#scorpius would get sparkles in his eyes every time he says albus’s name | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

torestoreamends · 5 years ago

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Mine to Make: Chapter 11

Draco gives a warning, Albus tries to figure out the future, Scorpius does some ill-advised detective work, and Delphi reveals her true colours.

Beta’d by @abradystrix.

N.B. This fic is complete on AO3, so binge read away there if you want! Here on tumblr I’ll be posting a chapter every day until it’s all done.

Read it on AO3

XI Scythe

Delphi is bored of scrambling over rocks. Her hands are cut up, her feet hurt, it’s burning hot in the sun. Nothing is worth this. Yes it’s probably reckless, but she must be far enough from the nearest town by now to just use a tiny bit of magic, surely?

She looks around at the deserted mountainside and throws caution to the winds. She doesn’t even need to draw her wand, she just bends her knees and lets the air carry her upwards.

There’s a strong updraft today, and as she spreads her arms she rises fast, soaring into the blue sky. It would be easy to fly as high as any of these mountains, but that might not endear her to any of the people she’s going to visit. Some of them are wary of magic, and such a display would be more than reckless – it would be idiotic. Instead she stays close to the ground, skimming over the rocky ground, toes brushing the occasional bit of scrubby brush that grows up here.

It’s much faster going by air. What would have taken her another hour to hike only takes ten minutes or so, and soon she’s at the deserted mountaintop she’s been heading towards since sunrise this morning. She sets down at the top of the hill and looks around, taking in the view, and searching for any sign that she’s in the right place. She turns slowly in a circle, and as she does a voice sounds behind her.

“You asked to talk to us. Talk.”

She spins round to face the person who’s spoken. He’s a tall man, wearing a soft, loose blue linen shirt and a pair of threadbare blue denim shorts. His skin is tanned and lined, weatherbeaten, with a smudge of dirt on one cheek. If Delphi didn’t know better she’d think he were a farmer or a vintner or something. Someone who spends a lot of time working out in the sun. There’s something unthreatening about him. But she does know better, and she also knows that this is someone to be threatened by.

She holds her hands up to show that they’re nowhere near her wand. “I did ask to talk to you,” she says. “I think you worked with my father, or knew people who did. I want to know if you‘d be interested in putting yourselves in an advantageous position within society.”

The man stalks around the edge of the mountaintop, eyeing her. “You are very audacious. So young, untested, inexperienced, coming here and telling us that you can give us a position in a world that will be impossible to create.”

Delphi steps towards him. “Not impossible. When my father was in power he envisioned the world I’m now looking to put in place. If he saw it then it’s possible.”

The man snorts. “Lord Voldemort was powerful, skilful, a visionary leader. Even he couldn’t make it happen. How does a little girl expect to do it?”

Delphi folds her arms, trying not to let the sting of his words show. She’s far more than a little girl. She’s a young woman, every bit as bright and talented as her father was, and she’s learned from his mistakes. “There’s a plan in place,” she says. “I don’t need you and your pack to be part of it. There are other people I could have chosen instead. But I thought it would make sense to reward your loyalty, and I know you have contacts, friends. I need to see the giants, the trolls, vampires, goblins, anyone, everyone. For this to work I need an uprising.”

The man walks across and perches on the edge of a large rock towards the side of the mountaintop. “The world is improving for people like me. It’s far from perfect of course, but the werewolves in your country, across vast swaths of Europe, are not as poorly treated as we once were. Why should we rise up with people who still think we’re filthy half breeds when we’re making progress with people who are willing to listen?”

“People are good at pretending to be tolerant,” Delphi says. “We can give you far more than they will ever be willing to. Believe me. Allies will be rewarded, and I want you as an ally.”

The man gets to his feet and comes over to her. He circles her once, and she follows him with her gaze, twisting her head to watch him.

“I have Harry Potter’s son,” she says. “He’s on my side, which means he will be on our side soon enough. That’s the most powerful weapon we could wish for. We won’t lose this time.”

The man stops in front of her and considers her for a long moment. “I’ll think about it,” he says. “We will think about it.”

“How long for?” Delphi asks, not moving an inch, solid as the rocks that make up this mountain. “I have other places to go, other people to see. This sort of offer doesn’t remain open for long.”

“I’ll be back here tomorrow. Noon. Then I’ll have a decision.”

Delphi doesn’t nod, she just looks him straight in the eye. “Noon. I’ll be here.”

The man looks back at her, then he gives a curt incline of the head before walking away. He gets several strides across the rocky ground before he pauses and glances back.

“When you say you have Harry Potter’s son...”

Delphi gives him a bright, sparkling smile, already knowing that tomorrow at noon the answer will be yes. “He thinks I’m his best friend. I haven’t even had to enchant him. He’s waiting for me at the bottom of this mountain right now.”

The man scrutinises her for a long moment, and she just smiles at him. Finally he turns his back on her and walks away, leaving her alone, windswept, triumphant, to start flying back down the mountain. She’s certain that the answer she gets at noon tomorrow will be a yes.

Scorpius loves going to the library. It’s the one place in the world where everyone else is so wrapped up in their own business that they pay him no attention. He’s safe here, and surrounded by books, which have been his only friends for such a huge part of his life.

He weaves his way through the space, breathing in the scent of crisp paper and binding glue, and watching dust motes dance in the air. The languages section is at the back of the third floor, and he goes there a lot, mostly for fun, rarely on business. The fact that he’s on business today gives him a jittery, excitable sense of purpose. He loves the moments when he gets to feel official.

There’s no one else in the section when he gets there. A serene stillness hums in the air. Scorpius has always thought that libraries hold an incredible magic of their own. There’s so much power in all this knowledge waiting to be unleashed. The potential energy hangs in the air, potent and heady, setting all his senses on edge.

It takes him a while to find the book he’s looking for among the thousands on the shelves, but that doesn’t matter. He’s not on a deadline here. The longer he can spend in this space the better.

Part of the problem is that the book is so small and unmarked. It’s the only book on Parseltongue, stuck next to a large section that looks like Mermish. The most distinguishing feature that marks it out from the rest of the books is the fragile snakeskin jacket wrapped around it. Even if he didn’t know the exact contents, Scorpius would recognise that this is unmistakably a book about serpents.

When he finds the book he gently slides it off the shelf, careful not to damage the jacket, and carries it across to one of the tables. Opening it up, he discovers that the pages are as thin and delicate as tissue paper, and they’re yellowing and crinkled with age. He turns each page individually, with the utmost care and reverence. This book is old, probably unique, and the fading symbols inscribed on every page are beautiful, fascinating, even a little bit sinister. To damage this would be unforgivable.

Once he’s taken his time examining the book he pulls the note from his pocket and sets it down on the table. Instantly he realises that his assumption about it being Parseltongue was completely correct. The symbols on his copy of the note are identical to the twisting, writhing ones that slither across the pages of the book.

He has no idea where to start, he realises as he stares at the two. He doesn’t know this alphabet or anything. This might take hours. Maybe Searching Spells work on Parseltongue, but he’s not sure. He draws his wand and gets to work.

The spell does work but it has limited effect. Whoever wrote the note used a lot of colloquialisms and unfamiliar words. They also had rather poor spelling and grammar. It takes a while for him to piece together enough to make the note intelligible, but eventually he has most of it, with a few words missing here and there.

Dear D,

Thank you for meet two nights ahead. Will come Scythe as told.

Wish great things ahead. ASP will work out – against HP can’t wait. If only solve SM problem...

For SH and brave,

Scorpius frowns down at his scribbled translation and tries to make sense of it.

For starters the individual letters have to be names. D is Delphi, ASP can be no one other than Albus, HP must be Harry, and Scorpius is SM. The E and SH are more difficult, but Scorpius isn’t sure how relevant they are.

As for the rest... There’s some sort of meeting at a place called Scythe – he’s heard vaguely of a bar called that in Knockturn Alley, which would make sense. The writer is wishing Delphi luck, telling her that everything with Albus will work out, and something about him being against Harry that Scorpius doesn’t quite understand. Then there it is again, the reference to Scorpius as a problem, even though he hadn’t even met Delphi when this note was written. He must be interfering and interfering hard in whatever plans Delphi has for Albus...

The final bit, without knowing who SH is, makes no sense, and even when he goes and finds a book about former Death Eaters and runs through the list of names there he doesn’t find many people it could be. That part at least will have to remain a nonsensical mystery.

But the rest of it gives him something. Maybe if he can work out what Scythe is, whether it is that bar or not, he’ll have somewhere to search or surveil. Up until now he’s only had a house that’s now burned to the ground, so it would be good to have a concrete location. If only Albus knew where Delphi lived...

He scans the scribbled translation again, looking for anything he might have missed, but he can’t spot anything. It’s so short that it’s difficult to imagine it might contain any hidden meanings, and now he’s understood the gist of what it’s saying he doesn’t know what else to make of it.

It’s another lead. That’s what it is. Another lead, and concrete, written proof of what he overheard at the race: that he’s a problem in whatever plan Delphi has, a problem that needs solving.

He sits and gazes down at the paper for a moment more before deciding that he’s definitely not going to get anything more out of it right now, then he replicates his translation just in case he loses it, tucks the Parseltongue dictionary back on its shelf, and heads home with his mind buzzing.

“You’re very quiet,” Draco says that night, when he and Scorpius are sitting together in the Manor library.

Scorpius has been staring into space for the last five minutes. He’s not reading or working or doing anything. His mind is a whirl of Dementors and flames and chasing footsteps, and his dad’s voice only barely breaks through, enough to make him shake himself.

“What?”

“You’re very quiet this evening,” his dad repeats. “Are you alright? You look like you’re doing an awful lot of thinking.”

“Oh,” Scorpius says. He looks down at his knees. “Sometimes it’s difficult to get my brain to turn off. It’s like someone’s cast a Sonorus Charm on my thoughts, and now they’re so loud I can’t stop hearing them.” He bows his head and rubs his temples. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asks, turning the page of his book.

Scorpius shakes his head and drops his head from his hands, letting his chin flop onto his chest. “No. Not really.”

Draco hesitates for a moment, then he sets his book aside. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Scorpius lifts his head to look at his dad and blurts it all out in a rush. “Delphi, Albus’s best friend, is up to something, and I don’t think he knows, and I know she knows that I know, and I don’t think she wants me to know. I think she needs Albus for something, and I think she thinks I’m getting in the way, and I think she wants to kill me.”

Draco blinks several times, taken aback by the rush of information. He leans back in his seat and absorbs it for a moment before nodding. “That does sound like something that would stick on your mind. What makes you think she wants to-“ His voice catches in his throat and makes a jerky little movement with his hand instead of finishing the sentence.

Scorpius wraps his arms round his body and fiddles with the sleeve of his pyjama top. “There were the Dementors, there was the house she set on fire, and yesterday at Albus’s race someone was following me. I think it was her, and I think that if she’d caught me she would have done something...”

“Have you told Potter about this?” Draco asks sharply.

“He knows I’m in danger,” Scorpius says softly. “I had to persuade him not to take me off the case. He gave me a spell so I can call for backup if I need it, but I didn’t have the chance to use it yesterday...”

“You persuaded him to...” Draco passes a hand over his face. “Scorpius, for once in his life he was trying to do something sensible and you stopped him?”

“I had to!” Scorpius shifts forward in his seat, looking desperately across at his dad. “This is the most interesting case I’ll ever get. If I do well here someone might notice me, they might promote me. I need this, Dad. You know that.”

“You need to stay safe,” Draco says. “You can’t get promoted if you’re dead.”

Scorpius swallows and looks down at his knees. “I don’t think I care. If there’s something bad going on, something sinister, I can stop it. I can clear my name properly. If everything ends up well then I’ll get my life back, and if it doesn’t, then...” He gives a tiny shrug. “At least some people might feel guilty.”

There’s a second of stunned silence.

“You don’t mean that,” Draco says in a soft, hoarse voice.

Scorpius looks up at him, and when he looks at his dad’s face some of his defiance melts away. His dad looks like he’s been cursed, shock and pain written across every inch of his face.

“I don’t know,” Scorpius whispers. “I don’t know, Dad. Maybe I do.” He twists his hands together as he tries to work out how to explain it. “You can’t tell me that you don’t understand,” he says. “Of all people you know what it’s like to have the whole world hate you. If you could make all that stop, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s not worth getting yourself killed for,” Draco says, voice rising to a scalding volume that makes Scorpius reel back in his seat, cheeks burning with frustration.

He gets to his feet. “I’m going to bed. I have things to do tomorrow.”

“Scorpius,” his dad says sharply, giving him a hard look.

“What?” Scorpius asks, folding his arms. He knows he looks and sounds like a petulant child, but he doesn’t much care.

“I can’t lose you.” His dad’s voice breaks and Scorpius’s resolve crumbles, body sagging.

“I just want to be someone other than the Son of Voldemort,” he says, going across to his dad and curling up against his side on the sofa. “I want to be someone.”

His dad gathers him into a tight hug, brushing his fingers through his hair. “The best way to do that is by living,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Scorpius’s head.

Scorpius buries his face in his dad’s shoulder and closes his eyes. “I don’t want her to kill me,” he says in a broken little voice. “I want to live. I want to clear my name. I want a job I like and the boy I love, and I want people to stop hating me. That’s all I want. Isn’t the best way to get all that to solve this?”

“I can’t deny that,” Draco admits, rubbing a hand down Scorpius’s back. “What’s the next step?”

Scorpius sits up and shifts far enough from his dad that he can look at him properly. He crosses his legs and messes with a hole in the toe of one of his socks. “I found this note and translated it from Parseltongue.”

Draco raises his eyebrows, and Scorpius can tell he’s impressed. “From Parseltongue? Go on...”

