Who: Astoria and Scorpius Where: Astoria's bungalow When: Wednesday, late evening What: Scorpius has a bad dream. Status/Rating: Incomplete, lowish?
When he reached out to touch her, his hands became soaked in something warm and sticky. The coppery smell assailed him before he knew what it was. Blood. She was smiling as the blood pooled around her body. She was smiling as he tried and failed to seal the wound with a useless wooden stick.
It's okay, she said.
You're dead to me, she said, and now I'll be dead to you.
When he looked down at his hands again, they were holding knives. The knives that had carved her body.
Scorpius jolted awake with a muted gasp. It was cold, and his brow was coated in a sheen of sweat. He didn't know how late it was, but something compelled him to throw off his sheets, pad out of the bedroom, and lace his trainers.
It was a dream, he kept telling himself. But it didn't matter how many times he told himself. He knew it was absurd and borderline mad, but Scorpius needed to go see– needed to be certain–
Hoping her roommates were deep-sleepers, Scorpius unlocked the bungalow door and stole inside. All he'd need was a little glimpse of her sleeping and he could go back to bed in peace. Merlin's pants this was ridiculous. Wincing at every creak made by the floorboards, Scorpius held his breath as he put his hand over the main bedroom's doorknob..