And I know it makes you nervous
But I promise you, it's worth it
To show 'em everything you kept inside
Don't hide, don't hide
Come Out and Play – Billie Eilish
Chapter Fifteen: Little Talks
The morning found Scorpius awake far too early for anything else but coffee and reflection.
So, he did both in much-needed solitude.
Or as close to it as he could get.
The door to his bedroom where the source of his current contemplation slept was shut. Al was up, and if his off-key singing was indicative of anything, he was in shower concert mode and it would be a while. Because of that, Scorpius took his time, going through the daily ritual of making coffee.
Can I show you?
His plan had been to investigate whether Rose reciprocated his feelings—not to display his own openly and with intensity. But he'd done just that. Scorpius shut his eyes; his head pounding out the truth that he had been reckless. Greedy. He'd just taken everything she had given him and buggered it all up in the process.
His strategy had been well-defined but simple.
Well, simple enough for all the variables and complexities involved in the fact that it was Rose.
If she didn't feel the same, Scorpius had created a second set of plans that would maintain their friendship without the awkwardness. Would it hurt? Yes. But life wasn't about getting everything he wanted.
But if she reciprocated, he had worked out a proposal where they would agree to wait until everything with the dagger resolved itself. Only after would he present his research findings on the most efficient way to redefine their friendship into something more, and they would wade through the complications and particulars together.
And there were many.
However, what had happened last night had skewed his plan so far off course Scorpius wasn't sure if he could get it back on target. He was still trying to figure out how they had gone from discussing special relationships to electric shocks to her challenging him to him accepting it to them snogging to—well, everything that happened after.
Scorpius had fewer regrets than he should, and felt guilty about it. The situation hadn't changed; the timing was still terrible. More than that, Rose had laid herself bare to him just that morning and he'd kissed her knowing that she was at war with herself, buried under the weight of her own anxiety and the marks on her arms.
Kissing her had been both not enough and too much, and in the end, had left him emotionally raw. By the time Scorpius had turned the lights off, he had been so drained that he'd held on to Rose and fallen asleep almost instantly.
Three hours later, he'd woken up like that, too, with a dead arm and a dry mouth.
Next to him, Rose was breathing hard and sweating; lost in the throes of one of the nightmares she had only just confessed to having. Silent words, gasps, and tears had spilled from her, and it had taken Scorpius a moment to recognise her distress and react. She never woke, but relaxed when he held her closer, repeatedly whispering that it wasn't real. Nothing could hurt her because it was just a dream.
That she was safe.
Scorpius tried to fall back asleep after Rose had settled, but it was pointless.
He had other pressing issues that kept him awake.
Mainly their kiss.
He didn't need to know Rose as well as he did to see the apprehension, the confusion on her face; hear the hysteria in her voice, or sense the same raw vulnerability that he'd felt in himself afterwards. Scorpius meant what he said about waiting until she was ready. He would. It was his fault, after all. He'd accepted her idiotic challenge when he could have ignored her or deflected.
What was worse was that Scorpius had no excuses for his behaviour; nothing and nobody to blame except himself and the fact that ever since his birthday, he just—he just wanted.
It was senseless, really. He had remained silent on the matter, reinforced his self-control in an attempt to maintain all platonic pretences; all while jumbled up inside, wanting far more of her than his fair share.
And when the opportunity arose, all Scorpius could think was foolish and irresponsible thoughts. Which was not like him. He didn't want to accept her challenge because he'd instantly known how to win the argument, but did it anyway.
Why?
Not to prove his point, but to kiss her again. To have a chance to speak his truth as clearly—and with as few words—as he could. It was the only way to stop himself from blurting out everything that had been weighing heavily on him at the absolute wrong time. What he hadn't counted on was losing complete control over himself in the process.
That had been…troubling.
Not to mention as unsettling as the cold shower he'd all but thrown himself into when he'd arrived home. And while one whispering thought cheered because he'd gone so boldly against his own rules and let go, the overwhelming majority of his thoughts had called him an errant masochist. Because how could he maintain the status quo after that?
What was the status quo?
The scent of coffee tore him from his thoughts.
Scorpius went into the refrigerator and found the milk, skipping the cabinet because he didn't need sugar. After a sniff test, because Al had done the shopping, he deemed it safe and made himself the largest cup he could find. A splash of milk later and Scorpius found himself sitting alone at the table, using a bit of wandless magic to stir his coffee with a spoon.
Through and through, Scorpius was an intense planner and was always in control of everything governable; knowing better than to worry about the intangibles. And that control he wielded was his weapon of choice, his talent and defence mechanism. It was how Scorpius had kept all the unexpressed emotions that simmered below the surface of his consciousness at bay, and how he had gone for so long without giving Rose any indication of his less-than-platonic feelings for her.
