Like Fools: Chapter Two
Title: Like Fools
Author: Kimberry531/Clandestinelle (same person)
Rating: R
Pairing: Al/Scorpius
Word Count: 52,207 total; ~5k this chapter.
Summary: In the middle of his quest to find and master the Elder Wand which his father didn’t want, Al finds his family in the midst of a second Wizarding war. While in hiding, Al finds himself struggling to fight against feelings for one of the other refugees - blonde, sweet, innocent Scorpius Malfoy. However, when the war takes a turn for the worse, Al finds that he suddenly has bigger problems than his heart, and the two must embark on a frightening adventure fit only for Gryffindor idiots.
Notes: This fic is COMPLETE and will be updated every Monday and every Friday.
Dedication: Rosa, Slashfiend337, for getting me out of my two-month pit of despair of the last chapter and setting it straight within thirty minutes. Owe her my soul. And this fic.
“On me dit que le destin se moque bien de nous
Qu'il ne nous donne rien et qu'il nous promet tout
Parais qu'le bonheur est à portée de main,
Alors on tend la main et on se retrouve fou
I’m told that fate makes fun of us,
That it gives us nothing and promises everything,
When happiness seems to be within our grasp,
We reach out and find ourselves like fools”
- Carla Bruni
"Here's what I have so far," Albus said quietly to Rose. They were in the library just before closing. It was deserted but for a group of Ravenclaw girls who were studying as they waited for Rose, and Malfoy, who had been there surrounded by Herbology texts all night. "The Elder Wand, aka the Death Stick, is an unbeatable wand created by Antioch Peverell -"
"Or Death, if you believe the story," Rose interjected.
Albus gave her an even look. "We're going for facts, here, Rose. Act like a Ravenclaw for once."
Rose pretended to zip her lips and put on a face of rapt attention.
"Anyway," Albus said, placated, “it's fifteen inches with the hair of a Thestral."
"Fitting, since Death made it."
"Death did not make it, Rose Weasley. Antioch Peverell did."
"Okay, Albus."
"So it was passed down from person to person -"
"By murder."
Al ignored her. "But the history books only go so far. This one says that Grindelwald stole it from Gregorovitch. The book doesn't say any more. But listen, Dumbledore and Grindelwald had that huge battle and Dumbledore won, so he'd be the next master. But we know my dad was the last master. How did that happen?"
"If he was, that'd mean he had to kill someone," Rose pointed out.
Al sucked in a long breath. "Wow," he said. "I'll owl him about that."
"And say what? 'Dear Dad, hope all is well. I'm keeping up with my studies. By the by, have you ever killed anyone other than Lord Voldemort?'"
Albus scowled at her. "Just ask him if he knows anything, that's all."
Rose paused. "Wait a tic. Who killed Dumbledore?"
Albus looked at her strangely. "I don't know. Why?"
"Well somebody did... and that makes them the next master."
They looked at each other silently for a moment, but no further inspiration struck.
"I'll owl my dad," Albus promised.
"I'll start researching Dumbledore's death," Rose returned, and they parted ways to go to sleep.
*****
Dad,
How are you and Mum? Tell her I send my love.
I'm just curious... I was reading up on famous wizards and I saw that Dumbledore was the last man - in the texts I'd read - to have that wand that you had. The one in the Beedle the Bard story.
I was just curious as to how it got from him to you and all that.
Thanks, Dad.
Your curious son,
Albus Severus
Al,
I don't really approve of this topic. I'd just go by what the texts say.
Remember what I told you about things being dangerous? Heed my words, Al. I don't waste them.
Love,
Dad
James,
Your little brother's up to something. Do your old man a favour and tail him for a while and find out what it is and whether I should be concerned?
I'll see that you're compensated.
Love,
Dad
Dad,
I want five Galleons a week and I want the house empty for a good eight hours while I have Gloria over during Christmas hols.
- James
James,
Gloria Thomas?
Don't let her dad find out. Dean would kill me on the spot.
You have yourself a deal.
- Dad xoxo
Dad,
I can't believe you put xoxo on my letter. Have you been channeling Mum?
- James
*****
"Oy! Potter!" one of the other Slytherin boys called from outside the dormitory door. Al strolled over and opened it. "Your cousin's outside. Says it's urgent."
Al grunted his thanks and headed down to the common room, shutting his door behind him.
"What's up, Rose?" he asked his cousin, who was perched on the arm of a couch, talking to Laila.
Rose looked up at him breathlessly, her face shining with excitement.
"Come to the library with me. I've got something."
Albus ran back up to his room and swept his notes and books into his shoulder bag, grabbed the cloak on a whim, and headed back out. "Let's go!" he called, walking swiftly towards the library.
As he exited the common room, he thought he saw a flash of red hair.
They made their way into the library and picked a table.
"Guess who murdered Albus Dumbledore?" Rose asked, still breathless and bursting with happy energy.
"Gilderoy Lockhart."
"Who?"
"No one. I was being facetious, Rose, Merlin! Just tell me!"
"Severus Snape," she said, relishing each syllable.
"The one-?"
"The headmaster you were named after."
"I'm named after the man who killed Albus Dumbledore?" Albus hissed, slightly hysterical.
"Even better - you're named after Albus Dumbledore and the man who murdered him."
Albus let out a shaky laugh. "That is so fucked up."
Dad,
Are you on crack?
Just wondered.
Love,
Albus
James,
Something is definitely up with Albus. Get on it.
xo Dad
Dad,
Stop with the xo's. I've been tailing Al since your first owl, and he's not doing anything out of the ordinary! Hanging with Rose, talking to that Laila girl. Nothing telling at all! I'm moving on to Plan B. I’m going to read Al’s mind.
- James
James,
Please don’t do anything illegal.
- Dad
Dear Dad,
Let me clarify my last owl. You named me after Albus Dumbledore and his murderer?!
ARE YOU ON CRACK?!
Love,
Albus
Albus,
You need to stop this 'research'. I've told you - leave these things alone.
