Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

15^th June

The latches on Albus’ trunk fill the still air with gentle snaps as he finishes packing his belongings, stripping the dorm of any signs that he had lived here at all. His clothes are all neatly folded back into place and his books have been perfectly organised such that there is not a single inch of space between them. The entire box is full of the last seven years of his life, and Albus feels overwhelmingly nostalgic as he glances around the room for what will be, perhaps, one of the last times.

On his dresser, stuffed between a photograph of his parents and a potions textbook he never actually finished reading, Albus remembers, was where he kept his ever-growing collection of Exploding Snap cards. His parents had started getting him a different pack each Christmas, all with different patterns on the front. The traditional pack, of course, with Bowtruckles and Giant Squids on the front, had been the first pack he’d been given. Quickly followed by a specific Herbology pack, then a Quidditch players pack. Albus couldn’t quite remember why the tradition had started or, for that matter, why he needed so many variants, but he recalls specific memories from each card, and, because of that, is eternally grateful for his collection.

Albus brushes his fingers over the space where the cards used to rest, his fingertip covering in dust as the ancient furniture stands empty. He draws a little heart and a sad face among the dusty canvas before him, but turns away before he can dwell too much on the sadness he feels.

It’s weird, Albus thinks, that he’s so incredibly sad to be leaving Hogwarts when, in reality, he never really had a smooth-sailing life here. He remembers his first few years being filled with utter misery, wishing he could be anywhere but the lonely halls and, at one point, even praying he’d wake up a Squib so he could leave forever and try and continue a normal life elsewhere. He’d travelled time, almost lost his best friend, had died in one timeline and watched one of his classmates breathe his last breath in front of him and yet a part of Albus still doesn’t want to leave. Perhaps it’s the unknown, Albus thinks. Everything at Hogwarts is so structured and consistent that Albus knows he never has time to mourn the past or the tragedies in his life. It’s early morning and he has woken up from a nightmare about the dark timeline? That’s fine, he has a class in half an hour. Albus is always busy here, and that’s the part he likes. The minute he boards the Hogwarts Express back home and is no longer a student, Merlin knows how much time Albus will have to ponder the mistakes he’s made and the errors that plague his mind on a daily basis.

“Hey,” a voice interrupts Albus’ bittersweet reflection, drawing his attention away from the memories that are etched into his bedposts and rather to the sweet shadow standing in the doorway. “Leaving Feast starts soon, we should probably head down soon.”

“Yeah, yeah. Course,” Albus says. He wipes his hand over the cabinet, destroying all evidence of his little doodles and clearing the slate of the dust. “Was just finishing up in here.”

Scorpius smiles. “Weird, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” Albus chuckles. He chews thoughtfully on his bottom lip, despite knowing Scorpius will scold him for doing so, and gently brushes his fingers through the drapes on the bed and the perfectly made up sheets. “Can’t believe this isn’t going to be home anymore.”

“Home?” Scorpius asks. “I never thought I’d see the day you of all people would call this dormitory home.”

“I know,” Albus smiles. “This place just has an annoyingly comforting vibe about it.”

“And good people.” Scorpius adds.

Albus pauses. “A good person.”

Scorpius smiles. Albus watches as his friend casts a glance around the room, his eyes lingering in their places. Their corner of the room where they’d sit on the carpet and write essays late into the night. The foot of Scorpius’ bed where they’d sit and talk the entire evening away. Albus knows in that moment that he isn’t alone in his nostalgia.

“Come on, you,” Scorpius eventually says. “I’m starving.”

⚡

There is food. There is laughter. Albus smiles at Scorpius and Scorpius smiles back at him. They gently kick each other’s feet under the table as if to say hey, we actually made it. McGonagall gives a speech about their hard work and praises their excellent results.

“Whether you go to the Ministry, teaching, or any other branch of employment,” McGonagall says. “I hope you remember us on your journey. I hope that you feel proud of all you have achieved and will look back fondly on your years here. The relationships that have been made, friendships that are unbreakable. But, mostly, I hope you feel fulfilled and happy.”

Albus thinks he sees a glimmer of some tears in her eyes, whether that be because she’s thrilled to see the year leave or upset that she’s losing another batch of students, and he chokes up a little himself. It’s been a journey, one he never really expected to be so draining.

There is a gentle bubble of conversation that echoes around the Hall, younger students chatting about what plans they have for the summer, older students talking about their plans now they have graduated: mostly everyone talks about how much they love this school. Albus catches Lily’s eye from across the tables, her prefect badge glinting under the light, and she smiles at him. A Weasley smile, Albus thinks. Full of mischief and love and joy and confidence. She radiates it all. Even in the two second glance she passes his way (because, of course, she can’t be seen paying too much attention to her brother: she has a reputation to maintain), Albus can feel his sister’s love.

And then he glances to Rose. Her Head Girl badge gleams a little brighter, her smile a little sadder, but her eyes a lot wider. She has the whole world at her fingertips. With charisma flowing out in the way she talks with her hands and smarts to last a lifetime, Albus has not a single doubt that Rose would escalate through the ranks of the wizarding world as fast as her mother did. He catches Rose’s eye as she looks up from her goblet, and all at once he’s taken back to the many Christmases they spent sat opposite each other at the Burrow. Dressed in Christmas jumper’s knitted by their Grandmother, top lip shimmering from the endless glasses of pumpkin juice they’d been drinking. And now here they were. At the end of their Hogwarts journey that, honestly, hadn’t gone the way Albus intended. At the end of the road that split into two different paths; Albus doubted they were going to head down the same one.

He watches as her eyes flick to his side, face falling to a shadow of sadness. Albus attempts to subtly follow her gaze, though there really is no way to discreetly look to the person sat right next to him.

Scorpius.

Right, Albus thinks. It was bound to come up again on this evening. It would be pretty impossible to say goodbye to the last seven years of his life without acknowledging the fact that his best friend and his cousin played lead roles in one of the most high profile relationships that had occurred in their year. Sure, Polly and Yann were a success story that set tongues wagging when they first paired up, but a Malfoy and a Granger-Weasley elicited interest from the entire student body.

Albus remembers the countless nights he and Scorpius had spent in their dorm room talking about Rose. Before they got together the conversations tended to revolve around the fact that the match was never going to happen. Scorpius’ sweet cheeks would colour red as he asked Albus if he’d spoken to Rose recently, and the colour would only darken as his best friend teased him relentlessly about the impossibility of the relationship. It was all fun and games to Albus; the two of them were completely inseparable and the banter-filled conversations where he could make Scorpius squirm were just a testimony to how okay and close they were.

Until, in their fifth year, the two of them actually got together. Albus can’t remember the explicit ins and outs of how the match occurred – either because he suppresses the memories or because he daren’t mention Rose’s name around Scorpius anymore – but he can distinctly remember coming back on the Hogwarts Express and having to share a compartment with his cousin. When he thinks about those awful journeys and the days the three of them would spend in the library working together or talking together Albus can only remember feeling entirely torn apart. His safe unit had been infiltrated by someone he didn’t want around all the time. He loved Rose, truly, she was his cousin. They were best friends as kids, but they weren’t best friends now. He and Scorpius were. And suddenly all their moments as two friends were contorted into activities three people could do. 

It started quietly: on the weekends when the two of them would take a walk around the grounds and sit by the lake doing work Rose now appeared. During their Hogsmeade visits (which they had to beg McGonagall to let them take up again after the incident from their fourth year) they had to move tables in the Three Broomsticks to one that could occupy three people. Then it got more apparent that they were seriously becoming a thing, and that Albus was a little piece they dragged along to be polite. In summer when Scorpius would come to stay at the Burrow he and Rose would spend hours in the garden, talking about gnomes and Quidditch and bread recipes Scorpius had been researching.

All throughout their fifth year, both Scorpius and Rose being prefects for their houses, they would do things together. And Albus was there, sure. In the background always being a positive force and listening to Scorpius’ anxious rambles about a date idea or an anniversary idea or some other romantic situation that Albus really didn’t the advice for but also didn’t have the heart to ignore.

The two of them shone, a beautiful wave of intelligence and love that floated above the rest of the school. Two prefects, both highly expected to be Head Boy and Girl elect, two children of notably famous names. It was sickening to a certain degree. Sweet Rosie and the Scorpion King.

And then it all fell apart.

Albus remembers the details of the breakup a lot more vividly than the honeymoon phase. He and Lily had spent the day in Diagon Alley getting supplies for Hogwarts, Albus buying his Seventh Year robes and his final set of textbooks. He remembers being at home, wrapped in his Snitch-patterned blanket when a rattling at his window rose him from his slumber. He remembers the Malfoy family owl shivering on his windowsill, feathers heavy with raindrops and beak clutching a letter. He remembers seeing the little peacock doodle in the corner of the envelope, Scorpius’ signature detail to let Albus know the letter was from him.

Then he remembers sneaking downstairs to Floo to the Malfoy Manor, spending the entire evening wrapped up in Astoria’s untouched library consoling his best friend. Albus wrapped Scorpius in a blanket he found on the back of a rocking chair, a gorgeous cream colour with turquoise scalloped edges, and spent hours rubbing his back or drumming his fingers over his knee – anything to ease Scorpius out of this shell of heartbreak. Between little shudders and sniffs Scorpius managed to spell out the basics of the break-up.

