AN. So, the final chapter. I am so so so so so sorry I took so long to update – school, illness and Caketin have kept me very busy, I'm afraid. But here, it's done. It's not the best, I know, but I hope you like it? It didn't seem right to give it a properly happy ending, so you can take it how you want.

This chapter was originally inspired by Dearly Beloved, the fourth part of Jesus of Suburbia / City of the Damned / I Don't Care / Dearly Beloved / Tales of Another Broken Home by Green Day, but the main inspiration, particularly for the last part was Give Me Novacaine, also by Green Day.

WARNINGS. Slash, swearing, mentions of self harm.

DEDICATION. My Jimmy. I love you. 3

DISCLAIMER. I'm making no money for this… HP related things you recognise belong to JKR, Dearly Beloved and Give Me Novacaine quotes, misquotes and ideas credit to Green Day.

NEON GREEN LACES AND BAD INFLUENCES
PART IV (GIVE ME NOVACAINE)

He had been awake for a while, but Al could not bring himself to open his eyes. He had no idea where he was, but he was definitely lying in a bed, and was not dressed in his own clothes. There was someone clutching each of his hands, and he could hear hushed voiced talking around him. Al struggled to recall what had happened, but thinking too hard made his head hurt. After a moment of listening harder, Albus found that he could place some of the voices. His parents, another adult voice he didn't know, James, Lily, and… Scorp?

Al's eyes finally fluttered open. The people around him did not immediately notice, which gave him time to take in his surroundings. He was in a hospital bed: a healer was speaking to his parents at the end of it, and Lily was clutching her mother's hand in worry. James had a tight grip on his younger brother's hand, but was turned to listen to the healer. The final person in the room was holding Al's other hand and looking straight at him. Scorpius.

The next few moments went in slow motion for Albus. Scorpius smiled; Lily glanced over to her brother and, seeing that he was awake, squealed and began to talk incomprehensibly at him; James looked in his direction, half happy, half disapproving, and Ginny embraced Harry, her eyes glinting with tears.

Despite the fuss being about him waking up, Al found that he was rather forgotten whilst everyone was busy hugging and being happy. Looking down at his arms, Al saw that all of his cuts had been healed, leaving only thin, white scars which were almost invisible against his pale skin.

He knew that he should be happy about this, grateful to the healers, but somehow he just felt empty inside. It hadn't cured anything, had it? The cuts were there because he needed the physical feeling of pain. It was a release from the psychological pain – the feelings eating him away from the inside. The cuts would be quickly replaced, whatever they told him, he was sure.

Al caught a snatch of what the healer was saying to his parents, and snorted in disbelief.

"Keep the press away as long as possible … should be able to have a fresh start…"

Yeah, right. As soon was word got out that he was awake the press would be round the door like bees to a honey pot. And as for a fresh start, nothing had changed except his parents now knew just what had been going on behind Al's closed bedroom door.

Al began to wonder just how much James and Scorpius had told the healer and his parents, but his thoughts were interrupted by the healer.

"Mr Potter," she said, putting her hand on Al's shoulder. "I hope you understand that even though you are conscious we are going to have to keep you here for a few days under observation."

Albus nodded numbly. What did he care? There was nothing for him outside the hospital, after all.

"We've managed to mostly wean him off his addictions," she continued, now to the room at large. Al winced. It was easy for her to talk about it in such a matter-of-fact way, but it was still a painful topic for him. "But the nicotine has been a problem. You should be thankful you're a wizard, Albus."

Al nodded again, but as the healer left the room, followed by his parents and Lily to show them some scan or other, he couldn't help wondering what the point of being alive was right now. If he had been a Muggle he would be dead by now, he knew that. But one of the perks of being a wizard was more resistance to illness or poisons than muggles, and also the fact that you'd respond a lot better to magical healing techniques. For those reasons, and other odd biological things that magic did to you, wizards, on average, had a much higher life expectancy than muggles, and Al was alive now. In his opinion pointlessly.

"Al…" Albus didn't look up at his brother's voice. He didn't care about what James had to say: whatever it was, it would sound empty and unimportant right now.

Al felt James squeeze his hand, but he stayed staring down at the stark white sheets. Above him, James and Scorpius exchanged worried glances. After several minutes of silence Albus forced his eyes shut, hoping that James and Scorpius would think he had fallen asleep again. He didn't want to talk, especially to them.

However Al had neglected the fact that James and Scorpius were probably the two people who knew him better than anyone else. The pretending didn't work on them.

"Al, listen, please." The tone of James' voice was something Al hadn't heard very often. The joking arrogance was gone, replaced by a small something which Al knew meant that he actually cared. Albus finally looked up, although still avoiding looking at the two young men at his bedside.

"We- We've talked, Al. Mal- I mean, Scorpius and I. That doesn't mean either of us have changed our minds on whose fault all this was…" his stupid arrogant confidence has returned then, Al thought bitterly, it can't have been such a serious topic for him if he could still joke about it.

"I'm not saying it's not your fault, Al," James carried on, matter-of-factly, "but it's not just your fault. I was stupid, and Scorpius has admitted to messing up as well. But, er, you managed to fuck up two relationships, little brother."

"James has told me what happened between you," Scorpius said. Al struggled to tell the emotion his voice betrayed: not much, it was a Malfoy thing to be as closed as possible, but Al thought Scorp sounded more worried than angry. "And about Teddy… Um, I forgive you."

Al just blinked up at them, not managing to take any of it in properly. It- It made no sense. He closed his eyes, trying to ease the headache which was building quickly. He hated this dull ache; he needed the sharp stab of pain that came from running a razor blade or penknife across his wrist, the pinprick of the sharp end of a safety pin or badge.

"Jimmy…" he said quietly, his voice hoarse from lack of use. James seemed startled for a moment: Al knew that no one had called him by his childhood nickname for years. Then his expression changed, and Al knew he understood. Scorpius was looking worriedly from one brother to the other, and he tightened his grip on Al's hand.

At that moment the door opened, and the healer and Albus' father returned to the room. Al barely noticed them: he felt strangely comforted by the tightness of James and Scorpius' grip, and the sensations of their warm grip and the pain of his headache was overwhelming him.

The healer was talking to the others now, and probably to Al as well, but Albus didn't hear. He felt James and Scorpius' grip slacken and leave him altogether. Until a moment this would have troubled him, but somehow it felt alright now.

Al heard faint footsteps, someone walking around his bed, and that someone – the cooler touch and large, roughened hand made Al sure it was James – took his hand again, holding it tight. Albus was so focused on his brother's touch that he barely noticed the sharp prick of the needle in the top of his other arm. He wondered what it was, but James was telling him everything was alright, and someone, (Scorpius? probably), quickly pressed their lips to Al's as he slipped once again into the darkness, although this time it was different, a lot more comforting.