A/N
So yeah, writer's block has definitely buggered off now, thankfully. Here's Seven, enjoy it!
Chapter Seven: A Prophecy Noted
Albus sat staring at the opposite wall of the hospital wing. Madame Abbot had not allowed him to leave the ward until she was sure he had thoroughly recovered from his exhaustion. Despite that, Albus was sure he was well enough to high tail out of there, and curl up in his own bed in the Slytherin dormitories. He would have left already, had it not been for the fact that the hospital doors had been instructed not to open for him, and that he had given James back his invisibility cloak only three days ago. Cursing his idiocy, he slumped back in the uncomfortable gurney, literally twiddling his thumbs with boredom. Despite his so-called exhaustion, he had been unable to rest all night, tossing and turning restlessly every five minutes. Huffing loudly at his enforced imprisonment, he sat up awkwardly, rubbing his chest as he did so. Whatever illness had swooped down on him earlier had left him with a dull ache everywhere, his chest and shoulders feeling like he had gone several rounds with a hippogriff. Blindfolded.
Sighing, he closed his eyes wearily, his thoughts returning for possibly the hundredth time to the "prophecy" that he had been witness to. How he had forgotten that for five days, he wasn't entirely sure. Sung through ashes? What in Merlin's name was that even supposed to mean? And no phoenix had resided in Hogwarts since the days of the war, when Fawkes, Albus Dumbledore's old bird had died, gone up in one final burst of magical smoke. Exasperated, he reached for a glass of water, nearly jumping from his skin as his hand collided with someone else's. The almost ethereal fingers gripped his glass steadily, seemingly unattached to anything, and Albus rolled his eyes.
"Scorp! What are you doing here? And what are you doing with my brother's cloak?" He glared at the patch of air where he knew the blond head would normally be, and the boy revealed himself in a flourish, grinning mischievously. Handing Albus a box of chocolate frogs, he sat himself down in the chair beside his bed, placing a slender finger to his lips before casting a muffliato charm around them.
"Thought you'd need some company, you looked fed up earlier." Scorpius informed him, reaching to the box Albus had just opened and selecting a particularly docile looking frog. It croaked once, looking balefully at the Slytherin, before he bit off the head hungrily. Albus himself placed the box on the bedside stand, paling at the sight of food.
"Scorp, I'm afraid." He muttered, and his friend frowned, before squeezing his hand almost too carefully. Albus felt himself inwardly blush, and he pulled his hand away gently.
"It'll be okay. The teachers will undoubtedly put their knowledge to good use, Al." He reassured him, and Albus raised an eyebrow expectantly.
"'Course, you know that means we're going to have to do our own investigating. Leaving it to the teachers will mean we shall all be dead by Christmas." He joked, and Albus grinned despite himself. Trust Scorpius to joke about death and destruction. Albus found himself tracing the outline of his friend's face as he chose the next victim from the box of quietly croaking chocolates. He had to admit, Scorpius was handsome enough, with his messy blond fringe falling in his eyes all the time, those cold, grey eyes that could light up at any random moment. Although, having thought that, Albus realised with a jolt, he had rarely truly smiled lately; his eyes had kept their look of icy, unwavering contempt. He could swear that the boy had taken to disgruntled sneering at every other opportunity in the last few months. Sighing, Albus grabbed a frog out of thanks for his friend, and wondered what had gotten into the boy. Probably some mystery girl causing him to lash out at so much as the ghosts, he supposed. Not that he had ever seen Scorpius talking to any girl, with the exception of Albus' younger sister and cousins.
Albus stiffened as he heard the door to the hospital wing's office open suddenly. Startled, Scorpius reached for the invisibility cloak from the bed wildly, accidentally grabbing Albus' leg in the process. Disgruntled, Scorpius dropped the cloak, and Madame Abbot spun on her heel at the sound, obviously in the process of administering another student's early morning medicine. Startled, she sharply walked up to them, hissing under her breath, not wanting to disturb the other students.
"Mr Malfoy, I suggest you leave, now, before I contact your head of house. I'm certain Professor Slughorn would not appreciate the news of one of his best students going walkabout in the middle of the night." She glared at him, as if warning him not to answer back, and Scorpius nodded hastily, gathering up the fallen cloak behind him inconspicuously.
"Yes, Madam Abbot. I apologise, I merely thought Albus might be a little bored here, alone. He suffers often from the effects of Insomnia." He cast a look to Albus, and he stayed silent, merely looking at his hands as if they were suddenly the most interesting things in the world.
"Yes, well, Mr Malfoy. I'm sure I can find some potion to assist Mr Potter in his sleeping. In the meantime, please leave the ward now. I shall not punish you this time, as I am sure somebody will spot you on your way back to the Slytherin common room. Good luck, Mr Malfoy." She hissed, angry now that her ward's peace had been disturbed so early in the morning, and Scorpius left the hospital wing in a hurry, casting a regretful look back at Albus as he slipped out of the door.
