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And now, after a very exciting eight weeks, I've finally been voted off of ass_ldws . Really, it took you guys THAT LONG to figure out that I don't do drabbles very well? xD
All joking aside, it was an honor to make it to the final three, and to be in the company of such great writers! remuslives23 , I'll say it again: You should've been in my spot, because I bet you'd have held out in Week 8. Writing about wanking is totally what killed me. :P
Anyway, at least this means I can finally post all my drabbles here! Hooray for coding fun! /sarcasm
OH AND LOOKIE AT THE HAWT BANNER I GOTS. Figures that the one week I get a banner, (A) I'd be in last place, and (B) it would be the most pornographic of all the banners yet. xD
So. NOW FOR THE STORIES.
Title: Some Things You Should Know About Hogwarts Quidditch
Summary: What it says on the tin.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 1, Hogwarts House Rivalries in under 300 words. Voted third place.
Fact: Gryffindors hate Slytherins.
Fact: The feeling is mutual.
Fact: This hatred extends to (and is possibly magnified by) the Quidditch pitch. Especially when it's 120-110 Slytherin to Gryffindor during a House Cup game and the Snitch is nowhere to be found.
Also a fact: House rivalry never goes so far as to wishing another student dead, ever.
So when the Slytherin Seeker is knocked off his broom by a Bludger and is plummeting towards the ground over a hundred feet away, what else is his Gryffindor counterpart to do but rescue a fellow student?
“Look on the bright side,” Albus says cheerfully. “At least they're letting us have a rematch.”
Scorpius, lying on a cot in the Hospital Wing, scowls. “Taking Skele-Gro is bloody awful and you know it. Least you could do was catch me gently.”
Albus swats the other boy on the shoulder, eliciting a loud “ow!” in response. “I keep you from adding to the Hogwarts Quidditch mortality rate, and this is all the thanks I get?”
Scorpius smirks. “If you come closer, oh foolish Gryffindor, I'll show you some real Slytherin gratitude.”
“But your arms-”
“Never mind the arms, just kiss me already before someone comes in, you big oaf.”
General opinion: Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy do not hate each other quite as much as they would like everyone else to believe.
Title: The Food of Love
Summary: Scorpius loves opera. Albus is more interested in what comes after.
Warnings: Mild chan.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 2, Fluff in exactly 200 words. Voted eighth place (ow).
“You had me miss the first Hogsmeade trip this term-to see an opera?!”
“I know, isn’t it amazing?” Scorpius lovingly touches the transformed walls of the Room of Requirement. “Come on, this’ll be way more fun than sitting at the pub. You’ll love it, I promise.”
Albus looks doubtful as he takes his seat on the balcony, but Scorpius is too absorbed in the opening notes of the overture to notice.
Ten minutes into Act One, and Albus is already distracted.
“Al!” Scorpius hisses under the singing. “Stage, down there!”
Al glances up. “You never told me opera turns you on,” he whispers innocently, gesturing to the rising mound below Scorpius’ waist.
Scorpius’ blush is visible even in the dim glow of the stagelights. “It’s Pavarotti, all right?” he whispers defensively. “He sings like an angel-really gets me in the mood for, you know...”
Albus slowly grins. “You know what’s even better than opera for getting us in the mood?” He snaps his fingers, and the scene around them shifts from opera house to richly-furnished bedroom.
As Albus presses Scorpius onto the bed, both boys groan in quiet unison. “Now that,” Albus breathes, “that’s music to my ears.”
Title: Wizards Gone Wild
Summary: Albus and Scorpius enjoy one Spring Break American-style. So do their fathers.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 2 but discarded when I realized that this was more cracky than fluffy. Still, here it is, a bonus blooper reel for you to enjoy!
"Come on, Al, let’s give this Yank ‘Spring Break’ thing a try!”
"But are you sure this will work?"
"No worries, Dad stays in Vegas all the time. He's got so many free nights at this casino, he won't notice a few less."
Albus sighs, resigned but doubtful. "Fine, I'm coming. But if anything goes wrong, it's your fault."
The first day of school after Easter holidays, Albus is starting to think their secret trip had been worth it (though, admittedly, he doesn't remember much) when he sees a copy of the Daily Prophet.
