The Many Musings of Albus Potter

xxvii. augureys // part ii.

xxvii. augureys // part ii.

When Albus was ten, he'd found a way to break into his father's office and stumbled on some of his old therapy notes. Why Harry had kept all of these in the first unsealed drawer a child could get their hands on was anybody's guess but he'd read something in it that had stuck with him ever since.

When you're struggling to breathe, fixate on something seemingly minute. Anything. It could be a speck of dust in the corner of the room, a strand of Ginny's hair, the block-print patterns on Mrs Weasley's favourite vase. Just focus on it, blank everything out, until all your mind has left to do is look at that thing and observe it. Keep focusing and you'll find that you've caught your breath back at some point. Draw yourself back to reality slowly, but keep focusing on it – zoom out, out, slowly, until your eyes blur out of focus like the lens of a camera.

And so when Albus Potter finally locks eyes with Scorpius Malfoy, this is the first thought he has.

Start minute. His hair creeping down and curling around his neck. When did Scorpius have curls in his hair? Further up. His lips are thin and colourless; dehydrated, Albus thinks. He needs some water. Further still. A healed scar that starts above his lip and runs around his nose, stopping crudely just above his right eye. Albus' heart quickens. Who? Why? There's no time to mull over that. Anyway it's just making him panic more. He stops at his eyes again. Still blue, untouched.

"Albus, come here."

The trance is broken and he's just running and running. Straight past Scorpius, back to his dormitory.

------------------------------------------------

Albus isn't surprised when Scorpius walks into the dorm room a few hours later. That's the way he's always been – gives Albus his space, a few hours to think, and then comes back to deal with the problem at hand. They've solved so many problems in the past, just like this. He isn't sure how Scorpius will fix this one.

"Al?"

Albus can't help looking up at that. How many times had he imagined this exact scenario? He feels dizzy with disbelief; he isn't sure if it is real, this spectre of Scorpius Malfoy standing before him. When Scorpius walks towards him, he shuffles back in his bed. Scorpius stops, a flash of hurt in his eyes.

"I know," Scorpius says. He's already crying. "You're mad at me. I – Albus, you don't have to touch me but...don't move away. Don't run."

Albus' entire body prickles with a mixture of anger and guilt. He is mad, he realises.

"I know about dad and Draco," he burts out finally. "I know everything now. You knew my dad, before you even met me. Why didn't you—"

"I didn't think it would help anyone," Scorpius cuts in. He moves closer again and it takes everything in Albus not to bolt out of the room again. He's been rehearsing this, Albus thinks. There's a deliberateness to the way Scorpius folds his hands together, closing his eyes, taking deep breaths. "I thought about it for months after we first became friends. Months. But I didn't think it was my story to tell. You already hated your dad so much—"

"Hate?" Albus' nose flares and he squares his shoulders. Now it's Scorpius' turn to shrink down. "I've never hated my dad."

"I—that was badly put. I—fucking hell, Albus, I didn't mean to—I just want you to know that I wasn't trying to get closer to him by being friends with you. I wanted to be friends with you because...well, because I had a crush on you."

Albus rolls his eyes. "Touching. I'm sure your obsession with my dad had nothing to do with that."

"Obsession?" Scorpius sounds angry now too. "He was like a father to me for years. And then he disappeared and my dad wouldn't tell me why or what happened. Albus look at me!"