FIC: Pinning A Butterfly [NC-17]
Author: obscureauthor
Title: Pinning a butterfly
Characters/Pairings: Albus Severus/ Scorpius
Rating: NC 17
Warnings: swearing, drug and self abuse
Word Count: 4159
Prompt: Al has a charmed life, a family who loves him, money, popularity, he even gets along brilliantly with his siblings. Then he meets Scorpius, whose father lost his family fortune sometime after the war and who goes around with a chip on his shoulder. Scorpius seems to be intent on a path of self-destruction and Al can't stop thinking about him or trying to save him. (submitted by melusinahp)
Notes: It was fun working on this. Hope that I've done justice to this brilliant prompt and pardon the spelling mistakes.
“Al you are here” Lorcan Scamander had something blood red swishing in his hands as he makes his way to Albus. His long hair is pulled back in an odd sort of ponytail and his shirt shines a different colour with every step he takes.
Albus thinks he is getting a head ache. The music is loud and reverberates a painful thump inside his skull, the enchanted lights flash red to green, Al sighs
“I was getting bored at home” he shouts over the music. Lorcan smiles amiably and thrusts the red drink into Albus’s empty hands “you need to loosen up mate”
His “I don’t drink” is drowned by the change in music and Lorcan abandons him in favour of a gaggle of giggling girls his brother’s chatting up.
“You are drinking?” James slurs, eyes widening “I thought it was bad for your quidditch form” he imitates Al badly.
Albus ignores the question, James looks far too drunk to be holding another shot of what appears to be butterbooze.
“I am so proud of you lil bro” James dramatically throws his arms over him “I never thought I would live to see this day”
Al just shifts uncomfortably as another gaggle of teens rush past him, a few of them throwing appreciative glances. Al tries his best to smile, with his brother draped half over him. It is only after he deposits James into the safety of a couch does he make his way out. He catches a glimpse of blood red hair that could only belong to his sister, he doesn’t follow her.
He makes his way to the kitchen, bumping into several people and avoiding the eyes of people he knows. The punch tastes like alcohol, and Albus sighs. It was strange that he was the only one of his sibling who hated the party scene.
James had been the official party king of Gryffindor, using their father’s cloak to steal in bottles of firewhiskey, Lilly had followed suit sneaking out of school had become a semi regular family thing.
Al was wishing he had Rose for company, they could have spend the day together enjoying a sappy movie or just talking. Sometimes Albus felt that Rose was the only person he could truly talk to.
There was a brief moment, when he stared into the darkened backyard littered with fairy lights. There was someone leaning of the fence, Al could only make out the pale hair and the flare of red of his cigarette.
“That’s not really good for you” he found himself saying.
The boy tilted his head and threw Al a look of vague amusement “and you think I care because…”
Al couldn’t help but shrug feeling somewhat uncomfortable. But that he was/wasn’t aware of it, those hipster kids that plagued most of Lorcan’s parties. Skinny jeans and multiple piercings and more drugs in their systems that what should have been. ‘Everyone experiments’ like James constantly liked to point out, but there were these emo kids, with their bottle blonde/brunette hair and tongue rings that pushed those limits a little too far.
His hoodie was drawn up flashing the merest hint of his white hair, the long sleeves covered his arms, probably ridden with scars Al thought.
“why are you outside” Al couldn’t help but ask.
The boy gave another one of his wry grins “it’s a bit crowded there”
That being an understatement of course, the house was literally overflowing with people. Al nodded “a bit I suppose”
The boy took another long drag of his cigarette “I am Scor”
“Like quidditch Score?”
‘Scor’ shot him an annoyed look “short for Scorpius”
“I am Al” he said smiling pulling his hands out of his pockets, despite his brain shooting off the warning signals.
Albus could barely make out his features in the dark, with the shimmering fairy lights that seemed to glow and fade Scor looked oddly ethereal.
Scor offered Al a drag of his cigarette, “I don’t smoke” he didn’t try to hide his frown.
“Fair enough” he replied taking a long drag and shooting white halos into the night sky.
Al was the most cautious amongst his siblings, yet it was the edginess in the boy that drew him in. “So how do you know Lorcan?”
The boy looked confused “Lorcan who?” “I just came in cause it looked like free booze”
“Not Hogwarts then?”
Scor shrugged, “wanna take a walk?” he said instead. Standing there with white blonde hair falling over his eyes, Al could barely make out the sharp fall of his jaw line.
His lips looked dry.
“Sure”
Scor liked to talk, Al found out. About the baby crup he rescued or his “sucky” part time job or how he finds it frustrating that electricity dies out in wizarding areas.
“I think my mom would have an apoplexy if I suggested a summer job” Al mused, he wouldn’t have minded the quiet time.
Not that he didn’t adore his family, but with Teddy’s visits, Lilly’s giggling entourage or James’s friends finding a couple of minutes of quiet time in Gordic’s hollow seemed impossible.
Scor seemed amused by that fact, “don’t think dad notices I am gone” he said nonchalantly, for an emo kid Al expected a little more of angst but none seemed forth coming.
It seemed far too soon when Scor stood awkwardly near the intersection, “this is where I leave”
Al shifted slightly, he didn’t want to leave.
