"Are you having a difficult time?"
Kiara is tired of talking to a ghost. She tunes the little girl out and attempts to fade her into the foliage. She's unnerved by how the dainty white blossoms sprout up with each step she takes. They've followed her from the large stone, creating a trail of blossoms for over a mile. Despite her suspicious attitude toward them, their tiny sneezes still make her wonder how Scorpius's little three-legged cat, Jamie Button, is doing. While she may be allergic to cats, it was always worth saying hello to the sweet girl.
Is, Kiara reminds herself. Not was.
"We could die out here. If you don't make it back by nighttime, I don't think we'll ever see the sun again."
"Euh, putain," Kiara groans. "Is this what it's like to talk to me?"
The little girl moves in a perfectly straight line through the dense undergrowth. Toe-heel, toe-heel, with glimpses of her shiny black Mary Janes.
"Isn't it a bit funny? You ran in here to escape the sun's wrath. And now we're going to die anyway, and all you can think about is what you would give just to see the light in your final moments."
"I didn't run out here because of that. I haven't been sleeping well."
"Why aren't you moving faster?"
"Everything hurts," she snaps with annoyance at the little girl. "Please, enough. Why are you even here, huh?"
"I'd like to change the subject," the little girl says. When Kiara turns to face her, she's gone.
Kiara frowns. She wishes she could explain to Albus that this is what ghosts are like in the Muggle world. Not like Ben Kenobi in Star Wars. Or Peeves and his antics at Hogwarts.
Her ghosts haunt. And then they disappear when she needs them most.
She falls to her knees, feeling the weight of everything pressing heavy on her. Thorns have scratched her up from head to toe, and she's bleeding everywhere. She's twisted her ankle. It's getting terribly dark. And she hasn't a clue if she's even going in the right direction.
A long time ago, Rose had told Kiara in the Ravenclaw tower's spiraling staircase that if Kiara were to ever disappear, everyone would just assume she'd 'transcended the mortal plane'.
She hopes, when she inevitably gives up, that her death will sound that beautiful.
-o-o-o-
Scorpius sighs, leaning back against the wall of a lonely corridor in the dungeons. It's cool and dry. Rose helps him push his head through the opening of a new shirt, untainted by his blood. She pulls it down over his chest, taking care not to look at him. Nurse Abbott has wrapped his torso with fresh gauze and placed his arm in a sling, which sits, protected, against his body inside his shirt.
"I think we ought to try to distract ourselves," he says bravely. "We can tell stories."
Rose looks at him, bewildered, with red-rimmed eyes and her bright nose. It's hard to see her in the dim light of the candle stubs that are rarely attended to by house-elves. The light has been fading in this corner of the dungeons for ages. They're here for privacy after curfew. No one, not even prefects, come down this way. Now Scorpius and Rose can find comfort in each other's company as they try not to think about Kiara and Albus's fates in the dangerous Forbidden Forest.
"If Kiara is dead, we won't help anyone or anything by worrying about her."
Rose shakes her head. "Kiara isn't dead. I know it. And Albus isn't either, but I don't know what he was thinking."
"Come on. Can you even picture Albus ever dying?" he says, trying to be lighthearted.
"I'd rather not try," Rose responds, choking up.
Scorpius looks at his hand. "Sorry."
"It's not you, Cory. I'm just fed up with Albus trying to save everyone else's lives all the time. Don't take it the wrong way. I know he just saved yours. But he almost died for it."
"I'm sorry," he says again.
"He almost died two years ago helping his father with Ministry business. And Lily told me he saved that Aurora Muggle by crossing a river in the middle of winter when he was nine, and he got hypothermia. When does it end? When he dies? What if this time he never comes back? He isn't invincible."
"Rose, those were all people he loved. It was moments where he felt it would've been worth sacrificing himself for. His father, and Aurora, and . . . er . . . Well, Albus has never let me down."
"Why doesn't Albus care that there's people who worry about him? I don't know what I'd do if he died."
"I don't think this is about Albus dying," Scorpius says gently. "Do you have something on your mind?"
She looks away. "It feels like he's choosing other people over his family," she admits quietly.
"I don't know, Rose. Albus is selfless. He doesn't rank people's lives by worth like we do. Don't be mad at me for saying that—we just do. But Albus . . . I think he'd save anyone he can, no matter what."
"Well, sometimes I wish he'd at least prioritize the living over lost causes."
"Do you find me a lost cause?"
Rose blushes and looks away. "That came out wrong."
