Quidditch
Title: Quidditch
Author: Captainspag
Pairing(s): AS/S Albus Severus / Scorpius
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Harry Potter series, or these characters nor am I JKR.
The green scarf is tight around his neck as he watches, breath catching in moments, halting as the tiny speck on a broomstick above him swirls and twists in the air. He doesn’t know if it is the scarf that’s half suffocating him or the fact he keeps delaying his breathing so his fellow house-mates beside him won’t hear his frantic gasps.
Another loop, another dive, is it this the Snitch this time? His green eyes widen as the speck, now larger, pulls up just before hitting the ground. Relief surges through him. It’s nothing, of course, just a glint of a watch. But the other seeker, the young Longbottom had zoomed down as well; there was a brief second when he was sure they would collide. And that would mean another night in the infirmary, holding a deathly cold hand and assuring him that his looks weren’t ruined for life and he’d still love him even he had a marled, mashed face like his Uncle Bill.
‘Just like Malfoy!’ Parkinson shrieks into his ear, nearly causing him to put his hands over his ears. ‘Always one to show off; doubt it was even the Snitch then!’ Parkinson looks right at him and cocks his head to one side. It’s a nosy look and he doesn’t like it. ‘What do you think, Potter,’ he asks. ‘Reckon you’ll ever get up there like your old man?’
Albus shrugs his slender shoulders and bites down into the material of the green scarf when Scorpius attempts another horrifyingly daring manoeuvre. He’s got a Bludger on his tail and as he implores help from his cousin, Gloria, she nearly hit him in the head with the Beater bat. He ducked just in time. As Scorpius flew away higher and higher above the stadium to restart his search, Albus imagines the smirk he has on his face. He’s thinking he’s got all the moves, after showing off like that, Albus knows he will be.
‘I don’t think so,’ he says to Parkinson, who looks greatly like a horse and has the bite of a bad tempered one, especially when it comes to Gryffindor. Parkinson’s shoots him an imploring look. ‘I don’t like flying,’ he admits. ‘Anyway, James has carried on the tradition. First year into the Quidditch team just like dad.’
Albus searches for his brother, who is guarding the posts like a centurion. He holds a proud stance, even in the saddle of a broomstick. Albus looks like his father yes, but James is the cheeky version of his dad. Albus is waiting nervously for the moment when James actually gets in reach of Scorpius and then would be able to knock him off his broom. James hates Scorpius and Scorpius hates James. Albus knows he tries to love them both but Scorpius always came out as more important than his brother. He’s never been as family orientated as his mother, father and siblings.
‘It doesn’t sound right anyway,’ Parkinson’s says to Albus, snapping back his attention. ‘Potter playing for Slytherin?’ He shakes his head. ‘Best leave that up to your brother. ‘Anyway!’ he continues, ‘whenever we lose we turn to you to help us get revenge.’ He smirks quite like Scorpius and Albus wonders for a fleeting moment if every Slytherin has picked up on that trademark grin, he remembers catching himself doing it the other day. ‘Quite the sneak you are.’
‘Mm,’ Albus murmurs quietly, his eyes trail along the Quidditch pitch. He’s lost sight of Scorpius and his hearts pounding away in his chest for it. ‘We hardly lose,’ he adds when there is an odd silence from Parkinson’s whose has never been quiet in his life. ‘”We win, we always win,”’ he says, reciting part of the new Slytherin chant that seriously needs some work. It’s nowhere as good as Ravenclaw’s but at least it’s not as bad as Hufflepuff’s.
‘That’s right!’ cries Parkinson who punches his fist into the air as he speaks. ‘That’s damn right, Potter. YES!’ he screams once more suddenly. ‘SHE’S SMACKED HIM IN THE FACE WITH THE BAT!’
‘That’s a foul,’ mutters Albus.
‘It’s beautiful!’ Parkinson’s shouts and stands to his feet along with Albus, and they both applaud the cheating acts of their house.
Gloria, who was quite close to them, shoots the Slytherin stand a triumphant smile, and once more the stand erupts into tumultuous applause. Albus swears he feels Parkinson shudder against him when Gloria smiled as she cleaned the blood from Longbottom’s nose off on the hem of her Quidditch robes. Whatever Gloria does makes Parkinson swoon. But Albus knew he wasn’t one to talk, he always felt the same way around Scorpius.
