Winter Shorts 2008 Round Two: Fic - Ensnared - PG-13
Mod Note: Here's the first of three posts today! :D Enjoy!
Title: Ensnared
Name: dysonrules
Prompt: Prompt #054: "O but he was as fair as a garden in flower, As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower, When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade oh his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart."
-- W. H. Auden, Johnny
Prompt Given by: Anonymous
Word Count: 1,100
Rating: PG-13
Betas: aki-hoshi
Author's/Artist's Notes:
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy goes for a walk by the lake only to discover a new side of Albus Potter.
Scorpius made his way toward the lake, avoiding the scattered groups of students gathered on the banks and splashing in the water. He had homework to do, but it was far too hot to sit inside a stifling room of the castle. Even Cooling Charms could only do so much to dispel the unseasonal warmth of the still air.
As he passed into the welcome shade of a grove of trees, he heard a voice call down to him. “And then there was Scorpius Malfoy. O, but he was as fair as a garden in flower, as slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower, when the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade, oh his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart.”
Scorpius stopped and craned his neck to stare upward at Albus Potter, who lounged on a large branch and grinned down at him.
“Are you trying to convince me you’ve actually read a book?” Scorpius asked.
“You wound me, Scorpius. I’m trying to convince you of my undying love.”
Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Love? I think love is nothing more than an empty word for you, Albus.”
Albus straightened and then dropped out of the tree, landing uncomfortably close to him. Scorpius refused to step back-he was a Malfoy, after all. He noticed that a layer of stubble shadowed Albus’ jaw and he vaguely wondered if Albus planned to give up shaving. He frowned, picturing the Slytherin with a full beard. The result was ominous.
“You don’t think much of me, do you?” Albus asked.
Scorpius turned away with a lift of his shoulders, glad for the opportunity to escape Albus’ disturbing presence.
“I hardly think my opinion matters,” he admitted. He picked his way through the trees and worked his way back toward the lake. Even a small breeze ghosting across the water would be a relief. Albus followed him, which was both welcome and disquieting.
“We’ll get back to that,” Albus said enigmatically. “What is love to you, Scorpius, if not an empty word?”
Scorpius frowned and thought about the question as he reached the water’s edge. A tree had fallen into the water and left a large log jutted from the bank, partially covered with moss. The top portion had been stripped of bark and worn smooth, probably by generations of Hogwart’s students using it for a seat or a diving platform. Albus looked at him penetratingly, obviously awaiting an answer to his question.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m definitely no expert on love.” In fact, he had seldom seen it expressed in his household; his parents seemed to have a loveless marriage of convenience and Scorpius often wondered if they had both taken lovers on the side. Scorpius’ only acquaintance with love was through the obvious adoration of his parents toward him, even though they had a tendency to use him as a weapon to wound one another.
Albus picked up a rock and slung it out into the water in a long arc. “Love is overrated,” he said. “Most of the time it just causes pain.”
“So you are the expert, eh?” Scorpius joked, surprised at Albus’s serious mien.
He snorted. “Not really. Maybe there are no experts. Sometimes it seems like everyone struggles blindly through it.”
Scorpius sat down on the log and wondered at Albus’ strange mood and almost surreal conversation. “Have you actually read the poem you quoted from?”
Albus laughed. “I’m not a complete Neanderthal. I’ve read quite a number of books and poems. Do you know why I found that one excerpt memorable?”
“Because you’re secretly in love with a Frenchman?”
Albus threw him a quelling glare. “Bite your tongue.” He threw another rock and Scorpius absently admired the play of muscles beneath the thin Muggle t-shirt. “Actually, it reminds me of a time when I was hiding out near the Quidditch pitch.”
Scorpius refrained from snorting-barely. More likely Albus had been meeting someone for some clandestine snogging.
“It was one of those crazy weather days, sunny, but with huge clouds that blew through and dumped rain and spat lightning at random intervals.”
Scorpius nodded. He loved days like that, when rain poured in wild, drenching buckets and the sun baked down to dry everything five minutes later.