“It mentions this place, at least I think it’s a place, Scythe? I’d like to go and have a look there, maybe ask some questions, try to find out how Delphi’s connected to it. I need to know more about what she’s planning with all these people, what she wants Albus for.”

Draco frowns. “Scythe... There’s a bar in Knockturn Alley called The Scythe.”

Scorpius nods enthusiastically. “That’s what I thought! I was going to ask you if there was anywhere else it could be instead.”

Draco shakes his head. “I can’t think of anything...” He looks at Scorpius. “Are you really going to go to Knockturn Alley alone? The Scythe isn’t a nice place to be. It looks welcoming enough, but things happen there. There’s magic in the air that’ll numb your mind. You won’t be as sharp. People know that, and they take advantage. If Delphi has been arranging meetings there then she must know it well, and she must know what it can do for her. I can’t stress enough that you need to be exceptionally careful.”

Scorpius nods. “I will be. I might not even go in. There’s stuff I can do from outside. I promise I’ll be sensible.”

“Don’t get caught sneaking around either,” Draco says. “People know you, Scorpius. You’re a familiar face. You’re my son too. I know you have enemies among the law abiding population, but you have more among the sort of people who frequent The Scythe. Don’t give anyone the chance to do anything to you.”

Scorpius sighs. “I know, Dad. I know how to take care of myself.”

“I know you do, but it always bears repeating.” Draco reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I want you back in one piece.”

Scorpius smiles and collapses against his dad’s side, hugging him round the middle. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a well-trained Ministry official now. I’m not your little boy anymore.”

Draco gathers him in, squeezing him tight. “I am painfully aware of that. Gone are the days when I could cast Cushioning Charms on every corner and hard surface in the house to catch you when you fell. You have to cast your own Cushioning Charms now.”

Scorpius’s smile widens and he looks up at his dad. “I’m actually really good at Cushioning Charms, you know. They’re one of my favourites.”

Draco kisses him on the forehead and strokes his hair. “Will you go tomorrow?”

Scorpius nods. “In the afternoon. I have to be back by six. I have a date with Albus.” He grins and gives a happy little wriggle in his seat.

Draco tuts. “Another one? You see more of him than anyone else these days.”

Scorpius pokes his dad in the side. “I thought you wanted me to get out more?”

“I’m very happy for you,” Draco says. “But he’s still a Potter, and you’re definitely obsessed.”

Scorpius gives a happy sigh and rests his head on his dad’s shoulder. “I might be a little bit. I’m in love with him.”

“I’d noticed,” Draco says drily, looking down at Scorpius, who grins up at him. “Have you thought about what you’ll do if Albus is a key part of Delphi’s plans? If he’s a willing participant, even?”

The smile fades from Scorpius’s face and he looks down at his hands and shrugs. “I don’t think he knows what she’s up to... I’m expecting- I don’t know what I’m expecting. Nothing good. But the thing I’m most worried about is trying to persuade him that she’s up to something. She’s still his best friend. She gave him everything he has. It must be hard to hear that your best friend is...” He shakes his head.

“I suppose you can worry about that later,” Draco says gently. “But if it helps, you’re trustworthy, and I have no doubt that Albus knows that. I’m sure he’ll listen to you.”

Scorpius bows his head. “I hope so.”

Draco ruffles his hair and gives his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Where are you going for your date?” He asks, and Scorpius is grateful to his for changing the subject.

“I’m taking him to that restaurant we used to go to with mum,” Scorpius says. “You know the really nice one? Down near Godric’s Hollow?”

“I know the one,” Draco says. “I took your mother there for one of our first dates. I think that was the night I realised I wanted to marry her.”

Scorpius reaches across and takes his dad’s left hand, so he can inspect the ring on his fourth finger. “I don’t want to lose Albus again,” he murmurs. “I think I want him in my life forever now. He’s special.”

Draco snorts. “Special is certainly one word for it.”

Scorpius drops his hand and bats him on the arm. “Dad! What do you have against Albus?”

Draco gives him a look. “Is that a serious question? Let’s think. He was a self-centred idiot for years, he abandoned you, he broke your-“

“Okay okay okay.” Scorpius waves a hand for his dad to stop. “I know all that. I know...” He looks at his dad for a moment, thinking. “What does he have to do to get you to change your mind? He’s earned my trust. How does he earn yours?”

“That’s a good question,” Draco says softly, thoughtfully. “I suppose I’d need to see proof that he’s different now. That he truly cares for you, and that he’s trying to make amends.” He points at Scorpius. “And you can’t tell him that. I want it from him. Just from him; because he’s realised there’s something that needs fixing.”

Scorpius nods. “I suppose that sounds fair... I won’t tell him. But I hope you get what you want from him, Dad. I really do. I want him to be welcome in this family one day.”

“I hope so too,” Draco says.

Albus knocks on the doorframe of the open backdoor and steps over the threshold. “Mum?” He calls.

The house is quiet, and he feels slightly strange just letting himself in, but he must have been told ten times in the last week that this is his home, so maybe he can just go in...

He puts the biscuit tin and bunch of flowers he’s holding down on the table and puts the kettle on to boil, then he perches on the edge of the table and swings his feet as he gazes out at the sunny garden. The air is warm and scented with freshly mown grass. A gentle breeze ruffles his hair. Everything is peaceful, and he relaxes his shoulders, truly feeling like he’s home.

“Oh, hello sweetheart.”

He jumps so hard he nearly falls off the table as his mum comes up and puts a hand on his back, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“I didn’t hear you,” he gasps. “You snuck up on me.”

She gives him a sparkling smile. “I didn’t hear you either. How long have you been here?”

“Just a few seconds,” he says. “I brought you these.” He hands her the flowers and picks up the biscuit tin. “The flowers are for you. I, um, I made the biscuits myself, so you might not want to eat them, but I think they’re quite good. I used dad’s recipe.”

His mum sighs and breathes in the scent of the flowers. “Well this is a wonderful surprise. I’m not sure James even knows what flowers are, and he’s certainly never baked us anything. You can definitely come and visit again.”

Albus smiles and hops down from the table. “I thought I should start making up for not being here, and biscuits and flowers is the best I can do. I put the kettle on as well.”

Ginny hugs him. “You have nothing to make up for.”

“I do,” Albus says. “Do you want milk? Sugar?”

He makes tea for both of them, insisting on it, and refusing to let his mum help with anything. In the end she seems to get his point and starts putting her flowers in water and investigating the biscuit tin. While he finishes the drinks she leans against the kitchen counter and makes appreciative noises as she munches on one of the bits of shortbread, licking her fingers when she’s done.

“Was it okay?” Albus asks bring her tea over.

“Absolutely delicious,” she says, taking the mug from him. “Thank you. I’ll have to lock them away so no one else can find them.”

Albus laughs and hops back onto the kitchen table, setting his own mug down next to him to let it cool.

“What did you want to talk about?” His mum asks, taking a sip of her own tea and looking at him. The sunlight dances through her hair, dust motes glittering around her, and she looks as warm and approachable as always. Kind, caring, and if there was anyone in the world Albus was going to talk to it would be her, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says carefully, trying to choose the right words. “About what happens next, you know, for me. After everything’s over.”

His mum takes another sip of tea and sets her mug down on the side next to her. “This is about the league,” she says. “Isn’t it?”

Albus nods. “Right. It’ll stop, and then... I don’t know what then. That’s the problem.” He leans his weight on his hands and looks at his mum. “How did you decide what to do when you stopped playing Quidditch?”

His mum sighs and leans back, folding her arms. “When I decided to stop playing it was my choice. I could have kept going, but I wanted to spend time with you and James and Lily. The writing was an extension of that. I was done playing but I didn’t have to let go of what I loved, and it was always nice to have something to do, somewhere to go. I imagine for you it will be quite different – you’re not choosing to leave, are you? If the league kept going, would you keep racing?”

Albus shrugs. “I’m not sure... Stopping seems so scary, I don’t know what else my life has in it; I don’t know what else I can do. I’ve always been so rubbish at everything, Mum. I don’t think I can do anything else that’s not this.”

“Now that’s not true and you know it,” she says, shooting a hard look at him. “You didn’t struggle in school because you weren’t talented. You struggled because you were unhappy and anxious. And even struggling like you did you still got your Es in potions and charms, and you passed plenty of the other subjects. You’re a lot of things, Albus, but rubbish is absolutely not one of them.”

Albus looks down at his knees. “Even if I’m not rubbish I’m still lost. I spent seven years thinking I’d found how I wanted my future to be and now I realise I was completely wrong. It was such a waste of time.”

“You needed those seven years,” his mum says gently, getting to her feet and coming over to sit beside him. “That was your time.”

“It was stupid to run away,” Albus mutters. “Another rubbish mistake.”

His mum puts an arm round him and gives him a tight squeeze. “Mistakes are important. Mistakes are how you learn. If life was perfect it would be boring and we wouldn’t grow.” She pulls away and looks at him. “Albus? I can see how much you’ve grown since you’ve been away. I can see how much you’ve changed. And now a lot is happening all at once. Give yourself time to get used to it. You don’t need all the answers straight away. You don’t need to know the exact shape of your life before you’ve lived it. I don’t think anyone ever does, and that’s part of the fun of it.”

“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” Albus mutters, messing with his fingers.

“Can I tell you a secret?” His mum asks, giving him a gentle nudge on the arm.

He looks at her. “Yes?”

She smiles. “Neither do I.”

“But you’re you,” he says. “You’re my mum. You’re Ginny Potter.”

She laughs and hugs him. “I know.” She kisses his temple and rubs his back as she holds onto him. “You’ll work it out,” she says. “You have time, plenty of time, to work out what you want to do next. Trust me. And it’s okay to be scared too. But if there’s anything I can do to help you, if there’s anything your dad can do, we’ll do it.”

He leans against her, feeling very small and miserable and confused. “What if I never figure it out?” He asks.

“Some people don’t,” she says, looking down at him. “The only thing that matters is that you’re happy.”

“Lost and happy,” he murmurs. “Sounds impossible.”

“Think about it,” she advises. “Don’t panic just yet. And one day you might just find that things have fallen into place.”

He looks up at her for a moment, then he nods. “Okay...”

She gives him another squeeze, then gets up and goes to get her cup of tea from across the kitchen. “Didn’t you take Scorpius to a race last night? How did it go?”

Albus starts telling her all about it, and as he does a contented happiness blossoms inside him. Even if the rest of his chaotic life makes him feel lost, Scorpius helps him feel found, and he tells his mum so. He tells her about the date, about winning the races, about the date tomorrow night too. He could talk about Scorpius forever, and she seems quite happy to listen.

When he’s finally exhausted everything he can think of to tell her about his boyfriend, she tells him about the family, filling him in on what Lily and James have been up to in the last week or so. It makes him miss his little sister more than ever, and it must show on his face because his mum pauses and scrutinises him.

“Why don’t you come for dinner,” she says. “While Lily is here. We can have a family dinner. I’ll get James to come too, and I’ll make Hermione kick your dad out of the office for a day. How about on Sunday?”

Albus thinks about the idea of being in the same room with all his family. It’s overwhelming, but he likes the thought of it. He likes the idea of being part of the family again. That alone sounds wonderful.

“Okay,” he says, then nods and smiles as the concept sinks in. “Yes. I’d like that. Thank you.”

She beams at him. “It’ll be wonderful to have everyone back together again, even if it is just for one evening.”

“Can Dad make his Yorkshires?” Albus asks, mouth watering just at the thought.

“I’ll ask him.” His mum comes over and rubs his arm, then she hugs him. “I’m so glad you want to come. I’m happy you’re back.”

Albus squeezes her tight and buries his face in her shoulder. “Me too,” he murmurs. “Me too.”

Scorpius sets off from the Manor at noon. His dad is already out so he doesn’t say goodbye. He sets off alone down the driveway, already dressed for his date with Albus. This way he won’t have to come home and change if investigating takes a little longer than planned, and he won’t be nearly so recognisable without his sky blue Ministry robes. He also takes a potion to temporarily change the colour of his hair, making it not quite bright red but close to it; he just hopes it will wear off before his date like it’s meant to. Besides the clothes and the hair, all he has with him are his wand and Delphi’s note, folded up in the inside pocket of his jacket.

At the end of the drive, he taps the gates with his wand so they lock behind him, then he inhales and turns on the spot. Next thing he knows he’s falling sideways and tumbling over the bins at the back of the Leaky Cauldron. Not his finest Apparition moment, he thinks as he picks himself up and dusts itself off, glancing around to make sure no one has seen. Thankfully there’s no one around, so he stands the bins upright and heads off into Diagon Alley.

It’s a Thursday afternoon so it’s not particularly busy, which is nice. The few people who are there don’t pay him much attention, and he wonders if perhaps it’s because for once his face isn’t emblazoned across all the newspaper stands in the street. Today he’s been temporarily replaced by Hermione giving a speech about vampire legislation.

He slips down the street, enjoying his anonymity. This is one of the first times ever that he’s been able to have a proper look around. The circumstances aren’t ideal, but he’ll take the opportunity as it comes.

Curious, he skirts close to the Apothecary, peering into the barrels of frog spawn, beetle eyes, and something that looks like threads of pure starlight, which can only be unicorn hair. Next he passes the Owl Emporium, pausing briefly to talk to a tiny Burrowing Owl, that glares at him and clicks her beak irritably when he stops to say hello. The Tawny Owl next door is far more friendly, and obligingly turns her head so he can stroke the soft feathers on her back.

