For the Last Ship Sailing comp. Seer au, cup of coffee, staring out the window
For FRIENDS Challenge
The problem with seeing the future is not that you can see the horrible things. It's not that you're expecting the worst because you actually know it'll happen. It's not that no one usually believes you.
No, that absolute worst thing about being a Seer is that everyone around you treats you like a freak as soon as they find out.
Except him.
…
"Stop!" you scream, and it actually works, as the car screams past with rubber burning onto the road, he turns to look at you, curiously.
"Scorpius Malfoy," he says, surprised. "It's been- what? Six years, now?"
Six years, three months, one week, five days, and sixteen hours, but no one needs to know that.
It's not gotten any easier to look into his eyes, you notice, somewhat relieved, somewhat irritated, and overall, very antsy.
"Albus Potter," you acknowledge, hearing the waver in your voice. He doesn't, though, and for that, you're grateful.
He walks toward you, and you hold your breath and release it, and then you realize he hasn't actually moved yet.
And, yeah, okay, now he starts actually walking. "Want to go for a drink? Catch up?" he says as soon as he's close enough, and damn, this is annoying because he hasn't gotten that close yet, and why is it so bad around this man? It always has been like this, too. These mini prophecies and fleeting moments of repetition that he never actually noticed thanks to the infamous Potter obliviousness.
"Sure," you say when he repeats himself, and he nods. And suddenly it's dark to your eyes and you're in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron, and there are tears on your eyelashes as you stare into an empty glass.
That. Does not bode well, you think faintly, as he takes your arm and guides you away from London proper to the wizarding side of things.
The building is as nondescript as it always is, with dizzying magical signs all over it.
It's been a long time since you've seen magic outside of your home.
And the running joke was that, between the two of them, Al had been the one who would most likely be the muggle.
Oh, how reality is like a slap to the face.
Because you might be able to see the future, but it's not like you can see the distance.
"You alright, Scorpius?"
You look at him and stumble a little, and the concern on his face deepens. "Scorpius?"
"Fine," you manage to cough out. "I'm not feeling well, is all. Leaky Cauldron, right? That's where we're going?"
"We don't have to," Albus assures. "We can just go back to your place and I'll drop you off, if you'd like."
You will cry tonight, in the corner of a dirty pub, but you'd like to think the way you get there is a bit more pleasant.
So you nod, and you know that no matter how you try to change the future, you're going to end up there in some way or another. You've done it a hundred, hundred times.
"Where do you live nowadays, Scorpius?"
"On third," you say. "Above the bakery," and you start walking in that direction, and you weave through the people without difficulty because it's always been easy to know what moves people will make next.
He runs to catch up and when he pulls level he says, "Awfully quiet, aren't you? What's happened to silence you?"
You shrug. "What's there to say? Like you said, it's been six years."
"Exactly. You should be on it to make sure we catch up as fast as possible. I've known you most of our lives, Cori, and I know you can't have changed that much."
You fumble for the keys in your coat's pocket and pull them out, the metal starkly cold on your rabidly numbing fingers.
You drop them in the snow at your feet and swear, but it's Albus who gets them first, and he runs his fingers over the scar on your ankle that he sees when your pant leg gets caught on the pipe when you move-
You see the keys and bend down to get them before he can move, heart racing.
Sliding the key into the lock takes a long minute, as your hands shake and your grit your teeth and he stares at you blankly before looking around and hissing, "Alohomora!"
A blush creeps onto your cheeks and he shakes his head.
"Honestly," he huffs. "Where's your wand?"
"In my bedroom," you admit, walking onto the mat that sits in the back entrance to the bakery. You stamp your feet to free the boots of the snow and call, "I'm home!"
"About time!" Nana says loudly, poking her head around the corner, graying hair falling around her face. "Your father's been calling for you."
"He's here?" you ask, confused even as you move for Albus to come in behind you.
