#moramortia

He drums his fingers on the handle of his trolley and takes a deep breath. Even if Scorpius does miss the train this isn't going to be like last time. It's not going to be for some terrible reason. It'll be because he's wildly disorganised and had to go back for his copy of Hogwarts: A History, or because he couldn't find his favourite pair of socks. He'll show up at school later this evening in time for the feast, and everything will be fine. 

But Albus has been looking forward to this moment for so long. He's been counting on this train ride. He wants to share the last one with his best friend, with his boyfriend, who he met all those years ago on this train. He needs Scorpius to be here. It'll be hopelessly lonely without him. And Albus hasn't seen him in so long. He really has been looking forward to this. 

When Scorpius was let out of hospital, they agreed with their dads that they would both be grounded for the Christmas holiday. They both had so much work to do, and Scorpius wasn't really well enough to leave the house anyway. It seemed sensible to keep to themselves, not see much of each other, just concentrate on catching up and revising and recovering. But of course it's been awful. Aside from a few fleeting Fire Calls, Albus hasn't seen Scorpius since the middle of December. And it's now the middle of January. He misses him. Desperately.

"Still no sign of him then?" Rose asks, pushing her trolley up next to Albus's. 

Albus shakes his head and sighs. "Nothing." 

"I can tell," Rose says. "Even your hair looks stressed." She reaches up and flattens it down where it must be sticking up on top of his head. 

"I just really want him to-"

"I know," she says, adjusting the front of his robes for him. "I know you want him here. And he will come. He'd better. He has Head Boy duty to do!”

"But what if-" 

Rose puts an arm round him, forcing Archie to snuggle himself against Albus's neck to avoid being sent flying. "Albus, stop worrying. It doesn't suit you." 

He looks at her, feeling very miserable and very worried. She ruffles his hair. 

"I mean it. Anyway, if you're going to stand here and be a killjoy then I'll go and talk to someone else. Where have your parents gone?" 

Albus gestures off across the platform. "Talking to yours."

"Well. I'm going to go and talk to them. Don't fret too much, okay? And don't miss the train." She gives his hair one last smooth, then turns and disappears in the direction of their parents. 

Albus follows her very slowly, still scanning the crowd, nerves building with every passing second. Although the platform is long and busy, Albus is certain that he'd know if Scorpius were here already. He's been waiting by the entrance, and even if he didn't have an intimate knowledge of how Scorpius looks, the Malfoy hair stands out a mile off. 

"Are you ready?" His mum asks, breaking away from the conversation and walking across to him. 

He shakes his head. "Not really."

She smiles. "Strange going for the last time?" 

He parks the trolley and looks at her. "A little bit... I can still remember the first time, and now... I don't feel old enough to be leaving school. It's weird. And... and Scorpius isn't here." He glances up at the clock again. It's now three minutes to eleven.

His mum steps forward and gives him a tight squeeze. "It's going to be okay," she whispers in his ear. "I promise. Whatever happens, whether he gets here or not. You're going to have a great term." She pulls back and looks in the eye. "And you can do this. You can do anything. Okay?" 

Albus nods, and she gives him a second tight hug before releasing him. 

"Do you want help getting your things on the train?" 

Albus glances at the clock again. "I suppose so." He picks Archie up off his shoulder and puts him on top of his trunk. He's reluctant to get everything loaded on, but with two minutes until the train leaves there isn't much choice. Luckily there isn't that much to load up, since it was only the Christmas break he was home for. If this were the start of the year there would be next to no hope of getting everything on in time. 

His dad comes over to him, giving him a warm smile. "Have a good term," he says. "Do yourself proud, okay?" 

Albus nods and buries himself in his dad's arms, hugging him as tight as he can. 

"Stay calm," his dad advises. "Work hard. Have fun, but not too much fun. And don't let the pressure get to you. You'll be brilliant." 

Albus pulls away from him. "Thank you." He runs a hand through his hair and glances at the clock again. "I just wish-" 

"That Scorpius was here?" His dad grins and points over his shoulder, towards the platform entrance. 

Albus spins round wildly, staring. There is Draco Malfoy, tall and imposing, striding through the steam pushing a trolley. His ponytail is askew and he looks the most flustered he ever looks: slightly pink-cheeked, walking at something a touch above a sedate pace. 

Albus feels the tightness in his chest loosen with relief, but he still hasn't seen Scorpius, and he can't believe that Scorpius is here until he's seen him, so-

A white blond comet comes flying out of nowhere, moving too fast for Albus to register it's even there before it hits. The hug is the most solid one Albus has ever had in his life. He can feel the momentum knocking them both backwards, and he worries that Scorpius is about to accidentally decapitate him, so he drops to the ground, and Scorpius falls in a heap on top of him. 

"You sat down!" Scorpius says indignantly, trying to wriggle free. "I was just trying to hug you." 

Albus breaks into a huge grin and gives him a little shove. "You nearly took my head off. It was self-defence." 

Scorpius rolls his eyes and uses Albus's head as leverage to get up. "Whatever it was, it was uncalled for. I'm still weak, Albus. Getting up off the floor is difficult for me." 

Albus picks himself up and tickles Scorpius's sides so Scorpius gives a little shriek and squirms away. "You didn't seem weak when you hit me like an oncoming train." 

"It comes and goes," Scorpius says loftily, dusting his robes off. "It's a selective weakness." 

The mischievous sparkle in his eyes tells Albus that it's rubbish, that Scorpius is complete fine, just being over dramatic because he has the perfect excuse to be. He's going to milk the illness for all it's worth now he's better. 

"Is that what it's called?" Albus smirks. "Technical term? Selective weakness?" 

Scorpius grins at him. "Something like that." 

They look at each other for a moment, then Albus steps in and kisses him, hard and fast, pulling away before Scorpius has chance to get used to the fact that he's being kissed. It leaves Scorpius looking slightly stunned, which is what Albus was hoping to achieve. 

"You're better, then," he says. 

Scorpius smiles and nods. "Lots. And your shoulder's better too." 

"It's doing okay."

They beam at each other, lost in their own little world. 

Then there's a loud whistle that shatters the moment. There's shouting and doors slamming. Draco comes up to them and starts chivvying them towards the train. 

"You have plenty of time to talk, Scorpius. This isn't the moment." 

Scorpius grins at him. "Sorry, Dad." 

"You'll be the one who's sorry when the train goes without you. Come on."

They rush to the door where Rose is waiting for them, holding it open until the last second. She grabs Scorpius in a tight hug when he hops up, and Albus scrambles on board after him, slamming the door shut. 

Albus sticks his head out of the open window, and his parents are there. 

"Have a good term," his mum says, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. 

Scorpius jostles for position at the window, nudging Albus to the side, and Ginny kisses him too. 

"Don't do anything your fathers wouldn't," she says, flashing them both a smile, and Harry gives her a look of pure indignance before grinning. 

"We'd never dream of it," Albus says, leaning down to hug his dad. 

"Of course not," Scorpius says. "Although I will try to be a good influence on your son. We would quite like to pass our exams. Wouldn't we, Albus?"

Albus nods. "Definitely." 

"A good influence would be very much appreciated," Harry says, managing to get in a brief pat on Scorpius's shoulder before Draco nudges him out of the way to squeeze Scorpius in the tightest hug he can manage. 

"We'll be on our best behaviour," Albus promises, looking between his parents and Draco. 

Draco releases Scorpius and gives him a nod, and a squeeze of the shoulder. "I should hope so too." 

"No more trouble," Scorpius says, wrapping an arm round Albus. "Just hard work and exams." 

Albus nods seriously. Then they look at each other and grin, and their parents exchange knowing looks as they step away from the train, which has begun to move. 

They wave, and Harry, Ginny, and Draco all wave back at them as the train gathers speed, pulling away from the station, pulling them away from London and back towards Hogwarts for the last time. 

When the station is finally out of sight, Scorpius turns to Albus. 

"Did you think I wasn't coming?" 

Albus picks Archie up and puts him on his shoulder, then he draws his wand, ready to levitate his trunk to an empty compartment. "It had crossed my mind that you might miss the train." 

Scorpius looks around at the bustling corridors and smiles. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Not our last one. This train is very important to me." He draws his wand too and casts the spell to make his trunk hover a few inches off the ground. "Do you remember when we jumped off the roof?" 

"How could I forget?" Albus asks, levitating his own trunk. 

"And we met here too... No. Don't worry. This time I was just running late." 

"This time," Albus repeats. 

Scorpius nods, smile fading into seriousness. "Yes... I am better, Albus. Completely. I mean... sometimes my legs give out on me, and sometimes I get dizzy when I get overexcited. But on the whole." He spreads his hands. "Cured. And excited to be going back." 

Albus takes hold of one of his hands and squeezes it tight. "I'm glad. That you're here. It wouldn't have been the same without you. And I was really worried, after last time, that you wouldn't-" 

Scorpius sets his trunk down, pockets his wand, and faces Albus, looking right into his eyes. "I'm here. Here to stay. And this is going to be the best term ever." 

Albus pulls a face. "It's not. You know, going to be the best term ever. It's going to be a nightmare." 

"But it'll be a nightmare we face together," Scorpius says, wrapping an arm round Albus. "We saved the world. We saved my life. I think we can handle some exams." 

Albus looks at Scorpius, and he feels comforted and convinced. They can do anything together. They've already done so much. And if he wants to help keep the darkness out of the world, then this is what he has to do. 

He puts an arm round Scorpius's waist and nods. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we can do this. Maybe this is going to be a good term."

"Whatever happens," Scorpius says with a grin. "It'll be better than the last one." 

He almost falls over his own feet in his hurry to get back to the cauldron. The base Healing Potion looks almost done, or maybe that's just wishful thinking. The colour looks alright at least, and the steam is rising in little puffs like it should be... 

He kneels in front of the cauldron, uncertain and scared. He's always been able to trust his instincts, but can he do that today? What if he's misjudging it because he needs it to be ready? What if he tries to use the potion too early and it's not perfect and the cure fails? They only get one go at this. One go, and time is pressing. If there were ever a moment to take a risk, it's this one. 

The pale, glittering memory casts a silver reflection across the surface of the potion, and Albus stares down at it. Anything he does now could cost him everything. This – all of this, all the work they’ve done – is too precious to waste. It all comes down to this, and while he's normally good under pressure, having Scorpius's life in his hands isn't the sort of pressure he knows how to handle. 

His heart beats fast. Blood rushes in his ears. He draws in a deep breath. His hand shakes as he holds the wand out over the cauldron. Outside the rain is drumming down, bouncing on the patio tiles and the glass roof overhead. In the distance, one of Astoria's clocks begins to chime. Time is ticking by, time they don't have. 

Albus screws up every ounce of courage he has and twitches his hand, so the thin strand of memory detaches from the wand and flutters down, landing on the surface of the potion. For a moment it just lies there. Silver on blue. Then, with a sudden hiss, it dissipates into nothing, and the potion glows bright gold.

Thick bubbles begin to rise through it, popping, and sending wafts of peppermint scent out into the ballroom. Albus's heart clenches as he smells it, and he glances over in Scorpius's direction. 

He's still lying there, very still among the shadows. His face is screwed up like pain is tearing through him even while he’s unconscious, and Albus feels sick. He drags his gaze away from Scorpius and grabs the next ingredient, the closest one to him, the little bowl of crushed Basilisk Teeth. 

He scatters the powder into the cauldron. Just like the memory, it sits on the surface for a moment, before the potion starts to fizz and absorb it, and as it separates out and dissolves, the liquid goes a pale green. 

Albus glances down at the page of instructions he'd got out of the backpack earlier and flattened out on the floor. There's no detail. It doesn't tell him what colour the potion should be. It doesn't tell him how it should sound. It doesn't tell him the consistency. He's working in the dark, and all he can do is grit his teeth, carry on, and hope he doesn't make any mistakes. This is terrifying. 

He bows his head and screws his eyes shut, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. There are still tears on his face, he realises. He's still crying, even though he's been too focused to realise it. He brushes a hand across his cheeks and opens his eyes to continue.

When he does, he finds that the Pygmy Puff has come to sit on the edge of the recipe, like a little fluffy paperweight. Albus had almost forgotten it was here with them. 

"If he survives," he says to it, "if this works, I'll keep you. You'll be our lucky charm, or- or something." He nods and sniffs and wipes the back of his hand across his nose, then turns to the next of the ingredients. 

He hovers his hand over the charred bits of his dad's old wooden mobile, but then decides to go for the Phoenix Tears instead. Although he gets the sense from the recipe that the order he adds the ingredients doesn't really matter as long as they all go in, it still feels right to do this in order of significance. Like somehow if he saves the most important piece for last it'll strengthen the potion. Of course, choosing which items are most significant without Scorpius's help isn't easy, but he hopes he knows him well enough to get it right. 

He uncorks the vial of tears with a pop, and swirls the contents round and round. They're pearlescent, and a lot thicker than normal tears. They cling to the glass and roll slowly down the sides of the bottle. When Albus tips the vial upside down over the cauldron it takes several seconds for everything to leak out, so by the time the last drops hit the surface of the potion, the first tears are already spreading out, marbling the liquid with shimmering white. 

They don't hiss and dissipate the way the other ingredients have, and for a moment Albus is tempted to get his wand out and give the potion a stir. But then, all of a sudden, the surface changes to a soft silver, pearlescent like the tears had been, sparkling with a myriad of greens and pinks and purples where it catches the light. 

Albus exhales with relief and reaches once more for the charred wooden broomstick, this time with far more certainty. He holds the fragile old carving gently in his hands and thinks of his dad, of how the sacrifice that this represents saved his dad's life so many times; saved the whole world. He thinks about how desperate he is to go home and see his dad, and how Scorpius needs to see Draco again too, and how badly Draco must need to see him. 

Albus thinks of the kindness Draco showed him when he spent all those weekends sitting with Scorpius in the hospital. He's such a good dad, just like Albus's granddad must have been a good dad. And Astoria, even though she's gone, she was an amazing mum, and it sounds as though she was as full of love for Scorpius as Albus's grandmother was for Harry. Surely she would have made the same sacrifice as Lily did. In fact, in a way she did. She gave years of her life for Scorpius; Albus knows that sometimes that fact still haunts him. 

He holds the image of Astoria that Scorpius had shown him earlier, the one of her tending her rose garden, in his head as he tilts his hand and lets the bit of wood fall into the cauldron. 

It sits on the surface for a very long time, a lot longer than any of the other ingredients so far. After a heart-stopping second or two, Albus begins to genuinely worry that it won't dissolve, that maybe it's too solid, or that they've misunderstood the instructions and it isn't acceptable. But then he sees a gentle silver smoke come from the wood, and orange flames begin to curl across the surface, and as they do, the wood crumbles into ash and percolates out into the liquid, turning it a deep, inky red. 

He stares down at the potion, which is now bubbling sluggishly, and says a silent prayer to his grandma for her help with making this work. If there were any sacrifice in the world that would help save Scorpius, surely that one was enough? It has to be. It just has to. 

He draws in another slow, steadying breath and turns to the tiny bottle of Love Potion on the floor next to him. He picks it up and swirls the liquid round and round, so it glitters and sparkles as the Pearl Dust catches the light. He thinks about Scorpius saying that everything had hurt less as a Pygmy Puff. He's been through so much awful pain in the last few months. It's unthinkable, and Albus knows how good he is at keeping things to himself. Chances are Albus has no idea of how much he's really been hurting. 

He looks down at the little bottle of Love Potion, so insignificant. But a bottle just like this saved their lives once before. It saved everything. Why shouldn't it do the same now? 

Determined, he uncorks the bottle and tips it all into the cauldron in one go. It forms a rainbow swirl on top of the red, the tiny particles of Pearl Dust still shimmering in a pale, pastel sheen. As it mixes with the rest of the liquid, the whole thing goes a vibrant pink, and Albus doesn't waste a second more time wondering if that's what's meant to have happened. There's only one ingredient left. It's time to finish this.

Clenching his jaw in determination, he picks up the wand shards and holds them across the palms of his hands. He still regrets not being able to better protect Scorpius when they were kidnapped by Delphi. He wasn't strong enough to break his bonds and fight her. And even though he would have gladly given his life to save Scorpius, she would never have hurt him and spared Scorpius. He was too important to her plans. That day Scorpius was the spare. But never again. Never ever again.

Scorpius isn't disposable. Scorpius isn't someone that Albus can lose. He's an essential part of Albus's life and he has been since they met on the train six years ago. Him dying is unacceptable. It was unacceptable then and it's just as unacceptable now. Albus won't be responsible for it happening. 

Without another moment's hesitation, he tilts his hand and tips the two halves of the wand into the potion. 

The first thing that happens is that the unicorn hair dissolves in a flash of white sparks, stray bits of magic dancing across the surface of the potion as all the power that's been pent up for years releases in one final blaze of glory. And then the two pieces of wood are left lying there, mundane, somehow lesser without the powerful core that had held them together for so long. Albus feels almost sad to see them like that. 

He glances at Scorpius, lying very still just a few feet away, and he wonders what he would say if he could see this. Would he be upset? Or just fascinated by the process? Possibly both. Albus will have to describe this to him later in great detail no doubt. 

He stares at Scorpius and imagines him whole and healthy, sitting up in bed and chatting about potions and wands and how excited he is to get back to school. Soon. That will be a reality in just a few more minutes. It's tantalisingly close now. 

As Albus gazes at his unconscious form, there's a bright flash of light in the corner of his eye, and he hears the potion fizz and boil violently. He whips around to see the pieces of wand wood beginning to split and crack. 

The carvings break first, splintering apart where Scorpius has whittled the wood down to its weakest. Bits of bark come tearing away and float alone on the surface of the potion. Albus sees the section with the little carved crown and the A that stood for him begin to burn up and disintegrate into ash. The numbers Scorpius carved to mark the days since his mother's passing glow orange as fire creeps through them. The two halves of the wand seem to be catching fire from the inside out, as the molten liquid runs through them where the unicorn hair once was. 

And then, with a burst of curling yellow flame, the wand shards fall to ashes, and red-hot embers explode upwards from the cauldron, making Albus jump back to avoid being burned. The ensuing conflagration is so bright that Albus has to shield his eyes. Blazing white sparks fly upwards in a fountain, and the steam coming off the potion smells of peppermint, and dusty old books, and the slightly damp smell of the Slytherin common room. Albus inhales involuntarily, closing his eyes, and behind his eyelids the brightness begins to fade. Down from white, through red, to blackness. And when he opens his eyes again he sees that the potion is simmering gently, a soft, burnished gold, still sending out wafts of that wonderful-smelling steam. 

He looks down at the instructions once more. It says to stir the potion then let it keep simmering for five minutes. Albus glances at Scorpius, wondering whether they even have five minutes, but of course he can't rush this. It'll take as long as it takes. 

Steeling himself, he draws his wand and holds it over the cauldron. This is why he's been practicing potion making for years and years. This is why you practice doing anything. So that when you're under pressure and your mind is racing at a thousand miles an hour and you're panicking and afraid and doubting everything, the basics don't desert you, and you can still do what you need to. 

Although Albus's hand is shaking, his technique is perfect as he stirs the potion. Strong and symmetrical, very methodical, keeping up the perfect tempo. He doesn't even really need to think. He's operating on auto-pilot, concentrating on counting the stirs while his hands do whatever it is they need to. 

Three, four, five, six, seven stirs counter-clockwise. Then change direction and go back the other way. Two, three, four, five, six, seven. 

The potion is beginning to darken a bit, and all Albus can do is hope that it's meant to be like that. There are five minutes to wait until it's done. Then he can worry about whether it works or not. 

He waves his wand in a circle and casts a Tempus Charm, so a glittering golden clock appears in the air in front of him, slowly ticking down the seconds until his five minutes are up. 

With that set up there's nothing more to do. He adjusts the temperature of the fire beneath the cauldron, then scoops the Pygmy Puff up onto his shoulder and crawls across the floor to where Scorpius is lying. He sits beside Scorpius and gently lifts his head into his lap, stroking his fingers through the long, soft blond curls. 

"It's nearly done," he says. "It's nearly there now. Just a few more minutes, and then we can make you better." 

He gazes down at Scorpius and sees the pain contorting his face. It's awful but Albus is glad to see some sort of emotion there. It would be so easy to believe he was dead if he looked peaceful. But that pain is solid proof that Scorpius is alive in there somewhere. It's something to hold onto. 

"I don't know any Charms to make the pain stop," Albus tells him, voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I really am." He bows his head and wraps his arms round Scorpius. "You shouldn't have to feel like this."

Scorpius twitches in his arms, body convulsing, expression twisting in agony, and Albus wants nothing more than to calm him down, but there's nothing he can say or do, and he doesn't even know if Scorpius is aware that he's here. All he can do is hold onto him, and stroke his hair, and try to provide some sort of reassurance, in the hope that it's making a difference. 

He glances up at the clock. It's running far too slowly. Only a handful of seconds have passed since he set it running, even though it feels as though it's been an eternity. 

"Hold on," he whispers, leaning down close to Scorpius. "Keep fighting. You're so brave, Scorpius. Do you remember when you were in that other world? That was hell just like this, and you got through it. You told me it was because I was fighting alongside you. And this time I really am." He reaches down and takes hold of one of Scorpius's hands. "I'm here. I'm right here.”

It might be wishful thinking, but he swears he feels Scorpius's fingers tighten, and squeeze his hand in return. Imagined or not, Albus leans down and presses his lips to the back of Scorpius's hand. 

"That's it. I'm here. I've got you." He kisses Scorpius on the cheek. "I love you." He rests his forehead against Scorpius's and closes his eyes for a moment, then he glances back up at the clock. Still not enough time has passed, and greenish-grey shadows are spreading up from Scorpius's cheeks. Soon the poison will reach his mind. Soon it'll be too late. 

Albus takes a deep, shaky breath and looks outside, because it's too hard to look at Scorpius's face right now, between the pain and the encroaching disease. The sun is really beginning to rise now. The sky is starting to go blue, although there are still heavy clouds overhead, lit silver by the dawn. It's no longer raining, Albus realises. There's a freezing mist coating the grounds, but no more rain. Everything is silent and still, and the world smells fresh, like it’s been washed clean.

"Look, Scorpius," he murmurs. "The rain's stopped. I think it's going to be a nice day." He looks down at Scorpius's face, and as he does, as those first rays of sunlight illuminate the curves and contours of the boy he loves with all his heart, Albus crumbles. He bows his head and squeezes his eyes shut, as tears begin to run in rivers down his cheeks. "I need you to be here to see it," he begs, voice breaking. "Please." 

Then he curls up and buries his face in Scorpius's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. It's like the flood gates have opened. All the emotion he's kept under control for months and months finally releasing in one great wash. But there's nothing left to hold on for now. In a minute, literally a minute, the potion will be complete and it'll either work or it won't. He doesn't have to be strong anymore. This is the end. Live or die. And he's so utterly afraid. 

Even facing down Delphi wasn't as terrifying as this. When he did that he was in the heat of the moment. He didn't have time to think. He was running on pure adrenaline. But now, when it's a waiting game and everything is outside of his control... This is too much to cope with. So all he can do is sit here and cry out of fear and frustration. 

He clutches at Scorpius's body, holding on as tight as he can, because it's all he has the power to do. He can hear Scorpius's heart beating, feel his chest rising and falling in shallow little gasps. But for how much longer? 

Albus loses track of the seconds and minutes as he lies there, listening to all the signs that Scorpius is still alive for now, so when the Tempus Charm chimes out the end of his five minutes, he's not ready. 

He sits up and wipes his eyes. He sniffs. He gives Scorpius one last glance, then he crawls across the floor and turns the heat off beneath the cauldron. 

The potion has reduced a lot over the five minutes he's been waiting. Before there was an entire cauldron-full, but now he reckons there might only be enough for one dose, maybe a little bit more. But of course he doesn't even know how much of the potion Scorpius needs to take. Would a mouthful be enough? Or does he have to take all of it? 

His heart is racing. He's panicking again and his hands are trembling. The Pygmy Puff that's still clinging to his shoulder gives a soft purr, and Albus takes the hint. He needs to calm down or he's going to do something stupid like spill this everywhere. 

He turns to his backpack and goes rummaging for a potion bottle, something he can scoop the liquid into, but there's nothing. He smashed everything when he Splinched himself. But it's not a problem. He's in a magical house. Draco must have some potion bottles somewhere. 

He draws his wand and waves it round in a hopeful circle. "Accio potion bottle?" Nothing happens. Of course it doesn't. He doesn't sound nearly confident enough about it. 

He clears his throat and tries again, more confident this time. "Accio potion bottle!" 

There's a long beat of silence, then he hears a whooshing sound just outside the ballroom, and he looks up just in time to see a little glass bottle hurtling towards him. He reaches out and catches it before it can zoom past and smash on one of the columns, then he uncorks the bottle and reaches down to scoop up some of the now burnished bronze potion. 

He uses his wand to siphon it all into the bottle, careful not to waste a single drop. It fills the entire thing, right to the brim, almost spilling over, and Albus has to hold it very steady to keep from splashing it everywhere. 

He straightens up slowly, not taking his eyes off the potion for a second. It's tricky crossing the room with the flask so full, and he has to take it one step at a time, praying that his hands won't shake too much. The Pygmy Puff is sitting very still on his shoulder. He can almost feel it holding its breath so it doesn't knock his arm. 

Every step is heart-stopping. He inches closer and closer to Scorpius, aware of time ticking away. And when he gets there, kneeling down to Scorpius's level is the most terrifying thing yet. 

He holds his hand over the open bottleneck and feels liquid slosh against his skin, but none leaks out. As he reaches his knees he exhales with relief. This is as safe as he's going to get. Now all he has to do is figure out how to get Scorpius to drink it.

He sets the bottle down on the ballroom floor and reaches out to stroke Scorpius's hair. 

"Scorpius," he murmurs. "It's ready... How do I do this?" 

Scorpius gives a soft groan and tilts his head to one side. His face is all screwed up, and Albus takes hold of both his hands and holds on tight. 

"It's time to make you better. I don't know if you can help me... but if you can it'll make this easier." He bends down and kisses Scorpius's forehead. "We can do this together." 

For a moment he pauses there, clutching at Scorpius's hands. Then he sits up and pulls Scorpius's body into his lap, tilting his head up. Holding him there is awkward with one hand, a sort of balancing act to keep him upright and comfortable while also managing to hold the potion. In the end Albus lets Scorpius's head rest on his shoulder while he picks the bottle up. 

He carefully holds the bottle to Scorpius's lips then pauses. How does he do this without drowning him or spilling it everywhere or something? Is there a proper technique for this? It's the sort of thing Scorpius would know, and normally Albus would just ask. Not for the first time he's left wondering why this had to happen to Scorpius. Of all people. It's not fair. 

He's still panicking about what to do with the potion when Scorpius stirs. He barely seems awake. His eyes don't open. But he seems to have sensed the bottle by his lips, because he lifts his head an infinitesimal amount. Albus wastes no time in tilting the bottle for him, allowing a steady stream of potion to trickle into his mouth. 

Scorpius swallows down more than half the potion in one go, before Albus removes the bottle. There's just a small amount left, not nearly enough left for a dose on its own, and he isn't sure whether he should give Scorpius the rest of it now, or save it just in case. He doesn't even know how to tell if it's worked. 

He sets the leftover potion down on the floor and corks the bottle, just in case, then he looks down at Scorpius, searching his face for any signs that something's changed. A hint of less pain maybe, or to see if he's starting to stir... But there's nothing. Scorpius looks exactly the same as before. 

"Scorpius," he says. "Come on." 

He gives him a hopeful little shake and examines his face. Is some of the poison starting to melt away? No, it's just the shadows receding as the sun begins to rise. Scorpius's skin is as awful a colour as it ever was, and his eyes remain closed, his breathing shallow, and his heartbeat weaker than ever. 

"No," Albus says, shaking his head. "No. No! It has to have worked. Come on!" He gives Scorpius another shake, but Scorpius's head just flops back onto his shoulder, and Albus stops so he doesn't hurt him. 

A sense of pure dread starts to build up in the pit of Albus's stomach as the realisation dawns on him. It hasn't worked. Their last hope has failed. Something has gone terribly wrong. 

He slips out from beneath Scorpius, laying him on the floor, and scrambles frantically across to the list. Phoenix Tears, willow wood, Basilisk Teeth, the remnants of a sacrifice, the Love Potion, and the memory. That's it. There wasn't anything they missed. Albus knows his base healing potion was perfect, so it wasn't that. And Albus loves Scorpius with all his heart; it isn't possible to love someone any more, so it can't have been that he was the wrong person to drink the potion with either. What can possibly have gone wrong? 

He screws the parchment up in frustration and buries his face in his hands. Tears overwhelm him, hot and stinging with anger and disappointment and guilt. 

He's failed. His one job, to get this potion right, the one thing he should be able to do, and he's ruined it. And now Scorpius is going to die. 

A desperate sob racks his body, and he curls up into a ball on the ground. Scorpius is going to die. He's going to- It's all over. And it's entirely Albus's fault. 

He hugs himself tightly. He wants to go back and hold Scorpius, but he doesn't know if he deserves to. 

"I trust you." 

Scorpius's last words. And what has Albus done with that trust? 

He glances over his shoulder. Scorpius is a blurry shape behind all the tears, but when Albus wipes them away he can see that the poison has spread again, covering more of Scorpius's face, and it's creeping up from the other side too. There surely isn't long left now. Seconds maybe. Minutes at best...

He needs to be with his dad. 

The thought strikes Albus out of the blue.

If he's going to die it should be with his dad. Draco should see him one last time. And then maybe Albus can apologise for putting them all through this hell for nothing. It's what Scorpius would want, to be with his dad in his last moments. And it's what Draco would want too surely? With whatever time is left, this is what Albus has to do. 

He pushes himself off the floor, wiping his eyes furiously on his sleeve, and rushes back to Scorpius's side. He can Apparate to wherever Draco is. It'll take an instant. It'll be easy. And Draco can say goodbye. 

He crouches down on the floor beside Scorpius and hugs him tightly, thinking of wherever Draco would be... 

Where would Draco be? If Albus had to guess he'd say here at the Manor but clearly he isn't here now. What about the Ministry? But not at whatever time in the morning it is. St Mungo's? There's no reason, not if Scorpius isn't there. 

He casts around hopelessly and comes up blank. He doesn't know Draco nearly well enough to know where he'd be at a time like this. He's going to fail Scorpius again because he doesn't have any of the right answers. 

"Where do I go?" He asks the world at large in a broken whisper. "What do I do?" 

And as he buries his face in Scorpius's shoulder and breaks down sobbing uselessly, something begins to warm his heart, and he hears a rushing in his ears like a voice echoing across the distance, murmuring unfamiliar words in an unknown language. He doesn't know where it's coming from. He doesn't know what it means. But in this most dire of moments he knows what he has to do. 

