A/N: It does NOT feel like it's been over a year since I posted the previous chapter. I didn't realize it'd been so long, so now I'm forcing myself to sit down and finish this fic. Sorry if it seems out of sync—I've written about 200,000 words of present tense second person in the interregnum, it feels weird going back to good ol' past tense third person limited—just tell me if you see any errors.

If you're someone who's been with me since the beginning of this, I honestly can't believe you're still here, and I'm incredibly thankful of your support. If you joined somewhere along the way, I want to thank you for giving me motivation to pick this back up. If you're just looking at this for the first time, hey, you made it to the final chapter! Thanks!

Thank you to everyone for bearing with me and reading along. I'd like to hear your final thoughts if you have any you're willing to share. I hope you have a magical day and a happy life!

Edit: Seeing as I've gotten new follows and a few reviewers have mentioned updates, I'm going to state clearly that this is the last chapter. I marked the story as "complete", and I even said this was the last chapter in the original author's note, but I guess those weren't enough hints. Sometimes you just need to add some bold to get your point across, I guess. Happy reading!

…

The day that followed wasn't as important as he was expecting it to be. Scorpius had overestimated its importance; all he did was set up weekly therapy sessions at the insistence of his parents, say goodbye to Rose (he could still remember how she'd clung to him, curled in his arms like a koala, fiery hair splayed all over and smelling of lavender fabric softener and the sharp, sterile smell of the hospital—a scent that he was sure was etched into his clothing as well), and go home.

He did not go back to visit Rose. They exchanged letters by owl for a few days, and a week later, just a day before his planned visit, she was released with instructions for recovery and strict regulations on her movement. Her thrice-weekly physical therapy sessions would continue for months, perhaps even years. She was still frustrated and weak and ready to put all this behind her, but the five stages of grief regarding her injury had its way with her. There's nothing productive about pushing myself too hard, or sulking when something doesn't go how I want it to, she wrote to him, about a month before they were to head back to Hogwarts. I just have to persevere and maybe by next year, I'll be able to fly again.

When Scorpius said his farewells to his parents on Platform 9 ¾, his father hugged him goodbye for the first time. Their relationship was changing, shifting slowly but surely into something less bitter. Foraging a better connection with his family helped lift a bit of the painful weight from his shoulders, but just enough for it to be comparable to plucking Madagascar off the giant globe settled on Atlas' shoulders.

He sat in the corner of an empty compartment near the back of the train, and as usual, people went to pull open the door, saw him, and scurried away. As he tipped his head on the glass to settle in for the train ride, his compartment was suddenly filled with chatter.

Confusedly, he sat up just as Rose plopped down next to him. "Hey," she said, grinning, and he couldn't help but give her a small smile back. His eyes darted away from hers to see James sit down across from him, Albus plop on the bench on the other side of Rose, and two more people you didn't really know slide in next to James.

Ten minutes into the ride, everyone had more sweets than he'd ever seen in one place, and he realized having friends (however loose the term is) to sit with was weird.

The chatter stayed on appropriate topics, and he talked and ranted and even laughed a little bit as the train chugged on towards its destination. When they arrived at Hogwarts, they had to split up, seeing as four of them were Gryffindors and one of the kids he'd never met was a Hufflepuff. The Sorting was a blur, with clapping spliced in whenever he heard a shout of "Slytherin!" echo across the hall. Dinner at his table was quiet, but the food was good; even so, he left the second he was done, before any of his classmates.

It was surprising that no one had bothered him yet. Everyone seemed to be giving him a wide berth. Scorpius wasn't used to people leaving him alone completely—sure, the majority of students ignored him, but there were always people who threw rocks or insults or hexes at him, especially at the beginning of the year. He wondered what could've changed over the summer that suddenly made the entire student body more mature. Was there some big epiphany they all had that caused them to leave him alone?

The truth hit him like a bludger. They knew.

Abruptly, the hallways seemed narrower and the students more plentiful. Their voices and footsteps were loud and echoing as his head spun and vision blurred. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, and as someone bumped into his shoulder, sending him stumbling forward a couple of steps, he belatedly realized he'd stopped in the middle of the hallway. Blinking rapidly and trying to catch his breath, he sped up his steps and practically ran to the Slytherin dungeon.