A little way further up the street is Quality Quidditch Supplies. There’s a new racing broom in the window that Scorpius has been meaning to look at for a while, but he’s never dared to stop long enough. Today, though, he stands and stares in through the window at it, admiring the clean, sharp lines and perfect aerodynamics. The holly wood handle gleams, and the arrow-straight sweep of the tail is breath-taking. Scorpius can only imagine how good Albus would look on that thing; how fast he’d be. He wonders if Albus has seen it. For all these years has Albus been coming here to gawk at brooms? He must surely take a professional interest, musn’t he?

Scorpius rests his hands on the window ledge and gazes at the broom, lost in his own little world. In his mind he can see Albus on this broom outstripping everyone as he dives. He can see Albus dancing round a corner, brushing past flames with ease. He can see Albus lying flat against the handle, urging the broom on to ever faster speeds. And he can see Albus just sitting astride the broom, hair ruffled, a big grin on his face, all clad in dragon hide, which hugs every inch of his body and does wonders for his magnificent-

Scorpius shakes himself and pushes off the window ledge, cheeks heating up. He glances around to see if anyone has noticed him standing there, whether anyone might somehow know what he was just thinking about, but no one is paying any attention to him. He’s definitely safe.

He makes himself walk away from the beautiful broom, but he glances back at it as he does, making a mental note to mention it to Albus over dinner later.

After that he stays on task as he walks the length of the rest of the street. He’s already spent too long being distracted. At this rate, he won’t even make it to The Scythe before he has to leave for his date.

It doesn’t take him long after that to reach the entrance to Knockturn Alley. He checks that he’s still not being watched, then he turns into the shadows of the alley and sets off towards The Scythe.

There was plenty to be curious about walking down Diagon Alley, and there’s no less to be curious about down here, with its abundance of potion suppliers, antiques shops, and apothecaries, but this isn’t the sort of place to linger and browse. He keeps his head down and walks with purpose past the shops, not wanting to attract any attention. His dad has always taught him that in Knockturn Alley, whether you’re on business or not, you make it look like you have an urgent appointment. Avoid eye contact, walk like you own the place, stop for no one and nothing.

Scorpius knows he doesn’t have his dad’s presence or confidence here. He doesn’t really have it anywhere. But he does his best, even though goosebumps are rising on his arms now he’s in the shade, and he feels like someone is watching him.

Don’t look back, he tells himself, rubbing his arms. It’s just your imagination.

He winds his way down the street. His ankles turn as he picks his way across the cobbles, and he has to pause a couple of times to make sure he hasn’t sprained anything.

Even though it’s midday and sunny, the buildings are so high and so warped that they lean in over the street, blocking out the sunlight. If they were any more twisted or crumbling the facades would probably meet, and the buildings would become one. Knockturn Alley would become a tunnel, full of even more shadows than it already is. It’s not a great thought, and Scorpius shivers and glances up, searching for any glimpse of the sky. There’s only the tiniest slither of it up there, just visible between the rooftops.

The Scythe is a bit further into the alley, on a wider section of road that’s not quite so shadowy. The buildings here are a bit neater and tidier, better kept. The window displays are less dusty, and the owners clearly take pride in making a good impression. Scorpius knows only too well that there are plenty of people that frequent places like this who have money to spare, and this part of the alley is clearly aimed at them.

Despite its surroundings, The Scythe itself still has a peeling sign outside, and a dingy, grim-looking entrance that’s bathed in shadow. When Scorpius steps inside he finds himself in a cool entrance area. A man is standing behind a podium, staring down at whatever paperwork he’s doing and pointedly ignoring Scorpius.

This is the point where Draco would assert his dominance and right to exist in this space, and Scorpius attempts to do the same. He folds his arms and draws himself up to his full, impressive height. He knows he looks good in his date clothes too. Perhaps he’s not as attention-grabbing as Albus would be, but he looks well put together, the sort of young patron with money to splash around that this sort of place survives on. He clears his throat and fixes the man with a steady, patient look that clearly says he’s waiting.

The effect is immediate. The man looks up at him, and leans on the podium.

“How can I help you?” He asks.

“I’m here for a meeting with a friend,” Scorpius lies. “Delphini Black. I believe she’s got a room here, and she asked to meet me.”

The man scrutinises him for a moment. “We don’t have a Delphini Black staying here,” he says.

Scorpius tries to hide his surprise and disappointment. Perhaps it really was just a meeting Delphi was arranging. Perhaps she has no other connections here. Perhaps there’s nothing to find.

“That was the name she gave me,” he says. All isn’t lost yet, he’s not giving up that easily. “I know she sometimes goes by pseudonyms. Maybe she’s given you a different name.”

There’s another pause and a long hard look that Scorpius meets, cool and calm, giving nothing away. Finally the man looks down and shuffles some papers on his podium.

“We’ve got a Delphini Lestrange,” he says. “She’s just gone out, but she’ll be back soon. You can wait for her in the bar.”

Lestrange. Delphini Lestrange. Scorpius knows he looks like he’s just been hit by the Hogwarts Express, but he tries to rearrange his face back into a more neutral expression as he nods. “Yes,” he says. “Lestrange. That sounds about right.”

Lestrange. What does that mean? Who is this woman? How has Albus become best friends with a Lestrange?

“The bar’s through there,” the man says, pointing to a blacked out door to one side of the podium.

“She told me to wait by her room,” Scorpius tries, throwing caution to the winds.

The man smiles and points to the door again. “Don’t push your luck. She’ll be back in a bit. When she arrives I’ll tell her you’re here.”

Shit.

Scorpius considers lying and telling the man he wants to surprise her, but he knows he’s already given away too much. He doesn’t want to get thrown out. Instead he takes the more sensible option and gives the man a smile and nod.

“That’d be great, thanks. Tell her Rookwood’s waiting. Hyperion Rookwood.” Then he rushes away through the door before he can be questioned anymore.

The bar itself is deserted. The room is dark, bathed in a deep purple enchanted light, and it takes Scorpius’s eyes a moment to adjust. A sort of thick, sweet smelling smoke hangs in the air, and Scorpius wonders if this is the enchantment his dad was talking about. If it is, it’s impossible not to breathe it in, but at least he knows it’s going to dull his senses. He’s prepared and he knows he needs to be careful.

He approaches the bar because he’s not sure what else to do. Somehow he’ll have to blag his way upstairs. Maybe he can pretend to have asthma and ask if he can wait somewhere else away from the smoke, or-

“Afternoon,” the barman says, leaning forward across the bar so he becomes visible past the smoke. “I wasn’t expecting to see someone like you in here today.”

Scorpius goes over to him, hesitant, wondering if something’s given him away. “Someone like me?” he asks uncertainly.

The man smiles and nods. “Exactly. You know,” he gestures to Scorpius, gaze sweeping the length of his body. “Someone young, gorgeous, clearly not an alcoholic.” He takes another look at Scorpius. “You’re not an alcoholic, are you?”

Scorpius shakes his head and smiles back, uncertain and a little disarmed by how nice this man is being. “Not that I know of. I, um... I’m here for a meeting.”

The man nods. “Business?”

“Meeting a friend,” Scorpius says. He sits down at the bar and gestures to the drinks, trying to look like he knows what he’s doing. “What do you recommend?”

The barman picks up a bottle and shoots him a smile that’s undoubtedly flirtatious. “A Love Potion.”

Scorpius blinks at him, taken aback. “Not an actual love potion? Because I don’t really want to fall in love with my friend when she gets here...”

The man laughs. “Why, not your type?”

“Not... exactly,” Scorpius says. “I mean, she’s lovely, but I prefer...” He thinks of Albus clad in dragon hide, and leans his chin on his hand, smiling. “I prefer something a little different.”

“This isn’t an actual love potion,” the barman says. “You might fall in love with my cocktails though. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

“Go on,” Scorpius says, the heady scent of the room permeating his brain as he watches the barman opening bottles and pouring drinks. “Seduce me.” The second he says it he realises how stupid it sounded, and he buries his face in his hands with a groan. Thankfully the barman just laughs.

“For that,” the barman says, “beautiful, ridiculous man whose name I don’t know, it’s on the house.”

“Hyperion,” Scorpius says instantly. “Hyperion Rookwood. That’s my name.”

“Hyperion,” the man repeats. “Nice name. I’m Leo.” He finishes shaking up the cocktail and pours it out, then places it on top of the bar, adding a sprinkle of something that shimmers in the light as a final touch. “Who‘s your friend, Hyperion? I’m curious to know who has the honour of spending time with you.”

“Delphini Lestrange,” Scorpius says, deciding that as much as he knows he should tell this man to stop openly flirting with him – that he’s very not single thank you very much, and that he’s only going along with it because the weird smoke is dulling his senses – this might actually be useful. He still needs to get to Delphi’s room, and maybe this is how he does it.

“Have you met her?” He asks. “She stays here.”

Leo nods. “I have met her. She doesn’t like a Love Potion, she drinks Augurey Tears.”

Scorpius frowns, wrong-footed again. “Not... actual Augurey Tears? That’s a cocktail too?”

“Not just a pretty face then,” Leo says, shooting Scorpius a smile, and Scorpius doesn’t know if he’s being made fun of now or not.

“I’m not,” Scorpius confirms. “Why, did you think I was?”

Leo shrugs. “You’re here on a Thursday afternoon, dressed very nicely for a meeting with a girl who’s not your type. That to me says you’re someone who likes to be looked at.”

Scorpius shakes his head. “I definitely don’t like to be looked at.”

“Why’s that then?”

“Most people look at me the wrong way,” Scorpius says. “No, I just have a date. Later. After my business meeting.”

Leo sighs. “You’re a taken man. That’s a shame to hear, Hyperion Rookwood.”

“Do I have to give the Love Potion back now?” Scorpius asks.

Leo laughs. “No. It’s yours.” He leans in close and lowers his voice. “I recommend drinking it, Hyperion. It makes you immune to the smoke. You’ll need it if you’re going to talk to her. Someone who’s more than a pretty face would know that.”

Scorpius frowns at him. His face is still partially obscured by the smoke and harsh lighting, even though they’re not far apart. “How do I know you’re not trying to poison me, or make it worse?”

Leo’s smile widens, and he shrugs and picks up a cloth and starts cleaning glasses. “Definitely not just a pretty face. You decide for yourself, Hyperion.”

Scorpius looks down at the drink on the bar in front of him. There’s a pink powder glittering on top, and the drink underneath is a soft peach colour. It looks delicious, but he doesn’t trust it. He doesn’t trust anything here, not this man, not Delphi. This is dangerous, and he should probably leave, but now he knows Delphi comes here often he can’t just walk away. He’ll never be able to come back if he does. He’s in too deep with his lie now.

“What’s this on top?” He asks, brushing his finger through the dust.

Leo glances at it. “Pearl Dust,” he says. “The key ingredient in any Love Potion.”

“Isn’t Pearl Dust rare?” Scorpius asks, licking his finger. He gets a soft, fruity flavour, and the slight tingle of the dust.

“Rare and expensive,” Leo says. “But delicious. And important. It allows your mind to be shaped however you wish.”

I want my mind to be clear, Scorpius thinks, and immediately it feels as though a haze has lifted from him. He blinks twice and looks at Leo. “You weren’t lying.”

Leo nods. “You’re welcome. Be careful with that Lestrange, she’s vicious.”

“She stays here, you said,” Scorpius says, taking a sip of the Love Potion.

Leo nods. “Upstairs. Room Three. She’s been here for... forever really. I mean she comes and goes, she disappeared for a whole year recently, but she always returns and it’s always Room Three. No one else goes in there.”

Room Three. Scorpius’s insides leap with triumphant excitement, but he keeps sipping his cocktail and tries to look casual. “When you say she’s been here forever...?”

“Longer than I’ve been here,” Leo says. “And I’ve been here for years. She’s a permanent fixture. Like a particularly savage family cat.”

Scorpius smiles and nods. “I can imagine. Does she at least keep the mice away?”

“She likes to play with her food,” Leo says, putting a glass away on a shelf behind the bar. “If she got hold of you you’d probably wish you were dead.”

“You’re almost making me regret meeting her,” Scorpius says, finishing his cocktail and sliding the glass back to Leo. “Thank you for this. It was delicious.”

“Just make sure you’re on her side and you’ll be fine,” Leo says, taking the glass.

Scorpius nods. “Is there a loo around here?”

Leo points to a door across the bar. Now Scorpius has finished the drink, the fog seems considerably less dense, and he can see further through the room. Before he wouldn’t have been able to see the door, but he can now.

“Down the stairs, turn to the left.”

Scorpius gets to his feet. “Thanks. I’ll be back in a minute.” He hurries across the bar, lets himself through the door, and finds himself facing a set of stairs going down, and another set of stairs going up. He goes up, in search of Room Three.

The first landing he comes to has just one unmarked door on it, right at the top of the stairs. He leaves it, not wanting to waste time, and heads down the corridor to where a spiral staircase curves away upwards.

He tiptoes up the creaky stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible, and when he gets to the top he peers up and down the landing before he steps out onto it. There’s no one around. It’s the middle of the day, so anyone staying here must be out by now. Everything is still and quiet. Even the cleaners must have finished their work.

Scorpius follows the corridor, looking at the doors. He finds rooms One and Two easily, but it takes him a moment to realise that Room Three is tucked away out of sight and around a corner, well away from the stairs. When Scorpius tries the handle he’s not surprised to find that the door is locked.

After glancing around again to confirm that there’s definitely no one in the corridor with him, he slips his wand from the pocket of his trousers and points it at the door lock.

He’s about to do a simple unlocking charm, but something stops him. He doesn’t know Delphi that well, but there’s every chance that she’s paranoid enough to have put security charms on her door. Any simple spell will give him away in a heartbeat. Something more complicated will probably work a lot better for his purposes here.