Feelings that had made themselves known that winter night on her front porch, and grew that next term and into their final year at school. However, just because he liked Rose—the term grated his nerves with how immature and inadequate it sounded—hadn't meant that he was required to act on those feelings.
Rose was, well, Rose.
For at least a year after realising how he felt, Scorpius had refused to entertain the thought of putting himself out there to her because she was a wild card and he didn't need that level of uncertainty in his life. Besides, he liked the dynamic of their friendship too much to muddy things.
So, Scorpius had dated other witches and watched Rose burn through bloke after bloke without so much as an errant jealous thought.
It was fine.
His feelings, he had reasoned, would go away eventually.
But they never did.
For five years, Scorpius waded in the waters of his emotions. It had been easy to float; nice to use her lack of emotional awareness to swim close to her without being obvious. But the rave, and what had followed, had been like cramping up with no way to swim back to shore. He found himself stressed and thrashing about; no longer able to tread water. The harder he struggled, the more tired he became, and the danger of him sinking increased.
He didn't want to drown. He wanted to live; to go back to swimming and floating like before. And he had tried, but talking to his dad made him realise that drowning was inevitable. He couldn't hold out any longer and he would sink, but only until he knew if he wouldn't drown alone.
And then his birthday had happened and somehow, despite his fatigue, he kept his leg and arms moving. It was the only way to keep from drowning before he was ready, before absolutely had to.
But last night he had lost the battle and sunk below the surface. He was lost.
And the thought felt melodramatic, but it was the truth.
Not once had he ever felt such a visceral—such an intense, emotional and sexual reaction to a person. It had caught him completely off guard. When Rose had arched against him, all of his restraint had just vanished, only to be replaced by something Scorpius had never paid attention to because it was a useless feeling—lust.
Scorpius wasn't a blushing virgin. Sex was…well, sex. It felt good, but ultimately, it was just proof of mutual acceptance; a distraction and an exchange: sensation for security.
Until it wasn't enough.
What they'd done was nothing uncommon; if a little immature for their age. But for a few seconds, he saw the sort of person he could be without his well-trained guards, obsessive boundaries, complex codes, and heavy restraints.
And he wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Noises brought him back into reality.
It was Al, of course, obnoxiously slurping from a steaming mug of coffee. His hair was still wet and untidy, like always, and he was dressed in regular clothes. Oh, right. Today was his off day. He and Rose were going into London for fun and exploration.
Cousin Time, Al had declared before he and Jane had left last night.
Because hovering had always been his way of expressing concern.
Rose never had a defence for it, and neither did he.
Al was up far too early to be a mere coincidence. His plan for the day had involved spending time with Rose, who hardly could be described as a morning person. But here he was. Awake at five in the morning and staring at him with an expression that spoke of his concern.
Exactly how long he had been sitting there?
"A while," Al answered smugly, taking another slurp from his cup.
Scorpius glared at his best friend. "Out of my head, Al."
"Can't help it," he shrugged. "You think too loud. I could hear your angst in the shower."
He rolled his eyes. "So sorry to have disturbed your concert."
Al bobbed his head and sang in an off-key falsetto, "I don't think you're ready for this jelly. It's a metaphor. You wouldn't understand."
It was just ridiculous enough for Scorpius to bite back a smile; his head still too cloudy to really laugh. "You're utterly ridiculous."
He did a double take, tilting his head to the side. "As is the mark on your neck, sweet Circe. Who mauled you?"
Instinctively, his hand went to his neck, covering it. "Uh…"
Scorpius hadn't looked at it long earlier in the bathroom mirror; only noting that the mark was visible, thumbprint sized, and now nearly purple. Truth be told, Scorpius wasn't ready to talk about last night – with anyone – but when it came to his best friend, Al often compared him to a fish bowl, with all his thoughts visibly swimming about.
At least to him.
Still, that didn't stop Scorpius from attempting evasion. Poorly. "It's only a bug bite."
Albus took a long and exaggerated slurp from his drink as he searched his face for several moments. When he found what he was looking for, Al inhaled sharply, nearly choking on his coffee.
Shit.
With mild disinterest, Scorpius watched him sputter and cough. However, when his face turned bright red, he heaved a sigh and took pity on him, slapping him on the back a few times until he stopped choking and started bombarding him with questions, "Are you having me on? Seriously? Again? What the bloody hell, mate?" Al slid his chair close enough to where their seats touched, looking too eager.
"Breathe."
Which was the absolute wrong thing to say.
"Shut up," Albus waved his free hand wildly and Scorpius kept track of it because his best friend had a habit of hitting him accidentally when he got overeager. "No wait, don't." Scorpius loudly sighed, which made Al focus on him a little too intensely. "What happened? Start talking! I need details, but not too many details, but details. Please?"
Perhaps he should have let him choke a bit more.
