Music for writing : Mon Amour (Slimane) - Electric Violin Cover by Agnes Violin

Albus stopped biting his thumbnail and tried to calm down. He had no intention of getting off the couch, but all the Potters and Weasleys were gathered around the Christmas tree. He just couldn't fake the "joyful Christmas spirit," and his mother had already asked him several times to "make an effort." He'd ignored her. Nobody was fooled—Scorpius hadn't shown up all morning.

He had disappeared right after their argument in the garden. Maybe he had hidden away in James's room or his father's office. Albus had no idea.

James and he had come back inside for breakfast at the kitchen counter without saying a word. His brother kept casting worried glances at him, which only irritated Albus more.

Teddy and Victoire were the first to show up, much to James's relief, who had asked his adoptive brother to help heal his face—the bruise forming on his temple and his split lip. Victoire sat down with a cup of green tea and remarked to Albus that he had really grown, like he'd shot up ten centimeters in just four months. That was probably true since he was now eye-level with James.

"A handsome young man,"she said with a smile, and Albus gave a half-hearted smirk, looking away. He wasn't in the mood for compliments, even if they were true.

James sat beside him at the counter, which both irritated and relieved Albus. He still wanted to punch his brother, especially after seeing that James had tried to kiss Scorpius during their fight, though he also saw that Scorpius had provoked him before attacking. The whole thing made him sick. Despite that, he appreciated James's presence—they shared things he couldn't talk about with anyone else. He had felt the same way when they slept in the same bed the night before.

He was angry, but he missed his brother. He missed him terribly.

He had thought about it all night, staring at the ceiling, that damn ceiling, for hours. James had been next to him, neither of them able to sleep. When James left the room, Albus heard him. At that point, he was barely dozing, worn out from exhaustion. He knew James was going to wake Scorpius.

And he was furious that Scorpius had run away. Again. He would always run. Albus loved him—he was crazy about him—but he couldn't take it anymore.

Scorpius drained him, exhausted him. Albus should never have stolen that vial, but he couldn't stop being jealous, suspicious, consumed by the fear that Scorpius was lying to him or hiding secrets that would hurt him again. Because he had been hurt—what had happened between James and Scorpius had shaken him deeply. His brother had disappointed him terribly, and Scorpius… If Scorpius had trusted him, if he had wanted it, Albus could have helped him, and none of this would have ever happened. But Scorpius had chosen silence and pain. And now he was repeating that same cycle of silence and suffering, over and over again.

Potter couldn't live like this.

He finally got up from the couch and approached Harry, who was watching the younger kids open their presents.

"Where's Scorpius?" his father discreetly asked him.

"I don't know."

"He went upstairs a while ago," Arthur said. "I think he's in your office, Harry."

"Aren't you going to check on him?" Harry asked his son.

Albus pressed his lips together and exhaled.

"I don't think he wants to be here."

His mother handed him a present with a smile, and Albus slowly opened it, trying to muster some enthusiasm to fit the festive atmosphere.

The sounds of joyful shouts, ripping wrapping paper, laughter, and thank-yous felt distant to him. But he was jolted back to reality when he saw what was inside his gift.

A semi-professional Black Magic camera, a real gem for making professional Muggle films. Albus was speechless. He had a Super 8 and a few older cameras, and one or two digital ones he'd bought with his pocket money. But he'd never held a camera powerful enough to make real feature films. He looked up at his parents, his mouth slightly open:

"This is… this is too much!"

His father shrugged.

"If you want to do film school after Hogwarts, you'll need at least this camera. The school can rent one to you, but it's better to have your own."

"Yes, but this is…"

Albus clutched the box in his hands, stunned. He didn't even dare open it.

"It was James's idea," his mother said. "We didn't know what else to get you."

Albus glanced at his brother, who was unwrapping a motorcycle helmet while Evan handed him the keys to his bike, explaining that he and Amanda had brought it for him.

"These kids are spoiled rotten!" Percy said, exasperated by the sheer number of gifts the Potters and Weasleys were receiving.

"That's no reason for us to follow your stingy ways with your own family, Percy," Ron snapped back, in no mood to hear his older brother criticize how they raised their kids again.

