Even though they declare him to be in sound physical health, the Healers do not let Albus go home. Not even when his father complains, something which normally means that the world drops everything to run to his side. Instead, they move Albus to a different ward, and although he is still in his own room, no one is happy about it. Albus is slightly confused, as his mother begins to cry, and his father's face turns red with anger. It isn't until later, when his family has left, that he catches sight of where he has been moved to. The Healers don't expect him to leave.
Once again, Albus begins to cry himself.
It's not that the ward is a particularly horrible place to be; his first day there, Albus learns that apart from therapy, the mediwitches are more than happy to leave him alone. He reasons that they're probably too afraid of his father to let themselves close. The therapy is vaguely unpleasant, but only because no matter how Albus struggles to form the words, they just won't come. His therapist understands that, even though he pushes him. What Albus hates the most about St Mungos is that it is not home.
His family comes to visit him, but it is always awkward, and Albus suspects that he is not the only one who breathes a sigh of relief about departure. In fact, after the first few stilted conversations, it seems to only be his mother who has any joy in the slightest about what their days have become. She wheedles with the nurses, and flashes her surname about so that the majority of her day can be spent by her son's side, and even Albus is sick of it. People, by large, have become foreign concepts to him, and his mother's presence, which he'd so long yearned for was now overwhelming. His opinions stay unvoiced though, because not only is Albus unable to communicate with the outside world, but he is also set on not hurting his family any more than his disappearance first did.
His mother, in short, is the least understanding of all his family, of his reluctance to be near them. Albus is quite sure that his father is drawn back to his own days in the war whenever he sees Albus now, and his siblings aren't quite sure how to handle him, but his mother is surprisingly resilient . She cannot know though, for save the one battle at Hogwarts which the History books love to recreate, his mother has never seen horror. Not like he now has. Or perhaps it is because of that one battle, and the horrors she saw while in it that his mother behaves the way she does. Either way, she does not understand his wishes, or she ignores them, and Albus has taken to pretending to be asleep every time she visits.
Tonight is one such time, it being well past visiting hours, and Albus truthfully attempting sleep when the door opens. It is through slitted eyes he spots the trademark hair of a Weasley. For a moment, his heart jumps, just as it does every time his mother uses her status to visit him when no lesser person would be allowed. In the dark, he finds that he equates his mother's fiery red hair with Rose. It is only the softness of the pillow behind his head, and the fullness in his belly always remind him of where he is though, and before his mother can bring the room into light and expose his lies, Albus' eyes are closed, the boy attempting to smooth his face of any worry. Somehow, his deceit always works, and Albus is sure his mother no longer searches too closely for the lies she used to spot in a moment, too scared of the truth which she may find. It is a truth that clogs Albus' throat, even though he cannot find the words to explain it. No matter what, he is glad for his mother's ignorance in this case, because it means that not only is she safe, but that she will also leave soon.
First though, as is ritual for her, his mother crosses to his bed, and Albus keeps himself as still as she rests on hand on his shoulder, for balance he presumes, leaning to brush her lips against his forehead. He supposes that he should find some comfort in the gesture, some feeling of safety, but all he feels is the need to get away. His mother has not been a protector to him in a long time, not since he'd first woken up, beaten and bloody and bruised, the promise of more at the discretion of those whom had taken him. It seems to be important for his mother though, and even if it is physically painful, he forces himself to let her do it. After all, if he cannot bring himself to talk to her, then this is the least that he can do to make her happy.
He has to fight against his urge to sigh in relief as he draws herself away, her hand lingering for a moment and brushing over the contours of his face. "Oh Al," he can hear how his mother's voice is clogged with tears, and he finds himself feeling bad until she continues, "Sometimes I think they're the lucky ones." He know who she is talking about, and he knows just how wrong she is, even though he cannot tell her. Above that though, he is hurt, and unable to voice this opinion in any manner, Albus instead decides to forgo any pretence of sleep, green eyes flickering open, the gasp his mother makes audible, tears springing to her eyes, and the hand that moments ago had been on his face moving to cover her mouth. "Oh, Al," somehow, her voice is thicker than before, and it is only his familiarity with how she intonates her words that he can understand her at all, "I'm so sorry baby, so, so sorry."
As always, he says nothing, because he is unable to, his green eyes fixated, wide, unblinking, and accusatory on her figure, tears spilling rapidly down her cheeks as his mother realises all the lines that she has crossed, and everything she has done that cannot be undone. Betrayal is almost palpable in the air, its eminence in Albus' silence almost more powerful than if he could have screamed it. It is as he stares at her, and as he silently accuses her that she finally does what he's wanted her to do since she'd entered the room, and leaves. It is then that he can feel relieved again, can feel the tendrils of sleep beginning to work their way through his head. Tonight though, the relief is marred by guilt, and Albus curls himself onto his side. His hands wrap around his head, and his breathing becomes shallow, Albus attempting to work through what has just happened, and the guilt that he never let go of while he was captured. He can see Rose again now, and Scorpius, twisted together the way they had often been while they were captive, emaciated and crying for home. He is as terrified is he is happy to see them, even if they aren't really there, and it is with their image that he finally finds himself asleep.
This story in its entirety has begun to take massive amounts of shape in my mind. I know exactly where I want to go with it and all that, so updates should be coming fast!
That being said, what does everyone think?