Albus put it off as long as he could. He'd skipped the optional practices and spent the entire day walking lightly, relying heavily on his cane, and letting Scorpius keep his warm hands on his sore leg under their tables and desks - as if he wasn't already distracted enough.
When he walked onto the pitch where the rest of the team was waiting, he was acutely aware of their eyes on him, watching his every step. He used his broom for support, trying not to let his face show anything akin to pain. He checked the stands and saw a single spectator with their arms folded disapprovingly.
"I cannot watch you fall off your broom again, Albus," Scorpius had hissed at him as they walked down to the pitch. "Don't you dare put me through that again. I have nightmares enough as it is."
Albus waved at him. Scorpius didn't wave back.
The team began talking about the plays they'd practice and Albus leaned on his broom next to Maggie.
"You don't have to do this, you know," she said.
"Yes, I do."
Flint went over a list of things they needed to improve upon to win their next two matches against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and Albus looked across the field to the spot where they'd celebrated their victory over Gryffindor. The last time he'd been in the arena was an hour before Scorpius had been abducted, and when he looked up into the stands, it dawned on him that it was nearly the last time Scorpius had seen him.
Don't you dare put me through that again.
Flint wrapped up his motivational speech (which Albus hadn't found particularly motivating), and released the bludgers before tossing the quaffle to Maggie.
"I'm sending out the practice snitch," Flint said. "Take it easy."
Albus nodded and watched as the rest of the team took off. Farley stayed low and watched the ground expectantly.
One foot on either side of the broom, Albus thought. Kick off. That's all I need to do. Once I'm in the air, it will be fine.
Getting airborne cost him dearly, but he managed it, and for a moment Albus was relieved. He felt the pressure come off of his joints as he rose, and thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd be okay.
Albus flew around for a few minutes, getting his bearings, feeling the wind in his hair as the rose higher, watching the team start racing back and forth across the pitch. They were laughing, but someone was missing.
Albus looked around and found Farley nearby.
"You must have pulled the short straw to get Albus-duty," Albus called with a grin. He gripped the broom handle tightly, unable to trust his own balance.
"Just making sure you're okay," Farley said, stopping a few meters from him.
"I'll be fine," Albus said. "Flint sent up the slow snitch for me."
"Just be careful," Farley said.
"Go on. Those bludgers aren't going to hit themselves."
Farley reluctantly flew down to the rest of the team.
Albus looked down at the stands. Even if he hadn't been alone, Scorpius was easy enough to spot. His hair was terribly bright in the setting sun. He was about to call down to him - to tell him that he was worried for nothing - when he saw a glint of gold out of the corner of his eye.
Albus raced after it, and the moment he started to pick up some real speed, he instinctively dug his heels into the metal foot grips. He sped down towards the grass, and pain shot from his ankle through his side. He tried to ignore it - to grit his teeth and get through it - but when he turned to level out toward the ground his balance came apart and he rolled onto the ground a meter below, coming to a rest in the cold, wet grass.
Albus lay in the turf in the moments between his landing and the team noticing what had happened. He stared at the sky - blue and full of white, puffy clouds - the kind he hadn't seen since the last snowstorm, and knew deep in his bones that he was never going to play again.
"Albus!"
Scorpius reached him as the rest of the team hit the ground. Albus sat up, and looked at his broom still in his hand and sighed. He let Scorpius help him to his feet and leaned on him heavily as he found his balance.
"I quit," Albus told Flint when he got close enough. Scorpius looked down at him.
"There's got to be a way -"
"No," Albus said, shaking his head. "I can't fly like this. I'm going to get hurt, or I'm going to hurt someone else. Either way, we lose the game."
Flint, Farley, Maggie and their teammates all looked at him with varying degrees of disappointment, but Flint, as team captain, was the most distraught.
"We don't have an alternate seeker."
"You're better off letting Maggie play seeker. She's fast enough at least." Albus said. "You'll have better luck finding another chaser.
"We'd be better off with you."
"I can't fly, Flint," Albus said. "I had to try, but it's not going to work."
"This is a disaster," said Harper Gilmore, a chaser. She shook her head at Albus. "We're never going to win the cup if we're training new players."
"There are more important things than winning the cup," Albus said.
Harper opened her mouth to protest, but Flint cut her off, asking if anyone knew who they'd almost picked for the team during tryouts in the fall. Albus listened as they argued, naming names of students as young as thirteen.
"You look like you're in pain," Maggie said to Albus.
"If it tickled I'd still be in the air laughing," Albus said.
"You should head back in," Flint said. "I'll let you know what happens out here. See if you can help."
Albus looked at his teammates one by one. Their concerned, disappointed faces should have broken him a thousand times over, but they didn't. He felt Scorpius' hand on his back, tracing the letters of his surname, and somehow it wasn't so disappointing.
"I'm sorry," Albus apologized. "Truly."
"It's not your fault, mate," Farley said.
Harper looked like she had a different opinion, but kept her mouth shut.
Albus turned to Scorpius who gave him a sad smile.
"Come on. Let's go get dinner."
Scorpius took Albus' broom and handed him back his cane, and together, they walked from the pitch at a slow, calculated pace.
