Strong Brew in all Forms

White and Lilac Boredom

Frank sat where Albus had left room for him, though Frank let his back drop onto Albus’s legs while he faced the ceiling. If Albus were really that injured, it wasn’t Frank’s responsibility to make sure he was healed—though if Frank were being honest, his boxes of treats were certainly doing Albus much more good than anything St. Mungo’s had to offer.

He did a little scoff at Albus’s demands. Frank wasn’t aware of the Potter’s family plans, aside from what he had inferred from the bits and pieces that he picked up—either from people whispering loudly at the pub or from what he managed to get out of people who did interact with them.

“I mean… the world hasn’t dropped everything for you, though I’m sure your whole family’s gone mad over what happened. I think. I haven’t actually talked to any of them.” Frank snorted at the retelling of what happened. “Your dad’s an Auror and you couldn’t pull the most basic expelliarmus out of your ass? Who are you even? Besides—you’d tell me where your secret hiding place is, right?”

There was no convincing Frank otherwise that the Potters had nothing else to do but go in hiding. Once upon a time, that was the solution they undertook, though Lily and James had been found by the Dark Lord anyway. Besides, Albus had secret hiding places that Frank had recently discovered, and Frank did like being in on secrets.

Albus watched the other man draped across the bottom of his bed and his legs and grinned.  He nibbled at one of the pastries, giving a pleased little hum.  Company was nice.  Especially company that was as easygoing and comforting as Frank.  Plus, easy on the eyes.  God what he wouldn’t give to be in another bed but a a hospital one.  

“You have no idea.  Surprised you didn’t see half the clan camped out ya know?” he grumbled, poking rather viciously at a cupcake.  “Though you got to meet my goons!  I think they’ll be around for a while now...” he sighed.  Which that wasn’t a possible thing.  

“Dude!  I did!  At the end!  Once!” he squawked, looking put out.  But Frank wasn’t wrong.  He’d done a pretty awful job of defending himself.  Or putting up a fight as any sort of magic user.  He sighed and slumped backwards, shoving half a cookie into his mouth.  He was going to have to do so many laps for all this he was eating.  “Uh, dude of course.  I mean my hiding plan was really just like...under your bed?  You’d feed me and hide me right?” he asked with a fake little pleading voice.  He waggled his eyebrows.  

Worth The Waste

How the entirety of the magical community happened to fit in the Great Hall spoke a lot about how small it was. While Beatrice was sure that not everyone could come, it was clear that there was no one who had not received an invitation. Her eyes scanned the room quickly as she moved from table to table, less eager to look for company and more interested in doing some eavesdropping of her own.

The familiar wave of jet black hair passed her and she couldn’t help but follow. Whatever injury Albus Potter sustained, Beatrice couldn’t actually see from where she stood. It was the first thing she looked for, though she was more concerned with getting within earshot of him. She was determined to prove that he was just as pigheaded as his father and spoiled to the core with how much attention he had received.

“You look just like your father.” Beatrice nearly snorted, holding back her laughter. She almost wished, for how much Harry Potter spent trying to protect his son, that Albus was had an injury that was actually worth the waste. “How lucky is it that he decided that the entire department of law enforcement revolves around you?”

Albus was a little out of practice moving through crowds like this.  Muggles crowding a pup, he’d slither through with no problem.  But it had been some time since he’d stalked a proper function.  Learning to move through these spaces with poise and grace and the deadly intent for another glass of something was a bit like riding a bike however.  It came back quick enough to remind him that he needed more champagne at an alarming rate.  

He was in search of another glass when he heard that old line.  It took almost everything in his power to not revert to schoolroom tendencies and fire a hex over his shoulders.  

“Do I indeed?  Did he manage a comb through his hair then?” he replied a current of cold through his voice.  He turned, a small smile on his face that never quite reached his eyes, taking in the speaker.  It was a face he probably should recognize sine she knew his.  Though...that wasn’t that uncommon.  He arched an eyebrow slowly and turned to fully face his new acquaintance.  “Quite a curious definition of luck then.  Afraid it’s not in any dictionary I’m familiar with.” He flashed a smile, sharp and tinged with curiosity.  “But I do have a rule.  I don’t debate policy without being introduced.  And without a drink.”  He smirked and flicked his wand out, two glasses sailing his way, much to the annoyance of one of the staff.  He smirked and offered a flute.  “So, introductions?  Though I’m afraid they’re rather one sided.  You already know me.  But I’d so love the pleasure,” he drawled.  

