Chapter Text
Part 1 - Post-Trauma
Chapter 1 - Nightmares and Dreams
Scorpius
It was the Christmas holidays and Scorpius was lying on his bed at the manor, reading as usual. He heard a knock on his door and his father entered his room. He was never exactly cheerful, but he looked particularly serious on that afternoon.
“Scorpius? Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Scorpius closed his Transfiguration book.
“Sure, Dad, what is it?”
“I received a letter just before the holidays,” said Draco, sitting at the edge of Scorpius’s bed, “from Ginny Weasley.”
“Oh?” said Scorpius, initially confused and a little worried. The last time they were all together was a dire time indeed.
“She was inviting you to come stay for part of the holidays,” said Draco. “I initially told her no, but…”
Scorpius hardly dared to hope.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said, with a little sigh.
“For real? I can go see Albus, you mean?” said Scorpius, jumping up from the bed. “When? How? Where– ?”
“Ginny will pick you up by Floo tonight. I’ve consented for her to connect to the manor,” he said, his mouth twisting slightly with agitation at the idea.
“Tonight! I get to see Albus tonight –?!”
“-- And the Potters will get you back on the Hogwarts Express at the end of the holiday,” finished Draco.
Even through Scorpius’s intense excitement, he noticed his father looking at him with a strange expression on his pale face.
“Dad? What is it?” asked Scorpus.
“It’s just – Scorpius, I know we haven’t talked much about what happened this autumn –”
“Well, what’s to say other than it was a disaster and generally terrible?” said Scorpius.
“You – you lived in a different world,” said Draco, unable to look at Scorpius now. “A world I can imagine more easily than most people could. It’s a world I wished so desperately to protect you from –”
“Dad, it’s okay,” said Scorpius, hurriedly. “It’s all over now. We won. Delphi lost. We can move on into a bright future!”
Scorpius donned a big smile in effort to convince his father this was true. It was easy enough, with the prospect of seeing Albus in a matter of hours.
“Have you moved on though, Scorpius?”
“What do you mean?”
“At night… I’ve heard you,” said Draco, awkwardly, “having nightmares.”
Scorpius felt the heat rise in his face. He didn’t realize his nightmares had been audible. Certainly his nightmares had been much worse since he had come home. The world without Albus seemed all too real when Scorpius couldn’t wake up and see Albus’s bed from his own, hear his light snores, and occasionally pad over to his bed in the dark to check that he was still there, still safe, still real. This, intertwined with dreams of his dead mother, had made sleep at his childhood home more like a battleground for Scorpius.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said his father. “I have nightmares. All the time. But if there’s anything you need to talk about… I’m here. All right?”
Scorpius felt equal parts awkward and emotional. It was typically Astoria who would always bestow Scorpius with blatant affection. Scorpius knew his father loved him, but he had always been rather emotionally distant.
“And that goes beyond just what happened this term,” said Draco. “I mean, if there’s anything else? Anything about Albus?”
Scorpius furrowed his brows.
“What about Albus? There’s nothing wrong with him, is there?”
“No, no, of course not,” said Draco, quickly. “Despite my initial reservations, I’m very glad you two are friends, actually. He’s a good boy. Clearly inherited the brains that passed his father by –”
“Dad,” Scorpius admonished. “Mr. Potter is nice.”
“And the savior of the world, yes, I’ve heard it all before,” said Draco, rolling his eyes. “Well, you better get packing. Mind you, I still expect you downstairs for tea. I have one afternoon left with my son before the summer and I’m going to enjoy it.”
Spontaneously, Scorpius hugged his father. He was almost as tall as him now, but it felt nice all the same.
“Thanks, Dad,” said Scorpius. “I really mean it. Thank you so much.”
“Yes, well,” Draco cleared his throat, patting Scorpius awkwardly on the back. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
At half-past five, the grand, stone fireplace in the sitting room was illuminated with bright, green flames.
“Albus!” Scorpius cried as his best friend came through the Floo. Before he could stop to consider any alternative form of greeting, he ran towards Albus and encircled him in a bone-crushing hug.
“Oh – right – we do this now,” said Albus, his voice muffled against Scorpius’ chest. “Erm, Scorp? I think you might be cracking my ribs?”
Scorpius immediately let go.
“I’m sorry! Are you okay? Stupid Scorpius, about to break my best friend into pieces. What would I do then?”
“Get some Spell-o-Tape, I imagine,” said Albus and both boys laughed.
Ginny Weasley was watching them with a curious, almost amused look on her face. Then she turned to Draco.
“Thank you so much for letting Scorpius come stay with us,” she said.