His roommates weren't there yet, still at the feast. That meant he could cast colloportus on the door and curl up on his bed. His heart was pounding in his ears, drowning out his thoughts as nausea built. Any bit of control he had over the situation was gone, because somehow all of Hogwarts found out about his suicide attempt, and they were leaving him alone because of misguided pity.

Shouldn't you be happy about not being bullied? a little voice questioned, and he hugged himself tighter. Who cares about why they stopped, at least you didn't get pushed down the stairs or hexed into the hospital wing.

He felt sweat begin to seep into his clothes. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to ride it out, waiting for the anxiety to pass.

Finally, after almost half an hour, he could breathe normally. His muscles felt sore from shaking and his clothes were damp from sweat, so he got up on shaky legs to change out of his robes and into something more causal. He decided firmly to pretend the last hour didn't happen, and ignore the thought that triggered it all.

Not even five minutes after he cracked open a book, there was banging on his door. He unlocked it and opened it up, immediately saying, "No one else is here."

"Well that's just fine," Roxanne Weasley snapped, bopping you between the eyes with a scroll of paper, "because you're who I'm looking for. Rosie wanted me to give you this." She shoved the paper towards him, and you just blink at it, taken aback by the whole situation. "Bloody hell, boy, take it."

He snatched it up, mumbling, "Thanks." Then, she was gone.

By the time he thought to wonder how she got in, there was no opportunity to ask. He believed she had a few friends in Slytherin, but he didn't really keep tabs on that girl, so he didn't know for sure. Either way, she'd given him something from Rose, so that's all that really mattered.

As his eyes scanned her message, he got up, grabbing his wand from his nightstand and walking over to the mirror. Scorpius' eyes were a bit red even though he hadn't been crying, and his hair was in total disarray. He tried to fix it a bit before heading out to meet Rose.

Scorpius was so glad she wanted to see him. He could really use a hug right now (or maybe something more) to help shirk the gross feeling that was hanging all over him. He'd helped her with her recovery and her morale, and something deep in his chest yearned for her comforting touch. Maybe, that same little voice craved, she could help fix me, too.

The girl had told him to meet her by the greenhouses, because Professor Longbottom was the only one who was ever there at night, and he would let them off with a warning if they got caught. She's already there when he walks up, beaming and leaning against one of the greenhouses. Once he was in sight, she met him halfway, and he noticed how her footsteps were still tentative and her hands were held farther away from her body than one would usually carry them, as if she was ready to grab onto something if she fell. When they met, she threw her arms around his neck, and his wrapped tightly around her waist as he breathed her in.

Rose pulled away too soon, expression scrutinizing. "Are you okay?" she questioned, eyebrows tugging together as she grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward the greenhouse. She plopped down right in the dirt, not caring about staining her clothes whatsoever, and he had no choice but to sit next to her, leaning his back against the glass. "You seem off."

Biting his lip, he wondered if he should say anything. Ultimately, he decided to venture sheepishly, "I think I just had a panic attack."

Her lips parted and he instantaneously felt bad for worrying her, but all she did was slide closer and kiss his cheek. He felt his face heating up. "What happened?"

Taking a deep breath, he said, "I think word somehow got out about me trying to… y'know, die, because no one is bothering me. And that's really strange."

"No," she replied with certainty, shaking her head so her hair flew all around, some hitting him in the face. He didn't really care. "That's not it, I'm the only one who knows. I didn't even tell Albus, and I tell him everything. No." Her gaze turned away from him and towards the sky, and she began to pick at her nails. "It's probably because word has gotten out that you're my boyfriend, and people don't want to mess with someone that associates with a Weasley."

Scorpius wasn't excepting that. "Really?" he questions.

"'Really' what?" she countered.

"I'm your boyfriend?"

She purses her lips, looking bemused, before seeming to realize something. "I just sort of assumed, didn't I? Shit, it's like the rivalry thing all over again—"

"No, it's okay," he interrupts her, one corner of his mouth lifting. "I like that assumption."

