After Scorpius has let himself slump back against the door in relief and blinked away the tears, the handle is pushed down, hitting his elbow hard. The sudden pain makes him inhale sharply. His vision has already blurred once more, but not because of something as trivial as the subtle sting that runs up his arm, but because his nose has begun to filter out Albus" scent from beneath the stale, stagnant air of an unused room.