He’d received a letter from Professor McGonagall offering him the position of Head Boy. Rose had one offering Head Girl. They’d gone to a park for a picnic to celebrate when Rose said she didn’t think it was working and thought they should split. Albus pressed for a reason but Scorpius said there wasn’t one.

(He was lying. Albus could tell; Scorpius spent the conversation fiddling with his watchstrap, his go-to gesture to distract himself when he lied to someone).

It had been… a lot to take in. Suddenly having Scorpius all to himself again. It was the only thing he’d wanted during the last two years, yet everything was different. Scorpius was quiet again, a curled up half-shadow of a person he had been since their fifth year began. It reminded Albus of the first few months after Astoria passed: just the two of them sat in the dormitory, wands lit and balanced in goblets as makeshift lanterns, reading and playing chess and being quiet as Scorpius worked through everything that had been going on in his mind.

Albus felt helpless. Scorpius was helpless. It was as if someone had hit a hypothetical reset button and they were starting all over again.

“Hey,” a soft voice, and a gentle kick under the table, ends Albus’ nostalgic reminiscing session. “You ready to head back to our room?”

Albus smiles. At his best friend. His truest friend. With his perfect ever so slightly wavy hair and freckle-dusted cheeks.

“Yeah,” he says, gently patting Scorpius’ arm as they stood and joined the tidal wave of students trying desperately to get out the Great Hall. “Let’s go.”

As Albus walks out the Hall, for the last time, his mind supplies, he tries desperately to remember the details of the floor under his shoes and the shadows that carve onto the walls from the starry illusion hanging above the tables. Scorpius’ hand bumps into his, the familiar chill grounding him from his daydreams once again.

And… yeah, Albus thinks. He’s really going to miss this place.

⚡

Their room is bare and Albus can’t sleep. He hates the emptiness of his dresser and despises the pile of trunks at the foot of his bed. His wardrobe hangs slightly open – as it has for years after he accidentally snapped it off with a misplaced spell and Scorpius had tried to mend it with Muggle tools – and the lack of hangers and clothes sits wrong in his mind. The emptiness is uncomfortable.

Scorpius sniffs from where he lies on his bed, flat on his back with his dreamy eyes staring upwards. Albus rolls onto his side, arms cuddling his pillow to his chest as he watches the rise and fall of Scorpius’ breathing.

“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” Albus asks into the darkness.

Scorpius flicks his gaze over to Albus, not that he can see, but doesn’t move from where he rests. “We’ve made many mistakes in our short lives, Albus,” Scorpius says. “I’m going to need you to be more exact.”

“Like,” Albus continues. He casts a quiet Lumos to light up their room, fingers toying with the slightly fraying cover of his duvet. “Going on this trip. Travelling Europe instead of training for a job or getting into a career?”

“Why would that be a mistake?”

“I don’t know,” Albus shrugs. “I guess because everyone around us has these grand plans of what their future will be and have lined up courses or jobs or things that will make their life good. And we’re just, you know, running away.”

Albus watches as Scorpius sits up and moves over to his bed. Albus noticed a permanent dent in his mattress during his third year, right where Scorpius always sits. It’s his space. Officially. A constant dip in the mattress from the hours Scorpius would spend curled up in a ball at the foot of Albus’ bed, sometimes even falling asleep down there.

“We’re not running away,” Scorpius assures. “We’re… taking a break from all this.” He waves a hand around the room.

“But then we still have to come back to all this,” Albus mimics the gesture. “And we’ll be at the bottom of the pile because we spent a month pissing off in France and Greece while everyone else was working on their magic and getting cosy with members of the Ministry.”

“Al,” Scorpius says. He rests his hands on his friend's knees, gaze locked with Albus’. “There’s not one path to make your life successful. You don’t have to leap straight from Hogwarts to a career that you’ll stay in for the rest of your life. That’s not how things work. You’re allowed to take your time, to breathe. To figure it out. Especially when you’ve had a tough run of things.”

Albus nods. They sit in silence for a few moments, Scorpius’ touch burning into Albus’ leg but neither of them doing anything to separate the contact. “I guess I just feel like I’m disappointing my dad by not leaping straight into action.”

“What? And you think he did?”

“Well… yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t know.”

Scorpius’ head shakes. “Right, okay. Makes sense. Your dad fights in a huge Wizarding War, watching some of his loved ones die, kills the darkest wizard to ever roam and totally goes straight into a career,” he says. “Your dad would have taken time to adjust, too. You need to be nicer to yourself.”

“There’s a huge difference between fighting in a war and having a rough few years at school, Scorp.”

“It’s impossible to get through to you, you know that?” Scorpius says.

And then he’s closing the gap between them and engulfing Albus in a hug. His pyjamas are soft against Albus’ cheek as he lets himself fall complacent in the arms of the one person he’s ever truly felt safe around.

“I know.”

⚡

16^th June

They’re about to board to boats back to the train station for the final time when Albus finally lets himself crumble ever so slightly. Looking at the castle, the squares of golden light spilling into the sky and the gentle flutter of wings in the air as owls circle the turrets, Albus breaks slightly. His firm gaze falters and his eyes water in the corners. From his side Scorpius drapes an arm around his shoulders, a constant anchor keeps him upright and focusing his gaze on the future instead of the past.

“Still get a tingle?” Albus asks. His hand flies up to his face to wipe away the few tears that had materialised.

Scorpius chuckles behind him. A throaty chuckle, followed quickly by a gentle sniff. Albus doesn’t have to look at his friend to know they’re feeling the same sort of emotions right now. He just crosses an arm over his chest up to his shoulder to touch Scorpius’ hands. Their fingers weave into one whole, joined piece and, while looking at the castle – their home – Albus can’t quite believe they’ve made it.

The boats are small and stuffy and there is a lot less space between them than back in First Year. On that brisk September day they’d stared at the castle with dreamy, wide eyes, arms wrapped around their knees and minds racing with the endless possibilities that could happen in the next seven years. Now their knees collide and arms balance against each other in delicate little touches, but their eyes are still wide and minds racing with the possibilities of the future.

The water gently cradles the boat, lapping up the side and trickling behind in soft patterns as they magically glide across the surface of the lake. There is no conversation, just sadly amazed glances as the entire year sail away from the last seven years of their lives.

Albus snatches a glance at Scorpius. The dying glow from the Hogwarts lanterns paint his face an angelic golden colour, pale skin glimmering from the sticky tear tracks on his cheeks. He really is the single most interesting person Albus thinks he’s ever met.

Scorpius looks at him.

And everything falls into place. Because, honestly, as long as he’s got this bundle of life next to him, tugging on his sleeve and giggling at everything, Albus thinks they’re going to be okay.

⚡

Platform 9 and ¾ feels different. The wall separating them from the rest of the world seems to be a rite of passage. After they leave they won’t be back until they have children, if they ever do have children. Albus scolds himself for descending into a nostalgic mind-set, for spending all his time wasting thoughts on the past and what he’ll miss, instead of thinking about what is possible.

As the train pulls to the platform and stops Albus spots his mum and dad waiting a little away. His dad has an arm around his mum, the two of them lost in some sweet conversation before they have their other two children back again. Albus wasn’t sure whether James would be home, since he’d been scouted by a Quidditch team in Spain and had been off training whenever Albus had come back for the holidays.

Albus catches his mum’s eye out the window and gives her a wave, smiling to her and her only until her figure is cut off by a crowd of students flooding off the train.

“Come on, slowpoke,” Scorpius teases, gently nudging Albus’ side. Albus watches as he tabs the page in the book he’s reading, something complicated about the practice of Healing the psychological effects of two of the Unforgivable Curses. “I can see your mum and dad staring in our direction.”

They step off the train together – for the last time, his mind adds – and weave their way through the crowd to find their parents. Scorpius drifts off at some point, whispering into Albus’ ear (or perhaps he wasn’t whispering? Albus can’t tell from how loud the platform is) that he spotted Draco off to one side and was going to go see him.

Albus stumbles through the remaining lines of people separating him from his parents, and as he breaks through to see his mum and dad he crumbles the rest of the way.

His mum immediately wraps him into a hug, his dad appearing seconds later to create a whole piece. The three of them, one last time.

“Hi, my love,” Ginny says after pulling back from Albus. She brushes her thumbs over Albus’ cheeks, wiping away some of the tears he hadn’t realised had fallen. “It’s so good to have you back.”

“You did it, Al,” Harry says. He ruffles Albus’ hair, lovingly planting a kiss to his temple. “Nearly ended the world as we knew it at some point, but you’re here. Graduated. Entire life ahead of you.”

“Oh, Merlin. Don’t remind me.” Albus laughs.

“If the nerds over here are done crying,” Lily says, smiling as she weaves her way into the family circle. “I’m absolutely starving.”

Harry smiles, fingers brushing through his hair. A flicker of his scar gleams out at the world as the strands fall back into place, and for a second he looks just like the sweet, young boy who once stood on this platform with a world of mysteries ahead of him. He looks to two of his children, eyes alight with love, and cocks his head to the wall.

