazed he can still remember the steps, but they’re there. His feet find their mark, his shoulders relax, he stops gripping his dad’s hand, and when he remembers to stop panicking and look up, he finds his dad beaming at him.
It’s the sort of bright, fond smile that Scorpius always assumed was reserved for Astoria, but here it is, directed at him. He’s briefly dazzled by it, like he’s looked right at the sun on a summer day. What it means, he has no idea. But it makes him feel...
It makes him feel like he did as a child, watching his parents dance. Safe and warm. Full up inside. Like his heart is a rich pool of molten gold.
His dad squeezes his hand and sings along with the music, in his pitchy, imprecise voice.
“Lovely... Never ever change, Keep that breathless charm, Won’t you please arrange it, Cause I love you, Just the way you look tonight.”
Scorpius can’t say why, but the fact that it’s such a mess, off key and rough around the edges, makes it better. Maybe because it’s his dad, and it’s real, and raw, and means something.
He clings to the dying moments of the song like he clung to the memory of his parents dancing. When the last note fades, he hesitates to let go of his dad, and his dad must feel the same, because all of a sudden Scorpius finds himself wrapped up in an enormous, tight hug.
“I love you,” Draco murmurs. “I hope you know that.”
Scorpius thinks of his dad beaming at him as they danced, and he finally understands. It’s overwhelming and amazing and he thinks his heart might burst from it. He buries his face in his dad’s chest and nods.
“Love you too,” he mumbles.
This time he can practically feel his dad smiling. His grip tightens around Scorpius and a contented sigh resonates through him. He ducks down and presses a kiss to the top of Scorpius’s head, as Scorpius closes his eyes and focuses on storing this memory forever too. Two matching snap shots of love. Side by side and connected by a dance, and a song that was once his mother’s favourite.
On a sunny spring afternoon, Draco and Astoria discuss Scorpius’s education, and Draco recites a sonnet.
Inspired by this video of James Howard.
Read it on AO3
*
It’s a blazing spring day. The sun smiles down out of the cerulean sky, and the rose garden is in its brightest bloom. Draco and Astoria stroll hand in hand among the vibrant flowers, Scorpius running ahead of them, shouting about butterflies and bees and his favourite roses.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had that much energy in my life,” Astoria says, as Scorpius darts from bush to bush, barely pausing for a second.
“He certainly exhausts me. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”
“Oh, it’s wonderful. Just... overwhelming. I wish I could keep up.”
Draco squeezes her hand. “Me too.”
Astoria watches for a moment as Scorpius stoops down to inspect a daisy in the grass. “We still haven’t decided what we’re doing about school, have we?”
Draco glances at her, but she’s inscrutable. “No, I suppose we haven’t. I assume you have some thoughts?”
“Daphne’s sending her children to a local Muggle school. For a general education, of course. They learn all sorts. Reading and writing, music, geography, Muggle history, even Muggle science. It sounds quite fascinating.”
Draco sniffs. “I’m sure it is...”
“You don’t approve.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Astoria shoots him a little smile, and he rolls his eyes.
“It’s not that I don’t approve... I’m just not sure I like the idea of Scorpius being exposed to-“
“This is going to be a dangerous statement.”
Draco lets go of Astoria’s hand and pokes her gently in the side. “No, it’s not. Be quiet and listen to your husband for a moment.”
“I’ll shut up and let you dig yourself a hole. Go on.” She presses a finger to her lips.
“I’m not digging!”
She raises her eyebrows at him and doesn’t say anything.
He sighs. “All I’m trying to say is that... I don’t like the idea of Scorpius being exposed to a substandard education. Which by no account means that all Muggle education is substandard. On the contrary, I’m sure it’s excellent. But I do read those newspapers you leave lying around, Astoria. Those politicians meddling with Muggle education... It all seems terribly inconsistent, changeable as the wind, and the exams... Imagine taking a curious child like Scorpius and crushing all the joy out of him with all those exams. That’s what I’d be worried about. I mean look at him.”
They both fall silent and watch Scorpius. His attention is focused on one particular flower. When he realises his parents are watching him, he looks up and grins at them.
“There’s a bee!” He points at the flower and peels the petals back, twisting the stem to show them. “Look!”
“He loves the world,” Draco murmurs. “He loves learning. I don’t want him to lose that.”
Astoria twines her fingers with his and leans into him, turning to look up at his face. “That’s not the answer I expected you to give. I’m sorry.”
Draco lifts her hand up and kisses it. “I haven’t earned the benefit of the doubt, don’t worry. It’s something I’m working on.”
“No, you earn it every day. I just forget sometimes.”
Draco bows his head to hide what he’s worried might be a blush. “Anyway... Neither of us went to formal school before Hogwarts and we turned out alright. Eventually.”
“We did. But I think it would be nice for him to meet other children and make some friends. Muggle education experts say social development is very important.”
“We could take him to visit his cousins more often. I like Daphne. She has an excellent wine cellar.”
Astoria snorts and digs her elbow into his ribs. “What’s wrong with our wine cellar?”
“It’s much more fun to drink someone else’s expensive wine. Drinking one’s own can be somewhat painful. In fact, that’s something we could teach Scorpius during his home education.”
“We could... train him to be the world’s youngest Master Sommelier?”
“No. We could teach him the value of graciously accepting other people’s hospitality. Social education, just like your Muggle experts suggest.”
“Somehow, I’m not sure that’s quite what they were thinking of...” She links her arm with his and they set off walking in pursuit of Scorpius, who’s disappearing down the lawn in the distance. “What else would you teach our son, if he were to be educated at home?”
“History, obviously. Languages; we could even start him off with some basic runes. Literature — all the classics.”
“Are we including Muggle classics in this?”
“Such as?”
“Austen. Brontë.”
Draco wrinkles his nose. “Romance novels?”
Astoria pokes him in the side. “What would you have picked?”
“Shakespeare.”
“Says the man who was disparaging romances.”
“At least Shakespeare also wrote a great many tragedies, and history plays.”
“And sonnets, some of the most beautiful romantic poetry ever written.”
Up ahead, Scorpius starts running back towards them, waving his hands in excitement about something.
“Some of the sonnets may be relatable...” Draco admits.
Astoria grins and squeezes his arm. “Such as?”
“Such as... Sonnet 29.” Draco releases Astoria so he can turn to face her properly. He clears his throat. “‘When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes; I all alone beweep my outcast state; And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries; And look upon myself and curse my fate; Desiring this-’ Hang on, that’s wrong. I don’t think I can remember it...”
Astoria smiles. “You skipped a couple of lines. ‘Wishing me like to one more rich in hope; Featured like him-’”
Draco nods and starts reciting again, speaking along with Astoria. “‘Like him with friends possessed; Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope; With what I most enjoy contented least-’”
“Mummy, Daddy!” Scorpius bounces up to them, waving something in his hand. Astoria puts a finger to her lips and scoops him up into her arms.
“Sshh, Daddy’s reciting a poem for us.”
Scorpius twists round and stares at Draco, wide-eyed, as Draco continues, trying not to be tripped up by the fact that his audience has suddenly doubled in size.
“‘Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising; Haply I think on thee.’” He reaches out and taps Scorpius on the nose. Scorpius giggles and goes cross-eyed as he follows Draco’s finger. When Draco pulls hand back, he clamps his own hand over his nose, still grinning. Draco smiles as he carries on.
“‘And then my state, (Like to the lark at break of day arising from sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings; That then I scorn to change my state with kings.’”
When Draco finishes, Astoria taps her fingers on Scorpius’s back in applause, and Scorpius cheers. Draco gives them a small bow.
“Thank you, thank you. I’m stunned I remembered that.”
“It was pretty,” Scorpius says. “What‘s it mean?”
“It’s about love,” Draco replies, shooting Astoria a smile. “And hardship. And redemption, I suppose. Very relatable.”
“It was written by Shakespeare.” Astoria brushes her fingers through Scorpius’s hair. “He was a famous writer. Your daddy and I might be going to teach you about him, along with lots of other things, so you’ll know lots and lots before you go to Hogwarts.”
“Oh...” Scorpius breathes in wonder. “I want to learn about everything.”
“Exactly.” Astoria kisses him on the forehead. “Now, what did you want to show us?”
Scorpius waves his hands down the garden. “There’s an amazing flower! I don’t know what it is. You need to tell me. I’ll show you.” He wriggles his way out of Astoria’s arms and tears away across the grass.
Astoria sighs and wraps an arm round Draco. “I don’t think you could constrain that in a classroom even if you tried...”
Draco shakes his head. “No. I’d pity the poor teacher that had to try. Although I suppose that’ll be us...”
Astoria laughs. “You might come to regret trying to home school him.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think I could ever regret anything when it comes to him.”
Astoria leans her head briefly on his shoulder. “You should consider reciting sonnets more often, you know. I could get used to it. You have a nice voice for them.”
Draco gives her a squeeze. “For you, I could consider becoming a hopeless romantic.”
“Shame, I thought you already were.”
Draco laughs. “We’ll see. Now, I suppose we should hurry up and find out what our adorable bundle of exhaustion wants to show us.”
“I bet it’s not a flower. I bet it’s another toadstool.”
“Basic Herbology. We should add that to the list of things to teach him.”
“Definitely... He has the whole world to explore.”
“But the best people to show it to him, even if I do say so myself.”
“Mmm.” Astoria pauses in her stride so she can lean up and kiss him. “Even if you do say so yourself.”
They wrap their arms around each other and fall into an awkward, lopsided stride as they wander happily through the sun drenched rose garden, following the sound of Scorpius’s distant laughter.
Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic: Ticke & Chyme
18.5k words, G rated
When Albus proposes sneaking off for a shopping trip to Knockturn Alley, Scorpius is only too happy to go along and explore. But in a mysterious workshop full of cogs and clock hands and books, he finds himself face to face once again with the past. Can he summon up the courage to put everything behind him once and for all, and more importantly, can he and Albus make it out of the shop in one piece?
This fic started off as a simple 'Albus and Scorpius go exploring in Knockturn Alley' story, and from there it never stopped evolving. I absolutely love how it turned out, and I'm really proud of it. It's packed with lore and description and action and there's even a sprinkling of romance. I hope you enjoy it!
Big love as always to my beta @abradystrix.
*
“I have had an idea,” Albus announces, as he drops into the seat opposite Scorpius’s at their usual table in the Slytherin common room.
Scorpius looks up from his homework and recognises the blazing fire in Albus’s eyes. “Oh Merlin. You have had an idea.”
“It involves that Polyjuice stash I’ve got locked in my drawer, possibly also the Invisibility Cloak, and a little bit of danger. Do you want to know more?”
Scorpius puts down his quill. “Is it going to get us expelled? Or arrested?”
Albus flutters his hand in a ‘maybe’ gesture, and Scorpius nods slowly.
“What about killed?”
“Now you’re being dramatic.”
“Maimed? Tortured? Grounded for the rest of our lives?”
“The last one, maybe.”
Scorpius closes his eyes and clasps his hands together. “Fine. Tell me.”
Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic: Uncomfortable Truths
6.5k words, G rated
Astoria was hoping her sister wouldn't find out that she was dating Draco Malfoy until after she'd talked to him about her illness. Unfortunately, nothing can be hidden from Daphne, and Astoria is convinced it's time to reveal the uncomfortable truths about her life. But how will Draco react?
This fic was written for @astoriafest. It was beta'd by the incomparable @abradystrix.
Read it on AO3
*
“Have you taken your medicine today?”
Astoria tries hard not to wince as Daphne pulls the vacant garden chair out from under the table with an awful metallic scrape and sits down.
“Good morning, Daphne. How lovely to see you today. Yes, I am well, thank you for asking.” Astoria takes a sip of her tea, looking coolly at her sister over the rim of the cup.
Daphne rolls her eyes. “Don’t throw a hissy fit about it. Mum told me to ask. I just thought I’d get it out of the way.”
Astoria sets her tea cup down with a light tinkle of china and folds her arms. “Yes, I have taken my medicine today, thank you. I take it every day. Which you would both know if you ever bothered to write.”
Daphne tuts. “You know Mum’s too shaky to write these days, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you. And I’ve been busy, but it’s not as if I don’t Firecall you twice a week, including, and correct me if my memory has been modified, last night.”
Astoria takes another sip of tea. “How is Mum?”
Daphne shrugs and reaches for the teapot. “She’s alright. Quite frail, but that doesn’t mean she’s not still razor sharp. And don’t stand within reach of her walking stick. She uses it as a weapon.”
Astoria snorts into her tea. “How many bruises have you got?”
“Several. They hurt.”
Astoria grins, has another sip, then puts her cup down and dabs her mouth on her napkin. “I will go and see her, I promise. But I know that if I go now she’ll spend the whole time lecturing me about how I need to eat more to maintain my weight.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s not productive for anyone. I know I need to eat more, and I am, but...” She gestures to herself.
Daphne nods sympathetically. “I know. You’ve always been stupidly skinny anyway...” She picks up three sugar lumps and drops them into her tea before adding a large splash of milk. “How are you doing at the moment anyway? You seem okay.”
“Do you have to take all the sugar lumps?”
“No. Just three. Don’t avoid the question.”
“I’m not! I was just...” Astoria gestures at the now largely depleted sugar bowl. “Concerned about the state of my sugar. Anyway. I’ve been better. I’m not bad, just tired. Going back to work is always hard, you know? I’ll feel fine at home, and then suddenly there’s all the extra stuff to do, and the walking, and all the talking to people. It adds up. And then there’s the new potion I’m taking, which is terrible for my appetite, so I never want to eat anything, even though I have to.”
“You should talk to them about that,” Daphne says, stirring her tea and then licking the spoon clean.
Astoria pulls a face at her. “You’re an animal. Mum would be appalled. And I am going to talk to them. I have an appointment next week. I think they’re going to end up keeping me in for some tests. Apparently my blood is ‘weird’, which is very non-specific and I’m also not sure why they’re surprised, because I have a blood malediction. But anyway. This is such a boring thing to talk about. How are you? I forgot to ask about your holiday.”
Daphne groans. “Oh, it was dismal. I’m never going on holiday with anyone else ever again. I’ll just take myself to a beach and lie in the sun and sleep for a week. All we did was walk around crumbling old ruins, and my feet still haven’t recovered.”
“You went to Greece, and you thought it was dismal, and you hated the sightseeing? I’m disowning you.”
“I’m not a history nerd like you.”
“Apparently not. I would die to go to Greece — the trip would probably actually literally kill me — and you didn’t even bother to appreciate it? I can’t believe you.”
“Well now I feel guilty.”
“Good,” Astoria says brightly. “You were meant to.”
“I did bring some pictures to show you,” Daphne says, leaning down for her bag. “If it helps.”
“It might. Come round here.”
Daphne scrapes her chair round beside Astoria’s and they start going through the photos. Astoria insists that Daphne recount as many facts as she can about everywhere she visited, and Daphne complies. Neither of them notice time passing, and soon an hour has passed, then an hour and a half, and next thing they know, their conversation is interrupted by a quiet, polite, throat clearing cough.
They both look up to see a tall, blond figure, smartly-dressed in black trousers and a green shirt, hovering awkwardly at the edge of the patio. Astoria greets him with a warm smile, while Daphne simply stares.
“Hello,” Astoria says, getting to her feet. “I can’t believe it’s three o’clock already. I completely lost track of time. I’m so glad you let yourself in.”
“I did knock first,” Draco says, gesturing to the passage at the edge of the patio that leads round the side of the house. “But there was no answer, and since the gate was open...” He looks at Daphne with a fearful hesitancy. She’s still staring at him like she can’t believe his existence. “I wasn’t aware that we would have company.”
Astoria smiles. “We won’t. Daphne was just leaving. Weren’t you?”
Daphne looks at Astoria. “Who is he?”
Draco frowns. “I’m... Draco Malfoy. We were at school together.”
Daphne waves an impatient hand. “Yes, yes, I know who you are. Why is he here?”
Astoria draws herself up very straight and turns her smile on her sister. “I invited him for tea.”
“You invited him for...” Daphne’s eyes have gone incredibly wide, and a grin is starting to form on her face. “We talked over the Floo for two hours last night, and we talked for two hours this afternoon too, and at no point did you think to mention-“ She jerks her head at Draco, who is still standing on the other side of the patio, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
Astoria sighs and looks at him. “I really must apologise. What my sister means is that it’s very nice to see you, and she hopes you’re well.”
Daphne nods and gives Draco a very wide gleeful smile. “Oh absolutely. It is marvellous to see you.”
Draco gives a curt nod in response. “Likewise. You look tanned. I trust that you had a good holiday. Astoria told me you went to Greece?”
“Oh she did, did she?” Daphne looks like she’s about to explode with delight as she turns a very significant gaze on Astoria. “You two have been discussing me, when I was unaware that you were discussing anything at all. In fact, I was unaware that you were anything more than very distant acquaintances.”
“And this is why, because I knew you would be this childish about it,” Astoria hisses. She takes Daphne by the arm and pulls her to her feet. Daphne doesn’t resist, she’s goggling at Draco again, apparently still unable to comprehend his presence in Astoria’s back garden.
“Please excuse us for a moment,” Astoria says. “I’m just going to take my dear sister outside and murder her.”
Draco smiles. “I won’t report you to the Aurors.”
Astoria grins at him. “I’m eternally grateful. Please take Daphne’s chair so she has to leave.” Gripping Daphne’s arm, she marches off inside the house, with Daphne hurrying along beside her.
As soon as they’re away from the patio door, Daphne pulls herself free and finally explodes into paroxysms of excitement.
“Astoria! Draco Malfoy is in your back garden. Because you invited him here for tea. Explain!”
Astoria sighs. “You’re being very loud. And I think you’ve just explained everything there is to explain.”
“But- But Draco Malfoy!”
Astoria’s cheeks heat up and she folds her arms. “Yes. Draco Malfoy. Is that a problem?”
Daphne holds up a hand and checks her points off on her fingers as she makes them. “Let’s see. He’s ludicrously rich. He’s supposed to be very intelligent. He’s from a significant family. He’s hot as fuck.”
Astoria gives a polite little cough and ducks her head as her cheeks burn.
“See?” Daphne points at her. “You admit it. You fancy him. There is just one problem here.”
