Predictably, Scorpius doesn't say anything when he comes back into the dormitory, later that evening. He's holding two sheets of parchment. One is another note. And I don't see the second sheet because he tears it up shakily, dropping it into the bin next to the door. Then he sits down on his bed, closing the hangings silently.
I stand up, walking to the bin to look at what he ripped up. At this point, if there is anything, anything at all, that I can do to help him, I'm going to do it. Or I'm going to try. Because he doesn't deserve this, deserve detentions and punishment for something he probably cannot change.
I pull one of the piece out, frowning. It's written in Scorpius' handwriting, but it's barely legible, unlike his normally-perfect writing.
From what I can decipher, it's his potions essay. We were set it weeks ago and I am reasonably sure that we did this together, or our new form of together. However, the ink is still smudging beneath my fingertips. It was written this evening, likely finished in the last twenty minutes or so.
I glance back at his bed, which is still silent, and then I scoop the scraps of parchment out of the bin. I hurry back into the Common Room, grabbing a new roll of parchment, a quill, and some ink. I don't care if Scorpius doesn't even acknowledge this. He isn't going to keep getting detentions because of it. Somehow or other, I will get enough information from him to help.
The Common Room is reasonably quiet and I sit down at a desk, spreading out the essay. It's reasonably obvious as to which pieces are the first and second, but then it becomes more difficult to tell. I copy out the first pieces, slowly trying to work out what he's written. I can't imagine what he was reliving when he tried to write this. And I have no idea why he didn't just stop.
*
It takes a while, but eventually, I manage to copy over the majority of the essay, and where I can't decipher his handwriting at all, I make the most educated guess that I can. When it's done, I close the ink bottle and pick everything up, walking back towards the dormitory.
Scorpius is still awake, staring silently into space as I sit down opposite him, putting the quill and ink down. I place the original essay beside them and then I walk over to Scorpius' bed, holding the legible copy.
"Hey," I crouch down next to his bed. "How are you doing?"
He doesn't ignore me, but he doesn't reply, rolling over onto his side. I don't allow myself to smile. That's more of a reaction than I have elicited from him in a long time.
"The essay that you binned," I say quietly, "I wrote it out for you. If you needed to hand it in."
The silence continues and I place the essay beside him, standing up and taking a deep breath. I need to say this now. Otherwise it'll never get said. Whatever happens, saying it is the right thing to do. I think I could convince myself of that.
"Look, Scorpius," I say slowly, "I know you're listening to me, so I'm just going to say this. Whatever the reason is that you're ignoring me, it's your reason. I can accept that you have that, but I'm not going to pretend that it doesn't hurt like hell."
Scorpius doesn't say anything and I find my hands starting to clench into fists. I start to pace to relieve the building frustration, walking up and down the dormitory a couple of times before stopping and leaning against my bedpost.
"It's okay," I mumble, "if I'm not your best friend anymore. Things change and that's okay. But you're still my friend. And I'm going to help you."
"I don't need help."
I jump slightly as Scorpius grunts the words, still unmoving. And then I kneel down next to him again, watching his unsteady breathing. He doesn't move and I take another deep breath.
"How many times have you had detention?" I ask quietly, half-expecting him not to answer.
"That was the third time."
"You're brilliant at potions," I point out. "You shouldn't be getting detentions for slightly dodgy handwriting."
"I don't need your help, Albus."
"What if I copied out your essays for you? If they're legible, you'll stop getting in trouble."
"You don't have time–"
"I'll make time," I say firmly. "Please. Scorpius."
He sits up slowly, turning around to face me. I smile softly at him, trying not to focus on the life missing from his eyes. He doesn't smile back and I look at his hands. They're shaking, not particularly violently, but constantly.
"Hey," I murmur, taking his hands gently. "Hey, it's going to be okay. I promise it's going to be okay."
He slides down onto the floor and I pull him into a hug, smiling. He holds onto me and I don't move.
"The others..."
"They aren't here," I say. "I won't hug you...if you don't want that..."
"Not around other people," he mumbles.
"Of course."