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justkending · 4 years

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Noisy Neighbors, Drabble Series. (2/2)

Summary: Bucky Barnes is that loud neighbor you want to scream your head off at for throwing all kinds of parties what feels like year round. But in doing so, you somehow got a free coffee date out of it...

Pairing: (college neighbor) Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3000+

A/N: I had a sweet follower @blessedwedgie ask me if I can write a continuation of this drabble I did a while back and at first I was like, “What do I do? Where would I want that to go? How would I continue that in a way that would be cute?” Then I was at work being bored as hell, but had a pen and paper and well... Here we are! I hope I did it justice friend:) This was really fun to write and I want all the cuteness that is College Bucky Barnes in my life honestly!

Here is part one if you haven’t read it yet.

Noisy Neighbors Part 2:

The only reason you really agreed to coffee with the handsome neighbor was because your morning class had been canceled and you didn’t have another until later that afternoon. Of course there was the free coffee too… Ok, maybe his stupid handsome face had something to do with you leaning to say yes.

He was persistent.

So at 9:55 the next morning, you threw on a pair of real pants and a jean jacket over your sweater and ran a hand through your hair as you grabbed your keys by the front door.

“I’ll be back later Wands!” you shouted back down the hallway. No response. She was probably sleeping after pulling an all nighter for a test today. “I’ll be bringing you back some coffee too, I guess,” you laughed to yourself as you went to open the door.

But you were startled to open it and immediately see those familiar piercing blue eyes.

“Jesus-” you jutted as you threw your hand over your chest in surprise.

“Sorry,” he laughed as he took in your reaction. “I literally just stepped in front of your door.”

“You sure you haven’t been waiting out here since last night?” you smirked, stepping out and locking it.

“Now, I did say I was persistent, but I think I deserve a coffee and a little more than small talk before I decide if you’re stalking material,” he shrugged, watching as you turned back to him.

“I like to think I’m stalking material,” you played along, getting a laugh out of him. “Though, doesn’t mean I’d actually liked to be stalked.”

“Ladies and gentleman, she’s got the jokes,” Bucky announced as you walked side by side to leave the apartment building.

“Just to be safe, you’re not some charming Teddy Bundy 2.0, are you? Cause if that’s the case, I don’t think this is going to work out,” you joked, sending him a smile before tucking your hands in your coat about to bare the cold outside.

“So you think I’m charming?” Bucky jeered.

“Don’t get cocky there, Cavanosa. I’m still trying to decide if I’ll ever answer my door again if you knock,” you pointed at him as he opened the door for you.

“I’m wounded, Y/N,” he faked hurt, but inside he was just gitty to know your name now and be able to say it.

“Buy me that coffee, and you’ll have a better chance, soldier.”

_____________

You went to the coffee shop on campus and the little coffee date went surprisingly well. You talked about school, learning Bucky was a forensics major and hoped to go to Quantico at some point. He said he always had a gift and interest in crime scenes and murder mysteries growing up. He liked being able to solve it before the characters on shows did or the narrator gave it away.

To which you countered with, “So you would be a certified stalker with a badge? Interesting…”

That got a big belly laugh out of him which you couldn’t seem to help but join him after hearing such a sweet sound.

You talked about how you’re going into Psychology, and actually were interested in a similar field of forensics. You had always loved the psychoanalyzing of people and situations. So naturally, you were looking into being a Forensic Psychologist.

He asked why he hadn’t had any classes with you yet considering it was both your senior years. Then you explained to him how you had just transferred for this last semester because of better professors and a scholarship opportunity you wanted to take advantage of before graduation.

It turned out that you both were taking one of the same classes, but just had it at different times. Same professor though.

After the obligated ‘college talk’, you both got into; where you grew up, where you plan to go, what are your hobbies, what do you do in your free time if you weren’t studying. Which you had already known Bucky’s was throwing parties that irked you to no end.

“Yeah, I’ll cut back on those. I’ve been getting behind in school and it’s starting to affect my grades,” he pursed his lips in embarrassment. “Dr. Cassel’s class especially. Damn man has a 3 page essay due what feels like every night!”

Dr. Cassel being the professor that you shared.

“Eh, it’s not fun, but if you get ahead a little and do the readings, it’s not that bad,” you shrugged, taking a sip of the hot cup of tea that you told him you preferred instead of coffee on days like this with the weather.

“Easy to say for a nerd who likes to read,” he smirked taking a drink from his own cup as he looked over the brim of it at you.

“Excuse me sir, I thought you were trying to get on my good side here,” you gasped. “Calling me a nerd isn’t going to do that for you.”

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he laughed. “You actually kinda remind me of Steve. He’s a bookworm like you and the goody two shoes who’s always on top of things.”

“He didn’t seem like that at the party the other night,” you tilted your head.

“Oh, yeah. I may or may not have finally had convinced him to join in on the fun. He’s always holed up in his room studying or reading something, which I’m sure you understand,” he winked getting an eye roll from you. “But every once and a while I can get him to cross over to the dark side for a night.”

“School’s important for me. It’s taken a lot to get here and I don’t want to mess it up,” you explained. Your face going a little more serious as if there was more behind that fact than you were letting on. Bucky toned his joking down some at change. “Plus, it’s my senior year. One more semester of this and I’m home free. That is until I start job searching and that’s a whole other step,” you shook your head looking down at your drink.

“Have you ever gone to a party during college?” Bucky asked. “You know, do the whole college experience thing?”

You looked up seeing he was genuinely curious.

“Uh, yeah. I went to one or two with my old boyfriend at the other school I went to. They weren’t more than just a bunch of frat boys and girls getting plastered and making out in random spots around the house, while the rest were listening to loud music and standing elbow to elbow in a crowded rent house off campus.”

“Very specific scenario there,” he chuckled, lightening the mood. “I take it you and your boyfriend aren’t together anymore?” His question did not meet your eye line as he stirred the dash of creamer he had to his drink.

“No, that would mean he would be my current boyfriend, not old,” you laughed. “That and I probably wouldn’t have said yes to coffee if I was dating someone.”

“Right, because this is a date,” he noted as he looked back at you with that cocky grin.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you smirked back.

“You did say it in the text. You said, ‘sounds like a date,’” he pointed out.

“But do all coffee dates mean actual dates or just meeting up to talk over coffee?” you countered.

“Would I get in trouble if I said I’m hoping it’s the first one?” he asked with hopeful eyes.

You paused for a second. God, he was cute. He was charming. But… You came here for your degree and you broke up with your last boyfriend because your schedule is too hectic and you’re trying to focus strictly on school. You didn’t have time for relationships.

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m not really a part of the dating rehealm at the moment,” you said awkwardly. Bucky’s smile dropping some. “My schedule is just too chaotic to add another person to it, and I really need to focus on school.”

You could see disappointment on his face, but he was quick to wipe it off to not cause any more tense energy in the conversation.

“I get it. You have your priorities in check. Can’t blame you for that,” he shrugged with a soft smile. “But now that I know you’re my neighbor, and I really like your whole persona. You won’t be mad if we became friends, would you?”

You giggled at that and his smile widened. “I think I can get on board with that.” His grin grew once again. “Besides, I may need to copy your notes for class, so I guess it’d be useful to get along with you,” you exaggerated as if it was so much to do on your end.

“If anyone’s copying notes here, it’ll be me, doll. I’m the one failing,” he said with a raised eyebrow as he took another sip of his drink,

You two continued talking for a while with another cup of coffee was purchased. Strangely enough the annoying neighbor that you had grown to despise, had surprised you in being a pretty nice guy. It was like you two had been friends since high school with how comfortable and snarky you guys were with the other. And it didn’t hurt to look at him either…

Eventually you headed off to your afternoon class and Bucky headed home being lucky enough not to have any classes all day. He offered to walk you to the class, but with it being as cold as it was, you didn’t want to inconvenience him by walking you there and then all the way back to the apartments. It wasn’t a short walk.

He obliged after much persuasion on your end and you went your separate ways.

As the weeks went on, you started to see more of your neighbors. Steve sat with you in Child Psychology now knowing you a little better, and Bucky somehow always was in the hallway at the same time as you or was bumping into you at the forensics building occasionally.

The neighbors had become friends and Wanda was just happy to not hear you complaining anymore about the two that shared your wall. That and the parties had practically ceased now. Considering what Bucky said about being behind in classes, you suspected he was trying to cut back on his social time.

As the semester went on, Bucky made it a priority to see you at least once a day if he could. Emphasis on the at least…

If that meant knocking on your door to walk to class, he jumped at the opportunity.

“Hey, I’m headed to the library and I know you have that 12 o’clock class in the building over. Wanna just go together?” He grinned.

“Can’t say no to a chauffeur,” you would smile back as you grabbed a beanie and walked out with him.

If it meant somehow almost always making more food than he and Steve could eat, just to come over and offer you some, he would take the option.

“Hey, I made some pasta tonight and had way too much for Steve and I. I thought I would ask if you and Wanda want some before I throw it out,” he smiled widely in your doorway. “What college student in their right mind would say no to a hot meal?” he winked.

“Not a sane one,” you chuckled as you took the platter. “You sure you don’t want them for leftovers?”

“Eh, we never get around to eating them most the time. You guys will enjoy it more than us. Plus, it’s better fresh,” he waved off.

“Ok, if you insist. I guess I’ll have to bake you some of my famous brownies as a thank you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Y/N. I will hold you to it.”

If it meant last minute study sessions for a class he forgot, he texted you a long message begging you to help him out.

“I know you took this class last semester, so you have to know something. And something is more than I know,” he said with a wrinkled nose once he was in your room.

