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Albus sighed, rolling over on his bed in the unsettlingly-quiet dorm, and tried to make sense of the Potions textbook open in front of him. Professor Zeller had set their O.W.L. class reading to do over the weekend, which usually wouldn’t have been a problem. Albus loved Potions. He was good at it, it was easy to understand; every potion had a specific recipe to be followed, every ingredient a set list of properties, and every brewing technique a clear guide. It was complex but in an understandable way. A complexity that he enjoyed. It was predictable. Albus could open his book and always see the same ingredients and specifications. A Potions textbook may have old language that proved it hadn’t been updated for decades, if not centuries, but at least it wouldn’t leave him to go and faff about on a broom for hours every weekend.
Okay, that was unfair.
Scorpius had been beside himself with joy when he was chosen to play Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team. Throughout the summer, practically all of his letters included some sort of allusion to his burgeoning flying and seeking skills, and small comments about how he really thought he’d make the team this year. Even his dad, a former Slytherin seeker himself, had said that Scorpius had the potential to make the team after his son ended up beating him 3-2 in a Seekers’ game he’d somehow been roped into. After that, it was no surprise that Scorpius was jumping up and down with both excitement and nerves before the tryouts. Albus had hugged him tightly — in the second half of Fourth Year, after a terribly lonely Christmas holiday spent apart, they decided they did do that after all — and told him that he’d be brilliant. In Albus’ opinion, Scorpius was completely brilliant in general, but he kept that part to himself.
See, Scorpius wasn’t the only one who’d had a, well, formative summer. With his best friend’s absence, Albus had a lot of time to think. And worry about his new O.W.L. classes. And miss Scorpius. And be subjected to very awkward yet surprisingly helpful conversations with his dad about their feelings. But mostly think. Was it normal to feel like you’d lost a part of yourself without your best friend around? Did everyone get this weird ache in their chest when they hadn’t received an owl in reply to a letter they’d sent? And why did he get a fluttery feeling in his stomach when he read Scorpius’ letters?
One day, he plucked up enough courage to ask his mum about it. ‘Oh, Al,’ she said, ‘That’s one you should work out on your own.’ The next time Teddy came over for dinner, Albus pulled him aside, and Teddy told him ‘Albus, it’s up to you to decide what you feel,’ which confused him even more. James, surprisingly enough, was the most helpful, as he just ruffled Albus’ hair, much to his annoyance, and declared that he had a crush.
Near the end of the summer, Albus came to the conclusion that he was gay. Naturally, he told his best friend. And several letters later, he decided that he was very gay for one Scorpius Malfoy. Which, as his best friend, created an issue.
As happy as Albus was for Scorpius, he couldn’t help feeling ever so slightly left out, only heightened by his newly discovered sexuality. This, when he thought about it, was stupid. Albus and Scorpius were each other’s best, and only, friend. Albus was the one who Scorpius would talk himself to sleep to, raving about a new book he’d been reading or something exciting that happened in his classes that day. They’d been practically inseparable since the day they met and kept basically nothing from each other. It would be a strange sight to see Albus without Scorpius; in fact it only really happened in classes they didn’t both take. And now when Scorpius went to Quidditch training.
Albus sighed again. Scorpius would be back soon, and it would be fine. He’d rave about his teammates and how excited he was for the Gryffindor vs Slytherin match coming up next month. Sitting up, he tried to read some more of his textbook, but the words couldn’t hold his focus for longer than a couple of pages about the Draught of Peace. He let his head thunk back against his headboard, closing his eyes as if they’d shut off the onslaught of feelings rushing through his mind.
The sound of the door opening woke Albus up from a nap he hadn’t meant to take. He rubbed his eyes, wincing as Scorpius threw himself backwards onto Albus’ bed in full Slytherin-green Quidditch robes.
“I am exhausted,” Scorpius declared in a huff, seemingly unaware of the fact he was lying directly on top of Albus’ potions notes.
