-6-

A strange series of events take place before they leave for Christmas hols. It begins one day when a large brown owl drops a small, pastel-wrapped package before a surprised Scorpius at the breakfast table. The dining hall is still relatively empty in these early hours. The few seventh year Hufflepuffs that occupied the table swiftly glance Scorpius's way in question. Their curiosity soon gives way to excited exclamations when he unwraps the gift to reveal a box of freshly baked macarons from the new French confectionary in Hogsmeade.

"Well, who's it from then?" Jonathan asks impatiently. Any appearance of sleepiness had vanished.

Scorpius stares at the gift in confusion-probably from mum, he thinks- but dutifully reads aloud the card that accompanies the box: "Hope you like sweets, though you are infinitely sweeter. Forever Yours . . . Admirer? What the—"

"A secret admirer! Scorpius has got a secret admirer!" Emily cries for all to hear, impervious to her friend's obvious embarrassment.

"And a disgustingly cheesy one at that," laughs Ernie, though not without a grimace. "Sure it wasn't from you, Em?"

Emily shoots him a quick glare. "I'm over him," she declares emphatically. "I have been for months."

Ernie shrugs. "If you say so. But if these aren't from you, who are they from? Do you know, Scorpius?"

"—Don't think I do, actually—"

"Well don't ask him" Jonathan interjects. "When does he know anything, ever? Haven't met a more clueless bloke in my life—don't make the face, mate, you know it's true. Here, let's just ask—does anyone here know who Scorpius's secret admirer is?" Jonathan shouts gleefully, his voice resonating across the Great Hall. Scorpius frantically tries to shush him, to no avail. He instead yells louder: "Whoever you are, show yourself! Scorpius wants to know too!"

Scorpius reddens perceptibly as all eyes focus on him. Even the non-Hufflepuffs at other tables peer his way, some clearly laughing and others merely curious. He feels most embarrassed than ever when he sees that James Potter is among the onlookers. Scorpius wonders how it's just his luck that James always seems to be around these days to witness his mortification. James raises his brow in question when he meets Scorpius's eye from halfway across the room.

Scorpius shrugs helplessly to the wordless query. He turns to Jonathan and punches him half-heartedly in the arm: "You're the worst, mate"

Jonathan grins with pride.

Over the next few weeks, a pile begins to accumulate by Scorpius's bedside. The objects of the mysterious courtship take various forms-a bouquet of enchanted, ever-blooming roses, a leather-bound book of hand written sonnets, several boxes of premium chocolates—all rather useless, Scorpius thinks.

("But they're all pretty expensive. At least you know the person's probably well off," Ernie commented wistfully. Scorpius quipped in response: "I'm pretty well off, you know.)

"Maybe he thinks you're a girl," Emily suggests as she pops in another piece of Belgian chocolate. She smiles in delight when she discovers it's her favorite kind, one filled with oozing caramel.

"That's absurd," Scorpius sputters unhappily. "Why would he—wait a minute, why do you keep saying it's a he? What makes you so sure? For all you know, it could be a pretty girl, like a cute and shy fifth year."

Ernie snickers. "Is that your type, Scorpius? But anyway, the guy's giving you chocolates and flowers, like..." Need I say more?

"Well, he—she, I mean, did get me quidditch gloves too. Which is ... manly..."

"Right...sure it is, if you actually played. It's too bad-those are some beautiful gloves, and you'll never get a chance to show them off."

"What are you talking about, Em? Of course I will, I'm on the team!"

"Yeah, as the designated cleaning boy," Emily deadpans.

Scorpius frowns and mutters maliciously, "Better watch your figure. Bet you're going to grow fat from eating all those chocolates."

Emily petulantly pelts Scorpius with one of said chocolates (that's fucking rude, Scorpius) and Ernie clucks over the loss of the pricey treat. Jonathan rolls his eyes and slaps him upside the head, telling him to focus.

"Look, guys," Jonathan commands as he flops atop Scorpius's bed with mock exasperation. "The important q now, obviously, is to figure out who our lovely Scorpius's mysterious secret admirer is."

"How about handsome instead of lovely?" Scorpius suggests hopefully. He's promptly ignored.

"But really Scorpius, can't you think of anyone?"

"For the millionth time, no."

"No one at all? Who'd go to all this trouble to woo you? Come on, can't you think of any rich bloke who's suddenly taken a sudden interest in you? Anyone you've never really noticed, but then when you look up, he's always around, watching you? No?"

A brief impression of brown eyes and reddish hair flashes unwittingly before Scorpius's eyes. He blinks the image away and shakes his head.

"Jonathan, stop that," he complains. "There's no rich bloke, ok? It's a beautiful fifth year—girl—I just know it."

"Really?" Jonathan muses doubtfully. "Because I was thinking Edmund. The Ravenclaw, you know? The one who stares at you like a creep. Heard his parents are landed nobility—well I guess you are too—and he's not so bad looking. Very muscled, and you could bottom—"

"Oh my god—what even—stop!"

~a~

The most impressive gift is delivered straight to the greenhouse, and it's markedly different from the others. It's the only one Scorpius finds remotely interesting; he places it carefully on one of the display shelves at the greenhouse's entrance and studies it with a look of wonder.

James wanders over from the little stone table where he's been working on his N.E.W.T. studies. Over the past few weeks, he's slowly conquered the area, and the table is now piled high with thick wizarding tomes. Scorpius still blanches sometimes when his eyes land on the books; he shudders to think that, come next year, he might inherit the table and the miserable life of a Seventh Year examinee.

"What's that?" James asks, peering curiously at the glass jar Scorpius has just shelved.

"It's a terrarium! Haven't you ever seen one? It's like a miniature ecosystem in a jar."

"So like a tiny greenhouse," James mutters, curiosity giving way to disinterested apathy.

"Sure, only it's alive too. I hear muggles can do it just with the glass, but for us wizards, the entire jar is spelled to keep the system going so that everything in it grows and dies the same as they would in their natural habitats. Some jars even come with the seasons, though I'm not sure about this one. Anyway, it's as if you're looking into a tiny world, a shrunken but exact replica of the real thing," Scorpius explains, his blue eyes glued to the glass jar and his voice filled with reverential awe. "I have a ton at home, actually, but this one is really special."

"Oh, how so?"

"It's a recreation of the cave at the bottom of the Island of Guadalupe. The cave's guarded by the man-eating white sharks of the Pacific, and apparently, only the merpeople of the area can access the cave and excavate these species. And even then, they only ever excavate a bit of it. I can't imagine how expensive this must have been. You know, I've always wanted one, but I didn't want to bother Father-oh no, I'm boring you, aren't I?" Scorpius laughs apologetically as he catches James staring at him, lips quirked slightly at the corners.