“What part of the unit are you in?” you sighed from your desk as you put your now finished work to the side for him.

“Personality disorders common in serial murders.”

“Oh, that’s the fun stuff. Why wouldn't you want to learn about that?” you gasped, going to sit right next to him on your bed.

But honestly, he wasn’t worried about the chapter. He had actually read it before coming over to surprise you in his knowledge when he acted like he was lost. He just liked when you sat close to him and went on a rant when you came up on something that triggered a murder documentary you watched. That’s how he hooked you into letting him stay longer.

“Wait, so the movie was about a serial killer who ended up having multiple personality disorder? He didn’t know he was doing the killings?” he asked.

“How have you not seen it? It’s a classic!” you questioned in surprise.

“I don’t know… Tell me more about it,” he grinned as you went on.

Oh, and he had seen it. It was a good movie.

If it meant he somehow got ‘locked out of his apartment and couldn’t get in until Steve was home’, he made the excuse to sit outside your door until you were home.

“I left my key inside by accident today. Any chance you’ll let a loner like me hang out with you for a little until blondie gets home?” he batted his eyelashes as he leaned against your door.

“This is the second time this week, Bucky. And the fourth time since last week. Do I need to sew the damn things to you?” you laughed opening your apartment to him.

“I’ll pass on that. I would prefer to just hang out with you instead,” he shrugged, closing the door behind him.

“You sure you left your keys by accident?” you asked with a pointed eyebrow as you took off your jacket.

“Cross my heart,” he said, doing the motion.

“Yeah, sure. Wanna put a pot of coffee on while I change?” you asked, already moving to your room. He had been over enough by now from study sessions and ‘accidental lockouts’ to know how to work your machine.

“Already on it,” he hummed walking to the kitchen. “Want me to make you a cup?”

“Dash of cream and-”

“Two sugars! I know,” he shouted back, smiling as he moved in your kitchen to grab the mugs.

And if it meant never throwing another party again, and instead asking you to come over to his place and watch a movie instead, he moved his schedule around for you.

“Hey, what do you say to a movie date?” he asked as you walked back from class and nudged you with his elbow.

“A movie night sounds nice,” you responded, emphasizing on night instead of date.

“I didn’t say night,” he would point out.

“I know. I figured I would correct you on your slip up. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us. Words are hard,” you teased, nudging him back.

Though he knew you would never fall for his little tricks, he always implemented date into a lot of his questions about you two hanging out. It had become a little game between you both.

“Study date tonight before Cassel’s test?” He asked as you grabbed your mail together.

“Study session? Yeah, sure,” you corrected.

“Hey, want to come over for a dinner date? Steve and I are making homemade pizza. You and Wanda are welcome!” he offered.

“I’d love to have a pizza party with you guys. I’ll text Wanda and see what her plans are,” you giggled, hip bumping him walking up the stairs.

“Hey, what do you say to an impromptu date to the baseball game tonight? We’re playing against our school's top rival,” He smiled as you both grabbed your coffee from the barista.

“Oh yeah! I heard that was tonight. Eh, how do you feel about a movie night instead?” you shrugged.

“Movie date?” he seconded.

“Yeah, a movie night,” you emphasized.

Conversations like that went on all semester. You were finding that whatever time you weren’t spending in class or at work, it was next to Bucky. The two of you becoming a couple of best friends attached to the hip.

It was nice. You enjoyed it. And though, you knew deep down that he probably meant all those things being a date and hoped for it, you were glad he didn’t press on when you changed the meaning. He understood where you stood and he wasn’t going to pressure you for anything different if you didn’t want to.

And now, it was time for graduation. You, Steve, Wanda, Wanda’s boyfriend Vis, and Bucky all stood in your gowns taking pictures with your temporary degree in hand outside the college stadium. You had all finally finished. With a lot of all nighters, stress relief movie nights, and much needed pizza parties, you had graduated.

You didn’t plan on getting two new really good friends out of it as your mind had always been school, school, school. No time for a social life and distractions.

But boy were you glad you had hit a breaking point the night you banged on their door. If you hadn’t, you would have probably never created the very close relationship with the blue eyed, brown hair, crazy flirtatious, but charming neighbor.

“Hey, since we graduated and we finished the damn thing, how do you feel about a date?” Bucky asked turning to you after Wanda snapped a picture of you both.

“I didn’t hear movie, study, or pizza in front of that word. What kinda date are we talking about?” you asked as he kept his arm wrapped around your waist from the pose you two were in.

“I was thinking of a real date,” he smiled.

His hand on your hip giving a gently, but firm squeeze as his eye practically suffocated you with the ocean tides in them.

“I think I can get behind that,” you grinned up at him, squeezing his shoulder. “A real date it is, Casanova.”

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@morganclaire4 @chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @iheartsebastianstan @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky

#bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes drabble series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader drabble #bucky barnes college au #bucky barnes college #bucky barnes x reader college drabble #bucky barnes x reader college au #college au #marvel college au #mcu college au #justkending #bucky barnes

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littlerosiexoxo · 4 years

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Law school problems n.o ...

Let’s grab some green tea 🍵(I’ve heard is good for energizing and I’m currently taking meds which can be dangerous with energy drinks)and start the last essay - 60% of my grade - of this year 😎 I also have 3 days to end it and it’s 3000 words - but I’ll try to act cool about it for the sake of my mental stability. Soooo...

I kinda need to keep reminding myself that I’ve put enough effort and that I’m doing my best but I just don’t want to end up my year as a ‘student’. I want to raise up from the ashes and end this year with the first in class! I’m doing my best and I won’t let my emotions affect my goals! I’m asking for help and looking for solutions and conciously trying to get the best of my resources and that’s enough. Today I downloaded ‘Study 🐰’ and it really helped me concentrate - I won’t give up on the finish line. I failed once that’s right but I’m raising. I’m doing my essay, doing my workout 🏋️‍♀️, singned up for pro bono and writing letters from Amnesty International and I’ve learned the only important lesson - never give up and always remember what u really wanted in the first place 🥇. But always remember that the key 🔑 to success is to u derstand that u have a right to feel the way u do 🙈

Also, Rose Blackpink newest album just blows it!

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sometimesrosy · 4 years

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Is it ok to not write everyday? Saturday I had family over (situation isn’t critical here), sunday I was feeling sick and with a lot of headaches, monday I had too much work and when I got home I just didn’t feel like writing. Yesterday I actually wrote, more than 3000 words. But today I left work later and went shopping. Had dinner while watching a tv show, took a shower. 10pm, didn’t feel like writing as my back really hurt & I was tired. I felt guilty for not writing as I had time. Is it ok?

PS. I’m really enjoying writing this story and I haven’t felt like it was this easy to write for a long time. I’ve been struggling to write, so now that I’m doing it and having fun and doing it daily, most of the time, I don’t want to burnout nor force myself to write when I don’t feel like it. I think that if I don’t particularly want to and force myself, I’ll stop enjoying writing it eventually

+++

Yes it’s okay not to write everyday-- or not write as much everyday.

As a writer, if you don’t have a deadline or assignment, whether for school or work or publication, then writing is 100% voluntary. You might feel a compulsion to write, but it’s still a choice.

And I believe that if people are looking to have a writing career, then they should actively CHOOSE to write. And to be aware how hard it is, how tricky, how little the rewards often are, and decide for themselves whether or not they are willing to sacrifice what they must in order to write. Because make no doubt about it, writing is something you have to sacrifice for. Even if it’s just your time and energy, that’s a sacrifice. And if you feel that you don’t want to sacrifice your time and energy to write, then maybe writing is not what you want to do as more than a fun pastime whenever the mood hits you.

You can write without having a career in it, you know? You can enjoy it privately, or in fanfiction, or just for fun, with no grander goals than this one story, or whatever story you’re in the mood for. I mean I’ve been writing poetry for decades, and it never stopped me that I didn’t write regularly or publish much beyond that one year when I did a chapbook. I still find value in writing poetry, no matter what comes of it.

AND if you DO choose writing as a career or calling (because sometimes it’s more a calling than a career-- it’s hard to make a living, even when you succeed,) then you have to be aware that you’re in it for the long run. That means that you do not want to binge write every day, forever for the rest of your life. It is not sustainable.

Please remember that you are not only a writer, but also a person. You’re going to need time to be a person. To be with family. To work. To enjoy yourself. To be social. To get exercise. To be sick sometimes, or maybe all of the time if, like me, you have a chronic illness.

As a writer, you need to take your life into consideration when you plan to write. Build writing into your life, don’t make it your life. Because in order to write well you do actually need to live. Whatever that means to you.

Every writer has different needs. Some writers MUST write every day, to one degree or another. I think I might be one of them. But that doesn’t mean I write in my novel every day. There’s novelling, there’s journal writing, there’s poetry, there’s blog writing, there’s letter writing, there’s fanfic writing, there’s essay writing, there’s also social media writing. I’ve seen some instagram posts get very elaborate and be more like journals or essays. Do beware of twitter writing though. While it feeds the writing jones, it doesn’t seem to be very focused. Although, idk. Maybe it works for you to keep the fires burning.

But even when someone does prefer to write every day, sometimes there are going to be times when that’s not feasible, due to outside constraints or health or maybe a loss of inspiration or desire to write, even. It happens.

I have a theory that writing is not JUST putting words on the page. A lot of the time, as writers, we really need a fallow period, where we DON’T put words on the page. Where we accept that there’s a silence in the words, a kind of wintering over, where we have to retreat from productive writing and instead focus inward on ideas, on feelings, on HOLDING onto those ideas and letting them grow underground, to bring them to bloom later, when it’s time to write.