“Let’s go, then. We can Floo home,” Harry smiles. “James is coming back for a few days, too. He should be there when we get to the house.”

“Wait,” Albus interrupts. “I need to say bye to Scorpius.”

Ginny smiles, a sweet and soft one saved just for her son. She gently rubs his back and stretches up onto her tiptoes to search for the Malfoys. “We’d never leave without saying bye to Scorp, love.”

Albus flushes a little as the four of them look for Scorpius and Draco, the fluttering of Hogwarts cloaks turning into Muggle coats blurring their vision.

Until, like magic, Scorpius and Draco break through the crowd. Albus and Draco share a smile, an intimate one that has been built up over years of sleepovers at the manor and night-time conversations as the two of them would go for a glass of water at the same time.

The hand Draco has on Scorpius’ shoulder is one that has been established over a few years of trusting and growth, too. Albus can recall times when Scorpius would shudder away from his father’s grasp; never because he was afraid of Draco, purely because it was something he wasn’t familiar with. So seeing them now, together on the platform melted into each other’s side, made Albus feel like they’d finally come full circle.

“So, Draco,” Ginny says. “Feel odd? Knowing it’s your last time on the platform?”

Draco stifles a laugh. “Slightly,” he says. “But I’m just glad to have him back for a few weeks before he ups and leaves again.”

“Are you two sure you want to do this?” Harry adds. There is a flavour of reluctance wavering in his voice, and his grip on Albus’ shoulder tightens a little. “You know it’s not too late to try and find work or a training program or–”

“We’re sure, Harry,” Scorpius adds. He glances at Albus, afraid that he would see his friend faltering knowing his dad still wasn’t completely on board with their plan. “We know it isn’t… traditional, but it’s something we’ve talked about for ages.”

“Besides,” Albus adds. “We’ve already lined up work for a few weeks.”

A friendly pat on Albus’ back sends him jumping into the air, but a familiar smell of toffee and cinnamon soothes him straight away. “You’re not trying to take me newest employee away from me, are you?” Ron asks, dropping Rose’s trunk to the side.

Harry rolls his eyes. “I would never do anything of the sort.”

“Good,” Ron adds. “Because Mister Albus Potter over here is going to be the greatest Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes employee ever.”

“Temporary employee.” Albus murmurs, though his comment is washed away by a fluttering of more cloaks as Hermione and Rose join the little mix.

Scorpius gently tugs on Albus’ sleeve among the commotion, their eyes meeting in a fleeting moment of reassurance.

 “What about you, Scorpius?” Hermione asks. Her skirt floats around her ankles, the rich maroon material oozing elegance and authority.

“I’m at St Mungos,” Scorpius smiles. “Only at reception. Doing admin things. But getting the experience and getting to know some people there will be good.”

Hermione smiles. From the way her lips are taught and fingers fiddle with the hem of her jacket Albus can tell there is something she wants to say but can’t. He often forgets that there is a lot of history between everyone in this circle that he doesn’t know about. He can imagine that there were many conversations Scorpius and Hermione shared when he and Rose were still together and he spent time at their house during their breaks from Hogwarts. There’s something sad in the look Hermione and Scorpius share. Albus gently nudges Scorpius’ side, and his expression brightens.

“I hate to break up this friendly chit-chat,” Ginny smiles. “But James is coming back for a few days and he has no way of getting into the house, so we really need to get home before he does.”

“Of course, of course,” Hermione says. She pulls her family into a tight hug, giving a few extra squeezes to Albus, and a smile in Scorpius’ direction. “Well, anyway, we’ll see you tomorrow at the Burrow. Celebratory dinner, and all that.”

“Are you coming tomorrow, Scorpius?”

Everyone’s gaze snaps to Rose as she speaks. Her utterance is friendly, genuine. Her smile is struggling, and Scorpius’ eyes are sad, but they’re both trying.

“Um,” Scorpius says, fingers fiddling with each other. “Albus had asked if I was coming along, but…”

“You should,” Rose smiles. “Come. You should come.”

Scorpius nods but doesn’t respond. Draco senses a layer of discomfort swelling around the group, and so picks up Scorpius’ trunk and peels the two of them back from the circle. “We’ll be off, then,” he smiles. “See you all soon.”

Albus fights for Scorpius’ gaze among the mass of bodies all picking up their belongings and starting to disperse in different directions. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, nervously chewing as he waits for Scorpius to look up.

“I’ll come to the manor,” Albus whispers, having taken the initiative and closed the gap between them. “Next weekend, maybe? So we can plan some more stuff and just, you know, so I can see you.”

Scorpius nods. “That’s… that would be nice.”

And then they’re hugging. Two halves together again. They used to struggle with the whole hugging thing, never knowing if the other would be comfortable or if it was something they should do. But now, now they’ve worked through everything, Albus can’t imagine not hugging his best friend. The curve of Scorpius’ neck is where his chin belongs, quite frankly, and with one arm over and one arm around the two of them had found a way to balance each other out. Equilibrium. Peace.

“You don’t have to come tomorrow.”

“I know.”

Albus clears his throat. “Don’t… don’t worry if you feel uncomfortable.”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Okay,” Albus says. he drags his hands down Scorpius’ sleeves as they part, brushing off some dust and lint and a few stray tears that Albus again didn’t realise had fallen, “Well. See you soon.”

Albus turns to leave but is stopped by a chilling touch to his wrist. He turns to Scorpius once more, his dreamy grey eyes piercing right into Albus’ soul. “Love you.”

Albus smiles. “Love you, too.”

⚡

17^th June

Scorpius doesn’t come. Albus didn’t expect him too, really. He’d mentioned the celebratory meal at the Burrow in passing during one of their last meals in the Great Hall, saying that his grandparents were hosting something in the garden and that if Scorpius could come it would be nice. But Albus knew from the look on Scorpius’ face that his presence would never materialise.

There was something in the way he nodded, only a gentle tip of his chin, and his refusal to look at Albus, that told him all he needed to know.

Albus sits in his mum’s old bedroom, gazing wistfully out the window as the adults set up tables and covers and plates, when James knocks on the door. He’s taller than Albus recalls, which is odd since he could have sworn people stopped growing by the time they reached age twenty, but James seemed to be an anomaly.

His hair had begun to curl more at the ends, though it was uncharacteristically long at the moment as he usually trimmed it for Quidditch purposes, and his skin glowed with a golden tint from his days spent training in the sweet Spanish sunshine. Albus had been confused when James opted to leave to play for the Barcelona Bicorns instead of an English team, but he sensed that there was a desire for his brother to prove himself outside of the family name by moving through the ranks of a different federation. Which was something Albus understood completely: he’d worked through most of the difficulties surrounding his famous name, but he still has moments of fear that everything would be handed to him, that people would relate everything back to his name, and that was something he couldn’t stand the idea of.

James has an oversized jumper on, one that looks a lot like those American Muggle university jumpers, the words ‘Barcelona Bicorns’ in capitals spread over his chest. His odd socks, one a Thestral pattern and the other a chocolate frog one, scratch on the carpet as he shuffles over to the bed and sits beside Albus.

“Hey, little brother.”

Albus smiles. Sort of. “Hi.”

James brushes his fingers over the duvet on the bed, little cuts and bruises dotted all over his fingers. Albus thought Quidditch players had to wear gloves when on their broomsticks, but he’s similarly not surprised that James would disobey that rule.

“I thought Scorpius would’ve been here.”

“Really?” Albus asks.

James falters. “Well… I mean. I wasn’t sure. Because of, you know…” he trails off. “It’s just that wherever you are he usually is.”

“He’s with his dad. I think they’re going to his Aunt’s house, Daphne, for the day,” Albus shrugs. “I’d do the same thing if I was him. If the two choices were lunch at a house with his ex-girlfriend and her entire extended family or a quiet day with his mum’s sister and dad… there’s one significantly more ideal choice.”

James chuckles quietly. “Makes sense,” he says. “So you’re still doing the whole European trip?”

“Yep,” Albus nods. “France, Greece, Italy… all that kind of stuff.”

“Spain?”

Albus smiles. “Course.”

“So you’re obviously going to come and see me?” James asks.

“If you give us a place to sleep, we’re all yours.”

“Well… I could try and fit you in.” James says, his voice clouded with… something.

Albus drags his brows together. “What? You got someone in your tiny Spain flat, or something?” James’ silence tells him all he needs to know. “Wait. What? Seriously? Who?”

James rolls his eyes, but his sweet golden skin tints a little red. “Nobody.”

“Oh, come on!” Albus playfully swats his brother with a cushion.

“You don’t know her,” James says. “She’s from Spain!”

Albus huffs. “You’re boring.”

James smiles and gently shakes his head. “Beyond the point,” he says. “Anyway, I just came up here to check that you were okay. You’ve been cooped up here since everyone arrived.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“You are.” James says.

“I’m not.”

James releases a breath. “Okay. You’re not hiding,” he surrenders. “Also, grandpa is looking for you. Something about a graduation present.”

