Cursed Love || A Scorbus Story

Eight: In Which Hearts Are Broken

Pacing the length of what used to be his and Albus' private dormitory, Scorpius chewed on his lip, attempting to make sense of what had happened. Albus had never done anything like that before. Denying him wasn't something that his best friend enjoyed at all.

But, then again, hadn't he gotten angry with him for having to calm down after what happened in the Minister of Magic's office? He hadn't even told him of the fight with his dad, and that certainly would have been important to know about before beginning this charade.

Was Albus just doing this to retaliate at his father? Or did he truly wish to help Amos Diggory have his beloved son back?

Scorpius knew how much Albus disliked his father's legacy, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One. Albus often mocked the title. Chosen One. If I knew my dad would be the Chosen One, I would have chosen to not be born at all.

Even if it was quite rude to say, Scorpius laughed with Albus' chuckles, thinking, Albus doesn't mean that, he's only making do. But now he wasn't so sure.

"I know what it's like, to be a spare. But your son doesn't deserve death, Mr Diggory."

Deserving of death. . .

Without warning, Scorpius felt his face go pale, everything around him swimming, dipping, swirling around him until it stopped suddenly, his back pressed against the rugged floor, air refusing to enter his lungs.

He couldn't move, couldn't do anything but wait, the now-familiar feeling of nausea settling in the pit of his stomach. His entire body felt like lead, the inside of his mouth tasting like metal, as if he had bitten his tongue when he had fallen.

Passed out, more likely, he thought to himself, closing his eyes. What was happening? That had come out of nowhere, no warning, no nothing.

After an unknown amount of time, Scorpius was able to shakily get to his feet, stumbling to his bed and sitting down, holding his head in his hands.

What is wrong with me?

It was a long time before Scorpius was able to stand again without having to sit right back down. Even then, he was trembling slightly.

When Scorpius could finally walk without stumbling more than usual, he left the dormitory quickly, hoping to find Albus alone (which he certainly would be, unless more has changed beside him now being in Gryffindor and Hermione Granger being their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor) to see what he had done wrong.

At the staircases, he almost fell when the one he stood on began to move. It stopped at a landing and Scorpius found himself grinning when he saw Albus standing on the landing, looking at him as well.

"Albus---" Scorpius began, his voice a hopeful squeak. But the dark-haired boy shook his head, turning sharply, breaking the moment, and leaving Scorpius alone again, his abject loneliness clear on his slim face. "Please!" he called to Albus' back, seeing his best friend tense momentarily.

"Scorpius, I can't."

"Says who?" Scorpius asked, his lip trembling as Albus turned to face him. "Your dad? Since when have you cared about what he's told you to do?"

"Since he threatened to have me fixed with a spell that gives him eyes and ears to everything I do!"

Scorpius bit his lip, eyes burning as he said, "He thinks I persuaded you to jump off the train." It wasn't a question.

"He does." Album glanced around, adding, "I hate him. I hate him so much." His words were quiet, but his emerald eyes were hard and dark, his hands clenched into tight fists. "I've got to go," he muttered, leaving Scorpius behind again.