Chapter Nine - The Pledge
Chapter Nine - The Pledge
The day after the ritual, Albus felt an exhilarating rush of power. The magical residue from the rite still lingered, making his spells more effective and earning him an abundance of praise from his professors. His mood soared as he reveled in newfound confidence, feeling a sense of invincibility that he had never experienced before. But the euphoria was fleeting, and soon, the high began to wane.
In the days following the affinity rite, Scorpius's concern grew. He had been keeping a close eye on Albus, noting that while the rite had appeared successful, there was something unsettling about it. Scorpius insisted that Albus take blood-replenishing potions, though Albus dismissed his concerns with a roll of his eyes. He felt invigorated, his excitement for his birthday and the upcoming pledge only intensifying.
Later that evening, Albus, Scorpius, and Fawley would gather in a private study room in Slytherin's common area to discuss the details of his dark pledge. Albus had decided on a private, intimate ritual rather than a public declaration.
He wasn’t doing this for anyone else—no matter what those pureblood beliefs claimed about his birthday being significant or special. He didn’t care what others thought of him; this wasn’t about becoming someone who would bring change. No, this was for himself, for his magic, and for a sense of control. He craved that autonomy, a way to assert his own identity in a world that often sought to define him by his lineage.
Fawley entered the study room gracefully, a stack of books in hand, and set them down on the table. “Hello, boys. I trust you’ve completed your reading?” she asked, her tone light but carrying an undertone of professionalism.
Albus met her with a grin, barely containing his excitement in their private setting. The bond he had formed with both Scorpius and Fawley was solidifying; they knew secrets that no one else did, and he felt genuine trust in their companionship.
Scorpius, usually reserved and cautious around their peers, seemed to have warmed to Fawley as well. His skepticism was tempered by a growing sense of camaraderie.
“I’ve decided to go for a private pledge to the dark,” Albus announced with determined confidence.
Scorpius’s face tightened with concern. “Albus, are you sure? What if something goes wrong?”
“No, Scorp, I need to do this on my own. I need you to trust me,” Albus insisted, his tone brooking no argument.
Scorpius opened his mouth as if to protest further but then fell silent, his reservations clear but unspoken.
Fawley, sitting down and opening a book, nodded in support. “Pledges are typically intimate affairs, usually performed within close family circles. Since we’re not bound by traditional family practices, we’ll focus on selecting a ritual that’s effective without requiring obscure or hidden practices.”
She laid out two different books for Albus and Scorpius, while she herself delved into a third. The study room fell into a contemplative quiet, punctuated only by the rustling of pages and the soft sounds of breathing.
“I found something,” Scorpius finally spoke up, his voice tinged with excitement.
Fawley leaned over to inspect the page. “This could work—it’s general enough and simple.”
Albus couldn't hide his intrigue. “Let me see,” he said, taking the book and reading through it. “No blood magic?” he asked, his tone a mix of perplexity and disappointment.
Fawley picked up on his tone. “Most pledges don’t traditionally use blood magic. Some obscure rites might, especially if they focus on the importance of blood or specific types of magic,” she explained, flipping through her own book.
Scorpius glanced between Albus’s perplexed face and Fawley. “Most people who pledge to the dark don’t use blood magic in their pledges,” he added quickly.
“But Potter,” Fawley interjected, “if you feel a pull towards blood magic, it might be a sign from the magic itself. We need to trust our intuition. This could be the dark guiding you towards your intended path.”
Scorpius looked conflicted. “Well—sure, but performing blood magic without much knowledge is reckless. It’s not exactly safe.”
Fawley laughed, adding with a hint of amusement, “A bit Gryffindor-ish, yes.” Scorpius let out a small laugh in response.
Albus made a face. “I’m not exactly Gryffindor-ish, but…” he sighed, resting his head on his hand on the table. “I feel a pull towards it. It’s hard to explain.”
Scorpius and Fawley exchanged a knowing look.
“Well, then we’ll just have to make you more knowledgeable, won’t we, Malfoy?” Fawley said with an amused glance towards Scorpius.