POTTER AND MALFOY TRYST IN LAS VEGAS
Albus stops breathing until he looks at the picture beneath the headline.
It's a full-page spread of his father and Scorpius' dad, looking like a pair of dementors trying to suck each other's souls out.
"I swear, I didn't know," Scorpius insists later, slightly green at the thought of how Draco Malfoy had accumulated all those free nights. Albus is tempted to write home and ask whether Scorpius' kissable lips are a family trait, but decides against it.
Some things that happen in Vegas really should just stay in Vegas. Especially when they involve your-and your boyfriend's-parents.
Title: Give Me the Hook (Or the Ovation)
Summary: Albus has pre-stage jitters.
Warnings: Cross-dressing (LOL no kidding).
Author's Notes: Written for Week 3, Cross-dressing in under 300. Obvious John Barrowman reference is obvious. :D Voted third place.
“Bad idea, bad idea,” Albus chants, wrinkling his nose as he tries to avoid the attack of the makeup brush. “Going to look so idiotic-“
“Shut up and hold still!” Rose applies the final touches before tossing her makeup equipment onto a nearby table and grabbing her cousin by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Al,” she says firmly. “You’ll be great. No one will give a damn about what you’re wearing.”
“Mr. Potter, one minute!” Professor Flitwick calls, stopping and staring at Albus’ get-up. “Ooh, nice costume. Very nice.”
Albus has time to blush before Rose drags him toward the stage curtains. “Good luck,” she says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll be waiting here.”
Albus glances out, sees a familiar blonde head in the first row of the packed audience, and swallows. Hard. “Thanks, Rose,” he mutters, moments before a magically-amplified voice booms through the Great Hall.
“And now, the final contestant in our first-ever ‘Hogwarts Has Talent’-Albus Potter!”
Albus takes a deep breath and wobbles onstage, unsteady on four-inch heels and hard-pressed to move in a skin-tight black-sequined gown. The dress’ slit running up both thighs doesn’t make it any easier to walk, but it does make for a much better view from below.
There is a loud gasp from the crowd, followed by many wolf-whistles from impressed students of both genders. But Albus sees that Scorpius isn’t joining in: frozen in his seat, Albus’ boyfriend is gripping the arms of his chair as if that will stop him from jumping Albus in front of most of Hogwarts.
Albus tosses his head and poses, grinning as the appreciative noises increase. Maybe this drag thing wasn’t half-bad after all.
“I am what I am,” he sings after the drum-roll introduction. “I am my own special creation...”
Title: A Different Kind of Explosion
Summary: Albus and Scorpius are in a broom closet, but they’re not thinking along the same lines.
Warnings: Schoolboy smut.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 4, First Time in under 300 words. This was...hard. And not in the good way. Voted seventh place (ow again, I kind of expected it, though, so it's less of a mark).
“I’ve never done this before,” Scorpius confesses, sounding embarrassed and just a little bit frightened. “You know my dad, he’d have my hide if he finds out-”
“Well, he won’t find out, I promise.” Albus peers out of their hiding spot, checking the halls for any signs of Filch or his ancient cat. “My dad’s an expert at this, he did it all the time back in the day.”
“Your dad? The great, straight Harry Potter in a broom closet? You can’t be serious.”
“No joke, but he had an invisibility cloak and we don’t.” Albus shrugs, making more room for the two of them in the tiny space by banishing some old mops and buckets that won’t be missed. “We’ll just have to be more careful if we don’t want detention, is all. Now, a few more spells and we’ll be-Scor? Is that-what-are you groping me?!”
“Why not?” Scorpius half-purrs, rubbing his chest against Albus’ back. “We’re here, aren’t we?”
“But-” Al groans as the grinding forces his mind to spiral out of control. “But we-we’re supposed to set the mudswamp-and-fireworks bomb-so it goes off-during tomorrow’s assembly!”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to pass this up,” Scorpius breathes into Albus’ ear. “Me, you, confined space? Get your priorities straight, Al. Or-” Albus can tell without seeing it that Scorpius is smirking. “Are you telling me you’ve never done this before, either?”
Albus suddenly pushes back, hard, forcing Scorpius against the opposite wall with Scorpius’ growing erection pressing against his arse. “Now that you ask, no, I haven’t done this before,” Albus growls, “but I think I do have my priorities straight, thanks ever so.”
