the world has its shine (i would drop it on a dime) [1/4]
Hi~ It's been awhile. May I present to you, a story in four parts. The Introductory Chapter (below), the Shit Hits The Fan Chapter (coming soon), the Angsty Chapter (coming later), and the Resolution Chapter (coming even later than that). Also, I only wish I owned Harry Potter. Enjoy!
the world has its shine (i would drop it on a dime) [1/4]
otempora01, rated PG-13 for kissing, swearing, sexual situations, and Al’s virgin eyes.
Harry Potter, AS/S, m/m, post-series.
Scorpius may have joined the Aurors of his own free will, but he stayed for Albus Severus.
Part 1 complete in 6,247 words.
*
I’m not one for love songs
The way I’m living makes you feel like giving up, but you don’t
And I want everything for you but disappointment
‘Cause you’ve been left behind and the world has its shine
I would drop it on a dime for you
And whatever it takes I’m gonna make my way home
We can turn our backs on the past and start over
-The World Has Its Shine (I Would Drop It On A Dime) by Cobra Starship
*
“You are never going to believe this,” Harry Potter said incredulously as he looked over the new Auror recruit files. His best friend, Ronald Weasley, stopped shoving pumpkin pasties in his mouth long enough to raise one orange eyebrow.
Rather than reply to the unspoken question, Harry slid the folder across the desk to Ron and waited. Ron picked it up, swallowing his giant mouthful as his eyes scanned the papers.
“Right, so this nerd-don’t tell Hermione I said that-got Exceeds Expectations on all his NEWTs. Plus he performed above average on the aptitude tests,” he set the folder back down again and began unwrapping another pastie. “That’s surprising, mate, but after seeing Hermione do it, it’s not really much of a-”
Harry, patient as ever, snapped, “Read the name.”
Ron did. On the folder tab, printed very clearly, was Malfoy, Scorpius. Ron’s jaw hit the floor and Harry was the unwilling spectator of spit and unchewed food. He turned his head away in disgust, grabbing the folder and flipping through it as though he expected the contents to have morphed in the last three minutes.
They hadn’t.
Ron recovered from his shock and moved right on to overreacting. “Malfoy’s kid wants to be an Auror? Is this some kind of bloody joke?”
Harry leaned back in his very comfortable swivel chair and considered it. Even after all these years, there was no love lost between him and Draco Malfoy. They tolerated one another, sure, but they didn’t like each other or anything. From what he knew of Scorpius Malfoy-which was a bit considering how well he and Albus Severus had gotten on at school-the similarities between the kid and his father were mostly physical. Sure, Scorpius Malfoy was standoffish and naturally elegant (and, therefore, naturally arrogant), but he was also intelligent and hated Quidditch and wore glasses classier and, probably, more expensive than the ones sitting on Harry’s nose.
“You’re not honestly considering letting him train, are you?” Ron asked, waving a hand in front of Harry’s face. “The kid’s a Malfoy. He’s a bad egg. Don’t you remember what happened the last time a Malfoy had a Ministry position? Am I the only one still mad that Lucius Malfoy didn’t get life in Azkaban?”
Harry removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You can’t blame Scorpius Malfoy just because his Dad and granddad are enormous gits.”
“It probably runs in the family! For all we know, this could be Malfoy’s convoluted way of spying on you.”
“Spying on me for what? I killed Voldemort, remember? What need is there to spy?”
“It’s Malfoy,” Ron said emphatically. “There’s no method to his gitness.”
Harry put his glasses back on and laughed despite himself, although it was the laugh of a tired, exasperated man. He glanced at the folder again, then closed it and set it on the desk. “You know what? Go get Al and Rose. Well, actually, just Al.”
Ron looked as though Harry had just requested he put on a bright yellow dress and dance the flamingo, but, muttering to himself, he got up and headed out the door. The name Malfoy mocked Harry from the folder. Ron did have a point, although his reasoning was suspect. Perhaps this was Malfoy’s idea of revenge…
Harry had little time to entertain the idea because Ron returned promptly with Harry’s youngest son in tow. The more Al grew, the more he resembled Harry. His hair was unruly, though it had more brown to it than Harry’s, and his eyes were the vibrant green Harry had inherited from his mother and passed on to his son but without the vision impairment. Al was as lithe as Harry had been in his youth, but, at nineteen, he was already Harry’s height and growing. It was sort of embarrassing. James was still two inches shorter than him.
“Morning, Dad,” Al said as he entered, then remembered where he was and quickly added, “…sir. Morning, sir.”
Ron closed the door and sat down, sliding his chair around Harry’s desk so he could see both father and son equally. Al watched him, expression turning apprehensive. Harry was the head of the Auror division, but Ron was the one in charge of training the new Aurors. Harry usually didn’t see his son unless Al dropped by his office of his own volition. This was the first time he’d actually been summoned.
“Let’s get right down to it, then,” Harry said to make this as quick and painless as possible. “You remember Scorpius Malfoy from school?”
Al’s eyes widened. “What did he do?”
“Nothing. Nothing,” Harry said quickly, ignoring Ron’s coughing fit and the badly hidden, “Yet!” “It’s just that I was wondering if you could give me some information about him. Like how was he in school? Did he seem particularly…”
“Evil?” Al supplied with a sarcastic lilt to his voice that he must have learned from James. “Yes, Dad. He was in Slytherin with me, wasn’t he? You know what they say about those Slytherins. Nasty Dark Magic-using, Voldemort-supporting, Azkaban-bound vermin, they are.”
“Damn straight!” Ron cheered. Harry maturely kicked his chair over. “Bloody-ow! Fucking-Harry-”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he continued calmly. “If you don’t mind, could you please answer the question?”
Al took a deep breath and looked at his shoes. “Scorp was a good mate. He studied a lot-a lot more than Rosie, actually, because he was a giant nerd-”
“Ha!”
“Don’t make me kick you over again, Ron.”
“Sorry.”
“-and he and Rosie would study together in the library while James and I used the map to-er, I mean, while James and I hung out. Er. He was… He was Head Boy at one point, too, probably because he got such good grades all the time and he always came to my Quidditch matches and helped me with my homework. Oh, and he gave really great birthday presents. That’s all I can-what else could you possibly want to know?”
Harry paused only briefly before asking, “What happened to him after the two of you graduated?”
“He-he-” Al shifted awkwardly. “I think he went traveling or something. A year abroad? He sent me letters-or a letter telling me he’d been sending me letters, I guess, but I haven’t really spoken to him-”
Harry slid the folder over to Ron and tapped it with his index finger. “Is that good enough for you or do you want to check him yourself for dark energies?” Al came closer to the desk, leaning over to peer at the folder. Harry covered the name with a hand, hiding a smile at the frustrated pout threatening to grow on Al’s lips. “Ron, kindly take Al back down to the other trainees and get them out of here. I have a few owls to send.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Potter, sir,” Ron said with a salute and a smile. He grabbed Al by the arm and manhandled him out of the office, weaving a tale of mud, grime, and unusual Apparition drills.
Al gave Harry one, last pleading look, but Harry waved his hand and shut the door behind them. He perused the contents of the file one last time, then pulled out a stack of parchment and a quill and started signing the acceptance letters.
“You are never going to believe this,” Draco Malfoy said incredulously as he found his wife in the kitchen reading a copy of the Prophet. In one hand was the letter he’d just received and in the other hand were the blond strands he’d accidentally pulled from his head upon reading it.
Astoria graced with him a disinterested glance as she tried to decide whether his latest melodrama was really worth leaving her paper for. Draco solved her dilemma by placing the letter directly between her face and the Prophet.
“‘Dear Dad,’” she read obediently even as one pink fingernail dug into his ribs. “‘I’m going to become an Auror. Love, Scorpius.’ Hm. Shocking.”
She didn’t sound shocked. She didn’t even sound surprised. Draco eyed her suspiciously. “Did you know about this?”
“Well, of course.”
