[SCORBUS] an unscratchable itch in the canal of your ear

chapter 1.

word count: 2,709

Scorpius remembers the very feeling of going deaf. The itch that he was unable to scratch away. It felt all fuzzy in his ear, like a cloud had burrowed itself deep in the canal.

He always prodded at it, poked at his ear, tried to scratch away the itch. He never could, though.

Almost daily he complained to his mother and father about it. "What's wrong with me?" he asked, voice quiet, as they sat at the long oak table for supper one night. "Why does my ear feel like this? Why won't the itch go away? It feels... It feels weird."

His parents took him to see a Healer.

The Healer told the three of them, very plainly and with a very stoic, set face, that Scorpius was losing the hearing in his left ear. They used a muggle term to describe it: Mondini Syndrome. Something had gone impressively wrong when he'd been just a fetus, trapped in Astoria's belly.

Scorpius had never seen his father cry before until then. His mother wept, too, holding Scorpius tight to her chest, stroking his thin blond hair with her slender fingers. "We love you, darling," she whispered. "This is only a minor setback, I promise."

Scorpius had been six, then. A lot of things had happened since. He'd learned BSL; a private tutor would come every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday to teach the Malfoy's. He'd gone off to Hogwarts some time later and met Albus, who learned very quickly not to say things like, "But you don't look deaf." And Albus started to learn BSL for him during late nights in the Slytherin common room and on the grounds under a willow tree — although not the whomping kind — on particularly sunny afternoons.

His mother passed away, too, and Scorpius had sobbed into his father's waistcoat and into Albus's shoulder and into his pillow when he thought everyone else in the dorm room was sound asleep.

Sixth year was here, hovering on the edge of the horizon, the rest of his days long forgotten. Abandoned to the tresses of time where he'd rather they stay, locked away.

Scorpius lounged in the common room, chin on his palm, watching the lime green flames roar in the fireplace. They shot up, sizzling, sparks spraying some, before simmering for a second — the sharp crackle of logs in the background snapping, though they were faint in his ear — and then resuming their ascent.

Someone tapped his shoulder lightly and Scorpius turned his head to look up. It was Albus, of course it was, with a small smile gracing his lips. He hopped over the couch to sit beside his friend, his hand lingering a little too close to Scorpius's before he pulled it to his lap — hesitating.

"You okay?" Albus signed.

Scorpius huffed, blowing away the stray hairs that rested on his forehead, returning his chin to the palm of his hand. "I'm realizing some things," he said.

When Scorpius spoke, his voice was loud and playful. It was also something people liked to point out.

"Why are you so loud, Scorpius?"

"Could you please speak quieter?"

"He's probably trying to overcompensate for his lack of hearing."

It wasn't his fault, really. The way that he lacked the ability to understand how loud the inflection of his words were. If he was overcompensating, then so be it! He was who he was and his deafness was irreversible.

"Realizing some things," Albus repeated, brows raised, an brash look about his features. "What things?"

"Things."

His itch had returned. The unscratchable thing that irritated him and drove him mad and tortured him.

Though it wasn't in his ear this time.