“Which is?”
“Oh, nothing major, just the fact that he’s a former Death Eater, which isn’t exactly very you.”
Astoria nods. “I know. But-“
“But?”
“But.” She holds up a hand to stop her sister from interrupting again. “He’s working on it. Did you know he’s helping the Aurors at the moment? And I... I’ve recommended him some books. Which he’s read. And... and he’s not perfect, but who is? We all have to start somewhere, don’t we?”
Daphne stops looking like a Bowtruckle that’s just been handed a plate of fairy eggs and scrutinises Astoria. “Who do you think he is? Do you trust him?”
Astoria looks down at her hands. “I don’t think he’s who everyone else thinks he is. And as hard as it may be to believe, yes. I do trust him.” She looks up at her sister, and Daphne nods.
“Okay. And does he know about your illness yet?”
Astoria shakes her head. “No. I’m going to tell him this afternoon. I knew you would ask that question, and I wanted the answer to be yes when you found out about him. That’s why I didn’t tell you before.”
Daphne nods slowly, considering. “And how do you think he’ll react?”
“I want it to be good, but...” Astoria shrugs. “I want him to be the person who says ‘okay, we’re only going to get a few years together, let’s make them count’. I want him to be the person who knows he’s going to have to sit by my hospital bed and watch me fade away, but who wants to love me anyway. It’s a lot to ask.”
“But that’s your life,” Daphne says softly. “It shouldn’t be a lot to ask. If he feels any way about you at all.”
“I know...” Astoria murmurs. “That’s why I have to tell him now. Before I get in any deeper.”
Daphne tilts her head to one side and looks at her. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“Mmhmm.” Astoria gives a shy little nod, and Daphne steps across and hugs her.
“Oh, Astoria.” She kisses Astoria on the cheek and strokes her hair. “I hope he’s everything you need him to be.”
“Me too,” Astoria says in a tiny whisper.
Daphne kisses her on the other cheek too, then releases her. “Draco Malfoy though.” Her serious expression disappears as her delighted grin starts up again, making her eyes sparkle with amusement and mischief. “Astoria Greengrass you are such a Slytherin. You and your ambition. This is salacious.”
“If you tell Mum. If you tell anyone. I will hex you so hard your toes will fall off.”
Daphne throws her head back and cackles with laughter. “Now there’s a threat. Will it be enough to stop me?”
“It’d better be.”
“I’ll think about.” Daphne twirls around as she heads into the entrance hall. “Have a fun afternoon with your sexy Malfoy boy toy.”
“I hate you,” Astoria calls after her.
Daphne cackles again and blows a kiss over her shoulder as she dances out of the house, still laughing.
Astoria rolls her eyes and waits until the door is firmly closed behind Daphne, then she returns to the garden where Draco is waiting.
“Is everything alright?” He asks. He’s still standing up, but he’s moved closer to the table and looks to have been examining a pot of sweetpeas that have just come into glorious bloom.
“Yes, it is. I’m sorry about my sister. She wasn’t aware that we were seeing each other.”
“I gathered,” Draco says mildly. “I hope it’s not a problem.”
“It is very much not. She wasn’t even supposed to be here this afternoon. She has a habit of turning up uninvited.” Astoria rolls her eyes as she goes back to the table and starts sorting out some more tea.
“I’m not sure she likes me,” Draco says, coming across to the table.
“It’s not that.” Astoria gestures for him to take the seat next to her. “She’s just protective. And very excitable. She wants the best for me.”
“A good sister, then.” Draco picks the chair up and moves it round to the other side of the table.
“She has her moments. May I pour you some tea?”
“Please. I’m gasping.”
Astoria smiles and pours out two fresh cups of tea from the pot she’s just made, then she slides one across to Draco and keeps the other for herself. “Didn’t you have an auction this morning?”
“I did. Everyone’s trying to get rid of their more nefarious items now the Aurors are threatening more raids, and there’s that new legislation on the cards. It’s a buyer’s market.”
“And you’re not concerned about the raids yourself?” Astoria asks lightly, stirring a dash of milk into her tea.
“Today I was buying for the Ministry, so I wasn’t concerned at all. Although I did get something for you too.”
Astoria looks up from her tea in surprise. “Oh? Is it cursed? Because you know I refuse to accept gifts that don’t have the potential to kill me.”
Draco snorts. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. It’s not cursed.”
“Well that’s a shame. It would have been so romantic.”
“I’ll remember for next time,” Draco says drily. He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a very small package wrapped in black tissue paper. When Astoria takes it she discovers that it’s slightly squashy.
“What is it?” She asks, pressing her fingers against it.
“Why don’t you open it and find out? And don’t squash it too hard. It’s delicate.”
“Noted.” She picks her wand up and carefully cuts the Spellotape on the package. As she opens it, the Cushioning Charm inside bursts, and she can see a small, silver brooch fashioned to look like a spray of flowers. There’s a bright yellow sunflower, a beautiful pink rose, a couple of blue forget-me-nots, and a delicate lily. Each of the flowers is set with tiny jewels that sparkle in the afternoon sunlight as Astoria lets the brooch roll into the centre of her palm.
“I see what you mean,” she says, after a few moments of silence. “It is delicate. And rather beautiful, thank you.”
“It reminded me of you and your garden.” Draco looks around at the flowers spilling out of their borders in banks of effervescent colour. “I hope it’s okay.”
“It’s...” Astoria looks down at the glittering brooch and tries to find the right words. She’s rarely speechless, but this is undoubtedly the nicest gift she’s ever been given by someone outside of her family. “Yes. It’s more than okay.”
Her fingers tremble as she tries to pin it to her top, and she can’t even blame her illness because this is one of her better days. It’s simply emotion, and the overwhelming feeling that she likes this man beyond all reason. And she still doesn’t know whether she’ll be able to keep him beyond today. By the end of this afternoon he could have walked away forever.
“I think...” She draws a slightly shaky breath and gets to her feet. “I think I’m going to go inside and get some biscuits. And Daphne used up nearly all the sugar lumps so I’ll get some more of those too. Are there any particular biscuits you like?”
“I was always partial to a Ginger Newt.”
Astoria pulls a face, and Draco winces.
“Was that the wrong answer? I hope it’s not a deal breaker.”
“We’ll see. Between that and the not-cursed brooch you’re certainly on rocky ground.” She gives Draco a smile, and hurries away into the house.
Once she’s in the kitchen, she leans against the wall and closes her eyes, breathing deeply. It takes several minutes and a couple of glasses of water before she feels even slightly composed, but then she gets flustered again trying to find any biscuits. As a general rule she’s not a biscuit person, but now she’s promised them, she surely has to deliver.
In the end, she finds the biscuit tin at the back of one of her cupboards, and mercifully it has an unopened packet of Ginger Newts inside. She tips them onto a plate, nudges them into a vaguely artful arrangement, and hurries back outside.
“Your disgusting biscuits, sir.”
Draco gives an amused little smirk. “You could have brought some that you liked. I wouldn’t have minded.”
“No, I’d rather judge you for your terrible taste.” Astoria drops into her seat, pats the brooch on her blouse to make sure it’s still attached, then leans back, preparing her most judgemental expression for the moment when Draco bites the head off of his Newt. It’s a very short lived moment of judgement, because as Draco crunches the biscuit, he looks at Astoria, and she can see the question in his eyes even before he says a word.
“I...” Draco pauses and looks at the remaining half of his biscuit like it’s going to tell him what he’s trying to say.
“You?” Astoria prompts.
Draco nods. “I understand if you don’t want to say, but I’m curious. You and your sister are close, I know that. You get on well. So why did you decide not tell her about me?”
Astoria swallows. That wasn’t the question she was expecting, and she doesn’t know how to navigate it.
Draco puts his biscuit down on the edge of his saucer and cleans up a few of the crumbs with the tip of his finger. “If it helps, you can say that you’re ashamed of me. I would understand that. I know I’m not exactly at the top of anyone’s list of people to associate with.”
Astoria shakes her head. “No, that’s not it at all. I’m not ashamed to be with you. Who you are and what people think of you are two very different things. If I was ashamed I wouldn’t be doing this. The fact that people think you’re a terrible person doesn’t bother me at all, because they’re wrong. Misguided, yes; imperfect, yes; still learning, aren’t we all? But not bad.”
Draco frowns at her. “So what is it, then? Because that was the only answer I could think of.”
Astoria sighs, shoulders slumping. “I didn’t tell her because... because there were important questions that I needed answering before I did.”
“And... have I answered them?”
“No.”
Draco nods and picks up the rest of his Newt. Astoria can see the disappointment in his expression, the slight downturn of his mouth, the crumpled crease of his forehead, the way his eyes have gone the grey of an overcast Monday morning.
“Draco,” she murmurs. “I haven’t even asked you the questions yet. It’s not your fault you haven’t answered them. They’re not...” She waves a hand and casts around for the right phrase. “They’re not first date questions. Or second, or third, or... It’s bigger than that. It’s my whole life and whether it fits with yours.”
Draco inhales and exhales through his nose, less like a sigh and more like he’s bracing himself. “Go on, then. What are these questions?”
There’s a defensive edge to his tone, and Astoria knows what he’s thinking — that these are going to be questions about him and how he’s planning to change himself. She reaches across the table to where his left hand is lying upturned beside his teacup, and she brushes her fingers against his.
“Draco, they’re not about you. I mean, they are, but not in the way you think. In terms of problems that need solving, believe it or not, your past isn’t the biggest one.”
He shifts his hand to interweave his fingers with hers, and as he does, the rolled up sleeve of his shirt tugs just high enough on his arm that a fraction of the red Mark is visible just beneath it. “How so?”
Astoria strokes one of her fingers over his knuckles and decides that it’s time to just get on with it. “I’m ill,” she says simply.
Draco frowns at her. “You don’t look ill. Or sound it.”
“No,” she agrees. “I don’t. Not at the moment. But I am... Do you remember the day we first talked properly?”
Draco squeezes her fingers. “Of course. We were at the apothecary, and you were buying those weird herbs. We talked for about ten minutes and then you said you were tired and had to go home. I assumed you said that to get rid of me.”
Astoria nods. “I did go home, and I was in bed for three days straight. I only got up in the end because I was starving and Daphne came and made me dinner. It was only a few weeks after I was discharged from St Mungo’s, and I shouldn’t have gone out, but I was mind-numbingly bored.“
“St Mungo’s,” Draco repeats. “It’s serious then? And it’s still affecting you what, nine months later?”
“It’s affected me for my entire life,” Astoria says. She’s trying to be as matter-of-fact as possible. If she can lay it all out, simply and in all its detail, that’s best for both of them. The second that emotion seeps in, that’s where this gets painfully difficult.
“Go on,” Draco murmurs.
Astoria looks from their interwoven fingers, up to his face, which is inscrutable. Draco is impossible to read, and at times it’s infuriating, but at others, like right now, it makes everything easier.
“Have you heard about the Greengrass curse?”
Draco’s lips quirk into an amused smile. “Of course. I read about it while I was researching your family tree. It’s a myth, isn’t it? Just one of those stupid stories.”
“It’s not a myth,” Astoria says. “I’ve got it. It’s a sort of blood malediction. It means I have to take five different potions three times a day. If I get so much as a paper cut, I end up in hospital. It makes me more susceptible to other sorts of diseases, especially if I’m already sick. One day it’s going to kill me. If I make it to fifty I’ll have been extremely lucky. Forty is more likely. You’re probably less than a quarter of the way through your life. I’m half way through mine...
“If I’d been normal, if I’d been any other girl, I would have asked you out for a drink that day we met, but instead I went home to bed, and when I woke up I’d missed the Owl you sent me. That’s it. That’s my life. Frustrating and exhausting and difficult. One day I’ll be fine, going to work just like everyone else, and the next I’ll be in St Mungo’s for six months. And this is why I couldn’t tell Daphne about you, because I needed to be able to tell her that you knew all this and still wanted me anyway, and that’s not something that you can just... ask someone over dinner, or...” She waves her free hand and trails off, not sure what to say next.
There’s a very long moment of silence, then Draco tucks a bit of hair behind his ear. He’s been growing it out recently, and it’s almost to his shoulders now, wispy blond curls wafting in the breeze.
“You’re going to die,” Draco says. His face is emotionless, but his voice sounds thick and choked.
“Everyone’s going to die, but I’m doing it faster than most people. I’m just that precocious.”
Draco doesn’t laugh or even smile. He doesn’t react at all, he just presses on. “And this curse. How did it start? I don’t remember seeing that in the books I read.”
“One of my ancestors,” Astoria says. “They were cursed. I looked into it, and I found out the story. Someone was trying to bait a Muggleborn and they stepped in to stop it. It turned into a duel, and they got cursed. They saved the Muggleborn though.” She watches Draco’s expression as she says it, and for the very first time there’s a flicker of something.
“You’re going to die,” he says slowly, “because one of your ancestors decided to help a-” He cuts himself off with a brisk shake of his head. “That’s...”
“Does it make you angry?” Astoria asks, shifting her fingers in his grip but not letting go of his hand. “A Pureblood girl dying because her stupid ancestor stood up for a Mudblood?”
“Yes!” It explodes out of Draco, the most emotion he’s shown so far, pure, frustrated anger. He pulls his hand free and picks up another Ginger Newt, which he snaps in half and starts to crunch. Maybe it makes him feel better, because as he eats, his shoulders relax a little and he looks back at Astoria.
“Is this why you do what you do?” He asks. “Because of that? I suppose it makes sense.”
Astoria nods. “Yes, it is. It used to make me angry too. But then the war started, and there were all the stories in the papers. People disappearing. People getting hurt. People having their wands taken. They were no different to us, but just because someone decided that pure blood is better, a bunch of people were having their lives destroyed, were getting murdered. And I realised that the whole thing was stupid. My ancestor didn’t stand up for a Mudblood, Draco. They stood up for a human being. Let’s get over ourselves. If I’m going to die, I’m at least going to own it. I’m actually proud of the curse. I’m not happy I’m sick, but there are far worse things to die for.”
“Why does it have to be you though?” Draco murmurs. “It’s not fair.”
“What, because I’m a pretty Pureblood girl with her whole life ahead of her? I’ve heard that before, and it’s complete and utter-”
Draco shakes his head. “No.” It comes out sharply enough to stop Astoria in her tracks. “No, it’s not that, it’s...” He struggles for a moment, dusting his fingers off on his napkin, turning his teacup round on its saucer, then finally reaching for Astoria’s hand again and squeezing it tight. “We need you. The world needs you. To keep saying things like that. To keep looking at the stupid things we’ve always believed and telling us to get over ourselves... If people like you are going to die then what hope do the rest of us have?”
“Well...” Astoria turns their hands over and spreads Draco’s fingers out gently so she can lay her hand directly on top of his. “That’s very nice of you to say, but I’m not the only person who can say things like that. Hermione Granger says them all the time.”
Draco pulls a face. “Yes, but that’s-“
“Different?”
He nods.
“How about this,” Astoria murmurs, now closing her fingers into the gaps between his. “You can say things like that too.”
Draco curls his fingers round her hand and looks up at her. “Can I?”
She nods. “I think so. And if it’s different coming from a Pureblood girl then just imagine what people will think when they hear it from a former Death Eater.”
Draco falls silent for a moment, once again staring down at their hands. He looks rather lost all of a sudden, overwhelmed, and Astoria squeezes his hand tighter to remind him that she’s there.
“When you’re sick,” he says finally. “When you’re in hospital, what’s it like?”
“Ugh,” she groans. “Really boring. I mostly just sleep all the time, because I’m too ill to do anything else.”
“Does it hurt?”
She nods. “Sometimes. And I get really weak. It’s difficult to do much, and when I try it hurts even more.”
Draco looks down at his tea cup, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “It’s difficult to imagine,” he murmurs. “When I said you don’t look ill... sometimes you do look tired, or pale, or... I’ve noticed that you get these bruises on your arms.”
“I bruise easily.”
“I know. Now I know why. But aside from all that...” He shakes his head and looks up at her. “I can’t think of anyone I know who’s so alive. That’s what I meant when I said- You’re always so bright. Even when I worry that you haven’t slept, you’re still...” He waves his fingers in a little starburst motion. “You’re still sparkling.”
Astoria gives a thin smile. “I try to keep up appearances. A lot of effort goes into it.”
“And how are you feeling right now?”
Astoria thinks. “I wasn’t expecting Daphne to turn up, and when she’s like that it’s tiring. But you’re always calm. Maybe that’s why I like you so much. So I’d say a solid seven out of ten. It’s a good day.”
“Seven out of ten is a good day,” he repeats, and it’s not a question or a judgement. It’s more like he’s making a mental note of the fact. “And these potions that you take. What are they? What do they do? Do you have to take them all at once, or?”
“Why?” She asks, squeezing his fingers. “That’s a lot of questions.” She can’t remember anyone asking her so much before, especially not about the details. Normally people don’t like to pry, or they’ve already been scared away.
“You don’t have to tell me. But if we’re going to spend more time together then it might be useful for me to know. Just in case.”
Astoria blinks at him in surprise. Of all the answers he could have given, that was the one she had least expected.
“Would you like me to show you?”
“Not if it’s inconvenient or too personal.”
“It’s not.” Astoria gets to her feet and collects the used tea cups on to a tray, which she picks up with a flick of her wand.
Draco follows her into the kitchen and waits as she unloads the cups and saucers into the sink. He looks around thoughtfully, and she watches him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what he’s thinking. Finally he clears his throat.
“Astoria?”
“Yes, Draco.”
“Do you have knives in here?”
It’s such a random question that she laughs and turns towards him. “Yes, it’s a kitchen. Of course I have knives. How else am I supposed to cook?”
“But you said earlier that if you cut yourself by accident... and what happens if you smash something?”
Her laughter fades. “I suppose it’s a fair question. I’m just careful. And I use magic a lot. But I’m not fragile. I’m not going to drop dead from a single speck of blood. And I suppose it’s risk and reward, isn’t it?”
“Go on,” Draco prompts.
Astoria leans against the worktop behind her. “Well... I could decide tomorrow that it’s my ambition to become a world class Beater.”
Draco smirks at her. “That would be quite the career change.”