He has to go home. 

On a whim he grabs the bottle of leftover potion, then he clutches at Scorpius's almost lifeless body and Apparates to his parents' house. 

---

Draco sits in the Potters' living room, numb and helpless. James is there too, sitting cross-legend on the sofa and staring blankly at the wall. He looks about as exhausted as Draco feels, and there's still glitter in his hair that he hasn't managed to get out yet. Normally his presence would bother Draco, but not today. Not when he's so out of his mind with worry that he doesn't care who's around as long as Scorpius comes home safe. 

Draco looks down at his hands, running his fingers round the band of his wedding ring. If Astoria were here she'd have some comforting words of advice. She'd know how to handle this. The waiting. The not knowing. She'd be in the kitchen making everyone tea, or she'd stand and rub his shoulders and murmur to him that everything will be okay. Even if she was terrified, she'd barely show it. She was always so matter-of-fact about this sort of thing. Life and death and sickness were her comfort zone in a way. She knew what she was doing with them and she just got on with it.

He raises his eyes to the heavens and sends a prayer in her direction. If she has it in her power to send him guidance and wisdom right now, or if she can do anything to bring Scorpius home, this is the moment she needs to act. He needs her, both he and Scorpius do, now more than ever. It's always been hard since they lost her, just the two of them figuring things out on their own, but now everything is so lonely and uncertain. He misses her so hard it aches. 

I need our son back, he thinks. I need Scorpius. And when he comes home I'll do better. I'll take better care of him. I can never do as well as you did, but I'll keep him safe. I'll try harder. My hardest has never been hard enough but if I had just one more chance... 

He can only imagine what she'd say to that. He thinks of her sitting beside him, putting an arm round his shoulders and resting her head against his. She'd tell him to stop being stupid, that he's done well enough, that there's nothing more he could have done. She'd tell him he did the right thing, that he's been letting Scorpius grow up and have freedom. Scorpius is an adult now, she'd say. He can face the world and stand on his own two feet. And she'd be right, although every time Draco thinks of Scorpius he can still see him learning to walk and talk and read, can still feel the chalk dust on his fingers from where he’d marked Scorpius’s height on the doorframe to Astoria's office, can still hear Scorpius babbling with excitement on his first day of school, and can still remember the look of pure wonder and joy on his face the day he'd got his O.W.L. results...

Scorpius is still so young. He's still a child. He's done so much but he's barely lived. Draco can still remember being eighteen years old and how much of a mess he'd been in, although Scorpius is far more sensible and a far better person than he ever was. By spreading his wings he can only bring joy and positivity to the world. That's all he's ever done. And Astoria would be right, that Draco has done the right thing in letting him have his freedom, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. That doesn't mean he doesn't wish he'd done more. Done better. Protected his son. 

He gives his head a little shake and looks down again, across at James, who's picking at a hole in the toe of his sock. It's the sort of thing Scorpius would do, until Draco would get too irritated by it and tell him to take it off and throw it away. But now Draco would give anything to have every single one of Scorpius's annoying little habits back in his life. The way he wipes his nose on his sleeve, the way he fiddles with everything. His mess, his noise, his incessant questions. Draco feels bereft of every single one. 

He rises sharply to his feet, and James looks up at him in surprise. Draco doesn't say anything to him, he just starts pacing up and down, glancing out of the window at the brightening yard every now and again, just in case. He can feel James's eyes on him, but ignores his gaze. 

He walks to the mantelpiece and picks up the clock, for something to do. He opens the back of it and inspects the fine gold cogs inside. There's one out of alignment and he nudges it back into place and adjusts the time by his own watch before setting the clock back in its spot between a photo of Albus laughing, and a photo of a very young James holding his baby sister. As he turns away from the mantelpiece to pace across the room again, James clears his throat. 

"Draco? Sir?" 

Draco stops in his tracks and looks at James. James swallows and looks suitably intimidated. 

"I-I just wanted to say... Albus knows. He knows he needs to bring Scorpius back to you, no matter what. He understands that Scorpius is your family." James pauses, thinking, then gives a small shrug. "I think he respects you. And I think he wants you both to be a team. Of everyone in the world, you two love Scorpius most of all. And he knows that. He really does." 

Draco considers him for a long moment, then he gives a curt nod and adjusts his cuffs. "Thank you," he says, unable to keep a twist of sarcasm out of his tone. This isn’t the moment to be lectured about this sort of thing. "For your insight into Albus's psyche." He keeps pacing without another glance at James, but James doesn't give up. He's as tenacious as his father. 

"It's true! All he wants is the best for Scorpius. That's it." 

Draco thinks back to that night when Albus had fallen asleep by Scorpius's hospital bed, in the middle of studying. That constant vigil Albus had kept. How he'd rushed to and from school, bringing books and notes and anecdotes and sweets. How he'd made Scorpius light up when it was difficult for anyone else to get him to smile at all. 

He looks at James and nods. "I assure you, I am very much aware."

"Really?" James asks, seeming eager to keep convincing. 

"Really," Draco says, meeting his eyes, and James sinks back against the couch cushions and runs a hand through his hair. 

"I just wish he'd come home," he sighs. 

"I know," is all Draco can think of to say to that. 

For five more minutes they exist together in complete silence, Draco pacing up and down the room, James chewing his nails and glancing out of the window. Both nervous and tense. Neither talking. Dwelling in mutual anxiety. 

Then, in the distance, there's the sound of the front door opening. 

James bolts to his feet, and he and Draco look at each other. 

"Dad," James says. 

Footsteps come clattering down the stairs overhead, then there's the sound of voices in the hall, Ginny and Harry discussing something. James screws his hands into fists and takes a breath. 

"I'm going to go and ask if the Aurors found anything," he says, and goes marching out of the room. 

Draco keeps pacing up and down, assuming that if there's any news they'll come to him. He doesn't want to get his hopes up. 

He's halfway down the room, walking towards the mantelpiece again, when the living room door opens and he turns to see Harry, Ginny, and James all walk in. Harry is leading the way, still wearing a travelling cloak and cleaning rain speckles off his glasses. Ginny follows, looking worried, and James trails along in the rear, flopping down on the sofa when he reaches it. 

"So?" He asks, stepping toward Harry. "Have you made any progress?" 

Harry sighs and slips his glasses back onto his face. "No," he says. "None." He sits down on the sofa next to James and runs a hand through his hair. "We've had people scouring the entire country. I've talked to everyone I can think of but there's nothing. And the results still haven't come back from the shop." He looks up at Draco, pale and tired. "I'm sorry. We're not giving up. There's just nothing more I can do at the Ministry. And I can't go out and look myself; Albus will run a mile if he sees me." 

Draco shakes his head and sits back down in the armchair, perched on the edge, heart sinking. "I understand," he says, trying to control his disappointment. 

"I'll go back in a few hours," Harry says. "I've told them to send a message if anything happens, but..." 

Draco waves a hand at him to indicate that it's fine, but he can't bring himself to say a word, because it really isn't fine. He rests his forehead on his hand and closes his eyes. 

"Coffee, Harry?" Ginny asks, and the answer must be a no, because the next moment Draco feels a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want anything?" She asks gently, and Draco looks up at her. 

"No," he says. "Thank you. I'm alright."

She gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze and looks over at James, who has slumped against Harry's side and seems unaware that there's any question being directed towards him. With a soft sigh, she walks across and sinks onto the arm of the sofa, ruffling her son's hair. Draco looks away from the three of them. 

There's a part of him that feels entirely unwelcome here. Among this family that's entirely whole, entirely intact, that knows they're going to get their son back even if they don't know when. They look so whole, all sat there together, and he feels alone. An intruder. With no family except a son who might already be dead. He wants to get up and go and stand in the yard to wait, because he doesn't belong here. He doesn't belong anywhere, except in his Manor full of painful memories, and with Scorpius. 

Outside the window the rain eases, and the sun rises, sending pale rays scattering across the rolling fields. Draco covers his face with his hand to shield his eyes, and stares blankly at the clock on the mantelpiece, as it ticks away the precious seconds he could be spending with Scorpius. 

He loses track of time. Loses track of everything. He barely knows where he's sitting or who he's sitting with. He hears distant whispering voices, but he doesn't comprehend them. There's nothing. Absolutely nothing. Apart from awful uncertainty and exhaustion and fear. 

A crack outside the window brings him back to his senses, making him jump. He looks up and around at the Potters. Harry is on his feet, frowning. 

"Someone Apparating," he says, looking at Ginny. He draws his wand. 

"Be careful," Ginny says, closing a hand on James's shoulder. 

Harry nods and starts towards the hall, and as he reaches it someone starts hammering on the front door. 

Draco gets to his feet, heart in his mouth. Whatever this is, it's urgent. And urgency might mean... he hardly dares think what it might mean.

Ginny looks across at him and gives a tight, nervous smile, which he doesn't manage to return. James gets up and hovers by his mum's side, trying to peer down the hall after his dad but not seeming to have much luck. 

In this distance they hear another loud bang on the door, and the sound of someone shouting, although it's impossible to hear what they're saying

"I'm coming!" Harry calls back. "Just a moment." 

There's the click of a lock, the creaking of the door opening, and then the high-pitched, hysterical voice starts shouting again. 

"I need Draco!"

"Albus!" Harry gasps in surprise.

"Please, he needs- Dad, no! Draco. Please. Where is he?" 

Draco has never moved faster in his life. He darts down the hall without pausing for another thought, knocking James aside on the way. He doesn't stop to apologise. There's just one thing in his mind. Albus is asking for him. Albus is here. And if Albus is here then so is Scorpius. 

When he reaches the front door he sees Harry crouching in the doorway, reaching out to his son who seems to have collapsed on the doorstep. Albus is holding something – someone – in his arms. Scorpius. Pale and still and sick-looking, with a horrible green-grey tinge to his skin. 

Draco's heart stops and something inside him goes ice cold. 

"Move, Potter," he says, gesturing for Harry to get out of the way. 

Harry glances up at him but doesn't need telling twice. He scrambles aside, and Draco kneels down to Albus and Scorpius's level. Albus stares at him, wild-eyed.

"Draco," he says, and his voice breaks, maybe with relief, maybe with desperation. His face is tear-stained, and he's clutching Scorpius like his life depends on it. He's gripping him so hard that his finger-tips are going white, and he looks a mess. 

"He's alive," Draco says, it's not a question because he won't accept one of the answers. Scorpius has to be alive. 

Albus gives a sort of hiccuping sob and nods.

Draco's heart unclenches a bit and he reaches out. "Albus, let go of him. Give him to me." 

Albus takes a shuddering breath. "He's going to die," he says, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "He's going to- I'm sorry. I tried to save him. I-I tried, but... He's dying." 

Draco shakes his head. "No," he says, with an ice-cold sense of determination. "He's not. Not if I have anything to do with it." He beckons to Albus. "Give him to me, please." 

Albus hesitates, and Draco wonders if he's afraid that if he hands Scorpius over now he might never hold him again while he's alive. It's a fear he can understand perfectly. 

"I can save him," Draco says, meeting Albus's eyes, voice low and as steady as he can make it. There's a bottle in Albus's hand, less than half-full with bronze liquid. He points to it. "Is that the potion?" 

Albus sniffs and nods. "Yes. I-it didn't work. I don't know why. I did everything. The ingredients... we had everything. I-I'm sorry." 

"I know," Draco says, struggling to maintain his calm when inside his heart is racing. The potion is here. Scorpius is here. He can make it okay. He has everything he needs, and he can do this. "Albus, I need Scorpius. I need you to bring the potion, and I need you to trust me. Can you do that?" 

Albus looks down at Scorpius, then back up at Draco. He gives a very small nod and relaxes his grip. 

"Thank you," Draco breathes in pure relief. He reaches out and gathers his son into his arms, then he struggles to his feet, holding Scorpius tight. 

Ginny and James have moved into the living room doorway to watch, but they both step out of the way when Draco turns to them. 

"Bring him in here," Ginny says, voice unsteady, gesturing Draco inside. "Put him on the sofa. He'll be more comfortable." 

Draco can feel how tense Scorpius is in his arms, like he's in intense pain. His face is screwed up, and his hands are folded across his stomach, both balled up tight and shaking. His breathing is so shallow and weak that Draco can barely feel it. He doesn't want to know the state his son's heartbeat is in. It won't be good. And as much as he hates to admit it, he's all too aware that Scorpius is clinging to life by a thread the width of spider silk right now. 

He can remember the day when Astoria was in a condition like this. There was only one day when she was this bad, and that was the day she never saw the end of. And now Scorpius is just as bad, and he might not see the end either, and-

He pauses and exhales, trying to calm himself down, trying not to run away with himself. He glances over his shoulder to see where Albus is, to see the whereabouts of the potion, and he sees Harry and James helping Albus up. James crushes his brother in a tight hug, but Albus pushes him away and walks toward Draco, jaw tight with determination. He's unsteady on his feet, he's a tearstained, snotty mess, but he doesn't look like someone who'll be parted from Scorpius for a second. 

It takes some manoeuvring to get Scorpius through the doorway without hurting him, but once they're in the living room, Draco takes him straight to the sofa and sets him down. Ginny conjures a blanket from nowhere and drapes it over him, tucking the edges beneath his body, then retreating beside Harry and James to give Draco space. 

Draco strokes a hand through Scorpius's ruffled, faintly pink, hair. He vastly prefers the pink to the greenish-grey of Scorpius's skin, like there's some poison creeping inside him. It looks awful. Alarming. And it hasn't escaped his notice that there are only a few inches of skin on his forehead that remain their usual milky-pale colour.

"Albus," Draco says, looking up and beckoning to him. "Bring me the potion." 

Albus comes over and kneels down next to him, uncorking the potion and handing it to him before taking hold of one of Scorpius's hands. 

"I love him," Albus says in a broken little voice. "It should have worked. I-I don't know what went wrong."

"Nothing went wrong," Draco says. "It just needs to be me." He slides an arm round Scorpius's back and lifts him into a sitting position, propping him up against a pillow. "Is there anything I need to do?" He asks, looking at Albus. "Does he just need to drink it?" 

Albus nods forlornly and wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "Y-yes," he sniffs. "Yes, but-" He gulps in a breath and shakes his head, seeming to crumble before Draco's eyes. "I-I don't want him to die..." He buries his face in his hands and sits down hard on the floor like he can't hold himself anymore. Ginny comes over to pick him up. She wraps her arms round him and gathers him in, helping him to his feet and holding onto him. This time he doesn't resist. He doesn't seem to have the energy left. He turns and buries his face in his mum's shoulder, and she strokes his hair and murmurs softly to him as she guides him a couple of feet away, leaving Draco alone by the sofa with Scorpius. 

He looks down at his son's contorted, uncomfortable face; the closed eyes and slightly parted lips as he struggles to breathe; the small space of healthy skin that seems to be slowly vanishing. He brushes his fingers along Scorpius's jaw, inspecting him for what might be the last time. Then he picks the potion up, raises it to Scorpius's lips, and starts to trickle it into his mouth. 

He's not sure if Scorpius is swallowing. He's not sure if Scorpius is capable of drinking anything anymore. This might just be doing more harm than good. But this is all there is left to do, and it's the only chance they have. 

A bit of bronze potion dribbles down Scorpius's chin, but most of it stays in his mouth. All Draco can do is hope he's drinking it not drowning in it. It's not at all clear whether this is having any impact at all. Would it be instantaneous if it worked? How does he tell? Will there be some miraculous effect? 

The last of the potion drains out of the bottle and Draco pulls it back from Scorpius's lips and wipes the spillage from his chin. Uncertain, Draco places the bottle on the ground and looks down at his son. It's all down to Scorpius now. 

Draco brushes his fingers through Scorpius's hair, wanting to comfort him and let him know he's here. He remembers when Scorpius was very little and he'd get ill. They would wrap him up in blankets and hug him, and sometimes Astoria would sit and tell him stories or sing to him. He always looked so peaceful, lying there with his eyes closed, letting her stroke his hair while she told him about far off, imaginary lands, or people from the past, or little anecdotes from work. Draco could never tell stories like that, but he's learned over the last few months that he can still offer Scorpius comfort. He may not be Astoria, but he's been good enough. 

He leans in close and kisses Scorpius's forehead. "I'm here," he murmurs. "I won't leave you. I love you." 

Because he's so close, Draco hears Scorpius's last gasp of air. A short, desperate, throaty little breath. He sits back and sees the poison seep into that final bit of skin. He sees Scorpius's face relax. 

His heart constricts, and he shakes his head. "No," he whispers. "No. Scorpius... come on." He cups Scorpius's face in both hands and stares at him, willing him to keep going. "You can't leave," he murmurs, voice hoarse. "You can't. You're not dead. You're not dead!" 

It comes roaring out of him, and he doesn't mean to shout. It's been years since he told Scorpius off. But this is unacceptable. Scorpius can't die. Draco won't let him. It will not happen. 

"You're not dead," he repeats, this time in a broken whisper. And there are tears prickling his eyes. Hot. Stinging. He blinks as fast as he can and looks away from Scorpius for a moment. It's a terrible mistake, because as he does he remembers that Harry and Ginny and Albus and James are all standing there, all watching him, all seeing this display. But he doesn't care. He can't care. His son is-

He chokes and a tear spills down his cheek. He bows his head and squeezes his eyes shut, taking hold of both of Scorpius's hands and holding them tight. Behind him he can hear Albus's noisy sobs, and Ginny murmuring to him. He wishes there were someone to comfort him too, but he's alone. Completely alone. And Scorpius is gone. 

He rests his forehead against Scorpius's hands as tears dribble down his cheeks. The last time he cried like this was the last time he lost someone he loved. But he made sure no one could see him then, and he still had someone to hold on for. He had Scorpius. And now he's never felt more alone in his life. Not on top of the Astronomy Tower, not in the years after the war, not when Astoria died, not even when Scorpius went missing in fourth year. This is true loneliness. 

And then, just as Draco is beginning to contemplate the desolate life he's now faced with, he feels one of Scorpius's fingers twitch beneath his hand. 

He sits up in shock. Scorpius is a blur through the tears, and Draco brushes them away quickly. 

"Scorpius?" He breathes, hardly daring to believe it. 

Scorpius inhales deeply, chest rising, and his eyelids flicker. Draco reaches out a shaking hand and brushes a curl of hair off his son’s forehead. It might be wishful thinking, but it looks like the horrible colour is fading from his face. He still looks pale, but the shadow of the illness is disappearing, and there's a sort of bronze glow running down the veins in his neck, and across his hands and wrists. 

"Scorpius," Draco says again, squeezing his hand tight. "Can you hear me?" 

Scorpius exhales, and this time he opens his eyes. "Dad?" He says in a hoarse whisper, and Draco just stares at him, at all the life that's shining in his gaze, unable to speak or move or do anything but drink in the miracle he's seeing right in front of him. 

Scorpius blinks twice and finally seems to focus. As he looks up at Draco's face a tiny, weak smile flickers across his lips. "Hi, Dad. I missed you." Then he closes his eyes again, still smiling, and he falls asleep. 

His breathing continues, soft and slow but steady; the way someone should breathe when they're sleeping. Draco takes his hand and feels his wrist for a pulse, which is also steady, and as strong as ever. The bronze light in his veins seems to be burning the sickness away, and even as Draco watches, it completes its work and fades away. Scorpius is restored. It's over. 

As that thought hits, he realises he's shaking with relief. He puts both his arms round Scorpius and gathers him up into a tight hug, rocking him and littering his hair with kisses. 

His son is alive. Everything is going to be okay. 

He glances round and sees Albus, standing and staring at Scorpius. He looks completely stunned, mouth open, tears still flowing down his cheeks. Draco lays Scorpius down on the sofa, making sure the blanket is tucked around him, and gets to his feet. He walks across to Albus and looks him in the eye. 

"Thank you," he says softly, and it's all he can think of to say. So instead of trying to find more words he gathers Albus's small, shocked form into a hug. 

Albus doesn't seem to know what to do with himself. He just stands there and accepts it. When Draco releases him he reels back, running a shaking hand through his hair, and Ginny catches him. 

"I think we all need some rest," she says. "Don't you?" She looks round at Harry and James, who are standing together by the door. 

Harry gestures to the two younger boys. "Do they need to go to the hospital? Someone should look at Scorpius. And Albus's shoulder-" 

"No," Draco says, glancing back at Scorpius. He doesn't know how but he’s certain that Scorpius is in no more danger. He should go back to the hospital but not tonight. "The journey could just do him more damage," he says. "I think he should rest here, and I'll take him tomorrow." 

"Albus," Harry says. "I'll just take Albus then." 

"No!" Albus pulls out of his mum's arms and backs away towards the sofa. "I'm not going. I'm not leaving him." 

Harry sighs. "But Albus-" 

"Dad," James murmurs. "He's made it this long. One more night won't kill him."

Albus glares defiantly at his dad, standing right in front of Scorpius, arms folded, jaw tight. 

Harry raises his hands in defeat. "Fine. But you're going tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow," James says, walking across to his brother and taking hold of his arm. "But now he's going to sleep. Aren't you, Albus?” He gives Albus a very significant look, and Albus glances at Scorpius. 

"We can take him upstairs," Ginny says, gesturing to Scorpius. "We should make sure he's comfortable. He can go in Lily's room, or-" 

"Put him in mine," James says. "The bed's bigger. And there's room for people to wait with him. Lily's room is tiny." 

Ginny nods and walks across to Draco. "I can help you with him," she says, and Draco feels so numb with exhaustion and relief that he doesn't have energy to insist on doing it himself. He just follows behind as Ginny conjures a stretcher and carefully levitates Scorpius up to the first floor. 

And there, as the bright rays of morning sunlight spill through James's window, he sits beside his son's sleeping form and tries to absorb the fact that everything really is okay. Scorpius really is safe. And their tiny family is still intact. 

Elsewhere in the house, Albus allows James to find him some pyjamas and guide him to the bathroom. Apparently he still has make up all over his face and looks a mess, not that he cares much. James insists he takes a shower, even though he doesn't really want to. All he wants is to sit and wait for Scorpius to wake up again. Sit and watch him breathe. Sit and check his heart beat every few seconds, to convince himself that he really is alive. 

He's been living with Scorpius's illness for so long that the end of it, Scorpius's survival, Scorpius being okay, doesn't seem real. He's been planning and worrying and working for so long, and now it's over. They've done it. Everything he's done has been worth it, and Draco thanked him. 

The realisation hits him as he's leaving the bathroom, hair still wet from the shower, wearing a spare pair of James’s pyjamas that swamp his body. It suddenly dawns on him that it's really over. Really really. They're free. This shadow hanging over them has gone. He doesn't have to panic every time Scorpius holds his hand or hugs him or tells him he loves him. And best of all, he and Scorpius can finally plan their second date. 

His legs give out under him and he sinks to the ground, burying his face in his hands, and James is the one who's there to hug him, careful of his shoulder, and tell him everything is alright. Albus buries his face in his brother's chest and squeezes his eyes shut. 

"I did it," he whispers. "We did it. We- H-he's alive."

"Yes," James says, crushing him in a tight, joyous hug. "He is."

He finds that he's staring up at a red and gold Gryffindor banner that's been draped from the ceiling overhead and tacked to the wall behind him. He's definitely not in hospital then, and he's not at home either. The only people he knows who are Gryffindors are the Potters and the Granger-Weasleys, but he has no recollection of how he would have got to either house. 

The ceiling beyond the banner is a clean white, with nothing else to mark who it might belong to. It's difficult to see anything else in detail because the whole room is full of shadows. He can see that the curtains have been drawn, and although there are still wintry rays creeping through, they're not enough to see much by. 

He lifts a hand to rub his eyes, and discovers that his arms feel very heavy and weak still. The second he moves he feels exhausted, so he stops doing that and just smooths his hands over the bed clothes instead. He can deal with the bit of sleep still clinging to the corners of his eyes. He's going to have to. Since he can't move much he tilts his head to the side to see if he's alone, and to work out where he is. 

The first person he sees is Albus. He's curled up in a chair a little bit away from the bed, and he looks to be fast asleep, the Pygmy Puff that had followed them from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes also asleep on his lap. There's a blanket wrapped round him, and he has the hood up on the jumper he's wearing. Nothing but a little tuft of hair is sticking out from underneath, and Scorpius grins. He looks adorable. He always looks adorable. When he's sleeping he usually looks so peaceful, but today the awkward angle of his head where it's nodding against his chest is making his expression all grumpy and scrunched up. Scorpius has the urge to get up and kiss him awake and tell him how cute he looks, but if he couldn't even raise his arm then the distance between the bed and Albus's chair is unassailable. 

He sighs and keeps looking around, rolling his head to the other side. The second person he spots, the only other person who seems to be in the room right now, is Ginny. Not who he'd have expected at all. Maybe he is in the Potters' house... She's sitting in an armchair, reading a book by wandlight, and she definitely isn't asleep. 

Scorpius clears his throat cautiously, unsure if he can still speak or not. "Mrs Potter?" His voice comes out a little hoarse, but stronger than he'd expected. 

She jumps in surprise. Apparently she wasn't expecting him to be awake. She almost drops the book, losing her page as she fumbles with it and throws it onto the chair behind her. She rushes to her feet, and hurries across to the bed. 

"You're awake!" She says. "We were expecting you to be asleep for hours yet. If we'd known-" She gestures towards the door. "Harry persuaded your father to go downstairs and get some food. He should be back in a minute." She hovers a hand over Scorpius's head, like she wants to stroke his hair but isn't sure if she's allowed, and the look of concern on her face is so intense that he briefly worries if he should be more concerned about his own condition. "How do you feel?" 

Scorpius thinks. He wiggles his fingers and his toes. His toes seem a lot more sluggish, like they're taking a lot of convincing, but they do work. He's definitely not in any pain. His chest feels clear and relaxed. He just feels good all over. Tired and slow and heavy, but honestly so wonderful that he feels like he might cry with relief. 

He looks up at her and grins. "I feel... phenomenal." 

Her concerned expression melts into a warm smile, and now she brushes her fingers through his hair like she can no longer help herself. "That's very good news." 

"It is," he says, nodding enthusiastically. His head swims when he does that, so he stops and closes his eyes. 

The bed sinks next to him, and he peeks out to see that Ginny's perched beside him. 

"Your dad wanted you to go to hospital once you were awake," she tells him. 

"Oh," Scorpius says, a tiny hint of worry beginning to niggle at him. "Am I not cured properly? I'm quite comfortable here..." 

"No," she says, shaking her head. "As far as we know the potion worked. I think he just wants you checked over. He wants you somewhere safe while you recover." 

Scorpius thinks about the idea of going back to hospital, and somehow it doesn't feel so bad anymore. The knowledge that he'll be able to leave again relatively soon is a big positive. And he has to admit that the thought of just being able to lie in bed and sleep for hours on end is appealing, although he hopes the food has improved considerably since last time he was there.

He glances in Albus's direction. "Has he already been?" He asks. "For his shoulder?" 

Ginny smiles and shakes her head. "He refused to leave your side. The plan was to take you both together. Sooner rather than later if possible." 

So they would both be in the same building. Maybe even on the same floor. They could visit each other. "Okay!" Scorpius chirps, with far more energy than he feels. 

Ginny takes a breath, and he turns away from Albus and looks at her expectantly. 

"Do you remember anything that happened?" She asks. 

"No, not much. Just waking up and seeing Dad,” Scorpius says, his enthusiasm fading. He feels curious about it, but he's not too keen to hear about whatever Albus went through to get him here. And the image of his dad's face, stained with tears, doesn’t make him any more excited. His dad never cries. There can't be anything good that happened while he was unconscious. 

"Albus," she says. "He tried to heal you, with the potion. He made it perfectly.” she glances in his direction, a soft, proud expression on her face. "But it didn't work. So he brought you here to us, because he thought you should be with your dad. And when your dad gave you the potion it did work. It seemed for a second like it might not, but we got there in the end." She gives Scorpius a gentle smile. "And now you're better. Because those two-" she gestures to Albus, and out of the door towards where Draco must be "-love you." 

Scorpius looks across at Albus and wonders, a little thought niggling in his brain. He knows he's supposed to be healed but he hasn't tested it yet. He hasn't pushed the boundaries. And he knows what he desperately wants to tell Ginny now, and he knows that it would be pushing the boundaries. It would be the perfect test. And he wants to be sure.

Throwing all caution to the wind, he turns to Albus's mum and takes a breath. "Ginny- Um, Mrs Potter...” he says. "I'm in love with your son." 

Ginny's expression splits into a small, sparkling smile and she nods. "I know." 

But Scorpius almost doesn't care about her reaction. He's glad that she knows, that she doesn't have a problem with it, but right now he has other even bigger priorities. What he cares about is his heart. Because instead of aching and constricting and sending pain tearing through his body, it sings and soars and keeps beating just the way it should, full of love and free of agony. And even though he's completely exhausted, even though there's not an ounce of energy left in him, he gives a delighted little wiggle and beams. 

He's completely cured.

---

Scorpius tries with everything he's got to stay awake until his dad comes back, but he can't do it. He chats to Ginny a bit longer, but eventually starts yawning, and without even realising it's happening, he drifts asleep with his face turned toward Albus.  He sinks into a deep, dreamless, refreshing sleep. It's so much easier to rest now he isn't in constant pain, and now he can actually breathe. It also helps not having to worry about being found, and having a comfortable bed in a warm house. He hasn't slept this well in a very long time. 

When he wakes again he drifts lazily towards consciousness, becoming aware of the softness of the bed, and the heaviness of his limbs. Then he recognises whispering voices. Ginny again, and that's his dad! 

He sits bolt upright, so desperate to see his dad that he doesn’t take a second to think. Immediately he regrets it. The whole world starts spinning and he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling more than a little bit sick. A pair of strong, solid arms wrap round him, holding him steady, and lowering him back against the pillows. 

"Are you alright?" His dad asks. 

Scorpius nods and draws in a deep breath. "Sorry. Sat up too fast." He opens his eyes and looks at the amazing sight of his dad's face, currently creased with worry, but so familiar, so welcome. He feels like he's finally home. 

Relief washes through him. He hadn't realised how much he's missed his dad, but now it comes crashing down on him. He's been so tired and so sick and he's had to cope on his own, but now his dad is here to take care of him. He's not on his own anymore. And he hasn't broken his dad's heart. 

The tears seem to come from nowhere. He's not expecting them. Suddenly they're just there, flooding his vision and pouring down his cheeks. He closes his eyes and tries to wipe them away before his dad sees, but he's not fast enough.

"What's wrong?" His dad asks, voice urgent and concerned. "Does something hurt? Scorpius, are you still in pain?" 