“So when do I see you”
The streetlight cast tawny shadows on his white blonde hair and he smiles, a strange one sided quirk of his red lips that resembles a smirk than a smile.
“We’ll see” he said smiling slightly reaching up to ruffle the mess that was Al’s hair.
And before Albus can come up with a suitable reply, he laughs and bounds into the empty streets. Al feels a warmth settle in his stomach like Sunday morning brownies mom makes or that perfect throw that sends the quaffle sailing through the hoop.
He smiles.
No one actually knows a boy named Scor and descriptions are wasted on Lorcan.
“What’s so special about this boy?” There is a hint of amusement in his voice and Al doesn’t dare push at the fear of the endless jokes that would follow.
And when Al closes his eyes, he imagines the white blonde hair and those strange smiles.
And Al scourges the nearby coffee shops trying hard not to creep around or see all the waiters there, he almost gives up then, a week later Al sees him again, leaning against a wall with an apron tied. His pale blonde hair is tied back; he looks small against the wall, shoulders hunched as he takes another drag.
“Scor” Albus exclaims and he straightens immediately
“Wow! this is a surprise” he smiles, grey eyes crinkling “my name is David here” he points towards his golden name tag pinned to his apron.
Albus nods, still surprised to see the boy.
“You work at a muggle café?
Scor shrugs, and burns out the last of his cigarette “Just during the hols?”
A muggle woman with brown hair peers out of the door, “Dave your five minutes is up”
Scor straightens immediately and strides in, Albus thinks it makes his look older.
“I don’t get off for another hour” his tone is apologetic and he stands behind the counter.
“I can wait”
And thus Albus blows off his evening quidditch game for a cup of badly made cappuccino and doughnut and watches Scor behind the counter with “What can I get you sir” and a toothy smile.
He doesn’t think it’s a moment wasted.
Scor gets his shift done and leaves with a faded jeans that looks bleached white and black shirt that accents his sinewy arms and his toned stomach.
Al feels his throat dry up.
“I am starved” he announces and throws a glance at Albus. “I know this amazing place…muggle though”
Albus whose muggle interactions are limited to Telly and muggle fad parties that Lorcan throws, nods enthusiastically.
Scor smiles and walks towards a motorbike “You don’t mind right?” he asks.
Albus gulps “sure why not?”
“I think dad would kill me if I ever owned one” he says looking enviously at the shiny black contraption.
“Drives mine insane” he said with a smug smile, but the hardness in his eyes was unmistakable.
“What about your mom?”
“Left when I was a kid” he says throwing a spare helmet at Al. Albus feels terrible for bringing it up.
The Thai restaurant turned out to be a shady place with a dingy overhead sign that creaked ominously when Al opened the door.
“This is nice”
Scor smirked at that, “Not so much of an ambience” he admitted as he sat down on a chair, the restaurant was unsurprisingly empty.
Al really wished he could cast a discreet ‘scourgify’ but he supposed this was not one of the ministry approved’ life or death’ situation.
The pad Thai is amazing and even more when Scor abandons his chop sticks to pick up the pieces of prawn. “I don’t know who though it was a good idea to eat noodles with two sticks”
Al nods but eats with the chop sticks, thanks to his mom’s sudden love for take out somewhere during his 2nd year Al is well versed with the art of eating with chop sticks and Pizza boxes as plates. His dad had been hopeless of course and James preferred sticking it up his nose and pretending to be a walrus than actually use it for eating.
Scor licks the sauce off his fingers and sighs “this is heaven” he says smiling and all Al can see is the tip of his red tongue dart out and lick the red sauce away, the line of his pale white throat and the curve of his collar bone
“Yes” he agrees.
Albus finds that his thoughts seem to entirely revolve around Scor.
Its an all together unnerving experience, despite the general openness with which his mates dealt with relationships of both sexes, Al had never been attracted to a boy. And not one especially so edgy, Scor looked like the boys nana Molly referred to as ‘bad influences’ and Al had lived the life of a saint.
His early ambitions in Quidditch had left him obsessively concerned over his form, his grades had to be high enough to remain in the team and every other aspect of his life revolved around the same. It felt strange to thing about Scor, his chaotic nature was what seemed to appeal to Albus the most.
Thus on the weekend practise sessions with his neighbourhood boys when Al was hovering somewhere in the corner of the goal posts watching out for the quaffle was when he caught a flash of unmistakable blonde hair.
“You are here” he said, not without the surprise at Scor lounging causally on the stands like he belonged there.
Scor raised his omnioculars “came prepared and everything!” and Al shoots in the sky with sweaty palms and a grin on his lips that he can’t quiet hide even when Lois raises her eyebrows and looks speculatively at Scor.
Scor waits patiently till Al is done with Quidditch and changed into his clean white shirt and jeans. Scor throws him a spare helmet as soon as Al makes it out of the lockers “lets go down to the docks”
Al things its too sunny to be outdoors and how he would love to sink into a couch with something cool to drink.
And Scor stands there slightly rocking on the balls of his feet, the sunlight catches his hair in an almost silver glint and Al agrees.
