Chapter 4: Plain and Simple
Albus was a plain person.
Or at least plainness was what he attempted to embody. He never wore anything particularly distinct, seeming to prefer a darker and monochromatic colour scheme with everything that he wore on a casual basis. Dark jeans and an oversized jumper were Al's aesthetics, always a little oversized as though he expected to grow into them. Scorpius had come to simply accept that. His hair was always just a little too long, his uncut fringe flopping into his eyes, and he seemed to use that to sort of hide himself.
It was all in keeping with the image that his character seemed to embody. That Al was subdued, calm and constant, that he was unobtrusive and preferred to keep out of the limelight. Even when Scorpius came to understand that an innate need to be noticed was just as much a part of who Al was, that knowledge didn't quite overwhelm the reality: Al was plain, he was unobtrusive and if not actively kept an eye out he could very well slip beneath notice.
Scorpius had accepted that about his friend quite without his knowledge. It just always was, like how his hair was dark, or his eyes were green, or that he was left-handed and held his quill far too close to the nib. There was no emotion attached to the fact for it simply was. As such, it quite blew him away when Scorpius realised for the first time that, under such a guise, Al was sort of beautiful.
It didn't hit him all at once. The first trigger to Scorpius' understanding was in the beginning of fourth year when, come the new term, he'd met Al on the Hogwarts Express. It wasn't anything particularly profound but…
"You got your hair cut."
As he found Al's compartment on the train, empty as of yet of Rose's presence, Scorpius found himself pointing out the feature as soon as he saw his friend. Perhaps it wouldn't have been all that noticeable to anyone else, but for Scorpius who spent so much time with him he could hardly miss it. His fringe was a bit shorter, the curls around his ears more even and trimmed. It actually allowed Scorpius to see his face a little better. He hadn't realised how much of it Al had kept hidden until it was swept aside just a little bit.
Al huffed in reply, blowing at his fringe slightly before reaching up to tug at it as though to stretch it a little longer. It didn't do any good and Scorpius couldn't help but smirk at the faint touch of bashful colour that brushed his cheeks. "Unfortunately. Mum said I should try it, even if only just the once."
"You don't like it?"
"Is it that obvious? It's never happening again."
Scorpius' smirk became a grin and he couldn't help but continue to intermittently tease Al for the rest of the trip to Hogwarts. Yet even as he did he couldn't help but notice – Al was pretty good looking behind his curtain of hair. Scorpius hadn't even realised his eyes were such a bright shade. Such a feature just wasn't all that noticeable because he simple didn't notice such trivial features as eye colour and yet… after that, Scorpius couldn't help but pay extra attention to it.
It wasn't until sixth year that Scorpius really started to notice, however. Until after he'd broken up with Jacinta and he'd had his epiphany. Even then, he probably wouldn't have noticed as much had he not stumbled into the showers at some ungodly hour of the morning and nearly tripped over Al.
Al was an early riser. It was a strange phenomenon that Scorpius didn't realise for a long time. Six o'clock he woke. It was the same, every single day regardless of whether it was a weekday or the weekend. Why even Al apparently didn't know, but that was the reality of it. Scorpius had thought himself an early riser until then. It was only when he actually asked Al, when Al told him that yes, he was up at six, that he had a shower before most people were awake and no, that didn't make him crazy for not wanting to sleep in to the last possible second, that Scorpius realised he really hadn't seen Al in the showers before. It had never really struck him until them; like many things with Al, it just sort of slipped beneath Scorpius' radar until some trigger dragged it into his notice. Before sixth year, Scorpius hadn't truly had any interest in seeing Al shower. Not really, anyway. That wasn't how best friends saw each other and besides, what was there to see?
A lot, apparently. A lot that Scorpius once more hadn't realised he was missing.
The effects of slightly oversized jumpers, of baggy trousers and shirts that looked more suited to James' frame that Al's, was only made truly apparent in their absence. After Scorpius crashed into him, when he'd steadied himself and Al straightened, it was to find whatever words of apology had risen onto his tongue die rather abruptly.
Al was wearing only a towel around his waist that revealed almost as much as it concealed given it barely reached mid thigh. Scorpius found himself staring, his mouth becoming dry as his eyes drew hungrily, almost compulsively over every inch of exposed skin that was sinful for the faintly damp glisten. Of pale skin and the faint definition of muscles in his arms and legs, across his chest and torso. At his arms and legs themselves that seemed somehow longer, more fluid, even graceful in stillness. To the curve of his neck from his collarbones, the lines of his jaw. Al wasn't a sportsman, not like his brother, not like Scorpius, but Scorpius found he had absolutely nothing to complain about for that fact.
