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“Al, what should we wear this Saturday?” Shagging blond hair is pushed out of the taller one’s eyes. “I’m thinking my jumper your grandmum kitted, or should I wear my one with the snitches? Oh, the nifflers wearing hats!” He rummages through his trunk, shifting through various of worn jumpers.
The crisp fall air was slowly turning into the cold dampness of winter. Hogwarts had already had their first snowfall, and Hogsmeade was all prepped and ready for the holiday shopping season. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, the first and only of the holiday season, and Scorpius was overly excited. He loved when all the fairy lights would light up the small village and how the shops would suddenly sparkle more than normal. People on the streets seemed friendlier, and students bustled around with that energy that only the holidays could bring.
Every year since they started going to Hogsmeade, him and Albus would get dressed in their warmest jumpers and go see the lights in Hogsmeade. They would marvel at the holiday displays in some of the stores and do their holiday shopping. Warm butterbeer and cocoa would eventually make its way into the evening time, as their scarves would be wrapped tighter as the night grew chillier.
It was a tradition Scorpius was fond of. It reminded him of simpler times, back when his mother was alive and he would squeeze between her and his father while they went around the local village and looked at the lights. When he arrived at Hogwarts, the first two years the lights were forgotten. His mother grew more ill, and his father had other priorities. When it came time for third year, he and Albus accidentally stumbled upon the lights one evening. Al was drenched wet with a snowball from his older brother, and the two took refuge in a cozy corner of the Three Broomsticks, warm butterbeer and cocoa in hands.
Scorpius craved the warm taste of butterbeer and cocoa, hands linked with Albus as they walked along the snowy streets. They’d laugh at something stupid, then Albus would say how he played guitar better than one of the street performers. There’d be a promise of hearing his band play again, followed by a playful push and shove. Scorpius would hope there’d be a kiss, but he doubts that would happen.
Albus walks in heavy footsteps to his bed. He’s wearing a torn and tattered band shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms, dark hair shagging over his bright, green eyes. “I’m not going,” Albus mumbles out and Scorpius lets out a sigh. He looks at the chipped black nail varnish on his best friend’s fingers, and the smudges of eyeliner that still cling to the underneath of the bags under his eyes. “I don’t think I should,” Albus adds, and Scorpius’ heart sinks.
“It’s tradition,” Scorpius says back. It’s a small desperate plead, but with little effort. “We always go see the lights in Hogsmeade.”
“I don’t—“ Albus looks away, starting to pick at the black nail varnish. When he chips enough away, he then goes to pick at a green thread on the bed. “I don’t think I should go. But you can go,” Albus finishes quickly. “Don’t let me be the reason you don’t.”
Scorpius looks at the ceiling, then scoots away from his trunk and places himself onto the bed next to Albus. “We always go together,” he repeats.
Albus frowns, frustrated. He shuts his eyes. “I don’t—“ He squeezes his eyes even harder. “You should go without me, okay?” There’s a tear that trickles out his eye. He’s looking over at the wall, keeping all glances away from Scorpius. He shoves his pillow to his head, curling up. “I don’t want to go,” he huffs out. “I don’t want to go to stupid Hogsmeade, with all the stupid couples and stupid people and stupid shopping,” he grumbles. “I don’t want to look at the stupid lights. I don’t want to look at stupid displays. I don’t want—“
Scorpius frowns. He’s not normally angry, but getting frustrated with Albus has become more frequent. Ever since Albus had his first real boyfriend, he’s been more less confidant, more anxious, and his heart seems more shattered. The breakup really destroyed his best friend, and Scorpius only hopes his love can help mend his best friend’s heart, if Albus will give him the chance.
“Well, maybe this isn’t about you,” Scorpius snaps, removing himself from the bed. “Ever think of that? Maybe I like going to see the lights with you. Maybe I want to hold on to some of these stupid things. Maybe, for once, I just want to do a nice holiday event with my best friend. But no, I can’t, because you’re moping again.” He sighs. “I get it, Al. Jake’s a fucking jerk for breaking up with you after a shag, and is the biggest arse this side of the world. But maybe, for once, I wanted to not have things be about Jake and have fucking fun with my best friend.” Albus blinks, looking over at Scorpius. The swearing from his best friend draws his attention, as Scorpius isn’t the one to normally swear and cause a commotion. Scorpius doesn’t usually explode like this. “For once, Albus, can’t we just do something fun together without your moping? He broke up with you, it’s over.” Scorpius sighs, then tosses a small box onto Albus’ bed. “By the way, Happy Birthday.” Scorpius slams his trunk shut, which startles the little ferret on the window sill.
Albus blinks at Scorpius, picking up the small box. “My birthday isn’t until June.” He sits up, wiping at his eyes. “You know that.”
“Yeah, well.” Scorpius scratches at the back of his neck. This was dumb. He shouldn’t have done this, his brain screams to him. “Go on, open it,” he tells his best friend.
