Chapter Text
Scorpius blinked, his eyes struggling to adjust to the lack of light. The world around him lay shrouded in darkness, save for a pulsing, faint blue glow that framed the space he occupied. A soft, natural cushion of pine needles cradled him, their scent mingling with the crisp night air.
He raised his gaze, peering into the looming obscurity above. Nothing but black. An endless expanse of mystery that seemed to extend into infinity, swallowing the landscape whole.
Instinctively, he reached down, his fingers grazing his knees as he prepared to brush off stray needles. But his motion halted mid-air, his attention drawn to his own hand. He stared, captivated by the strange anomaly. His hand...it bore no marks, no telltale signs of wrinkled age, no hint of life's trials etched into its skin.
It was...unfamiliar.
With an odd sense of trepidation, he brought the curious hand to his face, where a scar should ripple up from the age beneath. His fingers skimmed the surface, expecting to encounter the roughened texture, but found only smooth skin.
A shiver of unease skittered through him. What was happening? The darkness around him felt ominous, swallowing the light, swallowing him, and yet he couldn't shake off the peculiar sensation that he was, in some bizarre way, safe.
That’s when he realised.
Ah.
So this was it, then.
He lifted his head, drawn to a soft radiance in the distance. Bathed in the ghostly light, the surreal surroundings came into focus, revealing an expansive forest, its imposing trees stretching high above him. Their trunks were unnaturally broad and tall, their dark silhouettes standing as silent observers in this otherworldly landscape.
As his eyes adjusted, more details surfaced. The undergrowth beneath the towering trees, previously hidden by the inky blackness, was now adorned with a myriad of friendly Lacewing Flies. They glowed like scattered sparks from a bonfire, their gentle luminescence providing a faint, flickering light that pierced the darkness, casting a glow on the forest floor.
Bushes sprung into view, their outlines brought to life by the tiny, floating lanterns. Scorpius found himself entranced.
He began to walk.
Time seemed to hold no sway in this place. Scorpius traversed the forest, his footsteps crunching the soft pine-needle carpet beneath his feet, his journey measured not by minutes or hours or days, but by the serene rhythm of his surroundings.
As he moved, a moment of clarity washed over him, like a gentle wave retreating back into the sea, revealing the sands of truth beneath. He thought about his life, the series of improbable journeys and the choices that had led him here. There was an odd sense of finality, yet it wasn't unwelcome. It was as if each adventure, each challenge, had been a stepping stone, preparing him for this simple walk amongst the trees.
The forest hummed its timeless lullaby, whispering through the towering canopies, rustling the foliage underfoot, the sound of gently bustling Lacewing Flies providing a soothing background chorus. It was as if the forest itself was alive, each tree a stolid guardian, each bush a faithful companion, each glow bug a guiding light, all existing in harmonious unity.
His mind wandered.
He found himself wondering if Orion might be here, in this strange eternal place. It would be nice, having a companion at the end of it all. Memories floated to the surface - happy days at school, laughter echoing in the Chambers, quiet mornings with limbs entwined, other mornings chasing creatures in the gardens at the Manor with his mother. With these recollections, the forest seemed less daunting.
As he walked, Scorpius slowed to a stop at the sight of two figures standing on the side of the path. If he still had breath, it would have caught in his throat. There, with warm smiles that spoke of love and understanding, were Draco and Astoria.
“Mama?” he called out, his voice echoing in the stillness. He hurried towards them, his heart swelling with a mix of joy and disbelief. Astoria took his hands in hers, her touch as warm and gentle as he remembered.
“You made me very proud, eskelde ,” she said, her voice a melody that resonated deep within him. Beside her, his father leaned in, a smile of pride and affection on his face.
“I don’t– what–” Scorpius stammered, overwhelmed by the moment. Questions swirled in his mind, but words failed to form.
“You’re not finished,” his mother said. Hearing her voice again, seeing her face, feeling her warmth, all this time – it sent fireworks from his heart. Yet, she looked so distressingly young to him now, younger than he felt, almost out of place. “You must keep walking the path.”
“Will I see you again?” Scorpius asked.
His parents exchanged a glance. They smiled at each other with the love that had always been the foundation of their bond. Of their family. Of their home. Turning to him, their eyes held a fondness that radiated through him. It was a look of both goodbye and reassurance, and then, as if carried away by the gentlest of breezes, they were gone.
In their absence, a sense of calm once again enveloped Scorpius. It was as if the forest itself embraced him, recognizing him not as an intruder but as a cherished guest.
This peaceful co-existence was a strange comfort, different from what he had known in life. The forest's tranquillity seeped into him, the harmony of nature calming him. It really wasn’t so bad, death. Not bad at all. There were no creatures nor people who wished him harm here.
Or so he thought.
A sharp crackling sound jerked Scorpius out of his tranquil reverie, his eyes immediately darting to the source. The bushes at the edge of the darkness were shuddering as if housing an unseen entity. Uncertainty knotted his stomach as he instinctively retreated two steps back, the memory of his heart thumping a cautious rhythm in his chest.
Then, out from the foliage, a new figure emerged. It was not particularly tall or imposing, with the angular build of someone teetering on the brink of adulthood. He brushed at his clothing, a sense of casual, almost disgruntled annoyance in his movements as if the foliage had been a minor inconvenience. With an air of familiarity in this strange place, he finally lifted his head.
“There you are.”
Oh.
“I’ve been waiting for you. Damn place doesn’t come with a map.”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Those eyes.
That hair.