He pauses for a moment, considering his options, before deciding to go for a fiddly little spell that reads the shape of the lock and creates a phantom key to fit it. It’s the spell that fools all the most basic and some of the more complex security charms. He’s heard Harry enthusing about it to the Aurors too many times to ignore it.

He crouches down and lays the tip of his wand just on the edge of the lock, and starts muttering the incantation. It takes a good minute or so to complete, but when he does, a white, smoke-like substance floats from the end of his wand and into the lock. After a moment it coalesces into a solid shape, and when Scorpius slides it fully into the keyhole and turns it, there’s a soft click and the door swings inwards. Perfect.

Scorpius nudges the door open with his shoulder and stands on the threshold, looking into the room. It’s very bare, so bare that it almost looks uninhabited. The only thing indicating that anyone lives here is the open window, a bag strap poking out from under the bed, and a pair of shoes tucked neatly into the corner. Aside from that there’s nothing. Even the desk looks unused, with not so much as a single quill on top.

Scorpius sweeps his wand across the whole room. “Specialis Revelio.”

A beat of silence. Nothing happens.

Scorpius tries another couple of spells to check for traps or any other dark magic but there’s nothing here that he knows how to detect. Either the room is perfectly safe or there’s some darker, better hidden enchantment here. But if he wants to go exploring then he doesn’t have much choice but to assume that his detection spells are up to scratch. He cautiously steps into the room and turns around on the spot, trying to decide what to have a look at first.

In the end he goes for the bag under the bed. He carefully eases it out and starts going through it, making sure to replace everything exactly where he found it. There’s nothing much in there of interest. It must be her kit bag, because it’s got a dragon hide jacket in there, a water bottle, and a couple of tiny bottles of potions and salves that must be for healing.

He nudges the bag back under the bed and goes through the bedside drawers next. These too contain nothing of much interest. There are a couple of ordinary books that don’t reveal any hidden messages when Scorpius casts spells on them. Aside from that there’s very little in there at all, and he quickly gives up on those and goes to the desk.

When he touches the handle of the top drawer, he instantly recoils as an electric shock crackles through his hand and up his arm. He wriggles his fingers and looks at the handle. Sparks of magic flicker up and down it, and he points his wand at it and casts Finite Incantatem. Instantly the sparks crackle brighter, flaring up and arching out towards him. He dives back and tries a couple of other more powerful spells, eventually succeeding in killing the enchantment so the sparks fade and die.

He gives it a second before he inches across to the desk again, and this time when he tries to open the drawer nothing stops him. It slides open easily, with just a little rattle, and inside he finds a single notebook and a quill.

He takes the notebook out and quickly checks the second drawer, but there’s nothing inside. A quick check of the rest of the table doesn’t reveal any hidden drawers or cupboards, and there’s nothing much on the table top besides a couple of pieces of blank parchment. The notebook is the best he has to go on.

He flips it open to a random inside page. It’s blank, so he flicks through the pages, running his thumb over the corners of each page so they rifle past. The whole book seems to be blank. But if it was really blank why would Delphi have protected it with a complicated bit of magic? Why would she bother?

He leans in close and presses his nose to the page, trying to see any trace of writing. There’s nothing to indicate that anything has ever been written here. No sign of anything erased of vanished. But there has to be something.

“Specialis Revelio,” he mutters, giving it a sharp tap with his wand. Nothing happens.

He picks the book up and inspects the front and back covers. There’s nothing written on either, no instruction for revealing the text or anything. But there must be a key. Perhaps he has to use Parseltongue to ask it to open or something, not that he knows any Parseltongue. Or perhaps this is like Riddle’s diary, and he has to write in the book.

He picks up a quill and lets it drop on the first page, but after several seconds it becomes clear that the ink isn’t going to sink into the paper. It blots the surface, leaving a big black mark. Still the book does nothing.

Sighing, he steps back and stares at the book. If he does have to use Parseltongue then this is going to be hopeless. He doesn’t know any, and even if he did it’s supposed to be impossible to learn. If only he’d kept the dictionary, then he might have had a chance.

He pulls the folded up note from his pocket and looks at it, trying to work out if there’s any way of using it, any hints at the translations of the words. He’s made a few scrawlings in the margins while he’s been working on his translation, and for one of the words he’s jotted down a rough pronunciation guide.

He tests out the sounds, and he knows he sounds absolutely ridiculous. If Albus were here and the situation less dangerous, they’d probably both have a good laugh about it. But right now he’s alone and Delphi should be back any minute, so he has to get on with it.

The sounds – they’re not really words to him – feel strange in his mouth, and he has to practice them a couple of times before he can even begin to work out what he’s doing. There’s a lot of hissing and spitting, and it sounds more like he’s mimicking an angry cat than trying to talk snake language. Finally he runs his fingers through his hair and decides that, unless the diary is designed to self-destruct when someone speaks terrible Parseltongue at it, he loses nothing by having a go.

He braces his hands on the desk and leans in close, looking down at the cover of the diary. There’s a little crest embossed in gold in one corner, and at the centre of the crest is a snake. He looks at the snake and tries to imagine that he’s talking to it.

His first attempt comes out all wrong. He gives a sharp hiss makes it sound like he’s being strangled, and spit flies everywhere, all over his face and the desk.

“Whoops,” he mutters wiping away the little flecks with his fingers.

He sighs and stares down at the book again. For some reason he gets the distinct feeling that Albus would probably be a lot better at this than he is, but sadly Albus isn’t here and he has no real option besides having another go.

His second attempt is a little bit better. It doesn’t get the diary to respond, but at least he doesn’t spit all over himself, and he thinks he might be starting to get his mouth round the words.

Attempt three is his best yet, and the diary starts to glow with a faint purple light. He flips open the cover and sees that the faintest outlines of words are starting to appear, shining luminescent in the strange glow. They’re not quite readable yet but they’re getting there, so he tries the Parseltongue again and this time, finally, the book is fully convinced. Purple light bursts out of it, and the room seems to dim around him, throwing the letters and words within into sharp relief.

He claps a hand over his mouth to stop himself cheering out loud and pulls the book closer to him. Thankfully the writing in here isn’t Parseltongue. It’s English, written in a messy scrawl that’s just about legible enough for Scorpius to read it.

The diary, and it is definitely a diary now that the text has been fully revealed, takes up almost the whole book. There are a few pages still blank at the end, but other than that everything is full of Delphi’s scribblings.

The book seems to date all the way back to 2018, and when Scorpius starts reading he realises with a jolt that Albus is mentioned on the first page.

Watched youngest Potter boy on Platform 9 3/4. Later discovered he was sorted into Slytherin. Something to keep an eye on?

When he flips further through he finds that many of the entries mention Albus. In fact the diary charts almost every one of the events Albus has told Scorpius about over the past week and a half. It’s like seeing the past seven years of Albus’s life charted in front of him. Even stranger is seeing it from Delphi’s point of view, with notes of Albus’s behaviour and attitude, tiny hints of triumph when she’s getting what she wants from him, and frustration when she’s not.

And then he starts to find the other little bits and pieces, things from Delphi’s own life, things that he can’t imagine Albus even knows. He finds notes from the last year spent in Europe. She had meetings with werewolves, giants, trolls, and those are just the ones mentioned that he spots as he skims. Her writing grows increasingly excited as her plan comes together, but he still can’t find what the plan is. Perhaps she wasn’t stupid enough to put it down in writing.

He flicks feverishly through the pages, wanting to find whatever it is he’s looking for and copy it before he needs to leave, because time must be running short by now.

“Come on come on,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair and searching faster and faster. When he gets really frustrated he taps his wand on the page and searches the book for ‘plan’ but he’s not surprised when nothing comes back.

In the end he stumbles across the truth by chance. He turns a page too fast and hard and tears the corner. As he swears and casts Reparo to fix it, he spots Delphi’s words, a frustrated little musing to herself.

I hate him. If I could kill him I would, but I need him. It will be far more fun with him involved. Use the boy to lure Potter in, son kills father, and in the chaos that follows I take the place that should have been my father’s almost 30 years ago. Fate, just as the Augurey prophesied. I am Voldemort’s daughter and this world is my birthright.

Scorpius reels back in pure horror. He blinks several times to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him, but every time he does he sees the words as if they’re burned into the insides of his eyelids.

I am Voldemort’s daughter.

Even though his hands are shaking, even though he wants to run a hundred miles from this place and drag Albus to safety with him, there’s one last thing he has to do before he leaves. He draws his wand to make a copy of the page, but just as he does he hears a floorboard creak behind him and he freezes.

“Did you find something interesting to read?” Delphi asks.

Scorpius’s grip tightens around his wand and he puts a hand on the edge of the desk to stop his knees buckling. Caught in the act. And this time there’s no Albus to come and save him.

He turns slowly to face her. “Delphi,” he says brightly. “I just thought I’d-“

“Petrificus Totalus.”

His body goes stiff and he falls straight backwards, slamming the middle of his back against the edge of the table. He gives a groan of pain and closes his eyes. His wand is still in his hand but he can’t move to wave it, so it’s worse than useless. He can’t even use it to call for help. He’s trapped here, stuck, and whatever she does next isn’t going to be pleasant.

“It’s not nice to read other people’s diaries, Scorpius,” she says, in a sweet voice, waltzing over and treading on his foot as she leans across to shut the diary. “Didn’t your parents teach you that? Although I suppose that’s the sort of thing mothers teach you, and yours wasn’t around for very long, was she?”

Scorpius boils with rage. He may be trapped but he’s not going down without a fight. “Don’t you dare talk about my-“

“Silencio,” she says, with a casual flick of her wand.

Scorpius’s words die in his throat and even when he moves his mouth nothing comes out. Trapped and silent. No one can hear him scream.

He looks at her, just about able to move his eyes to see where she is, but she doesn’t make it hard for him. She leans in close, right in his face, and grins at him.

“It’s been such a touching reunion between you and Albus, and now you’re going to tell me why.”

He wants to ask what she means, but he can’t speak. Instead he just stares at her and hopes that she’ll at least have the mercy to end whatever’s about to come quickly.

“I’ve been with him for seven years,” she says. “Every single day. But he’s still obsessed with you. I don’t understand, but you’re going to help me. Now, let’s have some fun.”

She touches her wand to his temple and he screws his eyes tight shut, waiting for a flash of green light and a rush of wind. But it never comes, instead she breathes into his ear, soft and intimate, “Crucio.”

The pain that follows is only made more excruciating by the sudden shock of it. There’s nothing Scorpius can do to temper it. He can’t scream, he can’t clench his fists or contort his body. He just leans there as he’s wracked with it, too much to bear, shooting from his brain down his spine and through every single limb. He’s locked in place, screaming inside, and he doesn’t know how much more agony like this he can take.

When it ends he can’t even show his relief. All he can do is open his eyes and try to draw in breaths.

Delphi pulls her wand back and walks away a few steps, turning on her heel in the centre of the room, a big grin on her face like she’s enjoying everything about this.

“It’s almost no fun with all those spells on you,” she says. “I can’t even see or hear the pain. What’s the point of that?” She points her wand at him, and he realises that she’s about to release him. His wand is still in his hand. Maybe he can cast the spell to call for help, or-

“Expelliarmus,” she says, and his last hope of salvation flies from his hand and spins away into a corner. Before he can mourn its loss the Full Body Bind Curse releases and he collapses in a heap on the floor, curling into a ball and rubbing his aching limbs. As he falls, the diary on the table is knocked down too, landing on the floorboards right beside him.

“Fulgari,” Delphi says, hitting him with another spell before he can think to do anything else. His wrists snap together, a searing band of fire burning around them. Next thing he knows she flicks her wand again and he hears himself gasp and cough. His voice is back.

“I know,” he says. “I know everything. You have to kill me. You don’t have another choice. Torture me as much as you like but I’m going to tell Albus and Harry everything the second they rescue me.”

Delphi gives a high, cruel laugh. “Rescue you? No one is coming to rescue you, Scorpius. You’re alone here, with just me. And in a second you’re going to remember nothing.” She directs her wand right at his head again.

“You’re going to torture me into insanity?” Scorpius asks. “Is that your grand plan? You know Albus might notice that and be a little bit-“

“Obliviate.”

A soft, warm numbness spreads through Scorpius’s mind. For a moment he doesn’t know anything at all, but then his thoughts coalesce and he discovers that he’s kneeling on the floor with Delphi, Albus’s friend, pointing a wand at him. There’s a book on the floor next to him and he knows it’s important, that he needs to take it to Albus, but he doesn’t remember why.

“What am I doing here?” He asks. “Why are you pointing your wand at me? I’m Albus’s boyfriend. You’re his friend. We’re on the same side.”

Delphi comes over and crouches down opposite him. “That’s better. Although you should know, little Malfoy, that we’re not on the same side. Not unless you tell me exactly what I need to know.”

Scorpius frowns at her, confused. He looks down and realises that his wrists are stinging because they’re bound. The spell around them is making beads of blood stand out on his skin as it scorches him. “What do you need to know? Can you take this off me too? It hurts.”

Delphi puts her wand under his chin, lifting it so he’s looking at him, he stares up at her. “Why is Albus obsessed with you?” She asks. “What have you done to him? Is it a spell? An enchantment? A love potion? You’ve warped his mind. How?”

Scorpius swallows and pulls back, getting the wand away from him. “What? I haven’t done anything. Albus just... he loves me. I’m his boyfriend. He’s in love with me.”

Delphi pulls her wand back and twirls it between her fingers, scrutinising him. “Love,” she says softly. “I know that. I’ve had to listen to him talk about it enough. But how did you get him to love you? What did you do?”

Scorpius shakes his head. “I-I don’t think I understand the question. I didn’t do anything. I just... I was. I am. He... He loves me. Because I’m me, or... I don’t even know why, but he does.”

