472 words, by google docs
Scorpius' mother is dead.
She's been dead for a while, but is still cuts him like a knife every time he thinks of her. He doesn't have a mother anymore. He hates it.
It pains him inside, but he thinks that he's used up all of his tears—he no longer cries when he goes to visit. He visits nearly every day after class, but he never tells his father—his father would burst into tears at any mention of his mother.
He never tells his father, so he has no one to buy him any flowers when he goes. Which is why he takes flowers everyday from the backyard of a big white house a few blocks from the graveyard. They have a bunch of flowers, anyway, Scorpius continues to tell himself. They'll never notice a few flowers gone.
He tells himself the same thing today as he picks a purple flower—one of his mother's favorite colors.
"So, who's the girl?" The question makes Scorpius snap his head up and he's facing a boy around his age, maybe seventeen or eighteen. He has messy black hair and a smirk on his face. The question doesn't register in Scorpius' head at first. "I mean, of course it's old fashioned to give flowers, but I sort of like it. This is my family's garden, by the way. I'm Albus I always see you come and steal flowers. I don't mind, though. Can I meet the girl?"
He says all of this very fast and Scorpius realises—he thinks that he's bringing his flowers to a girl who's alive.
He's wrong.
"Sure," Scorpius says, though, straightening up, clutching a few flowers. After all, he is stealing this boy's—Albus—flowers. They walk another few blocks before Scorpius stops in front of the graveyard.
Standing there with this stranger, it hits Scorpius all over again—he can feel tears starting to well in his eyes.
"Here's where she—" Scorpius breath hitches as he searches for a better word to say. "—lives."
"Oh," Albus whispers.
Gritting his teeth, Scorpius walks in, ignoring Albus walking behind him. His feet find the grave subconsciously and he leans down and put the flowers on there, next to all the other ones. He has a pretty decent rainbow, now.
"Hi, Mum," he says, trying not to let the tears in his eyes fall—why is being here with Albus so hard?
"She was your mum?" Albus asks, his voice soft behind Scorpius. Scorpius nods, balling his fists. Albus walks in front of him and bends down at the headstone.
"I know I don't know your son," Albus says, bowing his head and speaking low enough that Scorpius has to strain his ears to hear him, "but I know that he must really love you—he's been stealing my flowers for weeks, now. You're pretty lucky."
Scorpius' tears fall.