Albus Severus Potter

You’ve been best friends from the start, but tomorrow will be the very first time you can walk into that school, hand-in-hand, and call him yours.  The hand-in-hand bit won’t be new at all – you’ve always been physically close as friends. And maybe that sense of possession isn’t even all that new either  –  he had always made you feel entitled above all his other friends.  But, finally, you can now call him your boyfriend.

 A startling thought jolts you upright in bed.

 Wait a minute… Can you call Scorpius Malfoy your boyfriend?

 He kissed you on the mouth in front of everyone at his end-of-summer party four days ago.  You snogged on the great lawn of Malfoy Manor until the sun came up and your lips were raw.  You owled each other back and forth about how brilliant it was.  But it was never explicitly discussed what all that kissing really meant.

 You practically leap out of bed and dive underneath it to access the loose floorboard beneath which you keep the stuff that you hide from your parents.  You feel a bit guilty that treasured love notes from Scorpius share the same box as your secret porn stash, but you’ll be damned if James gets a hold of the letters and uses it as ammunition against you.  You would just vanish the explicit publications altogether if you didn’t think gay porn was effective big-brother-deterrent.

 You read the notes over and over again, trying to glean any information between the lines.

 You’re such a good kisser.

 You’re so beautiful – I’ve always thought so.

 I can’t wait to see you.  I miss your face.

 These are just a few lines you had picked out that make you swoon every subsequent time you read them. Yeah, it’s all very sweet, but nothing in these letters says anything about your relationship with Scorpius actually changing, other than the snogging.  Maybe you’re friends with benefits.  Maybe you’re not even that. He never said he wanted the kissing to continue beyond that one night.  Maybe you really were just an end-of-summer hook up.

 You start to panic with that devastating realization.  It is quite possible that you were so drunk on that kiss – that kiss that had been the culmination of years of unrequited love – that you failed to realize that it was just a kiss. But you don’t want it to be just a kiss because you’re ridiculously in love with your best friend and your life would be complete if your best friend could love you back.

 You read the notes again. They really aren’t that different from the notes he has always written to you, but with those added lines that fool you into thinking otherwise.

  Dearest Albie,

 My father and Uncle Theo just got back from their weekend away. They still have no fucking idea that we had a raging party here when they were gone.  If dad knew what you and I got up to on Malfoy property, he’d lose his shit.  Gods, it was brilliant!  Best party ever, thanks to you.

 You’re such a good kisser, by the way.

 See you in three days!

 - Scor

   Dearest Albie,

 Ugh!  I hate my mum right now.  She convinced me to let her stylist cut my hair.  Should’ve just let my regular barber guy in London do it.  I look like an arsehole.

 You’re so lucky that you are the sort of bloke that looks good even when your hair gets too long.  I’m so jealous.  You’re so beautiful – I’ve always thought so.

 See you in two days!

 - Scor

   Dearest Albie,

 OMGOMGOMG!!!  Can you believe we’re leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow?  I’m ridiculously excited.  Hope you can get some sleep tonight.  Though, knowing you, you won’t.  And also, knowing you, you will make up for it first night... although, maybe not *wink wink*.  If I have to jump on you to wake you for the first day of term, I totally will.

 I can’t wait to see you.  I know it’s only been like four days since we last saw each other, but still. I miss your face.

 SEE YOU TOMORROW!!!!

 - Scor

   You fold that last letter, the one you received just hours ago, and heave a long disappointed sigh as you slip it back into the envelope.  You toss it into the box along with the other letters with much less reverence than the way you’d extracted them.  These aren’t love notes.  They are the typical letters from your best mate, and if you squint, there might be references to the two of you being more than friends.  But you really can’t be sure at all.

 One thing you are certain of is that you did kiss four days ago.  Scorpius doesn’t deny it.  He thought it was brilliant.  But will that kiss change anything?  Judging from the letters, it doesn’t really seem like it.  And maybe that’s a hidden message right there – maybe Scorpius’ letters were so typical because he distinctly wants things to stay exactly the same between you two.

 Fuck, and here you are, thinking the whole bloody world has changed when it was only a kiss.  You are a stupid, stupid boy, Albus Potter.

 Okay so maybe it wasn’t just a kiss.  There was a lot of snuggling and gazing tenderly into each other’s eyes and giggling and fingers tangling into hair and heavy breathing against skin and that once instance you dared to let your tongue graze his lips.  Gods, you’re getting that anxious, tight feeling again just thinking about it.  

 You swallow hard and remember the way Scorpius’ mouth had tasted, and you let your tongue trace your bottom lip as if you can still taste him there.  Your pulse quickens when you remember the way the sinuous angles of his body fit perfectly into yours when you held each other close beneath the stars, as if he was made just for you.  You can’t help but think about what it would feel like to have those sinuous lines angling themselves deeply into your body, and you start to sweat.  The memory of his elegant fingers curling possessively at the back of your neck evolves into thoughts of those same nimble fingers coiling around other more delicate parts of you, and it makes you twitch in your shorts.

 You berate yourself for the zillionth time (yeah, you do it that often) for wanking off to sexual fantasies of your best friend as your hand slips down the front of your boxers. You close your eyes and bite your lip and imagine Scorpius’ hot mouth slathering your hardened length and his fingers plundering your depths.  

 You had spent years taming these fantasies, knowing that letting them flourish into hardcore sex scenes in your head would make it difficult to look your best mate in the eye the next day.  But that kiss, that bloody kiss, had given you hope and had given you license to think filthier thoughts, dream dirtier dreams, fuck yourself silly under the bedcovers – because you had thought things had changed and that it was now not so horrible to imagine Scorpius balls deep inside of you.  And once you had let your imagination go there, you couldn’t bloody well stop it from going there again and again.

