FIC: Ho-Ho-Holiday (Scorpius/Albus - 1777 - R)
Title: Ho-Ho-Holiday
Author: BURNIN_UP_A_SUN
Pairing(s): Scorpius/Albus
Prompt: 2017 prompts, #40: Merry lights in the darkness, the soft glow of candles, a tiny tree in a corner, and two people in a warm and comfortable place. A quiet and contemplative Christmas where troubles are far away, and love is all you need...
Word Count: 1777
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: A huge thank you to two wonderful betas: Crowgirl and Geronimoand beMAGnificent . And to the mods, who graciously and wonderfully, granted me more time
Summary: Scorpius and Al are spending the hols at Hogwarts, and all the other Slytherins have gone home. Isn't that weird?
“It’s kind of weird that we’re the only two in the entire house who stayed over hols.”
Albus shivered in the Slytherin Common Room, chilly despite the fire crackling in the fireplace and the mug of hot chocolate Scorpius had shoved at home before he disappeared upstairs. Al shoved the heavy sofa, pushing it in front of the hearth; when he settled back onto the well-worn velvet, he dragged his afghan over him. That was much better, and Al suspected that Gran had knitted a warming spell into the blanket.
“Guess everyone fancied being with family this Christmas,” Scorpius called down the stairs, his voice loud in the silence of the dormitory.
“What’s taking so long? Are you tossing off up there?” Al joked, but immediately regretted it. Saying the words tossing off made his dick half-hard. He pushed at it, hoping it would go back down before Scorpius saw, otherwise it would be a long night of being teased.
“Your mom’s tossing off,” Scorpius yelled. Al thought he sounded guilty as his laughter floated down from their room.
“You’re so fucking nasty,” Al laughed, but his mind conveniently skipped past your mom to a graphic image of Scorpius alone in their room, his hand wrapped around his-
“What the fuck?” Al mumbled out loud and tried to shut down the lingering image. This wasn’t one of his dreams that woke him, aching and one tug away from coming.
Nice. Real nice. His subconscious knew before he did.
This was his best mate. They were friends. That’s it.
“Your mom’s nasty.” Scorpius’ footsteps echoed as he ran down the stairs. “Get the book and fill the mugs!”
Normally, on Christmas Eve, Al and everyone would be at The Burrow, listening to Gramps reading A Christmas Carol. But this year, it would be him and Scorp, and that was even better because nothing was better than hanging with Scorp.
There it was again. That feeling in his chest, like a hippogriff trying to push its way out, like its beating wings were swirling everything around, and if Scorpius plunked himself down next to Al (in class or in the library or on his bed when they were studying), it got worse. Al’s thoughts jumbled and nothing Scorp said made any sense.
Al grabbed his mug and sipped the hot chocolate. Maybe it was the sugar and caffeine making his heart race. It wasn’t Scorpius. And, Al sighed, even if it were, it wouldn’t even matter, because the only things Scorpius cared about were potions and grades. Not friends with stupid inappropriate crushes on their best friend.
So these two weeks it would be just him and Scorpius. Two friends. Two mates. Spending time together. Doing mate things. They’d just be Matey mcMateFaces. Oh, God, what the hell was he doing.
He’d try to be as normal as he could around Scorpius, and forget that he thought he might be in love with him, and they could just enjoy the hell out of the holiday.
No classes. No responsibilities. And food. Available 24/7 in the kitchen. At Aunt Hermione’s insistence, Al knew most of the house-elves by name and always thanked them. Raved to them about how delicious the food was. And if it got him access to the kitchen at midnight, good things happened to good people, right?
He and Scorpius planned to roam the castle when they wanted, ride the moving staircases, explore the dungeons. Jimmy the lock on old Snape’s cupboard and pick through the potion ingredients that hadn’t been touched in almost 20 years.
Al grinned into his hot chocolate. Scorpius brewed the best potions on his own; he’d begun a batch of Felix Felicis in July. That was one of their big plans for hols, but as far as Al knew, the only reason they’d need any liquid luck would be to avoid Filch.