The expression has become a familiar one over the past few weeks as Scorpius has increasingly found himself engaging in idle chatter with the elder Potter. He's come to realize that whenever he goes on for too long about some obscure plant trivia—which is far too often, actually—he would eventually look over to find James wearing this half smile of his. At first, Scorpius wondered if it was James's way of expressing interest or amusement, but he later came to doubt himself—because who could find his archaic stories interesting?—and concluded that it must be some warped manifestation of inner boredom.

James chuckles and shakes his head. "No. But," he muses, now studying the jar with renewed interest, "The plants here don't look like they belong at the bottom of the ocean. I mean, this one here looks like some fruit tree."

"Well, yeah, and that's what makes this cave so brilliant!" Scorpius exclaims, excitement returned. "Legend has it that a Spanish prince traveled to the island in the sixteenth century in search of gold, but instead of finding wealth and fortune, he was stricken by a tropical fever. A beautiful merprincess found him dying on the beach and nursed him back to health. And when he regained consciousness, the prince immediately fell in love with the princess-"

"Scorp, are you trying to sell me some variation of the little mermaid?" asks James with barely concealed amusement. "Did the princess find some wizard to turn her human and then live happily ever after with her prince?"

"No, James, that's not what happens," says Scorpius impishly. "Actually, the princess didn't care for the prince at all. She only felt sorry for him and didn't have the heart to leave him dying on the sand like a beached whale. But the prince was so in love with with her that he parked himself on the beach and refused to leave. In fact, he was about to drown himself when an old wizard on the island took pity on him and thought of a way for him to live with the mermaid."

"By putting him in a cave at the bottom of the ocean?"

"Exactly! The wizard made him a cave where no water could ever enter, and that tree you see there bore the fruits that the prince subsisted off of, and he lived there for the rest of his life."

"Sounds like a pretty shitty life," James remarks sardonically. "And the princess? Was she touched by his...perseverance?"

"Hmm...no, don't think so. But she did continue feeling sorry for him, especially when he grew into a lonely old man and still couldn't leave the cave. I think by then, even he had fallen out of love and just wanted to go home to Spain. Only, he didn't know how since the wizard had died, and the princess felt so guilty about the situation that she stuck around to keep him company. Anyway, no one really found their happy ending in this story—they were both just stuck in a relationship that neither wanted. Actually," Scorpius finishes with a wry laugh, "it's supposed to be cautionary tale about the stupid things people do out of 'love.' Makes me wonder if he knew the story when he bought this for me."

"He?"

"Oh, my admirer, you know? The one who's been giving me gifts. You must have heard about him by now—I think the whole school has," explains Scorpius with a roll of his eyes.

James frowns. "Sure, I've heard some things, though not much. I didn't know he got you such unique...anyway, he? So you know who he is?"

"Well no, but everyone is convinced that he's a he."

"And you...you don't mind?" James queries hesitantly.

"Mind? Oh, that my admirer is a man? I mean, I'm still holding out hope that it's a pretty girl, but it is what it is, I guess."

James laughs uncertainly at this. "It's just that most guys I know would probably be freaking out. Doesn't it bother you...I mean, it's not exactly normal, is it?" Scorpius shrugs, but James seems strangely fixated on the topic. He presses: "Haven't you given this any thought though? Like, you like girls, don't you?"

Scorpius nibbles on his lower lip as he thinks about this. "I guess so? I mean, I haven't ever liked anyone—"

"—But you're sixteen, surely—"

"It's strange, isn't it?" Scorpius asks with a self-conscious laugh. "Everyone says I'm really slow about this. But I just haven't—anyway, I assume I like girls, but then again, it doesn't seem like a big deal if I don't. I'll like who I like, I guess?"

James gazes at him impassively for a few moments. "Yea, 'spose that's right," he concedes finally, though a hint of confusion lingers on his face as he turns away.

In the few moments of silence that follow, Scorpius gradually realizates that while they had been observing the glass terrarium, James had moved rather close. Had he become so used to James's presence that this no longer fazed him?

Can't you think of any hot, rich young man who's suddenly taken a sudden interest in you? Anyone who you don't really notice, but then when you look up, he's always around, watching you?

Maybe I just like blonds.

Scorpius darts a quick, sideways glance at James's handsome profile and swallows thickly.

"Say, James," he ventures hesitantly. "You wouldn't happen to know..." He trails off, uncertain where how he wants to craft his question.

"Wouldn't happen to know what?" James asks, snapping out of his reverie and turning to Scorpius with a friendly smile.

Scorpius shakes his head quickly, "No, nothing." An unnatural, forced chuckle. "Er...I meant to ask, how are you and Eleanor?"

The question seems to throw James off-kilter. He takes a step back and his expression closes off a bit. His tone is more clipped than usual when he replies, "We're all right. "

"So ... you haven't told her?"

James looks sharply at Scorpius. "What do you mean? What's there to tell?" he asks flatly. "We're dating."

Scorpius starts at the sudden chill in James's voice. "Oh, I didn't mean anything," he begins to explain, stuttering. "Well, I mean, that's good then. That you guys are—that you guys are doing well." He averts his sight, allowing tendrils of his fair hair to obscure his stinging eyes. He tries not to feel disappointed at this different James that occasionally surfaces.

You don't know him, Scorpius.

Albus always knows when best to come back and haunt him.

Their conversation comes to a sudden and uncomfortable stand still. Unable to withstand James's cold, challenging stare, Scorpius turns away from the display shelves and walks back to what he had been working on before he had been interrupted by the gift's delivery, hoping the miserable mood will dispel in time. He's surprised when James slowly meanders after him instead of returning to his studies; James's scrutiny makes him feel as if he's on pins and needles.

Abruptly, James asks: "What is it you're trying to do?"

"What? I'm not trying to—oh, you mean, what I am working on now?"

"Yes," says James with a not-quite-there laugh. "What else could I mean?"

Scorpius smiles hesitantly and begins to explain. He's decorating the newly cut pine trees that would soon line the Great Hall for the holidays. Already, they're alit with small candles that flicker with multi-colored flames, and a variety of ornaments hang from the prickly branches. He's just adding some additional charms now to make the trees more fun. With that said, Scorpius focuses his attention on the miniature glass animals that glisten against the green and whispers the appropriate spell as he flicks his wrist.

The animals simultaneously drop to the ground and shatter to pieces. Scorpius stares at the mess, aghast. A moment of shocked silence passes before a half stifled laugh escapes from James's throat.

Scorpius whips towards James and sends him a swift glare. "Don't you dare laugh, Potter."

"Oh, it's Potter now, is it?" James teases, amusement dancing in his soft brown eyes. "Anyway, it's really not my fault that you're god awful at Charms, Scorp."