Typical of Al, he didn't appear to notice in the slightest that Scorpius was staring. That might have been a good thing, although Scorpius would consider in hindsight that much confusion would have been avoided if his friend had been just a little more aware of himself. Holding up his hands before him as though to steady Scorpius, Al gave a slight, apologetic wince. "Oh, sorry, Scorpius. My bad, I wasn't looking where I was going."
Scorpius opened his mouth to speak but barely a croak tripped from his tongue. Al didn't seemed to notice, scratching at his head a little awkwardly. "Sorry. Um… what are you doing up so early? I mean – no, sorry, I'm in your way, I'll just…" He made a vague gesture towards the door to the bathrooms and, skirting around Scorpius with another mumble that was most likely further apology, hastened from the room. Scorpius couldn't help but watch him go, eyes drawn along the smooth curve of Al's back as it tapered to his waist, to the back of his narrow thighs that for the first time Scorpius truly saw in an entirely different manner to usual. It took a physical effort for him to shake himself from his stupor, to close the door behind Al and hasten to the shower. A cold shower, to take care of the unexpected issue that had arisen at the confrontation while Scorpius considered how damned frustrating the existence of a certain towel was.
Yet even then, even with that confrontation, Scorpius didn't truly realise what he had been overlooking until the beginning of seventh year. The situation arose halfway into first term, when the Hogwarts N.E.W.T students were fully embedded in their studies and madly focused upon textbooks and scribbling down every word spouted from their professor's mouths. Breakfast at the senior end of the table was already more filled with open books and scattered parchments than it was with plates of toast and bowls of cereal. Scorpius had never paid his upperclassmen much mind before but when he considered it he supposed that his year were far from the first to engage in such activities at the dining table.
It wasn't until the bell sounded for the beginning of class that Scorpius looked up from his Potions essay and realised Al wasn't in the Hall. How he'd missed it he didn't know because Scorpius always knew where Al was; he had a sixth sense for it. And yet present Al was not. Scorpius put his oversight down to the essay that was simply not writing itself.
Rising from his seat he leant towards Casper, the other seventh year boy the closest to him. "Hey, Cas, have you seen Al this morning?"
Casper paused in the act of stuffing his own books into his bag to glance towards Scorpius. Readjusting his glasses, he shrugged. "I saw him for a second but he barely stepped into the Great Hall before an owl dropped something off to him and he left again."
Scorpius raised an eyebrow. "When was that? How didn't I notice?"
"You were sort of busy at the time," Casper said with a sympathetic smile and a gesture towards Scorpius' essay still half-curled on the table. Then he shucked his bag onto his shoulder and fell into step beside Francesca as they made their way from the Great Hall with the rest of the students.
Still frowning, Scorpius made to follow suit but paused in step just outside the door. He hadn't seen Al so… where was he? Surely he wouldn't have gone to class without Scorpius because Al always walked to class alongside him. Or, more specifically, Scorpius made sure that he always walked alongside Al. It wasn't one of the few free periods that Al had when Scorpius didn't either, which meant… the dormitory?
Scorpius probably should have just gone to class. In reality, anyone else in the world would have just assumed that their friend had gone ahead without them. But whether it was his sixth sense or something else, Scorpius couldn't shake the feeling that Al would have waited for him. Had something happened?
For perhaps the first time skipping class, Scorpius started at a near jog towards the dungeons. The common room was empty when he stepped through the door, the yellow-green fire the only motion in the otherwise still, dark room of blacks, greens and smoothed stone. Scorpius hastened towards the seventh year boys dormitory, pausing outside the closed door only long enough to give a gentle knock. "Al? Are you in here?"
He didn't wait for an answer before stepping inside, and when he saw Al he was glad he hadn't. Sitting on the end of his perfectly made bed – by Al, because he had a weird thing about doing that which seemed to disregard the fact that the school's house elves would have been more than happy to do it for him – Al was staring sightlessly and unblinkingly at his toes. A letter was held loosely in his hands where they rested in his lap but he wasn't looking at it. Scorpius wondered if he even knew he still held it.
But more importantly than that, he was crying. Not sobbing, though; the tears that trickled down his cheeks were silent and dribbling like a tap not quite turned off, dripping onto the overlong cuffs of his robes or pattering onto the bleached whiteness of the letter. He likely didn't even realise he was crying at all.