Astoria shrugs. “Maybe it’s my calling in life. Or not, because I have terrible hand eye coordination. The first Bludger I missed would hit me smack in the face, give me a nose bleed, a black eye, and probably kill me. But if it was my dream and I thought it would be worth it, I’d probably still have a go. Risk and reward. That’s an extreme example, but I’m not going to not cook myself dinner or drink tea from my favourite tea set just because I might one day accidentally cut myself. That would be ludicrous.”
“Touché,” Draco says with a nod. “It won’t make me worry about you any less, but I do understand.”
“Good. I think. You wanted to see my potions?”
“I did.”
Astoria gestures upstairs. “Let’s go then.”
“Into the inner sanctum,” Draco says, with a smile that glitters mischievously.
Astoria swats at him. “It’s hardly a scandal. Looking at my delightfully boring medication.”
“I’m sure if our mothers found out they’d be appalled at the intimacy.”
“My mother is appalled by everything I do.” She catches hold of Draco’s hand and pulls him along the hall, up the stairs, and into her bathroom.
“This really is the inner sanctum,” Draco says, pausing in the doorway and looking around.
Astoria glances over her shoulder at him. “Have you never seen a bathroom before, Draco? Do you still use chamber pots at the Manor?”
“No. It’s just... your bathroom. It’s very revealing. You have fancy summer berry shampoo.”
“And chamomile and ginseng bubble bath. Well observed.” She opens the medicine cupboard above the sink and starts pulling out the potions, arranging them in an arc on the counter beside the sink. Draco sits on the closed toilet lid and picks up the first one.
“So this is...”
“For Blood Replenishment. When I forget to take that one, I pass out. It happened once in school. I nearly gave Flitwick a heart attack.”
“I hope you never made that mistake again.”
“Not yet.” She picks the next potion up and presents it to Draco. “This is a sort of thickening solution. It helps my blood to clot properly. There’s another stronger version I have to take if I actually cut myself, but that can kill me in a whole other variety of exciting ways.”
“Well that must be comforting,” Draco says drily. “The potion that’s meant to save your life can also kill you.”
“Oh it is. It’s reassuring to say the least.”
Draco looks at her and they share a smile as he reaches for the next bottle. There’s something about sharing dark jokes with him that makes her feel lighter. He’s not panicking or backing away. He’s taking this in his stride, and it’s wonderful.
“I know what this one is,” he says, reading the label on the largest bottle, a big round thing full of purple potion. “It’s a Painkilling Potion. A very mild one.”
“Ten points to Slytherin. And this one?” Astoria hands him a much smaller bottle of blue liquid.
Draco squints at the tiny writing on the label, then shakes his head. “No idea. It just looks complicated.”
“It helps with my immune system. I’m not very good at fighting off diseases. Apparently most of the people who’ve had this curse before me have died of another illness, not the curse itself. So don’t sneeze on me, Malfoy.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Draco says loftily. “Malfoys don’t get sick.”
Astoria laughs. “When it’s winter and you’re moping around with a cold I’m going to remind you that you said that.”
Draco waves her away. “And the last one?”
“A Strengthening Solution. It’s the newest one I take, and it’s good. It helps me recover faster. But I don’t have much appetite while I’m taking it.”
“Have you told anyone about that?” Draco asks.
“Daphne’s going to love you,” Astoria smiles. “She asked the exact same thing. I’m going to talk to them about it next week.”
“Good. You need to eat. That seems important.”
Astoria sits cross-legged on the floor and beams up at him. “Seriously. I think you’ve just won my sister’s heart.”
Draco examines the last bottle for a few more seconds, then he sets it down with a soft clink of glass on porcelain and looks at Astoria, expression serious. “I have never done anything like this before,” he says softly. “I don’t know anyone else who’s ill like this. I don’t know if I’d be any good as a bedside companion. I don’t know if I can be the person you need. I certainly doubt whether I’m the person you deserve — you could do so much better than me, we both know that.”
“That’s still not true,” Astoria interjects.
“We’ll agree to disagree. But what I’m trying to say is that... if you want me, I’ll do my best to learn all this.” He waves a hand at the line up of potion bottles on the side. “The medication, and when you need to rest, and I don’t know. What food you need to eat, all of that. When you’re in hospital I’ll visit you, if you’re not sick of me. And like I say, I might be terrible at it. You might want me to go away. But I’ll do my best, and if that’s not good enough I’ll do better. Because I do love you, Astoria. Very much. And although I know I can’t understand yet what I’m getting into here... It’s a risk I’ll take, because this is your life, and I do think that I’d like to be as much a part of it as you’ll allow me to be.”
Astoria gazes up at him from the floor, and in a sweeping flood all the emotions she’s been holding back, the hope and worry and love and now relief, come rushing in. She blinks hard against hot tears that sting her eyes, and she rests a shaking hand against the sink to steady her as she rises onto her knees and reaches out to Draco with her other hand.
He takes it in both of his and squeezes it tight. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “Mmhmm.” It comes out high-pitched and squeaky, and she sucks in a trembling breath. “Okay. I just... would quite like to kiss you now.”
“I would be amenable to that.” He lends her enough strength to pull herself to her feet and when she stumbles upright, he shuffles sideways on the toilet seat to make room beside him.
Reason tells her that this isn’t romantic or hygienic, but her heart isn’t paying any attention. It’s thumping very hard in his chest, and it only gets louder as she sits beside Draco and reaches up to cup his cheek with her hand.
“Did you really just say you love me?” She asks, brushing her thumb along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone.
He nods, a sharp, silver intensity in his eyes. “I believe I did. I hope it’s not a problem, because I don’t want to apologise for it.”
“It’s not a problem,” she murmurs. “I was actually just thinking that I love you too.”
A little smile flickers across his lips. “Well isn’t that convenient.”
“Very.” She steadies his face with her other hand, then leans up and kisses him with as much warm, solid gratitude as she can manage.
He threads his fingers into her hair, supporting the back of her head in a gentle, steady grip, and she smiles against his lips. This afternoon probably couldn’t have gone any better. That doesn’t mean any of this is going to be easy, but it’s a start. Now he knows, now she has her answers, and she can’t help but think that Daphne is going to be thrilled.
When Albus discovers that Scorpius kept Delphi's wand, it reawakens painful memories and reopens wounds that have barely healed...
If you want someone to blame for this, @ohscorbus is your woman.
Read it on AO3
*
Albus thought Delphi’s wand had disappeared. He hoped it was lost forever, lying in the shadows on a church floor in the distant past. It hadn’t been presented as evidence at the trial; someone had said it hadn’t been recovered. That had helped, knowing the object that was the cause of so much pain, that was used for murder and torture, was gone forever. So what is it doing here in the present, in the fourth year Slytherin dorm, lying in Scorpius’s top drawer?
It feels so unreal and out-of-place, sitting here in this bright room, in this space of perfect safety, and Albus stares at it in horror as he tries to comprehend what he’s seeing. The dark wood, fine grained with flecks of silver in the exact shade of her hair. The sharp tip, whittled into a cruel spike. The curved handle, almost too lovingly crafted, like one of her skin-crawling caresses.
Suddenly all the memories of a few months ago come crashing in on him at once.
Scorpius’s screams cut through the darkness like a knife. Albus’s throat is raw with yelling his name. He can hear himself sobbing as he begs Delphi to stop. She throws him to the floor with a spell that feels like lightning and leaves his whole body crackling with pain. There’s a flash of green light and a rushing of wind in Albus’s ears. An unmoving body lies on the dew-drenched grass, and the weight of reality crushes Albus: one of his classmates is dead and it’s all his fault.
He feels rough hands dragging him up off the ground and holding him fast. That wand, that ruthless instrument of evil, points right past him, grazing his cheek. When the spell comes and Scorpius convulses and collapses from the pain, Albus feels like he was the one who cast it.
It’s all his fault. All of it. Scorpius writhing and gasping on the ground, Craig staring sightlessly up at the grey dawn sky, Cedric running into the shadows of the maze to meet his doom, the metal and glass raining down as she disappeared into the sky.
Darkness presses in from all sides, squeezing the air out of Albus’s lungs. The world has narrowed to a point even finer than the tip of that wand. There’s the polished oak of the drawer beneath his fingers, the ground somewhere a very long way beneath his feet, and there’s Delphi’s wand. That’s it. Nothing else. And Albus is being swallowed up by a crashing tsunami of horror and guilt and sheer, mind-numbing panic.
“Have you got the Pepper Imps ready?”
Scorpius’s voice sings out behind Albus, but he barely hears it. It doesn’t feel nearly as immediate and present as the past does. The memories are all right here, and Scorpius could be miles away.
Albus grips the drawer as hard as he can for support. It’s the only thing that he knows is real and tangible. It’s solid, holding his weight even when his legs are shaking too much for him to stand. He bows his head and snatches at what little air he can get. His lungs are hollow and empty, his chest gets tighter and tighter, and he can hear his own desperate gasps, which mingle with the screams inside his head to create a horrible cacophony that drowns out everything else.
“Albus,” Scorpius’s voice says out of the darkness. “What happened? Are you-“
Albus feels something brush against his arm, and then Scorpius’s voice falters.
“Oh. Oh... I didn’t mean for you to... Merlin, Albus.”
Albus doesn’t know where the tears come from, but suddenly there are floods of them, hot and angry, constricting his throat and streaming down his face. Normally Scorpius’s presence would help, but today, Albus feels like he’s boiling over just from the sound of Scorpius’s voice.
It’s impossible to get enough air to talk, so Albus’s voice comes out in a hoarse squeak. “Wh-why do you have- I don’t... understand.”
Scorpius curls his fingers round Albus’s arm. It’s the sort of touch that on any other day would centre Albus and bring him back to himself, but this time Albus hears the blood pounding in his ears as confusion and bewilderment well up inside him.
“Albus...” Scorpius’s voice is trembling just slightly. “Y-you need to breathe. You look like you’re about to-“
“I’m fine!” Albus tears his arm out of Scorpius’s grip and stumbles away. His head is spinning but he can’t breathe and he can’t stop crying. Even when he closes his eyes he can still see the wand right there, pointing at Scorpius, about to unleash the sort of pain that no one should ever have to experience.
“I-I just... don’t understand why you... why you kept it.” Albus gulps as a wave of desperate tears overcomes him, and he buries his face in his hands and sobs.
“It was an accident, to start with.” Scorpius’s voice is still shaking and he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears too.
“An accident?” It comes out much louder than Albus meant it to, an incredulous snap of a question.
“An accident,” Scorpius repeats. Despite the tremor in his voice he sounds calm and steady. “My dad handed it to me, so I put it in my pocket to give to someone later. But after that, everything happened so fast, and...”
Albus can see it all. The dual flashes of green light. Life extinguished right in front of his eyes. His dad collapsing to the ground and Albus going with him, clinging to him, his own desperate sobs shaking his body as he buries his face in his dad’s shoulder.
He sinks onto the edge of the nearest bed as his legs give out, and he curls in on himself, bracing his hands on the mattress, head down, breaths coming in shuddering snatches that barely make it any deeper than his throat. The bed squeaks and dips beside him as Scorpius sits down too, then he feels a gentle brush of fingers against his arm.
“Are you sure this is the right time to-“
Albus jerks his arm away. “Go on.”
Scorpius twists round and sits cross-legged next to him. Even out of the corner of his blurred vision, Albus can see that his eyebrows are knitted together with concern.
“Well, like I said. It all happened so fast after that. Dad took me back to the Manor and I... I forgot. We had hot chocolate, and hugs, and it became the least important thing. I didn’t find it again until the day I got back here.”
“That... that was months ago,” Albus mutters. “You could have got rid of it. You should have-“
“I didn’t want to,” Scorpius says. He tries to make it sound light and airy, but it hits Albus like a train and his head flies up.
“What?” He stares wildly at Scorpius, trying to understand what on earth he’s just said.
Scorpius nods and twists his hands together. “I didn’t want to...” He spreads his hands then plants them on the bed next to him and starts fiddling with a crease in the blankets.
“But...” Albus doesn’t know what to say so he stops speaking and concentrates on trying to breathe. It’s difficult to find a rhythm. He can’t inhale deeply enough to count himself through it. And he’s so perplexed by Scorpius that his mind keeps wandering back to panic-stricken bewilderment. It’s impossible.
For a second Scorpius messes with the blankets, then he draws in a breath. “I... realised that it reminded me of things.”
“Nothing good,” Albus interjects.
“Actually, you’re wrong.”
Albus sits back, staring at him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that we survived, Albus. You survived. I survived. All that pain, the worst she could do, the worst that anyone can do, and we got through it.”
“But... But Craig... He didn’t...” Albus presses a hand to his chest and snatches a painful, rasping breath as he sees once again the body sinking gracefully to the ground and lying still. One second alive. The next, lifeless.
Scorpius shifts over next to Albus and puts a hand on his shoulder, rubbing small, fast, comforting circles into his skin. “I know you feel guilty, but it wasn’t your fault. There was nothing more you could have done. You told him to run. You tried to save him.”
“But... But if I’d listened to you. Properly. We would have destroyed the Time-Turner alone, without telling anyone. Then he wouldn’t...” Albus closes his eyes and buries his face in Scorpius’s shoulder as more tears dribble down his cheeks. He’s trembling all over and he can’t seem to stop, but Scorpius wraps an arm round him and holds him tight, stroking his hair.
“I know,” Scorpius murmurs. “I know. But keep listening to me. We survived. We beat her, and now she can’t hurt anyone else.” He pulls back and Albus looks at him through a hazy sheen of tears. “You saved the world, Albus. You and that blanket. And whatever happened before that? We can’t change that — we tried that before and you know how well it went. But we can change the future. We can do whatever we want with that. It’s ours.”
“But you didn’t need to...”
“Keep it?”
Albus nods and wipes his eyes. His breathing has eased a bit now. He’s still wheezing, but it feels as though there’s now some oxygen in the world. He can feel the blankets beneath his legs and the carpet under his feet. He unfolds one arm from across his chest and picks up a fistful of the blankets, letting the rough wool slide through his fingers. It reminds him that he’s safe. He’s in his dorm, with Scorpius, and the past is a very long way away.
Scorpius gets up to give Albus more of the blanket, then perches back on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed beneath the other, picking at the toe of his sock. “It seemed like the right thing to do. To keep it. It felt...” He tilts his head to one side and thinks for a second. “It felt like... if I kept it she wouldn’t have any power over me anymore. What can she do if she doesn’t have a wand? It felt like I was keeping that bit of her that makes her anything at all. It makes me feel in control. Knowing that I’ve got her wand locked in a drawer with my sweets and my socks and my books.”
Albus cracks an unsteady smile. “Yeah, I don’t think she’d like that...”
“Exactly! Nothing’s scary after having had my smelly socks next to it.”
Albus wipes his nose on his sleeve and looks across at the drawer. “Can I see it?”
“You don’t want to see any of my socks, Albus.”
“No, no. The wand. Can I-?”
Scorpius hesitates. “Is that a good idea? Right now?”
Albus takes a shaky breath. “Of course not. When has anything I’ve ever done been a good idea? But I want to... It was a shock before. Seeing it. But I think I can handle it now.”
Scorpius looks doubtfully at him.
“I promise,” Albus insists.
“I...” Scorpius twists his hands together, then he gets to his feet and goes over to the drawer. “If anything happens I’m putting it away again.”
“It won’t.”
Scorpius doesn’t look convinced but he reaches into the drawer anyway, as Albus braces himself, fingers twisted tight in the blanket.
When Scorpius turns round, he’s holding the wand flat across both his palms. For all his talk of having power over it, there’s a reverence there that makes Albus’s skin crawl. He’s making it look like the dangerous magical object that it would be if Delphi still had her hands on it.
“Stop that,” Albus snaps, shuddering.
Scorpius pauses. “Stop what?”
“Holding it like that. Like it’s important.” He gets to his feet and goes over to Scorpius. “Give it to me?”
Scorpius holds it out to Albus, and Albus can’t fail to notice that his hands are shaking.
“Why did you keep it? You don’t like it either.”
“I told you. Keeping it felt more- It would have been so easy to give it to the Ministry, and I don’t think Malfoy the Unanxious does the easy thing.”
Albus nods and swallows hard. “Can I...” He reaches out for the wand, and Scorpius draws his hands away an inch.
“Are you sure, Albus? It’s- it’s not nice to touch.”
“Positive,” Albus murmurs.
Scorpius offers him the wand, palms open, free for Albus to take. Albus hesitates, working himself up to it. He screws his fingers into fists, squares his shoulders, then opens his hands and brushes his fingertips over the dark wood.
It’s slightly rough to touch; Albus had expected that. What he hadn’t expected were the waves of icy animosity rolling off the wand. It’s so cold his fingertips feel as though they’ve been burned and he pulls his hands away.
“It still feels...”
“I know. Isn’t it awful?”
Albus nods and stares down at the wand. “Scorpius... I get it. I know why you wanted it, but this...” He gestures to it and shakes his head. “This isn’t good.”
Scorpius’s shoulders slump. “Do you think I should hand it in? I can give it to McGonagall. She’d probably put me in detention for about a year, but then it would be safe at least.”
“No.” Albus frowns at the wand. “No, I don’t think you need to get rid of it. But we should make sure it can never be used again. Do you agree?”
Scorpius gives him a curious look. “What do you suggest?”
Albus reaches out and hovers his hands over the wand. “How attached to this are you?”
Scorpius shrugs. “She hurt you with it too. I’d say you have as much right to do whatever you want with it as I do. What are you thinking?”
Albus doesn’t say anything, but as he looks down at the dark, cruel spike of the wand that has hurt and haunted them for so long, he feels a flash of defiant fire run through him. He doesn’t need to ask to know that this is the right thing to do.
Steeling himself, he takes the wand in both hands. The malevolent chill bites his fingertips but he ignores it, tightening his grip and gritting his teeth.
It takes quite a bit of force, but Albus isn’t concerned about being gentle. He’s fuelled by months of anger and pain. This thing was complicit in the murder of one of his classmates and the torture of his best friend. There’s nothing that it deserves other than destruction.