The feeling of discomfort begins to subside with James's return to good humor and a sense of relief washes over Scorpius. He wonders sometimes, deep down, if this isn't just a temporary resolution to a longstanding issue, these mood swings of James's. But as always, he lets it slide. This is the real James, isn't it?

"Oh go study for your N.E.W.T.s," Scorpius grumbles, though without real ire, as he waves his wand to banish the shards.

James stops him with a gentle touch on his arm. "Here, let me try," he says, smoothly sliding Scorpius's wand from his pale, long fingers. Confused by the sudden motion, Scorpius watches with slow blinks as James confidently chants a spell that Scorpius only vaguely remembers. The glass shards repair themselves to perfect condition and retreat to their original spots on the baby evergreen. Another flick of his strong wrist and the sparkling glass animals take to life, moving their stubby clear legs in a charming little dance.

"Not bad, huh?" James asks with a grin.

Scorpius studies the dancing ornaments with some astonishment. "That's brilliant, James! How'd you do it so easily?"

"Scorp, we learned this years ago! It's elementary, really. I'm surprised you still have trouble with it."

Scorpius rolls his eyes and reclaims his wand from a now laughing James. "I had better things to do than learn these useless spells."

"Oh? Like memorizing strange folklore about the Pacific islands?"

Scorpius fights the embarrassment that threatens to show on his face and tilts his chin up proudly. "Yes, that's right."

James laughs. "All right, then. Would you like some help with these spells that are so clearly beneath you, o great one? I'll go get my wand, shall I?"

"...I guess that's fine." The assent is given with a long-suffering sigh.

When they walk back towards the Great Hall later that evening, Scorpius feels a mild buzz of contentment. The afternoon had passed easily after that uncomfortable conversation about Eleanor, and the trees were almost finished, thanks to James. Scorpius wears a relaxed smile on his face as he half skips through the field with James ambling just behind him.

"Hey Scorp," James calls out as they begin to approach the castle.

Scorpius slows and saunters amiably beside the older boy.

James glances at him uneasily and takes a deep breath. "Look, I'm...I'm sorry, about earlier today. I get a bit—I mean, I'm not very good at expressing myself sometimes. And I haven't had many real friends, to be honest. I'm sorry if I upset you."

Scorpius blinks in surprise at the unexpected confession. He could only muster a small oh in response.

"Are we all right?" James asks apprehensively. "I understand if you—I know I'm not—I haven't been—It's been stressful—"

"No, of course we're all right!" Scorpius rushes to assure.

"I'm glad." James lets out a smile of relief. "I'd hate to lose my best mate over some silly girlfriend business."

Scorpius might have felt concern over the last part of that declaration had he not been so startled by the first part. "Best mate? Me?"

"Well, yeah. I can't think of anyone else I've spent so much time with lately, can you?" James speaks with a light, amused tone, but his eyes are serious and probing. "Is that okay?"

"Of course!" Scorpius replies quickly. A strange sense of triumphant giddiness balloons in his chest, despite that he had long stopped worshipping James. It seemed somehow extraordinary that the supremely cooler older student, the one that everyone adores, the one who's ignored his presence for years, would suddenly grow to consider him...a friend? "I-I think of you as a friend too."

James smiles enigmatically. "I know."

Scorpius must have looked sufficiently taken aback that James adds: "Your wand told me. I felt that it trusted me."

Later, when he's thought more carefully about the exchange, Scorpius would wonder if perhaps James had been testing him all along. But at the moment, he's too happy—happy that James had apologized, properly for once; happy that James thinks of him as a friend—far too happy to think such cynical thoughts.

~a~

It's a few days later that Scorpius has a substantial run-in with James outside their usual interactions in the greenhouse. Hogwarts' halls had grown chilly by then—early December—and a few shivers run through Scorpius's body as he descends into the cold dungeons for afternoon Potions. Emily walks beside him, complaining about vehemently about Rose Weasley. Scorpius half listens; Emily's vendetta against Rose goes far back and he's long learned to tune to her out.

"She's just such a know-it-all," the girl fumes, stomping her feet louder in emphasis. "And she's such a bitch towards Eleanor."

"Eleanor Moore?" Scorpius asks, suddenly curious.

"Yeah, that one dating James, you know? Rose has such a blatant crush on James, and it's so wrong. I mean, they're cousins! Anyway, she takes it all out on Eleanor and tries so hard to make her look stupid. And Eleanor's too nice to call her out on it, but it's awful to watch. Ugh, I hate her."

Scorpius nods along sympathetically. Everyone knows Rose Weasley is something of a terror who rarely gives up what she wants. She is in many ways an odd transmutation of her mother, who, though similarly assiduous, lacks the ruthlessness that is so abundant in the daughter.

"And James," Emily continues, her nose flaring in distaste. "James Potter is the worst."

Scorpius's eyes widen in surprise. It's not often that one hears such things said about James Potter.

"It's just that he's so unbelievably cold towards her, Eleanor that is. He never says anything to Rose, even though he clearly sees her bullying Eleanor. He just laughs it off as if it were all just a joke! You'd think he didn't care about her at all."

Emily turns to Scorpius expectantly after she finishes her tirade. He offers her a nervous smile, hoping it comes across just clueless enough. In an attempt to evade, he comments, "Didn't know you were such good friends with Eleanor."

Emily's eyes narrow. "Eleanor's friends with everyone. She's the nicest person at Hogwarts. You'd know if you didn't hide in the greenhouse every day. But anyway, that's not the point. What do you think about James Potter?" Her demanding voice bounces off the stone walls and the question reverberates.

Before Scorpius has a chance to answer, an amused voice cuts in, "Yes, Scorp, what do you think about James Potter?"

Scorpius starts when he sees James appear from around the sharp corner with a group of Gryffindor friends in tow. He wonders how much James has heard. From the look on Emily's face and the way she's stiffened, he knows she's thinking the same.

James is smiling though, so perhaps he hadn't heard much. After all, Emily had been ranting in hushed whispers up until the last part precisely so that the students nearby couldn't listen in on their conversation.

Scorpius's tense smile grows steadily more forced. "Hullo, James. Didn't see you coming this way."

"Gryffindor just had Potions," he explains.

His friend—John Seymore?—laughs boisterously and says, with an underlying hint of spite, "Well, Malfoy? What do you think of my mate James here? We're all dying to know."

Scorpius bites his lower lips nervously under the curious, watchful eyes of students milling around them, hoping to eavesdrop on what appears to be a salacious exchange. He hears whispers and snickers emanate from the crowd and he begins to grow anxious. The last thing he wants is to cause a scene. With worried blue eyes, he peers beseechingly at James.