If I hear that you're still pursuing this, I'm going to take the cloak back.
- Dad
*****
"My dad won't tell me anything," Albus told Rose sadly.
"Don't worry," Rose said. "I've found some documents on Severus Snape. Voldemort killed him."
"And then my dad killed Voldemort, making him the Master," Al deduced. "That makes sense."
"No it doesn't," Rose said. "Your dad had to have mastered the wand before defeating Voldemort. We've messed up somewhere."
Albus thumped his head on the mahogany table.
Rose sighed. "We should go to bed. We can start fresh tomorrow."
"I'll leave soon," Al mumbled, eyes on the books and papers in front of him. He had to find where they'd strayed off the path.
Rose smiled slightly, ruffled his hair, and left.
Albus stayed, pouring over the books. There had to be something...
'-have to pull up my Herbology grade. I try so hard to listen to Professor Longbottom, and it's like he's speaking Elvish.'
Albus shut his book and looked around. Someone was talking. No one was anywhere to be seen.
'-just have to study harder, I guess, get Father off my back.’
Malfoy, Al realized. He packed up his books and papers and started searching the room, finding Malfoy several rows away, surrounded by Herbology textbooks and notes.
'Gillyweed gives you gills. Gilly - gills. Gill - gill. Easy to remember.'
It was definitely Malfoy’s voice, Albus was sure. But Malfoy's mouth wasn't moving.
"Who's there?" Malfoy asked suddenly.
Albus froze.
"Who was that?" Malfoy called, sharper this time.
Albus stepped forward.
"Oh." Malfoy looked relieved. "I thought I was going crazy."
"Were you talking to yourself?" Albus asked, his voice low.
Scorpius flicked his bangs away from his eyes and looked at the dark-haired boy. Al remained unsmiling. "No, I was talking to you. But I didn't know it was you, because you were lurking."
"No, about Herbology… gillyweed."
Scorpius froze. "No. I was thinking that. Did you jinx me?"
"No." Albus scowled. "But I started hearing your voice out of nowhere."
"What were you doing before that?" Malfoy demanded.
"Reading," Albus said with a slight sneer. "I didn't jinx you, Malfoy! I just started hearing you."
"I might have heard you too," Malfoy said slowly. "Think something."
'Scorpius Malfoy is a git,' Albus thought.
“Oh, Merlin,” Scorpius said, starting to hyperventilate. “This can’t happen to me right now. I have too much in my life to be worrying about crazy jinxes. This has Weasley written all over it, Potter! One of your cousins probably thinks they’re funny! Why’d they have to pick me, huh?” His voice began to grow shrill. “I have Quidditch and classes and - my father is going to shit! Especially because it’s you! Fix it, Potter! Fix it right now!”
"Okay," Albus said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay. No need to panic. We can hear each other's thoughts. That's okay. Could be worse."
Scorpius took a few large gulps of air. “This can’t be happening to me,” he moaned, lowering his head onto the desk. “Why me? Why? In what way have I so wronged the universe?”
"Malfoy, shut up so I can think!” Al snapped, and Malfoy went silent, instead thumping his head rhythmically against the table.
“Should we go to the Headmaster?” Al mused. Scorpius raised his head quickly.
“No,” he said. “He’ll owl my father. I’d prefer if my father not get involved in this little mishap.”
“Maybe it’s because of the exploded potion,” Al said suddenly. “We’re the only ones who were close to it.”
“Why would it only start now?” Scorpius asked.
Al shrugged. “It’s the best I can think of. We should go see Professor DuLock first thing tomorrow and see what he thinks.”
“And if not?”
Al sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t want my dad to know either… he thinks everything is some Death Eater return. Maybe I’ll owl my mum?”
Malfoy nodded. “I hope it’s the potion. We can just… take an antidote, and be done with this.”
“The sooner the better,” Al agreed.
“Wait,” Scorpius said. “Can we go after classes? I have Arithmancy tomorrow and I seriously can’t miss it or -”
“Quidditch try-outs after classes,” Al pointed out.
Scorpius sighed. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow, okay, Potter? Maybe it’ll have worn off by morning anyway.”
"Sure. See you tomorrow," Albus said and disappeared behind a bookshelf, throwing on the invisibility cloak.
*****
'Oh, bugger all, where did I leave my friggen socks?'
Al frowned in his sleep and burrowed deeper into his mattress, pulling his blankets up around his head to no avail; the voice persisted, loud as ever.
'Well there's one. Where the hell is the other? I'm going to be late meeting Anna and Jess for breakfast!'
Al was confused for a moment, sitting up and looking around for the source of the voice. No one was speaking - only Malfoy was out of bed, crawling around the floor in search of something. Everything clicked together as Al remembered the previous night. "Fuck,” he growled. “My life is so fucked up.” Louder, he said, “Goddamnit, Malfoy, could you be any louder?"
Scorpius looked at him for a moment, one eyebrow raised.
"You're practically shouting your thoughts," Al said.
"Oh," Scorpius said, looking slightly bemused. "Sorry. I guess I wasn't thinking quietly. That's not something I've ever had to worry about."
Al grunted and reclosed his bed curtains, flopping back onto his mattress and closing his eyes.
All through breakfast, Scorpius's mundane morning thoughts continued to play in the back of his mind. Albus kept scrunching his eyes shut and wishing Malfoy's voice gone.
"Are you okay?" Laila asked for the ninth time, taking a bite of toast.
“What?” Al asked, looking up. “Sorry. What?”
Laila smiled at him. “Nervous about Quidditch later?”
“Oh. Yeah,” Albus lied. “Yeah, I am.”
‘It’s better,’ he defended his lie silently, ‘to never let anyone know all of you.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Scorpius’s voice rang through his head.
*****
It was easier to tune Malfoy out when they were in different parts of the castle. Malfoy’s voice was merely a low murmur in the back of his mind, and Albus felt blissfully free of the strain he felt while in close proximity to the boy.
By afternoon, he was in a noticeably better mood, whistling cheerfully as he headed back to the dungeons.