Scorpius took off his glasses and sat them on the table before pinching the bridge of his nose. A stress headache was coming and soon. "I'd rather not talk about it." With that, he impolitely slumped back in his chair, head tilted back towards the ceiling as he exhaled.
His grandmother would be aghast by his poor posture.
When Scorpius lifted his head, Al was holding his cup to his lips, blinking at him. His patience was as thin as ever, but Al remained as annoying as ever as he took another long slurp and smacked his lips with a satisfied, "Ah…" before he sat his now empty cup down.
"Why am I friends with you?"
Albus chuckled. "If I started looking now, I could find the list of reasons I wrote up in Fourth Year when I singed off one of your eyebrows in Potions. But because you always ask me this question at the weirdest of times, I took it upon myself to memorise a few."
Scorpius groaned. "Al—"
"One: I promised to eat all the food you don't like—"
"You eat the food I do like," he countered.
Albus ignored him. "Two: your mum's tolerant of me."
"You're literally the only friend of mine that she likes."
"She's opinionated and has high expectations for you, which makes me a valuable friend to have. You know, with my genetics all." Albus thought about it for a moment, "Speaking of family, that leads to three: statistically, middle children make the best friends."
Scorpius narrowed his eyes. "I'm certain you made that up."
"I did, because four: I'm hilarious—"
"You're a troll."
"Ah, so you do remember the list!"
Scorpius covered his face with his hands, groaning.
Al laughed, but eventually sobered, nudging him in the shoulder. "If you're done overthinking, I'm here to listen. I'm pretty good at it."
Well, that was true.
Scorpius peeked out from between his fingers and Al just grinned and prompted him with several complicated looks and eyebrow wiggles.
"I'm positive you don't want to know the details."
Albus considered Scorpius for a moment, his face cycling between not wanting to know because his best friend's crisis involved his favourite cousin and wanting to know because he'd been the soundboard for all of Scorpius's thoughts since they were eleven. Eventually, he settled on a happy medium: "How about an overview."
Scorpius dropped his hands and started talking, filling him in on what happened after he and Jane had left – but without many details. "And then we snogged," he concluded his story, which was putting it very mildly. "Again," he deadpanned.
Albus shot him a look that clearly asked, do you think I'm stupid?
Scorpius shifted his eyes from right to left. Well…
Al swatted his arm in mock protest. "Oi!"
His only response was to give a little shrug. "You walked right into that one, mate."
"I did, didn't I?" And with that, he slurped more of his coffee, which made Scorpius roll his eyes. "It's not like you to avoid the topic. That's more of Rose's shtick."
"I'm not avoiding."
He didn't agree and Al had always been expressive. "Try again."
"What?"
"Your answer from before. 'We snogged a lot…again'." Al mocked with the assistance of air quotes. "You look a little too stressed out for there to just be a bit of snogging."
"I'm not stressed," he mumbled.
Al just blinked at him, gaze sharp and pointed.
His hands clutched the warm cup in his hand a little too tightly. "Not that stressed."
Another blink. Then a disbelieving frown.
Scorpius sighed because lying to Al was not only impossible, it was futile. "Fine."
"On a scale of one to ten, how stressed out are you?"
He thought about it for a moment. "Remember my first summer at the Burrow when James convinced me that I had Vanishing Sickness? That stressed."
Albus cringed. "I vaguely remember you crying when you found out that there's no cure. Then you cried some more while writing a note for your dad to bequeath your potions set to Teddy because he was the only one of your cousins who would appreciate it. You were about to leave everything else to me when my mum—"
Scorpius shot him a glare. "I thought we were never going to speak of that day."
"You brought it up!"
"It was pertinent to the conversation!"
"Yeah, well, you snogged my cousin…again!"
"You wanted me to snog your cous—ah, that got weird."
They glared at each other, then started laughing, quickly forgetting the argument because it didn't matter anymore. Al had a tendency to laugh as a last resort for when he was at a loss. Scorpius' laughter was more of a way to keep from pulling his hair out.
"So, what then?" Al nudged his foot with his own and smiled when Scorpius half-heartedly bumped his shoulder in a silent retort. "Knowing you, you've probably beat yourself up for everything that happened and you're well on your way to recalibrating and repairing your five-year plan like the analytical nerd you are."
Well, he couldn't argue any of that, but he tried, "First, it's not a five-year plan. It's a post-arrest-of-a-murderer plan. I believe you came up with the name."
"Details," Al shrugged casually.
"Important details," Scorpius clarified.
Al huffed, running a hand through his still damp hair. "Pretty sure Part Two, Section D point one of your plan had nothing to do with letting Rose satisfy one of her wishes to be a vampire."
Scorpius felt himself go warm. "That's not quite how it happened." And then he told him, sparing him the specifics, how it actually happened.
After he finished, Al clasped his hands together and declared, "This sounds like a three-snack problem…that I'll have to wash down with a pint."
