Never Be The Same {SCOROSE}

Chapter 11 - Rose [UPDATED]

"No one can rewrite the stars"

TW: discussion of self-harm & suicide

I was lying in bed with Scorpius Malfoy for the third time in as many weeks. And it felt... right? It shouldn't, but it did. I'd never felt so laid bare, and yet... I'd never felt so secure.

"What are you thinking right now?" Scorpius murmured, his thumb running in gentle circular motions over my hand. His voice was slightly hoarse, and something inside me - my last fragment of sense, perhaps - was collapsing as he spoke.

I smiled softly, rolling over to look at him. "That I much prefer this sort of conversation to the yelling-at-you kind." He let out the slightest laugh, and I returned with, "What are you thinking?"

Scorpius' eyes met mine, his gaze a silver tide sweeping over me and drowning out the world. "That you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I will never forgive myself if I fuck this up."

I recognized the look on his face — it was one I'd often seen in the mirror. The look that said there would be no giving up. I ducked my head, suddenly intimidated by that stare, and heard him chuckle.

"For a Gryffindor, you really do scare easily, don't you?"

I flushed, sinking back onto the pillow and shutting my eyes. "I'm not... scared of you."

I felt his fingers brush my hair to the side, then the briefest kiss on my forehead. "Hey. Open your eyes," he coaxed. Hesitantly, I did, and the gentlest of smiles crossed his lips. "There's nothing wrong with being afraid, you know. It's only human."

I nodded hesitantly, but still shied from his gaze. Without meaning to, my eyes landed on something I'd never noticed before. I lifted my hand to brush the inside of his forearm, frowning. "What are-?"

His muscles tensed, and I didn't finish the question, because I'd glanced up at his face and the expression he wore was pained. We were both silent for a few long moments, and then Scorpius fell back onto his pillow, exhaling heavily.

I watched the blond boy carefully, wondering why he suddenly looked like he was carrying all the world's burdens on his shoulders. What weight could a question about some marks on his arm hold? He looked so affected that I was ready to change the subject, but then he spoke.

"Remember when we talked about my Mum?" I nodded, and he continued. "After she died, I was... I was in a really bad place. I hated the world, and I hated myself, because the whole thing seemed to be my fault. These..." I watched his fingers trace the slim lines, which were scattered across his forearm almost from his wrist to his elbow. "...They were my own form of self-punishment." His voice cracked on the last word, and he let out a shaky breath. "Sorry, I... don't really talk about this very often. I usually... I put a charm on the scars, to keep people from asking questions. But it sort of slipped my mind this morning."

Godric. This boy... he'd suffered so, so deeply. I hated that I'd spent so long judging him, having no idea what he was going through. I wished there was a way to get those years back; a way to find fourteen-year-old Scorpius and wrap my arms around him and never let go. I took his hand, intertwining our fingers, and squeezed gently. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No," he said, "I... I do want to. I just..." Scorpius shook his head, looking at the scars. He was silent for what felt like a long time, then said, "Almost three years. That's how long I spent slicing open my skin, pondering the idea of letting myself bleed out. If Albus hadn't found out when he did...if he hadn't devoted every second of his time to pulling me out of that place... I dunno. Maybe I wouldn't be here right now."