Draco Malfoy sits on your bed in your room, fiddling with his wand as his eyes take in the room. When you walk inside, his gaze darts to you and he opens his mouth, "She's dead-"
"Who?" comes out of your mouth, and it's then you realize that you've actually reacted to your vision.
"Who what?" Albus asks cheerfully, casting you a funny look.
"Never mind," you mutter, and walk up to Nana to give her a kiss on the cheek to brush past her. "I'll be back, Albus," you call over your shoulder, ascending the stairs to your apartment.
Bleak and not personal, the apartment has white walls and no hope in it, and it feels like he's merely its reflection from time to time. He sighs as he toes off his shoes and walks to his bedroom, a sinking feeling settling in as your heart lodges in your throat.
You think you might now know why you'll be crying.
"She's dead."
"Who?" you ask, but you already know.
"My mother," Draco says, and you break together, and he cries while you do, too.
…
When you don't come back downstairs for several hours, staring out the window, curled up in the black chair with an open book in your hands, Albus knocks gently on the door.
"Come in," you say loudly, but don't move otherwise. Your oldest friend steps into the room and he's holding a cup of coffee in his hands that you can smell from where you're sitting.
"Heard what happened," he says, kneeling in front of you and handing you the drink.
You put the book aside and reach for the warmth, but don't take a sip from it, instead turning away to stare morosely out the window again.
It's snowing again, cold and bitter, the wind beginning to pick up slightly. The flurries are chaotic.
You look Albus and he reaches for you, brushing his thumb over your cheek. A few tears slide past your eyelids. You turn to face him fully and he says, "I am so sorry, Cori."
You shake your head. Useless platitudes mean nothing in the long run. "Thanks," you say anyway, choking on the word. "Um. Do you mind staying… you know… for a while?"
"All the time you need me, Cori," Albus says warmly.
You wonder what made you lose touch.
His hand is still on your cheek and he looks confused, but he leans forward anyway and your lips meet.
The vision flashes, and it's of you in the Leaky Cauldron again, tears on your eyelashes, but you look up this time and he's there, and your fingers are intertwined and though you're crying, he sees you through it.
"You want to get that drink?" you ask when you part, and he nods.
"Yeah. Okay."
He takes your hand and you leave the cup on the side table next to the book, and as you look back, chest still aching, heart still broken, head still pounding, you can't help but think how romantic it all seems.
"Okay, Scorpius?"
"Yeah," you say, and look away from your apartment, and you want to paint the walls.
"Come on, then."
…
"Hey."
"Hi," you say, and look up. He slides across into the table's chair that you're cleaning, and he leans forward. Smiles.
"Let's go out."
"Out where?"
"I don't know. Anywhere. Everywhere."
You laugh, and shake your head. "We could just order in tonight and sit on the couch?" you suggest, and he grins.
"Or a movie at the theatre?"
"How about just lying in bed?"
"Lying there? You're not any fun, are you?"
You snort, rolling your eyes. "I don't feel like going out."
"You need to. That apartment sucks, and I am the loser that lives at home at twenty three years old."
"Hey, I lived at home until three months ago."
He pauses. Looks at you critically. "Really?"
"Yes, really," you huff. "I only moved here because I graduated from muggle schooling. I'm working here part time while I spend the rest of my days working with the banks."
"An accountant? You?"
"Boring, yeah, I know. But it pays well because no one wants to do it."
He laughs out loud and his grin is cheeky. "Okay then Mr. Money."
You wake up.
The sunlight streams through the window and you can't help but wonder how far away that scene is. You haven't left your apartment in a month, not since your grandmother died, and grief took your heart. He stops by occasionally, but not as often as either of you would like.
There's the sound of a train outside the window, and you roll over to look, and you see nothing but the gusts of white winds as the train blurs past the snow and stirs it into the air.
Dreams are always farther into the future than waking moments are.
You grab your wand from the bedside table and twirl it between your fingers, still looking outside, your feet getting colder the longer you stand on the hardwood floors.