Albus was sullen throughout dinner, and Scorpius knew better than to disturb him. He knew that distant look - the way he speared his food with his fork without looking at it and ate slowly, staring straight ahead, barely blinking. He'd interrupted this reverie before, and it only made Albus more irritable in the end.
So he sat next to Albus, passing the pumpkin juice before he could ask, and holding his hand beneath the table, trying desperately to ignore the broomstick that lay along the bench at his side, and when he was done eating and Albus was still taking his time, he pulled a book from his bag and began reading to distract himself from the guilt and empathetic sadness he'd been feeling since Albus had first been handed his cane.
When at long last Albus spoke, it took Scorpius a moment to register what he'd said.
"It's just as well," he said quietly, his voice low. "I need to devote more time to studying for my N.E.W.T.s anyway if I still want to be a magizoologist."
Scorpius said nothing and gave his hand a small squeeze.
"Besides," Albus began again, his voice brightening, "we haven't read anything lately, and I was thinking maybe we could start Lord of the Rings."
"Lord of the Rings?"
Albus shrugged. "I saw it in your library the other day. Thought it might be interesting. Muggle's perception of magic and all that."
Scorpius looked back at him and saw that he didn't look happy, but he didn't look sad either.
"You can talk to me about it," Scorpius said.
"There's nothing to talk about," said Albus. "I had to quit the team. It's not like Quidditch was my future anyway. I'm not that good."
"I'm sorry," Scorpius said. "If I'd been two seconds faster -"
"You didn't curse me," Albus said firmly. "It wasn't your fault. And our dads couldn't have taken on all four of them alone - if I hadn't been there, they would have been killed and you'd probably be dead or trying to take over the Ministry right now."
Scorpius opened his mouth to protest, but he knew Albus was right. He couldn't have held out forever.
"So it's worth it," Albus said with a crooked smile. "It's completely worth it if it got you out of there."
"I'm still really sorry this happened to you," Scorpius said. "It's not fair."
"No, it's not," said Albus. "But life hasn't exactly been fair to either of us, has it? Son of Voldemort and the Slytherin Squib?"
"They can't really say that about you anymore, can they?"
"Well, no," said Albus. "I suppose not. But you setting fires and knocking Gryffindors around didn't help your case."
"It's fine," said Scorpius. "I've learned to ignore the looks and the jeers, and no one is really messing with me now."
"See?" said Albus. "Things are getting better already."
Scorpius woke in the middle of the night. He'd taken precautions - put a muffling charm around his bed so he wouldn't wake the others, and gone through Albus' mantra while falling asleep - but most nights it wasn't enough. Thus far, he'd only slept through the night once at the Potter's house.
He rolled over carefully, peeling Albus' arm from around his waist, and pulled back the hangings around his bed just enough to check the clock.
Five in the morning, he'd decided, didn't look good on anybody, but he'd seen it more in the last few weeks than he ever had in his life.
"Scorp?" Albus moaned, rubbing his eyes and turning onto his back. "Is it morning?"
"No," Scorpius said. "Go back to sleep."
"Why are you up?" Albus asked, blinking furiously and looking up at him. He was adorable like this, Scorpius had realized. The only good thing about waking up so much in the night was sleepy Albus with his messy hair and child-like confusion.
"Just a nightmare."
Albus sat up beside him, shaking his head which did nothing to solve the mess his hair had become.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Scorpius didn't. It had been a combination of watching Albus fall off his broom and watching him fly backwards when Daphne cursed him. Clearly, the definitive end to Albus' Quidditch career had an effect.
"Nothing new," Scorpius said. He was exhausted, and he knew Albus was too. Half the time he couldn't help waking Albus up too. He'd tried to convince Albus that he could sleep own - that there was no reason for both of them to be so tired - but Albus simply wouldn't have it.
"What can I do?" Albus asked, rubbing his leg absently. Scorpius sighed and sat up too.
"Is it hurting?"
"A bit," said Albus. "It's not sharp like it used to be unless I do something stupid, like try to fly."
Scorpius rubbed his hands together, summoning some energy to heat them. Simple things like moving items and changing temperatures didn't cost him anymore, and he was grateful, since the only thing he could do for Albus was be a mobile, human heating pad.
He placed both palms against Albus' leg and started pressing into the tense muscles - the ones that never really relaxed anymore, and Albus leaned back against the headboard.
"What do you think it will be like after we graduate?" Albus asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if we go get a flat in London," he continued. "And if we're both working."
"I haven't thought much about it," Scorpius admitted.
"D'you still want to?" Albus asked through a yawn. Scorpius moved his hands up to Albus' side and Albus cringed.
"Of course," said Scorpius. "I said I did."
"I mean, you could always stay at the Malfoy Manor," Albus said. "Where you've got all that space and your dad..."
"Are you trying to talk me out of living with you?" Scorpius asked.
"I didn't know if you thought about it," Albus said. "It won't be as comfortable as the manor."
"I know," said Scorpius. "Just make sure I have a couple bookshelves and a desk. That's all I care about."
"And you'd have to take care of your crippled boyfriend," Albus said.
