Hi :) This is an entry for a number of competitions and challenges: Book-Quotes Boot Camp Challenge (quote 1), Slash/Femmslash Boot Camp Challenge (prompt 1), Ashleigh's Monthly Competitions (September) (AlScor), The Angst-Fluff Juxtaposition Competition.

My awesome beta for this one is percychased. Lots of thank you, Emily!

I disclaim my rights to the Harry Potter book series - the series belongs to J.K Rowling. Duh. This is not related, in any way, to Taylor Swift or her songs. Seriously.

And, yeah, anyways, do enjoy XD

1. Just when you think it can't get any worse, it can. And just when you think it can't get any better, it can. –At First Sight.

1. Please

Begin Again

"W-who are you?"

Three little words that hit Albus with ten times the force of a strong Stupefy, shattering his heart in a way that rattled his whole body, making it seem to him like his bones were shattering as well. His throat and eyes burned and he felt heavy, too heavy to stand suddenly and it was hard to breathe but all he could do was stand there and stare at the man who knew him better than he knew himself.

Those grey eyes seemed confused, unsure. The man hesitated before looking to his father in question. Albus followed the motion, finding the older man helplessly trying to hold himself together as his wife held his hand in what seemed to be a vice grip. He didn't even look at Albus.

Albus tried to speak, to laugh, to frown, but all he could manage was to mouth half a word before he completely broke down and walked back until his back hit a wall, leaning on it for support.

He looked into those mesmerizing eyes again, looking for recognition, love, even annoyance but only finding them dazed. The man looked puzzled and Albus wished he could help him solve this thousand-piece puzzle but he couldn't.

"Are you a healer?" rasped out the familiar voice, hoarse from not speaking for two days, "You don't look like a healer." Albus could hear the distrust in those words and wanted to disappear, because then maybe he would be able to pretend this wasn't happening to him. It already seemed unreal enough.

"I'm not a healer," Albus stated, surprised at the accusing and betrayed tone of his own voice.

"Then what are you doing here?" continued the suspicious man.

Albus didn't know what to say, or what to do, or even what he wanted to happen. Well, no, he did know what he wanted – he wanted everything to be the way it was three days ago, even if it meant having the other man still upset with him over that stupid box of useless stuff he didn't even know why he kept, stuff from his father's past that he threw away only for Albus to go through them and try to keep some of it.

"Do you really not remember, Scorpius?" asked the beautiful Astoria Malfoy, reaching out and putting a hand on her son's shoulder. He was wearing a ridiculous hospital gown Albus would have made fun of if not for the terrible situation they were in.

At Scorpius's next words, Albus could only bow his head in resignation. "Remember what?"

"Nothing," Albus said quickly, quietly, before either Mr. or Mrs. Malfoy could answer Scorpius's question because he couldn't take it anymore. He slowly walked out of the hospital room, slumped, dragging his feet and closed the slide-doors with limp hands, braving one final glance at the man whom he shared his life with. The blond was confused but behind that vacant expression Albus recognized the look of those wheels turning in the man's head as he tried to figure out the meaning of what must have been to him a most bizarre encounter.

Albus's father met him outside of the waiting room, in the area of the receptionists and the halls that led to the emergency rooms. He looked worn out, but Albus guessed he must have looked worse because his father immediately gathered him into his arms, no matter that Albus was twenty years old already and not a small kid, and Albus could not find it in him to push him away because he wanted that hug, needed it too, damn it.

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt his cheek getting wet from the already-soaked shirt his father wore. Now more aware of his surroundings and himself, he was a bit embarrassed by how loud his sobs were. People were staring, but it was probably more due to his father being who he was than Albus's baby-ish behavior.

"That bad?" his father asked.

He doesn't remember me, Dad, Albus thought, and wanted to say it out loud but his tears and sobs choked him so he only nodded, burying his head once again in his father's cotton shirt. He was aware that his snot had started leaking onto that shirt as well, but found that he didn't care that much to leave his father's arms – it would clean easily with a simple Cleaning Charm, after all.

"Let's try again tomorrow, hmm? Your mum's cooked this delicious stew and she's waiting for us. Maybe Scorpius just needs some rest. He'll be better as time passes, yeah?"

Albus nodded, feeling spent, and they both left to the Floo area where they each grabbed a fistful of powder and, each in their own turn, smashed it on the ground and disappeared in a blaze of green flames.

Jumping out of the fireplace with ease, Albus waited for his father to come rolling out of the ashes like he always did, and didn't stray further into the house. He knew his mother must be awaiting him somewhere in the house but – and he really didn't care how childish that sounded – he really didn't want to be alone right now.

