A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who favorite'd this story, is reading or reviewed. This story is a bit dark- and it's about obsessive love, when I wrote it I was thinking about what makes one person give up everything for someone else- and what would happen to the two people in the aftermath? I watched a lot of old vampire movies and Wallis Simpson books, and that really influenced this story. It's more about loss of ideals and how far someone would go for love- there's a lot of foreshadowing in this story, so if you keep your eyes peeled you can guess who what where and why. I hope you'll enjoy.
Chapter 2:
Albus waited on the steps every night that he could. The nights grew colder and longer, and some nights Mum began to ward the yard door-which sent Albus into a frenzy of worry. He imagined on those nights how he would escape-would he jump out the window? Would he use the force of his desire to see his best mate and spring out of the wards unharmed? Or would they speak through the cracks in the door-whispering secrets until the sun rose?
Things at home didn't change-they didn't get any better, and they didn't get any worse, either. Mum began to shop by owl order to spite Dad and Dad began to go out to the pubs with Uncle Ron and his mates from school to spite Mum. No one spoke except to yell or to fling a hex at night. Albus could hear them, the old familiar sounds-the wireless on as Mum sobbed, Dad pounding his fist on a chair-a zing in the air of magic-and then the silence.
That was Albus' clue. Every night Albus would get out his duvet and his pillow and curl up on the bottom-most step of the servant's staircase and wait. Sometimes he would read if he could find a way to light a candle, other nights the anticipation would keep him awake.
Mum didn't seem to mind him staying up later and later-in fact she regarded it as normal nearly-teenage boy behavior.
Tonight everyone had gone to bed early. Albus had nearly decided to go with them-tomorrow night they'd be leaving to go to Ottery St. Catchpole, to see Gran and Grandad. Yule was soon and everyone would be spreading out in the family compound and Mum and Dad would be doing their yearly impression of a happy couple. Albus hated it.
He heard a noise and sat bolt upright. It wasn't much-just a few quick scrapings against the door, like a crup would to get inside. Albus had always wanted a crup, but James was allergic and Lily was terrified of animals. Silly girls.
Albus opened the door cautiously. It could be a sick animal, a vicious animal, or it could be-Scorpius!
He was wearing Muggle jeans and a thick black woollen sweater, and on his head was a blue and black hat with a fancy black pom-pom. Scorpius once again wasn't wearing shoes-Albus wondered if he was allergic to them like Jamie was to crups and common sense. His feet were dirty and so were the knees of his jeans.
"Can I come in, to you think?" Scorpius bit looked around uneasily. "Will your parents mind?"
Albus knew they would, but he didn't care-he wanted Scorpius for his own best mate, and he had already lied to Dad about it. Mum and Dad were already in bed-most likely separate beds, too. And Albus was going to sit up with Scorpius and talk, and have fun, like a proper sleep over. He smiled and invited him in. Scorpius grinned back, pulling off his hat, his blond hair standing up every which way because of the static. "Did you fall?" Albus asked, offering him a chair at the dining room table.
"Hmm?" Scorpius smiled.
"Off your broom." Albus motioned to the knees of his jeans and the dirt stains.
Scorpius laughed. "I guess I must have had a bit of a tumble. It's nice to be here, your parents have got a lovely home. Isn't that what I'm supposed to say-your parent's have got a lovely home?"
Albus grinned back, looking for the Muggle matches. Mum hid them up on the high shelf so that Albus and James wouldn't play with them, and tease Lily-they'd only set the one plushie on fire and ever since then . . .
"Aha!" Albus said, finding the matches and lighting the nearly burnt-out candle on the table. Scorpius looked really happy, his white blonde hair tucked between his ears and-and there was a bit of blood on one lip.
"You cut yourself," Albus sighed. "I'm too young to heal you, too-does it hurt?"
"No," Scorpius smiled, "I can't feel it, so it must not be bad at all. Tell me, how are your family and all of that?"
"Horrible," Albus said truthfully. "Everyone hates each other. Mum and Dad row all the time. As soon as Dad comes in the door Mum starts in on him-When are you going to become Head Auror, Harry? Why haven't we got more gold, Harry? If you'd just do one interview, Harry, then we could- And Dad's no better. Ginny you should scold the children more. Ginny, if you're home all day, how come you have mended my favorite trousers. Ginny, do you really need to travel-everyone likes England best."
Scorpius laughed. It was sunny and bright, like a bell pealing. "I suppose I should be glad that I've only got the one parent, then."
Albus winced, he'd forgotten that Scorpius had only his father. But Scorpius' father had seemed nice from that one bit of time they had together- but then why hadn't his dad wanted them to talk?
Dad must be daft-it came from fighting with Mum all the time.
"What are you doing for Yule?" Albus asked.
"I'm going with Dad and Grandmother to the Carpathians-you know, the mountain range around Eastern Europe. Around there the laws are different and I can-ski as freely as I like."
"Oh," Albus said lamely. He never went skiing. "I don't go skiing. Mum, Dad, and I go to stay with my mum's family on the Weasley compound, which is utterly boring and everyone pretends to be best mates and plays at happy families for weeks until we're all so fat we could nearly burst."
Something glittered in Scorpius' eyes. "Sounds nice I suppose-eating up like that." Then they sharply dimmed. "I think I'd better go."
Albus sighed. "Really? Come on, there's time before dawn yet."
Scorpius shook his head. "My father worries, and I'm still sort of hungry-besides, I got you a Yule pressie. See if you like it when I leave. Keep your eyes closed, mind!"
"Okay," Albus said, pressing his lids as tight as he could. When he decided to open them a moment later to hug Scorpius goodbye, he had already disappeared, snapped up into the mist of the night.