“That day I saw someone on the Quidditch pitch flying with abandon, fighting the wind and defying the lightning. I’m not sure if he chased a Snitch or just flew for the crazy joy of it, but he was amazing, ignoring the fitful rain and the crash of thunder. When he finally touched the ground it was like an angel descending to earth. His hair was wild and his face was lit up like the sun. He was beautiful and alive and awesome; like that verse come to life, even though there was no music except that created by his presence.”
Scorpius stared at Albus in awe, shocked to his core that the seemingly shallow Slytherin could express himself in such a fashion. Albus turned and met his surprised gaze for a moment and then smiled wryly.
“That sounded stupid, didn’t it?”
Scorpius shook his head, barely able to speak. “No. Not at all.”
“Hey, I have something for you.” Albus fumbled in a pocket of his jeans and pulled out a length of braided leather. “Hold out your arm.”
Scorpius obeyed after lifting a brow in bemusement. Albus’ gifts tended to be bizarre in the extreme. The Slytherin tied the dangling cords together and Scorpius noted the leather was dyed blue and green. He half-expected it to turn into a snake. “What is it?” he asked.
“A friendship bracelet,” Albus replied with a grin.
“Are we friends?” Scorpius blurted and instantly wished he hadn’t when Albus froze and shutters seemed to drop over the emerald eyes.
“Aren’t we?” Albus countered, sounding suddenly nervous.
“Yeah,” Scorpius said quickly. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
Tension seemed to ooze from the Slytherin. “Good. I don’t have many friends. Or well… any, for that matter.”
“That’s because you’re an evil prat,” Scorpius said as Albus finished tying the bracelet. He wondered if Albus had made it himself and stupidly hoped so.
Albus grinned. “Yeah, but I’m your evil prat. I have to run. Detention time, as usual.”
Scorpius flushed at his strange words and watched as Albus made his way back toward the trees. “Hey, Albus?”
The black-haired Slytherin paused and cocked his head slightly.
“Who was it? That day on the Quidditch pitch?”
Albus smiled widely. “That was you, Scorpius,” he said simply and disappeared into the trees.
Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
Title: Ensnared
Name: dysonrules
Prompt: Prompt #054: "O but he was as fair as a garden in flower, As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower, When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade oh his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart."
-- W. H. Auden, Johnny
Prompt Given by: Anonymous
Word Count: 1,100
Rating: PG-13
Betas: aki-hoshi
Author's/Artist's Notes:
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy goes for a walk by the lake only to discover a new side of Albus Potter.
Scorpius made his way toward the lake, avoiding the scattered groups of students gathered on the banks and splashing in the water. He had homework to do, but it was far too hot to sit inside a stifling room of the castle. Even Cooling Charms could only do so much to dispel the unseasonal warmth of the still air.
As he passed into the welcome shade of a grove of trees, he heard a voice call down to him. “And then there was Scorpius Malfoy. O, but he was as fair as a garden in flower, as slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower, when the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade, oh his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart.”
Scorpius stopped and craned his neck to stare upward at Albus Potter, who lounged on a large branch and grinned down at him.
“Are you trying to convince me you’ve actually read a book?” Scorpius asked.
“You wound me, Scorpius. I’m trying to convince you of my undying love.”
Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Love? I think love is nothing more than an empty word for you, Albus.”
Albus straightened and then dropped out of the tree, landing uncomfortably close to him. Scorpius refused to step back-he was a Malfoy, after all. He noticed that a layer of stubble shadowed Albus’ jaw and he vaguely wondered if Albus planned to give up shaving. He frowned, picturing the Slytherin with a full beard. The result was ominous.
“You don’t think much of me, do you?” Albus asked.
Scorpius turned away with a lift of his shoulders, glad for the opportunity to escape Albus’ disturbing presence.
“I hardly think my opinion matters,” he admitted. He picked his way through the trees and worked his way back toward the lake. Even a small breeze ghosting across the water would be a relief. Albus followed him, which was both welcome and disquieting.
“We’ll get back to that,” Albus said enigmatically. “What is love to you, Scorpius, if not an empty word?”
