Scorpius is hungry.
His stomach growls considerably loudly, and he sighs, pressing his palms flat on the surface of his bed before crawling onto it. Dinner is soon, but Albus is still in the commons, hasn’t even set a finger on his luggage yet. Scorpius tried to stay with him down there as long as he could, but one can only take so much excited “what did you do this summer?”’s.
However, the Potter chooses that exact moment to burst into the door, making him jolt.
“Scorpius,” he exclaims, “did you know that Jerald went to Rome over break? Rome! ”
Albus has become somewhat of a celebrity recently. Sure, he’s still a loser, and they’re still losers together, but Albus has branched out from just him. He now has a total of 7 friends, not that Scorpius was counting. (He was.) And Scorpius has… not been as lucky. He has acquired Rose, but that was about it. Most of the school still crossed the hallway when they saw him; and those that didn’t, scowled at him instead.
“I did not,” Scorpius replies, watching him waltz to his bed and fall backwards onto it with a groan.
It was because of what happened last year. Rose found out the story from her mother, and with Rose being Rose, soon half the student body was talking about it. And then the entirety of it. They had been the ones to mess it all up, yes, but they were also kind of the ones that saved everyone too. People had mixed opinions.
So Albus had friends, and Scorpius did not. It was annoying sometimes. But most of the time Scorpius was happy for him. Albus is incredible, and he deserves to have people around that are too. But right now is a sometimes moment. Scorpius is hungry, and Albus hasn’t unpacked.
“Rome.” He whispers to himself, before twisting onto his side and looking at him again, “I always wanted to go on a trip during summer, but dad says that it wouldn’t be fun anyways because he’s ‘too famous.’”
“Your dad said that?”
“Well, no, but he definitely implied it.”
Scorpius laughs, turning to face him. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that.” Albus huffs out a pout, and glares at the ceiling. Scorpius cocks his head, offering, “My dad and I go on a trip every year during break, maybe you could come next year?”
Albus’s face lights up and he hauls himself into an upright position, leaning towards Scorpius’s bed, “Do you really think he would let me?”
Scorpius shrugs, “It’s worth a try.”
“That would be bloody hell wondrous, I hope he says yes.”
He smiles, “Me too,” a beat of silence passing between them before Scorpius clears his throat, “Well, I’m becoming quite hungry, so if you could unpack, that would be brilliant.”
“Oh, how long have you been up here? What time is it?” He glances up at the clock on the wall, “ 7:28? Dinner’s starting in 7 minutes!” He looks over at his luggage, “Oh Merlin.”
Scorpius watches him race around the room, flinging his clothes and belongings into drawers. He internally shrugs, because spending a whole year alone with the boy he fancies would be better than amazing even if he throws caution to the wind when it comes to cleanliness. Of course, he would never tell him that, but he can think it if he wants to.
By the time that Albus is finished putting everything away and re-explaining every event from this summer that he hadn’t managed to fit onto the parchment of the letters he sent to Scorpius, dinner had begun 5 minutes ago.
They raced down the stairs together, but unfortunately for him, Scorpius isn’t focusing and steps on the edge of his robes, sending him tumbling to the ground.
“Crikey, Scorpius!” Albus exclaims, rushing to his side, trying to help him up by the arm, “Are you ok?”
Embarrassed, Scorpius laughs, “I’ve never been athletic, but that was quite humiliating. I’m alright.”
Albus grins, checking him over once before continuing, “Ok great. Let’s go!” He grabs his hand and they start again, this time Albus tugging him along.
It would have been fine, it should have been fine, but here’s the problem; Albus’s hand is warm. And they’ve never held hands before. And Scorpius can’t focus on literally anything else.
It takes all this willpower to keep from face planting again, because Albus is holding his hand. Technically. He thinks that this still counts, right? Their feet slap against the tile as they go, and Albus’s hand tightens every time they turn a corner.
When they get to the great hall, after every curse word imaginable has run through Scorpius’s head, Albus pushes open the door. Although, he apparently fails to remember his strength and the door swings into the wall with a loud bang. Everyone turns to look at them. Scorpius feels his cheeks immediately flame, and he pulls his hand away from Ablus’s quickly, already hearing the new insults they would conjure up. Albus clears his throat, no doubt just as embarrassed, and they both shuffle quickly to their seats.
After a beat, the room’s whispered conversations pick up again and Scorpius lets out a breath. The first years are still getting placed in houses, only a few left now, but Albus isn’t even paying attention. He’s staring down at his hand, eyebrows scrunched and mouth pressed into a thin line. Scorpius opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, but gets cut off by a loud “ Slythern! ” And a handful of cheers around them. He’ll ask later.
The last first year goes, and McGonagall proclaims the feast to begin, the food appearing in front of them. Scorpius starts stacking his plate, and elbows Albus when he realizes he isn’t doing the same.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” He asks.
Albus seems to snap out of a daze, surprised for a moment, before he remembers himself, “Oh, yeah, yeah I am.”
Scorpius is almost relieved, until his eyebrows furrow again as he reaches for his food. What on earth could have caused his change in attitude so suddenly? He was so sunny coming down here, but now he’s all sour looking.
“Is everything good? You’re acting weird.” He says, trying to keep his voice low and inaudible to the people around them.
Albus takes a drink of his pumpkin juice, swallowing hard. The action makes Scorpius expect something more informative than what comes out of his mouth.
“I’m fine,” he says.
He doesn’t seem fine, but Scorpius doesn’t think that in the great hall surrounded by hundreds of students is exactly the best place to have that discussion. He turns back to his plate, replying quietly, “If you say so.”
The rest of dinner passes smoothly, and Albus seems to lighten up as it goes on, so much so that by the time that they are back in their room, he seems better than ever. They’re sitting on the ground in between their two beds, leaning against them and facing each other, a game of wizards chess between them. They borrowed it from the commons when Scorpius finds out that Albus has ‘never lost.’
“This game takes forever , ” he whines, slouching back against the baseboard of his bed, “James always made bad moves, so I could win quick, but this is taking, like, hours.”
Scorpius rolls his eyes, moving one of his pieces. “It’s been 15 minutes. Checkmate.”
“I disagree, it’s definitely been longer, and not checkmate,” Albus replies cockily, and Scorpius smiles to himself. He loves it when Albus gets competitive like this. And although he does want to win, he also kind of wants to keep playing just to see his high and mighty grin. Scorpius raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to make his move, but he just keeps staring at the board.
