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ohscorbus · 5 years

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Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Thursday 23rd May, 2019 [Pt. 2]

Aaaand here we are again! To say I was excited for this part two would be an understatement. I was bouncing off the walls and honestly? They did not disappoint. This was another great show from what’s already an excellent cast. If you’re not excited yet, you will be.

ACT THREE, SCENE THREE: DRACO’S OFFICE

Jonathan got so angry in this scene and it just took it to another level. I want Scorpius to be that angry. To fight it. To fight for him. His dad isn’t this person and I need him to reject it. it’s so important for both this version of Draco and for Scorpius to process about his dad in general. Plus it’s wildly fascinating to see Scorpius be so smiley and awkward and fail so completely at being the Scorpion King in the previous scenes, just for him to then lose himself in these life long fears and let his emotions take over him in this one. The way he reacts without thinking and attacks is more in line with the Scorpion King. (Presumably.) Yet he was only able to ‘achieve’ it when he wasn’t trying. It makes you wonder how much of the Scorpion King is actually inside of him... (Obviously not a lot, or at all. But it makes for an interesting discussion.)

ACT THREE, SCENE NINE: AU DEMENTORS

My heart broke for Michelle who didn’t manage to get herself hooked onto her dementor and had to walk off stage instead. It’s only happened two or three times (as far as I’m aware) so for it to happen to her on her opening night was just awful. I really hope she doesn’t let it get the better of her. After all, she wasn’t the first and she won’t be the last. These things just happen, you know?

I’m only mentioning it now because I thought people might want to know what happens in this situation:

Basically, two people in black cloaks with hoods up come on. One is stood in front and holding the cloak out to block your view as they wave it in what presumably is meant to be in a dementor-y kind of way, while the other focuses on hiding Hermione (or Ron) as they walk off the stage. It does the job but I do wish their cloaks had been modified dementor costumes instead! At least that way it still looks like they’ve been taken by dementors rather than it being an obvious failure.

I’m still being blown away by Jonathan and I could not be happier. His Scorpius is still the same, but the subtle changes from just having that different energy on stage really brought out his A game. I particularly loved his interaction with the dementors in this scene. It could just be because I was sitting closer than usual so I could actually hear the wispy gasps he was making as he struggled to catch his breath, but that combined with how he made his body loose and slow and floaty as the dementor attacked was just incredible. (Although maybe I’m just biased because you know the dementors are my favourite. These scenes are important to me.)

ACT THREE, SCENE ELEVEN: SLYTHERIN DORM

“I know. Okay.” - I loved the anger from Albus in this line. I can’t even begin to describe to you what he does with his face when his anger peaks like this. But it’s concentrated and scary. He’s furious. It’s brilliant.

Albus never moved from the spot he was in, round the other side of the bed to Harry. It meant it was always between them. Fitting really, given how they once again fail to overcome the barriers that separate them.

ACT THREE, SCENE TWELVE: GODRIC’S HOLLOW DREAM SCENE

I absolutely adore what Kathryn did with Petunia this scene. The pauses and emotion in her voice as she recalled Lily (“she tried - bless her - it wasn’t her fault) came as a surprise but was also completely welcomed. It reminded me of that deleted scene from the movies. The one where she’s talking to Harry in the living room and she says he didn’t just lose a mother that night, she lost a sister too. It was beautifully done. Plus getting to see this glimpse of that side of her, a part she’s clearly kept hidden for years, was wonderful. It really made me sit up and take notice because I expected to get nothing but a reminder of how awful she is in scenes like this. To suddenly be hit with the realisation there’s more to her than ‘villain’, that there’s human and heart in there somewhere, was vastly more compelling to watch.

ACT THREE, SCENE TWENTY: THE MAZE

“Your dad loves you, very much” - The second time he said this, it felt rushed and he sort of let it drift off towards the end. It was obvious he felt awkward even having the thought, let alone saying it out loud to Cedric. I like that because it says something about him since he did still say it. It wasn’t the heartfelt message we’ve seen from Albus’s before, but it still shows his heart and this Albus’s awkwardness.

ACT THREE, SCENE FOURTEEN: SLYTHERIN DORM

Albus held his hands up and did a ‘I could strangle you’ kind of gesture at Scorpius, who was paying zero attention, and it was very them.

“You may not have been there, Albus, but you were fighting - fighting alongside me.” - Albus looked so happy and moved by this statement. I swear he said something or went to? I can’t remember for sure. But he definitely reacts to this confession more than any other Albus I can recall and I’m super happy about that. He liked the idea he was there with Scorpius and fighting together. It was sweet.

ACT THREE, SCENE SIXTEEN: OWLERY

We’ve finally got the ‘let’s make history’ line, wooo! I love that this Albus gets it too. It really suits him. If any of them would deliberately set out to make such a bold change in the world, it’s this one. Dominic delivers it with such energy too. It’s perfect.

ACT FOUR, SCENE THREE: GODRIC’S HOLLOW

Albus, of course, immediately runs off after Lily and James as they exit the stage. He isn’t thinking, he’s feeling and following his heart. (I really do love this scene.) Scorpius is quick to run after him and he grabbed his wrist and pulled him back and didn’t let go until he’d stopped and wasn’t a flight risk anymore. I liked that because, after all their awkwardness about touching, he didn’t hesitate in moments when it mattered.

ACT FOUR, SCENE FIVE: GODRIC’S HOLLOW PLANS

“Still, if I had to choose a companion to be at the return of eternal darkness with, I’d choose you” - As soon as Scorpius started this line, Albus immediately began to look a little bit uncomfortable. It was like he suspected what was about to be said, or he at least thought he did, and was nervous about it for some reason. There are so many ways to read into that and I love it for that reason. But for me, it related back to his reaction in Hogwarts through the trees. When Scorpius said he wanted someone like Harry Potter to get up to mayhem with, Albus looked sad. Like he almost expected a comment like that. So it makes sense for him to expect Scorpius to want Harry Potter, the saviour and everyone’s hero, in this moment too. But once again Scorpius surprises him (and only him) and tells him he’d choose him. Again. Always. Basically, it was really sweet and it was also interesting to see this Albus doubt himself with Scorpius again despite already having numerous reassurances.

“We just need to work out where to find some… Demiguises.” - His pause, which is actually in the script and I had completely forgotten about, was adorable (and relatable) because it was like he wasn’t sure how to pronounce the word. Bless.

ACT FOUR, SCENE SIX: ALBUS’S ROOM

“We’re starting with Dad” - The stage direction says his firm here and this Albus absolutely is. His tone and the look he gave Scorpius left him with no doubt that this was no longer up for discussion. They were starting with ‘dad’.

ACT FOUR, SCENE EIGHT: GODRIC’S HOLLOW HUGS

Even with a new Potter around I still could not take my eyes off the Malfoys. I think the audience were in agreement as the awwws that filled the theatre warmed my heart. My favourite part though? After they had hugged, Draco cupped Scorpius’s cheek and gave him this look full of love. I couldn’t see Jonathan’s face today but they did this on Sunday too and you’ll be happy to know Scorpius gave him the same look back. Now doesn’t that just melt you?

ACT FOUR, SCENE TEN: ST. JEROME’S

“Draco, trust my dad. He won’t let us down.” - It was really interesting to have an Albus move to stand directly in front of Harry and not Draco for this line. It felt less like a confrontation with Draco and more like him standing up for his dad. That says so much about Albus. One, that he’s probably smart enough not to piss off his best friend’s dad and risk them being separated again. And two, it’s like he’s giving something back to his dad in return for Harry’s ‘there’s plenty you’re good at’ line. Neither of them are there yet but they’re reaching out to each other and working together at this point. It’s nice. As was Harry’s face when he looked from the back of Albus’s head and over to Ginny and back again as Albus spoke. You could see how moved he was by Albus’s words and actions. That really meant a lot. It was lovely to see Harry have this silent conversation with Ginny about it too. It mirrored their silent conversation back in act one over the map table. That was about Albus too. But this time it was finally about something positive.

ACT FOUR, SCENE ELEVEN: ST. JEROME’S

“I really liked her, mum” - I was either too overwhelmed with all the new things to really pick up on it or maybe Dominic emphasised it more in part two, but I really picked up on more of his Albus’s mannerisms this time around. Like here, when he’s sat on the bench with his mum, Albus is sat with his shoulders a little hunched and one of his feet is on top of the other. He looked a little smaller and a tiny bit uncomfortable and a lot awkward. I think he was doing something with his hands too...

You know what? Let me just drop some random observations on you that I’ve made about his Albus so far: occasionally hunches his shoulders, will sometimes play with his hands and fingers just like Scorpius - they’re the definition of awkwardness when they’re both doing it together, he rocks back and forth from one foot to the other all the time - it makes him appear nervous and full of energy and I love it, and he never hesitates to raise his voice and won’t hold in his anger. As for the closest interpretation from our previous ones? Sam Clemmett, but Dominic is less restrained and happier.

I said my goodbyes to the unscripted Albus and Scorpius hug in this scene on cast three’s last show. Little did I know Jonathan and Dominic would still bless us with something. While it isn’t a full blown hug, the fact that they still run to each other and physically reach out and make contact as soon as the duel is over is the most important bit and it still happens. I also loved the fact Scorpius didn’t want to let go or stop looking at him and didn’t do so until Ginny had made her way over to them. He then seemed to accept he’d be safe and that his mum might need that reassurance he’s okay too.

Albus tightened his grip on his wand as soon as Delphi said ‘then kill me’. He didn’t raise his arm so his wand was still down by his side, but the fact that he held onto it so tightly at those particular words was interesting and it explained his next reaction. So when Harry says he won’t, Albus immediately bolted forward. Harry had to hold him and used enough force that he made Albus’s clothes all bunch up around his shoulder and neck from where he had to be pushed back. I’m pretty sure even Ginny stepped in and helped contain him. I really hope this stays because I want to see it over and over again. That pure determination and anger. The fact that it took fully grown adults to hold him back. Also! The two Malfoys as they watched Albus in this moment was something else. They were both clearly a little shocked, but Draco in particular seemed to be looking at Albus like he hadn't seen him before. It’s wildly fascinating. Plus the whole thing reminded me of Sirius Black’s death in the movies. How Harry is restrained and then let loose but is still unable to kill Bellatrix even though he’s so incredibly angry and has the chance. It gave me a whole new understanding of Harry’s later line: ‘you’d watched her murder Craig, you were angry, Albus, and that’s okay. And you wouldn’t have done it”. Because Harry isn’t just speaking as a reassuring parent here, he’s speaking from experience. That’s how he should be using his past to help his son.

ACT FOUR, SCENE TWELVE: DEATH SCENE

Albus reached out and held onto Harry’s arm with both his hands as the Potters were killed. Then once Lily had been murdered and Harry fell to the ground with a cry, he reached down and held onto Harry’s wand with him. It read as support in so many ways, and so differently to how Joe’s Albus handled the wand. Joe would take it from Harry’s hand completely and replace it with his hand while holding the wand in his other. To me that read as confirmation that love was stronger than magic. Because that’s what Harry, in every timeline, always needs in that moment. Love. No spell can fix or save this. But now you have Dominic’s Albus who appears to help Harry keep hold of his wand. Yet that to me still represents love as I see this as them finally coming together. Getting through this moment, through his history, together. It’s the end and the start for both of them.

ACT FOUR, SCENE FOURTEEN: HOGWARTS STAIRCASE

I honestly don’t know how to describe their last hug. I’ve overused the word awkward but there really isn’t any other word to describe it. It was just all hands. They didn’t seem to know where or how to touch each other. It ended up looking like they were both doing the big fish, little fish, cardboard box dance around each other. Yet miraculously, this strange air patting thing they were doing somehow seemed to work for them. No one is surprised...

ACT FOUR, SCENE FIFTEEN: GRAVEYARD

I was feeling a lot of things during this scene so very few mental notes were taken. But I do remember how Albus looked a little bit horrified as he looked down at all the gravestones. He didn’t seem to be particularly happy or comfortable being there. Understandable. But that didn’t stop him from walking over to Cedric’s grave when Harry started talking about him. It was like he didn’t have as much to fear if he had his dad with him. It was a really nice way to end this journey. That, and their hug. Although I was terrified for a second that they had cut it because the lights started to dim before they had even started. It was such a shame how little we got to see it before it was too dark!

Other little changes and notes:

The light in the Time-Turner was a different colour! There was the normal yellowish orangey light, and now it’s also blue sometimes. I can’t recall exactly which colour it was for each scene but I’m sure there’s a reason as to why it changes and when. It’s probably something to do with when and where they’re using it in time but until I’ve seen it again I won’t know for sure.

You know when Ginny removes the light bulb from the wall in Delphi’s room? Well now there’s a pulsing, glowing blue light inside and it emits thick smoke. I actually really liked this. It gave the illusion there was something more beyond that wall. Something sinister.

I also just have to mention all the eyeliner. So Snape now has this really obvious (and questionable) smokey eyed thing going on, Delphi is wearing so much of it she gives me Megan from Puffs vibes (particularly pre-reveal), and even Bane seems to have been given a makeover.

And there we have it! If it isn’t already abundantly clear, I love this cast. Their new interpretations are fresh and it’s making the returning cast members step up and everything has slotted into place wonderfully. I said this yesterday and I mean it even more so today: this next year is definitely going to be a good one.

[Again, there’s so much I’ve missed out but I’ve run out of time and memory. I am seeing the show again on Saturday 25th though so hopefully I’ll pick up on the things I’ve missed then. Please feel free to leave any specific requests for scenes in my inbox. I can’t promise to answer them all but I can try!)

