Give Me the Rhythm of Your Heartbeats

"I suppose I love this life, in spite of my clenched fist." Birthday, Andrea Gibson

"Albus," he whispers to you in the dead of the night. "Come over here." And you do. Every time, you do. You never regret it, though you have your doubts. Who wouldn't? Sleeping with the enemy—an age old tactic; only you're really in love, aren't you? Hopelessly in love, drowning in his arms as he tries to hold you up with charm and hollow promises that don't extend beyond his sunken cheeks. So this time, you hesitate.

You are burning. You are on fire. And even though he holds you in the ocean of his words, you cannot stop turning to ashes.

When you've been hiding from love your entire life, it's hard to accept that someone cares about you. It's easier, it's less painful, to push them away. To add wood to the fire and burn them if they get too close. Feeling alone is familiar. Comfortable. You like the pain and the emptiness. You like being able to feel sorry for yourself.

"Albus," he whispers again. "What are you waiting for?"

You leave the comfort of your sheets—cool and warm all at once—and slip into his. They smell like him. He intertwines his fingers with yours and begins to whisper those broken and lying words into your ear. And who are you to believe that they mean anything? He has lied to you. He has always lied to you in one last desperate attempt to keep you with him. He needs you like you need him.

His words tangle in your hair and tug at your gut and guilt you into staying. As they always do. Because sometimes being with him is better than being alone.

(You didn't say always.)

"I love you," he tells you, the words making your fingers go numb. "I love you I love you I love you."

You feign sleep so you don't have to reply, and he sighs as though he's both relieved and upset you didn't hear him. He tosses and turns for hours, and you cannot fall asleep. You hear his agitated breathing behind you and turn over, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. He is surprised, and pulls away.

"Wait, Albus," he says softly. You smile sadly.

"It's okay."

"No, I…"

Neither of you sleep, but you lay back to back, staring at the walls and wondering why you are burning while he is drowning.

Your alarm jolts you into getting up and reminds you to climb back into your own bed before the others catch you. You'll miss him, but you won't. After all, tonight is usually another night.

(You didn't say always.)

You dread the end of the day. You dread the dungeons, where you will inevitably end up, underneath a green canopy with a pale body who swears he loves you.

It has been a very long time without love, dear. You know that so well. Your Gryffindor brother is on tense terms with you. Your little lion sister has decided that you're not her type of company. And your ever-perfect parents aren't too fond of their outcast son (and the drugs under your pillow don't really help).

You will trust him. You promise yourself. You'll at least try to open your wounds and let him see who you are and what you're made of and what you've done. You are a product of the shadows; a little boy who became a man before his time. Now you're seventeen and reckless, seventeen and dangerous, seventeen and scared. He is seventeen and beautiful, seventeen and clever, seventeen and tangled up inside because his father never got over who he used to be and his mother was always too scared to help him when things went so wrong so fast. He has told you these things. You have remained a closed book.

Soon you will leave Hogwarts. There will be nothing left of childhood. You will be thrown against the walls of the real world and no one will help you up. You need him. You think you might need him, sometimes.

(You didn't say always.)

When everyone else is at Hogsmeade for the last time and the dusk kisses your fingertips the way you wish he would kiss yours, you whisper in his ear.

"Give me poetry."

He leans back against the bleachers and looks over the Quidditch pitch, where the two of you spent most of your evenings since first year.

"Give me the rhythm of your heartbeats and let me look into your soul. Tell me that you love me not because I love you, but because you are intoxicated by my eyes and drowning in my skin. When they break me because I am different, put me back together and show me we are the same. Whisper to me that falling in love with me was not a choice, but something that was always meant to happen. When we look at the stars, write my name in them and turn the moon so his face is smiling at us. And if you cannot take me with you, stay with me so I am never alone. Being scared does not mean that we are wrong, so breathe life into me and make it right.

Even if you will not see that these words are made for you, take off your mask and lay it down so I can see who you are. You hide behind your closed eyes but I still love the way that I can see myself reflected in them. Your fists are clenched but they still hold mine and make me feel like you are the other half that I have been missing. Your arms are crossed but I can still feel them holding me in my darkest hours. I spend my sleepless nights dreaming of you and my dreams sleeping with you. Show me that if our heartbeats do not match yet at least our ribs are intertwined and one day they will beat in time. Show me that forever can exist even for those who aren't destined for heaven.

