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Chapter Text

“Unidentified male, age thirties or forties, no identification or personal items. Clothes and jewelry intact, including what looks to be several rings on both hands. No obvious signs of magical trauma. Autopsy will be required to identify the cause of death. Markings on hands and wrists may indicate some defensive wounds,” lead auror, Artemis Randall, dictates into the enchanted quill and notepad floating near her left shoulder while she examines the body of a well-dressed man, cold as ice after spending a spiteful night in the Thames.

She walks around the body again slowly, examining the scene, assessing the details once again.

 “No wand present. We’ll have to get him back to the autopsy chambers to take biological samples. Pearlsteen, send a message to have the trainees start pulling missing persons reports from the last forty-eight hours,” Randall barks sharply. 

Jonah Pearlsteen had been accepted to the auror program directly out of Hogwarts. In the past nine years he had seen his fair share of dead bodies, many more gruesome than the last. However, the aforementioned crime scenes had never included someone he knew.

“Don’t bother, it’s Sebastien Perrot,” he says, sighing heavily.

“How do you know that?” asks a trainee auror, a wide-eyed twenty-year old named Nora Cosgrove.

“Pearlsteen knows everyone, especially the ones with money. Don’t you know he’s a high society type just slumming it with the aurors? But yea, even I recognize him from the papers,” says the other trainee, Lawrence Proudfoot.

“That gazillionaire real-estate developer? Holy hippogriffs, the press is going to have a field day with that. Let’s get him out of here before Romilda Vane shows up and starts sniffing around,” Randall remarks again. 

The auror team uses their wands to carefully wrap the man’s corpse in a protective shroud and move it to an enchanted trunk to be sent via portkey back to the ministry’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement. 

3 Months Earlier

Albus Potter is usually a mild-mannered young man. In fact, of all the Potter-Weasley children, he is the least temperamental and least likely to fall into dramatic antics. His mother, Ginny, had always said he was the easiest baby, calm and well-behaved, never fussy. Someone had to be even-keeled in his household of James ‘always the center of attention’ Potter and Lily ‘drama queen in-waiting’ Potter and so as the middle child, Albus was a natural mediator.

It was hardly a surprise when he pursued magical law as a career. People always imagined law as full of high-stakes courtroom drama and pompous speeches, when in reality it required a logical mind and even-temper. Good lawyers could understand both sides of an argument. They could anticipate their opponent’s arguments and be ready to counterstrike, like a chess match, a game at which Albus rather excelled. In fact, he was the only one in his extended family that stood a chance against his Uncle Ron. 

His innately diplomatic tendencies made him a natural fit when he apprenticed at the International Confederation of the Wizengamot after finishing his magical law course. He had thrived in the political environment. Everyone angled for their own interests, with no one interested in compromising. Who will get the more favorable end of raw materials trade negotiations between magical Amazonian tribes, the Brazilian ministry and the joint European wizarding ministries? Which ministry governs conflicts between centaur colonies that live in the Pyrenees along the French-Spanish border? 

The conversations rather reminded Albus of childhood negotiations at the Burrow or the Potter’s family home Iolanthe House. Who gets to be captain for quidditch in the garden? Who has to de-gnome the vegetable patch? Who has to organize Grandad’s shed? Though chores at the Burrow were always a zero-sum game so he wasn’t sure why they bothered to fight about it. 

Nevertheless, Albus was always able to maintain a clear-head, a natural peace-maker, amongst a cadre of quick-tempered Weasleys and arrogant, high-powered ministry officials alike.

Perhaps that is why Albus is not surprised when he feels his younger sister tug at his elbow, spinning him around to look at her, her emerald eyes wild.

“Al, you have to save me! Please, Christopher Hardwick is stalking me.”

“Lily, aren’t we a bit old to be dodging ex-boyfriends in ballrooms?” Albus asks, eyebrows raised.

“He was never my boyfriend for Merlin’s sake,” she insists, with a dramatic toss of her famous auburn hair, “We had some drinks and a quick snog a few times, and, well, okay there might have been one teeny shag, but that was it!”

Albus spots Christopher frantically searching around the ballroom, no doubt for the pretty redhead. At twenty-four, Lily is well aware of the power of her famous beauty and coupled it with a flirtatious personality that left her trail of discarded boyfriends still dreaming about her.

“Maybe you should have told him that?”

“I did!”

“You explicitly told him that you never want to snog him again?” Albus asks doubtfully.