Before anyone could say a thing more, James chuckles and reaches over to give him a pat on the shoulder. "Oh don't bully him, John," he admonishes his friend. Then to Scorpius, he says in an oddly gentle tone, "I was only teasing. You'd better go if you don't want to be late. Slughorn's in one of his moods." He finishes with a conspiratorial roll of his eyes and one of his bright, easy smiles.

"I was only teasing too! You're no fun at all, Potter," John whines. But he obligingly follows, as do the rest of their group. The crowd disperses, disappointed.

Scorpius breathes a sigh of relief. He bids James a hurried goodbye and quickly tugs Emily down the remaining steps.

"Come on, Em. What are you doing? Stop turning your head," he whispers furiously.

Emily ignores him and takes one more glance at the departing Gryffindors.

"Scorpius, you and James...?"

"What?"

"You're friends?"

Scorpius walks faster. "James is friends with everyone," he says tightly, throwing Emily's words back at her.

She doesn't seem to take notice; rather, she continues to looking at him with a thoughtful frown. "No, but I thought after second year, he stopped caring...but he helped you out just now, didn't he?"

"He helps lots of people."

"No, but he doesn't," Emily insists. "He didn't even talk to you for years! And he definitely doesn't help Eleanor when his friends start in on her, even when they're just joking. Why would he go out of his way—and the way he spoke to you just now—he sounded so much nicer than—and how he smiled—and he kept looking back at you just now, do you know?"

"Emily, you're incoherent. James's a nice guy, that's all. Come on, we'll be late."

Emily looks unconvinced, but she drops the subject and allows herself to be pulled along. They walk the rest of the way in silence, with Emily pondering the strange exchange with James Potter and Scorpius pondering Emily's strange pronouncements.

In fact, Scorpius can still feel traces of James's warm touch on his shoulder. Emily's jumbled observations about James bob through his mind. He ducks his head and hopes that no one can see how flustered he must surely look.

~a~

"—Who can tell me the properties of mottled-beetle-grass? Perhaps," says Slughorn, his beady zeroing in on the zoned out face half hidden by a mass of yellow hair. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you could enlighten us?"

Scorpius's unfocused eyes—his mind dwells interminably on the encounter with James just now—blink to attention, not so much from Slughorn as from Ernie's well-placed jab to the side of his rib. Unfortunately, he lets out a pained yelp, and the class—a mixture of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws-erupts into laughs. He blushes in embarrassment and ducks his head further, timidly asking for a repeat of the question.

Slughorn raises a brow and lets out a sigh. "Professor Longbottom assured me just the other day that you're an absolute genius when it comes to plants, but I...I have my doubts, shall we say, about you and the characterization of 'genius.' Now, the properties of mottled-beetle-grass, if you please, Mr. Malfoy."

Scorpius chuckles dryly as the class giggles. But he knows Slughorn means no harm. In fact, he rather suspects that the aging professor's developed something of a soft spot for him and is secretly amused by his utter incompetence at Potions.

"Er, Mottled-beetle-grass, Sir, has... anesthetic effects, I believe. It's a very effective ingredient for numbing pain, and it's especially notable because it not only numbs but simultaneously stabilizes injuries so that wounds momentarily stop progressing. " Scorpius offers after the laughs die down.

Slughorn nods approvingly, but presses: "And?"

"And?" Scorpius scours his brain before settling on, "Oh! And it has long-term side effects—prolonged drowsiness, nightmares, even comas or brain damage, I believe."

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy. Today, we'll be making a potion that neutralizes the ill-effects of the grass so that only its numbing and healing properties remain—"

"—That's impossible," Scorpius blurts.

Slughorn fashions his beady eyes on Scorpius: "Oh?"

"I mean, it's never been done, I don't think," he stammers. "That's why it isn't really used, even though it has such powerful medicinal effects."

"You surprise me, Mr. Malfoy. But that is essentially correct. It's never been done...until now. A young, enterprising Potions student on the Continent has recently developed a new formulation that achieves this desired effect. It's a complete break through in the field, one might say, and he's only your age. Quite impressive. And in fact, some of you might know this young wizard. He used to attend our school, you know, before he was driven away under a set of...special circumstances," Slughorn pauses here to glance meaningfully at Scorpius. "He is the younger Potter boy—Albus."

The students—for they all knew of Albus Potter even if they had not known him personally—breathe in a strange collective gasp. Slughorn smiles at the effect of his pronouncement. Scorpius's heart thumps wildly.

~a~

When Slughorn asks the students to pair up, Scorpius is still thinking about Albus.

So that's what he's been up to.

It's a strange feeling, to suddenly hear about the life of a good friend from someone else. And for the first time in awhile, Scorpius wonders why Albus never wrote back. He used to think about this all the time, back when he was still consumed by guilt and worry. Then, he forced himself not to think about it because he was so angry. And finally, he stopped thinking about it altogether because he had given up. He'd always assumed that Albus had his reasons—perhaps he was still upset, or he was busy, maybe he had just forgotten.

Scorpius is happy that Al is well; this alleviates some of his guilt even. But the thought also sparks more questions: does Al remember him from time to time? Has Al stopped begrudging him? And if he were to write again, would Albus respond now, now that they are older and now that they've put their pasts behind them? Or perhaps, now that Albus is back in the public eye, he might have a chance at finding him and visiting him and—who knows? He knows it's silly—they barely knew each other to begin with, and now it's been years—but part of him yearns for closure, needs to know ...

He feels the urge to ask Slughorn more and is internally debating the merits of this impulse when he feels someone tap him on the shoulder. Startled, he turns to find Edmund Cranmer standing behind him, smiling shyly.

"Hey Scorpius," says the Ravenclaw, "I was wondering, do you want to be partners?"

Scorpius stares, surprised. He's only spoken with Edmund a few times, and even then, it was only small talk in the corridors. From what he knew of the other boy, Edmund was of the unassuming, soft-spoken kind despite his privileged background and good looks. But they were hardly close enough for Edmund to want to partner with him in Potions.

Scorpius is saved from having to reply by Ernie, who declares, "Sorry Cranmer, Scorpius is working with me."

Edmund looks disappointed at this and glances questioningly at Scorpius for confirmation. Scorpius smiles in apology.

"Well, are you free after this?" the sandy-haired boy tries. "Maybe we could—"

"Cranmer," Ernie interrupts pointedly, "You're nice and all, but I don't think Scorpius is interested."

"Oh," says Edmund. He looks even more crestfallen than before. Scorpius feels rather terrible about it and wants to say something, but Ernie's already whisking him away to get ingredients. He only just manages to get out a quick sorry, to which Edmund responds with a forced smile.

