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It’s bullshit, being in love with your best friend.
I’m not saying that Scorpius is bullshit, the exact opposite in fact.
But the feeling of being in love with him? Absolutely disgusting.
It would be fine on its own if it weren’t for the subsequent impeding sense of doom that can only come from fantasising about someone so painfully out of reach; he’s hopelessly love with my cousin, Rose. Who is a girl, and smart, and nothing like me.
I’m screwed.
I bite into a piece of toast. I must look angrier than I feel because a first-year looks proper scared when she glances at me. I take another bite, making it more savage than before. She looks away. Mission accomplished.
Scorpius is engrossed in his book across for me. I stare at him as I always do. It’s unfair just how good he looks. Who gave him the right to look that good so early in the morning? Mornings are supposed to be a reprieve from the unjust societal expectation to look groomed and acceptable. But Scorpius wakes up like that. Maybe not groomed—he does have a serious case of bed hair in the morning, but everything else? He’s perfect. His skin is flawless, he somehow never gets food stuck in his teeth and he makes the sleep in his eyes look endearing instead of distasteful.
I bite angrily at my toast again.
Scorpius looks up this time with his impossibly blue eyes and raises both eyebrows at me (I know he’s attempting to raise only one like his father but, bless him, he doesn’t have the facial muscles for it).
“The toast really got on your nerves today, huh?" he says.
“Yeah, it was asking for it,” I mutter and take another chomp at it. I look down. Pity. I have at most two more bites to use for the dramatics.
“You nervous for Potions today then?”
Curse Scorpius and his kindness. Bless them, actually. But he’s spot on.
I am. I’m incredibly nervous. But not for the reason Scorpius thinks. We’re supposed to be brewing a potion today for a test. Amortentia: the infamous love potion.
Scorpius thinks I’m nervous because I’m rubbish at potions.
I’m nervous because of what it will surely confirm.
I’m nervous because Scorpius will ask me what it smells like for me.
I’m nervous because I can’t lie to him.
His adorable inquisitiveness will be my downfall because it is utterly impossible for me to lie to him. I can ignore his question, or answer it with another question, or answer a completely unrelated question, but I cannot directly lie to him.
“Yeah, just a bit,” I say, because it’s not a complete lie.
Scorpius smiles, and I swear, sometimes he’s doing it on purpose to give me a heart attack. But of course, he isn’t—he cried once when he accidentally killed a fly. I was glad for it—the bugger was loud and kept buzzing around my ear—but I wasn’t glad for his tears (even though I was because it meant I could hold him in comfort. Isn’t that fucked up?)
“You’ll do great,” he says. “I know how much you studied for it.”
I eat the rest of my toast, disappointed to see the first-year girl is absent to witness it.
“I know,” I say before wiping the crumbs off the corner of my mouth and onto my jeans, “best we be off then?”
Scorpius nods, and closes his book in an enthusiastic snap.
“It’s really quite exciting, isn’t it?” he says, leaning in real close to me as he always does when he’s excited. “Getting to know what smell attracts us most? I bet mine will smell of honey,” he says, dreamily.
Despite myself, my stomach drops. Rose’s signature scent is honey. Not that I want to know that, but it’s hard not to when Scorpius rants about it all the time. Of course, Scorpius’ Amortentia will smell of her. I don’t know why Scorpius is even bothering to discuss it, it’s so obvious. He rants about her enough that the whole school knows his infatuation. Sadly, it’s how he’s most known by after Draco Malfoy’s son. Rose Weasley’s stalker.
He’s not a stalker, but that doesn’t stop people talking.
I hate that it doesn’t stop Rose talking either.
“Yeah… terribly exciting,” I say.
“Cheer up, Albus. It won’t be so bad.”
I truly hope so.
~
The Amortentia smells exactly as I thought it would.
It smells like Scorpius’ laundry detergent, it smells like his sweets, it smells like the perfume he puts in his hair. It’s Scorpius to a T.