“Your fault for electing to get up at the arse-crack of dawn to kick about on a broomstick,” Albus replied, trying to salvage the pieces of parchment stuck under Scorpius’ back. “Shift.”
Scorpius rolled over, burying his face in Albus’ sheets, releasing an exaggerated groan. Albus retrieved the essay he’d tried to write yesterday and smoothed it out with his fingers.
“Worth it,” said Scorpius, voice heavily muffled from his position on his front. He turned his head to face Albus, who raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Really, it is. It’s great, Albus.”
“Mhm.” Albus focused on collecting and ordering the parchment, crumpling up a piece of unsatisfactory writing and muttering incendio to get rid of it.
“What?” Scorpius asked, his bloody beautiful smile still pulling at his cheeks.
“Nothing.” Albus pulled his knees up to his chest. Scorpius just watched him, the smile slowly falling from his face.
They’d agreed to never ‘nothing’ each other. Long talks with both of their families meant they shared every little lousy feeling that even floated across their thoughts, because being a little embarrassed was heaps better than shutting it in until it bubbled over in the form of yelling things you didn’t mean after one tiny detail set you off. (That conclusion was mostly from being sat down with his mum and dad and speaking a lot. Apologies were said and tears were shed. Embarrassing, yes, but good.)
“Albus,” Scorpius warned. It was hard for Albus to avoid telling the truth when those big grey eyes were staring at him with five years of friendship and shared experiences of trauma behind them.
Reluctant, Albus sucked on his tongue. Scorpius blinked at him, very slowly, like a cat might. Only with Scorpius, it meant he was going to start on him, rather than being a sign of affection for him. Or, well, Albus supposed he started on him because he felt affection for him, but that was beside the point.
Scorpius continued to stare at him. Albus huffed. “I’m jealous. Okay?”
“Jealous?”
“Yeah.” Uncomfortable, Albus dragged his hands down his face. “I’m happy for you because you’re happy and it’s nice seeing you make other friends.”
“But?”
Merlin, this was awful. “But. We’ve had the ‘you’re my only friend’ thing going on for so long, it’s just– it’s weird. When we aren’t together all the time.”
Scorpius opened and closed his mouth, as though he was going to say something but thought about it more and changed his mind. “So, let me get this straight,” he started, which Albus thought was entirely contrary to the genre of emotional crisis he was having, “you aren’t upset at me for having other friends, you just don’t like sharing?”
Albus groaned. “That makes me sound like a total prick. I don’t own you.”
“No, no, I get it. I was sort of like that with you-know-who. Not You-Know-Who but you know, who–”
“Yes, Delphi, I know who.” Albus rolled his eyes. “You can say her name, it’s not going to summon her from Azkaban.”
Scorpius gave him a look. “You never know.”
“I very much do,” Albus deadpanned. Then, before Scorpius launched into another tangent, “please continue.”
“Right. Anyways.” He sat up properly, leaning towards Albus. “I was very slightly, maybe a lot, weird about you and her getting closer and very definitely jealous of it for the exact reason you’ve just described. Mind you the Quidditch team aren’t all psychotic megalomaniacs who want to resurrect the Dark Lord because he’s their dad and ring in a new age of dark magic and blood purity, but we didn’t know that about her at the time, and actually, I don’t know the team on a deep enough level to talk about stuff like that, so I wouldn’t know if they were plotting something along those lines, but the likelihood of Voldemort having another child is very small, so I truly doubt it.”
Scorpius paused to suck in a gasp of air. A little impressed, and a little scared, Albus stared.
“If Voldemort had another kid I’m taking it as a sign that this world is doomed,” he replied, making Scorpius laugh. “Does this circle back to us ?”
“Obviously. I’m saying I get it. They aren’t going to steal me away from you, Albus, I’m far too much of a nerd for that.” Scorpius's voice took on a more serious tone. “You’re the only one who sees all of me. Who else could I talk to about almost destroying the world?”
Albus felt his face go hot. He fiddled with the sleeve of his jumper. “I’ve heard your dad made a good go of it.”