Scorpius shakes his head and wipes his eyes on the back of his trembling hand. "No. I-I'm okay." He looks up at the blurry shape of his dad and sniffs. "I just missed you. I-I love you, Dad." He buries his face in his hands, whole body shaking as he sobs. Then he feels the bed sink, and his dad's arms go round him again, this time drawing him in as close as they can, and wrapping him up in a warm, comforting hug. 

"I missed you too," his dad says, and his voice breaks. Scorpius feels his dad's fingers stroking his hair, and he buries his face in his dad's chest and clings to him as hard as he can. He can feel hot tears plopping down on his head, and he knows his dad is crying too. But that's not bad. At least they're crying together, because they're glad to be reunited. Scorpius isn't sure whether he's ever been more glad of anything before in his life. 

For a long time they keep holding on to each other. Scorpius doesn't think he ever wants to let go. He could just stay here, being hugged by his dad, safe and warm, for the rest of his life. This would be enough, after everything. But eventually his tears dry up, and his head starts to ache from crying so hard, and he releases his grip so he can sink back onto his pillows. His dad lets him lie down, but stays perched beside him on the bed, hands clenched in his lap. 

They're alone now, Scorpius realises. Ginny must have slipped away at some point. And when he looks around he sees that Albus is no longer in his chair, although the blanket is draped haphazardly over it, like he's only left temporarily, and the Pygmy Puff is still curled up there. 

"Where's Albus?" He asks. 

Draco glances at the chair. "I think he went to talk to his father. They didn't want to disturb you." 

Scorpius sighs. "At this rate I'll never manage to talk to him..." 

"I can go and tell him you're awake?" His dad offers. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "No. No. I wanted to see you too. I don't think I can handle both of you at once. I don't even know if you can handle each other..." It suddenly occurs to him that he has no idea if his dad is angry at Albus or not. What if they hate each other now? What if his dad blames Albus for taking him away or something? 

His dad seems to realise what he's thinking, because he looks at him intently. "Albus created the potion that saved your life. He brought you here to me at the right moment... Running off with you may not have been advisable, and I wish he'd asked for help earlier, but I can't blame him entirely for that. I'm sure you had a hand in it too. And it all ended up..." He gives a very small smile. "I think it ended up quite well, don't you?" 

"I wanted to go," Scorpius says. "We decided to do it together, me and him. There wasn't another option." He looks at his dad. "I don't know how much you know, about the disease, and the potion, and everything..." 

His dad's expression turns grave. "I know enough."

Scorpius nods. "Then you understand that this was the only option. And there wasn't time to wait for everyone to discuss it. I would have died. I think..." He twists his hands together on top of the blankets and looks down at them. "I think I nearly did." 

"I'm not upset with either of you," Draco says. "Given the circumstances."

"Are you really not mad? Not even at Albus?" Scorpius stares at him, a little incredulous.

"He's Harry Potter's son," Draco says with a wave of his hand. "He can't help it." 

Scorpius grins, and he meets his dad's eyes, the two of them exchanging a mischievous, glinting smile. 

"You know," Scorpius says. "Aside from the fact that I'm alive, I'm really glad I went on the adventure. We visited all sorts of really cool places. We saw dragons, Dad! Baby dragons. And we met Fawkes, you know Dumbledore's Phoenix?"

"Is this what you wrote about in all those letters?" Draco asks, and Scorpius frowns. 

"How do you know about the letters? I'm alive. You were only supposed to hear about those if-"

Draco nods and looks down at his hands. "I know. Your friend Rose thought the worst had happened. A misunderstanding." 

Scorpius stares at him in horror. "And did you believe her? Did you read them?" 

His dad looks sharply up at him. "No. No I didn't. Believe her or read them. I didn't want it to be true, and I didn't want to read the letters until I knew for sure." 

Scorpius relaxes. "Okay," he says. "Good. I wanted to tell you those stories myself." 

"No doubt you'll talk my ear off for hours about them." An amused little smile twists across Draco's lips. "I'm looking forward to it." 

Scorpius grins. "My favourite part was being turned into a Pygmy Puff," he says. "That was fun. I never realised how fluffy they are." 

"A Pygmy Puff..." his dad says sceptically. 

Scorpius nods. "A pink one. Albus was purple. It was one of the traps in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

Draco eyes him. "Is that why your hair is pink? Weasley's shoddy Transfiguration work?" 

Scorpius gasps in sheer delight, and tugs on a strand of his hair, trying to examine it. "My hair is pink?" It still looks its usual pale blond colour to him, but there might be a slight tinge... it's difficult to tell. 

His dad smiles. "Just a little bit. I didn't know pink hair was something you wanted." 

Scorpius shrugs, now picking at a different strand to try and see if it's any more pink than the other bit. "It's not really. But it is a bit different. Pink suits me." 

"You need to get your hair cut," Draco says, reaching out and brushing one of Scorpius's long curls behind his ear. "It'll be as long as mine soon." 

Scorpius pulls a face. "It's not nearly that bad. Look." He tries to pull it back into a ponytail and is left with just a few curly tufts sticking out the back of his head. "Yours is worse. I'll never have hair like yours." 

Draco smirks. "That was what I used to say to my father." 

Scorpius shudders and flops dramatically back against his pillows. "I wouldn't be seen dead with hair like grandfather's." 

His dad laughs. "I'm glad I've raised you with so much sense." 

"I think I got that from Mum, actually." 

"Touché," Draco says with a smile. 

Scorpius smiles too, but then he looks down at the blankets and his smile fades as a thought occurs to him, a sad thought that bubbles up inside him and makes his heart ache. He picks at a crease in the red and gold material of James's Gryffindor bedspread and bites his lip. His dad's eyes are on him, he can feel them, and he knows that his dad knows something is bothering him. 

"Dad," he murmurs, without looking up. "I wish..." He swallows. "I wish Mum could have felt like this. You know. Better. I-I wish she could have felt like...” It's impossible to put into words how he feels, so he just shakes his head. "Like I feel now." He glances up at his dad. "It's really good." 

And then there are tears in his eyes again. Because he misses her. Because what if there was some secret unknown way of curing what was wrong with her but they never found the right place to look? Because she'll never get to feel the relief and happiness of being cured, of having all the pain melt away as quickly as it came, of getting to have a life after the illness.

He sniffs and wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his pyjamas. "I'm sorry." 

"No," his dad says, and his eyes are ablaze all of a sudden, like clear, bright, silvery winter sunshine. "Don't you dare apologise." He pauses and thinks very hard for a minute, fists clenched, something in his face twitching as he searches for exactly the right words. Scorpius doesn't try to say anything else. He doesn't think he can. He just keeps wiping his eyes on his sleeve. 

Finally his dad twists to face him. "We searched for years to find a way to cure your mother. We looked everywhere. But there was nothing. And she always knew she was going to die young. She was... at peace with the idea. I think your circumstances are entirely different, and I will not let you feel guilty for surviving. Do you understand me?"

Scorpius gives a quiet sniff and nods. "Yes, sir." He doesn't know why it comes out so formally. There's just something sharp and authoritative in his dad's voice. It reminds him a little of the intimidating authority of that Draco he'd met in the other world.

Draco blinks at him, apparently taken aback by the words, but then he gives a small nod and sits back. "Good." There's a brief moment of silence in which Scorpius inspects the tear sodden cuff of his pyjama top, then he senses his dad's eyes on him again and looks up. 

This time when Draco speaks his voice is lower, and very serious. "I wish every day that we could have saved her, and I am very very glad that I still have you. Losing you both would have been..." He trails off, but leans forward once more and points across at Scorpius. "Your mother would have wanted to see you this way. She would have been overjoyed. All she ever wanted was your happiness."

Scorpius stares at him, tears still blurring his vision. "Do you- d'you think?"

Draco shakes his head. "No. I know it... She loved you, Scorpius. She would-" He pauses and runs his fingers round the outside of his wedding ring. "She would sometimes talk about all the things she could imagine you doing with your life, and how sad she was to be missing them, but I know that she wanted you to have every opportunity and lead a good, long, healthy life. She would have wanted this for you. She would have wanted you to get better, and have the chance to fulfil your potential. So I want you to never apologise, and never feel guilty, for being alive."

"Okay," Scorpius whispers. He twists his fingers together on top of his blankets and closes his eyes. He feels overwhelmed and exhausted. He isn't sure if he wants to lie here and keep crying, or if he wants to curl up and sleep for as long as he can. Whatever he does, he knows it's not going to be easy to stop being sorry. The idea of his mum existing, happy and healthy and with a future, is too compelling not to feel sad for its loss. And right now he wishes desperately that she were here to give him a hug. He hasn't wanted it more in years. 

He feels the touch of a hand on his arm, and he opens his eyes to see his dad frowning down at him.

"Are you alright?" 

Scorpius sniffs and shakes his head, and his dad suddenly looks deeply sad. He bows his head, and the blazing light in his eyes turning to shadow. 

"I'm sorry, Scorpius." 

There's something in his tone that makes Scorpius sure that he's apologising for so many things. Not protecting him well enough, not saving Astoria, not being able to replace her. And now Scorpius perfectly understands why his dad wouldn't let him apologise for anything, because of course there's nothing to be sorry for. It‘s not his fault. If Scorpius could choose, of course he'd rather have both his parents, but he loves his dad with everything in his heart and soul, and he doesn't know where he would be without him.

"Dad..." he murmurs. "You know the potion? The one that healed me." 

His dad nods and looks up. "Of course," he says. 

"Well... one of the ingredients I had to put in was a memory. A good memory, of love... And I, um- I used one with us."

"Did you?" His dad asks, in a tight, restrained voice.

Scorpius nods. "After we got back from Godric's Hollow. When we sat and talked about everything, and we had hot chocolate. That was when I knew you loved me. I haven't forgotten. It's one of my favourite memories..." He looks down at his hands because he doesn't think he can handle seeing his dad's reaction, so all he hears is a quiet, shaky breath.

"Yes," his dad says. "I remember it too." And then Scorpius finds himself swept up in another very tight, very warm hug, the sort he wishes would go on forever. He closes his eyes and holds onto his dad as tight as he can, determined to express as much love and appreciation as he can without saying a word. 

When they finally part, he lies on his side facing his dad, refusing to let go of his hand, and closes his eyes. He wants to stay awake, wants to keep talking about the potion, wants to wait for Albus to come back, but he can't manage to stay conscious any longer. The last thing he does before he falls asleep is grip his dad's hand as tight as he can.

"I thought I was supposed to go to hospital..." he murmurs, barely able to summon the energy to make a sound. 

"Next time you wake up," his dad says, and Scorpius feels fingers stroking his hair 

"Okay," he whispers, aware as he drifts away that he might not see Albus at all for days if they both end up in hospital, but too tired and weak to try and do anything about it. 

---

Scorpius doesn't see Albus before he's taken to St Mungo's, but the trip takes so much out of him that he almost can't find it within himself to care. It's the first time he's tried to get out of bed since he took the potion, and although he protests that he's fine, he can't escape the fact that his legs give out after just a couple of steps up to the ward, and he has to be carried the rest of the way. It's humiliating and he hates it, but the second he's in bed he rolls over and goes back to sleep again while a team of Healers examine him. 

For a couple of days he drifts in and out of sleep, but no one seems too concerned about that. During one of his stretches of wakefulness he's told he should be resting while his body recovers, and since he doesn't have much energy to resist, that's exactly what he does. 

Over the next two days he stays awake for longer and longer each time, until on the second evening he manages to sit up long enough to eat dinner. The more he's awake though, the more he becomes aware of Albus's absence. He hasn't seen him at all since the first time he woke up to find Albus sleeping beside him. 

When he asks, his dad tells him that Albus is probably the worse off of the two of them at the moment. He's somewhere having his shoulder repaired, and the grimace as he says it suggests that it isn't a pain-free process. So Scorpius sets about worrying, because there's nothing else to do cooped up in his room, besides sleeping and eating. 

On the third day of his stay in hospital he gets a welcome distraction in the form of his first proper visitor (he's decided his dad doesn't count, as he's a permanent fixture of the room). 

Rose comes rushing in, robes flying, hair a mess, still carrying her book bag from school, soot smeared on one cheek. She lets out a shriek when she sees Scorpius and comes running at him so fast he barely has time to brace himself before she hugs him ferociously. 

"Scorpius!" 

He grins and squeezes her in return. "Hi, Rose. What are you doing here?" 

She steps back and perches on the edge of the bed. "Visiting you, of course." She dumps her bag on the bed and rummages through it, pulling out two books and a packet of sweets, all of which she hands to Scorpius. "Sustenance," she says, looking very pleased with herself. "Mental and physical." 

Scorpius picks up the first book and flicks the pages against his fingers, then he lifts it to his nose and breathes in the musty old book smell. It's almost too good to believe. That smell is one of the best things about being alive. 

When he's done inhaling he looks down at the cover and grins. She's brought him his copy of A History of Magic, and he's never been happier to see it in his life. He's missed it terribly. He hugs it tight to his chest while he picks up the other book.

This one he's only seen once before in his life, in Hermione's library when they broke into the Ministry. The Imperius Curse and How to Abuse It. Wide-eyed he stares at Rose who is still looking very smug. 

"Did you steal this from your mum?" 

Her smirk grows ever wider. "I may have done." 

"Rose! Aren't we all in enough trouble?" 

She shrugs. "She won't miss it. She's got so many books. And besides, I can just tell her it's to help you catch up with Defence Against the Dark Arts class. We're studying Unforgiveables at the moment. We've read some extracts from this. Some of the safer bits. So I can just tell her we wanted to get some context." Her smug smile fades a bit and she looks cautiously at him. "Is it okay?" 

Scorpius looks down at the book in his hands and nods. "Yeah. Yeah! It's perfect." He sets the books aside and picks up the packet of sweets instead, turning it round so she can see. "And you got me Jelly Slugs." 

She smiles. "I did!" 

He shakes his head and grins down at his gifts. "Thank you." 

"I missed you, Scorpion King." She reaches across and hugs him again, wrapping both arms round his shoulders, and he falls comfortably against her side. 

For a moment they sit there in silence, then he glances up at her. "I don't suppose you've visited Albus yet?" 

She pulls back a bit and looks down at him. "I went to see him before I came to you." 

Scorpius sits up very fast. "How is he? Is he okay? Is he alive? Do you know when he's coming to visit me? Does he miss me?" 

Rose holds her hands up to slow him down. "Okay! I can only answer one question at a time." 

Scorpius takes a breath. "Sorry. How is he?" 

"He's alright," she says. "Whatever they're doing to fix his shoulder is hurting him, but he'll live. He's hoping they'll let him out soon. And as for whether he misses you." She grins. "What do you think, Scorpius?" 

Scorpius frowns. "He does? Hopefully?" 

"I think he's ready to duel everyone in this hospital including his parents if that's what he has to do to be allowed to see you. Even one handed he'd probably win." 

"So that's a yes?" Scorpius guesses. 

Rose nods. "Apparently he hasn't talked to you since-" 

"Since I passed out," Scorpius says softly. "We haven't talked about any of it. I just gave him my memory, and next thing I knew I was awake, and he was sleeping next to me, and after that I haven't even seen him." He looks down at his hands. "We have a lot to talk about." 

Rose shifts on the bed, so she's sitting down by his knees, cross-legged. "You two will be fine. Whatever you have to say to one another... You know how to talk."

Scorpius sighs. "I know. I just wish we could be doing it already. I miss him too... He saved my life and I haven't even managed to say thank you yet." 

Rose reaches out and pats his knee gently. "He'll be here soon. The second they let him." 

Scorpius nods and picks at his blankets. Then he takes a breath and lifts his head, pushing a smile onto his face. "Anyway. Enough about him. You're the one who's here now, and I've missed you too." 

Rose gives him a small smile in return. "I know," she says. "I missed you as well, and I'm glad- I'm glad you're alive and well, and-" She swallows. "There was a moment when I thought you might be-" She looks down at her hands and inhales sharply. "Scorpius, I need to say sorry to you." 

Scorpius frowns at her. "Do you?" 

She nods and sits up very straight, looking him right in the eye. "Yes, I do. I sent your dad those letters. You told me they were for if the worst happened, because you wanted to tell him everything yourself, but I still panicked and sent them." She lifts her chin. "I suppose I gave up on you, which was stupid. If I've learned anything from all this it's to never give up on Scorpius Malfoy. You're unstoppable." 

"My dad didn't read those letters," Scorpius says. "He got them but he didn't read them. In fact..." He gestures to her. "Without those letters, without you, he wouldn't have been at Harry and Ginny's house when I got there. So, technically you helped save my life." 

Rose considers that for a minute, then a pleased little smile crosses her lips. "I suppose I did, didn't I." 

Scorpius grins. "Yes, Rose. You did. So you can stop apologising." He leans across to his bedside table and picks up the open box of Bertie Bott’s Beans that's sitting there. He holds it out to her and gives the box a shake. "Have a bean."

"I've just had dinner, thanks." She folds her arms and eyes the box. "Anyway, those can't be good for you. You should be eating healthy food so you get better!" 

Scorpius picks a green bean out of the box, hoping it's apple flavoured, and pops it in his mouth, shooting Rose a defiant look as he does. A second later he chokes and spits the bean back out again. "Wasabi," he coughs, throwing the half-chewed bean in the bin and diving for a glass of water. 

"I told you," Rose says loftily.

Scorpius takes a long drink then sets the glass back down on the side and flops against his pillows. "There's not enough jeopardy in my life without Albus around. The beans are the best I can do." 

Rose shakes her head. "You two are ridiculous." 

"He's the ridiculous one," Scorpius says, leaning over so his head's on her shoulder. "And I just happen to be in love with that ridiculousness. My life wouldn't be nearly so interesting without him." 

Rose puts her arm round his shoulder and hugs him tight. "You know, it's nice to hear you finally say that. That you love him. After all those years denying it, and then you being sick..." She ruffles his hair. "I'm happy for you."

Scorpius smiles and closes his eyes. "I'm happy for me too. I can't wait for the chance to finally say it to his face." 

"Well," Rose says, withdrawing her arm. "You'll excuse me if I'm not here for that joyous and probably squelchy reunion." 

Scorpius opens one eye and looks at her. "What do you think I'm going to do to him?" 

"That," she says, "is precisely what I don't want to know." 

He grins. "Well I'd rather not have you around for it either, so that arrangement will work perfectly for both of us." 

"Good," she says. "Glad we've got that sorted out." 

Scorpius exhales and relaxes against her side, letting his eyes drift closed again. He doesn't feel utterly exhausted anymore, he doesn't even feel sleepy, he just feels comfortable. It's nice to have life just a little bit back to normal. He has his friend back. He has books to read. He can start looking forward to going back to school, back to Head Boy duties, back to homework and Quidditch and everything. 

"Are you okay?" Rose whispers, giving him a gentle nudge in the ribs. 

Scorpius nods. "Very... Just imagining how wonderful it'll be to have homework again." 

"You're weird, Malfoy. This N.E.W.T. homework is like hell. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

"If I had to pick a sort of hell," Scorpius says, opening his eyes and looking up at the shadowy ceiling above him. "I think I'd take the homework any day." 

"Of course," Rose murmurs. She looks across at him. "I still am sorry," she says. "For giving up on you. You were always going to survive. It's what you do. Get thrown into hell and come storming back stronger. I don't think I'll underestimate you again... Which means I'm probably going to have to start working even harder or you'll beat me in all our exams." She pokes him in the arm, and he grins and turns his head to look at her. 

"And the Quidditch final. I'll beat you in all our exams and the Quidditch final."

She snorts. "In your dreams, Malfoy." 

He shrugs. "You're the one who said you weren't going to underestimate me." 

She sits up straight and looks down at him. "There's underestimation and then there's wasting time worrying about things that will never happen in a million years." 

He shakes his head and grins. "We'll see." 

---

It's too quiet when Rose leaves that night. Scorpius is left alone in the room, just him and his dad, and he misses having someone to chat to. He misses Albus most of all. He curls up on his side with A History of Magic open on his pillows and tries to read, but it's impossible. He can't concentrate on the words. His thoughts are too loud to let him read, and in the end he tosses the book down the bed and rolls onto his back with a growl, dragging Bathilda against his chest and hugging her tight – he will always be grateful to his dad for going to pick her up from the Manor for him. 

Draco glances at him. "Are you okay?" He asks, eyeing the book by Scorpius's feet. 

Scorpius kicks the book up in the air, so it rolls off his toes and lands splayed open, with the pages all bent. Immediately he feels terrible and leans down to pick it up, stroking the pages back into place as tenderly as he can. "I'm fine," he says.

Draco arches an eyebrow. "You just kicked a book." 

Scorpius sighs and puts it down on the bed next to him, giving the cover an apologetic pat. "I didn't mean to." 

Draco sets his magazine aside. "What's wrong?" 

Scorpius picks Bathilda up again and hugs her to his chest. "It sounds idiotic..." 

"You're sick," his dad says. "You're allowed to have idiotic feelings." 

Scorpius rests his chin on Bathilda's head and stares down at his feet, two little lumps under the grey blanket. He swallows but doesn't say anything. 

His dad surveys him. "Is this about Albus?" 

"How did you know that?" Scorpius asks, looking up at him. 

Draco sighs. "I'm your father. I know everything." 

Scorpius rolls onto his side and looks at his dad. "I miss him," he says. "There are a lot of things I want to say to him, that I've been wanting to say, and the longer it takes to get the chance..."

"You're brave enough." 

"I know." He looks down at his hands. "It makes me nervous though. It's too important to mess up. He saved my life." 

"He won't mind," Draco says. "There was a long time when I couldn't manage to string a sentence together in front of your mother, and she didn't mock me too much." 

Scorpius smiles. "But she did still make fun of you a bit?" 

"I'm sure I deserved it." He straightens his cuffs out, then leans toward Scorpius. "I don't think you need to worry about Albus. I think you'll be fine." 

"I'm going to tell him that I love him," Scorpius says. "Properly. Without the sickness getting in the way." 

"I still think you have very little to worry about," his dad says, with a small smile. 

"Thanks," Scorpius murmurs, picking at one of Bathilda's wings. "I just wish I knew when I'm going to see him." 

Draco sits back in his seat. "If it helps, Potter came by earlier while you were asleep. Albus should be coming to visit tomorrow." 

Scorpius flails his hands in the air so hard that when he accidentally lets go of Bathilda she goes flying over the end of the bed. "He's coming tomorrow? Why didn't you tell me!" 

Draco gets up and walks round to retrieve Bathilda, brushing her off and inspecting her carefully. "I apologise." He hands her back to Scorpius. "I forgot to mention it." 

Scorpius hugs Bathilda back to his chest and stares incredulously up at his dad. "How can you forget something like that?" He shakes his head. "How am I supposed to sleep now?"

"The longer you sleep, the faster tomorrow will be here," his dad says, in the sort of wise, parental voice Astoria used to use when she spouted bits of wisdom. 

"Easier said than done," Scorpius mutters, stroking his fingers along Bathilda's wings.

"Healer Fredericks also sent up your Sleeping Potion, if you need it," his dad says, sinking back into his chair. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "I'd rather not. They give you nightmares for days after you take them." He pulls the blankets up to his chin and stares at the clean, white sheets, and in the silence he can hear the soft hum and ping of the monitoring spells, as they watch his heart rate and breathing and whatever else the Healers are interested in. 

"I think I'm going to talk to him about our second date," Scorpius says thoughtfully. "It'll be nice to have something to look forward to about going back to school, other than the classes and everything..." 

"If you could try not to collapse during this one, that would be wonderful." 

Scorpius glares at his dad. "I didn't want to-" He breaks off as he spots the mischievous glint in his eye. "That's not funny." 

"Sorry," his dad says, trying to restrain his smile. 

"I forgive you," Scorpius replies, punching his pillow into a better shape then flopping down and curling up with his knees to his chest. "I'm going to sleep now."

His dad draws his wand and waves it in the air. Immediately all the lights in the room go out, and all that's left is a faint pinprick of light from Draco's wand.

"Is this alright?" He asks. "I can Nox it if you want." 

"It's fine," Scorpius says, closing his eyes. He lies very still on his side, mind racing at a hundred miles an hour, over all the things he needs and wants to remember to say tomorrow. It must be obvious that he's worrying, because he hears a rustle of robes, then feels a hand brush through his hair. 

"He loves you too, Scorpius. There's nothing for you to worry about. In fact he's probably also lying somewhere worrying about what to say tomorrow." 

Scorpius smiles and looks up at his dad. His eyes glitter like silver stars in the wandlight, and Scorpius feels reassured. His dad knows what it's like to be in love. He understands. And he's probably right.

"Okay," Scorpius murmurs. "I'll try to stop." 

"Get some sleep," his dad advises. "Everything will be okay in the morning." He squeezes Scorpius's shoulder, and Scorpius reaches up and grips his hand. 

"I love you, Dad." 

 His dad smiles and leans down to drop a kiss into his hair.

"I love you too," he says. He gives Scorpius's shoulder one final squeeze, and Scorpius holds tight to his hand until the last possible second. Then Draco withdraws to his seat, leaving Scorpius in darkness and taking the tiny glitter of silver wandlight with him. "Goodnight, Scorpius." 

---

It's freezing cold out in the hospital garden. The little square of bushes and trees and flowerbeds is surrounded on all sides by the hospital walls, so it's protected from most of the breeze, but that doesn't stop swirling gusts of frigid air biting at Draco's fingers. He digs his hands into his pockets to protect them as he walks down one of the paths past the bare rose bushes, melting grey slush soaking into his shoes. 

There's no one else out here. No one else would be stupid enough to be outside under a grey December sky that threatens rain or possibly more sleet. Everyone else is tucked away inside their rooms or the cafe. Nice and warm and comfortable. But Draco likes the fresh air, and he's always found the garden peaceful. He has good memories of being out here. Astoria had always liked to sit out here when she could. 

He breathes in a deep lungful of cold air and pulls his hands out of his pockets, rubbing his fingers together and blowing on them for warmth. He glances up at the window of Scorpius's room, then looks away again. Albus should have arrived by now. He's trying not to think much about what the boys might get up to in his absence. It's none of his business. He's trying to focus on the fact that time alone with Albus will make Scorpius happy, and Scorpius's happiness is of paramount importance. 

He turns down a path so his back is to the window, and as he does he hears someone call out behind him, and hurried footsteps approach. 

"Draco!" 

He glances back, recognising the voice instantly, and sees Potter rushing towards him looking dishevelled, cloak falling off one of his shoulders, glasses askew, hair its usual unruly mess. He folds his arms and gives him an unimpressed look. 

"Potter. You've left our sons entirely unattended, then?"

"I thought that was what you wanted," Harry says, catching up with him and slowing to a walk. 

Draco shrugs. "I did. But at least now if anything goes wrong I can blame you." He glances at him. "Last time they were on their own they vanished." 

"You were supposed to be in charge of them then," Harry points out, and Draco glares at him. "But," he says, backtracking quickly. "I'm not blaming you for them running off. When those two set their minds to it they can't be stopped. Unfortunately."

"Or fortunately," Draco corrects. "In the vast majority of cases." 

Harry gives a little nod. "True." 

Draco puts his hands in his pockets. "Are they really alright up there?"

"There are plenty of Healers around," Harry says, glancing up at the window. "And they're of age. They can take care of themselves. I hope." He looks back at Draco. "Albus had a lot of things he wanted to say. They'll probably just sit and talk." 

Draco nods. "Scorpius too. He spent all day yesterday worrying about how to say it all."

"They're a funny pair," Harry says, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers and looking around at the lifeless garden. 

"A Potter and a Malfoy," Draco says, looking down at the grey slush around his feet. 

"I'm not sure the concept is such a strange one," Harry replies, in a light tone that Draco could swear is teasing. He looks at Harry, who shoots him a bright grin. A slow smirk crosses Draco's face and he shakes his head. 

"I'm glad it's no longer a foreign idea to you." 

"I get the feeling I'm going to have to get used to it," Harry says, running a hand through his already-ruffled hair. 

"Undoubtedly." 

They lapse into silence, listening to the sound of the breeze, and the rush of Muggle traffic somewhere out on the street beyond the hidden hospital. A siren wails and car horns honk. A handful of snowflakes tumble from the grey clouds, and Draco watches them fall. 

"Potter," he says, tearing his eyes away from the falling flakes. 

"Yes, Draco?" 

Draco looks at him. "I don't think I've had chance to say thank you." 

Harry frowns at him. "What for? Are you sure you're feeling alright, Draco? Thanking me for something?" 

"No," Draco says, adjusting his cuffs. "I suppose I can't be. I must have caught something awful in this godforsaken place. But seriously, Potter." He stops fiddling with his cuffs and turns to look properly at Harry. "I do need to thank you. For your hospitality while Scorpius was missing. I know you were useless in trying to find him, but you and Ginny did at least make the experience slightly less lonely. It would have been more difficult on my own. The Manor can become very big and very empty."

Harry nods, gaze sharp and focused, directed right at Draco. "I can imagine."

"Whereas your house is so small and full of people it's impossible to be lonely. Most of the time you can't even hear yourself think. Sometimes that's more useful than others." 

"I think there was a thank you somewhere in all that," Harry says with a small smile. He pushes his glasses up his nose and frowns. "Did I ever thank you for the Time-Turner?" 

Draco considers carefully. "You know, I don't think you did." He draws himself up tall, assuming the high ground, now it's been given to him. 

"Then thank you," Harry says, very sincere. 

"I suppose this makes us even," Draco says. He holds his hand out to Harry, and Harry looks at it for just a moment before shaking it. “You’ve been a reasonable friend, Potter, as friends go. I’m grateful. And I trust that we can continue to take care of our sons together. Although hopefully they won’t get into too much more trouble...”

“Did you just say you trust me?” Harry asks, releasing Draco’s hand and giving him a surprised smile. 

Draco folds his arms. “I may have done. I did say I’d consider it if Scorpius came back safely, and-“ He gestures up to the window high above them. “I’m sure I’ll come to my senses soon enough.”

Harry grins and blows on his hands, rubbing them together for warmth. “Anyway, they’re adults now. Leaving school soon. They'll have to sort out their own problems...” Harry grins and bounces on the balls of his feet. “Unless they're anything like James. He comes running back all the time. Mostly whenever something needs fixing or wants his laundry needs doing." 

Draco sighs. "So much for freedom. Although I'm not sure I'd be ready for Scorpius to fly the nest just yet." 

Harry looks round at the window to Scorpius's room. "No," he agrees. "I hope they keep coming back for a long time. I'm quite attached to them."

Draco thinks of an exhausted Albus sitting by Scorpius's hospital bed until late into the night to keep him company, and he thinks of Scorpius smiling like the sun whenever Albus is around. "Yes," he agrees. "I'm quite attached to both of them." 