“You could-”
“I’ll get it.”
After a few more moments of thinking he makes his move. He does not get it. Albus moves one of his pieces into a very vulnerable position, and the king looks up at him and shakes his head from his spot of certain doom. Scorpius easily takes the piece and hoots victoriously.
“Oh shut up, would you?” Albus shrills, shoving his shoulder playfully.
“Never, I’m better at wizards chess than Albus Potter!”
Albus shoves him again, laughing, “Shut up! ”
“It’s just true and you’re too scared to admit it. Scorpius the Dreadless is better at wizards chess!”
“I’m not scared, I let you win!”
Scorpius gasps dramatically, “ Lies! ”
“I’m not-”
Scorpius jumps up onto his bed, pointing down at him, “You’re a liar! ”
“No I’m not!” Albus exclaims, jumping up too and running to tackle him down onto the bed.
They land with a thud and Scorpius grunts, trying to wiggle out of where Albus is trying to give him a noogie; a trait he most definitely picked up from his older brother.
“You git!” He screeches, wiggling harder.
Albus throws his head back in a laugh, “Blimey, you’re sure a geek!”
“And I’m proud of it! I won!” Scorpius laughs back, almost getting away, trying to push Albus off. But Albus is apparently thinking two steps ahead and grabs his wrists, pushing him back down onto the bed.
The world stops spinning for a moment. Albus’s face is mere inches away from Scorpius’s, his hands locked above him in Albus’s tight grip. He feels Albus’s breath pattering softly on his cheek. Bloody hell. He’s suddenly very aware of the feeling of Albus’s weight on top of him, and he’s suddenly burning at every point of contact they hold. Which, currently, is a lot of points. His stomach somersaults and all he can do is stare up at Albus.
“ Shit, ” Albus whispers, almost too quietly for him to hear; which makes him think he wasn’t supposed to hear it. But then he quickly sits up, removing himself from Scorpius, “Shit, sorry,” He says.
“It- it’s fine.” Scorpius replies, running a hand through his hair nervously, smoothing it out. The thing about Scorpius is that his hair is very very blonde, and his skin is very very pale, so when he blushes, it’s very very noticeable. However, Albus isn’t even looking at him, so gratefully, he won’t see. They both stare at their chosen spots in the room, refusing eye contact to any extent, but Scorpius can’t stand the silence between them.
He chuckles in an awkward attempt to snap the tension, “Um, at least I have something to brag about to your mum the next time I see her?” He demonstrates his most unpleasant set of jazz hands, “Champion of wizards chess?”
Albus snorts and responds, “She’ll love that one. Always trying to find something to tease me about.”
“Yeah,” Scorpius chortles, mirroring the way that Albus turns back to him, “What is it with her and doing that?”
Albus shrugs, “It’s one of my parent’s many mysteries.”
They pass the time the rest of the night, as boys often do, squabbling about whether the Nevil Longbottom’s chocolate frog card is better, or the good old fashioned Dumbledore, (Albus vouches for Nevil, saying that Dumbledore is hardly ever around anyways) until the sun has fallen and they both retire to their beds.
Scorpius can hear the familiar sound of Albus’s quiet snore rising from his side of the room, and in the darkness, he clasps his hands over his chest, staring at the ceiling. He would go to sleep, in fact, his eyelids keep tugging closed, but his brain just won’t shut up.
He can’t get the interaction from earlier today out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. Scorpius doesn’t do touch. Sure he’s exchanged friendly contact with others, but Scorpius doesn’t do intimate touch. He’s had 10 hugs in 16 years, and 2 of them were from Albus himself. That’s not exactly something a person aspires for. He’s had his share of elbow jabs, and two handed pushes, however he has little experience with roughhousing, and hand holding. (If it even really counted as hand holding. (He still hasn’t decided.))
He still remembers the press of Albus’s warm palms into his hands and wrists, the warm breath peppering his cheek- how the actual hell is Albus always so warm?
He also remembers not being able to work down his blush until hours later, his weak mind replaying every second of it again and again; as it is now. Touch deprived and helplessly gay, Scorpius finds himself doing this quite a lot. Albus is always testing his resolve. The first time that they hugged on the train those few years ago, Scorpius laid awake for days.
His father knows about him, and is fairly supportive. Of course, he doesn't know about the whole fancying Albus Potter thing, but he knows about the gay thing. And he does his best, bringing him a rainbow cupcake on his birthday, asking him painstakingly if he is interested in anyone at the moment, he’s even gone as far as to try to have a heart to heart with him about how he ‘accepts him no matter what.’
Scorpius thinks he just wants to see him happy. Contrary to popular belief, Draco is actually a pretty good dad, despite all the allegations of him sending their mother back in time to…
Scorpius shifts onto his side, wrinkling his nose. He lets out a huff, and stares through the dark to Albus’s bed. He’s sprawled out on his stomach across the whole mattress, blankets twisted around his leg as it hangs off the bed. He’s always been a wild sleeper. The sight comforts him enough to prompt his eyes closed again, this time his mind deciding to keep peace.
In the morning, Albus and Scorpius bump around their room getting ready for their first day of 5th year classes. They have their first class together; history of magic, but after that they won’t see each other until the end of the day, in potions. Scorpius pretends it doesn’t make him anxious when Albus asks him if he’ll be ok with it.
They eat breakfast in the great hall, surrounded by Albus’s new friends. They’re all chattering about god knows what, Scorpius can’t even keep up. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in such a fast paced conversation. He’s completely zoned out by the time he feels Albus’s hand on his shoulder.
He jumps a little bit, startled, but quickly reclaims himself. Albus is smiling, saying, “We only have history of magic and potions together, which is bloody stupid, but I would say it’s alright because Scorpius is amazing at potions. It’s like my own personal tutor.”
Scorpius’s face heats at both the attention and the compliment, and he mutters, “I- I’m really not that good at it.”
Albus scoffs, laughing, “You brewed Draught of Peace last year! That’s an O.W.L. level potion!”
“Well my father used to help me with it at home, it’s both of our favorite potion-”
The one that went to Rome- Jerald, exclaims, “No way! That’s crazy! I could barely brew the Wit-Sharpening potion last year!”
