Cursed Love || A Scorbus Story

Twenty: In Which one is Jealous

Nobody spoke to him on his way to his usual compartment near the back of the train. No one spoke to him on the platform. Everyone in Hogwarts knew what he had done the previous year. None wanted to be caught in the grip that surrounded him, ready to swoop them away into the void that was the Dark World.

Scorpius still had nightmares about that dreadful place. It was as if, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape the reality of what could have happened. . .

Trembling slightly, Scorpius opened his trunk. It was brand new, the leather unscathed by harsh comments, and ridicules, declaring him as Voldemort's son. His dad had just bought it for him in Diagon Alley, where few seldom gave the pair more than a fearful glance. Inside of his trunk, on top of all of his school books and inks and quills and parchments, was his usual bag of sweets.

Albus had written to him about making some new friends in their new dormitory, saying that they were quite nice and not at all jerks. Perhaps, if Albus wasn't lying, he could be friends with them as well. Finley Scamander and Laurence Creevy.

Maybe they would be friends with Scorpius too. Either way, Scorpius opened his trunk, making sure the sweets were visible, hand trembling. He didn't tell his father everything about how he had been feeling the past couple of months.

He woke up about once a month in the middle of the night writhing in pain, sobbing into his pillow. His father's bedroom wasn't very close to the guest room he still occupied, the ghosts of his mother still haunting his actual bedroom, dust settling everywhere. He couldn't move very well when the pain settled in.

So, alone in the middle of the night, he sat in his bed, sobbing and wishing his mother were there to hold him. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt:

First, it would hurt to breathe. But not just hurt---no, it would be so painful that Scorpius often wished he would pass out, but he never did. He was awake the entire time as his lungs were being stabbed by a million tiny daggers, all driven into him at once, twisting and twisting until he felt as if his organs would burst.

Second, he would vomit everywhere. It always happened after his organs were assassinated, and he would heave over the side of his bed onto the floor. The smell was always horrible, even if he called for a house-elf that always tidied it up and set a bowl beside his bed. It would still slosh out. Then, after all of the contents of his stomach were out of him, bile like acid would tear at his throat until all he could do was dry heave. That was, arguably, the worst part of the vomiting.

Lastly, Scorpius couldn't sleep because of the pain. These spells would always last at least three days, and he made sure to just tell the house-elves to tell Draco that he wasn't feeling well, but that it was most likely food poisoning. He knew that wasn't it. But he would have to stay up for days on end and, when it all finally ended, he was left feeling quite sore, all discombobulated, like he had just died, come back to life, and died again. He always had a raging fever as well, his throat dry and burning from the bile. His headache was always terrible.

"Scorpius!" a voice said, and he didn't even need to look up to see that it was Albus. He ran over, giving Scorpius the highest hug imaginable, a hand on the back of his head, the other on his back.

Oh.

"How have you been? Merlin, you look skinny. Have you eaten?"

Chuckling, Scorpius said, voice cracking slightly, but only because he hadn't spoken too much this summer. "You sound like a mum."

Albus slapped a hand on his forehead, groaning, "Oh, I do, don't I? Ugh."

"Care for some sweets?"

"Yes, please." Albus grabbed a handful, sitting beside Scorpius, a dark eyebrow raised. "Scamander and Laurence should be coming soon. They really are kind." He munched on some sweets, looking over the blonde. "Say, how was your summer besides that flu?"

"Oh, just swell," Scorpius puffed out his chest, grinning. "I've got loads of new books, including some Muggle classics. I found an old book Mum used to read to me. It's called The Little Prince. Quite an interesting story."

"Oh, really?"

"It's quite a piece, if I had any predisposition to become an author, I wish I could write a story like that."

Albus nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. He loved watching Scorpius read a book, whether it be for school or pleasure. There was always a quirk, Albus noticed, where he would furrow his eyebrows. It was quite...adorable.

"Mother used to read it to me at least twice a month, when she wasn't too ill. I. . .really like the book, I suppose."

Albus grinned. "Sounds wonderful."

"Hey, hey, heeeeey," a new voice said, making Scorpius look up. It was a handsome boy with dark hair and matching eyes, a Flint of mischief in them. "Well, pleasure to meet you formally, Scorpius Malfoy." In his hands were two cages. One containing a jackalope and the other a hedgehog. "Name's Finley Scamander. You can call me Scamander."

Albus grinned again, standing to meet his friend. "Nice to see you."

Scorpius gave a shy wave, his cheeks feeling warm.

"Can you walk?" another voice said, and Scorpius saw another boy with golden curls and jewel blue eyes behind thick glasses. "C'mon, Scamander, my back hurts like hell."

"Such language!" Scamander gasped, though he was laughing. He set the cages of animals down, making sure they wouldn't slide around just in case, before he sat across from Scorpius.

Albus patted the blonde boy on the back, helping him with his luggage.

"Oohh, sweets!" Scamander said, digging a hand into the bag. "Wow, Malfoy, this is quite the load!"

"Er, yes," he squeaked, his face growing hotter when his voice cracked.

"I'm Laurence, by the way," the blonde said, blinking fast behind his glasses.

"Hello."

"Scamander is rude for not asking, but can I have some of your sweets?"

"Sure."

As Laurence grabbed some, Albus sat back next to Scorpius, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Scorpius never liked change much. This was a big change, meeting two people that Albus had grown close to in his absence. Did Albus like them more than him? Was he finally going to ditch the son of Voldemort, the one who went into a reality where some of their classmates didn't even exist, or were jailed in Azkaban?

Albus squeezed his shoulder lightly.

Maybe this was it. Maybe this was Albus about to kick him out of the compartment. Who else would take him on as their friend? Who else would want him to be around them?

"You okay?"

Scorpius nodded, though he felt like throwing up. His heart ached. But not because of the odd pain spells he had been experiencing. He hadn't really felt this emotion before. . .

Jealousy.

The word hissed around his head, spinning and spinning until he was dizzy. He felt himself staging slightly, eyes glued to the floor of the compartment. These boys were taking Albus right from under his nose. Of course they would. Was Albus even---

"Scorp," Albus said, interrupting his spiralling. The blonde looked up, seeing that the trolley witch was there. She still had that murderous glint in her eye. "Do you want anything?"

"Er, no?" Scorpius' voice cracked again. He cleared his throat, his eyes back on the floor.

Albus wouldn't like him in that way, that was for sure. So what if James had come out a few months ago? Albus wouldn't even think about risking their friendship like that, would he?

Scorpius' hands shook as he grabbed his book from his luggage, reading it intently. He only read the first couple of sentences before his mind began racing again.

Was this the end to their friendship altogether?

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