#harry potter and the cursed child #TCCleanne #long post #mypost #it's now 2.30am so the fact you're getting words at all is a miracle so please excuse any and all typos #I promise I can actually write like the educated adult that I am! :')

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torestoreamends · 5 years

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Mine to Make: Chapter 13

Albus and Harry have a heart-to-heart, and Harry lays out some of his plans for how to fix things. Meanwhile, Scorpius wakes up and is determined to remember what’s happened to him, no matter the cost.

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

XIII Lost

Rain pounds down out of the black sky. A flash of lightning illuminates the slick, jagged cliff-sides of the snaking gorge, and a rumble of thunder echoes across the landscape an instant later. A harsh winter wind swirls between the sheer rock walls, stirring up the rain so it scatters in no particular direction.

At the top of the gorge, Albus can barely stand up straight because he’s being buffeted so hard by the wind. He clutches the wet handle of his broom as tight as he can so he doesn’t let go, and when he mounts up, he’s blown sideways and only just manages not to come off. Only an idiot would fly in these conditions, an idiot with a death wish, and today that’s a perfect description of Albus.

It’s through sheer force of will alone that he manages to take off and hover without being thrown halfway across the hillside. He hangs steady in the air, clinging to the broom with hands and feet, eyes narrowed as the wind sends a wall of rain straight into his face, lashing at him hard enough to sting. Even with his goggles on, it’s nearly impossible to see more than a few feet in front of him, but regardless, he leans forward and edges away into the gorge.

Instantly the wind switches. A strong tail wind lifts his broom and flings it out of control into the gorge. If Albus hadn’t been expecting it, it would have flipped him over and sent him to his death, but he knows this place like the back of his hand, and it gives him the speed he was looking for.

He hurtles into the shadow of the gorge. It’s so dark and the rain is so heavy that he’s effectively blind, flying by touch alone, and he’s not even really doing that because his hands are so painfully numb with cold. It’s muscle memory and luck that keep him from dashing himself on the jagged rocks. But on a night like this it doesn’t matter that he’s always a millimetre, a split second, from oblivion. On a night like this he’s only here because he doesn’t care anymore. On a night like this he’s here because no one cares. There’s not a soul in the world, including himself, who would mind if he ended the evening in a hundred tiny pieces, spattered across the cliffs. It would probably be a relief for everyone.

And this is the secret to Sev’s success. He has nothing to lose, nothing to tie him down, no one to miss him. He’s alone in this world and that makes him fearless. Nights like this are his best training, because if he can fly fast in this then he can win any race thrown at him. Nights like this might also be his downfall, but if they are then at least he’ll go out with his heart pounding in his chest, body flooded with adrenaline, feeling alive.

He flattens himself against his broom handle and lets go of everything and everyone. He’s alone, unwanted, with only his speed to give him any validity in the world. He exists to win races, and as much as he wishes there was more to it than that, there isn’t.

Sev is a racer, only a racer, and Albus was left behind in the Slytherin boys’ dormitory on his seventeenth birthday. Flying is all that’s left. There’s no turning back now, no changing it, no escaping what he’s created for himself. This rain-slick broom and these tight twists and turns are all that matter in his life. If he tames them both then he’s a hero; if he doesn’t then what’s the point of him anyway?

He weaves and turns and fights the wind. He shouldn’t still be alive but he is. And when he gets to the bottom of the gorge he flies back up, bowing his head against the wind, and does it all again. Each time he survives. Each time he cares a little bit less. Each time he flies with more flair and reckless abandon. This is the cycle of his life now until it ends. This is Sev’s world, and Albus can’t help but wish that he didn’t have to share it.

The wooden arm of the chair digs into Albus’s side, but he doesn’t move. He’s curled up beside Scorpius’s bed, trying to use the still, darkened room to lull himself to sleep, but he’s been here for hours and even though he’s exhausted, sleep isn’t coming.

He blinks and yawns, then peers through the gloom to see if there’s any sign of Scorpius waking up. There’s no movement from the bed. Scorpius is still lying flat on his back, blond hair spread across the pillow and shining in the faint light. There are bandages wrapped round his body and they’re still crisp white; he’s not bleeding anymore. He’s breathing now too. Even in the low light Albus can see his chest gently rising and falling. They’ve been told that he’ll wake up whenever he’s ready. It’s a waiting game.

A thin gold line in the air traces Scorpius’s heartbeat, the steady, determined pulse of life within him. From the outside everything looks fine, but another spell that’s hanging in the air next to it tells a different story.

A shadowy figure swirls with different colours that seem to change and shift by the second. Albus isn’t completely sure how to interpret the diagram – a Healer had explained it to them earlier but he’d been too busy staring at Scorpius’s unconscious form to pay attention – but he does know that the spell maps the injuries and spell damage scattered across Scorpius’s body, and he understands that red is bad.

There’s a lot of red. Most of it is in Scorpius’s head, a whole cluster of it, caused by multiple spells. Albus has tried to make himself stop staring at it but he hasn’t been able to yet. He wishes the Healers would dismiss the spell, but they’ve said they need it to monitor progress. Albus is no expert but he thinks they’re wasting their time. There is no progress. The situation just continues to be bad.

He rubs his eyes and bows his head. When he blinks it feels like he’s blinking sand. He’s so tired, but he can’t sleep.

A door clicks open across the room, and he jumps far too violently for such a tiny noise. His head jerks up and he stares wildly at the figure coming through the door. It’s just his dad, he realises. His dad, looking about as exhausted as he feels.

There’s soot smudged on his forehead, and he scratches at it and runs a hand through his hair before he realises Albus is watching him. He drops his hand to his side and comes over.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I wish I was,” Albus says, voice hoarse and scratchy. “What did they say?”

“Nothing.” Harry drops into the seat beside him. “They’ve tried absolutely everything with that book but they’ve got nowhere. The only thing they haven’t done yet is Parseltongue, and I don’t think any of us can do that these days anyway.” He sighs and rubs his eyes, then adjusts his glasses on his nose.

“He was adamant that it was important,” Albus says, glancing at his dad. “He wouldn’t let us go without it.”

Harry shrugs. “Hopefully he knows something we don’t. We can ask him about it when he wakes up.”

“If he wakes up,” Albus murmurs, looking once again at all the red.

Harry reaches across and rubs his back. “He’ll wake up. He’s Scorpius Malfoy, spectacularly stubborn and astoundingly resilient. Just like you. You two suit each other.”

Albus looks down at his hands. “I suppose so.”

“Is Draco back yet?”

Albus shakes his head. “Not yet.“

“Then we’ll have to take care of Scorpius ourselves while he’s away,” Harry says, giving Albus’s shoulder a squeeze.

“I don’t know if I should be allowed to do that,” Albus murmurs.

Harry lets go of his shoulder and shuffled sideways, looking at him. “Are you okay, Albus?”

Albus shakes his head. “No. I’m not, I’m- I’m scared.”

“Of what?” Harry asks, eyeing him carefully.

Albus hangs his head and hunches his shoulders. “I’m scared that... That he won’t wake up. I’m scared that all this is my fault. I’m scared of what he’ll say when he does wake up. I’m scared that I’ve been making all the wrong decisions this whole time, and that it’s hurt us all for nothing... I’m- I’m scared of everything, Dad. I think I’ve really, colossally fucked up, even more than I thought I had, I-“ He swallows and stares down at the ground. “I’ve been really stupid,” he whispers.

“Why do you think this is your fault?” Harry asks, frowning. “Someone hurt Scorpius and it wasn’t you...” He takes a breath. “When I was in school, in my fifth year, Voldemort’s snake attacked your granddad, and I saw it happen in a dream. I thought that was my fault too, even though it wasn’t. I know this stuff is difficult, Albus, but you don’t have to blame yourself for everything.”

Albus shakes his head. “But this isn’t like a snake in a dream. This is real, Dad. Draco told me what happened to Scorpius after I left. If I hadn’t run away then he would have got what he was supposed to in school, he wouldn’t have ended up working for you; he’d be safe in the Department of Mysteries, just like he always wanted.”

“But you don’t know that he’d be safe if you’d stayed,” Harry says. “We make a lot of decisions in our lives, Albus. You leaving was a big one but it’s not an exact chain from there to now. Seven years happened in between.” He resettles himself in his chair. “In my job I have to make a lot of decisions and sometimes people get hurt. If I dwell on every single one of those missions that went wrong, worrying if it was my fault, I’d go crazy. I used to do it, but I had to learn not to. Maybe you need to learn the same lesson now.”

Albus sits up. “You’re not listening to me,” he says, voice rising as he rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Scorpius got stuck. I left, everyone thought he’d killed me or kidnapped me, or- You did nothing to correct them. You knew the truth but you let it happen. You didn’t even help him. You didn’t promote him, you didn’t encourage him, you let him languish doing the shit jobs that no one else wanted. And now this particular shit job has left him like this.”

He flings his arm out, gesturing to the unconscious shape of Scorpius in the bed. “This is my fault. My fault for running away. And I guess it’s also your fault. Your fault for lying and protecting yourself and not caring about him. But maybe it doesn’t matter that it’s your fault because you won’t lose any sleep over it, will you?”

He’s on his feet now, and he’s shouting. He knows he shouldn’t be, because Scorpius needs to rest and heal, but he can’t stop himself. He’s exhausted and angry and upset, and now it’s all coming out in a huge wash of emotion.

“Albus,” Harry says in a hushed voice, also getting to his feet. “That’s not true. Of course these things bother me, of course I lose sleep over them, but-“

“But not enough to change anything,” Albus shouts, voice breaking. Hot tears blur his vision and he wipes a hand furiously across his eyes. “Everyone thinks you’re this big hero: Harry Potter, the boy who lived. But you’re not. Not anymore. You grew up without them noticing, and now you’re just Harry Potter, the man who didn’t give a shit. Not about me, not about Scorpius.”

He sniffs and wipes his eyes again. “I know I made a mistake, Dad. I admit it. I know that- that Delphi has something to do with all this. I left to find myself and my future and I don’t think I found anything except questionable friends and a job that’s nearly killed me several times. I’m as lost as I was when I started. But at least I’ll admit that. You won’t even admit that you’re the reason I ran away. You won’t admit that... that Scorpius could live or die and you wouldn’t care a-as long as you didn’t have to look at yourself in the mirror.”

He gulps in a breath between the desperate sobs that have overwhelmed him and keeps going. “I really want to fix things, Dad. I want to make things better, not just with Scorpius a-and my life and everything, but with you too. But it’s impossible. It’ll keep being impossible until you admit that we’re here because of both of us. Scorpius is... is there because of both of us. And I can’t just come back and say sorry because that’s not enough to give him what he deserves... I need you to think about that. Please. Because I-I really don’t want to keep doing this.”

He looks down at Scorpius, who hasn’t moved an inch despite the commotion. His eyes are still closed, he’s still breathing softly and slowly. And despite whatever might be going on inside him, whether he’ll wake up and be the same as he was before or not, whether he’ll even wake up at all, he’s still the Scorpius that Albus promised Draco he would help love, appreciate, and protect.

He goes over and kneels down next to Scorpius, taking hold of his hand. “I’m going outside for a bit,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry for all the noise. I love you and I’ll be back.” Then he kisses the back of Scorpius’s hand, gets to his feet, and strides from the room.

There’s a garden somewhere on the ground floor. He knows because he used to go and hide there back when James was in for his Dragon Pox. It’s not the most exciting place in the world, but it’s away from other people and it’s outside. Right now there’s nothing on earth that sounds better than having cool morning air on his face.

He follows the signs through the long, empty hospital corridors until he reaches a curlicued gold metal gate. He nudges it gently open and steps out into the shadowy courtyard.

The sun is up. It rises so early during the summer that he’d be amazed if it wasn’t. The sky is tinged with pale pink and deep blue, and the flowers are slowly starting to open after their night’s sleep. Everything is studded with a haze of dew, and he brushes his fingers through some tall grasses, letting the water drip from his fingertips.

At the far end of the garden, down the winding paths and past the blooming banks of flowers, there’s a bench nestled beneath a rose arch. The bench is damp with dew just like everything else in the garden, but Albus sits on it anyway. A little bit of water is hardly the worst thing he’s had on him today.

Even in the heather grey morning light the rose arch is still a conflagration of bright pinks and yellows and peaches. Albus leans against the back of the bench and stares up at the unfurling petals above him. Maybe when Scorpius is better they can sit out here together. He knows that Scorpius likes roses, or at least he used to, they remind him of his mum.

Albus pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them, staring out at the garden. Of all the bad days of the last seven years, of all the bad days of his life, this has to be one of the worst. Scorpius in hospital, another fight with his dad... This is the worst of everything. He doesn’t even have anywhere to run to now. The league doesn’t really feel like a sanctuary when he knows that someone in it has just tried to murder his boyfriend.

He buries his face in his hands and draws in a deep lungful of fresh, sharp, sweet-scented morning air. Everything is still. Everything is silent. It’s a new day. A new day should mean a fresh start, a chance to do better. But Albus assumes he’s going to spend it trying to undo the mistakes he’s already made. It’s much harder to be positive about a new start when he’s carrying the weight of so much baggage with him.

It would be easier if he had Scorpius by his side. Scorpius has made all of this so much less painful. He’s smoothed the path for Albus so far. But Scorpius can’t help now, and all Albus can see ahead is an impassably rocky path leading to somewhere hidden from view.

He ruffles a hand through his messy hair. It’s got far too long over the past few days. He’s starting to look like his dad again, which would have felt like a disaster before, but now it’s just a mild inconvenience. At least Scorpius likes him this way. And he can’t help but think that he looks more like himself than he has in a long time. Secretly he doesn’t mind this. Having to remember to keep Sev’s hair short was a nightmare, so it’s almost easier to have it this way – long and unruly.

He rubs his eyes and curls up tighter, yawning, lulled by the comfort of being alone. But just as he’s bowing his head and his eyes are starting to drift properly closed for the first time all night, he heard a voice on the other side of the garden and he jerks awake.

