Professor McGonagall included Lily in her welcome speech. Without warning to those who couldn't bear to hear her name, she dropped it like she was doing everyone a favor. Like she thought it was her right to be keeping the girl's memory alive.
"Lily's memory doesn't belong to her," Albus hissed, pacing the stretch of floor between his and Scorpius' beds. He'd been like this for hours – all the way through dinner and into the early morning. Their roommates had long since angrily drawn their curtains, all out of pity in favor of being ready for class in the morning. Not Scorpius, though. Never Scorpius. He stayed where he was, perched on the edge of his mattress, with that understanding look on his features. Dutiful and caring. "It doesn't belong to her and it doesn't belong to those first years. They didn't know her. They don't have any right to grieve her.
"At least Dad and his band of sob story parents didn't show up. That's the only thing that could have made it worse. Some bullshit safety workshop…. I know it's still coming, though. He said they're just not 'ready' yet. Whatever that means."
Albus sighed and finally flopped down next to Scorpius. The fatigue was finally hitting him and he was all out of tears to shed. "I just…. I'm just tired, Scor. I'm tired of holding it together because everyone else thinks they need to mourn her more. It's stupid, I know, but-"
Before he could even think to finish his thought, Scorpius leaned in and silenced him in the only way he probably knew how. His fingers were soft in Albus' hair, cradling both sides of his face. Wiping the last of his tears with the pads of his thumb. Which was amazing and sweet in itself, but Albus could hardly focus on that with Scorpius' lips pressed to his own. His breath froze in his lungs and cautionary flags waved behind his eyelids. But it felt so nice. Except….
This kiss wasn't the same. Not the same as he would give a year ago, anyway. No…this kiss was soft and calming and filled with an echo of his own sadness. It just barely glimpsed his lips and lacked any real source of passion. It was kind but not deep. Not sexual. This was the kiss of a friend or a brother, not of a man who wanted to snog him into forgetting his problems.
"It's not stupid," Scorpius whispered after the half-second it lasted. His breath was even and his hands were steady. The kiss hadn't affected him at all.
Next to him, Albus was the exact opposite. He was quiet now, but it was definitely due to shock and not Scorpius' comforting words. His own hands were trembling and he had to shove them under his bum to try and keep himself appearing even remotely normal. "I should get some sleep," he stammered out, but made no move to leave.
"Stay," Scorpius insisted, lying back to shimmy under the covers. "When you're like this, it's hard for you to sleep. So, stay. You always sleep sounder next to someone else."
In his current state, Albus couldn't even fake a denial. And it was true – he had less nightmares by Scorpius' side. Giving a pathetic and watery sniff, he nodded and crawled up next to him. His ear to his chest, grounded by the soft thumping of his regular heartbeat.
Grounded by a vigilant reminder of how things were actually going to be in their last year as he allowed his eyelids to droop, the homey scent of Scorpius on every breath he took in.