“What?! Why is this the first I’m hearing about it, then?”
“Because you’re irrational and stubborn and Harry Potter is the head of the Auror division and you don’t like him,” Astoria had gone back to her paper. She sounded, if possible, even less interested in the conversation than she’d looked before.
Draco sank into the nearest seat, having used up all his energy to keep from protesting just for the sake of protestation.
“You know, the first time I held little Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy in my arms, I said to myself, ‘I’m going to raise this baby like I was raised, lacking nothing that I lacked.’” He sighed, rubbing the excess bare skin above his forehead. “I’m close to my mother, as well, but only because my father was irrational and stubborn and didn’t like Harry Potter. And,” he added as an afterthought. “He never sent me sweets.”
Astoria put down the paper at last, turning to face him and bringing his hand to her lips for a kiss. “Draco, you’re a wonderful father. You just need to remember that just because Scorpius has the opportunities you didn’t have doesn’t mean he’ll always want to take advantage of them. Remember when he came home with the little Potter boy in tow? Do you remember what you said?”
“‘Get that scrawny midget Potter brat out of my house’?”
“And do you remember what Scorpius said?”
“‘But Mrs. Potter already threw us out of their house’?”
“Exactly. And you let them stay so you could feel morally superior to Harry Potter. Or Ginny Weasley-Potter, as the case may be.” Astoria dropped his hand and favored him with a smile. “Now Scorpius wants to go and work for Potter. Are you going to stop him just because the thought of a Malfoy being subservient to a Potter makes you angry? Was it that long ago that he saved your life?”
Draco flinched at the reminder. Sometimes he still had nightmares of the flames that licked his ankles as he clung to Potter’s waist and hoped to Merlin they made it through the door in time. Or, at least, that Potter would sacrifice himself by leaping off the broom so it could carry Draco to safety faster. Sometimes he woke up screaming as he remembered having Voldemort and Aunt Bellatrix in his house, intimidating him, intimidating his parents, the screams of the prisoners below…
Astoria’s hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present and he gave her a reluctant smile. “Perhaps you have a point.”
“Perhaps I’m right and you bloody well know it.” She picked up the paper, folded it, and got to her feet. “Now go write a letter to our son congratulating him on making it into Auror training and then come to bed. I’ve got the perfect cure for unpleasant memories.”
She ruffled his hair as she passed, reminding Draco very much of his mother and, subsequently, his father, who would not be pleased to hear of Scorpius’ occupation choice. Still, Scorpius was his son, not his father’s and though he loved his father dearly, he had no intention of repeating his mistakes.
Paris, the reputed city of lights, made London seem cozier and duller all at once. Scorpius had seen Paris and Amsterdam and Dublin and even Egypt, but something about returning home to Great Britain just warmed his heart while making him long for a little more excitement. Sure, Britain was historical and had a giant Ferris wheel. But Paris had Veelas. Paris won.
“You are extremely heterosexual for a poufter,” his roommate, Louis Weasley, noted as he flipped through Scorpius’ photo documentation of their stay in Paris. Scorpius waved up at him from in front of the Eiffel Tower, from the entrance of the Louvre, from a popular Veela pub. Louis wasn’t fond of taking pictures, but it was a cold day in hell that Scorpius didn’t wanted to be photographed. “No offense.”
Scorpius, trying on various robes, glared at Louis’ reflection in the mirror. “You’re a real pansy for a straight bloke. No offense.”
“Ouch, mate,” Louis deadpanned. “That stung like no other ill-tempered comment has before.”
Scorpius rolled his eyes and returned to dressing himself. Immediately after graduation, he’d packed a duffle bag and left England to travel the world. Despite the fact that Scorpius had graduated with the highest marks in his year, even in classes he didn’t need to take for any particular career, he hadn’t had an inkling as to what he’d wanted to do with his life.
He’d been in Paris in July when he’d met Louis Weasley, youngest child of Bill and Fleur Weasley, and by far the most obvious blend of his mother and father. He had his mother’s blond hair, blue eyes, and unnatural good looks and charisma, but his hair was shaggy and long as though he’d cut it himself with his eyes closed and his left ear was pierced and sporting a dangling dragon fang earring. He wore long-sleeved shirts under t-shirts with odd slogans like ‘Take me to your Seeker’ and acid-washed jeans and boots that he’d written all over with a white-inked quill. He also liked to smoke when he thought Scorpius wasn’t around to complain about his lungs.
Louis had been staying with his parents at their summer chateau when Scorpius had met him and he’d taken it upon himself to show Scorpius around the city and strike up the kind of friendship Scorpius hadn’t been able to cultivate at Hogwarts with anyone other than Albus Severus Potter.
Scorpius glanced over at his dresser and at the picture of himself and Al that had been taken the day before graduation. They were in the dormitory, surrounded by packed bags and rolled up posters, making faces at the camera and pausing only to engaging in some hugging and male posturing. He’d sent Al plenty of letters from various countries, but Al had either ignored them or never received them because he’d never written back.
By August, Scorpius had invited Louis to move into his flat while he figured out what it was he wanted to do and Louis repaid him by telling Scorpius that Al was training to become an Auror and encouraging Scorpius to follow his goal of salvaging the Malfoy family name. Scorpius loved his grandfather, he did, but Lucius Malfoy had royally screwed over the family. They were lucky they were still rich.
That was five months and dozens of aptitude tests ago and now Scorpius was officially starting his training. With any luck, he’d see Al again. Scorpius’ first year of Auror training would be divided into three months of Flight Formation, three months of Sneaking and Tracking, three months of Concealment and Disguise, and the final exam, whereas Al, starting his second year with Offensive Magic, would probably be spending a lot more time on the ground. Still, they’d be near the same building again rather than in two separate countries, which was something, right?
Louis followed his gaze and shook his head. “Mate, you’ve got it bad.”
“Better to have it bad than have nothing at all,” said Scorpius, his callous tone unsuccessfully hiding the flush to his cheeks. “Manage to find a girl at Hogwarts who wasn’t related to you?”
Louis gave him an even stare, then turned a page in the album. “Al’s favorite color is black now.”
Scorpius, who’d been trying on his dark green robes, slowed to a stop. With as much dignity as he could muster, he went to grab his black robes from the closet, ignoring the self-satisfied smirk on Louis’ face.
James Sirius Potter was the most thickheaded git the world had ever known, but, sometimes, Al was no smarter. He’d spent most of his life following his brother’s example, hanging on his brother’s every word, running behind James in the hopes that James would turn and smile and let him play, too. Sometimes James did, but mostly James tripped him and laughed at it later, but Al still loved his brother.
James was a bit dense, though. For instance, it had taken James almost five years to realize that Rose was, in fact, a girl and a reasonably attractive girl that his friends would be reasonably attracted to. And, after that, it had taken him two years to stop bodyguarding her to class and trying to convince Lily to wear a burlap sack over her uniform. And that was only because he graduated.
Al had always gotten better grades than James, but he was thick, too, which was probably why he didn’t connect his father’s sudden mention of Scorpius Malfoy with his life until he showed up, sleepy-eyed and yawning, for early morning training in the bitter January cold and saw a flash of blond hair among the line of new recruits.
It worked better than coffee. Suddenly, all of Al’s senses were on high alert. His eyes strained to see beyond the heads of varying heights, his ears perked up for even the smallest sound, his fingers itched to touch and grab and throttle. He could even have sworn that he smelled Scorpius’ ridiculously expensive imported cologne.
“Potter, A.” Ron said in the loud, slightly obnoxious voice he reserved for barking orders. “This is Auror training, not, ‘look, Harry’s fat aunt just fell down the stairs, let’s stop and stare’ training. What are you finding so much more interesting than my pretty face?”
Someone in the recruit line snorted. The snort sounded incredibly familiar.