“That’s rubbish,” Delphi says, getting to her feet. “You’re lying to me. You’re not telling me everything.”

“I’m not,” Scorpius says, struggling onto his knees. “I promise, I-“

“Crucio.”

He screams. Waves of pain wash through his body like a tsunami, leaving only wreckage and devastation behind. His limbs cramp and he can’t stop himself from contorting. His throat is raw with the intensity of his screams. He hits his head on the floor as he falls sideways, and when the pain stops he lies there in a daze, gasping for breath, terror coursing through him because he doesn’t understand. What is Delphi doing? Why is this happening? He doesn’t know how to stop this.

“Now,” Delphi says, sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite him and laying her wand there. “Tell me how you made Albus fall in love with you, or I’ll make the pain even worse.”

Scorpius manages to get his elbow on the floor and push himself half upright without hurting his wrists too much. The spell binding them still burns and aches but he doesn’t let it brush his skin any more than it was already.

Once he’s propped on one elbow he looks at Delphi. “I didn’t make Albus do anything. He loves me because he wants to. I can’t tell you why because that’s not how it works. Why does anyone love anyone? Because... because they find something in the other person that brings them joy and life and... and makes them want to get to know that person as intimately as they can.”

Delphi nods and slides forward towards him, an eager look on her face. “I want to know Albus. I want to know his secrets, how he can be used. I understand that. Keep going.”

Scorpius recoils from her, falling onto his backside but managing to stay upright. “But that’s not love. You don’t use someone you love. You’re his best friend, why don’t understand that? If you love someone you want to know them just because... because. Because they’re fascinating. Because they’re beautiful. Because they’re another human that you respect, and- I can’t tell you how to make Albus love you. I don’t know how I made him love me. I didn’t make him love me. He just did it because he wanted to.”

“You must have done something,” Delphi says. “Love is magic. I know that. Lily Potter’s Charm, and- How do you do that magic? What’s the spell?”

Scorpius shakes his head. “There isn’t a spell. That’s not how it works. It happens.”

Delphi scrutinises him for a long moment, then she gets to her feet and flicks her wand dismissively in his direction. “Useless. Crucio.”

Sharp agony, inside him, around him, overwhelming him, utterly unbearable. He falls backwards, and when his body jars on the floor the pain pales into insignificance beside the pain of the torture. His toes curl, he claws at his torso trying to tear the pain out of him somehow. There’s no relief. It goes on and on, never ending, until it stops and he lies there, trying to feel nothing.

“Last chance,” Delphi says, cold and sharp, undeterred by his failed attempts to answer so far. “Tell me the secret.”

“I’ve...” Scorpius grunts and twists round to look at her, “told you. There isn’t a secret. I haven’t done anything to him. I offered him sweets on the train when we first met, I stuck by him when he was miserable, I helped him feel connected to his life again last week, that’s it.” He sits with his bound, aching hands between his knees and looks Delphi in the eye. “Delphi, you’re his best friend. He already loves you. I don’t know why you can’t see it but there’s nothing you need to do. There is no secret. You’ve already won. You don’t need to do this, I promise.”

“No,” she says, levelling her wand at him and shaking her head. “No that’s not true. He’s more loyal to you than to me. You’ve been here a week and a half and he’s fallen in love with you. You’re stealing him from me, and you can’t deny it.”

Scorpius sighs. “Just a thought but have you tried being nice to him?” He lifts his hands. “If this is what you do to make people tell you things then maybe he’s not inclined to be helpful. He’s not as tolerant as I am.”

A smile curls across Delphi’s lips. “I didn’t know you could be a smartass. Maybe this is what Albus sees in you. You have spirit.”

“I’m very flattered,” Scorpius says. “Will you let me go now?” He holds his hands out to her. His brain is foggy, his whole body aches, especially his back, and his wrists are really bleeding now.

“No,” Delphi says bluntly. “You haven’t helped, even a little bit. I think you’re being difficult. I think you need more persuasion.”

“But I-“

Delphi’s wand slashes through the air. “Sectumsempra,” she barks.

Instantly Scorpius’s neat new shirt, the one he’d put on specially for his date, blossoms scarlet. It takes him a second to realise that he’s in terrible pain, and another second more to comprehend that he’s bleeding from a long gash across his torso. He curls in on himself, pressing his hands to it and staring up at Delphi.

“You’re going to make me... bleed to death?” He asks, already feeling faint. There really is a lot of blood. His hands are already soaked with it.

She slashes her wand through the air again and another bit of his shirt goes bright red, the two spots merging into one. Scorpius slumps sideways against the table leg, head spinning.

“I can’t tell you anything, if you-“

“You’d better talk quickly then,” she says. “Hadn’t you.”

“I don’t... have anything to tell you,” Scorpius says, trying to put pressure on both wounds at once, even as he slides further onto the ground. “I’ve already... said that. And even if I did I... I think I’d rather die.”

Another slash, and Scorpius’s body convulses with the pain of it. He collapses sideways, the world going dark around the edges. So this is it. A death of confusion and excruciating pain, at the hands of someone who’s supposed to be his boyfriend’s best friend.

As his eyes flutter closed he spots the book lying on the floor, now splattered and stained with his blood. No one will know it’s here. If he dies no one will know what’s inside it. If by some miracle he survives this, someone needs to find out about the book. But he’s not going to survive this, so...

Everything goes black. He floats in nothingness. The pain slowly subsides. And then he realises there are hands on him, supporting his back, sitting him up slightly.

“Albus?” He whispers.

“Unfortunately for you, not Albus.”

He opens his eyes to see Delphi again. She has an arm round his back, and there’s something hard pressing into the back of his neck. It takes him a moment to realise that it’s her wand.

“I’m not dead,” he says softly. “I thought I was bleeding.”

“Not anymore,” Delphi says. She strokes her fingers through his hair, making him shudder. “Poor Scorpius. Useless Scorpius. Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to tell me anything. But Albus will never know how loyal you’re being. You’re all alone again, Scorpius. Always alone. Well, I suppose you’re technically not alone now. You’ve got me.” She gives a high-pitched, cold laugh that sends chills down Scorpius’s spine. He tries to wriggle away but she grips the back of his shirt and holds him steady.

“You’re going to help me,” she murmurs. “You’re going to break eventually. It’s only a matter of time, I know it is. There are some things that no one can resist. Crucio.”

This time the agony shoots straight down Scorpius’s spine and he loses himself. His limbs are trembling. He doesn’t know if he’s shouting or screaming or if he’s in too much pain to make a sound. He can’t see or hear and think. He almost can’t even feel because the pain is burning white hot through every inch of him, overriding every other part of his existence. There’s nothing beyond the pain, and it stretches on from seconds into minutes into hours and days, weeks, months. The pain goes on forever. There’s sharp bile in his throat and warm wet against his legs, but those are distant human sensations, and Scorpius isn’t human anymore, because you can’t go through this and remain human.

When Delphi finally removes her wand, Scorpius realises that he’s managed to roll onto his front and there are hot tears stinging his face. He must have thrown up from the agony of it because there’s sick among the blood on the floor, and he realises that his trousers are damp too. He lies there, still in too much pain to move, limbs still shaking, humiliated and exhausted.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” He whispers, voice hoarse and raw. “I don’t understand. I can’t give you what you want. Just let me go.”

Delphi pats him on the back and he twitches and groans. “No. You’re too useful to be killed. I’ll just have to keep going with this instead. Don’t tell me you’re not having fun.”

Scorpius fixes his eyes on the book that he’s now managed to kick under the desk by accident, which Delphi seems to have forgotten about. He needs her to not remember it. “So much fun,” he murmurs. “This is wonderful.”

“Good,” Delphi says. “Then we can-“

There’s a whooshing in the distance, and suddenly Delphi’s hands are gone and he hears footsteps creaking across the floorboards and a wash of green light fill the room.

“What do you want?” Delphi asks. “I’m busy, I’ve got a guest.”

“Augurey,” a man says. “I’m sorry to bother you, but the meeting at the Sign of the Black Dog... You asked us to wait for you there. We wanted to know if you were still coming, because if not, then we can-“

“Shit. Is Von Strasser there?”

“Yes, everyone is.”

“Fine. I’m coming. Give me five minutes and I’ll be there. Send my apologies.”

“Yes, Augurey.”

Another whoosh and the green light fades. More footsteps, and then Scorpius is yanked off the floor by the collar of his shirt, and pulled onto his back.

“You’re going to wait here,” Delphi says, face looming right in front of his. Her eyes are so cold and black. There’s barely any spark of life in them. “You’re going to lie here until I come back, and when I do we’ll continue this discussion.”

“Okay,” Scorpius breathes.

“Glad to hear it.” She grabs hold of his hair and twists his head to the side, pulling his hair hard enough that he lets out a cry of pain, but she doesn’t seem to care. “Silencio. Petrificus Totalus.”

Scorpius goes silent and his body goes rigid. Delphi drops him to the ground and he lies there, immobile and unable to talk. With his head tilted to the side he can see the space under the desk. He can see the notebook. He can see hope. He’s not dead, and he can see the thing that contains all the answers.

“Be good,” Delphi says, tapping her wand on his head, so the trickling sensation of a Disillusionment Charm passes down his whole body. “Oh, and I suppose I should...” She presses the tip of her wand to his temple, and Scorpius expects more torture, but instead she says “Obliviate” and his mind goes blissfully numb again.

When his thoughts coalesce he can hear footsteps walking away across the room he’s in. He knows that he’s covered in blood and vomit and urine but he doesn’t know how or why. His body is in unbearable pain but he can’t speak or move to get any release. He’s trapped, immobile, and whoever did this to him has just walked away.

Does anyone know he’s here besides them? Is he going to be rescued? Panic rises inside him and his chest gets tight. He tries to steady his breathing and keep calm. He tries to think about Albus. They were supposed to have a date. Maybe Albus will notice he’s missing. If Albus can find that he’s here – wherever here is – then maybe he’ll see all the blood and realise that Scorpius is invisible and abandoned on the ground. That thought calms Scorpius down a little, and he exhales a shaky breath, just about keeping his fear and pain at bay.

He gazes into the darkness under the desk and sees the pale pages of a notebook, hidden in shadow under there. That notebook is important. If anyone does come to save him they need to take that. That has the answers to everything. Nothing has ever been more important.

So as a rushing sound and a wash of emerald green floods the room then ebbs away and he settles in to wait either for oblivion or for salvation, he focuses all his thoughts on the book. His brain may be foggy and confused, he may have never felt more scared in his life, he may want to just lie here and cry, every inch of his body may be in the most excruciating pain, but the book gives him something to hold on to. The book is his reason to keep remembering; to stay alive, to stay conscious, to stay sane. The book is his reason to keep hoping for rescue.

Time passes. The sun wheels round in the sky beyond the window. Shadows shift and lengthen. And Scorpius lies utterly immobile, drifting in and out of consciousness, but always holding that one mantra in his head: the book is the answer, we need the book. The book is the answer, we need the book. The book is the answer, we need the book...

#Harry Potter and the Cursed Child #Cursed Child #Cursed Child fic #Scorbus fic #Scorbus #Albus Severus Potter #Scorpius Malfoy #Delphini Diggory #Draco Malfoy #Ginny Potter #HPCC Fic #Keep The Secrets #My writing #Mine to Make #Mayhem to the nth degree #Malfoy family feels

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torestoreamends · 8 years ago

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Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic: When The Time Is Right

9.1k words, G rated

Albus is going to ask Scorpius to marry him on New Year’s Eve. That’s the plan at least, but first he needs to find a ring, and pick the right words to propose with. It’s all a lot easier said than done.

This is a follow up to this little ficlet I wrote for @ohscorbus as a Christmas present. I didn’t really plan to write the actual proposal, but it seemed like a cute idea for a new year’s fic, so 9000 words later here we are!

Thanks to @abradystrix for betaing this monster, and coming up with some brilliant critique.

Doing this on Boxing Day was the worst idea Albus has ever had. He'd known it was a bad idea before he set off, and now he's utterly convinced of it. Diagon Alley is still several streets away, but he's already hot and sweaty from shoving through all the crowds, he's fallen over several small children, and one Muggle woman weighed down with shopping bags has berated him for pushing her, which he definitely didn't do, or if he did it wasn't his fault. Not to mention, the thicker the crowds get the more terrified he is of losing the small box he's carrying inside his coat. It's the most precious thing he's ever been trusted with, and it would be so easy for it to fall out of his pocket, or for someone to take it.

It's a relief when he finally makes it through the door of the Leaky Cauldron and takes refuge in the quiet, dark pub, with its smoky fire crackling away in the grate. There aren't many people in here today. Presumably most are out in the street beyond, taking advantage of Galleon saving deals. The only person in sight is the barman.

"Young Mister Potter," Tom wheezes at him, giving him a toothy grin. "Staying for a drink?"

Albus shakes his head. "Sorry, not today. I have some things to buy, and I need to get back before Scorpius gets in from work. Maybe later in the week."

"Of course. Best of luck with the crowds, sir," Tom says bowing him towards the door.

Albus sighs. "Thanks. I think I'm going to need it."

The second he gets through the wall at the back of the pub, he's confronted with a sea of noise and bodies. It's even worse than the Muggle shopping streets. There are people crammed into every inch of space. Spilling in and out of shops, being washed along in the tide, almost knocking into the barrels of beetle eyes and cauldrons of Dragon's blood that stand outside the apothecary.