"Scorpius, you don't want to encourage that," Ernie cautions, when they're out of earshot.

"Encourage what?"

"His feelings, obviously. Are you really so clueless?" Exasperated now, he adds, "Look, I know we joke about it all the time, and Edmund is fine and all, but if you ask me, it's just not right."

Scorpius blinks, puzzled. "Wait, what feelings? And what's not right?"

Ernie shrugs uncomfortably. "He likes you. It's no secret. Jon's been telling you for weeks."

The entire statement takes Scorpius by surprise. "Wait, what do you mean he likes me? I thought that was the joke! Are you saying it's real then?"

"Yes! For Merlin's sake, you're completely—okay, whatever. Anyway, as I was saying, it isn't right...two blokes, that is. It's weird."

"It is? But you and Jonathan always... I mean, people don't really mind, do they? It's not so uncommon anymore—"

"No, it is. Well, I mean, it's not unheard of, and it's not like I'm against these people or anything, and like I said, Edmund's a nice bloke. But still, it's just...wait, hang on, you're not interested, are you?" Ernie asks.

Unbidden, James Potter's grinning face flashes through Scorpius's mind again. A ball of anxiety forms at the pit of his stomach and he hesitantly shakes his head no. Ernie looks relieved and gives him a friendly thump on the back.

"Good. Had me worried there. Now, do you want to cut the grass?"

~a~

The anxiety gnaws at him throughout the day. His thoughts vacillate between Edmund, James, and Al, and his emotions swing from irrepressible excitement—at becoming friends with James and hearing about Al—to deep-felt discomfort, which he guesses has to do with Ernie's harsh words, but he can't quite explain why.

I'm not...am I?

He's momentarily relieved of this stress only when Professor Longbottom summons him to finish decorations in the Great Hall. He hurriedly leaves his friends, who talk incessantly about Al, breaking only to giggle about Edmund's timid and failed courtship.

The Great Hall is peaceful before dinner and almost completely empty. Only a few students pass through every now and then. Scorpius supervises a few house elves and helps put up the trees, hang the wreathes, and add a charm here or there. He does so absently, thoughts still working their way through the day's events. The more he thinks, the more restless he begins to feel.

Perhaps that's why he's not entirely enthused when James Potter makes his second appearance of the day.

"Ah, here's where you've been hiding. Been looking for you—missed you at the greenhouse," James remarks lightly as he ambles up where Scorpius is hanging some tinsel.

"Yes, last minute task from Professor Longbottom. It's already December, so he thought we'd better get everything ready."

"Can I help?"

Scorpius takes an uneasy step back as James moves closer. He says quickly, "No it's fine. I've got it. I'm sure you have better things to do than—like, don't you have to study for your N.E.W.T.s?"

James frowns slightly and his eyes narrow in scrutiny. "You're not trying to avoid me, are you? Is it about this morning?"

The words immediately conjure to mind James's gentle touch on his shoulder; Scorpius takes another step back and tries his best to sound confused. "This morning? No, I don't even—"

"Look, I didn't mean to put you in a tough spot. I really was just teasing!" James explains insistently. "I hope you aren't angry about it. John can be a bit much sometimes, but he's a good man."

"Oh, that...no, I'm not upset or anything. It's just-I thought you'd have work..." But already, he feels himself softening under James's earnest, imploring gaze. When has he been able to resist that look from anyone,least of all from James Potter?"If you're free, then of course I'd love—"

"Great! What can I do?

Scorpius dons a weak smile.

~a~

Their collaboration begins on an awkward note when Scorpius makes the mistake of asking about Albus.

"What about Al?" James responds flatly.

"It's just that we made one of his potions today. I haven't heard from him at all so I was a bit surprised when his name came up. And then I thought, maybe you could tell me more..." Scorpius can already feel the irritation build in James—he's become oddly good at reading the other boy's moods. And maybe he's always intuited that Albus would be a tense topic to take up with James, though he'd been hoping that the two brothers have mellowed out over the years. He's never taken up the subject before—wisely, it would seem—but Albus was on his mind today, and he couldn't stop himself from blurting it out.

"Huh. Well, to be honest, I don't know much either. He's been roaming around Europe, so we hardly see him. He barely even comes home for the holidays if he can help it," James says with a careless shrug, as if he were talking about some stranger as opposed to his own brother. "Sometimes Dad goes to visit...well, Dad and Al have always had a special connection." A small frown, followed by a quick recovery. "But I don't think Al cares to see the rest of us."

Scorpius utters a quiet I see, and tries to think of something else to say. Fortunately, James appears to be in one of his better moods today and he saves Scorpius from the trouble. "Anyway, enough about Al—can't tell you much anyway. You know, the funniest thing happened to me today. . . "

And then it gets easier. James tells his funny pastiche of a story and cracks a few mindless jokes. They chat about the impending quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. They poke fun at a few professor mishaps. Scorpius relaxes enough to laugh and as the minutes pass, he begins to lower his guard. It's all nonsense, he tells himself. It's not as if he likes James, or that James likes him. They were just friends and he should stop worrying, because there's nothing going on, and Ernie can go to hell for all he cares.

Of course, there were a few moments of ambiguity: James playfully ruffling his hair after he messes up a spell; James standing so close behind him to help him hang up a wreath that his breath grazes Scorpius's ear; James catching him when he almost falls off the short latter to place the last gold star atop the biggest tree. But it's all completely normal—just what guy friends do...

But is it?

Scorpius's face reddens anyway when James's hold on him lingers for a second too long. Even beneath the wool jumper he wears, he can feel the heat of James's calloused hands. And James's face, it's much too close. He quickly scrambles away from the older boy's arms and inwardly curses himself for always landing in these stupid situations, literally. "James, I told you we should just use magic!" he grumbles.

James grins cheekily and his whole expression glows with a satisfaction that Scorpius can't even begin to understand. "But what's Christmas without the muggle touch, Scorp? Don't be such a spoilsport."

Scorpius purses his lips, hoping the frustrated look helps distract from his embarrassment. "Well, we're done now," he says, hoping his racing heart calms soon. "Should we go—"

"No, hang on," James says. He motions for Scorpius to look up, which Scorpius does to his own immediate regret. Which bastard suggested floating mistletoe in the Great Hall? Oh, that's right. Scorpius himself. Thought it'd be a funny joke to play on the professors or unsuspecting students. Well, that teaches him.

With a nervous chuckle, he stealthily attempts to remove himself from the ambit of the floating sprig. "Ha, yeah, thought it'd be funny. Wasn't supposed to make an appearance yet though. Ha ha. What do you know? Anyway, shall we go now..."