Albus picks apart the wrapping. He pauses to read the card attached to the parcel. “Albus, Happy One Year. Love, Scorpius xxx.” He pulls off more paper, revealing a small jar of pepper imps. Confused, he looks at the blond. “What is this for?”
“I was going to give it to you Saturday, but you’re not going to the stupid lights. Saturday marks your one year of sobriety from potions.”
“You remember?” Albus’ tearful eyes soften. They’re still damp, but he’s turned to Scorpius, facing the blond who has moved off his bed.
“Of course I do,” he whispers. “How could I forget?” Scorpius goes to sit beside Albus. “Al, you were absolutely fucked out of your mind. Because of school. How could I not remember?” Scorpius hesitates, but goes to put a hand through Albus’ shaggy hair. It’s grown a lot longer compared to the patchy mess it was a year ago. Scorpius ruffles it, agreeing with the cousins and relatives that would suggest Al needing a haircut. But Scorpius knows that Albus has no desire to cut it. He wants to grow it like the muggles in the book he’s read, the very same book he’s been obsessed with lately. He gently removes his hand from the boy’s hair.
Albus goes to rub at his hair, ruffling the strands back to the mess it was. He looks at the pepper imps in his lap. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.” He reaches to grab the plush owl from the corner of his bed, squeezing it to his chest. “Merlin, I’m so sorry, Scorpius,” he repeats. His eyes leak tears again, although this time Scorpius isn’t angry. “I’m such a horrid friend, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s,” Scorpius pauses. He takes a glance at Albus and his owl, then at Albus’ pet ferret. “It’s okay, Albus. It’s okay.” He scoots closer to the brunette, leaning in to give him a hug. Albus hugs back, not turning the hug away like he normally would. The two stay clutched in their hug until Albus’ sniffles quiet down, then eventually disappear. The two then break apart, as Albus lets out one last snuff.
“Do you still want to go see the lights with me?” Albus asks. His voice is softer, something that has changed in the boy since his break up.
“If you promise to act surprised about the dinner I had planned,” Scorpius replies back, his voice equally soft.
Albus’ lips twitch into a small smile. “You planned a dinner, too?”
“Y-yeah. It’s a big deal. I thought maybe celebrating would be good for you.”
Albus takes in the words that the other says. He thinks back to a year ago, when he was overly dependent and stressed out over school. He remembers the Christmas before, where he was moody and angry, coming home from the hospital just mere days before Christmas day. Scorpius had given him a box of chocolate frogs, along with his Christmas gift of a muggle vinyl record he adored. The two had sat in his room for hours, and Scorpius didn’t even tease him about his short haircut or inability to eat certain foods. Scorpius may have been the one who found out, but he was also one of the few who didn’t treat him like a patient.
He thinks about how Scorpius was one of the few who didn’t treat him like a patient. He thinks about the term after his potion, where Scorpius took care of him, helping him feel better. Scorpius was there every day to bring him food, to read to him. Scorpius had decided to skip various Hogsmeade outings just to sit with Albus, who wasn’t allowed to leave the castle. Scorpius played every game available, and did every puzzle he could find. They spent so much time crammed in their dorm room, and Albus couldn’t be more thankful for his best friend.
Going to see the lights was something Scorpius deserved. Scorpius needed this. The hardest part about being sick was the fact that he had to witness everyone else’s feelings about it. He had to see Scorpius being calm and quiet, and he had to see James act responsible, and he had to see his parents look hurt. But mostly, he had to see Scorpius be soft about everything he did, like he was holding back every tear he didn’t want to cry.
Albus figures maybe he should do this. Suck up and just go see the lights for Scorpius. He thinks maybe, just maybe, this could be good for him too. If this is what made Scorpius happy, then maybe he should just suck it up. After all, he spent near all of last term clinging to Scorpius’ every move and shadow. How could this really be any different? Plus, the way Scorpius’ eyes grew wide at the lights, and the way he sipped his warm beverage, always made Albus feel warm.
Besides, how could he skip out on a stupid tradition over a stupid boy? His heart clenches at the mention of stupid boy, and he forces all glum to the pit of his stomach. He had fucked up last year when they went and Albus was too fucked to really remember, and he was probably already going to mess up this year, but, at least he wasn’t fucked out his mind.
The pain of the breakup still weighed heavy in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know if he could ever feel better again. Scorpius was here to bring out some sense of normalcy, and he was trying to celebrate something that Albus wanted to erase forever from his mind. But he couldn’t, as those things would never be the same again between the two of them. Scorpius deserves this, Albus’ mind tells him once again. He nods in agreement to himself and lets out a bit of a sigh.
Getting off the bed, Albus goes to his own trunk, pulling out some of his own worn jumpers. He pulls out one with dancing hippogriffs on it. It came from his uncle’s shop, a part of a line of wacky holiday jumpers. Technically, the hippogriffs can be charmed to dance and move, but Albus had been advised by his Uncle George to not charm the wool when around those with a less than quality sense of humor.
“I wish thinking the hippogriffs could go with the nifflers,” he suggests. “If that’s okay with you.”
Scorpius smiles. “That’ll be perfect.”