Scorpius shrugs bashfully, and the conversation moves on, however Albus’s hand stays for a second more before falling off. He gives him a small pat before he does, and Scorpius has to fight the smile that almost slips onto his face, not even caring that the rest of Albus’s friends are watching him do it.
They don’t even seem too bad, if he’s being honest.
Luckily for him, the day goes by quickly, and without much going wrong. Apart from a few sneers and mutterings, everyone seems to be too excited to be back to Hogwarts to be concerned with him. His favorite class was potions as per usual, but this year is looking like it will be the best yet. There’s no one in it that hates him! And on top of that, his professor seems to be taking a liking to him.
Albus and Scorpius agreed to meet up in the Slytherin lounge, which is where Scorpius was sitting at the moment, picking at his nails apprehensively as everyone talked to each other and generally avoided him. Normally Albus was back from his last class by now, and the fact that he wasn’t made Scorpius’s brow furrow deeper every time he thought about it.
The door opens again, and Scorpius immodestly glances over, but his posture deflates when yet another one of his Slytherin housemates he didn’t know came in. He was about to go back to picking his nails when he hears Albus’s voice, and sees him slip in behind them, talking to someone. Scorpius vaguely recognizes the person from the table at breakfast that morning.
“We had to transform our animal three times! Into three different things!” The girl next to him exclaimes, tugging on one of the many braids adorning her hair.
“Well when you put it like that…” Albus finally looked up and caught sight of Scorpius, who was already looking at the pair of them, “Oh, hey Scorpius!”
He shrinks a little bit at the way the loudness of his voice brought a few pairs of eyes onto him, but he offered a small wave back as they made their way over. “How was- how was your first day?” He asks.
“Brilliant! It kind of sucks that we don’t have Potions as our last class, then we could just walk back together, but I had Gwendolyn in my transfiguration class, so it turned out ok I think.”
“Uh, yeah.” Scorpius replies, eyeing the other girl.
“On another note,” Albus continues, shouldering his pack onto the floor next to the couch, sitting down, “I’ve heard that Gwendolyn is amazing at Wizard’s Chess, so I may have told her you would play her?”
“ Albus! ” Scorpius hisses incredulously, and Albus laughs, scratching the back of his neck.
“I know, I know. But I think it would be fun!” He turns on his puppy dog eyes, “Come on, please? ”
God, Scorpius is weak.
He rolls his eyes, “ Fine. Just one round.”
Albus fist pumps and Gwendolyn smiles, snagging an unoccupied game from a table, bringing it over with a chair. The pieces fix themselves into place, and so the game begins.
It started slow, Gwendolyn calculated each of her moves for at least a minute every time. However, as they continued, Scorpius found out that Gwendolyn was pretty good. She had taken out most of his pieces already, and he only had a few of hers. But as her green eyes bored into his increasingly warmer face, he knew what he was going to do.
It was a strategy he only used when he was about to lose, one his father pulled on him almost every time they got this far, and you had to be in perfect position to stop it. So he took a breath, and moved his next piece. Albus was sitting on the edge of the couch, narrating every single move in a silly voice.
“Scorpius with a bishop move, and into quite the vulnerable place. What do you have to say about that, mate?” He shoves the pretend microphone into his face, and Scorpius laughs and pushes it away.
“Stop distracting me,” he gibs.
And then, in 4 more moves, Scorpius proclaims a jubilant “Checkmate!” And Gwendolyn’s shoulders shrink with a laugh.
“Blimey, you really are good.” She chuckles.
Scorpius just shrugs, but Albus claps him on the shoulder and exclaims, “Yeap! I bet no one can beat him!”
“Well, I wouldn’t say th-”
“Jerald!” Albus shouts, the boy in name turning to them, “Want to play Scorpius in Wizards Chess?”
“Albus, I don’t know if I should-”
“Sure!” Jerald smiles, walking over, the other people he was talking to in tow, and takes Gwendolyn’s spot. She plops down on the other side of Scorpius. He isn’t used to all this attention, and while he’s definitely nervous, he isn’t totally hating everything.
The pieces fix themselves. Scorpius wipes his sweaty hands on his trousers. They begin. Jerald’s not as good as Gwendolyn.
“Checkmate.” Scorpius smiles.
“Who-hoo!” Albus shouts, throwing both his arms into the air.
“Well shit,” Jerald breaths, leaning back in the chair.
“I bet no one can beat him!” Albus laughs for the second time.
“I want to try!” Exclaims someone that was watching.
“Me too!” Another says.
“I’ll go!”
The pieces fix themselves and Scorpius looks anxiously at the gathering group around them. He was about to make a sorry excuse about needing to go visit the loo, and perhaps stay there for far longer than it would take to wizz, when he feels Albus’s hand cover his.
“Is this getting to be too many people now?” He whispers, “We can go back to the room, I’m sure that Gwendolyn will play them all, I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s fine, I’m fine.” Scorpius responds, a warm feeling spreading in his chest at the other’s concern.
“Are you sure? I really didn’t think it would turn into a big thing-”
“I’m sure, promise.” Albus’s hand covering his own immediately calmed him down, and he’s sure he would think about it later tonight, but for now he would just enjoy the aplomb settling over him. He offers a hesitant smile to the group, “Who’s next?”
Game after game they went, Scorpius becoming more and more confident, and Albus becoming more and more rowdy with each win. The group kept growing, and Scorpius kept winning, pretending he didn’t notice the whispered bets being placed in his name. Scorpius was actually having… fun. With other people! People who didn’t hate him!
“Checkmate!” He cried, and his opponent cursed under their breath, crossing their arms.
Albus exploded with laughter, “Another one!”
“Checkmate!” Scorpius shrilled, throwing in a fist pump as people both grumbled and cheered around them.
Albus hooted, shaking his shoulder in excitement.
“Checkmate!” Scorpius declared, laughing.
Albus echoed his laugh, and before he knew it Albus’s arms were being thrown around him as he bubbled, “ Yes! You’re amazing!”
Scorpius froze, going still in the tight hug. Bloody hell. He could smell Albus’s cologne. He could feel the heavy rise and fall of Albus’s excited chest. He could tell his cheeks were already aflame. Bloody hell.
Sensing the immobile state of Scorpius, Albus pulls back and holds him by his stiff shoulders.
Brow furrowed, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Scorpius squeaks.
“Really? Because your voice just got very high.”
“Yeap.” He squeaks again.
Albus swallows and says, “Sorry, was that too much?”
