Working Through the Rest

Three Months Too Long

After the service draws to a close, people begin to disperse. Most go back to the castle, shivering in the cold. I stay, staring out at the lake as Rose starts to walk away. Scorpius offers me a slight smile and I bite my lip.
"I'm going to go back to the castle," he says quietly.
"I..." I take a shaky breath. "I need to stay here. For a bit."
"Will you be okay?"

I nod and he starts to walk away. I watch him for a few minutes and then I walk towards the lake shore, sitting down slowly. It's silent and I close my eyes slowly as the waves lap around my shoes. The world is near silent. For a few moments at least, the world is near silent. The reminders of how close I am to where we resurfaced after the second task don't seem to matter. I can think about them without fear.

Scorpius' screams of joy when he saw me, his smile and the strength with which he hugged me. It all comes back, a little at a time. He still found the strength to smile, after all of that. He still found the strength to be himself, to be Scorpius Malfoy. I cannot understand how, but I can at least aspire to that.
"Potter."

I jump slightly as someone sits down next to me, shrugging them off as they put an arm around me.
"What?" I mutter, opening my eyes.

Zack Alderton is sat beside me, scowling. I stand up quickly. I really have no interest in what he wants.
"I have some questions," he says, remaining surprisingly calm.
"I probably don't have any answers," I shrug. "So if you wouldn't mind leaving alone, that would be appreciated. Thanks."
"No," Zack stands up and grabs my hood, pulling me back as I turn to walk away. "You do have answers."

I don't reply, stopping suddenly. I pull my hood from his grasp, continuing to watch him, but stepping backward. He doesn't step forward.
"This service should have happened months ago," he snaps. "Why didn't it?"
"I didn't organise it," I have very little interest in where this conversation is headed.
"But you know why," Zack says. "So spit it out."

I take another step back as he starts to get angry. I don't want to get into a fight. Not now. Though I'd imagine he does.
"What makes you think I know?" I say slowly.
"He went looking for you," Zack points out. "The night he died, he was looking for you."

A lump starts to form in my throat and I look up at the sky. This wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault that all this happened. I need to remember that. If I remind myself of it enough, maybe I'll start to believe the crap that I tell myself.
"I know how he died," I mumble. "I don't know why it's been three months. I'm...I'm sorry."
"Bullshit," Zack almost cuts me of. "That's utter bullshit."

I don't reply.

"You were missing for weeks after he died. Why?"
"You know why."
"That explanation," he spits, "is not something I am inclined to believe."
"It's the truth," I say quietly. "You know as much as I do."

Sometimes I'm grateful that the papers got hold of pretty much the entire story. It makes explanations that little easier to anyone willing to listen. I turn to walk back to the castle, shivering as the wind begins to pick up again. Zack grabs my hood again, jerking me backwards as he seizes the front of my robes. I attempt to pull myself away, but he doesn't move, staring me down.
"Don't you think," he snarls, "it's a little strange that the daughter of Voldemort decided to torture her little brother."
"Shut up," I snap. "He is not Voldemort's child..."
"Really?" Zack sneers. "Then why didn't you fight her? Surely he asked you not to because dearest sister couldn't get hurt, could she?"

I pull away from him again and this time he lets go, smirking at me as I stumble backwards, staring at him.
"You think we wanted this?" I want to scream. "You think we wanted any of this?"

I don't wait to hear his reply, knowing that it will end up resulting in pain, instead running back towards the castle. His shouts follow me and I try to ignore him. He's wrong. Scorpius isn't Voldemort's child. We couldn't have done anything. Craig's death was not our fault. Craig's death was a tragic murder that we could do nothing to stop. We cannot blame ourselves. We cannot.

I still do.