Scorpius had never seen Al cry. Other than the brief bursts of angry emotion, he never seemed to get worked up about anything in particular. Yet the crumpled, lost expression he wore, the endless cascade of tears down his cheeks, was very real sadness. Of grief, deep and sore. Scorpius could almost feel it radiating from him in tangible waves. Maybe it was. Maybe his magic was speaking for him once more. But if it was, it gave utterance in an entirely different way to that which Scorpius had ever felt before. It was heavy, dragging, exhausting. Was that what Al was feeling?
Crossing the room in quick steps, Scorpius immediately onto the bed beside Al. Without thought, he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, dropping his head down in an attempt to peer more fully at Al's face. "Al? Hey, Al, are you alright? What happened?"
Al didn't seem to even realise Scorpius was there for a moment. He sniffed then slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned towards Scorpius. His eyes shone, red-rimmed, glassy and bright green with watery tears that still fell through the curtain of his fringe. "Scorpius. Hey."
Scorpius puffed a humourless laugh. Even in what was very clearly misery, Al still strove for calm, for collectedness. It was so typically him. "What's wrong? Did something…?"
As Scorpius drew his gaze towards the tear-stained letter in Al's hand he caught from his periphery Al doing the same. He didn't get a chance to catch more than the vaguely familiar handwriting of Al's father, the slanting scrawl so similar to Al's, before Al folded it. He gave another sniff before replying. "Um. Not really."
Scorpius glanced back towards his face. That wasn't like Al. He wasn't the sort of person that seemed able to express his troubles to… well, anyone. He never asked for anything, was the person that offered support or assistance rather than requesting it. As Scorpius had always thought of him, he was just too generous like that. It was almost frustrating sometimes. Was frustrating.
His surprise and immediate desire to offer whatever assistance he possible could had Scorpius blurting out his words. "What is it? Can I help?"
Al sniffed once more. His eyes were still focused on the folded letter, the letter that was already becoming speckled on the unstained side by another splattering of Al's tears that continued to fall. "Not really. Um… my, um… my pops…" There was a pause in which Al raised a hand to sweep his fingers across his cheeks. "My pops died. He's… he'd been sick for a while, and um… I guess…" Al trailed off and though his fingers continued to wipe at his face they did little to stem the increasing tide of upwelling of tears.
Scorpius felt pain seize his chest. Poor Al. His family was close, far closer than Scorpius' was, and it wasn't just his immediate family, either. Al was close to his cousins – to Rose in particular but to the rest of them too – to his uncles and aunts and to his grandparents. Scorpius knew he had just the one grandfather on his mother's side, what with his father's long dead and buried in history books. He'd heard vague stories about Mr Weasley Senior, enough to know he was well loved, a bit of a quirky character and loved for that in particular.
"I'm so sorry, Al," Scorpius found himself saying, his arms squeezing more tightly around Al's shoulders. "What can I do?"
Al shrugged a shoulder, still wiping at his face in a failing attempt to clear his cheeks of tears. "Nothing, really. It's fine –"
"It's not fine. You're upset and you're allowed to be." Scorpius didn't know where his words came from. He hardly considered himself capable of comforting someone who'd just lost a family member. He'd never had to before and didn't even have the experience of losing one of his own to draw upon. But for Al, he would try anything. He would say anything, do anything, if it would help him even just the slightest. "You're allowed to cry and be upset for as long as you want. And if you want ot say something then I'll listen, o rif you don't then we'll just – we'll just sit here." He paused briefly, then again, "What can I do?"
Al sniffed once more, wiping his nose with a fist before raising his glassy, reddened eyes back towards Scorpius. "Just…"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think… could you maybe c-come to his funeral with me on the weekend?"
Scorpius didn't need to consider his answer. He never would, especially if it was Al who was asking him. Offering a feeble smile and squeezing his friend's shoulder once more, he nodded. "Of course I can."
It was the first time Scorpius could recall Al every really asking for anything.
Scorpius did attend Arthur Weasley's funeral with Al. It was sombre, and the amount of redheaded funeral-goers should have been some sort of world record, but Scorpius hardly noticed. He sat alongside Al the entire time, silent and still in their black mourning robes as first Al's Uncle Bill, then his Uncle Charlie, then each of the rest of his uncles and his mother all rose to the podium to speak their words of farewell. Al's Nanna tried to do the same but had to be escorted by her eldest son back to her seat before she'd even begun. The sobbing and stuttering that wracked the greying old woman's elderly frame as she spared a glance towards her husband lying behind her in the casket was one of the most heartbreaking things Scorpius had ever seen.