“Albus?” Harry’s voice. “Albus where are you?” He’s not calling loudly – they’re in a square surrounded by rooms, many of which have open windows – but Albus can hear him.

He stays perfectly still, holding his breath, but of course it’s futile hiding from his dad. It’s only worked once in his life, and he had to disguise himself and completely disappear to do it. Disappearance here is not an option, and a second later Harry rounds a bend in the path and spots him.

“Albus, you are out here.”

Albus nods and ducks his head. “I guess I am.”

Harry looks around as he walks up the path. “I forgot how nice this garden is.”

“But you didn’t forget that I like to sit out here,” Albus murmurs.

Harry shakes his head. “No. I didn’t. Some things never change.” He walks up to Albus and gestures to the bench next to him. “Can I sit?”

Albus shuffles right over into the corner of the bench and nods.

“Thanks,” Harry says softly, sitting beside him.

Albus picks at his shoe for a second, then glances at his dad. “Do you remember how I found this place?”

Harry nods. “When James was sick. You’d get bored of sitting with him and want to go exploring. You must have spent hours out here.”

“Better than being in that stuffy room,” Albus murmurs. “Anything was better than that... I really hate hospitals.”

“I don’t think anyone’s a real fan of them,” Harry says.

“No,” Albus agrees, remembering how Draco had looked earlier when they were allowed in to see Scorpius. He’d stood in the doorway surveying the room for a moment before giving a resigned sigh and going over to sit beside Scorpius.

There’s a momentary pause, then Harry takes a breath.

“Albus, I wanted to come and talk to you. About Scorpius.”

Albus looks at him uncertainly. He doesn’t know where this is going. “Okay,” he says.

Harry adjusts the cuffs of his shirt, and shifts closer to Albus on the bench. “Everything you said in Scorpius’s room just now, it’s valid. I admit that. I haven’t exactly done the best job of dealing with everything that’s happened, and I know that Scorpius has suffered because of that. Scorpius is too nice to complain about it himself, but Draco’s always vocal, and you’ve certainly made your opinion heard. So I really just wanted to reassure you that I’m not being complacent anymore.”

“Right...” Albus says, twisting round to look at him, curious about where this is going.

Harry holds up a hand. “I haven’t got far,” he says quickly. “I can do magic but I can’t work miracles. Things have moved so fast that it’s been difficult to keep up, but anyway.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “I’ve been talking to the Prophet about an interview or something, you know, to set the record straight. Maybe you and me, or just me, talking about everything that happened and you being back. I don’t know if people even really know that you’re back yet. I think making that clear and telling people everything would help. So... so that’s the first thing.” He pauses and looks to Albus for approval, but Albus doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t know what’s coming next or anything, so he just nods for his dad to go on.

“Second thing,” Harry says, ticking them off on his fingers. “And you don’t have to agree to this one. But I think it would be nice to do something to mark you coming home. But it wouldn’t just be that. It would be a sort of apology too. It would be to thank Scorpius for helping to find you. He’d be the guest of honour, and... well, it’s a work in progress.”

“Is there a third thing?” Albus asks, to put off having to react for a little bit longer.

Harry nods and rubs his hands together. “There is.” Albus can tell that this is the part he’s worked hardest on and is most nervous about. There’s a look in his eyes, and the false confidence of the way he’s holding his hands is hopelessly transparent.

“I’ve been talking to people in my department, and in, um, in other departments too, about where Scorpius might go when he’s recovered. You know, where there might be a job for him... That doesn’t mean I’m firing him,” he adds hurriedly, apparently seeing Albus’s look of horror. “His current job is still there. But I’m looking for a promotion for him. Somewhere with responsibility, where he can learn new things and develop a career. I haven’t talked to many people yet but I’m working on it. I’m hoping that someone in the Department of Mysteries might be interested – that’s where he wanted to be, right?” He trails off, looking anxiously at Albus, but now Albus really is speechless.

He stares at his dad in amazement, open mouthed and struggling to find the words. Finally he swallows and manages to form a full sentence.

“Are you serious?”

Harry nods, looking uncertain. “Yes, I... I’m serious. About all of it. Why? Do you think it’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Albus says. “I mean you should have done it all years ago, but... Does Scorpius know you’re looking for a new job for him?”

“It’s not just a new job,” Harry says. “I want him to have options – different offers to choose from – but no. I haven’t mentioned it.”

“You should tell Draco at least,” Albus says, uncurling himself. “He’d be pleased. I mean he might snark at you but he would be happy underneath.”

“First I need the offers,” Harry says. “I can’t make people help. It might take a few favours. But that’s why the other things are important. If we can change people’s perceptions then they’ll be easier to persuade, don’t you think?”

“So we do an interview together,” Albus says. “I don’t think Scorpius would like a big party. I mean maybe he would, but I don’t think he ever wants to be the centre of attention. You’d have to ask him. You never know, he might love it.” He gives a little shrug.

“You’ll do the interview then?” Harry asks, expression brightening as the sun climbs higher in the sky above them and the shadows recede from the garden.

Albus considers that for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I think I will. I don’t really think my way of clearing Scorpius’s name worked. Everyone thinks the guy on the steps was delusional. So it needs doing. Properly. And I like the job thing too, but I do think you should tell him. He probably knows exactly where he wants to work; what he wants to study. If you don’t want to ask him maybe I could...”

Harry smiles. “Yeah, alright. We can work together on this.”

Albus nods. “We can... And I’m sorry for shouting at you. Again.”

Harry waves a hand. “It happens. And I think I deserved it. I always deserve it.”

“Most of the time,” Albus agrees, shooting him a tiny grin.

There’s a beat of silence in which Albus twists round on the bench so he can lean against his dad, then Harry turns to look at him.

“Your mum said you’re coming for dinner on Sunday.”

“Is that alright?” Albus asks.

“Of course it is!” Harry says enthusiastically. “Definitely. I was wondering if you might want to come early and help cook. It’d be nice to have an extra competent pair of hands. You’re not racing or anything that day, are you?”

Albus shakes his head. “I’m not, just the night before. I think I could manage to come early.” He nudges his dad gently on the arm. “You can give me an update on your Scorpius Solutions.”

“Is that what we’re calling them?” Harry asks, grinning.

“Unless you can think of a better name,” Albus says. He relaxes against his dad’s side with a sigh. “We just have to hope he gets better so we can use them.”

Harry wraps an arm round his shoulder and gives him a squeeze. “Me too. For you and for Draco.”

“We need him,” Albus murmurs. “I need him. He helps me feel like maybe I can be a proper part of all this again one day. You know, like I can be part of this family, and his, and like I can have a proper life and a future, and...” He swallows and rests his head on his dad’s shoulder. “It’s harder to believe that without him here.”

Harry glances down at him. “It might be harder to believe but it’s still true.” He kisses the top of Albus’s head and hugs him tighter. “And you’re already a part of the family. You never stopped.”

Albus nods and doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to tell his dad that he still doesn’t think he deserves to be part of the family, that’ll probably just cause another argument. So instead he sits in silence and tries to let himself dream of belonging.

“Your mum told me about this,” his dad says after a little while, lightly brushing his little finger over the scars on Albus’s left arm. “You could let someone look at them while we’re here.”

Albus pulls his arm away and starts quickly rolling his sleeves down to cover the scars. He buttons his cuffs and sits up. “We should probably go back inside,” he says. “I want to see if anything’s changed.”

Harry nods and gets to his feet. His expression has clouded over a bit, and Albus sits and looks at him for a moment before sighing.

“My arms are okay, Dad. I promise. I can live with them. Maybe one day I’ll let someone have a look at them, but not today.”

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” Harry says.

Albus gives him a tight little smile. “My arms are the least of my worries. There’s other stuff that hurts me a lot more.” He gets to his feet and brushes the water of himself, then he pauses and looks at his dad again. His expression is still cloudy grey with the threat of rain, and Albus takes a step towards him.

“Dad?” He murmurs. “I promise I’m okay- Or, no I suppose I’m not, but I will be. And it’s not your fault, so...” He hesitates then cautiously holds his hands out, gripping the cuffs of his sleeves, and steps across to hug his dad. Harry also hesitates, but then he wraps an arm round Albus’s back, runs his other hand through Albus’s hair, and holds him.

When they pull apart Albus gives his dad a small shy smile and nudges him on the arm. “Thanks. Do you want to get coffee before we go upstairs?”

Harry runs a hand through his hair and returns the smile. “You still have your coffee obsession, then?”

Albus shrugs and starts walking back down the path between the flowerbeds. “It’s the only way I’m getting through today.”

Albus knows he’s only delaying the inevitable, but he does feel considerably brighter after just the first sip of coffee. They get the drinks to go, eager to get back to the room, and Albus sips his as they walk down the corridor. Not for the first time when they’ve been alone together they don’t talk, but today it doesn’t feel awkward or strained, it just feels like they’re content in each other’s company, and Albus is quite happy with that.

Albus is first to reach the room and he nudges the door quietly open and leads the way inside. He expects everything to be silent and dark but it’s not. A soft golden light is shining through the room and as well as Draco there are a couple of Healers. There’s also Scorpius, who is half sitting up, propped on his pillows, eyes almost open, looking a wreck but definitely awake.

Albus nearly drops his coffee on the floor. He just manages to keep his grip on it and shove it onto a nearby table as he rushes to Scorpius’s side, nudging his way in beside Draco.

“Scorpius,” he gasps. “You’re awake.”

Scorpius blinks groggily at him. “Albus,” he says in a hoarse whisper. “Hi.” He reaches out a hand to Albus, and Albus takes it and clings to it.

“Hi,” Albus whispers back, blinking hard to fight back a rising flood of tears. He squeezes Scorpius’s hand tight and looks up at the Healers in an effort to keep himself from breaking down. “A-am I okay here?” He asks. “Do you need me to move, or...?”

One of the Healers nods at him. “You’re alright for now.”

“Okay,” Albus murmurs. He looks at Draco next. “How long has he been awake?”

“A couple of minutes,” Draco says, patting Scorpius’s blankets into place. “I was wondering if I should come and find you. Scorpius was concerned that you weren’t here.”

Scorpius gives Albus a tiny, weak smile. “I-I thought... Thought you might have disowned me when... when I didn’t come for the date.”

Albus sniffs and shakes his head. “Don’t be stupid. Why would I disown you for that? Anyway, I know you’re never late so I went and got your dad and we found you.”

Scorpius’s eyes flutter closed and he inhales a soft, steady breath. Even though he looks awful he’s clearly much better than he was earlier. “You found me,” he whispers. “I remember that. I-I heard someone coming and I thought it was...” His face screws up. “I thought... I-I don’t know. I thought it was someone bad. But... but it was you. You and Dad. I hoped you’d find me.”

Albus glances at Draco, wanting to acknowledge that Scorpius has recognised their team work, but Draco isn’t looking at him. Instead he’s frowning at Scorpius.

“Do you remember who you thought might be coming back?” Draco asks, smoothing a wrinkle out of Scorpius’s blanket.

Scorpius squeezes his eyes tight shut, face wrinkling as he strains to remember. “I-I should. I know I should. But I... I don’t. Not a face or... or a name, or... I-I don’t even remember what happened.” He opens his eyes and looks at the Healers. “It’s bad that I don’t remember,” he says. “Isn’t it?”

Albus glances at one of the Healers, who’s paused in the midst of casting spells.

“You’ve taken some significant spell damage,” she says. “We still need to work out what those spells were. It’s not completely clear, but it’s not unexpected for you to be having some trouble remembering what happened.” She flashes Scorpius a reassuring smile. “The good thing for now is that you seem to have most of your memories from outside the incident.”

Scorpius nods. “I-I know who I am, and... everything.”

“But if he doesn’t know what happened,” Harry says from the corner of the room where he’s standing, “how are we supposed to know who attacked him?”

“I’m sorry,” Scorpius whispers, looking at Harry. “I can try and remember. Maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough to-“

“No,” Draco says in a fierce voice that makes Albus flinch away from him and Scorpius stare wide-eyed in fear. “No,” Draco says much more softly. “You don’t need to worry about that. You’re alive, you’re awake. Those are the only things I care about. We can deal with who did this later.” He turns and glares over his shoulder at Harry. “Can’t we?”

Harry holds his hands up in apology and surrender, and nods. “We can.”

“Good,” Draco says. He leans across and kisses Scorpius on the forehead. “All you need to do now is rest. Rest and heal. Okay?”

Scorpius closes his eyes and gives the tiniest twitch of his head as a nod. “Okay.” He rolls his head to the side, and for a moment Albus thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then his eyes open a crack and reaches his hand out and brushes a finger down Albus’s cheek. “I need to get better soon. I... I owe you a date.”

Albus smiles and catches hold of Scorpius’s hand so he can kiss it. “It looked like a really nice restaurant,” he says. “It would be beautiful on a summer evening. You can have a glass of wine and sit outside in the garden. We could spend hours out there talking.”

Scorpius settles himself into the pillows and his eyes close again. “What would we talk about?” He asks in a croaky, exhausted voice.

Albus squeezes his hand. “Everything. The past, the future. We could talk about racing, if you want, or you could tell me about history or-or whatever magic you’re reading about at the moment, or...”

Scorpius swallows. “I saw a broom in Diagon Alley,” he says, voice creaking; it sounds painfully dry. “I thought of you. It looked fast. Fast enough for you.”

“You’ll have to take me to see it,” Albus murmurs. “Do you want some water? Your voice sounds-“

“It’s fine,” Scorpius rasps. “I don’t think I’ll be awake much longer anyway.” He gives Albus’s hand a weak squeeze and shifts about. Albus tries to help him get comfortable but doesn’t know if he’s done a good job. Scorpius seems happy enough though, and he nods. “Better... Now will you talk me to sleep?”