Scorpius laughed. “He’s too much of a softy for that. Seriously, Albus. We’re friends forever, remember? Always. You’re special to me. I don’t feel the way I feel about you with anyone else.”
For one brief, absolutely insane moment, Albus thought that Scorpius was going to kiss him. He swallowed harshly, a quiet, “me neither,” barely coming out his mouth. His heart was racing.
An emotion Albus couldn’t comprehend passed over his best friend’s face, cheeks ever-so-slightly pink, before it split with one of Scorpius’ signature grins.
“Right!” he declared, grabbing Albus’ potions textbook and shoving it into his hands. Albus took it, confused, as Scorpius batted at his knees. “After all those emotions and my own physical exertion, I need a nap.”
Albus blinked. “Okay. On my bed?” came out when he was really thinking ‘together?’ He wasn’t proposing they cuddled, was he?
“On your lap.” Oh Merlin’s beard, that was even worse. “You have reading to do so you can do that while I use your legs as a pillow. Can’t wake me up until you’re done and it’s dinner time.”
“Am I that comfy?” Albus complained, all the while stretching his legs out so Scorpius could curl up.
They did this a surprising number of times, actually, when they both had reading to do. Scorpius lying across his lap on one of the sofas in the common room, reading late into the night as the fire progressively got dimmer and dimmer until it was too cold to stay up any longer. To say it had been… difficult, for Albus this year, wouldn’t be terribly wrong. Whilst before he felt warmth towards Scorpius, there was something else mixed in with it this year that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, something to do with his newly discovered feelings that he was far too nervous about to try and explain. Nothing was amiss in the way Albus acted on these nights, or at least he hoped there wasn’t, so on they went. They’ve just never done it on one of their beds before.
“Exceptionally so.” Scorpius wiggled a bit. “Now, read me whatever it is the reading is.”
“I thought you’d done it already,” Albus said, picking up his wand to refresh the silencing charm he had around his bed.
“I have. But your voice is nice. And Professor McGonagall always says to read a text more than once to fully understand what it’s telling you.”
“Further bolstering your status as a walking encyclopaedia by taking in information like a muggle vacuum. Sounds about right.”
“Shut it,” Scorpius said, flicking Albus in the stomach. “Read, Potter.”
Fondly, Albus smiled and read. “The Draught of Peace is a potion which relieves anxiety and agitation. The list of ingredients required to brew it are as follows: powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills, and powdered unicorn horn…”
Scorpius must’ve really been tired; he fell asleep before Albus got anywhere near finishing the reading. He kept speaking aloud, though, in case Scorpius woke up and chastised him for stopping. It meant he got to watch Scorpius sleep, peaceful and quiet in a way he rarely was. It was a right shame to wake him up for dinner, but he’d rather that than face Scorpius’ hunger-induced wrath.
As he watched Scorpius blink awake, a funny feeling flared in Albus’ chest. Why couldn’t Albus just like him? Why couldn’t friendship be enough?
More than a month after his admission, Albus’ jealousy seemed to have grown a second head. It was the day of the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match, so naturally Scorpius had been spending a lot of his time with his team lately. And not Albus. One afternoon he’d even considered bloody joining just to be able to be around Scorpius more, which was ridiculous. He couldn’t even fly , let alone play Quidditch. And he hated it. But he hated being apart from his best friend more. Which scared him, a little, because it was becoming borderline obsessive. Scorpius was his safe haven, his reprieve from the gossiping and whispers buzzing around him like angry bees. And without that to look forward to after classes — with Scorpius running off, broom in hand, to the changing rooms every night — Albus had an alarming time to think about his crush on him. It somehow managed to be worse than summer.
To put it simply, it wasn’t going away any time soon. Especially not with how weirdly attractive Scorpius was in Quidditch robes. Like father like son, he supposed.
“I don’t get the whole Quidditch thing, but mum’s always on about trusting yourself,” Albus was saying to a jittery, nervous Scorpius after he’d snuck into the changing rooms. “Intuition? I think?”
