Obliviate

Chapter 17

The castle had a way of swallowing time. Days blurred into weeks when lessons stacked high, essays weighed heavy, and the dark chill of winter pressed against the windows. But for Lily, the weeks after the near disaster with the Tree felt like they dragged on in fragments.

For the first time in months, she wasn't chasing answers or visions. She was simply... existing. She told herself she needed to. The Tree's warning had left a bruise in her chest, and Scorpius's pale, strained face when he pulled her back from the brink haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. Pushing again too soon felt impossible.

So she slowed down.

They both did.

Classes filled the days. Lily's life shrank to ink-stained hands, quills snapping under pressure, and parchment curling under the weight of her restless thoughts. Scorpius  seemed lighter. Almost like the pause had let him breathe again.

For once, Lily let herself be drawn into the ordinary.

One evening in late January, the Ravenclaw common room was unusually still. The fire burned low, Kara had gone to bed early, and a soft drizzle tapped at the high windows. Lily sprawled across a heap of cushions, parchment scattered around her like fallen leaves, when Scorpius lowered himself beside her.

"You're going to drown in all that parchment one of these days," he said, nudging her foot with his.

She huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "Better parchment than Potions fumes. Did you even finish Slughorn's essay?"

He smirked. "Define finish."

"Scorpius."

"All right, all right." He leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. "I'm halfway through. Which is impressive, considering I spent most of yesterday hexing Albus's quill to scream every time it touched the page."

Lily laughed, a surprised sound that cracked open her chest. It felt good. Too good. She dropped her quill and gave him a look. "You're insufferable."

"You love it."

She bit her lip before she could answer. His eyes flicked to the movement, then away again, and her stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with essays or exams.

The days slid into a rhythm. They sat together in the library, quills scratching in comfortable silence. They walked back from lessons, their shoulders brushing just enough to spark heat under Lily's skin. In the evenings, sometimes they'd skip studying entirely, sneaking down to the kitchens or wandering the long corridors just to talk.

It was in those in-between hours that Scorpius seemed most alive. His voice warmed when he told her about ridiculous pranks Albus had pulled in second year, or the time his grandfather Lucius had tried, unsuccessfully, to ride a broom in his sixties. Lily found herself memorising his laugh, the way it tilted sideways, like he wasn't used to giving it away.

And though neither of them mentioned the Tree, its silence almost gave them permission. For once, they weren't just bound by echoes and shadows. They were just Lily and Scorpius.

Still, Lily wasn't blind.

He was planning something.

It showed in the way he fiddled with his quill when she caught him staring too long, or how he sometimes excused himself from the common room only to return with his hair slightly wind-tossed, as if he'd been pacing. Once, she saw him corner Albus near the Great Hall, voices low and tense, before both boys noticed her and abruptly changed the subject.

She didn't push. Not yet.

But at night, lying awake in her dormitory while Kara breathed softly across the room, Lily found herself wondering what weighed so heavy on him.