“Am I that interesting?” Albus asks, and Scorpius’s lips quirk up at the sides. Albus can tell that he’d be rolling his eyes if they were open.

“Your voice is soothing,” Scorpius says.

“Don’t worry,” Albus says. “I’m not offended. Let me find something really boring to talk about... Hmm. How about potion making in the 1700s?”

“That actually sounds really interesting,” Scorpius murmurs. “Go on.”

So Albus starts talking. He doesn’t remember everything about the subject – they’d studied it just before he’d left Hogwarts – but he always found it fascinating, and a lot of it comes back as he talks.

He can feel Scorpius’s grip on his hand slackening, and Scorpius’s arm becoming a dead weight, and finally Scorpius’s breathing slows and calms, and it’s quite clear that he’s asleep. At that point Albus lets go of his hand and reels back, hit by a sudden wave of emotion. He collapses back from his knees onto his backside and buries his face in his hands as he starts to cry again. Both Draco and his dad rush to his side, but he brushes them away and struggles to his feet, wiping his eyes.

“No... no. I’m fine,” he sniffs. “I’m okay. I-I’m just happy he’s alright, and...” He looks at the Healers. “He is alright, isn’t he?”

The Healer who hasn’t spoken yet stops the spell he’s casting and tucks his wand away. “The wounds are looking much better now,” he says. “There will probably be a little bit of scarring but no real lasting damage. And I’ve just been looking at the spell damage to his brain. As far as I can tell it’s caused by the effects of a couple of different spells, cast multiple times.”

“Which ones?” Draco asks sharply. He’s on his feet too now, and he’s gripping Albus’s shoulder. Albus wishes his dad were closer so he could hold onto someone too.

“The Cruciatus Curse,” the Healer says, and Draco’s grip tightens to the point that it’s uncomfortable, digging hard enough into Albus’s shoulder to bruise. “And it looks like he’s been Obliviated too, twice in quick succession.”

“Does that mean...?” Harry asks, trailing off.

Draco looks round at him. “Does that mean what? Potter, what are you on about?”

Albus looks round too, to see his dad looking fixedly at the Healer and ignoring Draco.

“It means,” the Healer says steadily, “that there’s a very good chance that he’ll never regain his full memory of the attack. He might not even remember any of it. The spells are so close together that even if we managed to reverse one or even both, the memories would be so badly damaged that it might not help. And given that his memory otherwise seems to be excellent, I’d suggest that it wouldn’t be in his best interests to attempt something that’s unlikely to help and might even make things worse.”

“So we’ll never know who did this, then?” Harry asks, gesturing to Scorpius. “He’ll never be able to tell us?”

The Healer waves his hands in an uncertain sort of way. “We can’t say never. Sometimes things come back to people, sometimes these spells don’t do the damage we expect, perhaps he will remember with enough time and rest, but I’d say it’s unlikely. What is likely is that flashes of what happened to him will come back, but we normally find that these flashes are more confusing for patients than helpful. I’m sorry.”

Draco turns to look at Harry, his expression hard. “We’ll have to find out what happened another way then. I’m not putting Scorpius’s memory in any more danger... That book. Scorpius knew it was important but not why. The book has to be the key.”

Harry sighs and scratches his forehead. “We’ve tried to get into the book but it’s blank. It just looks like an unused journal.”

“So did Riddle’s diary,” Draco says. “Am I correct?”

Harry shrugs. “Yes, but-“

“You’re Harry Potter,” Draco says. “Work your magic. If you can’t work it out no one can.”

“And you’re an expert on dark artefacts,” Harry counters. “Maybe we should have a look at it together.”

Draco narrows his eyes, considering. “You might have a point.”

Albus shuffles his feet and looks between the two of them. “If either of you can find out who hurt Scorpius... I’d appreciate it. I-I really need to know who it was.”

If Scorpius can’t remember and they never get any answers, then the dread inside Albus will never go away. He needs to be sure. He needs to know with one hundred percent certainty that he hasn’t spent the past seven years making the most terrible mistake. Because at the moment all he knows is that Scorpius was found injured in Delphi’s room, and that’s not a great start.

Draco nods. “We will find out,” he says. “We’ll find a way. Between the lot of us we have to, right Potter?”

Harry looks at Albus, and Albus looks away from him, afraid that his dad can read his thoughts and suspicions and worries. Delphi is his best friend, he shouldn’t be worried about her being behind all this. But he is. He can’t help himself. If he asked her she might clear up his doubt in a heartbeat, but until he works up the courage for that he’s stuck with doubts that he’d really rather not have.

“Don’t worry, Albus,” Harry says. “We’ll get to the bottom of this somehow, with Scorpius’s memory or without it.”

Albus doesn’t want to leave the hospital but he’s too exhausted not to, and when Draco realises that he’s gradually falling asleep in the chair by Scorpius’s bed, he insists that Albus go home and rest.

Getting home isn’t easy; Albus nearly Splinches himself because he can’t stay focused on where he’s going for long enough. But eventually he arrives in one piece at his own front door, and when he gets inside he collapses onto his sofa and falls fast asleep right there.

It’s dark outside when he wakes up, and there’s a light summer rain pattering on the window panes. His neck aches, and he sits up, rubbing it and grimacing with discomfort. Hunger gnaws at his stomach, and he goes and heats up some soup, which he guzzles down in one go, accompanied by some bread. With his hunger abated, he goes and sits in his bedroom window, staring out at the city below and the rolling hills in the distance. It’s there that everything comes flooding back.

Scorpius’s memory is damaged so he might never know who attacked him. They found him in Delphi’s room though, a room that Albus guesses only she has access to; if he didn’t know that was where she was staying then he doubts anyone else did either. At the race the other day Scorpius thought Delphi was following him. Someone from the league has been trying to hurt him ever since Albus found him again.

And then there’s the rest of the picture: Delphi’s Death Eater friends, Delphi’s secrets, Delphi’s plans. It all comes together to form a tapestry that points to the one thing Albus can’t contemplate – that the woman who’s been his best friend for years, who he’s given his love and trust to, is not the person he thought she was, and that Albus has made the worst mistake of his life.

There’s only one thing to do with a night like this, and with feelings like this. He shoves the window open, grabs the nearest broomstick, and flies out into the darkness.

A light breeze brushes down the city streets and ruffles the dry grass of the moors beyond. The rain is getting heavier by the moment, drenching Albus and hammering down on the parched earth, kicking up dust. The evening is still warm, but the breeze and rain are cooling it down, and thunder rumbles ominously in the distance.

It doesn’t take Albus long to fly to the gorge. Beneath him the ground becomes rockier, the hills swelling, and through the rain and darkness he can see the long scar carving across the landscape. He sweeps down and lands at the top of the cliffs, hopping off onto the grass and staring into the ravine.

It’s bigger than he remembers. The rocks are more jagged, and the gouge in the ground runs far deeper. The road twists in sharper, more extreme bends. After a year away it looks intimidating, and as he follows the zig zags of the road away into the distance, he can’t help but wonder how he ever flew down here. It seems catastrophically stupid. He’s afraid, and with a jolt he realises that he doesn’t want to do this.

Maybe he’s got cautious in his time away. Maybe he’s forgotten how to be brave. He shouldn’t be scared of this. There’s not even any Fiendfyre involved. It’s a gorge that he’s flown down thousands of times before. And yet...

He sits down in the wet grass, setting his broom next to him. His hair is plastered flat to his head, water dripping in his eyes. He wipes it away and stares down at the knees of his sodden trousers, trying to work out why he feels like this.

Every time he’s come here before he’s been able to just get on his broom and fly. On a miserable, rainy night when he’s feeling down, this sort of flying is what he needs. It feels good to stop caring, to let go of everything and hurl himself down the rocky path with reckless abandon, fuck the consequences. But tonight, even though he feels awful, the thought of doing that makes him feel worse.

He hugs his knees and stares blankly out across the rainwashed hills. The image of Scorpius, curled up in his hospital bed, too exhausted to keep his eyes open, flickers through Albus’s mind. He’d promised Scorpius he wouldn’t disappear again. He’d promised Scorpius that he wouldn’t leave. He can’t go back on that now, not after everything, and if he did go careening down here and lose control that would be the worst sort of abandonment. There’s no coming back from death.

In a flash it comes to him. He has something to live for now. He has people who he knows care about him, not just Scorpius but his mum and dad, his siblings, maybe even Draco. He cares about them in return too. That’s the difference. That’s what’s changed. It’s not that he’s become afraid, it’s that he’s found the thing he’s been missing all along, the thing to tie him down and make him cautious. He’s found something to lose.

Every other time he’s been here he’s felt entirely alone and abandoned. It wouldn’t have made a difference to him or anyone else if he’d died. But now it does. He doesn’t want to leave Scorpius like that; he can’t imagine what it would do to his mum and dad to have him back and then lose him again. As much as he’s having a bad night and just wants to forget the world and fly in a mad rush of adrenaline, he can’t forget everything. He can’t forget his family.

He curls up smaller, bowing his head as the realisation hits. This means that he matters. This means that he’s not alone. This means that his life means more than just his ability to fly faster and harder than anyone else. There’s actually a point to him being here. He doesn’t really know what that point is, but it would make a difference to at least a few people if he weren’t here, and it’s been a long time since he could say that.

None of this helps with his Delphi problem, of course. It doesn’t make it better, it doesn’t help him forget it, in fact it makes it worse. It makes everything so much worse. He abandoned everyone who cares about him for her. He wasted seven years of his life being lonely and lost for her. And now he discovers that she might not be everything he thought she was, that he might have misjudged.

Speculation is pointless, he knows that. He should talk to her or wait for his dad and Draco to examine Scorpius’s book. But he can’t help but hold that slither of doubt in his mind. It’s impossible to chase away now it’s there, sown like a seed, slowly putting down roots and beginning to grow. There’s enough there to leave him feeling foolish and betrayed. If he’d made better choices from the start then maybe he would never have flown recklessly down this gorge. Maybe he would never have put himself in danger. Maybe he’d have always had something to lose.

He flops his legs out into the grass in front of him and rolls his broom towards him. Now the rain has soaked him to the skin he’s freezing cold and starting to shiver. His nose is beginning to run, and he wipes it, swiping away the water. It’s late and the light breeze is whipping up into something stronger. He needs to go home, he needs to rest, and tomorrow he needs to go and see Scorpius again. Those are his priorities now, not races or suicidal flights down the gorge or anything else. It’s all about Scorpius.

The broom rises off the ground beneath his hand, like it’s ready to go home. He doesn’t bother to argue with it. He gets to his feet and throws one last look at the snaking line of the gorge, then he mounts his broom, kicks off the ground, and starts flying back towards Bristol.

The next morning, Albus wakes up drenched in sunlight but still soggy from his exploits in the rain. He rolls out of bed with a groan and starts peeling off his damp clothes, then he drags himself to the bathroom to shower. When he gets there he dumps his fresh clothes on the ground and stares at himself in the mirror.

Albus’s face – green eyes, messy black hair, his dad’s sharp nose – stares back. Beneath is the body he’s spent seven years working on, all compact strength. It’s marred only by the scars, which today are a calm, pale pink, and the long black spirals of the tattoos. There’s his ear too, which this morning just has a simple silver stud sparkling from the lobe.

He runs a hand through his hair and twists from side to side, trying to decide who he looks more like this morning, Albus or Sev. As he does he spots the black mark on his shoulder, and he strains his body so he can see it properly. Delphi’s wings are stark against his skin, and he trails a finger over the tattoo, his heart sinking. As long as he has that he’s tied to her, or at least his past is. As long as he has that he can’t escape Sev, no matter who he wants to be.

He lies his palm flat over the black wings, hiding them from view, and looks at himself again. Albus stares back, Albus with the scars and physique of a broom racer, Albus with Sev’s history and an uncertain future. He closes his eyes so he can’t see himself anymore and turns away to get into the shower.

It’s a cool day, thanks to the rain, so Albus arrives at the hospital wearing his favourite green hoodie and jeans. He nudges the door to Scorpius’s room open with his hip and discovers that Scorpius is alone in there, and that he’s awake.

“You look like you’re fourteen again,” Scorpius says, shooting him a grin that sparkles with mischief.

“Someone’s feeling better,” Albus replies, going over and holding his arms out for a hug, not entirely sure if hugging is allowed.

Scorpius shuffles into a better position and pats Albus carefully on the back, then kisses him for good measure. Albus brushes his fingers through Scorpius’s hair and smiles at him.

“It’s nice to see you awake.”

“They promised me food,” Scorpius says. “And Dad’s gone to get tea. He might get you a coffee if you run after him. He only left a minute ago.”

Albus shakes his head and flops into the chair by Scorpius’s bed. “No, I’m not in the mood for running today. I had a late night last night.”

“Doing what?” Scorpius asks, curling up on his side so he can look at Albus.

“I flew to the top of a gorge and sat in the rain,” Albus says.

Scorpius narrows his eyes at him. “Why?”

“I was going to fly down it,” Albus says. “But when I got there I realised that would be stupid, and that you and Mum and Dad would probably miss me if I ended up smashed into small squishy pieces on the rocks.”

Scorpius blinks several times. “Right,” he says slowly. “That wasn’t the answer I was expecting...” He reaches out and puts a hand on Albus’s arm. “Are you okay, Albus?”

Albus looks at him and nods. “Yes, I am. I promise. It just wasn’t a great night. But I... I realised that there’s a point to me being here now. I don’t know what it is, but... there is one.”

Scorpius frowns. “Of course there’s a point to you being here, Albus. And yes. We would miss you. We missed you when you left last time.” He squeezes Albus’s arm, and brushes his thumb against Albus’s skin. “How long have you been thinking that there was no point to you?”

