Fic: 'Glitches and Snitches' AS/S PG13
Title: Glitches and Snitches
Author: softly_sweetly
Beta: alexis_sd
Characters/Pairing: Albus Severus/Scorpius, cameos from any and all
Length: ~2,000
Rating: PG13 for now
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this piece of fanfiction.
Warnings: A little swearing, UST
Summary: Al has a glittering Quidditch career - and halfway decent grades, hopefully - heading his way. If only Scorpius would stop crossing his path...
Author Notes: Counts to prompt #65 Spark from my 100quills Next Generation Table
Written for Week Eight of the ass_carnival, using all the prompts.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Al could hear whistling from the kitchen, and it had to stop. It was too early for anyone to be whistling. Pulling on the first pair of boxers that he could find on the floor, he ambled out of his room and headed towards the kitchen counter. "Malfoy, shut up."
"Good morning to you too. And here's me making you breakfast."
Al grinned, sliding onto one of the stools and watching Scorpius butter a toast. "Congratulations, you put bread in the toaster. You haven't put enough butter on, by the way."
"Unless you want to get so fat your broom can't get you off the grass, you'll eat this how it is."
Al took the toast, biting into it and sneaking a mouthful of Scorpius' coffee. Since their truce three weeks ago they'd been spending more time together, and Al found that he was enjoying living with Scorpius. They still bickered, but there was no edge to it anymore - it was playful, verging on foreplay at times.
Finishing off his toast, Al stood up and stretched, his morning sulk buoyed by the way Scorpius snuck a glance at his torso. Al may be on the short side, but the training he did for Quidditch meant he had a good physique, yet wasn't too bulky. And clearly he was just Scorpius' type, if the strange way Scorpius' dressing gown was hanging was any indication. "What are your plans today?"
Scorpius' voice was thick when he spoke, as though he had a mouthful of something. Al tried to keep his imagination in check. "Not much - doing as little as possible, to celebrate the fact we have no training today. Why, what're you doing tonight?"
"I have that stupid dedication service to go to."
Scorpius nodded; Al had spent much of the past week bitching about how he couldn't get out of it. The Ministry had opened a Wizardry through the Ages museum last year, and the wing dedicated to the War was finally open. His Dad had been invited, and Al had been told he had to go too. Luckily, James and Lils hadn't been able to get out of it either, so Al wasn't too annoyed. But it still meant getting dressed up in formal robes and getting compared to his dad all morning.
"I'm sure it won't be that bad."
"You'd be amazed. I'll spend the morning being told how green my eyes are. It'll be like three hours in one of the Prophets bad romance serials."
Scorpius laughed, taking his coffee back from Al and draining the cup. "Well, when you get home you can tell me all about it."
Scorpius pointed at Al's bedroom door, as if his dismissal needed signposting too. Al did as told, heading back to his room and hunting out his smartest robes. If he was lucky, Scorpius would tie the bowtie for him. That'd be an excuse to gaze at Scorpius for a few minutes, which Al was sure would put him in a much better mood for this event.
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Surprisingly, the morning hadn't been as boring as Al would have feared. He'd especially enjoyed the exhibit on Gellert Grindewald - complete with a model of young Grindewald and young Dumbledore having their final showdown, which fired real hexes inside its display case - and the display on Quidditch. Other rooms had been mildly intriguing - the Hogwarts room contained the remaining hunk of rock from which the four founding cornerstones of the castle had been cut, and the chisel that the Founders had used to cut them.
The room on Wizarding print had been interesting - Al had been particularly entranced by the display case containing the very first PlayWizard. The cover featured two witches in high-necked robes sharing a kiss, and the display card was hilarious. Al had read it aloud to the amusement of his siblings - "Ancient lovers believed a kiss would literally unite their souls, because the spirit was said to be carried in one's breath. The first few editions of PlayWizard attempted to capture this deep romance in their pages, before reverting to the cheap titillation they are now known for" - until his Mum had appeared and swiped him around the head.