“Well, not in so many words. I may need a lawyer one day. We Potters have a penchant for trouble after all.”

“I’m a lawyer,” Albus says pointedly.

Lily waves a manicured hand dismissively, her gold bracelets jangling melodically, “He wrote me a limerick. He rhymed Lily with ‘you make my insides go silly’. Not a single bawdy rhyme either. If it’s not a dirty limerick then what’s even the point?”

Albus rolls his eyes,  “Come on then, no better place to hide than in plain sight.”

He leads his sister to the crowded dance floor, placing one hand on her waist and taking her right hand in his left.

“He was such an insufferable bore, Al. He went on and on about torts and magistrates and Wizengamot, blah,” Lily says as they waltz.

“Again, Lily, I’m a lawyer,” Albus replies.

“Of course you are, Albus. It’s just so easy to forget when you’ve been away all these years,” Lily says, twirling gracefully as Albus spins her, “Did I mention that I’m happy your back?”

Albus rolls his eyes, “More than once, but it’s nice to hear all the same.”

As the song ends, Lily’s friend Delilah rushes towards her in a flurry of blonde hair and blue silk.

“Potters, I desperately need a drink. I just danced with Zacharias Smith, Jr.,” she says with a pout of her full pink lips. 

“Do you think the two of you could stop men from falling in love with you for one night?” Albus asks sarcastically. 

Delilah ignores Albus taking Lily’s elbow and leading the three of them towards the bar. 

The Fancourt’s Summer Solstice Ball is always terribly formal and signals the start of the social season, the familiar rhythm of gathering in ballrooms or manor homes thrice weekly from June through August and typically concluding with The Potter Family Foundation Festival, a much less formal event hosted by Albus’s parents in August. Between his sister’s antics and the familiar faces of sparkling people in sparkling outfits, Albus feels seventeen again. Despite the fact that Albus has very purposefully spent the last ten years away. 

Albus sighs, then spots his best mate, Noah Pearlsteen, standing by the bar. He walks over to join him.

“Firewhiskey on the rocks,” he orders quickly from the bartender.

“Did you see Sebastien Perrot?” Noah asks, gesturing to the ballroom entrance.

Albus’s eyes follow to see a handsome gentleman in well-cut black dress robes. He is impossible to miss. His presence demands attention with a strong, square jaw, perfectly coiffed, silver-tipped brown hair, and a haughty amber-colored gaze.

“What is he doing here? He hasn’t shown his face in London in years,” Albus remarks, taking a small sip of his firewhiskey. 

“Seventeen years to be specific,” says a pretty redhead, sidling up to Noah.

“Counting down the days until his return,” Albus teases his cousin, Lucy. 

“Please, I simply make it my business to know these things,” replies Lucy, draping her arms around Noah’s neck. 

Noah pulls his wife closer and kisses her softly on the lips. Albus cannot help feeling envious of their casual intimacy.

“Oh speaking of which, I have an excellent bit of gossip. You know Sienna Smythson, that horrid blonde that was the same year as James. Well, guess what she is up to now?” Lucy says, her soft brown eyes lighting up excitedly.

“Darling, we don’t care. But it doesn’t matter since I’m sure you’re going to tell us anyway,” Noah says.

Lucy ignores him, “Apparently she’s pregnant. Bound to happen sooner or later, of course so that’s not really news. But the potential father list is outrageous: Gaspard Garrel, a married Beauxbatons professor, Michael Tyler, the unfortunate-looking Interior Minister with bad skin, and her family’s groundskeeper, who is actually quite attractive. Oh but don’t tell anyone, she doesn't want anyone to know she’s up the duff until she gets a paternity test.”

“You’re a terrible gossip,” Noah says, though the way he is stroking her voluminous red hair indicates it doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

“Gossip finds me,” Lucy insists, “I saw the poor girl crying in the loo. A bit early in the night for that, mind you. But, she blurted out the whole story to me.”

“Alright then, since it seems you really do know everything about everyone, why is Sebastien Perrot in England?” Albus asks.

“Well as you know, he was living quite well in Vienna. Plenty of money, glamorous holidays, pretty young men and women at his side, etcetera, etcetera. But apparently he had a falling out with his business partner.”

“I didn’t hear anything about that,” says Noah, suddenly curious. His family’s storied real estate development company Pearlsteen International was a rival of the Vogel-Perrot Group.

“Well you wouldn’t, love, because it wasn’t exactly business related. Apparently, Josef Vogel caught Perrot in a little dalliance with his wife. Anyway, you’ll be interested to know Perrot is about to sell off many of his continental assets and open up his own firm here in London.”