Scorpius sighed in resignation, understanding that he had lost the argument. “Fine, but if anything goes wrong, it’s on you.”
Albus smiled happily and dove back into his book, which focused on blood rites. The weight of his decision seemed to lift from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of anticipation and determination. The delicate, mysterious texts promised to unravel the complexities of dark magic, each page a step closer to the power he sought.
Scorpius watched him, a mixture of concern and resignation in his eyes. Fawley, meanwhile, returned to her own book with a satisfied nod, clearly pleased that they had made progress. The room fell back into a quiet rhythm of study, each of them immersed in their own thoughts, the air charged with the quiet hum of impending change.
++++
“There you are, little bro!” James said, practically jumping out from an alcove and slinging an arm around Albus’s shoulders. Albus’s face stayed neutral as he glanced at his brother.
“Seriously, Albie, no excitement? Aren’t you thrilled to see your dashing big bro?” James said with a cheeky grin.
“Not when my big bro reeks of sweat,” Albus shot back, wrinkling his nose and shoving James’s arm off him as they started walking briskly. James just laughed, unfazed.
“I’ve been training with the Quidditch team,” James said, clearly buzzing with excitement. “They’re going to need a new Chaser next term when McLaggen leaves. They reckon I’m their best bet. If I play well, I might even be a reserve this year!” James’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, and Albus couldn’t help but smile for him. He knew how much James loved Quidditch and wanted to be on the team.
“So, what are you doing for your birthday? On Sunday, I mean,” James asked.
Albus played it cool. “Not much, really. Probably just hanging out with Scorp in the common room in the evening.”
James’s grin widened. “Brilliant! That means you’re free around One, right?”
Albus eyed his brother with suspicion. “Yes—”
“Fantastic! Meet me at the south castle gate at One!” James said, beaming.
“Alright—” Albus started to reply but was cut off.
“Bloody hell! Gotta dash, Albie, or I’ll be late for Charms,” James said, waving as he sprinted off.
Albus called after him with a smirk, “Make sure you shower before class—you really stink!”
James threw a final wave and a laugh as he disappeared down the corridor. Albus shook his head with a smile, heading in the opposite direction.
++++
Albus couldn’t catch a break. After his brief, somewhat cheerful encounter with James, he found himself cornered by a group of Hufflepuffs, led by none other than Karl Jenkins—the boy who had dubbed him “the Slytherin Squib.” Jenkins was a formidable presence: attractive with his golden blonde hair that fell effortlessly into place, a sharp jawline, and a growing height that put Albus’s own 4.7 ft to shame. Jenkins towered over him at 5.1 ft, and his confidence matched his stature.
Albus’s back hit the castle wall as Jenkins and his gang closed in like predatory hyenas. His pulse quickened; he’d grown complacent, used to slipping through shadows unnoticed. Clearly, his guard had been down.
“Oh, if it isn’t the Slytherin Squib!” Jenkins sneered, leaning in too close for Albus’s comfort. “I almost thought you’d been expelled. Seems like you’ve been a good little snake, skulking around in the dark, hmm?” His tone dripped with mockery.
Albus remained silent, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. His defiance only seemed to fuel Jenkins’s anger. With a shove, Jenkins slammed Albus harder against the wall before stepping back, pulling out his wand with a flourish. The other boys followed suit, their wands drawn and eager.
Albus knew better than to reach for his own wand—his magical skills were lackluster at best, and he was severely outnumbered. Even James would have struggled in his place. He bit his cheek, trying to stifle his rising fear.
“Ha! The Squib won’t even draw his wand!” one of the boys jeered, and the group erupted into laughter.
“Does he know that he’s a squib?” another chimed in, their laughter growing louder.
Jenkins continued with a smirk. “We all see how dreadful he is in class—it’s a miracle he hasn’t been expelled yet.”
“Probably some favoritism ,” someone suggested, the group’s laughter reaching a crescendo.
Albus’s fingers dug into his book, pressing it against his chest as if it could offer him protection.
“Maybe we should show the Squib what real magic looks like,” Jenkins said, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Right, boys?” The group cheered in agreement.