It was when his Nanna had returned to her seat, when the eulogist rose to his feet and made his way up to the podium in flowing black and white robes, that Al dropped his head onto Scorpius' shoulder. In an instant, even in the midst of his upwelling of compassion and regret for a man he hadn't known, all of Scorpius' attention, all of the world itself, seemed to focus on their point of contact. On where Al rested his cheek onto him. Upon where Scorpius could feel the warm, seeping slide of Al's magic dripping from him with the overwhelming thickness of his emotion. Or maybe that was just his tears, for as Scorpius watched he saw them arise once more and begin their silent, dribbling trickle down Al's cheeks. He wasn't the only one to dissolve into tears with Nanna Weasley's cries but he was the quietest.
Even from such an angle, peering down at his bowed head, at the pale wetness of his cheeks and the spikiness of his eyelashes, Scorpius thought Al was breathtaking. Even if it was somewhat sinful to consider as much in the funeral setting, he was only thankful that it would seem entirely natural for him to slide his arm around Al's shoulder and drop his own head atop of his friend's. Al seemed drawn into the support he was offered.
It might have been wrong. It probably was wrong. Even so, Scorpius found that Al was at his most beautiful when he needed Scorpius in return. And if that made him selfish… well, selfish he may be. He didn't care. But in those instances at least, Al was about as far from that plainness he strove to be as was possibly.
Quidditch didn't help. For the first time in his life, Scorpius found that quidditch didn't soothe him in the slightest. He knew his performance was dampened by his distraction, that he wasn't playing as well as he usually would, but he couldn't help himself. Everything was wrong.
It had been nearly two months since Scorpius had last seen Al. Two months since he'd botched up his attempt to confess his feelings in what he now realised was quite possibly the most foolish way imaginable. Each passing day found Scorpius scolding himself all the more for that idiocy.
He didn't know where Al lived. James wouldn't tell him and though he might have been able to ask Mr or Mrs Potter he felt like he… couldn't. Perhaps this was his punishment for his foolishness, that Al would disappear before he plucked up his stupid courage enough to approach his best friend of half his life, to admit his wrongs and apologise profusely. Or maybe it was just fate playing a twisted, sadistic game.
For whatever reason, Scorpius felt like he couldn't ask for help. Like it would be almost wrong to do so, as though he didn't deserve it. He'd gotten himself into the mess he was now in so he should have to be the one to drag himself out of it. It hurt, it was sorely, and he wanted out now, but maybe this really was his punishment?
Scorpius tried to talk to Al at his work. He tried to approach the Malfoy Store three times before he gave up attempting for its pointlessness. The first time was the worst, however. He still had nightmares about that, of entering the sterile-white shop, approaching the bespectacled receptionist and asking to see Al. Of not Al but Draco stepping from the depths of the brewery moments later and approaching him.
Scorpius couldn't keep the scowl from his face when he fastened his gaze upon his father, even if he suspected it fell rather short of the intimidation he was attempting to project. He knew he looked worn, tired, and more than a little desperate. He hadn't slept a night through for days now.
"Father. I wish to see –"
"I know who you wish to see , Scorpius," Draco interrupted, his voice low and deep, almost mellow. Just as it always was. Scorpius wondered what it said of his father that his tone hadn't changed even the slightest since before he'd been fucking his best friend. What did that make him, exactly? "I stepped out of my way to inform you that you will not."
Scorpius was rendered speechless for a moment. Only a brief moment, however, which was all it took for him to become abruptly angry. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Draco raised a pale eyebrow but otherwise gave no indication of his disapproval of Scorpius' outburst. That was noteworthy, too; Draco had never allowed cussing in his house before, let alone his shop. "When Samson informed Albus and myself of your request to see him, Albus expressed his disinclination to meet you. I intend to abide by my employee's wishes."
Flinching, Scorpius felt his lip curl more pronouncedly. "You're full of shit. He wouldn't –"
"But he did," Draco interrupted again. His eyebrow rose slightly further. "I had wondered what was troubling him of late. Have the two of you perhaps had a fight?"
The fury welling within Scorpius felt like a roaring inferno. He had to grasp the cuffs of his sleeves to prevent his fingers from reaching for his wand. "Yeah. We have. And it's because of you," he spat.
Draco blinked. "I beg your pardon."
Scorpius could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. "Yeah, because of you. Because you're fucking playing with him and he's letting you because he's the sort of person who can't say no to anyone. Even a scumbag who's just using him for sex." From the corner of his eye, Scorpius saw Samson the receptionist start slightly, eyes widening behind his spectacles. Scorpius ignored him to stare piercingly at his father. "He's my best friend, and you're fucking tearing him apart. How can you not even see that?"
Draco just blinked once more. Slow and silent blinks, and though his expression was blank, to Scorpius' eyes he appeared stunned. His only motion was to tap a finger just slightly against the side of his leg. "You knew?"