Scorpius nodded, bouncing his palm off of his knee. “Yes. I know I can do this. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been picked.”
“Exactly. Go beat Gryffindor’s arse.”
Scorpius grinned. “Okay. You are staying to watch, right?”
“Of course,” Albus said sincerely. He may not like Quidditch, but he loved Scorpius. That was becoming abundantly clear. “I wouldn’t miss your first match. And my dad’s here. Even if you weren’t playing he would’ve dragged me to the game so we could watch James and Rose.”
“Great. Wonderful. No pressure, then. At least my dad isn’t here. I’d feel exceptionally pressured to avenge his seeking career.”
Albus snorted. “Go on, I’ll see you after the match.”
Embracing him, Scorpius smiled warmly. “Alright. You’re the best.”
Feeling his face flush, Albus buried his face in Scorpius’ neck. The thought of telling him he smelled really nice passed across his mind, which made him laugh a little, because that was something Scorpius would comment on. Instead, he just said, “good luck.”
As it turns out, Scorpius’ dad was going to be watching the Quidditch match. Albus found out from his mum, who was also there, that she’d asked him without asking his dad. And, to be honest, she didn’t need to ask Dad, because in her own right she could come to as many Quidditch games at Hogwarts as she liked, but it was exceptionally funny to be placed in between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter as some sort of preventative measure so that they wouldn’t scrap.
“Just in case,” his mum had whispered as they were walking to the stands. “They’ve been getting on quite well recently, but this is Quidditch and I don’t want to think about what they might say to each other when whoever it is wins wins.”
“So you’re sacrificing your second-born child?”
His mum pursed her lips. “You’re a Slytherin, Albus. Draco wouldn’t dare.”
This seemed to amuse her greatly. Albus couldn’t say she was wrong, either. Draco did seem to like him quite a bit, more than his dad liked Scorpius when they first became friends.
“Fine,” he said begrudgingly.
“Lovely,” his mum had said and ruffled his hair.
The Slytherin Quidditch team shot out onto the pitch like seven green bullets. They did a loop around the hoops before coming to face the Gryffindors, Scorpius floating a small distance above the rest of the team. Albus managed to catch his eye and Scorpius smiled, a combination of excitement and nerves. Then, Albus saw his eyes flicker to where Draco was sitting next to him, and Scorpius’ face dropped in shock before a grin lit up his face at the sight of his dad. Albus heard Draco clear his throat next to him and made an effort not to look in his direction for a good few minutes after the match had started.
Albus knew he should be watching the entirety of the Quidditch match, giving that his cousin and brother were both playing, and most of the game occurred between chasers and beaters and keepers and decidedly not the seekers, who mostly flew around in circles until the snitch was spotted, but Albus couldn’t help the way his eyes followed Scorpius like they were magnetised to do so. He looked… graceful, as though he belonged in the air; flying through it with the ease of a fish through water. Like there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be.
Albus felt his mouth dry up as Scorpius made a sharp left turn, hurtling towards the ground. Next to him, Albus felt Draco stiffen up, inhaling sharply. They both watched, unbreathing, as right before he would hit the grass, Scorpius pulled his broom skywards and shot up. Squinting, Albus caught sight of a golden shimmer, clasped in between Scorpius’ fingers. Scorpius shot his hand up in the air, beaming, as the rest of the Slytherins flocked towards him.
Both Albus and Draco shot out of their seats, Albus cupping his hands around his mouth to cheer, loudly, while Draco clapped rapidly; still holding onto some sense of politeness.
“He did it!” Albus exclaimed, turning to face Draco. Albus had never seen such a proud face.
“That’s my boy,” he said. His eyes were welling up, and without thinking, Albus threw his arms around Draco’s waist. Draco startled for a moment, before wrapping an arm around Albus’ shoulders and giving him a squeeze.
“And Scorpius Malfoy of Slytherin has caught the snitch!” one of the older students commentating was saying into the megaphone. “He wins the match against Gryffindor 280-170!”
