To Be Luminous || HP [REVIVAL 2021]

Chapter Sixteen

Wrinkle, Wrinkle Little Scar

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Scorpius feels as though he is trying to push through a curtain that he can't find the opening to. He becomes entangled with the fabric and begins to panic, thrashing against the folds and kicking his feet out in a wild attempt to free himself. Everything is dark, and cold, and barren.

Is this what being dead is?

Drifting, drowning, forever?

"Scorpius!" a voice calls to him, and strong hands grab his right leg and arm. It's like he's resurfacing, following the voice desperately to safety. "You're awake, Scorpius. Open your eyes. It's all right, now."

He stops and draws deep breaths into his stomach, forcing himself to think. Truthfully, he feels scared. The last thing he can recall is falling through the air. He thinks he may have been considering a permanent nap.

When he remembers how to open his eyes, he does so slowly. Sunlight through the windows makes everything bleary. Streaks of light cross vertically across his vision and he blinks over and over in an attempt to dispel it. Someone whose silhouette looks vaguely like Nurse Abbott closes the blinds. When the room dims, he finally sees his father, who leans back and presses his lips into a thin line.

"I don't understand," Scorpius tries to say, but the air that travels down his dry throat all but chokes him.

He sits up abruptly and coughs between his knees, raspy breaths shaking him. Scorpius shivers, and Nurse Abbot covers his shoulders with a blanket. Next to him he sees Albus laying in the cot a foot from his. Albus has his hand outstretched with a cool glass of water. He tries to reach for it but his right arm feels like it's made of lead. Scorpius uses his other hand to take up the glass, and he drains it in an instant.

"You weren't answering any of my owls," his father says solemnly. "I had to come today to tell you the news. I hadn't a clue what had happened. I'm . . . relieved . . . I could be here when you woke up. Nurse Abbott," he spits, "didn't sound certain that you would today."

He hears Nurse Abbott sigh, exasperated, from the corner of their space.

"What's going on? I thought . . . I thought . . ."

He can't even get himself to say it aloud. He'd thought he was dead.

"Cory," Nurse Abbott says, carefully choosing her words. She averts her gaze, settling on her neatly folded hands. "First off, both you and your friend Albus are going to recover fully from your injuries. You'll just have to be patient, though. It's going to take you a few days. Maybe even less—we weren't sure when you were going to come around. You . . . bled quite a bit."