.
.
He remembers the funeral of Astoria Greengrass. A Malfoy through marriage.
Scorpius's mother.
Albus did his best to remain invisible to other family members, dodging their gazes and hiding in the dimly lit corridors. A son of the infamous Harry Potter would be less than welcome.
Draco Malfoy had been present for a solemn, quiet "hello" and the perfunctory, numbing handshake before fading into the drawing room, his finely stitched cloak trailing out behind him like a dark, mourning shadow. His silvery locks cropped in a tidy arrangement and excessively short against his pale, receding hairline.
Near the iron-wrought gates, Albus wanders outside, as snow gathers in thick clumps. Scorpius crouches near the yew hedge, petting the head of a very large albino peacock. It nips his thumb and forefinger affectionately, squawking softly to him. He's dressed like his father, in all black robes and a waistcoat, with gilded, neat trim along the cuffs of his freshly-pressed and midnight-dyed sleeves.
"They all said if I have a daughter, she will inherent the blood curse." Scorpius's green-gray eyes moisten. "Like my mother did from her mother," he declares, not looking at Albus, his voice starting to tremor.
As soon as Albus murmurs and wraps his arms around Scorpius, the other boy allows himself to cry, leaning against him and pressing their cheeks together. Albus does not understand what this feels like — if he lost his own mum like this, to a bleak, unyielding death, Albus's whole world would shatter apart.
Scorpius's kiss feels tender-hot and real, and Albus doesn't know what to do, blinking owlishly. His best friend pulls away, his white-blonde hair ruffled, his mouth blotchy and pink as the peek of dawnlight.
They're thirteen years old and uncertain about everything in their lives so far.
Albus turns seventeen, when the leaves wither into reds and browns and golds. He places away his birthday cards for a week or so and not bothering to read them, leaving them in a drawer by his bedstead. Instead, Albus visits the Entrance Courtyard, strolling around the gigantic, moss-covered rubble of the colonnade. He finds Scorpius in his Hogwarts uniform, the green-and-silver of Albus's tie loosely hanging from his collar.
"Can you believe it happened here…" Scorpius asks, seeming breathless and excited as he peers around. Nobody ever comes here. The students of Hogwarts used to, playing Gobstones and scribbling their coursework, long before either Scorpius or Albus had been born. "In 1998… the Battle of Hogwarts itself…"
A flat, contemptuous noise. Albus joins him on the ground, plopping onto his arse and leaning back on his hands. "Nobody ever lets me forget the past," he announces, offering a thin smile to Scorpius who grins.
"Maybe we need to remember…"
"Or maybe you're too bloody sentimental," Albus retorts, his bright green eyes squinting when the grin goes mischievous and Scorpius inclines towards him, their noses and lips nuzzling. "You always are, Scor," he says, this time less like a retort, feeling Scorpius's hand cupping against the back of his skull, gently fingering through his jet-black hair, kissing his boyfriend with absolutely no hesitation.
Their families won't be happy about it, but… sodding hell, it doesn't matter.
Death has tried to take the most important things from them.
Albus will not let anything else stand in his way.
.
.
Harry Potter isn't mine. What a glorious ship. They're like the only valid thing about the epilogue and The Cursed Child. ANYWOOZERS,,, HI. I'M HERE AGAIN. WITH MORE FIC. AS USUAL. I'm throwing out my Scorpus Secret Santa 2018 fic for lcsversclub on Tumblr and for you guys to read! Any comments/thoughts welcomed! C: