Drowning Boys

.II.

"I felt it in my chest as she looked at me.
I knew we were bound to be together."
-Shut Up and Dance, Walk the Moon
_______

There was going to be a party in the Gryffindor common room, and Scorpius couldn't figure out what to wear.

Albus was being no help, lounging on his bed in a frustratingly cat-like position with his eyes closed and his face made up perfectly. There Scorpius stood, agonizing over what clothes looked respectable enough yet not too pretentious to wear to this party (where Rose was going to be!!!).

Not to mention that his hair was completely boring and almost straight. Of course, when he was younger, Scorpius had despised his difficult thatch of almost white waves, but now, looking at the irritatingly attractive form of Albus Severus Potter and his beautiful disaster of raven hair, Scorpius felt insignificant.

He didn't really match his best friend anymore, and that was something that had only just begun to hit him.

For a moment, he stared at himself in the mirror that Albus had insisted upon installing in their dorm. The pale, gaunt boy who stared back at him was a haunting shadow of the late Astoria Malfoy, Scorpius's mum, and to this day, his vague resemblance to her shook him to the bone.

It'd been Christmas of his third year when his mum had died. The day was bright with holiday spirit. Snow glistened on the ground. Scorpius had been laughing at the gift he'd received from Albus, trying to be quiet as to not disturb his mum.

But then she took a turn for the worse.

“Scor?”

Scorpius blinked, shaking his head and tearing his watery gaze away from the mirror as he felt a hand rest on his stiffened shoulder.

“Hey, now,” Albus Potter murmured as he comforted Scorpius with the barest of touches, almost as if afraid to spook the boy.

Scorpius leaned back, burying his face into Albus's neck as his best friend held him just as he did the day he got back to Hogwarts after Winter Break, third year.

“I don't have anything to wear,” Scorpius muttered. He pushed his thoughts and tears from his mind, gearing back toward the party in hopes of maybe (finally) getting Rose to see him as more than a friend.

He'd come to the realization, however, that he needed Albus's help to do so.

“Nothing to wear, eh?” said Albus as he wiggled his thick eyebrows. “That's not a-”

“Good thing?” Scorpius sighed. “I know.” He pushed out of Albus's arms and headed to his trunk. “All I've got are my school robes and the stuff my father bought me, but you know my father and how he's more… old fashioned.” He sneezed as he knocked his hand against his potions kit. “Could I borrow something of yours?”

Looking up, he saw Albus standing right where he left him, staring at Scorpius in a most inscrutable way. He seemed… disappointed? Dejected?

“Something of mine?” Albus's voice was faint, which worried Scorpius as he once again scrutinized his friend's health.

“If it's not too much trouble.”

Scorpius watched, letting out a sigh of relief, as Albus moved stiffly toward his own trunk, opening it up and rifling through it.

“Nothing too leathery, please,” Scorpius remembered to add as he thought of Albus's collection of odd muggle clothing with too many spikes and/or zippers.

A midnight blue sweater was thrown at him, soft as it collided with Scorpius’s round nose. A pair of muggle jeans followed. Of course, despite the three inch height difference, Albus's clothes would almost always fit Scorpius as the Potter boy apparently had a thing for baggy clothes.