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walkingshcdow-a · 3 years

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Title: A Walk in the Garden Summary: Stolas and his Father walk in a garden paradise once more. AU Notes: This is for an AU I’m writing with @mytisanes. In it, Stolas, Blitzo, their children, and Moxxie and Millie are posing as humans in a sort of “Witness Protection Program”. Stolas and Blitzo are “married” and I love everything about this AU. Please note, according to Stolas’ page on the HB wiki, he’s a fallen angel.

They walk together through the garden, father and son. It’s been a while since you could see the resemblance but today it’s clear the father must have had the same dark hair in his youth, the same blue eyes. After all, his children are all in his image.

Stolas folds his hands behind his back to resist the urge to touch. It’s been so long and he wants to know that this is real, that he isn’t baked out of his mind with Loona, celebrating the end of exams for them both. The ground beneath him is soft; the grass springy under bare feet. Maybe this is real. It’s quieter than usual, mid-morning. He looks around for Blitzo or Octavia or Loona; even for Millie and Moxxie next door. He and his father could be alone in the neighborhood, in all the world, for all he can tell. Stolas walks with his father at a leisurely pace and every so often they stop and he tells him a little about the story of how the vegetable garden was started for a project for Octavia’s school or how Loona kept him company with merciless teasing as her snipped roses for Blitzo or how, when he’d come down with the flu, Blitzo and Moxxie and Millie all pitched in to keep the garden flourishing without his constant attentions. He strokes his Demonic Flytrap, which he smuggled seeds from Hell to Earth because he’d developed this subspecies himself. His father says nothing and smiles, hard to read. Stolas gets that from him. It’s a trick he learned in his youth, how to smile without revealing what kind of smile it is. It terrifies him to see his father make such a face. He gestures to the deck, the one that Blitzo insisted on building and only let him help to build because Millie had been too pregnant to help and the girls had homework and he would have rather put up with Stolas’ chipper questions than Moxxie’s because at least Stolas’ came with compliments and other things you didn’t tell your father, even if he was omniscient...

“It was a spectacular weekend,” he tells his father. “Just the two of us, making a home of this place. The girls are begging us for a pool next. We might say yes, but we haven’t given in just yet. It’s hard to deny them anything.”

“It’s always hard to say “no”,” his father says. “You’ve set good boundaries with the girls. I wish I’d set better ones with you and your siblings.”

Stolas blinks and then his eyes narrow. He didn’t expect such candor, so quickly and he doesn’t trust it. Stella used to set traps like this for him, before the fighting lost any veneer of civility. He used to fall for it nearly every time, trusting in her love for him, like a fool. Why trust his father’s love now?

“You set very firm boundaries, Father,” he says. “I can’t imagine what a ‘better’ boundary would have looked like.”

“Clearer,” his father amends. “I wish you all had understood that I didn’t stop loving you just because I told you “no”.”

“I think I understand that now,” Stolas says. He flexes his wings, which he has not worn in thousands of years. They ache with atrophy, trembling a little as he stretches. Will they carry him if he tries to fly? For how long? Will Via have hers, too? Would she have had them anyway, even if they hadn’t ended up here? He imagines her flying and imagines all his panicked rules for safety if and when that happened, smiling sheepishly. “Being a parent grants you a certain perspective.”

“Some of your brothers are parents now, too,” his father says. “It doesn’t guarantee understanding.”

“Yes, well, Luci’s always been a bit stubborn. There’s a reason he reigns over the ring of pride.”

“You didn’t claim a ring for yourself.”

Stolas shrugs. It had been a wise choice on his part - to have some of the power and some of the glory without all of the responsibility and all of the corruption. He wishes he could say it was foresight. He remembers Stella’s ire when he chose the grimoire over a ring of Hell as his spoils of war. You could have been so much more, you pathetic piece of-

“I preferred my freedom,” he says. “I wanted to study....Science, magic, all of creation. Even during the war, I didn’t want to fight. I wanted… this.”

He looks around his garden and sees a set of four bicycles leaned against the siding, shoes scattered by the glass sliding door, the giant plastic recycling bin Blitzo sometimes leaned him over when they wanted to show off for the neighbors. How does he tell his father that this life he’s made is better than anything even the Lord of all creation could have given him?

“You couldn’t have had it in Heaven.”

It’s a statement of fact, but Stolas dares to peer into his father’s face. There’s an ounce of regret in his eyes, making them shine with unshed tears. He will not get an apology. He’s too old and too content to want one, but he tries to cast his memory back to streets of light. What place did a muddy garden have there? And what place did something so alive and lovely have in Imp City?

“I couldn’t have had it in Hell, either,” Stolas says, shrugging. “I suppose I’ve always envied humans. Their lives are brief, but they’re theirs. They live to their accord and they love, my word, do they love as deeply and freely as they choose.”

“You weren’t always unhappy with the choice made for you.”

“No, but matches made in Heaven don’t fare so well in Hell.” A pause. “Why is it that a match made in Hell works as well as mine and Blitzy’s does?”

His father stops walking and sighs slowly, steadily. He looks at Stolas, who only cocks his head.

“Love works in mysterious ways,” his father says.

“So do you.”

“My son, I am more knowable than the power of love. You’ve seen the cosmos: is love common? Does it fit neatly into the sciences you so love?”

Stolas is quiet.

“You won’t take me from him now that....” He lifts his wings feebly. “Or Octavia or Loona or... “

His father puts a hand to his shoulder and it calms Stolas quickly. It quiets him, at least, and that’s something that Blitzo would tell anyone who asked (or didn’t ask) was a challenge not for the faint of heart.

“I will grant you eternity with them.”

“Here?”

“If you wish it.”