“I- no, no, I just wasn’t expecting it. But it’s ok.” Scorpius explains, trying to ease the confusion radiating off of Albus. He always tried so hard to respect his boundaries and keep his touch to a minimum, but he didn’t understand that Scorpius wanted him to touch him, he just didn’t know how to react when he did.
“Alright, I-” he cuts himself off, “Alright.”
They spend the rest of the night sitting close enough that they’re touching shoulder to hip, and Scorpius tries not to be on edge about it.
It’s just that, what if he leans too much into him that’s it noticeable? And then people start questioning him? He already reacted too weirdly to a friendly hug. And then what if when he’s walking in the halls he starts getting pushed around more than normal? And he can’t figure out why until he realizes it’s because everyone found out that he fancies Albus Potter? And then Albus hears about it and starts to hate him? And then he’s back to having no friends? And then his father also starts to hate him because he found out too somehow? And then-
“Scorpius? It’s your turn.” Albus’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts and he looks up from where he was staring for apparently longer than was customary.
“What? Oh,” he looks back at the chessboard and moves his piece. He’s definitely not on edge about it. He just doesn’t want people to find out how much he actually likes the soft fabric of Albus’s robes pressing against his arm.
He feels Albus looking at him, but focuses on the game in front of him. Once he proclaims another checkmate, before the next person can hastily take the seat in front of Scorpius that’s been filled so many times, Albus blurts, “I’m going to go up to our room.” Scorpius looks at him, and he clears his throat, “I’m tired. Do you want to join me, Scorpius?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” He replies dumbly, watching Albus stand before doing the same and following him.
As he’s about to turn the corner to the stairs to the boys rooms, he hears a voice, one that sounds quite like Gwendolyn’s, scoff a laugh and say, “God, could he be any more obvious?”
His step stutters and he sucks in a breath. They aren’t talking about him, are they? He hears another person laugh, but his attention is quickly grabbed away.
“Scorpius? You coming, mate?”
Albus looks down at him, a few steps up the stairs. He nods his head, “Yeah.” And hops up the rest of the stairs after him. Was he being obvious? Were people going to catch on to him? He’d been so drunk on the kind attention of those wanting to play his hand in wizards chess, had he been too obviously leaning into Albus? Had he been too obviously savoring the moments of touch?
Inside their room, Scorpius changed into his sleepwear, and tried not to overthink. Yet, as he lowers himself onto his bed, his mind is in the gutter.
Albus throws on his own pajamas, neglecting to discard his socks, and falls into his bed with a groan. Scorpius can’t sleep with socks on. But Albus’s curved leg hands off of the bed adorning a disheveled sock. Scorpius hates the feeling of socks rubbing his sheets as he sleeps, and Albus doesn’t.
Scorpius responds to every mindless touch Albus gifts him with a thoroughly thought through movement. Scorpius loves the first night at Hogwarts when their room is clean and neat, and Ablus loves to throw his clothes on the ground, or his bed, or a bedpost. Scorpius worried whether holding hands in the great hall would be a problem, and Albus held his hand. Scorpius likes Albus, and Albus does not like him.
Scorpius can’t sleep with socks on.
——
Weeks go by without anything else happening between them, mainly because Scorpius has decided to keep his distance. But being that Albus was his only friend other than Rose, keeping his distance meant just avoiding generally touching him, not him as a whole. Right now, the three of them were taking up a table at The Leaky Cauldron, Rose sitting across from the two boys, almost flattening herself to the table to emphasize her complaints.
Apparently her defense against the dark arts class was filled with twats. “I just don’t bloody understand how someone can be that stupid and speak that much!” She exclaims. Scorpius sips his butterbeer as Albus shrugs. Rose groans, “Ugh, you two are no help.”
“Well, we aren’t much of the confronting type, Rose.” Scorpius says, looking around the shop. It was awfully quiet for a friday afternoon, although he suspects it will start to get busier as the night trudges on.
“I know. It’s annoying.” Is her reply. He just smiles at her.
“Anyways, enough about me. How’ve you guys been? Anyone picking your fancy? Or the opposite?” Rose inquires, a foam mustache left on her top lip after she takes a long gulp of her drink. Scorpius tenses at the question, and looks back down at his hands.
“Actually,” Albus’s starts, and Scorpius’s heart drops, confident he’ll hear the name of some girl his best friend has a crush on, and will promptly spend the rest of the night sulking about it. But obviously oblivious to Scorpius’s concern, Albus continues, “There is this one student in my Herbology class that’s just such a wanker.”
Scorpius lets out a breath. “Who?” He asks.
“Stephen Mascopy. Sometimes I wonder if the freckles on his face somehow suck the intelligence out of him.” He says, face wrinkling, “Even his insults don’t make sense.”
“I don’t suppose I know him,” Scorpius replies.
“ I do!” Rose blurts, “Merlin, he’s terrible!”
Albus laughs, “Yes! Did you hear about the time that he knowingly put too much growing powder in an Asphodel plant and it broke a tile in the ceiling?”
“Yeah!” Rose cackles, “Blimey, he got in so much trouble for that.”
Scorpius doesn’t know this Stephen Mascopy, so he just laughs quietly along with a closed lipped smile. They go on talking, trading stories about this boy, and soon venture past the topic of him, instead focusing on the transfiguration class final exam that’s apparently been worrying many people. Scorpius adds his bits and pieces where appropriate, and soon he’s back to loose posture and toothy smiles.
That is, until the door opens and in waltzes the student Scorpius despises the most. Immediately he hikes his shoulders to his ears and mutters, “Shit.”
Albus quickly notices and questions quietly, “What?”
“Are you alright?” Rose adds, leaning in once again.
“Uh, yeah,” Scorpius replies, glancing at the student again. “I just-” he sighs, gesturing discreetly to him, “I don’t like that bloke over there.”
Rose whips around and Albus laughs, “There’s someone that you outwardly say you don’t like? Merlin, they must be just terribl-”
“Bloody hell, that’s Stephen!” Rose interrupts, eyebrows practically shooting off her face as she turns back around.
“ What? ” Albus exclaims, immodestly scouring the room for the perpetrator. “Well damn, it is Stephen!”
Apparently Scorpius does know Stephen Mascopy.
He wishes he didn’t.