“You look mental smiling at your hot chocolate.”
Scorpius ran and hopped onto the sofa, landing hard enough that the sofa skidded backward and splashed Al’s drink. Holding his mug in one hand, Al grabbed a throw pillow and smacked Scorpius in the face with it.
“Arsehole,” Al said through his pretend indignation. “You spilled the hot chocolate all over me.”
Still laughing, Scorpius took the empty mug and the pillow from Al. “First, you spilled your stupid drink when you hit me. You’re not innocent. Second, it’s like you forget you’re a wizard.”
Scorpius accio’d his wand and siphoned the mess out of Al’s shirt. Scorpius’ magic tickled as it settled on Al, but it also felt intoxicating, like the first sip of stolen champagne on New Year’s Eve or the first draught of ice-cold ale on a hot summer afternoon. And when the spell ended, Al still felt giddy.
“Thanks,” Al said as a giggle escaped. “Hey, what were you doing upstairs?” He pointed to a spot on Scorpius’ t shirt. “You either spilled something or…” He raised his eyebrow to punctuate his meaning.
“I told you I wasn’t tossing off,” Scorpius said, but Al watched the telltale red blotches rise up Scorp’s pale neck.
A drop of something clung to the corner of Scorpius’ mouth, and without thinking, Al reached over to wipe it away. Scorpius held his breath as Al’s finger slid across his pale whiskers. He should say something to make this less awkward, but he was lightheaded and couldn’t put a sentence together. This felt intimate, naked, loving in a way that nothing else ever had for Al.
Before Al could challenge him, Scorpius pointed his wand to the left of the fireplace and wove a design in the air. “Y’know what we need? A Christmas tree.”
He transfigured a dying potted fern into a stately fir that scraped the common room’s ceiling. A flick, and candles dotted the tree, adding small flickers of light to the cozy room. A swish and silver ribbons draped themselves around it.
The magic was impressive, but Al paid more attention to the sleep trousers that crept down Scorpius’ hips and the too small, first-year t-shirt that drifted up, exposing Scorp’s stomach and the light hair at his belly button, trailing below the trousers’ waist.
“Ready to read?” Scorpius asked casually, settling into the corner of the sofa as if he hadn’t just done the coolest magic ever.
Al looked from the tree to Scorpius and back. “How’d you--You’re amazing.”
Scorpius denied he was amazing, but Al watched his face color further at the compliment. Scorpius grabbed Al’s afghan, picked up the book and cleared his throat theatrically and began reading. “Marley was dead: to begin with.”
Al settled back against the sofa as far from Scorpius as he could and listened. When the fire died and the room turned chilly again, Al tried to wrestle the blanket from Scorpius’ lap, but it wouldn’t budge. He scooted closer to Scorpius, but still couldn’t fit himself under it. He scooted closer, then closer again.
By the time Scrooge asked, “Why did you get married?” and his nephew answered, “Because I fell in love,” Al was burrowed under the blanket with Scorpius’ arm loosely around him. He was warm and happy, and if the hippogriff in his chest was beating its wings furiously, he would just ignore it.
Scorpius read until candles on the tree burned low, until the firewood was gone and the flames were nothing but embers. Until the clock chimed twelve times, welcoming in Christmas day. Scorpius stopped reading, and Al looked at him, ready to ask him to keep going.
But Scorpius looked nervous, biting his lip like he was thinking of how to say something. His gray eyes were dark in the dim light of the room and focused on Al in a way they’ve never been before.
“Happy Christmas. I’m glad I’m spending the hols with you.”
Scorpius smiled and stopped scraping his teeth over his bottom lip. “You know you’re my best friend, right?”
The soft firelight. The two of them curled up under one blanket. He wanted it to mean something, to be more than Scorpius’ best friend. But he was just tricking himself. “Sure. Matey mcMateFace.” Al laughed uncomfortably.