Albus was happy in that moment. With his treasure in hand, he felt an urge to run to the office and show it to Scorpius. Maybe even explain how the camera worked. It was strange, this need to share his happiness with the boy, so that it would feel full and complete.

"I'll be right back," he whispered. He placed the camera on the shelf, pushing the box against the wall to make sure it wouldn't fall, and headed for the stairs.

When he arrived at the office, the smell of burning leather filled the air. Scorpius stood by the fireplace, his pale, thin arms hanging by his frail, straight body.

Albus paused in the doorway, his hand on the handle as he watched the boy. That intoxicating feeling returned—the desire to hold him, to bury his face in Scorpius's neck and breathe in his scent. He moved closer, hesitating. The urge to kiss him was burning.

That desire vanished when he glanced at the fire and recognized Quidditch gear and other accessories burning in the flames. It must have cost a fortune. His anger surged again.

"Is that the gift you were going to give me?" he asked. The boy beside him stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the flames. "Well done, very mature."

Scorpius turned toward him, eyeing him coldly.

"I don't see why I should have given them to you."

Albus gritted his teeth, his heart aching.

"You should've given them to James. Apparently, we share everything."

Scorpius shrugged, disdainful.

"Not really. I slept with him, not with you."

Albus recoiled slightly, exhaling as he stared at the boy.

Scorpius closed his eyes softly and opened them again, his voice gentle.

"Don't try to hurt me, Albus. I'm better at that game than you."

"Oh, I know. When it comes to hurting people, you always win."

Scorpius made a move to approach him, reaching out as if he was about to say something—maybe even apologize. But Albus stepped back, shaking his head.

"Don't touch me! Don't come near me, I... I can't take it anymore, Scorpius."

Malfoy backed away, lowering his head.

"I can't take it. I'm not strong enough. It's too dark for me. But I really tried." His voice cracked. "I really tried."

Scorpius looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head as if he was trying to hold back tears.

"Say something, please," Albus begged, trembling.

"What do you want me to say?" Scorpius whispered, unable to look at him.

"Anything! Tell me you want me to stay. Tell me things will be different. Fight to keep me!"

"I already told you I want to be with you."

Albus let out an indignant laugh.

"And that's all I get?"

"No matter what I say, you don't trust me," Scorpius cut him off. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have stolen that vial behind my back!"

Potter snapped.

"Go to hell! You and your ego, just go choke on it!"

He stormed out, slamming the door, and hurried down the stairs. When he reached the kitchen, he was still fuming, disappointed to find the room occupied. He had wanted a moment to cool down before facing everyone.

"Is Scorpius in the office?" Rose asked. She was helping James unmold chocolate soufflés onto trays to cool.

"Yeah, he's burning my Christmas present," Albus said, his body trembling slightly.

Rose froze, perplexed.

James sighed, looking away and shaking his head.

"You two are hopeless," he muttered.

"But why?" Rose asked, shocked.

"He should just go home," Hugo said as he entered the kitchen, clearly having overheard the conversation.

"No one asked you!" Rose snapped, turning sharply toward her brother. The irritation in her voice suggested this wasn't the first argument they'd had that day.

Hugo shrugged.

"So what? Do you have to screw him to have an opinion?"

Albus lunged at him, but James blocked him just as his fist was about to make contact, wrapping his arms around his waist and pushing him back. Hugo jumped back and hit his hip on the counter.

"Calm down," James said, holding his brother back. "He's not worth it, Al!"

"What's wrong with you?" Hugo exclaimed. "I'm your cousin!"

"You're a jerk!" Albus retorted.

But James cut in, turning to their cousin, furious:

"You should think before you speak. You've caused enough trouble in all this!"

"No, no, don't blame this on me. This situation is rotten to the core because of the two of you. Doesn't any of this bother you? Don't you see how theyruin everything they touch? Everything was fine. We were perfectly fine a few months ago. And now Albus brings a Malfoy into our house, and my sister has a crush on a scarred Death Eater!"

"He's not a Death Eater!" Rose said indignantly. "You can't say that, Hugo!"

"I'll say what I want because you're all acting insane! From the start, we said we shouldn't get involved with them. You said it yourself, James!"

"I was wrong. I've made a lot of mistakes this year."

