- Just About a Year and a Half Later -
Scorpius trembles as he focuses on gripping the pen between his fingers. He bends over the coffee table, nearly ninety degrees, with his nose almost to the paper as he attempts to draw a straight line. The pen fumbles from his grasp, and he sighs.
"Don't be discouraged," Albus says, sitting beside him with a hot mug of tea between his hands. It smells like mint and honey.
He scoffs. "It's not me," he insists. "It's these Muggle pens. They're lighter than quills, and they're shit."
Albus chuckles. "I like them. I can keep them in my pocket." He pats his trousers, where he usually keeps a pen clipped and a small writing log.
"Please. They've done nothing to help your terrible script."
"That girl in my film class calls it doctor's handwriting," Albus says with a sarcastic seductive drawl. "Maybe I should be in medical school."
Scorpius rolls his eyes. "She's just flirting with you, mate."
He looks over and sees Albus smiling distantly, his eyes downcast to the white rug in their shared flat. After they left Hogwarts, Scorpius decided to accept Albus's offer to lodge with him while he goes through his physical therapy routine—it took seven months to regain almost full-range of motion. It will take much longer for Scorpius to be able to draw like he used to, but he's determined. He could actually go back home at this point. But for now he stays with Albus. By his own choice.
It's not so bad in London.
Albus is often gone, working at a cafe around the corner and going to university. Scorpius—whose father pays his share of rent, food, and utilities—focuses mostly on his body, and learning how to cook. While just his shoulder has required rigorous 'PT', as Albus calls it, he's had subsequent back and neck issues as well from the same accident.
When they're home at the same time, Albus shows him movies that they 'stream online'. Albus has integrated into Muggle life much more smoothly. Even simple things: Scorpius still doesn't understand why there's a difference between Netflix, Hulu, Peacock, and HBO—or more so, why Albus 'subscribes' to all four with his magic 'credit card'. But even Scorpius can't deny the wonder of cinema.
"Rosie just texted. She thinks she'll be here in an hour. And your parents?"
Scorpius grins. "Yeah, they'll be here early evening. Thanks for being all right with it. I know it's a bit much."
"Don't think twice about it, Cory. I'm really happy for you."
"Um, Albus . . . Can I ask?"
Albus sucks in his cheek and scratches behind his ear. "I suppose. If you'd like."
"Have you heard from Kiara?"
He takes Albus's silence as a no. Although Albus tends to be secretive about it, he's been sending the girl a letter about once every two or three months since she went home to Belgium and transferred to Beauxbatons.
Not a single time has Albus ever received a letter back.
"I think I ought to let it go, now. I'd be humiliated if she thought I was being desperate. All her new friends probably read my letters and laugh together." Albus takes a sip of his tea and leans back on the couch, smiling despite himself. "I just want her to be happy and healthy. Whatever that looks like."
A long time ago, Albus told Scorpius that Kiara would forget about him. He had no idea the boy had been right. He'd really thought the two together was something special. Albus looks for something to do with his hands, and begins to pet Jamie Button who purrs appreciatively in response.
"Well," Scorpius offers, "maybe it's a sign to find Aurora."
Albus shakes his head. "That wouldn't be right. I still have all these memories of her. It would be messed up to pop into her life out of the blue and try to start something new. I think it'd be manipulative, even. No . . . That door's closed, too."
"But you've looked her up on Instagram, of course."
The boy whacks him with a pillow, and Scorpius shouts with a grin. "Stop borrowing my account and get your own already," Albus scolds him.
"She's seriously hot. Seems a bit hedonistic, though."
"Who cares? Don't talk about her like that. She's a person. I'm going to break your other arm, Cory," Albus says, all through his laughter.
Scorpius still can't understand that after everything he's been through, Albus is still laughing. At first it made him feel resentful, and living together was difficult. But about a month in, something changed overnight. He felt Albus's outlook inspiring him to alter his own perspective on life and tragedy.
As a result, things have been really great recently. Scorpius talks to his father and mother on a regular basis—they're even coming to London for dinner tonight, to meet Rose and him as a couple for the first time. It doesn't mean it'll go perfectly. But he never thought everything could feel this content. Scorpius feels stable and in control, without being narcissistic and demanding. And the boys haven't given magic up completely. Although Albus is obsessed with the 'dishwasher', they still clean the rest of the flat with Tergeo.
