Ariana potter ✔️ #Wattys2016

Packing our bags

"I can't believe I won't see you for six weeks, scorp."

"Oh, I know. But you're welcome at mine at any time, Great-Aunt Andromeda says you can come over at any time." Scorpius says, packing his robes in his small trunk.

"I guess so. I think dad likes you now but my family's too big." I throw in a couple of his spellbooks.

"Hey, Ari?"

"Uh-huh?" I reply.

"I want you to have this." He presses a pocket watch into my half-closed Palm.

"What's this?" I ask, holding it up and examining it. It's made of beautiful silver, with birds adorning the cover. The inside is made of slightly scratched glass with a watch-face. The hands of the watch are tiny, tiny flying birds. On the inside of the lid there is a minute mirror-like piece.

I turn it over in the palm of my hand. Then I spot a nearly-identical one in the front pocket of Scorpius' trunk.

"What is it?" I gasp, in awe.

It's not only the beauty. It WHY. Why would he give me this? What is its purpose? And over all, why are there two of them?

"I don't really know myself. But it was made from shards of a mirror that was found a long time ago. Some of the shard was made into a set of hand-held mirrors. Some was made into earrings for a woman. Some was made into tiny pocket watches. And there was some old magic in the original mirror, which meant that if two identically sized pieces were cut, it would enable one to contact the other." He explained. As he spoke, I looked into the mirror.

When he opened his and directed it onto his face, I saw his face in my mirror.

"How did you get it?" I asked.

"Baby, you're making yourself out to be a little female protagonist. Quit asking the questions, makes you seem a little bewildered. Not a good look on you, my fierce little tiger." He touches my face gently. If I weren't so desperate to find out how he'd gotten it, I'd have melted under his fingertips. Now all I did was stare him down.

"Scorpius, sweetheart, if you don't tell me where you got this right now I swear to god I'm gonna bat-bogey hex you." I smile as sweetly as possible.

"Wow. I did kinda make myself out to be gay just then. Also, we both know you wouldn't hurt me. But I got it... From... From my... Mum. My real mum. Gifted them to me with her dying breath." He broke down crying.

Now, many people would say that a man who cries is weak.

I say that that man is real.

And the warm tears dripping down his face are most certainly real. The realist tears he's shed since we started dating.