"How about breakfast?" Scorpius suggested because while the sun was barely up, it was probably too early for alcoholism.
"Are you offering to cook?" Because they both knew Al hadn't inherited his father's abilities in the kitchen. Or his mum's. He'd tried to boil rice once and Scorpius spent almost an hour trying to separate the char from the rice so he could eat it like the good friend he was.
It was still crunchy.
"I can make tofu scramble? Better yet, I have some of Hermione's cereal bars in there."
Al looked alarmed first, then disgusted. "I'd rather starve, thanks."
Scorpius shrugged. His loss.
"I recall your aunt teaching us how to make a Bloody Mary—"
"She taught us a lot more, too."
They both exchanged grossed-out faces.
"You had to remind me about the last thing I need to tell my therapist."
"You don't have a therapist."
"I need one! Between this—" Al made a wild gesture that would not have made sense to anyone else, but made sense to Scorpius, "Going on between you and Rose. My own—whatever with Jane that I can't seem to figure out because I can't figure her out, I'm going to need one. When we were leaving last night, my mum smirked at me and told me to go for it; that Jane's lovely. I know she is, mum! How am I supposed to say that when I can't string two words together?"
"Well, you just sit her down and—"
"I'm not taking advice from you because you can't even tell Rose how you feel."
Harsh, but not unwarranted.
Scorpius sighed, "I can and I will. I don't intend to wait forever."
Albus snorted. "Well, that's a relief. I happen to think you've already waited too long, but I can't convince you otherwise, so I'll keep my opinions to myself because you," he raised his fingers to make quotation gestures with them, "have a plan."
"I do."
"Ah, but you don't sound so sure about that," he leaned back in his seat, eyeing Scorpius.
"Stop reading me."
He only shrugged. "The best laid plans can go awry, and that's not always a bad thing. You can't plan everything without a margin of error. Humans don't work like that, and you know that, but you can't help it because you've always hated making mistakes."
Albus wasn't wrong. That was simply who he was. Scorpius looked over at his best friend only to find him staring back, as if he were gathering hints to organise his thoughts. So, whatever he was about to say had to be particularly relevant, and Scorpius listened.
"Mistakes sometimes happen when you're doing your best; when you've put yourself out there and tried. You can't avoid it. I think…" Al trailed off to readjust his words. "I think you need to talk to Rose without worrying that you'll fail. You'll only fail if you don't try. With everything happening, this is something you can't keep to yourself."
Albus started fumbling around with his hands, showing his unease with the direction their conversation was headed.
"I know you're scared," he told Scorpius without looking. "And that fear has made you stagnant. Not just about Rose, but about a lot of things. It's made you stay quiet when you need to speak up. I know your mum—"
Scorpius was taken aback by the very mention of his mother, so much that he blurted out, "This isn't about my mother."
"But it is," Albus stressed, running a hand through his hair. "A lot of your quirks are because the fact that she's a revolving door in your life. Don't try to lie or tell me I'm wrong. I've been here through everything. I know what both her absence and presence had done to you, even when you act like everything is fine, even when you're quiet." Al traced his finger along a line in the wood of their table. "And you're always quiet."
"Al."
His best friend's face was serious. "Don't 'Al' me, you've always been like this: anxious about things you can't control and cautious to the point where you calculate each move before you make it. Plotting everything, being conservative, and making moves you don't truly agree with won't change anything. Life isn't like chess. There, you have to move the pieces in a way that's governed by rules. But there aren't any rules in life and because of that, you have more options than you give yourself. And that goes for more than just—"
"I see you paid attention during your uncle's chess lessons," Scorpius said sarcastically.
"Actually," Albus retorted. "Rose taught me a bit when it was her life's goal to beat her dad. Oh, and you're deflecting," he accused, and probably rightfully so.
Scorpius was no longer interested in his coffee.
Al was silent for almost too long before he said, "Nothing you do will change what happened before with your mum; it won't make her stop leaving. And furthermore, it won't change what's happening with Rose now. In fact, living like that, it'll only make you miss out on opportunities with her because you play too conservatively."
"So, I'm supposed to—"
"No," he scoffed. "Be yourself."
"I am being myself, Al," Scorpius argued. "I'm just trying to do the right thing."
"No," Albus shook his head. "You're being too considerate of everyone's feelings—well, except for your own. That goes for Rose, for your mother, for your entire family except for your dad, for Hen—"
"What's wrong with that?" he shot back hotly.
"There's nothing wrong with being accommodating, but only to a certain extent. Maybe you're right to be that way with Rose now because she's a right mess, but outside of her, you do it too much. You sit back with your hypotheses, research, and data. You observe everything, but say nothing to those who matter to you. You can tell Lily how you feel, but at the same time, you let people who are close to you do and say what they want, even if it hurts you. Because you're afraid that if your theory is wrong, if you push them too hard, if you tell them how you feel, they'll leave you like she did."