Scorpius doesn't have enough energy to feel angry or hurt. Anyway, it's not the worst thing he's heard about himself—and it's not the worst thing he's said. Besides, if Albus were his cousin, he may actually think the same way.
"Maybe Albus thinks he's the least deserving of life. Maybe that's why he's willing to risk everything. Even for lost causes."
The lonely, loveless losers come in all forms, he finds himself thinking. Even the heroes can be awfully miserable.
Albus, who rarely shows anguish, unleashed a small amount of rage that he keeps deep inside of himself in Hagrid's hut. Even with just slamming a door, it shocked Scorpius and Rose. And Scorpius had seen the way Albus reacted when they crossed paths with Henry. It was a reserved anger he has never witnessed from the boy. But as Scorpius thinks about it, he considers that it makes sense:
When Albus was twelve, he watched his first love have her memory Obliviated of everything they'd ever shared. In front of him, too, by the wand of his own father—and for a department in the Ministry that he despises. While Aurora forgot about him, he thought of her every day for years.
He's vaguely aware that Albus rarely saw his mother while growing up—Ginevra Weasley, who became a famous Quidditch player before marriage. She traveled all over the world with the Holyhead Harpies. Albus mentioned a few years ago that his mother had retired and come home. Albus is very proud of his mother, but he speaks of her even less than he saw her as a kid. Their family had mostly relied on the eldest son, James, and a father with crippling post-traumatic stress, to protect and teach each other as much as they could.
Scorpius would be lying if he said he subconsciously rued the idea of being a professional Quidditch player because of the traveling required, and he's certain Albus's situation has played a heavy hand in his lack of interest.
Scorpius's mother has never been able to support him much. But at least she has always been there.
What if the young, heartbroken Albus believes he's damned?
Maybe the boy loves and saves everyone because he simply cannot bear the outcome of death, except for his own. Even with a father who has prepped him for loved ones dying his whole life. Perhaps because of it. Harry Potter, though great and inspirational, never grew up with his parents before being thrust into tragedies one after the other. He clearly has done his best as a father, and has done a hell of a job with children like James, Albus, and Lily. With his past, it only makes sense that he would lecture his sons and daughter on the art of acceptance.
But if Scorpius had spent his entire childhood learning that death is inevitable, he reckons he would be constantly trying to prove it wrong as well.
Regardless, Rose is too close to the situation to see it. Clearly hurt, she asks, "How can you even say that?"
"Don't we all struggle with that question?"
"What question?"
"What's the point?" All at once, Scorpius forgets he's talking about Albus. "No matter what someone puts you through, if they've had a hand in your creation—in your identity—when they die, isn't it worse than death? Is it worth it after? Is all the pain worth it?"
Tears spot along her eyes again, and she clenches her jaw.
"Yes," she responds defiantly.
"Why?"
"It just is. You can't give up on life just because someone you care about dies. I'm worried about Albus, but I'm not going to off myself if he . . . I mean, god, Cory, what the hell are you going on about? Are you . . . trying to tell me something? Are you all right?"
"No," he whispers, but his honesty is amplified in the small space. "No, I'm not all right."
Rose's lip quivers.
"I've got some things to figure out," Scorpius says. "My whole life I've spent standing behind my grandfather, and suddenly he's dead. I thought he was going to be around for when I'm married with children. I thought he would end up deciding who my family would be."
"I'm so sorry, Cory. But that was never healthy. This is your life, not his. You can't let him control you from the other side."
"I get that, Rose. But all of a sudden, I have to make all my own choices. I thought that's what I wanted. I've dreamt of Lucius dying an hundred times. Now . . . What if everything goes even shittier? What if I make all the wrong decisions? What if there's too much choice? If something goes badly, Rose, all I'll have to blame is myself. I don't—" he gasps, feeling anxiety crawl up his throat. "I'm not sure I can live with this pressure."
"Cory—"
"What if my grandfather really did love me? As much as he said he did? What if he only punished me because I deserved it? What if he really did know what was best for me? What . . . What do I do now?"
"You do better."
"My father doesn't know how to talk to me, even with Lucius gone."
"That doesn't mean he doesn't love you."
"I think Lucius dying has made it even harder on him. My father always chose him. Now he can't. Now he has to choose himself, too. He's lived with Lucius twice as long as I. I can't imagine what he's dealing with right now." Scorpius's eyes are glazed over. He can hardly see in front of him. "I think he wishes he never had a child. I think he regrets putting someone else through what he had to."
"Cory, don't say that."
"I've been thinking. Maybe it would have been best for everyone if Albus hadn't caught me."
She bursts into tears, choking back a sob.