Albus nods. He returns his gaze to the window, following the flight of an owl as it drifts across the horizon, outlined by sweet orange tones from the setting sun. He and James sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments; James picks at a loose thread on his jumper before clicking his fingers to magic the stitch back in place, and Albus runs his fingertips over the gaps in the knees of his jeans.

“What do you reckon our parents really feel about the fact two of their kids are basically fleeing the country?” Albus finally asks.

James glances at Albus, but Albus doesn’t look back. “I think…” James starts. “I think they don’t know what to feel. I’d like to think they’d understand that neither of us were dying to leap into a Ministry job, but I imagine having both of us immediately leaving the house isn’t what they expected.”

“I feel like they’re disappointed,” Albus confesses. “Maybe not in you, because you’re actually doing something. But just… in the fact we’re drifting away.”

“Disappointed because we’re seeking opportunities elsewhere?”

“Disappointed that we are shying away from what’s expected of us,” Albus says. “I know we aren’t supposed to be identical to what they are. I understand that; we aren’t meant to follow their exact footsteps and do everything how they did. We don’t have to become senior editors of the Prophet or go to the Ministry. But, I mean, we are really going off on our own one, aren’t we? I mean, can you imagine what people think? Harry and Ginny Potter have produced two kids so arrogant they’re leaving everything that’s been laid out for them.”

“It’s not arrogance, Al,” James sighs. “You think too much about other people, and not enough about yourself. If mum and dad were really bothered by the fact we are living our lives and doing whatever the fuck we want to do, they would tell us. They wouldn’t just sit in the background and whisper behind our backs. Sure, it’s probably not what they wanted. But what people want isn’t always what they need. Maybe they wanted us around so they knew we’d always be safe, but what they needed was for us to do something of our own accord and show them that we’re okay. This is new ground for them, Al. For years all three of us have been here, with them, always reachable. They taught us how to live, and now we’re teaching them how to let us do that.”

Albus sighs. James wraps an arm around his shoulder and gives him a supportive squeeze. “Love you, Al,” he says, lips pressing a kiss to his brother’s temple. “Come down soon. I think food is nearly ready. And don’t forget about grandpa.”

Albus nods. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be down in a sec.”

James rises and strides over to the door, pausing in the open arch and brushing his fingertips over the doorknob. “She’s a Muggle.”

Albus drags his eyebrows together. “Who?”

James pauses. “The girl.”

And then he’s gone, leaving behind him a trail of fascination and wonder.

⚡

Albus creeps into the shed outside after the meal to try and find his grandfather. After the War, his mum had told him, the whole family sought to rebuild the Burrow following the destruction from the Death Eaters. There are still signs the attack in certain parts of the house, charred woods and bricks they couldn’t fix and additional supports holding up the structure where magic can’t reach. Part of the renovation included creating a shed for Arthur to display all his Muggle goods away from the clutter of the house. With many children and many more grandchildren, the Burrow often looked like a messy toy shop that could be found in Diagon Alley, not really the appropriate place for Arthur to display his vintage Muggle telephone collection.

The shed is made up of a spread of tables in the centre, little stools dotted around so people can sit and rest and stare in wonder at all the collectibles, and around the walls are various bookshelves stocked full with more artefacts and notebooks detailing the intricacies of various Muggle technologies. It smells constantly ashy and oily, something Albus noticed a while ago, but he remained obsessed with coming in to gaze at everything. He’d mentioned once that his grandpa could set up a shop to sell these things; like people used to collect Dark Magic artefacts, there would definitely be people interested in certain Muggle artefacts, but Arthur was reluctant to allow any of his bits and pieces to leave his care.

Albus immediately heads over to his personal favourite section that Arthur has accumulated over the years: ceramic Abyssinian cats. Small ones with chipped paint and glossy ones that are moulded into elegant poses: Albus is obsessed with them. He remembers when his grandpa first brought one back from work, when Albus was around six years old and his feet didn’t touch the ground when he sat around the artefact table.

“Found this in a raid,” his grandpa had said. “The wizard had hexed an antiques shop in Birmingham so that the animal statues would attack people when they came to take them. This little fellow bit someone’s finger, but we took the hex off and I managed to bring it home.”

Albus gazed in wonder at the sweet eyes of the figure, and placed it delicately on an empty cake stand that acted as a display for Arthur’s collection. “I wonder what type of cat it is… I’ve never seen one of these at Hogwarts before.”

The next time Albus came into the shed his grandpa had a cat encyclopaedia on the table and the two of them wasted the day away trying to decipher what breed the cat was. They settled on Abyssinian after a little debate about the shape of its ears, and Albus fell in love with the notion that the cats are normally incredibly shy and only open up to certain people when they really trust them. But, once they’re out their shell, they will trust the person forever. Albus told Scorpius about the cat the next time they saw each other and Scorpius had teased Albus saying that if he were reborn as an animal in the future, he’d be an Abyssinian.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Albus had asked, playfully shoving Scorpius.

“Well, you’re not the loudest person in the world,” Scorpius smiled. “You took a while to come out of your shell, and you don’t trust people easily. It’s basically you in cat form. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if this cat turned out to be your Patronus.”

Albus gently brushes his fingers over the statues as he waits for his grandpa to arrive, turning some of them to different angles and wiping specs of dust from the backs of others. He wishes so badly to have a collection like this at some point in his life – something so expansive and detailed that people could see he was so passionate about it. He has the Exploding Snap cards, sure, but those have been gifted to him. They aren’t something he’s collected himself.

“Albus Severus,” a voice says, a low and croaky and slow one. “I’ve been searching for you all day. I assume James got to you?”

Albus smiles as his grandpa sits next to him, a quiet oof and knee cracks sounding as he lowers. “He told me you had something to give me.”

“Yes, yes,” Arthur digs under the table into a raggedy cardboard box and pulls out a large envelope bulging at the sides. “Just something for you to have on your trip. I have one for Scorpius as well, but he’s not here. I’ll trust you to pass it on to him.”

Albus smiles and takes the envelope from Arthur. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I got James an antique Snitch from one of the Quidditch World cups, Al, I was going to get you something.” Arthur says.

Albus peels back the bubble-wrap (something else Arthur found in a Muggle house and shortly became fascinated with) and pulls out a small rucksack: big enough to fit maybe a day’s worth of clothes and a few little trinkets, but small enough to not get too heavy. On the main flap are his initials, ASP, embossed in a delicate gold colour, and the main material has been dyed a deep green.

“It’s not as small as it looks,” Arthur says. “Put your hand in it.”

Albus undoes the clasps on the rucksack and tentatively places his hand into the bag, head tilting to the side as he struggles to find the bottom. He sweeps his hand around the entire bag and only as he stretches out in all his might does he finally get to the bottom.

“It’s charmed to be bigger than it looks, but Muggles can’t sense it. When a Muggle puts their hand in they’ll just pull out some notes and mints. But you can put lots of things in here that you find,” Arthur continues. “I see how you look at everything in here, Albus. You love it. The collection, the history. And you’re going to some very ancient places. There’s so much history out there, things that I don’t even know about. Foreign artefacts that you collect… you can put in here. And when you bring them back we can start sorting out how you’re going to sell them.”

“Sell them?” Albus asks.

“You always mention running your own shop. Whether it’s in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley or somewhere else. A foreign artefact shop, either Magical or Muggle, would get so much business. And with you behind the counter it would thrive, Al,” Arthur continues. “I know part of the reason you’re doing this trip is because you don’t know what you want to do and feel like you can’t stay here to work it out. Which you could, but that’s a different conversation entirely. You don’t have to go into some larger than life career to do with magic if you don’t want. I mean, your uncles run a joke shop, for Merlin’s sake. And I honestly think that’s where you should go. But not jokes, real artefacts.”

“I…” Albus says, holding the rucksack close to his chest. “I have no idea what to say.”

“We love you, Albus,” Arthur says. “So much. I know you struggle with this, and you struggle with family and feeling like an outlier. And though we wish you would realise you could stay here if you wanted, I know that going away for a while is what you need. Just… look at this gift as an option. There is a whole world out there, you’re going to experience another slice of it. Please enjoy it, and don’t worry about what’s happening back here.”

Albus stands and pulls his grandpa into a hug. He tries to be gentle as to not hurt Arthur, but can’t help letting his emotions overcome him slightly. The rucksack squashes between them, buckle digging into Albus’ skin, but he doesn’t care.

“Thank you, grandpa.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

Albus pauses, clearing his throat as he brushes his fingertips over his initials on the bag. “I know I’m really difficult, and I know deep down that I could always stay here if I wanted. But I think this trip will be really good for me. Good for all of us, especially mum and dad. And I promise when I get back that we can start thinking about what’s next for me.”

“You’re so young, Al. You have your whole life ahead of you. You’re eighteen, you have so much time to think about what’s next,” Arthur says, soft and gentle and full of love. “Just enjoy your time with your best friend.”

“I will.”

Arthur nods. He reaches under the table to pull out a different rucksack, same colours and details but with SHM embossed on the front instead. “For Scorpius. Tell him to put… ingredients in it, or something. He still wants to become a Healer, right?”

