Fic: Only a Love Story (Harry/Scorpius) - Part 5

[ciraarana]

Darkening Horizon

Harry's mood of bewildered pleasure doesn't last for long. His afternoon meeting is surprisingly short, which isn't entirely welcome as it leaves him far too much time to try to do his paperwork and brood over Scorpius. About what he said and did and what he probably meant. Yet no matter how long he broods and thinks, Harry can't come to a satisfying solution, which makes him moody and irritated.

He goes home early and Scorpius isn't there.

Harry stares into the empty living room and at the silent piano for entirely too long. He doesn't know where Scorpius is since he hasn't mentioned any plans to Harry. But his unexpected absence seems to confirm Harry's darker thoughts.

He'd been confused earlier. First, Scorpius seemed to have discovered an attraction to a younger, fitter wizard, and then displayed a somewhat unusual possessiveness over Harry afterwards. It doesn't fit, nothing about it does, but to Harry the evidence for second thoughts on his lover's part seems to be overwhelming.

The only other explanation that flits through Harry's head is jealousy, but what reason does Scorpius have to be jealous? He's beautiful, brilliant, and Harry loves him more than he knows what to do with.

Harry's increasingly gloomy thoughts are interrupted by a chime that signals an incoming fire-call and Neville's head popping up in the fireplace.

'Harry!' Neville looks surprised. 'Oh, good, you're in. Do you have a couple of minutes?'

'Hullo, Neville.' Harry forces a smile, and it's easier than he thought. 'Of course. What's up?'

'Nothing, nothing,' Neville hastens to say. 'Since you're there, can I come through?'

'Of course.' Harry steps back, and a moment later Neville comes through the fire. He shakes Harry's hand with a big smile.

'It's good to see you, Harry. But you look tired. Working too long, eh?' Neville gives him a searching glance.

'There's a lot to do.' Harry shrugs. 'Would you like tea or something?'

'Oh, no, thank you, I can't stay that long. I just wanted to … Well, I …'

Harry's brows rise at Neville's uncharacteristic nervousness. He hasn't seen Neville fidget like this since Snape's classroom. 'What is it, something happened?'

Neville rubs his hands. A small shower of soil drifts to the floor. 'Well, you could say that, I guess. Um. Nothing bad, just, I thought you'd still be at work and I'd meant to leave you a message and … Ah, hell.' He straightens his shoulders and meets Harry's eyes squarely. 'Harry, I wanted to invite you and Scorpius to my engagement party.'

'Engagem- Neville, you dog!' Harry punches Neville's shoulder. 'You never said you were going to propose! Congratulations!'

Neville's expression is part pleased, part embarrassed. 'Um, well, Lillian finally said yes.' His voice is filled with quiet joy.

Harry congratulates him again, thinking how his friend deserves to finally have found happiness again after the death of his first wife. He asks about the couple's plans for the party and their future, and Neville is only too willing to sit down for a bit and tell Harry. Harry listens, happy for Neville and sorry for himself.

'But I'm boring you,' Neville says after he has detailed the plans for a new greenhouse at Hogwarts that he wants to built. He gives Harry an uncomfortably sharp look. 'You look exhausted, Harry. Are things that bad at the Ministry?'

'Do you want a short answer or an honest one?' Harry half-jokes, not really wanting to go through it all again. He's happy when he gets to go home at the end of the day and leave it all behind for a time.

'The honest one, of course.' Neville shakes his head. 'You shouldn't be trying to lie to friends.'

Harry grimaces and reluctantly tells Neville the things that bother him most about his new job. Neville is a good listener, though, and soon Harry finds himself talking about the political dance and all the factions that seem to be trying to push him their way, about being bothered during lunch by visitors, and about his secretary's inability to realise that Harry is not his predecessor. By the time he's bitching about the Wizengamot question, he is feeling a lot better. Seems that talking about it does help, after all.

'I just wish they'd leave me alone, just this once,' he finishes with a sigh.

'It's really a lot to expect from you,' Neville says sympathetically, 'the new position and then the Wizengamot question, too. But, well, Harry, you know it's you. Boy Who Lived, youngest Head Auror ever, et cetera. People aren't ever going to give you a break.'

'I know, I know,' Harry groans, and rubs his face. 'It's just … Why does it always have to be me? Why can't they bother someone else for a change? There are enough people in the wizarding world who'd make a better Minister or Wizengamot member than I would. And if they want a war hero for the Wizengamot, why don't they ask you?'