“Darling, you are pure genius,” says Noah, foreseeing a multi-million galleon acquisition in his very near future now that he knew of Perrot’s business troubles.  

“Don’t ever forget it,” Lucy responds with a sardonic smile.

“Noah, it looks like you’re going to be fighting for his attention for a while,” Albus says, raising his nearly empty glass towards half a dozen women circling around Sebastien Perrot like sharks catching the scent of blood in the water. 

“Clearly, they know about the six houses, two yachts and his status as the richest wizard in Europe under fifty,” says Lily, rejoining the conversation with a champagne coupe in hand.

“Yes, but why do you know what?” Albus asks, brows raised in accusation.

Lily exchanges a look with Delilah and laughs but doesn’t respond.

“How old is he anyway?” asks Noah.

“Forty-eight,” Lily, Delilah and Lucy respond in unison.  

“You’re ridiculous, all of you,” Albus says with an incredulous laugh. 

“He is handsome,” Lily says, smiling flirtatiously at Perrot across the ballroom.

“Yes and much too old for you,” Albus remarks, “Is there really no other man here you might be interested in? Not that I’m encouraging these things, but almost everyone is more appropriate than Sebastien Perrot.”

Lily is about to respond but is interrupted by a shaky voice from behind.

“Um, Lily, wo- would you like to dance?” 

She turns to see Dev Kashmiri, a sweet, slightly awkward young man who had played quidditch with her oldest brother James back at Hogwarts and had been one of Lily’s many admirers.

Lily gives him a gracious smile before following him out to the dance floor, her silver silk gown trailing behind her. Still, she looks back at Delilah, Albus, Noah and Lucy with a grimace.

“Come on Lucy, let’s dance before some bloke tries to whisk you away from me too,“ says Noah, slipping an arm around her narrow waist and steering her towards the dance floor. She kisses him sweetly on the cheek as they walk away. 

“One day, I’ll be in love like them,” Delilah says with a smile. 

“Noah and Lucy? Yeah, they’re pretty perfect together. I introduced them, you know,” Albus says.

“In Positano, I was there, remember?” Delilah says with a nod, “Come on, let’s go see what there is to eat. I heard the chef for tonight is supposed to be the next big thing in Wizarding London. Lucy knows who it is, of course, but she said she was sworn to secrecy. Apparently, he’ll be opening a restaurant with Noah later this year.”

“He’s off to an auspicious start catering the Fancourts ball. They almost always hire the most prestigious French-trained chefs,” Albus replies.

Delilah takes Albus’s proffered elbow and they make their way to the great room.

“So no one special fills your dance card tonight?” Albus asks his sister’s best friend.

Delilah laughs and shakes her head, “I’m sure you must have heard that Alistair Chang and I ended things.”

“Lily told me. I’m sorry, it must have been hard,” Albus replies, green eyes sympathetic.

“Oh you can fall out of love with someone pretty quickly when you realize how little they bother to believe in your dreams. He couldn’t care less about my job at the museum and he thought fashion was a nice hobby, but he had little patience for it. Always believed his stupid arithmancy equations were Godric’s gift. Tell me when was the last time anyone looked at arithmancy equations and felt moved to tears or smiled with joy.”

“Sounds like you made the right decision. Your work is quite amazing.”

“Thank you,” she replies sincerely, “You know I had a massive crush on you growing up.”

“I always wondered what happened there. I’m surprised you never fancied James. And did I grow up to be a massive troll or something?” Albus asks, jokingly. 

Delilah laughs, “Hardly, all you Potters are more beautiful than anyone has a right to be. But quidditch players? No thanks, it’s all broomsticks and balls with them and not the good kind. Truth be told, I started taking divination in my third year and fell in love with Professor Firenze. Thirteen year old me desperately wanted to run wild in the Forbidden Forest whilst wearing a flower crown surrounded by little centaur foals.”

“I suppose losing out to a shirtless centaur with perfect abs makes much more sense. Merlin knows I had my own adolescent dreams about him back at school,” Albus laughs.

They enter the great room where the food is being served buffet style. The large dining table is laden with silver platters of miso-glazed cod, ginger-braised English peas, vibrant salads bejeweled with pomegranate seeds, and fragrant sesame rice. 

“Well, if it tastes as good as it looks, I think we are in for a treat,” Delilah says, taking a porcelain dish from the far end of the table. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Albus says, taking his own plate.