“Yeah. He’s been working on finding a place to train after we come back. I’m sure he’ll find some fancy Greek powder or Italian weed that can be used in a potion to cure something.” Albus chuckles. He wipes his eyes again, pulling away some more irritating tears that have appeared. He makes a mental note to get a hold of his emotions, he really can’t keep crying forever, but for now, he allows himself to be a bit sensitive.

“You’re both going to do so much with your lives.”

“I love you, grandpa.”

Arthur smiles. “I love you, Albus.”

⚡

20^th June

Scorpius sits opposite Albus at the Leaky Cauldron, fingertips idly stirring a spoon in his mug of tea. He takes intermittent bites from a pasty the two of them are sharing, and Albus can’t help but stare at him. It’s late in the day, past six in the evening by this point, and they had agreed to meet up here after their first days at work to see how things were going.

It had been weird adjusting to life without Scorpius, even if it was only for a month. Knowing that there was no next year at Hogwarts to prepare for, no more nights in their dormitory panicking over potions homework. Now their lives would be… well. Albus didn’t know. Obviously for the next two months they’d see each other often; that’s kind of expected when you travel the continent with someone. But after that, when they return, Albus doesn’t know what’s in store for them. Whether they’ll move in together, like they spoke about before, or whether they’ll just see each other on the weekends. He supposes that’s a downfall to Hogwarts: they never prepare you for the awful inevitability of loneliness that appears when you leave.

“I never realised how complex admin work would be,” Scorpius is saying. He’s been filling Albus in on his first day, and Albus has been paying attention for the most part. “I just assumed it would be flick through some files, stamp some things, go deliver coffee to the Healers.”

“And it’s not that simple?”

“No!” Scorpius sighs. He blows gently on his tea, sending the steam spiralling into different splits in the air. “It’s very stressful. Having to make and organise the schedules for the Healers and making sure everyone gets their timetable so that every patient is seen is stressful. Working through the files and updating the documents while also tending to the people who come to the reception to see their family members. And the mail… Merlin. The mail is never ending.”

“The real world kind of sucks, doesn’t it?” Albus smiles.

Scorpius chuckles. “Indeed it does,” he says. “Anyway, enough about my day. How was the shop?”

“It was alright, actually. It was nice to spend time with Uncle George, since I never really get to see him except for when we’re at the Burrow. Tiring, though. Didn’t realise that standing at a till and taking coins from people all day would be so draining.” Albus shrugs.

He takes another bite from the pasty, dragging his fork through the flaky crumbs that scatter on the table.

“At least it’s only for a month.”

“Until we come back and actually have to do stuff for a living.”

Scorpius gives him a sympathetic smile. He gently kicks his shin under the table, sipping on his tea in the breaks of their conversation. “That’s the way the world works.”

“I have something for you, by the way,” Albus says, reaching under the table to pull out the rucksack for Scorpius. “Well, it’s not from me. It’s from my grandpa.”

Scorpius raises his eyebrows as he watches Albus, lips twisting into a confused frown. “Arthur? Arthur Weasley got me something?”

“He’s a sentimental person,” Albus says, handing over the rucksack. “It’s for when we’re in Europe. He got me one, too. It’s one of those bags that’s been charmed to have loads of space but never feel heavy. He told me to put artefacts in it and make a collection, like his Muggle things. He said you could put Healer-related things in there.”

“This is… so kind,” Scorpius says. Albus watches as he drags his ghostly fingertips over the initials, much like how he’d do to Albus’ knee or back when they were sitting doing work together. “I don’t know what to say. I’ll send him an owl to say thank you. I… I didn’t think he cared about me.”

“Scorp… you’re at his house basically every month. Why wouldn’t he care about you?”

Scorpius stares incredulously at Albus. “Rose, Al. Why would he care about the ex-boyfriend of his granddaughter?”

“Because you’re also the best friend, the only friend, of his grandson. A fact that is quite significantly more important than the other situation.” Albus asserts.

Scorpius merely shrugs, his lip quivering into a slight smile. “I’m sorry that I made everything so complicated.”

“Come again?”

“You know, because of Rose. It made everything complicated. Between her and I, you and I. Your family and I. I know you like to act like nothing has changed, but I’m not stupid. It’s obviously different,” Scorpius says. “The fact that your grandfather had to get this gift to me by giving it to you is telling that things aren’t as simple as everyone pretends they are.”

Albus sighs. “You’re my best friend, Scorpius. My family don’t care about the Rose thing. Sure, it’s weird. But it won’t be weird forever. This,” he gestures between the two of them. “Is more significant in the long run than a relationship you had when you were a teenager. In twenty years’ time when you and I are sat here drinking Firewhisky by the gallon, nobody will care that you and Rose didn’t work out as kids.”

“You reckon we’re still going to be friends in twenty years?” Scorpius smiles.

“If you think you’re getting rid of me after everything we’ve been through, you are incredibly mistaken.”

⚡

25^th June

Albus,

Dad said yes to you coming over on the 30^th to talk about the trip and spend some time at the Manor. To be honest, he sounded far too thrilled to have you coming back to the house for a while. I think he’s having Potter withdrawals, which is something I never would’ve expected from him.

I’ve sorted out the Portkey that’s going to get us to France for the 20^th July. Apparently the Portkey Touring Co. set their Portkeys to go off on the top of hills away from Muggles so nobody will suspect anything, I think there’s a group of about seven of us getting this one. Dad recommended we stay in a hotel the day before so we have plenty of rest and can get to the location in plenty of time. He’s going to try and book us into a Muggle one, so we’ll see how that goes.

Also, this is not really relevant, but I really miss you. I forgot how weird the post-Hogwarts fog can be. I thought that without your snoring in the background I’d get some good sleep, but no. apparently I’m so used to it that without it the room just feels empty. So I’m very excited to be sleeping in the same room as you again.

Love always,

Scorpius

⚡

29^th June

Albus sits on the end of his bed as he packs his overnight bag for his stay at the Manor. It’s not much, since he has a little collection of belongings already there. He’s had toothpaste and a toothbrush there for years, and most of the time he slips on one of Scorpius’ jumpers after spending the night. He packs mainly to create a façade that his life isn’t dedicated half to the Potter house and half to the Malfoy house.

A knock on his door, a gentle rap of knuckles over the wood, distract him from the folding of his pyjamas, “Hey,” says his dad, other hand gripping his wand to levitate two cups of tea. “Mind if I come in?”

Albus shakes his head and gestures to the bed. “Feel free.”

Harry smiles as he walks in, tentative steps that creak the floorboards. He lowers the mugs to the bedside table and files his wand back into his pocket, hesitantly perching on the bed. He watches his son delicately sort out his clothes, folding socks together and packing a couple of books for when he and Scorpius inevitably sit in silence in the Malfoy library.

“Feels a bit like I’m watching you pack for Hogwarts,” Harry says. “And then I remember you aren’t, and it makes me feel awfully old knowing my two eldest boys are done with school.”

“Well, at least you still have Lily to help pack.” Albus says. They share a glance; there is still so much unspoken between the two of them, but they’re getting better at conversation. It’s often like looking into a mirror, Albus thinks, when he looks at his dad. He knows they are different in so many ways, but there are interweaving little pieces of their personality that keep them more alike than he thinks either of them notices. Their trepidation about initiating certain types of conversation, the fragility of their emotions when they have to tackle something complex.

Albus looks at his dad and sees someone as entirely complex as himself. A fact that a few years ago would have bothered him to his core. But now, with more life experience in his pocket, Albus is grateful for their similarities.

“I don’t think watching your kids pack up bags to leave you ever gets easier,” Harry says. “Even when it’s to Hogwarts, where everything is safe… knowing they’re out of your reach is… difficult. It’s a weird mix of not wanting them to go but knowing that they’ll survive without you.”

“Well, you taught us to survive. All three of us have done well so far.” Albus smiles.

Harry chuckles. “I know. It’s hard to explain,” he says. “I just remember when you were born, and you were so tiny, and I could never imagine you being so grown and mature and independent. Time flies, sure, but it just blows my mind that you’re not my little boy anymore.”

“Um,” Albus says. “Any reason that today is a super sentimental conversation kind of day?”

“James may have mentioned that you thought you were disappointing us by going away for a while…”

“Did he-? Seriously? I’m going to kill–”

“Albus, no,” Harry interrupts. “You don’t mean that.”

“That was a private conversation.”

“About things that concern me and your mother,” Harry says. “I know we still aren’t completely there with the communication thing, and I know that’s something we’ll be working on for years. But you can talk to me, Albus. I wish you would talk to me, especially about this sort of stuff.”

“I just worry that you’re going to get angry at me or something. Not angry, that’s the wrong word. Just… agitated, maybe? Because all the problems feel so childish in my mind, and I don’t want us to go off at each other, because we do that a lot,” Albus says, feeling himself begin to ramble. “You tell me all the time I could never disappoint you, but I still feel like it, because that’s what I do. And I don’t want us to go round and round all the time.”

Harry sighs. “I’ll say it a thousand times if I have to, Al. You never disappoint me. Ever. I know you won’t believe me, but maybe if I say it enough it might start to mean something,” he says. “This… trip. It’s different, I know. I didn’t expect it, nor did your mum. I don’t think any of us did. I’m not sure what we expected, but a month off in Europe definitely wasn’t at the top of our list. But this will be the making of you, Al. This is something you want to do, something you’ve chosen. It’s your life, and you’re making a go of it. And I am so excited for you. You don’t belong in a Ministry office, you belong in the world. Exploring. Living. This will be the best month of your life, and I can’t wait to hear about it when you get back.”