But, the Quidditch room was best. Al had really enjoyed the Quidditch room. From the very first broom to achieve flight, a sorry looking contraption with three wands stuck to the sides to aid flight, through every Cleansweep model - including version Five, which Al had learned to fly on - right up to the brand new Nimbus Xtreme, which didn't even come out on sale until next year. Al could happily have spent all morning in the Quidditch room, but his Mum hurried him along, telling him he could come back next weekend if he wanted to look around. Al reckoned Pygmy Puffs might fly before he'd pay to get into a museum, but he felt it was best not to mention that to his Mum.
Finally they came to the newest room, the one dedicated to the war. Al watched as his Dad was handed a ceremonial wand, and drew the tip down the two doors. As soon as he'd finished the doors sprang open, and Al was almost blinded by the flashing bulbs. He did as he was expected, looking around the exhibits and making polite conversation with the other guests while the photographers worked overtime. He did his duty smiling and laughing at the Minister's poor jokes, biding his time until he could make a respectable escape.
Walking over to his Mum, Al dropped his voice so that no passing reporters could overhear him. "Mum, can I get out of here now?"
"I suppose, your father's already buggered off."
His Mum sounded annoyed; Al knew she disliked these things, especially if Dad weaselled out of them and left her alone. But his Dad had seemed quiet and subdued ever since they'd come into the room. Al gave his Mum a brief hug before he slipped out of the museum, trying to shake off the sense of nostalgia that pervaded every corner of the building. That was some crafty spell at work right there. Once he was outside of the wards, Al pictured home and stepped to the side.
His Dad wasn't there, but they had good wards - it didn't take Al much effort to pull the last Apparition Destination from the wards. Godric's Hollow. Sighing, Al drew his wand and pictured the little village, stepping to the side again, just a few seconds after the nausea from his last Apparation had subsided.
Godric's Hollow was quaint and beautiful, a quiet little village that spoke of an earlier, more genteel time. It gave Al the shivers, but hopefully he'd be out of there quickly.
It didn't take long to find his Dad, sat on the swings in the park opposite a plot of land with a single cottage on. Al sat down on the swing next to his Dad and kicked off, swaying slowly in the warm breeze. "Everything all right, Dad?"
"Fine, fine." Al glanced to the side, raising a disbelieving brow and rousing a smile from his Dad. "Okay, so I'm feeling a little melancholy. What of it?"
"Nothing. I just don't think you should be out here sulking when we all had to suffer through that awful exhibit."
His Dad laughed. "And by Merlin, it was awful. That fake-nostalgia charm making everyone feel all cheerful and... well, and nostalgic. The Ministry spent far too much time trying to rouse hatred after the war to be allowed to treat it as something to be pined over, like the old Cleansweeps and PlayWizards."
"Well, they had the last remaining Time Turner in the Magical Inventions room - you could always travel back in time and lose the War. I bet Voldemort wouldn't be down with museums and nostalgia charms."
Al knew the comment was skating on very thin ice, but luckily his Dad chuckled, shaking his head and leaning back into the swings.
"No, somehow I don't think he would be. But time travel is difficult, knowing my luck I'd wind up ending the world, or meeting my younger self and causing a rip in time."
"Yeah, it does seem like less effort to just go to the damn openings."
"Yep." His Dad jumped off the swing, brushing his robes off and bringing his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. "Time travel wouldn't be necessary if we all lived life without regrets. Promise me you won't have regrets, Al."
Al nodded, accepting the strange request. People harping on about the war always put his Dad in an odd mood, and it was better to just humour him than try and snap him out of it. Besides, Al didn't have any regrets. Well, no more than was normal.
"Do you fancy going for a walk?"
Al couldn't think of anything he'd want less, but it might lighten his Dad's mood. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."
~~~~~♥~~~~~
It was dark by the time Al got home, and he couldn't wait until he got to his bedroom - he stripped his formal robes off in the hallway, tossing the sodding bowtie to the floor in disgust. In comfortable trousers and a shirt, his mood increased dramatically, and he looked around for Scorpius.