---

Scorpius sits curled up in the chair by the window, studying The Imperius Curse and How to Abuse It. It's the furthest he's been from his bed since he got to the hospital, and he's quite proud of the achievement. He sleeps less now, his legs are getting a little stronger, he no longer feels exhausted all the time. He's beginning to feel like he's really getting better. There's even talk of him being allowed home in time for the Christmas holidays.

He runs a hand through his hair and throws a shadow across the pages. The shafts of winter sunlight spike crisp and sharp into the room from the window behind him, not warm enough to make any impact beyond lighting Scorpius's pages for him. Every now and then he glances up at the door, but after a while he gives up on checking, and just concentrates on his reading. 

This book really is fascinating. Grotesque, but fascinating. He's just finished a chapter about how the curse works, and some of the best techniques for bending it to your will, and now he's on a chapter of case studies. The one he's reading at the moment, about the Ministry officials who were controlled during the war, gloating about the awful things they did, makes him feel a tiny bit sick. It reminds him too much of that other world, and how dark and terrible it had been. Dark enough to cling to him, follow him home. Dark enough to infect him. Dark enough to almost kill him. Reading about this makes him more glad than ever that that world doesn't exist anymore. 

He's so immersed in the tale of Pius Thicknesse and his own thoughts about it that he doesn't hear the soft knock on the door. Nor does he hear it creak open. He only becomes aware that anyone is standing there when they clear their throat.

"Scorpius..." 

He looks up and freezes, staring at his visitor. Albus is finally here. 

He looks... Scorpius isn't sure what the right word would be. He doesn't look perfect. His left arm is in a sling and there are circles under his eyes, like he hasn't been sleeping well. But despite that, he looks even more wonderful than Scorpius remembers. 

He's wearing jeans, and a crisp white t-shirt under his favourite green hoodie, which he hasn't bothered to zip up. His hair is ruffled, bits sticking up at the front and the back. And he's staring at Scorpius with an incredible intensity, like he can't entirely believe he's seeing him, like he's desperate to convince himself that Scorpius is real. 

"H-hi," he says after a moment. He gives a nervous little wave before dropping his hand and shuffling his feet.

"Hi," Scorpius breathes in reply.

Albus swallows, almost half smiling before it fades away again. "I-" He looks lost. Lost for what he should say or how he should feel. He gestures to Scorpius. "You- I don't know what to say." 

Scorpius shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet, using the arm of his chair for support. He sways a bit, but holds himself steady. "Don't say anything." 

"But I-" Albus spreads his hands. "You're alive." 

Scorpius nods and takes a tentative step forward. He hasn't walked on his own yet. He's always had someone to hold him. But he doesn't immediately collapse, and he needs to get to Albus, so he lets go of the chair and starts stumbling across the room. "Yes, I am." 

Albus takes two steps forward and they meet halfway. Scorpius grips hold of Albus's hoodie and looks at him, trying to find the right words, trying to remember what he was planning to say. But nothing is forthcoming, so instead he gives up and drags Albus in, kissing him as hard as he can. 

Albus makes a half startled, half delighted noise, and he slides his good arm round Scorpius's back, pulling him closer. Scorpius is only too happy to oblige. He presses himself against Albus and runs his fingers through all that glorious, messy hair. 

It's so much – the wonderful intensity of kissing Albus, the softness of his lips, the silky warmth of his hair, the solid press of his body as they try to get as close together as they can – that at first Scorpius doesn't appreciate the lack of pain he's feeling. But then he realises that although his heart is beating wildly, it doesn't hurt. He doesn't feel sick or uncomfortable. He isn't aching. He's free, finally free, to kiss Albus as hard and as long as he likes. And with that glorious revelation he starts to cry. 

He stumbles back with a gasp and grabs onto the bed to keep himself upright. His legs have gone to jelly and his head is spinning. There are tears spilling down his face, and he sniffs and wipes them away. 

"Scorpius," Albus says, stepping forward and gripping hold of his arm. There's genuine terror and panic in his expression. "Are you okay? Does it hurt? Do you need-" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "No. No. I'm okay. I'm just..." He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand. "Happy." His legs finally give out and he sags against Albus, who just manages to support him. 

"Don't fall," Albus says, guiding him closer to the bed. "I won't be able to help you." 

"Sorry," Scorpius murmurs. He just manages to fall onto the edge of the bed, head bowed, body shaking with the effort of standing for so long.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Albus asks, sitting beside him and putting an arm round his back. "You don't look good."

Scorpius wipes his eyes again, then gives Albus a bright, tearful smile. "I promise I'm really okay. I promise." He leans against Albus's side. "I just realised it didn't hurt. When I kissed you. Which obviously is a good thing."

Albus looks at him and a slow grin forms on his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and making him light up. "You really are better, then?"

"I love you," Scorpius says, then he waits a few seconds before spreading his hands in a 'there you go' sort of gesture. 

Albus's grin gets so wide it looks like his face is going to split. He bounces a bit, and gives Scorpius a tight squeeze, kissing him on the cheek. "I love you too." 

"I know," Scorpius says, resting his head on Albus's shoulder. Albus slides his arm out from behind Scorpius's back and takes his hand instead. Scorpius plays with his fingers, curling them closed and then open again, feeling very warm and very content. 

"They still haven't fixed your shoulder then?" He asks after a moment, glancing up at Albus and gesturing to the sling.

Albus pulls a face. "They're working on it. Apparently it's difficult." 

Scorpius grins. "Everything to do with you is difficult." 

Albus elbows him in the ribs. "I've been told off by about fifteen different Healers for not getting it looked at right away. Apparently that makes it more complicated. Anyway. It hurts. But I think they're nearly done pulling me apart and putting me back together again." 

"What did they have to do?" Scorpius asks curiously, lifting his head to look at Albus properly. 

Albus shrugs his good shoulder. "No idea. You'd have to ask one of them. But I assure you it was not pleasant. I haven't slept properly since I got here. It hurts too much." 

Scorpius smirks at him. "Poor Albus Potter. Going through so much pain. I can't imagine what that must have been like." 

Albus swats at him. "Saying my shoulder hurts is not insensitive! I know what you went through was a thousand times worse. I really do know that. But it doesn't mean my shoulder doesn't hurt." 

Scorpius kisses him on the cheek, just because he can. "I know. I was just teasing." He squeezes Albus's hand tight, and they fall silent. He strokes his thumb across the back of Albus's hand and closes his eyes, enjoying the quiet, easy comfort of the moment. 

"I couldn't cure you," Albus murmurs eventually. He shifts, and Scorpius opens his eyes to see Albus looking down at him. "I'm sorry I couldn't... I wanted to do it on my own... I thought I could. I thought that if you drank it with me- I thought I loved you enough. And it was stupid, and selfish, and I nearly killed you. Because I didn't think. Because I never think." He pulls his hand from Scorpius's grip and clenches it in his lap, staring down at his knees. His shoulders have gone all tight and tense, and he's frowning. He looks so small and miserable like this, and Scorpius turns to him, reaching out to touch his arm. 

"Albus..." He trails his fingers down Albus's arm and shifts closer on the bed. "You can't say sorry to me," he says. "You just-" He shakes his head. "You can't. I won't let you. Because whether you personally saved me or not doesn't matter. You still did it. You still made the potion. And you knew to take me to my dad..." He gestures to himself. "I am here, Albus. I am whole. I am better. All thanks to you. So you can't say sorry." 

Albus shakes his head and turns to him, expression desperate. "But I-" 

Scorpius puts a finger to Albus's lips to shut him up. "No. I should be thanking you. That's how this conversation is meant to go. I say thank you for doing this with me, for being a master potioneer, and then you say 'you're welcome', and then we hug or kiss or something. That's what's meant to happen. So how about we try that?" He looks at Albus and withdraws his finger. "Thank you." 

"I don't think you should-" 

Scorpius sighs. "You weren't listening to the instructions, were you?" 

Albus looks at him, expression lost, and still unhappy. "No, because-" 

Scorpius cups his face in both hands, leans in, and kisses him, soft and deep, eyes squeezed shut, trying to inject the idea that he won't take no for an answer on this one, trying to express all his gratitude and love in that single kiss. And when he pulls back and opens his eyes, Albus is still sitting there, eyes still closed, head slightly tilted, not moving an inch from where Scorpius had kissed him, and Scorpius knows the message has been received. 

He brushes his fingers along Albus's jaw and smiles when Albus finally opens his eyes. 

"Okay?" 

Albus takes an unsteady breath and nods. "Okay." 

Scorpius keeps his fingers on Albus's chin, gently holding his face, admiring him. "We saved me together. Just the way I wanted it. I think we did quite well, aside from your shoulder." 

Albus smiles. "It could have been less stressful... but it was a good adventure."

"We'd never have met Fawkes without this," Scorpius says. "Or gone into the Chamber." 

"Or seen those dragons." 

"Or been turned into Pygmy Puffs!" 

Albus gives him an incredulous look. "You really enjoyed that, didn't you?" 

Scorpius grins. "It was pretty fun. And I was very fluffy. I'm almost sad all the pink's finally gone from my hair..." 

"Speaking of your hair," Albus says. "You've had it cut." He reaches out and ruffles his fingers through the now much shorter blond strands. 

Scorpius nods. "I have. I don't want it getting in my eyes when I go back to school. And I definitely don't need to look any more like my dad." 

"Back to school," Albus says, and a very bright smile creeps onto his face. "You'll be coming back to school. I won't be alone in the dorm any more. I won't have to sleep next to your empty bed. And I won't miss any more lessons because you weren't there to wake me up." 

"I can make you do your homework," Scorpius says. 

"You can help me with my Transfiguration," Albus says. He catches hold of Scorpius's hand and gives him a desperate look. "Please help with my Transfiguration." 

"We can help each other," Scorpius says, squeezing his hand. "We have a lot of catching up to do. Especially if someone wants to be an Auror." He gives Albus a gentle nudge in the ribs, and Albus nudges him back.

"Says the boy who wants to be a Healer." 

"Like I say," Scorpius says. "We can help each other." He takes Albus's hand again and brushes his fingers over the lines in Albus's palm. Outside, the clouds break, and a shaft of sunlight comes slanting in through the window. Scorpius glances towards it, and remembers the book he'd left lying on the chair. 

"I'm glad," he says softly, looking at Albus, whose face is bathed in silver sunshine. "That you're going to be an Auror." 

Albus turns to look at him, face falling into shadow, although his hair shines with a bright halo. "Are you?" 

Scorpius nods. "I've been thinking about the other world. The one with Voldemort." He swallows and glances at Albus. "That was where I got this disease. It was awful enough to breed something like that, and to change us all. You know, corrupt us. Me, my dad, everyone. So..." He gives a little shrug and squeezes Albus's hand. "So I'm glad we have people like you stopping that sort of thing from happening. Making sure that..." He brushes a bit of hair behind his ear. "Making sure that we don't have to stop loving each other." He flashes Albus a small smile, and sees Albus gazing at him with a sharp intensity. He meets Albus's eyes, and the rest of the bright, brilliant world they inhabit melts away. 

Albus releases his hand and reaches up, stroking his fingers down the back of Scorpius's neck. Scorpius shivers and brushes his hands through Albus's hair, holding him steady. 

Inches apart, they look at each other. Then Albus's gaze switches to Scorpius's lips, and Scorpius discovers he has no self-control left. He leans across and kisses Albus with all the love he has to give, holding nothing back. Because now, finally, after all these months and years, there's no reason left to hold back. He loves Albus and Albus knows it; there's no more fear. His disease is gone and it won't come back. He's free of pain and sickness. All that's left inside him is hope and happiness and love. 

Upset, irritable, burning with worry, he slaps the auction papers onto the desk and buries his face in his hands. He feels the cool press of his wedding ring against his forehead but it’s not comforting. It just makes guilt gnaw away inside him. 

He promised her. He promised Astoria that he would never let any harm come to their son. He promised that he would be a good father, that he’d help Scorpius grow up happy and healthy and strong, so he could flourish among the weeds of this hateful world. He promised, and he failed. He’s failed over and over and over again, and this failure, possibly the last one, is the worst of all because he’s been trying so hard and it’s been going so well. Until now.

He lifts his head and runs his fingers through his hair. There are lots of discarded bits of parchment on his desk, all crumpled and tear-stained and torn up, but he knows exactly where the recipe for the cure is. It’s a particularly yellow bit of parchment, all curled up in one corner, a bit crinkly from water damage, and he picks it up and smooths it out on the table. 

He knows it off by heart now, but he still reads through it:

One vial of Phoenix Tears

Two pieces of wood from a willow tree

Seven basilisk teeth, crushed

The remnants of a sacrifice

A single memory of love

A single bottle of Love Potion 

He wonders how much of this they already have. The Phoenix Tears almost certainly, and Basilisk Fangs, and they went to Godric’s Hollow for the sacrifice. But what about the rest of it? How close are they to being done? 

The only thing he knows for certain is that they have to come to him once it’s ready. They have to.  It won’t work otherwise. As much as Albus loves Scorpius, and as grateful as Draco is for that most of the time, it’s nothing compared to how much Draco loves him. Draco is certain of that.

No one else has been with Scorpius through every moment of his life, from the crushing depths of grief to moments of blissful joy over the last few years. Draco has seen him grow up, learn to walk and talk, has seen him establish himself in the world and put down deep roots. Scorpius, his child, who contains within him all best bits of Astoria as well as something indefinably his own, has become someone the Draco is so immeasurably proud of, and Draco couldn’t love him more if he tried. He wants to be part of the cure, needs to be, because he‘s sure it can’t happen without him. And all he can do is pray that Scorpius understands that before it’s too late. 

He sets the recipe down and looks at the clock on his desk. It once belonged to Astoria, and it’s beautiful, delicate gold fretwork weaving up into the shape of a bloom of roses. The clock is perched on top, its midnight blue face dotted with stars, with little planets orbiting round the outside. 

She was always fascinated by time, by the way seconds rush by, the way minutes stretch into hours, into days, and how before you know it the years are flying past. The years have moved too fast, both the years with her and the ones with Scorpius. The idea of a year is so long, but when those years are limited, they seem insignificant, too brief, almost intangible. 

The clock tells him that it’s around the time that’s both too late and too early all at once. No wonder he feels so exhausted. He’s barely slept in a week, and now he’s been up for too many hours to count. But there’s no way he’d be able to sleep. 

He rubs his eyes and gets to his feet, tucking his chair under the desk. He paces round in a circle, glancing out of the window at the grey pre-dawn world. One of the peacocks is asleep on the lawn outside, head tucked under its wing. Scorpius has always hated those peacocks. Grandfather’s Horcruxes, he calls them. It’s such an apt description that Draco smiles just thinking of it, imagining the disgust on his face, Albus teasing him about it. 

“What are you scared of? They’re just peacocks, Scorpius. Peacocks are harmless.“ 

Scorpius would fold his arms and shake his head. "No. They’re evil. They’ve got it in for me… Their feathers make beautiful quills though." 

"Maybe that’s why they’ve got it in for you. They don’t want you stealing their feathers." 

Draco can almost see them nudging each other back and forth as they make their way through the garden. He’s seen them do it countless times. He desperately hopes he’ll get to see them do it again, over years and years to come. 

He’s still gazing out of the window, remembering the past and praying for the future, when there’s a soft tapping on the other window. There are two windows in the office, because it’s quite a long room, one with a beautiful view of the garden, and another with a view onto a gnarled old oak tree, that grows close to the walls. It’s been there as long as the house has, if not longer, and they’ve had to shape the roots to stop them damaging the foundations. No one has ever been able to move it because it’s infested with Bowtruckles, like most of the trees in the Manor grounds. 

Draco frowns and walks over to the window. Who on earth would be sending an Owl at this time of night? Surely not Potter. He’d just send a Patronus message if anything happened. There’s no one else he knows who might be sending him messages. He hasn’t had any correspondence with anyone in over a week; there’s a pile of unread letters downstairs on the table in the hall. Maybe someone’s bothering him about one of those? But not at this time at night. No one would be so uncivilised. 

There’s a very bedraggled-looking tawny owl sitting on the window ledge. He doesn’t recognise it, but it looks like it’s flown through some awful weather to get here. It’s a bit shivery, all its feathers are ruffled, and it has a very indignant look on its face, like it knows it’s been put through a lot, and it doesn’t appreciate it. 

Draco opens the window, and the owl holds its ground, not fluttering back an inch. It just stays still and continues to glare at him, like its problems are all his fault. 

"I’ll let you stay for the night and give you some food if you stop looking at me like that,” he tells it. “If not, I’ll leave you out here." 

The owl gives an indignant hoot and ruffles its feathers, but it stops glaring. 

"Thank you,” Draco says. He steps back to let the owl fly in through the window. “Who are you from?" 

He walks across the room to where the owl is now perched on the back of his chair. It holds its leg out in answer, and he unties the letter, running one gentle finger over the owl’s bedraggled head. "There’s food and water downstairs, round the back of the house. You can stay there and recover if you like. I won’t send you out again." 

The owl gives his finger a grateful little nibble, then takes off and soars out of the open window. Draco closes it to keep out the draught, and sits down at his desk, curious to read whatever letter has been sent to him in the middle of the night. 

He recognises the writing on the front of the envelope from letters he’s seen sent to Scorpius. Also because Rose’s handwriting looks remarkably like her mother’s. Frowning, he flips the letter over. Why would she be writing in the middle of the night? Why would she send a letter here? Why would she be writing to him? None of it makes sense. 

He slits the letter open with one finger, not bothering with the letter opener on his desk, and pulls the parchment out. He smooths it onto the desk top and reads what Rose has written. Then he reads it again. And again. And again, trying to comprehend the enormity of what she’s said. 

Dear Mr Malfoy, 

I’ve just heard from James Potter, who’s seen Albus and Scorpius tonight, that Scorpius is in a really bad way, and that they weren’t sure how long he’ll last. I know they’ve been somewhere dangerous tonight, and I’m scared that Scorpius might already be dead. I think he would have wanted you to see these letters before he died, especially if it seemed inevitable that he would die, so I think you should have them now. 

I’m writing to you to pass on some letters that Scorpius left with me for you. He told me to send them on if he died, so you could read about the adventures he’s been having while he was away. 

Scorpius was a really great friend. I’ve loved knowing him all these years, and the world will be a darker place without him. I’m sorry we couldn’t manage to save him for you, and I’m sorry he can’t tell you all these things himself. 

Scorpius’s friend always,

Rose

Scorpius is dead? 

The weight of it hits him like a hammer blow, and he crumples into his seat as the whole world gives way beneath him. 

Scorpius is dead.

There’s a physical sensation associated with having your heart broken, and Draco feels it now. A dead weight settles in the pit of his stomach. He feels so empty and so full at the same time. His hands are shaking, and the world has narrowed down to one single, awful focus. There’s nothing else he can think of. Nothing else exists. Just this one awful truth. 

He feels numb. Emotionless. This was how he’d felt about Astoria too, and he’d hated himself for it. The inability to cry or feel anything beyond empty and shocked. Turmoil – rage and despair and denial – a tornado inside him, wrapped up so tightly than nothing can get out. All he can do is sit in silence and stare at his hands

It takes a long time, he doesn’t know how long, before he starts thinking again, and when he does, he decides that he doesn’t believe it. It can’t be true, it simply can’t. Scorpius, who is full of strength and determination and life cannot be dead. It’s wrong. It’s an impossibility. Scorpius and death are such opposing ideas that surely, if it were true, the world would have ground to a halt or shattered from the centre. 

He will not believe it. He cannot believe it. Not until he’s seen Scorpius with his own eyes. Not until he’s confirmed for himself that this is true. He won’t even touch those letters. Because if Scorpius wanted to tell him all these stories in person, then he should get that chance, because there is a chance. There is always a chance. He won’t let there not be a chance. 

He gets to his feet, full of purpose and determination. He faces himself in the mirror beside the fireplace, and he looks grim and intimidating, like his father, like nothing will stand in his way. Not life or death or magic or any person who exists in the world. 

He snatches Rose’s letter off the table, takes a handful of Floo Powder, and steps into the fireplace. 

"Holly Cottage,” he says, cold and clear, crumpling Rose’s letter in his fist. 

—

James sits at the kitchen table in his parents’ house and stares down at his knees. He can hear his dad out in the corridor, talking in a low voice to Uncle Ron. His mum is making tea with her back to him, and he’s doing his very best not to look at her. 

He’s grateful not to have been hauled back to the Ministry, but at the same time sitting at this kitchen table, surrounded by a tense, ominous silence, brings back horrible memories of all the times when he was little and he was being scolded for smashing next door’s windows with his Quaffle, or breaking Albus’s arm. He feels very small now, and a little scared, but mostly he’s worried about Scorpius and Albus. 

He can still hear Scorpius’s screams ringing in his ears, and he desperately wants to know where they both are. Whether they’re alive. Whether the Love Potion will work. But he can’t know any of that, and it’s almost better that he doesn’t know. It’s up to him to protect them both now, and he’s determined to do a good job. 

“Do you want milk in your tea?” His mum asks, turning to look at him. 

He glances up at her. “No, I’m okay,” he says. “Thanks,” he adds, just to stay on her good side. 

She slides a mug onto the table next to him. “You know where the sugar bowl is if you want it." 

"I’m not that thirsty,” he says, nudging the mug away. He’s too anxious to be thirsty. 

“I think you should have a drink,” she says, and her voice is surprisingly gentle. She doesn’t sound angry at all. 

He frowns suspiciously at the mug. “Does this have Veritaserum in it?" 

She tuts. "James, do you really think I would spike your drink? It’s just tea.” She brushes a hand through his messy hair, and he knows she’s trying to flatten the sticky up bit at the back. “It’s been a long night. And I suspect it’s about to get longer.” She rests a hand on his shoulder and looks down at him. “Your dad isn’t happy." 

"Is Dad ever happy when it comes to Albus?” James asks, then immediately regrets it as his mum’s expression goes stern. 

“He’s really worried, James. About both of them. And I know he just wants Albus home safely." 

James nods. "I know. I think they will be back soon.” He glances up at her. “Did Dad send you in here to be the good Auror?" 

She shakes her head. "Your father hasn’t sent me anywhere. I don’t know what he’s planning to ask you. I’m just here to be your mum.” She ruffles his hair. “You still have glitter on your face by the way." 

James screws his face up and starts trying to scrub it away on his cheek. "Uncle Ron’s stupid security spells. You know he blew me up like a balloon too?" 

His mum grins. "Your uncles are all excellent wizards. Not to be underestimated." 

"No,” James agrees. He picks up his teaspoon and peers at his reflection in the back of it. Most of his face seems free of glitter and make up now, although it’s a little difficult to tell how clean he really is. 

His mum sits down at the kitchen table and watches him for a moment, before taking a breath. “How is your brother?" 

James looks at her, and he knows it’s a real question. She’s not trying to get information from him. She’s just worried. 

He sighs and puts the teaspoon down on the table, then he takes a sip of tea. "Alright I think. Worried. Scared. He looks a mess. And he’s Splinched himself." 

She blinks and reels back a bit. "Splinched himself?" 

He nods. "His shoulder’s all mangled. I tried to clean it up a bit, but I’m not really a Healer. It’s a long way from perfect." 

She nods, and her fingers clench together where they’re resting on top of the table. "Anything else I should be forewarned about?" 

"Not that I can think of,” James says. “As long as Scorpius is okay I think he can survive anything else." 

"And do you know?” She asks. “Where they’re going?" 

James opens his mouth to protest against the question, but she holds her hand up to stop him. 

"I’m not going to ask you to tell me,” she says. “You’re as stubborn as your father. I know you won’t say. But do you at least know?" 

He shrugs. "Albus didn’t tell me. I could guess where they went, but it might not be helpful.” He looks up and sees that her face has fallen. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I wish I knew, Mum. I wish I could have gone with them. I could have helped, maybe.” He shakes his head and takes another sip of tea. 

She gets to her feet. “It’s alright, James.” She stands behind him and rests her hands on his shoulders. “You saw them, you talked to them, it sounds like you did a good job of looking after them.” She shifts to the side so she can look down at him, giving him a small, brave smile. “I think that’s enough. It’s better than what the rest of us have been doing. Stuck here. Worrying. Your dad’s been going mad. Draco’s even worse." 

James looks down into his tea mug and swills the liquid round and round. "Maybe it’d be safer for Al to never come home. Dad’s going to kill him. I think you might kill him too when you see the state him." 

She shakes her head. "I don’t know what we’re going to do." 

James looks up at her. "They’re nearly done though. With the cure. It might even work. If anyone can do it it’s Albus." 

His mum gives a proud little smile and squeezes his shoulders. "Undoubtedly.” For a moment she looks at him, then she leans down and kisses the top of his head. “I’m glad you’re safe too. I hope your dad isn’t too harsh." 

James groans. "Me too, Mum. Me too." 

—

Harry leans against the back of the chair and looks at James. He has his Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement face on, or as James likes to think of it, his ‘I am your dad and I do know better’ face. It’s terrifying, or at least it would be if James wasn’t used to it. But he knows his dad, and this look rarely sticks around for long. If you can make him laugh it’ll break as easily as glass. And anyway, James has his own face. He folds his arms and leans back in his seat, his best ‘I’m your son and I really couldn’t care less’ expression of ambivalence on his face. 

His mum and Uncle Ron are standing in the corner of the room, side by side, but continually glancing at each other. They seem to be having an intense but silent conversation, and judging by the worry on his mum’s face and the lack of anger on Uncle Ron’s, the conversation is about his dad and not about him. 

"Where have they gone?” Harry asks. Brusque and no nonsense. 

James shakes his head. “I really couldn’t tell you." 

"Were you there to get the Love Potion?” Harry asks, bending in lower over the chair, so he’s leaning as far towards James as he can. “Which ingredients do they have now?" 

James frowns at his dad. "You know about the cure?”

“Yes,” Harry says, pushing off the chair and folding his arms. “We do. Which ingredients have they got?" 

James sighs. "I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Basilisk Teeth; I know they’ve been to Godric’s Hollow, and they managed to get the Love Potion… You tell me what else they need.” He shrugs and stretches his feet out in front of him. He’s half tempted to put them up on the table, but he doesn’t really want his dad to complete explode, especially not in a serious situation like this. It’s just fun to nudge him in that direction. 

His dad’s jaw has gone dangerously tight, but he doesn’t look away. He’s not struggling to restrain himself just yet. “Did they tell you about any sort of plan they had? Do you know how many more ingredients they need? Do you have any idea if they’re planning to come home at all?" 

"I didn’t grill them about it,” he says, taking a nonchalant sip of his tea. “Albus isn’t exactly receptive to questioning. And you know I’m not good at remembering information. That’s why he’s your trainee Auror and I’m just a lowly Quidditch player." 

"This is serious, James,” Harry shouts, voice and temper rising all at once, just the way James expected it to. 

“And I seriously don’t know,” James replies. “You should have a cup of tea, Dad. It’ll calm you down." 

His dad slaps his palm onto the table, making the mugs there rattle and sending tea sploshing over the sides. He spins around, running his hands through his hair, struggling with himself, and James glances at the other two in the corner. 

Uncle Ron gives Ginny a nudge, and she goes over to Harry. Meanwhile, Ron steps up to the table. 

"What did they need a Love Potion for so quickly that they had to break in?” He glances at Harry and Ginny. “I mean, Albus is really good at potions. And they could have just asked me. I’d have given it to them. Or they could have bought one in the morning. I don’t get it." 

James looks at his uncle. "They… They didn’t seem confident that Scorpius would last the night. And Albus didn’t want to risk you telling dad." 

Harry turns around, and Ginny strokes a hand over his shoulder. Harry puts a hand on her arm and nudges her away. "They didn’t think Scorpius would last the night?” He glances at Ginny, then at Ron, and takes a step forward. “It’s that bad?" 

James hesitates, then nods, looking down at his hands. "He’s in a really bad way. We found him some Painkilling Potion, but I don’t think it lasted long. He can’t move properly. It’s like this disease is shutting him down bit by bit. Before you came into the shop-” He breaks off, remembering Scorpius’s awful scream of pain, and he shudders. “I hope they’re nearly done. I think they are. There isn’t much time." 

"Someone should warn Draco,” Ginny murmurs, meeting Harry’s eyes, and he nods. He looks pale and wide-eyed with shock, like he’s struggling to take it in.

“So really Malfoy should pay the damages then,” Ron says, “since it was-” He breaks off as he glances around at the others. “If Scorpius survives, of course." 

"I think Draco needs to be here,” Harry says, ignoring him. “For this discussion.” He turns back to James. “We need every detail you can give us about Scorpius’s condition.”

James nods. “I can do that." 

Harry draws his wand. "I’ll call him now, I can-" 

He never finishes the sentence. From the other room there’s a distant whoosh of flames, the distinctive sound of a Floo arrival, and they all look at each other. 

"Could it be-” Ginny murmurs, and there’s a little trace of hope in her voice.

“It hasn’t been long enough,” James says. 

Ron glances at Harry, and Harry shakes his head. 

“We’re not expecting anyone." 

He takes a step toward the kitchen door, wand pointed towards it, and both Ron and Ginny draw their wands too. James gets to his feet and turns round, stepping close to his mum. As they listen, footsteps march down the hallway, and they all ready spells. But the person who appears in the doorway isn’t an intruder. He’s a familiar figure – tall and impressive, black robes swirling around him, mouth set in a grim line. Draco Malfoy strides into the room and everyone, even Ron, relaxes. 

"I was just about to call you, Draco,” Harry says, lowering his wand. “What are you doing here?" 

In silence, Draco walks to him and holds out a letter. 

Harry takes a step back and frowns at it. "What is-" 

"Read it, Potter." 

Harry looks at the letter in Draco’s hand and seems to be considering protesting, but then he relents and takes it. Draco turns away from Harry and looks around, taking in who else is there. 

"Do you want any tea?” Ginny asks when Draco looks at her, but he waves her away and shakes his head. He turns back to Harry and now seems to have eyes only for him. 

James can’t help but notice that Draco’s hands are shaking just a bit. While he’s watching Harry he doesn’t seem to be able to keep them still. He keeps messing with the ring on his left hand, and it looks as though he’s drawing some sort of comfort from it. His shoulders relax when he’s touching it. James can’t tell if it’s anger or upset that he’s trying to relieve, but there’s some inner turmoil going on.

James watches his dad’s face for some clue, for some proof that this is about Scorpius, some sign about what the letter contains – good news or bad news. This can’t be about anything else, can it? But his dad’s expression remains unreadable as he finishes the letter. 

For a second he holds it in his hand and just stares at it, then he swallows and looks up at Draco. 

“Dead?” He asks, in a choked voice. 

Draco shakes his head. “No." 

"But this says-”

Draco snatches the letter back from Harry’s hand. “I won’t believe it.”