Ron’s left eyebrow twitched and he turned to his right to reveal none other than Scorpius Malfoy, his face schooled into a carefully blank mask, wearing the trainee uniform under a grey scarf and his black robes. Al remembered those robes. He’d helped Scorpius pick them out because Scorpius had needed something to wear to a dinner party at the Manor one summer and he’d ended up buying two. Al still had the matching one in his closet.
“Malfoy, S, is there something funny about what I just said? Do I entertain you, Malfoy, S? Is this all some kind of giant cosmic joke to you? Hm? Answer me when I’m talking to you, Malfoy, S.”
“No, no, no, and yes, sir,” Scorpius said carefully, face still blank. But Al could see a flicker of amusement wrapped in apprehension in those grey eyes. He cleared his throat loud enough to get Ron’s attention.
“I think what you said was very funny, sir,” Al said, keeping his eyes wide and earnest. “Your jokes brighten my day.”
The other trainees chuckled, though the new recruits did so hesitantly, watching Ron for a hint of anger. But Al knew his uncle. Instead of getting angry, Ron preened, straightening his shoulders and running a hand through his hair.
“Yes, well, I am ridiculously hilarious,” he said as though accepting an award for it. “Go stand with the other Level 2 trainees, Potter, A. I need to have a word with the recruits.”
“Yes, sir.”
Al caught Scorpius’ eye, lips curving into a smile. Physically, Scorpius was still the same Scorpius he’d known for seven years, the same blond-haired, grey-eyed, pale-skinned, pointy-chinned Scorpius he’d shared dungbombs and jokes and laughs and, occasionally, a pillow with.
Scorpius smiled, too, his eyes saying thanks and also we’ll talk later? and Al nodded almost imperceptibly and went to join the others.
Al had no idea what Ron had done with the recruits, but they had all Apparated away after he’d finished speaking to them and they didn’t come back until Al had Expelliarmus’d enough Death Eater dummies to last him a lifetime. Plus, his wand arm hurt. Plus, he was tired and miserable and Ron’s idea of a water break was throwing water bottles at them and playing Who Can Drink the Fastest without Choking.
For a guy who’d grown up being playfully abused by his older brothers, Ron was a real tyrant.
By the time they finally trudged back to the Ministry from the target practice fields, all too tired to Apparate, Al was so frustrated he was finding it hard to remember why he’d even wanted to become an Auror in the first place. Everyone already thought he’d only gotten accepted due to nepotism, his NEWT scores notwithstanding. What reason did he have to stick around?
Then he saw a muddy, sweaty Scorpius heading for one of the many fireplaces and that pretty much shut his mind up.
“Oi!” he called, deciding that the punishment for not signing out with his associates was worth it just for today. “Scorp, hang on a minute, would you?”
Scorpius stopped and turned, eyes widening and hand instinctively going up to rub dirt from his cheek. Al fought back a laugh. Scorpius was so obsessed with the way he looked, as if Al gave a rat’s tail if he was clean or covered up to his ears in sludge. He didn’t remember the journey over. One minute he was running toward his best friend and the next minute he had his arms wrapped around Scorpius’ midsection.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Al breathed. He smiled. He had smelled Scorpius’ ridiculously expensive imported cologne. “I thought you were in Scotland or something-”
As usual, when Al graced him with an enthusiastic display of affection, Scorpius froze up and awkwardly patted Al’s arm. “I… I sent you a letter from Paris. Both times. Didn’t you get them?”
“Which owl did you send them with? Because I swear that owl your Dad gave you just craps on my house and then flies right past it.”
Scorpius pried Al’s arms off him then raised an eyebrow as Al straightened. “Did you get taller?”
Al grinned. He and Scorpius were at eye level for the first time in his life. After being the shortest kid in Slytherin for seven years, he felt more than entitled to his sudden sense of pride. Scorpius looked proud of him which made the moment all the sweeter. Something warm blossomed in his stomach.
“So, ah, where were you off to in such a hurry?” Al asked once the silence had stretched on a bit too long. Silences between him and Scorpius were never awkward, but it had been over a year since he’d last seen his best friend. That was more than enough silence. “Uncle Ron make you decide to quit?”
“Almost, but not quite. I was actually going to go home and shower-”
“Brilliant! I’ll come with you. I didn’t even know you had a flat here.”
“Er…” Scorpius glanced back at the fire place as though he might try to make a run for it. The warmth Al had been feeling instantly cooled over and he took a step back, hands raised in surrender.
“Hey, if you don’t want some company, it’s alright. I mean, it’s been a year so you’ve probably got your own life to get back to. I just thought-”
“No!” Both of them seemed shocked at the uncharacteristically intense reaction. Scorpius’ face got very pink and he avoided Al’s eyes. “You can come by, if you want. I just wasn’t sure if my roommate really feels up to company right now, but, hell, he can go bugger himself for all I care.”
Al hesitated only briefly before he smiled. “S’long as I won’t be a bother, I’d be glad to come.”
“You’re never a bother, Al,” Scorpius said with a quiet seriousness that took Al right back to their school days when Scorpius would go over the mechanics behind the latest spell with the patience of a saint and a smile that could put all of Al’s insecurities at ease. “Especially not to me.”
Al’s smile broadened and together they stepped into the fireplace.
Thankfully, Louis wasn’t at the flat when they flooed in. Scorpius wasn’t sure he could stand to see the smug smile on the Louis’ face before he subtly made himself scarce for the afternoon.
Besides, though Scorpius wasn’t sure whether Al had been one of the Potter-Weasleys privileged with the knowledge of Louis’ whereabouts, he knew for a fact that Al didn’t know they were flatmates.
“Nice place,” Al said, glancing around. The boxers and t-shirts lining the floor were all Louis’ as Scorpius was actually in the habit of washing, folding, and putting away his clothes after wearing them. There was a half-eaten box of cookies on the couch and a pyramid of butterbeer bottles on the coffee table.
Scorpius pressed his hand to his eyes and counted to ten. There had been a time, namely yesterday, when he had found Louis’ messiness an endearing quality, but with Al in his flat for the first time he sort of wanted to kill him.
“It’s… not usually like this. It’s just-” he gestured absently, then gave up. “Firewhisky?”
“It is the proven cure to the ‘Ron likes to work you ‘till you croak’ Auror training blues.”
Scorpius hid a smile and went to the kitchen. He seemed perfectly composed, or hoped he did, but his hands were shaking beneath his purposely too-long robe sleeves. It had been a year and seven months since he’d seen Al and they hadn’t spoken in about as long and the fact that Al hadn’t punched him in the face for leaving yet left him at a loss. He’d been prepared for violence and screaming and maybe even tears. He hadn’t been prepared for, well, Al.
“Al? Al’s not mad at you,” Louis had said the day after they’d moved into the flat when Scorpius had casually asked after his cousin. “Al misses you so much he’s this close growing breasts.”
“That didn’t even make any sense,” Scorpius had replied with an air of dignity that belied his racing pulse. “That was just a way for you to insert breasts into the conversation.”
Louis had grinned. “Yep. Feeling straight yet?”
Scorpius had given him a look over the brim of his glasses.
“No, seriously, Al’s not mad at you. Owl him or something. He’ll be thrilled.”
Scorpius hadn’t had the courage to owl Al then-after all, what would he say? Sorry we haven’t had contact for a year, but, er, how do you do?-but he had happened to apply for an Auror position at the Ministry of Magic where Al happened to be undergoing Auror training. It was such a random series of coincidences that fate obviously wanted Scorpius and Albus Severus to be together.
“And we hit on the problem,” Scorpius murmured aloud as he finally stopped staring at the fridge long enough to open it and grab a half-finished bottle of Firewhisky. He found two clean glasses with a wave of his wand and glanced back at the living room.
Al had removed his robes, scarf, and hat and shoved everything off the couch. Now in his trainee uniform, he was stretched out on it and flipping through a large blue album. Panicked, Scorpius searched his mind for which one it was, then relaxed. He hadn’t done anything overtly scandalous in Rome.
Well. Nothing that he’d taken photos of, anyway.