“Oy! Potter!” one of the seventh-year boys called as he strode through the common room. “Party tonight. You coming?”
Albus paused. “Put me down as a maybe.”
“Maybe doesn’t exist here. It’s a yes or a no. If you’re going and you’re going to need to be supplied for, then we need to know.”
Albus rolled his eyes and dug in his pocket.
“Here. Consider me going. I want a bottle of Vladmir’s Vicious Licorice.” Albus slapped three Galleons into the boy’s hand.
The boy nodded, and made a note on the parchment on the table in front of him.
“Who else is coming?” Albus asked offhandedly.
“All of the upperclass Slytherins. The Gryffindor upperclassmen, and the Ravenclaw seventh-years and a few hand selected sixth-years.”
Albus smiled. “Sounds like a real party.”
The boy grinned. “Oh, it will be. It’ll be historic.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Who needs an occasion to have a historic party?”
Albus laughed and started towards his dorm again. “Who, indeed,” he called, and disappeared behind the door.
“You’re in a good mood,” Malfoy commented from his bed.
Albus silently held up a hand, crawled into his bed, and shut the curtains. But Malfoy did not go away, as he should have.
‘What’s your problem?' he asked mentally.
‘I’m tired of your voice. I wish we didn’t have Quidditch, so we could go down to DuLock and get this taken care of,’ Al thought back. After a beat, he added, ‘I need a nap before Quidditch. Try to keep your mind down.’
‘I never knew you were such a prick,’ Malfoy thought, his tone not unkind.
‘I’m usually not,’ Albus admitted, closed his eyes, and slept.
****
Slytherin Quidditch
Beaters:
Perkins
Jennings
Chasers:
Young
Finch-Fletchley
Malfoy
Keeper:
Potter
Seeker:
Captain Goyle
“I’m proud of you,” Al said, turning to Laila.
Laila smiled at him, and they clicked their glasses together. Albus knew her well - within the hour she’d be drunk and be in some random guy’s lap and then, if Al didn’t stop her, the random bloke’s room.
The music had a heavy bass, and Albus felt the crowd swaying.
“Potter,” one of the fifth-year girls said, coming up to him. Her blonde hair hung loose and curly around her shoulders. “I was wondering if I could have a glass of your Vladmir’s.”
When a student paid specifically for a certain drink, it was spelled so that one could only pour themselves a drink from that bottle with the payer’s permission.
“Who are you?” Albus asked, pouring himself a glass. The girl looked disappointed.
“All right, fine,” Albus said, handing over his glass and pouring a new one for himself.
“Thanks. I’m Dee, by the way. Dee Jackson.”
“Sounds like a Muggle name,” Scorpius said, suddenly at Albus’s side.
“Not that it matters,” Albus said, sending Malfoy a sideways glance.
A new song came on, and one of Dee’s friends screamed and came over, grabbing the girl’s wrist and pulling her away to dance.
“I never took you for a drinker,” Scorpius said offhandedly, and Albus noticed his hands were empty.
“Don’t pretend you know me,” Albus retorted, and headed off to find Laila and make sure his sister hadn’t gotten in.
Someone put a hand on his arm, and Albus, turning, saw Rose, clutching a glass of what must have been vodka and cranberry - her penchant drink.
“Muggle alcohol?” Albus asked her.
“Mum always said it was the best kind.” Rose smiled, and Albus noticed her face was flushed - she was already feeling the effects.
“Be careful,” he warned her.
“I’ll see you around,” she answered, and turned to talk to the Ravenclaw boy behind her.
He found Laila already three steps past where she normally was at this point in the night. She was on some guy’s lap - either he was a Gryffindor, or he’d swapped ties with someone during the party - his shirt completely unbuttoned, and his hands sliding up the back of her skirt. Albus prayed she was wearing knickers this time.
He walked over and grabbed her wrist, pulling her backwards off the boy’s lap.
“Al!” she squealed, stumbling into him. “What are you doing?”
“Saving you from yourself,” he muttered to her.
“See this girl? She’s mine,” he told the angry looking possibly-Gryffindor. With that, he took Laila towards the dormitory, locking the door behind him.
“Alright, love,” he told her, handing her a clean pair of his pajamas. “You’re going to be puking in approximately ten minutes, so head off to the loo. When you think you’re done, wash up and I’ll tuck you in and you can sleep it off.”
“I wanna go back,” she argued half-heartedly.
“Go,” he told her gently, and sat on his bed, sipping his drink. Here in the dorms, past the silencing spells that encased the common room during the parties, it was quiet - almost as if the party didn’t exist.
He heard Laila heave a few minutes later and winced. Not long after, the shower turned on. Albus closed his eyes. His routine with Laila was well-rehearsed from its use every time there was a party - she could always be counted on to get out of control.
He kept her from sleeping with everything with a cock, and she helped him keep up his appearances. A good number of people would have seen Albus pull Laila into his room - just like they’d all seen a hundred times before. Albus knew what they all assumed, and he let them. That way he didn’t have to worry about actually bagging a girl. He had pretty much never wanted to.
Not that he was entirely inexperienced. He’d kissed a few girls, and had got into a few pairs of knickers. But sex - and the complications and relationships involved - were entirely unappealing to him.
After a few minutes, the shower turned off, and Laila stumbled out to him.
“Alright, you,” he said. “In bed. I’ll stay here until I know you’re not going to puke in your sleep.”
“I don’t feel sick,” she informed him, and yawned. In minutes, she was asleep.
There was a knock at the door. Albus didn’t answer it, but instead pulled himself onto his bed and shut the curtains.
‘Let me in,’ Malfoy thought.
‘I’m a little busy,’ Albus responded.
‘I know you’re not sleeping with Finch-Fletchley. Let me in.’
Albus sighed and got out of bed, walking over and unlocking the door.
“Thank you,” Malfoy said, heading for his bed.
“Shh,” Al whispered. “I just got her to fall asleep.”