Albus looks down and tracks the progress of Scorpius’s thumb, giving a small shrug. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “A while.” He looks up. “But it’s not a problem anymore. I promise. I told you I wouldn’t leave you again and I won’t.”

“Good,” Scorpius says softly. “Because I would miss you.”

Albus nods. “I’d miss you too.” He bows his head and lets silence stretch out between them for a moment, then he looks up at Scorpius. “I used to fly down that gorge a lot. It was sort of a training thing, I suppose. But I liked the adrenaline rush, and I liked not thinking or caring. I didn’t expect that anything would have changed. But then when I got there... I couldn’t make myself do it. I couldn’t fly down there, just in case something happened. And I think I realised how everyone I race against feels.”

He picks at the edge of Scorpius’s blanket, staring down at the woven strands of wool. “Everyone else always had something tying them down, something to lose if they pushed too hard or lost control or whatever. But I never did. Not until last night... And I think I like it. If I had to pick anyone or anything to tie me down, it would definitely be you.” He looks up at Scorpius. “I know I ran away, but... I never wanted to be lost. I never wanted to not fit. And now I have you and I don’t think I am anymore. Not like I was, anyway.”

“Being lost doesn’t feel good,” Scorpius murmurs. “I, um. I don’t remember much about what happened to me the other day, but I remember that. I remember lying there and knowing that no one could see me or hear me, that I couldn’t move, and that everything hurt. I remember thinking that surely no one would ever find me. I-I did feel lost. I mean I hoped that you and Dad would somehow find me, but... I wasn’t sure.” He looks at Albus and his eyes are sad and dull, some of the spark gone from them. “I’m sorry you had to feel like that. I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

Albus shakes his head. “No, you did. You...” He sighs. “I don’t think I realised that you were what I needed. I was so busy trying to find where I belonged that I didn’t realise I... I sort of already did.”

“You shouldn’t regret it,” Scorpius says softly. “Running away. Don’t do that. It happened, and it changed you, in a lot of ways for the better I think. If you hadn’t done it you wouldn’t be you.”

“But what about-“

“Me?” Scorpius asks. He shrugs. “I wouldn’t be who I am either.”

“But-“

Scorpius looks him dead in the eye. “I’m serious. Please don’t regret it. It’ll...” He licks his dry lips and smooths a hand over his blankets. “It’ll make everything harder.”

“Fine,” Albus murmurs, bowing his head. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Scorpius says. He shifts on the bed, struggling to sit up more, and Albus tries to help prop the pillows up to support him. “When’s my dad going to be back?” He asks. “I really want that tea...”

“I can go and look for him if you want,” Albus offers, already half on his feet, but Scorpius shakes his head.

“No, this place is a maze and he likes to wander. You’ll never find him.”

“Alright,” Albus says, settling back down.

There’s a stretch of silence after that, then Scorpius glances at Albus, his expression guarded in a way that makes Albus nervous about what he’s about to say.

“Go on,” Albus prompts. “What is it?”

Scorpius licks his lips again, then draws in a breath. “I... I have actually started to remember a few things about what happened, you know.”

Albus blinks at him. “You have?”

Scorpius nods. “I have. Not much, but little flashes...”

Albus shuffles his chair closer to Scorpius’s bed and nods eagerly. “Go on.”

Scorpius twists his hands together. “I remember talking to a barman downstairs. I think he was flirting with me, and he gave me a drink, he called it a Love Potion. Then it gets a bit blurry... but I know I went upstairs and got into a room, and I found the book...” He looks up at Albus. “You got the book, didn’t you?”

Albus nods. “Dad and Draco are looking at it.”

Scorpius exhales. “Good. That’s good. Anyway, I read it, and I found something, I don’t even know what I found but I know it was important. And then everything goes blank... Someone came, and next thing I remember is lying on the floor knowing I needed help because everything hurt. And then you and Dad were there...”

“Is that everything you remember?” Albus asks. “You definitely don’t remember who came to the room?”

Scorpius shakes his head, screwing his face up as he strains to remember. “I definitely don’t. No.”

“Alright,” Albus say thoughtfully. “What about the barman? What about the drink? Do you know what was in it?”

“Pearl Dust,” Scorpius says confidently. “I remember Pearl Dust, and...” He trails off, rubbing his forehead. “Just Pearl Dust. Then nothing but the stairs and... and the room.” He lifts his head and looks at Albus. “What if there was something in the drink? I remember asking the barman about that, but I don’t remember what he said, and... What if that had something to do with it?”

Albus shrugs. “You never know. Maybe we should tell the Healers just in case.” His heart races with hope. “Maybe we should tell my dad too.”

Scorpius digs the heels of his hands into his forehead and scrunches his face up. “I can’t remember... The person who was in the room... Not their voice, o-or their face, or-“ He hisses and bows his head. “Come on,” he mutters, “I need to remember. I-I need to-“

“Scorpius,” Albus says gently, rubbing a hand down his arm, “don’t hurt yourself. Please. I know you want to remember, but...”

Scorpius shakes his head. “I know it’s in there. I know I-“ His expression shifts like a thought has just struck him, and for a second Albus thinks he’s remembered something, but then he lifts his head and looks at Albus. “Where’s my wand?”

Albus hesitates. “Why do you want that?”

“Where is it?” Scorpius repeats. “I want it.” He sits up, wrapping an arm across his stomach and wincing as he twists around. He pats the bedside table, hand fumbling over the top, but he can’t quite reach the second shelf down, and that’s where Albus knows his wand is hiding.

“Scorpius,” he says, going round the bed. “I don’t know if you should-“

“Got it,” Scorpius says, lifting his hand to show the curved, scarred wood of his wand. “I want to remember, Albus. I need to. So I’m going to.” He turns his wand and presses the tip to his temple.

“This is a really really bad idea,” Albus says, standing at the foot of the bed, not sure what to do. He can’t dive across and grab Scorpius’s wand, Scorpius is injured, and he doesn’t want to have to fight him. “When you were unconscious the Healers said it wasn’t worth the risk. You were Obliviated twice, Scorpius. Even if you can undo one the other would still be there. It’s impossible.”

Scorpius gives him a fierce look. “Don’t you want to know who did it?”

“Of course,” Albus says, “but not if it’s going to risk your health.”

Scorpius’s expression hardens into a glare. “I’ve been torn apart, my head hurts, my memory’s gone. There’s not much health to risk.”

“You know who you are though,” Albus says. “You know about me and your dad. The only thing you don’t remember is-“

“The most important thing.” Scorpius adjusts his grip on the handle of his wand and draws in a deep breath that Albus recognises as him preparing to cast a spell. Albus has only a split-second to react, and he does it without thinking.

“Expelliarmus,” he cries, pointing his wand straight at Scorpius.

Scorpius’s wand flies straight up out of his hand, ricochets off the ceiling, and Albus manages to snatch it out of the air.

“What are you doing?” Scorpius asks, voice high-pitched and more than a little bit hysterical.

“Stopping you from hurting yourself,” Albus replies, trying to keep his tone calm but finding it impossible. He can’t control himself. Everything has to turn into an argument, but he’s never argued with Scorpius before.

Scorpius screws his face up in pain as he leans forward away from his pillows and starts trying to swing his feet round onto the floor. “I want to remember,” he says through gritted teeth. “Give me my wand back. It’s mine.”

“I can’t,” Albus says, backing away. “Get back into bed or I’ll have to call someone for help.”

“It’s my mind,” Scorpius says. He gets his feet onto the floor and closes his hand around the metal bedhead. “My mind, my memories, my wand. I want them back.”

“I know you do, but... but you can’t.” Albus holds Scorpius’s wand behind his back and his own out in front of him. “Please don’t get up, you’ll hurt yourself. I’m supposed to be the stupid one, Scorpius. This isn’t sensible.”

“I don’t want to be sensible,” Scorpius says, clawing his way upright. “I want to know who hurt me, I-“ He pauses, swaying on his feet as his knees nearly give way beneath him. “I want to remember.” With a final effort he pushes himself forward away from the bed, still hunched over and holding his stomach, still swaying, almost on the verge of falling.

Albus can’t stand there and watch. He pockets both the wands and rushes over to Scorpius, holding him by the arm, and not a moment too soon. Scorpius’s legs give out, and he crumples. Albus just about manages to support him as he goes down, stopping him from hurting himself, and crouches on the ground next to him, still holding onto him.

“Why did you try and get up?” He asks. “Scorpius...”

“I want to know what happened,” he says, making a futile snatch at the wands in Albus’s pocket. “I... I hate not remembering. I hate it.”

“I know,” Albus says. “I know, but this isn’t the way.” He catches hold of Scorpius’s hand and holds it tight, and thankfully Scorpius stops fighting and grips Albus’s hand in return.

“When you found me,” he murmurs, looking at Albus. “When you found me I-I’d been there for hours. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t talk, everything hurt. I didn’t know why I was there or what was wrong. I-I just knew that there was pain and blood, and that I’d...” He sucks in a breath and shifts around like he’s trying to get comfortable. Albus wraps an arm round his back so he doesn’t have to support himself.

“Confused,” Scorpius goes on. “Lost. Hurt. Humiliated. I don’t understand what happened or why. I just want an answer.”

Albus hugs him and kisses his cheek. He nods and rests his head gently against Scorpius’s. “Me too,” he whispers. “Even if the answer scares me I still want to know. I want to know who I can trust.”

“Won’t you let me even try?” Scorpius asks, gesturing to the wands. “We both want this. We can get our answer.”

Albus shakes his head. “I can’t, Scorpius.”

Scorpius deflates. “It’s right here,” he says, tapping himself on the head. “I know it’s in here somewhere. I want to find it. It’s so frustrating.” He clenches his fingers in his hair and gives a small growl, then he flops his forehead onto Albus’s shoulder and dissolves into tears while Albus holds him.

They’re still there a couple of minutes later when the door opens and Draco comes in.

“I brought the tea- What are you two doing on the floor?”

“We were just getting up,” Albus says, gently looping his arm under Scorpius’s arms. “Come on, lean on me sweetheart.” Scorpius lets Albus help him up off the floor, and together they manage to get Scorpius sitting back in bed.

“And how did Scorpius end up down there?” Draco asks, eyes burning into Albus.

Albus opens his mouth to answer, not really knowing what to say. He doesn’t want to incriminate Scorpius, but he also doesn’t particularly want to lie to Draco. In the end he pulls Scorpius’s wand from his pocket and presents it to Draco.

“This needs looking after,” he says.

“Looking after?” Draco takes the wand, frowning down at it, then he glances at Scorpius. “What does that mean?”

“You should try it,” Scorpius mutters. “Not remembering. It’s awful.”

Draco stares at him. “Did you-“

“He wanted to try and get his memories back,” Albus says. “He was going to...” He waves a hand vaguely around his head. “So I Disarmed him.”

“Scorpius,” Draco murmurs.

Scorpius wipes his nose on the back of his hand. “Can I have my tea?”

“I think we should talk about-“

“Can someone please give me something I want?” Scorpius’s voice rings through the room, and Albus recognises the misery and anger in it. He’s felt that way himself too many times to count.

“Here,” Draco says softly, handing the cup across to him. “Be careful, it’s hot.”

“It’s tea,” Scorpius says sulkily. “It’s meant to be hot.”

Draco clenches his fists and folds his arms, but he doesn’t say anything to Scorpius. Instead he turns and looks at Albus.

“Do you mind waiting outside for a second?”

Albus shrugs. It’s almost a relief to be asked to leave. For the first time in his life he’s grateful to have an excuse to no longer be in Scorpius’s company. He turns towards the door, and as he does he can see Scorpius watching him out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t look round to catch Scorpius’s gaze. Instead he slips outside and closes the door behind him, then he rests his back against it and slump down onto the ground, burying his face in his hands.

Scorpius in this state isn’t something that he likes. He’s so used to Scorpius being calm and compliant, taking everything life throws at him and dealing with it without complaint. But now Scorpius is finally fighting back and it’s ugly and difficult, and it makes sense, of course it does, for Scorpius to be angry. He deserves to be angry after everything that’s happened. But that doesn’t make it any nicer to deal with.

He gets to his feet, rubbing his arm where Scorpius had accidentally scratched him while lunging for his wand. It stings a bit, but Albus has had worse so it hardly bothers him.

He turns on the spot in the middle of the empty corridor and sighs. He doesn’t know what to do now or what to think. He doesn’t know what’s his fault and what’s not. He doesn’t know if he was meant to do anything different to help Scorpius. If it had been him he’d have fought harder to get his wand back and been quicker to use it. Should he have just let Scorpius get on and do what he wanted to do? What if Scorpius is upset with him now?

He runs his hands through his hair and starts pacing up and down the corridor until he hears the door to Scorpius’s room creak open behind him. He spins round to see Draco standing there, mouth a thin, irritated line that Albus is afraid is directed at him.

“He says he’s going to sleep,” Draco says.

Albus folds an arm across his chest and picks at the sleeve of his hoodie. “Okay.”

“He’s had a difficult couple of days,” Draco says. “I’m amazed he’s lasted this long without...” He gestures with one hand and shakes his head. “He gets his self restraint from his mother.”

“Is he mad at me?” Albus asks. “I would be mad at me. But I thought I was doing the right thing...”

Draco sighs. “Sometimes I don’t think there’s a right thing to do, Albus.”

“So you think I should have-“

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Draco interrupts, and when Albus looks at him he doesn’t think he looks angry or upset. He just looks tired.

“So even if Scorpius is mad at me... you’re not?”

“Not today,” Draco confirms. “Personally I’m quite glad you didn’t let him obliterate all his memories by accident or whatever it was he was going to end up doing. That would have left him in an even worse mood than he’s in now.”

“He wouldn’t have been very happy,” Albus agrees. “I just remembered what the Healers said, and...” He puts his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders. “Isn’t there anything they can do to make it better? They could at least try, right?”