His father arrived not long after he did, covered in dirt and ash and Albus managed a small smile before he remembered why he had waited for his father and the smile disappeared so quickly one could have easily missed it.

His father pulled out his wand and casted a Scourgify on himself, before he turned and put a hand on Albus's back, guiding him to the kitchen, where an admittedly rather deliciously-smelling stew lay on the Muggle stove his father had insisted on purchasing. Even though, the stew was definitely made with the aid of magic – that much was obvious.

His mother came rushing into the kitchen moments later, and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Oh, Al, I've been so worried."

Albus accepted her hug, clutching her warm jumper and sniffling slightly. "He's not-" he stopped, clenching his eyes closed and swallowing the painful lump in his throat. "He lost all of his memories of the last ten years, at least. The doctors think it's just a matter of time until it comes back to him but I-" another breath of reinforcement, "I'm not so sure."

His mother squeezed him one last time and released him, sitting him down on one of the chairs and handing him a bowl full of stew (beef, it smelled like beef) and a spoon. He ate slowly, every once in a while stopping to wipe a tear off his cheek or blow his nose. At the end of the meal, the table was full of used tissues.

Exhausted, Albus left early for bed. His old room stayed as it was, apart from new sheets and maybe missing Quidditch posters his little sister must have nicked. With a sigh, Albus curled up in his bed and cried until he fell asleep.

The next morning Albus had a headache that made him want to curl up in a hole and die. He figured it had something to do with all the crying he did last night. He sure did regret it now.

After a family breakfast, with Lily sneaking wary looks his way every time he sniffled as if she was afraid he would burst into sobs any moment, and his mother pestering him to eat more and talking with a soft tone Albus hadn't heard her use in years, and his father chuckling behind his Quibbler, Albus gather up his courage and left the kitchen for the living room, grabbing a bar of dark chocolate – Merlin be damned if he was going to pass up free dark chocolate, even if he had to use the excuse of it being comfort food – on the way, standing in front of the fireplace and- flooing to his and Scorpius's apartment, instead of the hospital. He told himself he couldn't show up in yesterday's clothes, and that's why he had gone there first, but he found that he couldn't lie to himself and secretly admitted that he wanted to delay the meeting with Scorpius as much as possible.

Only that didn't work so well.

There, on the really-inappropriate-memories-invoking sofa, sat Scorpius Malfoy in all his glory and, well, robes, much to Albus's dismay.

The stormy, bright eyes met his green ones and Albus stopped in his tracks as he remembered that Scorpius didn't actually share any of those inappropriate memories, and he frowned deeply at the other man.

"What are you doing in my flat?" asked Albus, surprising himself with the authority in his voice, that only just managed to hide the crushing hope he felt at the thought that maybe the blond finally remembered.

Please remember me, he thought desperately.

The other man was sitting cross-legged, one arm resting leisurely on one of the armrests while the other hand stroked circles around a certain area on the sofa that Albus found very, very distinctively familiar. Heat flooded Albus's cheeks as he fought for some control over his exterior.

Scorpius returned Albus's frown with double force. "Your flat? I was under the assumption this was my flat. There doesn't seem to be more than one bedroom, to prove my point," he argued back. Then he narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you the bloke from the hospital? Are you following me? Because let me tell you, my father is one of-"

"I'm not following you. This is my flat. Ours. We share it."

The other man seemed to have liked frowning, because that expression remained fixed on his features like a permanent glamour. "But there's only one-"

"Bedroom, yes," Albus cut him off again, impatient. If Scorpius only remembered, then this would be much easier for both of them. He sighed and reached to his pocket, raising an eyebrow at the other man when the blond drew his wand in reaction. Scorpius used to suffer a lot of harassment by his fellow students on the grounds of being the son of a Death Eater, so it was only instinctive. He blushed and put it back in his pocket when he saw that Albus did not actually try to hex him, but pulled out the dark-chocolate bar he had grabbed earlier and snapped a piece, popping it in his mouth. Scorpius's eyes followed the motion and he licked his lips, making Albus want to groan around the melting bitter cube on his tongue.

"So we were, what? Boyfriends?" demanded the blond man urgently.

Albus didn't know if he should nod or run away. He noticed he didn't have that overwhelming urge to cry, unlike last night and earlier this morning. He wondered if it had anything to do with Scorpius's presence and the fact that he didn't disregard him as if he was just part of the background.

Scorpius must have taken Albus's silence as a 'yes', because soon he started to freak out, for the lack of better word, pacing and pulling at his fair hair, glaring at the floor as if he was trying to burn it with his gaze alone.

"This is wrong," he mumbled, grimacing at nothing in particular.