The dock is strangely silent for that time of the day and the sunlight reflects the light in a harsh blue making Al squint. Scor disappears for a while and returns with two cones of ice cream and hands Al the suspiciously purple one and bites into the chocolates.
“What flavour is this?”
Scor smiles, “you need to taste it to find out”
After the incident involving James and earwax bertie’s every flavour jellybeans Al has always been suspicious of strangely coloured treats.
“Just tell me”
Scor throws back his head and laughs “you really need to experiment more” and waggles his eyebrows.
When Al refuses to take a bite he reaches over and takes a long swipe at the ice cream “perfectly safe” and grins.
Al feels intoxicated, maybe it’s the heat, the burst of sweetness of his ice cream or the glare of blue blue water that makes him woozy, he reaches over and tugs Scor’s hair and brings his face closer and kisses him.
And near the docks, warm and sticky and a mixture of bubblegum ice cream and chocolate Al thinks it’s the best kiss he has ever had.
Finally when Al draws back, Scor smiles his grey eyes crescent moons and tugs Al back in for another.
When Al decides to go for Finnigen’s party, not because James whines pathetically that he needs someone to make sure he got home safe but because he hopes to run into Scor there.
The house is almost filled to the brim when Al reaches there with psychedelic music and colours that make his head spin. He is half surprised to see Lysander there, never a good sign and sees Scor leaning against the wall quiet close to the other boy.
“Al my good man” he says pulling Al into a bone crushing hug, he smells like expensive perfume and alcohol Al cringes.
Scor shoots him a wry grin and Lysander pulls him forward “you must try this” and pushes something milky green into his hands, Scor has something similar in his hands. “And I see you’ve met Scor already” he grins broadly with a hint of teeth that makes it look almost primal “my dear protégée”
Scor mock gags at that “you always say that when you are drunk”
Lysander slips him something discreet “in case you wanna have fun” and smiles again.
Al’s palms itches to drag him away from Lysander and the look in his eyes that make his skin crawl.
It wasn’t a moment too soon when Scor decided to join Al in the hall,
“What was that about?” Al trued his best to keep jealousy out of his voice, Scor grinned “nothing nothing” and slipped out a blue container instead, there were two tiny pink pills.
AL would have choked on his drink if he was drinking anything, “nothing serious” Scor says slipping one pink pill in, “a bit of, what do you say?, sensory amplifier”
“It’s a drug” Al says flatly “an illegal, extremely destructive one at that”
“Its just ‘m’ Al” he drawls “everyone has it, you don’t have to be so fucking anal about it”
Albus feels like punching him, he really does. It’s stupid and risky and Al just wants to shake some sense into him.
So he just gets up and leaves “do whatever the fuck you want”
Al had settled for the company of a lovely miss Emily-call-me-Em something who put her arms around him and breathed too loudly.
It took Al only 20 minutes to find Scor again, who seemed to settle contently on the arm chair with Adele Nott.
Adele was a Slytherin, his year with blue eyes that glinted steely, the cold sort. There was no real beauty about her, no quidditch records, and no great intelligence, nothing that would provoke Albus’s attention towards her. But there was the self assurance, the prissy princess air that she carried herself with her nose upturned as if the rest of humanity was the filth underneath her pointed heels.
Scor was slumped against her, strangely enough her fingers stroking Scor’s hair carefully, something in her eyes that Al couldn’t fathom.
He waited there until Scor looked up, with bleary unfocussed eyes and a sluggish sort of smile.
“I knew you would come back”
The urge to pound something comes rushing back.
Adele looks up then, eyes half lidded lips quirked in a smirk.
“And what have I told you darling” her fingers softly stroking Scor’s hair “about bringing new ones”
Scor doesn’t reply just snuggles closer to the crook of her neck “Ade” he whispers softly.
“Not a new one” he says “it’s the same old one”
Adele sighs “my room is third one to the left upstairs” she says, “he’s too high to go home”
Al doesn’t want to take orders from her, not from Adele Nott the prissy little bitch, but then Scor looks up dazed with a hint of pink on his cheeks that Al can’t bring himself to protest.
The room is strangely muggle looking and just one huge poster of some rock band that didn’t move.
“She likes muggle things” Scor drawled stumbling towards the bed “Pisses her dad off”
Al things mind healers have a huge market with slytherin kids but helps Scor to bed. “Sleep it off” he says removes Scor’s sneakers that had seen better days.
He nods at that drawing the blankets up “Al you are not new” it sounds more like a question “never new” he promises and curls his fist against the hem of Al’s sweater and mumbles what sounds like ‘stay’.
Al wants to stay mad, has his mind made up when he walks back home at night kicking rocks savagely.
But the next day morning after quidditch practise Scor stands there smiling holding a sticky ice cream and thrusts it into Al’s face and says “let’s go to the docks” and all is forgiven.
Al hates Scor drinking, not on a moral high ground but because Al always over does it. With lagers of firewhiskey and then butterbooze and strange muggle concoctions called tequila. And then he would cling on to Al, talking his ear off with nonsensical stories about his baby crup or the time he attempted to ride the peacocks in the manor.