He looks up at Parkinson who looks like he’s about to collapse over him and laughs. He shakes his head, still plagued with giggles that he hides behind his hand. He remembers something Scorpius told him about Parkinson’s mother and tries to stop himself from exploding into more laughter.
=====
‘How was I?’ Scorpius asks him as he tenderly rests his head on Albus’s shoulder, though the feat is difficult, Albus is much shorter than Scorpius.
Albus arches an eyebrow. ‘When?’ he asks and smirks as he hears Scorpius’s chuckle.
‘During the game,’ he says. ‘We didn’t win, I know but that can be easily reserved.’
‘How can it be reserved?’ raises Albus. He crawls against Scorpius, he loves this time they have together. Scorpius rests his arm around Albus’s shoulders and shrugs his shoulders. ‘McGonagall banned Time-Turners last year, after we found them.’
‘Time-Turners are illegal,’ says Scorpius as if he’d known this all long before they had decided to use the devices to watch James and several other Gryffindor’s fall into a trap they’d designed. Their year group of Slytherins were notorious. ‘It was either detention for a month or facing the Ministry. But anyway,’ he whispers and runs his fingers along Albus’s arm. ‘How was I? Splendid, wonderful as usual?’
‘I’m just happy James didn’t try and kill you this time,’ Albus laughs nervously. When Scorpius nudges him sharply in the ribs, Albus relents and Scorpius laps it up like a dog absorbing his praise. ‘You,’ he says gently as he leans further into Scorpius, ‘were incredible. You’ve been training hard.’
‘As usual I was incredible,’ Scorpius says. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Albus feels his smile against his ear.
‘You look good in the new Quidditch robes,’ he tells him.
At this Scorpius frowns, and murmurs, ‘not as good as you look in anything green, even if it is the uniform.’
Albus nods him off. ‘I thought we were talking about how amazing you are,’ he says gently. He tries to stop the yawn that breaks open his mouth but is unsuccessful and Scorpius’s notices.
‘You’re tired,’ he says.
‘I’m not that tired,’ counters Albus.
‘Yes, you are.’
He’s stood up, slipping out from behind Albus. Albus wants him to sit back down. But only for a little while longer, the senior girls will be returning from the library soon and always stop to dote over them, how cute they are together. Albus hates it, Scorpius relishes in any form of praise.
Scorpius sighs dramatically when Albus doesn’t move. ‘Come on,’ he says impatiently. ‘I’m tired too. I’ll carry you if you aren’t going to move.’
Albus looks towards the high, heavy doorway. Any minute they’d back and if they saw Scorpius carrying him to their dormitory he would be teased about it for weeks to come. Reluctantly he rises to his feet. Scorpius half smiles and half smirks, he can never seem to manage one or the other.
Up in the common room, Scorpius collapses down on Albus’s bed. Albus smiles softly and sits down beside him. Scorpius’s arms snakes around his waist and pulls him down against him, so Albus’s dark haired head rests on his chest. His hands and body is cold, even so Albus does nothing to shy away from him. Scorpius will warm up soon enough.
‘Aren’t you going to change?’ Albus asks. Scorpius is still wearing what he put on after the Quidditch match.
‘Only if you undress me,’ murmurs Scorpius. He now sounds sleepier than Albus ever did.
Albus is pulling off his own pants at this stage and shakes his head when Scorpius looks at him. ‘That’ll lead too ...’ He draws off as he notices Scorpius’s expression.
His sparkling blue eyes are already closed; blonde lashes lay on the pale white skin that’s almost like moonlight. Grinning, Albus shuns the rest of his clothing apart from a t-shirt and with some hardship he manages to pull the blankets out from under Scorpius’s form. He climbs back in next to his boyfriend, with a sigh of contentment.
When Scorpius plays Quidditch the Malfoy scares him. It’s moments like these that Albus loves the most. He’s always been something of a hopeless romantic, Scorpius knows that. Scorpius, like a try Slytherin, uses that to his advantage habitually. Does Albus care?