Albus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Scorpius had been just as dramatic when they got together in sixth year, going on about producing a Malfoy heir and sustaining the social status (or what was left of it, anyway), and other things Albus was taught not to care much about in his childhood.

Frustrated, Albus tore another piece of dark chocolate and threw it in his mouth in anger. Why did things have to be that way? If it weren't for that damned accident in the store Scorpius worked at they wouldn't even have to do this. Albus frowned when he looked at the chocolate bar – he had to watch how much he ate of that thing.

It was dark chocolate though, so that meant he could eat more, right?

Albus huffed, alerting Scorpius to the fact that he wasn't alone. Like Albus, Scorpius frowned when he saw how little of the bar was left.

"Did you eat all of that by yourself?" he asked through his frown.

Albus decided that he was a grown adult, and thus stomping his foot and throwing a fit wasn't acceptable, no matter how tempting it was. "What's it to you?" he asked back.

Scorpius's face took on a scolding expression. "That stuff's going to kill you, you know?" he said.

Albus actually did roll his eyes this time. It was like going over all of his arguments with Scorpius in a fast-forward. "Didn't kill me yet," he replied, putting another piece of chocolate in his mouth just to annoy the grey-eyed man. It worked, and Albus smirked as the sweet melted in his mouth and returned the bar to his pocket.

"Well, I was originally going to go through this flat and search for missing details of my life, but as I have no interest in pursuing a relationship with you, I think it is best if I simply leave," Scorpius continued, turning to the fireplace.

Albus caught him before he made it.

"What are- let go of me!" Scorpius fussed, and when Albus didn't loosen his grip on his arm, begun thrashing. "Was I stuck in an abusive relationship with you? Is that why I can't remember? Am I repressing my painful mem-"

Albus, who was getting more impatient by the second as Scorpius went on in his speech, couldn't take it anymore and didn't even remember deciding to do what he did next.

The result was satisfactory, though, to say the least.

Albus smashed his lips onto Scorpius's and in a wet clash of teeth and tongue he snogged his boyfriend until he saw sense. Or, that had been the original plan. It devolved into a rather passionate make out session as Scorpius clutched Albus's thick jumper and seemed to be torn between bringing the two of them closer and pushing Albus away.

Scorpius was not passive in any way, though, and as soon as he made his decision he started returning the kiss with intensity that almost brought Albus to his knees. Albus smiled into the harsh kiss. That would have been a rather compromising position, he thought.

Scorpius seemed intent on using his tongue to taste Albus more than anything else, and the kiss grew calmer and calmer until Albus was barely moving his lips, letting the blond explore as he wished. He was feeling a little dizzy and very relieved and a bit aroused, but mostly he felt happy in his boyfriend's arms.

When Scorpius finally finished poking the inside of his mouth with his tongue and moving it alongside Albus's, and pulled back, Albus found himself captured in the intense gaze of the other man. The grey eyes burned with an unexplained emotion that made Albus bite his lower lip in an effort to hold back a moan.

"Scorpius?" he started, only to be cut off by the Malfoy.

"I still don't remember you," the man murmured, somewhat apologetic. "I have retrograde amnesia. At least, that's what the healers said. That's why I remember my childhood well enough but can't recall anything past about the age of ten."

Albus's breath hitched. "I-"

"It's the magic," said Scorpius bitterly, chuckling darkly. "They say it's worse than what the Muggles have, because my magic somehow intensified the effect. I never thought I'd hate magic as much as I do now."

Albus bit his lip, uncertain what to say to that.

"But I do know some things. Like… how I don't like the colour pink, and how boring History of Magic is, and how to perform a spell for… lubrication…" Albus blushed a dark red as Scorpius frowned in utter confusion. "But I can't remember… why…" the blond hesitated. "And it probably sounds crazy, and maybe it's just my imagination, but… you taste familiar. If that makes any sense at all."

"It doesn't." A smile grew slowly on Albus's expression, and then grew wider when Scorpius returned that smile with a brilliant one of his own.

"It's probably just the chocolate," Scorpius said dismissively.

"Probably," Albus answered in the same tone. "But your family only ever buys the Belgian stuff. It never tastes like this." Pecking the other man's lips hesitantly, Albus straightened and looked into his eyes for assurance.

Scorpius chuckled. "I may not remember you, but you are sort of cute. I'll give you that."

Albus smiled sadly.

"What's your name, by the way?" Scorpius suddenly asked.

Albus's eyes widened. How could he have forgotten that? Swallowing the bitterness, one that had nothing to do with chocolate, Albus took a deep breath. No use moping over it, he decided. Fresh start.

"I'm Albus, Albus Potter."