Parents shout for their kids, friends call belated holiday greetings as they pass, curses and hexes spark and flare inside the shops as people fight over the best deals. Added to the din are the Christmas decorations, which still sing carols, but rather tiredly now as their charms wear off. It's pure chaos, and Albus is ever more certain he's made a terrible mistake, but he doesn't have a choice. He has to do this. So he takes a breath and plunges headlong into the crowd, hand clamped tight over the box in his inside pocket.

It takes ten minutes to get down the street. Ten hot, sweaty, sticky minutes in which he's poked by many sharp elbows, clouted by several heavy shopping bags, and shoved by at least a dozen people. Eventually, mercifully, the crowd thins out, and he's able to walk along at a reasonable pace without having his feet trodden on.

He ruffles a hand through his hair and looks around. He knows the name of the shop he's looking for, but he's never visited it before. There's never been a reason to visit it. But apparently, according to Draco, it's the best. Which probably means it's very expensive. That's okay though. This is something he's willing to spend money on.

The shop, Sylver & Sisters, is in a tall, thin building, squeezed in tight between an antique bookshop and a cauldron maker's. It's brightly lit inside, glowing white bubbles of light send a pearlescent shimmer across the room, and there are all sorts of glass cabinets around the walls, full of ancient necklaces that drip with sapphires, ruby diadems, earrings set with such large emeralds that Albus wonders how anyone could possibly wear them, and a set of flawless gold bangles which, according to the label, make the wearer irresistibly attractive to anyone who lays eyes on them.

There's no one in the shop, not even a shopkeeper, so Albus looks around at the displays for a few seconds before going up to the counter. A crystal bell sits on the wooden top, with a note saying to ring it for assistance, so Albus does, and it emits a single, pure chime. When it fades the silence seems to keep on ringing, like the resonance has set the very air on edge. Albus folds his arms and shivers.

He hears the shopkeeper speak before he sees her.

"Albus Severus. Welcome."

He spins round and sees the woman for the first time. She must have been there all along, standing in a pool of light by the door. She's wearing peach coloured robes that sparkle in the light, although they aren't studded with any crystals that Albus can see. The only jewellery she's wearing is a single platinum band on her left ring finger. She has dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin, and a warm smile. As she steps forward she extends a hand in greeting, and Albus shakes it.

"Hi. Sorry. I-I didn't see you there. I, um. I've come to buy a ring, if that's okay?"

"This is a shop, Mr Potter," the woman says, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You can buy anything you can afford."

"Right," Albus says, shaking himself. "That's a good point."

"Thank you. My name is Madam Sylver. I'll be assisting you today." She turns away from him, sweeps across the shop, and opens a cupboard behind the counter. "You're looking for an engagement ring, correct?"

"Yes." Albus hurries after her. "How did you know that?"

Madam Sylver shrugs one shoulder and her robes glitter in the light. "I hear a lot of people say a lot of things. Occasionally some of those things become relevant." She glances up from the cabinet and smiles at him. "I think you have some ideas in mind already?"

Albus nods and pulls the small box from the inside pocket of his coat, holding it as carefully as he can. He's still afraid he might somehow damage it, and he'd never be forgiven for that. "This was Astoria Malfoy's. Her engagement ring. I-I want something like this, but... But different." He feels utterly stupid saying it. He's spent so long thinking about this, about what he wants, about what Scorpius would want, but he doesn't know anything about rings, so putting his ideas into words is impossible.

"I, um... I like the emeralds," he says. "But I don't think there should be so many of them. I don't want it to be too... gaudy. Something subtle."

"Of course," Madam Sylver says with a nod. "I believe I have some things which might suit." She turns to the cupboard and begins pulling out boxes, murmuring softly under her breath, and frowning. "Perhaps something like... And the enchantments in this one... Yes, I think this might work..."

Albus eyes the growing pile of boxes on the counter with some apprehension. How are you supposed to choose something like this? If only rings were like wands and would choose their owner. That would be perfect. But sadly it doesn't seem to work like that.

The way it does work is that he spends the next half an hour examining ring after ring, trying to decide what he likes and doesn't. Black gold? A little too sinister. A single large emerald? Too over the top. Celtic patterns? Beautiful, but maybe not that design. The result is that he's left with three equally beautiful rings and no idea which to choose.

There's one in a beautiful rose gold, scattered with tiny diamonds that look like a constellation of stars and seem to orbit slowly round the band. The second is pure silver, decorated with a design that looks like the numerals on a clock, and studded with emeralds in between. The last is also silver, but the intricate design of Celtic knots is made of a bright gold that seems to glow. There's a single emerald set into the band, but it doesn't break the infinite twisting circle of the design. When Albus picks it up it feels warm to touch, and he glances up at Madam Sylver.

"This one, why does it feel like this?"

Madam Sylver smiles, eyes shining in the bright white lights. "That is one of my favourites. I created the enchantments myself. Here." She holds a hand out for the ring, and Albus hands it to her. It sits in the palm of her hand and she points to the gold design. "It's laced with Felix Felicis, for luck, of course. It won't ever be as strong as if you drank it for yourself, but it would bring good fortune to the wearer. And woven into the design is an ancient spell, for long life, good health, and a happy and loving future. I believe the spell is the same one as can be found in Astoria Malfoy's ring." She glances up at Albus. "A ring cannot change someone's fate, but it can enhance the relationships they have and the life they lead."

Albus nods and looks between the three rings. The one with the diamond constellations is beautiful, but he can't help but be drawn to the ring still sitting in the palm of Madam Sylver's hand. It's perfect, everything he would have wanted, and he can't help but imagine Scorpius wearing it, the emerald glittering on his finger.

"I-I think I want that one," he says. "The one with the Felix Felicis. It's what I imagined. I think he'll like it. I hope he will..."

Madam Sylver beams at him. "I think it's a perfect choice. Congratulations."

Albus smiles and digs his hands into his pockets, excitement and nerves churning away inside of him. "Thanks." He shuffles his feet on the floor as he watches Madam Sylver put the ring back in its box. He's jittering with nerves, and every step he takes towards the moment of asking Scorpius to marry him, the more real and terrifying a prospect it becomes.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Madam Sylver asks, tucking the ring box away into a small bag.

"Actually, yes," Albus says. "I'd like a chain, a silver one, so he can still wear it while he's at work, if he wants to."

Ten minutes later he emerges into the sunlight of Diagon Alley, about a sackful of Galleons lighter, and holding the bag with the ring inside. Madam Sylver wishes him luck as he leaves, and all he can do is thank her and say he'll need it. He manages to Apparate home before Scorpius gets back from work, and he hides both Astoria's ring and the new one, Scorpius's one, away inside the Mokeskin pouch his dad had given him for Christmas a couple of years ago.

Over the next few days Albus checks on Scorpius's ring as often as he can. It's difficult, trying to keep a secret from Scorpius, who he usually tells everything to, especially because Scorpius is suspicious and smart, and can read Albus like a book.

"You're distracted," he says on the evening of Boxing Day, when they're in the kitchen together, messing around with the recipe of a potion Albus has been working on, which is designed to reduce the risk of lycanthropic effects in the event of being bitten by a werewolf.

Albus shakes himself. He'd been thinking about the ring, and trying to decide the best place at the Manor to propose. Maybe at the top of the stairs by the Christmas tree, or out on the bridge by the river...

"I'm not distracted!"

Scorpius raises an eyebrow and points a finger across the cauldron. "You are distracted. What are you thinking about? Is it work again?" He picks up a bit of knotgrass and sprinkles it onto the surface of the potion.

"No, no. I'm not. I'm- Scorpius you need to push that grass down or you'll ruin it. Come here." Albus picks his wand up and starts shoving the torn up grass to the bottom of the cauldron. "It burns if you leave it on the surface too long."

Scorpius smiles, eyes sparkling in the firelight. "I know. I just wanted to get your attention."

Albus tuts. "You have my attention. You don't need to ruin my recipe to get it."

"Mmhmm?" Scorpius says, voice light and teasing.

"Honestly," Albus says. "I'm not thinking about work. Everything is fine. Even Dad is relaxing this week."

"Is he?" Scorpius asks, amazed. "I didn't think your dad knew how to relax."

"Neither did I, but if Mum says he's relaxing then it must be true. Could you pass me the Tincture of Demiguise please?"

Scorpius hands it over, then leans against the edge of the table. "If there was something worrying you, would you tell me?"

Albus laughs and looks up at him. "I tell you everything."

"You didn't tell me what Christmas presents you'd got me."

Albus throws a tea towel in his face. "You're an idiot. That's meant to be a surprise. That's the whole point of presents. What sort of boyfriend would I be if I told you what gifts I'd got you?"

"A less frustrating one?" Scorpius says, throwing the towel back. "But seriously. You would talk to me?"

Albus puts the tea towel down and looks across at him. "I tell you everything. There's nothing I can't or wouldn't tell you. Honestly, Scorpius. I love you, and... And I'm really glad I have you to talk to. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Okay," Scorpius says, picking up a chopping board covered with bits of dissected Flobberworm. "I did not expect you to get so sappy about it. But... That's good to know. Thank you for reassuring me."

"Any time."

It takes two days before Scorpius starts getting suspicious again. Albus has just got back from another trip upstairs to check on the ring, and he walks into the front room to see Scorpius looking at him, book forgotten in his lap, a frown on his face.

"Are you okay, Albus?"

Albus nods. "Totally fine. What are you reading?" He strolls across the room and drops onto the couch beside Scorpius.

"Why do you keep running upstairs?" Scorpius asks. Apparently he won't be so easily distracted.

Albus shrugs. "No reason. I just keep forgetting things. My work bag is up there."

"You could just bring it downstairs. Or you could summon what you need." Scorpius looks at him, a little frown creasing his forehead. "Are you ill? Is it diarrhoea or-"

"Scorpius!"

"Because I can fix that. I know spells." Scorpius draws his wand and taps Albus on the knee with it. "I'm a Healer. I know it's embarrassing, but you don't have to suffer."

Albus shoves Scorpius's wand away. "I do not have- I'm fine, okay? Put that away. I just have things I need, alright?"

Scorpius puts his wand away and pokes Albus in the arm with his finger instead. "I don't believe you."

"Don't, then. I don't care." Albus picks Scorpius's book up and starts reading it. It's all in some kind of runic alphabet, and he has no clue what any of it says.

"Enjoying that?" Scorpius asks, leaning his head against Albus's.

Albus looks at him. "You're reading this book for fun? You're completely ridiculous, you know that?"

Scorpius steals it back. "It's good. It's interesting. But you're not distracting me. I know you're up to something." He waves the book in Albus's direction. "You can't hide anything from me, Albus Severus Potter."

Albus groans and drags a hand through his hair. "If I told you it'll all make sense soon, would you leave me alone and stop worrying about it? Because I promise, it will. I-I just... Need you to stop thinking about it for a couple of days, okay?"

Scorpius frowns. "Is it a present?"

Albus dithers for a moment, then nods. "Yes. Let's say it's a belated Christmas present. Can you live with that answer?"

Scorpius thinks. "I mean, it's not very satisfying, but I suppose I can survive for a couple of days."

Albus sighs. "Well thank Dumbledore for that. No questions until New Year's Day. None at all. Okay?"

Scorpius grins and nods. His voice goes high pitched and excited as he says, "okay!"

On New Year's Eve, Scorpius goes to the Manor to help Draco get ready for the Malfoy's annual new year celebration. Albus goes to his parents' house in Ottery St Catchpole for the day, because he can't handle spending it alone. The ring sits in the pocket of his cloak, and he pats it to check it's still there every two minutes, until he gets sick of panicking and locks both cloak and ring away in his old Hogwarts trunk where no one can touch them.

After that Albus sits at the kitchen table and starts trying to decide what exactly to say to Scorpius. There's so much he could say. He loves Scorpius with everything he has, and there are thousands of words he could come up with to try and express that, but somehow all of them feel inadequate. He pulls out a sheaf of parchment and a quill and starts writing things down and crossing them out.

You told me once that if you had to choose a companion for the return of eternal darkness you would choose me... Well I would choose you too.

When I met you on the Hogwarts Express, when we were kids, I knew I'd found a friend for life, but I didn't realise then that I was already in love with you. You're incredible, Scorpius, and I want to spend forever with you.

You saw me, Scorpius, the real me, when everyone else only saw Harry Potter's son. You still know me better than anyone else, and I love you. I never want to lose you.

We've been together for so long, through so much, and there's no one else I would want to share my life with. Everything feels easier with you. I want to be with you always.

Soon the table is littered with balled up scraps of parchment. Nothing feels right. Nothing feels like enough. It's all cheesy and ridiculous, and he hates it. If only he could cast a spell that would pour the contents of his heart onto paper. That might do it justice, but that spell doesn't exist, and what is inside him remains inside him. If there was a Pensieve at Malfoy Manor he could show Scorpius a memory of the two of them, one of his favourites, but there isn't. There's nothing. Just ink and parchment and his own useless brain.

With a wave of his wand he flings all the wasted pieces of parchment into the fire and starts again. He's still writing when his dad enters the kitchen half an hour later.

"What are you writing?" Harry asks, peering over Albus's shoulder.

Albus quickly covers the parchment with his arm. "None of your business."

Harry raises his hands in surrender and backs away. "Sorry. Didn't mean to intrude." He wanders away and draws his wand. "Do you want some tea? I'm going to start lunch in a minute."

"Yes please." Albus stares down at his latest attempt at a proposal, then looks up at his dad. "I'm, um." He swallows. "I'm trying to work out what to say to Scorpius. When I- When I ask him to marry me."

Harry drops the kettle onto the counter with a clatter and spins round. "What did you just say?"

Albus shifts in his seat. "I-I said... I'm trying to work out what to say to Scorpius when I ask him to marry me..." He trails off, watching as Harry's face goes through a complex array of emotions, finally settling on amazement.