“Then prove it. Make me go off instead.”
Albus is happy to oblige.
Title: Like Father, Like Son
Summary: Some things really are genetic.
Warnings: Adult slash.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 5, Pre-Hogwarts in under 300 words. Voted third place (I'm always either third or near last, LOL).
“Dad, what’s a pouf?”
Harry Potter slowly lowers his newspaper to find his eight-year-old son Albus standing on the other side. "Why? Did someone call you that?" he asks, dreading the answer.
"Yeah! I mean, not really." Albus scratches his neck, looking sheepish. "Hugo called Scorpius that at school this morning, and Grandma grounded him ‘til next week." His brow furrows. "But she wouldn't say what it means!"
Inwardly, Harry thanks the wisdom of Mrs. Weasley for not defining the concept to his son and simultaneously curses her for making him be the one to explain.
"Well." Harry tries to choose his words carefully. "A pouf is a not-very nice name for a boy who likes other boys."
"What's wrong with liking other boys?" Albus asks, clearly confused.
"Nothing, but people used to think differently. Opinions change, it just takes time."
"Oh.” Silence. Then, "But I like Scorpius! Am I a pouf, too?"
Harry reminds himself that breathing is a necessity. "I don't know, Al," he says slowly. "Would that be a bad thing, if you were?"
"No. I think I'd like being a pouf. 'Sides,” Albus wrinkles his nose. “Girls are icky. They have cooties."
* * *
"Albus thinks he's gay because he likes your son," Harry tells Draco Malfoy several nights later. "Are we being a bad influence?"
"Unless you think our sons are watching us through the wall, I highly doubt it." Draco smirks at Harry from his prone (and naked) position on the bed. "Stop brooding, it doesn't suit you. And your clothes won't take themselves off, you know."
Harry sighs and obediently begins to unbutton his shirt. Draco always is rubbish at discussion before the first blowjob. Might be better to bring it up again later.
Title: Requiescat in Pace
Summary: Albus has to say goodbye.
Warnings: Character death.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 6, Angst in under 300 words. I LOVED THIS PROMPT LIKE BURNING. Voted third place.
On the day they bury Scorpius, it rains, huge raindrops pounding into the parched summer earth. It’s almost as if the heavens are bemoaning the passing of someone so young, so innocent, one life so needlessly wasted.
Albus stands alone, dry-eyed and apart from the other clumps of mourners while a minister drones over the grave. He can see Scorpius' father, also not crying and blocking his weeping wife from everyone else's view as he stares unblinkingly at Scorpius’ coffin. Maybe Mr. Malfoy is asking himself what he could have done to prevent his son's death, whether he could have saved Scorpius by refusing to be a Death Eater so many years earlier.
Scorpius' killer has already been arrested and is awaiting trial (Albus can’t get the image of Stan Shunpike being taken into custody, looking more star-struck at meeting the great Head Auror Potter than remorseful of his crime), but no legal justice would ever bring Scorpius back to life again. And as Harry had pointed out, justice for the son and grandson of known Death Eaters would be hard to find indeed.
The service finishes with a wave of the minister's wand-Albus has to admit, it was a very nice service-and the attendees slowly drift off, back to the Malfoy Manor for the luxurious reception. But Albus lingers, waiting until the grave has filled itself with dirt before approaching and laying a trembling hand on the marble marker.
Scorpius Draconis Malfoy: Son, Student, and Friend, the marker reads. But Albus can’t help but wish that there is one more word listed, a word as important as the rest: lover.
"Goodbye, Scorpius," he says. Then, beneath the sounds of water splashing on stone, "I miss you."
It is only then that Albus allows himself to cry.
Title: All You Have to Do is Call
Summary: Scorpius knows he can count on Albus when it matters.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 7, Best Friends in exactly 100 words. I had less trouble with the word count than I'd expected, surprise surprise. (I like boundaries, apparently. *headscratch*) Voted third place.
Whenever Scorpius Floo-calls Albus, he can expect any one of a thousand variant responses. “Hey Scorpius! What’s up?” or, “Call me later? Bad time-ow, James, geroff!” or sometimes even, “FOR MERLIN’S SAKE SCORPIUS can’t a lad have privacy in his own bedroom? Get out, I’ll call once I’ve dressed!”