Albus nods. He picks up his mug and takes a sip, glancing over at his dad. “I’ll get there eventually, dad,” he says. “With the talking thing. It’s just difficult to train myself to be a certain way when I’ve spent forever being the opposite. But I do trust you, and I do love you. And I’m really excited for what’s coming for us.”

Harry smiles. “Me too... I’ll leave you to it. I know you like packing alone.” He says.

“Wait,” Albus interrupts, locking his hand on top of his dad’s. “You’ve always been better at folding clothes than me. Fancy helping?”

Harry lets out a breathy laugh, “I’d love nothing more.”

⚡

30^th June

The peacocks that reside on the Malfoy property are some of Albus’ favourite animals. Elegant, confident: animals that act the same way the Malfoy’s do. The manor always intimidates him, the grand hallways and high ceilings, stark colours that ooze nothing but chill and nervousness. It’s not like the Burrow, or his family house, where everything is cosy and warm and there are sweet patterns on the walls and clutter to make the place lived in. The Manor is sparse and intricate, everything has a very specific place and nothing is purchased without being thought out well in advance. Footsteps will echo for days as you pass through the corridors and the rooms are filled with an eerie chill in the evenings when you head out for a glass of water, but Albus loves it nonetheless.

He loves two rooms in particular: Scorpius’ room and Astoria’s library. He thinks he likes them because they have personality and vibrancy. The furniture and books in Astoria’s library echo her voice even though she isn’t around. He didn’t get to know her very well, only met her a couple of times when he went to the Manor on occasion and saw her on the Platform, but he knew she was a special person. Someone that glowed with love and safety, someone who Scorpius loved dearly. And he thinks her library shows that very well. There are little photos of baby Scorpius and new dad Draco on the wall and on the fireplace. Bookmarks made by her and Scorpius from when he was younger are on a little table beside the chair, and books upon books fill crisp white shelves around the room. He sees a lot of Scorpius in Astoria, but then realises that it’s technically the other way around. That there’s a lot of Astoria in Scorpius and, Merlin, he wishes he got the chance to know her more.

And then Scorpius’ room… is possibly one of his favourite places in the world. He picked the smallest of the rooms in the manor, tucked just a few doors down from the library, and he’s decorated it intricately with snippets of his personality. There are bookshelves, obviously, that are filled with his favourite fiction books and history books and little trinkets he’s collected over the years. He’s dangled lights from the ceiling and painted constellations on one of his walls, a project he and Albus did a few years ago, and walking in to the room is basically like entering a capsule of Scorpius’ life. There are moving photos pinned to a board of his family and his friends and his favourite animals, peacock-patterned blankets on the bed and rugs on the floor. Even a couple of Quidditch posters hiding behind his wardrobe.

The two of them are on the floor of Astoria’s library, where they spend most of their time, sifting through Muggle tourist guides and magic history books about all the countries they’re planning to visit. Scorpius gently rolls the corner of a book page between his fingertips as he bites on the end of a pencil, and Albus smiles at the familiar sight of sophisticated Scorpius focusing on a serious task. He scribbles onto some parchment little details about places they could go and things they could see, and Albus gets more distracted than he should looking at his friend.

“You said James is going to give us a place to stay in Spain?” Scorpius asks, snapping Albus out of his little admiring session.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. He has an apartment in Barcelona and he wants us to see him,” he says. “He has a new girlfriend, though. So it might be cramped.”

“He has a girlfriend?” Scorpius asks, sputtering a laugh out.

Albus grins. “I know. She’s a Muggle. I squeezed it out of him the other day. I imagine he told her about the whole magic thing, since his job is flying a broomstick everywhere.”

“That’s so cute,” Scorpius says, “And that means we don’t need to find a hostel for Spain. Should give us some more money for activities.”

“Have we planned how we’re getting from each place? If we need any Muggle money I need to talk to mum and dad about getting some of our wages exchanged. That’s if we’re doing Muggle transport.” Albus says. He pulls a blanket further around his shoulders, skin rippling with goose bumps as a chill fills the late night air.

“Well it’s a Portkey to get to France. Then I say we rent broomsticks to get to Spain since it isn’t that far. I’ll have to work out how we get to Switzerland, but when we’re there I heard that the Muggle transport is impeccable so we can do trains there. I think it’s mainly make it up as we go along, but we should get a mix of Muggle and normal money.” Scorpius explains. He brushes his fingertips through the faux fur carpet underneath them, eyes wandering around the room.

Albus nods, scribbling a few things down onto his piece of parchment. The silence opposite him is unusual, and when he glances back at Scorpius he sees him intently staring at something behind him in the room. “What you looking at? Is there a ghost creeping up on me, or something?”

Scorpius chuckles. “No, loser,” he says. “There’s just… there’s a map on the wall behind you. Turn, look at it. On my parent’s honeymoon they went to the States and picked up this map. Apparently Muggles stick pins in all the places they’ve gone, so mum thought it would be fun to do the same thing. They brought it back and mum always told me they planned to stick pins all over it.”

Albus pivots midway through Scorpius’ sentence and looks at the map. There are a few pins sparsely dotted around the paper; there’s one in England, one in the States and a few in Europe and Australia. But, for the most part, there’s a lot of empty space.

“And I guess planning all of this,” Scorpius nods at all the tourist guides in front of them. “Just makes me realise that there was so much she didn’t get to do. Like, by the time we get back from this little month off we’d have more pins to put in the map than my mum had in her whole life. It’s a weird feeling.”

Albus doesn’t know what to say, he’s never really been good with advice, so he just reaches over their puddle of papers and pulls Scorpius into a hug instead. His chin restores its rightful place on Scorpius’ shoulder, and their arms weave effortlessly back to where they belong.

“Well… maybe we can get different coloured pins and stick them in alongside theirs. Two different adventures, you know?” Albus says, quiet as the two of them dissolve into a singular entity.

Scorpius sniffs; Albus tightens his grip on his friend. “Yeah. That sounds good,” Scorpius says. He pulls back after a few moments but stays close to Albus, close enough that Albus can feel his raggedy breaths on his face. “It’s just difficult to realise that the rest of my life is in front of me without worrying that I’ll waste it.”

“You won’t waste it.”

“Am I interrupting?” Draco appears at the door. He has a packet of toffees in one hand and an envelope in the other. His hair is down and he’s dressed for bed, silk pyjamas hidden underneath an immaculate black dressing gown.

Scorpius quickly swipes a hand over his face to wipe away the tears and beckons his dad into the room. “Not at all. We’re just trying to figure out how to fit the entire history of five different countries into a month.”

“Wouldn’t it be ideal if you had a time turner? You feel like you need an extra day you can just… spin it back and start again.”

“I think we’d find a way to end the world if we ever came into contact with a time turner again.” Albus jokes, making space on the floor for Draco to sit beside them.

Draco crosses his legs as he sits himself down, placing the toffee between them and holding the envelope to his chest still. “You definitely would,” he laughs. “You know, I’ve heard there’s a large history of Dark Magic in Greece. It’s sort of my responsibility to know about these things, I’ve heard there’s lots of artefacts and stuff like that.”

“Are you suggesting that we go and get ourselves arrested in Greece for meddling in Dark Magic?” Scorpius asks, gently flicking his dad’s cheek.

Draco laughs. “It was merely a suggestion for what to do with your time,” he says, pausing before continuing. “I have… some things to give you. The toffee is just something sweet and sugary to keep you going into the night. But this envelope… has things in it I want you to have. Both of you.”

Albus watches as Scorpius takes the envelope and pulls out several things. Some sheets of parchment, some photographs, and a chain – that looks like a necklace or bracelet – make up the contents. Scorpius’ face softens and falls at the sight of something in his hands, and Albus cranes his neck slightly to try and see what has his best friend frowning.

“Albus, your parents and I have been talking about this trip for a while and thought it would be nice to give you two something to get you started. Obviously, I’ve sorted the hotel for the night before you travel. But we wanted to make sure that when you get to France you’re both going to be alright. So the three of us chipped in to book you in to a nice apartment in Paris. You’re going to be travelling around the country, I know, but we wanted you to have a nice place to sleep for your first stop,” Draco says, watching as Scorpius sifts through the materials. “The photographs are things to remind you of home. Some of your mum, Scorpius. Some of your family, Albus. Just things to look at if you’re feeling homesick or need a reminder that if you’re struggling you can reach out to us. And the chain, well… It is your mother’s wedding band, Scorpius. You don’t have to take it, I know it’s a very big thing to take from the house. But I want you to have a piece of her wherever you go, and with it on a chain I think you can keep it close to you all the time. It’s up to you.”

Scorpius drags his fingers over the band, the chain pooling in his palm along with a few stray tears that have trickled down his cheeks in the midst of Draco’s little speech. The three of them sit in silence, and something passes between them. It’s a chilly breeze, but it drags them all together in some way. They all stare at the necklace, then at the toffee, then to the necklace again.