 You feel even more unclean than you normally do after these wank sessions because maybe you shouldn’t be thinking about Scorpius in that way. And you speculate about whether or not Scorpius would think these thoughts about you, and you honestly can’t imagine him ever doing that.  Scorpius is so naïve and clueless about sex, and you rather love that about him.  His innocence is ridiculously endearing.

 So here you are again, right back where you started – way too into Scorpius Malfoy for it to be normal. Only now, it’s not just an innocent crush, it’s lust.

 The clock on your beside table says it is either way too late to attempt sleep or too early to get dressed.  Even in your post-orgasmic state, you still can’t relax.  So you peel the sticky covers off your body and shuffle to the shower. As you scrub your body hard under the scalding water, you can’t be rid of that itch – that desperate need to be near Scorpius, to feel his mouth on you again.

 ~//~

 Mum and dad are too busy gushing over their first born turned Head Boy to complain that your only goodbye is an air kiss and a wave.  You’re off in a flash, down platform nine-and-three-quarters, searching through the steam engine smoke and the crowd for that conspicuous platinum blond head.  You still haven’t found him by the time the last whistle blows and you pout like a sad puppy.  He always waits for you before boarding the Hogwarts express.

 “Oi!  Do you want the first demerit of the term, Al?” James smacks the back of your head, startling you out of your gloom.  “Get your scrawny arse on the train before I take ten points from Slytherin.”

 Gods, it is going to be an even tougher year for you and likely all of Slytherin now that your arsehole brother is lording over the entire school.  Or maybe it won’t be so bad.  Teddy is starting his job as Transfiguration professor, and hopefully he’ll rein in James a little when he gets too heavy-handed.

 Oh, who are you kidding? Fifth year is pretty much ruined for you.  You snogged your best mate, and now he won’t even meet you on the platform.  And now you have to spend day after day not being able to look that boy in the face because you spent the past four nights imagining that face in your lap.

 You resign to find a seat with your cousins on the train, but the first compartment you peek into just happens to be occupied by all your other friends.

 “Oh.  Hey,” you say, with an inflection that reveals you hadn’t expected to find all your usual companions already sitting together on the train.  Which is stupid.  Of course they are.

 You enter the compartment, since you don’t need an invitation to sit with your friends. Yes, they may have been Scorpius’ friends first, but they are still yours.  

 Alexa Montague lifts the book she had placed on the seats to save them and says, mildly surprised “Is S not with you?”

 You shake your head meekly and fear the worst.  Oh gods, you have not only estranged yourself from Scorpius by kissing him, you’ve estranged him from all his friends.  But before the sinking feeling in your gut even has the chance to take hold, Scorpius comes bounding into the compartment.  He’s winded, as if he’d been running to catch the train.

 “Hey,” Scorpius says cheerily, though out of breath.

 “Hey,” you respond in kind, if a bit hesitant.

 “Hey?” Alexa repeats in the form of an indignant question. “Isn’t this the first time you’re seeing each other since you stopped being stupid?  All you have to say to each other is hey?”

 Scorpius grins bashfully and that little smile makes your heart flutter.  He turns to you properly, and your eyes meet.  It feels like you’ve not seen each other in weeks, and that’s not just because his hair is different.  So much has changed inside of you and you are still so unsure of how Scorpius feels.

 “Hey,” Scorpius says again, but this time, everyone else seems to disappear and it is just him and you in this moment.  He’s still so ridiculously coy, complete with a shy little tilt of his head.  “You didn’t wait for me.”

 You gasp and reach out to put your hand on his shoulder.  “Oh, shit, I totally did but then I thought you got on the train without me, so…”

 Scorpius’ brow furrows slightly with concern.  “Why would you think that?”

 “Because Al is a dolt,” Alexa answers for you.  

 You’re grateful, even though she’s disparaging you, because your response would have likely made things worse.  Because I thought you were avoiding me because you kissed me. And her response to yours would have still been the same.  Yes, you are a dolt.  Your logic, as you are now coming to realize, is extremely flawed.

 “Let’s try this again, boys. From the top,” Alexa instructs, as if directing a stage play, “Enter Al, stage right.  Enter Scor, stage left.”

 “The fuck, Lex?” you glance at Alexa incredulously, though terribly amused, “Are we merely entertainment for you?”

 She continues to direct, more firmly this time, pointing a finger in your face.  “You, out.  Scorpius, out.  When I say action, you come in and start over. Properly, yeah?”

 You and Scorpius give each other a look and roll your eyes because you both know that Alexa is a little bit crazy and a whole lot bossy, but you need to humor her because she likely won’t let you off the hook until you do, and it’s a long ride to Hogsmeade. And maybe you are more apt to comply just the same because you both know that Alexa had pushed you two together in the first place.  Literally, she had pushed Scorpius to the make-shift stage when your band performed at his party, which was just the push he needed to kiss you, apparently.

 “Places, places!” Scorpius mocks dramatically as he steps out of the compartment and you follow him into the swiftly emptying corridor.

 You slide the door shut behind you and give him a shy smile.  “Hey,” you giggle.

 Scorpius steps into your personal space, which isn’t unusual, but it still makes your heart skip a beat.  “Hey,” he says again for what seems like the hundredth time between you, but this time, the draws out the word, slow and low and too sensual for it to be a casual greeting.

