Albus made it until March of third year sleeping in Scorpius’s bed without incident, without what he’d been dreading for months happening. He felt stupid for it, really, because his thoughts could not compare to Scorp’s reality and yet here he was, heart racing, up past midnight clutching the sheets.
His own nightmare.
He remembered it in pieces—Mum, pale and skeletal in bed. Her hair had gone white and the way her chest rose and fell was more akin to old parchment over a muggle radiator than breath. Being flooed home with James and Lily through Professor McGonagall’s office hearth still in his nightclothes to find Dad crying in the drawing room. His stomach sinking horribly while the four of them sat in silence and watched her inhales get farther and farther apart. The paper fragility of her hand on the pads of his fingers, when the skin was warm.
Feeling her pulse fade away against his touch. And then not feeling it at all—
“Al?” Scorpius. Albus had been stupid enough to wake Scorpius, who’d been sleeping soundly, who’d needed that sleep, who was now turning slowly to face him in the dark. “Al, is that you?”
Albus clenched his fists, trying his hardest to stop shaking, but there were tears dripping down his nose, hot with shame.
“Albus?”
“Yeah?” His voice was wet and breaking. “‘S me, S-Scorp.”
Scorpius stopped rustling in the sheets. “Al, are you okay?”
He should be. “Y-yeah, you can go back to sleep.”
“Alb—”
“‘M fine, Scorpius.” It came out sharper than Albus had intended and immediately fresh pressure was building behind his eyes. “S-sorry, I—”
He should be fine, but he wasn’t. His lungs were filling up with sand and each inhale seemed to hold less and less oxygen no matter how deep he tried to make it, his fingertips were tingling with the effort of clutching the sheets but wouldn’t let go, probably couldn’t even if he wanted to because he was shaking and shaking and shaking and the rest of his body was going numb, tears were burning his eyes and his heart was closing his throat and he could barely breathe and he’d never had a panic attack before and he was so scared, so scared he couldn’t think—
“Albus!” Scorpius’s hands were squeezing his own. “Al, can you hear me?”
A light had switched on. Albus could see his face, brows drawn together with worry.
“Y-yes,” he choked on the word, gasping for breath but he couldn’t get enough of it, there were tears falling onto the comforter—
“Al, hey, listen, I’m right here, okay? Can you feel my hands in yours, Al?”
“Y-yes,” he was getting the awful awful feeling that his ribcage was opening up, that everything inside of it was just going to float right out through his skin—
“Could you squeeze them for me, Al, please?”
He tried to, tried to focus on the feeling of Scorpius’s fingers gripping his.
“That’s good, Al, yeah? I-I need you to breathe with me, alright?” Scorpius was guiding one of his hands to press against his chest. Right over his heart. “Can you feel my heart beating there?”
“Y-yes,” Albus shut his eyes.
“Good. Try to breathe in and out, okay? I’m right here with you, you’re safe, okay?”
In. Scorpius’s warm hand covered his own. Out. His chest rose in steady time with the words in Albus’s head. In. Scorpius’s thumb started to rub circles into the back of his hand. Out. He let go of the other hand to trail his fingers up Albus’s elbow. Over his shoulder. To gently cup his cheek. In. The motions of his chest did not change. Out. But underneath it his heartbeat quickened just slightly, and Albus’s face warmed beneath his touch. In. The sand in his lungs was dissolving while each breath became less shuddered. Out. And the tears were beginning to dry on his face.
“Better?” Albus opened his eyes to a dimmer light that made Scorpius’s face a little pink. The soft voice he always used, even softer now, was almost hoarse.
“Yeah.” His hand hadn’t yet left Albus’s cheek, and maybe Albus didn’t want it to. The world seemed to be putting itself back together around them, slowly but surely.
“D’you wanna… just sit for a little while?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Scorpius released the hand he’d been holding to his chest and carefully took his palm from Albus’s face, turning to lean against the headboard and patting the pillow beside him. “C’mere.”
Albus scooched back to join him, resisting the urge to touch the place above his jaw where Scorpius had cupped. This bed was starting to feel a lot larger than it really was.
“Al?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Did he? Not really. Maybe. Scorp was looking at him with something in his eyes that said he wouldn’t judge. “I…” he couldn’t say it was stupid, even though it felt so. Scorpius had nightmares, and they weren’t stupid. “I had a nightmare.”
“About what?”
“I… it was about my mum.” What compelled him to tell the truth Albus did not know. “I mean, it’s stupid, I know, she’s alive, she’s fine, I just… sorry, I shouldn’t even have—”
“Albus, did she die?” His voice was softer still than before, if that was possible.
“Wh-what?”
“Your mum, in the dream? Did she die?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah.”
“Al—”
“I-I’m sorry, I know it shouldn’t’ve—shouldn’t’ve freaked me out like that, I didn’t mean to make you, make you deal with me when you’ve really been through that, when your—”
“Al.” It wasn’t until Scorpius grabbed his wrist that Albus realized he’d begun to tremble again, drawing his limbs in close to his body. “It’s okay, alright? Just because your mum’s alive doesn’t make it stupid to be scared of her death. Just because mine’s the one dead doesn’t make it stupid for you to feel this way, y’know?”
“I—”
“You’re already feeling sad, right?”
“I—y-yeah. Sor—”
“No, wait, you don’t need to apologize. ‘Cause if you’re already feeling sad, why would it make sense for you to make yourself feel guilty on top of that, just for feeling the way you feel?”
Albus didn’t have a response to that, and Scorpius squeezed his hand.
“It’s okay, Albus, yeah?”
“Yeah.” But the logic wasn’t making him feel any less sick. The bed was getting cold between them, and Al was tired of pretending. He just wanted Scorpius to hold him and never let go.
“Could I… do you want a hug?” The thoughts must have shown.
There really hadn’t been a point tonight, Albus was realizing, that he didn’t want a hug from his best friend. And the quiet way Scorpius said it made him want to cry all over again. He opened his mouth to answer and shut it just as quickly when a sob threatened to escape, blinking hard and turning to see Scorpius watching him with open arms.
Al started to cry.
And before he could curl up alone Scorpius was there, wrapping himself around Albus and holding him tight, rocking slightly and rubbing his back when Albus sobbed into his shoulder, telling him that he wasn’t going anywhere, he was right here, everything and everyone was alright.
“I-I’m sorry,” Albus choked out. “I—Scor, you don’t have to—”
Scorpius pulled back, lowering his head to catch Albus’s downturned gaze. “No, but I want to, yeah? I want to be with you, I want to be here for you. I want to help you, okay, Al?”
“You—you shouldn’t fee—”
“I shouldn’t feel like I need to do this just because I’m your friend?” When no response came, Scorpius’s mouth turned upwards at the corners with the beginning of a smile. “I don’t, Albus. I’m here because I want to be, yeah? Because I care about you, because I—because I’d do anything for you. Remember?”
Albus did remember that. They referenced the event often, a mention that never failed to make him smile. And the more time he spent sitting like this, the less sick he seemed to feel. “Yeah.”
"You don’t have anything to apologize for, and you can’t change how I feel, so you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not, okay?”
“I do like it, though.” Warmth was seeping up the neck of his nightshirt now, but he didn’t regret saying it. He could hear Scorpius smiling.
“I like being stuck with you too.”