Stolas ponders. He thinks of his palace with its hundreds of rooms and how much closer this little house has brought them. He imagines Loona bossing servants around, Octavia searching familiar walls to find unfamiliar portraits, Blitzo picking fights at royal balls or dodging unwanted glances, burning his first marriage bed even though it’s also the first place he made love to Blitzo, too, and trying to convince all of Hell that they were really a happy, blended family, even if his ex-wife tried to kill him for it. He isn’t a half-bad speechmaker. Maybe he can say something to keep the peace, but the other Goetia will not love his family as he does. There would be whispers at best; more assassins at worst. Blitzo deserves to relax enough to take only jobs he wants, not ones he has to take. And the girls… they deserve the world, even if the world is a muddy garden and a little house in the suburbs.

“We cannot return to Hell.”

“No.”

“And your angels won’t welcome Blitzo and Loona into Heaven.”

Stolas’ father winces.

“Nor you. Their union has spoken to me about fears that reformed princes might reclaim their thrones.”

“And if I wanted my throne? And used that power to demand all Heaven accept my husband and daughters?”

“Could you have done such a thing in Hell?”

Again, Stolas is silent, a resounding no.

“Things are going to change,” his father said. “In time. Lucifer’s daughter has a project in Hell that will do great things for people of all realms.”

“That half-way house?” Stolas makes a skeptical sound. His father shoots him a look.

“I am as proud of Charlie as I am of Octavia,” he says sternly enough to kill Stolas’ laughter. “Your niece will do great things and you and your family is a shining example of what is possible for angels and demons, what might come next.”

“I have so many questions-”

And that is when the beach ball hits Stolas squarely in the nose. He opens his eyes to find himself lying in one of the deck chairs above the garden, book open across his chest.

His father is gone.

“Nice shot!” Loona says, bumping Octavia’s shoulder.

“Dad,” Octavia says Stolas groggily sits up. That hadn’t felt like a dream and yet… “Blitzo says the pool company is coming to measure the yard in fifteen minutes.”

“I thought Blitzo and I told you no to the pool…”

The girls exchange glances that say one thing very clearly: ‘Oh, shit’ before dashing around the side of the house. Stolas doesn’t know which of them had called the pool company or how much they had promised to pay, but as he shuffles to his feet, he tries to grab onto the dream as something real once more, wiggling his shoulders in search of the weight of wings. He could have sworn he feels something when he hears Blitzo yell from the front of the house: “Who the fuck called the pool company?!?”

He smiles before going inside. Maybe this is what paradise is, massaging your husband’s shoulders as he curses out the pool company you didn’t contract while saying, “Oh, Blitzy, we did say maybe…. We should have set clearer boundaries with them… but since they took the liberty.... It will do wonders for the resale value of this place and I do so enjoy the sight of you in a bathing suit...”

Yes, maybe this is paradise - the paradise they deserve at any rate, and, my, what a wonderful thing to deserve…!

#;;i used to think that i was bold | {stolas}#x. drabble #mytisanes #r: my knight in shining armor | {stolas x blitzo}

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torestoreamends · 7 years

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Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic: Finding the Words

8k words, G rated

Scorpius is being weird – more weird than normal, that is. He’s spending longer than ever in the library, he hasn’t spoken to Albus in weeks, and he keeps forgetting to do his homework. Albus is determined to find out what’s wrong with him and help. That’s just what you have to do when your best friend is upset.

Thanks to @abradystrix for being a stellar human being and beta, and thanks to @the-eighth-story for nudging me to add the last scene. <3

Scorpius is being weird. Given that Scorpius is always weird, this shouldn't be that remarkable, but this isn't the normal sort of weird. It's not a good kind of weird. He's gone all quiet, and distant, and he's spending twice as long as normal in the library (which is quite a feat, considering how long he was already spending in there). He also looks tired, and Albus thinks he might not be sleeping very well.

Albus found out quite early on in their friendship, within the first couple of weeks of first year, that Scorpius doesn't sleep well at the best of times. Anything and everything wakes him up, from the temperature, to changes in the amount of light in the room, to the tiniest whisper or creak. If he's worrying about something, or his mind is working over some problem, he'll lie awake for hours, wriggling around and muttering to himself. And on the worst nights he has nightmares, that leave him shaking and in tears.

They've only known each other for just over a year, but Albus has lost count of the number of times Scorpius has come crawling into his bed, looking for warmth and comfort in the middle of the night. But that hasn't happened for weeks now.

Even though Scorpius looks exhausted, and keeps drifting to sleep in lessons, and there are dark shadows under his eyes, he hasn't asked for help once. Albus is starting to think about staying awake one night, just so he can find out what's wrong with Scorpius to make him this tired.

Normally he'd just ask what the problem is, but as hard as he tries, Albus can't seem to get a second alone with Scorpius right now. Scorpius doesn't seem to have time for him anymore. Any request to practice spells together seems to fall on deaf ears. Meal times involve Scorpius shovelling food into his mouth as fast as he can, and barely responding to any conversation Albus tries to strike up. At the weekend Scorpius simply vanishes into thin air. The one time Albus goes looking for him, to ask if he's okay and if they can work on their Transfiguration essays together, he finds Scorpius curled up in a corner of the library, barricaded behind a wall of books, hair all ruffled and stressed looking. Despite his better judgement, Albus goes across to talk to him, but Scorpius just snatches up some of the books and runs away without another word.

The strangest thing about all this is that Scorpius has always excelled in class. He's never once been behind on homework. His spell work is so effortless that he isn't set extra practice. It's not as if he has masses of revision to do. It's March, so the exams are on their way, but not for a couple of months. And last year Scorpius had drawn up revision timetables for both of them, and they'd done the work together, so it makes no sense for him to have decided to fly solo this year.