He didn't like the way any of Al's words felt.
"Enough," Scorpius gritted out through clenched teeth.
Al obliged, leaning back in his seat with his arms stubbornly folded. Then he said, "I'm not wrong."
He wasn't. Scorpius was self-aware enough to admit that to himself, but notout loud.
"But I think," he continued after a thoughtful pause. "For all the credit you give Rose, I think you still don't give her enough."
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, voice brittle.
"She's nothing like your mum—"
No matter how he felt, he definitely agreed with Albus on that. "She's the exact opposite of my mother."
"Exactly," Al retorted. "And I bring that up because you should already know that she won't leave you, regardless of if she reciprocates your feelings or not. Rose is a lot of things, not all pleasant, but she cares about you. Truly. Outside of our family, there's no one who matters more to her than you."
Scorpius thought back on the cringeworthy conversation he'd had with Rose's dad. "You're the second person who's said that to me."
"Then believe us." Al implored. "You owe it to yourself to see where you stand."
"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," Scorpius smirked without humour.
Albus looked unapologetic. "I'm not saying do that right this moment, but you can't sit on this and work out the calculations forever. You're stressing yourself out, and I hate seeing it. I'm pretty sure Rose can too, although she's probably not aware that she's the source of your stress." He rolled his eyes. "Take it from me, I've been in this boat with Olivia. You'll look up one day and the opportunity that you've been squandering will have slipped away…and you won't ever get it back."
"And if—"
"If you fail, then you fail, but anything is better than silence." Albus picked up Scorpius' lukewarm coffee and helped himself. "If it's any consolation, though, I think I managed to answer my own question about Jane." He looked resolved, determined. It was a scary look coming from Al, who like Rose – and their parents – could be a little reckless when they believed in something.
Scorpius wasn't built like that, but he would be a fool if he tossed Al's advice in the rubbish bin without at least considering the validity of his points. Because they were valid.
"She asked me to wait to talk about it, so I'm going to respect her wishes. After that, perhaps—"
Al's eyes narrowed curiously. "Wait, she asked?"
"Um." He just blinked at him, not understanding why he was emphasising the last word. "Yes."
His best friend seemed to process that bit for a long time before he said, "And she didn't debate with you about anything stupid like whether or not you should use a fork when eating fish and chips?"
"No."
"Kirk verses Picard?"
"No."
"Cake verses pie? Because that's her go-to when she's avoiding."
"No."
"Not even who would win in a fight between a taco and a grilled cheese sandwich?"
"For the last time, no." Scorpius rolled his eyes incredulously. "She just asked if we could talk about it later. When I said yes, that I would wait as long as she needed, she kissed me again."
"Wait," Albus waved his hands like his dad did when he taught them both how to drive, albeit Al's motions were far less panicked. "Am I missing something? Because I thought you snogged her after she told you to prove your point."
"That's right, but after I said I'd give her the time she needed, she kissed me."
"Voluntarily?"
Scorpius glared at him. "No, I forced her," he deadpanned. "Are you asking redundant questions because you don't understand or because you're trying to make a point?"
"Both." He slurped from his cup in a move that made Scorpius grind his teeth. "Do you think—"
Al's question was interrupted by the door to his bedroom opening.
Rose was awake and early, too. She slowly appeared around the corner looking bleary-eyed. Her hair was everywhere and her clothes were rumpled with sleep. Dragging her feet, she stumbled toward them while rubbing her eyes.
"Morning," he greeted tentatively, not knowing really what to say to her. "You're up early."
"Bed's cold," she mumbled grumpily. "Come back to—" Rose stopped short, seeming to become a little more cognizant of her surroundings. She looked at her cousin first, then frowned and cut her eyes to him. Her cheeks quickly flushed with what could have been embarrassment, if her awkward stance and body language were to be believed.
Or perhaps something else, that small errant part of his brain traitorously whispered.
He hushed the thought.
Rose didn't look away, keeping her gaze fixed; her face oddly soft and mouth slightly parted, eyes warm and dazed, and yet, far more open than usual. "You're different in this dream, but the same."
Maybe it was because Rose's brain was still booting up, but there was something in her stare that seemed thoughtful and inquisitive; something in her eyes that made him feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. She was across the room, out of reach, but that still felt too close.
Albus melted into the background when Scorpius said her name. "Rose?"
"Cold," Rose's eyes seemed to clear a bit more. "Am I—shit, I'm awake, aren't I?"
Scorpius just nodded in confirmation while Al awkwardly answered, "Yes," from behind him.
"Ah," Rose mumbled, breaking her stare finally to look down at her sock-covered feet. "Hmm."
And with that, she turned around and went back into his room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. Scorpius watched for several moments to see if she would return; not knowing if he wanted her to or not because he sure as hell didn't know what to make of that interaction.
Neither did Al. "What just happened?" he asked from his seat.