But when Scorpius sticks his head in the fireplace and says, his voice cracking, “Al-Dad’s in St. Mungo’s again,” Albus drops whatever it is he’s doing and says, “I’m coming.”
Which, Scorpius thinks as he makes room for Albus to come through, is exactly what best friends are for.
Title: Long-Distance Relationship
Summary: Albus and Scorpius are not looking forward to spending the summer apart. Albus' text is in plain font; Scorpius' is italicized.
Warnings: Mentions of wanking, underage handjobs, underage blowjobs, and bestiality (no owls were harmed in the writing of this drabble).
Author's Notes: Written for Week 8, Wanking in under 300 words. My personal favorite out of all my drabbles, though it was possibly my least favorite prompt. Voted third and last place, which disqualified me from the rest of the competition.
Dear Scorpius, I can't believe it. Three months. THREE WHOLE MONTHS before we can see each other again. I hope your dad's willing to let you come visit, because otherwise my prospects of getting laid this summer are looking very bleak.
Dear Al, You know what Father thinks of Potters and Weasleys. Look on the bright side, at least you'll get some exercise in your hands for once.
But it's never the same! Hey, maybe we can try owl-sex. I hear that's fun.
ALBUS SEVERUS THAT IS DISGUSTING.
No, not that kind! Yuck. You know, like phone-sex, but through owl post.
Phone-sex? Did we cover that in Muggle Studies? Wouldn't the Floo be easier?
Even if Mullen had mentioned it, you were asleep the whole time. And no on the Floo, it's too easy to burn the sensitive spots. How did we get on this subject, anyway?
Three months of wanking ourselves dry, that's how. My elbows are sore just thinking about it.
Scorpius, I know the train's not even left Hogsmeade yet and you're still sitting right next to me, but I miss you already.
Yeah, me too. How about I give you a farewell handjob to tie us over? Loo in 5 minutes, what do you say?
Make it a blowjob and you're on.
Deal. Love you, Al.
Love you too, Scorpius. xoxoxxx
All right, now that was just gay.
All joking aside, it was an honor to make it to the final three, and to be in the company of such great writers! remuslives23 , I'll say it again: You should've been in my spot, because I bet you'd have held out in Week 8. Writing about wanking is totally what killed me. :P
Anyway, at least this means I can finally post all my drabbles here! Hooray for coding fun! /sarcasm
OH AND LOOKIE AT THE HAWT BANNER I GOTS. Figures that the one week I get a banner, (A) I'd be in last place, and (B) it would be the most pornographic of all the banners yet. xD
So. NOW FOR THE STORIES.
Title: Some Things You Should Know About Hogwarts Quidditch
Summary: What it says on the tin.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 1, Hogwarts House Rivalries in under 300 words. Voted third place.
Fact: Gryffindors hate Slytherins.
Fact: The feeling is mutual.
Fact: This hatred extends to (and is possibly magnified by) the Quidditch pitch. Especially when it's 120-110 Slytherin to Gryffindor during a House Cup game and the Snitch is nowhere to be found.
Also a fact: House rivalry never goes so far as to wishing another student dead, ever.
So when the Slytherin Seeker is knocked off his broom by a Bludger and is plummeting towards the ground over a hundred feet away, what else is his Gryffindor counterpart to do but rescue a fellow student?
“Look on the bright side,” Albus says cheerfully. “At least they're letting us have a rematch.”
Scorpius, lying on a cot in the Hospital Wing, scowls. “Taking Skele-Gro is bloody awful and you know it. Least you could do was catch me gently.”
Albus swats the other boy on the shoulder, eliciting a loud “ow!” in response. “I keep you from adding to the Hogwarts Quidditch mortality rate, and this is all the thanks I get?”
Scorpius smirks. “If you come closer, oh foolish Gryffindor, I'll show you some real Slytherin gratitude.”
“But your arms-”
“Never mind the arms, just kiss me already before someone comes in, you big oaf.”
General opinion: Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy do not hate each other quite as much as they would like everyone else to believe.
Title: The Food of Love
Summary: Scorpius loves opera. Albus is more interested in what comes after.