“We’ve seen them,” Harry says, “but not for an hour or so. They were at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.” He looks at James. “Could Scorpius be dead by now?" 

James looks at his mum, then at Draco and Harry, standing side by side, identical expressions of deep seriousness on their faces. "He could,” he says, trying desperately to come up with reasons to the contrary and failing. “It wasn’t good. There was this- this poison sort of spreading through him. Last I saw…” He trails off, again remembering the way Scorpius had looked when he was lying there on the ground, screaming in agony, cradled in Albus’s arms. “It looked like it had spread a lot. It wasn’t slow. He could- he could be gone by now." 

There’s a twitch in Draco’s cheek, and James wonders if he’s biting the inside of his mouth to try and restrain himself. He shakes his head and looks at Harry, expression hard as ice. "My son is not dead. You’re going to find him, right now, and you’re going to bring him back here, and we’re going to cure this, whatever it takes." 

Harry runs a hand through his hair. "Draco, we have no idea where they are. They could be anywhere. And… even if we found them it might be too late." 

"This isn’t the moment for you to develop a sense of realism, Potter,” Draco snaps, and he turns to the others. “Weasley, do you have anything useful in your shop? Wards? Can you tell where they Apparated to? You must be able to give us something.”

“Draco,” Harry says softly.

“Ginny,” Draco says, ignoring him. “Where would Albus take someone who was sick?" 

Ginny shakes her head and makes a vague, uncertain gesture. "He’d want to finish the potion, wherever he could do that." 

"Good,” Draco says. “Then we need to know which ingredients they still haven’t found.”

“Draco,” Harry tries again. “I don’t think we should-" 

"James,” Draco says, turning his back on Harry. “This letter says you saw them this evening. We need you to tell us everything. Anything and everything you can about where they came from, how they looked, what they were planning next-”

“Draco, please-”

Draco continues, voice raised now to drown Harry out. “Any details they mentioned about the potion.”

James glances at his dad before nodding, and Draco turns to Harry. 

“Potter, the Aurors. They should check the shop. There must be some clues. I know you can tell these sorts of things, so get to work, and-”

“Draco,” Harry says hopelessly, raising his volume to arch Draco’s. “We don’t know anything. And Scorpius might already be-”

“MY SON IS NOT DEAD!” Draco roars in his face. The whole kitchen goes dead silent as Draco reels back a step and points a threatening finger at Harry, voice going dangerous and low. “He’s not dead. He’s-” He chokes and breaks off, turning away from them all, and Ginny rushes to put a hand on his shoulder. The rest of them stand motionless, stunned, and she turns to glare at them. 

“Do what he said,” she orders. “Harry, Ron… just do it.”

Ron glances at Harry, looking very uncomfortable. James assumes he’s not happy about taking orders from Draco Malfoy. But after a bit of foot shuffling and hesitancy he sighs. “Fine, well I should go back to the shop anyway. I need to talk to George.” He gestures towards the door, backs his way out of the room, then flees down the hall. James hears the front door slam behind him.

Harry seems even more uncertain. He stays hovering beside the table, looking a bit lost. “We’re doing all we can,” he says finally, addressing Draco’s back. “There are Aurors at the shop, some of the best. If there’s anything to be found we’ll find it. And we have people out all over the country. All our contacts are on the lookout. If we see even the tiniest glimpse of either of them we’ll have them. I promise." 

James looks between Draco and his dad, then he walks over to stand next to Harry. "Mr Malfoy…” he says, soft, unsure of whether Draco will lash out again. “They’re determined to do this. I don’t think Albus will let anything happen to Scorpius. I don’t know where they’re going but I’m sure they’re nearly done with this. If anyone can do this, they can. Albus loves Scorpius. He’s going to save him.”

Draco twists round and looks at him and Harry, expression back under control. Ginny takes a step away from him and gives James a small smile and a nod. 

Draco’s expression is unreadable, restrained and set, his jaw tight. The only things that give him away are the slight bow of his head, and his eyes which are burning with desperate, infuriated grief and fear. He surveys all three of them with a sweep of that searing gaze. “If anything happens to Scorpius,” he says, soft, threatening, like the first murmur of wind before the sort of gale that sweeps away brooms, and destroys goalposts and stands. “I will not be held responsible for my actions. So don’t. Let anything. Happen… For your own sake, Potter, and for mine. Understand?" 

Harry nods. "I understand perfectly, Draco." 

He closes his eyes and cold water drips down his nose and off the back of his hair, tickling the back of his neck. He wants to cry. He reaches out and touches the top of Scorpius’s head, to see if he’s awake, to let him know he’s still here with him. 

“Okay?” He asks quietly. 

“Yeah,” Scorpius breathes, reaching up to take his hand. “My leg hurts.” His fingers are freezing too, and Albus crouches down next to him and wraps both arms around him. 

“I know. I’m sorry. He should be here soon.”

Scorpius curls his fingers into Albus’s jacket, and buries his face in his shoulder. “It’s not your fault… If it wasn’t for you we would have been caught by now.” He gives Albus a squeeze. “You were amazing with those Aurors." 

Albus shakes his head. He strokes his fingers gently through Scorpius’s soaked hair. "It was just a spell.”

“Well, it was a very good one,” Scorpius murmurs. “You’re my-” He draws in a breath, like he’s been hit with a sudden burst of pain. “You’re my hero." 

"Sshh,” Albus whispers. 

“I don’t suppose,” Scorpius says, teeth chattering, voice weak, “that you can spare me a Warming Charm?”

“Yes,” Albus says, pulling back and drawing his wand. “Of course I can. I’m sorry, I should have done it earlier, I-" 

"Albus?" 

Albus breaks off mid-sentence as he hears his brother calling up the garden path. He turns to see James, wand in the air, an Umbrella Charm folding over his head, Quidditch bag bouncing on his back. His black curls are soaked, and he’s staring at Albus in amazement. 

"What on earth are you doing here?” He asks. “And Scorpius? What’s he- What’s going on?” James hurries down the path to them and stops dead a few metres away, his expression slowly transforming from surprise to anger. He lowers his wand and points a finger at Albus. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to Mum and Dad? They’ve been scared senseless. Dad’s had Aurors out looking for you." 

"I know!” Albus says. “James, I know. But this is…” he gestures helplessly to Scorpius, who’s curled up in a shivering heap. “This is important." 

"I should tell them,” James says. “I should tell them you’re here." 

"No!” Albus feels fear and desperation rush up inside him. He’d thought James would take care of them, that they’d be safe here. “No, you have to understand! Please! We need your help. We can explain everything. We just need a few hours, we-” He looks down at Scorpius again, at his pale face, how he’s shaking uncontrollably. “Please. Let us come in." 

James looks down at Scorpius for a moment, then he looks at Albus, scanning him from head to foot. "You’ve got blood on you,” he says finally. “What have you done to yourself?" 

Albus shakes his head. "It’s not important." 

"You’ve got a lot of blood. I know you’re hurt,” James says, giving him a hard look. “Come inside and I’ll have a look at it. You both look like you need some warmth. And some food." 

"But you won’t tell-" 

James holds a hand up. "Albus. Please. Stop panicking and come inside. I’m not going to tell anyone anything.”

“Are you-" 

"Sure? Yes. But I might not be if you don’t calm down.” James tucks his wand away and walks up to the door, laying his palm on it and murmuring a couple of words. The door swings open and he glances back at them. “Come on. Let’s get you both inside." 

Albus hesitates for a moment, then he stoops down and offers Scorpius a hand. "Can you stand?" 

Scorpius nods and hauls himself to his feet, clawing at Albus’s clothes. "Fine.” He sways alarmingly, and Albus wraps both arms round him, holding him steady. 

They make their way into the house, Albus pausing briefly to kick his shoes off, and dump his backpack and both their coats, before he follows James down the tiled hall. Their clothes drip, and Albus knows they’re making a mess, but he can’t help it. He can’t do much when he’s trying to stop Scorpius from falling. 

“Do you want tea?” James calls from the kitchen.

Albus looks at Scorpius, who gives a small shake of his head. 

“No thank you,” he calls back to his brother. “Are you sure?” He asks, lowering his voice and stroking a hand down Scorpius’s back. “Don’t you need to warm up?”

Scorpius pulls a face, and gently extricates himself from Albus’s grip. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Go and talk to your brother." 

He stumbles to the doorway into the lounge and leans there for a second, then he hobbles the last few steps to the couch and sinks onto it, shuddering. For a very long moment he just sits there, then he finally pulls all his limbs in and curls up into a little ball. 

Albus draws his wand and starts casting a Drying Charm over him. 

"You don’t have to-” Scorpius complains, but Albus shakes his head. 

“I’m doing it. I want to." 

He runs his fingers and wand through Scorpius’s hair until it’s silky soft, all feathery and curly now it’s growing down below his chin. Finely woven golden wisps, that frame his thin, stark white face. Albus starts on his clothes next, working away at them until he’s certain they’re completely dry. Only then does he cast a Warming Charm over Scorpius, followed by conjuring several blankets and wrapping them round him. 

"Is that better?” He asks. 

Scorpius’s eyes are closed, and Albus thinks he might be asleep, but then he nods, the tiniest twitch of his head. Albus leans down and kisses him on the cheek. 

“Rest well,” he whispers. 

“Let James fix your shoulder,” Scorpius says, and Albus smiles. 

“I’ll think about it." 

He tucks the last corner of Scorpius’s blanket up against his neck, to keep out any hint of a draft, then he turns and walks to the kitchen to face his brother, head held high, determined to fight to the bitter end if that’s what it takes to convince James that this is the only way.

James is bustling around making tea. His wand is drawn, and various bits of mud-splattered, soggy Quidditch kit are floating around the room, some of them covered in soap bubbles, some steaming gently. Albus leans in the doorway and watches the chaos, hoping that James hasn’t noticed he’s there. 

"Is Scorpius sure he doesn’t want any tea?” James asks, glancing round at him. Albus has never been able to hide from his brother. 

“I think he’s going to sleep,” Albus says. “Maybe later." 

James hesitates, then nods. "Just two teas then.”

“I don’t want-" 

"Remember how Granny always says tea can fix anything?” James says, cutting across him. “You look like someone who needs fixing. You look like shit, Albus. I’m making you tea." 

Albus opens his mouth to protest, but thinks better of it. He just stands there, shivering, shoulders hunched and head bowed, waiting for James to start asking questions. 

"Do you need a Warming Charm?” James asks, coming over and pressing a mug of tea into Albus’s hands. 

Albus sniffs the tea. “Does this have sugar in it?" 

James draws himself up to his full height, defensive all of a sudden. "Yes." 

Albus pulls a face.

"Yes,” James continues, “because this is the best – the only – way to make tea. Now stop being a baby and drink it." 

Albus glares at him for a second, then gives in and takes a gulp of the tea. At the same moment, James casts a Warming Charm and a Drying Charm over him. Albus tries to protest, but it just splutters out because his mouth is full of scalding tea, some of which dribbles down his chin. 

"The tea goes in your mouth,” James advises. “Not down your front.”

Albus flips him off and wipes his chin on the sleeve of his hoodie. His mouth is too full to speak still, and the mug is almost overflowing so he can’t run away or fight his brother off. He has to stand there and endure James drying his hair in a way that makes it stick up as much as possible. 

When Albus has finally drunk enough of the boiling tea that the mug is a bit more empty and his throat is on fire, he ducks away, running a hand through his messed up hair. 

“Did you have to do that?” He asks. 

“You should be more grateful,” James says. “I’ve prevented you getting hypothermia." 

"Is that what you call it,” he grumbles, stomping over to the kitchen table and dropping down into a seat. He curls up there and rubs his shoulder, which is stinging again. 

James walks across to the counter, picks up his own mug of tea and takes a sip, then walks over to him. There’s no more mischief in his expression, just concern. “Can I look at that?" 

"You won’t be able to help." 

"Yes,” James says firmly. “I will. I’m very good at Healing spells, thank you very much." 

Albus frowns and looks up at him. "Are you?" 

James nods. "As a matter of fact I am. You get a lot of practice when you play Quidditch for a living. Did you know Alice let me fix her broken arm last week?" 

"I bet she regretted that,” Albus mutters. 

James swats at him. “I did an excellent job. Now show me your shoulder. Come on. Hoodie off, shirt off, and I promise I won’t make fun of how skinny you are." 

"James!" 

James grins. "I said I wouldn’t make fun of you!”

Albus glares at him, but pulls his top off anyway, and sits there with his arms wrapped round himself, shivering even though the kitchen is warm and James’s tea is smouldering away inside him. 

James crouches down on the floor next to Albus and draws his wand. He keeps shuffling around on his tiptoes, trying to balance, and he takes a firm hold of Albus’s arm to keep it still. 

“Did Scorpius do this? The bandage?" 

"I think so,” Albus says, not looking at him. His hands are freezing. “I might not have been completely conscious at the time." 

"What did you do to yourself?” James asks, looking up at him in amazement. “You’re supposed to be the healthy one. You almost look as bad as Scorpius, which is saying something." 

"I’m a lot better than Scorpius,” Albus replies. 

“Well,” James concedes, “yes. I suppose you are. But really Albus. You’ve bled right through this thing." 

"I… Splinched myself,” Albus mutters, hoping it’s too quiet for his brother to hear. Unfortunately, James’s face lights up like Christmas has come early. 

“You Splinched yourself?" 

Albus nods.

James beams. "You know, I spent years trying to convince everyone that you’d be a liability when you got your licence, but did they listen? No.” He starts untying Albus’s bandage, his touch very gentle. Albus flinches a couple of times, but not once does James actually hurt him. And when the bandage finally falls away, James gives a quiet gasp. 

“Albus…” He looks up, eyes wide. “This is- this isn’t good. This is a mess." 

"I know.” Albus glances at him. “I’m painfully aware." 

James shakes his head. "I shouldn’t have laughed, I’m sorry.” He turns Albus’s arm gently, inspecting the wound. “Someone’s done a reasonable job sorting it out. Did Scorpius do this?” He gestures to the clean, reasonably healed sections where Fawkes’s tears had fallen. 

“It was a Phoenix,” Albus says. “Dumbledore’s Phoenix." 

"Dumbledore’s-” James sinks down on his heels and stares up at Albus. “What sort of life do you have? You Splinch yourself while you’re on the run with your sick best friend and Dumbledore’s Phoenix heals you?”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Albus says, feeling a flush of anger. “Scorpius didn’t ask for this. I don’t like any of this. I don’t want it. I don’t care how many Phoenixes I run into, I just want my boyfriend not to be sick anymore." 

James draws his wand and kneels up again, leaning in close to examine Albus’s shoulder. "Your boyfriend? You didn’t mention that before. Nor did Mum and Dad. I mean it’s hardly a surprise, but-" 

"He might die, James. He might already be dying.” He turns and looks toward the doorway, at the tiny fraction of the lounge he can see. Scorpius is in there. Asleep. Getting sicker and sicker by the second as the awful poison creeps through his veins. “I don’t want to lose him." 

His voice cracks, and he doesn’t think he’s ever sounded so young or so weak. He expects James to laugh at him, and he prepares himself to fight back, but James doesn’t say anything. He shuffles a bit closer to Albus, raises his wand, and starts tapping it against the less damaged bits of his skin. 

"How are you doing with the cure?” James asks finally. “You know, the potion ingredients?" 

Albus frowns. "How do you know about that?”

“Rose told me.” He taps his wand against a sensitive, painful bit of Albus’s shoulder, and Albus pulls away. 

“Would you be more careful?” He asks, holding his arm to his chest. 

“Sorry,” James says, reaching out to Albus. “Come back here. I promise I’m trying not to hurt." 

Albus glares at him for a second then leans in closer, relaxing his arm just a little. "We’re doing alright, we- Ow!” James chooses that moment to seize hold of his wrist. “Stop that! You’re hurting me.”

“You’re fine,” James says. “Stop complaining.” He steadies Albus’s arm and starts waving his wand in a circular motion over the wound, face screwed up with concentration. “Is it true you went into the Chamber of Secrets?" 

"Do you know everything?" 

"I am all-knowing…” He frowns. “Isn’t there a word for that?" 

"Omniscient,” Albus says.

James smiles. “You hang out with Scorpius too much." 

"I haven’t hung out with him nearly enough,” Albus says softly. 

James scrutinises him for a moment, then releases the grip on his wrist just a bit. “Can I help?" 

"What?” Albus sits back in his seat in amazement and stares down at his brother. 

“Can I help?” James repeats. “Is there anything I can do? What else do you need?" 

Albus frowns at him, perplexed. "Why are you being so nice? Why would you help?" 

James shrugs. "You’re my little brother. And if Scorpius died you’d be really miserable. I hate seeing you miserable." 

"Do you?” Albus asks. “You’ve never seemed bothered in the past." 

James drops his hand and sits back on his heels again. He picks his tea mug up from the table and takes a sip, expression all twisted up, hazel eyes almost black in the low light. 

"Sorry,” Albus says, looking down at his hands. 

“No,” James says. “I probably deserved that.” He sets the mug back on the table and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, seeming to carefully consider his words. “But I do care about you, Albus. And if I can help… if there’s anything. Food, clothes, a bed for the night, something I can get you… I’m not going to tell Dad you’re here, because it seems like you need to do this, and if this is what you want then I’m not going to stop you." 

Albus considers carefully. "You’re sure you won’t tell anyone?" 

"Can I tell Rose you were here?” He asks. “She’s been worrying about you both. She’d like to know you’re… well, I’m not sure safe is the right word for it. Alive? However temporarily." 

"Yes,” Albus sighs. “Go on. But you have to let us get out of here first.”

“So I can tell her after Quidditch practice tomorrow night?" 

Albus shrugs, then winces as his shoulder stings. It feels raw and uncomfortable now James has been prodding at it. "Or in the morning." 

"I’m not done with that,” James says, gesturing to Albus’s shoulder with his wand. He gets to his feet and strides across the kitchen to a cupboard by the sink. “You’re not leaving tonight are you? You’ll stay and sleep?" 

Albus shakes his head. "I don’t think we have time.”  

“What do you mean, you don’t have time?” He rummages through the cupboard, clearing bottles and boxes out of the way. It looks like a complete mess of potions ingredients, no order at all, just chaos. “Aren’t you going to have a good night’s sleep? Scorpius looks like he could use a rest. And so do you." 

"I mean that if we stay here and rest, Scorpius might die in his sleep. This thing, this disease, is moving fast, James.” Albus gets to his feet and walks across to his brother, who snatches something out of the cupboard and whirls around. 

“No. Sit down. I said I wasn’t done yet!” He shakes a bottle in Albus’s face. “Dittany. Come on.” He tries to shoo Albus back to the table, but Albus holds his ground. 

“Wait. You have ingredients in there. I don’t suppose you have the ingredients for a Love Potion?" 

"A Love Potion?” James grins and flips the bottle of Dittany over in his hand. “Scorpius already fancies you, Albus, and you already fancy him. I don’t think you need to-" 

"It’s one of the ingredients we need to cure him!" 

James eyes him. "This cure… is a bit weird." 

"I know,” Albus groans, burying his face in his hands. “I know James. I really really know. But that doesn’t mean I’m not doing it. It could…” he looks up and shakes his head. “It could require me to dance naked in a vat of Flobberworms at the full moon and I’d do it. For him.” He points to the door to the front room. “For Scorpius." 

"Okay,” James says slowly. “Maybe this cure isn’t that weird. Apparently it could be a lot worse.” He taps Albus on the wrist and squeezes past him, beckoning him to follow. “I don’t have the ingredients for a Love Potion, I’m sorry. And I know you know that even if I did it would take about a month to be ready.”

Albus sighs and sinks into the seat at the kitchen table. “So where am I supposed to get some from?" 

"Uncle Ron?” James suggests, uncorking the Dittany. “This is going to sting, and if you wriggle it’ll only make it worse, so keep still." 

"Why would Uncle Ron have Love Potions?” Albus asks, confused. “He and Hermione aren’t-" 

"Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,” James says, like he’s explaining it to a very small child who can’t quite keep up. “You know.” He dips a bit of cotton wool into the Dittany and starts dabbing it on Albus’s shoulder. “The joke shop?" 

Albus hisses at the sting of pain and tries to twist his arm away, but James’s fingers clamp on.

"Didn’t I tell you to sit still?" 

"It hurts!” Albus protests.

“I know, and you’re a big boy who can handle it. Aren’t you supposed to be an adult?" 

"Being an adult doesn’t stop it hurting,” Albus huffs. 

“Stop being a little pink Pygmy Puff,” James says, dipping the cotton wool back in the Dittany. 

“That’s offensive,” Albus tells him. 

“My very existence offends you. I don’t know why you’re surprised.” James takes a tighter hold of his arm and starts dabbing at it again. It really does hurt, a sharp, uncomfortable stinging like he’s being attacked by a swarm of bees. But it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the original Splinching had, so he grits his teeth and puts up with it. 

“Seriously though, Albus. I can go in the morning and get you a bottle of Love Potion. How much do you need? I bet Uncle Ron would give it to us for free. Especially if I said you were having girl trouble." 

Albus gives him a look. "I’m gay, James." 

"It’s a figure of speech,” James says brightly. 

“Maybe you should tell him you’re the one having girl trouble. At least that would be believable.” Albus ducks sideways as James swats at him. “Anyway, that won’t work. I don’t think it can wait until the morning. You haven’t seen him, have you?” He swallows at the memory and looks down at his hands. “It’s sort of spreading through his veins, and… and I’m worried what will happen if it gets much further. Whether he’ll be able to function. Whether he’ll just…” he trails off, and James stops putting Dittany on the wound and touches his arm gently. 

“Hey. We’ll figure it out. If we can’t wait until the morning we’ll go to Uncle Ron now." 

Albus shakes his head. "He’ll tell Dad." 

James thinks for a second. "So… we break in! We can pick locks. We’ll steal the Love Potion." 

Albus looks at him very hard and tries to think of an argument against that, but he can’t. "That’s actually a good idea." 

"I have my moments of brilliance,” James says proudly.

“When you say we…” Albus says. “You’re not coming with us." 

"Aren’t I? Someone needs to keep you two under control." 

"But you have to work tomorrow,” Albus points out. “What if you get into trouble?”

“There isn’t enough trouble in my life,” James says, giving Albus’s shoulder one final swab with the Dittany. “I miss getting up to mischief.” He picks his wand up from the table and waves it round in a circle, conjuring up a clean white bandage that he ties round Albus’s arm. “Is that better?" 

Albus wriggles his shoulder a bit. It doesn’t hurt nearly so much now, and he’s sure that beneath the bandage it looks a lot better than it did before. He doesn’t think it’s bleeding anymore either, which is good. He nods and glances at his brother. "Thanks.”

“Is there anything we can do for Scorpius?" 

Albus tugs his t-shirt and jacket back on and ruffles his hair flat. "Do you have any Painkilling Potions? Those were helping him before, but… I sort of smashed all of ours when I Splinched myself." 

"I actually do!” James says, with such genuine enthusiasm that Albus is almost tempted to hug him. Almost. He gets up and walks back to the potions cupboard, pulls out a couple of bottles, and hands them to Albus. “This is all I have at the moment. Will that be enough?" 

Albus takes them from James as carefully as he can. "I think we’ll take anything right now.” He gets up and kicks his chair in under the table. “Do you think it’ll be difficult? Breaking into the shop?" 

"I can’t imagine it’ll be safe or sensible… but you’ve definitely done more dangerous things. You fought Voldemort’s daughter. After that, Uncle Ron and Uncle George will be easy." 

Albus snorts. "Do you think? I’d be more scared of them and their spells than any dark witch." 

James considers, then gives a little nod. "I suppose you have a point. But. At least we know we’ll get out of that place alive." 

Albus gives him a grim smile. "You hope." 

—

Scorpius wakes to feel gentle fingers brushing through his hair. He feels warm for the first time in days, and as close to comfortable as he’s going to get, and in his delirious, half-asleep state, he thinks about how his mum used to stroke his hair sometimes to wake him up when he fell asleep on the sofa in the library. He thinks about how his dad would do the same thing when he was in hospital, to comfort him and keep him calm when things were hurting most of all. 

He’s hurting now, a terrifying aching that runs through his whole body. The sort of pain that people aren’t meant to survive, that means everything has gone terribly wrong. Like knives slicing through him. All he can do is lie there and hope that keeping still will make it hurt less. 

"Scorpius. Are you awake?" 

Albus’s voice, soft and concerned. There’s that tightness in his tone that signifies anxiety, and in the past Scorpius has always associated it with Harry. These days he only ever hears Albus sound like that when he’s fretting about the illness. 

Albus’s fingers brush through his hair again, and of course they’re Albus’s. Scorpius realises now. No one else feels like that. No one else keeps on stroking for so long, beyond his hairline down round the side of his face, cupping his cheek, seeming to enjoy the angles and curves, lingering on and on like they don’t want to let go.  

Scorpius exhales and opens his eyes. Speaking feels like too much right now. The pain is sickening, to the point where he’s afraid he might scream or throw up if he opens his mouth, but he makes himself nod, and Albus bends down next to him and hugs him. 

"I’m sorry I couldn’t let you sleep longer, but look. James has some of your Potions, and I want to tell you about the plan we’ve come up with.” He pulls back and shows Scorpius the bottle he’s holding, and Scorpius stares at it in wonder and amazement. 

“That’s…” It comes out as a croak, and he swallows hard before trying again. “A Painkilling Potion.”

Albus nods, beaming. 

And now Scorpius really wants to cry, because a small respite, a tiny piece of comfort, is right in front of him. 

“Can I…” He pushes himself upright on the sofa and reaches out his right hand for it, because his left feels strange and numb, and he’d rather try to pretend it doesn’t exist so he doesn’t have to worry about it. 

Albus uncorks the bottle and hands it across to him, still grinning. 

Scorpius doesn’t hesitate. He lifts it to his lips, tilts his head back, and downs the whole bottle in several long gulps, making sure to catch even the tiniest dribbles left in the bottom. 

The effect isn’t immediate, but it is pronounced. Slowly but surely, he feels warmth blossom in his chest. Or maybe it isn’t warmth. This potion has never felt like warmth before, just a sort of satisfying, cold numbness. But compared to the icy sting running through his veins and sitting heavy in his chest, this feels so warm and so good. It feels like life. It feels like being able to breathe again. 

As it spreads through him, he sits very still, eyes closed, tears welling up and choking him because he never imagined this would happen. He never thought he’d manage to get the pain under control again, even for another minute or two, possibly ever. 

“Scorpius?” James’s voice. He sounds so similar to how Albus does when he’s worried. “Is it working?" 

Scorpius takes a very deep breath, marvelling at how much air his lungs can take when his chest isn’t complaining at him. When he opens his eyes, the world is all blurry from tears, but he smiles up at Albus and James and nods. "Yes." 

Albus goes all shaky with relief at the word. He sags against James, and James wraps both arms round him and slaps him on the back, a broad grin on his face. 

"Glad I could help.” He ruffles Albus’s hair and releases him. “Do you know how long it’ll last?" 

Scorpius takes another deep breath, just because he can, and shakes his head. "It varies. It never lasts as long as it used to." 

"Then we’ll be quick,” Albus says, all the relief already gone from his expression and replaced with pure determination. “We’ll get in, steal the Potion, and then there are only a couple of more ingredients to get. The willow wood-" 

"We can break into the Manor and take my old wand shards for those,” Scorpius says. 

Albus nods. “And the memory of love." 

"I’ll figure something out.” Scorpius swings his feet off the sofa and plants them on the ground, testing them out. “But Albus, this is good. I’m feeling…” Fantastic isn’t nearly the right word.  He definitely doesn’t feel fantastic, with his left side still all weak, the distant presence of pain hovering behind the numbness of the potion, and the knowledge that even though he feels slightly better the disease is still spreading. But at least he feels like he can do things now, and he really wants to do things. He wants to Apparate and cast spells, he wants to go and finish this cure, and he wants to do it all with Albus, holding his hand for support the whole way. 

“I’m feeling functional,” he says, and as he does he can’t stop a slow grin spreading across his face. “I feel like my body might be working. I mean, it’s not great, but it’s better.” He beams at Albus and reaches out a hand to him as he stumbles to his feet. His legs, to his immense relief, take his weight, and he manages an excitable little wiggle as he clings to Albus’s hand. 

Albus gives a quiet snort of laughter. “You have energy and that’s what you do with it." 

Scorpius gives him a wicked smile and shimmies up next to him. "There’s nothing better to do with energy. Apart from-” He takes hold of Albus’s face and plants a solid kiss right on his lips. 

Albus presses into the kiss, but grabs hold of his wrists and holds him tight, so he can pull back after a moment. “You’re an idiot." 

"I’m your idiot,” Scorpius says, buzzing with how sort of okay he feels. 

Albus swats at him, and James coughs awkwardly. 

“Okay, I’m going to go and let Rose know what we’re planning. Don’t do anything indecent on my sofa, for Merlin’s sake." 

Albus whips round and glares at him. "We’re not going to do anything indecent anywhere." 

"I mean, we might,” Scorpius murmurs. 

“Don’t encourage him,” Albus says, turning back round and giving him a look. “And you’re supposed to be saving your strength. Indecency will kill you. Behave.” He shoots James another look. “Both of you." 

"Sometimes,” James says, looking past Albus to Scorpius, “he sounds just like our mum." 

Scorpius grins and smooths a hand over Albus’s good shoulder. "I think he’s brilliant." 

"He’s certainly something,” James says. “Albus, will you fill him in on the plan? I’ll be back once I’ve finished this letter, and then we should probably get going.” He starts heading back to the kitchen, but stops in the doorway and looks back at them. “Don’t spend the whole time making out. I don’t want my house defiled." 

Albus flips him off, and he returns the gesture before ducking out of sight. 

"What is the plan?” Scorpius asks, stroking Albus’s hair flat where James had messed it up earlier. 

Albus loops his arms round Scorpius’s waist. “I missed seeing you smile.”

“That… doesn’t sound like a plan.”

Albus tuts. “I’m just saying. You look happy. I think you look less pale.” He bows his head. “I’m sorry I smashed all the potions before." 

Scorpius strokes a finger over his cheek. "Albus. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It’s made you worse,” he says, looking down at his hands. “If I hadn’t-" 

"If you weren’t here we wouldn’t have any of the ingredients,” Scorpius says, sliding his finger under Albus’s chin to lift it up. “I would have been caught by the Aurors. I know how scared you were. That was brave. You’ve always been brave. Braver than me at least. And I’m glad you’re here.” He gives Albus a gentle nudge. “We’re halfway there now. And the last couple of ingredients will be easy. By this time tomorrow maybe you’ll have made the Potion, I’ll have drunk it, and everything will be over.”

Albus looks at him. “Do you think?" 