"You're going to propose to him?"

Albus nods. "Tonight. If I can work out what to say." He screws up the latest bit of parchment and tosses it into the fire. "No luck so far."

"That's..." Harry shakes his head, seeming to struggle for the words. "That's amazing news."

"But if I have nothing to say to him then I can't ask him, and-" Albus thumps his fist on the table in frustration. "How am I supposed to do this, Dad?"

Harry hesitates for a moment, then walks across to the table, where he sits beside Albus and turns his chair to face him. "I don't think you need to say much," he says, voice gentle. "He already knows you love him, anyone can see that. I think you can just ask him. I've always thought speeches are a bit overrated."

"But..." Albus glares down at the next blank piece of parchment. "But I want to tell him- I don't know what. I don't know where to start."

Harry smiles and squeezes his shoulder. "Just be yourself, Albus. I can't tell you not to worry, you're going to do that whatever I say, but you know Scorpius loves you because you're you. So if you just be yourself and speak from your heart, then how far wrong can you go?"

Albus's shoulders slump, but he swallows and nods. "Okay." He glances up at his dad. "Thanks, I think."

Harry pats him once on the shoulder. "You'll be just fine. I can't see any way this doesn't go well."

"Really? Because I can see a thousand ways," Albus mutters.

Harry laughs and gets to his feet. He draws his wand and starts making the tea. "I remember when I proposed to your mum. It was a disaster and she still said yes. It took her a minute to stop laughing at me before she agreed though. You can't do a worse job than I did, Albus. It isn't possible."

Albus dips his quill in the ink bottle and runs a hand through his hair. "I really hope you're right."

Several hours later he's sitting at the bottom of the stairs by the front door, wrapped up in his cloak, waiting for his parents to finish getting ready. The ring is in his pocket, he doesn't have any words planned, nerves keep swooping through his stomach, but he's determined, and as ready as he's ever going to be. Now he just wants to get on with it.

"James and Lily are on their way," Ginny says as she emerges from the kitchen. "I have the wine. Your father is changing his shirt..." She looks at Albus. "Is there anything I've forgotten?"

Albus shakes his head. "I don't think so. Unless... Are you taking presents like you did last year?"

Ginny shakes her head. "We owled them this year, in time for Christmas." She runs a hand through her hair then throws her hands up. "Well, if there's anything else we need it's too late. I give up."

Albus smiles and slips a hand into his pocket, checking once again that the ring is there. As he does, Ginny walks across to him and leans against the wall beside him, looking down at him and lowering her voice.

"What about you? Are you ready?"

He looks up at her. "I don't know. It's just a-a..." He trails off. He could tell her, he wants to tell her. If there's one person he'd like to have on his side while he does this then it's his mum.

"No," he says quietly. "I'm not really... I'm a bit- I'm scared."

His mum puts a hand on the bannister beside him and gives him an encouraging nod. "Go on."

He looks down at his hands. "I'm going to ask Scorpius to marry me."

She sits down beside him on the stairs. "Your dad told me earlier, you know. About your plans. I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to know. I think he was too excited to keep it to himself."

Albus swallows. "It's okay. I-I wanted you to know."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," Ginny says gently. "The two of you are sensible. You've been together so long, living together so long. It seems like the time is right to ask him."

"I know," Albus murmurs. "I'm just not very good at dealing with pressure. Not this sort of pressure anyway, building something up in my head. If I'd just done it on the spur of the moment it would have been fine, but planning it all out..." He shakes his head. "I'm just going to try and be spontaneous, and..." He shrugs. "Hope for the best."

His mum gives him a warm smile. "That's a good strategy. And you don't need to look so terrified, you know. He's not going to eat you."

"I feel like I'm going to throw up," Albus admits, in a very small voice.

Ginny ruffles his hair. "Just don't do it on that nice shirt. You look really wonderful, Albus. He'll be enamoured with you. He already is."

Albus shuffles his feet on the stairs, hugging himself and curling in tighter. "When can we go? I hate just sitting here. The sooner we get to this party the better."

"Why don't you go ahead?" Ginny asks. "We still have to wait for James and Lily. I don't want you sitting here wallowing in misery for the next hour. You know what James is like with time keeping. We'll catch up in a bit."

Albus gets up. "Are you sure?"

Ginny nods. "Positive. You can even take the wine. Tell Draco it's best served chilled."

Albus takes the wine bag, then steps in and hugs his mum tightly. "Alright. See you in a bit, then."

Albus Apparates to the Manor. The walk up the drive is always hell when he's nervous, but he doesn't want to get soot on his best clothes, or have the ring fly out of his pocket somewhere in the Floo network. This is one occasion when it's best to suffer, and as he steps through the gates he knows it was a good decision.

Dusk is approaching. The sky is streaked with purple and fiery orange, and the clouds are lined with molten gold. Normally at this time of night the drive would be gloomy and greying as the light fades, but tonight someone has been out and decorated the avenue with lights. They trail round every tree trunk in a glittering silver spiral, and fan out through the branches. They line the path, little lanterns filled with flickering silver flames. They spread through the box hedges of the formal gardens at the front of the house, like stars in a black sky. The house has never looked so beautiful, and Albus can't help but smile as he follows the road to the front door.

This is Scorpius's work. Albus would know the magic anywhere. It feels warm and bright, like coming home after a long day, like a hug. And this, beautiful things like this, is why Albus is in love with him. This is why Albus is walking here with a ring in his pocket and anxiety tightening his chest.

By the time he rings the doorbell he's utterly determined. He listens to the chime echo through the house and balls his hands into fists. This is it. He's here. And he won't leave until he's asked Scorpius Malfoy to marry him.

Draco answers the door. He smiles when he sees Albus and steps forward, offering a hand, which Albus shakes.

"Good evening. Are your parents not coming?" He holds the door open and lets Albus inside, then he peers out into the darkness for a moment, before shutting the door and turning back to him.

"They're waiting for Lily and James," Albus says. "I was getting sick of waiting so Mum told me to come ahead. She sent this for you." He holds out the bag with the wine in. "Apparently it needs to be chilled."

Draco looks into the bag and nods. "Alright. I think I trust your mother."

"And I brought this back," Albus says, holding out the box containing Astoria's engagement ring. "I took the best care of it that I could."

Draco closes his fingers round the box. "Thank you. Did you get-?"

Albus nods and pats his pocket. "I went to the shop you suggested. I-I hope it'll be okay."

Draco squeezes his shoulder. "I'm sure it will." He meets Albus's eyes and gives him an encouraging nod. "Good luck."

"I'll certainly need it." Albus sighs and wipes his feet on the door mat. "Do you need any help with anything? I'd like to take my mind off-"

"Albus!"

Both Albus and Draco look up to see Scorpius standing halfway down the stairs. He's wearing dark grey skinny jeans, a pale green knitted sweater, and there's a huge grin on his face. Albus stares at him open mouthed for a moment, before realising what he's doing. He swallows, closes his mouth, and makes himself smile.

"Hi, Scorpius."

Scorpius bounces down the stairs, crosses the entrance hall, and pulls him in for a brief kiss. Despite how short it is, it still leaves Albus feeling slightly stunned.

Draco smirks at the two of them. "I think I'll go and check on the canapés. Scorpius, make sure you offer our guest a drink, please. We have so much champagne, it needs to be drunk."

"Yes, Dad," Scorpius says, not looking away from Albus for a second. He doesn't wait for Draco to leave before he takes Albus's hands. "You look amazing. Is that a new shirt?"

Albus glances down at it. It's midnight blue and glitters slightly in the light, as though it's studded with stars. "Yes, I bought it for tonight."

Scorpius beams. "I always like it when you wear blue. It suits you."

"You look wonderful too," Albus says. "The green. I like it."

Scorpius picks at his jumper and looks exceptionally pleased with himself. "Thank you. Come into the ballroom and I'll get you a drink. Dad will tell me off if I don't open the champagne immediately. I don't see how so few people can drink anywhere near as much champagne as he's bought, or eat as many canapés. It's like he's trying to feed an army. But we have to try, just to keep him happy."

Albus laughs and squeezes Scorpius's hand. "If it's good champagne I'm willing to drink plenty of it."

"Oh, it's the best. I think he's determined to spend my entire inheritance on lavish parties." Scorpius rolls his eyes as pushes the ballroom door open and leads Albus inside.

"I think he'd have to work quite hard to spend all your inheritance," Albus points out.

"Please don't tell him that. He'll take it as a personal challenge." Scorpius drops Albus's hand and picks up a champagne bottle. "I've always wanted to do this but I've never been allowed before. I guess Dad has finally decided I'm a responsible adult. Little does he know." A sparkling grin lights Scorpius's face as he shakes the bottle and pops the cork, which flies across the room and hits a portrait of Lucius Malfoy right in the forehead. The portrait scowls, and Scorpius smirks. "Whoops. Here you go, Albus."

Albus beams as his glass fills with bubbling golden champagne. "I love you," he says.

"I'll drink to that," Scorpius replies, filling his own glass.

By 11pm the party is in full swing. Everyone has gathered in the ballroom, Ron has conjured up some music, and the air is thick with chatter and jazz. The champagne is flowing, and thanks to Lily and James, who have both come to the party from their respective Quidditch matches, Draco's canapés are disappearing at a rate of knots.

Albus is hovering near the edge of the party, half listening to Hermione and Rose talk about a new piece of werewolf legislation, half watching Scorpius on the other side of the room. He's talking animatedly to his aunt Daphne about something, hands flying, hair ruffled, cheeks slightly pink from the champagne, the heat, and his own enthusiasm.

Albus hasn't had chance to get near him all night since people started arriving. They've both been rushing around helping Draco, then Scorpius was swept in a conversation with Rose and James, and then Albus started to talking to Ron about work. At least Albus has been too distracted to worry much, but now it's getting later he's started to feel anxious again. Scorpius will want to watch the fireworks at midnight, and then people will start leaving and he'll have to go and say goodbye, and then he'll want to go to bed as soon as everyone has left, because he never stays up too late. If Albus doesn't act now he might lose his chance.

"What do you think, Albus?"

The sound of his name drags him back to reality. Both Hermione and Rose are looking at him expectantly, and he stares hopelessly between the two of them.

"Think about what, sorry? I-I was just-" he gestures vaguely over his shoulder. "Distracted. Sorry."

Hermione smiles at him. "We noticed. We were wondering what you thought about the den raid a couple of weeks ago. You were there, weren't you?"

Albus nods and glances over at Scorpius again, then shakes himself. "Yes, I was... I think we could have done better. It wasn't very... Organised. Sometimes when things are last minute... We make mistakes, and-" Scorpius has finished talking to Daphne and is now standing alone at the edge of the party, eyeing up the canapés. It's now or never.

Albus looks at his aunt and cousin. "Sorry, but do you mind if I-" he gestures in Scorpius's direction. "I need to talk to him. But we should definitely talk about this. It's important. On Monday at work?"

"Go on," Hermione says. "I'll put something in my diary and let you know."

"Thank you," Albus says, incredibly grateful. "Thank you." He hangs there for a moment, then rushes across the ballroom towards Scorpius.

He dodges and weaves through the crowd, waving away James who tries to drag him into a conversation, and ducking under a tray of canapés which floats through the air of its own accord. Finally he spots Scorpius again, perched on a window seat, Harry leaning against the wall beside him, the two of them looking like they've just started a conversation.

Albus skids to a halt in front of them. "Dad," he says, "do you mind if I borrow Scorpius for a minute?"

Harry lights up, grinning and shaking his head. "No. Nope, not at all. You two have a good chat." He claps his hands together, apparently with glee. "I might go and find some more canapés." He looks between the two of them, then puts a hand on Albus's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. "Hope the talk goes well." He nods at them both before walking away, a spring in his step.

Scorpius watches him go. "What was that about?"

Albus shakes his head. "Nothing. Don't worry about it." He twists his hands together. "Do you mind if we go outside for a minute? It's a bit hot in here. And loud. And I wanted to talk to you about... About something."

Scorpius grins. "About something? Well that's very mysterious. I suppose I can come and talk about something with you." He picks his champagne glass up and gets to his feet. "Are you open for suggestions for topics of conversation, or did you have one in mind but aren't telling me?"

"You're going to be difficult about this, aren't you?" Albus asks with a sigh.

Scorpius links arms with him and gestures grandly with his champagne glass. "I am always difficult, Albus. Haven't you noticed that yet?"

"I noticed an awfully long time ago," Albus says. "But I'm putting up with it. Come on." He gives Scorpius's arm a little tug and they set off out of the ballroom. As they go, Draco glances up and gives Albus a small nod. Albus responds with one of his own, then he takes a very deep breath and steels himself for what he's about to do.

"This was my mum's clock," Scorpius says, standing in front of the mantelpiece in the library and looking at it. "She brought it with her when she and Dad moved in here. I think she got it from that antique shop in Diagon Alley and fixed it up herself." He smiles and adjusts the hands slightly. "It never kept time very well."

Albus sits on the arm of the couch and watches him. He undoes the top button of his shirt, then fiddles with his cuffs. The ring box presses uncomfortably into his leg, and he fidgets with it, trying to loosen it without having to get it out.

"Did you know," Scorpius continues, "it was made by a direct descendant of Helga Hufflepuff? I mean, how cool is that? Mum didn't know when she bought it. We found out later when someone came to the house to value some of my dad's stuff. It's got the badger on it and everything. Just here." He leans in close to the clock and points out a little engraving on the side.

"Mum liked clocks. And time. I don't really know why, but she thought they were interesting. I think if she hadn't worked with Muggles she might have been in the Department of Mysteries. I don't think she liked the inevitability of time, but I think she liked thinking about ways to bend it, and twist it around. To defy it." He tilts his head sideways and looks at the clock face.