The nerves bubbled inside Scorpius as he apparated onto the ground at Hogsmede station. Wizards and witches alike where appearing around him, heading towards the carriages that would pull them to the castle. He stood himself off to one side so he could wait for Albus to arrive. He wouldn’t have come tonight if it wasn’t for him, and merlin knows it took some convincing, but here he was. He wasn’t sure seeing his old classmates was going to be such a thrilling experience as people had expected, and he definitely wasn’t certain this was the right thing to be doing in such times, but if Albus thought it was safe, then he trusted his judgement

As he saw a head of black hair appear just ahead, he knew it had to be his old friend. When he saw him from the front, Scorpius couldn’t help but gasp slightly to himself. It was impossible to describe the way Albus looked, but Scorpius almost couldn’t believe the sight before him. The black cloak hung so elegantly off his shoulders, his heels giving him that bit of extra height.  He looked powerful. 

“Wow Al.” He grinned slightly as he walked up to him. “I feel underdressed.” Scorpius couldn’t take his eyes off of his friend, and for a second it seemed like he was the only one there with him.

Albus was most likely not alright.  Everything he understood from armchair psychology said that much.  The look on his “trainer’s” face had said more when he’d explained his absence and sparse communication.  Like he was something that needed reevaluating.  And fuck if he didn’t already hate that feeling from his own home.  So the Hogwarts reunion was every ounce what he needed.

Something lacking substance and meaning in his life that he could jump into completely.  And look ravishing while doing it.  A needed distraction.  And an excuse to be with one of his closest friends again.

When he’d stepped his way out of green flames in a whirl of smoke and fabric, he’d almost feared he’d be alone.  But there he was, Scorpius Malfoy in all his glory.  Albus grinned as he clacked across the stonework, reaching his friend and offering him a little wink.  

Harry hovered in the doorway, unsure of what to do. His hands were shaking and he honestly couldn’t say why. Surely the worst was over. Surely now, they could take a breather and focus on Al’s recovery. He was going to be okay, that mattered. That was something to focus on. But lying in bed, pale and small, obviously in a lot of discomfort, it was so difficult to believe. “Don’t joke, Albus. This isn’t funny.” He said quietly, taking a shallow breath before crossing the room, scooping his son up into his arms and holding him against his chest. The last words he had said to Albus were ringing in his head, if you get hurt, that’s on you. Merlin, he had been so stupid. “I’m so sorry-” He murmured, his hand moving to cradle his head. “I’m so sorry, Albus- you don’t know how sorry-” He could have died. His son could have died, and their very last conversation would have been a heated argument. 

Withdrawing, suddenly remembering how hurt he was, he did everything he could not to jostle him as he let him go. Pulling the seat beside the bed towards him, he sat down, taking Al’s injured hand in both of his own. “I’m sure your aunt Luna wouldn’t mind coming in to decorate if I asked her to.” He said quietly, swallowing his emotion and forcing himself to focus. “Albus… Lily told me you aren’t taking your Potions… are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay? I know we fight- I know we have our moments, but I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I would do.” 

“Oh it’s riotous from where I’m laying,” Albus replied.  And it was, to him.  The best and worst of bitter humor, coiling in his gut.  Proof that he was a fool.  Proof that maybe, just maybe, these fuckers in black cloaks were right.  That he was a stupid child and...well if being a stupid child got a hug like this, maybe it wasn’t the worst.  It didn’t hurt when Harry scooped him close.  He only half felt it anyway, the stasis spells and the last remnants of something vile seeping out of his blood.  He flashed his dad a look and gave an awkward sound.  “Uh...dad?  You did nothing wrong.  Nothing.  Your team was involved.  A possible and credible threat nearby.” A diversion, but he didn’t need to see that.  His dad would have seen the report.  “Was on me.  Wanted to go out.  Aurors...well thought they were following.” 

Last time he didn’t check for a tail when he left his house, that was for sure.  

“Wouldn’t mind that.  She should do all the wards.  Last thing people need when they’re ill is a shitty, blank wall,” he groused, staring up at the ceiling and pulling a face.  Like...weren’t recovery rooms supposed to inspire more than the endless void?  Really.  He let his eyes drift down and lock on his dad, sending a supremely unimpressed look.  “Lily is upset that I’m not taking the potions prescribed to me.  I object to their fucking awful side effects where there are better combinations to be had.” He raised his good hand and pointed it at his dad.  “And I’ve heard tell of your potions marks.  You don’t get to contradict me on this.  I know my profession.” He grinned brightly.  “Besides, you can’t lose me.  I’m far too stubborn.”