I hate it. I hate that I want to bottle it up and keep it, just so I can use it as a reminder when Scorpius is away for holidays. I hate that I sneaked a bottle pre-emptively into my robe pocket for this exact occasion.
I sniff at the potion again, and it makes me feel light-headed. It’s Scorpius alright, but more pungent, almost sickeningly. It’s addictive.
I look up to see if anyone is making fun of me for practically burying my nose in the cauldron, but no one is. Everyone looks equally delirious with their prospective scents, eyes dazed, and skin flushed.
I turn to Scorpius. He has a similar look on his face—he’s definitely flushed. But there’s a line in between his eyebrows that only people like me would notice. (People like me makes up of myself and Mr. Malfoy—the only two people who love him. I hate the world for that). He keeps taking deep inhales of his cauldron and not taking the time to exhale. He’s going to pass out at this rate.
“Hey Scor, remember to breathe properly alright?”
His eyes break away from the Amortentia and we lock gazes.
“D’you think we might have messed up a bit?” he squeaks, voice high. He still hasn’t released a breath.
I frown. Definitely not. The potion smells exactly of Scorpius. It couldn’t have been made more perfectly.
“Nah, don’t think so,” I say.
That mustn’t be the answer Scorpius was looking for because he inhales sharply again, and his eyes widen into a panicked expression that means he’s mere moments away from breaking apart.
I try to steady him by putting my hand on his shoulder, the way I always do when he’s like this.
But he flinches out of my grasp. My hand is left hanging in the air where his shoulder used to be. We both stare at each other, both shocked.
“We did mess up. We must’ve,” he nearly whimpers.
I ignore the sudden racing of my heart.
“We could ask the professor?” I suggest, even though I already know the answer.
It’s the right call though because Scorpius releases his breath and nods. Thank Merlin, with how red he was getting I was concerned he’d pass out at any second.
I raise my hand and the professor makes her way over.
“You alright, you two?” She peers into the potion before we can say a word and whistles, impressed. “Excellent work boys, spot on potion you got there.”
Scorpius’ face drains of all colour until he’s as white as a sheet. With how rapidly he can change colours, I reckon he’d make a great Christmas light.
“R-Really, professor,” he says. It’s not a question, pure fear.
“Yep,” she responds. I usually like how casual she is, but now I wonder how much of that is just pure carelessness. She doesn’t seem to notice Scorpius’ state of panic at all.
As soon as she moves away, I round onto him.
“What the hell has got you so worked up? We aced the potion.”
Scorpius’ chest heaves as he gulps in a breath. His eyes don’t meet mine when he speaks, “Nothing! Nothing at all! Just not what I expected, is all!”
I narrow my eyes at him. I thought I’d be the one being interrogated here, not the interrogator.
“What, it’s not Rose enough for you?” I try to sound casual but, inside, my body is wreaking havoc.
Scorpius turns red again. “Kinda? I mean, yeah. It’s not Rose, per se. But it’s not like it’s a bad thing, just not completely sure what it is and, er, I just don’t know—”
I save Scorpius by interrupting, “Okay, okay. You need to stop rambling.”
Scorpius nods and gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing distractingly. It’s a welcome distraction. There’s something eerily similar to hope growing in my chest, and the sooner I forget about it and squash it out of existence, the better.
“It’s not Rose,” he says, and I look into his eyes. They’re weirdly determined.
“So what does it smell like?” I ask, my heart thundering in my ears.
“Don’t know yet. Only, it’s not Rose.”
“Why all the panic then?” I smirk, even though it’s dangerously bordering on a smile. If Scorpius’ potion doesn’t smell of Rose, does that mean that he’s not really in love with her? And if that’s true, what does it mean for me? I’m not deluded enough to believe that Scorpius has some repressed crush on me (even though my brain is fantasising about that exact scenario this second against my will), but him not liking Rose is infinitely better than him liking her. If only because it stops the nearly crippling jealousy I’ve had for years. Maybe we could actually be friends again.
“Er, not quite sure. Just wasn’t expecting it, I think?” Scorpius replies.