"Of course I knew," Scorpius hissed. "I've known the whole time."
"You never said anything."
"Because I didn't want to hurt him!" Scorpius found himself nearly shouting. His eyes were blurring in tears of rage and pain. "Because for some stupid reason he decided that he'd fuck a bastard like you –"
"Scorpius –"
"- and even though it's the most fucking stupid idea in the world it was his choice. If he decided it then there's no way I'd force him not to, even if you don't deserve him."
"Scorpius –"
"He's too good for you," Scorpius ploughed on. He couldn't even see his father for the wateriness of his vision anymore but it hardly mattered. "He's good, and kind, and the only reason he'd ever let someone like you use him is because he's too nice of a person. You, who's just going to toss him out like a garbage bag when you're done with him because you don't even realise that he's –"
"Scorpius, enough."
Draco's voice snapped like a whip. In an instant, as though a Silencio was cast upon him, Scorpius found himself bereft of words. His jaw clicked shut almost painfully, eyes blinking rapidly to vanquish his tears.
His father took a deep breath, schooling his already blank features further. He released it in a sigh that would have sounded weary in anyone else. In Draco Malfoy, however, it sounded merely vexed. "You are acting far beneath your age, Scorpius. What myself and Albus have is solely between the two of us. If you have an issue with it, you will approach either myself or my employee in a formal and composed manner. None of this," he gestured at what Scorpius could only guess was his visible rage, "frustration of yours."
Scorpius found himself speechless for an entirely different reason this time. His mouth flopped open, only for him to feel his lip curl an instant later in a snarl. Contain his frustration? Approach Al and Draco in a 'formal manner'? And just as bad, perhaps the worst part of it all, was how he referred to Al. His employee. Even with reference to their relationship there was no such affection in his words. Was his father truly so heartless?
Words were blurting out of Scorpius' mouth before he could stop them. "Fuck you, you fucking bastard," he hissed, clearly with enough hatred that even Draco's composure couldn't withstand it for his slight withdrawal. Scorpius didn't regret them for a moment. Without another word, he turned and strode from the shop, kicking the door open in his rage. Just before the door slammed shut behind him he heard Draco's calm, flat voice directed to Samson. "Perhaps we'd best have a discussion about –"
That was it. Scorpius didn't hear anything after that, both for the closing of the door and the thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. He was angry. He was furious. His father was… he was… Fuck, he couldn't hate him more in that moment had he tried! What happened to the man Scorpius had looked up to his whole life, the respectable, almost regal heir of the Malfoy family who had seemed like a king to his child's mind? What had happened to the moralistic, refined Lord he had been?
Well. He'd fucked Scorpius' best friend and the love of his life for one. Nothing could quite erase that fact.
And Al. What the hell? Al wouldn't see him? He wouldn't even let him talk to him? Why? Was he angry with Scorpius, or was it that fear that Scorpius had seen in the moments before he'd Apparated away? Was he hiding from him? Did he resent Scorpius for knowing, for having any particular opinion about his love life? Scorpius wasn't sure. All he knew was that he wanted to talk to Al desperately. He wanted it more than anything else in the world.
Only Al wouldn't see him. Scorpius returned to the Malfoy Store and a somewhat muted Samson twice more to be turned aside both times. Not by Draco but by Samson himself this time, who didn't even bother to rise from his seat to disappear into the brewery out the back of the store to convey Scorpius' request. Scorpius was simply deflected. After the rather humiliating third attempt, he stopped. He couldn't do it anymore and it wasn't working anyway.
Scorpius tried to write a letter. He tried to write many letters, actually, but none of them seemed to express his thoughts properly so he discarded them without sending them. What he needed was to see Al, to speak to him in person and discover what the true source of his withdrawal – his damned withdrawal that was more pronounced than ever – was for. Unfortunately, if not at work, Scorpius didn't know how to find him. He didn't even know where to look.
Which was how, two months after their fight of sorts, Scorpius found himself trudging dejectedly through the gates leading to Malfoy Manor. The elation he usually felt from his quidditch practice had abandoned him if it had ever been at all. That itself was something that had been a recurring phenomenon of late. Scorpius couldn't find it within himself to care all that much.
Bobby greeted him at the doorway, stretching her little twig-like fingers up towards the jacket that Scorpius slipped from his shoulders and handed her. He barely spared the little elf a glance, bypassing her to wander towards the kitchen. Food? Maybe food would be good. Was he even hungry? Scorpius wasn't sure.