Without waiting for a response, Jenkins flicked his wand and muttered, “Wingardium Leviosa!” Albus felt himself being lifted off the ground. Instinctively, he kicked his legs, trying to grasp at anything to steady himself. The cruel laughter around him only amplified his humiliation as Jenkins maneuvered him through the air, his book and belongings falling from his grip.
Albus’s face burned with embarrassment as he was jerked around. Jenkins eventually released the spell, letting Albus drop hard onto the stone floor. He landed painfully on his backside, a cry of pain escaping his lips as he tried to hold back tears.
Jenkins’s laughter echoed as he levitated Albus’s bag and books, making Albus stumble as he reached up in a futile attempt to retrieve them. The blush on his face deepened with each passing second, as the boys continued to mock and taunt him, their laughter mingling with his own feelings of frustration and helplessness.
Albus struggled to his feet, his face burning with a mix of pain and humiliation. He glanced up at Jenkins, who was still grinning with malicious delight, and then at the other boys, who were cheering him on. The torment was almost unbearable, but Albus was determined not to let them see him break down.
“Look at him, trying to act all tough,” one of the boys sneered, watching Albus fumble with his belongings.
Gritting his teeth, Albus reached for his bag, but Jenkins was making it impossible. “Let’s see if you can catch this,” Jenkins taunted, levitating Albus’s bag higher into the air. Albus jumped and swiped, but it was just out of reach. Frustration made him flush red as he struggled to grab it.
Someday, he thought, someday he would have his revenge.
++++
Albus stormed into the library, frustration evident as he slammed his books down beside Scorpius at their usual table. The librarian, already giving him a disapproving look, shushed him with a sharp gesture. Albus rolled his eyes but kept his voice low.
Scorpius looked up from his notes, concern etched on his face. “You’re in a bad mood.”
Albus let out a deep sigh. “I just got cornered by bloody Jenkins and his gang, who were not exactly kind.”
Scorpius frowned, grimacing. “Cornered? I thought you knew how to avoid them by now?”
Albus grimaced, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve been a bit distracted lately. I got careless.”
Scorpius tilted his head, concern deepening. “Albus, you know, I still think we’re rushing things. It feels like we’re—”
“Scorp, I’m not in the mood. Just trust me.” Albus cut in, his tone edged with frustration.
“Albus—I don’t want it to seem like I’m not trusting you, it’s just I’m worried.”
Albus’s expression softened, and he looked down at his book, his voice almost shy. “I know, Scorpius. I really do appreciate it. It’s just… I need to do this. I need you on my side. Things are already tough enough, and I wouldn’t be able to keep my head straight if it weren’t—” He trailed off, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “—if it weren’t for our friendship.”
Scorpius’s face flushed as well. “Me too, Albus. You are really imp—I mean, our friendship is really important to me,” he stammered, his voice rising in pitch as he tried to keep his composure.
A loud shush from the librarian broke their awkward moment, and both boys quickly looked away, their faces hot with embarrassment.
“Let’s just get through this term,” Scorpius said quietly, attempting to regain his usual calm. “I’m sure next term will be better.”
Albus nodded, giving a small, grateful smile. They both turned to their homework, a comforting silence settling between them, punctuated only by the soft rustle of pages turning.
++++
The winter months had passed in a cold blur, and now it was the height of spring—Beltane, the halfway point between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. The sun shone brightly outside, and birds filled the air with their song. Albus stood by the south entrance gate, waiting for James. He wasn’t too worried about whatever James had planned for him; his mind was on what would come later, after nightfall—his pledge.
He had promised Fawley he’d be back by five to prepare and go over the ritual one last time. Later, under the cover of night, they would head into the Forbidden Forest for the Beltane celebration. Celebrating the old ways and the Wheel of the Year wasn’t forbidden, but neither did the school officially acknowledge it. A large bonfire would already be waiting in a clearing, set up by older students from various houses, most of them from traditional pureblood families. For many, the celebration was simply about honoring tradition and magic—not something inherently dark. Albus would go with Scorpius and Fawley, under the guise of "academic curiosity," though he had other plans—ones known only to Fawley and Scorpius.