The break, when it comes, isn’t clean. Jagged edges and splinters are left behind. The core inside stays connected, sparking like it wants to defend itself from attack. It gives Albus great pleasure to keep twisting, like he’s wringing the neck of some sort of brutal beast, until finally the delicate shaft of the black feather snaps with a puff of ice cold wind and a crackle of futile magic.
Albus grins down at it, chest heaving with the glory of vindication.
“Poetic justice.”
“You... you snapped it!” Scorpius gasps.
“Just like she did to ours. Here.” Albus holds one half out to him. “One for you and one for me.”
“I-I can’t believe you... Albus!” Scorpius gives a hysterical giggle as he reaches out to take the half of the wand that Albus is holding out for him.
“Do you think it was the wrong thing to do?” Albus asks, inspecting his half, then tossing it up in the air and catching it again. It’s so diminished in its two halves. It’s nothing now.
“No.” Scorpius shakes his head. “No, but. Merlin!”
“You said it looked powerless before, and now it is. It can’t do anything. Even if she came and tried to steal it back or something. It can’t hurt you or me o-or anyone ever again.” Albus can’t stop staring at the fragment of wand in his hand, and he finds emotion welling up inside him. He hadn’t thought he had any tears left, but suddenly here they are, clogging up his throat again, blurring his vision, spilling down his cheeks more quickly than he can wipe them away.
“You’re safe,” Scorpius says softly, and he’s right there, wrapping his arms around Albus and drawing him into a tight hug.
“I-I know,” Albus mumbles into his shoulder. “So are you.”
There’s a moment in which Scorpius silently rubs his back, then he pulls away, brushing a hand down Albus’s arm. “Thank you.”
Albus sniffs and tries to swipe his tears away with the cuff of his hoodie. “‘S alright. Sorry for yelling at you.”
Scorpius shakes his head. “I should have told you. I shouldn’t have let you find it like that. I hope you’re okay.”
Albus inhales, and it feels like some of the weight has lifted off his chest. His legs are weak enough that he doubts they’ll hold him up much longer, his face hurts from crying, and he feels exhausted to the core, but at least he knows now that neither of them can be hurt by this ever again.
“I think so,” he says. “Just about. A-although I think I could do with those Pepper Imps now?”
Scorpius nods. “Pepper Imps. And a nice long sleep.”
“I don’t think I know any other kind,” Albus says, smiling through his tears.
Scorpius grins and pats him on the arm, then bounces over to the chest of drawers. He puts his fragment of wand next to his socks in the top drawer and grabs the sweets from the bottom drawer, while Albus tucks his fragment into his trunk to deal with later.
The world feels a great deal brighter as they collapse onto Scorpius’s bed together and curl up side-by-side. Scorpius opens the Pepper Imps and Albus tries to match his breathing to the steady, calm rise and fall of Scorpius’s chest. It’s difficult when Scorpius is talking at a million miles an hour and they’re both laughing so much, but that doesn’t matter.
The dorm is warm and bright. Danger is a very long way away. And Albus can’t help but feel that maybe Scorpius is right. They have all the power over the past. It’s never going to come back to hurt them, especially not after what they’ve just done. All they have to worry about now is the future, but that’s a problem for another day.
On his seventeenth birthday, Albus runs away. Years of arguing with his dad and struggling at school have worn him down, and he just wants to be free. With Delphi's mantra 'the future is mine to make' echoing in his head, he sets out to change his life, leaving everything and everyone behind.
Years later, an accidental meeting with Scorpius forces him to question the new life he's built for himself. Is his life complete without his family? Was he wrong to leave Scorpius behind? Is he really any happier now than he would have been if he'd stayed? And does he truly know Delphi, the person who convinced him to walk away?
This was one of the first fic ideas I had when I joined this fandom, way back in the summer of 2016. It's taken three years to get to the point of finishing it, but here we are!
The biggest champion of this one has to be @eldabe, who has long encouraged the concept of hot older Albus with his tattoos and leather jackets. I also have to thank my indefatigable beta, Dr @abradystrix, who helped edit this monster, even amidst moving to the other side of the world.
N.B. This fic is complete on AO3, so binge read away if you want! Here on tumblr I’ll be posting a chapter every day until it’s all done.
Read it on AO3
*
I
Flight
I'm coming home, I'm coming home,
Tell the world I'm coming home,
Let the rain wash away,
All the pain of yesterday.
I know my kingdom awaits,
And they've forgiven my mistakes.
I'm coming home, I'm coming home,
Tell the world I'm coming...
–Dirty Money
*
Albus lies very still in the half-darkness and watches the seconds tick by on his Tempus Charm. Behind his hangings, the golden numerals make a very faint glow. They're barely bright enough for him to see, and no one else will know what he's doing, which is just the way he wants it.
His mouth feels dry and his heart pounds in his chest. He's been waiting so long for this moment, counting down the months and weeks and days since the start of the year. He's had everything planned out, his bag is packed, he's determined – he’s even talked to Scorpius about what he's going to do, to make sure it isn’t a horrible surprise to him. But now that the moment is approaching (two minutes to go) he feels a bit sick.
Can he really do this? Is it truly possible to change his life? He's always felt like he's teetering on the edge of being himself, with only his family; his dad; the past holding him back. If he can break free of all that then he can find out who he's meant to be, once and for all.
The future is mine to make, he thinks, the comforting words drifting through his mind. He's been holding onto them since the summer, writing them in his books and notes, scrawling them on the back of his hand to glance at whenever he has a particularly difficult class, carving them into the desk when he gets upset and anxious. He needs those words, and he's finally about to take ownership of them.
Thirty seconds to go.
He sits up in bed as quietly as he can and listens. The dorm beyond his hangings is completely silent. It's midnight so everyone should be long asleep, and if anyone isn’t then they’re likely to be downstairs in the Common Room doing some last minute homework. He's safe. Hopefully.
Ten seconds.
His heart pounds, and he wonders if it's loud enough to wake up Scorpius, who's sleeping in the bed next to his.
Five seconds.
He reaches out for his hangings, ready to rip them back and make a break for freedom.
Three seconds. Two. One.
Midnight.
Albus's hand shakes as he pulls the hangings aside. He dismisses the Tempus Charm and slides off his bed, landing on the floor with barely a creak.
Being seventeen doesn't feel any different to being sixteen, nothing tangible has changed. Apart from the knowledge that now he’s no longer bound by the rules. He can do magic whenever and wherever he likes now. No one can find him when he runs now, no matter what he does. He's safe. He's free. He's free.
He tiptoes round the end of his bed to where his backpack is waiting. He's still fully dressed – it seemed stupid to run away in his pyjamas – but he pushes his feet into his shoes and picks his jacket up from where it's laid over his trunk, ready for him to put on.
Zipping up the front of the jacket is the most heart stopping thing he's ever done in his life. Every tooth seems to make an awful noise, and he screws his whole body up tight and tense, hoping that might minimise the sound. In the end he just gives up and leaves it mostly unzipped. It's not too cold outside; it's been a warm March. He can do without.
He picks his backpack up and swings it over his shoulder, then turns towards the door. That's when he spots the blond-haired figure sitting watching him, perched on the very edge of their bed, ghostly pale in the watery light flooding through the window, anxiously twisting their wand between their fingers.
"Hi," Scorpius whispers.
Albus swallows. He adjusts the backpack on his back, hiking it up higher, hoping it makes him look more determined. "Scorpius, I-"
"Happy birthday," Scorpius says, in a strained murmur.
Albus lifts his chin and crosses his arms. "You knew I was going to do this. You know you can't stop me."
Scorpius gets to his feet. "Albus..." He draws his wand and gives it a flick to cast Lumos. White wandlight floods the room, making it suddenly very bright, shadows racing to hide in every corner like they're scared of being burned by the sudden glow. Albus screws his eyes up against how intense it is.
"Albus," Scorpius says again. "You don't have to do this. I know it's bad but we can fix things. I don't know how but we'll find a way. That's what we do. We always find a way."
"Do we?" Albus asks. "Are you sure about that? Because it feels like we never-" His voice breaks, and he feels tears prickling his eyes. He swallows hard. "It feels like we never manage to do anything. It feels like we always fail. Like I always fail." He raises a hand and ticks the failures off on his fingers. "I'm a terrible son, I'm rubbish at school, everyone hates me. You'll be better off without me, and I-" He takes a breath and looks at Scorpius. "I might be better off too."
Scorpius looks at him, mouth slightly open, like he's trying to work out what to say, like there are words trying to escape but all at once and he doesn't know which to start with. Finally he shakes his head. "Albus, I really think-"
"I have to do this, Scorpius," Albus says in a whisper that rises into hysteria. "You know I have to."
"But-"
Albus sniffs. The tears prickling his eyes are threatening to spill over but he can't look afraid now. He's not afraid. He's certain.
The future is mine to make.
"I'm going," he says, pushing strength and confidence into his voice. "I'm going and no one is stopping me. It's the only way."
"Do you even know where you're going to go?" Scorpius asks, sounding forlorn and desperate. "You can't just run off without a plan."
"Yes," Albus says. "I know exactly where I'm going." There's a note tucked into his pocket telling him his destination. He's had it since the summer. On the worst days he's taken it out and looked at it. That address is hope, the only thing he’s had to hold on to.
"Does anyone know where you're going?" Scorpius asks. "I’ve told you before that you should tell someone. You should tell me. What if something happens to you? What if you need help?"
"And I’ve told you before that I'm running away," Albus sighs. "The whole point of this is that no one knows where I'm going. It's a new start. And if something happens to me..." He doesn't want to say 'so what'. He does care about being safe. He doesn't want to die or anything. But at the same time... "I know where to find you," he says. "If I need you. I know where to find all of you."
"And what if-" Scorpius breaks off and folds his arms across his body. He shakes his head.
"What if?"
"It doesn't matter," Scorpius murmurs. He wipes the sleeve of pyjama top across his nose and looks up at Albus. "I'm going to miss you," he says softly.
Albus looks at him, at the way his eyes are glinting like stars in the wandlight, at the glow of his hair, at how pale and sad his expression is, glittering tears trailing down his cheeks. His beautiful best friend, the only good thing about his life, who he already misses so much that it aches. If anything were to stop him going it would be Scorpius, but he has to do this. Even Scorpius isn’t enough to make existence stop hurting.
Albus steps across the space between them and puts a hand on Scorpius's arm. "I'll miss you too," he says, looking into Scorpius's eyes, which are swimming with tears. "I-I really will. More than-" He swallows. "More than anything."
He hesitates for a moment, an inch or two away from Scorpius, then he closes the final heartbeat between them and hugs Scorpius as hard as he can.
He feels Scorpius's body shaking with sobs. There are tears dribbling down his own cheeks too, and he can feel his nose running. It's that that finally makes him pull away, so he can wipe his nose on his sleeve.
"I have to go," he says, and it comes out broken and choked. "I'll see you."
"Will you?" Scorpius asks, in an equally small and fractured voice.
Albus nods. "I promise." Then he turns and makes himself walk from the dorm, because if he doesn't do it now he never will.
He pulls the Invisibility Cloak over him in the corridor outside and hugs it close to himself, bowing his head and trying to choke back his sobs so no one hears him as he winds his way through the Slytherin Common Room.
But as much as it hurts, every single step makes him feel a bit lighter. The Common Room wall closes up behind him and he starts walking down the dark stone corridor towards the stairs. He walks up out of the shadowy dungeon into the Entrance Hall that's still brightly lit, even at night, torches burning on the walls, bathing everything in flickering golden light.
The steps across the hall towards the door get easier and easier as he leaves everything behind. The arguments with his dad, the bullying, his family, his abysmal performance at school, the past. There is only the future now, and he can do with it whatever he wants. He can finally find out who he is, who he wants to be. He can be himself.
The Entrance Hall doors slide smoothly open as he pushes them, not even giving a creak, and he slips through. Outside the air is fresh and cool and it smells so sweet – of early spring, and daffodils, and hope. A gentle breeze blows on his face. Overhead the clouds part, and a shaft of pale moonlight falls down onto his face, cutting a glowing white path across the sea of black grass, down the lawn, towards the forest, pointing to the boundary of the school.
And as he starts down the steps he feels weightless. It's thirteen minutes past midnight, he's seventeen years old, and it's time for his future to begin.
A ball of Fiendfyre comes pelting out of the darkness and Albus dodges downwards so it just singes the ends of his hair. Below him the crowd roar their approval. It's an unseasonably cold night, but the Fiendfyre is white hot, and Albus can feel its scorching heat on his skin even when he keeps his distance. The adrenaline helps too. He never feels cold while he's racing.
The wind lashes at his face, and he squints into it as he goes into a steep dive, heading in the direction of where he knows the next marker is waiting for him. His heart is pounding in his chest. He can hear cheering, whistling breeze, the crackle of flames, and the rushing of blood in his ears. This is pure energy. This is a rush. This is what he exists to do.
Up ahead he can see more Fiendfyre, suspended fifty feet in the air, lashing dangerously through the bars of the cage it's being contained by. Albus doesn't get as close to it as he probably should do when he turns, and as he accelerates away he hears the crowd screaming encouragement to someone behind him. He can only assume that it’s Jamal who’s gaining on him; he’s the only one who’s ever really been close to Albus in terms of speed when Albus is at the peak of his form, and tonight Albus is on fire. If he’s being caught up then that means it’s time for him to put on a show. This is when the race really begins.
He doesn't spare a glance behind him. There's no time for that. Racing, he's learned over the last seven years, is a game of margins. If you take an instant to find out where your competitors are they'll already have come past you. Instead he flattens himself to the handle of his broom, urging it forward to the next turn.
He's like an arrow, like a lightning bolt, slicing through the sky like he's designed to do it, which in a way he is. He's a Potter after all, not that anyone here knows it; not that he'd ever admit it. But Potters are built to fly: small and skinny and quick. Except he's better at this than his dad ever was. He's perfected it. These days he'd make his dad look clumsy in the air, and the thought of that still delights him even after all this time.
He grins as he turns the broom, a long, looping curve round one end of the stadium, round another flaming cage, and on towards the next. It feels good that this is the stadium he’s racing in for his homecoming. It feels right. This place has always been his favourite, ever since he was a kid scribbling over his mum’s notes in the press box. There’s nowhere he’d rather race, even if the roar of it, the shape of it, the familiar view of the pitch from above makes his heart twinge. If there’s a stadium in the world that feels like home, it’s this one.
He’s thinking too much he realises with a jolt, and he shakes himself. He can feel Jamal closing in behind him, getting dangerously close, and Albus knows that Jamal will be quicker on the flat. He just has to hold him off until the next dive. No one can dive like Albus. They all have something holding them back, but Albus has nothing to lose. If he ploughs into the ground and dies at least he'll have gone doing the only thing he's ever loved, the only thing he's chosen for himself. Albus wins or he dies trying.
“Sev!” Jamal yells, and although his voice is whipped away by the wind, he's close enough now for Albus to hear him.
Albus doesn't respond.
"Hey, Sev!" Jamal tries again. “I hope you had a nice European holiday. Did you enjoy winning all those races out there? I hope you didn’t get too used to it, because you’re not going to be winning many more now you’re back.”
Albus snorts. “I’m in front,” he yells back. “In case you hadn’t noticed, being in front means I’m winning. Or did the rules change while I was away to give everyone else a chance?”
“You may be in front now,” Jamal calls, “but for how much longer?”
And that's when Albus feels a curious sensation dragging him back. Magic. Jamal is an excellent wizard, and now he’s going to charm Albus out of winning. It’s low, but not illegal. In this sort of racing, anything goes.
Albus rolls his eyes. His wand is in his pocket, and it’ll cost him valuable time to fish it out, but the charm is doing that anyway. He’ll get it out on the next straight.
Jamal catches up at the turn, swooping round Albus’s outside so they’re flying shoulder to shoulder. Albus is close to the crate of Fiendfyre and he knows all too well that he’s vulnerable. He screws up all his strength and shoves outwards, so Jamal doesn’t have chance to push him into the scorching flames.
The heat, so close beside him, makes his shoulder ache, and it’s a relief to get past safely. Now they’re flying straight again he can reach down and draw his wand. It takes long enough that Jamal overtakes and gains one foot, two feet, three feet, drawing away into the distance.
Albus grits his teeth and waves his wand. He hates doing magic, especially in the air, but sometimes he has no choice, and this is one of those times. He needs to try and remove the spell, and he just has to hope he doesn’t mess it up.
His first attempt does nothing; if anything it makes him even slower. He can see Jamal disappearing round the next turn up ahead, and he can see shapes from behind flashing closer to him. A couple of his other faster rivals are catching up.
“Come on,” Albus mutters to himself. “You can do this.”
He takes a deep breath and tries to imagine what advice Scorpius would have given him in this situation. It’s what he always does when he’s struggling with magic, even all these years after their parting.
“Confidence, Albus. It’s not actually that complicated a spell. You just have to be firm with it. And don’t move your wrist so much, you’re going to take someone’s eye out if you flick your wand around like that.”
Says you, Albus thinks at his internal Scorpius. You were always a danger to everyone, all that flailing.
But he takes the words to heart. He closes his eyes for a moment, then he screws up all his confidence and determination, and casts the spell.
Immediately he wonders if he’s overdone it and somehow accidentally propelled himself forwards, but he’s not going to complain if he has. The spell releases and he shoots forward far faster than he’d been flying before. It takes all his skill to control the turn and stop himself spinning out into the crowd, but he makes it round, and already he can see Jamal up ahead.
The crowd screams, and he doesn’t care if they’re for him or against him as long as they’re roaring like that. It’s all the fuel he needs.
He flattens himself right against his broom, so everything from stomach to chin is pressed against the varnished wood. The world blurs around him as he gathers speed. There’s one more long turn before the finish line and he’s gaining. He can do this.
“Go, go, go,” he says to his broom, urging it on, and he can feel it almost vibrating with the effort it’s giving.
They’re just a few feet away now, but they’re at the turn. Albus can’t physically go any faster, but Jamal stays in front as they round the corner. Albus isn’t even quite close enough to give him a nudge towards the fire.
Another ball of Fiendfyre flies over their heads as they pull out into the final straight and start to dive down towards the finish. Jamal ducks, but Albus is already low enough to his broom that he doesn’t have to, and he gains another couple of inches.