“And then father said ‘Do not go near the peacocks’ and healed my arm” he pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie to show Al a faint line of white skin “didn’t do a good job cause he was drunk”
Al watched the swath of pale skin that felt soft beneath his finger tips “Dad’s always drunk” he said softly pressing his face against the crook of Al’s neck.
And then Scor was kissing him, with this desperate pleading urgency, fingers curling against the cotton of Al’s shirt, Hips thrusting upwards and making those oh so delightful mewing noises that shot straight to Al’s groin.
And Al enjoyed mapping Scor’s body with kisses, the way he shivered softly when Al’s mouth found that spot beneath the crook of his ears, the way his muscles rippled when Al sucked on his belly button ring.
It didn’t last that long, just a few upward thrusts from Scor’s body and that delicious friction and soon Al was seeing painted stars behind his closed eyes lids and Scor’s moist breathing down his neck.
Scor was like Al’s drug, like a whirlwind of colour and noise that took his breath away. Al for the first time in his life blew summer quidditch away for the hot sun, sticky muggle ice cream and spending days on the dock with the blue blue water. And late nights in stranger’s house, parties and Al’s firewhiskey scented kisses.
It happened that one night that Albus decided to stay home. There was still summer homework piling up and Scor said he wanted to visit his grandmother.
Jame’s panicked face appeared over the floo network “Oh AL thank God you are here”
“Al that kid you hang out with OD’d, he is out cold”
It was a wonder that Al was coherent enough to get out the seat let alone make his way to the house.
Scor was in seizures, “Fuck take him to St.Mungo’s you idiots” Al said trying single handily lifting him.
“Fuck Al you can’t do that” It was Lysander’s pale face that appeared “M is illegal, all of us could fucking go to Azkaban”
It was in the tip of Al’s tongue to say that is where he belonged.
Nevertheless Adele Nott found a bezoar and Al propped him up and forced him to swallow.
Scor made it out that day, and Al sat beside him on the bed all night awake tracing the fading pink of his arms, a collage of self inflicted scars and drug needle marks.
For the first time in his life he felt utterly helpless, half mad at Scor’s lies about his whereabouts, but much much worse about the curled up boy beside him.
Scor was a bit like a shoot star, all fire before the big burn out and all Al could seem to do is watch in fascination.
The fight that followed was inevitable, but AL gave Scor a day to recover, hovering around him in cold silence.
“You know this shit happens” Scor began exasperatedly at the end of the day “I am sorry that I OD’d , I should have been more careful”
“What the fuck Scor, you think that’s what the issue is?”
“You are not my parent Al, quit acting like one”
“Yea I am not your father, cause I swear to God that anyone could be a better parent than him”
“Well too bad then right”
His dad always said that Al had anger issues, but it was white hot rage that blinded him as he grabbed Scor and pushed him towards the wall.
“Fuck you Scor, fuck your stupid decisions and Fuck you for dragging me along your stupid twisted life”
“Well you are free to leave, and don’t pretend you care Al, don’t you dare”
“Of course I fucking care Scor, what the hell do you think I am doing with you?”
Scor gave a short barking laugh as a retort “Really Albus Severus Potter”
“You fucked me, do you even know my name”
“For God’s sake, you didn’t even recognise me even though we have shared potions for the last 7 years” and wrenched his arm free from Al’s death grip.
It took a few minutes for Scor’s words to sink and then hours to recognise what a fool he was.
He asked around, slowly sinking in that Scor was Scorpius Malfoy with the alcoholic father and a run away mother.
The kid with white blonde hair that he dyed black not to stand out.
The kid that James and Hugo used to pick on constantly.
“You really are stupid” Rose said finally pulling him into a comforting hug anyway.
And the rest of the month passed fast enough as Al spend moody days locked up and mulling over unread books.
Finally on the day of leaving, he saw Scor in the train station, standing awkwardly behind a man, Al assumed to be his father.
It took all of Al’s courage to grab Scor before he disappeared into the masses “I know I am a fool” he said “But at least give me a chance”
Behind that impassive face only Al could see the looming insecurity, the unbidden worries, and the never told secrets.
“Why does it even matter?” he questioned.
It didn’t seem to of course. Al who had constantly battled against the looming shadows cast by his parents and siblings had fought so hard as to not remain hidden.
He wasn’t great at studies, at quidditch, at making friends, everything he had came with a great deal of hard work. And he was proud, no doubt, of the fact people remembered Albus Severus Potter for his skills than his last name.
Was he so willing to throw all that away so easily?
For a barely there relationship, the opinions of his peers, the approval of his parents for a boy who blew in the winter storms without a promise to stay.
But for all the time it took Al to think it through, he realized it didn’t matter. At the corner of his eye he could see his parents approaching, Mom’s eyes wide in surprise and Mr.Malfoy’s lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.
He could feel his cousin’s questioning looks or even James’s soon to be obvious disgust and maybe even the whole school’s disapproval.
When he leaned over and captured Scor’s lips in a short breath taking moment, he could feel all of it disappear, his pressure, his expectations, of what he was supposed to be. And in that weightlessness he whispered “It matters cause I love you” and jumped into the train with every one's mouth hanging open.
“I think your dad hates me” Al finally said when they both recovered from bouts of laughter.