His shoulders are almost hunched up to his ears, so I know there’s more he isn't telling me. But so long as he’s not asking me questions about what the potion smells like for me, I’ll let him off the hook.
I should’ve known better.
The second we escape the fume filled classroom, he turns to me with a smile so innocent, I let my guard down.
“What’d you smell?” he asks.
I panic. “Er, dunno. Normal stuff?”
Scorpius laughs and I would appreciate it more if I weren’t currently dying.
“Normal stuff?” he repeats, the most mocking he can, which is not very.
I cough into my fist. Be casual, Albus. “Yeah, nothing too special. Just stuff I smell all the time.”
It’s not a lie, and I wish to whatever deity that exists that he won’t ask any more questions.
The universe has never been known to favour my wishes.
Scorpius cocks his head, his eyes wide and curious. His mouth is doing that kinda stupid open-mouth thing it does when he’s really invested in something. Like a rom-com. “So… what you find most appealing is… stuff you smell all the time? What does that even mean?”
Scorpius is confused, as if I’m speaking rubbish. Makes sense, I am.
“Yeah… just stuff I’m around a lot. I dunno how else to explain it.”
Scorpius nods as though he gets it even though he obviously doesn’t and changes the topic. I’ve never been so grateful for his short attention span.
“You finished the essay on Goblin Rebellions, yeah? Do you think Professor Binns will makes us…”
~
I forget about Amortentia for a while, and I must admit, it's a swimmingly good time while it lasts.
We get our marks back for it. Both Scorpius and I receive Outstandings, and that's it.
No more talks of Amortentia.
No more talks about what I find most appealing.
It's paradise.
It ends up being Scorpius, the person I least want to talk about it with, who brings it up again.
It’s pouring outside and we’re in our dorms doing fuck all. I’m lying in bed trying to transfigure a sock into a snake, because I’ve reached that level of boredom, and Scorpius is taking advantage of the fact that our dormmates aren’t here to rant about Rose again.
It’s always about the same things. Her intelligence, her talent, her beautiful smile (though I know for a fact that he mustn’t see it often; maybe that’s what makes it so special, similar to a unicorn spotting).
I’m only half listening, because hearing him wax poetic about my cousin isn’t exactly my favourite past time. I make sure to hum sporadically and add in the odd ‘really?’ when I notice his pitch getting high, to play a convincing listener.
But then I hear the word ‘Amortentia’ and all my attention is on him.
“…I think I’ve figured it out” he finishes.
“What?” I say, heart thudding, because I didn’t hear the start of his sentence.
“The smell of my Amortentia. I think I’ve figured it out.”
My voice comes out as a crack, “Really?”
“Yeah,” he says. And then his feet are padding across the floor, and I feel the side of my bed creak from his weight as he sits on it.
It takes a lot of effort to look away from my poor excuse of a snake to Scorpius.
His face is adorably serious. His eyebrows are scrunched slightly, and he’s biting his bottom lip. I want to kiss it.
“Do you wanna know what it is?” he asks. His voice is serious too. Low and almost raspy. It’s not good for my blood pressure.
“I mean… sure,” I say, instead of enthusiastically screaming yes like I want to.
He doesn’t say anything. He just continues to bite his lip, and it’s killing me. Both the silence and the lip-biting. I feel like we’re on the precipice of something, but I don’t know what exactly. I’m not letting myself think about it.
His voice is a whisper when he finally speaks, so quiet I almost don’t hear it.
“You.”
“What?” I say, even though I know exactly what he said.
He said ‘you’ as in me. And, if I haven’t completely misread the conversation, it means I’m what he smells in his Armotentia.
My brain shuts down, struggling to comprehend anything as Scorpius continues.