"Cory," she moans. Her pleading seems to wake him up, and he's bewildered by how much he's shared out loud. She buries her face into her hands, then stares up at him with a wild expression in her eyes. "Please. Listen to yourself. You don't really feel this way. You're just grieving."
"I'm . . . grieving," he repeats, uncertain.
Rose takes a shaky breath. "Yes, Cory. And you don't need to mourn alone. I'm here. I want to help you carry this weight. Please. Please let me help you."
"Why are you crying, Rose?"
"I feel like I'm losing everyone I care about in one night," she tells him, her expression deeply pained.
Scorpius is tired of being part of the reason she's hurting. He slouches casually against the wall and forces a lazy smile, raising an eyebrow until her eyes narrow in confusion.
"What's your favorite memory of us?"
"Is this some sort of . . . nasty trick?"
He shakes his head. "I'll go first," he offers. "My favorite memory—and my worst one—is when we came back to school after third-year. After we'd kissed. Do you remember that?"
Scorpius looks into the distance—past the stone wall. Past the school. He is there, four years ago. It's bright, and it's warm. The backs of his eyes burn,
and he lets it overcome him.
"I can still see your face. The way it lit up when you saw me. It filled my heart. Everything felt like it was on fire. I tortured myself for months, you know, picturing that moment over and over. It's why I could never look you in the eye again. I'd had you, right then. Hadn't I? And I threw you away."
"Scorpius."
"You meant absolutely everything to me."
"Scorpius."
Rose is suddenly in front of him, kneeling and looking up at him. Her small, warm fingers brush tears from his cheeks. Although it makes him feel ashamed, he leans into her cupped hand like a wounded animal and lets her dote on him. There is comfort in the darkness. He feels safe to be vulnerable with her.
"Scorpius, it took until I hated you to realize I wanted you even more," she says softly, grabbing him gently under the chin and encouraging him to look at her. "And god, did I utterly, deeply, entirely despise you."
She holds his gaze, slowly bringing her face closer to his. Scorpius stops breathing. His heart begins to pound so hard, he can feel it in his fingertips. It's different than any moment he's ever had leading up to this before. Time slows down. But he doesn't see the grandfather clock anymore. He doesn't feel his surroundings melting. He doesn't want to scream. This isn't a hallucination. Rose is really here, and she isn't trying to hurt him.
Her eyes flick down to his lips.
He wants this more than anything.
"Stop, Rose," he convinces himself to say. Hurt flashes across her face and he wants to kick himself. He holds her eyes, hoping his expression is tender. "You don't want this. You're just punishing yourself."
Rose sits cross-legged in front of him, touching her knees to his shins and resting one hand on his thigh. She tucks her hair behind her ears and chews her pinky nail, averting her gaze and taking slow breaths.
"My favorite memory was when we first met," she says into the void.
Scorpius echoes back. "It is? I thought you hated that day."
"You remember?"
"Yes. But I want to hear it through your voice. I never would have guessed that that is your favorite memory."
"Well, back then you always looked like an idiot, trying to fight Albus all the time. You were so scrawny."
Scorpius grins. "I hit puberty a little later, all right? Geez. I thought you were going to make it sound sweet. Maybe I don't want your version."
"Just listen. Albus always talked about you. I almost thought he had a crush on you, the way he would carry on."
"Really? Do you think I still have a shot with him?"
Rose rolls her eyes, with a faint smile across her full lips. "I'll just stop talking now," she teases.
He places his hand on top of hers. "Please don't."
"I really didn't want to meet you. Ever. I was jealous. Albus had just become a Slytherin a few months before, and he and I still weren't really talking. Because of me. He gave me the first charm I put on my earrings—a little four-pointed star. He told me he couldn't help all the love he felt for everyone. But he explained it was always so fleeting for him. With me, and the rest of our family, he said that love was forever. And that even if I wouldn't talk to him, he would always be there for me, no matter what.
"And he was. Even after all the things I said to him when I was angry: That he was manipulative, and that he had ulterior motives, and that he was ruining his life. That he deserved to be a Slytherin, in all the worst ways. . . . I hadn't realized at the time that he'd chosen. And I was jealous of you, because you were someone who wasn't family that Albus would always have your back for. And I couldn't understand why.
"But then I met you. It was by accident, you remember."
"The merpeople love your beautiful hair."
She blushes. "No one really knew that the Slytherins could speak to the merpeople by signing until that day. And I had never seen one so close. It was very frightening, I'm embarrassed to say. I understand now that they're intelligent creatures, just like us. But at the time I was screaming bloody murder, wasn't I? And they were only brushing my hair."