He poured the drinks, disposed of the bottle, put away his own scarf and robes, and returned to the living room. Al hadn’t removed his shoes before putting his feet up on the arm of the couch. A lack of cleanliness must have run in the family.
“Take your shoes off,” Scorpius said as he held out Al’s drink. “I swear you’re worse than my roommate.”
Al looked up at that, green eyes puzzled. “You have a roommate? And here I thought you’d finally burned your copy of A Place For Everything And Everything In Its Place: The Molly Weasley Guide To Proper Home Management.”
Scorpius stared at him blankly, the way he did whenever Al made any sort of joke involving his extended family. There were far too many branches on that family tree in this generation alone for Scorpius to even bother to keep track of. His knowledge was limited to Harry and Ginny Potter and their three kids and Bill and Fleur Weasley and their three kids. Oh, and Ron “Merlin Help Us” Weasley, his new commanding Auror.
“Who?”
“No one, nevermind. Tell me about your roommate.”
Al sat up and began to shuck off his shoes as he waited for Scorpius to start talking. Scorpius, meanwhile, was searching for a lie. It had always been incredibly difficult for him to lie to Al. Despite his family’s objections, or perhaps because of them, Al trusted him without question. That level of trust was both heartwarming and terrifying and Scorpius usually tried not to take advantage.
“He’s… messy,” Scorpius said at last. “And… blond.”
Al laughed. “So are you in the mornings. You’ve got to give me a little more than that. What’s his name, for starters, and is he treating you well? Did he go to Hogwarts with us or did you meet him abroad? Is he an alright sort of bloke or what?”
“Er. He’s… er. Louis. His name’s Louis…”
“I have a cousin named Louis!”
I know. “And, I, er, met him abroad.” Feeling the specific country would reveal a bit too much, Scorpius sat down on the couch next to Al and downed a significant portion of his Firewhisky. “But enough about me. How’ve you been doing?”
Al immediately laughed into a long, all-encompassing tale of how he had his room all to himself now that James had began traveling with the Chudley Cannons and how Victoire and Teddy had broken up and gotten back together and broken up and gotten back together and then Teddy had asked Victoire to marry him and they’d broken up again and they were still broken up now. There was a lengthy discussion about how James had been a brilliant friend to Teddy after Victoire had dumped him like an old copy of the Prophet-which, by the way, Teddy was working for-and how Lily was becoming increasingly interested in Divination, much to Hermione Weasley’s dismay.
He was just getting started on Hugo Weasley’s life story when Scorpius set down his now-empty glass and began to laugh.
“What?” Al asked, indignant. “I said it was only a guess. Hugo could very well like girls, but I-what are you laughing at?”
“Al,” Scorpius snickered. “I asked you how you were doing and you haven’t mentioned yourself once!”
“So?”
“So, James and Lily Potter aside, I have no idea who you’ve been on about for the last twenty minutes.” Which was a bit of a lie. Louis and Teddy Lupin got on very well and were always calling one another on the floo. However, Al didn’t need to know that.
Al cracked a smile. “I can draw pictures, if that would help.”
“It might, but how about you try talking about yourself and save me a headache?”
For a moment it looked as though Al had no idea as to how to proceed, but then he hesitantly began describing how nerve-wracking it had been to send in his Auror application. Al had been heavily opposed to the job at school because he had been getting tired of people comparing him to his father and brother, but no one had been able to deny that, Scorpius aside, Al was getting top marks in every subject required for the job.
His brow furrowed as he mentioned how the other recruits had given him a hard time because they were all convinced he’d only gotten in because of his father and how Al had felt like he had to work twice as hard to prove himself. He admitted to crying when James left as James had been the first to threaten to go down to the Ministry and knock some sense into everyone’s heads and now James was too hard to pin down for Al to talk to him.
“I wrote you letters,” he continued, not looking at Scorpius. “I didn’t send them because I didn’t know where you were and I wasn’t sure you’d get them, but it made me feel better to write to you. I don’t know where I put them, though.”
Scorpius, feeling extremely guilty although it really hadn’t been his fault their letters had been somehow intercepted, hesitantly reached out to touch Al’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
Al’s hand covered his. “You were. In a way, you were.”
Scorpius felt something dangerous pooling in his stomach and quickly pulled back, tugging on Al’s shirt and glancing down at his bare chest.
“What,” Al shouted, shoving him away. “In the name of Merlin’s left ear are you doing?”
“Checking for breasts,” Scorpius deadpanned. “I fear you might be growing a pair.”
Al’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been talking to James? Or Teddy? Or Louis? Or-”
“As if I would talk to James Potter. Even after a year, you ought to know me better than that.”
“You ought to know I haven’t grown breasts, you prat!” Al picked up his glass, which had been untouched since he began his story, and downed it all in under a minute. He slammed it back down and blinked. “Whoa, what a rush.”
“You really aren’t supposed to drink it all like that. It’s not a shot glass.”
“Yes, Mum. Now tell me how you’ve been. I bet you have stories!”
Scorpius did, but half of them involved risqué tête-à-têtes with half-dressed and undressed foreign wizards. “Not particularly.”
“Oh, come on,” Al stretched out on the couch again, his feet in Scorpius’ lap, the way they’d grown accustomed to sitting on the couches in the Slytherin common room. “Tell me about Scotland.”
“Lots of men in kilts. Great pubs. Their Quidditch matches are notoriously rowdy. I was nearly caught in a riot at every single one, no matter how obscure the team. Someone,” Scorpius finished with affront. “Almost marred my face.”
“Horror of horrors!”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“Enough about your face. Where else did you go?”
Scorpius gave him a kid-friendly recount of his adventures in Dublin, Edinburgh, Amsterdam, Egypt, Rome, Barcelona, Seville, and ended with both his trips to Paris. He left out the part about meeting Louis and the part of inviting Louis to come back to London and live with him. By the time he was finished talking, Al was wide-eyed and grinning.
“And you have albums from every one of those places? That’s wicked! Can we look through them?”
“They’re-I don’t know where a lot of them are…” Scorpius glanced at his watch, which was at the second line in the SLEEP section. “It’s one in the morning and we have training in four hours! You should go home.”
“I don’t want to,” Al protested, stretching. “I don’t have a roommate to brighten my flat. I don’t even have a flat. If I go home, Mum will just want to know where I’ve been all night and I’ll get an earful from Dad for not signing out with Uncle Ron before I left with you. Can’t I just stay here the night?”
Scorpius wanted to say no. After all, Louis would tease him mercilessly and if Louis came back before Al left, all hell would break loose. Then, Al poked him in the stomach with his toe and pouted like a five year old and Scorpius lost that battle with himself in an instant.
“Sure,” he said, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. “Of course you can. There’s plenty of room on the couch.”
Al whooped as Scorpius brushed his feet away and got up to put away the glasses to be washed in the morning. They sat in the sink for thirty seconds before Scorpius’ itchy hands and mild case of OCD forced him to wash them and put them away. When he returned to the living room, Al was fast asleep, his mouth wide open as he took turns snoring and muttering about black pudding.
Louis chose then to appear in the fireplace, his shaggy hair gelled into a variety of miscellaneous spikes and what Scorpius hoped was a temporary tattoo of a snake on his cheek. Louis began to say something, then stopped short at the sight of Al. He raised both eyebrows.
“You make your dates sleep on the couch?” he whispered. “No wonder you can’t maintain a long-term relationship.”
“Shut your gob and get him a blanket, would you? A minute earlier and you would have ruined everything.”
Louis did as told, then disappeared to brush his teeth as Scorpius pulled the blanket over Al and carefully pushed a pillow under his head. Al shifted in his sleep, his eyes slitting open. “‘ad ooer ack.”
“And now in English?”
Al yawned, closing his eyes again. “…glad… you’re… back…”
That feeling was back in his stomach. Scorpius watched Al for a long time, well after his breath had evened out again, and didn’t stop until Louis flicked the lights on and on and drew Scorpius’ attention to him.