Sometimes that “writers block” isn’t a writer’s block, but just a signal from our subconscious that we need to take a break and maybe slow down the relentless progress of words so that the ideas can grow and deepen into something more substantial.

As I’m ghostwriting now, at a VERY fast pace, I do believe that writingwritingwriting without stopping to think leads to a shallower story. They can be FUN stories, but if you don’t stop to think about how it all fits together and maybe what it all means, then how can it really go deep? Sure you can push through to get that bingewriting wordcount... but does that mean you’re doing good writing?

So basically I’m saying not only is it OKAY to take a writing break, I’m saying that in some ways it may be NECESSARY. Even when I do bingewrite, I find I need to take a break after it... so like for nanowrimo or ghostwriting, I need downtime to rest and recuperate. If I’m not writing slowly (for me 1k a day) where I’m building rest time INTO my writing day, I need to take a break, sometimes days, sometimes weeks, sometimes MONTHS.

One caveat is that if you do take a long break from writing, it can often be very difficult to get back into writing again. You lose your writing muscles.

You might want to build some steps into your work habit that aren’t writing but share creative impulses, in order to either not lose your writing muscles or to work them up again after a break. Some of the non-novelling habits I mentioned before might help. Journal writing, poetry writing, writing about writing. But also note taking and research. Read books on writing or genre or storytelling. Watch shows that inspire your story. Read books to think about how other writers do it. Make maps and family trees and sketches of your characters or settings. Put your brain back in the story, even if you’re not writing. I like to start pinterest boards for all my novels/novellas. Sure it can feel like procrastination, but sometimes when I’m uninspired and not IN my story, I can go to the board and look at it and remember. Also it’s a good place to save research on, say, solo sailing, or how long it takes to get from the earth to mars at light speed or what the pacific north west coast looks like.

tl:dr yes it’s okay to take a break. you need to find a work habit and a writing schedule that is workable for YOU and you should build breaks into that,but don’t let it get away from you so that you stop writing all together.

#writing advice #writing #pace yourself #yes you can take a break

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

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insufferable {Joe Mazzello}

Summary: Joe is the star of the college musical you’re lighting, and all he seems to care about it goofing off, which irritates you to no end. Maybe he’s just an asshole for asshole’s sake... maybe not.

A/N: 2390 words. College AU. No pronouns for reader. Friends, show week fortnight is OVER, so many things in my life have changed in the past two weeks, I have a 3000 word essay due tomorrow, and this literally took me over a week. I’m sorry it took so long, I hope you enjoy it. As always, feedback is appreciated!! Also @sitonmyhot-seatoflove, @cosmicsskies, and @borhapbxtch 😘

Joseph Mazzello III (or as you liked to refer to him as; Junior, The Second) was the lead of the musical one of your friends had written. For your part, lighting an original, college musical wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend two weeks of your life, but a promise is a promise, one that you were rapidly regretting with every moment you spent in that little theatre.

The most irritating thing about Joe wasn’t the fact that he could never seem to find his light, or that he liked touching the buttons on the fog machine, or that the director seemed to adore him, it was that he was genuinely talented. The second most irritating thing about him was that he couldn’t seem to shut up for five minutes.

You’d met him at the first script reading; Ellie, the director and another friend of yours, had gathered the whole cast and crew at her little shoebox apartment for dinner, and to familiarize everyone with the script. Joe had caught your eye where he was tucked up against one end of the sofa, eating party pies like his life depended on it. He’s pretty, has a certain aura about him like he’s got some sort of magnetism about him, and everyone speaks fondly about and to him. When he smiles, something about it has your heart beating unexpectedly faster.

And then he starts speaking.

That’s not to say he’s annoying first off, actually he’s quite funny and charming. He’s the leading man, and with good reason. He gives a good cold read, humming along when Ellie pulls out her guitar to give demos of the songs she’d written, and bantering easily with the other cast members every so often if it fits the scene. He’s warmhearted, well-spoken, and completely affable.

But he also turns out to be a fucking pain to work with.

Maybe it’s that he’s too good with people. You adored watching him in rehearsals, loved hearing him sing along with the band, and enjoyed his company well enough when you hung out with the group.

But right now, it’s six at night, you’re only halfway through the lighting plot after an already long day, and he’s got the stage manager on his shoulders, chicken fighting his costar, who’s got the AV designer on her shoulders. This is the fourth time you have had to break out the God Mic in the last hour; Ellie is too tired to reprimand her cast and crew for their behavior, not that she would, she hates playing the bad guy.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is absolutely harmless and sweet as you death glare the cast and crew from bio-box where you’re operating the lights from, “am I interrupting you?” You ask, tone sharp, eyes tired.

Joe’s actually the first to look to where you were, and is quick to lower the stage manager back to the ground.

“No, you’re fine Y/N,” he says with a laugh, and that boyish smile that you’re too irritated to enjoy right now, “we were probably interrupting you-”

“Joe,” you cut him off, lips against the microphone for emphasis, “that’s the joke.” You tell him absolutely humourlessly. He obligingly shuts up. For about five minutes.

It’s the most painful lighting plot you’ve ever done; between Joe and the rest of the cast goofing off, the stage manager not writing down cues and having to borrow your copy of the script at the end of the session, and the director not knowing exactly what she wanted but that she’d know it when she saw it (which she didn’t, she just liked whatever you did, and made indecisive noises whenever you asked her opinion), you needed a damn drink.

It seems the rest of the cast and crew have the same idea, however, and they invite you along. You don’t want to seem rude and say no, but if Joe doesn’t shut his damn mouth you’re gonna punch him. He’s not even talking about anything irritating, you’re just sick of hearing his voice.

You found yourself coming to hate Joe professionally, and it seemed that that was starting to bleed into your personal opinions of him too. You made sure to stay well away from him at the bar you all headed to, a few blocks away from campus and within reasonable walking distance of your home.

It's a nice enough night, all of you excitedly discussing the development of the show, all crammed together in a little booth at the back of a poorly lit pub. You've got the director on one side, and you're practically falling out of the booth on the other, but you don't mind too much. Joe, from where he's sitting in the middle of the seat opposite you, will occasionally give you a scrutinizing look when he thinks no-one else is looking, and he's always quick to look away, crack a joke, when you catch him.

Call time for the actors for the tech run the following day is ten. You're there at nine, your phone plugged into the aux cord and blasting your favourite album through the speakers as you refocus a light diligently. It's where you feel most at home, on top of a ladder, on top of the world.

“You really know what you’re doing up there, don’t you?” There’s something almost awed in the voice that greets you, though it comes as a surprise, and you have to grab the bar you’re rigging the light on to steady yourself when you jump. It’s Joe, leaning on the stage, bag slung over one shoulder. You bite back the first sarcastic response that comes to mind, and you smile, tired.

“Of course, that’s why they pay me,” you laugh, a little put out for being thrown off your rhythm, despite the music still playing.

“We’re not- you know we’re not getting paid, right?” He asks, a little confused. You roll your eyes.

“It’s a joke,” you replied, going back to your work.

“I feel like we have different definitions of joke.”

“Why are you here so early?” You were quickly losing patience with him, pulling the gates of the light by the bulb out to widen the beam of the light. There’s a moment of silence, of hesitation, and when you look to Joe, he’s looking over the set. “No reason?” You prompted, and it snapped him out of his thoughts enough to look at you.

“Came to go over choreography before the run,” he admitted. That does get you to smile a little, he’s nothing if not diligent. “You?”

“Just fixing a light.”

He’s stretching and warming up, earphones in while you struggle to put the ladder away, and that quiet moment in which you thought he was diligent evaporates.

“I will fade to black in the middle of his solo.” You growl, sitting by the window of the on-campus cafe, watching the steam rise from your drink on the morning of opening night.

“Please do not,” Ellie sighs around her mouthful of granola. You make a face, but she holds up her hand for silence, chewing and swallowing before she speaks again, “listen, if you two could stop bitching about each other for five minutes you’d see that-”

“He’s bitching about me? I’m just doing my job!” You cried, and Ellie looked like she regretted even opening her mouth, not that you really cared; it felt as though your blood was boiling. “I’ll cut the lights before he comes out for his bows, I don’t give a fu-”

“I know you’re joking, but honestly I don’t have the energy to talk you out of it,” Ellie tells you, and she leans back, out of the conversation, her gaze turning to the window as you fume quietly. She’s right, you wouldn’t actually do anything to jeopardize the show, but something about Joe just got on your nerves.

Each show goes off without much of a hitch, and for the sake of the sound operator and stage manager, who are sharing comms with you, you keep your complaints to yourself and focus on your job and enjoying the show. For the record, it’s very easy to enjoy the show; Joe’s even entertaining enough on stage that you forget how much he irritates you. He’s a wonderful singer, an exuberant performer, and the crowd and the rest of the crew love him.

But then comes the afterparty.

You’ve been drinking. He’s been drinking. You’ve had to listen to drunk, emotional Ellie gushing about how he ‘saved the production’. It’s more malicious than you intended, when you spit that he’s an entitled asshole.

“He’s not an asshole! That’s why people love him, okay?” Ellie fires back, expression defiant. She won’t remember this.

“Is that why you’re constantly defending him? Because you wanna bang?” You asked, scowling. Ellie’s expression fell, avoiding your gaze; she’s picking at the label on her cider, because she hates beer.

“I’m defending him because he’s transferring to this course next year, and I don’t want you scarring him off.”

Oh.

You find him by the bonfire, poking at it with a stick, expression contemplative. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence as you stand opposite him, by the fire.

“How was your first show with us?”