"Yes, you used to be so dramatic," he teases.
"Then you and Finley came up from under the water, and you were laughing. You both talked to the merpeople, and they went back into the lake. You and Finley came out. You dripped all over me, ruined my favorite textbook—"
"I mean, who has a favorite textbook, though?"
"It was limited edition!"
"God, Ro, you were so nerdy. Why did I like you, again?"
She smacks his hip playfully, but when her hand lingers he swallows and ignores his heart as it skips a beat. Rose inserts her finger into one of his belt loops and tugs it toward her without effort, her eyes looking distant like his had moments before.
"I knew it was you right away. Albus must have known I'd fall for you immediately."
"Didn't you cuss me out?"
"Oh, yeah. I mean, that was a rare edition that had a portrait of Albus Dumbledore that moved on the title page!"
"Come off it, Ro. Who studies by the lake when kids are swimming there?"
"It's fine, just forget it—"
"Already have."
"The point is, I fell for you."
Scorpius traces circles on her knee. "I hadn't a clue little Potter was playing matchmaker," he says softly. "He used to talk to me about you nonstop."
"Is that so?"
"It was always on and on about his amazing cousin Rose. I never understood how he could say anything nice about family that would refuse to talk to him. Anyway. I'd been waiting for an opportunity to meet you since we were Sorted."
"What made you want to talk to me again? When your grandfather died?"
"No. Lucius died a week ago. I . . . actually wanted redemption after I'd met Kiara for the first time."
"Oh, right. . . ." Rose looks away, pulling back her hands. She rests them in her lap. "Listen, if you didn't want to . . . kiss . . . because of your feelings for Kiara, I completely understand."
"No, Ro. I never once stopped thinking about how I wanted to be with you."
It was a terrible pining that he'd tried to transfer from one girl to the next. He thinks he may have gone through ten girlfriends whose names he can't even remember, before Emma started preying on him. But he doesn't know how to explain all this, so he doesn't try.
"But you changed for her."
"I had feelings for Kiara. She was the first girl since meeting you, that made me feel like I couldn't act like anyone else but myself. Like there was no choice but to be honest with who I am."
"Didn't you at least try to be with her? She's incredible, you know. She can make you very happy. When she gets back, I mean."
"Don't worry, Ro, she will come back. Listen . . . Kiara brings out a part of me that's maybe a bit too much. I always feel a little uncomfortable around her. It's like I don't even say anything, and she'd still somehow discover a dozen things about me that not even I knew. Sometimes, they were just things I wasn't ready to know about myself."
He stops here, deciding not to tell her the part about Albus. It didn't take long for him to realize Albus was spending a lot of time with Kiara. But he wouldn't ever talk about it, with anyone, which was highly unusual. And that's how Scorpius found out that Albus finally wanted something to himself. That for once, Albus didn't want to share someone he loves.
"I think I might . . . uh, love, um . . . Kiara. But it's different. It's like how I . . . love Albus." Scorpius feels heat rush to his cheeks as he says the word so foreign between his teeth. "Kiara and I aren't compatible. She knows that, too. She knew before I did."
"Wow, Scorpius. I can't remember the last time you've been so honest with me. It means a lot to me."
"You're calling me Scorpius, again."
"I was hoping it would inspire you to call me Ro."
Scorpius smiles, nostalgic. "Which it did. Why'd you want that?"
"Because the last thing you said to me when I was Ro to you, was . . . um . . ."
"Right. May I kiss you, Ro?"
"Yeah, exactly."
"Well? May I?"
"Huh?" Then she blushes fiercely, and nods slowly.
Scorpius feels different. His heart feels lighter. He tucks his fingers innocently along the hem of her skirt and pulls her toward him, pushing his feet out as she straddles his slouching body. Then he wraps his forearm around the backs of her bare thighs, so she's forced to lean over him. It gives her complete control of the situation. He pauses. Rose gazes down on him as he tilts his face up.
"If you stop me again," she whispers, right over his lips, "I'm going to kill you." Her warm cinnamon breath tickles.
"Don't threaten me with a good time, Ro."
Rose pecks the scar on his upper lip, and he's filled with warmth. Then she hovers for a moment, before pressing her mouth against his. He deepens it, tightening his grip around her thighs then releasing her. She sits down upon his lap and wraps her arms around his shoulders in a tight embrace. He rests his good hand on her waist.
Scorpius and Rose share a kiss to make up for all the years wasted without them. Then she leans back, and in the soft candlelight he looks at her.
And he looks at her.
And he looks at her.