Crossposted from the Albus/Scorpius Summer Lovin' Comment Fest.
Uh... if anyone wants to participate, I'll remind you that it's here, since it seems to have gone dead after the first day. (And I'm the only one who filled anything. /whine)
Remember, a luxury of Next-Gen shipping is that you don't have to keep characterizations consistent from one fic to another, so you don't have to think too hard about it...
Er... is anyone interested? Anyone?
Disclaimer: Actually, I suspect J.K. Rowling is a Scorpius/Rose shipper, myself.
Prompt by enchanted_jae: Scorpius finds out Albus is an Animagus in a rather comical fashion. I leave the animal and the situation up to the author/artist!
***
Draco shook his head again, supposing that he honestly must be a very neglectful father. "So - ah - what's your pet rabbit's name?"
"Fluffy-Wuffikins," Scorpius said, looking harassed and flustered; the rabbit pricked up its ears and almost seemed indignant - but Draco supposed it had to be just his imagination.
"Ah - so that's all, then? Just a pet rabbit?"
Scorpius nodded mutely. Draco stepped back through the doorway, supposing there was nothing more to say. Astoria must have had a point about his not spending enough time with Scorpius, if the boy could have a pet rabbit and he didn't even know about it. "Well, then - have a nice day, Scorpius."
"And you as well, Father," Scorpius muttered as the door swung shut.
---
A few minutes after the door shut, and it was clear Draco wasn't coming back in, the rabbit gave a sudden twitch, and a moment later, Albus Potter lay sprawled across Scorpius's desk; he glared at Scorpius as he pushed himself back up to a sitting position. "Fluffy-Wuffikins?" he repeated in a hushed, murderous voice.
"Well, you deserved it," Scorpius whispered back. "I'm your boyfriend, and you didn't even tell me you're an Animagus?"
"I was going to tell you after my birthday next month - you know, when I can legally register as an Animagus?" Albus got off the desk. "I would've kept it a secret, too, if I'd had more time to hide - but not much else you can do when your only warning, right in the middle of a steamy make-out session, is the sound of your boyfriend's dad rattling the handle, eh?"
"Well, you have a point there, I suppose." Scorpius paused for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "So, on the subject of this steamy make-out session..."
***
Prompt by sophia_clark: Scorpius likes to wear skimpy bathing suits. Al likes to stare at him whenever possible.
***
Draco Malfoy, having gotten into a Muggle-enthusiast stage in his mid-twenties, had declared that Malfoy Manor absolutely had to have a pool, in the interests of Modernity and Keeping Up With The Times. Much like his obsession with leather trousers and his vow to Transfigure everything in the manor to be silver, the stage had passed, but the pool remained.
And Albus had to admit, it was a nice touch.
Lying back on his inner tube, he gazed up at the blazing sun through his polarized sunglasses, lazily letting his head loll to the side. Ah, this was the -
"CANNONBALL!"
One tidal wave later, Albus managed to wrench himself upright, sputtering, and glared at the blond even now surfacing from the water, a wide grin plastered on his aristocratic face. "Did you have to do that?"
"Well, it is my family's pool," Scorpius said, utterly unrepentant. "If Potter Place had a pool, you could do whatever you liked in it, too." He swam up and rested his arms on Albus's inner tube, smiling at the sour-faced Potter. "Come on, Albus - relax, live a little. Stop being the staid old prefect, will you?"
"I was relaxing," Albus muttered, but still leaned to the side and kissed Scorpius, their mouths opening and their tongues intertwining - and just when he was really getting into it, Scorpius pulled away, smirking. "You're a tease," Albus complained.
"And you love me for it," Scorpius said without a hint of shame, and swam away a short distance so he could climb onto his own inner tube - the magical inner tubes, fortunately, being charmed to never overheat, so his would be pleasantly warm rather than blazing hot. "Ah, this is the life."