Albus simply doesn't understand what's going on. He feels lonely, confused, and worried. He's worried that something is wrong with Scorpius that Scorpius isn't confiding in him. He's worried that maybe he's said or done something awful without meaning to, and now Scorpius doesn't want to be friends anymore. He's worried that maybe something has happened to Scorpius's mum, although last he heard she was alright; at home, doing well. He's worried that maybe he's a terrible friend for not being able to work out what's wrong. He's worried... well, he's worried about everything.

Another horrible consequence of him and Scorpius not spending all their time together is that there's no one to defend either of them from the bullies. One afternoon, Albus is on his way back from Transfiguration when he's ambushed from a secret passage by a couple of third year Hufflepuff boys. They destroy his school bag, steal the packet of Pepper Imps he'd been saving to give to Scorpius later, then they shove him sideways into a suit of armour that collapses on top of him, leaving him winded and pinned to the ground. He manages to free himself using Wingardium Leviosa, but his ribs and head don't stop aching all evening.

Just a couple of days later, Scorpius shows up in Potions after a lunchtime library session with a purple bruise on his cheek, and dried blood staining his tie. When Albus asks what happened, he changes the subject back to the Potion they're meant to be making in that day's lesson. Albus tries multiple times to check if Scorpius is okay, but Scorpius just ignores him.

That Potions class is also the first time Scorpius forgets to do his homework. As far as Albus knows it's the first time Scorpius has ever failed to do a piece of work, and it's so bizarre and shocking that Albus has no idea what to do with himself. When they're asked to hand in their essays on the uses of Mandrake root in Potion-making, Scorpius stares up at their teacher aghast,

"We... had homework?" He breathes.

Albus glances sideways at him, eyes wide with amazement. "Did you not do it?" He asks. "I thought that was what you were doing in the library."

Scorpius doesn't answer. He dives down and grabs his bag, riffling through it for his homework planner. When he pulls it out he looks down at the page, and his eyes swim with tears. "I-I didn't think we- I missed it. I forgot."

He looks so distraught that he doesn't get detention, just ten points from Slytherin as long as he promises never to do it again. At the end of the lesson, he sprints from the dungeon at top speed, head bowed, face still red with shame. Albus packs his bag as fast as he can and chases after him, but he loses Scorpius at some point, and by the time he gets to the crowded entrance hall, Scorpius is nowhere to be found.

Over the next two weeks, Scorpius seems to be working harder than ever. Albus never sees him any more. He doesn't come down for meals. When Albus wakes up every morning his bed is empty, and he doesn't get into the dorm until after Albus has gone to sleep each night. In fact, the only way Albus knows that Scorpius is sleeping at all, is because one night he wakes up to use the bathroom, and finds Scorpius sprawled out on his bed, fully clothed and fast asleep, a book lying open on his chest. He marks Scorpius's page for him, puts the book away, and tucks the blankets over him, careful not to wake him. He looks like he desperately needs the sleep.

Despite everything, despite all the hard work and studying, Scorpius forgets to do his homework four more times. In two years, Albus has seen Scorpius do extra homework countless times, but never fail to do it. It's just unthinkable. And by the time Scorpius is on his third detention of the week, Albus is seriously considering writing to Scorpius's parents to ask them to step in.

At the end of Transfiguration on Wednesday afternoon, Professor McGonagall asks Scorpius to stay behind to talk to her after class, and Albus decides to try one last time to find out what's going on for himself. There's only one way out of the classroom, and if he waits right outside, maybe he can trap Scorpius and force him to talk about whatever is going on.

For a couple of minutes he paces up and down the corridor, trying to decide what to say. He has to be sensitive about this. He can't just pin Scorpius against the wall and demand to know everything. Maybe he can be more gentle, tell Scorpius how worried he is, ask if he needs any help with his work, suggest they start doing their homework together again like they used to...

He's just rehearsing exactly what he's going to say, when the classroom door flies open and bangs against the stone work. A streak of blond hair and black robes comes sprinting out, so fast that Albus almost misses him. His head is bowed and his hands are covering his face. Albus can see his shoulders shaking, and hear muffled sniffling over the sound of his running footsteps.

Albus is faster than Scorpius, so he catches up with him quickly, and follows him down the hall to the boys' bathroom. Scorpius seems entirely oblivious to his presence, because he doesn't look round at Albus as they go inside. He throws himself down on the floor in front of one of the sinks and rests his forehead against the ceramic basin, his entire body shaking with desperate sobs.

Albus hovers in the doorway, clutching the strap of his bag with both hands, and watching Scorpius. After several long seconds of indecision, he takes a deep breath and steps forward.

"Scorpius," he says. "What's wrong?"

Scorpius jumps. He swings round and stumbles to his feet, tripping on the hem of his robe. His face is red and raw, shining with tears, and he hurriedly scrubs at his eyes as he faces Albus.

"Go away," he says, avoiding looking at Albus, voice harsh and quiet.

"Did McGonagall tell you off for-"

"I said, go away!" His voice rises hysterically, cracking, and breaking into another sob.

Albus takes a step back. Scorpius has never shouted at him before. Scorpius isn't the sort of person to shout. But now, here he is, covered in snot and tears, and yelling, and Albus has no idea how to respond.

"I'm only trying to help you," he says, firing up. "We're supposed to be friends, Scorpius. You have to tell me what's wrong with you. You have to let me help."

"I don't have to do anything. I don't have to tell you anything," Scorpius shouts, voice echoing off the tiled surfaces. "Just leave me alone!"

Albus folds his arms and stands in the doorway, so Scorpius has no way of escaping. "No," he shouts back, then draws in a deep breath to calm himself down. He doesn't want to fight with Scorpius. He wants to make this better. "You've been weird for weeks," he says, forcing his voice to be quiet and steady. "I want to know why. And... and I'm not moving until you tell me."

Scorpius wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve, then draws his wand. "Get out of the way or I'll hex you."

Albus blinks at him in shock. "You wouldn't."

Scorpius levels his wand, hand perfectly steady, despite his hiccuping, shaky breaths. "Wouldn't- wouldn't I?"