It was as he was climbing the stairs to his room, only an untouched glass of water in his hand, that he heard the voices. Malfoy Manor was an old house, the walls thin when compared to those like the Potter house. Most of the time, when privacy was desired Muffling Charms were used. Sometimes Scorpius wished he had the bother to move out, if only to escape the presence of his father. Perhaps he could move in with his mother until he found his own place? But no, Astoria Greengrass was a ship that had long ago sailed. Scorpius barely heard from her at all anymore.
Even so, despite the largely disregarding use of Muffling Charms, voices were rarely heard throughout the manor. Scorpius actively avoided Draco, as much for fear of what he'd do if he saw him as because just the thought of happening upon him reared an angry dragon within his chest. As such, it was surprising when Scorpius heard the raised voices. They weren't yelling as such, but through the thin, dark walls of the manor they resounded. Obscured, any intelligibility lost through distance, but definitely audible.
Scorpius stopped on the landing that led to his Draco's rooms, pausing with his foot on the bottom step of the creaking stairs that would lead to his own. The hallway was empty, stagnant and still but for the spinning of dust motes drifting towards the thin rug in the evening light. Or it was still for a bare moment before the door to Draco's room was thrown open and Scorpius' father stepped out.
He looked annoyed. Not angry so much as just… irritated. When he closed the door behind him with deliberate slowness – he almost looked to be coaching himself to do so – Draco paused and ran a hand over his hair. Another brushed at the front of his pristine robes before, with a slight frown and a shake of his head, he turned on his heel and strode down the hallway. In the opposite direction to Scorpius, thankfully. Scorpius doubted that Draco even saw him.
Not that he really paid the thought any mind. He spared only a moments glance in Draco's wake before his gaze snapped back towards the closed door. Was that…? Was Al…?
Scorpius' feet were moving before he gave them permission to. Padding silently along the length or the runnel of carpet, he paused at the door to his Draco's room. Should he knock? Maybe, but he didn't.
Inside, the room was dimly lit. Not dark, but dark enough that most of the couches, bookshelves and desk were cast in faded shades rather than stark colours. Scorpius stepped quietly inside, closing the door gently behind him and placing his glass of water on the half-moon table beside the door. Then he turned his towards the room.
Draco's rooms were an untouchable entity. Scorpius had been in them so rarely that they almost felt as forbidden as the restricted section of Hogwarts' library. He'd entered several times when he was younger, when he'd followed his father inside, but it was always only briefly. Since then it hadn't been 'restricted' exactly, but the urge to steer clear, to remain outside of Draco's domain, had deterred him readily enough.
The room was the same as it had always been: sparsely furnished, just as the Malfoy Store was, but in a darker pallet than the brewery. That darkness was only accentuated by the half-panel timber of the walls, the dark curtains half drawn across the single wide window that revealed the last of the day's dying light. It was more of a study than a bedroom, with the door to the bedroom proper tucked away beside the bookcase almost as though attempting unobtrusiveness. Scorpius catalogued it all in a single sweep before his gaze caught and settled on Al.
He stood by the window with his arms folded before him. No, not folded exactly. It was more like he was hugging himself, as if he were cold, but the late summer warmth should have forbade such a chill, and his casual Muggle clothes were more than enough protection from even the draftiness of the Manor. He was staring unblinkingly yet unseeingly through the window, the play of ruddy light bathing his skin in a wan, pink light. It cast a slight shine off his tears.
He was crying. Crying for only the third time that Scorpius had ever seen him do so. As he had what seemed so long ago, seemingly unconsciously, he brushed a hand over his cheek and wiped aside those that trickled down to his chin. It was useless because, silent and flowing as they were, when Al cried it was in an endless, seemingly unstoppable fall. At such a sight, Scorpius couldn't help but long to cross the room and wrap himself around his best friend. As a friend or a lover, in that moment he didn't even care.
He'd barely taken a step, however, before Al turned towards him. When his did it was to flinch, for Scorpius to feel a slap of magic crackle across his skin as surprise and something like fear flashed across Al's face. He took a step backwards from Scorpius, almost as though he sought to retreat further into the room, only –
"Wait. Al, wait, hold on a second." Scorpius paused in step, raising his hands in placation. He hadn't known if such a plea would work but blessedly, at least for the moment, it seemed to stall Al in place. His face was guarded behind the lengths of his fringe, still just a little scared, but for the moment he'd stopped. Scorpius hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he registered that and found he could blessedly breathe once more.
Closing his eyes briefly, Scorpius drew a deep breath. He didn't know where to start but… "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Al."
When he opened his eyes it was to see as much confusion as wariness in Al's expression. His brow crinkled just slightly and when he spoke it was in a quiet voice. "What?"