“Do you mean like, with the course?” He asks, frowning, “You’re not even in it, though.” He wasn’t even pretending like he wanted to make small talk with you.

“Yeah,” you forced a smile, “but the course is good, from what I hear, and I just-”

“You don’t need to make small talk, you can tell Ellie and the rest of them that I’m still joining the course. I know you don’t like me.” He added, and your mouth snaps closed, tone turning defensive.

“I don’t not like you-” but you’re cut off by his gentle laugh.

“Dude, do you think I’m an idiot?” He doesn’t let you answer, which your drunk brain wants to. He drops his stick into the fire and finally looks at you. “Don’t answer that; I know you don’t like me; that’s no skin off my nose. The show’s over.”

Silence hangs between the two of you; his gaze is so intense in the firelight, and for a moment you remember how handsome you’d thought he was at that first table read, before you’d known him.

“You’re talented, but disrespectful.” Tumbles from your lips.

“I’m fun, you’re just too uptight.” He laughs, but he doesn’t look particularly hurt by your words. In fact, he’s smiling. “You know this isn’t a professional show, right?”

“I- I’m used to-”

“No, I know,” he nodded, with a smirk, “I can tell. The way you hold yourself- you know you sound demanding when you’re working, right? Like you expect everyone to be on the same wavelength as you without even trying. They’re not. I’m not. This is fun; we’re not getting paid. We’re just trying to have fun.” He shrugs, before picking up the bottle of spirits he had by his feet that you hadn’t been able to see. “You should learn to have a little more fun.” He muses, before taking a swig of the alcohol, and offering it to you.

“I am fun,” you huff, taking the bottle from him and having a swig. It’s rum, cheap rum, and it burns, but you swallow it.

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” he nods with a faux seriousness that makes it clear that he does not believe you in the slightest. You scowl, but take another sip.

“See, you’re still being an asshole.”

“You’re fun to rile up.” He shrugged, before grinning, “but I don’t mean to be an asshole... mostly. You just don’t like me, so everything I say-”

“I did like you, but then I had to work with you.” You pass back the bottle, and Joe actually laughs, and it’s such a genuine and lovely sound.

“Well then, maybe we shouldn’t work together again,” his smile now is much more genuine, and you feel your cheeks heat up, which you can’t entirely blame on the fire, “because I don’t like having you hate me.” He’s making his way around the fire now, standing beside you, looking at the flames as they’re beginning to die down.

“I don’t hate you.” You admit, bumping your shoulder against him. Joe laughs.

“I know.”

“God you’re cocky-” you scoff, turning to look at him, but he’s looking back at you, expectant grin on his lips.

“Yeah, but I’ve seen how you look at me.”

“With loathing?” You deadpan.

“Sometimes.” He agrees, laughing a little. Your heart beats a little faster, with the endeared way he’s smiling at you. “It’s so hard to make you smile when you’re in like, work mode, you know?” He muses, “you just think I’m an asshole.” That you have to agree with. “But when, like, a light hits just right, or someone mentions how hard they’ve been working, or-” he actually flushes a little as he ducks his head, “someone comes in early to practice, say, choreography on their own time? You smile so big, so damn big.” And the fact that he’d noticed, your expression turns surprised.

Oh. Everything he’s said or done over the past three months suddenly shines in a new light.

“You like me? That’s what all this was about?” You can’t help but laugh, wrapping an arm around him, and Joe snickers, nodding a little sheepishly. “Wait, does Ellie know? Is that why-?”

“Unfortunately she has had to listen to me complain about every time you give me a dirty look in rehearsals,” he sighed, and you feel embarrassment well up within you.

“No wonder she was so ready to go to bat for you,” you murmured, a little horrified with yourself, before turning to Joe, looking both mortified and apologetic. “We can never work together again.” And he’s never agreed to something faster. “I really did - do - like you, I just thought you were being-”

“I know, I know; you’re too professional for your own good, and I’m a fan of goofing off, and that just doesn’t mesh well. Professionally.” He clarified, and then paused, finally looking back at you.

“Professionally.” You agreed, quietly. Your smile is genuine and wide as you lean in to press your lips to his.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #BoRhap cast #borhap cast imagine #the angry lizard writes

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fission-mailure · 3 years

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Trying out new ways to stave off executive dysfunction and tiredness and work better, and yesterday yielded some pretty good results. I:

-- Wrote 1000 words on a big writing project.

-- Wrote 2500 words on a 4500 research essay for my PhD (and also for attempted publication in an actual academic journal I’ve got my eye on, but we’ll see, I need to actually finish, edit, format, and submit it first.)

-- Wrote 400 words on a 3000 word research essay for my PhD. I noted this one in my first review, so it needs to be completed in full for my probation review a year from now.

-- Wrote 1000 words on Khaldaia 3, which is extremely late but edging closer to being done.

-- Reread my main PhD essay after a long time away, and made a note of a section I want to write soon. It’s slow going with that, since it’s half research and half reflective, so its progress stalls while work on the creative piece is done.

-- Actually cooked and ate a halfway proper meal. I mean, it wasn’t great, it wasn’t like a complicated gourmet feast, but sometimes I just don’t have the energy to eat at all, let alone cook, so that’s still good.

That’s a level of momentum I can be more than happy with, if I can keep it up.

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johnmauldin · 7 years

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Mauldin: 7 Forecasts from the Brightest Financial Minds I Know

In my fairly upbeat 2018 forecast, I predicted that the US economy and markets will probably hold up well, thanks to tax cuts and deregulation. That’s, of course, assuming the Federal Reserve gets no more hawkish than it already has.

Continuing my series of forecasts, here I’ll look at predictions from some of my most trusted friends and colleagues (subscribe to Thoughts from the Frontline to receive all my forecasts). Some disagree with my own views—and that’s perfectly fine. I want you to see all sides so you can make good decisions for your own family and portfolio.

I’ll let these forecasters speak for themselves in longer quotes than I usually allow, then add my own comments.

The article runs long, but I’m sure you’ll take away a lot from it, so bear with me…

Ben Hunt: No Algorithm Can Predict the Future

Let’s start not with a forecast but with an important story about forecasts from Ben Hunt.

Ben’s wide-ranging essays are hard to summarize or excerpt in a way that captures their breadth and depth.

I’ll give you a tiny snippet, but please, set aside some time this month to read the entire article. It is long but worth your while.

The Three-Body Problem is a famous example of a system which has no derivative pattern with any predictive power, no applicable algorithm that a human could discover to adapt successfully and turn basis uncertainty into basis risk. In the lingo, there is no “general closed-form solution” to the Three-Body Problem. (It’s also the title of the best science fiction book I’ve read in the past 20 years, by Cixin Liu. Truly a masterpiece. Life and perspective-changing, in fact, both in its depiction of China and its depiction of the game theory of civilization.)

What is the “problem”? Imagine three massive objects in space … stars, planets, something like that. They’re in the same system, meaning that they can’t entirely escape each other’s gravitational pull. You know the position, mass, speed, and direction of travel for each of the objects. You know how gravity works, so you know precisely how each object is acting on the other two objects. Now predict for me, using a formula, where the objects will be at some point in the future.

Answer: You can’t. In 1887, Henri Poincaré proved that the motion of the three objects, with the exception of a few special starting cases, is non-repeating. This is a chaotic system, meaning that the historical pattern of object positions has ZERO predictive power in figuring out where these objects will be in the future. There is no algorithm that a human can possibly discover to solve this problem. It does not exist.

And that of course is the basic problem we have in economics and investing. When we say that past performance is not indicative of future results, that aphorism is more than just legalese.

Such ideas can easily discourage us from even thinking about the future. However, the real answer is to think about the future differently.

With that prelude, let’s move on.

Anatole Kaletsky: Inflation and Bond Yields Will Accelerate

If I had to rank economic forecasting groups (as opposed to individuals) for consistent quality, Gavekal would be high on the list.

Here are just a few Gavekal snippets from the opening week of 2018. We’ll start with Anatole Kaletsky, who zooms in on inflation as this year’s key unknown factor.

Will inflation accelerate in the US, but not in other major economies? I think the answer is “Yes”, for the same reasons as above. However, I also expected inflation to accelerate and bond yields to increase last year. Instead, both inflation and growth ended the year exactly where they were.

The simple answer is that US unemployment is now 4.1% instead of 4.8%. I was wrong about 5% unemployment being a non-inflationary growth limit, and maybe 4% isn’t either. But whatever the exact number may be, the US is certainly closer to its non-inflationary growth limit now than it was a year ago. In addition, the Trump tax cuts, if they actually stimulate higher US consumption and/or investment (which they may not do by any meaningful amount) will add to US inflationary pressures, since new production capacity will take several years to boost non-inflationary trend growth.

If the prediction of higher US inflation turns out to be right, it will be a game-changer. It will produce much more volatile market conditions and even greater under-performance by US equities and bonds relative to assets in Europe and Japan, where inflation is not a risk.

The follow-on question, if Anatole is right about inflation, is how the Fed will respond to it. The ideal response would have been to start tightening about three years ago. That opportunity having past, the remaining choices are all varying degrees of bad.

Louis Gave: Financials and Energy Will Be Top Sectors This Year

Now let’s move on to Louis Gave, who gives us some stock market ideas at the end of a long, thoughtful essay on liquidity.

Putting it all together, 2018 does seem to be starting on a different note than 2017. While the bull market may not be in peril, it is a tough environment for a price/earnings ratio expansion to occur. Such an outcome usually relies on excess liquidity moving into equities. Yet in 2018, equity markets are more likely to be a source of liquid funds than a destination for them. It follows that if a multiple-expansion is off the table then equity gains will rely on earnings rising. The area where such an improved profit picture is likely is financials (higher rates and velocity) and energy (higher prices). The fact that both of these sectors presently trade on low multiples also helps.