Scorpius shrugs. "I can dream. Optimism is good. And I really do want to see my dad again…”

“Then we’ll do this,” Albus says, taking hold of his hands and squeezing them tight. “We’ll do it quickly. We’ll get you healed and then take you home to your dad." 

"I know,” Scorpius says. “I have faith in us." 

—

Scorpius sits cross-legged on James’s sofa, fiddling with the hem on the right leg of his trousers. He’s trying to forget the trace of greyish green he’s just spotted, creeping down towards his ankle. It’s his own fault for kissing Albus earlier. He knew at the time that it was reckless, but he was so excited. Having said that, at least it doesn’t hurt, even though it looks terrible. He doesn’t have to feel the death creeping through his veins, even though he can see it. At least this way he can have a go at not thinking about it. 

"Is that a bruise?" 

Scorpius drops his trouser leg and looks up to see James leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, a curious expression on his face. The frown creasing his forehead is identical to the one Albus wears so often, so familiar that Scorpius almost smiles. 

"It’s nothing,” he says, tucking his hair out of his eyes. 

James pushes out of the doorway and walks over to him. “Are you sure? If there’s something wrong you can tell me. I’m not Albus. I don’t panic." 

”’If there’s something wrong’,“ Scorpius repeats, rubbing a hand down his left leg, which has started sending sharp twinges of pain running up into his hip, even despite the potion. 

"Poor choice of words?” James asks. He sighs and sits down on the floor across from Scorpius. “Sorry. I just meant… I suspect that what we’re about to do won’t be very safe. So if there’s anything going on that we don’t know about, that might cause a problem…" 

"Albus knows everything,” Scorpius says, pressing the heel of his hand against a sore spot just above his knee. “There’s no point keeping things from him, it just makes him irritable.”

James smiles. “Only because he loves you. He’s spent most of the last six and a half years worrying about you. Did you know that he spent the summer of second year panicking when you thought you’d failed your Charms exam? And I think he was ready to burst over Christmas in fourth year when you two were both grounded. He missed you. And-” He holds up a hand to stop Scorpius even thinking about interrupting. “In that last Quidditch match last year? When the Bludger hit you and you fell off after you caught the Snitch? You should have seen him. He was beside himself." 

Scorpius grins. "Madam Pomfrey told me, when I woke up, that he’d been sitting outside the Hospital Wing and refusing to leave all weekend. She was really annoyed about it." 

"He’s obsessed with you,” James says. “Not in a creepy way. Just in an Albus way. You know how he gets about things.”

Scorpius nods. “Dad calls it the Potter tenacity." 

James snorts. "I like that. But honestly Scorpius.” His smile melts away until all that’s left is something serious and earnest. “I’ve seen him heartbroken over you, I’ve seen him skipping with delight because of you, I’ve seen him incandescent with rage because of you. You mean the world to him. I know he’s going to do everything he can to help you with this cure, and I will too, because I’m not sure I can imagine what he’d be like without you. I don’t even remember what he was like before he met you. Probably all miserable and nerdy and quiet." 

He pauses for a second and thinks, then he leans forward, looking right at Scorpius. "You’ve changed him. In really good ways. And I want to make sure you can keep changing each other. Because as much as I hate to admit it, especially when my little brother’s involved, you two are a pretty formidable team." 

"I know,” Scorpius says, in a very soft voice. “Without him…” He shakes his head. “He makes me stronger." 

"Sometimes I get a bit jealous of how good you two are together,” James admits. “I wish I had something like the two of you." 

Scorpius looks at him curiously. "You do?" 

James grins. "Very briefly. Before I remember that I’m perfect on my own. If I was any better reality might implode." 

Scorpius laughs. "Don’t say that in front of Albus.”

“Oh I won’t,” James says. “He’ll just mock me.” He gets to his feet. “Where is he by the way?" 

Scorpius shrugs. "He went to repack the bag. And he might be stealing some of your clothes. Ours are destroyed. He was saying since he’s your height now he might be able to fit into them." 

James does a double-take. "No way is he the same height as me." 

"He’s had a growth spurt,” Scorpius says. “He’s definitely a bit taller than he was." 

James shakes his head. "Nope. No way. The words Albus and growth spurt don’t belong in the same sentence. It’s impossible." 

Scorpius gets cautiously off the sofa, testing his legs before he puts any weight on them. It seems safe so he straightens up. "I promise you he’s grown.”

“I’m choosing to live in denial,” James says, turning his back and walking away.

Scorpius takes a couple of awkward steps across the room, and is pleased to find that it isn’t too uncomfortable. “Did you send your letter to Rose? What did you tell her?" 

James spins around. "That you’re on death’s door." 

Scorpius smiles. "I appreciate the optimism." 

"Well you do look like shit,” James points out. “Even with the potion. You’re a mess.”

“Hopefully I’m not as much of a disaster as you seem to think, or…” He winces as he steps a bit too confidently on his left leg. “We’re in serious trouble." 

James comes over and takes hold of his arm while he wobbles around, trying to regain his balance. "I also told her where we’re going, and that you two have most of the ingredients now.”

“Good.” After a moment, Scorpius nudges James away. “I’m alright. Thank you. It’s just sensitive. And a bit tiring. I’ll live." 

"Glad to hear it.” James steps back to give him room, but not far enough that he couldn’t catch him if he fell. “Do you reckon we should go and find Albus before he steals all my clothes? It’s getting late. There won’t be anyone around Diagon Alley at this time, and we need to get on with this." 

Scorpius nods, and starts making his way gingerly to the door. "Let’s go." 

—

Rose is awake when James’s letter arrives. It’s the middle of the night, but she’s been studying hard. Studying is easier than sleeping these days. There’s too much to worry about for sleep. 

The second she lies down in bed she finds herself thinking, her mind racing through possibilities too awful to contemplate. Albus and Scorpius being caught, Scorpius getting sicker and sicker in St Mungo’s, his lifeless body pale and still in front of her. She’s been having more and more nightmares about him dying, and she has too much to do to waste time on that sort of nonsense, so the best solution is to sit up by the dying fire and write essay after essay.

The embers floods the room with a dull red. The shadows creep and flicker in every corner. It’s hard on the eyes, but a lamp would be even harder, so Rose just leaves a lit candle on the table next to her and curls in close to the parchment. 

She’s writing about the theories of Human-Animal Transfiguration when she hears the tap on the window. It’s raining so hard outside that for a moment she dismisses it as just more of the rain, lashing with ever more force against the glass. But then the tapping, scratching noise comes again and she looks up. 

She rubs her bleary eyes and peers across towards the window. There’s a shape outside, lurking on the window ledge, and it takes her a second to realise that it’s an owl. It’s perched out in the rain-soaked night, being battered by the wind. She shoots out of her chair the second she realises what she’s seeing, and rushes across to open the window. 

An icy gust swirls into the room, making the low flames in the fireplace gutter, and blowing her candle out completely. Several of her papers are blown onto the floor, and she has to step back as the bedraggled owl soars inside, brushing straight past her and almost clipping her with one of its wings, in its haste to get out of the inclement weather. 

It lands on the back of her vacated seat and hoots irritably.

"Well I didn’t ask you to come,” she says. “If you were sensible you would have roosted somewhere dry for the night and come tomorrow." 

The owl glares at her. 

"Be that way,” she tells it. “Now you’re here are you at least going to give me the letter? I assume it’s for me, since there’s no one else around. 

The owl seems to briefly consider not letting her have the letter, but after a moment’s hesitation it sticks its leg out, and Rose rushes in to untie it. As she gets close to the owl she finally recognises it. James’s Tawny Owl, Moony. It has the pattern of pale speckles across its head that James has always sworn is in the shape of the Canis Major constellation. 

"Did James send you out in that?” She asks Moony, nodding towards the window. He responds with an indignant hoot, and Rose tuts. “He’s very rude. I’m sorry. When I write back I’ll tell him to be more respectful.” She smooths Moony’s ruffled feathers and perches on the edge of her seat, unfurling the letter. 

Apparently Moony has decided not to be too angry at her, because he hops up onto her shoulder and gives a soft hoot. 

“Yes, I’m reading,” she murmurs as she begins scanning the page. 

Dear Rose,

You’ll never guess who showed up at my house after Quidditch practice today… Albus and Scorpius! 

They both look a mess. Albus has managed to Splinch himself somehow. His shoulder is completely mangled. I managed to sort it out a bit, but I’m not sure how much good I’ve done. I think it needs professional help, but of course he won’t get it looked at until Scorpius is sorted out. 

Scorpius is really bad, Rose. I’m really worried. Albus is terrified, and I think rightly so. Even Scorpius is obviously scared, and you know how well he hides things. I’m really not sure how much longer he has left. He could barely stand when he arrived at mine, and he just curled up on the sofa and fell asleep. He’s suffering a lot. Looking at him you can see him fading away before your eyes, and judging from that description of the disease you sent me, he really doesn’t have long left. It’ll be a miracle if we get him through the night, especially given what we’re doing. 

We need to break into Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Apparently they need a Love Potion, and they take too much time to make of course, and judging by the mess that Scorpius is in we can’t wait until the morning to buy one. So instead we’re stealing from our own family. It’s ludicrous. Please send our apologies to your dad in advance. I’ll pay him back when I can. 

It’s going to be a pretty stressful night. I’m worried, Rose. I don’t know what will happen to Albus if Scorpius doesn’t get through the next few hours. I know he’s tough, but does that mean anything where Scorpius is concerned?

I’m going to go with them and try to keep them both safe and alive. Wish me luck. I suspect I’m really going to need it. They’re difficult to take care of at the best of times, and this is definitely not one of those.

I’ll keep you updated. 

Love, James

Rose feels faintly sick as she reads the letter through for a second and a third time. James isn’t sure whether Scorpius will make it through the night? 

That’s bad. That’s really bad. That’s… all her nightmares coming true at once. 

She’d stayed up to avoid having these dreams, but this isn’t a dream anymore. James’s words aren’t a nightmare. They’re reality. He’s seen Albus and Scorpius today and he says that- 

‘Albus is terrified, and I think rightly so… He could barely stand when he arrived at mine… It’ll be a miracle if we get him through the night.' 

She shakes her head and crumples the letter up in her hand so she can’t read it anymore, then she buries her face in her hands and tries to comprehend what it means. 

James must have sent this hours ago. Owls are quick but they can’t Apparate. Moony didn’t just appear here. It’s taken him time to fly up, especially if the weather has been so horrible the whole way. And the thing about time is that it lets things happen. 

Are Albus and Scorpius at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes now? Are they safe? Are they alive? In the past few hours Scorpius could have deteriorated. He could by dying. He could be dead. 

Rose shudders all over at the thought. She hugs her arms round herself and bows her head. This is awful. This is the worst Owls she’s ever received. 

She’s never known anyone who’s died before. There’s no one in her family who they’ve lost, not since she was born at least. Hugo’s pet rat died last year, but she was a rat, and she was Hugo’s, so Rose barely noticed it had happened. 

There was that boy, Craig Bowker, the one who Delphi killed. Maybe he was the closest Rose has got to losing someone. But he was in Slytherin, and they barely even had any lessons together. She saw him once or twice a week in Potions class, but he was quiet and well behaved, and she never knew much about him. It was awful when he died, because it hurt some of her friends – Yann and Polly – and because it hurt Albus. But that was other people’s grief. Other people’s pain. And Rose has never known how it feels to have your heart broken by the loss of someone dear. 

But now she’s sitting here thinking about Scorpius. Scorpius who is so bright and enthusiastic and awkward and nerdy. Scorpius who is constantly smiling. Scorpius who sits on the banisters and swings his feet back and forth while they’re doing Prefect duty in the entrance hall. Scorpius who was so bored while he was in hospital, and would beg her to bring him books about difficult Transfiguration theory from the Library, just so he had something to do. Scorpius who loves Albus with every fibre of his being. Scorpius who is her best friend. Scorpius who is-

Scorpius who was? 

There’s no guarantee he’s still alive. Maybe she should be thinking about Scorpius Malfoy in the past tense? 

But no. That’s impossible. Scorpius can’t just stop living. Some disease can’t make Scorpius not exist anymore. Scorpius is too strong to die, he’s too much of a presence, too full of life, brimming over with energy and ideas and-

Sometimes when they were doing Prefect duty together in the library at night – collecting up books and rubbish, and helping Madam Pince put the place back in order – they would talk. Scorpius would tell Rose about his mum, about how she’d been when she was alive. And Rose had always thought how remarkably similar they must have been, Scorpius and Astoria Malfoy; how Scorpius was growing up to be just like her. 

Astoria Malfoy died. Brave, bold, loving Astoria Malfoy, who embraced life at every turn. If she died then is it so impossible that Scorpius would die too? 

She rakes her hands through her hair and looks up at James’s owl. 

“Moony…” she says, and her voice breaks. “I think my friend is going to die.” Her words catch in her throat, and she feels a tear spill down her cheek. She sniffs and brushes it away. “What do I do?" 

Moony gives a soft hoot and starts preening himself. 

"Fine,” she mutters. “I’ll figure it out myself. I’m smart and I’m brave. I can do this." 

She gets to her feet and paces round the table, brushing away the tears that keep falling. She can’t stop thinking about eleven-year-old Scorpius grinning and offering her sweets, fourteen-year-old Scorpius rambling about bread, fifteen-year-old Scorpius stuttering out a request for her to go on a date with him, seventeen-year-old Scorpius hugging her and calling her his friend. It hurts. It aches. And if it feels like this for her then she can’t imagine how Albus is feeling; how Draco is feeling.

Draco. 

A thought strikes. 

There are all those letters upstairs. Hidden under the pillow in Rose’s dorm. The letters Scorpius left for Draco. If something terrible is going on with Scorpius, isn’t it Rose’s job to share those letters with Draco? That was the whole point of him sending them to her. 

If she was dying, wouldn’t she want her mum and dad to know she loved them before she died? It must be the same for Scorpius. And time is running out by the sound of it. 

Maybe this is the moment to share Scorpius’s letters with Draco. 

She stops behind one of the chairs and braces her hands on the back of it, staring at the glowing embers of the fire. Just one or two crackling flames are left, and all the logs and coals have crumbled away into ash. It’ll die out completely, and the room will be left cold and dark. This has to be the moment to act. It has to be. Before it’s too late. 

Rose turns to Moony, who’s still perched on the back of her chair, preening himself.

"Wait here. I have a job for you." 

Moony lifts his head and gives an indignant hoot. 

"I know I know. But it’s important.”

Moony flutters his wings and glares. 

“It’s very important. Life or death. And I trust you with that." 

Moony seems to consider, then he fluffs himself up, feathers ruffled to make himself look big and important. 

Rose gives him a grim smile. "I knew I could count on you.” She gathers her books and sprints up to her dorm to fetch Scorpius’s letters.

“Do you think we’re safe?” Scorpius hisses. “It’s freezing out here. Please can we go inside?”

Both Albus and James immediately shush him, waving their hands to keep him quiet. Albus glances at his brother and draws his wand. His expression is very serious, and as he gazes out into the gloom, Scorpius can’t help but think how much he looks like his dad. There’s a confidence and assurance to how he’s standing. He looks like he knows what he’s doing and he looks like he means business. Scorpius can imagine a younger Harry having looked that way too. 

“There might be Aurors around,” James whispers, creeping across to Scorpius. “They’ve increased security around here. And that was before you two disappeared." 

Scorpius frowns. "How do you know they’ve increased security?" 

James shrugs. "Dad. Sometimes he likes to complain about his work over-" 

"Shut up!” Albus breathes, rushing back into the shadows and pushing both James and Scorpius against the bank wall. “Someone’s coming.” He flattens himself against Scorpius’s body and ducks his head down, apparently trying to make himself invisible. Scorpius pulls his hood up for him, and wraps an arm round him to hold him close. 

They stand there in the shadows, and Scorpius can feel that Albus is holding his breath, although his heart is beating rapidly. James has frozen stock-still, all tight and tense. Scorpius tries to do the same, but his legs are cramping up from the cold and from standing for so long, and he can’t stay still. He wriggles his knees back and forth, and Albus tightens his grip on the back of his jacket, like he’s trying to offer what support he can from the uncomfortable position he’s in. 

Footsteps splash through a puddle on the street beside the bank, and Scorpius hears a pair of voices talking, although he can’t hear much of what they’re saying since they’re speaking so quietly. A beam of wandlight pierces the shadows where they’re hiding, and Albus crushes himself as close to Scorpius as he can get. The beam just slides past them, and the two people, in long, flowing robes go strolling on past. Albus turns his head to watch them as they go by, and once they’re out of earshot he looks at James.

“Aurors,” he breathes. 

“I know,” James whispers back. “Wasn’t that Perkins?" 

Albus nods. "We should be safe for a bit once they’re gone.” He takes a step back to give Scorpius some space. “Are you okay?" 

Scorpius wriggles his legs around and nods. "Cold and stiff. I want to get moving.”

“Let’s just give them a second,” Albus murmurs, glancing over his shoulder again at the disappearing backs of the Aurors. “Then we can go." 

Scorpius counts to ten very slowly in the time they spend staring down the road. At last, the Aurors disappear round a slight bend in the road outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, their long robes swishing off into the darkness. Only then does Albus relax and take a step back. He puts his wand away and looks at the other two. 

"Safe. For now. But there’ll probably be another patrol in a few hours." 

"By which time we’ll have the Love Potion and be out of here,” Scorpius says brightly. 

Albus and James share a look, and Scorpius’s smile fades. He’d known he was being overly optimistic, but for not one of the other two to look even a little bit positive is alarming. 

“I think we stay calm, move slowly, and stick together the whole time,” James says. “I don’t trust anything in that shop." 

"No,” Albus agrees. 

Scorpius gives Albus a nudge as they start walking away from the bank and down the street to the shop. “You’re more nervous about this than you were about breaking into the Ministry of Magic.”

“That’s because this will be harder,” Albus says firmly.

Scorpius takes hold of his hand. “You look older when you’re being serious." 

Albus glances at him. "Is that a compliment?”

Scorpius smiles. “Yes. I like it. You look grown up. Not that you don’t always look grown up.”

Albus relaxes just a little, and returns the smile. He frees his hand from Scorpius’s and reaches up to trail his fingers through Scorpius’s hair, twirling one of the long, fine, curling strands round his forefinger. “You should keep it like this, when we get out of this mess. Maybe a little bit shorter, but it suits you." 

Scorpius pulls a face. "Doesn’t it make me look like my dad?" 

Albus grins. "You’ve always looked like your dad." 

Scorpius groans. "Says you." 

Albus gives him a gentle nudge, then reaches round and gathers his hair up behind his head. "It’s not quite that long yet. You have a bit to go before you can make it into a ponytail." 

Scorpius sighs with relief. "Thank Dumbledore for that." 

Albus laughs and hugs him. 

Up ahead, James has noticed what they’re up to and is now walking backwards, hands on hips, glaring at them. "Oi, this is a serious situation. Do you mind not flirting for a second?" 

Scorpius links arms with Albus. "We are enjoying each other’s company." 

"Well don’t,” James advises. “We need to concentrate.” He spins around and keeps walking, and Albus pulls a face at his back. Scorpius snorts and squeezes his arm. 

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes looms out of the darkness as they make their way up the street. It looks weird at night, all the colours dampened by the shadows, the shapes in the windows sinister, laughing faces on posters and packaging leering at them. Scorpius feels Albus shiver next to him, and he reaches across and zips his jacket right up under his chin for him. 

“I’m not cold,” Albus murmurs. “It’s just…" 

"Creepy?” Scorpius suggests, looking at a faceless mannequin that must be modelling some of the Invisibility products, because it appears to float in mid-air, looking down at them, sightless but seemingly intent, ready for them to make a wrong move.

“Very creepy,” Albus agrees. 

“I know you have to get in round the back,” James says, coming over to them. “There’s a sort of supply yard round there. That’s how we got in when I worked here that summer after sixth year. If you try to get in through the front it sets all the security off. Whatever that means.”

“I think we should all agree not to find out what it means,” Scorpius says, still eyeing the mannequin, his voice going a little bit high-pitched.

Albus gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and glances at James. “I can’t believe you managed to work here for an entire summer and you don’t know what’s going to happen to us when we’re in there." 

James grimaces. "They change the security all the time.”

Albus shakes his head. “Useless,” he mutters, then he turns and leads the way round the side of the building, to a dingy little alley. He draws his wand and lights it, holding it high so they can see the whole way to the back of the building. Only when he’s certain there’s no one and nothing there does he go through, keeping a tight grip on Scorpius’s hand. 

The yard round the back is flooded with moonlight, the cobbles gleaming a slick silver, broken only by the wooden trapdoor that leads down into the store rooms. 

“Do you think the stores would be easier to steal from than the shop itself?” James muses. 

“I doubt it,” Albus says, now shining his wand on the back door. “We haven’t been down there in years. I wouldn’t know where to start looking." 

"Good point,” James says, also drawing his wand and directing it at the door. “Alohomora,” he says. Nothing happens. 

“It won’t unlock?” Scorpius asks, drawing his wand too. He waves it in a complicated little squiggle and tries the fancy unlocking spell that he knows works on his dad’s office door. Still nothing happens. 

Albus steps close to the door and bends down, running his hands over it. “There’s no lock…”

“Really?” James shoves him out of the way and moves up to the door instead. “I was counting on us having to pick it.”

Albus shakes his head. 

James pulls something from his pocket, some sort of knife, and runs it down the crack between door and doorframe. There’s a dull click, but the door doesn’t open, and he pulls the knife back looking disappointed. “They’ve thought of everything." 

"Well it must open somehow,” Albus says, kneeling down on the step and running his fingers along the base of the door. “I refuse to be defeated by a door, James." 

"We could blast it down,” James suggests, waving his wand randomly through the air like he’s not sure what to do with it.

“And wake up the whole street?” Albus tuts. “There has to be a neater solution to it than that.” He looks up at Scorpius. “You’re the most intelligent of all of us. What do you think?" 

Scorpius considers the door carefully for a moment, thinking. It can’t be unlocked with magic, there’s no lock to pick, they can’t break it down… how else do you get through doors? It’s unlikely to just open if he tries twisting the handle. But what other options are there? He frowns and walks up the steps. Albus scrambles out of the way, and holds his wand up so Scorpius can see what he’s doing. 

Feeling a little bit stupid, Scorpius curls his body over the door handle so neither of the others can see what he’s doing. He twists it, and it turns an inch or so, but then it sticks. He sighs. It was worth a try. 

He takes a step back and surveys the door, then he starts rapping his knuckles lightly across the wood. And as he does, he hits one particular spot three times in a row, and a glowing light starts scrawling words across the plain wood. 

Oi, tell us a joke, mate. 

Scorpius leaps back, and Albus scrabbles up off the floor, staring. 

"What did you do?” James asks. 

“I knocked!” Scorpius says. “I just! And now it’s-“ He flails at the door. 

"Is this meant to happen?” Albus asks. “This isn’t very… formal. Aren’t magic doors meant to be all, you know…" 

"Proper?” Scorpius suggests, in a very posh voice. 

Albus nods. 

“I think that’s just the Hogwarts portraits,” James says, reading the words again and again. “Other people enchant things in all sorts of ways. Our reserve Seeker, Anna, her ex-boyfriend had a door to his bathroom that used to say ‘show us your-’”

“Alright!” Albus says. “I think we get the point. Thanks, James.” He scrutinises the door. “So what do we do? Is it a riddle, or?" 

"I think we literally have to tell it a joke,” Scorpius says quietly. 

“Go on then, James.” Albus turns and looks expectantly at his brother. 

“Why me?” James asks, indignant. “Why can’t you do it?”

“You’re supposed to be the funny one,” Albus says. “Go on.” He gives James a little shove towards the door, but James spins around and grabs onto him, trying to pull him forwards instead. 

“You go. I don’t know any jokes!" 

"You tell jokes all the time!” Albus says, now wrestling with him over who goes first.

Scorpius looks back and forth between them, and decides to take matters into his own hands. The problem is, he doesn’t know what he wants to say. He’s spent so long coming up with the perfect puns for just this sort of situation, but at the crucial moment, as he steps up to the door, they’ve all deserted him. He stares at the glowing words, panics as his brain goes blank, and blurts out the first thing that comes into his brain. 

“You’re my favourite Dumble-door." 

The second the words leave his mouth he regrets ever saying them. He steps away from the door and buries his face in his hands. His cheeks have gone all hot, and there’s a resounding silence as Albus and James stop fighting and both stare at him. 

"What was that?” James says finally. 

Scorpius shakes his head. “Nothing,” he squeaks. 

James laughs. “Did you just say… You’re my favourite Dumble-door?" 

Scorpius shakes his head again. "Definitely not.” He draws himself up as tall as he can. “I think you misheard." 

"I don’t think I did,” James says, grinning. 

Next to him, Albus is struggling not to smile. Scorpius can tell because his cheeks are twitching. He steps across to Scorpius and gives him a gentle nudge, murmuring: “It’s better than ‘consider me engorgimpressed’.” He smirks at Scorpius, and Scorpius elbows him. 

“You do a better job then. Comedy genius." 

"It wouldn’t be hard,” Albus teases. 

Scorpius sticks his tongue out at him. “We should at least test the door to see if it worked, anyway.”

James gives a derisive snort, and Scorpius glares at him. 

“Sorry sorry!” James says, holding his hands up. “Go on. It’s worth checking." 

Scorpius gives him a very long look, then steps up to the door and tries the handle. It doesn’t budge. With a sigh he steps back and looks at Albus. "Your go." 

Albus groans. "I’m not funny, Scorpius. I can’t do this." 

"Yes you can. You won’t embarrass yourself nearly as much as I just did.” He steps up and gives Albus a gentle shove up to the door. “Dazzle us with your humour." 

Albus sighs and shakes his head, then he shrugs resignedly. "Fine. Knock knock." 

He stands there and waits, and Scorpius wonders whether he should answer just so they can tell the joke properly. Can doors respond to human interaction? But just as he’s taking a breath to reply to Albus, a gentle voice whispers out to them, ethereal and enigmatic. 

"Who’s there?” It asks. 

Albus swallows. “You know,” he says.

“You know who?” The door asks, and Albus does an awkward little smile and wiggle of his hands that Scorpius feels very proud of. The door doesn’t make any further response. 

“Well that went as well as I expected it to,” Albus says, turning his back on the door. “Go on James. It’s up to you." 

James pats him on the shoulder. "That was awful. I’m ashamed to call you my brother." 

"Now you know how I feel about you all the time,” Albus says, and James grins and ruffles his hair. Albus ducks and escapes back to Scorpius’s side. Scorpius wraps an arm round him and leans in close. 

“You almost did jazz hands,” he murmurs. “I love it." 

"I’ve spent too much time with you,” Albus replies. 

Scorpius squeezes him tight. “I’m having an excellent influence, I can tell." 

Albus smiles and leans against his side as they both turn to watch James. 

He’s spending an awfully long time in front of the door, apparently psyching himself up. Scorpius can’t help but wonder if he’s going through his pre-match routine from Quidditch. There’s a lot of wriggling around, loosening up his knees, stretching his arms and his neck. When he cracks his knuckles, Albus twitches. 

"James, please. We don’t have all night." 

"Sorry,” James says, although he doesn’t act very sorry. He holds his arms out to either side and tilts his head back, like he’s imagining himself in a spotlight. Albus rolls his eyes. 

James clears his throat with as much drama as he seems to be able to muster, then he wriggles his shoulders and looks at the door. 

“Where,” he says, in a grand voice. “Did Dumbledore keep his army?” A beat of silence, then: "Up his sleevy.” He turns his back on the door, faces Albus and Scorpius, and drops into a deep bow. Albus stares at him, expression appalled and disgusted. 

“That is your contribution?" 

James ignores him and turns round to bow to the door.

"Shall we just give up now?” Albus mutters. “If this is the best we’ve got? That was pitiful. If I were that door I’d lock us out and never let us-" 

He’s cut off as the door gives a sort of contented sigh, a whispered exhale, and the lock clicks open. For several very long seconds, all three of them stare into the shop, then Albus shakes his head. 

"No,” he says. “That did not just happen." 

James has never looked happier. He’s beaming, and he spreads his arms wide and takes another bow. "You’re both very welcome. Feel free to grovel if you like, prostrate yourselves before my supreme comedic presence. I’ll also accept flowers, gifts, money…" 

"This door has no taste,” Albus says, glaring at it. “I’m going to have words with Uncle Ron." 

Scorpius grins. "It’s a good job it has no taste or we’d still be stuck outside." 

"Ugh." 

They brush past James, who follows them, still crowing about his achievement. When they get inside, the door creaks slowly closed behind them. As it clicks into place and they look around the black, shadowy room, they all fall very quiet.

"Now what?” Albus whispers.

“We go to the Love Potions,” Scorpius whispers back. 

“Somehow,” James murmurs. 

There’s a little bit of pale moonlight filtering into the room through a single window next to the door. Scorpius blinks several times, and slowly his eyes adjust to the gloom, and he takes in the room in front of him. He’s only been to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes a couple of times before, with Albus, when they’d visited Diagon Alley together over the last few summers. Before that he’d never been. His dad had been too keen to avoid anything with the name Weasley attached to bring him to the joke shop, so Scorpius doesn’t know his surroundings very well, but he recognises enough to figure out that this is the back room where all the Defence Against the Dark Arts merchandise is kept. 

Rows of shelves crammed with Invisibility Gloves, Shield Hats, Decoy Detonators, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and a hundred other products that Scorpius doesn’t recognise stretch off into the dusty darkness. On the shelf nearest to him, he can see packets of Candles of Glory – ’No Hand of Glory? Never fear. This single-use, no fuss candle will give light only to you for up to an hour’. Beyond them are bulky boxes labelled Retractable Trap – ’Imbued with an Ensnaring Charm, this handy bit of kit will catch any criminal unawares’. Immediately, Scorpius draws his wand and silently checks the area for any Ensnaring Charms, just in case.

“Shall we just go down the middle aisle?” Albus asks, drawing his wand. 

James nods. “Do we want some light?" 

Albus considers. "Yes, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”  

James shrugs and leaves his wand in his pocket. Together, Albus an inch or two in front, they make their way down the aisle. Scorpius can see Albus’s brain working, can see him scanning the shelves and making little twitches and sweeps with his wand as he tries to sense anything dangerous. It’s silent, delicate work, and Scorpius recognises the skill behind it. Maybe they covered these sorts of spells in DADA classes while he was away, but he doubts it. Albus has probably studied them in his spare time, and he seems to be very good at them. At least, Scorpius hopes he is. 

About halfway down the aisle, Albus hesitates, and Scorpius does the same. James keeps walking, at least, he does until Albus shoots an arm out and grabs hold of him. 

“Stop,” he hisses. 