“Mate, you’ve got it bad.”
Scorpius brushed Al’s hair back from his forehead and sighed. “I know.”
Forward
the world has its shine (i would drop it on a dime) [1/4]
otempora01, rated PG-13 for kissing, swearing, sexual situations, and Al’s virgin eyes.
Harry Potter, AS/S, m/m, post-series.
Scorpius may have joined the Aurors of his own free will, but he stayed for Albus Severus.
Part 1 complete in 6,247 words.
*
I’m not one for love songs
The way I’m living makes you feel like giving up, but you don’t
And I want everything for you but disappointment
‘Cause you’ve been left behind and the world has its shine
I would drop it on a dime for you
And whatever it takes I’m gonna make my way home
We can turn our backs on the past and start over
-The World Has Its Shine (I Would Drop It On A Dime) by Cobra Starship
*
“You are never going to believe this,” Harry Potter said incredulously as he looked over the new Auror recruit files. His best friend, Ronald Weasley, stopped shoving pumpkin pasties in his mouth long enough to raise one orange eyebrow.
Rather than reply to the unspoken question, Harry slid the folder across the desk to Ron and waited. Ron picked it up, swallowing his giant mouthful as his eyes scanned the papers.
“Right, so this nerd-don’t tell Hermione I said that-got Exceeds Expectations on all his NEWTs. Plus he performed above average on the aptitude tests,” he set the folder back down again and began unwrapping another pastie. “That’s surprising, mate, but after seeing Hermione do it, it’s not really much of a-”
Harry, patient as ever, snapped, “Read the name.”
Ron did. On the folder tab, printed very clearly, was Malfoy, Scorpius. Ron’s jaw hit the floor and Harry was the unwilling spectator of spit and unchewed food. He turned his head away in disgust, grabbing the folder and flipping through it as though he expected the contents to have morphed in the last three minutes.
They hadn’t.
Ron recovered from his shock and moved right on to overreacting. “Malfoy’s kid wants to be an Auror? Is this some kind of bloody joke?”
Harry leaned back in his very comfortable swivel chair and considered it. Even after all these years, there was no love lost between him and Draco Malfoy. They tolerated one another, sure, but they didn’t like each other or anything. From what he knew of Scorpius Malfoy-which was a bit considering how well he and Albus Severus had gotten on at school-the similarities between the kid and his father were mostly physical. Sure, Scorpius Malfoy was standoffish and naturally elegant (and, therefore, naturally arrogant), but he was also intelligent and hated Quidditch and wore glasses classier and, probably, more expensive than the ones sitting on Harry’s nose.
“You’re not honestly considering letting him train, are you?” Ron asked, waving a hand in front of Harry’s face. “The kid’s a Malfoy. He’s a bad egg. Don’t you remember what happened the last time a Malfoy had a Ministry position? Am I the only one still mad that Lucius Malfoy didn’t get life in Azkaban?”
Harry removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You can’t blame Scorpius Malfoy just because his Dad and granddad are enormous gits.”
“It probably runs in the family! For all we know, this could be Malfoy’s convoluted way of spying on you.”
“Spying on me for what? I killed Voldemort, remember? What need is there to spy?”
“It’s Malfoy,” Ron said emphatically. “There’s no method to his gitness.”
Harry put his glasses back on and laughed despite himself, although it was the laugh of a tired, exasperated man. He glanced at the folder again, then closed it and set it on the desk. “You know what? Go get Al and Rose. Well, actually, just Al.”
Ron looked as though Harry had just requested he put on a bright yellow dress and dance the flamingo, but, muttering to himself, he got up and headed out the door. The name Malfoy mocked Harry from the folder. Ron did have a point, although his reasoning was suspect. Perhaps this was Malfoy’s idea of revenge…
Harry had little time to entertain the idea because Ron returned promptly with Harry’s youngest son in tow. The more Al grew, the more he resembled Harry. His hair was unruly, though it had more brown to it than Harry’s, and his eyes were the vibrant green Harry had inherited from his mother and passed on to his son but without the vision impairment. Al was as lithe as Harry had been in his youth, but, at nineteen, he was already Harry’s height and growing. It was sort of embarrassing. James was still two inches shorter than him.
“Morning, Dad,” Al said as he entered, then remembered where he was and quickly added, “…sir. Morning, sir.”
Ron closed the door and sat down, sliding his chair around Harry’s desk so he could see both father and son equally. Al watched him, expression turning apprehensive. Harry was the head of the Auror division, but Ron was the one in charge of training the new Aurors. Harry usually didn’t see his son unless Al dropped by his office of his own volition. This was the first time he’d actually been summoned.
“Let’s get right down to it, then,” Harry said to make this as quick and painless as possible. “You remember Scorpius Malfoy from school?”
Al’s eyes widened. “What did he do?”
“Nothing. Nothing,” Harry said quickly, ignoring Ron’s coughing fit and the badly hidden, “Yet!” “It’s just that I was wondering if you could give me some information about him. Like how was he in school? Did he seem particularly…”
“Evil?” Al supplied with a sarcastic lilt to his voice that he must have learned from James. “Yes, Dad. He was in Slytherin with me, wasn’t he? You know what they say about those Slytherins. Nasty Dark Magic-using, Voldemort-supporting, Azkaban-bound vermin, they are.”
“Damn straight!” Ron cheered. Harry maturely kicked his chair over. “Bloody-ow! Fucking-Harry-”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he continued calmly. “If you don’t mind, could you please answer the question?”
Al took a deep breath and looked at his shoes. “Scorp was a good mate. He studied a lot-a lot more than Rosie, actually, because he was a giant nerd-”
“Ha!”
“Don’t make me kick you over again, Ron.”
“Sorry.”
“-and he and Rosie would study together in the library while James and I used the map to-er, I mean, while James and I hung out. Er. He was… He was Head Boy at one point, too, probably because he got such good grades all the time and he always came to my Quidditch matches and helped me with my homework. Oh, and he gave really great birthday presents. That’s all I can-what else could you possibly want to know?”
Harry paused only briefly before asking, “What happened to him after the two of you graduated?”
“He-he-” Al shifted awkwardly. “I think he went traveling or something. A year abroad? He sent me letters-or a letter telling me he’d been sending me letters, I guess, but I haven’t really spoken to him-”
Harry slid the folder over to Ron and tapped it with his index finger. “Is that good enough for you or do you want to check him yourself for dark energies?” Al came closer to the desk, leaning over to peer at the folder. Harry covered the name with a hand, hiding a smile at the frustrated pout threatening to grow on Al’s lips. “Ron, kindly take Al back down to the other trainees and get them out of here. I have a few owls to send.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Potter, sir,” Ron said with a salute and a smile. He grabbed Al by the arm and manhandled him out of the office, weaving a tale of mud, grime, and unusual Apparition drills.
Al gave Harry one, last pleading look, but Harry waved his hand and shut the door behind them. He perused the contents of the file one last time, then pulled out a stack of parchment and a quill and started signing the acceptance letters.
“You are never going to believe this,” Draco Malfoy said incredulously as he found his wife in the kitchen reading a copy of the Prophet. In one hand was the letter he’d just received and in the other hand were the blond strands he’d accidentally pulled from his head upon reading it.
Astoria graced with him a disinterested glance as she tried to decide whether his latest melodrama was really worth leaving her paper for. Draco solved her dilemma by placing the letter directly between her face and the Prophet.
“‘Dear Dad,’” she read obediently even as one pink fingernail dug into his ribs. “‘I’m going to become an Auror. Love, Scorpius.’ Hm. Shocking.”
She didn’t sound shocked. She didn’t even sound surprised. Draco eyed her suspiciously. “Did you know about this?”
“Well, of course.”
“What?! Why is this the first I’m hearing about it, then?”
“Because you’re irrational and stubborn and Harry Potter is the head of the Auror division and you don’t like him,” Astoria had gone back to her paper. She sounded, if possible, even less interested in the conversation than she’d looked before.