"Mm," said Albus, his gaze involuntarily flickering over Scorpius's slim swimmer's build; it lingered on Scorpius's soaked boxer shorts, then, when it failed to get a good look at anything, moved on in disappointment to his long, toned legs. "So, since you stayed inside to hear it end, how did Puddlemere United do in their game against the Holyhead Harpies?"
---
"Hello, sleepyhead," Scorpius greeted Albus cheerfully as Albus wandered out to the pool, rubbing his eyes.
"It's only seven-thirty - I'm just not a freak who starts bouncing around at six in the morning," Albus grumbled, squatting down and searching around the foam-rubber noodles for the waterproofed copy of Mermish In 15 Minutes A Day that he'd been reading yesterday. At a slight noise, he glanced over his shoulder to see Scorpius getting out of the water and going over to the Butterbeer cooler, grabbing a glass and leaning down to fill it up -
"Uh, Scorpius?" he asked in a distracted voice, blinking several times.
"Mm?" Scorpius said, not bothering to turn around. Not that Albus minded too much; no matter how low to the ground the Butterbeer cooler was, Albus was certain he did not need to bend over like that just to fill his glass.
"Is that... I mean, is that Speedo... is it new?"
"Well, it used to be a pair of boxer shorts, but I suppose you could say it's new," Scorpius said, taking his sweet time filling up his drink. "Do you like it?"
"I, I, um... Er... Yeah! Yeah, I like it!"
---
Harry cursed under his breath as he lowered his Omninoculars, shifting around on the tree branch he was straddling and readjusting the Cloak of Invisibility. He couldn't let this go on much longer! That blasted Malfoy Jr. obviously was doing his best to tempt poor Al into evil, and Al was too innocent, too pure of heart to see! So that he could get a better look at Malfoy Jr.'s evildoing, he raised his Omninoculars again and zoomed in, twiddling the dials until it focused properly on Malfoy Jr.'s pert, uncovered buttocks.
The barely-of-age Dark wizard (Harry knew he had to be Dark, with the way his face had been so pale and the bags under his eyes so dark at the beginning of the previous school year; Al's insistence that it had just been because he'd been going through a hard time with his parents' divorce was just a sign of how, like his noble namesake, he couldn't see true evil until it slapped him in the face) was now striding about in a thong - a thong, of all things - and stupefying Harry's poor naive son, whose eyes appeared to be riveted to his every movement. Or, at least, that was what Harry thought he had seen when Malfoy Jr. had passed close to Al - he hadn't been watching too closely, since his attention had been focused solely on the Dark wizard in question. "Constant vigilance!" the late, great Mad-Eye Moody had constantly cried, and Harry was certainly being constantly vigilant. So was his chest monster, which had raised its head and was eagerly sniffing the air, its teeth bared in a feral snarl - not a smile, mind, though somebody who didn't understand chest monsters like he did might get that crazy idea. Definitely not a grin, either.
Why, the bloody bastard had even made Al think that he was gay! Absolutely ridiculous, of course - and he had told Al that thinking girls were slightly icky and wet, being attracted to wizards, and having all sorts of heart-pounding dreams about a wizard or seven had nothing to do with homosexuality, but Al had been too far under Malfoy Jr.'s spell by then to listen. In fact, when Harry had tried to tell Al that he'd had just that sort of dream about Voldemort - though of course, in those dreams, the snake-faced abomination had taken the form of his much more charming, sensual, and handsome Tom Riddle stage, all the better to seduce him into evil like the serpent he was - Al had started screaming like he was in pain, shouting that he really DIDN'T want to hear about his dad having THOSE sorts of dreams about You-Know-Who, and a flustered Ginny had been with them like a presence. A clear sign of Dark magic if there ever was one.
(Ginny, at least, had understood, saying that she had just those dreams about Voldemort too - at which point, Al had started moaning and begging to be Obliviated, a clear and alarming sign of the potency of the Dark magic ensnaring him. Though fearful for his son, Harry had still been gratified by this further confirmation that he and Ginny were, indeed, soulmates. They had so much in common!)