Warnings: Mild chan.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 2, Fluff in exactly 200 words. Voted eighth place (ow).
“You had me miss the first Hogsmeade trip this term-to see an opera?!”
“I know, isn’t it amazing?” Scorpius lovingly touches the transformed walls of the Room of Requirement. “Come on, this’ll be way more fun than sitting at the pub. You’ll love it, I promise.”
Albus looks doubtful as he takes his seat on the balcony, but Scorpius is too absorbed in the opening notes of the overture to notice.
Ten minutes into Act One, and Albus is already distracted.
“Al!” Scorpius hisses under the singing. “Stage, down there!”
Al glances up. “You never told me opera turns you on,” he whispers innocently, gesturing to the rising mound below Scorpius’ waist.
Scorpius’ blush is visible even in the dim glow of the stagelights. “It’s Pavarotti, all right?” he whispers defensively. “He sings like an angel-really gets me in the mood for, you know...”
Albus slowly grins. “You know what’s even better than opera for getting us in the mood?” He snaps his fingers, and the scene around them shifts from opera house to richly-furnished bedroom.
As Albus presses Scorpius onto the bed, both boys groan in quiet unison. “Now that,” Albus breathes, “that’s music to my ears.”
Title: Wizards Gone Wild
Summary: Albus and Scorpius enjoy one Spring Break American-style. So do their fathers.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 2 but discarded when I realized that this was more cracky than fluffy. Still, here it is, a bonus blooper reel for you to enjoy!
"Come on, Al, let’s give this Yank ‘Spring Break’ thing a try!”
"But are you sure this will work?"
"No worries, Dad stays in Vegas all the time. He's got so many free nights at this casino, he won't notice a few less."
Albus sighs, resigned but doubtful. "Fine, I'm coming. But if anything goes wrong, it's your fault."
The first day of school after Easter holidays, Albus is starting to think their secret trip had been worth it (though, admittedly, he doesn't remember much) when he sees a copy of the Daily Prophet.
POTTER AND MALFOY TRYST IN LAS VEGAS
Albus stops breathing until he looks at the picture beneath the headline.
It's a full-page spread of his father and Scorpius' dad, looking like a pair of dementors trying to suck each other's souls out.
"I swear, I didn't know," Scorpius insists later, slightly green at the thought of how Draco Malfoy had accumulated all those free nights. Albus is tempted to write home and ask whether Scorpius' kissable lips are a family trait, but decides against it.
Some things that happen in Vegas really should just stay in Vegas. Especially when they involve your-and your boyfriend's-parents.
Title: Give Me the Hook (Or the Ovation)
Summary: Albus has pre-stage jitters.
Warnings: Cross-dressing (LOL no kidding).
Author's Notes: Written for Week 3, Cross-dressing in under 300. Obvious John Barrowman reference is obvious. :D Voted third place.
“Bad idea, bad idea,” Albus chants, wrinkling his nose as he tries to avoid the attack of the makeup brush. “Going to look so idiotic-“
“Shut up and hold still!” Rose applies the final touches before tossing her makeup equipment onto a nearby table and grabbing her cousin by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Al,” she says firmly. “You’ll be great. No one will give a damn about what you’re wearing.”
“Mr. Potter, one minute!” Professor Flitwick calls, stopping and staring at Albus’ get-up. “Ooh, nice costume. Very nice.”
Albus has time to blush before Rose drags him toward the stage curtains. “Good luck,” she says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll be waiting here.”
Albus glances out, sees a familiar blonde head in the first row of the packed audience, and swallows. Hard. “Thanks, Rose,” he mutters, moments before a magically-amplified voice booms through the Great Hall.
“And now, the final contestant in our first-ever ‘Hogwarts Has Talent’-Albus Potter!”
Albus takes a deep breath and wobbles onstage, unsteady on four-inch heels and hard-pressed to move in a skin-tight black-sequined gown. The dress’ slit running up both thighs doesn’t make it any easier to walk, but it does make for a much better view from below.
There is a loud gasp from the crowd, followed by many wolf-whistles from impressed students of both genders. But Albus sees that Scorpius isn’t joining in: frozen in his seat, Albus’ boyfriend is gripping the arms of his chair as if that will stop him from jumping Albus in front of most of Hogwarts.
