Written for the Quidditch League Round 12, Appleby Arrows - CHASER 2: You'll be writing about two characters in a colleagues relationship - Harry Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, using (quote) In a world gushing blood day and night, you never stop mopping up pain. – Aberjhani, (dialogue) "I've forgotten what it's like to feel young.", (object) windmill, and Hogwarts' Around the World Event: Malawi - AU: Muggle AU.
Thanks to all the QL people who supported me through writing this horror. I love you guys.
Word count: 1843
the sun still rises over these broken bones
The sun is still barely rising when Scorpius stumbles out of the cab, still half asleep and trying to keep his fingers from freezing from the cold winter air. The sky is lighter than it was when Scorpius left the warmth of the bed he shares with Albus, but not by much, and with the amount of fog in the air, it doesn't make much of a difference anyway.
Entering the precinct should be a relief, but even now, years since he's renounced his family's bloody legacy for a career in law enforcement—years since he saw what he could become in his father's shaking hands and his mother's trapped smile before she was murdered and thought no, I can't, I won't—it feels odd to walk into a police station, and not just because it's an ungodly hour in the morning.
His skin crawls as everyone looks at him, and Scorpius wonders what they see—what they think they know about him.
Draco Malfoy's only son turning his back on the family business had made quite the splash in some circles, and ironically enough, those circles included law enforcement as well as crime families.
"They'll stop staring eventually, you know," a voice says, snapping him from his thoughts as he lets his bag fall by his desk before collapsing in his seat with a heavy sigh.
Scorpius snorts as he looks into his partner's green eyes, taking in a face that looks as tired as he feels. "I wish they'd stop staring now," he replies, aware and uncaring of how close to whining he sounds.
"Yeah, good luck with that." Harry Potter, Scorpius' senior partner and coincidentally his boyfriend's father, as well as the man Scorpius had run to when he had left his family behind, chuckles, offering Scorpius a commiserating eyeroll. "They'll only stop when they get something better to talk about, and until then, you're stuck with the attention. Cheer up. It's only been a few months; it should die down soon."
Scorpius grimaced, barely resisting the urge to bang his head against the table. It would only make people stare more, after all, and that's what he's trying to avoid.
"Any tips on that?"
Harry shrugs. "Focus on the work? And try not to pay attention to the whispers. They'll get tired of the same old gossip on their own after a while."
Scorpius huffs a humorless laugh. He presses his palms across his eyes in an effort to wake himself up, stifling a yawn before it can slip out. "I guess you'd know all about that."
"I would," Harry replies dully—and he really would. After all, he had started his own career by catching Voldemort, London's most prolific serial killer of the last fifty years, and that fame had followed him for a long time. In a way, Scorpius believes that it still does.
Scorpius shoots him an apologetic smile—he gets moody in the mornings, but even though Harry knows that, it's still no excuse.
His fingers start itching for a cigarette as Harry just keeps staring at him—or better yet, more coffee, even if the coffee around here is brewed so strong it's a miracle it hasn't killed anyone yet. Finally, the older man snorts and shakes his head.
"Don't get too at ease here," Harry says. "We're not staying."
Scorpius startles at the sound, spilling the mug he had filled with pens all over his desk when his wrist jerk and causing the small windmill statue Albus had gifted him with when he had heard Scorpius had graduated from the police academy to fall down and roll across his desk. "What do you mean?" he asks, eyeing the disaster with an odd kind of detached dread.
"I mean that we have a case," Harry replies. When Scorpius only stares at him blankly, he sends him a concerned look. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Scorpius replies, blinking forcefully and rapidly to force himself out of the daze his brain seems to have settled in today. "What's the case?"
Harry doesn't look quite convinced by Scorpius' claim, but when Scorpius stands back up and starts walking towards the exit, he heaves a sigh and follows.
The cold hits Scorpius violently, making him shiver. The sun is up now, but the fog hasn't dissipated and it bathes the streets in an unearthly white light that gives Scorpius shivers for an entirely different reason than cold.
They head for the cars, and Harry settles in the driver's seat like he belongs there while Scorpius buckles up. He may have only worked with Harry for a few months, but he'd lived with the Potters for years before then. Even so, those few months would have been more than enough to familiarize himself with the crazy way his partner drives—it really is no wonder Ginny, his wife, usually drives when they have to travel.
Somehow, even if none of their cases start that way, they always end up in some kind of car chase. Buckling up is a matter of life or death these days, and Scorpius has no intention of leaving this world so young.
It's only a short drive to their crime scene, and Harry uses it to catch Scorpius up on everything he knows.