Arlo felt his frown deepen. As far as he was concerned, the entire conversation had been odd so far. Seeing Albus wasn’t easing his worry in the way he hoped it might. “It’s not okay.” He insisted, his voice soft but firm. “Albus, I need you to know that you don’t have to be okay right now. “ It was his second time saying the words but he would repeat them as many times as he needed to. “I spent twenty years pretending to be okay and it very nearly destroyed me. Don’t do that… not with me.” Sighing quietly when he began to blame himself, he leaned back in his seat. It was almost like listening to the old Arlo, he could see why James used to get so upset each time he casually brushed off his suffering. 

“This isn’t your fault, you aren’t to blame for this. Regardless of what you, James, and Lily were doing… if they were determined to attack, they would find a way eventually. Of course they would.” A terrifying thought, one he had been refusing to admit before the attack had taken place. Now he could admit it, accept the truth, because Albus was alive. He was going to survive. “You should see what the magazines are saying about you.” He murmured, a smile playing at his lips as he tried to steer the conversation into a direction Albus might genuinely appreciate. “I saved some issues at home though I wasn’t sure it would be appropriate to bring them with me today… some are speculating you may be involved with drugs. Some of them have decided you were attacked by a scorned ex. Maybe it shouldn’t be so amusing , forgive me, but I know you’ll appreciate the creativity.”

His smile fading again at the mention of Harry, he could only imagine how worried he was. He hadn’t spoken to him in probably far too long. “How… how is he?” He asked, resisting the urge to tease Albus about always drawing unnecessary attention. Maybe another day, but not right now. That wouldn’t feel at all fair. “James is… well, James. He is worryingly determined to find a way of blaming himself. Please don’t tell him I told you that.” Surprised to be considered a part of the equation, even now, he shook his head. “Albus… I could never be angry with you for this. Please, please don’t concern yourself with that, I only want you to heal…” 

Albus gave a small smile, looking over at his friend, hell at someone quite nearly his brother, and simply shook his head.  “No...no I have to be alright, Arlo.  I’m a Potter.” And there were ramifications there.  He couldn’t look weak before the press.  Or weaker.  He already looked supremely foolish.  Best not to give them any more fodder.  And while he knew, he so understood from the look in the other man’s eyes, from the way he spoke and held himself, there was a layer here that Arlo was just beginning to connect with: the weight of that fucking public eye.  “Can’t let anyone think I’m really in a bad way...”

He groaned and let his head hit the pillows with a resounding lack of sound.  It was bad enough that he had guilt and anger clawing at his chest in equal measure with the scaring that his hurting his lungs.  But hearing about the idiocy coming out of the tabloids.  Fuck if his family wasn’t going to run riot with that.  He was serious when he said he wasn’t trying to bring more attention their way.  “Circe’s tits but I really don’t want to know half of what they’re saying.  Unflattering will probably be the nicest adjective.” 

“He’s always been the big brother,” Albus murmured softly, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath.  “Tried to keep us both safe from the ills of the world.  Or what he saw as them.” He gave a small wry smile.  “Wouldn’t blame you if you were, Arlo.  Healing will happen.  Making up for a bit of colossal stupidity might take more work.” He flashed him a tight smile.  “You and James have been safe though, yeah?  No assaults from...” he swallowed thickly on the word father and coughed.  “From them?”

When Albus apparated to Hogsmeade station, he looked every bit the respectable wizard.  A cloak of fine black billowed about as he made his way to the carriage, the silver chain and clasp catching in the flickering torches.  He rode the carriages with Scorpius.  With one of his oldest friends at the side, a sense of nostalgia washed over as he saw the castle loom. 

My, how times changed.  And how much they stayed the same.  

The clamor in the hall died as he stepped though the doors.  But that was nothing new.  He’d had rooms drop to silence before him more than once.  And he refused to let this stop him.  He stepped to the side, to the young witch checking coats, and took of his cloak with a flourish, letting the subtle glamour he’d cast dissipate.  He smiled, and turned to face the room.

The slate grey suit was a muggle cut, a subtle herringbone pattern in the waistcoat adding texture to the expanse of fabric.  He wore a black shirt under, letting the stark green tie shine for all to see; the silver snake the wove its way through the fabric, magically wandering the expanse of the tie was a nice touch.  On his lapel was a broach, in sterling silver and jet, set with small stones to catch the light.  A snake as well, coiled and protective over his heart.  He straightened his lapels, did up his top button, and let the light catch the Ombre of emerald that were his nails.  He let a smirk settle into place as he brushed an invisible piece of lint from his his sleeve and took a step. 

And the clack of his heel resonated on stone.  Heeled boots in green clacked as he moved.  And he gave a deliberate drag of a heel, letting a series of green and silver sparks shimmer in his wake. 

They had attacked him for who he was. 