Scorpius vaguely reminisces about his last detention that he'd shared with Kiara, as he'd insulted her repeatedly and let her do all the work of cleaning the candelabras. She really was so radiantly lovely. It was always indescribable.
"Fuck, Albus. You've got terrible luck with women."
"Just the ones I'm in love with. All right now, enough of that." Albus holds up a shiny disc, which Scorpius can see his reflection in. He no longer looks away when he catches glimpses of himself. "New film: Donnie Darko."
"New, are you kidding me? It's so old, and I hate your sci-fi's. And I'm sorry, but I don't understand it! You've already made me watch it twice. Not again."
"No-yeah, but this time . . . with director's commentary."
"Albus, absobloodylutely not."
He takes a sip of his tea, raising his eyebrows over the lip of the mug and nodding insistently. They begin to banter, when suddenly, there's short, sharp rapping upon the door.
"I'm not watching it!" Scorpius calls after him as Albus waves him away and leaves to answer the knock.
From the entryway, above the ambience of Muggle London city life, Scorpius can just barely make out an eerily familiar voice say: "Albus . . . You have adjusted very well."
-o-o-o-
Kiara forces herself to speak. All the way from her family's brand new home in London—closer to her father's observatory—she has rehearsed what she'll say when she finally gets to see Albus.
But then she sees him.
And she forgets it all.
"Albus," she chokes out. It's a name she hasn't had the courage to speak aloud in over a year. "You have adjusted very well."
Her heart begins to sink as Albus stares blankly at her. She can't read his eyes anymore. Kiara begins to wonder if she's made a huge mistake. Maybe Albus has a partner now. Maybe he hates her for never responding. Or maybe he simply doesn't remember who she is.
But it's too late. She's committed now.
"I thought I knew what I was going to say," she continues bravely. "I was going to apologize. And I wanted to give you my phone number, as I am certain you would have one now. And I was going to mention something about all the progress I have made with myself through therapy."
He takes a step closer.
"I was going to tell you about how excited I was to move to London yesterday, because it meant I could possibly fi-finally, um . . . see you, again. And I wanted to say something stupid about how I never stopped thinking about you, not once. And how much I regretted not kissing you while I had the chance."
Albus still says nothing, and tears threaten to swell up in her eyes.
"I should not have said that. It is only a quick visit. I am on my way to pick up my siblings. I want to be there for them today. It is always hard to start at a new secondary school, especially partially through the curriculum. But my parents . . . they had to jump on the opportunity for London. I think we are all glad for it."
She avoids his gaze as she mindlessly rambles. It breaks her heart to look upon him.
"I am sorry, for stopping by, Albus. This was a mis—"
Her eyes widen as she feels his soft, warm lips press against hers. He wraps his strong arms around her hips and lifts her from her feet, leaning back as he embraces her, and kisses her, and holds on to her tightly as though she may disappear. Tears do well up in her eyes, but only because she is so overwhelmed with love, and she doesn't know what else to do with the emotion but kiss him back and cry.
When he finally puts her down, she sees tears coming down his cheeks. His eyes are shining brighter than any star she's ever seen—even through the telescope at her father's work.
"Kiara," he at last murmurs, his voice gravelly and low, as though he's indulging in a secret. His eyes flick back and forth fast between hers, as he searches for proof that she is really here in London, on his front step. "Please tell me this is real. Please tell me you are real. Quickly. Quickly."
"I have heard how impatient you are."
"Kiara."
"This is real. I am real, Albus. I have to go now. But here." She hands him an old receipt, where she's scrawled her phone number. "I hope you will like to see me soon."
Albus takes the paper in his hand and holds her fingers. "Tonight," he says. "Come have dinner with my family. Rose, and Cory, and his parents."
She blinks at him, then smiles from her heart.
"I will be here. And Albus. Thank you for all the letters. You would not believe how much they got me through. I have started to remember so many things from before. It has been difficult. But I have you to thank, for keeping my focus steady on myself."
He pulls her to his chest once more and runs his hand down her hair. She wonders if he likes her haircut, right at her shoulders now—or if he's even noticed. Albus kisses the top of her head.
"Kiara . . . Je suis fou amoreux de toi."
"Je connais."