He’s right beside Jamal now, and he sees Jamal glance across and try to put on an extra burst of speed, but there’s no way either of them can go faster than they already are, and Jamal is tall, thin, light, and crucially just a touch slower than Albus, especially descending.
Albus can see the finish line, a strip of glowing gold in the air ahead of them. He pulls out of his dive at the same instant as Jamal and they couldn’t possibly be closer. There’s not even an inch separating them.
But then, from below, there’s the sound of shouting. Not the roar of the crowd but a more distinct sound.
“Stop! Stop, stop, stop! Stop this race right now.”
Jamal hesitates and glances down, but Albus doesn’t. Whatever anyone says he’s not stopping the race with the finish line in sight. That’s not how this works. He can worry about anything else once it’s over.
He shoots across the line, Jamal trailing a foot behind, and he punches the air. There’s no roar from the crowd, who are all distracted by what’s happening on the ground, so he lowers his arms and wheels round, peering down at the pitch below to see what’s going on.
There’s a single wizard down there, standing in the middle of the grass, right where the centre circle is marked. He’s holding his wand up to his throat and looking around at everyone. Albus notices the crest on his robes: he’s from the Department of Magical Games and Sports.
Albus stops dead in the air and stares down in horror at the Ministry wizard. “What- How did they- They’ve found us! We need to get out of here, we-“
Jamal gives a grim laugh and pats him on the shoulder. “You’ve been in France too long, Sev. This isn’t exactly a new development.” He glances around. “Where’s Gareth? We need our spokesman.”
One by one Albus’s competitors go streaking past him towards the ground, and he hangs in the air, not knowing what to do other than follow them. Maybe he has been away too long. This wasn’t what he was expecting, but no one else seems surprised to find the Ministry here. When he was last here this sort of thing would have been a disaster. Everyone would have panicked and fled. There would have been chaos. Now there’s a strange sense of order, like people were ready for this.
He touches down at the back of the group, keen to keep a crowd of his fellow racers between himself and the Ministry wizard. The last thing he needs now is for someone to recognise him – he can’t remember when he last took a dose of his potion, and it’s been too long since he cut his hair. Luckily, being at the back of the group doesn’t mean he can’t hear what’s going on, because the Ministry wizard is using a Sonorus Charm, which echoes through the whole stadium when he speaks.
“Everyone needs to leave this stadium,” the man says. “This race is over and if you don’t leave you will be liable for prosecution. If you could leave quickly and-“
“Wait wait wait.” A tall, powerful man with a bald head, pale skin, and a heavy Welsh accent nudges his way to the front of the crowd. “I think you’re being a bit hasty here, sir. I know you’re from the Ministry but what authority do you have to throw us out? Last time one of your lot came it turned out only Law Enforcement could get rid of us, and I’m sure you understand we’ve got a crowd to entertain and families to feed.”
The Ministry wizard removes his wand from his throat, letting the Sonorus Charm die, and points it at the group. “As all of you well know, this race is illegal. You have been warned plenty of times. On our last visit we said that if you were caught racing again you would be subject to fines and the possibility of further legal action.”
“And I’m well aware of that,” Gareth says, “but you can’t arrest us or fine us or evict us. I’d say this is a bit of a wasted trip. Or is this the part where the Aurors come storming in to back you up?”
The wizard puffs himself up and glares at the group. “I’m not here to arrest you or fine you tonight. I’m here to deliver a message.”
“So you’re the Ministry’s Owl then?” Gareth asks, and one of the racers at the back of the group makes a hooting sound. The others laugh, and Gareth glances round and grins. “Thank you for that contribution.” He turns back to the official. ”Look, I’m sorry for your wasted trip out here, sir. I hope they’re paying you overtime.”
“They’re not, but-“ The Ministry wizard breaks off, shuffling his feet and going red. Albus can’t help but feel a little bit sorry for him. He’s probably far too overworked and underpaid to deal with this sort of thing, but here he is. Doing his best. He’s committed to his rubbish job at least. “But that’s not the point,” the man continues, puffing himself up and trying to inject some authority into his voice. “I’m here to deliver a message. And the message is this. You have twelve hours to disband this league and discontinue all illegal activity. If you fail to comply then reinforcements from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will be dispatched to carry out further action. This is your final warning, and-“ He hesitates, thinking hard, apparently trying to remember if he has anything else to say. After a second he shakes his head. “No, that’s all. I will now escort you from these premises.” He points his wand from person to person across the front of the crowd surrounding him, but no one moves.
Gareth glances up at the stands around the pitch, and it’s clear that the spectators have started to disband. The numbers up there are getting thinner and thinner by the second. Soon there’ll be no one left to race in front of.
“Alright,” he says with a sigh. “We’ll leave. But we’re clearing up first. Those Fiendfyre cages are expensive.” He gestures to a couple of others, and people start to follow him back into the air to start tidying the course away. Albus takes the opportunity to make himself scarce.
He hurries across the grass in the direction of the changing rooms, head buzzing. What’s been happening while he’s been gone? Last time he was here the Ministry hadn’t found them, and now there have been warnings and legal action and... Everything is falling apart. Maybe it’s already fallen apart. He’d been so looking forward to being home, but now... Now what? There’s only one person who can answer that question, and he really hopes her answer is a good one.
Shower water thunders down onto Albus’s head, hot and heavy, making him shiver where it hits a tender spot on his back. He rubs a hand over his shoulder, which prickles and aches under the heat of the water. It’s never going to stop being sensitive to heat.
The sound of the drumming water is almost so loud that he doesn’t hear the door open. Almost, but not quite. He’s been waiting for that sound, so he picks it out and all his relaxation disappears into tense stiffness as he waits for whatever comes next.
“Sev, you get out of that shower right now and tell me what’s going on or I’ll come in and drag you out by the-“
He doesn’t need telling twice. He grabs the nearest towel, wipes his face so he can see where he’s going, then wraps it round his waist and stumbles out of the stall.
There’s a short woman waiting for him, standing brazenly in the middle of the shower room, hands on hips, silver and blue hair wild and windswept from sitting in the stands on a breezy, Welsh coastal evening.
“Okay,” she says, immediately shielding her eyes with her hand and turning her back. “Maybe you should have stayed in there. Will you put some clothes on?”
He rolls his eyes and starts drying himself properly and getting dressed while she has her back turned. “I thought you wanted to know what’s going on,” he says.
“I do, but not from a-“ she waves a hand in his direction over her shoulder. “Half naked you.”
Albus almost smiles at that as he starts wriggling into his t-shirt. “I was in the shower, Delphi. What did you expect?”
Delphi shrugs. “Some improvements at least. Aren’t you supposed to have been working out? And your scars look- Anyway.” She holds both hands up and stops herself. “There was a Ministry official at our race. What was a Ministry official doing at our race?”
Albus pulls his jeans up and buttons them, then he leans against the wall behind him, water dripping from his hair onto his back, every inch of his clothes clinging to his damp body. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I wasn’t exactly expecting- Apparently this isn’t new. It was a final warning. Someone from my dad’s- you know- Someone from Magical Law Enforcement is supposed to be coming tomorrow if we haven’t disbanded by then. I don’t know how Law Enforcement will find us, but...”
“This is an absolute disaster,” Delphi says, turning to face him. “Coming back was an absolute disaster. I told you we shouldn’t do it. I told you it was a risk. We should go back to Europe tonight. To the Alps, or-“
“I don’t understand how it’s got like this,” Albus whispers, running a hand through his hair. It really is too long. He needs to shave it all off when he gets home. “It’s ridiculous, it’s- It wasn’t like this when we left.”
“No, but this is what it’s like now, so we need to leave,” Delphi says. “Tonight. We can Apparate down to the coast, and then across into France.”
Albus shudders at the thought of Apparating. “Tonight?” He asks.
“Yes,” Delphi says, with a nod, pacing up and down the centre of the room. “Tonight. And then-“
“We only just arrived,” Albus points out. “I want to go home.” Home. The thought of sleeping in his own bed for the first time in a year is all that’s kept him going through today. He’s exhausted. He wants his house, with his view, and his comfortable bed, and a bit of peace and quiet. “Can we stay put tonight?” He looks at her as imploringly as he can. “No one’s getting arrested for at least twelve hours. Maybe we should stay here for tonight and reassess in the morning.”
Delphi turns around on the spot, head tipped back, taking a very long, soothing breath. “Albus,” she says, and he flinches at the sound of his own name. “I want you to think about what you’ve just said. And I want you to consider the implications.” She turns to face him, eyes steel grey, with the dangerous edge of a knife to them. “The Department. Of Magical. Law. Enforcement. Is going to show up tomorrow and start tearing this league apart. I know you know what that could mean. For us. For you. So think very carefully about the decision you make now. That’s all I’m asking.” She smiles sweetly at him, and the silken honey softness of her voice returns to its normal bright lilt. “I’m worried about you, Sev.” She walks across to him and rubs his arm, giving him a sad little smile. “It’s dangerous here, especially for you. Don’t do anything stupid.”
He meets her eyes for a moment, then he straightens up and brushes past her, heading back towards the changing room so he can get his bags and his broom. “I’m going home,” he says. “I’m tired. I want to think. But don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I promise. We can decide what to do in the morning.”
He hears Delphi’s huff as she slumps against the wall behind him. “You still haven’t told me where home is,” she says. “How am I supposed to find you to talk if I don’t know where you live?”
Albus glances back at her. “You always find me. And I always find you. See you in the morning, Delphi.” He blows her a kiss as he leaves, and it’s a relief to pick up his bags and turn into darkness thinking of home.
Scorpius sits cross-legged on the sofa in the library, head bowed over his case files. The warmth of the fire crackling away just in front of him makes his cheeks feel raw, but he’d rather be too hot than too cold, and anyway, he’s concentrating too hard on his work to move.
He hardly hears the door creak open, or the careful footsteps moving across the bare floorboards, and when a hand settles on his shoulder he jumps. He flails his hands, and his papers go spilling out of the folder and all over the floor.
“I didn’t mean to make you jump,” Draco says, looking around at all the mess.
“Well,” Scorpius says, scrambling to draw his wand and clear everything up. “You still succeeded.” He looks up at his dad. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Draco holds up a mug. “I thought I’d bring up some hot chocolate.”
Scorpius sighs. “Okay. You’re forgiven for sneaking up on me.” He waves his wand and the papers fly into a jumbled up heap, which he catches and starts to reorder.
Draco sets the mug down on the table next to Scorpius and sinks onto the sofa beside him. “Are you still working?”
Scorpius nods, not looking up from his papers. They’re in a total mess now, and it’s difficult to tell what should be where. “I have to read these before tomorrow.”
“What’s happening tomorrow?” Draco asks, taking a sip of his own drink, which Scorpius can only assume isn’t hot chocolate.
“I’m being sent to tell off some people who keep breaking into Quidditch Stadiums and using them for illegal broom racing meets.” He rolls his eyes. “Games and Sports are sick of them, it’s not worth anyone else’s time in Law Enforcement, so I have to do it.” He flicks through the papers, decides it’s hopeless to reorder them by hand, and instead tries one of his fancier tricks. He taps his wand against one of the numbers at the bottom of the pages, then gives it a sharp flick, and the papers reshuffle themselves into order. A couple don’t have numbers at the bottom, so they stay at the top of the pile, but it’s better than nothing. He puts the pile on the table, picks up his mug of hot chocolate, and when he looks up he sees his dad is smiling at him.
“That’s a nice trick.”
Scorpius gives a twisted smile. “I’m getting good at filing.” He takes a sip of his chocolate. “It’s actually quite nice of them to let me out for once. It may be a dull job but at least I’m not chained to my desk while I’m doing it.”
“You’re too good for this job,” Draco says, looking at him. “Haven’t they realised that yet?”
Scorpius shrugs and looks down at his drink. “I don’t know...” He sighs. “I know it’s not very interesting, Dad, but at least it’s something. I wish it was the Department of Mysteries, or- But I’m not going to leave. I don’t know if anywhere else would take me.”
He glances up and sees that his dad’s expression has turned thunderous. His eyes are dark as heavy rain clouds, the anger flashing across his face as sharp as lightning. “Did you read the Prophet this morning?” He asks in a barely restrained whisper, with all the tension of static electric energy before it’s released.
Scorpius swallows. “I can’t stop reading the paper, Dad. I need to know what’s going on. One of my cases was mentioned, so I-“
“That paper is trash, Scorpius,” Draco says, leaning across and looking Scorpius right in the eyes. “Do you understand me? You shouldn’t believe a word of it, especially not what they say about you.”
Scorpius gives a placatory nod. “I agree that it devalues the real news a little bit, and-“
“A little bit?” Draco interrupts.
Scorpius holds a hand up. “More than a little bit. But I still need to know what they’re saying. Not about me, about everything else.”
“But-“
Scorpius groans, because he can’t believe they’re going to have this argument again. “Dad, I know the rumours aren’t true, okay? It’s not me you need to convince, it’s-“ He makes a small gesture towards the world at large and drops his hand into his lap, bowing his head. “It’s everyone else.”
Draco purses his lips and it looks like he’s struggling with himself. After several long seconds he shakes his head. “I should go and have words with Potter. He should give you a promotion. It’s the least he can do.”
Scorpius sets his mug down and gathers the papers back into his lap. “I’d rather earn it,” he says, knowing there’s no point arguing with his dad but wanting to say it anyway.
“I’m sure you already have,” Draco says.
Scorpius picks the first sheet off the top of the pile and examines it. It’s a profile on one of the racers, with a blurry photo attached. In the absence of any decent headshot, there’s a picture of the racer zooming through the photo like an arrow, too fast to catch any detail beyond the robes whipping behind him.
“These are the sorts of people I have to deal with tomorrow,” he says, in an attempt to change the subject. “This one’s called Sev. Just Sev. No one knows anything about him apart from the fact that he’s one of the best racers in the league.” He shakes his head. “Apparently he’s fearless, and the rumour is that he has nothing to lose... He sounds like an idiot.”
Draco smiles. “I think you’re more than a match for this Sev. Or any of the rest of them.”
Scorpius looks down at Sev’s photo, and sees him skid into the middle of the picture and pause mid-flight, looking around. The photo is taken from too far away to make much out, but Sev looks focused and sharp. The sleeves of his robes are rolled up to his elbows and Scorpius can just make out the curls and lines of tattoos running down his forearms. As he stares he can’t help but think that there’s something about that face that looks familiar, but before he has time to work it out, Sev is on the move again, zooming out of frame in the blink of an eye.
“Your mother took me to an illegal race meet once,” Draco says.
Scorpius almost drops his files again in amazement as he looks up and stares at his dad. “Did she?”
His dad nods. “She did.” There’s a reminiscent glint in his eyes. “It was our fourth date, I think. She liked the adrenaline of it. She never wanted life to be too slow, your mother. And I think she liked the thrill of breaking the rules.”
Scorpius grins. “Wasn’t she Head Girl at school?”
“Of course. I think that just made it worse.”
Scorpius laughs and hugs the files to his chest. He looks down at his knees and his smile fades. “Do you think it’ll be okay tomorrow?”
His dad looks at him sharply. “Of course I do. What are you worried will happen?”
Scorpius shrugs and ducks his head, pulling his knees up to his chest to make himself as small as possible. “I’m a bit scared that I’ll do something to mess it up, and they won’t let me do even the rubbish jobs that no one wants to do ever again.”
“You’re going to be excellent,” his dad says, and there’s so much certainty in his voice that Scorpius really believes him. “I have faith in you.”
Scorpius looks at him, and realises that he doesn’t even need to check if his dad really means it. “Thanks, Dad,” He says softly.
“Come here,” Draco says, beckoning to him.
Scorpius groans, but there’s no real reluctance as he sets the files down, crawls along the couch to curl up against his dad’s side, and allows himself to be wrapped in a warm hug. Twenty-four should probably be too old to live for his dad’s hugs, but it’s not. He still clings to each and every one because some days they’re all that are keeping him going.
His dad presses a kiss to his forehead and brushes his fingers through his hair. “Go and shine,” he murmurs.
Scorpius nods and hugs him back as tight as he can. “I will,” he says. “I promise.”
Just a stupid dream – A Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic
3.3k words, G rated
Harry doesn't realise that Albus has been having nightmares about the events of Hallow's Eve until the Christmas holidays. He's woken in the night by Albus's whimpers, and he can't not go and try to help.
A friend was wondering what would happen the first time Harry hears Albus having a nightmare about everything that happens, and this is the result. I accidentally wrote this instead of my Cast Four recap, but it's heavily inspired by Dom's Albus and Jamie B's Harry, so I hope it's an okay substitute for now...
Read it on AO3 here.
*
Harry doesn’t know what wakes him at first. He’s so exhausted that his eyes are painful to open, sticky with sleep and heavy.
Everything is dark and quiet. The night has the sort of softness that suggests there’s snow on the ground outside. There was a blizzard earlier, and the thick blanket of snow on the ground reduces sound to a quiet crunch, and turns the light golden orange.
For a second, Harry thinks he’s imagined whatever it was that woke him. The house is very still, even though it’s full for the Christmas holidays. Everyone else must be asleep. Beside him, Ginny’s breathing is slow and regular.
Even though she’s mostly a blur without his glasses, he manages to reach across and brush a strand of hair off her cheek. He just about sees her lips twitch into the hint of a smile, and he settles down to go back to sleep. That’s when he hears it.
It’s not a scream. It’s not even really a shout. It’s a whimper, like someone or something in pain.
Harry sits up and puts his glasses on, the back of his neck prickling. Sometimes they get animals in the garden. Maybe the foxes are back and having a fight. But it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the garden. It sounds like it’s coming from inside the house.
He stays very still, listening, and for a few very long heartbeats there’s complete silence. Then he hears something else. Moaned words.
“No. No no. Stop, please.”
Harry swallows and glances at Ginny, who is still fast asleep. He reaches across and nudges her arm.
“Gin.”
She groans and buries her face in the pillow.
“Gin, wake up.” Harry shakes her arm, and she grunts and slowly lifts her head, blinking blearily at him.
“Harry. Are you okay?” She rubs her eyes and pushes her hair off her face. “Not another nightmare?”
Harry shakes his head. “Can you hear-” He puts a finger to his lips and they listen to the silence until they hear another of the pained whimpers in the distance.