Neville flushes beet red. 'Me?' he squeaks.

'Yeah, why not?' Harry grins.

'But … but I'm a teacher!'

'So? Dumbledore was Headmaster of Hogwarts and Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot at the same time. Why can't you be a teacher at Hogwarts and sit on the Wizengamot at the same time?'

'But, Harry, that was Dumbledore!' Neville points out.

'So?' Harry repeats. 'Dumbledore probably started the same way, though I think he was a junior member before he even became a teacher. So why not? You'll see. In twenty years' time, you'll be Headmaster and Supreme Mugwump, too!'

Neville sputters and stammers and shakes his head, telling Harry that no, he isn't really suitable for these posts. Harry laughs at him and keeps teasing him until Neville gathers his dignity and gets up, saying that he really needs to go back to Hogwarts now. He promises Harry to send an owl with the dates for his engagement party and escapes through the fire. Harry is still chuckling when the flames die down.

He is a little surprised at how much Neville's visit has improved his mood. Was talking about the situation at work really all he needed?

He hasn't ever really spoken about work to someone not involved in it, at least not in so much detail. But then, he got into the habit out of necessity during his years with the Aurors when he simply couldn't speak about what he was doing. And being Head Auror hadn't seemed so different from being an Auror, so that promotion hadn't caused him so much stress as this more recent one does.

This time, he's under a lot of stress - but he can talk about it. Most of what he does isn't exactly classified work. But then again, he simply isn't used to moaning about work because it has been impossible to do for so long. And because Harry thinks he ought to be able to deal with it by himself; he's always dealt with stuff himself, after all. And because after eight to ten, sometimes twelve, hours at work, he really doesn't want to think about it all again.

But he can talk about stuff. Perhaps, if he had talked to Scorpius before, he would have felt better last night when Scorpius needed him.

On the other hand, Scorpius hasn't really shown a lot of interest in Harry's work. If he simply doesn't care, if he is thinking about ending things, then he probably wouldn't be interested in investing a lot of energy in Harry, would he?

Harry is still pondering the question when he hears the front door close and Scorpius call out, 'Priddy, I'm home!'

The house-elf chirps a greeting from the kitchen, even as quick footsteps approach the living room.

'Have you heard from Harry-' Scorpius begins, and he's looking over his shoulder so he doesn't see Harry standing in the door until the last moment and almost runs into him. He jumps, eyes wide in surprise, and exclaims, 'Harry! You're home already!'

Harry grins and catches the book Scorpius nearly drops. 'Yep. I ran away.' He casts a cursory glance at the book. It's something to do with Runes. 'Did I know you had plans for tonight and simply forgot again?'

'Oh.' Scorpius shakes the surprise off and takes his book back. 'No, no plans, I … Well, I had this idea and looked it up and discovered something that might help with the project and I decided to go to tell Alexander and see what he thinks about it and-'

'Hey, slow down, it's all right.' Harry interrupts Scorpius's breathless explanation with a bemused smile. 'I was just wondering whether I'd managed to be a bad partner again and forgot something.'

'Oh, no, no!' Scorpius reassures him intently, eyes searching Harry's face.

He seems a little too … something, and the niggling doubt creeps back into Harry's mind. He tries to shake it off, but it still makes him say, 'I didn't know you need Runes for Arithmancy.' Scorpius blinks, and Harry nods at the books Scorpius is clutching. 'That's Runes, isn't it?'

'Oh. Yes.' Scorpius stares at the book as though he hadn't realised he was holding it. 'Yes, because of the Runic Exponents. I told you, yes? And afterwards I wondered if the problem wasn't applying the Orthogon Division to the Runics first, and if not then something about the nature of the runes themselves might help us, and so I went to discuss it with Alex.'

Of course, Harry has no way of telling if that's true but, God, he hates distrusting Scorpius. 'Did you have any success?'

And Scorpius's brilliant smile scatters the doubt, because the glow in his eyes is purely academic. 'Yes! We were totally going about it the wrong way because we were thinking like modern wizards. But the Runics were introduced to Arithmancy by the Ancient Ones, and they didn't have half the theories we do today, so of course we need to apply their knowledge.' He beams and nods with satisfaction. 'It's going to be so much work! We'll have to reconfigure most of the solutions we have to date and look up all the stuff we dismissed before! It will take ages!'

Harry smiles, watching him all but bounce to the bookshelf, thinking that only a Ravenclaw could get that excited about the prospect of more work to be done.