"I shouldn't have approached the – the situation like I did," Scorpius said, taking half a step across the room. "I'm not sure which part of what I said upset you, but… I just want to talk to you. Please."
Al was shaking his head, the sight of which caused Scorpius' gut to clench. "No, I – I can't, I'm –"
"Al, please –"
"Scorpius, I can't." Al's voice was pleading, the tears still trickling down his cheeks. His wiping fingers still weren't helping in the slightest. "You'll just hate me even more."
"I don't hate you, Al."
"Yes you do. How couldn't you after what I've done?"
"I don't –"
"I'm so sorry, Scorpius. I'm an idiot, and I was stupid and I shouldn't – I shouldn't have –" Al cut himself of closing his eyes for a moment through his tears. "I can't make you hate me even more."
Scorpius had managed to make it halfway across the room before Al opened his eyes once more. Blessedly, he didn't flinch, didn't make to withdraw. "I don't hate you, Al."
"Of course you do –"
"No, I don't." Another step. "What would make you think that?"
"Why wouldn't you?" Al asked, and his voice was almost angry. Scorpius knew it wasn't truly; there was no crackle of anger in the feel of his magic, only the gentle, undulations of grief that had been wafting off of Al since Scorpius had entered the room. "How couldn't you? Dammit, Scorpius, I just – with you dad, I –"
"It doesn't matter," Scorpius cut in. He couldn't hear Al say it because then the words couldn't be unsaid. Regardless of the fact that keeping such unvoiced was useless, that it didn't change anything, Scorpius didn't want to hear it coming from Al. Not in that voice, that tone of absolute remorse and self-loathing. He never wanted to hear him sound like that again. "It doesn't matter."
"Bullshit," Al said in barely more than a warble. Somehow the curse didn't sound quite so strong coming from him; it was desperate more than anything. "There's no way you could just –"
"Well, I can." Scorpius took a final step towards Al until he was just within reaching distance. Which he did, hand resting gently upon Al's shoulder. He only flinched a little. "And I do. I could never hate you, Al."
Al shook his head, dropping his chin so that his face was almost completely hidden by his fringe. "Even best friends don't survive things like this. I don't know why I…"
Scorpius couldn't help himself. He knew he shouldn't ask, that he truly already knew the answer, but he had to anyway. "Then why did you? Why did you let him?"
It was a 'let'. Of course it was a 'let', because Scorpius couldn't think for even a moment that Al truly loved Draco. If he had… maybe that would have made the situation better? Or maybe, more likely, it would have made it worse. Scorpius didn't know. All he did know was that no one would be so utterly miserable when they were with someone they loved. Scorpius couldn't believe it possible. He'd never felt that, even for a second when he was with Al. Even when he'd know about Al and his father, every moment he spent with him was still precious. Al couldn't love Draco, no more than Draco was in love with Al.
Al shrugged under his hand. It was a disconsolate gesture, as weary as the wanness of his face, of the tiredness casting shadows beneath his eyes. "Because he wanted me."
Scorpius heaved a sigh, briefly closing his eyes. He'd known that. He'd suspected as much, because Al wanted to be loved. It was as simple as that. If only Scorpius had known that love coming from anyone would suffice at least for a time, he'd have grasped the opportunity with both hands. He didn't think himself a fool to believe Al didn't love him at least a little bit as much as he was loved by Scorpius in turn. Even if it wasn't quite in a romantic fashion, there was no denying that they were the closest people to one another. It had been that way for years, even when Scorpius had a girlfriend. It was the main contributor to Scorpius no longer having a girlfriend, too.
If he'd known… why hadn't Scorpius just acted? If he had, if he'd told Al, then none of this would have happened. Al wouldn't be wary of him, wouldn't withdraw from him even more than was his usual. Or perhaps, if it was impossible for something more, Scorpius could have laid his hopes and longings to rest. He doubted he could manage as much quite so easily as that, but it was a possibility.
Raising his free hand to settle it on Al's other shoulder, Scorpius dipped his head a little in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Al's face. It didn't work but he tried anyway. "Do you honestly think that he's the only person in the world that wants you?"
Al was silent for a moment before he mumbled a weary reply. It took Scorpius a moment to work it out. "Pretty much."
Exhaustion settled upon Scorpius' shoulders. A heavy weariness that replaced any potential anger he might have felt seemed to weigh him down. Any anger at all that rose at the thought of Draco was swept away, discarded to be replaced by heartfelt regret. Why hadn't he just told Al? He'd known for years about this strange and irrational need of Al's, that it was what fundamentally drove him to put everyone else before himself. Why hadn't Scorpius just up and told him before he'd gone and accepted anyone who spared him a second glance?