It isn't much. All they have is that the victim is a woman who appears to be in her twenties, who was strangled to death and whose body was left behind in an alley. There's no ID, and according to Harry, no obvious evidence.
Scorpius can already tell that this day isn't going to get any better.
He has no idea how bad it will get, though.
The alley their victim is in looks like every other dirty cobblestone alley in London. It ends in a dead end, and with tall buildings on either side, it gives the place a claustrophobic feel that twists Scorpius' stomach before they even see the crime scene.
The heavy smell of old Chinese food and frying oil doesn't help either, and Scorpius swallows back the urge to vomit. Harry, from his scrunched-up nose, seems to agree with him too.
Their steps echo in the empty alley until finally, a body comes into view. It is undeniably a woman, wearing a white dress now stained with dirt. When they step closer, the strangulation marks become obvious too, standing out in ugly violet-red against a pale white skin.
For a moment, Scorpius forgets to breathe as a picture of another woman supersedes reality, bleeding into the present from a nightmare Scorpius thought he had managed to forget.
Suddenly, this unknown woman becomes his mother, whose body he had found before he even turned ten. She, too, had been strangled, and the sight of her unseeing eyes has haunted Scorpius' nights since.
"Scorpius! Scorpius! Scorpius!"
Harry's hand on his shoulder as he calls out his name snaps Scorpius out of whatever flashback that was, but it still leaves him shaken, feeling as though he is underwater and struggling to reach the surface.
"Are you alright?"
Harry's voice sounds so far away, it takes Scorpius a moment to realize that he is Scorpius; that Harry's addressing him.
"I'm fine," he replies, forcing himself to blink the world back into focus; "I'm fine," he repeats, and this time it's a little more true.
The cold air helps for once, and Scorpius inhales deeply, anchoring himself in the present even if the air smells foul. Up close, and now that his ghosts have been dispelled, the differences with his mother become more obvious.
This victim was clearly strangled with some kind of chain, while his mother's killer had used a wire so sharp it had cut through the skin in places, leaving blood streaks that had long since dried when Scorpius had found her.
The haircut is different too: black hair instead of blond; and his mother would never have been caught dead wearing the clothes this woman is. It isn't much, but it's enough for Scorpius to distance himself from his past and truly return to the present.
Their examination of the body only leads them to figuring out that she must have been partying last night, and eventually, they branch out to try to find something else, which is how Scorpius ends up eyeing an enormous garbage bin with disgust.
"Why does it have to be me?" he asks Harry, opening it and recoiling instantly at the smell.
"You're the young one here," Harry replies with a smile. "Take advantage of that to jump in there."
"I've forgotten what it's like to feel young," Scorpius replies before he can stop the words from slipping out of his tongue. It is true, but he hadn't meant to say it.
He waits for a beat, then two, heart pounding in his chest, but Harry doesn't seem to have heard him. The relief that courses through his veins is so strong it makes his hands shake with guilt—explaining why he said what he said would involve talking about his mother, and Scorpius never wants to have to do that again.
Shifting through the garbage is as disgusting as he'd expected, if not more, but at least it distracts him from his thoughts. His clothes will probably end up being ruined, but he does end up finding both the victim's purse and the murder weapon.
They bag those carefully after checking the victim's papers—her name was Sonia Thorn, and they even get an address for her—and wait for someone to come take the body away before they follow it back to the precinct.
They hand over the evidence to the lab, and Scorpius changes clothes after a cold shower that does more to wake him up than everything else this morning has managed to. Before Scorpius knows it, they're back in the car and Harry is driving them toward the victim's address.
Scorpius knows what Harry's about to ask moments before the older man opens his mouth. The atmosphere in the car grows more serious, heavier almost, and it steals Scorpius' breath right out of his chest.
"What happened, back there?" Harry asks.
The question doesn't come as a surprise, but Scorpius still feels surprised somehow. "Nothing."
"Scorpius, you completely froze. That wasn't nothing."
"It was," Scorpius replies curtly, fists clenched in his lap. And then, because he can tell that Harry isn't going to give this up—it's what makes him such a great cop, after all, his doggedness when he finds something interesting—he adds, "I don't want to talk about it."
He knows Harry will respect that.
And Harry does. "Alright," he says. "But, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."
Almost despite himself, Scorpius finds his lips quirking up in a smile. "I'll keep it in mind," he says, nodding once.
The rest of the drive is quiet and Scorpius feels the last of his anxiety leave him. Maybe, he thinks, I can tell Harry about my mother sometime.
But first, they have a case to solve.