“I know” said Scor and kissed Al again.
Title: Pinning a butterfly
Characters/Pairings: Albus Severus/ Scorpius
Rating: NC 17
Warnings: swearing, drug and self abuse
Word Count: 4159
Prompt: Al has a charmed life, a family who loves him, money, popularity, he even gets along brilliantly with his siblings. Then he meets Scorpius, whose father lost his family fortune sometime after the war and who goes around with a chip on his shoulder. Scorpius seems to be intent on a path of self-destruction and Al can't stop thinking about him or trying to save him. (submitted by melusinahp)
Notes: It was fun working on this. Hope that I've done justice to this brilliant prompt and pardon the spelling mistakes.
“Al you are here” Lorcan Scamander had something blood red swishing in his hands as he makes his way to Albus. His long hair is pulled back in an odd sort of ponytail and his shirt shines a different colour with every step he takes.
Albus thinks he is getting a head ache. The music is loud and reverberates a painful thump inside his skull, the enchanted lights flash red to green, Al sighs
“I was getting bored at home” he shouts over the music. Lorcan smiles amiably and thrusts the red drink into Albus’s empty hands “you need to loosen up mate”
His “I don’t drink” is drowned by the change in music and Lorcan abandons him in favour of a gaggle of giggling girls his brother’s chatting up.
“You are drinking?” James slurs, eyes widening “I thought it was bad for your quidditch form” he imitates Al badly.
Albus ignores the question, James looks far too drunk to be holding another shot of what appears to be butterbooze.
“I am so proud of you lil bro” James dramatically throws his arms over him “I never thought I would live to see this day”
Al just shifts uncomfortably as another gaggle of teens rush past him, a few of them throwing appreciative glances. Al tries his best to smile, with his brother draped half over him. It is only after he deposits James into the safety of a couch does he make his way out. He catches a glimpse of blood red hair that could only belong to his sister, he doesn’t follow her.
He makes his way to the kitchen, bumping into several people and avoiding the eyes of people he knows. The punch tastes like alcohol, and Albus sighs. It was strange that he was the only one of his sibling who hated the party scene.
James had been the official party king of Gryffindor, using their father’s cloak to steal in bottles of firewhiskey, Lilly had followed suit sneaking out of school had become a semi regular family thing.
Al was wishing he had Rose for company, they could have spend the day together enjoying a sappy movie or just talking. Sometimes Albus felt that Rose was the only person he could truly talk to.
There was a brief moment, when he stared into the darkened backyard littered with fairy lights. There was someone leaning of the fence, Al could only make out the pale hair and the flare of red of his cigarette.
“That’s not really good for you” he found himself saying.
The boy tilted his head and threw Al a look of vague amusement “and you think I care because…”
Al couldn’t help but shrug feeling somewhat uncomfortable. But that he was/wasn’t aware of it, those hipster kids that plagued most of Lorcan’s parties. Skinny jeans and multiple piercings and more drugs in their systems that what should have been. ‘Everyone experiments’ like James constantly liked to point out, but there were these emo kids, with their bottle blonde/brunette hair and tongue rings that pushed those limits a little too far.
His hoodie was drawn up flashing the merest hint of his white hair, the long sleeves covered his arms, probably ridden with scars Al thought.
“why are you outside” Al couldn’t help but ask.
The boy gave another one of his wry grins “it’s a bit crowded there”
That being an understatement of course, the house was literally overflowing with people. Al nodded “a bit I suppose”
The boy took another long drag of his cigarette “I am Scor”
“Like quidditch Score?”
‘Scor’ shot him an annoyed look “short for Scorpius”
“I am Al” he said smiling pulling his hands out of his pockets, despite his brain shooting off the warning signals.
Albus could barely make out his features in the dark, with the shimmering fairy lights that seemed to glow and fade Scor looked oddly ethereal.
Scor offered Al a drag of his cigarette, “I don’t smoke” he didn’t try to hide his frown.
“Fair enough” he replied taking a long drag and shooting white halos into the night sky.
Al was the most cautious amongst his siblings, yet it was the edginess in the boy that drew him in. “So how do you know Lorcan?”
The boy looked confused “Lorcan who?” “I just came in cause it looked like free booze”
“Not Hogwarts then?”
Scor shrugged, “wanna take a walk?” he said instead. Standing there with white blonde hair falling over his eyes, Al could barely make out the sharp fall of his jaw line.
His lips looked dry.
“Sure”
Scor liked to talk, Al found out. About the baby crup he rescued or his “sucky” part time job or how he finds it frustrating that electricity dies out in wizarding areas.
“I think my mom would have an apoplexy if I suggested a summer job” Al mused, he wouldn’t have minded the quiet time.
Not that he didn’t adore his family, but with Teddy’s visits, Lilly’s giggling entourage or James’s friends finding a couple of minutes of quiet time in Gordic’s hollow seemed impossible.
Scor seemed amused by that fact, “don’t think dad notices I am gone” he said nonchalantly, for an emo kid Al expected a little more of angst but none seemed forth coming.
It seemed far too soon when Scor stood awkwardly near the intersection, “this is where I leave”
Al shifted slightly, he didn’t want to leave.