He felt magic thrumming inside him, more alive today than ever. Beltane was a time of change, of rebirth, and it resonated with him deeply. Nature itself seemed to hum with life, the fertility and transformation of spring at its peak. Perhaps he was more attuned to it because this day marked his birth—the day his own magic had come into being, intertwined with the earth’s energy. Albus felt as though he could hear the earth breathing, feel the plants growing, as if nature itself was celebrating his existence.
He was so caught up in these thoughts that he didn’t hear James approaching until his brother threw an arm over his shoulder. “Of course, you’re early! That’s just our Albie,” James teased, his cheerful grin infectious as he pulled Albus along. “Did you enjoy breakfast? Any nice letters?”
Albus let himself be dragged along, still lost in thought, until they reached the Black Lake. Beneath a tree, a picnic blanket was spread out, and familiar faces gathered around it. His cousins—Molly, Fred, Victoire, Dominique, and Louis—were all there. A simple cake sat in the center, alongside tea and treats. Albus felt a pang of nerves; he hadn’t really spoken to them much over the term or during the holidays.
But as they waved and smiled at him, his unease began to melt away. James led him to the blanket, and as soon as he sat down, everyone started singing “Happy Birthday.” A blush crept up Albus’s cheeks as he sat in the center of their attention. It felt overwhelming yet comforting.
His cousins handed him small presents, each a reminder of simpler times. As he unwrapped them, he couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, the warmth of their affection pushed away all the doubts that had clouded him in recent months.
The conversation flowed easily after that. Laughter echoed as they teased each other, played Exploding Snap, and fell back into the rhythm of family. There were no mentions of difficult topics—no talk of last term, Christmas, or the growing distance between Albus and the rest of the family. For a few blissful hours, everything felt normal, like it used to be.
As the sun began to sink lower, casting golden light across the lake, Albus knew it was time to leave. He had his own plans for the evening, ones he wasn’t ready to share with them. His cousins waved goodbye, still smiling, still warm.
Walking away, a mix of emotions churned inside him. The gathering hadn’t made him question his decision about the ritual—it was too important. But the warmth of his family left a lingering hope. Maybe—just maybe—they could still accept him once they understood. If he could make them see the path he was on, maybe he wouldn’t have to lose them after all.
++++
The air in the clearing buzzed with anticipation as Albus moved deeper into the Forbidden Forest. The night was alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant calls of nocturnal creatures. From afar, he could hear the laughter and music of the Beltane celebration echoing through the trees, the glow of larger bonfires illuminating the night. But this was not where he belonged—not yet.
He sought a secluded spot, one that his magic agreed was right—a place where he could connect with the energy stirring within him. After a moment of contemplation, he shed his wizarding robe, feeling the cool night air against his skin. Underneath, he wore a simple white tunic, its fabric thin and light, perfect for a ceremonial rite. He knelt to gather kindling and small branches, creating a structure that felt just right.
Once satisfied with the structure, Albus kneeled before it. Albus took a moment to breathe, feeling the energy pulsing around him. He had always struggled with spells, but tonight felt different—magic was calling to him, wrapping him in its embrace. He inhaled deeply, grounding himself. The warmth of the earth beneath him and the distant celebration heightened his senses. He felt a connection to something powerful—Beckoning him closer –
With newfound determination, he raised his wand, his heart racing. “Incendio ,” he whispered, channeling all his focus into the incantation.
To his astonishment, instantly, a small flame came out of his wand igniting the tinder. As
The fire crackled to life, it sent shadows flickering and dancing around the clearing and painting Albus face in a warm glow. He watched as the flames leaped upward, casting an orange glow around him, stark against the encroaching darkness.
He felt the fire call to him, whispering secrets he had longed to hear.
“Per sanguinem meum, et per voluntatem meam, voco te.”
(“Through my blood and through my will, I summon you.”)