Draco sank into the nearest seat, having used up all his energy to keep from protesting just for the sake of protestation.
“You know, the first time I held little Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy in my arms, I said to myself, ‘I’m going to raise this baby like I was raised, lacking nothing that I lacked.’” He sighed, rubbing the excess bare skin above his forehead. “I’m close to my mother, as well, but only because my father was irrational and stubborn and didn’t like Harry Potter. And,” he added as an afterthought. “He never sent me sweets.”
Astoria put down the paper at last, turning to face him and bringing his hand to her lips for a kiss. “Draco, you’re a wonderful father. You just need to remember that just because Scorpius has the opportunities you didn’t have doesn’t mean he’ll always want to take advantage of them. Remember when he came home with the little Potter boy in tow? Do you remember what you said?”
“‘Get that scrawny midget Potter brat out of my house’?”
“And do you remember what Scorpius said?”
“‘But Mrs. Potter already threw us out of their house’?”
“Exactly. And you let them stay so you could feel morally superior to Harry Potter. Or Ginny Weasley-Potter, as the case may be.” Astoria dropped his hand and favored him with a smile. “Now Scorpius wants to go and work for Potter. Are you going to stop him just because the thought of a Malfoy being subservient to a Potter makes you angry? Was it that long ago that he saved your life?”
Draco flinched at the reminder. Sometimes he still had nightmares of the flames that licked his ankles as he clung to Potter’s waist and hoped to Merlin they made it through the door in time. Or, at least, that Potter would sacrifice himself by leaping off the broom so it could carry Draco to safety faster. Sometimes he woke up screaming as he remembered having Voldemort and Aunt Bellatrix in his house, intimidating him, intimidating his parents, the screams of the prisoners below…
Astoria’s hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present and he gave her a reluctant smile. “Perhaps you have a point.”
“Perhaps I’m right and you bloody well know it.” She picked up the paper, folded it, and got to her feet. “Now go write a letter to our son congratulating him on making it into Auror training and then come to bed. I’ve got the perfect cure for unpleasant memories.”
She ruffled his hair as she passed, reminding Draco very much of his mother and, subsequently, his father, who would not be pleased to hear of Scorpius’ occupation choice. Still, Scorpius was his son, not his father’s and though he loved his father dearly, he had no intention of repeating his mistakes.
Paris, the reputed city of lights, made London seem cozier and duller all at once. Scorpius had seen Paris and Amsterdam and Dublin and even Egypt, but something about returning home to Great Britain just warmed his heart while making him long for a little more excitement. Sure, Britain was historical and had a giant Ferris wheel. But Paris had Veelas. Paris won.
“You are extremely heterosexual for a poufter,” his roommate, Louis Weasley, noted as he flipped through Scorpius’ photo documentation of their stay in Paris. Scorpius waved up at him from in front of the Eiffel Tower, from the entrance of the Louvre, from a popular Veela pub. Louis wasn’t fond of taking pictures, but it was a cold day in hell that Scorpius didn’t wanted to be photographed. “No offense.”
Scorpius, trying on various robes, glared at Louis’ reflection in the mirror. “You’re a real pansy for a straight bloke. No offense.”
“Ouch, mate,” Louis deadpanned. “That stung like no other ill-tempered comment has before.”
Scorpius rolled his eyes and returned to dressing himself. Immediately after graduation, he’d packed a duffle bag and left England to travel the world. Despite the fact that Scorpius had graduated with the highest marks in his year, even in classes he didn’t need to take for any particular career, he hadn’t had an inkling as to what he’d wanted to do with his life.
He’d been in Paris in July when he’d met Louis Weasley, youngest child of Bill and Fleur Weasley, and by far the most obvious blend of his mother and father. He had his mother’s blond hair, blue eyes, and unnatural good looks and charisma, but his hair was shaggy and long as though he’d cut it himself with his eyes closed and his left ear was pierced and sporting a dangling dragon fang earring. He wore long-sleeved shirts under t-shirts with odd slogans like ‘Take me to your Seeker’ and acid-washed jeans and boots that he’d written all over with a white-inked quill. He also liked to smoke when he thought Scorpius wasn’t around to complain about his lungs.
Louis had been staying with his parents at their summer chateau when Scorpius had met him and he’d taken it upon himself to show Scorpius around the city and strike up the kind of friendship Scorpius hadn’t been able to cultivate at Hogwarts with anyone other than Albus Severus Potter.
Scorpius glanced over at his dresser and at the picture of himself and Al that had been taken the day before graduation. They were in the dormitory, surrounded by packed bags and rolled up posters, making faces at the camera and pausing only to engaging in some hugging and male posturing. He’d sent Al plenty of letters from various countries, but Al had either ignored them or never received them because he’d never written back.
By August, Scorpius had invited Louis to move into his flat while he figured out what it was he wanted to do and Louis repaid him by telling Scorpius that Al was training to become an Auror and encouraging Scorpius to follow his goal of salvaging the Malfoy family name. Scorpius loved his grandfather, he did, but Lucius Malfoy had royally screwed over the family. They were lucky they were still rich.
That was five months and dozens of aptitude tests ago and now Scorpius was officially starting his training. With any luck, he’d see Al again. Scorpius’ first year of Auror training would be divided into three months of Flight Formation, three months of Sneaking and Tracking, three months of Concealment and Disguise, and the final exam, whereas Al, starting his second year with Offensive Magic, would probably be spending a lot more time on the ground. Still, they’d be near the same building again rather than in two separate countries, which was something, right?
Louis followed his gaze and shook his head. “Mate, you’ve got it bad.”
“Better to have it bad than have nothing at all,” said Scorpius, his callous tone unsuccessfully hiding the flush to his cheeks. “Manage to find a girl at Hogwarts who wasn’t related to you?”
Louis gave him an even stare, then turned a page in the album. “Al’s favorite color is black now.”
Scorpius, who’d been trying on his dark green robes, slowed to a stop. With as much dignity as he could muster, he went to grab his black robes from the closet, ignoring the self-satisfied smirk on Louis’ face.
James Sirius Potter was the most thickheaded git the world had ever known, but, sometimes, Al was no smarter. He’d spent most of his life following his brother’s example, hanging on his brother’s every word, running behind James in the hopes that James would turn and smile and let him play, too. Sometimes James did, but mostly James tripped him and laughed at it later, but Al still loved his brother.
James was a bit dense, though. For instance, it had taken James almost five years to realize that Rose was, in fact, a girl and a reasonably attractive girl that his friends would be reasonably attracted to. And, after that, it had taken him two years to stop bodyguarding her to class and trying to convince Lily to wear a burlap sack over her uniform. And that was only because he graduated.
Al had always gotten better grades than James, but he was thick, too, which was probably why he didn’t connect his father’s sudden mention of Scorpius Malfoy with his life until he showed up, sleepy-eyed and yawning, for early morning training in the bitter January cold and saw a flash of blond hair among the line of new recruits.
It worked better than coffee. Suddenly, all of Al’s senses were on high alert. His eyes strained to see beyond the heads of varying heights, his ears perked up for even the smallest sound, his fingers itched to touch and grab and throttle. He could even have sworn that he smelled Scorpius’ ridiculously expensive imported cologne.
“Potter, A.” Ron said in the loud, slightly obnoxious voice he reserved for barking orders. “This is Auror training, not, ‘look, Harry’s fat aunt just fell down the stairs, let’s stop and stare’ training. What are you finding so much more interesting than my pretty face?”
Someone in the recruit line snorted. The snort sounded incredibly familiar.
Ron’s left eyebrow twitched and he turned to his right to reveal none other than Scorpius Malfoy, his face schooled into a carefully blank mask, wearing the trainee uniform under a grey scarf and his black robes. Al remembered those robes. He’d helped Scorpius pick them out because Scorpius had needed something to wear to a dinner party at the Manor one summer and he’d ended up buying two. Al still had the matching one in his closet.