From across the massive room, Albus hears a server ask, “Chef, when would you like us to start setting out pudding?”

Albus, curious now about the chef with the sterling reputation, looks up and follows the sound of the voice.

He breathes in sharply, nearly dropping his plate in the process when he sees the trademark white blond hair and cool gray eyes.

He closes his eyes and the moments flash before him. Soft lips pressing together, wondering, asking, exploring. Long, sunkissed limbs twisted in bedsheets, slicked with sweat.

The sound of glass shattering as a server drops a tray slingshots Albus back to the present moment. Albus is certain that the champagne coupes won’t be the last thing to break tonight as his green eyes lock onto a face he hasn’t seen in years. He opens his eyes, hoping they have deceived him. But no, he’s not mistaken. Once again, he sees him.

Scorpius fucking Malfoy.

Chapter Text

Albus’s Gryffindor courage fails him in every possible way. He wants to flee, but suddenly feels rooted to the spot as Scorpius Malfoy walks towards him. 

“Albus Potter,” Scorpius says with a warm smile.

“Scorpius!” Delilah trills next to him, “You are the much acclaimed chef for the fête of the year? Why didn’t you say anything when we had dinner with Astra last month?”

“Forgive me, I wanted it to be a surprise,” he says, leaning forward to hug Delilah tightly.  

Delilah prods Albus gently and Albus realizes he’s standing there staring at Scorpius, his mouth agape like a grindylow.

“Scorpius,” Albus says with a nod, “It’s nice to see you. Congratulations on the party.”

Scorpius’s eyes flicker towards the polished marble floor and back up again, “It’s nice to see you. I don’t think I’ve seen you since you left England.” 

“You left first,” Albus says in a tone he hopes is nonchalant.

Scorpius quirks his brow. Perhaps not so nonchalant then.

Scorpius bites his lip as his eyes scan Albus shyly,“You’ve been away longer. You look well.”

Albus hates when people you hadn’t seen for a long time complimented you on looking well. As if it was unexpected. As if you would simply stop bathing now that you were no longer in their presence.

Nevertheless, Albus takes the opportunity to look over Scorpius too. Back at school, he had been a lean and rangy teenager, like someone had placed an extension charm on him until he was simply angles and elbows. Now, the high cheekbones and sharp jawline are fuller in a pleasant way and complemented by his broad shoulders and muscled forearms. His signature white-blond hair is shorter on the sides and longer on the top drawing attention to his soft gray eyes. All the familiar bits are there and yet Albus cannot help but notice a confidence and sense of self that has made him annoyingly even more attractive. And is that a tattoo peeking out from his shirtsleeves?

Albus clears his throat, “As do you. Delilah says you’re going to open a restaurant soon?”

Scorpius is about to respond, but they are interrupted by a deep baritone of a voice.

“Excuse me, it’s Mr. Potter, is it not?” asks the unmistakable Sebastien Perrot, “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Behind Perrot, Scorpius scoffs in disbelief.

“Please, call me Albus.”

“Albus,” Perrot repeats, his voice like honey as his amber eyes scan over Albus in a manner that makes his intentions all too clear.

A hot blush creeps up Albus’s neck under the handsome older man’s gaze.

“Yes, and I’m Scorpius Malfoy,” Scorpius interrupts clumsily, thrusting a hand towards Perrot and forcing his attention away from Albus.

“Very nice to meet you,” Perrot says politely, shaking his hand with easy confidence.

Except, Scorpius notices that Perrot’s eyes barely flicker towards him and away from Albus.  He does not at all appreciate the way Perrot is looking at Albus like a ripe piece of fruit he very much wants to eat. He rather thought people of Perrot’s stature were raised to be more gentlemanly.

Scorpius is so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice Perrot escorting Albus back towards the ballroom until it is too late. He vaguely wonders if he should somehow interrupt them, but Scorpius has work to do and Albus is laughing and smiling brightly in an easy manner, a sharp contrast to their stilted conversation. Clearly, the handsome and charismatic Albus Potter isn’t missing Scorpius Malfoy. 

“Albus Potter, the young diplomat with the sterling reputation and famous last name,” Perrot says with a teasing smile as he leads Albus back towards the ballroom. He grabs two coupes of champagne from a passing waiter and Albus nods his thanks as he takes the glass. 

“You seem to know more about me than I do about you,” Albus says, standing up just a bit straighter as he feels Perrot’s hand graze his back.