Scorpius turned his head, "That was…odd."
"Rose is odd." His best friend shrugged, but his mind seemed to be working double time if the look on his face was indicative of anything. "But I wonder—"
"I think I'm going to go in early today," he announced abruptly, still feeling restless. "I have training and a lot of charting to catch up on." Al moved to gather their mugs, but Scorpius stopped him. "I'll take them. Are we having lunch? If so, Henrietta will want to join us."
He nodded, still looking a bit distracted. "Rose and I will bring you something from that vegetarian place nearby that you like."
"Thanks."
And it wasn't until he was washing his coffee cup when it dawned on him.
You're different in this dream, but the same.
She dreamed about him?
And as his thoughts shifted in another direction – one that made him think that he hadn't completely messed everything up last night – Scorpius figured that a second cup of coffee was entirely warranted.
The morning passed like molasses.
Minute to minute, the work was slow. The wait for the Muggle medicine training class to start was interminable. Not only did Scorpius catch up on file documentation and visit several patients, but he oversaw the discharge of his last of his patients on The Watch List – a list of patients that fit the profile of the previous victims.
All were patients of various backgrounds, blood statuses, and ethnicities; all essentially had been abandoned, with no family or friends. No one that visited. No one that would miss them. And more importantly, each had been suffering from incurable disease or critical injury; deteriorating despite all attempts at magical intervention. Death was inevitable, and even if they had defied the inescapable and recovered, there was little to no chance of them living a normal life.
It seemed morbidly ethical, and the thought made Scorpius shudder.
Dubbed The Watch List because apparently Hermione had never been good at naming things, the patients that fit the criteria were quietly clustered together in each department and Aurors were assigned to each unit for guard duty.
When Albus joined the team, he had been assigned the Trauma Unit; an assignment that told them both that Hermione, while not actively part of the investigation, was still moving pieces behind the scene.
Which was to be expected, really.
There hadn't been any suspicious deaths since Rose's attack, but Scorpius was a pragmatist and the fact that the deaths had just stopped never sat right with him. Rose's attack had put too many eyes on them, but they weren't done. They were biding their time, lying low and waiting for the vigilance to lessen; for them to get arrogant.
And they were at that point.
The once noticeable tension in St. Mungo's had all but evaporated and Cauldwell, as acting head investigator, had taken credit for that. But everyone knew the truth and quietly praised Hermione for bringing peace to the hospital. Scorpius almost felt bad for Cauldwell, who regularly fielded questions about Hermione's return, but his sympathy had ended after he'd turned Rose over to Barracus in the Ministry. Now, he remained professional in Cauldwell's face all while knowing that, if Rose's mother had her way, his days in the DMLE would be numbered.
And she would.
"Healer Malfoy."
Scorpius looked up from his work at Healer Brown; momentarily taken aback by her presence in the doorway of the empty lounge area he'd ducked off into almost fifteen minutes before. He'd gone there to work in peace. With him sharing an office with two other loud Healers, he needed all the quiet he could find.
"Are you attending the training class?"
"I am," he replied, glancing at his watch. It was almost nine. "Class starts at ten."
"Ah."
Scorpius half-expected her to leave, having gotten her answer, but she lingered in the doorway.
Healer Brown wasn't known for being social. The other staff didn't like her at all. Until Rose, she hadn't kept an assistant for more than a few weeks before someone requested a transfer—likely the assistant. Scorpius knew what they said about her, even though he hardly paid attention to rumours. They called her an uptight and an unreasonable perfectionist that was angry and bitter about not being beautiful anymore. But those opinions of her had only started circulating after she'd refused to answer anyone's questions about the war, her injuries, and recovery.
Lavender hadn't always been that way, or so Aunt Daphne had told him as much when Scorpius mentioned her at their family dinner. He'd thought that her current character profile had a lot to do with being viciously attacked by a werewolf at seventeen; not to mention the psychological trauma that came with nearly dying. The cherry on top had to be the fact that everyone treated the absolute worst day of her life it like it was just a story to tell over butterbeers.
And then there were the visible reminders; the teeth and claw marks that people never stopped staring at when they thought she wasn't paying attention. The scarring was jagged, much like Rose's uncle, but there was a certain level of savagery that was different from Bill's.
The werewolf hadn't intended for her to survive, and it was a wonder that she had.
"Is there something else?" he asked as an attempt to give her a reason to take her leave.
But Healer Brown took the seat across from him in a move that surprised Scorpius. Outside of the occasional nod, she never acknowledged his presence when Rose wasn't around. They had very little in common and no reason to communicate. And that was that.
"I was wondering if the Trauma Unit has an assistant to spare. I've been borrowing from all the other wards, but no one is as good as Rose at…well, pretty much anything." There was genuine fondness on her face. It made her look pleasant; her standoffish public persona stripped away.