Ginny blinks, expression suddenly sharp. “Yes,” she says, then she points upwards. “Albus. He told me — maybe he didn’t tell you. He has nightmares. About everything that happened.”
Harry stares at her. “And you’re not going to do anything about it?”
“There’s nothing he’d let me do. He didn’t want a fuss about it. At school they suggested a Sleeping Draught, but...” She gives a forlorn shrug. “I think he’s hoping they’ll eventually just go away.”
Another moan of fear comes floating out of the darkness and Harry holds his hands up and shakes his head as he backs off the bed to his feet. “No. No, I’m not letting that happen. I can’t just go back to sleep, when-” He gestures to the ceiling and shakes his head again. “No way.”
“Harry...” She reaches for his hand and catches hold of it. “I don’t know if he wants...” She trails off, and he can only assume the last, unsaid word. It makes him pause but it doesn’t stop him completely.
“Gin... This whole thing. It’s because of me. I have to at least try. I want him to know that... that he doesn’t have to do this on his own. Is that wrong?”
She sighs and shakes her head, giving him a very small smile. “No. I don’t think so. Go on.”
He kisses her knuckles then lets go of her hand. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back soon.”
She nods. “Good luck.”
He runs his fingers over the back of his hand and bows his head, squaring his shoulders. “Thanks.”
As he leaves the room he hears the rustle of sheets as she rolls over, but he can’t imagine how she’s going to manage to go back to sleep.
He pads up the stairs to Albus’s room in the attic with barely a creak. The door is slightly ajar so he can see in. Albus is asleep on top of his blankets, still wearing his jeans and green hoodie, bathed in a pool of light from the lamp by his bed. He looks like someone who has resisted sleep for as long as he can, but ultimately, unwillingly, succumbed.
His hood is half up, almost covering his head, but Harry can see a messy tuft of jet black hair sticking out. Albus’s arms are crossed tight across his chest, his shoulders tense and drawn up almost to his ears. Although Harry can’t see his face, he can only assume that it’s as screwed up with fear as the rest of him. He keeps thrashing from side to side, feet kicking, breath coming shallow and fast.
“Albus,” Harry murmurs, nudging the door open.
Albus rolls over so his back is to Harry, one of his arms flying out to grip the corner of his pillow. He holds on tight enough for his knuckles to go white, and Harry pushes the door the rest of the way open.
“Albus,” he says louder, stepping across the threshold.
“No,” Albus whimpers into the pillow. “No. Stop. Please.” The last word comes out as a desperate sob, and the sound of it echoes in Harry’s heart, shattering the last of his inhibitions.
He rushes across and perches on the edge of Albus’s bed, reaching across to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Albus twitches under his touch, flinching further away, but Harry tightens his grip.
“Albus,” he says urgently, giving his son a little shake. “Albus, wake up. It’s a dream. You’re safe. Come on.”
He can feel the tension in every fibre of Albus’s body. He can feel how fast his heart is pounding. He can feel every snatched breath and terrified shudder.
“Albus, please,” Harry begs, shaking him harder. “Wake up.”
“No,” Albus sobs. “Don’t. I- No.” He wrenches free of Harry’s grip, rolling away across the bed, where he overbalances and tips over the side. He lands on the floor with a heavy thud, letting out a scream that pierces the quiet night and rips straight through Harry. As he jerks awake the scream dies, and he scrabbles upright, pressing his back to the wall and staring around wild-eyed with fear. He’s breathing far too fast, only getting the barest of snatches into his chest.
Harry vaults across the bed and slithers onto the floor opposite Albus, reaching across to put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re safe. It was just a dream. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”
Albus’s eyes are an unfocused blur of tears and terror. It takes him a second to lock onto Harry’s face, and when he does he scrambles further into the corner, wrapping his hoodie around himself and bowing his head to hide his face.
“Dad, I- I’m fine. Just a stupid dream. You don’t need to-” He wipes his sleeve across his eyes and looks pointedly at the opposite wall.
“Albus,” Harry breathes, and there must be something in his voice that makes Albus listen, because he lifts his head and looks round, face in shadow. “I know...” He reaches out for Albus, then decides against it and clenches his fist in his lap, swallowing. “I heard you shouting. And your mum told me about the nightmares. She said you didn’t want us to make a fuss, but... When I wake up from a nightmare and I’m on my own it’s horrible. I don’t know where I am, or... And I don’t know what yours are like, but I didn’t want that for you. I-I wanted to be here. I hope that’s... I hope that’s okay.”
Albus pulls his knees up to his chest and runs a hand through his messy hair. It doesn’t help, it just sticks up worse. He rests his chin on his knees and his breathing seems to calm slightly as he hugs himself and stares into space, not acknowledging Harry’s words or his presence.
“I can go,” Harry murmurs, after almost half a minute has passed, and he starts to get up, but that’s when Albus finally looks up at him and shakes his head.
“No,” he says, hoarse and shaky, a little bit desperate. “Stay. Please?”
Harry sits straight back down on the floor, crossing his legs. “I’m here.”
“Okay,” Albus whispers. Then he buries his face in his knees and draws in several long, deep breaths.
Harry doesn’t do anything except sit there and watch. He wants to shift across next to Albus and put an arm round him, but he doesn’t think that would be appreciated. In the end all he does is reach out and rest a hand on Albus’s shin. Albus sucks in a breath in response, then finally lifts his head.
“I didn’t want you to think that I wasn’t, you know.” He shrugs and stares down at his knees. “Handling it. Everything.”
“Handling it,” Harry breathes. “Albus. You’re not supposed to be- She tortured you and Scorpius. She murdered one of your classmates. You watched your grandparents-” He shakes his head and reaches desperately out to Albus. “I didn’t expect- You don’t have to do this alone.”
Albus unfolds his arms and adjusts his hoodie, shrugging it properly onto his shoulders. “But-” He holds his hands up to stop Harry interrupting. “But I thought you might be... I don’t know... Disappointed.” He says the last word so quietly, losing steam even as it comes out of his mouth. “Okay, it sounds stupid when I say it like that. But I’ve always been so inadequate, and you’ve always been so...” He gestures to Harry, up and down. “Difficult. And this. This is...” He shrugs. “I don’t even know what this is. It’s just another thing. Harry Potter’s disappointing son. Scared of his own shadow. Tried to save the world, fucked it up. It’s all my fault. I made my own nightmares.”
Harry stares hopelessly at him, not sure what to say, and apparently he’s silent for too long because Albus smiles a bitter smile and nods.
“See? It’s true. You can’t even say that it’s not.”
“Albus,” Harry breathes.
Albus gets to his feet. “Honestly, Dad. I’m fine. You should probably leave me alone now. Go back to bed.”
Harry shakes his head and gets up too, resolve flooding through him. “No. I’m not giving up that easily. Let’s talk about this.”
Albus groans. “There’s nothing to talk about. And it’s the middle of the night.”
“Are you going back to sleep any time soon?” Harry challenges him.
Albus says nothing, but twists his hands together.
“Good,” Harry says. “Because I’m not either. So we’ve got plenty of time.” He points to the bed. “Sit down, Albus.”
“If you’re just here to order me about, then you can get out of my room.”
Harry holds his hand up. “So we’ll stand. But we are talking about this. So.”
Albus crosses his arms and glares at Harry. “So.” His face is still red from crying. There’s a line down his cheek where one of the toggles on his hoodie has been trapped beneath him while he was sleeping.
“I have nightmares,” Harry says, and Albus immediately rolls his eyes.
“Everyone knows, Dad. Big news. Harry Potter and his nightmares.”
“I have nightmares,” Harry repeats, with more force. “About my parents dying. And about Voldemort. And sometimes. Sometimes I have nightmares about you. About you dying. About you disappearing. About you getting lost in time. And in case you’re wondering why I’m telling you that, it’s because if there’s one thing that’s always helped me, it’s telling people what’s going on.”
Albus eyes him, jaw tight, gaze dark and suspicious.
“I learned that the hard way,” Harry continues. “I think I’m still learning it now. And maybe it won’t be the same for you, but a problem shared is a problem halved. You don’t have to do this alone. You can talk to me, or to your mum, or anyone else. But please don’t keep it to yourself, Albus. It’ll make everything so much worse.”
Albus looks at him, jaw working, shoulders tight. For a second he says nothing, then he takes a breath. He hesitates, opens his mouth, and finally speaks. “I... I keep seeing her torturing Scorpius. She’s using Crucio on him, and he’s screaming, and... And she’s holding me, making me look. Her wand is right there.” He gestures beside his head. “It feels like I’m the one who’s... And I know I’m not, but...”
He swallows and scuffs his foot on the ground. “She’s holding me by the hair, and it really hurts, and I want her to stop. What she’s doing to Scorpius is so much worse, but I can’t stop thinking about how much it hurts me, and I... I think I’m just a selfish person. Scorpius has nightmares about his mum dying, and how Delphi nearly killed him, and all I can dream about is how much him being tortured hurts me.” He shakes his head and stares down at the floor.
Harry clasps his hands together and takes a step towards Albus, almost but not quite within touching distance of him. “You watched your best friend be tortured in front of you,” he says, imploring Albus to listen to him. “You’ve been traumatised. You shouldn’t feel guilty about that.”
Albus glances up, a twisted, bitter little smile on his face. “You do.”
“And do you think I’m a good example?” Harry asks.
Albus snorts and shakes his head. “Merlin, no.”
“Exactly. I’m glad we can agree on that at least.”
Albus sighs and runs a hand through his hair, then sinks onto the edge of the bed. “So what do you do? How do you deal with it?”
Harry hesitates before sitting next to him. He half expects Albus to jump back up again, but he doesn’t seem to mind Harry being there. It seems like a good sign.
“I talk to someone smarter and wiser than me. Your mum. Hermione. Ron. Someone I can trust. And they normally tell me that I’m being stupid.”
Albus braces his hands on the edge of the bed and rounds his shoulders up by his ears. “I’d talk to Scorpius. But he has his own problems, and it’s the middle of the night.” For a second he stares at his knees, then he looks across at Harry. “I suppose I’m already talking to you. And I... I trust you, so...”
A warm glow blossoms in Harry’s chest, spreading through him, happiness like sunshine or firelight on a winter’s evening. He reaches out and puts a hand on Albus’s arm, and Albus turns towards him.
“What do you think?”
“I think,” Harry says carefully, trying not to sound as choked up as he suddenly feels. “I think that you’ve survived a whole lot more than you should have had to. And I think that none of this is your fault. I know it’s hard, not to blame yourself, but there are a lot of people who should have done a much better job of looking after you. Myself included. And I think that you have nothing to be ashamed of, and that you couldn’t be further from a disappointment if you tried. I’m very proud of you, Albus. And some day, somehow, things are going to be okay for you. More than okay.”
Albus looks at him. “Really?”
Harry nods. “Really really.”
Albus holds his gaze for a second, as if seeing the belief in Harry’s eyes will help him believe it himself. Then he glances around. “I suppose I should try and go back to sleep. Since it’s the middle of the night. And you should too.”
“Will you be okay?”
Albus shrugs. “We’ll find out, won’t we?” He looks at his pyjamas, which are discarded at the foot of his bed, and seems to decide they aren’t worth the effort, because he peels back his blankets and starts crawling under them.
Harry holds the covers out of the way for him and tucks him in. “Is that alright?”
Albus nods. “Yeah. Don’t bother with the light. I’d rather have it on. And Dad?”
“Yes, Albus?”
Albus looks up at him from beneath the folds of the blanket. He looks small and scared and tired. “Will you stay until I’m asleep?”
Harry perches on the bed next to him and rubs his shoulder. “Course I will.”
Albus exhales a puff of air and relaxes into the bed. “Good,” he murmurs. As he closes his eyes, Harry leans down and kisses the top of his head.
Normally he’d expect Albus to swat him away, but today a small smile curls across Albus’s lips, so Harry kisses him again, then a third time. Only then does Albus grumble and hide his face in the pillow. Harry takes the hint and pulls back, ruffling his hair. Albus sighs softly, and he curls a hand around the corner of his blanket, pulling it against his chest.
It’s been a long time since Harry got to sit and watch his son fall asleep. He hasn’t been welcome in this room for a long time, and Albus wouldn’t have trusted him like this since... Maybe since he started Hogwarts. Maybe even earlier than that. It’s been years, and Harry has missed it desperately.
He’s missed the quiet sense of trust. He’s missed the way Albus’s breathing softens, and the slight snuffling sound he makes in his sleep — not quite a snore, but somewhere close. He’s missed the way Albus relaxes, all the wound up tension of his body melting away into sleep. He’s missed how peaceful Albus looks, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It’s beautiful, and Harry can’t help but stare, trying to drink it all in. If there’s one thing he’s learned recently, it’s that he can’t take a second spent with Albus for granted.
It doesn’t take long until Albus is fast asleep. When he’s in a deep sleep nothing will wake him, but even so, Harry tries to be completely silent as he presses one last whisper of a kiss to Albus’s temple, gets to his feet, and tiptoes out of the room. He pulls the door to behind him and creeps down the stairs.
At the bottom he stops and grips the bannister, composing himself as the magnitude of everything that’s just happened overwhelms him. Albus talked to him, Albus trusts him, Albus fell asleep with him. It’s nothing big, but it feels like a whole world of hope has just opened up around him. Maybe what he told Albus is true. Somehow, some day, everything is going to be okay.
He takes a shaky breath, checks that Lily and James are both still sound asleep, then tiptoes back to bed. It’s no surprise when Ginny rolls over and takes his hand as he lies down.
“Alright?” She murmurs.
“I-“ He doesn’t know how to explain any of it to her, so he kisses her fingers and squeezes her hand tight between both of his.
She gives him a sleepy smile. “Good. Is he asleep?”
“Yeah. I think he was tired.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Gin...” He hesitates. “He talked to me.”
Her smile widens and she opens her eyes and looks at him properly. “That’s very good news.”
Harry nods. “It is. It really is.”
Ginny brushes a hand through his hair, then leans across and kisses him on the lips. “I’m proud of you both.”
“We’re getting there,” Harry murmurs. “I think.”
“I know,” she says. She kisses him again and squeezes his hands, then she draws him closer, into a one-armed hug.
Harry kisses her on the cheek and settles down. He’s exhausted, eyes fluttering closed, even though part of him wants to stay awake and savour the moment. It’s impossible, though. He finds himself drifting off, not into nightmares but into warm comfort. Maybe in the morning this is what he’ll tell Albus.
Life has its ups and downs, but it gets better. Happiness creeps up on you out of nowhere, when you least expect it. And after every nightmare is a new day.
One year later, what will Albus and Scorpius have made of their future?
Beta’d by @abradystrix.
N.B. This fic is now complete both here on AO3. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride!
Read it on AO3
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XX
Epilogue
When Albus wakes up he feels gloriously warm and well-rested. His limbs are heavy, but the good sort of heavy that says they’ve done a lot of work and now they’re recovering. His head has the faintest niggle, but that’s to be expected given how loud last night was and how much champagne he drank at the after party. All in all, he feels excellent.
It takes him a few seconds to become aware that the bed is empty next to him. That’s not really surprising either, though. Judging by the sunshine streaming in through the curtains that they forgot to close on their way to bed last night, it’s nearly midday. Scorpius will have been up for hours.
Albus rolls out of bed, rubbing his eyes. He pulls on the first t-shirt that comes to hand from his bag, a fiery orange league one, and wriggles into a pair of jeans, then he runs a hand through his hair and sets off down the three flights of stairs from his old attic bedroom where they’re staying while they’re at his parents’ house.
The kitchen is in chaos, the way it normally is here. Harry is rushing around trying to sort out the first dinner preparations, and he already looks stressed. Ginny is the centre of calm in the room, doing yesterday’s washing up and offering Harry soothing words. James is sitting at the table heckling, and Lily is cross-legged in the middle of the floor, playing with the cat.
They all look up when Albus comes in, and Ginny is the first one to get to him, her hands still covered in soap suds. She beams and wraps him up in a tight hug.
“The Prophet is raving about yesterday’s meet. You’ve done so well.” She kisses him on the cheek before releasing him. “Your interview’s in the paper too.”
“Be careful when you read it,” James advises. “There might be some drool on the photos – Scorpius was a big fan. Having said that, there’s a photo in here for you, too. They’ve finally announced his promotion. Who’d have ever thought that my useless little brother would end up as half of the wizarding world’s favourite power couple?” He sighs but comes bouncing over to slap Albus on the back. Albus winces and ducks away from him.
“Thanks, James,” he groans, rubbing his back. He sits down on the floor next to Lily and leans against her side when she squeezes his shoulders.
“It’s a really good interview,” she murmurs. “You’ve done really well. And everything they’re saying about the race is true too. I don’t think I’ve had so much fun in my life before.”
Albus wrinkles his nose. “It can’t have been better than breaking into a pyramid.”
“It can,” Lily assures him. “Anyway, that’s work. Which automatically makes it about thirty percent more dull.”
Albus grins and pokes her in the arm. “Liar.”
“Fine. Maybe only twenty percent more dull.”
Albus laughs, scratches the cat under the chin, then gets up and goes to find a copy of the paper. There are two on the table, and when he turns one of them to the back page his dad comes and reads over his shoulder.
“Haven’t you already read this?” He asks, glancing up at Harry.
“A couple of times,” Harry says with a smile. “Do you mind if I read it again?”
“No. But I think you’re ridiculous.”
“I’m ridiculously proud of you.”
Albus rolls his eyes but a glowing smile spreads across his face as he reads the report from last night – the first meet of their new league. He’s not sure what his favourite bit of it is. He likes the opening, which describes the crackling energy in the air at the Harpies’ stadium before the start of the racing. He remembers the roar of the crowd so clearly, carrying through the warm, clear summer air. He’d stood in the mouth of the tunnel to the pitch and looked up into the packed stands and a shiver had run through him. It was one of those rare moments when he’d realised how special a night it was right then, and he’d been able to capture every second of it to remember back later.
There’s a bit in the report about the brutal carnage of the mass start race, and it makes him smile because last night’s race was nothing on how they used to be. It did look fierce though, from the ground. Fierce and spectacular, just the way it was supposed to be.