Malfoy glanced over at Laila’s sleeping form. “Good thing I didn’t have to yell at you through the door, then. This mental thing can come in handy, who knew?” Still watching Laila, he added, “That’s a really good thing you do for her, Potter.”
“I told you I’m not always a prick.”
Scorpius sat on the edge of his bed.
“What are they doing down there now?” Albus asked, noticing the music had been turned way down.
“They’re setting up to play truth and dare,” Malfoy answered.
“Let’s go!” Albus cried, standing up. “I love that game! It’s diabolical!”
Malfoy laughed, shaking his head, but followed the excited Al to the common room.
“Everyone knows the rules?” a seventh-year girl asked the group. Almost everyone shook their heads in the negative.
“It’s like truth or dare,” the girl said, “But you don’t get to choose which. You get both. First truth, and then a dare based on the truth you reveal.”
Albus didn’t get picked until fifteen minutes in.
“Albus Potter. Truth - who have you ever kissed?”
“Laila Finch-Fletchley, Gina Zabini, Rachel Young, Wendy Kim, and Nelly Lucas.”
“Good little straight boy.” The girl, a Gryffindor, smiled devilishly. “I dare you to kiss any boy in this circle.”
Albus nodded and began to think quickly. If he actually chose a boy, that would lead to torment and comments for weeks.
“Jackson,” Albus called, and the girl in question looked up.
“I’m not a bloke,” she said.
“No shit. You owe me a favor for that glass of Vladmir’s. Put your wand in the middle of the circle and spin it for me.”
She smiled - a Slytherin always appreciates true cunning - and followed his directions. It landed on Gina Zabini, who giggled - she’d been one of Al’s knicker-exploits - so Dee spun again. This time it landed on a Ravenclaw boy Albus didn’t know. Albus leaned over and kissed the boy quickly, tight lipped and with a slight shudder.
“Easy,” he said. “Now let’s see. Malfoy.”
Scorpius looked up, looking slightly worried. ‘Please be nice,’ he thought frantically.
“Have you ever been drunk?”
“No,” Malfoy answered unapologetically.
“I dare you to finish my bottle of Vladmir’s entirely by yourself,” Albus said, eyeing the bottle. There was definitely not enough in there to get the boy drunk. But it was a start.
Eventually everyone got bored of the game, new bottles were put out, and the music was turned back up. The crowd thinned as the younger students and the couples headed back to their various dorms.
Albus poured himself a glass of water, feeling plenty drunk and wanting to stay at the good level, and perched on the arm of a couch.
He felt someone’s eyes on his back, and scanned the room, assuming it was Rose trying to tell him something.
It was Malfoy, leaning against a wall, and glaring at him over the top of his glass of Al’s alcohol.
‘Got a problem?’ Al asked wryly.
‘Yeah,’ Malfoy replied, the shadows playing across his pale, pointed face. ‘That was low. I can’t figure you out, Potter. One second you’re a knight in shining armor, the next you’re a vile, drinking, partying, truth-or-dare jerk.’
Al stood up, placing his drink on the table behind him. He strode over to Malfoy and stood directly in front of him, their chests touching.
“What was that?” Al asked.
“I said you’re a jerk,” Malfoy answered, pushing off the wall a little and pushing back against Al, clearly not giving in.
“Because I dared you to have a drink?”
“I don’t drink,” Scorpius said, his voice light and unyielding at the same time, “because I’ve grown up watching both of my parents fight alcoholism.”
Al closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You didn’t have to do it, you know.”
“I don’t back down from dares. Ever,” Malfoy told him, unforgiving. “Obviously you don’t either… unless you really secretly wanted to kiss that bloke.”
Al narrowed his eyes. “You think I liked kissing a bloke?”
Scorpius went silent, his eyes scanning Al’s dark, serious face. “I think you’d like it if it were me,” he said quietly.
Al tilted his head. “Is that a dare?” he asked quietly.
Scorpius smirked. “Do you want it to be?” he asked with a casual tilt of the head.
Al pushed Scorpius back to the wall he had been leaning against, crushing their mouths together heatedly.
Scorpius responded in kind, wrapping one arm around Al’s neck, the other hand resting on his lower back, and opening his mouth obligingly when Al nipped at his lips. Al’s hands rested on Scorpius’s hips, tugging at the hem of his shirt and clenching on Scorpius’s hipbones when the other boy tugged on a handful of his hair.
Al pressed his lower body closer to Scorpius, his eyes closed and his mind blank. Scorpius gasped, turning his head slightly to end the kiss, his eyes on the floor. He raised his hands to Al’s chest, not pushing, just resting. Shyly, he glanced up and met Al’s frightened eyes. Scorpius picked up one of Al’s hands - they had fallen to his sides after Scorpius had gasped - and placed it over his heart.
Al was worried that he’d gone too far, but then Scorpius said quietly, “Feel that?”
Al nodded, and pushed away, turning to face the crowd. Rose met his eyes and he fixed her with a pleading expression. She nodded her head towards the couch - a Gryffindor boy was passed out on it. Al stumbled forward, as if he were too drunk to walk. Rose hurried to help him.
“Roshie!” Al slurred perfectly. “I - I, oh.” He sank down, sitting on the floor, letting his eyelids flutter.
“Shit, is Potter passing out?”
“Merlin, he’s never been that drunk.”
“He must have had more upstairs.”
A snigger. “Finch-Fletchley is not gonna like what just happened.”
“He’s so drunk, he probably thought it was her. They are both blonde.”
“Come on, Al,” Rose said loudly. “Wake up. Will someone help me carry him back to Ravenclaw? I’ll stick him on one of the couches - I want to keep an eye on him.”
“I will,” Al heard Scorpius say. He felt two sets of hands lift him to his feet and support him as they made their way to the door.
“Be careful getting back,” someone called after them. “Don’t get caught!”
“We’ll be fine,” Rose called. As the door shut behind them, Al extracted himself from their grip.
“Thanks, Rose. I owe you one.”
She looked at him, and then shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re getting into, Albus Severus.”
“I’m not getting into anything,” Al told her, not meeting Scorpius’s eyes.