“So when do I see you”
The streetlight cast tawny shadows on his white blonde hair and he smiles, a strange one sided quirk of his red lips that resembles a smirk than a smile.
“We’ll see” he said smiling slightly reaching up to ruffle the mess that was Al’s hair.
And before Albus can come up with a suitable reply, he laughs and bounds into the empty streets. Al feels a warmth settle in his stomach like Sunday morning brownies mom makes or that perfect throw that sends the quaffle sailing through the hoop.
He smiles.
No one actually knows a boy named Scor and descriptions are wasted on Lorcan.
“What’s so special about this boy?” There is a hint of amusement in his voice and Al doesn’t dare push at the fear of the endless jokes that would follow.
And when Al closes his eyes, he imagines the white blonde hair and those strange smiles.
And Al scourges the nearby coffee shops trying hard not to creep around or see all the waiters there, he almost gives up then, a week later Al sees him again, leaning against a wall with an apron tied. His pale blonde hair is tied back; he looks small against the wall, shoulders hunched as he takes another drag.
“Scor” Albus exclaims and he straightens immediately
“Wow! this is a surprise” he smiles, grey eyes crinkling “my name is David here” he points towards his golden name tag pinned to his apron.
Albus nods, still surprised to see the boy.
“You work at a muggle café?
Scor shrugs, and burns out the last of his cigarette “Just during the hols?”
A muggle woman with brown hair peers out of the door, “Dave your five minutes is up”
Scor straightens immediately and strides in, Albus thinks it makes his look older.
“I don’t get off for another hour” his tone is apologetic and he stands behind the counter.
“I can wait”
And thus Albus blows off his evening quidditch game for a cup of badly made cappuccino and doughnut and watches Scor behind the counter with “What can I get you sir” and a toothy smile.
He doesn’t think it’s a moment wasted.
Scor gets his shift done and leaves with a faded jeans that looks bleached white and black shirt that accents his sinewy arms and his toned stomach.
Al feels his throat dry up.
“I am starved” he announces and throws a glance at Albus. “I know this amazing place…muggle though”
Albus whose muggle interactions are limited to Telly and muggle fad parties that Lorcan throws, nods enthusiastically.
Scor smiles and walks towards a motorbike “You don’t mind right?” he asks.
Albus gulps “sure why not?”
“I think dad would kill me if I ever owned one” he says looking enviously at the shiny black contraption.
“Drives mine insane” he said with a smug smile, but the hardness in his eyes was unmistakable.
“What about your mom?”
“Left when I was a kid” he says throwing a spare helmet at Al. Albus feels terrible for bringing it up.
The Thai restaurant turned out to be a shady place with a dingy overhead sign that creaked ominously when Al opened the door.
“This is nice”
Scor smirked at that, “Not so much of an ambience” he admitted as he sat down on a chair, the restaurant was unsurprisingly empty.
Al really wished he could cast a discreet ‘scourgify’ but he supposed this was not one of the ministry approved’ life or death’ situation.
The pad Thai is amazing and even more when Scor abandons his chop sticks to pick up the pieces of prawn. “I don’t know who though it was a good idea to eat noodles with two sticks”
Al nods but eats with the chop sticks, thanks to his mom’s sudden love for take out somewhere during his 2nd year Al is well versed with the art of eating with chop sticks and Pizza boxes as plates. His dad had been hopeless of course and James preferred sticking it up his nose and pretending to be a walrus than actually use it for eating.
Scor licks the sauce off his fingers and sighs “this is heaven” he says smiling and all Al can see is the tip of his red tongue dart out and lick the red sauce away, the line of his pale white throat and the curve of his collar bone
“Yes” he agrees.
Albus finds that his thoughts seem to entirely revolve around Scor.
Its an all together unnerving experience, despite the general openness with which his mates dealt with relationships of both sexes, Al had never been attracted to a boy. And not one especially so edgy, Scor looked like the boys nana Molly referred to as ‘bad influences’ and Al had lived the life of a saint.
His early ambitions in Quidditch had left him obsessively concerned over his form, his grades had to be high enough to remain in the team and every other aspect of his life revolved around the same. It felt strange to thing about Scor, his chaotic nature was what seemed to appeal to Albus the most.
Thus on the weekend practise sessions with his neighbourhood boys when Al was hovering somewhere in the corner of the goal posts watching out for the quaffle was when he caught a flash of unmistakable blonde hair.
“You are here” he said, not without the surprise at Scor lounging causally on the stands like he belonged there.
Scor raised his omnioculars “came prepared and everything!” and Al shoots in the sky with sweaty palms and a grin on his lips that he can’t quiet hide even when Lois raises her eyebrows and looks speculatively at Scor.
Scor waits patiently till Al is done with Quidditch and changed into his clean white shirt and jeans. Scor throws him a spare helmet as soon as Al makes it out of the lockers “lets go down to the docks”
Al things its too sunny to be outdoors and how he would love to sink into a couch with something cool to drink.
And Scor stands there slightly rocking on the balls of his feet, the sunlight catches his hair in an almost silver glint and Al agrees.