Scorpius put the book down and took his hand off Al’s shoulder. “You know that Felix Felicis I’ve been brewing? I took some. That’s what I was doing up there.”
“Why would you waste it tonight when we’re just-”
Scorpius kissed Albus.
It was a quick peck on the lips that stupefied Al; Scorpius’ hands trembled as he cupped Al’s cheeks. It was as if he were afraid Al would run away.
Al wasn’t running away. Once they figured out where their noses went, he kissed Scorpius, like he’d seen in movies. Long and slow, like they were the only people in the world who mattered, like they could do this til forever and never get tired of it.
“You what now?” Al asked when they separated for a breath. Not that he could breathe at all. Or remember what they were talking about.
“I took the potion so I’d have the guts to actually kiss you.” The tips of Scorpius’ ears were pink, and Al traced them with the tip of his finger.
This was better than his dreams, because this was real. And he could do this-
He kissed Scorpius slowly, nipped his bottom lip and when Scorpius shuddered, Al did it again.
“You can’t-you can’t do that, or I’ll-” Scorpius whispered, stroking his fingers through Al’s hair.
“You don’t have to whisper; we’re all alone.” Al kissed him, but broke away and moved backward. “We’re all alone. Did you do this?”
Scorpius grinned, and Al didn’t know whether to be shocked or pleased. Maybe both.
“Some parents may have gotten owls from homesick kids, asking to come home for Christmas. And some kids may have gotten owls begging them to come home because Mummy and Daddy missed them.” Scorpius looked pleased with himself.
So Al kissed him again.
“How long have you been planning this?” Al rested his head on Scorpius’ chest and listened to the racing heartbeat.
“Remember July when you came to visit? I wanted to kiss you so bad, but I thought you’d hit me. Or worse. Hate me.”
Al sat up and grinned at Scorpius, who seemed pretty smug. Apparently, Scorpius cared about potions, good grades, and Albus. “Hate you? You did all this for me--brewed a kickass potion, sent all those owls. That’s pretty fucking cool.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Albus pulled Scorpius down to him for another kiss. Oh, yes. They were gonna enjoy the hell out of this holiday.
Author: BURNIN_UP_A_SUN
Pairing(s): Scorpius/Albus
Prompt: 2017 prompts, #40: Merry lights in the darkness, the soft glow of candles, a tiny tree in a corner, and two people in a warm and comfortable place. A quiet and contemplative Christmas where troubles are far away, and love is all you need...
Word Count: 1777
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: A huge thank you to two wonderful betas: Crowgirl and Geronimoand beMAGnificent . And to the mods, who graciously and wonderfully, granted me more time
Summary: Scorpius and Al are spending the hols at Hogwarts, and all the other Slytherins have gone home. Isn't that weird?
“It’s kind of weird that we’re the only two in the entire house who stayed over hols.”
Albus shivered in the Slytherin Common Room, chilly despite the fire crackling in the fireplace and the mug of hot chocolate Scorpius had shoved at home before he disappeared upstairs. Al shoved the heavy sofa, pushing it in front of the hearth; when he settled back onto the well-worn velvet, he dragged his afghan over him. That was much better, and Al suspected that Gran had knitted a warming spell into the blanket.
“Guess everyone fancied being with family this Christmas,” Scorpius called down the stairs, his voice loud in the silence of the dormitory.
“What’s taking so long? Are you tossing off up there?” Al joked, but immediately regretted it. Saying the words tossing off made his dick half-hard. He pushed at it, hoping it would go back down before Scorpius saw, otherwise it would be a long night of being teased.
“Your mom’s tossing off,” Scorpius yelled. Al thought he sounded guilty as his laughter floated down from their room.
“You’re so fucking nasty,” Al laughed, but his mind conveniently skipped past your mom to a graphic image of Scorpius alone in their room, his hand wrapped around his-
“What the fuck?” Al mumbled out loud and tried to shut down the lingering image. This wasn’t one of his dreams that woke him, aching and one tug away from coming.
Nice. Real nice. His subconscious knew before he did.