Scorpius busies himself by taking a long, nervous drink of his butterbeer, and feels the pinprick on eyes on him. He just prays to any god out there that it’s not Stephen looking at him.
But of course, no god hears him, and of course, “Well, I didn’t know they let death eaters in here,” Stephen snickers to his friends in a poor performance of a whisper, “But look,” He points straight at Scorpius, “the son of Voldemort is right there.”
Scorpius swallows a whimper, eyes wide. He hasn’t been called that in a long time. So long that hearing it again brings a new type of bite to his words. They plunge deep into his heart and nest there, terribly sharp points creating new cracks in his delicate flesh. The son of Voldemort.
The chair beside him squeals against the floor as Albus shoots up, shouting, “You slimy, barmy arsehole! You know that’s not true. Take it back!”
Stephen just laughs, glancing at his mates, “What, have you lost the plot?”
“Take. It. back.” Albus sneers. Scorpius hasn’t seen him this angry since Mr.Potter spilt a potion on the sweatshirt he’d lent him and ruined it. And Albus was plenty mad then.
“Are you stupider than you look?” One of the boys behind Stephen scowls back.
“Dickless git,” Albus mutters.
Stephen steps forward, “ What did you say?”
“He called you a dickless git,” Rose hisses, standing up.
Being the only one sitting now, Scorpius hurried to stand, trying to break the tension, “R-rose, I wouldn’t-”
“Which is what you are.” She says, a deadly look on her face. “A dickless git.”
“Are you trying to start something? You filthy trollop?”
Rose opens her mouth to retort, but before she can get anything out, she’s cut off by the man behind the counter- a quite burly man at that- shouting, “Hey! There ain’t gonna be no tiffs in my shop. So either stop call’n each other names, or get the hell out!”
Stephen scoffs, looking at the three of them expectedly. Albus simmers next to Scorpius, but he places a hand on his shoulder, mumbling, “Let’s just go guys. Please.”
Both of them are hesitant, still exchanging hostile expressions with Stephen, but eventually relent, and they start to the door. Scorpius doesn’t make it two steps past the bloke before there’s a snarky, “Time travel won’t make you any less of Voldy’s son, pansy.” whispered in his ear.
Fuck.
Scorpius fights the tears welling in his eyes, pushing past the three boys and following Albus and Rose out the door. He manages to get his tears to a minimum before Rose and Albus turn on him, all concerned faces and pitiful eyes.
“Are you alright?” Albus asks, hand finding his shoulder.
He’s been asking that a lot recently. And although Scorpius’s stomach is in his toes, he answers the same way he does every time, “Yeah, fine.”
Rose grits her teeth, “I’m going to kill that kid.”
“Don’t do that,” Scorpius sighs, “He’s not worth the Azkaban sentence honestly. And he’s been doing it for years now, so I’m mostly used to it.” Aside from being called Voldemort’s son, that is. Which he isn’t. But people don’t seem to get that.
“Still,” Albus seethes, “he can’t just say those types of things to you.”
Scorpius shrugs, trying to seem unbothered, and they start walking back. Every so often Scorpius had to push tears back down again, but he never let them fall.
Back in their room, after the sun has set outside and only one of every three stars is visible, Scorpius and Albus climb into their beds. Scorpius promptly turns on his side, facing away from Albus. He’s oddly… embarrassed about what happened earlier today. He knows it’s not his fault, and it’s not his father’s, and definitely not his sweet mother’s, but when he gets called the son of the dark lord, it makes him not want to be himself. It makes him want to be anything but himself.
So trying to ignore every sore feeling in his chest, he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. But of course, his brain hates him.
He dreams of his mother’s frail body, seeing her bedridden, breathing heavily with silent tears tracking down her face. Scorpius recognizes the scene almost immediately. It’s her death. Draco is kneeling at her side, tightly holding her hand in both of his. He’s resting his forehead on them, whispering. Scorpius is frozen standing next to him, too abraded to pick up on any of the words.
He looks up, gasping when in the corner of the room stands not the doctor that accompanied them through this moment, but Voldemort himself.
He’s suddenly thrown into a tyranny of flashing images, heart palpitating at the sight of Voldemort’s cruel snarl, green flashes of a curse not to be spoken, and his mother’s dying body glitching between hers and his own. He tosses and turns in bed, trying to shake the dream from his head. But then all of the sudden it stops, and he’s standing in a dark room. The only light was a low-flickering candle seemingly floating in the middle.
“You can’t deny it,” Someone whispered in his ear. He knew instantly who it was and swallowed a whimper. “Just embrace it. Give in.”
Voldemort’s cloak swished as he stepped in front of Scorpius, “My son. Give in. Be the follower you were always meant to be.”
Scorpius shook his head through a grunt, trying to fight his rigid body and run. Voldemort frowned. “If you won’t join me…” he trailed off, looking down to the wand in his hand. “I guess…” His lips moved and green erupted from the tip of his wand, plowing into Scorpius. He convulsed, seizing under the pain.
Scorpius wakes with a jolt.
He gasps for breath, bolting upright. Eyes wide, he frantically clutches at his shirt, pulling it away from his sweaty skin. The room was dark, and Scorpius blindly swipes his hand over his bedside table, desperate for his wand.
When his fingers close around it, he whispers one of the spells that seemed to go right for him most of the time, “ Lumos. ”
Light blooms from the tip of his wand. There’s no one there. Just Albus snoring in his bed. Scorpius sighes, running a hand through his hair. Shit. He hasn’t had a nightmare in months. Stupid Stephen Mascopy. As Scorpius begins to get his breathing under control again, he feels tears start to well up in his eyes.
It happens a lot after his nightmares, but he’s gotten pretty good at crying soundlessly, having shared a room with others for five years of his life. He bites his lip, shoving a fist into his eyes to wipe away the brimming wetness. Albus shifts on his bed, making a little noise.
Scorpius’s reaction is to quickly whisper, “ Nox, ” and put out his light. It came out shakey.
A beat passes, and Scorpius thinks he’s in the clear, but then Albus sits up.
“Scorpius?” He whispers.
“Yeah?” He whispers back.
“What are you doing?”
Scorpius swallows, trying to make his voice less wimpy, “Nothing.”
“Did you have… did it happen again?”
Damn it.
“Um, no?”
Albus sits up higher, and Scorpius can just make out the way he squints in his direction through the dark.