Albus only knew one response to that.

Scorpius’ eyes scanned the front of the charmed department store, hands nervously twitching at his sides - they were getting sweaty. He wiped his palms on his trousers before playing anxiously with the cuff of his shirt. It was strange being back in London. After shying away from the world for so long, Scorpius actually felt uncomfortable being here. He silently prayed that no one would recognise him, in constant fear that someone would assume the worst of him and think he was a Death Eater just like his Grandfather.

The minute Scorpius read the headlines in the Daily Prophet, he knew he couldn’t stay away any longer. It was almost as though instinct had brought him here, and only now was he realising it may not have been the best of his ideas. In his mind, he was risking a lot to be here, but how could he turn his back on an old friend like that?

Upon arriving at St Mungos, he wasn’t sure what to do. He had been pondering for what felt like hours, whether or not he should attempt to visit Albus. When he finally mustered up the courage, the desk worker had told him he was too late, but that he was to be discharged very shortly: and so he waited. When he finally caught sight of Albus, his eyes lit up. As much as he tried he couldn’t quite contain the eagerness to see him. “Al!” He had to fight the urge to run up to him and tackle him in a hug, but even if he hadn’t been injured, he knew that wasn’t quite appropriate. “Yeah, it has.” He smiled nervously, unsure what else to say. “I’m sorry-” he blurted out after a moment’s silence “I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner.”

It was like a thousand different bits of nostalgia running through his mind as Scorpius approached.  Excitement and nervousness and all the things he’d seen for seven years, there on his friend’s face.  Albus laughed, shaking his head.  It was a comfort after the weeks he’d spent here, to know that indeed, some things did not change.  

“Peace my friend.  Hardly on you to rush home every time I do something foolish,” he replied with an easy grin.  “You’d never leave?  Circe, the whole last year would have had you in fits I swear.” He was only half teasing, really.  But it was the truth.  Couldn’t have people worrying themselves too grey on his behalf.  “Besides!  You’re here now!  Just in time to join me for a I’m-not-stuck-in-that-fucking-room-anymore lunch!” He looked over his shoulder and pulled a face at the aurors there.  “With goonsquad.  Did I mention I have goons now?  They won’t go away.”  

He offered his arm to his friend, all mock seriousness and acres of playful energy rolling off him.  Hell, he’d fake it until the playful was real.  “Some c’mon!  Lunch!  Goons!  You can tell me allll about your ridiculously exciting life...wherever you’ve been living it.” He frowned for a moment.  “Because bugger me if I can remember where it is.  Did you ever even tell me?”  It was good to see Scorpius again. 

Lily had been the first to see him, that was all he knew. There were mentions of a Muggle club, a list of injuries he couldn’t seem to remember, and various recollections of Albus Potter, his son, staggering into the waiting room, collapsing due to the extent of the damage. There were too many thoughts, too many emotions he was trying to process. Where was the detail he had sent to watch over Al? Why was he in a Muggle club so late at night when he knew there was a threat looming over the family? Was anything irreparable? Was he conscious, did he understand what had happened? 

The owl had arrived in the early hours of the morning, and he had scrambled out of bed, rushing to St Mungos, rushing to Albus, who was still a child in his mind. He was never not going to be a child. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen anymore, and was it his fault? Would this have happened if he hadn’t insisted on pushing the department merge? His head was pounding, trying to convince him he could still feel the old pain in his scar, though he knew he was only imagining it. He just needed to find the room, when he found the room, it would be okay. He just needed to know that Albus was okay. 

Climbing the stairs two at a time, ignoring the people who stopped to stare at him as he passed, he was breathless by the time he reached the Spell Damage ward. Frustrated to find the door to his son’s room had been left entirely unguarded, he let out a huff of breath, taking a moment to lean back against the wall, to collect himself, and regain any composure he may have left. He summoned quite possibly the most difficult Patronus of his life, watching the Stag as it ran the length of the hall, making its way to the Ministry, to tell one of his most talented Aurors that he was needed at St Mungo’s, to stand guard over Albus’ room. When he was positive the spell had been successful, he turned to the nearest Healer, who was watching him with obvious apprehension.

Standing upright, he tried to muster the air of authority he had learned over his years as Head Auror. There was no chance anybody was trying to tell him this was against protocol, or they couldn’t allow it. “There is to be an Auror stationed here at all times.” He snapped. “Do you hear me? Somebody is on their way, if anybody has a problem with that, they can send an Owl to my office.” Waiting until the Healer gave him some assurance, as vague and awkward as it was, he steeled himself, ignoring his shaking hands, opening the door to step inside. It took less than a second for his gaze to land on the figure in the bed, and it was everything he could do to choke back a sob. “Albus?” @oxfordasp

Albus was becoming very familiar with the ceiling of his room.  Since he’d come to understand where he was, since he’d had Lily explain some of the finer details of his situation, and since he’d screamed at the top of his lungs that he did not consent to their current potion regimen and yes he’d sign to that effect, he’d had some time to think.  And feel.  