In the present, Harry bit down on his lower lip and gripped the Omninoculars in a white-knuckled grip as Malfoy Jr. toweled himself off, the cloth sliding smoothly over his slick, tanned body, and Al, in the background, outright stared. Clearly, this blond bastard (well, not literally - he was definitely a Malfoy, even Harry had to admit that) was of the same sort as Gellert Grindelwald, bending all his charms towards the goal of luring a wide-eyed, very moral student into the deepest depravity - he'd read the Unabridged Dumbledore Letters when Rita Skeeter had published them after the War, and the deeds detailed and discussed within them had so dismayed and disgusted him that, the moment he had finished, he had immediately flipped to the front of the book and started reading it all over again - just to confirm that he'd really read such sick stuff, of course. Breathing hard, Harry vowed that he wouldn't allow Malfoy Jr. to do such things to his son (especially not the position described in Letter #23) - anyone else, but not his son!
Especially - especially when it was obviously all just a scheme to get him into Dark magic, anyway!
As Malfoy Jr. finished, Harry sat back on the branch again and started adjusting the dials, rewinding to the start of the scene - and setting it to replay in slow motion, this time. He wasn't the dunderhead he'd been back in his sixth year, not by a long shot. He understood proper investigative diligence, and he was going to go over the evidence in as much detail as possible, memorizing Malfoy Jr.'s every movement and tracking every twitch of his body. Body language was a subtle thing, after all, and you never knew when a suspect's slightest "tell" would be the key to a case. Yes, he had to watch this with the utmost care, absolutely rapt attention...
And if need be, he'd play it back several times more, just to make sure he caught every detail.
He was Head Auror, after all. He had standards to uphold.
***
Author's Note: *cough* Sorry for the giant Harry section at the end there. It kind of got away from me.
On the other hand, it does make me realize that there's another way to fill this prompt, with Auror!Albus taking after his father and furiously stalking tailing a certain suspect all around the Wizarding swimming pools one summer - you know, just in case he's going to a secret meeting with the Order of the Bathing-Suit Basilisks or has half a chance of exposing a hidden Dark Mark on one of his buttocks or something. One has to be meticulous about these things, you know. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!
[Edited to put in the proper subject line.]
Remember, a luxury of Next-Gen shipping is that you don't have to keep characterizations consistent from one fic to another, so you don't have to think too hard about it...
Er... is anyone interested? Anyone?
Disclaimer: Actually, I suspect J.K. Rowling is a Scorpius/Rose shipper, myself.
Prompt by enchanted_jae: Scorpius finds out Albus is an Animagus in a rather comical fashion. I leave the animal and the situation up to the author/artist!
***
Draco shook his head again, supposing that he honestly must be a very neglectful father. "So - ah - what's your pet rabbit's name?"
"Fluffy-Wuffikins," Scorpius said, looking harassed and flustered; the rabbit pricked up its ears and almost seemed indignant - but Draco supposed it had to be just his imagination.
"Ah - so that's all, then? Just a pet rabbit?"
Scorpius nodded mutely. Draco stepped back through the doorway, supposing there was nothing more to say. Astoria must have had a point about his not spending enough time with Scorpius, if the boy could have a pet rabbit and he didn't even know about it. "Well, then - have a nice day, Scorpius."
"And you as well, Father," Scorpius muttered as the door swung shut.
---
A few minutes after the door shut, and it was clear Draco wasn't coming back in, the rabbit gave a sudden twitch, and a moment later, Albus Potter lay sprawled across Scorpius's desk; he glared at Scorpius as he pushed himself back up to a sitting position. "Fluffy-Wuffikins?" he repeated in a hushed, murderous voice.
"Well, you deserved it," Scorpius whispered back. "I'm your boyfriend, and you didn't even tell me you're an Animagus?"
"I was going to tell you after my birthday next month - you know, when I can legally register as an Animagus?" Albus got off the desk. "I would've kept it a secret, too, if I'd had more time to hide - but not much else you can do when your only warning, right in the middle of a steamy make-out session, is the sound of your boyfriend's dad rattling the handle, eh?"