Author: Kimberry531/Clandestinelle (same person)
Rating: R
Pairing: Al/Scorpius
Word Count: 52,207 total; ~5k this chapter.
Summary: In the middle of his quest to find and master the Elder Wand which his father didn’t want, Al finds his family in the midst of a second Wizarding war. While in hiding, Al finds himself struggling to fight against feelings for one of the other refugees - blonde, sweet, innocent Scorpius Malfoy. However, when the war takes a turn for the worse, Al finds that he suddenly has bigger problems than his heart, and the two must embark on a frightening adventure fit only for Gryffindor idiots.
Notes: This fic is COMPLETE and will be updated every Monday and every Friday.
Dedication: Rosa, Slashfiend337, for getting me out of my two-month pit of despair of the last chapter and setting it straight within thirty minutes. Owe her my soul. And this fic.
“On me dit que le destin se moque bien de nous
Qu'il ne nous donne rien et qu'il nous promet tout
Parais qu'le bonheur est à portée de main,
Alors on tend la main et on se retrouve fou
I’m told that fate makes fun of us,
That it gives us nothing and promises everything,
When happiness seems to be within our grasp,
We reach out and find ourselves like fools”
- Carla Bruni
"Here's what I have so far," Albus said quietly to Rose. They were in the library just before closing. It was deserted but for a group of Ravenclaw girls who were studying as they waited for Rose, and Malfoy, who had been there surrounded by Herbology texts all night. "The Elder Wand, aka the Death Stick, is an unbeatable wand created by Antioch Peverell -"
"Or Death, if you believe the story," Rose interjected.
Albus gave her an even look. "We're going for facts, here, Rose. Act like a Ravenclaw for once."
Rose pretended to zip her lips and put on a face of rapt attention.
"Anyway," Albus said, placated, “it's fifteen inches with the hair of a Thestral."
"Fitting, since Death made it."
"Death did not make it, Rose Weasley. Antioch Peverell did."
"Okay, Albus."
"So it was passed down from person to person -"
"By murder."
Al ignored her. "But the history books only go so far. This one says that Grindelwald stole it from Gregorovitch. The book doesn't say any more. But listen, Dumbledore and Grindelwald had that huge battle and Dumbledore won, so he'd be the next master. But we know my dad was the last master. How did that happen?"
"If he was, that'd mean he had to kill someone," Rose pointed out.
Al sucked in a long breath. "Wow," he said. "I'll owl him about that."
"And say what? 'Dear Dad, hope all is well. I'm keeping up with my studies. By the by, have you ever killed anyone other than Lord Voldemort?'"
Albus scowled at her. "Just ask him if he knows anything, that's all."
Rose paused. "Wait a tic. Who killed Dumbledore?"
Albus looked at her strangely. "I don't know. Why?"
"Well somebody did... and that makes them the next master."
They looked at each other silently for a moment, but no further inspiration struck.
"I'll owl my dad," Albus promised.
"I'll start researching Dumbledore's death," Rose returned, and they parted ways to go to sleep.
*****
Dad,
How are you and Mum? Tell her I send my love.
I'm just curious... I was reading up on famous wizards and I saw that Dumbledore was the last man - in the texts I'd read - to have that wand that you had. The one in the Beedle the Bard story.
I was just curious as to how it got from him to you and all that.
Thanks, Dad.
Your curious son,
Albus Severus
Al,
I don't really approve of this topic. I'd just go by what the texts say.
Remember what I told you about things being dangerous? Heed my words, Al. I don't waste them.
Love,
Dad
James,
Your little brother's up to something. Do your old man a favour and tail him for a while and find out what it is and whether I should be concerned?
I'll see that you're compensated.
Love,
Dad
Dad,
I want five Galleons a week and I want the house empty for a good eight hours while I have Gloria over during Christmas hols.
- James
James,
Gloria Thomas?
Don't let her dad find out. Dean would kill me on the spot.
You have yourself a deal.
- Dad xoxo
Dad,
I can't believe you put xoxo on my letter. Have you been channeling Mum?
- James
*****
"Oy! Potter!" one of the other Slytherin boys called from outside the dormitory door. Al strolled over and opened it. "Your cousin's outside. Says it's urgent."
Al grunted his thanks and headed down to the common room, shutting his door behind him.
"What's up, Rose?" he asked his cousin, who was perched on the arm of a couch, talking to Laila.
Rose looked up at him breathlessly, her face shining with excitement.
"Come to the library with me. I've got something."
Albus ran back up to his room and swept his notes and books into his shoulder bag, grabbed the cloak on a whim, and headed back out. "Let's go!" he called, walking swiftly towards the library.
As he exited the common room, he thought he saw a flash of red hair.
They made their way into the library and picked a table.
"Guess who murdered Albus Dumbledore?" Rose asked, still breathless and bursting with happy energy.
"Gilderoy Lockhart."
"Who?"
"No one. I was being facetious, Rose, Merlin! Just tell me!"
"Severus Snape," she said, relishing each syllable.
"The one-?"
"The headmaster you were named after."
"I'm named after the man who killed Albus Dumbledore?" Albus hissed, slightly hysterical.
"Even better - you're named after Albus Dumbledore and the man who murdered him."
Albus let out a shaky laugh. "That is so fucked up."
Dad,
Are you on crack?
Just wondered.
Love,
Albus
James,
Something is definitely up with Albus. Get on it.
xo Dad
Dad,
Stop with the xo's. I've been tailing Al since your first owl, and he's not doing anything out of the ordinary! Hanging with Rose, talking to that Laila girl. Nothing telling at all! I'm moving on to Plan B. I’m going to read Al’s mind.
- James
James,
Please don’t do anything illegal.
- Dad
Dear Dad,
Let me clarify my last owl. You named me after Albus Dumbledore and his murderer?!
ARE YOU ON CRACK?!
Love,
Albus
Albus,
You need to stop this 'research'. I've told you - leave these things alone.
If I hear that you're still pursuing this, I'm going to take the cloak back.