Fell stupid and in a fair amount of pain.  Which was as it should be.  Mistakes needed to be understood. 

He kept replaying the events of the evening over and over as the last tendrils of the most egregious of the painkillers pulled out of his system, the haze giving way to lashes of feeling.  Or lack there of in regards to his right arm.  A short and angry laugh.  He blew out a breath through his teeth and thought on what had changed tonight, what made tonight different than any of the other times he’d been out in Oxford, been on his way to a pub for a simple drink and an easy night.  What was different about tonight?  The thoughts scattered as he heard the door open, looking towards the portal and doing his level best not to let the anger he felt towards himself eat his stomach, leave him hollow and sick at the sight of his father.  

Not his burden.  

“Hey Dad.  I’d wave, but one doesn’t work and moving it makes the whole world go white which is probably a bad thing?” Albus replied, voice strained and laced with pain and restraint.  And this slightly musical quality that meant the potions weren’t totally out of his system.  “Even if it does look better than this ceiling.  You’d think designers would pay more attention to things like that when...ya know...hospital?” He frowned and stared up again, eyes decidedly not looking towards the door.

Arlo could have fainted upon seeing Albus drop his wand, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he had lost consciousness due to a crushing sense of relief. Letting out a shaky breath, he continued to stare at his friend. Terrified for him, realising how much trauma his attack had left him with.That was going to be far harder to heal than any of his physical injuries. It made his heart ache to know the struggle was far from over. “It’s- it’s me-” He hurried to assure him, still hesitant to move any closer to his bed. “Albus… who did you think I was?” He asked, wondering whether that was smart. If Albus had been reliving some element of his attack, was it fair to ask him about it? Then again, if he was seeing things then it might be better to know. What if this was the first time and the Healers needed the information?

“Albus…” He murmured, a frown creasing his brow. “Please don’t do that. I know what it feels like… to be scared, to have a wand pointed at you and fear for your life. I understand.” He swallowed, a familiar anxiety creeping to his chest as he thought back on his old life. “Don’t invalidate yourself, being nervous is… it’s okay. I’m just worried about you.” At the invitation, he finally made his way over to the side of the bed, taking the seat next to it slowly so that he wouldn’t startle its occupant. “Your arm, is it healing?” He asked. James was too tired recently to press for answers, and he hadn’t seen Lily in a while. “Merlin, you scared me so much. You scared all of us. I don’t know what I would do if…” He trailed off, choking on his own words. They were too difficult to even speak, and he knew Albus would understand his meaning. “I’m just so grateful you’re still here…”

Albus shook his head, unable to give voice to that concern, to what he’d seen.  He bit the inside of his cheek, tasted the faint wisps of copper and strain, and took a deep breath.  Unfounded accusations were no way to begin this, no way to progress what would be a process.  No, hell no.  He needed proof.  And had no idea how to attain that.  “Just...something odd.  IT’s ok!  I’m ok...” He whispered that last part once more.  

He chuckled lightly and shook his head with a little wry grin.  Arlo knew.  Probably knew exactly how it felt to see that wand pointed at him in anger.  “Thanks.  Thank you.  I mean...I’m worried about me too.  This is a bit of a fuckup, even by my colossal standards of idiocy.” He tried for that smile again, wanting to move away from talks of assaults and onto recovery.  That seemed the best thing for it right now.  “It is.  Just immobilized while muscle heals and is regrown.  Took some shrapnel to the wrong place ya know?”  He shrugged the one shoulder he could.  “So doing better yeah!” He winced and looked down, the guilt clawing at his throat.  “Yeah...yeah I get that.  I worried a lot of folks it seems.  Made fodder for the papers.  Ahhhh I hate proving dad right sometimes, ya know?” He gave a weak smile and looked up.  “I’m sorry about that.  Really sorry.  Don’t like bringing more attention our way than I have to really...”  He winced again and looked up at Arlo, worry clear in his eyes.

“I...how mad is James?  Or you?  I kinda acted like an idiot...”

Albus was better.  That was what all the best healers said.  Better.  Healed.  Discharged.  And magical healing could do so so many things.  But it couldn’t take away away some of the soreness in his shoulders.  Or the tightness in his chest.  Or the curse scars.  Or the people following him, and the sense of being followed.  