Albus takes a tentative step forward. "Scorpius," he says softly, one hand on his own wand, just in case. "Please don't hex me. I just want to know that you're okay. I know you've been struggling, but maybe I can help. Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me? Or are you ill? Have the bullies done something horrible? Is it- is it your mum?"

"Expelliarmus."

Albus doesn't even see him move. He doesn't have any time to defend himself, to tighten his grip, before his wand spins out of his hand and clatters away across the bathroom floor. For a moment he stares at his empty hand in amazement, then he looks up at Scorpius, whose eyes are narrowed, and who still has his wand levelled at Albus's heart.

"Leave me alone," Scorpius says, low, and dangerous and unsteady.

"But-"

Scorpius gives his wand a tiny flick. "Rictusempra."

Albus ducks just in time, the streak of silver light flying over his head and bouncing off the wall behind him. It ricochets back and hits one of the sinks, which starts spraying water everywhere. He doesn't need telling twice.

He raises both hands in surrender, scuttles sideways to collect his wand, hurriedly stuffing it into his pocket so it doesn't look threatening, then he backs toward the door. "Okay," he says. "Okay, I'll leave you alone. I'm sorry."

He fumbles behind him for the doorknob, keeping his eyes on Scorpius the whole time. When he finally grasps the handle, he twists it and stumbles backwards through the door, nearly falling into the corridor. He rights himself, straightens his robes, and glances back. As the bathroom door swings shut he sees Scorpius's wand fall out of his hand as he collapses onto the floor, lost in a wave of broken sobs.

Albus doesn't really pay attention to where he's going as he walks. He feels numb, and lost, and he has no idea what to do. His best friend is in pieces and won't let him in. It's a bit terrifying, really, the sense of powerlessness. He's scared of what's happening to Scorpius, and the fact that he can't help.

There's only one possible thing he can try, but he isn't sure if it would be a betrayal. What if he tries to help and just makes everything worse? What if Scorpius never forgives him? He's already tried to hex him for helping... What will life be like for Albus without a best friend? Lonely. Miserable. Much like it is now, probably. But if Scorpius is in such a state then maybe none of that matters.

His feet carry him to the Slytherin dungeon without him planning to go there. It's dinner time, and he should probably be in the Great Hall, but he isn't hungry anymore. In fact, the idea of eating anything makes him feel sick. Instead, he mutters the password to the blank stone wall outside the dungeon, and drags himself across the common room and up to the dormitory.

He's grateful to find it deserted, and he dumps his bag on the ground and collapses face down on the bed. Behind his closed eyelids he can see Scorpius's tear streaked face. Desperate, and angry, and so unlike the normal happy, bouncy Scorpius he's used to.

It's such an awful image to think about, that Albus sits up, rubbing his eyes to clear away the picture. He curls up, hugging himself, and staring blankly across at the dormitory door.

After five minutes of empty numbness, he decides that he can't just sit and do nothing. Scorpius might never speak to him again, but that's better than seeing him suffer. Anything is better than that.

He crawls to the edge of his bed and leans over the side, pulling open his drawers so he can grab a quill, ink, and parchment. Then he curls up against the pillows and starts to write.

Dear Mrs Malfoy,

I don't think we've spoken before, but my name's Albus, and I'm Scorpius's best friend. He might have told you about me.

I'm writing to you because I'm really worried about Scorpius. He hasn't talked to me in weeks, and he's been forgetting to do his homework, and I'm not sure what I can do to help him. I tried to talk to him earlier, but he ran away from me.

I thought that maybe, since you're his mum, you might know what's wrong, or you might be able to help him, or maybe you could tell him that I want to help him.

I'm really sorry for intruding, and I think Scorpius might be upset with me for writing to you, but I just really want him to be okay.

Thank you for helping.

Sincerely, Albus

He stares down at his letter, trying to work out if it sounds stupid or not. He wonders whether writing to Astoria is even a good idea. If something has happened to her, if she's the reason for Scorpius's unhappiness, she might not be well enough to read letters. He might send this only for it to sit there for weeks and weeks, while Scorpius gets more and more upset. Writing to Draco might be a better option, but the idea of that is downright terrifying. Draco has always seemed a bit forbidding, and sending him an unsolicited letter isn't something Albus would even consider. Not unless writing to Astoria fails first.

He folds the letter up and slides it into an envelope, then he gets to his feet and starts to cross the room to head to the Owlery. But after a few steps he stalls. Maybe he should try to fix this himself, just one more time, before he gets Scorpius's parents involved. He knows he can do better, knows he can get through to Scorpius. They're supposed to be best friends after all. And giving up after a handful of failed attempts isn't what a best friend should do. If it were the other way around Scorpius wouldn't give up on him. He would keep trying. And Albus is going to have to do the same.

Determined, Albus tightens his grip on the envelope and marches back to his bed. He tucks the letter under his pillow, to keep for later, just in case he needs it, then he flumps down on top of the covers, kicks his shoes off, and sets about waiting for Scorpius to get back. After a few fruitless minutes of staring at the door, he gets his Transfiguration homework out. This is probably going to be a very long wait.

Several hours later, the dorm is pitch black apart from the pale light of Albus's wand. The room is full of the sound of snoring and quiet breathing. It's peaceful, almost too peaceful. Despite all his anxiety, Albus is starting to get drowsy. The wand light is making his eyes sting and water, and he has to squint to make out the text of the book he's reading.

Normally he finds his Potions work so interesting, but now his tired, worried brain keeps bouncing off the words. He's already written his Transfiguration essay, done a little bit of Charms practice, and finished a sketch for Herbology, and he's exhausted. He has no idea what time it is. Definitely after curfew, but there's still no sign of Scorpius, so all he can do is struggle on with his work and try to stay awake.