The score had been closer than Albus had realised, so Scorpius really had won them the match. James would be pissed, Rose annoyed, but Albus had never been so happy. He detached himself from Draco and turned to look at his dad, who was watching them with a strange sort of expression on his face.
“I’ve never seen you enjoy Quidditch so much, Albus,” his dad said, one side of his lips turned up in a crooked smile.
“Yeah, well,” Albus replied. “You know what I’m interested in.”
Explicitly, he’d never told his parents that he had a crush on Scorpius. But they knew he was gay. And they knew how much he loved Scorpius. And quite frankly there was no one else he’d watch Quidditch for.
“Yeah. He’s really good.” His dad’s smile softened, as did his eyes. “Better than his dad was, anyways,” he apparently couldn’t help to add.
“Don’t test me, Potter,” Draco said from behind Albus. “If I weren’t so happy right now I’d hex you.”
Merlin, they still acted like teenagers. Hard to believe they were pushing forty with the way they yapped at each other.
“Hey, that’s a compliment on Scorpius’ part,” his dad defended, raising his hands. Albus rolled his eyes. “And speaking of, someone’s excited to see you.”
His dad nodded his head out towards the pitch. Before Albus knew it, Scorpius was barrelling towards him on his broom.
“What are you doing?” Albus shouted, a huge smile on his face as he leaned the front of his body against the railing. “You just won!”
“I know,” Scorpius yelled back. His face was wonderfully flushed. “I’m trusting my intuition, like you said.”
With one swift motion, he pulled his broom to a stop right in front of the box they were all standing in. Scorpius placed his hands on Albus’ shoulders, ignoring the interjections of both of their dads about broom safety and falling off and bloody injuries. And then Scorpius’ lips were on Albus’.
The shock of it all sent waves through Albus, who didn’t do anything but make an odd sort of noise in the back of his throat. His senses came back to him as he felt Scorpius start to pull away, and then Albus was surging forward to grab him by the chin and keep him in place.
Merlin, Scorpius was warm. Albus wasn’t sure if it was from the flying or from their kiss, but whatever it was it made the feeling of Scorpius’ plump lips on his that much better. Even if he didn’t know what he was doing, being his first kiss and all, and he was 99% sure of it being Scorpius’ too, it still felt amazing.
Gasping in air, Albus pulled back first. It was almost as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest. All he could see was Scorpius; his grey eyes shone silver in the daylight, his white blonde hair glowing much the same, and his stupid, stupid grin showing off his perfect white teeth. The celebrations of everyone else blurred into background noise.
“You like me,” Albus breathed.
Scorpius huffed. “Of course I like you. Have you been listening?”
“Not enough, apparently.”
Scorpius’ eyes shifted over Albus’ shoulder, presumably to where Draco was watching. Albus was far too scared to turn around, but Scorpius’ face softened again, so it must’ve been alright. Those two were long past the whole ‘staining the family name’ bullshit.
“I’ve liked you for a long while, Albus,” Scorpius told him, and Albus felt his knees go weak. “I’ve just never had the courage.”
“Nor me,” Albus replied, words failing him.
Scorpius looked back at him. Ducking his head, he got even closer to Albus, if that were even possible.
“Is this the proper way of coming out to family?” Scorpius asked in a whispered rush. “Kissing your best friend right in front of them after winning a Quidditch game?”
“Better ask Rose if it’s the right thing to do,” Albus said, voice shaking.
“I think if I tried to ask her for advice at this very moment in time, she’d rip my head off,” Scorpius laughed, his own voice unsteady. “She’s scary when she’s angry.”
Albus’ eyes flickered down to Scorpius’ lips and back up again. “I think we should stop talking about my cousin.”
“Yes.” Scorpius licked his lips. “Yes. I wholeheartedly agree.”
This time, Albus pressed his lips to Scorpius’. Although he had to admit it was rather hard to kiss someone when you’re both smiling like idiots.