The dock is strangely silent for that time of the day and the sunlight reflects the light in a harsh blue making Al squint. Scor disappears for a while and returns with two cones of ice cream and hands Al the suspiciously purple one and bites into the chocolates.
“What flavour is this?”
Scor smiles, “you need to taste it to find out”
After the incident involving James and earwax bertie’s every flavour jellybeans Al has always been suspicious of strangely coloured treats.
“Just tell me”
Scor throws back his head and laughs “you really need to experiment more” and waggles his eyebrows.
When Al refuses to take a bite he reaches over and takes a long swipe at the ice cream “perfectly safe” and grins.
Al feels intoxicated, maybe it’s the heat, the burst of sweetness of his ice cream or the glare of blue blue water that makes him woozy, he reaches over and tugs Scor’s hair and brings his face closer and kisses him.
And near the docks, warm and sticky and a mixture of bubblegum ice cream and chocolate Al thinks it’s the best kiss he has ever had.
Finally when Al draws back, Scor smiles his grey eyes crescent moons and tugs Al back in for another.
When Al decides to go for Finnigen’s party, not because James whines pathetically that he needs someone to make sure he got home safe but because he hopes to run into Scor there.
The house is almost filled to the brim when Al reaches there with psychedelic music and colours that make his head spin. He is half surprised to see Lysander there, never a good sign and sees Scor leaning against the wall quiet close to the other boy.
“Al my good man” he says pulling Al into a bone crushing hug, he smells like expensive perfume and alcohol Al cringes.
Scor shoots him a wry grin and Lysander pulls him forward “you must try this” and pushes something milky green into his hands, Scor has something similar in his hands. “And I see you’ve met Scor already” he grins broadly with a hint of teeth that makes it look almost primal “my dear protégée”
Scor mock gags at that “you always say that when you are drunk”
Lysander slips him something discreet “in case you wanna have fun” and smiles again.
Al’s palms itches to drag him away from Lysander and the look in his eyes that make his skin crawl.
It wasn’t a moment too soon when Scor decided to join Al in the hall,
“What was that about?” Al trued his best to keep jealousy out of his voice, Scor grinned “nothing nothing” and slipped out a blue container instead, there were two tiny pink pills.
AL would have choked on his drink if he was drinking anything, “nothing serious” Scor says slipping one pink pill in, “a bit of, what do you say?, sensory amplifier”
“It’s a drug” Al says flatly “an illegal, extremely destructive one at that”
“Its just ‘m’ Al” he drawls “everyone has it, you don’t have to be so fucking anal about it”
Albus feels like punching him, he really does. It’s stupid and risky and Al just wants to shake some sense into him.
So he just gets up and leaves “do whatever the fuck you want”
Al had settled for the company of a lovely miss Emily-call-me-Em something who put her arms around him and breathed too loudly.
It took Al only 20 minutes to find Scor again, who seemed to settle contently on the arm chair with Adele Nott.
Adele was a Slytherin, his year with blue eyes that glinted steely, the cold sort. There was no real beauty about her, no quidditch records, and no great intelligence, nothing that would provoke Albus’s attention towards her. But there was the self assurance, the prissy princess air that she carried herself with her nose upturned as if the rest of humanity was the filth underneath her pointed heels.
Scor was slumped against her, strangely enough her fingers stroking Scor’s hair carefully, something in her eyes that Al couldn’t fathom.
He waited there until Scor looked up, with bleary unfocussed eyes and a sluggish sort of smile.
“I knew you would come back”
The urge to pound something comes rushing back.
Adele looks up then, eyes half lidded lips quirked in a smirk.
“And what have I told you darling” her fingers softly stroking Scor’s hair “about bringing new ones”
Scor doesn’t reply just snuggles closer to the crook of her neck “Ade” he whispers softly.
“Not a new one” he says “it’s the same old one”
Adele sighs “my room is third one to the left upstairs” she says, “he’s too high to go home”
Al doesn’t want to take orders from her, not from Adele Nott the prissy little bitch, but then Scor looks up dazed with a hint of pink on his cheeks that Al can’t bring himself to protest.
The room is strangely muggle looking and just one huge poster of some rock band that didn’t move.
“She likes muggle things” Scor drawled stumbling towards the bed “Pisses her dad off”
Al things mind healers have a huge market with slytherin kids but helps Scor to bed. “Sleep it off” he says removes Scor’s sneakers that had seen better days.
He nods at that drawing the blankets up “Al you are not new” it sounds more like a question “never new” he promises and curls his fist against the hem of Al’s sweater and mumbles what sounds like ‘stay’.
Al wants to stay mad, has his mind made up when he walks back home at night kicking rocks savagely.
But the next day morning after quidditch practise Scor stands there smiling holding a sticky ice cream and thrusts it into Al’s face and says “let’s go to the docks” and all is forgiven.
Al hates Scor drinking, not on a moral high ground but because Al always over does it. With lagers of firewhiskey and then butterbooze and strange muggle concoctions called tequila. And then he would cling on to Al, talking his ear off with nonsensical stories about his baby crup or the time he attempted to ride the peacocks in the manor.