"You're not crippled," Scorpius said, rolling his eyes. "You've got a limp. And you still might improve slowly."
"Still," Albus said. "I might not be able to do some things."
"Al, do you really think I'd back out because you got a limp saving my ass?"
"Well, no -"
"Okay, then," Scorpius said, digging his hands into the most sore part around Albus' left hip. Albus cringed again and closed his eyes.
"If this didn't hurt like hell it would be very distracting," Albus said. After a moment, he relaxed and looked up at Scorpius.
"You're really cute when you concentrate," Albus said. Scorpius looked at him and saw that he had the same sloppy smile he wore when he had too much to drink.
"You're really cute when you're sleepy," Scorpius said. "Which is all the time recently, thanks to me."
"It's fine," Albus assured him. He took Scorpius' hand from his side and held it, and Scorpius released the heat, letting it dissipate. "Really, it is."
For the first time, as Albus looked up at him in the dark, Scorpius believed him.
"You've changed," Scorpius told him.
"In a good way?" Albus asked.
"It's like you grew ten years in those fifteen days," Scorpius said quietly. "I can't explain it."
"I think my perspective changed," Albus said. "I don't know that I thought much about the future before. I didn't have to. And then I had all the possibilities for everything I wanted just... taken away."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Albus said. "And I realized that everything I want to do in life, I want to do it with you."
A small smile played at the edges of Scorpius' lips and he nodded.
"I want that too," he said. "And I think that's what happened to me too. Only I didn't know how to put it into words."
"Rare stroke of eloquence," Albus said with a tired grin. "It happens."
Scorpius laughed quietly and stifled a yawn, letting Albus draw him back down into bed. He lay his head against Albus' shoulder and wrapped his arms around Albus' waist.
"Tomorrow's Saturday?"
"Tomorrow's Saturday," Albus confirmed.
"Can we sleep in?"
"I already turned the alarm off," Albus said, playing with a lock of Scorpius' hair.
Scorpius nodded, drifting off again against his will.
"Hey Scorp?" Albus whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Where are you going to wake up?"
"Probably laying on you again," Scorpius said with a smile. "Like every other morning this week."
Scorpius was glad Saturday morning breakfast ran late because he and Albus were rushing into the Great Hall well after ten o'clock. Around Scorpius' shoulder was a bag holding a blanket and a stack of notes they both needed to review. It was cold, but the sun was out, and that meant it was an Astronomy Tower kind of day.
"Need coffee," said Albus tiredly.
"How can I be so sleepy when we slept so late?"
"I have no idea," said Albus. "Ask me again when I've had coffee."
They sat down at their usual spot in the hall, and began serving themselves, ignoring the usual awkward glances and whispers-behind-hands. After seven years, they'd learned to block those things out.
As Scorpius was grabbing a pastry, two waiting owls swooped down from their perch along the wall and landed on the Slytherin table in front of them - one with a letter addressed to Albus, and the other for Scorpius.
Scorpius sighed and untied the missive, giving the owl a thankful pat on the head, though he was anything but thankful. He knew what this letter held.
"What's this?" Albus asked, his mouth full. "This isn't mum's handwriting."
"No, it's not," said Scorpius, opening his letter with a butter knife and breaking the Ministry of Magic seal on the back.
"Ministry?"
"It's a summons," said Scorpius. He opened the letter.
Dear Mr. Malfoy,
Your presence and testimony is requested at the joint trial of Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Angus Selwyn, and Hugh Travers.
The trial will be held on February 1. Please contact the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, if you require transportation.
Sincerely,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Chief Warlock
Scorpius folded his letter neatly and placed it back in its envelope, while Albus ripped his in half and threw it on the table.
"Lovely," said Albus. "More of this."
"We'll wind up in the Prophet again, that's for sure."
"For once it would be great if we wound up in the paper for something we did, not just because we wound up with our surnames."
"I did once," said Scorpius, trying to find some brightness. "I won an amateur magical history trivia competition when I was ten."
Albus stared at him. "Of course you did."
"It'll be the whole Wizengamot," Scorpius said. He took a sip of his coffee. "Biggest trial of the year and I'm going to be stuck in the middle of it."
Albus slid closer to him on the bench and put his hand on Scorpius' knee.
"If you want, after this you'll never have to talk about it again," Albus said. Scorpius rolled back the long sleeves of his shirt, exposing the rough scars around his wrists.
"It's not going away, Al," Scorpius said. "For either of us."
Albus knew this. Sometimes, when he let his mind wander, he still saw Scorpius' face - dirty, drawn and covered in blood. Sometimes he still heard Scorpius' voice whimpering his name when he woke up in front of the fire at the Malfoy manor, and he wondered if he'd always be haunted too.
"I don't think I have a right to have nightmares," Albus said. "Or to have this... thing, hanging over me."
"It happened to both of us, Al," Scorpius said. Albus leaned on his shoulder where he rested his head, and Scorpius draped an arm around his neck.
Silence fell over both of them and Scorpius picked at his toast until, after a while, Albus cleared his throat.
"So without Quidditch, I have a lot more time," he began.
"And?"
"About that weekend in the Room of Requirement..."