Aurors were going to be a permanent fixture in his life now.  Much to his chagrin.  There were a few new ones it seemed.   

Albus ran his fingers over his wand, secured to his left forearm by a new holster.  Something from his father.  Something he’d probably never take off.  He pulled his sleeve over it, but still clutched at the new weight.  It was more of a comfort than all the guards about him.  Bag in one hand, the other still flexing and feeling the weight of the the holster.  He made his way down and to the lobby, the unsubtle boots clicking along behind him.  The moment the open space was in view, he swept his eyes across, another new habit, and focused on someone hovering about the doors.  Someone he’d not seen in a bit.  A wry smile crossed his lips as he headed that way.  

“Best not to loiter, mate.  Makes my goons a mite nervous,” Albus teased as he approached Scorpius.  “Been a while, Scor.”

White and Lilac Boredom

“Why are you begging for attention like I’m not going to give you any?” Frank gave a very dramatic sigh and plopped the boxes, neatly stacked, onto Albus’s lap. Frank did have pastries, though what originally was a dozen cookies turned into packages of nine or ten, depending on which looked more… poisonous… to the guards outside.

He had thought about Albus a lot, though it felt like worrying was an overstatement. Albus had been attacked, but there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to be okay. He was in bed and he looked fine… enough. Like recovery was just around the corner, right? Frank was easily convinced by the fact that he hadn’t walked into someone bitching and moaning because of the pain.

Frank seated himself at the edge of the bed; completely ignoring the chairs nearby. Besides, they were covered in a small mountain of gifts from well-wishers. Even though Frank was sure most of the boxes have already been opened, Frank knew what kind of family Albus had. The joke shop kind of family.

“The world hasn’t stopped turning,” Frank grinned. “But it seems like it has not stopped revolving around you—the Prophet has been giving day-by-day updates, I guess, and I can’t go half an hour without hearing about you having gotten your ass kicked. I guess they got you before you went into hiding, huh?”

“Because I want to make sure.  I’m wounded,” Albus whined dramatically.  And then he let out a woosh of air as he had parcels in his lap.  He hummed, poking about and selecting a delicious looking cupcake to munch before whatever evil nurse his sister had stuck him with confiscated it on health grounds.

Really, it was torture.  

He shuffled a bit to the side, making room for Frank on the bed and grinning up at his friend.  He liked that someone wasn’t treating him like broken glass or anything different.  He was still him.  And people who remembered that.  He let out an affronted squawk.

Lily tried to smile, but it looked more like she was hurt than anything. Seeing her brother in pain was hard for her to watch, and she wanted nothing more than to fix it all for him. “Not a good cocktail though, I assume.” She reached out for his waving fingers and grabbed his hand. “I’m not floating. Promise. It’s just the medicine.”

His comment regarding a muggle pub had her tilting her head to the side. Did he really. not know where he was? “Albie…” she began. “You’re at St. Mungo’s. You were hurt. Do you not remember what happened to you?”

“Horrible.  I’d never recommend’s mix of potions unless...things were awful!” Albus explained, trying to wave his hand about in explanation.  He really needed to have words with whomever was writing these things.  Intoxication definitely didn’t need this level of work.  He hummed happily as Lily took his hand.  He liked playing with fingers.  He poked at her nails and nodded.  “Good.  Terra firma.  Better on both feet.”

He frowned.  Hurt?  That didn’t make sense.  Not really.  Sure he’d done something to his back earli...er....

There was a moment of clarity through the fog of the medicine and he smelled brimstone and ozone, smelled curses on the air and something oh so metallic.  “Hurt...” he gasped out, looking up at her as his eyes started to glass over again.  “No way!  I’d...had the guards following!  Just going out like normal.  Can’t be hurt.” His voice thickened and he choked back a sob.  “Who’d want to hurt me?”

Arlo watched with wide eyes as Albus seemed to mutter his name beneath his breath. He couldn’t figure out what he was trying to do. As far as he knew, as far as the others had told him, his mind hadn’t been affected by the spells that had landed him in St Mungo’s, so what was happening? What was making him so fearful? “Albus…” He hated this, the anticipation of knowing a curse could hit him at any moment. He had been used to it once, it had been a part of his daily routine. And now the feeling was threatening to undo all of his progress, the work it had taken him to overcome his anxiety. “Please let go of your wand.” He begged. “Please talk to me- tell me what’s wrong…” 

Falling silent when he spoke again, staring at him, waiting for some explanation, some clue that might help him to process the situation he had found himself in, he swallowed his nerves. “I don’t understand… there are Aurors at your door, they wouldn’t have let me pass if I was any kind of threat.” Thinking desperately on what he could say to prove he was who he claimed to be, he was hesitant to move any closer to the bed. Instead, he kept his arms raised, his shoulders rising and falling with each shallow breath. “A few days after the letter arrived, you escorted me to the stadium… we cast protection charms for your brother, my boyfriend. You told me you were working with Muggles, somebody recruited you…” Would that count? When so many people could have overheard them? “I don’t know what you want me to say, Albus- I don’t know- I’m not dangerous, Albus. You know me.” 