James watches him carefully, lips quirked upward. But it's not his usual half smile of boredom. No, definitely more of a smirk. And there's a strange air of confidence about the smirk, like a predator who's finally backed a tiny animal into and corner and about to—Scorpius frowns. Wait a minute, he thinks, would that make me the small animal? Because that would be ridiculous—

"Scorp!" James cries, almost laughing. "Are you really spacing out on me right now? Anyway, don't run away. We have to observe tradition!"

"Tradition?" Scorpius repeats dumbly, staring into James's twinkling eyes. Something about this James, this playfully assertive James, renders Scorpius immobile. He can only watch numbly as the taller boy leans down closer, and closer still, until their faces are only centimeters apart, and James's hot breath ghosts across his burning face. Scorpius squeezes his eyes shut; he can feel James closing the distance.

Then, with lips hovering right beside his left ear, James whispers, "Just kidding."

Scorpius blinks. The mistletoe flutters away. James is already standing at arm's length again, an unreadable smile curved on his handsome face. Students begin to meander in for dinner. Everything's returned to normal and it's as if he's awakened from a dream that left but a trace of itself—his speeding heart.

~a~

Scorpius thinks he can see James's face in his finished mottled-beetle-grass brew. But that isn't a surprise; he been seeing James everywhere these past thirty some hours. He isn't granted reprieve even in sleep. If his mind weren't so busy replaying that teasing whisper, he might have felt frustration.

Ernie prods him: "Scorpius, you okay there mate? Slughorn's coming around."

"Huh?"

Ernie shakes his head ruefully at Scorpius's blank stare. Behind them, Emily snickers. "Maybe he's thinking about dear Edmund," she whispers in a fit of giggles.

If only.

Slughorn swirls his wand in their cauldron and clucks disapprovingly. "A bit too strong. Though I suppose not too bad for a potion brewed by Mr. Malfoy. Take care not to breathe it in when you go to discard it; it might knock you out."

Ernie lets out a relieved phew after Slughorn moves on. "Well Scorpius, looks like we might pass Potions after all."

Scorpius nods absently and picks up the cauldron. "I'll go pour it out, then?"

"Sure. But are sure you're okay? You look kind of...out of it."

"I'm fine," he says quickly and shuffles away to the sinks. In his vacant state, he barely registers Edmund Cranmer, who gives him a shy nod in passing. It's only after moment's pause that he smiles back. He doesn't notice Edmund blush.

With a tired yawn, he rinses out the pot, making sure to inspect the surface closely for residue. Slughorn has yelled at him one too many times about this; it apparently tampers with the next brew. As he pokes his head close, he catches a faint whiff of something sweet. A strangely familiar scent, though he can't quite place it. Thinking nothing of it, he gives the cauldron another good scrub and rejoins his friends.

They all totter along to the Great Hall for lunch. To his chagrin, Scorpius begins to feel increasingly listless, even bordering on faint. The chatter of the hordes of students buzz unpleasantly in his ears. Twice, he almost trips over his own feet. Various friends express concern, but he waves them away.

As he ascends the last flight of stairs that lead to the ground floor, he sees James's face again. In fact, not just his face, but also his tall sturdy body and his fashionably worn bookbag; maybe he even hears his voice. Scorpius wonders briefly if this might not be the real James?

Only briefly, because a moment later, he loses all feeling and falls back as the world goes dark.

~a~

Scorpius can't see much when he opens his eyes again. After a moment of panic, he realizes that it's because the room is dark, lit only by the small light of a weak lamp. He takes a look around the room with blurry vision and comes to the gradual realization that he's in the hospital wing. He tries to sit up.

"Whoa, hold on there," says a voice to his left. It's scratchy, as if the speaker had just woken. A hand steadies Scorpius's aching body and gently glides him back towards the pillows.

"James?" Scorpius whispers. It's all he can manage.

James's tired face pops into view; he wears a worried smile. "Hey. It's me. Are you feeling all right? Can you move your head? Should I call Madam Pomfrey? She's gone to sleep, but I'm sure she'll want to know you're up?"

"What time is it?" Scorpius croaks, ignoring the string of questions.

"Not sure...late?" A quick tempus tells them it's one in the morning. "Can you move at all?"

"Yeah, just hurts a bit."

"Can imagine," says James with a worried frown. "You fell down quite a few flights of stairs. Really scared everyone."

"Hmm," Scorpius hums quietly, "It's starting to come back to me. Must've been the potion."

"What potion?"

"That numbing potion your dear brother invented," he says flatly.

James chuckles, almost despite himself. "Figures. Maybe it's his stealthy way of getting back at you for all those years ago."

"Yes, very Slytherin of him." Scorpius allows himself a wry smile through the pain.

A slight lull passes, during which Scorpius finds that he can move his neck after all. He peers to his left and sees that James is sitting on a sofa-like chair. His hair is mussed and he's still wearing his day clothes, though he's taken off his jumper—the hospital wing is warm—so he sits in a crumpled white shirt. A thought flits through Scorpius's mind: the disheveled look rather suits him. He quickly turns away, stifling a hiss of pain as his neck protests.

"Have you been here all day?" he asks after a pause.

"Mmm. No, I came after dinner, actually. Your friends were here earlier. I was worried because they said you hadn't woken yet. Must've somehow fallen asleep here." James stretches as he says this.

"You must be tired then! Go back and sleep. I'm all right."

James looks doubtful. "Oh, I don't know. Your friend—Ernie is it?—told me you've been wobbly all day. Maybe I'd best stay, just for the night you know. Or no, I should go get Madam Pomfrey? Though she's gone to sleep. Anyway, I can't just leave you alone."

Scorpius's lips curve into a small smile as he observes James's obvious concern. It makes him feel warm inside and and on an impulse, he says, "Stay then."

The sudden concession seems to startle James, but he smiles and nods. "Do you need anything? Water?"

"No, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

James laughs as he leans back more comfortably in his large chair. "That's a tall order," he muses in a languid, sleepy voice. "Seems like that's all I do these days."

"What do you mean?" Scorpius asks, amused.

"I don't even know," replies James with a soft chuckle. "But I just can't seem to...leave you alone anymore."

And there it goes again—that hammering heart and the strange feeling of giddiness. Scorpius slides deeper under his covers in an attempt to hide his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbles.

"Don't you, though?"

"No. You left me alone well enough for five or so years," protests Scorpius, though without any real bitterness.

James sighs. "I know. And I wish I—well, who can say why? But I see you these days and I just can't...help myself..."

Scorpius's face warms. He waits. With each passing second, the scene feels increasingly surreal. But James says no more and soon, his breaths even out as he slips back to sleep. Scorpius wishes he could do the same, but he spends some time tossing and turning in a state of inexplicable elation before he finally dozes off.