“They could,” Draco says. “We talked about it... Scorpius thinks it would be worth it.”

Albus nods, then he glances at Draco. “I’m going to talk to Delphi,” he says. “She might not tell me the truth, but... I-I want to talk to her.”

Draco’s expression turns very serious. “Be careful,” he says softly.

“She’s my best friend. I think it would be-“

“She may be your best friend but that doesn’t mean... Perhaps it would be wise to talk to your dad first.”

“I don’t need protection,” Albus says. “I’ve been around her for seven years and I’ve been safe. Whoever hurt Scorpius left him alive, and I’m much more likely to be safe than him.” He draws in a breath. “Even if she is, you know, not who I thought... I know she has plans. Maybe... Maybe she needs me. Maybe Harry Potter’s son is more valuable alive than dead.”

“I don’t think that’s an asset you should have to count on,” Draco says darkly.

“I’m also her star broom racer,” Albus replies with a shrug. “It all has to count for something. Honestly, I think – I hope – I’ll be okay.”

“Be careful,” Draco repeats, carefully stressing each word. “Scorpius wants you back in one piece. He may be annoyed at you now but he won’t be by the time he wakes up. I can guarantee that.”

“I’ll take care of myself,” Albus promises.

Draco gives a curt nod. “Good. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I have a race tomorrow, and dinner with parents on Sunday. But I-I’ll try and come by. Maybe in the morning. Definitely in the morning.”

“Very well,” Draco says.

Albus turns to walk away but pauses and glances back. “Tell Scorpius I love him.”

Draco gives a very small, tired smile. “Of course.”

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

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grindellore · 6 years

Text

fanfiction: and when he falls (chapter 2)

Fandom: Harry Potter | Fantastic Beasts Pairing: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald Characters: Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald, Ariana Dumbledore, Bathilda Bagshot Rating: M (raised for a WWI vision of Gellert’s and for an explanatory end note)

Summary: Second chapter of my Summer of 1899 Grindeldore fic.

Also available on my AO3 (see the link in my profile).

“So ... what is this mysterious project for which you need to conduct so much historical research?” Albus asked as he entered the second room to the right that had temporarily been transformed into Gellert’s chamber. Its ceiling was so low that Albus needed to duck his head while Gellert was just barely able to stand upright.

The room had always been intended for guests, as it seemed, with a comfortable bed to the right and a dressing table underneath a window diagonally opposite to the chamber door. Directly opposite, there was a beautifully carved wooden desk with two boards above it that Gellert used as bookshelves.

“I think it’s best if you see for yourself.” Gellert went to the desk, took some neatly stacked sheets of parchment from it and two books from the shelves, and handed them all to Albus. The other boy took them wordlessly and kneeled to the floor, spreading the parchment all around him so he could better examine it. Gellert took a book he hadn’t perused yet and flopped down on his bed, but he couldn’t focus on reading. Instead, he watched Albus who seemed to have forgotten all around himself, completely absorbed in the texts he was reading. His long, straight auburn hair was shimmering in the afternoon air, hiding half of his face.

Strange, Gellert thought. He had half assumed Albus would broach Gellert’s reaction to the green carnation again, but he seemed to have dropped the matter completely. Written words were apparently much more interesting to him than witty banter—if it was indeed witty banter Albus had aimed for.

Gellert suddenly realised that what he felt was disappointment. He wanted Albus’s attention; craved for Albus to make him the target of his wry humour again.

“I don’t think your book will read itself to you while you keep staring at me.” Albus hadn’t even so much as looked up, but he had apparently sensed Gellert’s eyes on him.

Gellert winced and opened his book, but he still found it difficult to focus on reading. As he bowed above the pages and tried to make sense of the words in front of him, fatigue from his travels by Portkey settled in. He caught himself reading the same sentence over and over again, struggling with sleepiness. His position on the bed didn’t help to keep his eyes open either.

He woke up from the scent of old paper and an uncomfortable pressure on his nose. Blinking, he registered that he had fallen asleep with his head on top of the book and his nose literally poking into the pages.

Gellert rolled to the side, wincing and rubbing over the back of his nose. Then he realised that the sunlight had turned golden. It was evening.

He looked around in his room. Albus was gone. The parchment sheets had been shoved into an untidy heap. The two books Gellert had given him were closed, but there were now several small parchment strips in between the pages.

There was also a third, much smaller book now, positioned right on top of the other two. Gellert picked it up. A single piece of parchment was slipped between two pages. Gellert opened it at the marker.

The book was written in runes, but Gellert had learnt how to read them in Durmstrang. He recognised the title of the story Albus’s marker showed to him immediately: The Tale of the Three Brothers. And someone—no, not someone; Albus—had drawn the triangular symbol from the Peverell grave at the top of the page: The sign of the Deathly Hallows.

Gellert seized the piece of parchment, certain there would be some explanation; some clue that would tell him if Albus thought he was just a dreamer...

Gellert—

This book belongs to my sister. It is a first edition, so please treat it with care.

Albus

Gellert stared at Albus’s words. That was not the kind of information he was interested in. But what if... Acting purely on intuition, Gellert pointed his wand at the piece of parchment and muttered: “Aparecium!”

Sure enough, more words appeared on the parchment slip:

PS: Let’s talk about the Hallows tomorrow. You clearly need some rest, but I do hope you will find a better position. Sleeping with your head on a book doesn’t look very comfortable.

Gellert’s gaze fixated on the first words of Albus’s postscript: Let’s talk about the Hallows tomorrow.

Let’s talk. So Albus was still willing to put up with him. Regardless of whether Albus thought the existence of the Hallows was humbug or if—Gellert could dream, couldn’t he?—Albus was a believer himself, Gellert would be given the chance to explain himself further. He would also get to see Albus again, and very soon: Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Gellert chanted inwardly as he picked up the heap of parchments from the floor and carried it back to his desk. Tomorrow he would show Albus—infinitely fascinating, spirited, bookish Albus—that he was worthy of his attention; that Gellert could keep up with him, Durmstrang expellee or not.

When Gellert woke next, it was pitch black outside. All excitement of the evening before had left his mind. He was struggling to free himself of the blanket that had twisted around his body, trying to push the images out of his mind.

It was no use. They kept coming back: Images of men with insect-like masks on their faces and guns around their shoulders, running in muddy trenches or seeking shelter in mountainous caves; men without masks lying in the dirt or on rocky surface, surrounded by some sort of vapour, staring upwards into an obscured sky with unseeing eyes; more bodies, but those were shredded to pieces, barely recognisable as human anymore; sirens, hissing sounds and detonations...

Gellert focused on closing his mind; on detaching himself from the horror he felt at the sight of those images and the vague fear the effects of that vapour instilled in him... It took an effort; it always was an effort, but eventually he only saw velvet darkness when he closed his eyes. His racing pulse slowed down and he was finally able to breathe more freely.

A long time passed until he was able to sleep again. When he woke for the third time, it was from the scent of Aunt Batty’s freshly made sandwiches, just like it was meant to be.

Gellert was shifting around on his seat while he ate breakfast, earning himself a raised eyebrow from his great aunt until he mentioned that Albus had suggested to continue Gellert’s research with him today. That was when a benign smile appeared on Bathilda’s face.

“Lovely!” she exclaimed. “I’m glad you and Albus seem to be getting along! You see, I’ve been so worried for the poor boy when his mother died. He had been so looking forward to this journey for the Continent with little Doge... You know, his schoolmate; the one who had had dragon pox.”

“Yes, I remember.” Gellert had already heard the extended version of the same story the day before. He wondered fleetingly how tall “little Doge” actually was. Probably smaller than Albus, but certainly not meriting the epithet “little”... Then again, his great aunt would probably continue to address him as “darling” for as long as they both lived.

“If you go over to the Dumbledores’ now,” Bathilda said into his thoughts, “perhaps you’d like to take some of yesterday’s cake with you? I know it’s not afternoon yet, but the boy is so thin anyway and Ariana also seemed to enjoy it a lot.” Gellert grinned. That was the good thing about Aunt Batty: She was always willing to feed you.

“Thank you, Auntie, that’s a wonderful idea!” he replied enthusiastically. “I’ll just take it from the kitchen then!” With these words, he was out of the door. The chocolate cake was floating behind him as he walked to the neighbouring house, dutifully hidden from stray Muggle eyes behind a glamour.

When he knocked at the front door of the neighbouring cottage, nothing happened for a while. Then the curtain of a window close to the door moved slightly, and only after that, it opened. Albus peeked out, the front of his purple robes blotted with something that looked suspiciously like apricot jam.

“Oh, Gellert, hello!” he said in an exhausted voice. “I’m afraid I have to see to it that Ariana eats her breakfast before we can talk about anything else...”

“It’s alright,” Gellert assured him, pushing past Albus with the cake trailing faithfully behind him.

“Is that yesterday’s cake?” a young, female voice said from the kitchen. Gellert barely recognised it as Ariana’s because it was lacking the shyness he had heard in his great aunt’s house.

“It is,” he said with a smile, beckoning the cake into the kitchen. He noticed Ariana tense for a second, but she relaxed as she realised who he was.

The cake settled softly in the middle of the kitchen table that was half splattered with jam. Gellert settled down on the chair next to Ariana where Albus had been sitting.

“If I give you a piece of cake instead of that sandwich”—he gestured to the two torn slices of white bread on her plate—“will you eat it?” She nodded. He cleaned her plate and the surface of the table with a flick of his wand.

“Do you have a dessert fork and a cake knife, Albus?” He didn’t need to turn around to know Albus was watching them from the door; he was able to sense his presence.

The cutlery he had requested appeared with such abruptness in front of him that he almost flinched. He shot Albus a confused glance, but he couldn’t make sense of the look the other boy was giving him. It was ... troubled, almost hurt? Gellert blinked.

Then he refocused on the task at hand, cutting a piece of cake for Ariana without magic, but allowing it to hover to her plate so he couldn’t accidentally overturn it.

“Thank you!” Ariana smiled at him and started to eat. Gellert smiled back, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was worried about Albus’s reaction.

“Would it be alright if we left you alone for a little while?” Gellert asked her gently. “We won’t be leaving the house, so you’d just need to call for us and we’d be with you at once.” Ariana nodded and started to eat her slice of cake. Gellert gave her another reassuring smile before he left the table and went to Albus.

“Can we go to your room ... or some sort of living room perhaps?” he asked.

“My room is best,” Albus replied, sounding distant. He turned on his heel and strode to a wooden flight of stairs that was a bit wider than the one in Bathilda’s house. Gellert had difficulty to keep up with his pace.

The interior of Albus’s room was similar to Gellert’s; only the arrangement of the furniture was a little different and there were more bookshelves. Albus’s desk, however, was littered with papers and overlapping open books. Sweet wrappings and quills were strewn across the desk, and there was a large bowl of sweets to the left of the desk. The shelf on top of the desk didn’t hold any books but several strange instruments: One of them looked like two silver globes connected by a number of cog wheels; the next one was a bronze disk with several flat plates on it and what looked like watch hands in the shape of flowers; a third one was a silver orb that seemed to be a globe but what it showed resembled no landmass Gellert recognised. He knew it couldn’t show the moon either since he would have recognised the shapes of the lunar craters.

Gellert didn’t allow himself to take the time to admire Albus’s strange objects and dwell on their potential use. Instead, he focused on the disapproval he had sensed from Albus as he had given Ariana the piece of cake.

“I’m sorry, Albus,” he said before the other could say anything. “I should have asked you if it was alright to give Ariana a piece of cake for breakfast. It’s probably not good for her health...”

“No,” Albus said, stopping Gellert with a wave of his hand. “No, that’s not it. It’s fine by me if she eats cake for breakfast...” He paused, looking down as he worried his lower lip with his teeth. Gellert sensed that he was fighting yet another fight with himself. At last, Albus decided to speak.

“You see ... sometimes she eats just fine, and other days ... other days, you hardly get her to nibble on anything. My brother is really good at persuading her to eat, but ... when I’m alone with her, I—I...” He broke off, frowning.

Gellert acted on impulse. He crossed the distance between them, putting his arms around Albus. The other boy tensed. His first impulse was to raise his arms between their chests in order to keep Gellert at distance. Then Albus’s arms fell down, not exactly endorsing the embrace but allowing it to happen. Gellert drew back before Albus could decide to change his mind for another time.

“Thank you,” Albus said to Gellert’s surprise. “I suppose I needed a hug.”

“I suppose we all do sometimes.” Gellert scratched his head, feeling awkward.

“And I suppose you haven’t come here to hear me complain about Ariana’s eating habits,” Albus said lightly, but the small, self-deprecating smile on his lips gave him away: His difficulty to interact with his sister clearly troubled him. In spite of that, Gellert decided not to press the matter. He knew the other boy not nearly long enough to intrude himself into Albus’s sibling relationships.

“You’re right,” Gellert therefore said, taking Ariana’s copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard from a small pouch at his belt on which he had placed an Undetectable Extension Charm. “I came to hand this back to you.” He took the piece of parchment with Albus’s letter out of the book. “And because of this.”

Now Albus’s smile was genuinely amused. It reached his eyes and made them sparkle in the way Gellert felt so drawn to since the first time he had seen it.

“I take it you found the postscript, then?” Albus said with a smug grin. In that moment, Gellert decided to play his game.

“Well, you didn’t exactly make an effort to hide it,” he replied. “A simple Revealing charm was all it took me to make your message appear. I didn’t even need to use Revelio, let alone come up with a more challenging technique to uncover your message.” His own grin mirrored Albus’s smugness.

“Oh, you want a challenge?” Albus’s gaze held his. Gellert felt a strange flutter in his stomach. “How about a duel? Purely playful, of course; just to try each other’s hexing abilities.”