Albus tosses his head and poses, grinning as the appreciative noises increase. Maybe this drag thing wasn’t half-bad after all.
“I am what I am,” he sings after the drum-roll introduction. “I am my own special creation...”
Title: A Different Kind of Explosion
Summary: Albus and Scorpius are in a broom closet, but they’re not thinking along the same lines.
Warnings: Schoolboy smut.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 4, First Time in under 300 words. This was...hard. And not in the good way. Voted seventh place (ow again, I kind of expected it, though, so it's less of a mark).
“I’ve never done this before,” Scorpius confesses, sounding embarrassed and just a little bit frightened. “You know my dad, he’d have my hide if he finds out-”
“Well, he won’t find out, I promise.” Albus peers out of their hiding spot, checking the halls for any signs of Filch or his ancient cat. “My dad’s an expert at this, he did it all the time back in the day.”
“Your dad? The great, straight Harry Potter in a broom closet? You can’t be serious.”
“No joke, but he had an invisibility cloak and we don’t.” Albus shrugs, making more room for the two of them in the tiny space by banishing some old mops and buckets that won’t be missed. “We’ll just have to be more careful if we don’t want detention, is all. Now, a few more spells and we’ll be-Scor? Is that-what-are you groping me?!”
“Why not?” Scorpius half-purrs, rubbing his chest against Albus’ back. “We’re here, aren’t we?”
“But-” Al groans as the grinding forces his mind to spiral out of control. “But we-we’re supposed to set the mudswamp-and-fireworks bomb-so it goes off-during tomorrow’s assembly!”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to pass this up,” Scorpius breathes into Albus’ ear. “Me, you, confined space? Get your priorities straight, Al. Or-” Albus can tell without seeing it that Scorpius is smirking. “Are you telling me you’ve never done this before, either?”
Albus suddenly pushes back, hard, forcing Scorpius against the opposite wall with Scorpius’ growing erection pressing against his arse. “Now that you ask, no, I haven’t done this before,” Albus growls, “but I think I do have my priorities straight, thanks ever so.”
“Then prove it. Make me go off instead.”
Albus is happy to oblige.
Title: Like Father, Like Son
Summary: Some things really are genetic.
Warnings: Adult slash.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 5, Pre-Hogwarts in under 300 words. Voted third place (I'm always either third or near last, LOL).
“Dad, what’s a pouf?”
Harry Potter slowly lowers his newspaper to find his eight-year-old son Albus standing on the other side. "Why? Did someone call you that?" he asks, dreading the answer.
"Yeah! I mean, not really." Albus scratches his neck, looking sheepish. "Hugo called Scorpius that at school this morning, and Grandma grounded him ‘til next week." His brow furrows. "But she wouldn't say what it means!"
Inwardly, Harry thanks the wisdom of Mrs. Weasley for not defining the concept to his son and simultaneously curses her for making him be the one to explain.
"Well." Harry tries to choose his words carefully. "A pouf is a not-very nice name for a boy who likes other boys."
"What's wrong with liking other boys?" Albus asks, clearly confused.
"Nothing, but people used to think differently. Opinions change, it just takes time."
"Oh.” Silence. Then, "But I like Scorpius! Am I a pouf, too?"
Harry reminds himself that breathing is a necessity. "I don't know, Al," he says slowly. "Would that be a bad thing, if you were?"
"No. I think I'd like being a pouf. 'Sides,” Albus wrinkles his nose. “Girls are icky. They have cooties."
* * *
"Albus thinks he's gay because he likes your son," Harry tells Draco Malfoy several nights later. "Are we being a bad influence?"
"Unless you think our sons are watching us through the wall, I highly doubt it." Draco smirks at Harry from his prone (and naked) position on the bed. "Stop brooding, it doesn't suit you. And your clothes won't take themselves off, you know."
Harry sighs and obediently begins to unbutton his shirt. Draco always is rubbish at discussion before the first blowjob. Might be better to bring it up again later.
Title: Requiescat in Pace
Summary: Albus has to say goodbye.
Warnings: Character death.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 6, Angst in under 300 words. I LOVED THIS PROMPT LIKE BURNING. Voted third place.