- Dad
*****
"My dad won't tell me anything," Albus told Rose sadly.
"Don't worry," Rose said. "I've found some documents on Severus Snape. Voldemort killed him."
"And then my dad killed Voldemort, making him the Master," Al deduced. "That makes sense."
"No it doesn't," Rose said. "Your dad had to have mastered the wand before defeating Voldemort. We've messed up somewhere."
Albus thumped his head on the mahogany table.
Rose sighed. "We should go to bed. We can start fresh tomorrow."
"I'll leave soon," Al mumbled, eyes on the books and papers in front of him. He had to find where they'd strayed off the path.
Rose smiled slightly, ruffled his hair, and left.
Albus stayed, pouring over the books. There had to be something...
'-have to pull up my Herbology grade. I try so hard to listen to Professor Longbottom, and it's like he's speaking Elvish.'
Albus shut his book and looked around. Someone was talking. No one was anywhere to be seen.
'-just have to study harder, I guess, get Father off my back.’
Malfoy, Al realized. He packed up his books and papers and started searching the room, finding Malfoy several rows away, surrounded by Herbology textbooks and notes.
'Gillyweed gives you gills. Gilly - gills. Gill - gill. Easy to remember.'
It was definitely Malfoy’s voice, Albus was sure. But Malfoy's mouth wasn't moving.
"Who's there?" Malfoy asked suddenly.
Albus froze.
"Who was that?" Malfoy called, sharper this time.
Albus stepped forward.
"Oh." Malfoy looked relieved. "I thought I was going crazy."
"Were you talking to yourself?" Albus asked, his voice low.
Scorpius flicked his bangs away from his eyes and looked at the dark-haired boy. Al remained unsmiling. "No, I was talking to you. But I didn't know it was you, because you were lurking."
"No, about Herbology… gillyweed."
Scorpius froze. "No. I was thinking that. Did you jinx me?"
"No." Albus scowled. "But I started hearing your voice out of nowhere."
"What were you doing before that?" Malfoy demanded.
"Reading," Albus said with a slight sneer. "I didn't jinx you, Malfoy! I just started hearing you."
"I might have heard you too," Malfoy said slowly. "Think something."
'Scorpius Malfoy is a git,' Albus thought.
“Oh, Merlin,” Scorpius said, starting to hyperventilate. “This can’t happen to me right now. I have too much in my life to be worrying about crazy jinxes. This has Weasley written all over it, Potter! One of your cousins probably thinks they’re funny! Why’d they have to pick me, huh?” His voice began to grow shrill. “I have Quidditch and classes and - my father is going to shit! Especially because it’s you! Fix it, Potter! Fix it right now!”
"Okay," Albus said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay. No need to panic. We can hear each other's thoughts. That's okay. Could be worse."
Scorpius took a few large gulps of air. “This can’t be happening to me,” he moaned, lowering his head onto the desk. “Why me? Why? In what way have I so wronged the universe?”
"Malfoy, shut up so I can think!” Al snapped, and Malfoy went silent, instead thumping his head rhythmically against the table.
“Should we go to the Headmaster?” Al mused. Scorpius raised his head quickly.
“No,” he said. “He’ll owl my father. I’d prefer if my father not get involved in this little mishap.”
“Maybe it’s because of the exploded potion,” Al said suddenly. “We’re the only ones who were close to it.”
“Why would it only start now?” Scorpius asked.
Al shrugged. “It’s the best I can think of. We should go see Professor DuLock first thing tomorrow and see what he thinks.”
“And if not?”
Al sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t want my dad to know either… he thinks everything is some Death Eater return. Maybe I’ll owl my mum?”
Malfoy nodded. “I hope it’s the potion. We can just… take an antidote, and be done with this.”
“The sooner the better,” Al agreed.
“Wait,” Scorpius said. “Can we go after classes? I have Arithmancy tomorrow and I seriously can’t miss it or -”
“Quidditch try-outs after classes,” Al pointed out.
Scorpius sighed. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow, okay, Potter? Maybe it’ll have worn off by morning anyway.”
"Sure. See you tomorrow," Albus said and disappeared behind a bookshelf, throwing on the invisibility cloak.
*****
'Oh, bugger all, where did I leave my friggen socks?'
Al frowned in his sleep and burrowed deeper into his mattress, pulling his blankets up around his head to no avail; the voice persisted, loud as ever.
'Well there's one. Where the hell is the other? I'm going to be late meeting Anna and Jess for breakfast!'
Al was confused for a moment, sitting up and looking around for the source of the voice. No one was speaking - only Malfoy was out of bed, crawling around the floor in search of something. Everything clicked together as Al remembered the previous night. "Fuck,” he growled. “My life is so fucked up.” Louder, he said, “Goddamnit, Malfoy, could you be any louder?"
Scorpius looked at him for a moment, one eyebrow raised.
"You're practically shouting your thoughts," Al said.
"Oh," Scorpius said, looking slightly bemused. "Sorry. I guess I wasn't thinking quietly. That's not something I've ever had to worry about."
Al grunted and reclosed his bed curtains, flopping back onto his mattress and closing his eyes.
All through breakfast, Scorpius's mundane morning thoughts continued to play in the back of his mind. Albus kept scrunching his eyes shut and wishing Malfoy's voice gone.
"Are you okay?" Laila asked for the ninth time, taking a bite of toast.
“What?” Al asked, looking up. “Sorry. What?”
Laila smiled at him. “Nervous about Quidditch later?”
“Oh. Yeah,” Albus lied. “Yeah, I am.”
‘It’s better,’ he defended his lie silently, ‘to never let anyone know all of you.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Scorpius’s voice rang through his head.
*****
It was easier to tune Malfoy out when they were in different parts of the castle. Malfoy’s voice was merely a low murmur in the back of his mind, and Albus felt blissfully free of the strain he felt while in close proximity to the boy.
By afternoon, he was in a noticeably better mood, whistling cheerfully as he headed back to the dungeons.
