There he was again. His platinum blonde hair flying away in the wind. His perfect lips curled into a smile that reached his stormy grey eyes. Those grey eyes that Albus had begun to admire.
They were striding through the ground back to the castle, after a rather exciting Herbology class. The two boys were laughing at their own inside jokes. Yet Albus knew that the other boy's mind was elsewhere. He wandered off into his own world a quite lot lately, more than usual. Albus watched his head turn to the direction where a familiar red head was talking to her friends, Albus momentarily forgotten.
It was always like this now. Of course, she was perfect. Her, Rose Granger-Weasley. She had everything, turned out to be the perfect daughter any father could ever want. But he, Albus Severus Potter, turned out to be a disappointment. To everyone else anyway. A Potter in Slytherin. A Potter who didn't play Quidditch. A Potter who liked boys. Not that he, himself, minded much. Not anymore, at least.
Maybe Rose had everything, but he was the one who loved Scorpius Malfoy, his best friend. Not Rose, not her. It just did not make any sense. Scorpius was, of course, oblivious to that palpable fact. How strange people do not notice the smallest things; the slight blush on Albus' face whenever they happened to touch, which was quite a lot and the way his pupils dilated when he saw Scorpius. All those small things that mattered.
And so he remained, the same, day after day. Not knowing whether to tell Scorpius or not, battling a silent war inside his own head. In the end he realized that he didn't want to. Not if it meant ruining what they had now. Not wanting to leave Scorpius guilty. No, it was perfect the way it was now. Rose would eventually love Scorpius and he would be happy. That was the only thing Albus needed. Even if it meant stepping to the side. He could always find someone else. Just not someone like Scorpius.
There was no one like Scorpius.
There could never be.