"Great!" she laughed, just the smallest bit hesitant, eyes still focused on the stars. "Didn't want to scare you away."

There's a stretch of silence as they both think, and Scorpius was the one that eventually broke it. "You know, if you want to look at the sky that much, you could just lie down." Extending his legs in front of him, he patted his lap.

That was all the invitation Rose needed. She shifted, lying down so her head rested just above his knees, and Scorpius' fingers brushed some of the hair out of her face. While she gazed at the sky, he looked at her, running his fingers across her scalp and becoming familiar with the texture of her hair. When his thumb ran over a certain spot, she made a noise in the back of her throat, and he thought he overstepped a boundary. As he began to pull his hands away, she said, "No, that feels good."

They sat like that for a while, and Scorpius started looking at the stars as well, murmuring facts and pointing out constellations. Even though he knew they'd both taken their fair share of astronomy, he knew the map of the sky like only a Malfoy could, and she seemed to appreciate the new knowledge. When it fell silent again, Rose started thinking about something hard enough that a wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows, and Scorpius moved a hand to smooth it out. Rose sighed, and just by the tone of it, he could feel a heavy conversation coming on.

"You've helped me," she said, sitting up. Scorpius' lap immediately craved the warmth of her cranium, so he pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them to compensate. "Merlin, you've been so patient and wonderful and you've gotten me out of moods where I feel damn useless because of this piece of shit injury, but what I fear is…" She gulped, hand moving to run through her hair in trepidation. "I can't fix you," she blurted out, then clamped her teeth together. Anxiety begins to work its way through your veins, ensnaring them in a sharp wrap of unease. "Fuck, Scorpius, that came out wrong, I just—" Inhaling and exhaling sharply, she smoothed her skirt in an abrupt, mechanical fashion, and it's almost endearing, even though it felt like she was dumping him.

"So you're breaking up with me?" he said in a small voice. God, he sounded so fucking stupid, no wonder she decided she wanted out of the relationship. It'd hardly been half an hour since he was sure it was official, even though he assumed the idea had been in her head ever since he got out of the hospital, and he'd fucked it up in record time.

Her eyes widened, mouth popping open with an audible sound. He loved how she was always so expressive, wearing her heart on her sleeve in front of people she trusted. The intricate persona she built for others was completely gone when she was around him, and his eyes began to sting when he realized that probably wouldn't be the case anymore.

"No!" she exclaimed vehemently. "Did I make it sound like that? Oh love, you're shaking, I'm sorry."

She leaned forward, looping her arms around his shoulders tugging him close. Kissing his temple, he held him as he gained some of his self-control back, rocking back and forth until his back felt a bit less tense. "This just sort of…" She paused, pulling out of the embrace and taking one of his hands and holding it between both of hers. "What just happened is evidence to support what I was about to say. Scorpius," she said, sounding tired, "I've heard of people getting into relationships to try and fill a hole, and they think by simply being with someone, their depression will just go away, so what ends up happening is they throw themselves entirely into the relationship and someone gets overwhelmed and the entire thing goes down in flames."

"That's not what's going to happen," he said, even though he'd been thinking just before about their reciprocal acts of fixing.

Squeezing his hand, she continued, "It could, though. I'm more than willing to help you when you need it. Just ask, and I'll be there. But I can't be a crutch or a medication or an excuse, so we're going to have to work at this."

Rose had a point. She almost always did. Exhaling though his nose, he said, "I promise to try, Rose, I really do. I don't want you to feel pressured into this out of pity or sympathy or anything, I just… want to be with you."

"Good," she replied, sounding a bit cheerier. She reached over, grabbing his shirt by the collar and kissing him.

When they're both out of breath and Scorpius was just getting used to the sensation of someone else's tongue in his mouth, they pull apart, Rose's forehead coming to rest on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her back, rubbing a thumb over the bit of spine at the base of her neck. "I think it's going to be a good year," she chuckles into his shirt, voice husky with suppressed lust.

"Yeah," he agreed. They'd help each other in whatever ways they could, and at the end of it all, Scorpius decided that he was truly going to try to conquer whatever illness had seeped its way into his brain, not just for her, but for himself as well.