Written for the QLFC Season 6, Round 5

Team: Wigtown Wanderers

Position: Seeker

Position Prompt: Use a title of a story written by your Captain for inspiration. - A Special Bond

Word Count: 1542

Beta(s): DinoDina, Aya Diefair, CUtopia

Chapter 22: The Special Bond

There was a part of Albus that was euphoric. A part of him that wanted to smile and bubble with laughter, as enthusiastic and excited as the rest of his classmates. It was a glorious day, with the sun soaring in all of its radiant heat to promise a rich, warm summer ahead, and barely a cloud smeared the sky.

Noise and laughter.

Congratulations and applause.

The murmur of the crowd that hushed only for as long as the ceremony ensued before exploding into a riot of tears and joy, parents blubbering in nostalgic remembrance of their own school graduations and wistfully smothering their children with embraces and words of reminiscence.

Albus had endured his fair share. He'd been crushed by his mother's embrace almost as soon as the ceremony had ended and the tide of family members had rushed forth like an overflowing river through a split in a fractured dam. Next was his father, all glassy-eyed despite the fact that he'd never even graduated from school himself. Then his older brother, a one-armed hug around his shoulders that almost strangled him, and his little sister, a brief squeeze before she disappeared to find her friends. His grandparents, warm and congratulatory, his aunts and uncles, his cousins – all of them.

"We're so proud of you, Albus."

"You made it all the way to the end of seventh year, which is more than can be said for James!"

"You should be very happy with yourself; your NEWTs were exceptional."

Maybe Albus should have been happy. Maybe he should have been glowing with that suggested pride, just as he could feel radiating from the classmates that withstood their own bouts of afflicted love and affection in the midst of their respective families. Maybe he should have been satisfied with his NEWT results, and that he would be given just about every opportunity here-on out, and that the prospect of stepping into an unknown future was flooded with wonders and chance endeavours that he hadn't even conceived of yet.

But Albus wasn't happy. He wasn't flooded with pride but with dread. He wasn't satisfied with his NEWTs – that damned Exceeds Expectations in Transfigurations would be the death of him when in the company of the surrounding Outstandings – and the possibility of a future he had no knowledge of, no direction in, and no comprehension of the form it would take…

Albus wasn't excited at his graduation. Rather, it was at his graduation that he understood just how big the world was and how small and comfortable it had been before the doors of possibility had been flung wide open.

Extricating himself from his family had been a challenge, but Albus had managed. Eighteen years in their company had developed within him a skill in slipping from their company, weaseling his way from the overloud bellows of his Uncle Ron's laughter, his Aunt Hermione's endless questions of "Where to now?" and words of "You've got so many possibilities to choose from, Al" that were all well intended but left him with a hollow feeling in his gut. Away from his father's gentle, slightly sad smile and his mother's hand that settled upon his shoulder again and again to offer a comforting squeeze.

He wasn't sure whether the obliviousness to his plight of his aunt and uncle was better or worse than his parents' quiet understanding. All Albus knew was that he wanted to get away from it.

The marquee set up on Hogwarts' grounds was wide and sprawling. Tables groaning beneath steaming dishes and chilled finger food, napkins stacked high alongside plates and pairs of smeared tongs. Silver plates bearing punch more often than age-restricted champagne drifting throughout the idle chatterers, and house elves slipped silently and unobtrusively between them like overly attentive servers. It was hot, and heady with the ecstacy spilling from graduates, and Albus wanted to get out of the stifling atmosphere.

So he did. Which was how he found himself perched atop a fallen log on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the dampness of dew seeping through the fabric of his robes, and staring not at the celebrations echoing from up the hill, but at the ground before him. He focused on a tuft of grass, the minute shape of an ant struggling to scramble up its length, and rested his elbows atop his knees, his chin upon his hands.

Just for a moment, escaping from the weight of change and excitement was as necessary as air. To be alone. To be alone with his thoughts. To be alone, with his thoughts, to worry in silence without prying eyes, and—

"Hey."