~a~

Scorpius is awakened by the pale winter morning light that filters into the room. He opens just his eyes just as James reaches over to tuck his arm back into the blankets. Blue eyes meets brown in a frozen stare. Then, with a faint but noticeable blush on his freckled face, James leaps back.

"Good morning," says James as he clears his throat. "How are you feeling?"

Scorpius moves his arm a bit and notes with relief that it doesn't hurt as much anymore. Whatever Madam Pomfrey did for him, it must have set things right.

"Better," he replies with a happy smile. Then, as he recalls their conversation from the previous evening, he begins to feel a bit shy. "Shouldn't you be off to class? No need to keep me company anymore."

"It's Saturday, Scorp."

"Oh, I completely forgot! Well, I...maybe I should get up. Do you think—where's Madam Pomfrey, by the way? I think I'm well enough to be discharged."

"She's off getting some breakfast. But are you sure? Maybe it'd better if you—"

A quiet knock interrupts their harried exchange. Moments later and to Scorpius's utter surprise, Edmund Cranmer pops in. The Ravenclaw wears his usual shy look, which though somewhat incongruous with his large frame, is nevertheless endearing in its own way.

"Hullo, Scorpius," he says in his low, quiet voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better!" Scorpius still feels guilty when he thinks about how he and his friends have treated Edmund these past few days; he tries to make up for it by looking extra friendly. "Thanks for checking in on me."

Edmund blushes lightly and offers Scorpius the plate of breakfast he's carried in with him. "Didn't see you at the breakfast table so I thought you'd still be here. Figured I might as well bring you some food, though I wasn't sure you were awake. If you haven't eaten, um, well, maybe you might like to –"

"Thanks Edmund! I was just starting to feel hungry. And this looks delicious—" Scorpius's bright response is cut off mid-sentence by a sharp cough from James. Both boys swivel to look at the neglected Gryffindor, and Edmund appears especially confused and discomfited by his presence.

"Scorp,"—The nickname brings a small frown to Edmund's face, which James acknowledges with a covert smirk—"Don't you think it's best to wait for Madam Pomfrey before you eat? She fed you some potions last night, so I'm not sure if it's all right for you to eat anything yet. And to be honest, breakfast looks a bit greasy today..."

"Er..."

Edmund is quick to follow with: "No, he may be right. I'm sorry, I didn't really think it through."

"No, no, not your fault!" Scorpius says frantically. "I guess I...well, I don't know. It probably won't do any harm, don't you think, James?"

James shrugs, but the implicit disapproval in the shrug is clear. The three boys come to an awkward pause. Scorpius stares at his plate of food, unsure whether he should eat it or not.

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey chooses that moment to bustle in. She tsks at the food and swiftly whisks it away—no food yet, not after inhaling that grass. Scorpius mouths it's okay to a guilty looking Edmund while James emanates with a silent but triumphant I told you so.

Scorpius is quickly drawn, however, to the girl who follows Madam Pomfrey: the girl with pale yellow hair and the bright blue eyes and who looks, Scorpius now realizes, just a little bit like himself. The thought disturbs him.

"Eleanor, what are you doing here?" James asks.

The girl glides to James and surreptitiously slips her arm into his. She says with a strained smile, "What do you mean? I've been looking for you all evening and just found out from Madam Pomfrey that you've been hiding here."

"I haven't been hiding," James protests with pursed lips.

"Right, you've been looking after Scorpius, I hear?" She turns to Scorpius and studies him for a moment. He wonders if she also finds their similarity unsettling. "I don't think we've officially met. I'm Eleanor."

Scorpius realizes that she's right. Despite having spent so much time with James these past few weeks, he hardly ever sees Eleanor except at a distance. In fact, in his mind, he's almost come to view their relationship as something of a fraud or, at the very least, decidedly one-sided. To see them together like this, as a real couple of sorts—even if only in appearance—jolts him unpleasantly.

"I'm fine. It's nice to meet you."

"Yes, likewise. Hope you're feeling better."

Though she speaks in an enthusiastically concerned voice, the words somehow sound perfunctory.

Eleanor is friends with everyone!

Perhaps he's being too sensitive. To compensate, he offers Eleanor a quiet smile, which she returns briefly before she turns her attention back to James.

"Anyway, I was looking for you because I was wondering if you still wanted to go to Hogsmeade. Obviously, I understand if you have to spend time with Scorpius here—because that is really important—but I just thought I'd remind you, since we were supposed to meet your mother."

"Oh fu—Mum!" James exclaims. "Yes, you're right. I'd completely forgotten." His eyes stray to Scorpius with a look of torn hesitation. "Scorpius, I—"

"Don't worry about me, James! I'm perfectly fine!" Scorpius interrupts, though he begins to wonder if he is fine after all. "You go on. Seeing your mother's much more important."

"Yes, yes, go on, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey adds, already beginning to shoo him and Eleanor out the door. "I need to conduct some tests and, in any case, Mr. Malfoy needs his rest. Besides, nothing's quite as important as making a good impression on the future in law."

The old nurse winks conspiratorially at Eleanor, who blushes becomingly. James appears more disgruntled though. He shoots multiple looks of apology at Scorpius before he's finally ushered out of the room.

But the apologetic looks do nothing for Scorpius. He feels a sort of pain that he's never felt before—not a physical pain that can be traced to any part of his body, but one that nonetheless pierces him through and through.

~a~

"Now, Mr. Cranmer, you watch him for a minute while I go fetch some things."

Madam Pomfrey bustles out as quickly as she bustled in. Edmund stands awkwardly by Scorpius's bedside now that they're alone, but Scorpius barely notices. He stares out the window, where he can see James and Eleanor walking side by side with a group of friends. He wonders why he's never noticed before—they look perfect next to each other.

"Do you...do you need anything, Scorp?" Edmund asks hesitantly.

The question pulls Scorpius out of his reverie. With a frown, he asks, "What did you say?"

"Er, if you need—"

"—Did you call me Scorp?"

"Oh! Sorry, do you not like that? It's just—I heard just now—I mean, I'm sorry."

Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't really like the name Scorp. It's always pleased him that his name was Scorpius, something different and meaningful, something that matches the dignity of a Malfoy. But he only realizes how much he hates hearing someone call him Scorp now, now that it's not coming from James Potter. This thought disconcerts him too.

"Scorpius?"

"No, it's all right. I was just thinking," Scorpius says absently. He suddenly wishes that Edmund would go away and that he could think alone and figure things out. Everything feels like a chaotic jumble right now. And his body still aches. He gently urges Edmund to go on with his Saturday.

But Edmund remains rooted to his spot. He scratches his nose shyly to stall for a moment, then says, "Look Scorpius, I actually wanted to speak to you."