If you want specific sector ideas, there are two good ones.

David Kotok: A Shift Upward Will Continue

My friend David Kotok of Cumberland Advisors had some New Year’s Day thoughts on the Republican tax bill’s impact.

Once the transitional shock of yearend is absorbed, we think the tax bill will raise the valuation of US stocks. Simply put, the tax bill will generate a permanent shift upward of somewhere between $10 and $14 in the threshold of S&P 500 earnings. Once you adjust for that permanent shift, you may continue to factor in the earnings growth rate that you expect from a US economy that is going to grow at 3% instead of 2%. We believe that growth rate is likely for a couple of years.

So, S&P 500 earnings should range up to and then above $150 by the decade’s end. They will do so while the Fed is still engaged in a gradualist restoration of interest rates to something more “normal,” whatever that word means. And those earnings will occur while a repatriation effect is unleashing $1 trillion of stagnant cash in some form of robust redistribution (dividends or stock buybacks) or as productivity-enhancing capex spending. Bottom line is no recession in sight for at least a few years; and low inflation remains, so interest-rate rises will not derail the economic recovery, nor will they alter rising stock market valuations.

Years ago we projected a 3000 level on the S&P 500 Index by 2020.

That is considerably more bullish than most 2018 forecasts I’ve seen. Rather than argue with David, I’ll say this: Be ready for anything this year. The future is no more uncertain than it always is, but the consequences of a mistake are growing as the bull market and economic expansion grow long in the tooth.

They will end at some point. That means you need a strategy that will let you both participate on the upside and defend yourself when the bear appears. I reiterate that you should be diversifying trading strategies, not just asset classes.

Paul Krugman: Rising Rates Spell Trouble

Next we turn to Paul Krugman, who is not generally one of my favorite economists. I quote him this time because he sounds a lot like, well, me.

So we’re living in an era of political turmoil and economic calm. Can it last?

My answer is that it probably can’t, because the return to normalcy is fragile. Sooner or later, something will go wrong, and we’re very poorly placed to respond when it does. But I can’t tell you what that something will be, or when it will happen.

The key point is that while the major advanced economies are currently doing more or less OK, they’re doing so thanks to very low interest rates by historical standards. That’s not a critique of central bankers. All indications are that for whatever reason — probably low population growth and weak productivity performance — our economies need those low, low rates to achieve anything like full employment. And this in turn means that it would be a terrible, recession-creating mistake to “normalize” rates by raising them to historical levels.

But given that rates are already so low when things are pretty good, it will be hard for central bankers to mount an effective response if and when something not so good happens. What if something goes wrong in China, or a second Iranian revolution disrupts oil supplies, or it turns out that tech stocks really are in a 1999ish bubble? Or what if Bitcoin actually starts to have some systemic importance before everyone realizes it’s nonsense?

That was from Krugman’s January 1 New York Times column, and his assessment is not far from my own view.

The difference between us is that Krugman has made a remarkable turnaround since the imminent doom he predicted right after the election. So I’m glad to welcome his Damascene conversion.

I hope it sticks this time.

David Rosenberg: We Are 90% Through This Cycle

I don’t know any economic forecaster more prolific than David Rosenberg. I don’t know how he even finds time to sleep, frankly. His Breakfast with Dave is often the same length as my weekly letters, and he writes it every working day.

Dave’s December 29 issue of Breakfast with Dave was a tour de force on world markets, which I can’t possibly summarize and do any justice to the original, so I’ll cut straight to his conclusion.

In other words, expect a year where volatility re-emerges as an investable theme, after spending much of 2017 so dormant that you have to go back to the mid-1960s to find the last annual period of such an eerie calm – look for some mean reversion on this file in the coming year. This actually would be a good thing in terms of opening up some buying opportunities, but taking advantage of these opportunities will require having some dry powder on hand.

In terms of our highest conviction calls, given that we are coming off the 101 month anniversary of this economic cycle, the third longest ever and almost double what is normal, it is safe to say that we are pretty late in the game. The question is just how late. We did some research looking at an array of market and macro variables and concluded that we are about 90% through, which means we are somewhere past the 7th inning stretch in baseball parlance but not yet at the bottom of the 9th. The high-conviction message here is that we have entered a phase of the cycle in which one should be very mindful of risk, bolstering the quality of the portfolio, and focusing on strong balance sheets, minimal refinancing risk and companies with high earnings visibility and predictability, and low correlations to U.S. GDP. In other words, the exact opposite of how to be positioned in the early innings of the cycle where it is perfectly appropriate to be extremely pro-cyclical.

So it’s either about investing around late-cycle thematics in North America or it is about heading to other geographies that are closer to mid-cycle — and that would include Europe, segments of the Emerging Market space where the fundamentals have really improved, and also Japan. These markets are not only mid-cycle, and as such have a longer runway for growth, but also trade relatively inexpensively in a world where value is scarce.

Dave gives us some geographic focus, and it’s mostly outside the US and Canada. He likes Europe, Japan, and some emerging market countries because they are earlier in the cycle.

He’s certainly right on that point, though I think we may differ on how long the cycle can persist. The past doesn’t predict the future.

For the record, in my own portfolio design, we are about 50% non-US equities. My managers are finding lots of opportunities outside of the US.

Byron Wien: “Ten Surprises” List

We’ll wrap up today with an annual tradition: Byron Wien’s annual “Ten Surprises” list.

It always causes me a little cognitive dissonance because by definition you can’t “expect” a surprise. That aside, Byron’s list is always a useful thought exercise. Here it is.

1. China finally decides that a nuclear capability in the hands of an unpredictable leader on its border is not tolerable even though North Korea is a communist buffer between itself and democratic South Korea. China cuts off all fuel and food shipments to North Korea, which agrees to suspend its nuclear development program but not give up its current weapons arsenal.

2. Populism, tribalism and anarchy spread around the world. In the United Kingdom Jeremy Corbyn becomes the next Prime Minister. In spite of repressive action by the Spanish government, Catalonia remains turbulent. Despite the adverse economic consequences of the Brexit vote, the unintended positive consequence is that it brings continental Europe closer together with more economic cooperation and faster growth.

3. The dollar finally comes to life. Real growth exceeds 3% in the United States, which, coupled with the implementation of some components of the Trump pro-business agenda, renews investor interest in owning dollar-denominated assets, and the euro drops to 1.10 and the yen to 120 against the dollar. Repatriation of foreign profits held abroad by U.S. companies helps.

4. The U.S. economy has a better year than 2017, but speculation reaches an extreme and ultimately the S&P 500 has a 10% correction. The index drops toward 2300, partly because of higher interest rates, but ends the year above 3000 since earnings continue to expand and economic growth heads toward 4%.

5. The price of West Texas Intermediate Crude moves above $80. The price rises because of continued world growth and unexpected demand from developing markets, together with disappointing hydraulic fracking production, diminished inventories, OPEC discipline and only modest production increases from Russia, Nigeria, Venezuela, Iraq and Iran.

6. Inflation becomes an issue of concern. Continued world GDP growth puts pressure on commodity prices. Tight labor markets in the industrialized countries create wage increases. In the United States, average hourly earnings gains approach 4% and the Consumer Price Index pushes above 3%.

7. With higher inflation, interest rates begin to rise. The Federal Reserve increases short-term rates four times in 2018 and the 10-year U.S. Treasury yield moves toward 4%, but the Fed shrinks its balance sheet only modestly because of the potential impact on the financial markets. High yield spreads widen, causing concern in the equity market.

8. Both NAFTA and the Iran agreement endure in spite of Trump railing against them. Too many American jobs would be lost if NAFTA ended, and our allies universally support continuing the Iran agreement. Trump begins to think that not signing on to the Trans-Pacific Partnership was a mistake as he sees the rise of China’s influence around the world. He presses for more bilateral trade deals in Asia.

9. The Republicans lose control of both the Senate and the House of Representatives in the November election. Voters feel disappointed that many promises made during Trump’s presidential campaign were not implemented in legislation and there is a growing negative reaction to his endless Tweets. The mid-term election turns out to be a referendum on the Trump Presidency.

10. Xi Jinping, having broadened his authority at the 19th Party Congress in October, focuses on China’s credit problems and decides to limit business borrowing even if it means slowing the economy down and creating fewer jobs. Real GDP growth drops to 5.5%, with only minor implications for world growth. Xi proclaims this move will ensure the sustainability of China’s growth over the long term.

(https://www.blackstone.com/media/press-releases/byron-wien-announces-ten-surprises-for-2018)

Whatever your predisposition, there’s plenty to both like and dislike in there. On #7, I think 10-year Treasury bonds at 4% or more will look like the end of the world to younger folks.

It’s been more than a decade since we saw any such thing, and at that point they were falling, not rising. But if he’s correct that CPI pushes over 3%, then bond yields have to rise.

Personally, I think I would take the other side of that bet. I think the yield on the 10-year actually has a chance to fall.

On another note: If Byron is right that “speculation reaches an extreme,” the resulting correction will be a lot deeper than 10%. I don’t think we are there yet and probably won’t reach that point in 2018. But we will get there eventually.

All right, my stack of New Year’s predictions is barely any smaller, but we’ll stop here and pick up next week in Thoughts from the Frontline.

Join hundreds of thousands of other readers of Thoughts from the Frontline

Sharp macroeconomic analysis, big market calls, and shrewd predictions are all in a week’s work for visionary thinker and acclaimed financial expert John Mauldin. Since 2001, investors have turned to his Thoughts from the Frontline to be informed about what’s really going on in the economy. Join hundreds of thousands of readers, and get it free in your inbox every week.