“More’s the pity,” Perrot leans closer, “Tell me, how do you suppose we go about changing that?” 

Albus can feel the gaze of the party guests scrutinizing their body language. And he’s certain Perrot knew exactly what he was doing, drawing Albus into conversation at the edge of the crowded dance floor. 

“I imagine our paths will cross this summer,” Albus replies, holding Perrot’s gaze.

“In ballrooms and parlors. I confess, I don’t think that will be sufficient. But you’re in politics and I’m in business. We both know how to orchestrate events just so, don’t we?”

He smirks looking as though he might say more, but then his gaze shifts over Albus’s shoulder and he smiles warmly at someone.

“Perrot, I heard you were back in town!”

Albus recognizes the booming voice of their evening’s host, and CEO of Fancourt Enterprises, Kiell Fancourt.

Albus steps back from Perrot, and soon the businessman is whisked away, winking at Albus as he leaves.

Albus, alone in the ballroom now, sees Colette Wood dancing with her husband, a quidditch player named Heath Horncrest. Colette and Albus had dated a bit during their sixth year until Colette met Heath at an England National Team training camp through her father, Oliver Wood. It took Colette all of a week for her to declare him the love of her life and send Albus an owl from the training camp stating as much. Albus had shrugged it off. Who had time for young love whilst applying for graduate law studies and jockeying to be Head Boy? 

In another corner of the room is Dorian Whitehorn, of the famous Nimbus broom family, laughing with his husband Gerard, a French politician that Albus knows in passing. Dorian and Gerard fell in love in Ibiza just a week after Albus and Dorian had ended their on-again/off-again relationship. Albus was preparing to move to Tokyo to apprentice with the ICW after finishing his law degree in Paris. The breakup had been Albus’s idea. He couldn’t have any distractions when he was working sixty or seventy hours per week. Now, five years later, Dorian and Gerard were married with a newly adopted baby girl at home.

Albus doesn’t know how he always seemed to be the one before ‘the one’, but he is certain advertising himself as such in the backpage ads of Witch Weekly would make him a fortune. Then again, Albus knew his former lovers often deserved better than an ambitious lawyer, sleeping with his two-way mirror. Always working, always striving.

“So, how was it? Seeing Scorpius again?” Noah asks, appearing with Lucy near his elbow. 

‘You’re my best mate, you might have warned me.”

“That he is here tonight?”

“Not just that.”

Noah gives Albus a quizzical expression.

“The restaurant?”

“Oh so I should have mentioned that I’m in the early stages of a proposal to bid on the development of the unannounced Diagon Alley expansion, and that one of the dozens of businesses in that proposal may include a restaurant with a talented, but currently unknown chef who you had a summer fling with a decade ago?”

Albus smiles sheepishly into his champagne coupe, “Well- when you put it that way.”

Noah laughs, “Cheers, mate”

“So you and Perrot?” Lucy changes the subject with a conspiratorial smile.

“Is that a question?” Albus asks with a laugh.

“A mere inquiry, dear cousin. He seemed to show more than a passing interest.”

“I doubt he shows anyone more than a passing interest.”

“Did he ask to see you again?”

“I’m sure he was just trying to make a useful ministry contact.”

“That’s not what Delilah said.”

“Merlin, the whirlwind of gossip in a London ballroom is enough to make me dizzy. It’s a wonder more socialites aren’t recruited as spies.”

“Glad to be of service,” Lucy says with a mock salute, “Now, aren’t you happy to be home?”

Albus just shakes his head and takes a sip of champagne.

“Potter, how on earth you managed to convince those crackpots from MACUSA to drop the selkie hair clause from the new Transatlantic Free Trade Agreement I’ll never know, but good work,” his boss, Susan Bones says, striding down the corridor from the minister’s office to the lift. 

Albus, following quickly behind, says, “Thank you, madam.”

The department’s assistant, a fresh-faced young man with dreadlocks named Wilson Weatherby, smiles at Albus and leans over his desk eagerly, “You really got the Americans to drop selkie hair from the latest WATT draft?”

The Wizarding Agreement on Transatlantic Trade, better known as WATT is the largest piece of legislation that Albus had worked on yet during the three months he had been back in England in his role as Senior Counsel at the ministry’s Department of International Magical Cooperation. The trade deal governing Western Europe and the United States was an important part of the newly appointed minister’s platform.

Albus nods as he begins to file his notes from the most recent meeting with his aunt, the minister, “I told the President’s speechwriter that Minister Granger-Weasley would be willing to drop sasquatch hide from our import list if they dropped selkie hair.”