With a steadying breath, he retrieved the ceremonial dagger. The blade gleamed in the firelight, its edge sharp and inviting. He pressed it to his palm, feeling the sting as it broke the skin, warmth pooling in his hand. Albus tilted his palm over the flames, letting his blood drip onto the fire.
The moment his blood touched the flames, they surged higher, morphing into an intense crimson hue that illuminated the clearing. He could feel the dark magic swirling around him, responding to his offering, alive and hungry.
“ Per tenebras, te invoco.”
(“Through darkness, I invoke you.”)
As he continued to chant, the fire shifted, dancing. He gazed into the heart of the bonfire, and the flames gazed back—
“Tenebrae, amplectere me, ad profunditates tuas se do.”
(“Darkness, embrace me, I surrender to your depths.)
With each drop of blood, the fire roared, shifting and twisting. Albus felt an overwhelming wave of heat envelop him, consuming the air around him—
“In umbris tuis, potentiam meam quaero.”
(“In your shadows, I seek my power.”)
The flames began to rise, licking at his tunic—
Sanguinem meum, animam meam offero—fac me vas tuum.”
(“I offer my blood, my soul—make me your vessel.”)
The fire pulsed with energy and engulfed him , it traveled over his body, as if it were acknowledging him, it embraced him—as one of its own. He felt the dark magic intertwining with his essence, as skin and cloth was set aflame, he could hear, whispering promises of strength and understanding. The heat enveloping him like a lover's embrace, intoxicating and dangerous. He felt alive in a way he had never experienced before, tethered to the dark magic that flowed through him.
The whispers grew louder, urging him to delve deeper, to embrace the power that had chosen him. His blood felt like it was boiling , he felt as if he breathed fire —He watched in awe as the flames danced upon his skin, laugh exiting his mouth,
The flames pulsed with energy, Albus felt the dark magic intertwining with his essence, burning away the remnants of his old self. The heat was overwhelming yet seductive, whispering sweetly everything he longed to hear, drawing him tantalizingly close to the edge of madness.
As he surrendered to the flames, they became him. He couldn’t discern where he began and where the flames ended. An ecstatic sensation filled him, threatening to consume him entirely. In the depths of the fire, something darker loomed—something all-consuming , something familiar . As he stared into the space between the flames, it stared back, urging him to plunge deeper, to embrace the power that had chosen him .
“Per tenebras vivo.”
(“Through darkness, I live.”)
And then, as suddenly as it began, the flames vanished, leaving him panting and in disbelief. Albus sat there, vulnerable and exposed, amidst the remnants of the blaze, ashes swirling around him like a shroud. He felt alive in a way he had never experienced before, tethered to the dark magic that flowed through him. The magic still thrummed in his veins, a wild, euphoric energy surging through every fiber of his being.
High on the sensation, Albus dressed quickly and made his way back toward the larger bonfire, feeling invincible. The magic pulsed beneath his fingertips, electrifying and intoxicating, urging him onward as he embraced this newfound power.
Albus's eyes found Scorpius as quickly as a sailor finds the North Star, and he drew him in—like a moth to a flame. Scorpius looked beautiful, almost divine in the warm light of the bonfire. Albus couldn't breathe; Scorpius's wide smile was unburdened by worries, a drink in hand filled with something Albus didn’t recognize. He moved closer, legs feeling almost like spaghetti, before throwing himself into Scorpius’s arms, wrapping his own around his shoulders.
“Scorp—I did it!” Albus giggled, his face beaming as he panted against Scorpius.
Concern flickered across Scorpius’s features but quickly melted into relief as he steadied Albus, pulling him into a deeper hug. Scorpius breathed in his scent—a mix of dark magic and smoke.
“Albus—” Scorpius started, but a voice from the crowd interrupted him.
“Morgana! How much did Potter drink? He’s totally out of it!”
At the voice, Albus turned away from Scorpius, laughing and extending his hand toward the other boy. “I’m just happy!” he exclaimed, still giggling. The boy took his hand, grinning widely. “Let’s dance!”
