unborn future

Scorpius found her down by the gates of the school, arranging to meet her friends on the Hogwarts Express. "I thought we were going to sit together on the way home," he said, a little hurt.

Chiana shrugged as she turned to look back at the school, shading her eyes against the midmorning sun. "It's been seven years," she murmured in her soft drawl that still held traces of the American accent she'd arrived with. "Hard to think that we won't be coming back."

"I guess." He wasn't thinking of the past right then, he was thinking of the future - the possibilities laid out in front of them - first the summer, then the rest of their lives. At this moment, he could see it all. "So, when am I going to see you this summer?"

"You're not. We're going to America."

"You're going- Since when?"

"Since my parents arranged it in February."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Scorpius stared at her, at the violet eyes beneath the cap of blonde hair that weren't meeting his gaze.

Chiana sighed and scraped back wisps of hair from her cheeks. "I didn't know how to tell you."

Okay. Well, they could work around this. "So...how long will you be holidaying in America?"

"It's not a holiday, Scorpius."

Her words slugged him like a Bludger to the belly. "It's not...? You're going back to the US?"

"Oppenheimers live in Ohio," she said. "We only came back so I could go to school at Hogwarts. Mum wanted a British education for me, but...it's difficult for her being back here."

"So she has to go back. Why do you have to go?" Scorpius asked, still trying to make sense of it. All year, they'd been talking about their future, about what they'd do when they left Hogwarts. They'd been talking about going to Europe, travelling together, about her possibilities in the Ministry of Magic, about his possibilities in entrepreneurship. And now she was going to America with nothing more than a goodbye conversation before the gates of Hogwarts.

"I don't have to," Chiana said patiently. "But I want to. Scorpius... Mum lost her parents in the Second War. Granddad was Muggleborn, and the Death Eaters..." She trailed off. "Mum nearly had a fit when she first discovered I had a Malfoy in my year at school..."

"I'm not my grandparents."

"No. But...you're still a Malfoy. You'll always be a Malfoy. And I can't... My parents won't..." She trailed off. "I'm sorry."

"So we're breaking up." He wanted it said out loud, just to be sure he had it all straight in his head. It explained a few things that had previously been unclear to him - such as why she didn't want to meet him in Diagon Alley at Christmas, and why she'd gotten vague about her plans in the last few months.

"Yes."

He pulled in the temper that flared, the grief that burned hot shame into his cells. Cold. He had to be cold or he'd lose it, and he was - as she'd so rightly pointed out - a Malfoy. He had his family name and his pride - cold comfort though they were.

"I'm sorry, Scorpius."

He grimaced. "So am I."

TBC