“There wasn’t much choice,” said Draco.
Ginny smiled, sadly. “Nor for us either, I’m afraid.”
Albus and Scorpius exchanged confused looks. “Mum, what —?”
“Over the summer I’d like to return the favor,” said Draco. “Albus is more than welcome to stay here for a week or two if he likes.”
“I’ll talk to Harry —“ Draco’s lip curled slightly. “—but I’m sure we can make that work,” said Ginny. “Got your trunk, Scorpius?”
“Yes, ma’am!” said Scorpius, brightly.
“Please don’t call me that,” said Ginny, wincing.
“Sorry, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Ugh, that’s even worse. ‘Ginny’ is fine,” she said.
“All right, I’ve got my trunk, Ginny!” said Scorpius, rather pleased to be on a first-name basis with a former Dumbledore’s Army member and famous Quidditch player, to boot.
“Write to me Scorpius, please,” said Draco. “When you’re at the Potter’s house and once you get back to school.”
“I will. I promise.”
The Potter household was nothing like the quiet of the Manor.
First, there were the smells! Roast chicken, potatoes, and – was that treacle tart? – wafting from the kitchen. Something that smelled oddly like gunpowder was coming from James’ room at the top of the stairs. A heady perfume of seemingly every flower all at once coming from Lily’s room off the den.
Then, there were the colors! The house, while much smaller, was brightly lit and each room was painted a different vibrant color: burnt orange in the den, lilac in the kitchen, a blind fuschia coming from Lily’s room.
But the most distinct difference was the noise. Every room was bustling with activity. James (when he was not outside on his broomstick) was tossing the Fizzing Wizbee he’d gotten for Christmas around the house like a boomerang while Ginny mumbled, “I’m going to kill George” under her breath. Lily, who had gotten a potion-making kit for Christmas from her godmother, was the cause of sudden loud bangs and explosions coming from her room. This was always followed by a cry of “it’s fine! Everything’s fine,” at which point, Scorpius would laugh and Albus would roll his eyes.
At the dinner table that night, there were never ending debates about every subject imaginable – from Goblin rights to which Quidditch teams were likely to make it to the semifinals to which was cuter: a Pygmy Puff or a Niffler. Scorpius could hardly get a word in, but he was in awe of it all.
“Hey Mum,” said Albus during a rare lull in the conversation. “What did you and Mr. Malfoy mean when you said you ‘didn’t have a choice’ about Scorpius coming here? Is there something going on?”
“Why? Do you not want him here?” said Harry with a knowing grin.
Scorpius knew he was joking, but he looked anxiously at Albus all the same. Albus glared at his father.
“Of course I want him here, but why —?”
“It’s obvious, brainless,” said James through a mouthful of treacle tart. “You’ve been a right miserable little twat without Scorpion Malfoy”
“James,” said Ginny.
Scorpius felt his insides turn cold. He knew that James would have no way of knowing what being called ‘Scorpion’ meant to him, but all at once Scorpius’s ears were ringing and his chest was tightening— Albus stood up, his face Weasley-red and his eyes burning.
“Don’t call him that!” he yelled at his brother across the table.
“Here we go,” Lily mumbled under her breath, stabbing moodily at her last bit of treacle tart.
“Albus, it’s okay—“ Scorpius tried to say.
“Albus, sit down,” said Harry.
“Of course you’d take his side,” snapped Albus.
“I’m not taking anyone’s side, Al,” said Harry, wearily. “But it’s not worth having a brawl across the dinner table –”
“You’re saying Scorpius isn’t worth it?” said Albus, hotly.
“No, I’m not —” Harry started, his own voice rising now.
“You know what, I think we’re all done with dessert right?” said Ginny loudly over everyone else, her want flicking across the table causing the dishes to fly neatly towards the sink. “Let’s everyone go to their rooms and relax.”
“It’s not fair,” Albus said, afterwards as he flopped down on his bed, his eyes still burning with rage. “He always takes James’s side. I guarantee that if I had called James’s friend something hurtful, I’d never hear the end of it.”
Albus’s room was very different from the rest of the house. Where the rest of the house was a kind of organized chaos, Albus’s room was neat, quiet, and understated. The walls were a deep, forest green, a shade darker than the Slytherin emerald green. His bed, made of dark wood, was on one wall against a window that faced out into the backyard and the star-strewn sky. A large bookshelf was on the opposite wall and filled with everything from textbooks to comics, but no trinkets or nickknacks. In fact, the only decorations in the room was a beautiful silver model of the solar system that hung from the middle of the ceiling and a solitary photograph on Albus’s bedside table. Upon closer inspection, Scorpius saw that it was himself and Albus on the last day of their third year. They had just finished their exams and were sitting under the old beech tree, enjoying the sunshine. Albus had gotten a camera from his grandparents for his birthday and they took turns taking silly pictures of each other. The one Albus had framed, Albus was sticking out his tongue and Scorpius was doing bunny ears behind his head.