“With the greatest of pleasure,” Gellert replied, leaning back against the low chest of drawers next to Albus’s door in what he hoped was a duly confident posture.

“Back on our high horse, are we?” Albus raised an eyebrow. “Interesting that the prospect of a duel makes you calm whereas a little flower suffices to make you nervous.”

“It doesn’t make me nervous.” Gellert shrugged as if he could brush off the lie he had just uttered. “I was merely surprised that any man in England would still have the chutzpah to put a green carnation on his clothing. Then again, you didn’t exactly wear it on a high street where Muggles could see ... your wardrobe...” He trailed off. It was only now that he realised Albus still hadn’t cleaned the apricot jam off his robes. A look at his own chest confirmed his suspicion that there was now jam on his waistcoat as well. Sighing, he flicked his wand, cleaning the jam from both their clothes. Albus actually laughed at that; a warm, bubbling sound that seemed to reverberate deep within his body. Gellert shot him a sullen look.

“You’re right,” Albus said with sudden seriousness. “It wouldn’t be advisable at all to wear either the carnation or my long robes in plain sight of Muggles. While nobody in Diagon Alley would subject another wizard to the Muggle jurisdiction for a stray flower on his clothes, it would certainly draw looks from everyone who takes even the slightest interest in Muggle affairs.”

“You don’t seem to me a person who would care about drawing looks,” Gellert pointed out. Albus inclined his head to a half-nod.

“Your observation is quite correct,” he admitted. “Yet I would prefer to reduce the amount of looks I draw to a necessary minimum. It is one thing to draw them because I prefer traditional, colourful wizard’s robes. It is an entirely different thing to give people unnecessary occasion to invade my privacy and start discussing about things that are none of their business.” He threw Gellert a calculating glance. “But I will answer truthfully if asked directly.”

Again, Gellert could feel his blood pulse at his throat. If asked directly. That meant he only needed to muster the courage...

“Then are you?” Gellert brought himself to ask. He felt his heart pound in his chest.

“Am I what, Gellert?” There was an amused smile on Albus’s lips. Gellert suddenly felt annoyed.

“Are you a...” The words the Marquess of Queensberry had used in his accusatory note to Oscar Wilde sprang to his mind. “Somdomite,” he said with an almost predatory smile. Albus laughed.

“If you define the term ‘sodomy’ from the legal perspective of Muggle jurisdiction in this country, the answer is actually ‘no,’” he chuckled. “But if you take it in a broader sense to imply that you think I’m romantically and sexually interested in men, you are quite right.” Something within Gellert dislodged at these words; it felt like falling from a great height. Albus glanced at him curiously. “And unless I’m much mistaken, so are you.”

“How did you know?” Gellert was aware that his words were effectively a confession, but he had decided the time for hiding from Albus was up.

“Oh, I only know now that you admitted to it,” Albus said, smiling indulgently. Gellert rolled his eyes; this was exactly what he had expected.

“But I had made an intelligent guess. My intuition is quite good.” Albus shot him another curious glance. “It was the way you looked at me when I smiled. Your gaze lingered—as if I was beautiful. People don’t look at me like that.”

“They should,” Gellert heard himself say. “Because you are beautiful.”

“That’s very kind of you, Gellert, but I know exactly what I look like,” Albus brushed off his compliment.

Gellert wanted to reply with how shiny Albus’s hair was; how a genuine smile transformed his whole face; how his eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled. But then there was a crashing sound from downstairs, and Albus rushed to the door.

“Stay here,” he said firmly. “Don’t come down. Please.” Then he was gone.

Gellert wouldn’t have obeyed if it hadn’t been for the “please.” He started to pace in Albus’s room. A part of him—perhaps the same that had reacted so violently at the sight of the carnation—was almost glad the moment had been over before he had been able to disclose too many of his thoughts on Albus. Another wished with vehemence that Albus would come backright away just so he could continue to talk to him, no matter the subject.

Notes:

Did you notice that Gellert practices Occlumency to contain his visions of the Western and Alpine fronts of WWI?

The three astronomical instruments Gellert describes but doesn’t name are an orrery, an astrolabe and a celestial globe.

I suppose the Marquess of Queensberry’s misspelling of the word “sodomy” is a thing no Oscar Wilde biography ever skips over. From the legal perspective of Muggle jurisdiction in the United Kingdom, to take up the words I put in Albus’s mouth, the charge of “actual sodomy” was restricted to anal sex at the time.

Truth be told, I had quite a lengthy internal debate with myself whether I should use Gellert’s more tongue-in-cheek reply or have him use the word “homosexual” that was coined by Karl Maria Kertbeny (1824-1882), a Hungarian with Austrian and German roots. Kertbeny argued from the point of view of classical European liberalism that what two individuals consented to do with each other in their private lives was none of the business of the state and should therefore not be legally persecuted.

#grindeldore #albus dumbledore #gellert grindelwald #harry potter #fantastic beasts #fanfiction #my fanfiction #katemarley #grindellore

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sleeplesspensieve · 6 years

Text

Remedy for Guilt - XII

Summary: The daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange is a Healer who finds herself not only haunted by her past but also questioning her choice in career. When Lyra Lestrange’s old headmaster offers her a position as Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher she finds herself thrown into an adventure involving a secret affair with a colleague, discovering the cure for a disease and dealing with students cursing themselves. Who knew that being a Hogwarts Professor was such a rollercoaster?

Set in the school year of 1990-1991 with the prospect of a sequel, or two, on the horizon.

Rated: E for graphic sex scenes in THIS and later chapters. Over 18′s only please.

Word Count: 4927

Multichapter Fic (Expected to be around 30-35 chapters with a planned sequel which will take place during the Harry Potter Books)

Chapter Twelve – Discoveries

Deep in the dungeons in the Head of Slytherin’s living quarters a young witch stirred in her sleep, her movement woke up the wizard whose arms were wrapped around her. The man was confused by the naked warmth that lay against his body. After a few blinks he registered that the tangled mess of black hair and sleeping figure belonged to none other than his colleague, Lyra Lestrange.

Severus eyes drifted shut; his expression was strained as his thoughts drifted onto the night prior. He had spent his birthday bedding the young witch that slept against him then he was crying in her arms. As he recalled what he had said his first instinct was to get out of that bed, replace his and her clothes and pretend that nothing had happened. For a moment he even considered obliviating her, how could he face her each day knowing that she knew some of his deepest secrets?

As soon as the thought passed through his mind his heart dismissed it. It was telling him he could trust her, that it was ok to open up to her. He felt at peace as he felt her curled up next to him, he allowed his arms to remain holding her. The warmth that she radiated made him reluctant to leave his bed. He closed his eyes and focused on the feeling, not knowing how long this would last.

Severus’ thoughts weren’t allowed to wander too far as Lyra soon found herself awake too. She smiled fondly as she rolled over and faced him. “Morning,” she hummed her hand rested on his chest. “Have you been up long?”

He shook his head no. “Classes will start in two hours,” he said.

She nodded in acknowledgement. “Did you sleep well?”

Their conversation made Severus feel as though he had woken up in an alternate reality, that Lyra was his wife and that she would soon be rolling out of bed to make them breakfast. The thought warmed his heart but he knew it wasn’t a possibility. He simply nodded in response to her question.

The responses he had given caused Lyra to feel concern. “Sev,” she said, her hand reached up and stroked his cheek. “Everything you told me last night I will never breathe a word of to anyone. You can trust me.”

“What do you feel guilty about?” he asked.

Lyra paused for a moment, questioning whether or not she should divulge the truth or not. As a gesture of good faith she decided to do so. “A lot of things,” she frowned, her hand retreated to her side as she began to explain. “I guess the guilt started when Albus made me work in the Hospital Wing and I had to treat that girl that I almost killed. While I was there I could see that I could put my talents to better use so I tried which is how I got into healing, I thought it could be my way of redeeming myself for all I had done but I think it fucked me even more. When I started at St. Mungo’s my first rotation as a Trainee Healer was in the ward for those with permanent spell damage and I saw the Longbottom couple that I tortured along with my parents and Uncle Rab and Barty. I saw their son visit and he would’ve been Draco’s age. I couldn’t sleep. I kept dreaming of them screaming and losing their minds. I felt so guilty for inflicting that on them.”

“You were there?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she sighed as she began to recount, “I had just gotten back from my first year from Durmstrang. My parents were upset that the Dark Lord had fallen and they knew that there were Aurors tracking down his whereabouts so they captured the Longbottom couple. Mum wanted to teach me how to use the Cruciatus Curse properly so they all showed me and gave me pointers on how to do it effectively to cause the most pain. It went on for hours until they were completely incoherent. Eventually my parents were captured and you know the rest.”

“Did you actually torture Karkaroff?” he questioned. Lyra nodded reluctantly, not wanting to admit the cruelty of what she did to the reformed Death Eater that lay with her. His curiousity got the better of him as he asked, “Why did you do it?”

“I was 13, Sev, first day of my third year at school and Karkaroff is introduced as the new Headmaster. I had heard his name mentioned by Uncle Lucius and my parents when I had visited them. Whatever he had done made them angry but they believed that the Dark Lord would return and impart justice. I later asked my Uncle directly what he had done and he told me that in exchange for the names of several Death Eaters he was allowed to walk free. I was so angry that he was living in comfort whilst my parents rotted in Azkaban. I didn’t believe that the Dark Lord would return so I decided to give my own justice.”

“I spent months plotting my revenge. I didn’t want to kill him, no, I wanted him to suffer and I had learnt from the best on how to torture people. I thought it was fitting that I used the skills they had been imprisoned for as a method to carry out my revenge on their behalf. I snuck into his quarters while he slept and I placed a silencing barrier up so no one could hear him and another so we wouldn’t be disturbed. I woke him using the Cruciatus Curse, you should’ve seen his face of terror on his face when he realised it was me. I used the Cruciatus Curse on him for hours and I revelled in it but I was only young, I didn’t have enough magical energy to maintain my torture but I think it stopped him from going insane like the Longbottoms. It went on for about 12 hours before they found us.”

“He was in hospital for only a week and during that time I went to trial. I had the best defence lawyer money could afford and a bulletproof defence. How could I, a child of 13 years, raised by Death Eaters, be responsible for my actions? I was a product of my environment and going to Durmstrang would reinforce the use of the Dark Arts so they gave me a slap on the wrist and sent me to Hogwarts. I think it worked to an extent, most witches and wizards involved in the Dark Arts during my year were pathetic anyway I just got caught up with showing off my skill and that’s how I nearly killed that girl. I did feel bad for her to an extent and I think Albus exploited that which is how I ended up in Healing. Who knows where I would be now if he hadn’t forced me to work in the Hospital Wing? I’d probably be out there trying to raise the Dark Lord back to power.”

Lyra’s description of events terrified Severus. It was evident that she was truly the daughter of Bellatrix and Rodopholus Lestrange. The thought of Lyra pursuing the Dark Arts further was disturbing. He knew that she was an extremely talented witch with a thirst for knowledge, he was thankful that it had been channelled into a more meaningful pursuit. He wondered where her loyalties would lie if the Dark Lord did return. “Do you think he’ll come back?”

“It’s been what, ten years this year?” she said, “I don’t think so. I went and saw my mum on Christmas Day and she seems to still think so but I think it’s just to maintain her sanity, not that there’s much left. What do you think?”

“I have the same doubts,” he replied, shaking his head, “Albus seems to think he will.”

Lyra’s hand drifted out and reached out for his left arm. Severus flinched at first but her fingers delicately traced the lines of his Dark Mark. “It’s so faded,” she said as she thought back to when she would touch her mother or father’s tattoo. “You’ll be one of the first to know.”

Severus watched as she seemed lost in her thoughts, her fingers still stroking his tattoo. “Lyra,” he said, bringing her back to the present. “We should get up, we have classes to teach.”

She frowned, “Can’t we just stay in bed.”

“It’s too suspicious if we both call in sick,” he said.

“Can I get my panties back?” she asked with a hopeful look.

“I’m definitely keeping them,” he said amused, “Better hurry back to your quarters if you want to wear any today.”

She glared at him as she climbed out of bed and got dressed. He remained in bed and watched as she hid her naked body away from view. “I’ll see you around,” she said as she found her way out.

As Lyra reached the Grand Staircase to begin her ascension to the third floor she saw a concerned Professor McGonagall quickly stepping down.

“Oh, Lyra,” she said, not missing a beat, “You best come with me, something serious has happened. I need to speak with Severus.”

Lyra followed as they headed back to where she had just left. Minerva knocked on the door and Severus opened it immediately, allowing the two witches to enter his office.

“I have terrible news, Severus,” Minerva said, “Marcus Flint had a seizure at breakfast this morning. Poppy thinks it’s Psyrot. He’s been placed in a potion-induced sleep for now but she think he’ll have to go off to St. Mungo’s.”

“I’ll contact his parents,” Severus replied.

“I don’t know how it went undetected,” Minerva said.

“He probably got it when he was on break and it’s just gone unnoticed,” Lyra said, “I know Poppy listed all those symptoms but he might’ve just not had any until now.”

Minerva shook her head, “In any case, we need to be more aware. We all need to keep a look out.”

“Of course,” Severus said.

Lyra remained silent as the two discussed the course of action. She completely tuned out, her head beginning to spin with thoughts. This was the first distinguishable case of Psyrot, with it would come many more. Students would begin to flood the Hospital Wing at the slightest sniffle which probably wasn’t so bad but she knew that Severus and herself would have to keep up with potion requests. They had made around 100 bottles which was about a sixth of the school’s population, if half the students thought they were sick then they’d run out rather quickly.

“Lyra,” Severus said, bringing her attention back to the present, “We’ll probably have to make more Pepper Up Potion.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking slightly dazed, “I was just thinking about that.”