“At first I couldn’t put my finger on it,” he rambles, rapid fast, as though stopping for a second will set off a stink bomb, “I was like, this is not Rose. If it was Rose it would smell sweet, like honey, or flowers, or that moisturiser she uses. But the potion wasn’t sweet at all, and that confused me. I mean, I’ve been obsessed with her for so long, and it doesn’t smell of her? Bloody weird. But what was more confusing was how sure I was that it smelt of someone I knew. But I thought, I’ve liked Rose exclusively for years, who could it be? And when I figured it out… I admit I freaked out a bit. This entire thought process was in the span of ten seconds by the way. In class. I freaked out right in the middle of Potions because I thought I didn't like girls.”
He takes a breath and looks into my eyes. I feel pinned by that gaze.
“And then I realised—only a few days ago—that I do like girls. But I also like boys. Or at least… a boy.”
I inhale so sharply it sounds like a hiss.
This can’t be happening.
It’s like someone has taken my deepest and most desired daydreams and extracted them, brought them into reality and presented them to me on a silver platter just to fuck with me.
But Scorpius is so brutally him when he next speaks that I know it’s not a fantasy.
“Albus, I like you.”
It’s the final blow. A spear that goes right into my heart.
“Uh,” is all I can say. Because my brain is not functioning.
I never prepared for this. I never thought this would happen. I never even considered the possibility that Scorpius could like me. But the joyous and logical part of my brain points out how much sense it makes, how much it explains the sheer panic in Scorpius’ eyes that day in Potions.
“Please say something, Albus,” Scorpius says, and I realise how terrifying this must be for him. How badly he could be interpreting my silence.
“Just give me a sec, I—” A laugh escapes me without my permission. “I’m shocked, is all.”
Scorpius’ face crumples slightly, and that’s the exact opposite of what I intended so I quickly continue. “In a good way. I’m definitely shocked in a good way.”
Scorpius freezes, his jaw dropping for a second before giving way to a brilliant grin.
“Yeah? How good?”
I’ve never seen him like this. Or, I have. But only around Rose. Playful in a hopelessly enamoured way. Dopey.
I love him.
A smile escapes me as I say, “Extremely good. I… you’ve meant a lot to me for longer than you could ever know.”
I’m sort of surprised by my own confession, but I can’t really blame myself. I’m on cloud nine and nothing could bring me down right now. Not even embarrassing confessions.
His fingers twitch in his lap, as though Scorpius and his hand are battling for control, before he seizes forward, grabs my hand, and entwines our fingers together.
His fingers are clammy. I never want to let go.
Scorpius keeps staring at me, and it’s making me feel itchy. All this attention would make me want to crawl out of my skin if it weren’t him giving it to me. Instead, I stare back and let it overwhelm me.
“When you say I’ve meant a lot to you,” he whispers, “do you mean what I think it means?”
“What do you think it means?” I ask, because I’m happy, because I want to make him squirm a bit, because I’m used to answering his questions with more questions.
“You like me too? As in like like. Not friend like. Er…” he trails off, not letting himself speak any further.
I grin, completely unable to hold back anymore. I know he likes me, how could I do anything else?
I keep our hands locked together but I use my free hand to wind around the back of his neck and pull him close to me. Our faces are only inches apart now and I can count each of his eyelashes.
Scorpius gasps in surprise, and his breath fans across my lips.
I grin harder.
“Just getting it, are you?” I say before I press my mouth against his. It’s clumsy, and messy, and absolutely everything I ever dreamed off. It’s a short closed-mouth kiss but when we break apart we’re as breathless as though we’d made out for hours.
Scorpius is grinning too, and I stare at his lips, unable to believe that I actually had the honour to touch them. To kiss them.
“Please say it,” he says. He’s still smiling, but I can see it—a minute but lingering worry in eyes. “I need to hear it.”
“What? That I like you?” I ask, pulling him close again.
Scorpius nods.
“I like you, so much that we have more in common than you think,” I say.
His voice is shaky. “What does that mean?”
“My Amortentia smells of you too.”
His lights up like a Christmas tree, and I don’t hesitate to kiss his temples where his eyes crease like I’ve always wanted to.
He doesn’t let go of my hand, and I don’t let go of his. The sock snake lies forgotten next to us.
It’s brilliant, being in love with your best friend.