 He takes your hand and laces your fingers with his – also nothing new, but this time, his touch sets your skin ablaze.  Your cheeks glow hot and your pulse starts to race.  He closes the very small distance between you and bites his bottom lip coyly before tilting his head slightly.  You realize he’s going to kiss you again and your heart beats out of your chest.  Yes, you’ve wanted this for days, but you hadn’t realized just how fucking badly you wanted it until his mouth is so close to yours that you can feel his warm breath on you.  Your eyes flutter closed and you reflexively wet your lips in anticipation.

 “Ten points from Slytherin for snogging on the train!” James’ arrogant bark startles you.  

 He thwacks the top of Scorpius’ head with a rolled up sheet of parchment.  “Another ten points from Slytherin for your horrendous taste in boys.”

 Indignant, Scorpius protests and pulls away from you to glare at James. “You can’t bloody do that!”

 “Oh, but I can, Malfoy,” James replies smugly, gesturing at his Head Boy pin, “And I’ll issue a detention to each of you if you don’t sit your arses down.  The train is pulling out from the station.”

 Outraged, you gasp at your brother for being the most tyrannical Head Boy in Hogwarts history and for ruining the moment you were having (or about to have) with Scorpius. “Arsehole.”

 James continues down the corridor and decrees without even a backwards glance, “Language, Potter.  Ten points from Slytherin.”

 You and Scorpius vehemently make rude gestures with your fingers in James’ wake.

 Scorpius returns his attention to you and remarks with an impish grin, “I’ll bet you five sickles we break our detention record this year.”

 You match the mischievousness of his grin with your own and reply, “I’ll double down on that and say we’ll earn our first one tonight.”

 Scorpius’ smirk darkens and borders upon lascivious when he asks, “Tonight, hm?”  He folds his arms behind your neck and rests his forehead upon yours.  “You going to get me into trouble, Albie?”

 He’s literally making you hot under the collar and you know that you’re going to have a hell of a lot of fun together this year, as boyfriends or not.  “Loads,” you answer, letting the first letter of the word roll sensually off your tongue.

 “Mmm…”  He makes a quiet sound that’s between a low purr and a growl deep in his throat, and you could almost feel it vibrating inside your chest, all the way down to your lap.

 You forget all the uncertainty, angle your face just so, and let your lips close over his in a soft, slow kiss.  

 Scorpius makes that sound again and murmurs, “Mmm that’s good.  Worth the wait.”

 The blush spreads from high on your cheeks.  Another uncertainty is put to rest.  You feel so much better knowing that Scorpius wanted to kiss you again, and maybe he’s been waiting just as eagerly as you’d been.

 He kisses you the same way, as if testing it out for himself.  You feel the fullness of his bottom lip overtake yours, then his top lip fitting neatly between your lips.  The tip of his tongue brushes your bottom lip, eliciting a barely audible, involuntary moan.  You blush impossibly harder, embarrassed of how easily you are undone by just a kiss.

 He giggles against your mouth and muses, “You like that, hm?”

 You laugh softly in return. “Yeah.  Worth the risk of detention.”

 “You’re just saying that because we’ve got a wager going,” he jokes.

 The door you’d been leaning on swiftly slides open, nearly sending you falling backwards into the compartment.

 “Awww,” Alexa coos, “See, isn’t it nice when you stop being stupid?”

 “Get a room,” her twin brother jokes.

 “Okay, if you say so, Duston.”  Scorpius pulls you into the compartment and closes the door.

 “Gods, not here though,” Bryce Zabini protests, cringing with disgust.  “It was bad enough watching you two being all gross before.”

 You know what he means by before.  And if Bryce perceives things to be different between you and Scorpius now, after that kiss you shared at the party, then you aren’t delusional.  So even though Bryce is being his usual uptight self, his reaction is reassuring.

 “That’s interesting, B. You don’t have a problem with public displays of affection when it’s you and Calista,” Scorpius argues, giving Bryce and his girlfriend a pointed look, though they’re close enough friends that no malice is exchanged.

 “B has a problem with gay stuff.  It threatens his manhood,” Lloyd Warrington teases, though brutally honest, as he hooks an arm over Bryce’s shoulders and threatens to kiss his cheek.

 Bryce leans away, practically sprawling himself across Calista’s lap in the process.  “Ugh, boys, please,” she scoffs as Bryce and Lloyd begin to wrestle playfully, “We’re Fifth-Years now.  Start acting like it.”

 Scorpius takes the one remaining seat next to Alexa and pulls you onto his lap.  It isn’t the first time you’ve sat on Scorpius, so it feels quite natural.  You’re happy that you and Scorpius can be as physically close as you were before without it being weird.  Though cut-off circulation and discomfort will eventually force you to sit on the floor. Until then, you’re content to lean back into Scorpius’ chest and rest your head on his shoulder.

 He turns his face and kisses your temple.  “I really did miss you,” he admits as he folds his arms around you.  

 Your heart does a flip inside your chest and you smile like the love-struck fool that you are.  “Me too.”

 You always missed each other over holiday breaks and during the summer months away from school. Neither of you were ever shy about that, whether in letters or in person.  But this time, it really does feel different.  You now know that you had missed each other on a deeper level. You don’t even want to begin to think about what that will mean when you have to separate for Christmas.

 For now, you will revel in this blissful reunion.

  ~//~

 “Oh.  My.  Gods,” says Jessica Chen, scandalized, as she drops into the seat opposite yours at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, despite being a Ravenclaw.  “Is it true?”  She glances down at your hands linked with Scorpius’ on the table, her mouth agape, her eyes wide.  “Are you two like a thing now?”  

 She doesn’t wait for you to answer.  It’s pretty obvious.  You’ve been stealing kisses in the open since you arrived at the castle.  