“But that’s preposterous. The minister would never dream of including sasquatch hide in our import list. The practice of sasquatch hunting is barbaric at best and Minister Granger-Weasley  is a creature’s right fiend,” Weatherby replies, face full of disbelief. 

‘Yes, well she’s only been minister for three months and her reputation outside the Second War isn’t well known in the States the way it is in Europe. The Americans are notorious for not reading the fine print, only the bottom line. Overall, this draft of the agreement is still favorable to their imports. The sasquatch hides from the Pacific Northwest of the States are highly coveted on the blackmarket and the MACUSA has been trying to find a way to regulate and capitalize on it for decades. Now we get one of Minister Granger-Weasley’s sticking points removed from the deal and we don’t give up anything.”

“That’s bloody brilliant, so you basically just lied to them?”

“Of course not. People hear what they want to hear. Had the sasquatch hide been in the draft we would have given it up. It just so happens that it wasn’t. As it is, the President is under pressure to get the bill signed before the MACUSA takes a summer recess in just forty-eight hours and they were ready to take the deal,” Albus says, sitting down at his desk in the shared office of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, “And timing is everything. Six months to a year from now when the minister is bringing forth her magical creature rights legislation to the International Confederation of Wizards there is no way we would be able to get away with this.”

“You don’t think the Americans will retaliate then when they realize they gave up something for nothing,” Weatherby replies.

“Not a chance. They are on the wrong side of history on the mermish rights issues and it will be embarrassing at best. Give it a couple years and it will seem as horrifying as the centuries of house-elf enslavement does now. Plus, they’ll just look greedy once they’re raking in the gold from the deals they negotiated with Portugal and Italy. Mind you, not that the Americans have ever worried about appearing greedy,” Albus says, brows raised as he uses his wand to scroll through the interdepartmental calendar on the wall below the clocks representing seemingly every time zone in the world.

“Merlin, no wonder they say you’re going to be minister someday,” Weatherby says wistfully.

Albus shakes his head, but is secretly pleased by the comment, “I’d rather not have that discussion.”

“Nor would I, “ a sharp voice says coldly from behind the desk at the other end of the office.

Albus looks up to see his erstwhile Hogwarts classmate and rival Casimir Nott. 

“Nott, do you have a negative opinion of me and my work? How new and different for you,” Albus replies sarcastically.

“You won a singular battle, not a war, Potter. That hardly qualifies you to be minister,” Nott says bitterly, standing up and walking towards Albus. 

With his dark hair and upturned dark eyes, he always rather reminded Albus of a cat. His general disposition of looking as though in the back of his mind he was plotting your demise did nothing to convince Albus otherwise. Albus always fancied himself more of a dog person. 

“This isn’t a war, Nott. And if you honestly think I would place myself in opposition to the minister then you should really reread your Sun Tzu,” Albus says, rolling his eyes.

“Everyone thinks you’re so lovely and nice. The middle Potter child, the charming diplomatic star. They don’t see this side of you, the conniving side that would have made you a Slytherin on a different day.”

“Did you just insult your own house?” Or do you- “, but Albus’s retort is interrupted by their boss striding through the office again, cloak in hand. 

“Save the pithy remarks for your speech writing or not at all,” Susan says, placing a gray knit beret atop her chin-length red hair, “Now it’s half past six and I am late for drinks with the Swedish ambassador. I expect the briefs from the currency exchange meetings with Gringotts and the Spanish and Russian banks on my desk by morning.”

She flicks her wand at the file cabinets behind Weatherby. A stack of parchment half a meter high flies from the cabinet and lands with an ominous thump on the assistant’s desk. 

Albus sighs, “You speak Russian right?’

Casimir nods, “I’ll leave the Spanish to you then. Weatherby, tea?”

The assistant nods and scrambles up from his desk to turn on the kettle in the corner of the office. 

Chapter Text

Truthfully, Albus is good at his job and Weatherby’s comment about him becoming minister one day isn't completely unfounded. He has the most famous last name in Magical Britain and a storied family line through both his parents. He speaks four languages, including Gobbledegook. And during his apprenticeship at the ICW, he cultivated diplomatic relationships with the key staff of ministers and representatives from magical governments all over the world. 

Unlike many of the rumors and gossip that had been spread about Albus during his well-documented young life, the ‘ minister one day ’ rumor is not something he had any desire to contradict. He did think he could be minister one day, after a career spent serving his country. 