"Well, you have a point there, I suppose." Scorpius paused for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "So, on the subject of this steamy make-out session..."
***
Prompt by sophia_clark: Scorpius likes to wear skimpy bathing suits. Al likes to stare at him whenever possible.
***
Draco Malfoy, having gotten into a Muggle-enthusiast stage in his mid-twenties, had declared that Malfoy Manor absolutely had to have a pool, in the interests of Modernity and Keeping Up With The Times. Much like his obsession with leather trousers and his vow to Transfigure everything in the manor to be silver, the stage had passed, but the pool remained.
And Albus had to admit, it was a nice touch.
Lying back on his inner tube, he gazed up at the blazing sun through his polarized sunglasses, lazily letting his head loll to the side. Ah, this was the -
"CANNONBALL!"
One tidal wave later, Albus managed to wrench himself upright, sputtering, and glared at the blond even now surfacing from the water, a wide grin plastered on his aristocratic face. "Did you have to do that?"
"Well, it is my family's pool," Scorpius said, utterly unrepentant. "If Potter Place had a pool, you could do whatever you liked in it, too." He swam up and rested his arms on Albus's inner tube, smiling at the sour-faced Potter. "Come on, Albus - relax, live a little. Stop being the staid old prefect, will you?"
"I was relaxing," Albus muttered, but still leaned to the side and kissed Scorpius, their mouths opening and their tongues intertwining - and just when he was really getting into it, Scorpius pulled away, smirking. "You're a tease," Albus complained.
"And you love me for it," Scorpius said without a hint of shame, and swam away a short distance so he could climb onto his own inner tube - the magical inner tubes, fortunately, being charmed to never overheat, so his would be pleasantly warm rather than blazing hot. "Ah, this is the life."
"Mm," said Albus, his gaze involuntarily flickering over Scorpius's slim swimmer's build; it lingered on Scorpius's soaked boxer shorts, then, when it failed to get a good look at anything, moved on in disappointment to his long, toned legs. "So, since you stayed inside to hear it end, how did Puddlemere United do in their game against the Holyhead Harpies?"
---
"Hello, sleepyhead," Scorpius greeted Albus cheerfully as Albus wandered out to the pool, rubbing his eyes.
"It's only seven-thirty - I'm just not a freak who starts bouncing around at six in the morning," Albus grumbled, squatting down and searching around the foam-rubber noodles for the waterproofed copy of Mermish In 15 Minutes A Day that he'd been reading yesterday. At a slight noise, he glanced over his shoulder to see Scorpius getting out of the water and going over to the Butterbeer cooler, grabbing a glass and leaning down to fill it up -
"Uh, Scorpius?" he asked in a distracted voice, blinking several times.
"Mm?" Scorpius said, not bothering to turn around. Not that Albus minded too much; no matter how low to the ground the Butterbeer cooler was, Albus was certain he did not need to bend over like that just to fill his glass.
"Is that... I mean, is that Speedo... is it new?"
"Well, it used to be a pair of boxer shorts, but I suppose you could say it's new," Scorpius said, taking his sweet time filling up his drink. "Do you like it?"
"I, I, um... Er... Yeah! Yeah, I like it!"
---
Harry cursed under his breath as he lowered his Omninoculars, shifting around on the tree branch he was straddling and readjusting the Cloak of Invisibility. He couldn't let this go on much longer! That blasted Malfoy Jr. obviously was doing his best to tempt poor Al into evil, and Al was too innocent, too pure of heart to see! So that he could get a better look at Malfoy Jr.'s evildoing, he raised his Omninoculars again and zoomed in, twiddling the dials until it focused properly on Malfoy Jr.'s pert, uncovered buttocks.