 “Merlin’s beard, Harriet Havendish is going to be like so devastated that you’re off the market, Scor. Although I told her like a million times you probably don’t even fancy girls that way.  She’s like so delusional.  I, on the other hand, have amazing gaydar and always suspected.”

 You and Scorpius exchange glances and know how awkward this non-conversation is going.  Jessica, on the other hand, keeps talking, making you feel more and more uncomfortable.  “Oh my gosh, and Lysander!  Poor darling Lysander.  He never did get over it when you broke up with him, Al.  This is going to just crush him.”  She sighs despondently, but then immediately recovers.  “Anyway, good luck to you both.  You make a really cute couple.  I’ve got two dear friends to console.  Bye!”

 In Hurricane Jessica’s wake, you are both stunned by her total lack of sensitivity for anyone but her friends and her complete absence of a brain-to-mouth filter.  

 “Erm… Are we a thing now?” you ask Scorpius, hesitantly.

 “I… don’t know what that even means.  What thing?”  Scorpius asks with a concerned look on his face, brow furrowed in confusion.

 You find it hard to believe that Scorpius is really that naive and you roll your eyes.  “Come on, Scor.  You know what it means.”

 Scorpius gives you a sharp look.  “Yeah, I’m not stupid, Albus.  But it could mean one of several things, right?”

 You nod.  “I suppose it could.”  Then you take a long pause, during which your heart starts to pound nervously, and then cautiously ask, “What do you want it to mean?”

 Scorpius holds his chin contemplatively.  You find yourself terrified of his answer as you wait for it with baited breath.  He opens his mouth and tentatively replies, “I… don’t think it’s really up to me to answer that.  Your parents said you’re not allowed to date until you’re sixteen.”

 You snort incredulously, “So you want me to ask my parents?”

 He gives you that razor sharp look again.  “No, I want you to ask yourself what you want it to mean.  Because it affects you more.”

 You could just die from Scorpius’ selflessness.  “Hardly,” you say gently, reaching for his cheek, “I don’t give a fuck about what my parents say.  I don’t care about what Jessica Chen has to say, or Lysander Scamander has to say, or my stupid brother, or Bryce.  All I care about is you.”

 A pale pink color begins to blossom across Scorpius’ skin where your thumb softly brushes.  He smiles bashfully and bites his bottom lip. “Oh, Albie, I--”

 Scorpius’ sentiment is suddenly interrupted by the ringing of a crystal bell, calling for silence. But it isn’t jolly Headmaster Ogilvie presiding over the Opening Feast. Instead, it is his wife, the strict and imposing Arithmancy professor that certain students have nicknamed The Human Dementor for her uncanny ability to suck all the joy out of everything.  It is fitting that she is the one to cut short what could have been a pivotal moment in your friendship with Scorpius.

 “Silence, children! Silence!” she demands as the hall buzzes with questions and confusion.  “No doubt you are all wondering about the conspicuous absence of Headmaster Ogilvie.  Due to an unfortunate gardening accident this summer, Headmaster Ogilvie is recovering at home from hip replacement surgery.  Thus, I will serve as Headmistress in his stead.”

 Gasps and horrified murmurs rise up from the student tables.  You and Scorpius silently mouth your disappointed outrage.  Oh FUCK. You are seriously reconsidering your quest to break your detention record.

 She puts her hands up to settle the crowd.  “Though I’m sure Headmaster Ogilvie would be touched by your outpouring of concern regarding his absence,” she says, looking acutely aware that the real buzz is regarding her position as Headmistress, “rest assured, he will be returning in a few months time.”

 “Oh thank Godric!” Lloyd exclaims with relief, sending an echo of giggles throughout the Great Hall.

 “Thank you, Mr. Warrington,” Professor Ogilvie remarks, unimpressed, “I shall pass on your sentiments to my husband.  But I must ask that you and your fellow students refrain from further outbursts, as we have much ground to cover tonight before the feast.”

 Bryce elbows Lloyd and gravely whispers, “If you lose house points for us tonight, I swear to the Bloody Barron I will end you.”

 “Don’t tell me, tell the fucking love birds over here,” Lloyd gestures at you and Scorpius.  “They already lost us twenty points for snogging on the train.”

 “Sorry, not sorry,” Scorpius whispers.

 “Zabini! Warrington!  Malfoy!  What did I just say?” Ogilvie admonishes, “Do you feel that your conversation is so important that you need to hold up the entire night?”

 “Thirty points from Slytherin!” James decrees from his lofty position in the Head Boy’s seat at the staff table.

 “Er, thank you, Mr. Potter,” she says, just as startled by James’ outburst as you and your friends. “I should take this opportunity to recognize Head Boy and Head Girl for this year.  James Potter and Marilee Marquee.”  She gestures at them with only slight reverence and pointedly adds, “I’m sure they will be upstanding pillars of the school community who will uphold the tenets and rules of Hogwarts with utmost diligence.”  You can’t be sure, but it is possible that she glances at your brother with uncertainty.  

 “Moving right along with another change in staff, joining us as your new Transfiguration teacher is Professor Ted R. Lupin.”  She gives a curt nod in Teddy’s direction.

 Teddy tentatively raises a hand in acknowledgement and smiles tightly.  You can tell he is terribly nervous.  So you give him a raucous applause to make him feel welcome. The rest of your extended family follows suit, but are not as polite.  They catcall and whistle and hoot, and it is all to be expected of the Potter-Weasley clan.  That’s just how you show love for one another.  Teddy, of course, is mortified, but smiles through it all.

 James surprises you by shutting down the hullabaloo and even takes five points from his own house.