His parents, his father Harry especially, did not quite understand his political ambitions. But, Harry had supported Hermione’s ministerial campaign and the two of them had spent decades making groundbreaking reforms that inspired Albus to work in politics in the first place. 

It was an ambition he’d been working towards all of his life. First as prefect, then Head Boy, President of the Chess Society and Supreme Mugwump of the Model Triwizard ICW during his time at Hogwarts. In law school, he’d been an editor of the law review, and a student delegate to the International Peace Council. He had a plan for his future, Wizengamot by forty, and then Minister by fifty. 

A couple hours later, Albus and Casimir finish their debriefs of the currency exchange commission meetings. Representatives from all governments took their own notes and shared them with each other’s staff after every meeting. Their boss, Susan Bones, always insisted on Albus and Casimir translating and writing up their debrief from attendees’ notes so as not to miss out on any crucial interpretation or perspective. It was rather smart, Albus had learned, as the tiniest comment from a British goblin or wizard could be interpreted as a horrific offense by a foreign wizard or other magical creature completely defeating the purpose of international magical cooperation. 

“Right, see you tomorrow then,” Albus says, gathering his cloak as his two-way mirror chimes with a message from his friends asking to meet at the bar at the Crown Royale hotel in Diagon Alley.

Casimir waves at Albus without looking up from his desk. 

“Al, it’s about time you show up,” Noah calls from the gilded bar of the luxury hotel. 

“Some of us poor sods actually work for a living,” Albus replies sarcastically, clapping his friend on the shoulder. 

Noah is standing with his brother Jonah and Albus’s brother James. Next to them is the glossy-haired giggling group of Lucy, Lily, Delilah, and Jonah’s on-again, off-again girlfriend and Nimbus brooms heiress Tabitha Whitehorn.  

“Being seen at my hotel with the Potters is part of the family business,” Noah replies, signaling to the bartender. 

“I’m going to start charging Pearlsteen International for appearances. After all, the Whitehorns drop some gold in my vault for flying their brooms,” James jokes. As one of the most-talented and highest paid quidditch players in the league, James’s Nimbus brooms endorsement is almost worth as much as his Puddlemere United contract. 

“Maybe we can work something out once you win another World Cup, eh?” Noah replies sarcastically.

“Ouch, too soon Pearlsteen!” James says, shaking his head. It had been less than a month since England narrowly lost in the World Cup semifinal match. 

He glances at his watch and quickly finishes his drink, “Alright, I’m off to the hospital to meet Sophie after her shift.”

“Remind her, we’re having lunch with Luella tomorrow,” Tabitha calls after him. He waves in recognition, eager to meet up with his wife, a healer at St. Mungo’s. 

Satisfied, Tabitha slips her arms around Jonah’s neck and whispers something in his ear that makes him clear his throat, “I should get going too.  Big case on, you know, early morning of important auror things.”

Jonah slides his hand up the back of Tabitha’s silk camisole before they are even out the door.

Noah rolls his eyes at his brother and then notices Albus searching the room.

“He’s not here yet,” Noah says quietly, offering him a cocktail.

Albus nods, taking the drink, an old fashioned made with Ogden’s Reserve firewhiskey. Apparently, some time in the two years between Scorpius moving back to London and Albus’s move home he had become friends with all of Albus’s friends. 

Which was irritating to no end- as if everyone just conveniently forgot that Scorpius disappeared from their lives with little warning midway through their sixth year. Anyway, surely, Scorpius had other former Hufflepuffs to fill his social circle.

Except, now that Albus thinks about it, Scorpius didn’t do much socializing during their fall term. Albus cannot remember seeing him at the Halloween Feast or out during Hogsmeade weekends. He doesn’t think he ever saw him in the library or lounging by the lake between classes.

Not that Albus had been looking for him after that summer. He definitely hadn’t lingered too long around corridors as Scorpius left classes. Nor had he craned his neck awkwardly to catch a glimpse of his white-blond hair in the Great Hall.

When Albus did see Scorpius around the castle it was almost always with his cousin Astra. The little witch had transferred to Hogwarts after her parents, both magizoologists, died in a Yacumama attack in the Amazon. The younger Malfoy girl had joined the Hogwarts dance troupe and become fast friends with his sister Lily and Delilah Longbottom.

He supposed that this explained Scorpius and Lily becoming altogether much too friendly for Albus’s comfort. 