The rest of the report is mostly dedicated to the outcomes of the racing. The writer praises the quality of the competitors, and Albus feels flushed with pride as he reads the names of all the people who he knows, the ones who’ve been working so hard to make the meet successful and exciting. There are a couple of newcomers to the league who Albus never raced against but who he’s certain would have had a chance of beating him, and there are all the names of his old friends and competitors too. And amongst it all is the undeniable fact that he was the one who started all this, helped pull it together, and make it work. He can’t help but feel that’s far more exciting than winning any race or meet for himself.
“Are you glad now that I persuaded you we could do this without breaking the law?” Albus asks, glancing up at his dad.
Harry grins at him. “It’s almost enough to make me glad you broke the law in the first place so you could find out that you wanted to do this. But don’t tell anyone that or I’ll lose my job.” He ruffles Albus’s hair and Albus ducks away from him, brushes his hair back into place, and starts flipping back through the paper to find his interview.
Harry squeezes his shoulder and goes back to his frenzied cooking, but Albus can feel his dad’s eyes on him the whole time, and whenever he glances in Harry’s direction he sees that his dad is grinning broadly, all his stress long gone.
The interview is just before the sports section, and Albus doesn’t bother to look at the text – he still remembers what he said – but he looks at the photos. They’ve come out well. In most of them he looks put together and at least vaguely like he knows what he’s doing. The best one is the biggest. A huge photo of him wearing his old racing clothes, the jacket slung over his shoulder so his tattooed arms are on full display, with the scars visible underneath. He’s got his flying goggles round his neck, his hair is wind-ruffled, and he’s looking off into the distance like he hasn’t even noticed that the camera is there. Even he has to admit that he looks alright.
“That’s Scorpius’s favourite one,” James says, sneaking up behind Albus and resting his hands on his shoulders. “That’s why he’s gone for a walk – to cool off.“
Albus shrugs his brother off. “Where’s the one of him that I’m meant to be falling in love with?”
James grins and starts riffling forward through the pages. “It’s right... here.” He stops and makes a ta-da motion at the paper.
The photo of Scorpius is accompanied by a headline and article, and Albus looks at those first, knowing that once he starts looking at the picture he won’t be able to stop.
Malfoy promoted again
One of the Ministry’s most talented young Unspeakables has earned his second promotion in under a year. Scorpius Malfoy, 25, took his first position at the Department of Mysteries last November, after his prominent role in the foiling of a plot to murder Harry Potter and ultimately assume control of wizarding Britain. Malfoy has also been credited for finding Harry Potter’s youngest son, Albus, who had been missing and presumed dead for several years.
His promotion coincides with a restructuring of divisions within the Department of Mysteries, and Malfoy will be responsible for the management of the Temporal Research Division, reporting to the newly appointed Head of Research...
Albus scans further down the article but it just goes on to talk more about the restructuring, which isn’t all that interesting. Instead he turns to the far more important matter of the picture that goes with the article, which might be his favourite photo of Scorpius ever.
He’s leaving work, coming out via the phone boxes. There are a couple of books hugged to his chest, and he’s still wearing his swirling Ministry robes, so he looks important and grown up. His hair is a bit messy, and there are faint shadows under his eyes, but there’s a big grin lighting up his face. Even though his head is down, and he’s clearly thinking about something, whatever it is is making him radiantly happy. He looks like exactly what he is – a ridiculous nerd who loves his job and his life. It sums him up perfectly, and now Albus wants nothing more than to find him and kiss him, because he’s so hopelessly in love with this man.
“Is Scorpius out in the garden?” He asks the world at large.
James smirks. “Told you you’d like the photo.”
“I think so,” Ginny says, ignoring James and looking across at Albus. “He might have gone for a wander across the fields, but he should be getting back now. I told him brunch would be ready at one, and Draco will be here soon too.”
“Great,” Albus says, getting to his feet. “Thanks, Mum. I’m going to find him.”
“Don’t be too long,” Harry calls as Albus races for the back door.
“Don’t have too much fun,” James adds, and Lily smacks him on the leg. Albus hears him whining about it as he heads across the patio and out towards the road.
It doesn’t take him long to find Scorpius. In fact, Albus almost falls over him as he skirts round the broom shed. Scorpius is sitting with his back to the closed doors, gazing out across the countryside, and Albus doesn’t see him until the last second. He grabs hold of Scorpius’s shoulder hard to stop himself collapsing into his lap, and when he does fall, he manages to land in a heap on the ground next to Scorpius rather than on top of him.
“Hello,” Scorpius says, rubbing his shoulder and looking at Albus in surprise and confusion. “Nice of you to drop in. Where did you come from?”
“The house.” Albus tries to arrange his limbs in some sort of sensible way, like he’d meant to sit down next to Scorpius. “You’re on the floor. I was expecting to find you walking.”
“No, I was sitting. Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself when you fell, did you?”
Albus shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. And I didn’t fall, I sat, in a very dignified way.”
Scorpius nods, slow and mocking. “Very dignified. Very deliberate. You’ve never been more graceful.”
Albus nudges him. “Shut up. I had a lot of champagne last night. I’m doing well.”
Scorpius grins. “Don’t forget about the Firewhisky too. I saw that.”
Albus drops his head onto Scorpius’s shoulder with a groan. “You weren’t meant to see that. Now I’m going to get a lecture about how I’m not meant to be drinking.”
Scorpius wraps an arm round him. “No, you’re not. But it was your big night and they’re your sponsors. It would have been bad business to say no. And you’re very cute when you’re drunk.” He ruffles Albus’s hair. “You get affectionate, and your cheeks go all pink.”
“No,” Albus moans, hiding his face.
“Yes,” Scorpius laughs and kisses him on the temple.
“I hate you,” Albus says, squirming away. “You’re so mean.”
“If I tell you how brilliant you are and how much I loved your interview in the Prophet this morning will that endear me to you in any way?” Scorpius asks, taking hold of his hand.
Albus lifts his head. “It might. James mentioned that you liked the photos.”
Scorpius nods, eyes glittering in the summer sun. “I liked the photos.”
Albus smiles and squeezes his hand. “I liked your photo too. A lot.”
“That one of you with the jacket,” Scorpius says, fanning himself with his free hand.
“Were you thinking about work while you were smiling to yourself like that?” Albus asks, grinning at him.
Scorpius shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure I was thinking about you, actually.”
“Oh,” Albus says, mouth opening a little in surprise. He looks at Scorpius and Scorpius looks back at him, then they move as one.
Albus threads his fingers into Scorpius’s hair and Scorpius wraps an arm round his waist to pull him closer as their mouths meet in a hungry kiss. Albus squeezes his eyes shut and sucks on Scorpius’s lower lip, enjoying the way Scorpius’s breath hitches and his grip tightens on Albus’s t-shirt.
“Have I mentioned this morning that I love you?” Scorpius asks, pulling back to rest his forehead against Albus’s. “And that I’m very proud of you?”
Albus grins at him. “You have now. And have I mentioned that you’re a beautiful nerd and I feel so lucky to have you?”
Scorpius trails a finger over his jaw. “I’m always delighted to be your beautiful nerd.”
“Come here,” Albus breathes, and drags him in for another searing kiss.
It’s easy to get lost in their own little world, surrounded by the peace of the summer afternoon. There’s birdsong in the orchard, the scent of Ginny’s sweet peas fills the air, a gentle breeze ruffles the hedgerows, and Albus and Scorpius are entirely alone together. Or at least they think they are.
They’re so oblivious to what’s going on around them that they don’t realise they’re no longer alone until someone clears their throat close by. They spring apart instantly and look up to see Draco standing looking down at them, an expression of faint amusement on his face. Instantly Albus’s cheeks burn, and Scorpius flushes bright pink as he leaps to his feet.
“H-hi, Dad. I didn’t realise you’d arrived already.”
“I got here early,” Draco says, smirking. “Harry told me you’d gone for a walk together.”
Albus gets up too, smoothing his t-shirt out. “Scorpius did. Go for a walk, that is. I went looking for him, and then I found him, and... He wasn’t walking anymore.”
“No, I can see that. Would you like me to go away and come back in a few minutes?”
Albus bites his tongue so he doesn’t answer an immediate yes. Scorpius swallows and glances at Albus.
“I, um... I’m not sure that would help. It might make it worse. Anyway, we’re done now. We’re fine. And you’re here!” He smiles at his dad and throws himself into a warm, solid hug. “I missed you.”
Draco hugs him back. “I missed you too. The papers inform me that you’re both doing well. And I’m glad they keep me updated because it sounds like you two have been too busy to write letters.” He releases Scorpius and comes across to hug Albus too.
“I wrote to you last week,” Scorpius says indignantly. “Which was two days ago.”
Draco smiles. “I’m just teasing.” He lets go of Albus and looks between the two of them. “Did you enjoy last night?”
“It was stressful,” Albus says, glancing at Scorpius. “Just to start with. Then it was fun.”
Scorpius beams back at him. “It was the best night ever.”
Albus thinks about the crowd leaving the stadium at the end and filtering out towards the Apparition points scattered around Holyhead, the atmosphere bubbling with laughter and happy chatter, a good proportion of them wearing the new league merchandise and planning how they were going to get to the next meet.
“It was pretty perfect,” he admits quietly.
Draco gives him a very serious nod. “I’m glad. You deserve it. You’ve been working so hard.”
“Now we just have to make sure the rest of the meets go as well.”
“But first,” Draco says, “you get to have a day off and celebrate. Speaking of which, I think your dad has brunch ready.”
His dad hasn’t just made brunch, he’s laid on a feast. There are stacks of blueberry pancakes, the most glorious Eggs Royale, plenty of crispy bacon and sausages, and a heap of homemade toast and jam that Scorpius finishes before Albus has had chance to decide if he’ll have any room left for it. There’s also Prosecco that Albus can only assume was provided by Draco, because he’s the only person in the room who would have suggested having bubbles with brunch.
By the time they’re done eating, Albus understands why his dad was looking so stressed before. What he doesn’t understand is how they’re supposed to manage the second feast that’s already being prepared for dinner. He’s not sure he’s even been so full in his life.
They spend the early part of the afternoon lazing around in the living room. Lily thrashes James at Wizard’s Chess, and the cat climbs all over Draco, who seems both alarmed and pleased by the sudden show of affection. Albus sits with his head on Scorpius’s shoulder and naps until James loudly announces that instead of playing Quidditch – because he’s a good brother and doesn’t want to leave Albus out – they’re going to go for a walk before dinner. Albus rubs his eyes and resists pointing out that the sort of walk James probably has planned will leave him too tired to do anything for days. Thankfully, Ginny intervenes on his behalf, and they all agree to a gentle stroll across the fields while the dinner finishes cooking.
It’s a noisy, energetic party that sets out from the house. James and Lily are behaving no differently to how they did during the walks Albus remembers going on as a child – chasing and laughing. Harry and Ginny follow along behind, holding hands and chatting to Draco who’s walking with them. Albus and Scorpius bring up the rear, arms linked, Albus leaning against Scorpius’s side.
The sun is blazing down on the tranquil countryside, and there’s a bright blue sky overhead. A couple of gnomes chase each other through the crops, and Albus can’t stop smiling. The last couple of days have been perfect in a way he hasn’t felt for almost as long as he can remember. It’s like all the disparate pieces of his life are falling into place. The league is working out, his family are all here and happy, and things are going just as well for Scorpius as for him. It’s almost a year since Scorpius came back into his life, and it’s taken time, but he finally feels truly content. This isn’t how he’d have ever imagined life being, but now it’s here he’s delighted with it. There’s just one last thing he needs to do before he can settle in and enjoy what promises to be the best summer of his life.
“You’re looking very happy,” Scorpius says, nudging him gently in the arm.
“Am I?” Albus asks, grinning up at him.
Scorpius nods. “You look especially cute when you’re all smiley.” He touches Albus’s cheek. “You’ve got a dimple. I like it.”
“You’re a dimple,” Albus retorts, elbowing him.
Scorpius’s smile spreads wider across his face. “Is that really the best you can do?”
Albus looks at him, trying to think of a snappy comeback, then he nods. “Your face is too handsome to insult.”
Scorpius’s eyes shine with delight, and he wraps his arms round Albus and squashes him in a hug. “You. Are adorable.”
Albus pretends to grumble and squirm, but he ends up planting a kiss on Scorpius, and by the time they surface the others have got far enough ahead that they’re out of sight.
“Anyway,” Scorpius says, as they set off to try and catch up. “You didn’t tell me what you were smiling about. I know when you’re happy about something. Were you thinking about yesterday?”
Albus shakes his head and swings his and Scorpius’s hands between them. “No, I was thinking about you.”
Scorpius squeezes his hand. “Were you.”
Albus nods. “I was. I was thinking about how the only thing left to do before my life is completely perfect is to ask you to marry me.”
Scorpius pauses in his stride and looks at Albus. “And is that something that’s likely to happen soon?”
Albus gives what he hopes is a non-committal shrug. “It might be...”
Scorpius’s grip on his hand tightens. “Because you already know what my answer will be. In fact I don’t see why we don’t just skip all the formalities and declare ourselves-“
Albus kisses him to shut him up. When he pulls away he takes both of Scorpius’s hands. “No skipping anything. This is the only thing in my life that I’ve ever not done spontaneously on an impulse. Let me do it right.”
Scorpius bounces on the balls of his feet and beams at him. “You’ve got a plan? You’ve really been thinking about this? Albus! What are you up to?”
Albus shakes his head and lifts a hand so he can press a finger to Scorpius’s lips. “I’m not saying anything. Wait and see.”
“But I’m terrible at surprises,” Scorpius says against Albus’s finger.
Albus sighs. “I know. But it’s not like you’ll have to wait long.”
Scorpius lights up. “I won’t?”
“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”
“But-“
“No buts. And I’m not talking about this any more until after dinner.”
Scorpius’s eyes go wide. “After dinner?” He makes a sound so high-pitched that Albus can barely hear it and starts waving his hands around like he doesn’t know what to do with them. It’s like he’s fourteen again and Albus has just announced that his birthday present will be a lifetime supply of Jelly Slugs. He looks ridiculous, and Albus is so hopelessly in love with him that he catches hold of Scorpius’s flailing hands and kisses him again.
“Breathe,” he advises when they part. “You do want to live until after dinner, don’t you?”
Scorpius nods very fast.
“Then I would say that breathing is essential.”
Scorpius nods again and gulps in a breath. “Okay. I can do that. I can definitely-“ He beams at Albus, and his smile is so bright that it makes the summer sunshine seem dull in comparison.
“You’re perfect,” Albus tells him, giving him a little nudge.
“You’re going to ask me to marry you,” Scorpius replies, nudging him back.
“Maybe,” Albus says, nudging him again. “It’s a surprise.”
“It’s a surprise,” Scorpius agrees, skipping a step as they set off walking again. “I don’t know that anything’s happening.”
“It’s just a normal day,” Albus says soothingly, already struggling to keep up with a now very bouncy Scorpius.
“Completely normal. Totally normal. The most normal day ever.” Scorpius drops his hand and dances off ahead.
“Can it be a totally normal, slow day?” Albus asks.
“Oh.” Scorpius deflates ever so slightly, but when he comes back to Albus’s side he beams at him and gently links arms with him, seeming quite happy to trot along at the sedate pace Albus is setting. “Is this okay for a normal, slow day?” He asks after a few dozen steps.
Albus squeezes his arm and nods. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“It’s easier to breathe when we’re going slower too,” Scorpius admits, and Albus ducks his head to hide a smile.
“That’s good then. Breathing is good.”
“Breathing is to be encouraged.”
“I like you better when you’re not suffocating.”
“Do you think?” Scorpius asks.
“Yes,” Albus says. “Yes I do.”
They make it back to the house in one piece. Scorpius has stopped bouncing and hyperventilating, but he’s still beaming. His smile is so wide that Draco frowns at Albus when they walk into the kitchen. Draco is the only person who knows what Albus has planned, because Albus had to talk to him about it partly to ask for permission but mostly to ask for advice. Albus half rolls his eyes and gives a little shake of his head to indicate that Scorpius is just being ridiculous, and Draco smiles and rolls his eyes back.
The walk they went on wasn’t that long, but it’s left Albus feeling more unsteady and tired than he wants to admit to anyone, so he sits in his spot at the table to wait for dinner to be served, while everyone else apart from Harry goes next door for a game of Exploding Snap. Normally he’d help his dad with the cooking, but today he just wants to sit quietly. It doesn’t work though, because as he sits there, panic creeps up on him.
He starts to feel nervous for the first time. Up until now he’s been completely confident in his plan, and until last night he hadn’t had time to doubt himself, but being faced with the prospect of actually putting the plan into action is an entirely different thing. It’s stupid, because Scorpius is bathed in the sort of radiant glow of joy that he normally reserves for his birthday, Christmas, and particularly special date nights. It’s quite clear what his answer is going to be. But that‘s not stopping the swarm of Doxies that are buzzing around in the pit of Albus’s stomach.
What if he doesn’t live up to Scorpius’s expectations? What if he comes over all tongue tied and can’t get the question out? What if he falls going down the steps to the garden and at best makes an idiot of himself and at worst ruins everything by having to go to hospital? What if getting engaged somehow ruins their relationship, and they both regret it forever? A thousand different scenarios chase each other round and round inside Albus’s head, and apparently it’s really obvious that something’s wrong.
“Are you feeling alright, Albus?” Harry asks, glancing up from his cooking. “You look a bit pale.”
Albus hoists a smile onto his face. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired, I think.”
Harry frowns, not looking entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push it. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”
Albus nods. “Thanks, Dad.” He clenches his fists on his knees under the table and tries to stay put, but worry is tightening his chest and at the same time he feels shaky and tired. He wants nothing more than to be alone now, possibly to sleep for a while, so he gets to his feet and leaves the room, aware of his dad’s eyes on him.
He finds Scorpius and picks his way across the room to him. Scorpius beams when he approaches and reaches a hand out to him.
“Are you going to play? James is cheating. We need to gang up on him.”
“I’m not cheating,” James says indignantly, although his ears go red, a sure sign that he’s definitely cheating.
Albus takes Scorpius’s hand and squeezes it. “No, I’m going to go upstairs for a bit before dinner.”