It almost made him smile, but then he remembered himself.
"You'll have to talk to our Lead," Scorpius told her then checked his watch again. "He's not here yet. He usually gets in around ten, but I can talk to him after training. Do you have any suggestions or preferences?"
Healer Brown had obviously thought about it because her answer was immediate. "They must be interested in Incorrectly Applied Charms, but must have a healthy knowledge of various types of charms and potions as I'll be filling in for Healer Pine in the Long Term ward as he's gone on sabbatical to Brazil until the end of the year. Oh, and they must be talented at diagnostic charms. Furthermore, I don't want anyone who will stare at my face or be intimidated by the sheer amount of paperwork in my office that I refuse to sort through because I despise paperwork."
Scorpius chuckled. "I'm not certain we have an assistant that will fill all those requirements."
"True," she frowned almost primly. "I suppose I'll settle for someone breathing."
It was likely meant to be a joke, but Healer Brown looked completely serious and her scars always made her look so severe, even when she smiled.
He was about to start looking around awkwardly, but Lavender smirked. "Good help is hard to find."
Scorpius flashed a tight smile. "True." After tucking his hair behind his ear, he made a mental note to get a haircut before seeing his mother again because he didn't want to hear her complaints. Then he remembered something he wanted to ask her, "Have you heard anything about Rose being cleared?"
As her boss, Scorpius figured she would hear something before any of them.
"No, but I would be very surprised if she wasn't cleared. The evidence is her favour is strong."
Which was an odd way to phrase it.
"Do you believe her?" Scorpius asked, watching her closely for any signs of deception.
She didn't answer immediately, but not because she was hesitating or because she knew he wouldn't like her answer; it seemed as if she were choosing her words. But for all the thoughtfulness she put into her answer, it ended up being short. "I do."
"I think Rose would be hurt if you didn't believe her," he glanced down at the patient's folder before looking back across the table. "She respects you."
"Well, she probably shouldn't." Lavender said in a tone that sounded facetious, but based off her tone from her last confirmed joke, he knew that she was serious. "I'm a terrible boss. I'm certain my past assistants will attest to that. People talk. They do little else." She rolled her eyes and examined her fingernail. "It's a wonder she's coming back at all after…" Healer Brown trailed off, but Scorpius filled in the rest.
"She's determined to see this through."
Lavender's almost neutral look slipped. "I'm afraid of that." There was another moment of silence while Healer Brown looked around the room and Scorpius theorised that her tense body language had more to do with her concern for Rose's safety than anything else. "When they clear her, it will likely be a few weeks before she returns. Hence why I'm looking for a stand-in."
"Why so long?"
"Bureaucracy," Healer Brown shrugged. "Suspicious deaths bring out the red tape, so to speak."
"I wouldn't know," he glanced down at his notes. "I've never seen or dealt with anything like this. Suspicious death and cloaked figures sound like the stories my dad used to tell me growing up."
"I'm sure your dad has many stories to tell." But her words weren't cruel, nor were they filled with same derision most everyone else spoke in when they mentioned his father and grandfather. Healer Brown's statement was very mater-of-fact.
He could respect that.
Scorpius loved his grandfather, but never revered him the way his dad had when he was growing up. He never wore blinders to the fact that his grandfather was a recovering bigot and his dad hadn't always made good choices, which was putting it lightly. And that was because his father never held back or hid the ugly details of his own life; the things he'd done that he hadn't been proud of, the reasons why, or the people he'd hurt along the way. He remembered them all, and used his own mistakes to show Scorpius that there was a better way.
That he always had a choice.
When Scorpius said nothing in response, only finished the sentence on the patient's chart he had been working on before her arrival, Healer Brown sighed, "I didn't mean that."
"I didn't take offence," he told her simply as he sat down his quill and closed the file. "I just don't talk about my family at work. My last name alone can sometimes create a hostile work environment."
At that, Healer Brown snorted, and Scorpius knew that she didn't mean to because she flushed apologetically; her scars standing out more against her reddening face. "Sorry."
He merely shrugged and she flashed something close to a smile.
"Well, I have patients," she announced, as she braced the arms of the chair in preparation to stand. "Please remember to talk to your lead for me."
"I will."
Healer Brown stood to leave, then stopped. "Before I forget. You probably should get something to cover that," she gestured to his neck, much to his literal horror. "The glamour is excellent," she assured him, while seeming to take a closer look. "It's well-placed and seamless; barely noticeable. Who set it?"
"I did," he confessed after a quiet moment. He could have asked Al – or not Al because he was terrible at healing anything – to heal it, but he hadn't bothered. Instead, he'd set the glamour in the bathroom after his shower.
"You're very talented," she said, her tone almost warm but clinical. "Glamours are something of a speciality of mine; that's how I noticed it. I was a teenaged girl at one point so I know all about covering a love bite."
All he could muster was a quiet, "It's just a bug bite."