No, never.
Author: Captainspag
Pairing(s): AS/S Albus Severus / Scorpius
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Harry Potter series, or these characters nor am I JKR.
The green scarf is tight around his neck as he watches, breath catching in moments, halting as the tiny speck on a broomstick above him swirls and twists in the air. He doesn’t know if it is the scarf that’s half suffocating him or the fact he keeps delaying his breathing so his fellow house-mates beside him won’t hear his frantic gasps.
Another loop, another dive, is it this the Snitch this time? His green eyes widen as the speck, now larger, pulls up just before hitting the ground. Relief surges through him. It’s nothing, of course, just a glint of a watch. But the other seeker, the young Longbottom had zoomed down as well; there was a brief second when he was sure they would collide. And that would mean another night in the infirmary, holding a deathly cold hand and assuring him that his looks weren’t ruined for life and he’d still love him even he had a marled, mashed face like his Uncle Bill.
‘Just like Malfoy!’ Parkinson shrieks into his ear, nearly causing him to put his hands over his ears. ‘Always one to show off; doubt it was even the Snitch then!’ Parkinson looks right at him and cocks his head to one side. It’s a nosy look and he doesn’t like it. ‘What do you think, Potter,’ he asks. ‘Reckon you’ll ever get up there like your old man?’
Albus shrugs his slender shoulders and bites down into the material of the green scarf when Scorpius attempts another horrifyingly daring manoeuvre. He’s got a Bludger on his tail and as he implores help from his cousin, Gloria, she nearly hit him in the head with the Beater bat. He ducked just in time. As Scorpius flew away higher and higher above the stadium to restart his search, Albus imagines the smirk he has on his face. He’s thinking he’s got all the moves, after showing off like that, Albus knows he will be.
‘I don’t think so,’ he says to Parkinson, who looks greatly like a horse and has the bite of a bad tempered one, especially when it comes to Gryffindor. Parkinson’s shoots him an imploring look. ‘I don’t like flying,’ he admits. ‘Anyway, James has carried on the tradition. First year into the Quidditch team just like dad.’
Albus searches for his brother, who is guarding the posts like a centurion. He holds a proud stance, even in the saddle of a broomstick. Albus looks like his father yes, but James is the cheeky version of his dad. Albus is waiting nervously for the moment when James actually gets in reach of Scorpius and then would be able to knock him off his broom. James hates Scorpius and Scorpius hates James. Albus knows he tries to love them both but Scorpius always came out as more important than his brother. He’s never been as family orientated as his mother, father and siblings.
‘It doesn’t sound right anyway,’ Parkinson’s says to Albus, snapping back his attention. ‘Potter playing for Slytherin?’ He shakes his head. ‘Best leave that up to your brother. ‘Anyway!’ he continues, ‘whenever we lose we turn to you to help us get revenge.’ He smirks quite like Scorpius and Albus wonders for a fleeting moment if every Slytherin has picked up on that trademark grin, he remembers catching himself doing it the other day. ‘Quite the sneak you are.’
‘Mm,’ Albus murmurs quietly, his eyes trail along the Quidditch pitch. He’s lost sight of Scorpius and his hearts pounding away in his chest for it. ‘We hardly lose,’ he adds when there is an odd silence from Parkinson’s whose has never been quiet in his life. ‘”We win, we always win,”’ he says, reciting part of the new Slytherin chant that seriously needs some work. It’s nowhere as good as Ravenclaw’s but at least it’s not as bad as Hufflepuff’s.
‘That’s right!’ cries Parkinson who punches his fist into the air as he speaks. ‘That’s damn right, Potter. YES!’ he screams once more suddenly. ‘SHE’S SMACKED HIM IN THE FACE WITH THE BAT!’
‘That’s a foul,’ mutters Albus.
‘It’s beautiful!’ Parkinson’s shouts and stands to his feet along with Albus, and they both applaud the cheating acts of their house.
Gloria, who was quite close to them, shoots the Slytherin stand a triumphant smile, and once more the stand erupts into tumultuous applause. Albus swears he feels Parkinson shudder against him when Gloria smiled as she cleaned the blood from Longbottom’s nose off on the hem of her Quidditch robes. Whatever Gloria does makes Parkinson swoon. But Albus knew he wasn’t one to talk, he always felt the same way around Scorpius.
