Working Through the Rest

Burnt Courtesy

Scorpius asks for a Sleeping Draught almost immediately when we arrive. I wait a few feet away with Draco as Madam Pomfrey works to heal him. She sources about ten potions for his arm, explaining, as she does, that it is not a magical burn. That comment sparks a feeling of burning hatred in my chest. That woman did that to him. She hurt him for nothing more than her own enjoyment, and given what she described her life as being, Azkaban won't really punish her.

But it will keep us safe. That's more important. That's always more important.

After Madam Pomfrey is finished, Draco and I sit next to Scorpius, on opposite sides of the bed. I want to take his hand, have the knowledge that he will be okay, but Draco is present. So I don't. I just watch his breathing, smiling now that it's finally steady. I'm aware that it's only because of the Sleeping Draught, but it's still something.

We sit in silence for a long time and I try to force my mind away from thinking about everything. At this point, all I need to worry about it that it's over and we're going to be okay.
"Are you all right?" Draco breaks the silence.
"Yeah," I mutter, not taking my eyes off Scorpius.
"Thank you staying. Scorpius – Scorpius was grateful."

I nod. I'm not really in the mood to talk. It doesn't seem important anymore. Shit. Nothing feels important anymore. I just feel numb and cold and empty. But I don't because I know that, if it were acceptable in any situation, I would scream and scream and scream until my voice was gone, and then I would keep trying to scream. And I don't even know why anymore.
"Albus."
"Yeah?" I look at Draco as he starts to speak.
"I should tell you," he says quietly, "while we searching for you, I'm sorry to say that your father was not particularly courteous of your privacy."
"What do you mean?" I haven't got the energy to force emotion into my voice.
"I am aware of your argument, and what it was about."

It takes a moment for the full meaning of those words to click in my head.

"Shit," I mutter. "Oh shit, shit, shit. Look, Mr. Malfoy, I–"
"Shhh," Draco smiles, somewhat fondly. "It's – it's okay."
"Sir?"
"First of all," Draco keeps smiling, "you don't need to call me sir. And secondly, it is okay."
"You don't – you don't mind?"
"There is nothing wrong with being gay," Draco says calmly.

Oh. Oh. Okay. So he doesn't know all of it. Which is probably a good thing. I mean, if he did know all of it, this conversation would probably be very different.
"Also, Albus."
"Yeah?"
"About Scorpius–"
"Shit," I stand up, starting to pace a little. "Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck. I can – I can explain..."
"There isn't anything to explain," Draco says gently. "It's okay."
"I have a crush on your son," I say slowly. "You're okay with that?"
"Listen, Albus. It's okay. You care about him and you're respectful."

I don't say anything.

"I know that, if you tell him, and he doesn't return your feelings, you will, to put it bluntly, back off."

I look at him and he smiles gently. I look away again. I'm grateful that he told me. I'm grateful that he doesn't have an issue with me. It's just that I still feel the need to scream. Or something.

Why is it that he seems to care about me more than my own father? He noticed before, when I lost weight before Christmas. And he's noticing now, when I really, really need it.

Don't cry, Albus. Don't cry because he cares and your dad doesn't seem to.

"Thank you," I mumble.
"Here."

I jump slightly as I realise that he's stood next to me, hand outstretched. I take it cautiously and he pulls me into a hug.

I struggle to stop the tears after that. And that is okay.