"Mistakes? Yeah, no kidding, you really messed up! Not to mention letting Nott join the Quidditch team. I thought you said you'd crush him if he tried out? That's what you told Albus!"

"No one expected Dorian to be in Gryffindor," Rose said, glancing nervously at the door leading to the living room, afraid the adults might overhear the argument.

"Exactly," James continued. "Nott's the best player at Hogwarts. He's better than all of us! Why wouldn't I have put him on my team?"

Hugo stared at him, his jaw clenched.

"That's the only reason?" he asked, a nasty smirk on his face.

James turned crimson, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached, rage twisting his lips. Beside him, Albus let out an angry growl, clenching and unclenching his fists.

James exhaled slowly and straightened up, trying to calm himself. He stepped closer to Hugo, who lost some of his confidence, leaving only an inch between them.

James was taller and stronger. He towered over him. His voice was low and threatening.

"Yes, Hugo, that's the only reason. And if you make another comment like that, cousin or not, I'll hit you so hard you'll be throwing up your guts at my feet. I'm done with your games. I almost want you to provoke me again, so I'll have an excuse to smash your face in."

"James…" Rose murmured, her eyes brimming with tears, frightened to see her brother threatening her younger sibling.

But James wasn't listening.

"So now, you're going to leave Malfoy and Nott alone, do you understand?"

Hugo didn't answer. James raised his voice.

"Do you understand, Hugo?"

The boy nodded, trembling.

A throat clearing caught their attention. James stepped back to see Lily standing in the doorway, clutching her new bright pink Pygmy Puff to her chest.

"It's Christmas…" she whispered, her bottom lip trembling. "You're ruining everything."

"No, Lily, it's okay now," Rose said with a forced smile. She regained her composure and gestured for her cousin to join her. "You can take this to the table if you want. You too, Hugo."

Lily placed the Pygmy Puff on her shoulder and took the tray Rose handed her, while Hugo followed, eager to leave the kitchen.

Rose turned to the Potter brothers.

"They're waiting for us at the table. I'll go get Scorpius. Try not to cause any more trouble from now on!"

In the dining room, everyone was already seated, plates full. Rose entered the room, followed by Scorpius, practically pulling him by the hand. They had, of course, left an empty chair for him next to Albus. He sat down without looking at him, and Albus ignored him just the same.

"Is everything alright between you two?" Evan asked, pointing his fork at Albus and Scorpius.

He had spoken loudly enough for a good part of the large table to take an interest in the conversation, and Malfoy gave him a dazzlingly polite smile, replying that everything was fine and that it was considerate of him to ask.

Dursley snickered into his plate and gave a knowing wink to the boy, who ignored him for the rest of the meal.

Albus finished his plate quickly, eager to leave the table as soon as possible. Scorpius's proximity was painful. He grabbed the box containing the camera, which was still on the buffet, and retreated to the couch.

Malfoy felt relief when Albus left the table and finally lifted his eyes from his plate.

"I took care of James's lip."

He turned to his right and saw Teddy, who was watching him.

"You've got quite a punch. Or maybe just sharp teeth."

Scorpius wasn't sure how Teddy knew, whether someone had spoken or not. But he didn't care to find out.

"Both, I think," he replied casually.

Teddy nodded with a smile:

"Tell me, I wanted to ask you something. Do you like Quidditch?"

Scorpius stared at him, incredulous.

"What?"

"Albus and James love it, which is why they're captains. I think Nott loves the sport too, right?"

Malfoy didn't understand where Lupin was going with this. He shrugged.

"Yeah, a lot."

Teddy nodded again.

"And you?"

"What about me?" Scorpius replied, irritated.

"Do you like the sport? Are you the Slytherin Seeker because you love Quidditch?"

Scorpius blinked several times and shook his head.

"I don't know. I think I just like flying."

Teddy nodded thoughtfully.

"When term starts again, I'll give you some Transfiguration lessons," he declared suddenly.

Scorpius clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw hurt.

"Teddy, I think I told you—"

"You're apathetic."

"Excuse me?"