#2018 #economy #forecast

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torestoreamends · 7 years

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Moramortia: Chapter 5

When it comes to research, Scorpius is the worst sort of back-seat driver...

Read it on AO3 / Pick a chapter

Considering the Stupid Options

Scorpius is holding court from his hospital bed, atop a throne made of blankets, books, and bits of parchment. He's been in St Mungo's for a week now, and is apparently very bored, because the second Albus and Rose arrive he pounces on them, demanding homework. Now he's a frenzy of action, ink splattering his clean sheets, parchment crumpled in his eagerness to get going, quill a blur he's writing so fast. His face is alight with sheer joy at having something to occupy him.

"Throw me that Herbology book, Rose?" He points at it one-handed, barely taking his eyes off the parchment for a second, and never once pausing in his writing. The book bounces onto the bed next to him and he snatches it up gleefully and starts flicking through it.

Albus watches from the seat by the window, smiling at his boyfriend's exuberance. It's wonderful to see Scorpius again, and it's even more wonderful to see him so animated. The week without him has been lonely and difficult, full of struggles with lessons, early nights because there's no one to talk to, lonely meals, and far too much silence. Just being in the same room as Scorpius feels like coming home, like having part of his heart restored to him. And it's gratifying to see that Scorpius looks at least a little better than he did last Sunday.

There seems to be more colour in his cheeks, more strength when he's moving around and sitting up. He's lost weight again, but everything else looks good, really good. Even his smile is bright and unrestrained. Albus has missed that smile so much.

Scorpius glances up from his book for a moment and catches Albus's gaze. "Why are you staring at me?"

Albus shrugs and can't help but grin. "Just admiring my boyfriend. And marvelling at what an enormous geek he is."

Scorpius looks across at Rose, who stops pretending to gag and gives him an innocent smile. "You'd think he'd be used to it by now really, but he's not."

"It's because," Albus says, leaning forward and waving a book at him. "Every time I think you can't get more geeky you somehow do."

Scorpius beams and tucks a bit of hair off his face, cheeks flushing pink with happiness. "I think that's something to be very proud of." He pushes his half-finished essay away from him. "Have you found anything yet, Albus?"

Albus flips through the last few pages of the book he's meant to be reading and shakes his head. There's an awful lot in there about an awful lot of illnesses, but none of them seems even remotely like what Scorpius has. "Absolutely nothing," he sighs.

"This is hopeless," Rose says, snapping her own book shut. "I'm pretty sure we've been through almost every book about Healing in the entire library, and there's nothing in any of them."

"How well have you been through them?" Scorpius asks. "I hate to cast aspersions, but Albus has never been the most noted reader, and while you're academically excellent, Rose, you are also a Gryffindor, so-"

Rose glares daggers at him. It's the sort of look Albus avoids being on the receiving end of at all costs. "So?"

"So," Scorpius says, holding up a placatory hand. "You can be a little unfocused, and flighty, and-"

"Flighty?" Rose asks, incredulous. "Really, Scorpius? And when have I ever been unfocused? We both know how important this is. You can trust us." She glances at Albus, and Albus nods.

Scorpius looks between the two of them and fiddles with the collar of his dressing gown. "I do trust you. I'd trust you both with my life; in fact that's literally what I'm doing right now, but... maybe you've missed something? There have to be answers. There just have to be." He tucks another bit of hair behind his ear. "So maybe you should bring me some of the books. Then I can check for myself, and you won't have to do all the work."

"Scorpius," Rose says, voice unusually gentle. It's the same soothing voice her mum used to use when she and Albus and the others were younger, and one of them was upset or hurt. Soft and understanding. Albus can't help but realise how much she's grown up in the last few years. "I understand that you're bored, and that there's nothing to do here. I can bring you books. I can even ask the teachers for extra reading for you if you want. But... there's really no point wasting your time. I'm sorry."

Albus swallows. "It's true," he murmurs. "I didn't read much, you know I can't read as fast as you, but I think there's a reason none of the Healers here know what's wrong with you. It's not something common."

Scorpius regards them for a moment, then he folds his arms, shoulders tight. "Fine. Then maybe next week you need to have a look for at something a little less vanilla. If it's not in the main library then maybe there are answers in the Restricted Section."

"How am I supposed to get books from the Restricted Section?" Albus asks. "I'm not exactly a model student like you two."

"Say it's for Potions," Rose says, shrugging. "You're easily the best in the year – probably in the whole school – at Potions. You could just say you're researching Healing Potions."

"Which wouldn't even be a lie," Scorpius points out.

"Do you think they'd buy that?" Albus asks dubiously.

"Don't be silly, Albus," Rose says. "The Potions Mistress loves you. She'd give you anything you wanted, and it's not as if you've never done personal projects before. You can easily get a note."

Scorpius flops back against his pillows, squashing several bits of ruined parchment in the process. He tugs a book out from behind him, then relaxes with a sigh. "I wish I could go home and look through the library... I bet there's all sorts in there. Mum had some fascinating Healing books, as far as I can remember, and I never managed to read through them all. If only I could ask Dad to bring me some, but it might be a bit suspicious?"

"Well, when will you be allowed home?" Albus asks, picking up another book and scanning the contents page. He glances up at Scorpius. "You look so much better already. If you go home soon you could have a look before you come back to school."

Scorpius looks down at his knees, avoiding Albus's gaze. "I'm not sure how soon it'll be."

"Why?" Albus asks. "What do you mean? You feel better, don't you?"

Scorpius doesn't say anything. He adjusts his blankets, picks Bathilda the Bat up from where she's been squashed under a Transfiguration book and smooths her wings out, but remains perfectly silent.

Albus stares at him, reeling from his response. Somehow the silence is worse than any words could have been. Albus opens his mouth to try and say something, but he doesn't know where to start, so he closes it again and swallows.

His mind is racing as fast as a Nimbus 3000. Running through what that silence means: that Scorpius must be in pain, he must feel weak, and exhausted, and sick. That all this energy and life, all the sparkle in his eyes, all his upbeat joy, it's all a front. It's been carefully crafted for Albus and Rose, so they don't worry about him. And it must be costing Scorpius a lot to do it. It must be making him more tired and more ill.

Albus feels a bit sick all of a sudden. He stares blankly down at the book in his hands and tries to slow down his thoughts, but it's impossible. He's flooded with doubt and worry. What if this means Scorpius doesn't trust him? Can't be open with him? What if Scorpius ends up even more sick because of the energy he's used up today? Maybe they shouldn't visit anymore. Maybe that would be better. What else isn't Scorpius showing him?

Rose shuffles awkwardly in her seat, then gets to her feet. "I... think I'm going to go and look for some food." She looks between the two boys. "Do either of you want anything?"

Scorpius, who had been looking between Albus and his own hands, a cloudy expression on his face, turns to Rose, his bright smile restored to its full glory in an instant. "Three cauldron cakes please."

Rose pulls a face. "Three? Why three?"

"One for now, one for later, and one to feed to Albus." Scorpius glances at him. "He's looking far too miserable."

Albus runs a hand through his hair and tries not to look at Scorpius's smile. It had looked so beautiful just a couple of minutes ago, but now all Albus can think about is the pain it must be hiding. "I'm not miserable," he says softly. "I'm just-"

"Three please." Scorpius nods, as if Albus's reaction proves his point.

"I'll be back in a minute." Rose gestures to the two of them. "You two... please behave." She looks at them a moment longer, gaze lingering particularly on Albus. Then she marches out of the door and leaves them alone.

For a minute they sit in silence. Albus flicks the pages of the book over his fingertips, and Scorpius adjusts the pile of blankets around him, wrapping himself up more tightly. Finally he looks up and leans forward a little.

"Albus-"

Albus puts the book aside and gives Scorpius his undivided attention. His heart is racing, and he can feel tension twisting inside him. He knows he should handle this conversation calmly, but he's not sure he can. Not when it matters this much.

"How bad is it?" He asks, voice tight.

Scorpius shakes his head. "It's not-"

"I'm supposed to be your boyfriend," Albus says, voice rising with all the emotions he can't contain. Frustration, desperation, and so much fear. "I'm supposed to be your best friend. If you won't tell me how bad it is, at least tell me why you won't."

Scorpius wipes his nose on the back of his hand. "I didn't want you to worry."

"I already am worrying," Albus says. "And this is making it worse." He takes a breath. "Scorpius... please. I-I want to... I want to be here for you. I want to help. Let me help."

Scorpius picks up a ball of scrap parchment and tosses it into the bin on the other side of the room, then he flops back into the bed and looks up at Albus. "Fine. It's bad."

Albus hesitates, then he gets up from his seat and moves to the one beside the bed. He perches on the edge, uncertain if he's allowed to be this close, but Scorpius doesn't protest, he just stares down at the blankets.

"You- you look better this week," Albus says, looking at him.

Scorpius kicks one of his feet under the duvet. "Only because they're good at managing pain here." He looks in Albus's direction, not at him, but towards him. "For something like this, when you come to hospital they don't make it better, they just make it hurt less. That's what they did for my mum, and it's all they can do for me at the moment."

"So they definitely think you're going to-"

Scorpius gives a frustrated growl and rakes his fingers through his hair. "Why is this always about whether I'm dying or not? Why is that all you care about? I'd quite like some answers too, you know. I'd quite like to survive this. But I don't know what's going to happen. I don't have any answers. And sometimes it'd be nice to be able to talk to my boyfriend about something other than my mortality. Sometimes I'd quite like a nice distraction. But I never get that with you."