“Thank you, dad,” Scorpius finally says. “For all of this. It means a lot.” He reaches over the circle to hug Draco. Albus watches from the outside, but then decides he’d rather be involved. He gives Draco and Scorpius a moment to themselves before joining in the hug, wrapping his arms around them and resting his head on Scorpius’ shoulder.

Draco holds them tightly, impossibly tight. Scorpius shakes a little to his side, and both of them hold him tighter. There’s another presence in this room. Albus can’t put his finger on how he knows there is something comforting filling the room, he can just tell.

So the three of them sit there for a while, wrapped up in each other’s arms, safe and happy and at home in the safe haven Astoria carved out of this delicate room in the manor.

⚡

3^rd July

Scorpius,

Asked James about staying with him in Spain and he properly agreed. He’s asked his girlfriend, her name is Sofia apparently, and she’s okay with it. Mum suggested we just turn up on the day for train tickets in Switzerland, so we should be okay. She’s also taught me a few basic recipes so we can cook some nights instead of going out every day. Should save us some money.

I think we’re pretty much sorted in terms of itinerary. It’s all starting to feel a bit real now isn’t it? Slightly terrifying. But really exciting.

I miss you, as always. I can’t wait to traipse through Europe with you, doing dorky shit and being losers where nobody knows us. It’s going to be a blast.

Love you always,

Albus

⚡

7^th July

“So you’re going where?” George asks. He’s cashing up the till after a day of work, scribbling things down on a sheet of parchment so he knows what to restock for the morning. Albus sits on the counter and swings his legs back and forth, fingers fiddling with the name badge pinned to the orange-coloured uniform he has to wear. Ron is somewhere else in the shop running around and tidying up products that have fallen out of place during the day’s business, but overall the building is uncharacteristically quiet. Charms on certain products have been removed, the pygmy puffs sleep in their cages, and everything is silent.

Except for their conversation.

“We’re starting in France, then heading down to Spain. Getting to Switzerland somehow, then down to Italy, round to Greece and then coming back. It’s only short, but we also don’t have a lot of money. So we’re doing the month and seeing how it goes, then if we love it we might do a different route. Scorpius is really interested in doing an African trip, since that’s something he can’t find much information about in books.” Albus explains, fingers gently brushing through the fur of a pygmy puff he cradles in his hand.

George nods along to the conversation, multitasking between doing mental maths and interacting with his nephew. “That sounds really cool, Al. I would’ve loved to have done something like that. Just… visited places I’d never been. We got to go on the trip to Egypt, has your mum told you about that? That was amazing. Angelina and I always talk about going on holiday but we can never find time.”

“I think that’s my worry,” Albus says. “Running out of time. So I’m trying to fit it in now when I have no other responsibilities.”

“You’re such a Weasley, you know that?”

Albus smirks. “I know.”

⚡

12^th July

Albus starts packing his bag way earlier than necessary. He stands in front of his wardrobe and sifts through jumpers and shirts and trousers and everything he’s ever worn in his life. Ginny keeps telling him that size doesn’t matter and that they can shrink things down to fit in. But Albus refuses; he’s vehemently against using magic on his belongings out of fear he won’t be able to replicate the spells when they’re out in the world. Sure, Scorpius could do it for him, but he’d rather not have to depend on anyone else to pack his bag.

Albus draws his eyebrows together when he sees an unfamiliar jumper hanging in his wardrobe, smiling as he pulls out the Barcelona Bicorns one James had been wearing before. Pinned on the back is a note that reads just give it back to me when you see me in Spain x, and he makes sure to find a special place for it in his bag.

Scorpius sends him a few letters reminding him to pack certain things – like an umbrella, because Albus forgot those were a necessity – and he apparates to the Potter house in the evenings so they can talk on Albus’ floor and find comfort in each other that they can’t elsewhere.

Albus’ mum appears one night when they’re quietly bickering over whether to pack some cooking supplies or to depend on what the hostels and hotels will provide for them. She gently pushes his door open without asking and Scorpius only manages to scuttle a few feet away before she sees him.

“You can’t hide from me, Malfoy. I know you’ve been coming here for days now,” Ginny smiles, arms crossed over her chest to keep herself warm in Albus’ cool room. “You know you’re welcome here, right? You don’t have to sneak over in the middle of the night.”

Scorpius flushes and shrugs as Ginny joins them on the floor. He scoots back to Albus’ side, where he belongs (in Albus’ opinion), and the three of them smile at each other in the orange glow that is cast on their faces from the candle.

“I know. I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to be a bother.” Scorpius says.

“You could never be a bother,” Ginny scolds. “Sometimes I think you two are the oddest match. Sure, you have things in common but your personalities are so different that I always find myself wondering how you paired up. But then you say something like that, Scorpius, and I realise you two are absolutely identical. Both unaware of how wonderful you are.”

Albus and Scorpius smile to the ground. Simultaneously.

“Also, I don’t think you should pack cooking equipment. It’ll just take up space in your bags. You might not have plates and cutlery everywhere you go, but all the hotels should at least have enough for you to make the basics. A lot of food can be made without a cooker, so you should be okay.” Ginny explains, fingers brushing over the maps and books spread out in front of them.

“Why are you awake, mum?” Albus asks.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ginny says. “Kept thinking about you two and it kept me up.”

“Us?” Scorpius adds.

“Thinking about how fast seven years have gone,” she continues. “I just look at you two and think, Merlin, time has flown and you’re both so grown and sweet and adult. When James was born my parents told me that time would fly faster than I could imagine, and that I should stop complaining about him being a difficult baby and appreciate these days while he needs me. Then I had you, and they said the same thing. That I should make the most of you wanting to be cuddled by your mother, and enjoy having you under my roof, tucked up in that bed. Because the time will come when you’ll leave and you won’t come back. And I thought for the longest time they were exaggerating, but… look at you now.”

“I’m coming back, mum,” Albus says. “This isn’t forever.”

“But it’s the beginning of it,” Ginny smiles. “I miss those days when you were a sweet three year old who would make daisy chains and accidently levitate them without knowing what you were doing. And then I get mad at myself because I realise that these years, these beginning years of the rest of your life, are going to be amazing. Even if you don’t need me anymore.”

“I’m always going to need you,” Albus says. “Just… not in the same ways.”

Scorpius sniffs from beside him. Albus and Ginny immediately switch their gazes to look at him, both of them not having realised how what they were talking about would have affected him.

“Oh, my. Scorpius, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” Ginny begins.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m fine, honestly,” Scorpius says. And even though there are tears in his eyes Albus believes him. “It’s not anything to do you two, I promise. It’s just that… conversations like this make me wonder how my mother felt when she realised she wouldn’t get to see this part of my life.”

“Scorp…” Albus murmurs.

“No, honestly. I’m not upset. It’s, uh, it’s good to talk about it,” Scorpius shrugs. “It’s just so horribly cruel that she had time to understand that all of this was out of her reach. She got weaker as I got older and I… I wonder all the time what was going on in her mind when she realised she had to teach me a lifetime of lessons in a fraction of the time to make sure I’d be okay.”

“Being a mother,” Ginny says, voice shaky and quiet and full of sympathy. “Is a very hard thing. It’s stressful, and it’s painful, and it’s emotional. But the reassuring part is that you know, or you think, you have an entire life to get it right. And I think, Scorpius, that Astoria was a perfect mother. Because she managed to get it right, she mothered you perfectly, with only a few years at hand.”

Scorpius nods sadly, letting Ginny wrap him up in a gentle hug over the candle. Albus pulls the flame out the way and sets it on his bedside table, drowning the three of them into a gentle darkness.

“I think she’d be really excited for me,” Scorpius finally says. “Sending me off to Europe with the greatest friend in the world. Everything possible for me.”

“She’d be very excited for you.” Albus adds.

“And endlessly proud.” Ginny finishes.

⚡

19^th July

“So you’ve got your Muggle passports?” Draco asks, fingers gently brushing through Scorpius’ hair.

“Yes.” He and Albus say together.

“And you’ve notified the French authorities that you’re coming?” Ginny adds.

“Yes.” Albus sighs.

“And money? Emergency money? Your wands?” Harry asks.

“We have everything,” Scorpius says. He pulls Draco’s hands from his hair and holds them instead. “And we’ve triple-checked. We’ll be fine.”

The five of them are stood on the side of the road outside the Potter’s house, a gentle wash of summer rain splashing in their faces and pattering over their luggage. Albus and Scorpius have their personalised rucksacks on their back and two carry-ons by their side, both wrapped up in light layers for the journey ahead. The plan is to take the Knight Bus to their Muggle hotel before heading to the Portkey, but their parents insisted on sending them off since they wouldn’t see them for a month.

“We’re going to miss you, Albus.” Harry says, wrapping his arms around his son and Ginny to pull them into a hug. Draco does the same with Scorpius, and for a moment the two families float in their own world. Their own, fragile world. Them against everyone else.

Albus refuses to let himself cry. He’s been working on controlling his emotions, and this isn’t a sad occasion. This is a time of opportunity. A chance to step into the world, step into the daylight, and begin.