This was his best mate. They were friends. That’s it.
“Your mom’s nasty.” Scorpius’ footsteps echoed as he ran down the stairs. “Get the book and fill the mugs!”
Normally, on Christmas Eve, Al and everyone would be at The Burrow, listening to Gramps reading A Christmas Carol. But this year, it would be him and Scorp, and that was even better because nothing was better than hanging with Scorp.
There it was again. That feeling in his chest, like a hippogriff trying to push its way out, like its beating wings were swirling everything around, and if Scorpius plunked himself down next to Al (in class or in the library or on his bed when they were studying), it got worse. Al’s thoughts jumbled and nothing Scorp said made any sense.
Al grabbed his mug and sipped the hot chocolate. Maybe it was the sugar and caffeine making his heart race. It wasn’t Scorpius. And, Al sighed, even if it were, it wouldn’t even matter, because the only things Scorpius cared about were potions and grades. Not friends with stupid inappropriate crushes on their best friend.
So these two weeks it would be just him and Scorpius. Two friends. Two mates. Spending time together. Doing mate things. They’d just be Matey mcMateFaces. Oh, God, what the hell was he doing.
He’d try to be as normal as he could around Scorpius, and forget that he thought he might be in love with him, and they could just enjoy the hell out of the holiday.
No classes. No responsibilities. And food. Available 24/7 in the kitchen. At Aunt Hermione’s insistence, Al knew most of the house-elves by name and always thanked them. Raved to them about how delicious the food was. And if it got him access to the kitchen at midnight, good things happened to good people, right?
He and Scorpius planned to roam the castle when they wanted, ride the moving staircases, explore the dungeons. Jimmy the lock on old Snape’s cupboard and pick through the potion ingredients that hadn’t been touched in almost 20 years.
Al grinned into his hot chocolate. Scorpius brewed the best potions on his own; he’d begun a batch of Felix Felicis in July. That was one of their big plans for hols, but as far as Al knew, the only reason they’d need any liquid luck would be to avoid Filch.
“You look mental smiling at your hot chocolate.”
Scorpius ran and hopped onto the sofa, landing hard enough that the sofa skidded backward and splashed Al’s drink. Holding his mug in one hand, Al grabbed a throw pillow and smacked Scorpius in the face with it.
“Arsehole,” Al said through his pretend indignation. “You spilled the hot chocolate all over me.”
Still laughing, Scorpius took the empty mug and the pillow from Al. “First, you spilled your stupid drink when you hit me. You’re not innocent. Second, it’s like you forget you’re a wizard.”
Scorpius accio’d his wand and siphoned the mess out of Al’s shirt. Scorpius’ magic tickled as it settled on Al, but it also felt intoxicating, like the first sip of stolen champagne on New Year’s Eve or the first draught of ice-cold ale on a hot summer afternoon. And when the spell ended, Al still felt giddy.
“Thanks,” Al said as a giggle escaped. “Hey, what were you doing upstairs?” He pointed to a spot on Scorpius’ t shirt. “You either spilled something or…” He raised his eyebrow to punctuate his meaning.
“I told you I wasn’t tossing off,” Scorpius said, but Al watched the telltale red blotches rise up Scorp’s pale neck.
A drop of something clung to the corner of Scorpius’ mouth, and without thinking, Al reached over to wipe it away. Scorpius held his breath as Al’s finger slid across his pale whiskers. He should say something to make this less awkward, but he was lightheaded and couldn’t put a sentence together. This felt intimate, naked, loving in a way that nothing else ever had for Al.
Before Al could challenge him, Scorpius pointed his wand to the left of the fireplace and wove a design in the air. “Y’know what we need? A Christmas tree.”
He transfigured a dying potted fern into a stately fir that scraped the common room’s ceiling. A flick, and candles dotted the tree, adding small flickers of light to the cozy room. A swish and silver ribbons draped themselves around it.
The magic was impressive, but Al paid more attention to the sleep trousers that crept down Scorpius’ hips and the too small, first-year t-shirt that drifted up, exposing Scorp’s stomach and the light hair at his belly button, trailing below the trousers’ waist.