"Scorpius-" Albus tries to interject, feeling stunned, wanting to apologise. Scorpius doesn't give him chance.

"You try sitting here in this bed," he says, voice softening as he drums his fingers on one of the books next to him and stares down at the grey fleece blanket covering his knees. "Not sure what's going to happen. Not sure whether you're going to be able to sleep, or how much pain you're going to be in when you wake up, or if chatting to your dad for half an hour will be the thing that finally finishes you off."

His voice is getting louder again, a painful crescendo of building emotion, of all the things he must have been wanting to say all week, finally bursting out of him. "I'm stuck here, Albus. I'm missing school, I'm missing our N.E.W.T year. Even if I survive this whole thing I have no idea how I'm going to catch up enough to do well in my exams. Everything I've ever wanted might be gone. Just like that." He clicks his fingers. "Because of this stupid illness."

He takes several deep breaths, apparently trying to steady himself. He looks at Albus, and when he speaks his voice is quieter again. "I'm as in the dark about all of this as you are, Albus. If I had answers I'd give them to you, but I don't. We both know nothing. The only difference between us is that you can walk away whenever you want. And you probably should. I don't want to inflict unnecessary heartache on you."

Albus looks down at his hands and shakes his head. "You're wrong," he murmurs.

"What does that mean?" Scorpius glances at him, and Albus meets his eyes.

"I can't walk away. I mean... I could. But I won't. Because that would mean leaving you. I already left you once before, and it was horrific, my idea of hell. There's nothing worse for me than the idea of a world where we aren't together, as friends, or boyfriends, or whatever we happen to be. And I know that if I walked away it would hurt me far more than staying, no matter how sick you are. And-and I know I might lose you anyway, but I don't care, because this is about you."

He twists his fingers together and meets Scorpius's eyes. "I don't think about you nearly as much as I should. I know I'm selfish all the time, and I think this is a good opportunity to try and be better. I'm sorry I don't distract you enough. I didn't realise that you wanted-" He shakes his head. "That's my problem, isn't it? That I don't realise what you need. That I fixate too much. So I'm just going to have to do better. I'm going to have to be a better boyfriend. Because this is about you. It should be about you, and what you want, and what will help you. Because you're right. I'm not the one in the bed, you are. And if I love you – which I do, a lot – then I need to remember that. So-so I'm staying. Staying and helping you to forget everything for a bit. Like I should have been doing the whole time."

He looks up at Scorpius and lifts his chin, jaw set. Defiant. Scorpius looks back at him for a long moment, eyes shining just a little too brightly in the sunlight that streams through the window. Finally he nods. "Okay. But if you ever do want to leave, I wouldn't blame you."

"I won't," Albus says, without hesitation.

"Sometimes," Scorpius says, with a very small smile, "you're too stubborn for your own good."

Albus grins. "I know." He settles more comfortably on the chair, sliding back into it, finally feeling like he might be welcome to stay. "So..." he says, trying to keep his tone as light as he can, even though what he's about to say is so serious. "You don't have to tell me this – we can talk about something else if you want – but... what would happen if you did go home?"

Scorpius gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Probably collapse again and have to come straight back here."

Albus watches him, full of concern. "It's really that bad?"

Scorpius nods and glances up, really talking to him for the first time. "They give me Painkilling Potions three times a day, and if I don't have them it feels like I'm constantly under the Cruciatus Curse. Which isn't really that pleasant. The only reason I'm upright and talking to you now is a delightful combination of potions and sugar. I'm not sure if they're supposed to be mixed, but here we are." He grins and plucks a packet of Jelly Slugs from his bedside table. He offers it to Albus, and Albus takes one, knowing that Scorpius doesn't want to talk about the serious stuff anymore, and spotting this as a perfect change of subject.

"It's good to know you're eating healthily while you're trying to get better," he teases.

Scorpius pulls a face. "What else am I supposed to eat? Fish? No thank you. But honestly, Albus, I've never eaten so many sweets in my life. Aunt Daphne sent me this whole huge box. I'm almost sick of them."

Albus grins. "Almost?"

"They're sweets," Scorpius says, very serious, as if that explains everything. "You can't go off sweets. And they are literally the only fuel to my fire right now. Without these Jelly Slugs I would be sleeping like a baby."

Albus shakes his head and tries not to smile, knowing that it'll only encourage him. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe your body is trying to tell you that rest would be a good idea?"

"Oh undoubtedly, but sleep is for the weak, and I have so much homework to do." He tosses a Jelly Slug into the air, catches it in his mouth, and picks up his Herbology book.

"You," Albus says, leaning forward and pointing a finger at him, "are an enormous geek."

Scorpius bows with a little flourish. "It's in my essential nature. It's part of my soul!" He hugs the book to his chest, then buries himself back in his work again, and Albus, with a fond shake of the head, picks up a Defence Against the Dark Arts book and does the same.

---

The words of the Potions book blur. Albus's eyes start to drift closed again, but he blinks several times and forces them open. The solid wood arm of the chair digs uncomfortably into his side where he's slumping over. He wriggles around and rubs his eyes. He tries to read a few more words, tries to hold their meaning in his exhausted brain, but he's already drifting off again.

A brief moment – or maybe hours – later, a gentle hand settles on his shoulder.

"You're still here, then?"

Albus opens his eyes and finds himself looking up at Draco Malfoy. He's as tall and imposing as always, impressive in his black robes, but there's a softness in his expression, and Albus doesn't feel like he's being told off or thrown out.

He rubs his eyes and looks around the room. Scorpius is still sleeping soundly in the bed, thank goodness. "What time is it?" He asks, voice hoarse.

"Late," Draco says, moving away to adjust Scorpius's blankets. "Do you not have school in the morning?"

Albus looks down at the book and parchment in his lap. "I wanted to finish my Potions homework before I left. It's due, and I haven't had much time, and-" he stares blankly down at the book. What was he even reading about? Poison antidotes or something?

"Perhaps you should go back to school and sleep," Draco says, turning back to him. "Your homework will be waiting for you in the morning, and I'm sure you'll do a better job after you've had a rest."

"But..." Albus looks forlornly at Scorpius's shape, curled up under the blankets. It had taken him hours to fall asleep, until the Healers had finally given him a Painkilling Potion and a Sleeping Draught. Albus had promised to stay with him while he slept.

Draco follows his gaze. "If I have any say in the matter, he'll be here when you return as well."

Albus looks up at him and blinks tiredly. Even the soft golden glow of the lamplight feels like too much right now.

Draco draws up a chair and sits beside him, turning round to face him. "One of the things I learned from my time spent with Astoria... Sacrificing your own life and health for a situation you have no control over is of very little benefit to anyone." His gaze flickers to Scorpius. "It's a lesson I still seem to be learning, but perhaps it's something you could consider too." He looks back at Albus. "Can we agree that Scorpius wouldn't want you missing school for him?"

Albus doesn't even need to think about that. He nods.

Draco nods too. "Good." He adjusts a button on one of his cuffs, and when he speaks again his tone is gentle. Albus has only ever heard him speak to Scorpius like that before, and it makes him feel warm and safe. "If it would help I'm sure I can talk to Minerva- Professor McGonagall about an exemption for you, for the Potions work. I think she'd understand."

Albus shakes his head. "You don't have to. I-I want to do it. I need to do it. Just..." He looks at Scorpius again, then bows his head. "He's been more important."

Draco smooths a crease from his robes, then gestures in Scorpius's direction. "He told me, about your relationship."

Albus stares at him, a sudden jolt of fear rushing through him. He'd spent so long considering how his own parents might react, that he'd never stopped to consider how Draco might feel about it.

"I believe you've made him very happy," Draco says. "I think that having you here is giving him something to hold on to, beyond his own considerable tenacity."

Albus swallows. "So... you're not upset then? That he's with me? You know... a Potter? A-a boy?"

Draco smiles. "I try not to concern myself with family names these days. That was my father's business, it isn't mine. As for your gender, I'm not sure it affects my opinion much, and I must admit it wasn't entirely a surprise."

"It was a surprise to me," Albus mutters.

Draco's smile twists into an amused smirk. "I can imagine." He looks at Albus for a moment, and his smile fades back to something more serious. "I really am glad that Scorpius has someone like you around. I think he'll be well looked after."

Albus twists his hands together. "I'm going to try."

"I know." Draco gets to his feet. "Now, I don't want to keep you any longer. Do you need someone to take you back to school? I can send a Patronus to your father..."

Albus gets up too, and starts gathering his things. "No. I said I'd go by Floo."

"Of course. I have some powder you can use." Draco picks up a couple of books from the bed and hands them to Albus. "Make sure you go through Minerva's office. You should let her know you've back safely."

"Okay."

"I can walk you down to the fireplaces if you like."

Albus shakes his head. "I can manage." He sorts through a pile of books. It's difficult to separate his belongings from Scorpius's mess, which is spreading throughout the room just like it spreads through the dormitory at school. "I don't want to keep you from him."

Draco glances down at the sleeping boy. "I'm sure he won't be waking up any time soon. I'd hope, anyway."

Albus swings his bag over his shoulder. "When he does wake up... please give him a hug from me? I think he needs them at the moment. And tell him I'm sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye."

Draco smiles and nods. "I shall."

"Okay." Albus gives one last, exhausted glance around the room but he can't see anything else that might be his. Anyway, he'll be back soon. He can just pick it up then.