People are interesting, and the more you watch, the less human they become. They turn into figments. You lick at your lips to break the seal, and wince when they begin to bleed slightly. It's way too cold this morning, and it's only November, so you're going to deal with this for much longer.
The cell phone begins to ring from under your pillow, your five am alarm, and so you ignore it.
It keeps going, and going, and going, this bell-like sound that doesn't end. It breaks through the silence of the apartment every single morning without fail, and you're grateful it's still the weekend because you have to go back to work tomorrow or you won't make next month's rent.
You look down, prying your feet from the floor as you head for the bathroom.
…
The Leaky Cauldron is exactly like you remember, but then, everything in the wizarding world is, because they are trapped in a time loop while everything around them moves and warps.
"Can I help you?" someone asks, and you glance up.
"Nothing," you say, and return to staring out the window.
"Hmm," he hears from her, and she leaves, pushing in some chairs around the center table with a wave of her wand and some muttering about ungrateful people.
You smirk to yourself and watch as Albus makes his way to the pub.
The man doesn't notice you at all as he walks straight back to the brick wall that leads to Diagon Alley.
You don't know if you prefer it that way today.
…
You stay until dusk, watching as nothing interesting happens at all. The only thing that momentarily caught your fancy for more than a few precious seconds was a woman and her screaming son.
She had looked absolutely exhausted.
Albus slides into the chair across from you and stares intently until you look at him.
"How are you?"
"Peachy," you say, and it isn't a lie but Albus doesn't look like he believes it.
He hums instead of answering that, and instead he says, "What's so interesting out there?"
"Muggles," you say with a shrug.
"Prevented any deaths today?"
You look at him sharply, and he smirks.
"I figured you out, finally," he says smugly. "You're a-"
"Shh!" you hiss, looking around.
Because the worst thing about being a Seer isn't seeing the horrible things. It isn't that you expect the worst. It's not because people don't believe you.
It's that people immediately become wary and treat you like a freak.
So he shuts up and you drag him away.
…
"How did-"
"I figure it out?" he finishes, shutting the apartment door behind him. You nod stiffly, crossing your arms. "I've thought about it. About you. About how you always knew what the lessons we were going to learn that day were. About how you knew when I would get mail and you'd say it before the owls came each morning. I thought about how you knew about your mother the day it happened. I thought about how you always just know things- little things, really, like your Christmas gifts and how you knew when Teddy and Vic were getting married before anyone else did. Nothing huge, but most Seers don't see the big things, do they? Only really powerful seers do that, and they don't get visions as often as you seem to."
Your lips thin. "You've done your research, then? Well? What do you think?"
"I think nothing of it. Because you've always been like that, and just because I didn't know doesn't mean you're suddenly any different."
You're blown away, and your arms fall to the side as you stare.
He smiles at you. "Who else knows?"
"My father," you say after a second. "My mother knew. And my Gran, but my grandfather doesn't know."
"So just me and Draco?"
"Yes."
"I feel special," he says then, and you start laughing under your breath but he catches it all the same, grinning wickedly at you.
…
He kisses you, again and again and again. You laugh against his mouth and he keeps going.
And then you eye him from where he's standing across the room, looking at you.
"Did you-"
"Yeah," you agree, and that's when he moves and kisses you.
Finally.
"What was it?"
"Just this," you say.
"Oh, damn, so now I never can surprise you, can I?"
"What? Not usually, no. I have to focus on not being surprised if you want me to be."
"So I'd have to tell you anyway."
You laugh. "Pretty much."
He shakes his head. "This relationship is going to be a challenge."
"I'd say the same just because it's you and I."
"True."
He pauses and stares. You know what he'll say and he colors because he knows you know but he pushes on regardless
"You know… It's true. I really have missed you and I've always loved you."
"I love you, too, Allie," you say, and he kisses you again and again and again.
Maybe there are some good sides to being a Seer, you think. He starts kissing down your jaw and so you stare out the window at the January snow, and at the figments of people, and you know where all of them are going and why, but for the first time it doesn't depress you.