He looks up at Parkinson who looks like he’s about to collapse over him and laughs. He shakes his head, still plagued with giggles that he hides behind his hand. He remembers something Scorpius told him about Parkinson’s mother and tries to stop himself from exploding into more laughter.
=====
‘How was I?’ Scorpius asks him as he tenderly rests his head on Albus’s shoulder, though the feat is difficult, Albus is much shorter than Scorpius.
Albus arches an eyebrow. ‘When?’ he asks and smirks as he hears Scorpius’s chuckle.
‘During the game,’ he says. ‘We didn’t win, I know but that can be easily reserved.’
‘How can it be reserved?’ raises Albus. He crawls against Scorpius, he loves this time they have together. Scorpius rests his arm around Albus’s shoulders and shrugs his shoulders. ‘McGonagall banned Time-Turners last year, after we found them.’
‘Time-Turners are illegal,’ says Scorpius as if he’d known this all long before they had decided to use the devices to watch James and several other Gryffindor’s fall into a trap they’d designed. Their year group of Slytherins were notorious. ‘It was either detention for a month or facing the Ministry. But anyway,’ he whispers and runs his fingers along Albus’s arm. ‘How was I? Splendid, wonderful as usual?’
‘I’m just happy James didn’t try and kill you this time,’ Albus laughs nervously. When Scorpius nudges him sharply in the ribs, Albus relents and Scorpius laps it up like a dog absorbing his praise. ‘You,’ he says gently as he leans further into Scorpius, ‘were incredible. You’ve been training hard.’
‘As usual I was incredible,’ Scorpius says. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Albus feels his smile against his ear.
‘You look good in the new Quidditch robes,’ he tells him.
At this Scorpius frowns, and murmurs, ‘not as good as you look in anything green, even if it is the uniform.’
Albus nods him off. ‘I thought we were talking about how amazing you are,’ he says gently. He tries to stop the yawn that breaks open his mouth but is unsuccessful and Scorpius’s notices.
‘You’re tired,’ he says.
‘I’m not that tired,’ counters Albus.
‘Yes, you are.’
He’s stood up, slipping out from behind Albus. Albus wants him to sit back down. But only for a little while longer, the senior girls will be returning from the library soon and always stop to dote over them, how cute they are together. Albus hates it, Scorpius relishes in any form of praise.
Scorpius sighs dramatically when Albus doesn’t move. ‘Come on,’ he says impatiently. ‘I’m tired too. I’ll carry you if you aren’t going to move.’
Albus looks towards the high, heavy doorway. Any minute they’d back and if they saw Scorpius carrying him to their dormitory he would be teased about it for weeks to come. Reluctantly he rises to his feet. Scorpius half smiles and half smirks, he can never seem to manage one or the other.
Up in the common room, Scorpius collapses down on Albus’s bed. Albus smiles softly and sits down beside him. Scorpius’s arms snakes around his waist and pulls him down against him, so Albus’s dark haired head rests on his chest. His hands and body is cold, even so Albus does nothing to shy away from him. Scorpius will warm up soon enough.
‘Aren’t you going to change?’ Albus asks. Scorpius is still wearing what he put on after the Quidditch match.
‘Only if you undress me,’ murmurs Scorpius. He now sounds sleepier than Albus ever did.
Albus is pulling off his own pants at this stage and shakes his head when Scorpius looks at him. ‘That’ll lead too ...’ He draws off as he notices Scorpius’s expression.
His sparkling blue eyes are already closed; blonde lashes lay on the pale white skin that’s almost like moonlight. Grinning, Albus shuns the rest of his clothing apart from a t-shirt and with some hardship he manages to pull the blankets out from under Scorpius’s form. He climbs back in next to his boyfriend, with a sigh of contentment.
When Scorpius plays Quidditch the Malfoy scares him. It’s moments like these that Albus loves the most. He’s always been something of a hopeless romantic, Scorpius knows that. Scorpius, like a try Slytherin, uses that to his advantage habitually. Does Albus care?
No, never.