"Good day?"
"Not bad. Spent most of it walking around with Dad."
"Oh really?" Scorpius arched an eyebrow, a playful look on his face. He was sat by the kitchen counter, the evening edition of the Prophet spread out in front of him. "I thought perhaps the Minister had taken you home."
"Huh?" Al banished his robes to his bedroom, moving to stand next to Scorpius and look down at the Prophet. The front page was dominated by a picture of him and the Minister, heads together and chattering softly. The headline was some drivel about the opening, but the tagline under the picture read Al Potter: Friends in high places? More on Page 5. "Oh hell, what have they put now?"
"Just that you have a lot of friends in high places, and were seen cosying up to the Minister."
"I was being civil, that's hardly cosying up. Besides, he's far too old for me. And I have my eye on someone."
Scorpius grinned, folding the paper up and pushing it away. "Oh yeah? Anyone I know?"
Suddenly, his Dad's caution to have no regrets came back into his head. Clearly, he needed to give his Dad more credit; the rambling, seemingly-useless conversations quite often had some use. They'd been becoming friends for three weeks now, Al felt that was a respectable space of time, to wait before initiating a move. Raising his hand up to Scorpius' face, Al leaned forwards and pressed his lips against Scorpius', kissing him softly. No tongues, no groping - yet - just a sweet kiss.
When the urge to poke out his tongue and try to gain access between Scorpius' lips got too great, Al pulled back and tried not to blush.
"Mmm, you took your time to do that."
Al laughed, feeling his cheeks heat up. He was definitely blushing now. "Yeah, well, you know what they say; you can't hurry love."
"You just have to wait," Scorpius finished, leaning forwards and pressing his lips against Al's again. Al enjoyed the kiss, leaning into it so that he didn't lose his balance and topple to the floor. He brought his other hand up to rest on Scorpius' arm, holding them steady as Scorpius deepened the kiss.
Scorpius broke away slowly, his eyes bright and colour high on his cheeks. "Shall we take this somewhere more comfortable?"
Al had never agreed to anything faster in his life.
Chapter Nine
Author: softly_sweetly
Beta: alexis_sd
Characters/Pairing: Albus Severus/Scorpius, cameos from any and all
Length: ~2,000
Rating: PG13 for now
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this piece of fanfiction.
Warnings: A little swearing, UST
Summary: Al has a glittering Quidditch career - and halfway decent grades, hopefully - heading his way. If only Scorpius would stop crossing his path...
Author Notes: Counts to prompt #65 Spark from my 100quills Next Generation Table
Written for Week Eight of the ass_carnival, using all the prompts.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Al could hear whistling from the kitchen, and it had to stop. It was too early for anyone to be whistling. Pulling on the first pair of boxers that he could find on the floor, he ambled out of his room and headed towards the kitchen counter. "Malfoy, shut up."
"Good morning to you too. And here's me making you breakfast."
Al grinned, sliding onto one of the stools and watching Scorpius butter a toast. "Congratulations, you put bread in the toaster. You haven't put enough butter on, by the way."
"Unless you want to get so fat your broom can't get you off the grass, you'll eat this how it is."
Al took the toast, biting into it and sneaking a mouthful of Scorpius' coffee. Since their truce three weeks ago they'd been spending more time together, and Al found that he was enjoying living with Scorpius. They still bickered, but there was no edge to it anymore - it was playful, verging on foreplay at times.
Finishing off his toast, Al stood up and stretched, his morning sulk buoyed by the way Scorpius snuck a glance at his torso. Al may be on the short side, but the training he did for Quidditch meant he had a good physique, yet wasn't too bulky. And clearly he was just Scorpius' type, if the strange way Scorpius' dressing gown was hanging was any indication. "What are your plans today?"
Scorpius' voice was thick when he spoke, as though he had a mouthful of something. Al tried to keep his imagination in check. "Not much - doing as little as possible, to celebrate the fact we have no training today. Why, what're you doing tonight?"
"I have that stupid dedication service to go to."