“Scorp…” Albus effuses. It’s something he only pulls out every once in a while, and it’s rarity just makes it that much more effective. Scorpius tries to swallow his tongue, but despite his efforts, a small choked noise escapes his throat and is followed by a sniffle. “ Oh, Scorp.” Albus preens, “Come on over here.”
This isn’t a new invitation, oftentimes after Scorpius had a nightmare last year that ended with him in tears, the two boys would share a bed, and at that time Scorpius was able to ignore his beating heart at their contact. But now, with everything that has been happening, all the… touch, he’s not too sure. Nevertheless, his body moves according to the ache in his chest, and he lifts his covers and shuffles barefooted across the wood floor.
Albus scoots over for him and Scorpius clambers ungracefully under the blankets, enveloping him in Albus’s distinct scent. The source of that scent wraps his arms around him, tugging him under his chin. The tears once again return as Scorpius smashes his face into his best friend's chest.
Albus’s hands rub his back methodically, soothingly, and Scorpius just allows himself to let go. He cries and cries, probably muttering strings of words that don’t make sense, although Albus sympathizes and nods above him.
He cries until he has nothing left to cry, and his eyelids are heavy. The last thing he feels before drifting off to a thankfully dreamless sleep is Albus’s socked feet rubbing against his own.
Fuck.
It’s the only word running on a continuous loop through Scorpius’s head the moment he opens his eyes.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Apparently, sometime during the night he turned onto his side, and sometime during the night Albus snaked his arms around him and pressed him close. Nose on the back of his neck, not an inch between their bodies close. And Scorpius is freaking out. He’s being spooned by Albus right now, and he’s scared that he’s going to wake up any moment and feel how fast his heart is beating under his palm, and he’ll figure out that he fancies him, and he’ll hate him forever and-
Albus sighs.
Fuck.
Then Albus moves his hand, from where it was resting on Scorpius’s chest downwards, over his stomach.
Fuck.
Scorpius jolts, almost letting out a yelp as he scrambles away so quickly that he loses track of the edge of the bed and topples to the ground.
“Bloody hell!” Albus exclaims, frantically looking over the edge. “Are you alright?”
Scorpius jumps up, rubbing his head. “Yeap!” He squeaks, “Fine, totally fine. Why would I be anything but fine?”
“I-” Albus begins, as Scorpius turns on his heel and walks away, riffling through his drawers for his uniform, throwing his usual neatness out the window in his desperation to just get out. “I didn’t mean to… Were you, uh-”
“I have to go meet Rose before class!” Scorpius cuts him off loudly, a boldfaced lie.
“Oh.” Albus breathes, and mutters, “ Crikey, ” before, “Are you at least feeling any better?”
Scorpius pauses pulling his tie over his head, taking a moment to look over at his concerned friend. His hair is tousled in the best way, and his muscles strain against his white sleep shirt. He looks good, and it makes Scorpius want to cry all over again. Albus doesn’t like him, can’t like him, he reminds himself.
He forces a smile, “Yeah. Definitely.”
“Good,” Albus smiles back, tightly.
“I’ll be going now, see you later.” He says, and rushes out the door.
“Wait, Scorpius, isn’t it-” he shuts the door, but hears the “Saturday?” He ends with.
Hells bells, it is Saturday.
Scorpius facepalms. However, he still turns down the hallway to head to the library, because what else would he do for the rest of the day? He needs time to process what just happened. But that means that he doesn’t hear Ablus’s dejected sigh through the door as he trudges down to the commons.
——
Later into the school year, the ending of their first semester is approaching, and exam after exam is being hurled at them. Albus and Scorpius haven’t really talked much due to all the studying that they’ve been doing, but when they do, something is… off. Really off.
Albus is insanely cautious not to touch him. At all. Ever. At first he thought it was just a fluke, when Albus reached for his shoulder (presumably to give him a friendly pat) but hesitated and pulled himself back quickly. But then it happened again. And then increasingly more often. And then two weeks passed and Scorpius’s body had been avoided a thousand times. Which leaves him with one explanation.
Albus somehow found out.
He’s finally put the pieces together and understood that Scorpius has the fattest crush on him and he got grossed out and in turn stopped touching him. Because it was weird to touch someone that liked you but you didn’t like back.
Of course, Scorpius has already had his fair share of crying sessions about it. Nights with the blanket pulled over his head and his pillow wet. He carries on throughout his days, pretending he’s not screaming inside. Although he’s highly functioning in his dysfunction, it’s still dysfunction. And sometimes it stops doing anything altogether.
Those were the nights that Scorpius had to leave their room; the nights he couldn’t cry soundlessly. So instead he sat in the common rooms at 2 am, his only company the wood burning in the endless fire, and the thoughts that spin through his head. Scorpius hates those nights.
However, he doesn’t confront him. Scorpius can’t even confront his professor for marking a correct question wrong on his practice test, how could anyone expect him to confront Albus? And besides, it’s absolutely his own fault, so there really isn’t even anything to talk about.
Scorpius tries not to let it break his heart more every time Albus avoids him, but he can’t help the drop in his stomach. He’s lost the one thing that he loved most, he’s allowed to be upset. But not right now.
Right now, he’s sitting in a circle on the ground in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by his housemate’s new friends, 3 Gryffindor's and a Hufflepuff. And Albus too of course, but he’s sitting a person away from him. He’s sure he would be next to him, if it weren’t for Scorpius’s stupid gay heart.
“Truth or dare?” One of the Gryffindor girls asks loudly, the question directed at Rose, who they managed to sneak past the commons entrance along with her friends.
She looks around the circle carefully and shrugs, “Dare.”
It’s always the Gryffindors.
“Hmm,” she hums thoughtfully, “I dare you to… go kiss that painting!”
The Hufflepuff boy cackles and Rose skips over to where she pointed, although the poor man in it is protesting and shaking his head politely.
“I’m sorry, it’s the rules.” She apologizes, not sounding all that sorry. She puckers up, but the man rolls his eyes and steps out of view before she can make contact. So instead she kisses the couch he was sitting on.
Once Rose is settled back on the floor, she looks around their group for her next victim.
“Scorpius.”
Shit.
“Truth or dare?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows provocatively.
“Truth.” He answers immediately.
Rose groans dramatically and throws her hands up, “You’ve picked truth every single time! That’s not fair!”
“Yeah!” Jerald exclaims, “You have to pick dare now. It’s like- the rules!”