It took everything in his power to uncurl fingers, to let the wand drop to his bedside.  That face.  That face.  It stared out at him in snippets of dream, look of anger and shock and equal parts rage and worry.  Albus licked his lips, took a slow breath and nodded, focusing on the words his friend was saying.  The protection spells.  The work with muggles.  The little bits that were absolutely right.  He gave another slow breath and nodded, looking up sheepishly, skittishly.  

And he focused on the differences.

The lack of grey at the temples, the lines on the face, the look of worry and not contempt.  And that soft voice, so very different from the one he’d heard throw curses at him.  He let out a little sob, a laugh and a smile and tears starting now as he watched his friend, his brother’s lover, stand there and be so concerned.  

“Oh thank Merlin it’s you,” he gasped out, laugh just this side of watery.  It was so good to know this man wasn’t hear to hurt him.  And it was so terrible to know that he could now identify his attacker.  Almost too well.  “N-never mind me.  Being silly is all.  Come!  Tell me how the world is.  All I see is this room and the pile of things I’m not allowed to open yet.” He frowned.  “Or can’t.  Bloody arm.” 

He’d wrap it all in a laugh.  That would calm his racing heart.  And maybe the smile would reach his eyes.

His voice was rapsy, and Lily winced silently at his coughing. “Angry cloud?” she chuckled as she tried to hide any concern in her voice. She took her seat beside him and rested her head on the rails of the bed. “Maybe the cloud feeling is the potions. Do you feel like your floating a bit? Room spinning?” 

“They uh suggested I take the day off when you came in. I’ll probably take the rest of the week off. Gotta make sure you’re getting the best care.” She reached her hand out to him. She’d always been a hand holder. It made her feel safe if she could hold her friends or family–even if a small gesture. “You know, you aren’t allowed to scare me like this. I need at least a 24 hour warning before you do something silly,” she teased, smiling.

“Angry cloud!” Albus exclaimed, and then properly coughed.  He winced and blinked owlishly, trying to focus and only finding the ceiling and his sister’s face intermittently.  “Y-yeah.  Feels like a cocktail.  Uh...stasis dram n’somethin...” he pulled a face and tried to wave his fingers.  “Feels weird.  Floating maybe.  Can’t see spins.”  He blinked and felt his fingers twitch.  “M’be you’re floating...”

He looked at his sister and picked up on some things.  Fear.  Tears.  Worry?  The work clothes were tough.  He saw her reach out her hand.  And he tried to lift his right.  Huh.  Wouldn’t move.  He frowned and reached out with his left, hands picking up her’s.  “Not silly.  W’s goin to meet friends.  Muggle friends!  Did I...” he frowned.  He wasn’t drunk.  This wasn’t drunk.  Drunk felt different.

“Lils?  Why’d you come to a muggle pub?”

“I’m not sure any of my words are words to live by.” Arlo smiled, only half joking. He appreciated the fact that Albus listened to him, it made what he had to say feel worth something. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realise.” That he could understand, the idea of finding the particular attention Albus opened himself up to embarrassing. His parents were very much the same, though far more strict and rigid in their views. Reputation was quite possibly the thing they valued above all else. Well, aside from blood purity. “If it’s any consolation, James and I enjoy them.” He teased, offering his friend a genuine smile. Hopefully that would make him feel a little better, even if it was temporary. “I certainly don’t see any harm in your actions.” He agreed. It was like Albus said, he was having fun. He wasn’t hurting anybody or doing anything that could be construed as offensive. He was enjoying himself. What was wrong with that?

“Hm… I know a little about constant criticism.” He admitted. Albeit, the criticism from his parents came with consequences he knew Albus had never needed to face, but the way it made him feel couldn’t be very different. Interested to hear he had been running a lot, he made a mental note to ask for some elaboration when they had more time to talk. He wanted Albus to know that he was more than happy to support this endeavour, whatever it might be. “That sounds like a decent idea.” He said quietly, pocketing his wand so that he wouldn’t draw attention to himself, pulling open the door they had been working on so that Albus could step inside first. “I can show you the easiest route.” He assured his friend, hurrying to fall into step beside him. He wasn’t sure what they were doing was going to make a difference. Nothing was certain, after all. But they were trying, and that felt important. That was all anybody could ever do. 