“We’ll brew some more tonight,” he informed her, “Wouldn’t want to run out.”

“Of course,” she said, “I’ll see you after dinner.”

Lyra left with Minerva, Severus needed to write a quick letter to Marcus Flint’s parents. The two made their way up silently, waving in and out of students and carefully following the staircases as they moved about. Lyra found herself alone with Minerva as the set they were on slowly moved.

“So, Lyra,” Minerva began, “What were you doing at Severus’ office so early?”

“Just wanted to check in on him before we had classes,” Lyra lied, “I had a present for his birthday.”

“But his birthday was yesterday,” Minerva’s eyes narrowed as she felt she had caught her. “You and Severus seem awfully close, particularly after the Founding Ball.”

“I’ve known Severus since I was a kid,” Lyra shrugged, “You know, cause my parents were Death Eaters, just like he was. My Uncle is a close friend of his, in fact he even came over for Christmas Dinner.”

“It seems to be more than just that,” Minerva said, “I think there’s something going on between you two.”

“Really?” Lyra’s eyebrows raised in fake surprise. “News to me.”

Lyra was thankful when the staircase finally connected to the landing of the third floor, she said a hurried goodbye, excusing herself from their conversation. Unfortunately for her, Lyra had ran out of time to change her clothes and her students were all lined up ready to enter her classroom. She reluctantly welcomed them all in and began her lesson.

It was surprisingly easy for Lyra to keep her composure, despite the fact that she didn’t have any underwear on. After a while she didn’t seem to notice, her thoughts were more preoccupied on the fact that no one had been paying attention to the content of her lessons. Had she become boring? To be fair everyone was still rather shaken from what they had seen at breakfast this morning. Lyra was over the constant gossiping half way through second period and threatened to deduct house points if they continued their disruption. This tactic seemed to work as they focused on the Hinkypunk she showed them and explained the methods of combating it.

Lyra had hoped to duck off during the break that she had between the second and third period but she saw that two students had stayed behind. Both were Slytherin boys on the Quidditch team who she recognised as Lucian Bole and Peregrine Derrick. Usually she’d be keen to answer questions from eager students but she knew that these two boys in particular had a tendency to cause trouble and weren’t particularly engaged in her class. They approached her desk as the rest of the class were filing out.

“Professor Lestrange,” Derrick addressed the teacher. She raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement so the boy continued, “We were wondering if you knew anything about Marcus? We were supposed to have Quidditch practice tonight.”

Lyra sighed, “I recommend you speak with Professor Snape.”

Derrick went to answer but he was interrupted by his friend. The blonde haired boy sneezed hard, not covering his mouth, and Lyra felt her face become wet with the boy’s mucus. She wiped her face with a hand as she had no tissues at hand and glared up at the boy who was now shaking in his boots at the look his Professor was giving.

“Merlin’s beard,” she glowered, “Did your mother teach you any manners. Go to the hospital wing now.”

The two boys darted off embarrassed that Bole had just sneezed into the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor’s face. Lyra’s untainted hand reached for her wand and went to clean up both her face and hand but she looked closer at her hand. She felt very subtle movement on her hand and as her face neared it she saw tiny dots in amongst the mucus as well as one small worm wriggling. From sight she knew that this parasite must’ve been the cause of Psyrot but she needed to research it further. She summoned a glass vial and scooped mucus that landed on her hand, attempting to coax the worm and its eggs into the tube. She cast a stasis charm on the contents, hoping that it would prevent the eggs from hatching and the worm from dying and she put it away in her office.

Lyra sat at her desk and began to brainstorm on a stray piece of paper the known workings of the disease. On one side of the right hand side of the paper she listed the known symptoms and then on the left she wrote the words parasite and mucus. The fact that it was spread through mucus ruled out the gastrointestinal tract, the symptoms didn’t align with respiratory so the logical conclusion was the brain? She wasn’t convinced but it made sense. Pepper up would increase the body’s temperature and could potentially destroy the integrity of the worm’s body but only up to a certain point which was why they couldn’t cure it once it had reached the second or third stage. She wasn’t entirely sure why Sleeping Draught worked during the second stage and it wouldn’t in the third stage. She knew during the third stage it was the body’s own immune response that would kill the host so maybe the Sleeping Draught prevented the development of the worms to cause destruction to trigger the immune response. There were still a lot of missing pieces of information but now that Lyra had a sample of the parasite responsible she was confident that she could develop a cure for it.

Lyra heard her next class enter and she rushed down to teach but her mind was still curious about the parasite she had found. Over her lunch break she made her way to the library and was pouring over books about parasites and worms, as well as recapping historically relevant illnesses. Madam Pince was reluctant to lend so many books out to the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, particularly as they weren’t relevant to her subject but Lyra managed to convince her after laying on the charm which was a difficult feat as Lyra hadn’t had the best reputation during her years of study.

Lyra placed aside the books, hoping that she would get to them over the weekend as her night would be taken up by brewing potions with Severus. The final two classes for the day seemed to drag on as looked forward to sharing her discovery with the Potions Master. Her eagerness to leave was not lost on her students as she was in fact the first to leave her classroom. She stopped by the staffroom to grab a quick bite for herself and Severus for dinner and she rushed down to the dungeons.

“I wasn’t expecting you so early,” Severus said as he answered the door.

“I have exciting news,” she beamed, bouncing into his office.

Severus prompted her to go on, taking one of the plates she had set out for him.

“I have discovered the cause of Psyrot,” she announced, “Of course, I still need to test my theory but I think I can work up a cure.” Severus listened and ate as Lyra detailed her discovery. As she spoke he felt a great deal of respect and admiration towards her as she was rambling about her theories.

Severus was beginning to realise that he saw Lyra as so much more than Lucius’ niece that needed a close watch, she was beginning to become her own person. Lyra, unlike her parents, was kind and had a passion for caring for people which was evident in the way that she had treated him and her desire to find a cure for this disease. He thought of the way students and staff spoke about her, they all admired her despite the reputation she had gained as a student.

“So, I just need to confirm it is this parasite,” she continued, “Then I’ll need to figure out how to kill it without harming the host and then I’ll write up a report and I’ll be published then my healing career could take off and you never know I might be the one to discover the cure for Lycanthropy, I just hope no one else beats me to it. Why are you smiling at me?”

Severus didn’t realise that he was smiling at her, he laughed it off. “You recall how early in the term you said you don’t know where Dumbledore gets these teachers from?” he asked, “You’re acting exactly like everyone else.”

Her eyes narrowed at the Potions Master’s amusement before smiling as well, “I suppose you’re right.”

Lyra helped herself to the dinner she had brought for the two of them and they caught up briefly over the food before they headed into his classroom to begin brewing. They worked mainly in silence, intending to work efficiently and quickly as possible as Lyra was itching to return back to her room in order to study the books that she had borrowed. It took them a few hours but they finished up at around 10pm, leaving her time to do a bit of reading before she’d settle for bed.

“Did you want to enjoy a glass of wine with me?” he asked.

She smiled and her plans of reading were quickly forgotten as she accepted his offer. The pair moved on to his quarters, thankful that it was past curfew and that no students would see them sneaking around. Lyra probably brought enough suspicion upon herself that morning as she was leaving his quarters so early. The cosied up to the fireplace and cracked into a bottle of elf-made wine. The two began to gossip about the students that they shared and how their attitudes differed in their classrooms.

“How is Marcus Flint fairing?” she asked.

“His parents came to take him to St. Mungo’s this morning,” he replied, “Hopefully they can help them there but I’m not sure what more they can offer as they know as much about Psyrot as we do.”

“Maybe someone’s already discovered a cure?”

“How did you figure out that it was a parasite?” he asked.

“Bole and Derrick spoke to me after class asking about Flint and whether or not they’d have practice,” she recounted, “Bole then proceeded to sneeze on my face and noticed that in the flecks of mucus he left behind that there seemed to be eggs and I spotted a small worm crawling.”

“Wonderful,” Severus said.

“Obviously, I’ll need to test other students to see if it holds true,” she said, “Then there’ll be a lot more work to go but it’s achievable. Do you think I should credit them if I write a report?”

“You shouldn’t give either of them any credit,” he said, “They are both complete imbeciles.”

Lyra laughed at his response, her head shook in disapproval but a smile was still plain on her lips. Severus watched her as she pressed her lips against the cool of her glass as though she was hiding her face away from embarrassment. His gaze caught hers and she smiled forming wrinkles around her eyes as well as a twinkle within. That smile was so precious that he wanted to keep it locked in his memory forever.

Lyra’s eyes cast down as if staring at Severus was like staring at the sun. She felt her heart ache in want and her cheeks were flushed. She attempted to blame the feelings on the alcohol she had been drinking but in her heart she knew that her Uncle was right. That she was in fact falling in love with Severus Snape.

The thoughts and feelings were uncomfortable and unfamiliar to Lyra. No one had ever made her feel this way, her heart was racing but her breathing slow. She felt faint and dizzy, she finally knew what people meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomach and her stomach was in knots. She had crushes before but this was a completely different ball game, it was almost as though every single one of her crushes came to confront her all at once. The feeling made her nauseous and she didn’t know whether it was because she felt this particular way or whether she was terrified about the consequences of her feelings.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned that the look of joy had fleeted and was replaced by an expression of illness. She shook her head dismissively and he asked once more.

“I feel strange,” she said, her eyebrows strained.

“Are you sick?” he asked, rushing to his feet.

She laughed, “I think it’s much worse than that.”

“What?”

She shook her head and sighed, pushing her feelings aside, “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t make me use Legilimency on you,” he threatened.

“I know better than to let my guard down around you,” she smiled, “I think I’m just tipsy and tired.”

“Time for bed,” he said as he removed her glass and placed it on the table. Lyra took his hand as he pulled her up, escorting her to the bed.

“Can we shower first?” she asked. “I haven’t bathed since yesterday and I feel pretty gross.”

“Are you wearing underwear, Miss Lestrange?” he asked.

“Don’t call me that,” she said, “It makes me feel like a schoolgirl about to get a detention.”

“We should try that one time,” he smirked.

“Are you going to bend me over your desk and spank me?”His eyebrows raised in agreement and Lyra laughed, “When was the last time you were laid?”

“I shagged this beautiful witch last night,” he said his arms wrapped around her and he cornered her against a nearby wall. “I stole her panties then she went the whole day without them.” He slid his hand down the front of her skirt, underneath the material and touched her naked sex. “Sound familiar?”

Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip before she bit it. “You don’t know how much I want you, Lyra,” he whispered into her ear.

“I have an idea,” she said, her hand made its his crotch and the palm of her hand ground into it.

“Don’t tease me, Lestrange,” he warned, his breath hot against her lips. She kissed him hard and fast, her hands quickly unbuttoned his vest and his removed her clothes, parting to pull her top over her head.

“Why the fuck do you have so many buttons?” she groaned as she discarded his vest and got to work on the button up that was hidden underneath.

“To frustrate witches like you,” he said, undoing her bra and getting to work on her nipples.

She moaned, struggling to maintain concentrating on working her fingers around the buttons. Eventually he was free from his upper garments and her lips moved onto his neck as her hands fumbled clumsily with his pants.

“Don’t leave marks on me,” he said as she began to suck and bite where she was kissing. It was too late for his warning and she didn’t care. Her lips just moved down to his chest where she continued to make her mark.

“Lyra,” he groaned as her hand gripped around his cock and began to slowly pump and tease. His fingers looped around the band of her skirt and pulled it down. A finger dipped beneath the folds and once assuring she was wet enough his hands gripped onto the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up so her hips were on his. He pressed her body against the wall behind her and held her there as he manipulated his cock to slide deep into her.

Severus’ hips bucked up into hers eliciting a small moan from Lyra with every thrust as he fucked her against the wall. His hands gripped her thighs and her ass hard as he pounded into her. Lyra’s arms were wrapped around his neck, one hand buried into his hair whilst the other held onto his back for leverage. Her eyes connected with Severus for a moment and she could see the lust that was swirling around in his dark orbs. His eyes flicked down, watching her breasts bounce and his cock slide in and out of her sex. The sight alone made him groan hard as he felt the tension in his balls grow.

Lyra too watched what he was focused on, the sight of him plunging in and out was erotic. Severus Snape is fucking me against a wall. The thoughts, the feelings and the sight was enough to drive her over the edge. She grabbed a hold of him tighter, her nails began to dig into his back as she came hard. As the tension began to release for her, so did it for Severus. He came inside her, his thrust slowed and he pressed Lyra harder against the wall as his body relaxed, scared she was going to slip.

He let her down slowly and the two wordlessly headed to the bathroom. Both too tired to stand they settled for the bath again. Severus urged her to sit on his side, on his lap this time, returning the favour from last time. She relaxed into his embrace and allowed her eyes to drift shut for a moment.

Severus allowed the exhausted witch to sleep for a few moments, enjoying the comfort of her body against his. He rested his head against hers and noticed the smell of her hair, lavender like a sleeping draught. Maybe that’s why he felt so peaceful, like he could sleep again. His thoughts were no longer strained with his failures, instead they were calm and restful. He felt as though Lyra anchored him down, he was no longer worried about the future or what was to come because he felt that if he had Lyra by his side that everything would work out. He knew he trusted her and he believed that as she slept in his arms surrounded by a pool of water that her vulnerability was also a gesture of trust.

Ten minutes passed of Lyra sleeping and he gently nudged her awake, knowing that if she slept any longer that she would have difficulty sleeping. She was half asleep as she washed herself so Severus helped her scrub her back. He ushered her out once they were done and made herself dry thoroughly after a lazy attempt. When they moved onto bed Lyra quickly fell back asleep and Severus had no difficulties as she curled up against his chest.

#severus snape #fanfiction #harry potter #original character #hogwarts #fanfic #lyra lestrange #oc

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