He blinks blearily down at the Potions book and tries to work out which line he was reading last. Nothing on the page looks even a little bit familiar, although he's been staring at it for at least ten minutes. He doesn't know what any of it means, and he isn't even sure what this chapter is meant to be about anymore.

He rubs his eyes and yawns, then he glances across at the door. There's no sign of Scorpius anywhere, not so much as a creak from the staircase outside to indicate that anyone might be coming upstairs. But it has to happen sometime. It has to. Scorpius can't have just disappeared from the school, can he?

The pages of his book rustle as he turns them. His eyes burn with tiredness. The bed beneath him feels so soft and comfortable. He sways where he sits. No. He has to stay awake. He has to- He covers his mouth as he yawns, and he tries not to think about how warm it is and how exhausted he is.

His eyes drift shut. His head droops.

Twice he starts awake and scolds himself for being so weak. He scrubs at his eyes and drags his hands through his hair. The words of his book swim and become nonsensical. His lit wand falls from his hand and goes out, and he's vaguely aware of his body slumping sideways as he loses his battle with consciousness.

The next thing he's aware of is that he's lying with the corner of his book digging into his cheek. It hurts, and he groans and shifts his head into a more comfortable position, pushing the book away. He opens his eyes a crack and peers around.

The dorm is no longer completely dark, but it's not daylight that's brightening it up. Daylight in here is of a turquoise, watery consistency, but this is silver. Silver and flickering, and it seems to chase and dance across the room, although it's very faint.

At first he has no idea where the light is coming from. He's never seen that colour and quality of light anywhere before. It's not a Lumos spell, none of the lamps are lit; the lake light is still a murky green, almost black.

He sits up a bit, rubs his eyes, and happens to glance in the direction of Scorpius's bed.

With a jolt of realisation, he sees that Scorpius's hangings are closed now. He must have come up to bed while Albus was sleeping. He also realises that the flickering light is filtering through the drawn curtains. They're so thick that only the barest glimmer escapes through the bottoms and tops and edges of the hangings, but it's enough. Enough to know that Scorpius is there, and that he's awake, and that he's doing... Albus has no idea what he's doing.

Albus glances around. Everyone else in the dorm is fast asleep, so they won't be disturbed. Still, just to make sure, he draws his wand and waves it in a circle, pointing at each of his sleeping dorm mates in turn.

"Muffliato," he whispers. It's a spell James taught him, and it's one of the few spells he's good at, because he's practiced it so often. He and Scorpius have been using it to hold late night conversations for almost two years now. He hasn't had much chance to use it in the last couple of weeks, but if this conversation goes well, hopefully he'll be able to start practicing it again.

Staying as quiet as he can, he slips off his bed and tiptoes across the creaky floor between his and Scorpius's beds. When one of the floorboards squeaks he stops dead, waiting for any sign that Scorpius has noticed him, but the silvery light keeps flickering and dancing.

Albus exhales and pads the last couple of steps, then he stands and faces Scorpius's hangings. The emerald green expanse looks black and forbidding in the darkness. Opening the curtains is a step he can't turn back from, and he has no idea how Scorpius will react when he does it. But he has no choice. This is the only way forward. Swallowing hard, Albus reaches out a shaking hand and pulls the curtain back an inch.

"Scorpius," he whispers. "Scorpius, are you-" He breaks off at the sight in front of him.

Scorpius is sitting against his pillows, wand in his hand, eyes half closed from exhaustion. A thin, silvery mist hovers in the air in front of him, and Albus recognises it from a book he read once for Defence Against the Dark Arts class. His eyes widen with amazement.

"Is that a Patronus?"

Scorpius looks at him, and he seems to tired; too miserable for surprise. His expression barely flickers as he takes in the fact that Albus is standing there, although his grip on his wand loosens, the silver mist fades away, and his lip trembles. As they're plunged into inky darkness, Albus sees by the very last silver flickers of light that Scorpius's eyes are swimming with tears.

In the blackness of the dorm, he hears rather than sees Scorpius collapse. There's a squelchy, muffled little gasp, and then Scorpius breaks apart. The bed creaks as his shadow curls in on itself, and Albus hears, for the second time that day, desperate sobbing. Alarmed, but glad Scorpius isn't going to try and duel him this time, Albus scrambles up onto the bed, shuts the hangings behind himself, and lights his wand.

Scorpius is huddled in a little ball, face buried in his knees, whole body wracked with sobs. Albus doesn't waste a moment. He crawls in beside Scorpius and wraps both arms tightly round him, and Scorpius melts in his grip, all resistance apparently now gone.

He feels thinner and bonier than he had last time they hugged, and Albus is certain he must have been neglecting to eat. When he brushes his fingers through Scorpius's hair it feels limp, and a bit greasy, but Albus doesn't stop. He cares less for Scorpius's current state, and more for making sure it doesn't get worse. And this, shuddering and weeping but letting Albus hold him, is a sign that maybe there's a chance.

"I'm here," Albus murmurs, because it's what his mum says when he cries to her. "I've got you. It's going to be okay."

"No," Scorpius says. "No it's not." The words tear out of him, tight and strained and a bit hysterical, and Albus clutches him tighter.

"Why?" He asks. "I don't understand. Scorpius, what's happening?"

Scorpius doesn't answer. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a little hiccup. He shakes his head and pulls the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, curling up tighter in Albus's grip.

"Take your time," Albus murmurs. "I'm not going anywhere."

Scorpius gives a little twitch of his head, that's probably meant to be a nod, and tucks his jumper-covered hand in between his and Albus's bodies, curling his fingers into Albus's t-shirt.

For several long minutes they sit there. Albus's arms begin to hurt from the awkward way they're curled round Scorpius's body, and the knee of his pyjama trousers is splattered with Scorpius's tears. The sobs seem to be lessening though, and Scorpius is dragging in more desperate, shaky breaths. Albus tries not to look at how red and wet his face is, shining with tears and snot and spit. Seeing Scorpius doing anything other than smiling feels weird, and upsetting. Scorpius is supposed to be the happy one. Bouncy and full of life, not a care in the world...

