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Have you ever walked away from someone? 

Laid your hands on their chest and pushed them away? 

Told them not to bother, to forget everything? 

I have. 

It was just another day, another cloudy, miserable day. You were pulling me through the corridors on yet another venture to the kitchens. 

“Hurry up, Albus!” you said, locking your fingers more securely through mine. I smiled weakly, unable to resist. 

“We should be outside,” I was lying, it was fine inside. I just felt I had to get out that day. Something was crushing my chest, grasping my heart coldly, and it terrified me slightly. 

You rolled your silver eyes lightly, shrugging your shoulders. “Don’t you want to see Missy again?” you asked, referring to the doting house elf we were friends with. 

“No, I...” I can’t breathe in here. Help me, Scorp, something’s wrong. 

“Fine, then.” You grinned at my relieved face and posed a kiss on my lips. I responded quickly, pushing you back against the wall to deepen it. 

We were seventeen, and so deeply in love we could barely see in front of our faces. 

But it didn’t matter. We were fine. 

So look at us now, Scorpius. It’s been but one year since that distant memory was made; the day you finally told me you loved me. 

Your face is miserable, and you seem to sink further and further into yourself on that small grey chair, the glass of whisky clutched in your cold fingers. You went to see your father again, but you couldn’t tell him. Coward. 
“I just can’t, Al,” you explain sadly, still not meeting my expectant eyes, “It’d break his heart.” 

“You’re breaking my heart,” I reply woodenly, trying to entice a response, the words falling from my lips uncontrollably. 

“Don’t say that.” Your eyes finally meet mine, and I can read the fear you’re trying desperately to hide. You’re terrified of your father, still, after all this time. 

We sit in silence in this small, cramped excuse for a ground floor flat. 

I can’t stand it. Everything is entirely strange out here; the monsters are no longer separate but blend with the truth, creating this strange fear. In Hogwarts you had protection, you had it all. We could go where we wanted, smile when we wanted, be what we were. Everyone knew about us, and no-one cared. It didn’t matter that we were gay; we were Al and Scorp, that was all. 

But out here... You cower. Despite the fact you could openly walk the halls with me when in a small bubble, the very thought of your father knowing is enough to send you running. You have no protection, sure, but what’s the worst he could do? Death couldn’t part us. Life is only the system by which we breathe. 

All your father wants is a good, Pureblood son. I know it’s everything you don’t want to be, because of me. You love me too much to let me go. 

“Al.” 

I’m not replying, Scorpius. 

“Please don’t shut me out, Al,” you plead. 

Your hair is messy from running your hand through it over and over; it’s your nervous habit. 

“Al,” you whisper, “I love you.” 

I love you beyond words. When you look at me, my mind goes blank. When you kiss me, I can’t hear over the pounding in my heart. 

Slowly, as not to disturb this dream, I stand up. You watch me as I walk towards you; your eyes take in my blank expression. I take your hand as I reach you, taking the alcohol from your grip and placing it on a side table. Pulling you up, I push you so your back is against the wall. 

Your lip quivers. 

You blink once. 

“Al-“ 

I cut you off with a fierce kiss. 

Can you tell I love you, Scorpius? Can you feel my heartbeat? 

Your lips dance under mine, moving so we are perfectly moulded together. I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m putting all of my hopes and fears into this one moment. 

It’s me who forced this kiss on you, and it’s me who breaks it. 

“Coward,” I hiss against your lips, my eyes closed. I flick them open and step back, dropping your hand. 

You look lifeless. Did I suck the soul from your sweet face? 

Quicker than before, I start to pace away from you, striding to our room. It’s littered with photos of us smiling, kissing, arms around waists. 

I take my pyjamas, some pants and socks. I walk to the bathroom and grab my toothbrush. Shoving them roughly into a bag, I take the photo frame sitting by the plain white bed. 

Our bed, Scorpius. It’s unmade, the covers tossed from side to side like a storm has passed through it. Such a simple object, but it means so much to me. I kiss your pillow gently and leave the room. 

You’re standing in the hallway, blocking my way. 

“Al, please,” you beg, your eyes glossy, “Don’t do this.” 

I try to carry on down the path I’m treading, but you’re in the way. Your chest presses against mine: bare skin against your soft shirt. Muscle on muscle. 

“Let me go, Scorpius.” 

If I turn my head I could kiss you. 

You take a step back, and place your hands against my face. Leaning forwards, you pose a delicate kiss on me. It’s always worked before. I place my hands on your chest and push; push you away. 

Can you see my tears, Scorpius? 

“You can’t have it both ways,” I whimper, “Either you have me or you don’t.” 

You try to push forwards again, but I force you back. 

“Al, please,” you plead, “Don’t leave.” 

“Are you ever going to tell him?” 

Can you face your father? 

Your silence is the only answer I need. 

“Don’t bother, Scorp. Forget it. Forget us.” 

I push past you, and you try to grab hold of me. I tug myself away and open the door, walking out into the wind. It blows my hair over my eyes, temporarily blinding me. 

There are footsteps behind me, and you come barrelling out of the house. You run straight into me, smashing your body to mine and pressing your lips roughly against mine, enticing response as I did. I kiss you back, hoping this means I can return. 

Because I have to leave, Scorp. But I already want to come back so badly. I just can’t stay and let you do this again. 

You break the kiss softly, letting the moment fall and break. I close my eyes tightly and begin to spin. 

“Find me,” I whisper, feeling the atmosphere change as my insides twist in the tight tube of apparation. 

I’m only eighteen, and I’m already crazy. You made me this way. You made me this, Scorpius. 

Two months later, I stand in front of my parents house, looking down at the frame in my hands and catching sight of your grinning face. I have my lips pressed to your cheek; you look down at the floor, barely containing your delight. Behind us the courtyard at Hogwarts jostles and gossips, full of people shooting us the odd glance, but not caring much. My lips break from your skin and I lean back, my arm tightly wound around your waist. 

This was us. 

This could still be us. 

Wordlessly, I turn and appear on our doorstep, ready to beg to be let back in. The door opens for me, and there you are. Your face is teary, and you reach out to grab hold of me, closing the gap. I bury my face in the crook of your neck as you apologize needlessly, holding back my own tears. 

I almost blew it. 

“Never... do that again,” you choke out, before stifling your words on my shoulder. 

In the picture in my hand, the two boys are now dancing around the cobblestones, waltzing silently. I smile down at them and kiss your neck. 











My first official slash on HPFF.... well done me? It was rubbish? Do tell.

xE

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