Albus sighed, throwing his head back on the pillow, as Madame Abbot shot him a look. She bustled back to the boy opposite, before disappearing into her office. A moment later, she reappeared, holding a beaker of some revolting looking substance, clearly intended to throw him into a deep, dreamless sleep. Sighing, he threw the potion back down his throat, feeling it burn down to his stomach, and fell into blackness.
"You're free to leave, Mr Potter." Albus opened his eyes, disorientated, as the matron shook his arm to wake him. Pushing himself up, he felt his vision blur; the potion had left him with a feeling of being slightly drunk, and it took him a moment to focus properly. The woman stared at him sharply, clearly wanting the middle Potter out of the room as soon as possible. She thrust his robes towards him, which had been freshly cleaned and pressed overnight, and marched back to the office, slamming her door. A few people on the opposite wall looked out from their beds at the noise, groaning lethargically. Did the woman just drug them all up for a quiet night's sleep? Albus snorted, and grabbed the curtains shut around him, before tripping into his clothes. Grabbing the half empty box of now stationary chocolate frogs, he practically skipped to the doors, glad to finally be free, and jogged all the way to the common room, wincing at the pain of his abdomen and shoulders with every step.
Finally, he arrived at the dungeon entrance, muttering the password, agitated. Much to his surprise, they didn't open, and he stared blankly at the wall in disbelief. The password had changed overnight! Groaning, he banged his head against the brickwork in frustration, welcoming the cold hardness of the stone. Slumping to the floor, he resigned himself to the wait before another student came along, cursing himself and Madame Abbot for refraining to mention the password change.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was probably merely minutes - he had been too tired to cast a Tempus charm - Jordan appeared around the corner, whistling cheerfully, part of his face coated in a fine layer of soot. At the sight of Albus sat on the floor, legs stretched out, his feet pressed against the opposite floor, he started. Stepping over the boy's legs, he chuckled under his breath.
"Forgot the password, Al?" He asked, sneering in a highly un-Jordan-ish way, and Albus glared at him.
"Yes, clearly. Now quit goofing around, and tell me what it is." He said, standing up and rubbing his legs, wincing. As he turned to Jordan, he was startled as the boy slammed him against the wall roughly.
"What's it worth?" He sneered in his face, and Albus staggered, eyes wide, as the boy breathed in his face mockingly. Albus stammered, reaching for his wand in his robes. Damn, he thought. It wasn't there, he must have left it behind in the hospital wing. Jordan laughed, almost disdainfully, and Albus frowned, confused.
"Jordan, w-what's going on?" He stared at his friend, and the boy suddenly stumbled back, staring at his hands in shock. His own eyes widened, looking at Albus fearfully.
"When did you get there?" He asked, confused, and Albus shook his head, alarmed at his friend's display.
"I was always here, Jord. You just… flipped at me." He whispered hoarsely, suddenly afraid. The other boy shook his head, before muttering the password at the wall. He stared once more at Albus, before running off back in the direction he had come. Albus started, watching him run away quickly. Quickly, he entered the common room, before the wall sealed shut behind him once more. What had that all been about?
"Albus!" A voice called to him, and he turned to see Scorpius wave one hand at him from beside the fire. A blanket was strewn over him, in combat to the chilled temperature of the room despite the heat outside, and Albus grimaced, moving like an old man to sit beside him, seizing half of the blanket, suddenly cold.
"Hey, sorry about last night, man, I -" Albus cut him off, waving a hand wearily.
"Did you do something to Jordan?" He asked abruptly, and his friend's eyes widened in innocent confusion.
"W-what?" He asked curiously, and Albus shook his head, preferring to keep that instance private for now. Sighing against the cushions, tired, he thanked whoever was looking down on him that it was, at last, Saturday, and closed his eyes.
"Are you feeling any better today, Al?" Scorpius' voice rose above the silence, and Albus nodded wearily, rubbing at the back of his neck and grimacing. He stiffened as a cool hand was placed against his skin, pressing lightly at the knots that had accumulated there. For a moment, he floundered, but then relaxed as his neck began to soothe, feeling slightly better. Trying to ignore the fact of who was suddenly massaging his neck for him, he breathed out heavily, realising that in actual fact, Scorpius was very good at massages, too good, in fa- what was he thinking? Madness.
Leaping away from the seat, he rushed in the direction of the dormitories, concentrating all of his willpower on not looking back at the blond Slytherin who was most undoubtedly staring after him, confused.
Collapsing on his bed, he threw his pillow onto his face, screaming a muffled scream against the material. What was he thinking? He couldn't - wouldn't - think like that. It wasn't - it wasn't right. Possible. Probable.
Abruptly, a separate thought stopped him from anguishing over his… whatevers, for Scorpius. Why had Jordan opened the common room for him?