James freezes, hands in the air. “Why are we stopping?" 

"The air feels strange,” Albus says. 

James inhales. “It doesn’t smell strange." 

Scorpius frowns. "Does magic have a smell?" 

"I don’t know,” James says thoughtfully. “Maybe it should. That might be useful." 

Albus tuts. "I don’t care how the air smells. I can feel something.” He turns to Scorpius. “There’s a spell for exposing invisible enchantments. Do you remember what it is?”

Scorpius thinks hard. He remembers when they’d found the spell. They’d been sitting in the library one night, revising for their sixth year exams, and Albus had found it in a book. Then they’d got distracted for almost an hour, setting up invisible charms and spells for one another and trying to expose them. Scorpius had picked the spell up quicker, but Albus, like with most Defence related things, had ended up better after some practice. 

Scorpius focuses on one particular memory of Albus managing to expose a particularly complex bit of charmwork, and then neatly disabling it with a spell Scorpius hadn’t even thought of. It had been so impressive that Scorpius had swooned just a little bit. Albus’s spellwork has always been attractive, but the more confident he’s grown over the years, the more Scorpius has grown to love it.

He can see an image of Albus reading the spell out of the book, and another of him mouthing it over and over to practice. That’s enough to jog Scorpius’s memory, and he nods. 

“Yes. I can do that.” He draws his wand, gives it a flourish in the air, and thinks the spell as clearly as he can, throwing in a memory of himself performing it flawlessly, just for good measure. Instantly a coiling thread of glowing magic appears. It snakes its way across the aisle in front of them, just off the ground. A perfect trip wire. 

Albus gives a grim smile of satisfaction. “We know my detection spells do work then.” He steps carefully over the thread, and nothing happens. “I think we’ll be fine if we take care." 

Scorpius and James both hop over the spell, and they move forward with even more caution than before. Scorpius keeps his wand out, casting a couple of his own detection spells, but he still lets Albus take the lead.

Further into the shop, away from the window, it’s almost pitch black, and even though his eyes are beginning to adjust, Scorpius can’t see much beyond the indistinct shapes of shelves and boxes, and Albus and James’s determined faces on either side of him. There’s a bit of light falling through from the front room, carved up by the strips of curtain marking the segregation between front and back, but at least it shows where the doorway is, and that there isn’t really that much further to go. 

"There’s so much useful stuff back here,” James whispers when they’re towards the end of the aisle. “I always forget. I mean look at this.” He steps over to one of the shelves and starts examining the things on it. “Deluxe Extendable Ears, impervious to Imperturbable Charms. A Little Bird, drop him anywhere and remotely hear conversations in a twenty foot radius, designed to mimic a real little bird for minimum suspicion…" 

"James,” Albus snaps. “If you could stop shopping for a second and concentrate, that would be really helpful.”

“I am concentrating,” James says, still peering at the shelves. “Oh wow.” He reaches out for a little packet of something. “This is really cool." 

"James, no!" 

"Look at… this…” He picks the packet up off the shelf and trails off as a rushing like wind fills their ears, low but building up and up to a roar. Scorpius presses his hands over his ears and ducks his head. The sound is so loud it hurts, and he wants it to stop, and no sooner has he thought that than it does stop. 

The relief of silence is almost as crushing as the noise had been. A sudden absence of anything. A confusing disorientation. And then he feels something hard hit him and he tumbles to the ground. He sees James fall too, and not a second too soon, because at that moment a streak of purple light comes from nowhere and hits the shelf, send sparks flying everywhere.

“You idiot, James!” Albus yells. 

“Why is this happening?” James shouts back. 

“Because you picked something up before we’d disabled all the security.” Albus, who apparently managed to tackle both Scorpius and James to the ground, scrambles to his feet, wand held up. There’s a telltale shimmer in the air around him that tells Scorpius he’s shielding himself, and he keeps looking around for the source of the spell that’s just missed them. 

“I was going to put it back,” James says, picking himself up and dusting himself off. He puts the packet back on the shelf. “Do you think the shop will stop attacking us now?" 

No sooner have the words left his mouth than there’s a whooshing noise and everything goes pitch black. It’s like someone has just removed Scorpius’s eyes. He can’t see a thing, not even his hand when he waves it right in front of his face. He gropes in the darkness and finds someone’s arm. 

"Albus?” He asks. 

Albus grabs hold of him. “Yes. James?" 

There’s a fumbling noise, and then Scorpius feels someone patting his chest. 

"I’m here,” James says. 

Scorpius catches hold of his hand and puts it on Albus’s shoulder. “Albus is here." 

"Great. Is this Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder?" 

"It must be,” Albus says. “I can’t see a thing." 

Scorpius clings to Albus’s arm and reaches out with his free hand, feeling for the shelves. "We need to get to the door. If it’s the Powder we can move away. We can-" 

A loud siren blares out from behind him. He spins toward it, letting go of Albus’s hand. 

"What in Merlin’s-" 

"Decoy Detonators!!” James calls out of the darkness. 

“Why are they so loud?” Scorpius asks. 

“Because they’re supposed to be a distraction?” James pats at Scorpius’s arm. “Where’s the door? We need to-" 

There are several tell-tale whistles as spells streak out of nowhere and Scorpius ducks. Beside him he feels Albus and James do the same, and he reaches out, fumbling, and takes the opportunity to grab the back of Albus’s jacket. 

The spells all hit nearby shelves and send debris raining down on them. Albus curls up in an attempt to protect himself, and Scorpius has to tighten his grip to keep hold of him. 

"We have to get the potion,” he says, breathless and desperate, and Scorpius feels him straighten up. “Come on.”

Scorpius struggles up off the floor. His legs are starting to feel weak again, and he’s not sure if it’s that the potion’s wearing off, or if it’s from the effort of having to keep pushing himself up from the ground. He grabs hold of Albus and hauls himself to his feet, and Albus puts an arm round him to steady him. 

“This way,” Albus says, giving Scorpius a gentle nudge forwards. “I think the door is over here." 

Scorpius starts feeling his way into the darkness, groping at the shelves, staying low to the ground. It’s terrifying, the feeling that he could be walking into anything. He feels completely defenceless, although Albus’s warm presence beside him is reassuring. 

More spells streak over their heads, and Scorpius throws himself forward onto the ground. As he hits the floor, he realises he can see again, and that he’s right by the door to the front room. He crawls forward, away from the darkness, and uses the doorframe to pull himself to his feet. 

"The potions are right on the other side of the room,” James says. “Over by the front door.” He picks himself up off the floor and looks at Scorpius, then grins. “It’s nice to be able to see again. Shall I make a run for it?" 

"I’m not sure that would be advisable,” Scorpius says, as Albus joins them in the doorway. “In fact, I think it might be very inadvisable…" 

There’s a suspicious lack of activity in the shop now. No more spells shoot past them. The cloud of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder looms in the air behind them, and everything is eerily still. Scorpius gets the sense that the shop is waiting for them to break cover. Biding its time until the second one of them sets foot in the front room. 

"Isn’t it worth a try?” James asks. “I’m fast. I can run." 

Albus hesitates. "Can you outrun a spell?" 

James shrugs. "I can duck down. There’s loads of stuff to hide behind." 

Albus looks at Scorpius. "I don’t know,” he says. 

“You’re too indecisive,” James tells him, and with no further warning, he sprints into the front room. 

He doesn’t get very far. About two steps across the room, another bolt of light comes flying seemingly from nowhere and hits him straight in the back. Albus yells, but James doesn’t fall to the ground. He’s not stunned or petrified. He’s expanding, blowing up like a balloon, just the way Cedric had done in the lake. His feet leave the ground and he starts to float up towards the ceiling as Albus and Scorpius stare in horror. 

“Albus!” James calls, wiggling his legs and arms around. “This isn’t great!" 

"What do we do?” Albus asks. He sounds shaken and uncertain, and he drags his hands through his hair and looks at Scorpius. “How do we get him down? Is there a spell, or-" 

Before he manages to finish his sentence, pure chaos descends. There’s a sudden burst of multi-coloured lights, that flood the room and shine out into the street beyond. The lights flash and dance in a kaleidoscope that’s almost painful to look at. 

At the same time, gold confetti explodes from the ceiling, tumbling in a cloud over everything. And a voice rings out, definitely one of the Weasleys’ although Scorpius can’t tell which one, unrelentingly loud. 

"INTRUDER!” It says. “INTRUDER!" 

And there’s no doubt that the whole of Diagon Alley can hear it just as loudly as they can inside the shop. 

Albus swears. "James, when you get down from there I’m going to kill you!” He looks at Scorpius. “We need that Love Potion. Shield me? And try to fix James. I’ll get it." 

"Try to fix James?” Scorpius looks up to see him sort of swimming through the air, limbs flailing, shouting something that can’t be heard over the blaring voice. “How?" 

"There must be reducing charms or something…” Albus suddenly goes very pale. “Or maybe we won’t be able to get him down at all. My dad told me about… about how he blew up his aunt once and she had to be punctured." 

Scorpius shakes his head and pats Albus on the arm. "No puncturing. I’ll figure it out. I promise." 

Albus gives him a shaky little smile. "Okay. Good luck." 

Scorpius leans across and kisses him. "You too. Don’t get blown up." 

Albus makes a strangled little panicky noise, and goes darting out across the shop floor. 

If Scorpius thought things couldn’t get any worse, he was wrong. As Albus ducks his head and sprints across the room, all the items on every shelf he runs past spring to life and go after him. Every product in the shop is putting up a full-scale resistance against the intruders within seconds of Albus setting off. 

Several boxes of Weasley’s Wildfire Whizzbangs ignite, and soon the air is full of whirling Catherine wheels, fizzing rockets, and sparklers that dance around Albus’s head, writing very rude words. A number of Decoy Detonators stream past Scorpius’s feet from the back room, and then follow Albus across the room, honking and bouncing up and down. Various samples of Wonder Witch makeup and perfume has zoomed away from their stand and are now assaulting both James and Albus, spraying them with clouds of perfume, slapping their faces with blusher and lipstick and eyeshadow, even as they try to beat them away. And the door of the Pygmy Puffs’ cage has sprung open, and most of them have made a bid for freedom. They now flock at Albus’s heels, purring and squeaking, and getting in his way. He can’t run freely with them there, so he slows right to a walk.

"Get out of the way,” he groans, as a little purple Pygmy Puff rolls right where he was about to put his foot, and he has to hop for a moment to avoid treading on it. He leans down and picks it up, and it crawls up his arm and snuggles against his shoulder. “No! I didn’t mean for you-” It nestles down and he makes an exasperated gesture before ploughing on across the room, Pygmy Puff now curled up against his neck. 

Scorpius melts a little bit inside at the sight, and leans against the doorframe to watch Albus and his new Pygmy Puff friends, briefly forgetting all about the noise and the panic and James’s predicament. Among the chaos, the sight of that little Pygmy Puff taking refuge on Albus’s shoulder is too sweet for words. Scorpius wonders if they might be able to adopt it… 

He’s still lost in his reverie when James floats by him, yelling. 

“Scorpius! Stop gazing lovingly at my brother and HELP ME. For Merlin’s sake." 

Scorpius drags his gaze away from Albus and looks up to see that James is being flanked by several fireworks and a cloud of makeup and perfume. He now has bright purple lips, and vivid green eye shadow, and a Chameleon Comb is in the process of turning his hair electric blue. He doesn’t look pleased. 

Scorpius draws his wand with a flourish. He still isn’t sure what spell to try. Would Reducio work? It’s the opposite of Engorgio, but who knows how it affects people. He doesn’t want James to shrivel up or something. He doesn’t want to go too far. But, he reminds himself, he wants to be a Healer. He’s read so many books; he knows the theory of casting this sort of spell on a person. However, theory is not practicality, and the reality of messing this sort of thing up would be awful. 

He takes a deep breath. "Okay!” He calls up to James, voice high-pitched and terrified. “I’m going to try something. Can you just stay still for a second?" 

"Oh sure,” James says, tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll just stop myself floating around. That’s easy.” He bats at the Chameleon Comb, and tries to swat away a powder puff. “If you could hurry up that would be fantastic." 

Scorpius nods and tries to gather himself. He glances over at Albus, who is now engaged in a battle with several fireworks that are zooming in circles around his head, apparently trying to stop him from moving forward. There’s always something comforting about having Albus nearby. It makes him feel braver.

He takes a deep breath and looks up at James. He raises his wand, points it, and says: "Reducio,” with all the authority he can muster. 

The effect is immediate. The spell hits James in the chest, and he rapidly begins to deflate, sinking lower and lower in the air, until his feet hit the ground. When he looks roughly normal size, Scorpius pulls his wand back, and James falls to his knees, panting. 

“Thank you,” he gasps. It takes a second for him to recover, then he sits up and runs his hands over his torso. “I feel normal. I think." 

Scorpius hesitates, then darts from the safety of his doorway and crosses the room to James, so he can offer him a hand up. "You should probably go to St Mungo’s still,” he tells him. “They can make sure you’re the right size." 

James nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I wonder if being a bit more buoyant would be considered cheating by the Quidditch league?" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "No idea.” He turns round and looks for Albus. “We should go and help him now, don’t you think?" 

"Definitely,” James says grimly. 

Across the room, Albus has managed to break free of the fireworks. He’s ducked underneath them, and is now holding them at bay with a Shield Charm. There’s still a perfume bottle spraying him with clouds and clouds of scent, and the Pygmy Puffs are still collected around his feet, but he seems to be moving a lot faster now the fireworks are under control. That is, until he passes a table of big, murky brown Portable Swamp boxes. 

Scorpius doesn’t see how it happens, it’s too fast to keep track of. There’s a blinding flash of golden light, a squelching sound, and a puff of smoke, then Albus yells. When the smoke clears, Scorpius sees that he’s sunk up to his waist in some sort of quagmire, and now he’s flailing around, trying to escape, but doing nothing except digging himself deeper and deeper. The Pygmy Puff on his shoulder seems to sense danger, because it climbs up and perches on top of his head instead. 

“Scorpius!” Albus calls, thrashing in the mud. “James! Help!" 

"I’ll get him,” James says to Scorpius. “You go for the potion.” He’s so full of purpose that Scorpius doesn’t think to argue. He throws one last look at Albus, then goes racing a different route across the room. 

He can’t run very fast because he leg is really aching now. He can feel the Painkilling Potion wearing off and the pain seeping out. It crawls through his veins, and he feels sick from it, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Curling up on the floor and crying won’t help anyone, so he refuses to do it. 

He’s not sure he’s ever felt this bad before. His chest is tight, his left leg seems almost too weak to stand on. There’s a coldness creeping through the right side of his body. His heart feels like someone is squeezing it. He can taste vomit in his throat. But the Love Potion is just across the room, and it’s the only way to make this stop. 

A couple of bedraggled Pygmy Puffs (that seem to have narrowly missed being caught in the swamp) follow him as he limps as fast as can through the maze of tables and merchandise stands. Through the shop window next to him, he can see the shapes of people in cloaks rushing down the street and converging on the shop, wands drawn. He pushes himself faster and faster until he breaks into a run, gasping for breath. 

Everything hurts. He thinks his legs might give out under him. This shop is so loud, with the explosions of fireworks and the blaring voice of the alarm; it makes him feel confused, makes his head ache. His lungs are surely going to explode. And Albus still hasn’t stopped screaming and splashing in the swamp, even though James is with him now, trying to haul him out. 

Get the potion, Scorpius tells himself. Get the potion, then help Albus. That’s what he has to do. That’s what he has to focus on. He’s dying, he can feel it, different bits of him starting to shut down, and he doesn’t want to, so he needs that potion. 

He puts his head down and pushes forward, racing past the last couple of tables to the stand of Love Potions by the door. Spells fly past his head, and the fireworks seem to have turned their attention on him, but he ignores them. It costs him valuable energy, but he puts up a Shield Charm as he runs, trying not to think about how much it hurts just to hold his wand. Icy shards of pain shoot us his left arm, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, trying to keep himself steady. 

He’s so lost in trying to keep himself going that he almost runs straight into the Love Potion stand when he reaches it. He catches himself on the wooden shelf, glass bottles clinking as he hits. He grips the wood to hold himself up while he takes some deep breaths, head bowed, chest aching. 

It takes longer than he would have liked to gather together enough brain power to actually look at the potions, and when he does he realises there are all sorts of different ones, and he has no idea which to choose. He looks up, wanting Albus’s advice, but Albus is still thrashing in the swamp, with James gripping his arms to help him. 

“Have you got the potion yet?” James yells, when he notices him looking.

Scorpius shakes his head. “I don’t know which is the right one!" 

"It doesn’t matter,” Albus shouts. “Just grab one and come and help us." 

Scorpius looks at the stand in front of him. So many colours and labels. It’s overwhelming, and his brain doesn’t seem to be running as fast as it should. He doesn’t know what to do. What if he takes the wrong one? What if he ruins the potion and never gets healed? How is he supposed to make a decision like this?

He braces himself on the counter and closes his eyes, drawing in several deep breaths. Think, Scorpius, think, he scolds himself. He screws his face up and thinks of his mum, trying to work out what she would say to him if she were here right now. Probably to trust himself and follow his instincts, but he doesn’t know what his instincts are. He feels lost and sick, and he just wants to sit down and give up. 

He shakes his head. No, he won’t give up. He can’t. Not now. He rakes his fingers through his hair and makes a decision. His favourite colour, he can take the one that’s his favourite colour: a bright emerald green, the colour of Slytherin, and Albus’s eyes, and the Manor grounds when it’s been raining. Life, and love, and home. 

He opens his eyes, and to his relief there’s a bottle almost the exact colour he’d thought of. He grabs it and tucks it into his pocket, too tired to wave it in the air in celebration like he wants to. Just save energy, he tells himself. Just get to Albus, and then you can get out of here. 

Albus has stopped struggling quite so much, and it looks like James has made progress with getting him out of the swamp. He’s only thigh deep now, and the Pygmy Puff has managed to hop from his shoulder onto dry land, where it’s now sitting next to James and vibrating, Scorpius suspects from anxiety. 

To get to Albus and James, he has to let go of the stand of Love Potions, and he half expects his legs to immediately crumple when he does. But to his surprise, although they go a bit shaky, he manages to stay upright. He uses the various tables and counters for support as he skirts the swamp and goes to join James. 

"I think we’re nearly there,” James grunts, tugging on Albus’s wrists. He’s covered in mud and sweat, and he looks exhausted. Albus is red faced and irritable-looking. 

“I think one of my shoes has come off,” he informs James. 

“Well we’ll stop pulling so hard then,” James snaps. “Scorpius, can you help?" 

"I don’t know if…” His arm is aching, and he doesn’t have the strength to be any use right now. But then there’s the sound of loud voices outside, and someone starts hammering on the door, like they’re trying to break it down. Another voice, even louder, tells them to stop. 

“Uncle Ron,” Albus gasps. “We need to go." 

There’s nothing else for it. Scorpius tucks his wand away, lets his Shield Charm drop, and grabs Albus by his left arm. Albus hisses and screws his face up. 

"Shoulder,” he says. “It hurts." 

"Stop being a baby,” James says. “Scorpius, on three. One, two-" 

They both pull as hard as they can. Albus yells with pain, Scorpius feels like his arms are on fire, but the mud seems to give, and within a couple of seconds, Albus slithers out onto the solid floor, where he lies gasping in a heap. Scorpius collapses next to him, trying and failing to hold his arm in a way that doesn’t hurt. James sits down hard beside them and runs a shaky hand through his hair. 

"You two need to go,” he says. “Right now. You have the potion, right Scorpius?" 

Before Scorpius gets chance to respond, he feels something hit him hard in the back, some spell or something. A very strange sensation trickles through his body, and he feels himself shrinking and changing, Transfiguring into something that definitely isn’t human. But whatever he’s turning into, he likes it because he doesn’t feel much pain at all. It seems to be fading away, and he feels almost normal again. Normal apart from the fact that the world has suddenly become enormous. 

He looks around. The merchandise table beside him towers overhead; the swamp is a vast ocean of mud; James is an enormous, blue-haired giant, stomping, panicked, waving his arms and shouting things Scorpius doesn’t understand. And Albus- 

Where is Albus?

Scorpius looks wildly around, having to move his whole body to turn on the little paws he now seems to have pattering beneath him. There’s no sign of Albus anywhere. Or at least, no sign of a human Albus. There’s just a fluffy purple Pygmy Puff sitting exactly where Albus had been moments ago, squeaking at the top of its lungs. 

All at once, Scorpius realises what’s happened. They’ve been turned into Pygmy Puffs. 

And now he can see why Albus is shrieking, because this isn’t really a situation they can get themselves out of. Scorpius doubts they can do magic in this state, and he can’t help but wonder if they’re permanently stuck like this. But at the same time, being like this doesn’t hurt, and anything that doesn’t hurt right now is fine by him. 

He rolls over onto his head and down onto his feet again. He’s basically just a ball of fluff now and it’s actually quite fun. He rolls sideways towards Albus, who seems to be panicking, wanting to let him know that everything is more than fine. 

When he gets there, he snuggles against Albus’s side and purrs at him. Pygmy Puffs can’t talk, but they still have an impressive vocal array, and Scorpius is determined to make the most of it. 

"This is okay,” he tries to say without words. “I’m not in pain. And they won’t recognise us like this. We’re alright.” He doesn’t know if the message translates, but it’s the best he can do.

Albus looks at him with big, round eyes that are dark but still have a tinge of their usual green. He looks scared and frustrated, and Scorpius wants to hug him, but that’s impossible without arms. 

He struggles to work out what to do instead, and as he does the other Pygmy Puff, the one that had been perched on Albus’s shoulder, comes over and gives Albus a gentle, encouraging nudge. Albus glares at it, and Scorpius gives a little chirrup, trying to make it clear that Albus is his. The other Pygmy Puff seems to get the message, because it backs away a bit. It stays close by though, making comforting thrumming sounds, that actually seem to be calming Albus down. 

He turns his big, adorable eyes on Scorpius, and makes a 'what do we do?’ sort of squeak. Scorpius tries to shake his head, but ends up overbalancing and doing a somersault. Albus gives him a hard look. 

“Sorry!” Scorpius tries to squeak at him. “Not used to this body.” He stays as still as can while he looks up at James, hoping for some help. A reverse Transfiguration spell or something. He’s comforted to see that James actually does have his wand out and seems to be trying things. A couple of spells whoosh past him, ruffling his fur and warming him up. They don’t seem to do anything though, and James looks like he’s getting frustrated. 

The banging outside the front door of the shop is getting louder, and Scorpius sees James point his wand at it and say something. They need to change back, right now. But how? Maybe if they think hard enough about being human or something… 

Albus has started his panicked squeaking again, and Scorpius gives him a brief, comforting chirp. Overhead, James seems to have realised that they’re panicking, because he leans down close, gives Albus a pat on the head, and starts casting spells again. 

This time he seems to have found the right one. When he directs his wand at Albus, Scorpius sees him begin to swell, larger and larger. Features appear, a nose; his eyes shrink, arms and legs grow longer, purple hair recedes and fades to brown, but doesn’t get any less fluffy, and then Albus is lying on the floor, looking rather dazed, but very much whole. His Pygmy Puff friend gives a delighted whistle and hops up onto his knee. James punches the air, and points his wand at Scorpius. 

Turning back into a human is just as odd an experience as shrinking into a Pygmy Puff. The most bizarre thing is the way his fingers and toes grow from tiny paws back to their usual size. He wiggles them as they lengthen, glad to have them back. He reaches up and runs them through his own, normal, still overlong hair. Then he pats them down his front and back, appreciating his body, actually glad not to be a ball of fluff anymore. 

And then he stops being glad, and starts wishing he could go back to being a Pygmy Puff immediately. 

Pain. Intense. Overwhelming. Searing through his body in one jagged jolt. Like lighting. Like he’s being carved in two. 

He loses all control and screams. He can’t do anything with his limbs. The whole world is agony. Surely this is how he dies. On this cold, wet floor, screaming. 

Arms close around him, solid and strong. He gets a whiff of flowery scent, feels fingers stroke through his hair, and the cold rim of a bottle press to his lips. Then refreshing numbness spreads down his throat and into his body. Everything still hurts, but it’s more bearable. Bearable enough to open his eyes and see that Albus is staring down at him, very afraid. 

“I’m fine,” Scorpius lies in answer to Albus’s unspoken question. His voice is hoarse and uncomfortable after all the yelling. "Better. Thanks." 

"You don’t look fine,” Albus says in a very unsteady voice, like he’s on the verge of tears. “Are you okay to-" 

Across the shop there’s a splintering of wood, and with an almighty crash the door flies open. 

Albus and James both swear. 

"Go!” James says. “I’ll handle this." 

"But-” Albus starts, but James cuts him off. 

“Finish the fucking cure, Albus. Save his life. Go on.”

Albus doesn’t need telling twice apparently. His grip tightens on Scorpius’s chest, and Scorpius looks up at him. 

“Home,” he says, and Albus nods. Then he twists both their bodies, so they Apparate from the floor and disappear into nothingness, leaving James behind to face his doom. 

He’s never been a fan of Apparition: it doesn’t feel very nice, and he’s found it tricky right from the start. It had taken him ages to pick it up, and now all he can think about is searing pain in his shoulder, smashed potion bottles, and Scorpius’s skin going all grey from having to take care of him. He shudders and digs his hands into his pockets. This is going to be awful. 

“Are you ready to go?” Scorpius chirps at him, bouncing out of the house and hugging him from behind. He’s been relentlessly cheerful since Albus had found out about the new effect of his illness, like he’s trying to reassure Albus that everything is fine. It’s not really working, but Albus is doing his best to respond in kind. It’s easier for both of them to smile and pretend things are okay, and keep working hard to fix everything that isn’t, than to panic and worry and get antsy at each other. They work better as a team. 

Albus sighs and squeezes Scorpius’s hands. “Not really. But I don’t think I have a choice." 

Scorpius smiles. "We could go and find Sorcha and ask to borrow one of her dragons.”

“Oh sure,” Albus says, tone dripping with sarcasm. “I bet the dragons would love to give us a lift. That’s a great way to arrive safely in Godric’s Hollow in one piece and without being spotted.”

Scorpius laughs and kisses him on the cheek. “Dry humour and Albus-y, just the way I like you.”

Albus nudges him. “That wasn’t meant to be funny. It was meant to be a statement of fact. Dragon riding is a bad idea." 

Scorpius grins and nudges him back. "Alright. You have a point. But it was also funny.” He takes hold of Albus’s hand and squeezes it tight. “Are you ready?" 

Albus looks up at Scorpius. His eyes shine silver under the heavy grey skies, bright and glittering from his smile. Albus is always amazed that something iron grey can look so soft and warm, but Scorpius’s gaze is never cold. It has the quality of a gossamer blanket, or rolling grey mist at the beginning of a beautiful summer’s day. There’s so much openness in that gaze, and Albus trusts the person behind it implicitly. To the death.

He nods. "I think so. Will the backpack be a problem? I don’t want to put you off balance.”

“It’ll be okay,” Scorpius says. “I promise." 

His grip is strong and reassuring. Albus leans against his side and clutches tight to him, careful not to put too much pressure on his poisoned arm. 

"I trust you,” he murmurs. “Go on.‘ 

There’s a beat of stillness, then Scorpius turns, guiding Albus with him. It’s the most careful and competent Side-along Apparition Albus has ever been part of, a stark contrast to Scorpius’s normal off-balance flailing, and he’s very grateful for it. 

As the crushing blackness envelops them, Scorpius tightens his grip on Albus, holding him close and firm, and as they twirl out into a rainy field, Scorpius is careful to steady Albus and keep him upright. They both hold onto each other for support for a moment, then Scorpius gives Albus a smile. 

"Still intact?" 

Albus nods, catching his breath. His shoulder is twinging a bit, and his knees feel wobbly with relief. It’s so good to be back on solid ground. 

He slumps down in the rain-soaked grass and gulps in several lungfuls of air. It’s fresh, and all the salt from the sea is gone, which is actually quite nice. This place feels more like home than Scotland had, and Albus is all too aware that Ottery St Catchpole isn’t far from here, which feels both comforting and dangerous all at once. This is as close to home as he dares to get until the potion is done.

"Shall we get the cloak out?” Scorpius asks, giving the bag on Albus’s back a little pat. 

Albus nods and swings it off his shoulder, then he lies down in the grass and closes his eyes, feeling the rain patter down on his face. It sploshes across his skin, soaking his clothes and hair. It’s a stupid thing to do, he should be casting an Umbrella Charm or something helpful like that, but he’s so tired, and it’s easier to just lie here. 

There’s something about having found Fawkes that makes him feel less stressed and scared. They’re not relying on anyone else now. They don’t need to find any other creatures. It’s all down to their own wits, and how quick and sensible they are. Everything is within their control and they can do this. They can do it together. 

A smile spreads across his face as he thinks about it, as he lets himself see the finish-line for the first time. They’re going to save Scorpius’s life and it’s going to be incredible. 

Apparently he’s smiling enough for Scorpius to have noticed, because a moment later he feels Scorpius’s wet boot nudge him in the ribs. 

“You’re getting all muddy." 

Albus opens one eye, and looks up at him. "I know.”

“And you’re getting soaked to the skin.”

Albus spreads his arms out in the grass. “I know." 

"You’ll regret that later,” Scorpius says, pointing a finger at him. “What are you smiling about, anyway?" 

"I won’t regret it,” Albus says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair to brush away the water. “I can do a Drying Charm." 

"I’d hope so too,” Scorpius says. “You’re taking your N.E.W.T.s this year, and they test those." 

Albus swats at him. "No talking about school. We have enough to worry about without exams too." 

Scorpius smiles. "Fair enough. What are you looking so happy about, anyway? I saw that little grin.” He bends down and tickles one of the dimples in Albus’s cheeks. Albus ducks away from him. 

“You’re weird, I hope you know that. And I’m smiling because…” He catches hold of Scorpius’s hand and kisses the knuckles. He tries to ignore the fact that the dark green is spreading out through the visible veins in Scorpius’s hand and fingers now, and that the skin around it is going grey. Instead he swallows and ploughs on. “Because, we’re really close to having all the ingredients we need. Everything else we can get without too much trouble…

"We,” he smiles up at Scorpius, “are about cure you." 

"We have two items,” Scorpius points out. “Two on a list of six. So technically we aren’t even halfway there." 

"You’re a spoilsport,” Albus says, dragging himself to his feet. “We’re about to get the third one, and then we’ll definitely be nearly there.” He takes the Cloak from Scorpius’s grip and swings it over them both. “Come on. To Godric’s Hollow! We have remnants of a sacrifice to find." 