Various agreements rise up among the students, and Scorpius echoes Rose’s groan, relenting, “ Fine. Dare.” And instantly regrets it when he sees the mischievous glint in Rose’s eye.
“I dare you too…” she thinks for a moment, tapping a finger to her chin, “Get in that closet over there with Albus for 7 minutes!”
“…What?” He voices apprehensively.
Gwendoyln laughs from her spot across the circle, “Like 7 minutes in heaven! The American game!”
“Exactly!” Rose smiles.
Scorpius glances over at Albus, face paleing. If Albus tries his best to avoid touching him when there is a copious amount of space, what would he do in a closet where there is no more than a few feet?
“Look Rose, I don’t think that Albus would w-”
“Alright,” Albus sighs, patting his knees and standing up, “I guess it’s only seven minutes.”
Scorpius watches him, eyes wide. He was sure that he would flat out refuse; he was even ready to argue for Albus’s case. But he agreed? To being with Scorpius. In a dark closet. Together. Alone.
Scorpius feels almost ready to faint. There is no possible way that this could end well. But apparently Albus is very against the punishment that would be picked if they were not to complete the dare, because he follows Rose over to the tiny closet and looks over his shoulder at him.
“Coming, mate?” He asks.
“Uh, yeah,” Albus tries.
He dumbly gets up, and follows Albus into the closet. Rose smirks at them before closing the door and loudly proclaiming, “Seven minutes starts now!”
And so the awkwardness begins. Scorpius anxiously rubs at the edge of his robes. Albus shifts. Crosses his arms. Scorpius sighs. A few moments pass, and Scorpius wants nothing more than to be back out in the circle, pretending he isn’t ready to die for everything to go back to normalcy with the boy in front of him. He just doesn’t know how to approach these situations, how to… start. But he has to try if he wants his best friend back.
“Look I-” he says at the same time Albus begins, “Scorpius, I-”
They both pause, staring at each other through the dark.
“Um,” Albus swallows, “you go.”
Scorpius tries to ignore his stampeding heart, and looks away, unable to maintain eye contact any longer. Well, what would be eye contact if he could see anything. He pushes out, “Well, I know that you’ve found out about my… um, you know,” he gestures vaguely. Crikey, he can’t even bring himself to admit it out loud to him. “and I know that you don’t reciprocate, and that’s fine, really. I just- bloody hell, I just want us to go back to normal.”
He looks in Albus’s general direction, more word vomit spewing out of his mouth before he can stop it, “I can’t take the hesitance, the avoidance to touch me. I know that it might be weird for you, and I’m not asking you to do anything like that night I had the nightmare, but I swear, it will be just like before. I won’t make it weird, we can just forget about it and be best friends again. I-” his voice betrays him and lets out a little crack, “ please. I can’t lose you too.”
Scorpius cringes. Nice wording, you wanker.
For a moment, Albus doesn’t say anything. Then, “What?”
Scorpius furrows his eyebrows, surprised by his response. (Or lack thereof.) He opens his mouth to reply, but Albus beats him to it. “I only stopped touching you because I thought it made you uncomfortable.”
What?
That’s why??
“I,” Albus scoffs, and Scorpius hears him shift again, “I thought that you didn’t like it.”
“W- no! Why would you think that?” Scorpius exclaims, stepping closer, forgetting how close they already were.
“Well, you would always freak out whenever it happened! I always caught you freezing up or- like that night with your nightmare, you quite literally sprinted away from me as quickly as you could.”
“I-” Scorpius can’t get anything else out, his voice getting caught in his throat.
“You thought I stopped touching you because I was weirded out because of..?” he trails off, leaving Scorpius to finish.
He scrambles to collect his thoughts, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Now he’s the one confused. Albus stopped touching him not because he was grossed out by Scoprius, but because he thought it made him uncomfortable. Albus noticed all the times that he internally (or, apparently outwardly too) panicked at the collision of their skin. Albus doesn’t understand why he thinks he was weirded out because he doesn’t know about his crush on him. Oh shit. Albus doesn’t know about his crush on him.
Scorpius tenses, “Because, um, because…”
“Look, Scorpius,” Albus eventually says, after Scorpius makes it clear he isn’t going to continue, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but I just want to understand. If it wasn’t that-”
“4 minutes left!” Someone shouts outside the door, and Albus’s jaw instinctually snaps shut.
There’s a moment of silence between them, Scorpius sweating from the warmth in the closet. Or maybe it’s just his nerves. But eventually, he decides Albus deserves the truth. He’s already made such a mess of things, it couldn’t get any worse.
Unless Albus really does hate him after he says this, and he leaves him for real-
“I like you.” He says. Before his thoughts can get any more detrimental and lead him down another rabbit hole. And then it’s already out there, and Albus hasn’t moved, so he adds, “As more than a friend.”
Albus lets out a breath. And then a chuckle. And then he’s full on laughing, clutching at his stomach and gasping in between his cackles. “I’m not-” he interrupts himself with another laugh, “I’m not laughing at you, I swear.” Scorpius wonders why the thought didn’t even cross his mind. He even finds himself offering a questioning laugh back.
Albus regains himself. “I like you too,” he whispers, lips curving around the words in a way that’s more beautiful to hear than a million symphonies. Scorpius has the sudden urge to kiss the grin off his face.
“You do?”
“I do.” Another laugh, “We could have avoided all of this, Merlin.”
The words repeat again and again in his head, a loop of the syllables that make up the words ‘I like you too.’ They weren’t words he thought he would hear. Ever. There’s a feeling bubbling up in Scorpius’s chest, up and up and up, until he doesn’t know what to do with it and his arms are being thrown around Albus’s shoulders. Albus lets out a little gasp of surprise, but then immediately after, his arms and winding around Scorpius just as tightly. Albus buries his face into the crook of Scorpius’s neck, and his hand snakes up into his hair.
It’s… amazing.
Scorpius doesn’t have a lot of affectionate contact in his life, and he certainly never initiates that contact, so it’s kind of weird that this is how his body chose to react to this new feeling of… what? Happiness? Hope? Love?
“We’re such bloody idiots,” Albus mutters into his skin.
Love.
“Bloody idiots.” Scorpius repeats. Then he remembers a little detail he seems to have forgotten, “Wait, but I thought you were straight?”
Albus stills, and pulls back to look at him, “I don’t know what I am,” he says firmly, “I just know that I fancy you. A lot, frankly.”