Intoxicated by the magic in the air, Albus intertwined his fingers with Scorpius's. Together, they walked toward the bonfire, joining others as they danced in a circle, laughter spilling from their lips as they got lost in the haze of celebration, wild and free, surrounded by the warmth of the bonfire and the energy of their friends.
The three boys collapsed onto the ground, each intoxicated from magic or the concoction they had shared. They lay there, panting, soaking in the childish joy of the moment, the night growing more frenzied, the dancing becoming more ecstatic and wild.
Two more boys approached, grinning, and dragged Bowker up to his feet. “Blimey, mate! Thought you had disappeared!” one dark-haired boy said.
Bowker laughed. “NO! I was just dancing!” He grinned and pointed at Albus and Scorpius. “With these two!”
Albus recognized the newcomer as Zabini and grinned. “Hi, Zabini!”
Zabini’s smile widened. “Jesus, Potter! How much did you drink?”
The boy beside Zabini stayed quiet but wore a small smile, seeming equally out of it.
Bowker held out his cup. “Let's toast!” The other boys joined in, all raising their cups, grinning.
As the bonfire crackled behind them and the air filled with Beltane magic, Albus grinned “To Beltane!” he toasted, his voice ringing out above the joyous din.
“And to magic!” Scorpius added, his eyes bright with excitement.
Albus paused, a smirk dancing on his lips. “And to not having been expelled yet!”
The other boys laughed, thinking he was referring to the revelry of the night, but he and Scorpius shared a knowing glance, understanding the deeper truth behind his words.
“To us!” they all cheered, their voices mingling with the crackling fire and the distant sound of music.
As the cups clinked together, Albus felt a surge of warmth spread through him, bolstered by camaraderie and the intoxicating atmosphere. He glanced at Scorpius, who met his gaze with a smile.
Zabini turned to them, mischief glinting in his eyes. “So, what’s the plan for tonight? Are we dancing until dawn?”
“Absolutely,” Nott replied, his enthusiasm infectious.
Bowker leaned in. “But first, we need more drinks!”
They all laughed. “Let’s raid the supply!” Zabini chimed, excitement igniting in his voice.
Scrambling to their feet, laughter echoed as they made their way to the makeshift bar set up nearby. Albus felt lighter than air, buoyed by the sense of freedom and mischief that filled the atmosphere.
As they approached the table, Albus noticed an array of colorful potions and drinks. He poured himself something vibrant and shimmering, while Scorpius opted for a darker concoction that bubbled ominously.
“Careful with that,” Albus warned, chuckling. “You might turn into a bat .”
Scorpius shot him a playful glare, lifting the cup to his lips. “If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
They shared a laugh, their bond strengthening in that lighthearted moment. Bowker, Nott, and Zabini joined them, sipping from each other’s drinks, and soon they found themselves back in the circle, dancing under the stars.
Albus felt a deep sense of belonging, his worries momentarily forgotten as he swayed to the rhythm. Intoxicated not just by the drinks but by the magic, he knew this was a moment he would cherish.
It was in this blissful chaos that Fawley found the boys moments later, a knowing smile curling at her lips. “Ah, it seems you’ve all indulged a bit too freely,” she remarked, her gaze resting briefly on Albus, who only responded with a soft giggle.
“Now then, I believe it’s time for our younger students to make their exit—before the evening’s revelries take on a tone a touch more... mature,” she continued with a refined grin, casting a glance at the lively crowd around them.
With reluctant agreement, Albus and the others set down their concoctions and followed Fawley as she rounded up the younger students, leading them back to the common room. Once they reached the safety of the common room, Fawley planned to slip back out into the wild celebration later, ready to join the revelry once more.
++++
Nott, Bowker, and Zabini snuck back toward the Forbidden Forest after Fawley had left the common room, not ready to let the evening end.
As the door to the dormitory closed behind them, a heavy silence settled in, starkly different from the chaos of the celebration. The room was dimly lit by the glow of a single lantern, casting warm shadows across the walls. Albus felt a thrill of excitement surge through him as he turned to Scorpius, the magic of the night still buzzing in his veins.
“Can you believe we actually danced with everyone?” Albus said, his voice light and airy.
