#secondhandmalfoy

“Hey Lorie,” Scorpius greeted in return. “You enjoying the dance?” There was a soft smile in his eyes, but Lorie could see the way that his face still fell quickly back into that look of resigned sadness she’d seen in him before approaching.

“Absolutely!” she answered with enthusiasm. “I’ve danced with so many people. Lys and I just had our twin-dance, and Grayson and I are going to rule the dance floor. And you owe me a dance too.”

That dark look in his eyes grew. “I don’t feel like dancing today Lorie, sorry.” He looked almost like he was embarrassed about his refusal.

“You haven’t danced with anyone, have you.” Lorie hadn’t seen him on the dance floor at all. It worried her. “What’s going on with you?”

These words made Scorpius look at her, really look at her rather than his distracted gaze from before. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Lorie gave him a skeptical look.

“Honestly.”

She would never lie so readily. It made her wonder what he was hiding. That distracted look was back, his gaze reaching out across the tables as if seeking someone in particular. Lorie couldn’t pick out who. “If you need to talk to someone-”

“No,” Scorpius insisted. “I ca- I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.”

Lorie was pretty sure he’d been about to say ‘I can’t’. Couldn’t what? Couldn’t talk about what was wrong? It concerned her. Insisting, unintentionally, that he couldn’t talk to someone had far darker implications than insisting that he wouldn’t. She reached out, placing a worried hand on his arm. “Soup, whatever’s wrong-”

“Lorie, stop.”

“-you need to talk to someone about it,” she pushed. “Talk to Gray. I’m sure she’s super worried about you, too.”

Scorpius withdrew his arm from under Lorie’s hand, his expression closing off to her entirely. “Just because I don’t feel like dancing today doesn’t mean something is wrong with me.” He sounded annoyed with her.

Sighing, Lorie stood from her chair. “I think it does, this time anyway.” From behind his chair, she set her hands on his shoulders and placed a kiss on top of his head, on one of his braids so she wouldn’t mess up his poof in the middle. His body went rigid under her, as if her attention was unwelcome, so she withdrew contact. “I’ll leave you now,” she said, “but just know that your friends are worried about you.”