“I’m going to miss you, too. I’ll send postcards everywhere we go.” Albus says. He glances over at Scorpius and Draco and watches at they both hold the necklace with Astoria’s wedding band on it. Draco kisses it before letting it fall against Scorpius’ shirt, and Albus quickly looks away as to not intrude on a clearly intimate moment.

“Have the best time,” Ginny says once the hugs have finished and the two teens stand opposite their parents. “Be safe, look after each other.”

“We will,” Scorpius promises. “As long as it’s me and him… nothing will stop us.”

Then they hold their wands up to summon the bus and, just like that, they’re gone.

⚡

“Motorway was absolutely packed on the way up here,” a Muggle says. “Took us hours to get here. Thought we were going to miss our check-in time.”

“God, I know. Think there was a car crash at one of the junctions,” the person behind the desk, dressing in a pale blue shirt with a stripy necktie wound around their collar, answers while tapping on something that Albus doesn’t recognise. “Hopefully it clears soon or else the taxis to the airport will take hours.”

“Blooming traffic.”

The person behind the desk laughs. Scorpius shifts uncomfortably next to Albus. “Of course. Have a nice stay, sir,” she says. The Muggle in front of them moves, and the lady stares the two of them in the eye. “Good afternoon, welcome to the hotel. What name is the booking under?”

Scorpius and Albus stumble up to the counter, and Scorpius rifles through his rucksack to try and find the confirmation e-mail (whatever that is) that his dad had given to them a few days ago. “Um… Malfoy.”

“Malfoy…” She says. “Interesting name.” She smiles as she clicks her fingernails over the board in front of her, a thing that looks like a type-writer but with flat keys and no paper.

Scorpius accidentally drops his rucksack on the ground and hurries to pick up the books that slip onto the floor. Albus ducks down to help him, but he knows for certain that the Muggle behind them saw the book titled Magickal Monsters of South-Eastern Greece, and he just hopes they don’t think too much about it.

“Malfoy. One night, two people?” The lady says, to which Albus and Scorpius nod. “Right. Your room is on the third floor, 304. Breakfast isn’t included but can be added on in the morning, just come down and pay at the bar. Here is your key, the elevator is through the door on the left.”

Albus smiles as he takes the key, shouldering his bag alongside Scorpius. They head to the door on the left and Albus tries to shoulder through it before realising it isn’t open. He tries again, pushing and then pulling, but nothing happens. He looks at Scorpius, who stares back in confusion.

“I… um. How do I open this?” Albus whispers.

Scorpius steps up and tries to push the door open too, rattling the handle without success. A few Muggles in the reception give them funny looks but don’t do anything, and the two of them stand there like headless chickens until the lady from reception leans over the desk.

“Um, boys. You enter the key card into the slot? And the door opens?” She says, as if it’s common sense.

Scorpius grabs the key from Albus and fumbles with it, inserting it both ways into the reader until it opens and they stumble through together. It’s only when they’re in the elevator, slowly rising up and up and up, that they look at each other.

“So… going well so far.” Albus says.

And then they laugh. Sweet, melodic giggles that blend into a gorgeous harmony in the elevator. Because if this is where they stumble, if their first failed hurdle is operating a Muggle door, then they know they’re in for the adventure of a lifetime.

⚡

20^th July

Albus wakes early in the morning and flicks the kettle on to make Scorpius and himself some tea. The Portkey, apparently a rusty old umbrella, doesn’t activate until 11:34, and they’d calculated yesterday that it would take about fifteen minutes to walk to the clearance.

He pulls back the curtains ever so slightly and stares at the rising sun, the only sound in the room being the rumbling of the kettle and the gentle exhales of Scorpius sleeping soundly in the bed. He watches as Muggles lift suitcases into the boot of their cars and drive off down the roads, and as birds fly from the trees into the pinky-blue swirling coloured sky. Albus can imagine the chilly air biting at bare ankles and shrill calls from magpies stinging delicate, morning ears. He can imagine it all, and he is desperate to finally get out into the world.

The kettle boils and he fills up two mugs to the brim, mixing a little milk and two sugars into his and lots of milk with no sugar for Scorpius. He unwraps a little chocolate biscuit they’d also been provided and sets it next to Scorpius’ mug, crossing his legs on the bed beside his best friend as he gently wakes him up.

“Hey, Scorp,” Albus says, voice soft and delicate in the silence. “Morning, sunshine.”

Scorpius winces in his sleep, sniffing his sleepiness away as his eyes peel open one at a time. The splattering of sun that spills through the lace blinds paints Scorpius’ cheeks with golden freckles, dots that complement the light brown ones already dusting his face. He really is rather beautiful, Albus thinks. But then it strikes him that maybe he shouldn’t think his best friend is beautiful. Because that isn’t what a best friend feels.

Albus doesn’t have long to ponder this complicated thought as Scorpius soon wakes up properly and sits up against the backboard. His sleeves are pulled over his fingertips and he smiles lazily over at Albus. “Hey,” his voice is croaky, scratchy with the remnants of sleep that he tries to wash away with a clearing of his throat. Albus nods to the tea on the bedside table and Scorpius takes a generous swig before continuing. “What’s got you up so early?”

“Excitement.” Albus says.

“It is a rather thrilling day, isn’t it?” Scorpius smiles, dunking the biscuit into his tea. He takes a bite, eating about half, and then offers the remaining part to Albus. Their fingertips graze as he takes it, and they smile at each other.

“I’ve already washed and packed up, so the bathroom is all yours when you’re ready. We should probably head out just before eleven so we can get there in plenty of time.”

“You’re very organised today, aren’t you?” Scorpius jokes, head delicately tilting to the side as they talk.

Albus shrugs. “I just can’t wait to finally get out there. Just think about, before noon today we’re going to be in Paris, Scorp. Paris.”

Scorpius playfully prods Albus’ side, lips curved into a grin. “You planning on picking up some French girl, or something? Getting to the city of love have you all riled up and thrilled?”

“Bore off, loser,” Albus chuckles, though his cheeks do tint ever so slightly red. “I’m planning on having the best time with my best friend. That’s my intention, not sneaking off at midnight for a snog on a bridge, or something like that.”

Scorpius grins at Albus and finishes his tea, setting the mug back on the table. He spirals out of the bed and heads over to where his bag is, bending down to pull out something normal-looking to wear for their journey. Albus watches as he heads into the bathroom looking like a raggedy Chihuahua, yet comes out in a royal blue jumper tucked, at the front, into impossibly skinny jeans, looking a bit like a long-lost prince.

“Why are you staring?” Scorpius asks.

Albus shrugs. “You look nice, is all.”

Scorpius flushes this time. He flicks his fringe out his face and busies himself with packing his pyjamas away to distract from the colour on his cheeks, leaving Albus to attempt to make the bed. Back at Hogwarts their beds would be made up by themselves by the time they returned from breakfast or their lessons. His haphazard attempt looks most untidy, but, in Albus’ mind, he’s given it a go.

They headed down for breakfast with their bags in their arms, paying for their meals, which came to a total of £13.98, in a variety of coins; Albus handed over some two pound coins and a handful of fifty pence pieces while Scorpius added a variety of two and five pence amounts to try and reach the total. The Muggle at the counter stared confusedly at them, and told them not to worry when they were still seventy-three pence short.

They leave just before eleven, as planned, and cheerily bump into each other’s sides after they check out and begin their walk to the clearing. They follow the directions carefully, finding comfort in footprints left in the dirt tracks that assure them that others have already walked this path to where the umbrella will be. When they arrive, at 11:27, seven minutes early, the rest of the wizards are already there.

They all greet each other with friendly glances and morning salutations, though mainly stick to themselves. He and Scorpius flick through their map to plan their route for when they get to France, their fingertips gliding over little red lines and occasionally overlapping as they debate whether the dotted black lines mean pedestrian pathway or something else.

One wizard whistle to them at 11:35 and everyone surrounds the umbrella, one hand touching part of the object. Albus and Scorpius are pressed to each other’s sides, their flush cheeks and wide eyes alight at the knowledge that this was finally happening. They are going.

The first part of the journey of the rest of their lives.

11:36.

Their grip tightens on the umbrella and the air swells with a sense of expectation and nervousness. Albus doesn’t feel nervous, though. Because when he looks to his right, to watch his best friend, and sees the excitement burning in the eyes of Scorpius, he knows that everything will be okay.

There’s something youthful, something eager, in the way Scorpius smiles. The corners of his mouth twitch in nervous anticipation of what is to come. And… Merlin. He looks so much like he did on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago. Young, alight with nervousness but an equal measure of joy knowing he was about to be going somewhere that he could live.

And at that moment, in the dying seconds between 11:36 and 11:37, Albus realises he was silly to ever feel sad about the Hogwarts journey ending. Silly to shed tears over leaving the castle and worrying that things would never be the same again. Because, despite the logistics, nothing is really that different at all. He’s still a fresh-faced, complicated boy nervous to embark on this journey to the rest of his life, and he’s still stood next to the bright-eyed, equally complicated boy who turned his world upside down and showed him that at the end of the day, as long as he has Scorpius by his side, the world will never be a murky, lonely place.