On the day they bury Scorpius, it rains, huge raindrops pounding into the parched summer earth. It’s almost as if the heavens are bemoaning the passing of someone so young, so innocent, one life so needlessly wasted.
Albus stands alone, dry-eyed and apart from the other clumps of mourners while a minister drones over the grave. He can see Scorpius' father, also not crying and blocking his weeping wife from everyone else's view as he stares unblinkingly at Scorpius’ coffin. Maybe Mr. Malfoy is asking himself what he could have done to prevent his son's death, whether he could have saved Scorpius by refusing to be a Death Eater so many years earlier.
Scorpius' killer has already been arrested and is awaiting trial (Albus can’t get the image of Stan Shunpike being taken into custody, looking more star-struck at meeting the great Head Auror Potter than remorseful of his crime), but no legal justice would ever bring Scorpius back to life again. And as Harry had pointed out, justice for the son and grandson of known Death Eaters would be hard to find indeed.
The service finishes with a wave of the minister's wand-Albus has to admit, it was a very nice service-and the attendees slowly drift off, back to the Malfoy Manor for the luxurious reception. But Albus lingers, waiting until the grave has filled itself with dirt before approaching and laying a trembling hand on the marble marker.
Scorpius Draconis Malfoy: Son, Student, and Friend, the marker reads. But Albus can’t help but wish that there is one more word listed, a word as important as the rest: lover.
"Goodbye, Scorpius," he says. Then, beneath the sounds of water splashing on stone, "I miss you."
It is only then that Albus allows himself to cry.
Title: All You Have to Do is Call
Summary: Scorpius knows he can count on Albus when it matters.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: Written for Week 7, Best Friends in exactly 100 words. I had less trouble with the word count than I'd expected, surprise surprise. (I like boundaries, apparently. *headscratch*) Voted third place.
Whenever Scorpius Floo-calls Albus, he can expect any one of a thousand variant responses. “Hey Scorpius! What’s up?” or, “Call me later? Bad time-ow, James, geroff!” or sometimes even, “FOR MERLIN’S SAKE SCORPIUS can’t a lad have privacy in his own bedroom? Get out, I’ll call once I’ve dressed!”
But when Scorpius sticks his head in the fireplace and says, his voice cracking, “Al-Dad’s in St. Mungo’s again,” Albus drops whatever it is he’s doing and says, “I’m coming.”
Which, Scorpius thinks as he makes room for Albus to come through, is exactly what best friends are for.
Title: Long-Distance Relationship
Summary: Albus and Scorpius are not looking forward to spending the summer apart. Albus' text is in plain font; Scorpius' is italicized.
Warnings: Mentions of wanking, underage handjobs, underage blowjobs, and bestiality (no owls were harmed in the writing of this drabble).
Author's Notes: Written for Week 8, Wanking in under 300 words. My personal favorite out of all my drabbles, though it was possibly my least favorite prompt. Voted third and last place, which disqualified me from the rest of the competition.
Dear Scorpius, I can't believe it. Three months. THREE WHOLE MONTHS before we can see each other again. I hope your dad's willing to let you come visit, because otherwise my prospects of getting laid this summer are looking very bleak.
Dear Al, You know what Father thinks of Potters and Weasleys. Look on the bright side, at least you'll get some exercise in your hands for once.
But it's never the same! Hey, maybe we can try owl-sex. I hear that's fun.
ALBUS SEVERUS THAT IS DISGUSTING.
No, not that kind! Yuck. You know, like phone-sex, but through owl post.
Phone-sex? Did we cover that in Muggle Studies? Wouldn't the Floo be easier?
Even if Mullen had mentioned it, you were asleep the whole time. And no on the Floo, it's too easy to burn the sensitive spots. How did we get on this subject, anyway?
Three months of wanking ourselves dry, that's how. My elbows are sore just thinking about it.
Scorpius, I know the train's not even left Hogsmeade yet and you're still sitting right next to me, but I miss you already.
Yeah, me too. How about I give you a farewell handjob to tie us over? Loo in 5 minutes, what do you say?
Make it a blowjob and you're on.
Deal. Love you, Al.
Love you too, Scorpius. xoxoxxx
All right, now that was just gay.