Shaking his head, Scorpius sighed. "You're an idiot," was all he could manage.
Al gave a hum of agreement. His hand brushed across his cheeks in that useless gesture once more. "I know. I fucked everything up, and I hurt you in the process."
"I'm not too badly wounded," Scorpius said with a feeble smile. He was gratified that Al actually glanced up at him as a result, however.
Al shook his head, just as wearily as Scorpius felt. The pair of them truly were hopeless cases. "What kind of a best friend ups and fucks their friend's dad?"
Scorpius couldn't withhold his wince. Ah. He'd said it. Damn. It took a physical effort to thrust the echo of those words to the back of his mind. "A pretty shitty one, yeah. You'll have to make up for that, you know."
"Only forever," Al muttered, which, though it was spoken disconsolately, Scorpius couldn't help but feel a touch of relief for. Forever seemed like a perfect idea to him. "I'll get right on that."
"Really?"
"Mm. No more acting like a selfish idiot, even if…" He trailed off.
"I don't think you could ever be selfish, Al," Scorpius said with another attempt at a smile. It died when he saw that Al's endless flow of tears had only intensified. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Al shook his head almost aggressively. "I'm such an idiot."
"Why? What did you -?"
"Why do I even care?" His words were faint, barely more than a whisper. "I shouldn't care, not if he doesn't, and I don't, not really, I'm just a… I'm just –"
Scorpius couldn't help himself. Dipping a hand beneath Al's chin he tilted his face up so he could meet his gaze. The pained expression tightening his features was heartbreaking to behold. "What is it? What are you talking about?"
"I don't want to do it anymore but I just don't want him to hate me," Al whispered, and then the tears hitched double time. He closed his eyes as they fell, dripping like rain from his chin. "I don't want to be hated."
The idiot.
The foolish, loveable idiot.
How had Scorpius found himself such a fool to fall head-over-heels for? He didn't know, but that much was certainly true. Al didn't love Draco, that much was blessedly clear. So what, he'd followed Draco's whims because he didn't want to be hated.
What an utter fool.
Scorpius didn't feel angry. He didn't even feel rage towards Draco for abusing that fragile bone within Al that had urged him to act as he had. He felt only a sinking sort of… no, it wasn't quite relief, but it was something that felt a lot like it. Relief and a rising, swelling feeling of love. What twisted circumstances could possibly make him feel as such in that moment? After what they'd just discussed, after everything that had happened…
Scorpius didn't know, but didn't care either. Instead, quite ignoring any inhibitions, any fears that he might be pushing Al away from him, he wrapped his arms around his best friend and held him. Al was frozen for a moment, a long moment as though he were physically stilled in a Freezing Charm. But then he seemed to melt, his arms slowly, hesitantly, reaching up to wrap around Scorpius in return. The warmth of that touch, of that reciprocation, allowed Scorpius to fully breathe for the first time in weeks.
Pressing his head against the side of Al's, Scorpius released a sigh. "Father won't hate you, you know," he began, pausing as Al shifted slightly. It was only to tighten his grasp around Scorpius, however, so he continued. "And even if he does, it doesn't matter. I'll make up for it."
Al was silent for a moment. Another long moment, in which Scorpius wasn't even sure he'd properly heard his words. Then he shifted slightly again. "Huh?"
Scorpius didn't move. He didn't ease his hold of Al, not even by a fraction. "I'll just make up for it. Surely if I love you the most in the world then you don't have to worry about anyone else. Right?"
Al didn't reply. He didn't say a word, but he didn't let Scorpius go either. And maybe it wasn't quite how Scorpius had imagined it. Maybe it could have gone better and they should have talked more, truly discussed what had happened and how they felt and where they both stood. They would have to talk more, to work out what to do about Scorpius' father because something like that couldn't just be swept under the rug. Draco Malfoy wasn't exactly the sort of person to be brushed aside.
Scorpius didn't even know if Al fully understood his words. Did he realise what he meant? That Scorpius loved him, truly loved him, as more than just a friend? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about Scorpius? None of his questions were answered, but just for that moment Scorpius found he didn't care. They would get to that. Right at that moment he was content to just hold his best friend and the love of his life in his arms and just be.
Something like that… it might be simple, something so plain and ungarnished, but to Scorpius it was the perfect kind of beautiful.
A/N: So, what did you think? Like it? Not? Again, I'm sorry that I demonised Draco a bit. It wasn't really intended, and it was more because it was from Scorpius' jealousy that he was perceived as such, I think. But anyway, sorry if that annoyed anyone. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!