—

They make their awkward way down the lane that leads into Godric’s Hollow past St Jerome’s. It’s difficult with two of them walking abreast, especially when Scorpius has to bow his head to keep his feet from being visible, and cars keep rushing past. At one point they have to flatten themselves into a bush to avoid getting run over, and when they emerge, Albus somehow has leaves in his hair. Scorpius picks them out and ruffles the Cloak to get rid of the few twigs and leaves that have attached themselves to the outside. 

Rain splashes on the Cloak and dribbles down the outside, and Albus hopes it isn’t creating a weird effect in the air. That would be a sure sign of someone being there but hidden, and he’s certain that Muggles wouldn’t react well to something like that. He’s even more certain that anyone searching for them will look for exactly that sort of sign. But he has no way of checking what anyone can see, so he just has to trust the Cloak to do its job.

"It’s Death’s cloak,” Scorpius says, looking up at the raindrops pattering down above their heads, like he’s reading Albus’s mind and answering his thoughts and fears. “I don’t think Death would need to worry about being seen because of some rain…" 

"Isn’t it being Death’s cloak just a kids’ story?” Albus asks. “It wasn’t really his. Some clever wizard just made it one day, and it’s the best one in existence." 

Scorpius shrugs. "I like the Death version. I always liked to imagine I could have words with him about taking Mum too soon." 

Albus glances at him, smiling. "You want to have words with Death?" 

Scorpius nods. "Lots of words. I have a whole speech prepared for if I ever meet him." 

"Of course you do,” Albus says, with a despairing but fond sigh. “Of course you do." 

When they reach the edge of town they skirt past St Jerome’s. They both stare up at the big rose window at the back, and Albus can’t help but think about his dad. They’d visited here only just last summer. The church had been renovated inside, but all the things they remembered had been there. And the window had sent sparkling light down onto the floor at the front of the nave. 

"It’s weird being back,” Scorpius murmurs. “Weird but cool. This place is like the centre of wizarding history or something. At least, the centre of British wizarding history. Wizarding history in general is very diverse, and- Well, anyway.” He bows his head and digs his hands into his pockets. “It’s weird." 

"It is,” Albus agrees, gazing off into the graveyard. His grandparents are in there somewhere, buried under the wet earth. He wonders if there are any flowers there. He’d left some last time he came, and he’s tempted to go back again now, to throw the Cloak off and go and kneel in the sodden grass in front of the rain-soaked stones. That’s what he’d do if this were his adventure, but it’s not. It’s Scorpius’s. And Scorpius is looking up ahead, towards the square with the statue, and the little road leading away from it where the ruined house stands crumbling. 

As they cross the square, Scorpius looks up into Lily and James’s kind, smiling stone eyes, and he’s so fixated on them that he seems to have forgotten to keep his head down. Their feet are showing under the hem of the Cloak, and Albus doesn’t trust that no one’s watching them. 

“Scorpius,” he hisses, nudging him in the ribs. “Keep your head down. People might see." 

"Sorry!” Scorpius squeaks, ducking his head again. “Sorry. I was just thinking… it looks a lot like her, doesn’t it?”

Albus glances at the carved Lily and nods. “They got my granddad’s hair right too." 

"It’s just like yours,” Scorpius says with a smile.

Albus runs a slightly self-conscious hand through his hair. It’s even messier than usual, windswept and wild, not washed in water for days. He knows it’s all over the place. “It is a bit.”

“I think seeing them was one of my favourite things,” Scorpius muses. “Them and Bathilda." 

"I cannot believe you had favourite bits from our twenty-four hours in hell,” Albus says. “You’re such an enormous geek." 

"Of course I had favourite bits,” Scorpius says, looking at him. “Even if it had all been awful I would have hated some parts less than others. But it wasn’t all awful.” He points across the square to the road winding away towards the Potters’ ruined house. “That’s where my dad hugged me,” he says. “Right there in front of that house with the green door and the roses. That’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.” He starts walking towards the door, and Albus sticks close beside him.

“He didn’t come near me after Mum died,” Scorpius says quietly. “Even before she died… I think the last time we hugged was on the platform before I met you for the first time. It was like… like he didn’t know what to do with me. And then Mum died and it got worse. She was always the one who took care of us both. Without her… we were a disaster." 

"You could have been more of a disaster,” Albus mutters, digging his hands into his pockets. 

Scorpius glances at him. “Could we? I know we never had shouting matches, or told each other-” he scratches the back of his neck. “We just didn’t talk. And I think sometimes silence is worse. It feels lonely, lonely and stifling, and there’s never chance to say any of the things you need to, so they just boil away inside and make you miserable…” He scuffs his toe on the ground and wraps his arms round himself. “We needed Mum to sort us out, but she wasn’t there, and we missed her. And I missed Dad, except you know how weird Dad is. I didn’t know if I was allowed to miss him, or if he missed me too, or if I was just being stupid about the whole thing…” He shakes his head. “It was awful." 

He rubs the heel of his right hand against his left wrist and stares across the road at the bare rose bush crawling around the edge of the window. "I think sometimes we hurt each other just as much as you and your dad did, just because we couldn’t manage to look at each other or say a word. It’s harder than you’d think, being silent. I didn’t even realise until I was in that other world that my dad really cared about me." 

"But your dad’s always loved you,” Albus says, looking at Scorpius. “He thinks the world of you.” Even more than I do, he thinks. If that’s possible. 

Scorpius shrugs. “I know that now. But I didn’t always. It wasn’t until I was in that other world… When I stood up to him he just looked so-” he shakes his head. “So proud. I’d never seen him look like that before. And he wasn’t even my dad, so I didn’t know if it was real until I got here.” He gestures at the road. “And I dared to try and hug him, and he told me I could. And then we never stopped.” A beautiful, slightly sad smile crosses his lips, and he gives a soft sigh. 

Albus reaches out and strokes a hand down his arm. “You’ll see him soon. I promise." 

Scorpius nods. "I know. But I miss him still. And it hurts. Sometimes literally." 

"Does it hurt now?” Albus asks. Scorpius is so good at hiding his pain and his feelings, and Albus hasn’t noticed any signs, but that doesn’t mean anything. And now Albus looks closer, he thinks Scorpius might look a bit paler than he had a short while ago. There’s a sickly colour to his face, and he keeps pressing his right hand against his left wrist. 

“It always hurts these days,” Scorpius says, avoiding his eyes. “But we have to do this, so I’ll be fine.” He turns and takes hold of Albus’s hand. “You know, Dad wasn’t the only good part about everything that happened. You made it pretty special too. I’d still want you to be my companion for the return of eternal darkness. In fact…” he pauses and takes a very deep breath, like he’s trying to steady himself. “You sort of are right now. This illness is definitely-” He wrenches his hand from Albus’s grip suddenly and presses it against his heart, bowing his head and screwing his face up. “Definitely darkness. I just hope…” He gives a soft gasp and tightens his grip on his chest. “Ow. I-I hope it isn’t… isn’t eternal." 

He manages to get out the last few words before his legs buckle beneath him, and he slumps sideways and collapses onto the damp ground with a groan. 

Albus throws himself onto the ground next to him and makes sure the Cloak is still tucked round them both. Scorpius is shaking, and his face is screwed up from the pain. He looks like he’s about to be sick. 

"Scorpius,” Albus says, soft and urgent. “Are you okay?" 

"Fine,” he gasps, one hand still clamped against his chest, the other on the road for support. “Totally-” He breaks off with a little whimper and ducks his head down. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Albus asks. He’s panicking, and his hands are trembling. He’s seen Scorpius look bad before, but there’s something about this that seems even worse. All the colour has drained from Scorpius’s face, and he’s gone very still and tense, like he’s trying to protect himself by not moving a muscle. He’s so good at hiding his pain, that to see him unable to do so is terrifying. “Is there a spell? Or- or I don’t know. Tell me how to help." 

For a moment Scorpius doesn’t move or say anything, and he seems to be gathering his strength. Then he pushes himself upright onto his heels and holds his left hand out to Albus. "Help me." 

"You haven’t told me how,” Albus says, taking hold of his hand. “What do you-" 

"Help me get up!” Scorpius says, voice rising all of a sudden, high-pitched and hysterical. He sounds scared. 

“Scorpius…” Albus says. “I don’t know if- Maybe you should rest instead.” He squeezes Scorpius’s hand tight, and puts a hand on his back. “There’s that Muggle pub on the edge of the square. I think it’s a hotel too. Maybe we could stay there for tonight, or-”

“No,” Scorpius says. “No no no.” He pulls his hand from Albus’s and starts trying to struggle to his feet, but he doesn’t seem to have the strength anymore, and he falls back onto the road, sprawling out, the Cloak sliding off him. 

Albus rushes to cover him again. “Scorpius, I don’t think you should be going anywhere right now. You don’t look good. We need to find somewhere safe." 

"No!” Scorpius repeats. “We don’t need to- to do anything, except get to that house. Now help me get up off the floor, Albus." 

"But-”

“Now!" 

Albus sits down on the ground and blinks at him in surprise. It’s so unusual for Scorpius to be forceful. He can argue and fight his corner for sure, but he doesn’t get worked up unless it’s something really important. And of course this is important, but they have time. Not much, but a bit. Enough to rest at least. 

"We need to go,” Scorpius says, lowering his voice and looking down at his hands. “Albus, I’m serious." 

"Can’t we even take an hour?” Albus asks, trying to keep himself steady, trying to stay reasonable. This isn’t the moment to fight. “We haven’t eaten properly in days, maybe that’s partly why you- Why you can’t stand." 

"It’s not,” Scorpius says. He looks up and meets Albus’s eyes, and his expression is scared but full of fierce determination. “You remember that awful green stuff in my arm? All that poison?" 

Albus swallows and nods. How could he have possibly forgotten. 

"It’s been spreading,” Scorpius says, matter of fact and purposeful. “And I think it’s just reached my legs. It’s going faster, Albus. And sitting here,” he gestures around them. “With all these memories? This isn’t helping to make it slow down.” He takes a breath. “So no. We don’t have an hour. We don’t have any time at all. I want to move now, while I still can, and I want to do it fast. Understand me? So.” He holds his left hand out to Albus again. “Stop being concerned, and help me." 

Albus doesn’t argue. 

He chokes down all the hundreds of words he wants to say, and all the tears he wants to cry, and he puts an arm round Scorpius and helps him scramble to his feet. It’s difficult, working around the backpack, and Scorpius’s hand presses against his injured shoulder, but he grits his teeth and struggles not to make a sound.

"You might have to hold me,” Scorpius murmurs, testing his legs once he’s upright. “I don’t want to fall again. It’s a bit wet down there." 

"I’ve got you,” Albus says, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s fighting against fear, panic, and pain. Hoping he sounds strong and dependable. 

“Thanks,” Scorpius says, giving him a gentle squeeze. 

“The house is just up here,” Albus says, just for something to say, because they both know perfectly well where the house is. Scorpius nods though, like this is new information, and together they set off along the road. 

It’s not very far, but that doesn’t make it easy going. The Cloak keeps slipping, so they have to keep stopping to adjust it. Albus’s shoulder is still aching where Scorpius used it to push himself off the ground. The backpack keeps falling off his other shoulder, and he has to pull it back up every few seconds. Scorpius is walking with a slight limp. He doesn’t seem to like the idea of putting much weight on his left leg, but at the same time, it seems to be hurting him to keep gripping Albus’s waist, and Albus is worried about how long he’s going to manage to stay upright. 

“Would it be easier for you to put your arm round my shoulders?” He asks. 

Scorpius glances at him. “Maybe, but it won’t be easier for you." 

"I don’t care about me,” Albus says, heaving the backpack over both his shoulders and wincing. “Just do it." 

Scorpius hesitates for a moment, then he slides his arm round Albus’s shoulders, and Albus supports him under the arms. 

"Tell me if it hurts too much,” Scorpius says. Albus doesn’t say anything in response, just starts helping Scorpius up the street. In truth it hurts like hell, but he tries to focus on the fact that whatever Scorpius is going through is worse, and that his shoulder will heal, but Scorpius might not unless they get this done. 

After five excruciating minutes spent inching their way up the street, they reach the house. Albus is exhausted from the pain, and the effort of having to hold Scorpius up, and Scorpius looks like he’s about to drop too. They both release their grip on each other, and lean against the wall for support. Albus notices that both their feet are sticking out from under the cloak now, but there’s no one around, and he doesn’t have the energy to sort it out. 

“I suppose I should go in,” Scorpius says once he’s caught his breath. He eyes the gate, apprehensive. “Is this even allowed? It feels wrong to even think about it…" 

"You can do it,” Albus says firmly. “I’m a Potter, and if I say you can do it then I think you can. I don’t think Dad would have a problem with it. I mean, you were with us when they died. You’re a part of the history of this place. I think you have a right to do it." 

Scorpius looks at him for a moment, and when he speaks there’s a bright, excitable curiosity to his voice that cuts through his exhaustion and pain. "Do you think that’s true? That I’m part of the history of Godric’s Hollow?" 

Albus nods. "Of course! You helped stop Delphi. And if we hadn’t done that then Voldemort would never have tried to kill my dad. You saved the world. You made this happen, and you helped make sure my dad could still kill Voldemort in the end." 

Scorpius lights up. "Wow,” he squeaks. “I’d never really thought of it that way before.” He clasps his hands together and grins. “I’m part of history. That’s exciting!" 

Albus smiles. "Yes you are.”

“Okay!” Scorpius says, breathless and still high-pitched. “Well in that case…” He pushes the Invisibility Cloak off him and limps across to the gate.  

“Scorpius!” Albus hisses. “Why did you take the Cloak off? Come back here." 

Scorpius waves him away. "It’s fine. No one’s watching. And I want to do this properly. I don’t want to sneak in.” He pushes the gate open with a creak, and steps inside. 

As he does, the sign rises up from the ground, and Albus can see the black mess of graffiti from over forty years’ worth of messages. So many of them talk about the sacrifice Lily and James made, and thank them and Harry for everything they’ve done, and Albus gets a sudden sense that the overwhelming love and gratitude surrounding this place will stand them in excellent stead. This ingredient will be a strong one. 

Scorpius holds onto the garden gate for as long as he can before letting go and limping alone down the path. The surface is all cracked, and there are weeds growing rampant through the gaps in the paving. Around the sides of the path, the garden is a wild jungle, rain drenched and full of shrivelled, dead plants from all the cold weather. In the summer there were wild flowers growing in here, but there’s nothing beautiful about it now really. It looks sad, the way gardens in winter always do. 

Debris from the blown-up house litters the path and garden, fragments of brick and charred timber. Albus can clearly remember how ash had rained down like snow and settled in their hair, coating everything nearby. Most of that has blown away now, but the occasional flurry of white blows across the path. 

“Your grandma reminded us of Mum,” Scorpius says, glancing over his shoulder as he pauses for a moment to catch his breath. “Beautiful and kind. Brave. Loving. Don’t you think it’s cruel that the best people don’t seem to get to live?" 

Albus looks right at him and nods. "Yes,” he says. “I do." 

Scorpius bows his head and nudges his toe against a bit of brick. "It’s not fair. But you know. Life isn’t fair, so.” He gives a twisted little smile, then turns and keeps walking until he gets to the house. 

“What do you think?” He calls when he reaches it. “What should we take?" 

Albus shrugs and leans over the wall, trying to see what’s on the ground near him. "What do you want?" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "It feels wrong to take any of it. And there’s not much left." 

"You have to,” Albus tells him. “Maybe some ash or a bit of brick. That would do it." 

Scorpius gazes around his feet, giving it a moment of careful consideration, then he stoops down, moving gingerly, and picks something up from the ground. It takes him considerable effort to straighten back up, and he sways on his feet before limping back to Albus, holding it out in his hand. "This?” He asks, reaching a hand out to Albus for support. 

“What is it?” Albus asks, stepping through the gate to get a closer look, and gripping Scorpius tight to hold him up. 

“I think it’s from a mobile or something,” Scorpius says, and as Albus joins him, he can see a little wooden broomstick, tied to a star by a damp piece of thread. Both the bits of wood are chipped, and the paint is flaking off. They’re covered in dust and mud, and one of the points of the star has been charred and damaged. Albus thinks the pieces look like they were made by hand, put together with love and care and attention, and probably a good bit of magic. 

“Do you think this would work?” Scorpius asks. “You’re the potions expert." 

"I think it’s perfect,” Albus says, reaching out to run his fingers over the broomstick. “It’s a leftover piece of my grandparents’ love for my dad. I think it’s exactly what we’re looking for. Better than a generic bit of brick anyway.”

Scorpius smiles and nods. “That’s what I thought.” He slips the bit of wood into his pocket. “So, where are we going-" 

Before he can finish his sentence, three loud cracks split the air. Albus recognises them as Apparition sounds, and for some reason his brain screams at him to shield.

Without hesitation, he draws his wand and casts the spell without a word, slashing the familiar pattern through the air in front of him and Scorpius. Not a moment too soon the silvery shimmer of the barrier spreads out around them, and three streaks of red bounce off it. Stunning Spells. Their energy crackles and disperses across the shield with a sound like lightning, and Albus knows that those spells were cast by trained, skilled wizards. No amateur could put that much force into them. 

His dad’s Aurors have found them. 

"Scorpius,” he says, tugging on his arm. “We need to get out of here now. We need to-” He swallows. He knows exactly what they need to do but he can’t do it, he doesn’t trust himself, and he doesn’t know if Scorpius is well enough to do it. Panic rushes up inside him and he tightens his grip on his wand with one hand, and Scorpius’s arm with the other. “We need to Apparate. But-” He can feel his breathing getting all tight at the memory of crushing blackness, and intense pain. “But I can’t." 

"Let me,” Scorpius says, forcing himself upright. He looks determined, but he’s so pale, and he seems so unsteady. 

Albus shakes his head. “No, I’ll-” Three more Stunners hit the shield, and he can see figures in the road now. 

“Stay where you are!” One of them shouts, and Albus recognises the voice but he can’t put a name to it. “Don’t move." 

"I’ll do it,” he says.

“Albus-" 

"No!” Albus says, voice rising. He takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes tight shut. He can do this. He can do this. He can do this. “Three. Two. One.” His heart races and he feels sick, but he braces himself and twists sideways, gathering Scorpius along with him. 

The moment of pressure is almost too much to bear. He feels claustrophobic and terrified. He can’t breathe. He wants to cry or faint or run away. But there’s nowhere to run to, trapped here between places. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. 

Then he falls sideways into solid reality and collapses, Scorpius on top of him, into a muddy field where he’d once walked with his family. Now he really is screaming, and it rips through the air. As soon as he realises he’s making sound he stops and lies panting, holding his shoulder, amazed to find himself whole and alive. 

And when he realises they’re both okay, he remembers how much danger they’re in. A sense of dread floods over him, brought about by a cold, creeping sensation prickling the back of his neck. Like he’s being watched. 

They’re being watched.

“Scorpius!” He gasps, voice raw and hoarse. “Get up! We need to run." 

Scorpius sits up and runs a hand through his hair. He looks really sick. A sort of faint, grey-ish green colour, and he’s moving like all his limbs are weighing him down. "But we Apparated away from them." 

"They followed-" 

Crack! 

Albus seizes Scorpius’s hand and hauls him off the ground. "Come on. We need to go.” He hugs Scorpius tight, aware that Scorpius isn’t keeping up and determined to protect him at all costs. “Just hold on.” He feels Scorpius’s grip tighten on his jacket, and he twists around and Apparates. In the split second before they disappear, he feels the burn of spells missing him by inches.

The Apparition isn’t so bad this time. He still squeezes his eyes shut, he still panics at not being able to breathe, he still anticipates pain in every moment, but this time it seems to be over a lot quicker, and he doesn’t fall on landing. He stays perfectly upright, and manages to keep Scorpius up too, even as he fumbles in his pocket for his wand. 

“What’s happening?” Scorpius asks, groggy and confused. “Where are we?" 

"The field near your dad’s house, where we meet those Bowtruckles last Easter.”

“Oh,” Scorpius says faintly. “I remember.” He smiles a bit, and slumps down in Albus’s arms, a dead weight, eyes fluttering closed. 

Albus struggles to hold him. “Scorpius,” he says. “Stay with me. I just need to-” There’s no time to talk so he doesn’t.

Last summer his dad had taught him spells, spells that let you hide from people, and spells that can break Surveillance Charms. They’d practiced back and forth, and his dad had always used this spell on him, the one that feels cold and prickles the back of his neck. He knows exactly how to counter it, even though it’s one of the most difficult ones. 

He starts muttering under his breath, spitting the words out as fast as he can. Scorpius shifts in his arms, and his eyelids flutter. He peeks up at Albus. 

“You’re hot when you’re doing difficult incantations.”

“Shut up!” Albus scolds him. “Let me concentrate." 

"Sorry,” Scorpius murmurs, and he closes his eyes again. 

Albus speaks louder and faster as he rattles through the spell. Behind his back he hears the cracks of Apparition and spells being shouted. He ducks his head, shielding Scorpius with his body, and the spells miss them by inches. He stumbles over his words but presses on, and finally he gets to the end of the string of Latin, flicks his wand, and he feels the cold weight lift. 

“I’m going to Apparate again,” he tells Scorpius. “Hold onto me.” And without hesitation he flings himself and Scorpius sideways into nothing, until they land heavily behind a tree in a familiar front garden, and Albus starts hauling Scorpius down to the path towards the door. When he reaches it, he lets Scorpius sink onto the ground, hammers with the door knocker, and starts yelling for his brother to let them in. 

—

The pair of Aurors close the door quietly behind them as they leave, like they’re afraid of aggravating Harry, but it’s too late. He’s already aggravated. He paces in tight circles behind his desk, raking his fingers through his hair, at a loss for what to do. 

He’s not entirely sure how to process the information that’s just been presented to him. It’s too much. It’s unthinkable. And he knows exactly what Draco is going to think when he tells him. Draco is going to think it’s entirely his fault. Which maybe it is, just a little bit, but he hadn’t anticipated- 

His son has just evaded two of the best trackers in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, using spells that Harry taught him over warm, joyous days last summer. He used knowledge that Harry imparted. And not only did he handle the spells perfectly, but he did it all while supporting Scorpius, who sounds like he’s desperately ill. Even though he knows he shouldn’t, Harry feels impressed with him. Those spells aren’t easy to pull off, even for the best Aurors, and Albus did them under pressure and made a clean escape. 

The Aurors have no idea where he is now. They saw him and Scorpius take something from the ruined house, and after a couple of jumps they just vanished into thin air, because there wasn’t chance to restore the spells on them. 

Frustration and pride battle away inside him. He wants his son back. Draco wants his son back. But what Albus has done is brilliant, shows loyalty and ingenuity, and Harry can’t help but think that one day very soon, his son is going to make an excellent Auror. 

Draco is going to kill him. He’s going to kill both of them. There’s nothing Harry wants less in the world than to own up to Draco that Scorpius has slipped through his fingers yet again. But he has no choice. Unfortunately. And if he doesn’t confess soon, it will be even worse. Resigned, he flops down in his seat, puts his feet up on the desk, and draws his wand.

“Expecto Patronum,” he says with a sigh, imagining Albus holding off his best Aurors with a complex bit of spellwork. The stag comes shooting out of the end of his wand, trots round in a circle, apparently uncertain about being in such a confined space, then finally faces Harry when he clears his throat.

“I need you to take an urgent message to Draco Malfoy,” he says, squinting a bit against the bright light. “Tell him: 'I’ve just had word from the Aurors in Godric’s Hollow. Come to the Ministry immediately. You can Floo straight into my office.’” He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “That’s all." 

The stag bows his head, then turns and gallops a step before disappearing in a dazzling burst of silver. Harry blinks several times to clear his vision. For a second or two he sits in silence, perfectly still, then he leans forward and picks a report off the top of his mountain of paperwork. He might as well do something productive while he’s waiting to meet his doom. 

He doesn’t get far with the report. He’s read about two sentences when there’s a rush of wind, and the fire glows emerald. He tosses the report onto the desk and gets to his feet as Draco tumbles out onto the carpet. 

It’s not Draco’s most elegant entrance. It looks as though he’d thrown himself head first into the fireplace, desperate to get here as fast as he could. He bursts to his feet, smooths his robes down, and strides across to Harry, face set and pale, eyes blazing. 

"Where is he?”

“Draco,” Harry says, holding up a hand to slow him down, and trying to work out what to say. 

“Where is Scorpius?” Draco insists, not stopping for a second. When he reaches Harry’s desk he taps his fingers on it impatiently. “Have they taken him to St Mungo’s? Tell me where my son is, Potter. Right now." 

Harry takes a deep breath and looks down at the desk. "I don’t know." 

Draco’s fingers clench, and he looks like he’s trying very hard to contain himself. His voice goes low and menacing. "What do you mean, you don’t know?" 

Harry looks up at him. "They got away." 

Draco blinks, then he shakes his head. "I’m not sure I heard you correctly. Did you just say that our sons have escaped you again?" 

Harry tries to think of something to say, some way to explain, but his mind is blank and there’s nothing he can do. "I’m sorry, Draco. I- I’m sorry." 

There’s a very long, very ominous silence, then Draco takes a step away from the desk, turning his back on Harry. "Are you going to explain to me how a pair of teenage boys escaped from your most highly trained Aurors?” He glances back at Harry, and his eyes are narrowed. He looks dangerous. 

Harry bows his head and looks down at his hands. “They, uh- Albus. He used a spell. He broke through the Surveillance Spell my Aurors put on him. It was supposed to allow us to track him and Scorpius, but he knew how to stop the spell. And once he’d removed the spell…” Harry shrugs and claps his hands together. “They Disapparated.” He looks up at Draco. “That’s all I can tell you." 

Draco draws himself up very straight and puts his hands in his pockets. He takes a couple of very deep breaths, then he turns to Harry. "And can you explain how Albus came to know such a spell?” He leans his hands in the desk. “I know the Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum at Hogwarts is rigorous, but counter-surveillance spells aren’t included, are they? I certainly haven’t heard Scorpius mention them.” He sounds dangerously calm and casual, and Harry knows he’s trapped. 

He takes a step back from the desk. “I taught Albus the spell,” he says, quick and quiet, half hoping Draco won’t hear. 

“You?” Draco asks.

Harry nods and stands up straighter. He can’t match Draco in height, but he can own up to what he’s done. “Yes. Last summer. Albus’s ambition is to become an Auror, and those sorts of spells are useful to know. I thought they might be a fun challenge for him." 

"A fun challenge,” Draco repeats turning away again. He begins to pace back and forth across the rug in front of the fire. “So is this what you do on your days off?” He asks. “Train your own brood of mini Aurors?”

“Mostly we just play Quidditch,” Harry mutters. “But Albus doesn’t like Quidditch, so we…” He shrugs. 

“You teach him advanced counter-surveillance techniques,” Draco says, nodding, voice dripping with disdain. “Of course." 

Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I’ll admit it may not have been the best idea I’ve ever had-”

“You can say that again." 

"But,” Harry says, holding a hand up to stop him. “I didn’t expect him to be so good at it. I especially didn’t expect him to use it against us. It’s exceptionally advanced magic, Draco, and Selby is one of the best we’ve got. He’s a specialist in these sorts of charms." 

"Apparently,” Draco says with a sneer, “so is your son." 

Harry folds his arms and glares at him. "I’m sorry. I can’t go back and un-teach him the spell. All I can do is apologise.”

“That’s not good enough,” Draco says. “That was one of our best chances of catching them. There’s no telling the damage you’ve just done." 

"So what do you want me to do?” Harry asks, voice rising with his temper. “There’s nothing I can do. Be reasonable.”

Draco looks at him for an uncomfortably long few seconds, then he shakes his head. “No." 

"Then I can’t help you.” Harry sits down at his desk, anger and frustration simmering inside him. “Get out of my office, Draco. Come back when you’re going to do something other than criticise." 

"My son is dying!” Draco roars, hand slamming down on the desk hard enough to make Harry jump. He braces himself against the surface and looks Harry dead on, eyes sparkling with malice and tears. “My son isn’t going to come home, because you’re too much of an idiot to distinguish what spells are appropriate to be taught to children. Is that something you can even begin to comprehend?”

Harry swallows. “Yes,” he says, in a voice of forced calm. “Yes I can comprehend. I can comprehend perfectly." 

"So what are you going to do about it?” Draco asks. He glances at Harry, then turns his back. 

“We still have one chance,” Harry says, studying the desktop, to give Draco the opportunity to wipe his eyes without being seen if he wants to. “The charms around the wand shards." 

"Are you sure you haven’t taught your son how to disable traps too?” Draco asks. 

“Of course there’s a chance of him getting through,” Harry says. “And there’s a chance of Scorpius getting through the trap too. They’re both excellent wizards." 

Draco stands very still for a while, and he seems to be struggling with the truth of Harry’s comments. While he stands there he twists his wedding ring round his finger, shoulders back, head up, composing himself. Finally he turns to face Harry, and his face is even paler than usual. 

"Did the Aurors say how Scorpius looked?” He asks, voice low and steady. “Anything about his condition?" 

"They said-” Harry considers his words carefully. “They said he didn’t look… They said he seemed to be struggling." 

Draco’s fists clench, and he nods, looking away towards the empty portrait on Harry’s wall. 

"Albus was helping him,” Harry continues. “Holding him up. They seem to be taking care of one another at least." 

"Of course they are,” Draco says. “They love each other." 

"They do,” Harry agrees.

Draco turns on his heel and begins to pace in front of the fire. “I wish-” he breaks off, shaking his head. “I wish this wasn’t happening to my son." 

Harry bows his head. "I’m sorry,” he murmurs. 

“Sometimes I wonder if this is all my fault,” Draco says, and his voice sounds fragile, like he might shatter at any moment. “If this is punishment for the crimes I committed when I was younger. Sometimes I-” He takes a breath. “But no world is that cruel. No crime warrants this. To take Scorpius. It’s vindictive. There’s nothing else it can be.” He spins on his heel, fingers running incessantly round the edge of his wedding ring, like he’s trying to get some sort of comfort from it. “The most terrible people thrive, I survive, and my son is the one who suffers like this… It’s not right. It’s not…” He considers for a second. “It’s not fair." 

"No,” Harry says softly. “No, it’s not." 

"When Astoria was taken-” Draco breaks off and looks down at his ring, then he closes his eyes and holds onto it. “When Astoria was taken I could almost understand that. We knew she wouldn’t survive much after thirty. But this? He’s a child. He’s saved the world twice, he has so much to give, so much life to live.”

“You shouldn’t give up on him,” Harry says. “He’s still alive. We may not know where he is but we know that at least. And we’re still searching. We’ll find him, if he can be found, and we’ll bring him home. Trust me." 

Draco looks at him, very steady. "Trust you?”

“Yes." 

Draco shakes his head. "Get me my son back. Then I might consider trusting you."