I can remember being afraid.
And I recall- vaguely- that I told someone, and they never said anything in return. They stared blankly ahead without blinking, and it scared me more than anything ever had.
"I am sorry, you know. That I never noticed."
"Wasn't your fault."
"No- really. I paid too much attention to the little things that I missed the big picture."
"Like what?"
"Like the time you asked me if I had ever heard a ghost story, and I told you no, and… well. I've heard one now. You are my ghost story."
"And the big picture? What do you think that is?"
"You hurt."
Albus smiles, a fleeting thing, pastel blue hair glinting in the night lights as he tilts his head. Silver twinkles from underneath it, and Scorpius wishes for a lot of things, in that moment.
"You never told me why you left."
And here he hesitates. "I did. I. Never wanted any of this." He stands, and wipes the dust from his robes. Scorpius is quick to follow.
"Wait. Please don't leave us like this…"
Albus smiles again, sad and distant. "We aren't friends anymore, Scorpius. It has been too long to claim that."
While he feels like he's just been run through, Scorpius shakes his head in agreement. "I know. I know that. But."
"I know."
And Albus walks forward and kisses him again. His breath is sharp with mint and Scorpius feels like the blade that ran him through has now dug upwards.
Wishes never come true, he's learned that much.
…
He leaves again, without a whisper. He blends in easily with the crowd, and even though Scorpius watches him leave, he loses sight before long. He lowers his eyes to the floor below him, dusty and beige and entirely too consuming. It has taken many people hostage, and Albus and Scorpius are no different than anyone else, and he knows that. He does. He just longs for that difference, that thing that would set them apart from anyone else.
He leaves the Department of Mysteries without looking back.
…
The countdown resets to one.
…
"Is there something that can help?"
"I'm open to suggestions, darling."
…
He wakes with a gasp, pale and sweating, the voice and face of Astoria Malfoy fading from crystal clear to weak and foggy. He shakes it off and leans back, eyes closing as he tries to catch his breath.
Pale dawn light filters through the window, and he sighs as he stares out across the grounds. He pulls the sheets off and shivers as his bare feet are exposed to cold air. He stands, gritting his teeth as blood rushes to his head. He should know by now that standing too quickly only leads to bruises on his too pale skin.
"Master Scorpius," a voice says, shocked, and the blond turns, and inclines his head at the house elf, who promptly looks scandalized. "Master Scorpius," it repeats, reproachful, and he just laughs.
"Can you keep a secret?"
"Of course."
It sounds ashamed that he even has to ask. "You can't even tell my father."
"Who?"
Cheeky thing.
"Albus told me the truth, last night."
It nods, eyes wide, and here, he pauses, searching for the words. "Albus- was abused…"
"By who?"
"That. That I don't know. I don't know that I ever will."
"Can you keep a secret?"
Scorpius blinks in surprise. He nods.
The house elf glances around and then he says, "There used to be someone who snuck into the gardens at night whenever Master Albus was here. Only on those nights. I never said anything because he never came within twenty kilos of the house itself, and therefore was never considered a threat."
Scorpius loses his breath abruptly.
…
They used to tell me proper ghost stories. And then if I told them to anyone else, they'd kill me.
Who?
I can't tell you that.
…
Scorpius bites at the edge of the quill, eyes unfocused as he stares at the picture frame on his desk.
The figures in the picture dance around one another, green robes flashing in the wind, and his heart aches a little more with each passing moment because that picture was taken the day they graduated.
A knock on the door sounds through the room, and he jolts, elbow hitting the ink pot and spilling all over the floor. "Dammit. Come in."
"What's wrong- oh, I see. Scourgify."
"Sorry, Father," Scorpius mutters, staring at the stain on the floor in resentment. It was purple ink, too. It'll stick to the fine white carpet.
"Nonsense. What did Albus have to say?"
"He's been attacked by someone who used to sneak on the grounds here. He had to leave the abuse."
Draco is pale when he looks over, and there isn't much Draco can say, really.
Except. "I'll write him a letter. Apologize. I had… no idea. But I bet I know who it was."
Scorpius cocks his head to the side and waits.
…
Draco had been told ghost stories too by the ghost that haunted the grounds. But the ghost, he said, had never been malevolent.
"Why?"
"He should never have been here. He is of the wrong House."
"He was Slytherin-"
"Potter, boy. He is a Potter."
Scorpius grinds his teeth.
"And what did you say to him? What were the stories?"
"I simply told him what happened to children who run astray."
"That they disappear?"
"That they die."
…
"I know you figured it out. You never were stupid, were you?"
Scorpius jumps, the candle in his hands falling to the ground and shattering on impact.
"Dammit," he swears, and the woman comes over from behind the counter as he leans down to pick up the pieces. The man behind him just stands there and watches.
"You know you have to buy this, right?" the woman checks, and he nods and waves it off.
"That's no issue," he says. "It was only a few pounds."
"13£, kid."
He looks at the price and nods. "Again. No issue."
She hesitates, then walks away with the broken glass.
He doesn't watch her and instead, he turns to Albus, who nods at the woman. "I'll pay for it."
"With what money?" he demands in return. Albus shrugs.
"I've been using my own bank account. My inheritance. Since I'm over seventeen, the goblins never said anything to my parents."
"You're absolutely impossible."
Albus snorts and leans against the nearby wall. "So. How'd you figure it out?"
"What, the ghost?"
"Yeah, the ghost."
"It just. Fit. My father used to hear similar stories, but the ghost had never attacked him because he is a Malfoy. Crazy, huh?"
Albus looks away. Scorpius reaches for him and rejoices inwardly when his oldest and dearest friend doesn't pull away. "I can basically hear your thoughts, Albus. Stop thinking like that."
"Like what?" he bites back, emerald green eyes flashing in anger and desperation.
"Like you're worthless. Because you're not."
Albus says nothing. Scorpius sighs. "Look. Let's go back to my house and we'll exorcise the ghost and then talk this through. Let me hear what you've been doing. Because based on the hair, I think you've had a semi-decent time, no?"
Albus laughs, and he nods. "Yeah, okay. Fine. Sounds like a plan to me."
Scorpius hesitates.
The other man notices, of course he does, and he rolls his eyes and tugs the blond into a kiss. "I told you we're not friends," he whispers. Scorpius nods.
"Not friends."