After a little bit longer, Scorpius starts mopping his face with the sleeve of his jumper. He's still sniffling a bit, but he seems better. Calmer. And Albus releases him, although he keeps one hand on his back.

"Please tell me what's going on," he says, and he can hear the concern in his own voice. He doesn't mean to sound so worried, so shaky, but he can't help it.

Scorpius shakes his head and picks at his sodden sleeve. "I'm alright. You don't need to worry about me."

"Then what do I need to worry about?" Albus's voice snaps harshly in the silence of the dorm, and Scorpius blinks and looks up at him. Albus sighs, shoulders slumping. "Sorry. I'm just-" He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "You haven't been eating. You haven't been sleeping. Your homework... you keep forgetting it, and you never forget homework. You haven't talked to me in weeks. I want to help. I'm your friend, Scorpius. Friends are supposed to help each other, aren't they? You help me all the time, with bullies and schoolwork, and- and now I want to help you. So please?"

Scorpius looks at him for a moment, then he bows his head and picks at the hem of his jumper. "It's..." he takes a deep, unsteady breath. "It's Mothers' Day. This weekend. And I've been trying to... to work out a way to show my mum that I-" He breaks off, twisting himself away from Albus, so Albus can see is his back, and a bit of blond hair. "I don't know what to do. Nothing is working, and-" he pauses as his breathing starts to go shallow again, more tears flooding in. "And she's never going to know that I love her." He breaks again, burying his face in his hands.

In spite of himself, in spite of the whole situation, Albus laughs. "But that's silly!"

Scorpius goes stiff, shoulders tightening, and Albus realises his mistake.

"Sorry," he says quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean-" he moves closer to Scorpius and puts a hand on his arm. "I just meant that, well, surely she already knows you love her? And why can't you just send her a card, or make her breakfast in bed, or... I don't know. There are loads of things you could do!"

Scorpius gulps in several breaths before he glances at Albus. The tears trailing down his cheeks glitter in the wand light. "My- my mum's going to- my mum's going to die. Soon. And this might be the last chance I get to- I have to do it properly."

Albus grips Scorpius's arm tightly, reeling from the new information about Astoria. He knew she was sick, but he didn't realise- it must be really bad. It must have got so much worse since last time he and Scorpius properly talked.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, because he doesn't know what else to say. "I didn't know it was that... I thought you said before that she was alright?"

"She's been in hospital for weeks," Scorpius mumbles, inspecting his fingernails. "It was a really sudden- She just got really bad, and ever since then..." he draws in a trembling breath. "She's been improving recently but we've still been told that she only has a few- a few months left." His voice breaks and he takes a second to compose himself, while Albus stares at him, speechless. "Every time Dad writes I keep thinking it's too late, that she's..." He trails off, and wipes his eyes with his fingers. It makes no impact on the steady flow of tears that are still pouring down his cheeks and dripping off the end of his nose. "I-I wanted to do something special. I thought I could- There are spells to conjure flowers, but I couldn't make them work. And then I wanted to try a Patronus Charm, using a-a happy memory of her, but I'm not good enough." He flicks at his wand with his fingers, and it goes rolling up the bed away from him, showering little gold sparks everywhere. "I've been practicing for weeks, and now I've run out of time and I don't know what to do." His tone rises with frustration, and he kicks at his blankets.

"Those are N.E.W.T. spells," Albus says in amazement. "Is that what you've been doing in the library all this time? Is that why I haven't seen you? Because you've been practicing?"

Scorpius nods. "And it was all a waste of time, because now I've got nothing." He gives a mirthless little laugh and shakes his head. "Stupid idea, all of it."

"But you've still got yourself," Albus says, nudging Scorpius's arm. "Are you going to visit her on Sunday?"

Scorpius shrugs. "I don't know. There's no point if I don't have anything to give her..."

Albus shifts on the bed so he's kneeling beside Scorpius. "I think you should visit her. And -- you probably won't agree with me, but -- I think you should just tell her how much she means to you, and how hard you've been working. You don't need fancy spells to show her that. I mean, Patronus Charms are amazing and impressive, but even my dad-" he breaks off and runs a hand through his hair. Thinking about his dad always makes him feel thoroughly miserable, and he tries not to ever do it.

"The point is," he continues, shoving Harry well out of his mind. "I think you can just be you, and she'll understand. I think it's a parent thing." He looks at Scorpius, desperate to convince him. "You know, last year me and James and Lily tried to make a big meal for Mum? James and I came home for the weekend, and we were going to cook something fancy. But James is the worst cook ever, and it all ended up burned and rubbish, and it was awful. But when Mum found out, she said- she said it didn't matter, and that she knew we all loved her without the silly meal. So maybe your mum will be like my mum was, and it won't matter that you can't do the things you wanted to?"

Scorpius sniffs and wipes his nose as he looks up at Albus. "Do you think?"

"I don't know," Albus says honestly. "Parents are weird and I don't understand them. But I think it's worth a try. And maybe-" he bounces on his knees as the idea comes to him. "Maybe instead you could write her a letter or something. To make sure she really knows? Letters are easier than saying things in person I think. I can help if you want. We could write it together and then you could give it to her on Sunday!"

Scorpius hugs his knees and frowns. "How are you supposed to put all of that sort of thing into a letter? The reason why I wanted to try the spells was because... because I didn't know what to say. I didn't know where to start."