Scorpius chuckled, his smile brightening the dim room. “Yeah, you were quite the spectacle, Albus! I thought you might float away!” he added a bit too loudly.
Albus grinned, warmth spreading through him. “I was just having fun!”
“Speaking of fun,” Scorpius began, reaching into his bag, “I got you something!” He grinned wider. “A birthday gift.”
Albus’s heart raced. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he replied, though a spark of anticipation flickered in his eyes.
“I wanted to,” Scorpius insisted, retrieving a small, intricately wrapped box. The wrapping paper was a deep green, shimmering faintly in the lantern light, and a delicate silver ribbon hugged it like a whisper of elegance.
As Albus unwrapped the gift, he uncovered a breathtaking necklace featuring a radiant silver pendant enveloping a deep black onyx. The pendant was intricately crafted, its delicate rays shimmering and shifting as if alive, evoking the mesmerizing dance of celestial bodies. The onyx at its center pulsed with a subtle energy, drawing the eye like a black hole, inviting yet enigmatic.
“It’s beautiful,” Albus breathed, his fingers brushing over the pendant’s cool surface. “Where did you find this?”
“Well—I saw it in Diagon Alley, and—I thought of you,” Scorpius stammered, his voice softening. “The stone is an onyx. It’s a powerful protector and often given to those pledging to the dark by their families.” He blushed slightly, looking away. “I know I’m not your family—but I hope it’s still okay.”
Albus felt his breath hitch, a rush of warmth and gratitude swelling within him. If only Scorpius knew that the reason he always found his way in the dark was because of him.
As he fastened the necklace around his neck, their eyes met, and the air between them crackled. Albus leaned in slightly, a gesture that felt natural, charged with an energy he couldn’t quite place. He tucked a loose strand of Scorpius’s hair behind his ear, their closeness drawing out an unfamiliar heat that made his heart race.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and in bursts Craig Bowker Jr, Vincent Nott and Zachary Zabini, laughter echoing through the dimly lit room.
“Guess who’s got caught!” Craig announced, brandishing a bottle of Firewhisky he had presumably “borrowed” from the celebration. “Have you two always been that close?” he asked, spotting Albus and Scorpius.
Albus and Scorpius instinctively moved apart, cheeks warming as their moment shattered. Scorpius shot Albus a quick glance before turning to their friends. “He just had something on his face!” he said, a bit too quickly.
“Sure,” Craig said, giving Scorpius a smug side glance while holding up the bottle. He quickly changed the subject. “Who’s ready for a little more celebration?”
Albus raised an eyebrow but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Isn’t it a bit late?”
“Come on, it’ll be fun! You know the upper years are still at it in the woods!” Zabini replied, taking the bottle from Bowker's hand and taking a swig before passing it around.
As the bottle made its way to Albus, he hesitated, eyeing it warily. But the buzz of the night and the magic still thrumming in his veins urged him on. He took a gulp, the whiskey burning down his throat. He grimaced, then passed it to Scorpius.
Scorpius laughed and took a sip, and for a moment, Albus couldn’t help but watch him, feeling an ache he couldn’t name. The Firewhisky felt like a key, unlocking something deep inside—a thrill, a fear, a whisper of something he didn’t quite understand.
They played Exploding Snap, laughter mixing with the crackling tension in the air. With each sip of the whiskey, warmth spread, but so did confusion. Albus found himself stealing glances at Scorpius, heart racing at the thought of their earlier moment. Was it the magic? The whiskey? Or was it something else entirely?
++++
The next morning, Albus, Scorpius, Bowker, Nott, and Zabini stumbled tiredly into the Great Hall, sunlight streaming through the enchanted ceiling, illuminating their disheveled hair and weary faces. Each step felt heavier, the remnants of last night’s escapades weighing them down.
Albus rubbed his eyes, still feeling the lingering buzz of the Firewhisky. Even though he couldn’t shake the throbbing headache that pulsed in rhythm with the chatter around him, he felt amazing—like he was in control, as if he could feel the magic inside of him. “Why does everything feel so loud?” he groaned, sliding into a seat at the Slytherin table.