“Oy! Potter!” one of the seventh-year boys called as he strode through the common room. “Party tonight. You coming?”
Albus paused. “Put me down as a maybe.”
“Maybe doesn’t exist here. It’s a yes or a no. If you’re going and you’re going to need to be supplied for, then we need to know.”
Albus rolled his eyes and dug in his pocket.
“Here. Consider me going. I want a bottle of Vladmir’s Vicious Licorice.” Albus slapped three Galleons into the boy’s hand.
The boy nodded, and made a note on the parchment on the table in front of him.
“Who else is coming?” Albus asked offhandedly.
“All of the upperclass Slytherins. The Gryffindor upperclassmen, and the Ravenclaw seventh-years and a few hand selected sixth-years.”
Albus smiled. “Sounds like a real party.”
The boy grinned. “Oh, it will be. It’ll be historic.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Who needs an occasion to have a historic party?”
Albus laughed and started towards his dorm again. “Who, indeed,” he called, and disappeared behind the door.
“You’re in a good mood,” Malfoy commented from his bed.
Albus silently held up a hand, crawled into his bed, and shut the curtains. But Malfoy did not go away, as he should have.
‘What’s your problem?' he asked mentally.
‘I’m tired of your voice. I wish we didn’t have Quidditch, so we could go down to DuLock and get this taken care of,’ Al thought back. After a beat, he added, ‘I need a nap before Quidditch. Try to keep your mind down.’
‘I never knew you were such a prick,’ Malfoy thought, his tone not unkind.
‘I’m usually not,’ Albus admitted, closed his eyes, and slept.
****
Slytherin Quidditch
Beaters:
Perkins
Jennings
Chasers:
Young
Finch-Fletchley
Malfoy
Keeper:
Potter
Seeker:
Captain Goyle
“I’m proud of you,” Al said, turning to Laila.
Laila smiled at him, and they clicked their glasses together. Albus knew her well - within the hour she’d be drunk and be in some random guy’s lap and then, if Al didn’t stop her, the random bloke’s room.
The music had a heavy bass, and Albus felt the crowd swaying.
“Potter,” one of the fifth-year girls said, coming up to him. Her blonde hair hung loose and curly around her shoulders. “I was wondering if I could have a glass of your Vladmir’s.”
When a student paid specifically for a certain drink, it was spelled so that one could only pour themselves a drink from that bottle with the payer’s permission.
“Who are you?” Albus asked, pouring himself a glass. The girl looked disappointed.
“All right, fine,” Albus said, handing over his glass and pouring a new one for himself.
“Thanks. I’m Dee, by the way. Dee Jackson.”
“Sounds like a Muggle name,” Scorpius said, suddenly at Albus’s side.
“Not that it matters,” Albus said, sending Malfoy a sideways glance.
A new song came on, and one of Dee’s friends screamed and came over, grabbing the girl’s wrist and pulling her away to dance.
“I never took you for a drinker,” Scorpius said offhandedly, and Albus noticed his hands were empty.
“Don’t pretend you know me,” Albus retorted, and headed off to find Laila and make sure his sister hadn’t gotten in.
Someone put a hand on his arm, and Albus, turning, saw Rose, clutching a glass of what must have been vodka and cranberry - her penchant drink.
“Muggle alcohol?” Albus asked her.
“Mum always said it was the best kind.” Rose smiled, and Albus noticed her face was flushed - she was already feeling the effects.
“Be careful,” he warned her.
“I’ll see you around,” she answered, and turned to talk to the Ravenclaw boy behind her.
He found Laila already three steps past where she normally was at this point in the night. She was on some guy’s lap - either he was a Gryffindor, or he’d swapped ties with someone during the party - his shirt completely unbuttoned, and his hands sliding up the back of her skirt. Albus prayed she was wearing knickers this time.
He walked over and grabbed her wrist, pulling her backwards off the boy’s lap.
“Al!” she squealed, stumbling into him. “What are you doing?”
“Saving you from yourself,” he muttered to her.
“See this girl? She’s mine,” he told the angry looking possibly-Gryffindor. With that, he took Laila towards the dormitory, locking the door behind him.
“Alright, love,” he told her, handing her a clean pair of his pajamas. “You’re going to be puking in approximately ten minutes, so head off to the loo. When you think you’re done, wash up and I’ll tuck you in and you can sleep it off.”
“I wanna go back,” she argued half-heartedly.
“Go,” he told her gently, and sat on his bed, sipping his drink. Here in the dorms, past the silencing spells that encased the common room during the parties, it was quiet - almost as if the party didn’t exist.
He heard Laila heave a few minutes later and winced. Not long after, the shower turned on. Albus closed his eyes. His routine with Laila was well-rehearsed from its use every time there was a party - she could always be counted on to get out of control.
He kept her from sleeping with everything with a cock, and she helped him keep up his appearances. A good number of people would have seen Albus pull Laila into his room - just like they’d all seen a hundred times before. Albus knew what they all assumed, and he let them. That way he didn’t have to worry about actually bagging a girl. He had pretty much never wanted to.
Not that he was entirely inexperienced. He’d kissed a few girls, and had got into a few pairs of knickers. But sex - and the complications and relationships involved - were entirely unappealing to him.
After a few minutes, the shower turned off, and Laila stumbled out to him.
“Alright, you,” he said. “In bed. I’ll stay here until I know you’re not going to puke in your sleep.”
“I don’t feel sick,” she informed him, and yawned. In minutes, she was asleep.
There was a knock at the door. Albus didn’t answer it, but instead pulled himself onto his bed and shut the curtains.
‘Let me in,’ Malfoy thought.
‘I’m a little busy,’ Albus responded.
‘I know you’re not sleeping with Finch-Fletchley. Let me in.’
Albus sighed and got out of bed, walking over and unlocking the door.
“Thank you,” Malfoy said, heading for his bed.
“Shh,” Al whispered. “I just got her to fall asleep.”
Malfoy glanced over at Laila’s sleeping form. “Good thing I didn’t have to yell at you through the door, then. This mental thing can come in handy, who knew?” Still watching Laila, he added, “That’s a really good thing you do for her, Potter.”