"Well we can try it at least," Albus says. "It's worth a go, isn't it? Let's do it now!" He picks up his wand and shoves Scorpius's hangings aside. He flops half over the edge of the bed, head and wand sticking out past the curtain, and rummages through Scorpius's drawers, searching for parchment, ink, and a quill. He's such a geek that he keeps them in his top drawer, ready to be whipped out at a moment's notice, so Albus quickly locates them and scrambles back inside the hangings, almost losing his balance and toppling out onto the floor. Scorpius grabs his ankle and helps him, and soon the two of them are curled up by Scorpius's pillows, staring down at the blank piece of parchment.

"Dear Astoria," Albus suggests. "That's how you're supposed to start letters."

Scorpius steals the quill from him. "Dear... Mum," he says, as he scrawls the words down. He glances up at Albus. "Happy Mother's Day?"

Albus nods. "That's good."

Scorpius pokes his tongue out from between his teeth as he writes. When he's done he stares blankly down at the parchment. "Now what?"

Albus leans against his side and also stares at the parchment, hoping it will give him some inspiration. It doesn't.

"Maybe this is the part where I tell her about the spells that didn't work," Scorpius suggests. "I think I should say sorry at the beginning, and then tell her all the things I really wanted to tell her afterwards..."

Albus nods. "That sounds good."

"Alright," Scorpius says. "I think I can do this."

For the next few minutes they sit in silence. Albus listens to Scorpius's quill scratching on the parchment, and his mutterings as he tries to work out what to say. Occasionally he pauses to ask Albus a question, or Albus will make a suggestion as he reads over Scorpius's shoulder, but mostly Scorpius works in silence, pouring his heart and soul out onto the page.

Eventually, with one final flourish, he signs his name and looks down at the letter. The wet ink glints in the pale wand-light, and Scorpius blows on it to dry it out.

"I think that's what I want it to say. I think that's good."

Albus puts an arm round his shoulders and hugs him tightly. "I think it's perfect."

"Me-" Scorpius breaks off as he yawns widely. "Me too."

"And now I think we should go to sleep," Albus says, poking him in the arm. "We can leave the letter to dry while we rest. You need to sleep, Scorpius. You haven't slept in weeks."

"Mmm," Scorpius agrees. He pushes the hangings aside and sets the letter, quill, and ink on top of his set of drawers, then he wriggles his way under his covers and curls up.

Albus moves to get up and go back to bed, but Scorpius catches hold of his wrist.

"Don't go," he says, looking up at Albus. "I've missed you. And it's easier to sleep if you're here. I mean, you don't have to, but-"

Albus crawls under the covers beside Scorpius and lies on his side, facing him. "No. I'll stay. I missed you too."

Scorpius squeezes his hand. "I'm sorry I tried to duel you earlier."

"It's okay," Albus murmurs. "If you want I'll try to help you catch up on your homework?"

Scorpius rubs his eyes and smiles. "That would be..." he yawns. "That would be nice. Thank you."

They mumble a few more increasingly incoherent things into the dark, quiet space between and around them, until first Scorpius and then Albus drifts asleep, their hands still clasped together on the bed between them.

---

Astoria drifts along the shoreline between sleeping and waking. She can feel the soft bed beneath her, feel the warmth of sunlight spilling through the window onto her face, but she can't find the motivation to open her eyes. It's easier to just stay asleep for now.

Time flows in strange patterns. It's difficult to tell how long she spends asleep or awake. She loses track of time. Someone was supposed to come and wake her up just before lunch, but there's no one here yet, so it must still be the morning.

At some point she hears the door creak open and closed. Footsteps, two pairs of footsteps, tiptoe across the room, and a pair of familiar voices whisper to each other.

"Go on. You can sit there."

"But this is your-"

"I want you to sit there, Scorpius."

"...okay. Thank you."

Scorpius's voice sounds tight, and small, but just the sound of it is music to Astoria's ears. She turns her head to the side, opens her eyes, and beams at her son, who's sitting in the seat next to the bed, clutching a letter and a book, and looking very uncertain. The sunlight shines through his hair, making it glow golden. He looks older and more handsome every single time she sees him, and her smile widens to the point where her cheeks are aching.

She starts to claw her way into a sitting position, and both Scorpius and Draco, realising she's awake, get to their feet and rush to help. She waves them both away.

"I'm fine. Sit down. Draco, I said I'm fine."

Scorpius has already returned to his seat, but Draco is still hovering over her, the familiar worried crease carved into his forehead. She reaches up and smooths her fingers over it, then she pecks him on the lips.

"I'm so fine they're talking about letting me come home on Tuesday. Now would you sit down?"

Draco sighs and returns to his seat. "We thought you were asleep. We didn't wake you, did we?"

Astoria shakes her head. "Not at all. I was actually wondering what time it was." She runs a hand through her hair and looks around for her wand and glasses. Scorpius passes them both to her.

"It's just after eleven," he tells her, before retreating back to his seat and curling up into a little ball, hugging his book to his chest like he's trying to protect it.

Astoria watches him carefully. He looks a little paler than usual, and it's unlike him to be so quiet. She wonders if there's something wrong. Although it's possible that she's what's wrong with him. She hates thinking that she's causing her son any sort of suffering, but she can't deny that she is, and there's nothing she can do about it. She hates it. It might be the worst part of being ill.

Her smile fades and she swallows. "So," she says, forcing herself to sound cheerful. "How are you both? It looks like a beautiful day."

"It is quite nice," Draco says, glancing out of the window. "I think the weather's going to hold this week. It'd be nice to have you home while it's still warm. Your garden is doing beautifully. I don't think I've done too much catastrophic damage to your roses yet."

Astoria tuts. "You won't damage them as long as you follow the instructions I left you."

"Your instructions are twelve pages long," Draco says, smirking at her. "It's almost as if you don't trust me."

"I trust you with my life, Draco dear. But you never did have green fingers. Daphne told me how you killed your Venomous Tentacula in fifth year." She grins at him, then glances across at Scorpius. He's staring down at his feet like he can't even hear the conversation.