“Malfoy, S, is there something funny about what I just said? Do I entertain you, Malfoy, S? Is this all some kind of giant cosmic joke to you? Hm? Answer me when I’m talking to you, Malfoy, S.”
“No, no, no, and yes, sir,” Scorpius said carefully, face still blank. But Al could see a flicker of amusement wrapped in apprehension in those grey eyes. He cleared his throat loud enough to get Ron’s attention.
“I think what you said was very funny, sir,” Al said, keeping his eyes wide and earnest. “Your jokes brighten my day.”
The other trainees chuckled, though the new recruits did so hesitantly, watching Ron for a hint of anger. But Al knew his uncle. Instead of getting angry, Ron preened, straightening his shoulders and running a hand through his hair.
“Yes, well, I am ridiculously hilarious,” he said as though accepting an award for it. “Go stand with the other Level 2 trainees, Potter, A. I need to have a word with the recruits.”
“Yes, sir.”
Al caught Scorpius’ eye, lips curving into a smile. Physically, Scorpius was still the same Scorpius he’d known for seven years, the same blond-haired, grey-eyed, pale-skinned, pointy-chinned Scorpius he’d shared dungbombs and jokes and laughs and, occasionally, a pillow with.
Scorpius smiled, too, his eyes saying thanks and also we’ll talk later? and Al nodded almost imperceptibly and went to join the others.
Al had no idea what Ron had done with the recruits, but they had all Apparated away after he’d finished speaking to them and they didn’t come back until Al had Expelliarmus’d enough Death Eater dummies to last him a lifetime. Plus, his wand arm hurt. Plus, he was tired and miserable and Ron’s idea of a water break was throwing water bottles at them and playing Who Can Drink the Fastest without Choking.
For a guy who’d grown up being playfully abused by his older brothers, Ron was a real tyrant.
By the time they finally trudged back to the Ministry from the target practice fields, all too tired to Apparate, Al was so frustrated he was finding it hard to remember why he’d even wanted to become an Auror in the first place. Everyone already thought he’d only gotten accepted due to nepotism, his NEWT scores notwithstanding. What reason did he have to stick around?
Then he saw a muddy, sweaty Scorpius heading for one of the many fireplaces and that pretty much shut his mind up.
“Oi!” he called, deciding that the punishment for not signing out with his associates was worth it just for today. “Scorp, hang on a minute, would you?”
Scorpius stopped and turned, eyes widening and hand instinctively going up to rub dirt from his cheek. Al fought back a laugh. Scorpius was so obsessed with the way he looked, as if Al gave a rat’s tail if he was clean or covered up to his ears in sludge. He didn’t remember the journey over. One minute he was running toward his best friend and the next minute he had his arms wrapped around Scorpius’ midsection.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Al breathed. He smiled. He had smelled Scorpius’ ridiculously expensive imported cologne. “I thought you were in Scotland or something-”
As usual, when Al graced him with an enthusiastic display of affection, Scorpius froze up and awkwardly patted Al’s arm. “I… I sent you a letter from Paris. Both times. Didn’t you get them?”
“Which owl did you send them with? Because I swear that owl your Dad gave you just craps on my house and then flies right past it.”
Scorpius pried Al’s arms off him then raised an eyebrow as Al straightened. “Did you get taller?”
Al grinned. He and Scorpius were at eye level for the first time in his life. After being the shortest kid in Slytherin for seven years, he felt more than entitled to his sudden sense of pride. Scorpius looked proud of him which made the moment all the sweeter. Something warm blossomed in his stomach.
“So, ah, where were you off to in such a hurry?” Al asked once the silence had stretched on a bit too long. Silences between him and Scorpius were never awkward, but it had been over a year since he’d last seen his best friend. That was more than enough silence. “Uncle Ron make you decide to quit?”
“Almost, but not quite. I was actually going to go home and shower-”
“Brilliant! I’ll come with you. I didn’t even know you had a flat here.”
“Er…” Scorpius glanced back at the fire place as though he might try to make a run for it. The warmth Al had been feeling instantly cooled over and he took a step back, hands raised in surrender.
“Hey, if you don’t want some company, it’s alright. I mean, it’s been a year so you’ve probably got your own life to get back to. I just thought-”
“No!” Both of them seemed shocked at the uncharacteristically intense reaction. Scorpius’ face got very pink and he avoided Al’s eyes. “You can come by, if you want. I just wasn’t sure if my roommate really feels up to company right now, but, hell, he can go bugger himself for all I care.”
Al hesitated only briefly before he smiled. “S’long as I won’t be a bother, I’d be glad to come.”
“You’re never a bother, Al,” Scorpius said with a quiet seriousness that took Al right back to their school days when Scorpius would go over the mechanics behind the latest spell with the patience of a saint and a smile that could put all of Al’s insecurities at ease. “Especially not to me.”
Al’s smile broadened and together they stepped into the fireplace.
Thankfully, Louis wasn’t at the flat when they flooed in. Scorpius wasn’t sure he could stand to see the smug smile on the Louis’ face before he subtly made himself scarce for the afternoon.
Besides, though Scorpius wasn’t sure whether Al had been one of the Potter-Weasleys privileged with the knowledge of Louis’ whereabouts, he knew for a fact that Al didn’t know they were flatmates.
“Nice place,” Al said, glancing around. The boxers and t-shirts lining the floor were all Louis’ as Scorpius was actually in the habit of washing, folding, and putting away his clothes after wearing them. There was a half-eaten box of cookies on the couch and a pyramid of butterbeer bottles on the coffee table.
Scorpius pressed his hand to his eyes and counted to ten. There had been a time, namely yesterday, when he had found Louis’ messiness an endearing quality, but with Al in his flat for the first time he sort of wanted to kill him.
“It’s… not usually like this. It’s just-” he gestured absently, then gave up. “Firewhisky?”
“It is the proven cure to the ‘Ron likes to work you ‘till you croak’ Auror training blues.”
Scorpius hid a smile and went to the kitchen. He seemed perfectly composed, or hoped he did, but his hands were shaking beneath his purposely too-long robe sleeves. It had been a year and seven months since he’d seen Al and they hadn’t spoken in about as long and the fact that Al hadn’t punched him in the face for leaving yet left him at a loss. He’d been prepared for violence and screaming and maybe even tears. He hadn’t been prepared for, well, Al.
“Al? Al’s not mad at you,” Louis had said the day after they’d moved into the flat when Scorpius had casually asked after his cousin. “Al misses you so much he’s this close growing breasts.”
“That didn’t even make any sense,” Scorpius had replied with an air of dignity that belied his racing pulse. “That was just a way for you to insert breasts into the conversation.”
Louis had grinned. “Yep. Feeling straight yet?”
Scorpius had given him a look over the brim of his glasses.
“No, seriously, Al’s not mad at you. Owl him or something. He’ll be thrilled.”
Scorpius hadn’t had the courage to owl Al then-after all, what would he say? Sorry we haven’t had contact for a year, but, er, how do you do?-but he had happened to apply for an Auror position at the Ministry of Magic where Al happened to be undergoing Auror training. It was such a random series of coincidences that fate obviously wanted Scorpius and Albus Severus to be together.
“And we hit on the problem,” Scorpius murmured aloud as he finally stopped staring at the fridge long enough to open it and grab a half-finished bottle of Firewhisky. He found two clean glasses with a wave of his wand and glanced back at the living room.
Al had removed his robes, scarf, and hat and shoved everything off the couch. Now in his trainee uniform, he was stretched out on it and flipping through a large blue album. Panicked, Scorpius searched his mind for which one it was, then relaxed. He hadn’t done anything overtly scandalous in Rome.
Well. Nothing that he’d taken photos of, anyway.
He poured the drinks, disposed of the bottle, put away his own scarf and robes, and returned to the living room. Al hadn’t removed his shoes before putting his feet up on the arm of the couch. A lack of cleanliness must have run in the family.