Scorpius slumped next to him, his blonde hair slightly askew. “I think I’m still dizzy,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached for a goblet of pumpkin juice, taking a long drink to chase away the remnants of the night’s revelry.
“Anyone else feeling like they’ve been hit by a Bludger?” Craig Bowker quipped, stifling a yawn as he grabbed a piece of toast and took a huge bite, chewing slowly as though every movement required effort.
Vincent Nott chuckled but looked just as exhausted, running a hand through his dark hair. Zabini winced, trying to massage the tension in his temples.
As they began to eat, their conversation turned to lighthearted banter, each recounting silly moments from the night before in hushed whispers. Albus felt a warm sense of camaraderie bloom between them, a bond solidified under the Beltane magic. Despite the exhaustion, the lingering excitement made the air feel electric.
“Next time, though, we should stick to Butterbeer,” Albus suggested, raising his cup in mock seriousness.
“Agreed,” all the boys replied, clinking their goblets against Albus’s with grins. “At least until we’re a bit older,” Nott added.
They laughed together, the sound blending with the lively atmosphere of the Great Hall. Yet Albus’s mind wandered, trapped in the fog of last night’s festivities. His head throbbed from the Firewhisky, and he squinted against the bright light, trying to piece together the chaotic memories—the rite, the intensity of the magic, the euphoric feeling. A smile crept onto his face as he surveyed the table; new couples were scattered among the students, evidence of the fertility magic from Beltane.
“Hey,” Scorpius said, nudging him gently. “What’s so funny?”
“Looks like more than just friendships are blossoming,” Albus remarked with a smirk, pointing out a new couple.
“Yeah, it’s like the whole school is caught up in the magic,” Zabini added.
Scorpius laughed at Zabini, but then his eyes darted back to Albus, and he leaned in, whispering, “Uh, about last night…” He hesitated, then added, “Never mind.”
“Yeah, never mind,” Albus echoed quickly, his cheeks flushing at the memory of their earlier moment. He felt a surge of panic, desperately trying to rationalize what he had planned to do before their moment was interrupted. It was just the magic, he told himself. It had to be. He’d never thought about Scorpius like that before—not only was Scorpius his best mate, but he was also a bloke. Surely it was just the magic, not some hidden feelings, right?
“It was just… the magic, right?” Albus blurted out, eager to downplay the moment.
Scorpius’s expression faltered, confusion and hurt flickering in his eyes. “Yeah… just the magic,” he replied, but the pain behind his forced smile was unmistakable.
Albus’s stomach twisted with guilt. Something inside him ached at Scorpius’s disappointment. He tried to push the feeling down, telling himself that nothing had changed. “Yeah, it was just the magic,” he repeated, more firmly this time, though it felt like a lie.
Bowker elbowed Albus in the ribs, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Mate! I just remembered—I didn’t finish my Charms essay before yesterday!” Bowker exclaimed dramatically, his eyes wide with horror.
“Really, Craig?” Nott asked, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a grin.
“I didn’t have time, and then—well,” Bowker grinned and threw his arms up theatrically. “The prefects will literally skin me alive for my academic tardiness! I mean, do they not understand that we were at a wild celebration last night? Priorities, people!”
Vincent Nott snorted from across the table. “As if they care about your priorities. You should be more worried about what Professor Flitwick will say.”
“You’re being ridiculous, Bowker,” Scorpius laughed, shaking his head. “They’re not actually going to skin you alive. You’ll survive.”
“They might give you grace and just hang you upside down in the dungeons!” Zabini joined in with a wide grin as Bowker feigned horror.
“Such kindness,” Albus added, grinning.
Bowker’s gaze flicked between the two boys, genuine concern etched on his face. “Really? You think they would do that?”
Nott smirked. “If they do, I’ll make sure to tell everyone how brave you were while hanging upside down.”
Albus and Scorpius exchanged amused glances, the earlier tension between them easing as Bowker’s antics lightened the mood. As Bowker started to clear his side of the table, he pulled out his essay, desperately trying to finish it before they had to leave.