“And then father said ‘Do not go near the peacocks’ and healed my arm” he pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie to show Al a faint line of white skin “didn’t do a good job cause he was drunk”
Al watched the swath of pale skin that felt soft beneath his finger tips “Dad’s always drunk” he said softly pressing his face against the crook of Al’s neck.
And then Scor was kissing him, with this desperate pleading urgency, fingers curling against the cotton of Al’s shirt, Hips thrusting upwards and making those oh so delightful mewing noises that shot straight to Al’s groin.
And Al enjoyed mapping Scor’s body with kisses, the way he shivered softly when Al’s mouth found that spot beneath the crook of his ears, the way his muscles rippled when Al sucked on his belly button ring.
It didn’t last that long, just a few upward thrusts from Scor’s body and that delicious friction and soon Al was seeing painted stars behind his closed eyes lids and Scor’s moist breathing down his neck.
Scor was like Al’s drug, like a whirlwind of colour and noise that took his breath away. Al for the first time in his life blew summer quidditch away for the hot sun, sticky muggle ice cream and spending days on the dock with the blue blue water. And late nights in stranger’s house, parties and Al’s firewhiskey scented kisses.
It happened that one night that Albus decided to stay home. There was still summer homework piling up and Scor said he wanted to visit his grandmother.
Jame’s panicked face appeared over the floo network “Oh AL thank God you are here”
“Al that kid you hang out with OD’d, he is out cold”
It was a wonder that Al was coherent enough to get out the seat let alone make his way to the house.
Scor was in seizures, “Fuck take him to St.Mungo’s you idiots” Al said trying single handily lifting him.
“Fuck Al you can’t do that” It was Lysander’s pale face that appeared “M is illegal, all of us could fucking go to Azkaban”
It was in the tip of Al’s tongue to say that is where he belonged.
Nevertheless Adele Nott found a bezoar and Al propped him up and forced him to swallow.
Scor made it out that day, and Al sat beside him on the bed all night awake tracing the fading pink of his arms, a collage of self inflicted scars and drug needle marks.
For the first time in his life he felt utterly helpless, half mad at Scor’s lies about his whereabouts, but much much worse about the curled up boy beside him.
Scor was a bit like a shoot star, all fire before the big burn out and all Al could seem to do is watch in fascination.
The fight that followed was inevitable, but AL gave Scor a day to recover, hovering around him in cold silence.
“You know this shit happens” Scor began exasperatedly at the end of the day “I am sorry that I OD’d , I should have been more careful”
“What the fuck Scor, you think that’s what the issue is?”
“You are not my parent Al, quit acting like one”
“Yea I am not your father, cause I swear to God that anyone could be a better parent than him”
“Well too bad then right”
His dad always said that Al had anger issues, but it was white hot rage that blinded him as he grabbed Scor and pushed him towards the wall.
“Fuck you Scor, fuck your stupid decisions and Fuck you for dragging me along your stupid twisted life”
“Well you are free to leave, and don’t pretend you care Al, don’t you dare”
“Of course I fucking care Scor, what the hell do you think I am doing with you?”
Scor gave a short barking laugh as a retort “Really Albus Severus Potter”
“You fucked me, do you even know my name”
“For God’s sake, you didn’t even recognise me even though we have shared potions for the last 7 years” and wrenched his arm free from Al’s death grip.
It took a few minutes for Scor’s words to sink and then hours to recognise what a fool he was.
He asked around, slowly sinking in that Scor was Scorpius Malfoy with the alcoholic father and a run away mother.
The kid with white blonde hair that he dyed black not to stand out.
The kid that James and Hugo used to pick on constantly.
“You really are stupid” Rose said finally pulling him into a comforting hug anyway.
And the rest of the month passed fast enough as Al spend moody days locked up and mulling over unread books.
Finally on the day of leaving, he saw Scor in the train station, standing awkwardly behind a man, Al assumed to be his father.
It took all of Al’s courage to grab Scor before he disappeared into the masses “I know I am a fool” he said “But at least give me a chance”
Behind that impassive face only Al could see the looming insecurity, the unbidden worries, and the never told secrets.
“Why does it even matter?” he questioned.
It didn’t seem to of course. Al who had constantly battled against the looming shadows cast by his parents and siblings had fought so hard as to not remain hidden.
He wasn’t great at studies, at quidditch, at making friends, everything he had came with a great deal of hard work. And he was proud, no doubt, of the fact people remembered Albus Severus Potter for his skills than his last name.
Was he so willing to throw all that away so easily?
For a barely there relationship, the opinions of his peers, the approval of his parents for a boy who blew in the winter storms without a promise to stay.
But for all the time it took Al to think it through, he realized it didn’t matter. At the corner of his eye he could see his parents approaching, Mom’s eyes wide in surprise and Mr.Malfoy’s lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.
He could feel his cousin’s questioning looks or even James’s soon to be obvious disgust and maybe even the whole school’s disapproval.
When he leaned over and captured Scor’s lips in a short breath taking moment, he could feel all of it disappear, his pressure, his expectations, of what he was supposed to be. And in that weightlessness he whispered “It matters cause I love you” and jumped into the train with every one's mouth hanging open.
“I think your dad hates me” Al finally said when they both recovered from bouts of laughter.
“I know” said Scor and kissed Al again.