Working Through the Rest

That's What We're Missing

Summer is fairly uneventful to begin with. We see the family we've missed while we were at school. We celebrate dad's birthday, which results in a family Quidditch match that I stay as far from as possible, taking the opportunity to write to Scorpius. And we just hang around. Like we do every summer.

From his letters it appears that his summer has also been fairly mediocre. He and his dad haven't done much, and the manor is quiet. He says that he's practising Quidditch a lot. I do hope that he makes the team in September. That's what he wants, so I want it for him. But I've got no idea how I'll stomach watching him play on that bloody pitch.

I'm still having nightmares and they're getting increasingly common. I put it down to not being around Scorpius even though I tell him about every single one. Because I need to get it out somehow. It's most coherent in writing.

After the first few nights, I asked mum to soundproof my room so that I don't wake everyone else up. I said I find it easier to cope with them alone. That isn't true, but I can't sleep in the same room, or house, as Scorpius. Not until September. So I just keep myself to myself.

A few days into August, dad pops his head around my door as I'm sat on my bed, attempting to read a book that Scorpius sent me a few days ago. I did not realise how difficult it would be to read The Great Gatsby. I keep reading, however, even though it takes about five minutes a page.
"Albus?"

I look up as dad steps into the room, looking slightly awkward, and I close the book, setting it down beside myself.
"Dad?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to spend the day together?" he smiles. "Just us."

I don't reply immediately. I want to, I think, but every time we try something it doesn't last. And it takes a long time for either of us to emerge from our shells. But maybe this time will be different. Or maybe it won't be. I revert to my original response.
"What about James and Lily? And mum?"
"Well, James is old enough to look after himself," dad says, "and your mum has taken Lily out for the day, so I thought...if you'd like to."
"That'd be great," I nod, smiling. "Could I get changed? I won't be long."
"Yeah, of course," dad says quickly. "I'll be downstairs."

The door closes behind him and I stand up, sighing. I can do this. I can have a nice day with my dad. Other people do it on a regular basis. Surely I can get my ass in gear for one day.

I pull a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from the wardrobe, chucking them back on the bed as I look back to get a jumper. For some reason I think I'll need a jumper in the height of summer.

Once I'm dressed, I grab the copy of The Great Gatsby, putting it into a backpack along with some parchment, a quill and some ink, and Scorpius' latest letter. If this goes horrifically wrong, I need to know that Scorpius will be there. Even if he isn't really. Maybe that's something I could mention today. Just casually. As a hypothetical. It's a hypothetical.

I take a deep breath, swinging the bag onto my back. Today is going to be a good day. I can make it a good day. And that is my mantra as I walk down the stairs, my stomach lurching with every step. I shouldn't be nervous.

Dad is sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea when I walk in, trying to untense my shoulders. In doing so, I have a feeling that they are too far down, and tense, therefore defeating the object of the whole movement. He looks up, smiling at me gently. I smile back and he stands up.
"Are you ready?"
"Where are we going?" I mumble, before coughing to clear my throat.

Come on, Albus. Confidence. He's made the first step. You make the second. That's how this works.
"I was thinking we could go on a walk again," dad says. "If you wanted to."
"Okay," I nod. "Yeah. Okay."
"It's fine if you don't want–"
"No, it's fine," I smile. "I'd like to."
"Great," dad smiles back. "Leave in ten minutes?"
"Yeah," I nod again.

*

Twenty minutes later, we're both staring up at a hill. It was dad's idea. Maybe if we're too out of breath, I won't actually have to talk to him. No, Albus. Stop. The point is to improve the mess between yourselves. Buck up and make an effort.

We start to climb, mostly making small talk about school and his work and such. We never really had a proper catch up after I got home. It was mainly just asking about my injuries and that incident in general. I didn't really talk more than I had to, filling in the gaps in Rose's story. I didn't tell them about the other incidents. They don't need to know about those.

But now we just talk about the normal moments, moments where I was able to crack a smile. The moments where I wasn't twisting in nightmares. The moments where I wasn't terrified out of my fucking mind. There really aren't many of them.

But there are enough to make conversation, conversation I can sustain with vague comfort. It's nice talking to my dad. I should really try and do it more often.

As we reach the top of the hill, dad checks his watch and pulls his bag off his shoulder. He sits down on the grass and I sit down next to him, looking out past the edge of the hill. The view is spectacular, especially as the sun is behind us, so we can look without being blinded.
"Sandwich?" dad passes me one.
"Thanks," I take it slowly, taking a small bite.

I look back at him, raising my eyebrows slightly as I see what he's holding. I can't imagine why he thinks that Exploding Snap on top of a windy hill is a good idea. This can't be his idea.
"Um, dad?"
"I thought..." dad grins awkwardly.
"On a hill? Whose idea was this?"
"In truth?"
I nod. "Whose idea?"
"It was something your mum said," dad admits. "When we were waiting for – for her."
"Exploding Snap?"
"Exploding Snap," dad nods.
"Yeah, sure," I laugh. "Deal me in."
"If I don't, it'll be quite a lonely game."

I smile, watching him divide the cards between us. It doesn't matter that mum suggested it to him. He's kept it in his mind for almost a year. And it'll be fun. It will be normal.