Albus (A Next Generation Harry Potter Fanfiction)

You've Always Got Me

"Scorpius, this is the last time I'm going to say it," Al snapped. His eyes burned with anger as he watched the stubborn stance Scor had taken about a foot away from the door.

"I'm not doing it."

Al sighed. Perhaps he'd forgiven Scor too soon after all. The whole 'I'm sorry' act had been an act, and now he was just taking it upon himself to be a prick about it. "Scor, we're allowed to visit her. You are apologising, or I am sitting with the Ravenclaws for the next month and leaving you with Sylvian," he said strongly. This was the one thing he was quite determined not to give in on.

Scor huffed audibly, looking up at the large door that led to the hospital standing behind Al. From inside there was a strange whiff of sickness, accompanied by quickened footsteps from Madam Pomfrey. "I bet she didn't hear me say it," he complained.

"Do you want me to go in and ask her if she heard it?" Al said, and it wasn't supposed to sound supportive. Scor was looking at him like he'd just told him Santa Claus was really a spell conjured up for wizard kids out of a muggle idea. Like he'd just ruined his whole life, and Al wasn't even asking that much of him. His pride was so high, that a simple 'sorry' was too much for him to choke out.

"No," he frowned.

Al straightened up. "Then let's go in," he said, motioning towards the door. He heard Scor's reluctant footsteps follow him as he pushed it open, the hinges creakily giving way to the room. Scor hadn't uttered the word for a week now, but they were finally allowed to see Matilda and as soon as Al had mentioned apologising, Scor had freaked. He didn't want to hurt his large supply of pride, that was the problem.

Madam Pomfrey greeted them as they entered. "Hello, boys," she said, quite cheerfully. Perhaps there hadn't been any casualties today, and that had put her in a good mood. "Matilda's just through here. We've finally been able to take her out of isolation."

Scor and Al exchanged worried looks. "Isolation?" Al echoed, wondering how a person can be fine one morning and isolated the next.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Yes, she's quite ill. Funnily enough, we still haven't figured it out, but my suspicions are on a student thinking it would be funny to perform a hex on her, then run away when it went drastically wrong. She told me she'd been fine less than an hour before somebody found her passed out in your common room. It is quite serious; if our treatment doesn't work by the end of the week she's going to St Mungo's. Hopefully they can figure out what's wrong," she finished, leading them around the corner up to a single bed with the curtains drawn.

Al was horrified. St Mungo's? Because there wasn't anything the school could do? "But she must be getting better, if we can see her now," Al said hopefully. Scorpius followed him silently, avoiding conversation.

Madam Pomfrey looked him dead in the eye. "She's hardly better, we just know it isn't contagious now, which we didn't last week. She doesn't have to be on her own anymore," she said curtly, her hand resting on the side of the curtain. "She was excited to see you boys, but she's not herself, so don't have very high expectations," she told them sternly, pulling back the white curtain.

What Matilda looked like, lying there in the hospital bed, was nothing like the happy, bubbly girl she'd been the very morning Al had last seen her. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, which was almost transparent, greyish and irritated. Her eyes were red and swollen, her lips chapped, and the pale hand that clutched the blanket was thin and cold. How could this have happened? He watched her try to force a smile, but wince and turn her head slowly to face them, her voice croaky and dry when she spoke. "Hi, Al."

Scor shifted uncomfortably behind him as Al struggled to find the voice to reply. "Hey. How are you?"

She tried to laugh, but gave up halfway through, sniffing. Even blinking looked like a trial, her swollen eyes pushing shut and pulling back open. "Been better," she answered, noticing Scorpius for the first time as he emerged from behind the curtain. "Oh. Hi Scor," she croaked at him, grimacing. He made almost the same face as Al elbowed him sharply.

Scor audibly swallowed, pleading silently with Al. Matilda was oblivious to their discreet pointed looks, still lying there looking tired and worn down. Al couldn't stand seeing her like that and knowing the school still couldn't do anything.

At last, Al's sharp looks and eyebrow raised prompted Scor to speak. "Uh, Matilda?" He said awkwardly, blushing. She turned her head to face him, her cheeks even paler than Scor's, and Al didn't think that was physically possible.

"Sorry for calling you a Mudblood," Scor muttered. Al barely heard it, but the subtle change in Matilda's expression showed she did.

She looked away from the both of them, screwing her eyebrows together, thinking about whether to forgive him so easily, which Al supposed she would. She seemed like that kind of person.

However, he was wrong.

"No, you're not," she answered surprisingly strongly for her current state. Scorpius went bright red, glancing at Al for what to say next. Matilda beat him to it, though. "If you were sorry you wouldn't have said it in the first place. I'm not a total idiot, Scorpius, I know you say it all the time," she finished, looking away.

"Al, it's so nice of you to drag him along to visit me," she said, facing the wall.

Scor made a desperate gesture at Al for something else to say, but Al just looked back at him blankly with wide eyes, watching his pale forehead contract and puzzle over the next words that would come out of his mouth. "Matilda, I really am sorry. I was in a bad mood and my Dad says it a lot, so I just..." He trailed off, not sure how to justify it. She obviously wasn't buying it, but Al was pretty chuffed that Scor would even add on to his simple apology. It was like he was actually showing feelings, and perhaps he really did care about Matilda.

Matilda nodded slowly. "That's not an excuse," she concluded, coughing as Madam Pomfrey bustled over and placed an old hand on Al and Scor's shoulders.

"That's enough, now," she barked, leading them away from the bed. "She needs to rest."

Al gave Matilda a half-hearted wave as Madam Pomfrey yanked the curtain shut and encouraged them towards the door. Scor seemed to still be in a state of shock. All of a sudden they were out of the room and back in the less-musty corridor, watching the large wooden doors close in front of them to protect them from all those germs.

Scor turned to Al, his eyes wide and scared. "I thought she would just forgive me!" He said indignantly, as if it was Al's fault. They started walking off back down to the Slytherin common room, passing portraits and other students that smiled or greeted them on the way.

"So did I," Al agreed, although secretly he was glad she hadn't given Scor the easy way out. Hopefully he wouldn't ever mutter that to her again, after having been suitably frightened, or at the very least he'd realise that the word was not to be undertaken lightly.

"What do I say to her now? She hates me," Scor said hopelessly, making Al smile secretly to himself.

God, Scor was so lucky he had Al to keep him on the right path, he thought smugly.