 The rest of the opening ceremony is much less exciting.  And when the last first-year is sorted, adding another Slytherin to your lot, you heave an audible sigh of relief, not just because dinner is served.

 You clear your throat and try to restart the conversation you’d been having with Scorpius.  “So, erm, Scor… about the thing.”

 “Gross, Al.  Quit talking about Scor’s thing.  I’m trying to eat,” Lloyd jokes.

 You raise your eyes to the enchanted ceiling and huff with annoyance.  “Forget it.  We’ll talk later.”

 “No, by all means, talk about the thing.  Don’t mind this Neanderthal,” Alexa insists, giving Lloyd a smack on the shoulder.  “What thing?  Do you mean this thing?” she gestures between you and Scorpius and raises a brow.

 Scorpius grins smugly and gives you a sideways squeeze.  “Yes. Albie and I are apparently a thing.”

 Alexa gasps and puts her hands over her heart.  “Awh! I’m so happy you made it official.”

 You give Scorpius an uncertain look.  “Erm, did we? I thought we were still sorting out what kind of thing we are.”

 Scorpius shrugs.  “I guess.  But we at least decided that we are indeed a thing.”

 Duston suggests, always the reasonable and sage one of the Montague twins, “Do you really have to? Can’t you just see where it goes?”

 You and Scorpius look at each other questioningly and agree without any real confidence, nodding hesitantly.

 Scorpius grows quiet and contemplative for the rest of dinner and it worries you, but you don’t want to push him.  You know it is a lot to process.  Scorpius has never even come out to you or to anyone as being gay.  For all you know, he could be bisexual or pansexual or anything on the spectrum.  He never struck you as anything but asexual before that fateful kiss.  And already there have been assumptions made and dirty looks given and disapproving glances thrown at the two of you – not that it is anything new.  You and Scorpius have always fielded this sort of treatment with your heads held high. But now, you’re about to catch even more heat.  Because now, you’re not just friends who touch a lot in public – you’re friends who kiss a lot in public.  And you don’t want to put any added pressure on Scorpius by making him define your relationship.

 An inactive golden snitch lands in your plate, sending gravy splattering your school robes.  You look up to find the source of the wayward ball as Alexa and Scorpius are quick to use clean-up spells on your soiled clothes.

 A gaggle of heartily chuckling Gryffindor Seventh-Years catch your glare.  The worst of them all shouts from across the hall, “Hey, Potter! You ought to practice catching that snitch with Scorpius!  I heard you catch them in your mouth like your dad!” Janus Ivers and his arsehole cohorts then make lewd pantomimes in your direction, alluding to an assumption that you’re keen on giving blow jobs.

 You have never let anyone give you shit for being gay.  And you are not about to start backing down, even when Duston is quick to rein you in with a hand clamped around your arm when you shoot up from your seat.

 “Oi!” James surprises you, yet again, by coming to your defense.  He shows up behind Janus to thwack him hard on the back of the head. “That’s my gay-arse brother you’re fucking with, dick-wad!  Mess with him again, and I’ll bench you at the first Quidditch match of the season.”

 Janus seems to shrink slightly and responds dismissively, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Jamie. I’m just joking around.  I don’t mean any harm.”

 “You’re not funny, Ivers. Five points from Gryffindor.  Mind your manners, arseholes,” he points accusingly at the whole group of offending boys.  Then James shoots a warning glare at you.  “And you.  Calm your tits, Albie, or you’ll catch a beat down from these idiots.  You’re on your own when my back is turned.”

 “You may not always have Albie’s back, but we Slytherins take care of our own,” Lloyd declares, full of bravado to match that of the Gryffindors.  He and your friends flank you in a defensive stance.  The entire Slytherin table is quick to follow suit as they also rise from their seats, and you are so bloody proud to be Slytherin in that moment, standing united against the comparatively small group of ignorant Gryffindors.

 “Sit down!  You are not dismissed!” Ogilvie’s amplified shout echoes loudly through the Great Hall.

 And as you all take your seats, you never take your eyes off the Gryffindors.

 “I was so close to pummeling the shit out of Ivers and winning that bet, Scor,” you admit, still seething.

 “Bloody hell, Al. This is why you need to chill with all the gay stuff,” Bryce admonishes you, “You’re going to cause a fucking house war.”

 You whip around to gape incredulously at Bryce and repeat, completely indignant, “I need to chill with all the gay stuff?  I’m going to cause a fucking house war?  Are you listening to yourself, B?  I mean you were always an uptight prat, but this? This is bollocks, mate.  You sound like a straight-up homophobe.”

 “Don’t get all social-justice-warrior on me, man.  How can I be a homophobe if two of my closest friends are gay?” Bryce argues, and then pauses to address Scorpius, “Wait, are you gay, Scor?  Like full blown gay?”

 Scorpius snorts, somehow both amused and offended, “Full blown gay?  Is it a disease?”

 “I mean, as opposed to bisexual or transsexual or whatever,” Bryce clarifies, still completely unaware of how insensitive he’s being.

 Scorpius heaves an exasperated sigh and holds up his hands.  “Ugh! I just can’t with you right now, B. You are just as bad as Janus Ivers.” Then Scorpius turns to you, takes you firmly by the shoulders, and looks you square in the face.  “I need to do something right now, and forgive me if I put you on the spot.”

 You frown and give him a worried expression.  

 He stands up on the bench and draws attention to himself.  “My fellow wizards, witches, and nonbinary magical folk!  I have an announcement!  My name is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, and I’m gay, and I’m proud!”