The barely-of-age Dark wizard (Harry knew he had to be Dark, with the way his face had been so pale and the bags under his eyes so dark at the beginning of the previous school year; Al's insistence that it had just been because he'd been going through a hard time with his parents' divorce was just a sign of how, like his noble namesake, he couldn't see true evil until it slapped him in the face) was now striding about in a thong - a thong, of all things - and stupefying Harry's poor naive son, whose eyes appeared to be riveted to his every movement. Or, at least, that was what Harry thought he had seen when Malfoy Jr. had passed close to Al - he hadn't been watching too closely, since his attention had been focused solely on the Dark wizard in question. "Constant vigilance!" the late, great Mad-Eye Moody had constantly cried, and Harry was certainly being constantly vigilant. So was his chest monster, which had raised its head and was eagerly sniffing the air, its teeth bared in a feral snarl - not a smile, mind, though somebody who didn't understand chest monsters like he did might get that crazy idea. Definitely not a grin, either.
Why, the bloody bastard had even made Al think that he was gay! Absolutely ridiculous, of course - and he had told Al that thinking girls were slightly icky and wet, being attracted to wizards, and having all sorts of heart-pounding dreams about a wizard or seven had nothing to do with homosexuality, but Al had been too far under Malfoy Jr.'s spell by then to listen. In fact, when Harry had tried to tell Al that he'd had just that sort of dream about Voldemort - though of course, in those dreams, the snake-faced abomination had taken the form of his much more charming, sensual, and handsome Tom Riddle stage, all the better to seduce him into evil like the serpent he was - Al had started screaming like he was in pain, shouting that he really DIDN'T want to hear about his dad having THOSE sorts of dreams about You-Know-Who, and a flustered Ginny had been with them like a presence. A clear sign of Dark magic if there ever was one.
(Ginny, at least, had understood, saying that she had just those dreams about Voldemort too - at which point, Al had started moaning and begging to be Obliviated, a clear and alarming sign of the potency of the Dark magic ensnaring him. Though fearful for his son, Harry had still been gratified by this further confirmation that he and Ginny were, indeed, soulmates. They had so much in common!)
In the present, Harry bit down on his lower lip and gripped the Omninoculars in a white-knuckled grip as Malfoy Jr. toweled himself off, the cloth sliding smoothly over his slick, tanned body, and Al, in the background, outright stared. Clearly, this blond bastard (well, not literally - he was definitely a Malfoy, even Harry had to admit that) was of the same sort as Gellert Grindelwald, bending all his charms towards the goal of luring a wide-eyed, very moral student into the deepest depravity - he'd read the Unabridged Dumbledore Letters when Rita Skeeter had published them after the War, and the deeds detailed and discussed within them had so dismayed and disgusted him that, the moment he had finished, he had immediately flipped to the front of the book and started reading it all over again - just to confirm that he'd really read such sick stuff, of course. Breathing hard, Harry vowed that he wouldn't allow Malfoy Jr. to do such things to his son (especially not the position described in Letter #23) - anyone else, but not his son!
Especially - especially when it was obviously all just a scheme to get him into Dark magic, anyway!
As Malfoy Jr. finished, Harry sat back on the branch again and started adjusting the dials, rewinding to the start of the scene - and setting it to replay in slow motion, this time. He wasn't the dunderhead he'd been back in his sixth year, not by a long shot. He understood proper investigative diligence, and he was going to go over the evidence in as much detail as possible, memorizing Malfoy Jr.'s every movement and tracking every twitch of his body. Body language was a subtle thing, after all, and you never knew when a suspect's slightest "tell" would be the key to a case. Yes, he had to watch this with the utmost care, absolutely rapt attention...
And if need be, he'd play it back several times more, just to make sure he caught every detail.
He was Head Auror, after all. He had standards to uphold.
***
Author's Note: *cough* Sorry for the giant Harry section at the end there. It kind of got away from me.
On the other hand, it does make me realize that there's another way to fill this prompt, with Auror!Albus taking after his father and furiously stalking tailing a certain suspect all around the Wizarding swimming pools one summer - you know, just in case he's going to a secret meeting with the Order of the Bathing-Suit Basilisks or has half a chance of exposing a hidden Dark Mark on one of his buttocks or something. One has to be meticulous about these things, you know. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!
[Edited to put in the proper subject line.]