Thinking how much he loves to see Scorpius so eager and passionate about an Arithmancy project so arcane that probably only two dozen people in the whole world will understand what it's about.

Scorpius whirls back from the shelf where he deposited the book, still smiling brightly. His eyes fall onto the fireplace, and he stills. Narrows his eyes. Looks at Harry.

'We had a visitor?' His voice sounds suspicious, as though he thinks Harry is hiding something from him.

And how could he tell from one look at the fireplace? Harry shakes his head, impressed. 'You'd make a damn good Auror, Scorpius. Yes, Neville was here for a couple of minutes.' He grins and winks. 'He finally proposed to Lillian, and she said yes, and he wanted to invite us to their engagement party.'

Scorpius's face relaxes, and he rolls his eyes. 'Harry, Neville proposed months ago!' he says with an amused smile.

'He did?' Harry is honestly surprised. 'But … he told me she'd said yes. Why would they wait that long to celebrate?'

'Because she probably only said yes today.' Scorpius brushes a soft kiss over Harry's lips. His smile reminds Harry of Hermione when Ron is being particularly slow. He doesn't like the parallel.

'But …'

'Well, she held him off for ages,' Scorpius says lightly, steering Harry towards the kitchen.

'She did?'

'Uh-huh.'

'Why? How do you know?' Harry asks, trailing after his lover.

'Because she wanted him to be sure. Sure he wanted her, because she doesn't want a family. No children, that is, and she wanted Neville to be certain that he's okay with that. And I know because she basically told me when we went to dinner with them and the Weasleys last month.'

Harry sinks down into his chair and lets Priddy put a plate in front of him. 'She did?'

Scorpius smiles at him. 'Uh-huh.

Harry shakes his head, amazed that Scorpius seems to know so much more about his friends than he does. He'd never be able to keep track of everyone and everything important like this. They probably have extra classes on remembering stuff in Ravenclaw, he thinks.

'Is Master Harry not being hungry?'

Priddy's anxious voice snaps Harry back to the present, and he realises that he's been staring at Scorpius for what has probably been several minutes. Scorpius looks at him with an amused expression and raises his eyebrows. Harry flushes, blinks, and looks down at his place.

As always, Priddy's food looks delicious. Harry's stomach growls.

'No, no, I'm definitely hungry, Priddy, thanks, don't worry. I was just -' he glances back at Scorpius - 'thinking about something.'

A soft pink creeps over Scorpius's cheeks. Scorpius ducks his head. 'Something good or something bad?'

Harry pokes his fork at his lasagne. 'Just … just wondering what I'd do without you to keep track of things.'

'Be horribly lost,' Scorpius says with a little laugh.

'Yes,' Harry agrees slowly. 'Good that I have you, then.'

There's a heavy sadness pressing on his chest, but Harry can ignore it as Scorpius blushes and smiles, obviously pleased, and the evening passes in an unexpected and, on Harry's part, somewhat tense, peace.

*

Harry spends most of the next day at work thinking about Neville and Lillian and the Wizengamot and about suggesting Neville for the position. The longer he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea. But Neville is about to be married. Can Harry put that much pressure on him?

Then Harry wonders how he'd go about it, if he thought suggesting Neville was a good idea. Is there protocol? Would he have to lodge an application or something with the Wizengamot? He has no idea, and he doesn't want to ask anyone. With his luck, it would get out, and the mere hint of Harry Potter taking an interest in the Wizengamot question would bring the political world to a fever pitch.

Harry has no interest in deliberately making his life worse. To divert himself, he tells his secretary to see if the Head Auror and the Chief Hit Wizard are in, and when he receives positive answers, he packs his files and sends orders to have them meet him in the Moody Conference Room.

The room was named for Alastor Moody, and that was Harry's original reason for using the room when he needed to have Words with his Aurors. Moody would have liked to hear how often Harry barked: 'Constant vigilance!' at his team. Of course it became infamous very quickly, and being "called to the Moody Room" meant the Head Auror was In A Mood.

These days, Harry doesn't get to bark 'Constant vigilance!' at anyone, but he still likes the room for having Words.

And there are Words when the Head Auror and the Chief Hit Wizard arrive. Loud ones, and angry ones, and many. But Harry emerges victorious, and somehow that victory makes him decide to go ahead and suggest Neville for the Wizengamot. Neville is a grown up. He can say no. But perhaps he says yes, and then Harry will kill two doxies with one curse, because not only will the conspiracies and the pushing will ebb down, but he will also have someone he really trusts on the Wizengamot.