 Many people cheer with a positive response, but there are still a few scattered hecklers shouting things like, sit down, you ponce and faggot.  Headmistress Ogilvie shoots up from her seat at the staff tables to shut it all down, but Professor Longbottom puts a hand on her shoulder and whispers something to her that convinces her to sit down, and the cheering continues.

 You gaze up at Scorpius with so much pride that you feel like your heart could burst.  You have always thought of him as a brave person, but his bravery had always been quiet.  This, however, is anything but quiet.  You’re surprised, maybe even shocked, but you could not be happier for him.

 “And also, I have a very important question to ask.”  Scorpius’ eyes fall upon you, and your prideful heart stops.  “Albus Potter, would you please honor me by being my boyfriend?”  He beams and reaches his hands down to you.

 You smile all the way up to your green eyes that become glassy with impending tears.  You never thought Scorpius would ever ask you this question, and certainly not like this – not even in your most outlandish fantasies.  You take Scorpius’ hands and join him on the bench, pull him close, and reply only loudly enough for him to hear, “Fuck yeah, I’ll be your boyfriend.” And then you kiss him hard on the mouth. Your teeth clink against his because neither of you can stop smiling.

 The cheering grows, as does the backlash.  A stray bread roll or two is thrown at you.  Ogilvie is quick to shut it down now and amplifies her voice to address the situation, sending you down into your seats swiftly.

 “Children, settle down, this instant!  It is apparent that I must remind you of the Hogwarts rules!  There shall be no student announcements in the Great Hall without prior approval from a staff member.  There shall be no throwing of food, as the house elves work very hard to cook for us and to clean up after us.  And furthermore, as part of the Amendments of 1999, there is an anti-discrimination policy at Hogwarts, which means no one shall be discriminated against based on blood status, orientation, gender, or race.”

 “That’s right!  You tell ‘em, Ogilvie!” Lloyd shouts, pointing accusingly at Janus Ivers and crew.

 “Er, thank you, once again, Mr. Warrington,” she remarks, momentarily distracted and not the least bit grateful.  “And finally, I will remind you all that any student caught engaging in undue physical intimacy with another student on school property will receive detention. Which means… Potter, Malfoy, detention, my office, tomorrow after lessons.  Now, all of you, off to bed early!  You’ve obviously had too much excitement for one night. Dismissed!  First Years, follow your prefects to your dormitories.”

 “You owe me ten sickles, Scor,” you inform Scorpius, grinning smugly.

Scorpius is sitting on my lap, facing the same way as I am, both of us perched at the foot of the bed.

 Directly across the hotel room is a large mirror, and I glance up to watch Scorpius’ reflection.  He knows I’m watching and displays his naked body accordingly.  He’s watching me too.  And I watch him lie to my reflection.  He always lies flawlessly, even to my face.  But Scorpius rarely lies to me.

 His eyes glance up at the ceiling, if only briefly, when he answers my question and that’s how I know he’s lying.  He’s hiding the truth, and I wonder why Scorpius still bothers to protect my heart – doesn’t he know it’s already been broken?

 “No,” Scorpius answers, devoid of any emotion.

 “He should treat you like a prince,” I say with a tinge of sorrow coloring my voice.  

 My hand is splayed across Scorpius’ pale throat, but my touch is gentle, reverent.  

 “He should kiss you,” I tell him with my lips ghosting bellow his earlobe.   “Like this.”  

 I kiss him wetly, closing my mouth over the side of his neck as if he were a ripe peach.  

 I taste him and the brine of his sweat makes me needy, makes me eager.  I’m so hungry for him that I want to devour him quickly.  But I know it’ll be months before I taste him again, so I take my time and savor him.  I commit the flavor of his skin to memory and I know I’ll rely on that memory to get me through the rest of tour.  I’ll use that memory when I wank in the little tour bus bathroom, or when I’m screwing a fanboy who says he’s inspired by my music.  Ironic, considering Scorpius inspired all of my music.

 He cranes his neck like a white swan and turns his face towards mine.  When my lips meet his for an open mouthed kiss, he is sweet and his tongue is soft, and it’s another memory for my growing cache.  I manage to pull a quiet moan from his lips and it feels like a small triumph.  I want to win all of his moans.  I want to earn his hard cock.  I want to be rewarded with his come deep inside me.

 He pulls away, breathless, and rests the back of his head on my shoulder.  “Lorcan doesn’t kiss.  We only fuck.”

 Scorpius, as much as he lies, also never minces words when he tells the truth.  And it hurts.  It feels like an icicle stabbing through my heart when he says that name.  I die inside when Scorpius speaks so bluntly about what he and Scamander do, even though I already know Lorcan has been fucking my boyfriend for weeks.  My relationship with Scorpius has been an open one since I went on tour with my band instead of going back to Hogwarts for seventh year.  Lorcan has never been a secret and part of me wishes that Scorpius had just slept with him behind my back instead of telling me first.

 It kills me to know that Lorcan isn’t treating Scorpius the way he deserves to be treated – Scorpius isn’t a sperm receptacle, he’s an angel, a deity, someone that needs to be cherished, worshiped, and loved.  I hate to think of Scorpius being used like a two-knut whore, even though it’s mutual. And I worry about him because I know from Lysander that Lorcan can be violent.

 My hand slides along the sweat-slicked expanse of Scorpius’ chest, down to his taut abdomen.  I gently brush my fingertips through the soft tuft of lucent curls that sprout south of his navel.  I can’t wait to bury my face in it and drink in his scent – more memories for the taking.  

 I whisper behind his ear as I slowly wrap my hand around Scorpius’ erection, letting each finger carefully find purchase around his hardness.  “He doesn’t even touch you like this?”