“Take your shoes off,” Scorpius said as he held out Al’s drink. “I swear you’re worse than my roommate.”
Al looked up at that, green eyes puzzled. “You have a roommate? And here I thought you’d finally burned your copy of A Place For Everything And Everything In Its Place: The Molly Weasley Guide To Proper Home Management.”
Scorpius stared at him blankly, the way he did whenever Al made any sort of joke involving his extended family. There were far too many branches on that family tree in this generation alone for Scorpius to even bother to keep track of. His knowledge was limited to Harry and Ginny Potter and their three kids and Bill and Fleur Weasley and their three kids. Oh, and Ron “Merlin Help Us” Weasley, his new commanding Auror.
“Who?”
“No one, nevermind. Tell me about your roommate.”
Al sat up and began to shuck off his shoes as he waited for Scorpius to start talking. Scorpius, meanwhile, was searching for a lie. It had always been incredibly difficult for him to lie to Al. Despite his family’s objections, or perhaps because of them, Al trusted him without question. That level of trust was both heartwarming and terrifying and Scorpius usually tried not to take advantage.
“He’s… messy,” Scorpius said at last. “And… blond.”
Al laughed. “So are you in the mornings. You’ve got to give me a little more than that. What’s his name, for starters, and is he treating you well? Did he go to Hogwarts with us or did you meet him abroad? Is he an alright sort of bloke or what?”
“Er. He’s… er. Louis. His name’s Louis…”
“I have a cousin named Louis!”
I know. “And, I, er, met him abroad.” Feeling the specific country would reveal a bit too much, Scorpius sat down on the couch next to Al and downed a significant portion of his Firewhisky. “But enough about me. How’ve you been doing?”
Al immediately laughed into a long, all-encompassing tale of how he had his room all to himself now that James had began traveling with the Chudley Cannons and how Victoire and Teddy had broken up and gotten back together and broken up and gotten back together and then Teddy had asked Victoire to marry him and they’d broken up again and they were still broken up now. There was a lengthy discussion about how James had been a brilliant friend to Teddy after Victoire had dumped him like an old copy of the Prophet-which, by the way, Teddy was working for-and how Lily was becoming increasingly interested in Divination, much to Hermione Weasley’s dismay.
He was just getting started on Hugo Weasley’s life story when Scorpius set down his now-empty glass and began to laugh.
“What?” Al asked, indignant. “I said it was only a guess. Hugo could very well like girls, but I-what are you laughing at?”
“Al,” Scorpius snickered. “I asked you how you were doing and you haven’t mentioned yourself once!”
“So?”
“So, James and Lily Potter aside, I have no idea who you’ve been on about for the last twenty minutes.” Which was a bit of a lie. Louis and Teddy Lupin got on very well and were always calling one another on the floo. However, Al didn’t need to know that.
Al cracked a smile. “I can draw pictures, if that would help.”
“It might, but how about you try talking about yourself and save me a headache?”
For a moment it looked as though Al had no idea as to how to proceed, but then he hesitantly began describing how nerve-wracking it had been to send in his Auror application. Al had been heavily opposed to the job at school because he had been getting tired of people comparing him to his father and brother, but no one had been able to deny that, Scorpius aside, Al was getting top marks in every subject required for the job.
His brow furrowed as he mentioned how the other recruits had given him a hard time because they were all convinced he’d only gotten in because of his father and how Al had felt like he had to work twice as hard to prove himself. He admitted to crying when James left as James had been the first to threaten to go down to the Ministry and knock some sense into everyone’s heads and now James was too hard to pin down for Al to talk to him.
“I wrote you letters,” he continued, not looking at Scorpius. “I didn’t send them because I didn’t know where you were and I wasn’t sure you’d get them, but it made me feel better to write to you. I don’t know where I put them, though.”
Scorpius, feeling extremely guilty although it really hadn’t been his fault their letters had been somehow intercepted, hesitantly reached out to touch Al’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
Al’s hand covered his. “You were. In a way, you were.”
Scorpius felt something dangerous pooling in his stomach and quickly pulled back, tugging on Al’s shirt and glancing down at his bare chest.
“What,” Al shouted, shoving him away. “In the name of Merlin’s left ear are you doing?”
“Checking for breasts,” Scorpius deadpanned. “I fear you might be growing a pair.”
Al’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been talking to James? Or Teddy? Or Louis? Or-”
“As if I would talk to James Potter. Even after a year, you ought to know me better than that.”
“You ought to know I haven’t grown breasts, you prat!” Al picked up his glass, which had been untouched since he began his story, and downed it all in under a minute. He slammed it back down and blinked. “Whoa, what a rush.”
“You really aren’t supposed to drink it all like that. It’s not a shot glass.”
“Yes, Mum. Now tell me how you’ve been. I bet you have stories!”
Scorpius did, but half of them involved risqué tête-à-têtes with half-dressed and undressed foreign wizards. “Not particularly.”
“Oh, come on,” Al stretched out on the couch again, his feet in Scorpius’ lap, the way they’d grown accustomed to sitting on the couches in the Slytherin common room. “Tell me about Scotland.”
“Lots of men in kilts. Great pubs. Their Quidditch matches are notoriously rowdy. I was nearly caught in a riot at every single one, no matter how obscure the team. Someone,” Scorpius finished with affront. “Almost marred my face.”
“Horror of horrors!”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“Enough about your face. Where else did you go?”
Scorpius gave him a kid-friendly recount of his adventures in Dublin, Edinburgh, Amsterdam, Egypt, Rome, Barcelona, Seville, and ended with both his trips to Paris. He left out the part about meeting Louis and the part of inviting Louis to come back to London and live with him. By the time he was finished talking, Al was wide-eyed and grinning.
“And you have albums from every one of those places? That’s wicked! Can we look through them?”
“They’re-I don’t know where a lot of them are…” Scorpius glanced at his watch, which was at the second line in the SLEEP section. “It’s one in the morning and we have training in four hours! You should go home.”
“I don’t want to,” Al protested, stretching. “I don’t have a roommate to brighten my flat. I don’t even have a flat. If I go home, Mum will just want to know where I’ve been all night and I’ll get an earful from Dad for not signing out with Uncle Ron before I left with you. Can’t I just stay here the night?”
Scorpius wanted to say no. After all, Louis would tease him mercilessly and if Louis came back before Al left, all hell would break loose. Then, Al poked him in the stomach with his toe and pouted like a five year old and Scorpius lost that battle with himself in an instant.
“Sure,” he said, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. “Of course you can. There’s plenty of room on the couch.”
Al whooped as Scorpius brushed his feet away and got up to put away the glasses to be washed in the morning. They sat in the sink for thirty seconds before Scorpius’ itchy hands and mild case of OCD forced him to wash them and put them away. When he returned to the living room, Al was fast asleep, his mouth wide open as he took turns snoring and muttering about black pudding.
Louis chose then to appear in the fireplace, his shaggy hair gelled into a variety of miscellaneous spikes and what Scorpius hoped was a temporary tattoo of a snake on his cheek. Louis began to say something, then stopped short at the sight of Al. He raised both eyebrows.
“You make your dates sleep on the couch?” he whispered. “No wonder you can’t maintain a long-term relationship.”
“Shut your gob and get him a blanket, would you? A minute earlier and you would have ruined everything.”
Louis did as told, then disappeared to brush his teeth as Scorpius pulled the blanket over Al and carefully pushed a pillow under his head. Al shifted in his sleep, his eyes slitting open. “‘ad ooer ack.”
“And now in English?”
Al yawned, closing his eyes again. “…glad… you’re… back…”
That feeling was back in his stomach. Scorpius watched Al for a long time, well after his breath had evened out again, and didn’t stop until Louis flicked the lights on and on and drew Scorpius’ attention to him.
“Mate, you’ve got it bad.”
Scorpius brushed Al’s hair back from his forehead and sighed. “I know.”
Forward