Of course, that leaves the question of how to do it. He still hasn't found an answer when he leaves that night, unusually late.

Both Scorpius and Priddy are annoyed with him for being so late, but while it's easy to soothe Priddy's ruffled feathers by devouring the dinner she's kept warm for him, Scorpius is another matter. He seems to want to talk, and Harry has trouble concentrating, his mind still half on the Wizengamot.

Scorpius finally gives up on Harry with an irritated hiss and stalks over to the piano. Harry is momentarily jolted completely out of his musings as Scorpius begins to play something fast and hard and uncomfortably high-pitched.

He hesitates for a moment, but then approaches the angry young man and lays a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Scorpius, I just-' he begins to say, but Scorpius shrugs his hand away with a sound that is almost a snarl. Harry backs off, not in the mood for a row just now, and goes back to trying to work out his problem.

Scorpius's music has turned to something dark and ominous by the time Harry has convinced himself that it is a good idea to simply write to the retiring witch and make his suggestion for a worthy successor. If that's not the right way to go about it, she at least will know how it ought to be done.

He goes to his old study, hunting for quill and parchment. The room is cold and a little dusty. Harry hasn't spent much time in here since Scorpius moved in, and these days its sole use seems to be storage for Harry's Auror books and clutter that has amassed over the years.

Harry lights the lamps, absently thinking about clearing the clutter out some day, and sits down at his old desk. It feels odd, being in here, sitting at this desk. But Harry needs to concentrate, which he can't do in the living room tonight. Which is probably his fault, but he needs to do this thing now.

That's easier said than done, though, Harry thinks as he crumples his fourth attempt. He doesn't know the witch well, after all, so what does he say to her? He needs to make his words deferent - but not too subservient, of course. And he needs to make sure she understands that he really wants Neville as her successor without pressuring her too much.

Harry pulls on his hair, chews on his quill, and tries again.

He thinks that at one point the piano falls silent and Scorpius shows up, watching him from the door as Harry struggles with his phrasing. He might even have said something. Harry thinks that he waved him away, muttering about being busy. But he can't be sure, because when he finally emerges from his dense concentration with a finished letter that he thinks fulfils all his purposes, the piano is playing again.

Harry cocks his head, listening with a deepening frown. The music sounds harsh and bitter and dissonant. Quickly, he gathers his finished letter and all his crumpled up attempts, and hurries to the living room.

Scorpius is so hunched over that Harry almost can't see him. The piano seems to wail at him.

Harry dumps everything on the couch and makes to rush to the piano, to Scorpius. Because something must be very, very wrong for Scorpius to play like this.

But when he approaches, Scorpius looks up, and the expression on his face is so forbidding that Harry stops.

'Scorpius?' he says hesitantly, reaching out a hand.

Scorpius sneers at him, tosses his head, and disappears behind his instrument.

That is an even clearer dismissal than the cold shoulder two nights ago.

Harry's heart sinks, and his elation over the completed letter is replaced by sorrow. Something is wrong with Scorpius, but the young man doesn't want to be comforted by Harry. And if he doesn't want to be comforted by Harry …

Harry turns away, suddenly very cold inside.

If Scorpius doesn't want Harry to comfort him any longer, is there anything else that Harry can offer? Now that Scorpius is aware that his lover is growing old - Harry's as old as Scorpius's father, after all! - and might be interested in another handsome, young wizard …

Shoulders slumped, knee aching, Harry picks the letter up, throws the crumpled parchments into the fire, and leaves. He'll send the letter tomorrow from the Ministry. He can't think about it right now.

Once again, Harry slowly climbs the stairs to their bedroom, puts on his pyjamas, and curls up under his comforter. After a few minutes, he casts a warming charm on the blankets. He can't seem to stop shivering.

There's a voice in his head that tells him sharply that he's a fool. He's forty-seven and has no right to act like a teenager, hiding in the dark and pretending that he isn't crying. But Scorpius's rejection hurt, and it cut even more deeply because it's the second time in three days, and Harry doesn't know what to do any more. He doesn't understand Scorpius, who is pushing Harry away one day only to pull him close the next, and Harry can't take the constant mood swings any more.

Though there's been more pushing than pulling lately. And it hurts.

The sharp voice tells him he's a fool, anyway. Did he really expect Scorpius to stay with him forever? Scorpius is a young man; of course he'd have different lovers before he settles down. Harry points out that Scorpius did have lovers before Harry, but the sharp voice snorts and tells him schoolyard romances and short flings don't count.