Arlo laughed quietly, for a moment some of his anxiety seemed to dissolve. At least Albus was still teasing him, that had to mean he was feeling better. “I suppose you’re going to tell me James always looks worse and if I can stand to look at his face, then I can stand to look at yours?” He immediately gravitated to where the various gifts and cards had been piled, setting down the flowers with a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure what was appropriate-” It was only then that he realised something was wrong. Flinching at the shout, he turned back to Albus, eyes wide, watching in confusion and fear as he reached suddenly for his wand. He looked terrified, he couldn’t understand why. But this wasn’t the first time somebody had pulled a wand on him, he knew how to make himself small. Taking a sharp, shaky breath, he withdrew, swallowing nervously before attempting to speak again. “Albus?” His voice was quiet, pathetic really, his heart pounding in his throat. “It’s… it’s me. It’s Arlo. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you- do you want me to fetch a Healer?” 

The sound of blood was pumping in his ears.  There was a fuzzy quality to the light.  The smells here were intense.  And his arm.  Oh goddess his arm was still limp.  That blast must have been worse than he’d expected.  The sounds of the spell magic, the push against something rough, the smell of the....lavender?

Lavender....that wasn’t the smell of the alley.  There was no rubbish...no booze...no ozone.  He shuddered and closes his eyes, letting himself focus.  Floral smells and cotton and...that voice.  That voice he recognized.  

“Arlo....Arlo....” he repeated, chanting slowly.  He kept his eyes screwed closed, left hand curled around his wand as he left everything slow.  His heart was still racing, but his mind was slowing down.  He licked his lips, shaking his head, doing his best to get the image of Arlo’s face hidden in a white mask and black robes out of his mind.  “Tell me something only you’d know.  Only you!  Got to be something you would know about me that...that you know.” He swallowed thickly.  “Just...uh....just prove it to me yeah?”

It was easier to laugh around Albus than anyone. He was struck again, as he had been repeatedly over the last few weeks, by how badly he needed his siblings. He’d always known, always been aware of how integral they were to his purpose on this earth. For a while, he’d been known publicly as a few different things. A brother, a Quidditch player, the cocky son of James & Ginny Potter… But as he lost his mantle of Quidditch player, and grew out of his cocky reputation, all he had left was being a brother. 

What was he if not a brother? He was defined by his relationships to other people. Who was he? 

Oh, right. He was severely drunk. He filled his glass again, grateful for their wealth, for the ever-flowing fiery liquid. A perfect distraction from his reality. “Like, Mate… Pops… Dad,” he slurred with a laugh. “Did’y’expect a lowkey life? Mayb’if he didn’ fuckin’ go making pointless waves. Like, what’s the point of this law? Rule? Thing he changed? What’s it worth?,” he said, laying his head against the back of the couch. He sat there silently for a long time - or maybe it was only a few beats - time was spinning faster than the world was. “String you up, y’say?,” he said with a drunken giggle. “Now don’t try tellin’ me that’s not your idea of a good time. Handcuffs are safer, y’know,” he teased, sighing after his laughter faded. “Well I refuse to hide away like a scared little… wimp. We’re startin’ the new movement. I’m not gonna run from the danger. We’ll be alright, right? Dad’s just… being Dad. Tryin’ to save the world. Can’t find his own glasses when they’re on his face,” he laughed. “We’ll be alright. An’in the meantime, help yourself to the liquor cabinet. Another toast to… I dunno. Not listenin’ t’dad!” 

Albus watched his brother carefully, eyes tracking his movement and his eyes.  He grinned easily, tapping his glass with a finger and throwing back a shot of the fiery liquid.  Best to let James pace when he was in the moral throws.  And the bottle.  Which tended to coincide with some frequency.  He hummed and kicked his legs up on the table, watching.  

“Think it’s worth the world, Jamie.  That level of integration?  Information sharing?  It’s what muggles do.  They’ve got the world on CCTV at this point.  There’s...fuck brother mine, the world could change.” His eyes were bright as he looked up with a smile.  The possibilities of change were too great to ignore.  He’d already seen the effects of adding modern chemistry to potions, the effects on proper molecular balancing and dilution.  He hummed and shrugged.  “If I’m using ropes I’m usually tying the other guy up.  Something enjoyable about knowing they’re at your whim ya know?” he replied with a teasing glint.  “Had no idea you let Arlo handcuff you.  That’s hilarious.  And makes perfect sense.” He pulled a face and raised his glass.