 His hips move above my lap, allowing his cock to slide through my grasp.

 “No,” he says through a wispy moan.  “I’m lucky if he eats my arse before he fucks me.”

 We have always been honest with each other.  Scorpius has never been afraid to tell me anything.  Even though I appreciate his candor, it’s still painful to hear the dirty details.  Still I ask, because evidently I’m so damn possessive that I have to know every little thing that happens to Scorpius while I’m gone.

 I swirl my thumb around the weeping slit of Scorpius’ prick, which earns me a little sigh, and I ask, “He’s never sucked you off, then?”

 “Lorcan doesn’t suck cock,” he answers flippantly, not the least bit disappointed or bitter.

 I chuckle wryly.  “Doesn’t kiss, doesn’t suck cock - Sounds like a bloody diva.  I’m surprised he hasn’t made you sign a rider.”  I’m stroking him slowly, twisting my fingers around the circumference, just the way Scorpius loves it, and he only faintly lets me know he’s unfamiliar with the term rider.  I explain, “It’s a contract, sort of.  A list of stuff that the band needs in order to perform.  Like stuff for the stage, but also stuff backstage.”

 “Stuff backstage, huh?” Scorpius drawls knowingly and teases, “Can you put boys on your rider?”

 We exchange giggles and it feels so good to laugh with him again, to be that light-hearted and uninhibited.

 “No, but Daniel made us list condoms on it,” I admit.

 “Oh good.  You better not bring muggle cooties back home to me,” he jokes.

 We’re best mates again, laughing and teasing and making one another smile - Not jealous lovers, breaking each other’s hearts.  And perhaps it’s a testament to the strength of our friendship and the power of our love that we can still be this way together, like nothing has changed, like we haven’t been separated from each other for the longest span of time ever in almost seven years.

 When he lays me on the bed and pushes my legs back, my heart beats faster and harder than it ever has on stage.  And as he sinks into me, stretches me, fills me, I consider giving up my rockstar dreams for him.  Nothing could ever make me feel the way Scorpius does.  Not even the euphoric rush of power I get when my voice soars with the wail of my guitar across a sea of screaming fans.  Music is my life now.  And Scorpius is what I live for.  Scorpius is my everything.

 He nibbles on my ankle – the one that’s perched on his shoulder.  He hides his smirk behind it, and his voice is muffled by my skin, but his eyes do all the talking.  “Did you miss this?”  He knows the answer.  He has always known the answer.

 My reply sails on a breathy sigh.  “Yes.  Oh gods, I missed this so much.  Missed you so much.”

 He thrusts in hard and deep and he makes damn sure I will miss it even more.  He’s not gentle right now, and in fact, he might even be a little brutal.  But I don’t care.  I want to feel him between my legs for days.  I urge him with my moans and coax him with my hips, lifting them off the bed to rest on his thighs.  He digs his fingers into my waist and pulls me onto his lap while concurrently pushing into me.  I feel him deeper than I’ve ever felt him before and it’s almost too much.

 Scorpius has never intentionally hurt me.  Even when he made me bleed the first time he had me, I know it was not his aim to harm me. Any pain he’s caused has been my own fault because I can never tell him to stop.  We’re both so new at this and he’s still trying to figure things out - He doesn’t always know when I need him to stop or slow down or go easy.  I know sex isn’t supposed to be about pain – at least I hope that’s the case – but I let him push me to the edge of what I can tolerate. Because I think it will be more meaningful if it hurts – if I can hang on to the exquisite emotion of having him inside me by savoring that ache long after he’s finished.

 My delicate skin feels like it’s tearing.  We should probably stop to apply more lube.  But then Scorpius drives into me at a slight angle and I literally see stars – like I’ve stood up too quickly and the blood is rushing from my head. He pulls an involuntary sound from me as he pushes a button deep inside me that intensifies my pleasure ten-fold.

 “You okay, baby?” he purrs.

 Fuck, I love when Scorpius calls me baby. And he only ever does it when we’re together like this.  I am more than okay.  I could die right now and it would be totally fine because I’ve experienced heaven already.

 I can’t even answer the question.  My hands clench into the sheets and I moan something unintelligible.

 His hips go still while he’s inside me.  “I’m not hurting you, am I baby?”  Something about the dark glimmer in his silver-blue eyes makes me think he rather likes exactly what he’s doing to me, regardless of any physical damage that may result.

 I still can’t form words because the head of his cock is still applying pressure to that spot, making me feel like I could shoot my load completely hands-free.  What I say is somewhere between a yes and a no. “Nnnyuuuh…”

 He pulls back slightly and I mourn the loss of pressure.  “I’m sorry, what?” he asks with an amused little grin.

 My green eyes pierce him with a feral look.  I grab his thighs, dig my blunt nails in, and practically growl, “Shut up and fuck me, Scor.”

 He smirks and teases me. “Merlin’s beard; who’s being a diva now?”

 Even though I never did get to grab more lube, I somehow feel more slick inside.  And I hazard to guess that he’s made me bleed again.  But it hardly matters – the pleasure he’s giving me is so intense that I couldn’t be arsed to care that I’m bleeding on white hotel sheets.

 I fist my cock fiendishly as he plunders me deeply, and we’re both desperate to come now.  I can tell he’s close by the staccato rhythm of his thrusts.  We’ve always been in sync like this – able to sense where the other is in our race towards orgasm, able to hold out for one another so that we finish together.

 He’s near the edge when he asks, breathless and wanton, “Promise me I’m the only one.  The only one who does this to you.”

 Even if Scorpius were not the only one I will allow inside me, nobody could ever fuck me the way he does. I am certain of this, right down to my bones, when I answer, “Only you.  I promise, only you.”