“Sorry we’ve only got a camp bed for you,” said Albus, sitting up and looking at Scorpius. “If you want, you can have my bed tonight and we can switch off.”
“No, it’s fine,” said Scorpius in a small voice.
“Hey, I’m really sorry about all that,” said Albus. “Are you okay?”
Scorpius shrugged and sat down, crossed legged, on the camp bed. Albus slid down to sit beside him.
“What is it, Scorpius?” asked Albus, his hard edges seeming to soften as he looked at Scorpius.
“It’s just… that name,” said Scorpius, haltingly. “It’s so stupid. I know James didn’t mean it like that, but it reminds me of… you know.”
“I could kill James,” Albus growled.
“That only makes it worse,” said Scorpius. firmly. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. I just want to forget it ever happened.”
“All right,” said Albus after a moment. “Let’s forget it then.”
After that, they talked about what they got for Christmas and Albus showed Scorpius the new mystery novel he’d gotten with clues that could only be revealed with certain spells defined by riddles. Albus always loved fiction much more than Scorpius, but even Scorpius couldn’t deny the call of a riddle. After spending nearly half the night trying to determine the meaning of each riddle, the boys finally fell asleep at two in the morning – exhausted – with Albus sprawled diagonal at the head of the camp bed and Scorpius curled into a ball at the foot.
His footsteps echoed loudly on the marble floors – too loud. Far too loud. Nothing else was here. He was alone in this place. It was so cold.
“Scorpion King,” a voice whispered, mockingly, to him. “
No,” he moaned. “Albus? Albus!”
He’s searching in the dark, flinging himself on his hands and knees, desperate to find him –
“Who’s Albus?” The words echoed over and over in Scorpius’ head. He screamed. He thought he might go mad. Scorpius was curled on the cold marble, sobbing.
“No, no please, not again. This can’t be happening again –”
“Scorpius, wake up –”
“Albus –!”
“Scorpius!”
Scorpius’ eyes flew open. He was shaking and covered in sweat. For a moment he thought it was Albus who leaned over him, for all he could make out in the darkness were bright, green eyes.
“Mr. Potter?” Scorpius gasped. “I – I’m sorry –”
“Shh, let’s get you a cup of tea,” Harry whispered, guiding him up from the bed. “Careful now, so you don’t wake Albus.”
Albus Potter slept like dead and was snoring away, mouth agape. Still, Scorpius was careful to close the door of Albus’ room gently behind him as they left. He followed Harry down the stairs, wondering if he might be in trouble for being too loud. A pale dawn light was fighting its way through the kitchen window as Harry set the kettle on the stove.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” said Scorpius hoarsely.
“I was already awake,” said Harry. “Tea?”
“Yes, please,” said Scorpius.
“Do you mind if I put a dash of sleeping draught in yours? It always helps me when I’m having trouble sleeping.”
“Yes, thank you,” said Scorpius. “That would be nice.”
Silence fell between them as Harry made their tea. Then he sat beside Scorpius at the table, both with a steaming mug in front of them.
“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Harry.
Scorpius felt his face heat up with embarrassment. How humiliating to have a nightmare like that his first night at the Potter house.
“I get nightmares all the time,” said Harry. “Sometimes they’re about stupid stuff, like being back at school and missing an exam. But other times… Well, let’s just say they can be quite terrifying.”
“Terrifying is the word,” said Scorpius, nodding. “But what do you do? How do you stop them from happening?”
“It takes time. After what you and Albus went through this past term — I hate to say it, but you’ll probably always have nightmares to some degree. But they’ll get better. Less frequent, at least.”
“I feel like they’re just getting worse,” Scorpius mumbled.
“When it does happen,” Harry continued, “it helps to have someone to talk about it with. Like a parent or a friend. When I was your age, I’d confide in my godfather when something felt too big to deal with on my own. Is there someone you can talk to?”
“Well, usually I talk to Albus,” said Scorpius, slowly. “But… not about this stuff.”
“Can I ask why not?”
Scorpius thought about how each night in their dormitory, he would have to quietly get up from his bed and check on Albus to make sure he was still there, he was still safe, otherwise he couldn’t fall back asleep.
“He’s got enough going on,” said Scorpius, picking distractedly at the sleeve of his pajamas.