“Ready to read?” Scorpius asked casually, settling into the corner of the sofa as if he hadn’t just done the coolest magic ever.
Al looked from the tree to Scorpius and back. “How’d you--You’re amazing.”
Scorpius denied he was amazing, but Al watched his face color further at the compliment. Scorpius grabbed Al’s afghan, picked up the book and cleared his throat theatrically and began reading. “Marley was dead: to begin with.”
Al settled back against the sofa as far from Scorpius as he could and listened. When the fire died and the room turned chilly again, Al tried to wrestle the blanket from Scorpius’ lap, but it wouldn’t budge. He scooted closer to Scorpius, but still couldn’t fit himself under it. He scooted closer, then closer again.
By the time Scrooge asked, “Why did you get married?” and his nephew answered, “Because I fell in love,” Al was burrowed under the blanket with Scorpius’ arm loosely around him. He was warm and happy, and if the hippogriff in his chest was beating its wings furiously, he would just ignore it.
Scorpius read until candles on the tree burned low, until the firewood was gone and the flames were nothing but embers. Until the clock chimed twelve times, welcoming in Christmas day. Scorpius stopped reading, and Al looked at him, ready to ask him to keep going.
But Scorpius looked nervous, biting his lip like he was thinking of how to say something. His gray eyes were dark in the dim light of the room and focused on Al in a way they’ve never been before.
“Happy Christmas. I’m glad I’m spending the hols with you.”
Scorpius smiled and stopped scraping his teeth over his bottom lip. “You know you’re my best friend, right?”
The soft firelight. The two of them curled up under one blanket. He wanted it to mean something, to be more than Scorpius’ best friend. But he was just tricking himself. “Sure. Matey mcMateFace.” Al laughed uncomfortably.
Scorpius put the book down and took his hand off Al’s shoulder. “You know that Felix Felicis I’ve been brewing? I took some. That’s what I was doing up there.”
“Why would you waste it tonight when we’re just-”
Scorpius kissed Albus.
It was a quick peck on the lips that stupefied Al; Scorpius’ hands trembled as he cupped Al’s cheeks. It was as if he were afraid Al would run away.
Al wasn’t running away. Once they figured out where their noses went, he kissed Scorpius, like he’d seen in movies. Long and slow, like they were the only people in the world who mattered, like they could do this til forever and never get tired of it.
“You what now?” Al asked when they separated for a breath. Not that he could breathe at all. Or remember what they were talking about.
“I took the potion so I’d have the guts to actually kiss you.” The tips of Scorpius’ ears were pink, and Al traced them with the tip of his finger.
This was better than his dreams, because this was real. And he could do this-
He kissed Scorpius slowly, nipped his bottom lip and when Scorpius shuddered, Al did it again.
“You can’t-you can’t do that, or I’ll-” Scorpius whispered, stroking his fingers through Al’s hair.
“You don’t have to whisper; we’re all alone.” Al kissed him, but broke away and moved backward. “We’re all alone. Did you do this?”
Scorpius grinned, and Al didn’t know whether to be shocked or pleased. Maybe both.
“Some parents may have gotten owls from homesick kids, asking to come home for Christmas. And some kids may have gotten owls begging them to come home because Mummy and Daddy missed them.” Scorpius looked pleased with himself.
So Al kissed him again.
“How long have you been planning this?” Al rested his head on Scorpius’ chest and listened to the racing heartbeat.
“Remember July when you came to visit? I wanted to kiss you so bad, but I thought you’d hit me. Or worse. Hate me.”
Al sat up and grinned at Scorpius, who seemed pretty smug. Apparently, Scorpius cared about potions, good grades, and Albus. “Hate you? You did all this for me--brewed a kickass potion, sent all those owls. That’s pretty fucking cool.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Albus pulled Scorpius down to him for another kiss. Oh, yes. They were gonna enjoy the hell out of this holiday.