Scorpius shifts onto his knees. “Are you okay? I can come if you want.”
Albus shakes his head. “No, that’s okay. I’m fine, I promise.”
“Do you want me to come and get you when dinner’s ready?”
Albus manages a small, unsteady smile. “That would be great, thanks.” He lifts Scorpius’s hand so he can kiss it, and when he lifts his head he realises that Scorpius’s smile has faded completely, so he leans in closer and strokes Scorpius’s hair.
“Don’t worry about me,” he murmurs. “Please. I love seeing you happy. It’s nearly dinner, which means it’s also nearly after dinner.” He flashes Scorpius a hopeful smile and it works. The joy rekindles on Scorpius’s face, and he leans his head into Albus’s hand.
“Alright. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
“Thanks.” Albus bends down to drop a kiss into Scorpius’s hair, which leaves him feeling more than a bit dizzy, then he flees up the stairs to his room.
When he gets there he sinks onto the bed and curls up on his side, holding his churning stomach. He’s only realising now just how exhausted he is. After two days in a row on the go his limbs are heavy and stiff, and he feels lightheaded. He doesn’t have the energy to be worrying about proposing as well. Maybe this was a stupid idea. He’s pushed himself too far and now he’s paying the price.
He squeezes his eyes shut and digs his fingers into his hair, covering his face with his arms. He’s aware that he’s drifting, somewhere on the edge of sleep, with time passing in fits and starts, of seconds that feel like hours and minutes that feel like no time at all. The nausea from his churning stomach washes over him, and he struggles to fight it down. This isn’t a time when he can be ill. He won’t let it happen. All his family are downstairs, this is meant to be a good day, and for all his worries he really wants to propose to Scorpius.
The world fades away, and he must doze for a bit, because when there’s a soft knock on his door he jumps awake, a rush of adrenaline surging through him. It leaves him breathless and shaking.
“C-come in,” he calls, sitting up and trying to steady himself, one hand pressed to his chest.
He expects Scorpius to be the one to come into the room, but it’s not. His dad stands on the threshold, looking uncertain but concerned.
“Hi,” he says. “I... I wanted to check to make sure you were alright, but you don’t-“ He gestures to the room. “Do you mind if I come in?”
Albus turns his back on his dad but shakes his head anyway. “No, it’s okay.”
The floorboards creak and then the bed sinks as Harry sits down. “You’re not feeling very well,” his dad murmurs, and there’s something about it being a statement rather than a question that makes Albus not want to deny the truth.
“Not really,” he whispers back. Admitting when he needs help is something that he’s still struggling with, and he’s proud of himself for saying it.
“What’s wrong?” His dad asks, inching closer to him round the side of the bed, until he can reach out to put a hand on his shoulder.
Albus shakes his head. “I’m... I’m really tired. I want to sleep, but I... I can’t let Scorpius down.”
Harry pauses, and Albus can feel him considering the right words. “Albus... Scorpius wouldn’t be disappointed in you for looking after yourself. I think he’d be pleased.”
Albus gulps in a breath and lifts his head to look at his dad. “I know, but... I-I told him I was going to propose to him after dinner, and I want to... I really really want to.”
Harry blinks. “You’re planning to ask him to marry you?”
Albus rubs his chest and lies back down on the bed, but he twists his body round so he can still look at his dad. “Yes. I am.”
For a moment Harry’s expression is pure surprise, but then he starts to smile, and there’s a warm, glowing pride that comes shining out of him. He reaches out to rub Albus’s shoulder and ruffle his hair. “That’s brilliant news.”
“I know. And I have to do it. I want to do it. But...” He clenches his fists in frustration and buries his face in his blankets. “I need it to be right and it won’t be right when I feel like this. It won’t be how I want it to be.”
“Maybe you don’t have to do it today.” Harry’s fingers brush lightly through Albus’s hair, making him shiver. “Maybe it can wait. Scorpius isn’t going anywhere. He’ll understand.”
“I think...” Albus murmurs into the blankets. “I think that- that Delphi would have been delighted to know that something she did to me... stopped me asking Scorpius to marry me when I wanted to.”
“Perhaps she would,” Harry says. “But I also think that looking after yourself and making sure that things are right for you isn’t an admission of defeat. I’d say it’s more of a victory, actually.”
“Doesn’t feel like a victory,” Albus mutters. “It feels like she’s winning all the time.” He wriggles away up the bed and pulls the pillow over his head. It plunges him into warm darkness, and he can faintly smell Scorpius’s shampoo on the fabric of the pillow case.
He sighs and thinks about Scorpius’s bright smile, and about teasing him earlier in the sun drenched field. It’s moments like that which remind him he’s so in love with Scorpius it hurts. It makes his heart ache in the best possible way, like there’s too much love inside to be contained. All he wants to do is try and express that feeling in any way he can. He wants to keep reminding Scorpius that he’s here forever, that he’s really committed to this, to the two of them; that he believes in them. That’s why this has to be perfect: because the best time to tell Scorpius how he feels is when he’s proposing. If he can’t find the words then, how will he ever?
“I just want you to know,” Harry says softly, rubbing a hand down Albus’s back, “that you’re free. She’s not you. She’s not your illness either, even if it feels like she is. Your life isn’t a war, Albus, either against her or yourself. You can and should choose to do whatever you want. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think Scorpius wants perfect speeches or grand gestures. He wants you. And maybe that means waiting until tomorrow to get engaged, or maybe it means him coming up here so you can talk to him now, but whatever it is I’m pretty sure he’ll be delighted with it.”
Albus lies there with his eyes closed and lets his dad rub his back for a few moments longer, then he takes the pillow off his head and blinks blearily at the room. “Remember when I used to think you were wrong about everything?” He asks, inching onto his knees and trying to brush his hair into some sort of order with his fingers.
“I don’t think I would have dared come up here to talk to you,” Harry says. “I’d have sent your mum.”
“Probably sensible,” Albus says, twisting round to sit with his back against the pillows. “If you’d tried, I would have yelled at you.”
“But you’re not going to yell at me today.”
Albus smiles and shakes his head. “Not today. For one thing I don’t have the energy, and for another... I think you’re right. About Scorpius. And about Delphi... I guess if anyone knows what it’s like to have someone looming over them it’s you.”
“You can’t escape the past,” Harry says. “But that doesn’t mean you should let it hang over you. The past is the past. The future is yours to make.”
Albus gives a dry little laugh and looks down at his knees. “She used to say that. It’s annoyingly good advice.” He runs a hand over his face, closes his eyes, and draws in a few long, slow breaths. His body still feels sluggish and heavy, but his head has stopped spinning and he doesn’t feel sick anymore. Some of his nerves have calmed down. From the kitchen he can smell the delicious scent of dinner wafting up to him, and his stomach rumbles.
“Can I come down for dinner and see how I get on?” He asks, looking up at his dad.
Harry frowns at him. “You don’t have to ask permission to eat.”
Albus shakes his head. “Right. Sorry. Old habits... I’ll come down and have some food, and then after that...” He leans across and opens the top drawer of his bedside cabinet. There’s a little box in there, a bit bigger than a ring box, with his engagement gift inside. He tucks it into his pocket and flashes his dad a smile. “Just in case.” Then he closes the drawer and gets to his feet.
He sways on the spot, and his dad gets up and catches hold of his arm.
“Do you need help?”
Albus thinks about the three steep flights of stairs down from the attic and nods. “I think so, today.”
“We’ll take it slow,” Harry says, and they set off carefully on the long journey downstairs.
It’s loud and hot in the kitchen, even with all the windows and the back door open. James is telling terrible jokes, fuelled by a couple of glasses of Draco’s finest wine, and Lily and Draco are both laughing at him, which is only encouraging him. Harry and Ginny are trying to hide amused smiles while they chat together about something that Albus can’t hear. Scorpius is occasionally contributing to the joke telling, but mostly he’s telling Albus about something work-related that he probably isn’t meant to be talking about, but he sounds too excited to contain himself. Albus is listening while he picks at his green beans and Yorkshire pudding. He doesn’t have much appetite and his head has started hurting again, but his dad’s food is so delicious that it’s worth at least trying to eat it.
With the heat and the noise, he feels far from perfect, but when Scorpius is beside him talking and smiling he doesn’t really care anymore. That pressure of affection is building up inside him, and he can feel the box in his pocket digging into his leg. This might not go the way he wants it to, it might even go spectacularly badly, but he’s going to try it.
Once all the plates are empty, Ginny gets to her feet and starts clearing the table, and Albus’s nerves spike inside him.
“Let’s have a break before dessert,” Harry says, leaning back in his seat. “I’m too full to move now.” The rest of the table makes noises of approval, and Albus glances at Scorpius.
“I think I’m going to get some fresh air. Do you want to come?”
Scorpius’s expression goes from an unrestrained grin to something nervous and sharp, but his eyes don’t lose their shine for a second. “Okay.” He gets up and offers Albus his arm. Albus is grateful to take it, and he leans against Scorpius’s side as they go out into the twilit garden.
It’s so much cooler out here. A gentle breeze sweeps over them, and Albus closes his eyes and inhales. It’s quieter too, the silence broken only by late night bird song and the rustle of the leaves in the orchard.
“Can we sit?” Albus asks, gesturing to the steps that lead down onto the lawn.
“Of course.” Scorpius helps Albus sit on the top step, then plops down next to him and wraps an arm round his waist. “How are you feeling?”
Albus rests his head on Scorpius’s shoulder. “Less than ideal, but I’ll live.”
Scorpius kisses him on the forehead. “Let’s have an early night tonight.”
Albus nods. “I’m not going to object to that.”
They lapse into silence, and Albus enjoys the feeling of Scorpius breathing against him. It would be so easy to drift off to sleep right here on this peaceful evening, but he can’t sleep yet.
He lifts his head and turns to Scorpius. “You know I want to ask you something. And I’m sorry it’s not going to be perfect, but... I hope it’ll be okay anyway.”
Scorpius sits up very straight and clasps his hands in his lap. Albus notices that his grip is so tight that his fingertips have gone white.
“Are you nervous too?” He asks, glancing at Scorpius’s hands.
Scorpius looks down and laughs, tucking his hands into his pockets instead. “My incredible boyfriend is about to propose to me. Yes I’m nervous. And excited. And... a lot of things. I’m a lot right now. This is a lot. I- I’m rambling. Sorry. Go on.”
Albus smiles. “You’re really cute when you ramble.”
Scorpius goes pink. “I’m glad it’s working in my favour.”
“Everything works in your favour.” Albus puts his hand in his pocket and closes it round the handle of his wand. He twists the handle between his fingers, then sighs and lets it go. “I was going to cast stars in the trees and make everything look beautiful,” he says. “But I think if I did that now I’d just pass out. Or set the orchard on fire.”
Scorpius shakes his head. “I don’t need stars. It’s okay. You’re enough.”
“My dad said you’d think that,” Albus says, ducking his head. “I still think you deserve stars though. You deserve everything. You deserve the world. I wish I could give it to you.”
“You’re the world to me,” Scorpius murmurs, reaching out to take Albus’s hand.
Albus grins. “That’s really soppy.“
Scorpius grins back. “I know. It’s your fault.”
“Alright.” Albus squeezes Scorpius’s hand. “Hold the soppiness for a second while I do this.”
“You mean this isn’t going to be the soppiest bit yet?” Scorpius asks.
“It might be.” Albus lifts their linked hands to Scorpius’s mouth and they both press a finger to his lips. “Now sshh.”
Scorpius nods silently and sits and smiles at Albus. It’s at that point that Albus realises he didn’t need to cast stars in the trees. The sun is sinking behind the orchard, and the real stars are coming out overhead. The light from the house is bathing the garden in a golden glow, and Scorpius’s eyes are shining as bright as the silver moon overhead. It’s perfect just like this. Everything is perfect when Scorpius is part of it.
“A year ago,” Albus says, and his voice catches in his throat so he coughs and tries again. “A year ago I was trying to hide from myself. I was unhappy, I was lonely, I didn’t think I could have any of the things I wanted. And then you walked through the gates of the Training Ground, and it was like the first piece fell into place in my life.
“We went and got coffee, and we talked, and I had no idea how I’d ever managed to walk away from you. My life is exponentially better with you in it. You bring me sunshine, and stars, and magic, and... you make me believe that I can have a future; that I deserve a future.”
He swallows and looks down at his hands. “That day a year ago, you connected me back to the life I was missing, and I know now that I could have it all without you, that I’m wanted here and that there’s a life for me here. But the truth is that I want to share this life with you.” He glances up at Scorpius. “When I look at my family I want you to be there too. When I come home I want to be coming home to you. When I’m having a bad day I want to have the hope that you’ll be there to help. And when I’m having a good day I want to share it with you. I hope that you know – I know that you know – that I’m staying forever, but I want the whole world to know that. I want you and them to know how much I love you, and I want to stand up and promise that I’ll never leave you, that I’ll love you no matter what, and that my heart will belong to you forever.”
He pauses, and Scorpius seems frozen, gazing at him with sparkling silver eyes, mouth slightly open like he’s lost for words, then he looks down and rummages in his pocket for the box.
“This isn’t a ring, I’m sorry. I-I asked your dad how I was supposed to do this, and he said that when he and your mum got engaged they went and got their rings together, and I thought it was a nice idea, so I-I thought-“ He shakes his head. “Anyway. This is a gift for you, because I love you, and I-I just want to ask...” He exhales a shaky stream of air then breathes in again through his nose and squares his shoulders as he looks right at Scorpius. “Will you marry me?”
Scorpius covers his face with his hand, and for an alarmingly long time he doesn’t say anything. Then he drops his hand and reaches for Albus, pulling him in for a tight hug, and Albus can feel him shaking. It’s difficult to tell if he’s crying or just overwhelmed, and Albus doesn’t know how to ask, so he just holds onto Scorpius and messes with his hair and kisses his cheek until finally Scorpius pulls back and looks at him.
There are tears on his face, but he’s smiling, and he cups Albus’s chin with hands. “Yes,” he whispers, and his voice breaks. His smile widens like the sun emerging from behind clouds. “Yes of course I’ll marry you. Come here.” And then they kiss, and Albus is pretty sure the only reason he’s not crying too is because he’s so tired. Now the nervous energy is wearing off his hands are shaking and he feels exhausted right to the core. All he wants is to curl up by Scorpius’s side and sleep.
“What were you saying about this not being perfect?” Scorpius asks when they part, and he’s wrapped an arm round Albus and Albus has his head resting on his shoulder again.
Albus shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”
Scorpius squeezes his shoulders. “I’m not disappointed. I could never be disappointed with you. Can I open this?” He points to the box that Albus is still holding loosely in his hand.
Albus nods and sits up a bit. “Yes, go on.”
Scorpius takes the box and opens the lid to reveal the pair of tiny silver cufflinks inside. They’re set with stones that look like rubies, but Scorpius frowns down at them then glances at him.
“Those aren’t jewels. What is it?”
“It’s Fiendfyre,” Albus says. “Crystallised Fiendfyre. You can sort of freeze it. It kills it, so it’s safe, but it looks really cool. And... look closer.”
Scorpius takes one of the cufflinks out of the box and inspects it. “There’s a bird on it.”
“An albatross,” Albus says with a smile. “Like your Patronus.”
Scorpius grins and looks at him. “Have I mentioned today that you’re perfect?”
“I’m not sure,” Albus says happily. “Maybe you should say it again just to make sure.”
Scorpius puts the cuff links safely back in the box, then leans over and kiss him. “You’re perfect, and I love you. And you want to know the best bit? You’re my fiancé.”
Albus blinks at him. “I... I am. I hadn’t thought of that. I’m your fiancé. And you’re mine.” Happiness wells up inside him and his grin is so wide it hurts his cheeks. “We’re going to get married.”
“Yes,” Scorpius says. “Yes we are.”
“I heard something about marriage,” Draco says behind them, and they both jump and look round to see him walking across the patio holding a bottle of champagne. “We were wondering if we’re allowed to come out and join you now?”
Albus looks at Scorpius and nods. “I think so.”
Draco smiles and calls back to the house. “They don’t mind us coming outside.” He draws his wand and conjures up some chairs on the lawn, then looks back at the pair of them. “Is it good news?”
“It might be,” Scorpius says brightly. “Does everyone know this is happening?”
Draco shakes his head. “Not yet.” He sets the champagne down on the ground as the rest of the family comes out of the house and joins them in the garden, Lily sitting on the steps just below them, James hopping up onto the wall, and the adults taking the chairs.
“We thought it was too nice an evening to stay inside,” Ginny says. “I hope you two don’t mind us invading.”
“No, it’s fine.” Albus waits until everyone is sitting down, then he squeezes Scorpius’s hand. “It’s good timing actually. We’ve got some news for you.” He looks at Scorpius and gives him a nod.
Scorpius doesn’t look at the others when he speaks. He keeps his eyes on Albus and beams at him. “We have. Albus and I are engaged.”
There’s very little surprise at the announcement, but there’s lots of joy. Harry comes over and gives Scorpius a tight hug. Draco nods and smiles at Albus as he starts summoning delicate crystal champagne flutes from thin air. Ginny crushes them both in her arms and kisses Scorpius on the cheek. Lily high fives Albus and tells Scorpius to look after him. Even James manages to resist making puking noises, instead ruffling Albus’s hair and telling Scorpius that ‘it’s going to be nice to have a sensible brother for the first time ever’.
The garden feels very bright and cosy. Draco’s champagne tastes like starlight and joy. Albus is happy to curl up next to Scorpius and drift contentedly in and out of consciousness, surrounded by the buzz of his family’s chatter.
A year ago he wouldn’t have dared to dream about a night like this, but now it’s his reality. He’s home. He’s got everyone he loves with him. He’s engaged to Scorpius and they’re building a life together. None of that means that things are perfect, there’s still pain that will never go away and healing is going to be a lifelong process, but he’s no longer alone. He’s safe, he’s happy, and he’s facing life with both feet on the ground.
At one point he drifts awake to feel Scorpius press a gentle kiss to his shoulder where he has a scar in the vague shape of a pair of feathered wings, and he remembers what his dad said earlier. He’s free. The future is his to make. And here he is, making it his way, with the people he loves by his side, just the way he’s always wanted to.