“I told you I’m not always a prick.”
Scorpius sat on the edge of his bed.
“What are they doing down there now?” Albus asked, noticing the music had been turned way down.
“They’re setting up to play truth and dare,” Malfoy answered.
“Let’s go!” Albus cried, standing up. “I love that game! It’s diabolical!”
Malfoy laughed, shaking his head, but followed the excited Al to the common room.
“Everyone knows the rules?” a seventh-year girl asked the group. Almost everyone shook their heads in the negative.
“It’s like truth or dare,” the girl said, “But you don’t get to choose which. You get both. First truth, and then a dare based on the truth you reveal.”
Albus didn’t get picked until fifteen minutes in.
“Albus Potter. Truth - who have you ever kissed?”
“Laila Finch-Fletchley, Gina Zabini, Rachel Young, Wendy Kim, and Nelly Lucas.”
“Good little straight boy.” The girl, a Gryffindor, smiled devilishly. “I dare you to kiss any boy in this circle.”
Albus nodded and began to think quickly. If he actually chose a boy, that would lead to torment and comments for weeks.
“Jackson,” Albus called, and the girl in question looked up.
“I’m not a bloke,” she said.
“No shit. You owe me a favor for that glass of Vladmir’s. Put your wand in the middle of the circle and spin it for me.”
She smiled - a Slytherin always appreciates true cunning - and followed his directions. It landed on Gina Zabini, who giggled - she’d been one of Al’s knicker-exploits - so Dee spun again. This time it landed on a Ravenclaw boy Albus didn’t know. Albus leaned over and kissed the boy quickly, tight lipped and with a slight shudder.
“Easy,” he said. “Now let’s see. Malfoy.”
Scorpius looked up, looking slightly worried. ‘Please be nice,’ he thought frantically.
“Have you ever been drunk?”
“No,” Malfoy answered unapologetically.
“I dare you to finish my bottle of Vladmir’s entirely by yourself,” Albus said, eyeing the bottle. There was definitely not enough in there to get the boy drunk. But it was a start.
Eventually everyone got bored of the game, new bottles were put out, and the music was turned back up. The crowd thinned as the younger students and the couples headed back to their various dorms.
Albus poured himself a glass of water, feeling plenty drunk and wanting to stay at the good level, and perched on the arm of a couch.
He felt someone’s eyes on his back, and scanned the room, assuming it was Rose trying to tell him something.
It was Malfoy, leaning against a wall, and glaring at him over the top of his glass of Al’s alcohol.
‘Got a problem?’ Al asked wryly.
‘Yeah,’ Malfoy replied, the shadows playing across his pale, pointed face. ‘That was low. I can’t figure you out, Potter. One second you’re a knight in shining armor, the next you’re a vile, drinking, partying, truth-or-dare jerk.’
Al stood up, placing his drink on the table behind him. He strode over to Malfoy and stood directly in front of him, their chests touching.
“What was that?” Al asked.
“I said you’re a jerk,” Malfoy answered, pushing off the wall a little and pushing back against Al, clearly not giving in.
“Because I dared you to have a drink?”
“I don’t drink,” Scorpius said, his voice light and unyielding at the same time, “because I’ve grown up watching both of my parents fight alcoholism.”
Al closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You didn’t have to do it, you know.”
“I don’t back down from dares. Ever,” Malfoy told him, unforgiving. “Obviously you don’t either… unless you really secretly wanted to kiss that bloke.”
Al narrowed his eyes. “You think I liked kissing a bloke?”
Scorpius went silent, his eyes scanning Al’s dark, serious face. “I think you’d like it if it were me,” he said quietly.
Al tilted his head. “Is that a dare?” he asked quietly.
Scorpius smirked. “Do you want it to be?” he asked with a casual tilt of the head.
Al pushed Scorpius back to the wall he had been leaning against, crushing their mouths together heatedly.
Scorpius responded in kind, wrapping one arm around Al’s neck, the other hand resting on his lower back, and opening his mouth obligingly when Al nipped at his lips. Al’s hands rested on Scorpius’s hips, tugging at the hem of his shirt and clenching on Scorpius’s hipbones when the other boy tugged on a handful of his hair.
Al pressed his lower body closer to Scorpius, his eyes closed and his mind blank. Scorpius gasped, turning his head slightly to end the kiss, his eyes on the floor. He raised his hands to Al’s chest, not pushing, just resting. Shyly, he glanced up and met Al’s frightened eyes. Scorpius picked up one of Al’s hands - they had fallen to his sides after Scorpius had gasped - and placed it over his heart.
Al was worried that he’d gone too far, but then Scorpius said quietly, “Feel that?”
Al nodded, and pushed away, turning to face the crowd. Rose met his eyes and he fixed her with a pleading expression. She nodded her head towards the couch - a Gryffindor boy was passed out on it. Al stumbled forward, as if he were too drunk to walk. Rose hurried to help him.
“Roshie!” Al slurred perfectly. “I - I, oh.” He sank down, sitting on the floor, letting his eyelids flutter.
“Shit, is Potter passing out?”
“Merlin, he’s never been that drunk.”
“He must have had more upstairs.”
A snigger. “Finch-Fletchley is not gonna like what just happened.”
“He’s so drunk, he probably thought it was her. They are both blonde.”
“Come on, Al,” Rose said loudly. “Wake up. Will someone help me carry him back to Ravenclaw? I’ll stick him on one of the couches - I want to keep an eye on him.”
“I will,” Al heard Scorpius say. He felt two sets of hands lift him to his feet and support him as they made their way to the door.
“Be careful getting back,” someone called after them. “Don’t get caught!”
“We’ll be fine,” Rose called. As the door shut behind them, Al extracted himself from their grip.
“Thanks, Rose. I owe you one.”
She looked at him, and then shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re getting into, Albus Severus.”
“I’m not getting into anything,” Al told her, not meeting Scorpius’s eyes.