As he crosses to the door he pauses. This might be the first conversation he's ever had alone with Draco. It's certainly the first since he became Scorpius's boyfriend. It feels like he should have more to say, like he should explain himself, justify himself. In fact, thinking about it, there's an awful lot he wants to say, but he has no idea where to start. He ends up turning back and just blurting out the first thing that comes into his head.

"Draco- I mean, sir. I-I love Scorpius. He's a good person, a brave person. And I know I'm lucky to have him. I want to be good for him, better than I have been in the past. And I don't care how sick he is, or how sick he gets. I'm not going to give up on him. I want to help take care of him, however I can – if I can – if that's okay with you."

Silence stretches through the room as Draco studies Albus carefully. Finally he says, "You can call me Draco." He folds his arms and takes a step toward Albus. "You know, I still remember the day Scorpius wrote to Astoria telling her he'd met Harry Potter's son on the train. He was overjoyed. She was happy for him; I was concerned. Over the years I've seen my son cry over you, I've seen him lost in time with you, I've seen him go to hell and back for you. And I've become increasingly convinced that you are, on the whole, a positive influence in his life." He frowns, apparently considering his next words. "I think we would agree that Scorpius is a rather special person. Something of a beacon of light in this world-"

"He told me that's how you described Astoria in the other world. Light in the darkness."

A very small smile flickers across Draco's lips, and he nods. "He does shine the way she used to, yes. And I think that's something to be preserved at all costs. At the moment Scorpius needs to be surrounded by the people who love him most. I think you are one of those people, and I'm grateful that you want to help take care of him. Perhaps, working together, we can make things a little easier for him."

"I hope so. I really do."

Draco nods. "Very well. I suppose I shall see you next weekend?"

Albus draws himself up to his full height. "Friday night," he says, with all the certainty he can muster. "I'll be here."

"I'm sure Scorpius will be looking forward to it." Draco walks across to the door and holds it open while Albus leaves. "Have a pleasant week. And please try and rest. You shouldn't exhaust yourself."

"Goodnight Draco." And then, reluctantly, exhaustedly, Albus walks away down the quiet hospital corridor, leaving the two Malfoys alone in their small, dark room.

---

Days turn into weeks, which turns into a month. October ticks over into November, and they celebrate Scorpius's eighteenth birthday at the hospital, with one of the most extravagant cakes Albus has ever seen in his life.

Albus spends half his life at Hogwarts, and the other half at St Mungo's. He squeezes homework into the gaps between classes, and the small stretches of time when Scorpius is asleep. Every night he goes to the library, where he researches magical diseases by candlelight until well into the night. He's exhausted all of the time, but he doesn't care. Whatever he's going through, Scorpius is suffering far worse.

Scorpius is livid to be missing out on school, especially the fact that he can't do any practical spellwork at all. The one time he tried, his charm produced such a powerful jet of fine red wine that it smashed the window, and the Healers told him he shouldn't be trying to do magic anyway.

Without much to keep him occupied, he's getting more bored and frustrated by the day, and he doesn't seem to be getting much better. Twice now he's collapsed during attempts to reduce his pain medication. Every day seems to be hurting him a little bit more, and Albus can see the hope draining out of him bit by bit.

In response, Albus dedicates more and more time to his research, and he persuades Rose to do the same. She agrees, but even with both of them spending all their free time reading, and Albus sleeping only a couple of hours a night, they still don't seem to be getting anywhere. They haven't even had any luck with the Restricted Section yet.

Mid-November sees the castle grounds covered in silver frost most mornings, and drenched in icy cold torrential rain the rest of the time. On a particularly chilly Thursday night, Albus sits alone in the Restricted Section of the library, James's Invisibility Cloak wrapped tightly round him, as much for warmth as anything else. He's lit his wand, and is using it to scan through the tiny, slanted text of Dark Diseases and Their Cures: A Guide for Potion Makers and Healers.

It's 1am, and the fires went out hours ago, so it's utterly freezing. He can barely feel his fingers anymore, and has to keep stopping to blow on them, breath misting in the frigid air. He'd make a fire, but he's tried twice already, and he knows he's simply too tired to cast the spell. Besides, it seems wrong to create a fire in a library. Scorpius definitely wouldn't approve.

He scans through page after page, leaning forward so his nose is almost pressed to the paper, pinching himself to stay awake. Sleep would be kinder to his body, but he has to keep going. Even after so long searching, every fresh bit of text; every new recipe offers a new spark of hope. The answer to all Scorpius's problems could be anywhere.

He flicks past an awful disease that makes the sufferer melt from the feet upwards, over the course of a single excruciating week. Apparently it's horribly painful and almost completely incurable. On the page after that is a disease that's caused by the bite of a very rare bat, only found in a remote part of Brazil. Once bitten, the patient feels as though they're constantly being bitten by thousands of bats. One man actually threw himself into a fire in an attempt to escape the horrible sensation. Almost every sufferer seems to have been driven to suicide; Albus shudders at the thought. Whatever Scorpius has is awful, but thankfully it's not as bad as that.

He gathers the cloak more tightly round himself, rubs his hands together, then slaps himself on the cheek to try and wake himself up. If it were warm he'd definitely be asleep by now. The slap stings enough to make him feel a bit more awake. He rubs his eyes, then turns to the next page and reads:

Moramortia

Characterised by intense pain during affectionate and loving encounters, this disease is among the most cruel I have encountered during my studies. The sufferer showing any sign of love, particularly for those closest to them, will slowly be consumed as the disease feeds off and attempts to eradicate this most important emotion from within them. Alongside the intense and prolonged pain, sufferers may experience occasional collapses, and will grow continuously weaker as the disease progresses. The final stage of the disease is a gradual spreading of poison through the sufferer's veins, causing numbness and weakness, and gradually shutting down the body.

If the patient continues to demonstrate their love despite the pain, the illness will eventually be fatal. An alternative path is to surrender to the pain, and lead a miserable life devoid of emotional connection with other people, although in my experience, those who are most vulnerable to this disease will very rarely choose this option.

The disease breeds in the darkest times, places, and situations in the world, and is often found in war zones. Several outbreaks were seen in Britain during the First and Second Wizarding Wars, with the last cases being reported in 1998. It is since believed to have been eradicated

The only effective cure for this disease is a complex potion. Although it is not difficult to brew, the complexity lies in the process of collecting the ingredients, some of which are not easy to acquire due to their specificity. In addition, the participation of the sufferer in the quest to gather the ingredients is essential, as some of the objects must be personal to them. As their disease progresses they may become less able to participate, and the potion may be impossible to complete. However, should the potion be successfully brewed, it provides a full and immediate cure.

Albus sits back in his seat, reeling. Wasn't this what Scorpius had thought was happening? He'd said he felt most pain around Albus, Draco, and sometimes Rose. The people he loves most. And he'd collapsed when he and Albus had been kissing, while he'd been telling Albus how much he loved him. It all makes far too much sense.

But how would Scorpius have caught it? If died out after the war... And that was were well over twenty years ago now. It's impossible, and-

No it's not impossible. Because Scorpius has been to hell and back, and where would a disease that eats away all the love from you rather spawn than in a world where Voldemort is in power?

Albus stares at the page, heart pounding. Can this possibly be true? Has sleep deprivation finally got the better of him? This almost seems too good a diagnosis to be true. And it has a cure. A difficult one, but a cure none the less.

With a shaky hand he leans in close so he can read about the potion that heals the disease.

The ingredients for this potion, the only known cure for Moramortia, are as follows:

One vial of Phoenix Tears

Two pieces of wood from a willow tree

Seven Basilisk Teeth, crushed

The remnants of a sacrifice

A single memory of love

A single bottle of Love Potion

All these ingredients must be added to the base liquid, a basic Healing Potion. Once the ingredients have been added, the potion must be stirred seven times clockwise and seven times counter-clockwise, then allowed to simmer for five minutes.

For the potion to take effect, the one afflicted with the disease must drink it in the presence of the person who loves them most.

Albus frowns at the ingredients. He's never encountered such a cryptic list before. The remnants of a sacrifice? What does that even mean? And how are they supposed to find Phoenix Tears?

He runs a hand through his hair. This has to be the solution, it has to be, they've looked literally everywhere else and this all makes so much sense. It doesn't look as though it's going to be easy but when has that ever stopped them before? And if there were ever a time to do something difficult and dangerous and reckless, this is it. When it might be the only way of saving Scorpius's life. No, when it is the only way of saving Scorpius's life.

According to the book, without this potion, Scorpius will die. There is no other choice. Thank Dumbledore that the one thing Albus is really good at is Potions. He can do this, for sure. He can make this potion, and he can save Scorpius's life. He can do this. Or rather, they can do it together.

Except, what if they can't? There's a reason Scorpius is in hospital. He's sick, and getting worse. He hasn't been able to go home yet. And Albus needs him to do what? To run around all over the place trying to find Phoenix Tears and Basilisk Fangs and Merlin knows what else. What if they try it and this is the thing that kills Scorpius? What if instead of being a cure, the process finishes him off?

Albus rubs his eyes and stares down at the book. He can't think straight right now. He needs to sleep, and he needs to talk to Scorpius and Rose. If only he could go up to the Gryffindor dormitories right now, or to St Mungo's, but he can't. He's stuck here on his own, with this book and all these possibilities. But tomorrow, first thing, he's going to talk to Rose and Owl Scorpius, because this is it. This is what they've spent months looking for. And now they've found it, it's time to decide what to do.

Flooded with a sense of determination, which mingles with the pure exhaustion already coursing through him, he taps his wand against the page, making a couple of copies, then he snaps the book shut, makes sure the Cloak is covering him properly, and leaves the library for Slytherin House, and what he hopes will be the first decent night of sleep he's had in weeks.

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