"Apathy is a form of indifference to one's environment, sometimes pushed to the point of complete numbness. It's associated with a loss of initiative and motivation. It's often linked to depression. They say the person seems extinguished, devoid of any passion. And if you refuse to do Transfiguration, it's because it matters to you. And if we resolve that block, we'll resolve everything else."

Scorpius felt a cold sweat spread through his body.

"I think you misunderstood me, Teddy. I'm not taking Transfiguration lessons."

He cut the young man off before he could reply.

"I'm not apathetic. I feel things! Right now, I'm exasperated and furious. Just because I don't care about Hogwarts doesn't mean I don't want anything out of life. I feel, I'm alive!"

"Then you should show it more often."

"Thank you, Professor," Scorpius spat, before leaving the table.

James joined Albus on the couch. The boy was fiddling with his camera, cleaning the lens. He showed it to his brother as he sat down beside him.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"You're welcome," James replied, taking a sip from his glass. Butterbeer mixed with something else, judging by the smell.

"You were right from the beginning," Albus said, flipping through the pages of the thick camera manual. "It was a mistake to get close to them."

James glanced sideways at his brother, observing the hard, distant look in his eyes. His jaw was clenched too tight. He glanced up at Scorpius, who was talking with Teddy at the table.

"I've messed up a lot this year. I wouldn't trust my judgment if I were you."

Albus nodded but didn't argue. He set the manual down on the small table and took the glass from his brother's hands. The liquid burned his throat. James kept watching Scorpius.

"He hates that conversation he's having with Teddy," Albus said, indicating the boy.

James frowned.

"How do you know?"

"He's gripping the edge of his chair with one hand. He's trying to maintain control. His foot taps from time to time—that means he wants to leave. His tongue moves in his cheek because he's holding back from saying something very rude."

James smiled, nodding.

"You've got him figured out."

"That's the problem," Albus said, draining the glass in one go. "I'm tired of decoding. If he'd just talk, it'd be easier."

"Yeah. But you've always been able to see the real him, in the end. If you'd seen him the way I did, and how most people perceived him... you wouldn't have gotten close to him. From the start, you saw something different."

"Yeah, I'm a brilliant psychologist," Albus replied sarcastically.

They watched as Scorpius excused himself from the table and left the dining room. His steps seemed unsteady, and his cheeks were slightly flushed. The alcohol was taking effect. He disappeared down the hallway, and the Potter brothers heard the front door close. Through the window, they saw him crossing the garden in the snow, without a coat.

They talked about lighter topics—Albus's plans for film school and James's medical studies. He was thinking of spending a year in a Muggle hospital. They both fell silent when they spotted Dudley's son.

Evan was wearing his jacket and scarf, discreetly slipping two bottles of beer into his pockets. Albus's breathing quickened, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched him walk down the hallway. The front door slammed, and Evan Dursley followed the tracks Scorpius had left in the snow.

"You gonna do something?" James asked, eyes still on the window.

Albus nodded, his throat dry.

"It's none of my business," he finally said, looking away.

"Seriously, Albus…"

Minutes passed, and it felt like the clock was ticking in his head. His mind was blank, but his heart pounded in his ears, a bitter taste rising from his stomach.

"Albus!" James growled after a quarter of an hour, exasperated.

"If you're so worried, go yourself!" Albus snapped.

"I'm not allowed to. It's not my place."

"It's not mine anymore either!"

"Yes, it is, whether you like it or not!"

He looked up, aware that he had spoken too loudly, and waited for the curious looks to turn away. He faced his brother and lowered his voice, licking his lips.

"During a Quidditch match, I saw a kid who didn't care if he died, as long as he caught a Snitch for my brother. You get that? He didn't care if he crashed to the ground, Albus, as long as he could win that match for you!"

"He knew I'd catch him," Albus said, shaking his head.

"And you were sureyou'd manage?"

"Yes, I was sure! At that moment, I believed I could catch him every time he fell!"

"And he's not falling right now, according to you?"

Albus closed his eyes, tensing as if trying to protect himself from his brother's words. He took a deep breath and studied him. When he spoke, his voice was bitter.

"You love him too, don't you?"

James closed his eyes and lowered his head, his face tense, his chest tight. He reopened his eyes and ran a trembling hand over his lips and chin.

"Go get him, please. This has to stop."

End of Chapter 33

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