“I think you and Albus have the same stuff going on,” said Harry after a moment. “You just handle it in different ways.”
“You mean Albus explodes and I implode?” Scorpius suggested.
Harry chuckled. “That’s one way to put it.”
Scorpius sighed. “Wow.”
“‘Wow’ what?” asked Harry.
“I just realized I’m getting advice from the Harry Potter,” said Scorpius, unable to stop himself from gushing.
Harry flushed and, no matter how much Albus complained of it, the similarity between himself and his father was uncanny.
“Well, I hope you know that Ginny and I are always here for you both, all right?” said Harry. “What you went through… we never wanted you kids to have to deal with anything like that. If I could make it all go away, I would. But, for now, I think you ought to get back to bed.”
“Thanks, Mr. Potter,” said Scorpius standing up.
“Please call me ‘Harry’,” he said. “Hopefully that sleeping drought is kicking in. I figured you might appreciate a dreamless sleep.”
Scorpius climbed back up the stairs to Albus’s room, already yawning. He was happy to find that Albus hadn’t moved, which left Scorpius free to crawl back onto the camp bed without Albus being any the wiser. He knew he could probably sleep on Albus’s bed without having to curl up into a tiny ball like he was now. But he found that he really didn’t want to sleep alone and was too tired to examine why. So he tucked his knees to his chest and rested his head so that it was just touching Albus’s outstretched arm. Then, he sank into a deep sleep.
But it wasn’t dreamless.
He was sitting under the beech tree at Hogwarts – the same beech tree from the picture on Albus’ nightstand. Albus was with him under the beech tree. It was snowing, but it still felt so wonderfully warm. Albus smiled at Scorpius. It was such a beautiful smile. His whole face seemed to shimmer. Scorpius reached out to touch Albus’s shimmering cheek. Scorpius realized, then, that he was naked. For a moment, he felt worried, embarrassed. But then he saw Albus was naked, too. His whole being shimmering like sunlight. Albus smiled wider and leaned against him. His chest was broad and warm. Their cheeks pressed against each other. Then Scorpius found Albus’ lips. The heat between them was almost unbearable. Their lips met and Scorpius was sure his heart would burst –
“Why does he sleep like that?”
“Ugh, Lily, go away.”
“Well, Mom says breakfast is ready.”
“Okay, well go and eat it then.”
“You have to come down too!”
“We will, we will. Just go away for a sec so we can actually wake up.”
“Fine.”
A slamming door roused Scorpius fully from sleep. He was still curled up in a ball, his muscles tight and stiff. He realized, in horror, that his muscles weren’t the only thing that was stiff. He opened his eyes to see Albus staring at him.
“What?” said Scorpius, curling his body into itself even more in an attempt to hide his shame.
“You look exhausted, mate,” said Albus. “Lily says breakfast is ready, but if you wanna sleep in some more –”
“No! I mean – give me a minute. I’ll meet you down there.”
“Oh-kay,” said Albus, looking at Scorpius strangely. “See you down there.”
Albus left the room and Scorpius squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will his appendage into softness again. This had happened to him occasionally before. He’d heard other boys his age call it “morning wood” and, of course, he understood that many of his classmates “got off”, sometimes with the help of pictures in the Hogwarts-banned magazine Wand Polishers, which featured hundreds of naked photographs of witches in various erotic poses. He knew that his roommate at Hogwarts, Jax Zabini, had a stack of these magazines under his bed. Scorpius had never been interested in these magazines. He’d never been interested in the idea of sex at all. He hadn’t given it much thought beyond that it existed and “morning wood” was very inconvenient when you were running late to class. He had never “gotten off” like his classmates bragged about doing. He’d never had a sexual fantasy that made him want to. Until now. Now, his best friend’s imagined naked body was engraved on his brain and his appendage refused to soften.
Oh no, he thought, panicked, oh no, oh no, oh no –
“Scorpius! Are you coming down!”
“Just a minute!” cried Scorpius, his voice cracking slightly.
“Okay, relax Scorpius, everybody does this,” he said to himself.
His hand slipped down his pants and clasped around his stiff length. He groaned quietly at the contact. He knew what to do, finding a rhythm almost immediately. For the first time in Scorpius’ life, all logical thought left his brain and Albus’s naked body took its place. Of course, he’d never seen Albus completely naked, but they’d changed in front of each other enough times. Scorpius moved his hand to the mental image of Albus’s smooth, broad chest, the sinews of his neck, his glittering green eyes that, in Scorpius’s mind, burned hot like they did when he was angry, full of emotion.
They burned for him.