Besides, didn't Harry start off as one of them as well? It only became more because Scorpius had this big falling out with his parents and needed somewhere to stay and someone to comfort and love him. He's over that and has been for a long time. He doesn't need some kind of substitute father-figure any longer. He can stand on his own two feet, and Harry helped him there.

That hurts, too.

The piano cries, and Harry grits his teeth. He half-considers going downstairs and trying to approach Scorpius again, risking another rejection, because perhaps Scorpius is waiting for him. Waiting for Harry to come and take the pain away. Like he's always done.

But Harry doesn't dare. He can risk his life without thought while hunting Dark wizards, but he has never been brave where his heart is concerned.

So he lies there, aching and cold, listening to the piano which seems to have taken on a weeping quality, and wondering. Wondering when things went so horribly wrong.

He falls asleep listening to the piano, and when he wakes up the next morning, the bed beside him is empty and cold.

*

The next evening, Harry makes sure he comes home on time. Having not yet received a negative answer to the letter he sent to the Wizengamot witch by the time he leaves encourages him, and he spends some time in several Muggle shops in London before he goes home.

Harry doesn't often randomly bring Scorpius presents, mostly because he is never really sure whether Scorpius will like it or nor or whether he will think Harry unbearably mushy. Scorpius isn't a girl, after all.

He isn't entirely sure this time, either, about the presents and about Scorpius's probable reaction, given the events of last night. But Harry is hopeful that Scorpius will at least listen to him, and perhaps they can solve this problem. He has to think they can, whatever it is. They have to.

Clutching his package, Harry Apparates home, hoping Scorpius will like the surprise and the presents. Harry has picked sheet music by one of the composers Scorpius adores so much. He doesn't often read from a score, knowing his favourite pieces by heart, but Harry knows that Scorpius enjoys the challenge of learning a new piece of music. Harry debated over whether or not adding flowers, and in the end bought one single flower, of a deep and velvety red colour.

Priddy greets him in the hall and helps Harry to untangle himself from his coat, the task made difficult by Harry's refusal to relinquish his presents for even the amount of time it would take to slip out of his coat.

'Is Scorpius home?' he asks, cocking his head towards the living room. It is entirely too silent.

'Master Scorpius is not home, Master Harry,' Priddy replies, eyes huge and worried.

Harry clutches his package. 'Did he say when he'd come back?'

Priddy shakes her head, ears quivering. 'Master Scorpius is leaving and telling Priddy that he is going out, but not where he is going and when he is coming back.'

Harry swallows and licks his dry lips. 'Ah. Okay. Thank you, Priddy.'

Still clutching his presents, Harry goes into the living room and sinks down on his couch. His head feels empty. He waits.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, waiting. Priddy comes and asks him if he wants dinner. Harry doesn't feel like eating at all and shakes his head. He feels if he just sits there, waits until Scorpius comes back, things will be all right.

After dark, Priddy comes to light the lamps, and Harry wakes up from his trance. He looks at the clock. His heart sinks. The thought that Scorpius won't be coming back tonight surges up and can't be shaken away or denied.

Suddenly worried, Harry gets to his feet, ignores his twingeing knee, and rushes up the stairs. Then he exhales a breath of relief. Scorpius's things are still there.

Harry sags on the bed and looks down at the package he is still holding.

He feels like an idiot.

He is angry with himself.

He should have talked to Scorpius last night. Scorpius probably had something important to say, and Harry didn't listen.

Harry didn't listen because he was so busy with his letter. He ignored Scorpius for something that was most likely useless and only meant to make his life a little easier, anyway. He shouldn't have ignored Scorpius for something this … this trivial.

Harry feels guilty.

He feels resentful because damn, this thing with the Wizengamot isn't trivial, at least not to Harry, he could really do with less stress in his life right now, thank you very much. But it lasts only for a second.

He is getting worried. Where is Scorpius? What is he doing? Who is he meeting? Did he go to the Manor? Malfoy probably won't let him out again. One of Scorpius's friends? Someone from the project then? This Alex he so urgently had to see yesterday?

Harry has to get up then, move, do something. He can't sit still. But he can't concentrate on anything, either.

He drifts about, miserable and worried, watched by a silent and equally unhappy house-elf.

By midnight, Scorpius still isn't home, and Harry goes to bed.

Alone.

Again.

He lies in bed and listens to the unbearably loud silence around him.

* * *

>> Part 6