On the table was a book: A Children's Guide to the Dark Creatures of the East. Albus grinned-a great book to scare Lily half to death with. Scorpius was an excellent friend.
"Albus!" Gran cried, pressing Albus' face into her heavy bosom. "Every time I see you you're taller and taller. I think you're going to be as tall and as handsome as your father! But you're still much too thin my lad!"
"Ah," Uncle Bill said, "I remember you saying that to Harry when he first came round here. Poor boy, he's much too thin."
Everyone laughed, even if the story was as old and threadbare as the couch in Granddad's shed. Albus was bored out of his skull. He couldn't listen to the wireless and drink firewhiskey like his Uncles and Dad were doing out in the old house-the part of the house that belonged to Gran and Granddad before the new addition was added on after the war. And he couldn't go in the kitchens with Mum, and the aunts and Gran because they'd find a way to make him cook and he'd be teased.
Albus slunk into a corner and opened up the book Scorpius had given him for Yule. But private moments didn't last long.
Someone came traipsing down the stairs importantly. It was Louis-Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's son. He went to school in France and was thirteen and thought himself quite important for going to St. Meute's in Brittany, the brother school to Beaubatons. Albus thought he was a git-when they were children he stuck Albus in a closet for hours when he first got his wand. Mum had thought it hilarious.
Louis tossed back his bouffant of blond hair importantly-he was the only blond Weasley and he thought it made him special. Albus thought it made him look a ponce.
"So," Louis began nastily in his accent just tinged with a hint of French. "I guess you can read-but even a monkey can be trained to avoid wards, studies show."
"Shut up," Albus hissed, hiding his book away. "And leave me alone!"
"Why?" Louis laughed. "Going to dear old Maman and Papa? You're such a spoiled little brat I can barely stand the sight of you three-"
With that Louis snatched up the book Scorpius had given him for Yule. Gods how Albus hated his family. Any moment now the cousins would come along and egg Louis on-teach him a new flick of his wrist to rip out the pages or something. Albus jumped up, trying to get back his book, but he was no match for his older cousin, who was also using his wand against regulations.
Aunt Fleur walked by carrying a platter of petit fours with mistletoe fluttering on them. "What is zhis, Louis? Let your couzan be, eh?"
With that Fleur flicked down the book, and Albus scooped it up and fled from the room and up the stairs. In one room Mum and Dad were shouting, not even using a silencing charm, and in another Victoire and Teddy were kissing and touching each other in ways Albus didn't want to even mention.
Albus tried the third room. Lily was asleep on the bed. He shoved in beside her, not caring if she woke up or not. Lily was good enough to startle but pretend to be asleep.
Albus choked down his tears. He hated his family! Everyone was cruel and horrible and so, so very stupid! Didn't anyone see how they hurt each other-or was everything a game, a way to outdo each other, a way to out best the scene that came before it?
Albus stroked the bent pages of his book and bent them the other way, trying to make them so that they laid flat as they did before. In the morning he'd lock it up with his new presents in the trunk-but today he wanted to hold it close, to know that someone outside of this family cared for him, saw him as something other than just a part of themselves.
He tucked the book under his pillow and closed his eyes and just as Albus was falling to sleep he felt Lily's hand grip his tightly.
In the morning the house was in ruins. Albus had once seen a picture book when he was a child that showed what it was like after a Muggle bomb went off. Albus imagined it was something like this-there was shards of glass under the wireless stand that Aunt Hermione and Uncle George were trying to accio out carefully, and there was an overturned bottle of champagne that was drizzling onto the shag carpet that Gran loved so much. On the wall, somehow, was a lipstick stain.
Mum was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast with Gran.
"Our Albus never gets up early," Mum said with pride. "Reminds me of Fred, a little."
Gran dabbed her face with her apron. "What a good boy, your brother was-you come from good stock Al."
Gran slid more rashers on Albus' plate than he could eat in a year. Across the table Rose snickered. Albus had never liked her-Aunt Hermione was plain and quiet, but firm, and Rose wasn't at all like that-she was loud and giggly and so very annoying. She got on well with James, of course.
Next to them sat Hugo. Hugo was serious and quiet and he read all the time-but he was strong, so no one teased him for very long. Albus supposed that if he had to stand anyone in the cousins, it'd be Hugo. Dominique was next to Albus, but she was fifteen, a girl, and the only person who interested her was Lily, and that was more as a doll to dress up when she got bored. And then there was Louis, surveying the room with menace.
Molly was seventeen and away studying Healing and Fred was spending Yule with his girlfriend's family, which was half the gossip. Albus tuned it out.
"Such lovely children," Gran said happily. "It does my heart well to see such a large family, doesn't it, Ginny?"
"I dunno, Mum," Mum said back. "I never wanted children. You know I wanted to play professional Quidditch and get married when I was thirty."
Albus tensed and looked across the table. James was too busy shoveling food in his mouth and showing off to Rose to hear a bloody word, and if Lily was hearing this Albus certainly couldn't see through Dominique.
"Don't say that," Gran hissed, slicing up potatoes with her wand. "Your children in the same room and you going on about how your life is such a mistake. Do you know how many women would kill to be Harry Potter's wife?"
"Unfortunately," Mum said, deadpan. "They owl me, and they threaten me in the streets, and sometimes-well, nevermind. The fact of the matter is, Mum, it isn't the wonderful life I thought it was. And I suppose Harry feels the same way."
Gran looked very sad, very hurt. "I hope you're not planning to do anything rash, Ginevra."
Mum shook her head. "I've got three children, no work experience, and no prospects-I love my children, Mum-I'm not sure about all the rest anymore."
Mum set to boiling the water with a circular motion of her wrist and Albus wished he could sink down underneath the table and hide away from it all.