Scorpius frowned and thought about the question as he reached the water’s edge. A tree had fallen into the water and left a large log jutted from the bank, partially covered with moss. The top portion had been stripped of bark and worn smooth, probably by generations of Hogwart’s students using it for a seat or a diving platform. Albus looked at him penetratingly, obviously awaiting an answer to his question.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m definitely no expert on love.” In fact, he had seldom seen it expressed in his household; his parents seemed to have a loveless marriage of convenience and Scorpius often wondered if they had both taken lovers on the side. Scorpius’ only acquaintance with love was through the obvious adoration of his parents toward him, even though they had a tendency to use him as a weapon to wound one another.
Albus picked up a rock and slung it out into the water in a long arc. “Love is overrated,” he said. “Most of the time it just causes pain.”
“So you are the expert, eh?” Scorpius joked, surprised at Albus’s serious mien.
He snorted. “Not really. Maybe there are no experts. Sometimes it seems like everyone struggles blindly through it.”
Scorpius sat down on the log and wondered at Albus’ strange mood and almost surreal conversation. “Have you actually read the poem you quoted from?”
Albus laughed. “I’m not a complete Neanderthal. I’ve read quite a number of books and poems. Do you know why I found that one excerpt memorable?”
“Because you’re secretly in love with a Frenchman?”
Albus threw him a quelling glare. “Bite your tongue.” He threw another rock and Scorpius absently admired the play of muscles beneath the thin Muggle t-shirt. “Actually, it reminds me of a time when I was hiding out near the Quidditch pitch.”
Scorpius refrained from snorting-barely. More likely Albus had been meeting someone for some clandestine snogging.
“It was one of those crazy weather days, sunny, but with huge clouds that blew through and dumped rain and spat lightning at random intervals.”
Scorpius nodded. He loved days like that, when rain poured in wild, drenching buckets and the sun baked down to dry everything five minutes later.
“That day I saw someone on the Quidditch pitch flying with abandon, fighting the wind and defying the lightning. I’m not sure if he chased a Snitch or just flew for the crazy joy of it, but he was amazing, ignoring the fitful rain and the crash of thunder. When he finally touched the ground it was like an angel descending to earth. His hair was wild and his face was lit up like the sun. He was beautiful and alive and awesome; like that verse come to life, even though there was no music except that created by his presence.”
Scorpius stared at Albus in awe, shocked to his core that the seemingly shallow Slytherin could express himself in such a fashion. Albus turned and met his surprised gaze for a moment and then smiled wryly.
“That sounded stupid, didn’t it?”
Scorpius shook his head, barely able to speak. “No. Not at all.”
“Hey, I have something for you.” Albus fumbled in a pocket of his jeans and pulled out a length of braided leather. “Hold out your arm.”
Scorpius obeyed after lifting a brow in bemusement. Albus’ gifts tended to be bizarre in the extreme. The Slytherin tied the dangling cords together and Scorpius noted the leather was dyed blue and green. He half-expected it to turn into a snake. “What is it?” he asked.
“A friendship bracelet,” Albus replied with a grin.
“Are we friends?” Scorpius blurted and instantly wished he hadn’t when Albus froze and shutters seemed to drop over the emerald eyes.
“Aren’t we?” Albus countered, sounding suddenly nervous.
“Yeah,” Scorpius said quickly. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
Tension seemed to ooze from the Slytherin. “Good. I don’t have many friends. Or well… any, for that matter.”
“That’s because you’re an evil prat,” Scorpius said as Albus finished tying the bracelet. He wondered if Albus had made it himself and stupidly hoped so.
Albus grinned. “Yeah, but I’m your evil prat. I have to run. Detention time, as usual.”
Scorpius flushed at his strange words and watched as Albus made his way back toward the trees. “Hey, Albus?”
The black-haired Slytherin paused and cocked his head slightly.
“Who was it? That day on the Quidditch pitch?”
Albus smiled widely. “That was you, Scorpius,” he said simply and disappeared into the trees.
Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.