 I don’t have to ask him to reciprocate.  It had always been part of the terms of our open relationship.  But he reminds me anyway because it’s so bloody romantic and we both know it.  “You’re the only one I’ll fuck, Albie.  The only one I’ll make love to.  You’re mine.” His hand is on my throat, carefully closing upon it without delivering too much pressure. And I know it is his way of asserting, if only just for his own peace of mind, that I belong to him.

 As he delivers his final thrusts, he repeats between panting breaths, “Mine.  You’re mine, Albus.  Mine.” He comes with a strangled cry that is in perfect harmony with my own.  And when he collapses on top of me, I can hear his barely audible whisper brushing hotly over my heaving chest, each word a pained, quiet breath.  “Mine… Mine… Mine…”

  We’ve managed to disengage from one another to clean ourselves up.  In the aftermath of mind-blowing sex, we’ve both made a hot mess of the king-sized hotel room bed.  I make visual confirmation that I had indeed been bleeding on the sheets and I swiftly try to hide the evidence while reaching for my wand to perform a quick cleaning charm.  But Scorpius catches on and the expression on his face is completely broken.

 “Oh, Albie, I’m so sorry,” he sighs as he swallows me up in an all-encompassing embrace.  He whispers into my hair, “Why do you let me do that to you?  You’re not supposed to bleed.”

 “Because I love you,” I whimper.  My eyes get misty because I feel like I’ve disappointed him somehow.

 “No,” he whines insistently, “No, no, no.”  He clutches me more firmly, as if he could hug the pain away, which I am only now feeling since the adrenaline has been flushed away.  “I don’t want to hurt you.  You can’t let me hurt you, Al.  You’ve got to tell me to stop when I’m hurting you because I honestly didn’t know.”

 Something inside me crumbles and collapses.  The façade I’d been putting up shatters and I can hardly keep myself from going limp in Scorpius’ arms.

 I pull back slightly so that our eyes can meet.  “Then stop.” The tears fall hotly along my still-reddened cheeks.  “You’re hurting me, and I want you to stop.”

 The furrow between Scorpius’ brow deepens with anguish and confusion.

 “I know I’m the one that suggested we have an open relationship,” I explain, “I wanted you to be free while I was gone.  I thought it would be unfair for me to make you wait.  But I can’t take it.”  I put my hand on his chest and I let out a shuddering exhale.  “It hurts.”

 He pulls me back in and I sob quietly against his chest as he holds me.  “It hurts so much, Scor.  I want you to stop.  I think about you with Lorcan and it makes me want to die,” I lament, my voice pained and weak.

 “Albie… My Albie…,” he says as he gently tangles his fingers in the back of my hair.  He admits softly, “It hurts me too.”

 “So why are you doing it? What are you even getting out of it?” I don’t mean to be belligerent, but it’s all coming out now and I can’t stop it.  “He won’t even fucking kiss you or get you off.  What the Hell is that about?  Why do you even bother?”

 “Why?” the tone of his voice rises and his fingers stop plying my hair.  “Why?” he repeats and pulls out of the hug to glare at me incredulously.  “Because I’ve never spent more than two weeks away from you in all the time I’ve known you. Because I should be sharing my last year at Hogwarts with you, but you’re not there.  Because I go to bed every night without you, next to your empty bed, and I wake up alone. Because I’d go fucking insane if I didn’t have Lorcan’s prick up my arse to distract me from how badly it fucking hurts to be without you.”

 He’s crying now and it’s killing me.  I hold his head in my hands and press my forehead to his.  “I’m sorry,” I breathe out.  “This is stupid.  Let’s stop hurting each other.”

 “Please,” he insists, however his voice is ragged and faint.  “Come back.”

 I sigh and stare up at the ceiling feeling helpless.  “I can’t. I’m under contract.”  I know it’s a cold and awful thing to say, even if it is true.

 “Fuck your contract, Albie. I need you.”  He folds an arm around the back of my neck and I can feel his tears dripping on the back of my shoulder.  It makes me shiver all the way down to my soul.

 Then it hits me.  The revelation is so logical that I feel like a complete arse for not thinking of it before I left for tour.  “The contract.  Oh my gods, the rider.  I’m entitled to a personal assistant.  I didn’t put it in the contract – my manager did.  I didn’t hire one because I thought it was stupid – I’m just the opening act, for fucks sake - and I didn’t want some muggle to be all up in my business anyway. But you – you, Scor – you’re perfect for the job.”

 His eyes begin to light up and the corner of his mouth quirks with amusement.  “You’re going to hire me?  To do what?  Bring you coffee?  Pick up your laundry?”

 “No,” I giggle.  “I mean, I will hire you.  But you’re not going to do shit – other than be my boyfriend and go on tour with me.”

 He raises his brow dubiously.  “And what about school?”

 “You can always go back and finish later.  Your dad donated so much money to Hogwarts, you could probably go for another four years if you wanted.”

 “And what makes you think my father would even let me leave school halfway through the year and run away with you and your band?” he asks, quirking a skeptical brow.

 “Oh, I’d never assume that,” I say, grinning wryly, “But I know you, Scor.  And you’ve never done only what your father lets you do.”

 We’re both smirking impishly now and giggling like schoolboys, because, well, we are schoolboys.

 “I always did want to leave school with a bang.  What better way to do that than to ditch the place for my rockstar boyfriend?”

 He kisses me, and I taste the sweet promise of tomorrow on his smiling lips.  I don’t have to, but I commit it to memory anyway.  It will probably make a good song, after all.

[Read the rest of the story HERE]