Those hands.
So many years and yet.
And yet.
An understanding passed between them as their eyes met, a silent conversation without the need for spoken words. Like so many silent conversations before. The simple act of eye contact, of mutual acknowledgment, seemed to set Scorpius alight from the inside out.
Nothing was said.
Everything was said.
Home.
He felt his heart vault into his throat, he felt every inch of his skin heightened, he felt all of his senses magnified. He felt. He felt. He felt.
He couldn’t speak if he tried.
Albus nodded for him to join and he did, by his side. Those eyes. Home. They began to move together along the path. The only sounds were the faint rustling of leaves beneath their feet and the serene whisper of the forest around them. Each step was another line in their conversation, another year together, another memory.
Home.
As they journeyed further, Scorpius found himself craving more of this moment, of this star-crossed, destined connection. He could have spent a lifetime more in this silence, in this understanding, in this feeling. Forever, bathing in the mere idea of him.
But their journey was not meant to be forever.
No journey is.
And maybe that’s okay.
What is love if not impermanence?
Gradually, the twilight surrounding them began to shift, surrendering to a warmer, richer light. It swelled in intensity, casting long, undulating shadows across the forest floor. Up ahead, a clearing broke through the seemingly endless thicket of trees, suggesting the end of their trek. The end of their story. The promise of an open vista at the forest's edge was accentuated by a precipitous cliff, visible even from their current position.
The prospect of the journey's end sparked a new kind of energy within them. They exchanged a fleeting glance, a silent pledge of shared resolve passing between their eyes.
Together.
Encouraged by the other's presence, they found the strength to press onward, moving purposefully towards the clearing. The anticipation grew, a fateful companion compelling them to meet whatever awaited them at the edge of the forest as one.
Reaching the precipice, they paused, taking in the spectacle before them. The cliff top revealed a small, winding path to the right, snaking its way downwards and across, further into the mysteries of this world. The vastness of the panorama before them was breathtaking, creating a sensation of simultaneous insignificance and importance.
A wave of comprehension swept over them, an epiphany born of the spectacle laid out before their eyes. The forest, with all its surreal and tranquil beauty, seemed a distant memory.
"There it is..." Scorpius whispered, his voice barely carrying on the twilight air.
"Hogwarts,” Albus echoed. “Never seen this view of it before."
Beyond them, illuminated by the warm hues of the sunset, was the castle. Its soaring towers and turrets pierced the painted sky, their weathered stone bathed in a warm palette of oranges and reds. The sinking sun set the castle ablaze with colour, its reflection shimmering in the serene waters of the lake below like a living, vibrant painting.
Students, reduced to miniatures by the distance, moved like impressionistic smears of colour against the backdrop of the grounds. A vibrant spectacle of lights and shadows unfolded on the Quidditch pitch, where the tiny silhouettes of airborne students flitted against the flaming sky. Scorpius swore he could hear Craig’s laughter on the wind.
The breathtaking view—its familiar features cast anew by the stunning interplay of light and shadow, reality and reflection—was a sight to behold. It was their world, their home, but seen through fresh eyes, it held a charm, a magic that felt both intimate and vast, known and yet wonderfully, so very wonderfully new.
"Still get a tingle, don't you? When you see it?" Scorpius asked, his voice a soft murmur that mingled with the cool evening breeze.
They were seventeen again and the world was kind.
He was here and he was there. He was then and he was now.
Even here, ever after, he couldn’t stop his words from tumbling out when he was with Albus. He never could. “From the moment I first heard of it, I was desperate to go.”
"And then you got there and it turned out to be terrible after all," Albus replied, his voice carrying a haunting note of melancholy. It echoed memories of past sorrows, battles, losses, shadows that still lingered beneath the surface.
It pained Scorpius to know that followed him here. He wished, oh how desperately he wished he could ease that pain.
Forever.
He chose then, in that moment, to do just that.
"Not for me," Scorpius replied gently, tearing his gaze away from the view to look at Albus. Those familiar blue eyes were as deep and captivating as they ever had been, holding the same old spark of mischief. It was a spark he had dearly missed. “All I ever wanted to do was go to Hogwarts and have a mate to get up to mayhem with. Just like Harry Potter.” He smiled. “And I got his son.”
Albus cast his eyes down, the insecurities, even after all this time, whispering in his ear. "But I was nothing like my dad."
Scorpius extended his hand, touching Albus' chin. The connection sent a jolt of electricity through them both, like a spark igniting an unseen flame. He gently lifted Albus' face, lifted the pain from his heart never to return, and locked eyes with him. "You're better. You're my Albus," he assured him, his voice rich with conviction. Leaning forward, he gently kissed the only man he ever loved before leaning back and taking in the sight of him. He hesitated before adding, "It’s just — I have got to say — I don’t mind admitting — I am a tiny bit — just a tiny bit scared of what comes next."
Albus allowed a smile to grace his lips, his eyes reflecting the fading sunlight. And in the moment, Scorpius knew his pain was gone. “You’re my Scorpius. And don’t worry — I have a good feeling about this.” He looked towards the horizon once more, watching as the sun sunk lower, staining the sky with deep hues of red and gold. “But I think it’s time for us to go.” He extended his hand.
An offer.
A promise.
Scorpius took Albus' hand, and in that moment, he soared. He felt the weight of joy and sorrow, the reality of love and loss, the passage of days and months and years. Unspoken promises and kisses meant for dreams rushed through him.
And so Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy walked down the path, together once more, to whatever came next.
Home.