Scorpius fights the blush already steaming on his cheeks. Annoyingly, his brain is still trudging along the tracks at a million miles an hour, so instead of basking in Albus’s admission, instead he blurts, “But you’re a Potter! And I’m a Malfoy, oh crikey, what will our fathers think?”
Albus shrugs, “I think it’ll be ok. They got over most of that years ago. It’ll be an adjustment for sure, but we’ll get through it.”
“But what if we can’t? What if- what if they separate us again? Like last year?” Anxiety is suddenly crawling up his throat now instead of just resting ever-present in his stomach. “I don’t think I can do that again, Albus,” he croaks.
He was, simply put, distraught when Harry Potter forced them apart last year. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on anything other than the pure longing he had for his best friend; his only friend at the time. Nothing else had mattered.
“I’ll go on another time-turner adventure before I let that happen.” Albus declared, knuckles tightening in Scorpius’s robes at his waist.
The laugh that escapes Scorpius's throat startles even himself a little bit, “Hells bells, let’s not do that again.”
“Agreed,” Albus snickers.
Scorpius’s heart is finally slowing down, “How long have you liked me? Because I’ve fancied you since we met on the train first year.”
“Since second year. But I suspect I wasn't all that subtle, Dalpha had me figure out when she fought us, she went after you instead.”
“I can’t believe we trusted her,” Scorpius groans, shaking his head.
“She was very convincing.”
“Yeah, well at least one good thing came out of it,” Albus shoots him a confused look, “You have a lot of friends now!”
“O-oh. Well, I guess I have a few.” He says, brow knitting together. “I haven’t been avoiding you, have I? To be with them?”
Scorpius smiles through closed lips, “No, no nothing like that. Sure, I was a little jealous when the year started and you had so many people to talk to and I… didn’t, but I don’t care anymore!”
Albus swallows, “I’m sorry, I never meant to leave you out. I’ll… I‘ll make sure that I hang out with everyone more.”
“It’s not really that big of a deal but I- ok. Ok. And I promise I won’t let my thoughts get to me. Maybe then I won’t freak out when you touch me anymore.” Scorpius laughs, and Albus smiles at him, looking between them.
“Well you seem to be doing pretty good right now.”
And now Scorpius is suddenly aware of Albus’s hands resting on his hips again, and his cheeks are redder than a cherry right away. The other laughs and leans backwards against the wall, but seems to forget how gravity works and lands with a bang. He slings his arms around Scorpius’s neck with another chuckle and pulls him close.
“I can't believe it,” Albus whispers.
Scorpius has had 12 hugs now, in 16 years. And this one is by far the best.
“Believe me, neither can I.”
Well it would have been, if the closet door wasn’t flung open three seconds later.
——
Scorpius is hungry.
And Albus is still in the bathroom. He taps his fingers on the table they found to wait at, letting out a sigh. His stomach rumbles, and the summer sun berates his shoulders, warming him through the cotton of his shirt. His skin is reddening from all the sun he’s gotten in the last week, his cheeks sunburnt beyond comparison. But nothing could make him pass up another moment in the heat.
“Blimey, how long does one kid need in the loo?” Draco Malfoy snarls across from him, startling Scorpius from his thoughts. He knows he doesn’t mean it, knows that he’s just tired and hungry from the day, so he just shrugs and goes back to tapping on the table.
Another moment passes, and gratefully, Albus finally walks out, immediately sputtering, “Sorry, the line was longer than I thought it would be.”
His father scoffs, but Scorpius smiles, “It’s ok.”
“Alright, come on now lads, we’ll be late to dinner.” Draco says, beckoning them over his shoulder as he starts on the path to the restaurant.
They walk in relative silence, and the following meal is spent the same way, only a few measly conversations exchanged from Draco’s attempts. But then they’re waltzing down the sidewalk surrounded by sweet night air, taking their time as they amble past closed Manchester shops. Although it’s certainly no Rome, it’s the best place they could have chosen (that wasn’t too far away and that Draco would settle on), and there isn’t a better feeling than Albus’s fingers softly playing with his own as they walked and his father pretending he didn’t notice it.
Speaking of Rome, “By the way, Jerald said he’s in Paris right now for 2 weeks, did you know that?” Scorpius muses, a smirk tilting on his lips.
Albus’s reaction is about the same as when he found out about Jerald's summer trip last year; eyebrows to his hairline, mouth hung open. “No? What?” He exclaims, “How do you know that?”
“He just owled me yesterday, actually.” Scorpius can’t help the smug smile on his lips although he tries to swallow it down.
“Since when do you two owl back and forth?” Albus gawks. Scorpius shrugs. Albus bumps his shoulder into him, and says dramatically, “What types of secrets are you keeping from me? This is just the start! Soon you’ll be telling me you’re actually a Neville Longbottom fan and you never actually fancied chocolate frogs in the first place!”
Scorpius laughs, head thrown back and loudly, not caring about the other people on the street that might be looking at him.
“My son is not a Neville Longbottom fan.” His father says, words loose and free from the wine he consumed over their awkward attempt at dinner. “Dumbledore is much better than him.”
“Exactly!” Scorpius exclaims.
Albus groans and pouts, “You guys just don’t get it.” He looks as if he’s about to say something else, but then his eyes train on something else and he gets distracted, exclaiming, “Look! Wizards chess!”
And sure enough, there is a game set up on a table outside of a restaurant. Albus looks at him knowingly, “Rematch?”
“Oh absolutely,” Scorpius smiles.
Albus tugs him over to it and they sit down, the pieces returning to their starting positions. Draco ambles over and sits down next to Albus, crossing his arms. Every so often Draco will offer his advice, and more often than not Albus takes it, a devilish smile on his face when it works. Scorpius is distracted both by the way his father and his boyfriend are getting along so well, and the way that Albus’s feet are entangled with his own underneath the table.
So it doesn’t surprise him that it’s Albus that throws his arms up in victory and shouts, “Checkmate!”
Scorpius feigns dispare, although he’s feeling anything but. Albus cackles across from him, and his father smiles at him warmly. On this warm summer night in Manchester, Scorpius isn’t worried about whether he’s being too obvious or whether Albus or his father will hate him. He knows now that they both just want to see him happy. And he is. Happy.
Scorpius Malfoy is the happiest he’s been in a long time.