Healer Brown just shot him a blank look. "That you want to cover…because of the teeth marks."
Very rarely was Scorpius ever lost for words, but he couldn't think of a single comeback.
Which ended up being just fine because Healer Brown continued on as if she hadn't deduced a thing—or ruined his morning. "The Muggle Maladies ward is a dead zone for all magic, so all glamours will stop working when you enter and you won't feel it." She opened her bag and fished around for a bit before pulling out a tube of concealer. "Put this on. It's what I do. You're pale and it won't blend right without additional work or makeup, but we aren't the same shade and, in this case, something is better than nothing."
Warily, he accepted it, tucking it into the pocket of his robes. "Thanks?"
But her comments gave him pause, made him think, made him wonder. He'd always taken her scars at face value. Horrific as they were, now he wondered if there was more to them than what he saw.
More that she hid.
"May I ask…" he trailed off when she tensed as if she'd already guessed his question. Scorpius could have asked about the obvious elephant in the room, but it seemed intrusive. "Where did you study Healing?"
Visibly, she relaxed and answered his question without any hesitation. "In the States. They didn't know much about the war and I wanted a fresh start. Recovering…wasn't easy. It well took over two years and was…gruelling. It took another two years for me to complete my NEWTs, but I made it through the academy before anyone realised where the scars came from."
"I suppose your recovery made you want to go into Healing."
"Perhaps," Lavender shrugged. "It wasn't my original ambition, but things change," her voice was almost wistful. "Originally, I wanted to have a talk show on the Wireless. Something fun and interesting, but informative."
"It's not too late."
Her frown turned bitter. "It's far too late for me."
Scorpius knew that tone. He'd heard it in his father's voice over the years: regret mixed with resignation. And he wondered about things he had no business wondering about. "Aren't you attending the training class?"
"I'm exempt," Lavender told him blandly and before he could ask, she continued, "I didn't find what I was looking for at the Academy, so I stayed in the States and went to University to study medicine. After I did my internship and residency in New York, I spent several years working in different hospitals all over the country. Any horrific way a human can hurt another, I've seen it and treated it. That's why I'm exempt."
He'd heard rumours about her being a certified Muggle doctor, but he never cared to listen to rumours. "How did you end up back here?"
"My family wanted me home. After all, I'd been gone more than twenty years."
"In the States?"
"Not for the entire time." Lavender clarified. "I'm interested in mixing science and magic to cure what we've deemed incurable, so I went to Italy to study under a team of wizard that wanted to do just that. I believe they're the Healers that created the treatment for your mother's blood illness."
That piqued his interest. "Did you—"
"I wasn't part of that project. I was working on a project that involved neutralising magical objects."
"Is that even possible?"
"It is, but we never fully tested it. They didn't agree on a few of my ideas, so I ended up leaving and travelling the world, learning every type of healing and medicine I could. In China, I studied traditional medicine and alternative magic; in India, I studied Ayurveda and so much more. I've lived and studied neutralising magic in Uganda, Istanbul, Nepal, Peru, and a few other places."
Scorpius was fascinated by her travels; had questions about what she'd seen and done in all those countries. But the question at the forefront of his mind was: "What are you trying to cure?"
Healer Brown just looked at him, surprised. She opened her mouth to answer, but Henrietta burst in. And the first thing he noticed was that she was covered in an alarming amount of blood. She was gripping her wand, looking madder than he'd ever seen her.
"Need an extra pair of hands, Malfoy. We've got two unlicensed sixteen-year-old males, home from Durmstrang on holiday. They attempted to Apparate and Splinched themselves."
Conversation forgotten and files not quite completed, Scorpius stood up. "How bad?"
"One's stable, Chambers and Humberg are reattaching his missing hand. The other is…well, the good news is that I've controlled the bleeding."
The for now was heavily implied.
"And the bad?"
"They can't find his leg."
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Well, this took a while. Probably because I was writing two chapters and trying to call it one, as always. Little talks was literally all I could think of for a title because while they're little, the talks are important. Lyrics credit to Beyonce for Al's shower song. In my head, Al sings Muggle pop songs in the shower and I literally died laughing at the mental image. Idk. I couldn't help it. *shrugs*
My goal was for there to be more humor and some angst and a lot of characters driving the romance plot...and the actual plot. Besides that, I got some reflection from Scorpius. His side to things, and his mixed up feelings and thoughts. An awkward morning after encounter from a not-so-awake Rose...but also possibly a moment of clarity. Also I got to write Al being the hilarious voice of reason to his stressed friend, and throw a little of his dilemma with Jane in there. And we get to see Lavender again and get some backstory. All in a day's work. Also a missing leg. Next chapter's almost done and edited. I'm so looking forward with it being up and out of my hair cause its causing me anxiety, hoping I don't create plot holes. Til next time!
inadaze22