When everything else has burned, take me to the ocean and let me wash away the ashes. Dig the glass out of my skin and save me from myself. If I fall beneath the ocean waves, rescue me and bring me onto the sand so I can be sure that you are here with me. Fall in love with me quickly so I don't have to wait another moment for you. Swear to me that you will never break my heart and couldn't if you had the chance. Give me the euphoria of knowing that another person has completely and totally fallen into me and never let me come down from the high. Love me the way you would love yourself because I am just your hopes and dreams in another's body, and if I never live another day in my life, spend today with me so you will be my forever.

Give me the rhythm of your heartbeats and look into my soul, because I am in love with you."

He looks up at the sky. You swear to everything that you believe in that you will turn the moon for him. "Who wrote that?" you ask.

"Me." he says.

Him. "You." It was for you. It was all for you. Knowing that you have caused him enough pain and enough trouble to write you those words suddenly pulls you from your seat, and without knowing what you are doing you run to the castle.

Lily is in the Great Hall, playing Exploding Snap. She is laughing with her friends and it's too much for you. Life is carrying on, oblivious to the fact that you have just broken two hearts.

"Albus?" she asks. You shake your head and run again, down to the dungeons, away from where she can find you, but she catches up to you.

"Go away!" you shout. "Everything is my fault, Lily! Everything! We're not a family anymore and I've gone and destroyed everything!"

She looks at you, and glances up and down. "Albus. It's not your fault. Mum and dad are…two quarrelling lovers, shall we say? They love each other but they will never stop butting heads. That's not you. James has too much pride, and I'm too much of a coward. I'm sorry, Al, it should be me who's apologizing." The sobs rack your body like never before and she catches you before you fall. The cold ground comes more slowly as she sets you down. "What happened?"

"He loves me," you manage between quick breaths. "He loves me and I can't love him because I'll hurt him, Lily, because I always do."

"Who does?"

"Scorpius."

"I'll beat him up, I swear I will."

"Don't. Beat me up, Lil. Please."

She shakes her head. "Never."

Neither of you speak much after that, but she stays until she can't, and then you retreat to your bed, where the sheets don't feel as nice anymore. He doesn't ask you tonight, and for some reason you're surprised. What did you expect?

Sometimes, you stop thinking about it. When you are thinking about it, you can usually push it away.

(You didn't say always.)

You can't find him, after it's over. You're lost in the throngs of jubilant witches and wizards, seventeen and ready to take the world by storm. Graduation has sobered you. Reluctantly, you leave with your family. Your mum and dad are finally laughing, and James seems more at ease.

Only Lily sees behind the smile, and she squeezes your hand. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Me too."

At home, you lock yourself into your room and don't let anyone in, even when Lily tries to talk to you.

"Hold on, Lily, please."

She understands.

You write him a letter, because words are the only way you can get through to him.

I can't, Scorpius. Sometimes always isn't always and I break things and I can't get them back. I broke you. And I'm sorry.

You don't sign it. He'll know.

Your owl flies out the window, and you unlock the door.

There is a soft knock.

"Lily, please. Not right now."

"Lily told me I was wanted," a voice says, and you can hear the half smile in it.

Opening the door, you are stunned and euphoric all at once. He drowns you in his kiss, and neither of you leave it for what seems like forever.

A soft hum from next to you makes you start. Your owl, the pretentious thing, sits next to you with its head cocked and a letter tied to its leg addressed to the man in front of you.

"What's that?" he asks, smiling.

"Nothing." You untie the letter and rip it into pieces. "Incendio." The fireplace in your room roars to life and consumes the last remaining traces of your doubt.

"I love you, Albus."

You are surprised when the words slip effortlessly out of your mouth. "As I love you, Scorpius."

He kisses you and mumbles into your mouth. "Give me the rhythm of your heartbeat…"

"It's yours," you whisper. "It always has been."

(This time, you say always.)

(This time, it really is always.)

A/N: This was written for the always-beautiful Ella for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2013. Ella, love, I hope you like it and I hope it's okay that I went off your list because I know AlScor is your favorite.

Also for Camp Potter: First Aid.

The poem that Scorpius tells to Albus is completely original, I didn't steal it from anywhere! (Promise.)

Please stop and leave a review on your way out, if you can. Thank you for reading.

Allie