Her smile softens and she reaches across to him. "Scorpius... how has school been this week? Weren't you about to start studying the wizarding wars in History of Magic?"

Scorpius glances at her and shrugs. His fingers stroke the parchment envelope in his hands, and he hugs his book tighter, resting his chin on it.

Draco turns to watch him for a moment, then he gets to his feet. "Would either of you like a drink?" He asks. "I'm going to go and get some tea. Not the muck they serve upstairs. I'll go to that shop down the road."

"There's Muggle money in my purse," Astoria says, not taking her eyes off Scorpius for a second. "Do you know how to-"

Draco plucks a note from the top and waves it at her. "This one's worth £10. I've been learning." He glances between her and Scorpius, then backs towards the door. "I'll see you both in a bit." The door clicks shut behind him as he leaves, and Scorpius and Astoria are alone.

Once Draco has gone, Scorpius wriggles in his seat and tucks a bit of hair behind his ear. He glances at Astoria, then away again.

"Are you alright?" Astoria asks, voice soft and low. "You look unhappy."

Scorpius looks down at the book and envelope he's holding, then he pulls his chair closer to the bed, scraping it across the floor. "I wrote this," he says, holding the envelope out to her. "For you." He glances up at her, and as she takes the envelope, he pulls the sleeves of his sweater over his hands and holds them so they're covering his face. She thinks he might be chewing on the wool, but he looks so anxious that she doesn't comment.

"What's this?" She asks, turning the envelope over in her hands. Scorpius's seal is pressed onto the back. It's so neat, as is the way he's written her name on the front. He's clearly taken time and effort over this.

"It's a letter," he murmurs. "Because it's Mother's Day."

She smiles and places her finger next to the seal. "Can I open it?"

Scorpius goes pink all the way to his forehead, and nods, grey eyes wide and shining in the sunlight.

Astoria slits open the seal and pulls the letter out with slightly shaky fingers. She lays the letter in her lap, clenches and unclenches her hands to try and steady them, then she picks the letter back up and reads.

Dear Mum,

Happy Mother's Day.

I wanted to do something really special for you this year, because you haven't been very well, and because you deserve to have a good day. I tried to learn all these different spells, to show you that I love you, and that you're the best mum ever, but I couldn't make any of them work. I'm sorry that I couldn't do anything nice for you, but Albus said you wouldn't mind, and that I should write a letter to you instead, telling you how I feel, so I hope that's okay instead.

First, I want you to know that you're the best mum ever, and you always will be. I think you're amazing, and I like reading with you, and playing the piano with you, and looking at the frogs in the river with you. I'm glad you're there so I can talk to you, and I think it's going to be very hard when you're gone.

Second, I want you to know that I love you a lot. You make the perfect hot chocolate, and you taught me how to dance, and you make home feel like home. It's always quieter without you.

It makes me sad that you're ill, and I'm sad that you're hurting. I wish I could make you feel better, and I'm sorry I can't. But I hope that maybe I can make you forget about it all for a bit. I've brought our favourite book with me, for us to read together if you're feeling well enough. And if you're not then I'll leave it for you so you can read it later.

I really hope you know that I love you, Mum. I'm always going to love you, and I'm never going to forget you. Have a very happy Mother's Day.

Love you forever,

Scorpius

Astoria's eyes prickle with tears as she reads. Twice she has to stop because her vision is too blurred to see the words anymore. When she's done she takes a deep breath and brushes the tears off her cheeks. For a moment she tries to compose herself, then she glances at Scorpius and reaches a hand out to him.

The second she lays eyes on him, her beautiful, sweet son, who's growing up to be so brave and brilliant, the tears start to well up again, and she sniffs and beckons to him. "Come here."

"Is it okay?" Scorpius asks, finally removing his hands from his face, and getting to his feet.

"It's perfect," Astoria replies. The second Scorpius is within her reach, she pulls him into the tightest hug she can, brushing her fingers through his soft hair. "I'm going to love you forever too," she says. "You wonderful boy." She kisses the top of his head, and he squirms. She releases him, but all he does it put his knee on the bed and frown.

"Will I get told off if I-"

"I won't let them tell you off," she says, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He gives a shaky smile and crawls onto the bed next to her, curling up by her side and wrapping his arms round her. She folds an arm round his shoulders in return.

"I tried to learn the Patronus Charm," he says. "I can get a bit of silver mist but I can't do it properly. And I was trying to learn Orchideous, so I could bring you flowers, but that was too difficult as well. So I brought our book instead. And myself. Albus told me that might be enough."

Astoria blinks very hard to hold back her tears. "Your best friend," she says, voice a little shaky, "is quite a smart young man." She squeezes Scorpius tightly and drops another kiss into his hair. "Of course this is enough. This is wonderful. You are wonderful." She gives Scorpius's shoulder a little shake and looks down at him. "Never forget that, okay?"

Scorpius looks at her and nods. "Okay," he murmurs. He picks at the hem of his jumper for a moment. "I really meant what I said in the letter," he says. "All of it. I love you, Mum."

"And I love you too," she says, holding his gaze, fierce in a way that she hopes will convince him to believe it, and remember it.

He blushes a faint pink and drops his head onto her shoulder. She gathers him in close, and gently slides the book from his hands.

"Do you want me to read this to you?" She asks.

"Maybe we can read a bit each," Scorpius suggests, reaching out to trail his fingers over the cover.

"I think that's a good deal," Astoria says, kissing his temple. "Shall I go first?"

Scorpius nods, and he wriggles in closer so he can see the book open across both their laps.

As they read, Astoria rubs his shoulder, and feels him wriggle and breathe against her side. He's a lot bigger than he was as a baby, but he's still just as wriggly, and just as excitable. He's still her little boy, and she's never been more confident in the knowledge that he loves her deeply. She only hopes that he knows, that he will always know, that she feels exactly the same way in return.

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