"Speak to me? What for?"

Edmund takes a breath and declares, "I like you."

"Oh!" A sense of dread unfurls in Scorpius. It's not that he hadn't expected this conversation, but he hardly wanted to have it now.

"I know I've been a bit dodgy about it," Edmund continues nervously when he sees that Scorpius isn't about to speak. "What with sending you those gifts as a secret admirer and whatnot, but I was scared, you know—"

"Gifts?"

"The ones that came at breakfast, you know? The chocolates and gloves and...those. I-they were from me."

"From you..." Scorpius repeats mechanically. The dread grows, but now it's mixed with disappointment and self-deprecation. To think that he was once presumptuous enough to suspect that the gifts were from . . . well. Laughable.

"Anyway, I was wondering—I mean I like you—so do you think-that is, would you be interested in . . . trying? With me?" Edmund stammers this last query. He knows, actually, what Scorpius will say, and he already begins to don that crestfallen look that he wears so frequently these days. Nevertheless, hope springs eternal and he stares at Scorpius with shining, expectant eyes.

But Scorpius isn't interested in his eyes.

"Sorry," Scorpius whispers. "I can't-I don't think I...sorry."

"Ah."

Silence descends, as there's nothing left to say. Bitter depression always follows when a youthful heart's been crushed, and in this case, the bitterness doubles.

~a~

Scorpius thinks he feels better by the time dinner rolls around. Or at least, he's out of the hospital at last and can drown himself in the idle banter of his friends. He doesn't tell them about Edmund—he's not malicious like that, and he does feel sorry—in fact, he tries not think about Edmund at all.

He also tries not to think about James, but that plan quickly shatters before the evening's over.

He sees him as soon as he turns the corner. James is standing against his wall with Eleanor on his arm and surrounded by his usual group of friends. He laughs coolly at something Rose Weasley says, though from the look on Eleanor's face, she doesn't find it as funny. Scorpius instinctively feels a sense of satisfaction at this before he reels himself back in shock.

What have I become?

Frustration sets in. He's never felt these emotions before, these exhilarating ups and crushing downs. He wishes it would all stop, that he could return to life at the beginning of the semester, when James was just another student that he used to know, when all he had to worry about was whether his lilies would survive the week. None of this...this.

James sees him. The laugh leaves his face and he's just staring at Scorpius now with his soulful brown eyes. Scorpius senses that he's about to call him before he opens his mouth; he feels a sudden bout of panic.

"Scorpius? Where are you going?" Jonathan calls frantically.

But Scorpius doesn't hear him; he's already walking away. Down the stairs, across the corridor, out the door. He moves almost blindly, guided only by the urgency, the necessity, of getting away.

The outside is dark and cold. The December wind nips mercilessly at his just-recovered body and he hugs himself for warmth as he speeds up, pretending not to notice the footsteps that follow him. He's almost reached the lake when someone grabs him by the wrist and pulls him to stop. No, not someone—James. James whose face is flushed from exertion, whose breaths are ragged, who looks more worried than he's ever seen before.

Scorpius tugs hard at his arm. "Let go."

"No, where are you going? Why did you run? Scorpius, are you okay, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Scorpius exclaims wildly. "And this has nothing to do with you. I just needed some air. Just let go, James Potter."

James's expression hardens and he tightens his hold against the struggling Scorpius. "Scorpius, what is this about? Is it the potion? Are you still—"

"No!" Scorpius all but screams. He hates this—this isn't him. He hasn't raised his voice since he was a toddler, but he raises it now out of desperation. "Look, just go. Go back to Eleanor. You've made your choice, so stop trying to run away. Stop hurting her. Stop trying to use me as some sort of shield."

James's eyes widen. He's surprised at where this conversation's going, and it makes him uneasy. "What? What are you talking about? Scorp, I didn't mean to—"

"—No, of course not," Scorpius interrupts bitterly. "You never mean anything. It's all just a joke to you. I'm just a joke! Just silly little Scorp, right? The stupid Hufflepuff who doesn't care that you're actually terrible person, who forgives you for all the mean things you do, who doesn't expect anything from you. God, I wish we had never became friends!"

"You don't mean that," James says, voice trembling.

Scorpius bites his lower lip. He's right, of course—it's too late to mean that. James Potter is here to stay, has now seared an indelible mark on Scorpius's life. Or maybe he left his mark long ago, from that first time they met. Maybe he was always special. Maybe all of this was inevitable, in some grotesquely ironic way. Maybe he should stop struggling. His arm goes limp within James's grasp.

It annoys him to feel tears prick at his eyes, threatening to fall. Why should he let James see his tears again? He lowers his face.

"Scorpius," says James, voice gentle and filled with longing. "Tell me you don't mean it."

"...I don't mean it..." he whispers brokenly as the first tear falls.

James places a finger under his chin and tilts his face up. He looks taken aback to see Scorpius's tears and tries to wipe them away with his bare hands.

"Don't cry," James murmurs hoarsely. "Don't you know it hurts me to see you cry? Don't push me away. No one matters more than you."

Scorpius stares up into James's with tear-blurred vision. He's put his arm around Scorpius's waist and he draws him in as he leans forward again, closer and closer. But how will he end it this time?

Just teasing?

Just kidding?

We're just best mates?

He feels James's breath on his lips. A shiver runs through him and his eyes flutter shut instinctively.

James kisses him.

His lips are lightly chapped and they press against Scorpius's gently, hesitantly, questioningly. Then harder, rougher. James nips and coaxes and probes; it's as if he's been long deprived and now that he's finally allowed himself to give in, he won't stop until he's explored and claimed every part of Scorpius. He can't stop.

Scorpius braces himself at first, his fist clenched tightly around a handful James's sweater, half-pushing, half-pulling because he doesn't know what he wants. His mind is empty but his heart feels so full, it might just burst.

Then, something snaps within him. He slowly releases his hold of the sweater and reaches up to encircle his arms around James's neck, bringing him forward. He feels James's arm around his waist tighten, drawing him closer still, until they're pressed flush against each other and can feel the heat of each other's bodies. Inexperienced but earnest, Scorpius parts his lips willingly and kisses back with all he's got.

They kiss for an eternity before they part.

Breathing hard, Scorpius stares mindlessly into James's beautiful face. It's so close, he can count each freckle he wanted. Each eyelash even. Or each crinkle that form at corners of James's eyes from his breathless grin.

There are still a million questions left. And maybe nothing's been resolved.

But all Scorpius knows is that he's never felt so happy as when James runs his calloused fingers through his blond hair and leans down to whisper, "It's never been a joke with you, Scorpius. Never."

Scorpius surrender. He lets himself relax into James's warm embrace. He'll think about the rest later.