Scorpius nodded; Al had spent much of the past week bitching about how he couldn't get out of it. The Ministry had opened a Wizardry through the Ages museum last year, and the wing dedicated to the War was finally open. His Dad had been invited, and Al had been told he had to go too. Luckily, James and Lils hadn't been able to get out of it either, so Al wasn't too annoyed. But it still meant getting dressed up in formal robes and getting compared to his dad all morning.
"I'm sure it won't be that bad."
"You'd be amazed. I'll spend the morning being told how green my eyes are. It'll be like three hours in one of the Prophets bad romance serials."
Scorpius laughed, taking his coffee back from Al and draining the cup. "Well, when you get home you can tell me all about it."
Scorpius pointed at Al's bedroom door, as if his dismissal needed signposting too. Al did as told, heading back to his room and hunting out his smartest robes. If he was lucky, Scorpius would tie the bowtie for him. That'd be an excuse to gaze at Scorpius for a few minutes, which Al was sure would put him in a much better mood for this event.
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Surprisingly, the morning hadn't been as boring as Al would have feared. He'd especially enjoyed the exhibit on Gellert Grindewald - complete with a model of young Grindewald and young Dumbledore having their final showdown, which fired real hexes inside its display case - and the display on Quidditch. Other rooms had been mildly intriguing - the Hogwarts room contained the remaining hunk of rock from which the four founding cornerstones of the castle had been cut, and the chisel that the Founders had used to cut them.
The room on Wizarding print had been interesting - Al had been particularly entranced by the display case containing the very first PlayWizard. The cover featured two witches in high-necked robes sharing a kiss, and the display card was hilarious. Al had read it aloud to the amusement of his siblings - "Ancient lovers believed a kiss would literally unite their souls, because the spirit was said to be carried in one's breath. The first few editions of PlayWizard attempted to capture this deep romance in their pages, before reverting to the cheap titillation they are now known for" - until his Mum had appeared and swiped him around the head.
But, the Quidditch room was best. Al had really enjoyed the Quidditch room. From the very first broom to achieve flight, a sorry looking contraption with three wands stuck to the sides to aid flight, through every Cleansweep model - including version Five, which Al had learned to fly on - right up to the brand new Nimbus Xtreme, which didn't even come out on sale until next year. Al could happily have spent all morning in the Quidditch room, but his Mum hurried him along, telling him he could come back next weekend if he wanted to look around. Al reckoned Pygmy Puffs might fly before he'd pay to get into a museum, but he felt it was best not to mention that to his Mum.
Finally they came to the newest room, the one dedicated to the war. Al watched as his Dad was handed a ceremonial wand, and drew the tip down the two doors. As soon as he'd finished the doors sprang open, and Al was almost blinded by the flashing bulbs. He did as he was expected, looking around the exhibits and making polite conversation with the other guests while the photographers worked overtime. He did his duty smiling and laughing at the Minister's poor jokes, biding his time until he could make a respectable escape.
Walking over to his Mum, Al dropped his voice so that no passing reporters could overhear him. "Mum, can I get out of here now?"
"I suppose, your father's already buggered off."
His Mum sounded annoyed; Al knew she disliked these things, especially if Dad weaselled out of them and left her alone. But his Dad had seemed quiet and subdued ever since they'd come into the room. Al gave his Mum a brief hug before he slipped out of the museum, trying to shake off the sense of nostalgia that pervaded every corner of the building. That was some crafty spell at work right there. Once he was outside of the wards, Al pictured home and stepped to the side.
His Dad wasn't there, but they had good wards - it didn't take Al much effort to pull the last Apparition Destination from the wards. Godric's Hollow. Sighing, Al drew his wand and pictured the little village, stepping to the side again, just a few seconds after the nausea from his last Apparation had subsided.
Godric's Hollow was quaint and beautiful, a quiet little village that spoke of an earlier, more genteel time. It gave Al the shivers, but hopefully he'd be out of there quickly.
