Found In the Past

25

Scorpius's POV

"You owled Albus WHAT?!"

"I formally asked him to visit us for Christmas. You're welcome," my father gives me a pointed look that nearly makes me spit out the pastry in my mouth.

"Why would you do that?!" I ask, my hands flying up to hide my face before it gets any redder. Albus Potter. At MY house. For an entire, bloody week.

"Scorpius, Darling, eat your food," my grandmother directs me and I sigh, picking my fork back up.

"And I suppose you're on his side?" I ask her glumly as I watch her exchange a small smile with my father. They seem way too happy about this idea.

"It was her idea actually. Thank you, Mother," my father winks at me and I turn to glare at my grandmother.

"Don't look at me that way," she chides, "And actually your therapist was the one who suggested it after we talked last week," I turn back to my breakfast, appetite lost.

"If you want, Pottah Jr. can stay in your ro-"

"Absolutely not!" My grandmother interrupts, shooting my father a look that could make a grown man yelp in fear. He's apparently accustomed to this and smirks at her in reply. She sighs and puts her fork down, turning back to me. "Sweetheart, your next session with Dr. Porter is in a few minutes... want to go get ready?"

"That's my cue to be off to work. We can continue this lovely discussion tonight," my father fixes his ponytail quickly before pushing his chair back and standing up. "See you later, Scor. Mother," he kisses my grandmother on the forehead and she squeezes his hand reassuringly.

"If you hex another one of your co-workers," she starts to warn and I can't help but snort. I haven't heard much about the 'accidents' that occur at his job, but Rose keeps complaining about an office war of sorts. Even grown-ups can't seem to help but hex paper clips at some point in their careers.

"No promises," Father's mouth twitches up as he walks off to grab his coat.

"I don't what to do with the both of you sometimes," my grandmother sighs and leans back in her chair wearily, a soft smile pulling at her lips. "You should get ready now, Scorpius," I nod and stand, leaving the dining space quickly. My footsteps echo around me as I walk through empty rooms filled with portraits. Distracted, I wander through a sitting room, glancing around the dark space. Various scorch marks line the walls and I shiver, moving on quickly. There are some things about my family's history I don't ask about.

When I finally get to my room, I hear a faint knocking on my glass. I rush to the window and open it to let a very-tired owl instead.

"Sorry, Arthur," I apologize, stroking the owl's soft feathers with a smile, "Was at breakfast. Has Albus written to me?" The owl twists his head and snaps at the tiny scroll attached to it's leg. I gently untie it off of him, placing Arthur back into the cage for some rest. He starts eating the weird food he apparently likes as I start reading.

Scorpius,
I've owled my parents to see if I can come visit! I really miss you as well. It'd be nice to see you, though as a warning my grandmother is making you a Christmas sweater this year. Pretty sure it can't be worse than the serpent design she tried to make for me.. being the first Slytherin in the family means I'm the design test subject. I'll let you know when my dad writes back to me. Oh, and, don't bother lying to me about the nightmares... this is proof they're worse.
Sincerely,
Al

I stop reading and fiddle with the parchment, excitement and regret warring inside. On one hand, Albus could be coming over for Christmas. Yet on the other hand, Albus could be coming over for Christmas...

"Scorpius!! Dr. Porter has arrived!" My grandmother calls up the stairs. I set the letter down and quickly brush my hair down so it looks like I actually tried to look presentable.

*****

"If you want to talk about the session I'm here," my grandmother tells me, worry plain in her watery blue eyes.

"Okay," I tell her numbly, unable to smile reassuringly. For an hour long talk, seconds sure do feel like eternity.

"I'll make you some tea," she tells me quietly, leaving me alone on the couch. I hunch over further, placing my head in my hands. I know that this therapy stuff is necessary. I just didn't think talking about feelings would be so hard.

It's going to be a process. Having those you love around you is a helpful net, but this pain lies inside you. It's a journey. But you'll get through it.

I sigh and fall back onto the couch, random bits and pieces of everything flying through my head. The paper I ripped up shifts on the couch, making even more of a mess for our house elves to clean up after they get back from break.

Your grandmother mentioned something about your most recurring nightmare... do you think it would help to discuss it?

Maybe.

Alright. I'll let you tell me whatever you need to say.

Every night there's some variation of my... best friend dying. I can never do anything. I can't even look away

I see...

It's like when he disappeared from existence.

You were alone?

I thought I was used to being alone, but it was nothing like that.

"I'm back," my grandmother's voice snaps me out of my lapse and I look up to see her still-concerned face.

"Thank you," I take the tea carefully, enjoying the warmth of the cup in my hands.

"Harr- Mr. Potter, Albus's father, owled while you were talking to Dr. Porter," she sits next to me, smoothing her green dress out.

"And?" I ask, sitting up straighter.

"Albus can come."