Albus swallows and shuffles his feet on the floor. His mouth has gone very dry, and he feels like his jaw has locked in place. His mind is racing at a thousand miles an hour, words, words, and more words rushing by. But he doesn't know how to start saying any of them. Scorpius, however, doesn't seem to be able to stop talking.

"I always think about that. At the New Year. How time is inevitable. You just get..." he waves an arm through the air. "Swept along in the tide. You know it's been years since she died? But it feels like no time at all. And it's been even longer since you and I met. Since we became friends." He turns and looks at Albus. "We've been together for so long. Like years and years. Isn't that weird? Good weird though. I like it, and I hope-"

"Marry me?" Albus asks. The question comes bursting out of him, like the pressure has been building inside him the whole time, and now the dam has burst and he can't hold it back.

Scorpius blinks at him. "What?"

Albus nods and gets to his feet, stepping forward. His hands are shaking now, and he feels like his knees might give way beneath him. His heart is hammering in his chest. He feels like he might throw up, but now he's started he can't stop.

"I said, marry me." He walks up to Scorpius and looks into his stunned face. His eyes are round as silver Sickles, and flickering with reflected firelight. "You're right. We've been together for so long, and I never want it to stop. Time is turning, and we're getting older, and I still love you. I will love you. Always. For so many reasons."

He swallows and takes hold of Scorpius's hands, looking down at the long, pale fingers. It's easier than looking at the still shocked expression on his face.

"You're bold, Scorpius. And you're brave, and you make me laugh like no one else does. You're a good -- the best -- person. And I love you. I think- I hope you know that." He glances up, then back down again, and he squeezes Scorpius's hands.

"I've been in love with you for years, maybe even since the first time we met on the Hogwarts Express. Because I- well, I didn't stay for your sweets. I stayed for you. Because I'd never met anyone like you, and I still haven't. And-" He lets go of one of Scorpius's hands and pulls him round to look at the clock. "If your parents and my grandparents and all our adventures have taught me anything it's that you shouldn't waste time when there's something so important at stake. Because even a second wasted can feel like an entire lifetime at the end of the day."

"A-and look..." He sighs. "I know our work schedules are stupid, and not really conducive to married life- I only get to see you for five minutes some days, but you know what?" He looks up at Scorpius, in his stride now, confident, no longer afraid of what he might see in Scorpius's face. He can deal with the reaction later. For now he just needs to get this out. "Those are the best five minutes of my day. And I want to spend every single five minutes I have with you. I-I mean..." He ducks his head and rushes to clarify. "I'd like to spend quite a bit longer with you, really, and if there was some way to do that it would be amazing, but I know you have shifts and I have raids, and you love your job and I love mine, and don't get me wrong, you're an amazing Healer and I don't want to take that away from you. If it sounded like that's what this was about I didn't mean-"

"Albus?" Scorpius says finally, very softly. "You might want to shut up now."

Albus looks up, fear flooding like ice into his heart, but all in a rush he realises that Scorpius doesn't look annoyed or upset. He's grinning broadly, and his eyes are shining.

"Right," Albus says. "Okay. But I just wanted to-"

"Don't," Scorpius advises. Then, suddenly, Albus finds himself being thoroughly kissed. One of Scorpius's arms folds tightly round his waist, and the other hand ruffles through his hair. Albus clings to Scorpius like his life depends on it, hands clutching at the back of that green sweater, pulling him in closer. The kiss is pure, blissful relief. It isn't a yes, but it can hardly be a bad thing. If Scorpius still wants to kiss him after all those rambling words, and kiss him like this, hard enough to knock all the breath out of him and make him feel all hot and flustered, that must be good.

When they break apart Scorpius's lips are parted as he catches his breath. His sweater is all ruffled, and the shirt he's wearing underneath is flapping out at the bottom. His cheeks are a soft rose colour, and there's a self-satisfied grin on his face.

Albus holds onto the arm of the sofa for support and runs a hand through his hair. Scorpius has stolen everything from him with that kiss: his air, his words, his momentum. Now he just feels like he's floating. Dizzy, and stunned, and powerless. Waiting for Scorpius to take his hand and show him where they're going next with this.

"You let me ramble for five minutes," Scorpius says, leaning against the couch, arms crossed, long legs stretched out in front of him, "about clocks, and that was what you were waiting to spring on me?"

Albus shrugs defensively. "I didn't know where to start."

Scorpius shakes his head. "You're something really special." He beams across at Albus. "Like, really special." He keeps looking, and his smile becomes smaller but somehow more intense, and Albus feels his cheeks heat up.

"Okay," he says. "I'm glad you think so."

"I'm quite lucky," Scorpius says, turning his head to one side and studying Albus. "Albus Severus Potter wants to marry me. It's like a dream come true."

Albus swallows. "A-and... Do you want me to marry you? That's the important question."

Scorpius gets to his feet and walks across the library. He stops right in front of Albus and looks down at the ground for a moment. Then he takes Albus's hands and nods. He meets Albus's eyes and smiles. "Yes. Of course I do. Of course I do. Yes. Yes and yes."

"Good," Albus says. "That's good." And it slowly starts to sink in. Like he's just drunk a gallon of Butterbeer, or sunk into a warm bath. From the tips of his toes, spreading through him like golden sunlight, right up to the top of his head. His heart feels like it might burst, and his cheeks are already starting to ache from smiling. "I suppose... That makes you my fiancé."

Scorpius sinks onto the couch and grins up at him. "I suppose it does." He crosses his legs and nudges Albus's knee with his hand. "You didn't happen to do the thing properly and get me a ring, did you? Or is this all spontaneous and impulsive? I don't mind either way. Just curious."

"I did do it properly," Albus says. "And I did get a ring." He fumbles in his pocket and pulls the box out. "Here. I hope it fits."

Scorpius holds his hand out, and examines the ring as Albus slides it onto his finger. "It's warm! It's beautiful. The emerald is perfect. It looks like my mum's..." He glances up at Albus and Albus nods.

"It's the same design. A bit different, but- It has Felix Felicis in it. And a spell, for a long and happy life. Your dad let me borrow your mum's ring, so I could get one similar to it."

Scorpius looks up. "Did he?"

Albus nods. "I came and asked him a couple of weeks ago, if I was allowed to propose to you. And he gave it to me then. I-I went and visited your mum's grave as well. I couldn't ask her, but I thought I should at least see her first, you know?"

Scorpius stares at him. "See, this is why I'm marrying you. Because you're amazing."

Albus grins and takes his hand. "I'm very glad you think so."

"I really do think so," Scorpius says. He looks down and turns his hand over, so the ring glitters in the firelight as he examines it. "Well, thank Dumbledore everyone we know is downstairs, because I want to show this off to them all immediately. Do you mind if we-?" He gestures toward the door.

Albus shakes his head. "Not at all. If we stay up here any longer our parents might come and break down the door."

Scorpius hops to his feet. "Let's not keep them waiting then."

They slip back into the ballroom. Albus feels giddy with happiness. He's clutching Scorpius's hand and he can't stop grinning. As they move around the edge of the crowd and stop by the drinks table, Scorpius turns back to Albus, and Albus leans his head on Scorpius's shoulder. They twist their hands and arms tighter together, holding on to each other, and that's when their parents arrive.

Harry and Draco burst through the crowd, Ginny following behind, looking like she wants to smile but doesn't dare do it too soon.

"Hi, Dad," Scorpius says, giving Draco a bright smile. "Are you okay?"

"What did you say?" Harry asks, hands outstretched, looking desperately between the two of them. "How did it go?"

They glance at each other, and Scorpius squeezes Albus's hand. Albus ducks his head and grins.

"He said yes."

There's an explosion of noise. Harry punches the air and turns to Ginny who finally unleashes her smile and rushes forward. Draco sags in relief, then steps forward and engulfs both Albus and Scorpius in a tight hug. It doesn't take long until the two of them are surrounded by people. Harry and Ginny hug them both, then James leaps on Albus and starts ruffling his hair. Rose and Lily follow, and then the whole party seems to be pressing in on them, shaking their hands and congratulating them.

From somewhere Draco unearths the most expensive bottle of champagne yet and starts handing glasses round. Through the crowd of people Albus can see his parents hugging and beaming at each other, and at him. He watches as Draco goes up to Harry and hands him a glass, then extends a hand.

"I suppose we're doomed to be family now, Potter. It's a shame, but I think it's unavoidable, and at least they're happy."

Harry grins and shakes his hand. "You'll get used to it."

"I'm not sure I will," Draco replies. "I do want to make one thing clear though. Scorpius is my only child, whereas you have three children, so I will be financing this affair. I hope that's acceptable."

Harry holds his hands up in surrender. "Whatever makes you happy, Draco."

Scorpius nudges Albus gently in the ribs and leans in to whisper in his ear. "I told you, he's trying to spend my entire inheritance on parties."

Albus laughs and hugs Scorpius round the middle.

They don't get any room to breathe until ten minutes to midnight. At that point, thankfully, Ron yells for everyone to go outside and get ready for the fireworks.

"I thought I was going to suffocate," Scorpius murmurs, as the crowd starts heading for the door.

"I've never had so much attention in my life," Albus agrees. "Do you want me to summon your gloves? It's freezing out there."

"And hide my beautiful ring?" Scorpius pulls a face of mock contempt. "No thank you. You'll just have to hold my hands to keep them warm."

Albus grins. "I think I can do that."

They Accio their coats and scarves to them, and pull them on as they head out into the back garden. It's pitch black outside, apart from the twinkling of hundreds of Scorpius's silver lights, which are scattered through the bare bushes and trees by the rose garden.

"Did I mention," Albus says, gesturing to them. "You did a beautiful job with the decorating."

"How did you know it was me?" Scorpius asks, although he looks immensely pleased with himself.

Albus shrugs. "I'd know your magic anywhere. If you ever committed a crime I'd know in a second. It just... feels like you."

"Well," Scorpius says. "I suppose I'd better not commit any crimes then. Not unless I kill you first." He nudges Albus in the ribs, and Albus nudges him back. It turns into a minor shoving contest, which Albus ends by tickling Scorpius until he's almost crying with laughter as he begs for mercy.

"I might change my mind," Scorpius says, drawing himself up with great dignity once Albus has released him. "About marrying you, if you're going to torture me like that."

"You poor thing," Albus grins "You have such a hard time with your evil boyfriend."

"Fiancé," Scorpius corrects.

"Fiancé," Albus echoes, squeezing Scorpius's hand.

"Do you fancy getting away from all these people?" Scorpius asks. "It'll be quieter on the other side of the garden, and we'll still see the fireworks. I think I want you all to myself for a bit."

"Alright," Albus says. After the madness of the ballroom and everyone's excitement, the idea of escaping for a bit is an amazing one.

They skirt through the rose bushes, following the trails of lights Scorpius has laced along every path. Surrounded by the hedges it's now difficult to hear the bubbling chatter of their friends and family. There's something about being in here, cut off from everyone else by the wall of branches and thorns, set on an inescapable series of paths by the hedges, surrounded and guided, that feels comforting to Albus. Even in the Triwizard maze he'd felt oddly safe. Amongst hedges every corner feels like an opportunity to make a different choice, follow a different path, to lose someone, or find someone. He's always loved the rose garden at the Manor for that reason, and even though at the moment the hedges are bare and stark, in a few months' time they'll be bursting with flowers, and it will be one of the most beautiful places in the grounds.

They come to a stop at the heart of the rose garden, and Albus sits on one of the slightly damp stone benches, while Scorpius draws his wand. He casts a time-keeping charm, and golden numerals glow in the air in front of them, counting down to the new year.

"I think it's been a good year," Scorpius says, watching the seconds tick by. "It certainly finished strong."

Albus smiles and braces his hands on the bench, leaning forward. "I've enjoyed it. I hope next year lives up to it."

"I don't know about you," Scorpius says, turning to face him. "But I'm going to a wedding next year, and I'm rather looking forward to it. It could make my whole year."

Albus gets to his feet and draws his wand. "Funny," he says with a smile. "I was invited to the same one." He turns to one of the rose bushes and waves his wand in a circle. A single yellow bud grows from one of the bare stems, then blossoms into life. "Here's to..." he picks the flower off the branch and holds it out to Scorpius. "A new year, and a new chapter of our lives."

Scorpius twirls the flower between his fingers, then tucks it behind his ear and wraps his arms round Albus's waist. "To Albus and Scorpius."

"I think it's going to be a good year," Albus says, leaning into Scorpius's embrace.

"Me too," Scorpius agrees, brushing his fingers through Albus's hair

They hold onto each other and watch the final seconds of the year dwindle, and at midnight -- as Ron's fireworks send cascades of sparks into the sky, lighting the darkness in gold and red and blue and green and silver -- they kiss.

Albus melts into the feeling of Scorpius's soft lips on his, the warm metal of the ring resting against his neck where Scorpius's firm hands are holding him steady. He closes his eyes, so the fireworks are just vague bursts of colour in the darkness. Explosions, distant cheers, and the quiet hitch of his own breath are all he hears, as he loses himself in contentment. If you're supposed to start a year as you mean to go on, this is a good way to do it, and Albus doesn't think he's looked forward to the future this much in his entire life. This is, most definitely, going to be a really good year.

#Harry Potter and the Cursed Child #Scorbus #Scorpius Malfoy #Albus Severus Potter #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Ginny Potter #fluff #Keep The Secrets #Mayhem to the nth degree #My writing #new year's fic #I honestly have no idea how this got so long #I'd say sorry but it's not my fault #it's the fault of the two rambling idiots I'm writing about #anyway enjoy the fluff while it lasts #cause my next project is... not fluffy

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