It didn't take long to find his Dad, sat on the swings in the park opposite a plot of land with a single cottage on. Al sat down on the swing next to his Dad and kicked off, swaying slowly in the warm breeze. "Everything all right, Dad?"
"Fine, fine." Al glanced to the side, raising a disbelieving brow and rousing a smile from his Dad. "Okay, so I'm feeling a little melancholy. What of it?"
"Nothing. I just don't think you should be out here sulking when we all had to suffer through that awful exhibit."
His Dad laughed. "And by Merlin, it was awful. That fake-nostalgia charm making everyone feel all cheerful and... well, and nostalgic. The Ministry spent far too much time trying to rouse hatred after the war to be allowed to treat it as something to be pined over, like the old Cleansweeps and PlayWizards."
"Well, they had the last remaining Time Turner in the Magical Inventions room - you could always travel back in time and lose the War. I bet Voldemort wouldn't be down with museums and nostalgia charms."
Al knew the comment was skating on very thin ice, but luckily his Dad chuckled, shaking his head and leaning back into the swings.
"No, somehow I don't think he would be. But time travel is difficult, knowing my luck I'd wind up ending the world, or meeting my younger self and causing a rip in time."
"Yeah, it does seem like less effort to just go to the damn openings."
"Yep." His Dad jumped off the swing, brushing his robes off and bringing his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. "Time travel wouldn't be necessary if we all lived life without regrets. Promise me you won't have regrets, Al."
Al nodded, accepting the strange request. People harping on about the war always put his Dad in an odd mood, and it was better to just humour him than try and snap him out of it. Besides, Al didn't have any regrets. Well, no more than was normal.
"Do you fancy going for a walk?"
Al couldn't think of anything he'd want less, but it might lighten his Dad's mood. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."
~~~~~♥~~~~~
It was dark by the time Al got home, and he couldn't wait until he got to his bedroom - he stripped his formal robes off in the hallway, tossing the sodding bowtie to the floor in disgust. In comfortable trousers and a shirt, his mood increased dramatically, and he looked around for Scorpius.
"Good day?"
"Not bad. Spent most of it walking around with Dad."
"Oh really?" Scorpius arched an eyebrow, a playful look on his face. He was sat by the kitchen counter, the evening edition of the Prophet spread out in front of him. "I thought perhaps the Minister had taken you home."
"Huh?" Al banished his robes to his bedroom, moving to stand next to Scorpius and look down at the Prophet. The front page was dominated by a picture of him and the Minister, heads together and chattering softly. The headline was some drivel about the opening, but the tagline under the picture read Al Potter: Friends in high places? More on Page 5. "Oh hell, what have they put now?"
"Just that you have a lot of friends in high places, and were seen cosying up to the Minister."
"I was being civil, that's hardly cosying up. Besides, he's far too old for me. And I have my eye on someone."
Scorpius grinned, folding the paper up and pushing it away. "Oh yeah? Anyone I know?"
Suddenly, his Dad's caution to have no regrets came back into his head. Clearly, he needed to give his Dad more credit; the rambling, seemingly-useless conversations quite often had some use. They'd been becoming friends for three weeks now, Al felt that was a respectable space of time, to wait before initiating a move. Raising his hand up to Scorpius' face, Al leaned forwards and pressed his lips against Scorpius', kissing him softly. No tongues, no groping - yet - just a sweet kiss.
When the urge to poke out his tongue and try to gain access between Scorpius' lips got too great, Al pulled back and tried not to blush.
"Mmm, you took your time to do that."
Al laughed, feeling his cheeks heat up. He was definitely blushing now. "Yeah, well, you know what they say; you can't hurry love."
"You just have to wait," Scorpius finished, leaning forwards and pressing his lips against Al's again. Al enjoyed the kiss, leaning into it so that he didn't lose his balance and topple to the floor. He brought his other hand up to rest on Scorpius' arm, holding them steady as Scorpius deepened the kiss.
Scorpius broke away slowly, his eyes bright and colour high on his cheeks. "Shall we take this somewhere more comfortable?"
Al had never agreed to anything faster in his life.
Chapter Nine