Startled, Albus snapped his gaze upwards. He straightened as – seemingly from nowhere – a familiar figure took a step towards him just close enough to shade him with his shadow. For a second, his face was lost to the backdrop of the sun, beaming around his head like a halo, but a moment later and Scorpius' familiar, pointed features blurred into view.

Sighing, Albus slumped once more. He dropped his gaze back down to the grass, to the ant that had acquired a companion that only seemed to be making the climb up the tuft of grass all the more difficult. "Hey," he murmured.

Scorpius stood silently before him for a beat, but though he held his tongue, his quietness spoke for itself. It bespoke understanding and camaraderie that Albus couldn't glean from his family.

Just as silently, Scorpius stepped to Albus' side and dropped onto the log seat, rocking it just gently. He was so close that his leg brushed Albus' with the motion. For another extended pause, they sat in ensuing muteness. Then, with another gentle rock of the log as he stretched his legs out before him, Scorpius sighed.

"What're you thinking about?" he asked.

"You're disrupting the ants," Albus muttered.

"Al?"

"You just went and put your foot straight through them."

"Fascinating." Sarcasm flooded Scorpius' reply, but it disappeared almost instantly. "Al? What's wrong?"

Albus stared at the string of ants, at the pair that were making a botched effort of climbing the stalk of grass for no apparent reason. All he could do was sigh heavily.

Scorpius didn't need any further expansion. "The same thing?"

"Mm."

"You still haven't decided?"

"Mm."

"About university, or maybe an apprenticeship, or… or working, or—"

"You know, laying it all out like that really helps, Scor," Albus said.

Scorpius snorted. "I'm just telling you what you already know."

"Duh. Thanks. You're so helpful."

"You seem to be, what's the word…"

"Freaking out?" Albus offered, closing his eyes briefly.

"I was going to go with 'shitting yourself', but yeah, that works too. You should have seen yourself on the stage when Longbottom called you up. I've never seen you so pale."

Albus shot Scorpius a sidelong glare. "Thank you. You're making me feel so much better about making an idiot of myself in front of the whole school."

Scorpius didn't flinch at his scowl. His small smile didn't waver even slightly. If anything, he seemed to become more comfortable for the sight of it. He rocked gently into Albus' shoulder before settling against him.

"You know," he said slowly. "You don't have to worry so much."

"Right." Albus couldn't help but scoff. "It's only my whole future."

"So work it out one step at a time."

"That's not how it works, Scor." Sighing, Albus leant back against Scorpius. There was something comforting, something stabilising, about the warm weight of him so close. "Just because you've got it all sorted…"

"Yeah," Scorpius said, "and so what?"

"It's easier for you."

"How so? What's so bad?"

"It's bad," Albus said emphatically, though he couldn't help but drop his head heavily onto Scorpius' shoulder. That simple support seemed to help too. "Because I don't know what the hell to do. I don't know where I'll be in six months, or a year, or – or however long, and it's bloody terrifying not to know, Scor, because—"

"So?"

Scorpius' curious interruption drew Albus to a halt. "What?"

"So what?" Scorpius asked. Shifting slightly, he readjusted his shoulder so that Albus' cheek now rested atop it with all the comfort of a pillow rather than the bony joint that it was. "You'll work it out. One step at a time. Isn't that what all of our professors always say? It doesn't have to be now, or tomorrow, or even in ten years. You'll get there."

"Easy enough for you to say," Albus muttered, though he couldn't deny that Scorpius' words had a way of slowing the roiling thoughts plaguing his head. Why was it so much better when Scorpius said it than the professors?

"Yeah, maybe," Scorpius agreed. "But you know, however long it takes, I'll just be hanging out here right next to you to help you work it out. Alright?"

Albus didn't reply. He didn't really need to. There was far more behind Scorpius' words than simple compassion, more than a confidence boost or an off-handed comfort. Closing his eyes, Albus only hummed neutrally and let himself sit with the knowledge that, while everything else might be locked in the midst of terrifying change, some things never would.