Lily hugs Scorpius warmly when he walks into the bar. Scorpius greets the rest of their friends in turn with hugs and kisses on cheeks. He stops when he approaches Albus awkwardly, moving forward with arms outstretched and then stepping backwards.

Albus, ever the diplomat, extends his hand and smiles, “Evening, Scorpius.”

Scorpius smiles back shyly, “Hi, Albus”

“You have got some catching up to do, Scorpius,” Lucy says, “Wine?”

Scorpius is about to reply when he’s interrupted by Albus, “Shrivelfig gin martini.”

Everyone turns to look at Albus who has suddenly decided to study his Italian leather loafers with intensity.

Albus clears his throat, “That’s your drink, right?”

“Yeah, yes- . Yes, it is,” Scorpius confirms. 

“Blech, this is just awful. I think we can cross asphodel rum off the list,” Scorpius said, scrunching up his nose and pouring out his glass.

Albus laughed, “It’s not that bad. Try mixing it with the sassafras soda.”  

Scorpius took a sip of Albus’s proffered glass, “Still a very firm no. How come you like everything and I don’t like anything?”

“You’re a man of discriminating taste, that must be why you like me so much,” Albus said laughing as he stumbled forward and kissed Scorpius clumsily, but passionately on the lips. 

Scorpius laughed, their lips still pressing together, as they drunkenly fell onto the settee in the parlor at Malfoy Manor. The boys were home alone and decided that now they were sixteen they should really try and figure out their favorite alcoholic beverages. It seemed like something grown-ups would know. They raided the Malfoy's extensive cellar and the coffee table was littered with half-empty bottles of asphodel rum, several varietals of elf-made wine, and firewhiskey.

“I don’t think I can get back up,” Albus muttered from where he is sprawled on top of Scorpius. 

Albus exhaled hotly against Scorpius’s neck and the strong stench of alcohol makes him smell like Scorpius’s bitter old grandmother, but Scorpius still can’t resist pulling up Albus’s face to meet his own, their lips crashing against each other’s and soon their hands were everywhere and, dear Merlin, Scorpius might die if he can’t have Albus’s bare skin against his, legs sliding together and bodies pulsing.

Albus pulled back breathlessly, “Wait, we haven’t tried the gin yet.”

“What are we waiting for?” Scorpius grabbed the bottle and Albus’s hand and the two of them drunkenly raced upstairs to his bedroom.

“Hmm, how have I never noticed you like gin?” Lucy asks breezily as she orders Scorpius’s drink, breaking the tension.

“Probably because Scorpius is always late and you’re always two or three glasses of wine deep by the time he arrives, my little lush,” Noah teases. She shrugs and laughs, sipping from her glass.

Scorpius takes his martini from the bartender and loosens the buttons at the top of his shirt. Albus bites his lip, noticing the top of defined chest muscles peeking out beneath Scorpius’s collar and quickly looks away.

“So, do you have plans for the weekend?” Albus asks politely. It likely wouldn’t kill him to make small talk after all. 

Scorpius nods, “Probably working on some recipe development I’ve been ignoring. I have had a lot of catering jobs lately. It’s been great to build excitement for the restaurant proposal, but hasn’t left a lot of time during the week for me to work on the restaurant menu.”

“We have more than one restaurant in the works,” Noah adds, “The Diagon Alley properties of course, but that’s not a guarantee. In the meantime I’m trying to convince Scorpius to take on the new fine dining restaurant attached to the Sovereign hotel.”

“I have a fine dining concept that I think would be interesting for Hogsmeade. It will focus on Japanese recipes and techniques, but using traditional Scottish and British ingredients. There will be some similarities to the menu I put together for the Fancourt’s ball.”

“Albus adores Japanese cuisine after spending the last five years there.  I’m surprised you never ran into each other,” Lily adds, her tone suggesting that they make up for lost time now.

“I was only there for a year,” Scorpius explains to Albus, “I went to culinary school in Tokyo and then spent several years working all over east Asia. Singapore, Hong Kong, Beijing, a month-long stage in Hanoi.”

“And now you’re back to build your restaurant empire,” Noah adds proudly. He’d been Scorpius’s primary investor trying to prove that the Pearlsteen International projects could offer something new and innovative in an increasingly competitive British real estate market.

Scorpius smiles, “It’s still rather daunting.  And how about you, Albus? Weekend plans?”

“James and I are teaching his godson Auggie to sail. I think we’ll probably spend the weekend with my parents out on the water.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn to sail. Though I’m afraid I like the idea of life on the high seas much more than the reality of it.”

“Oh come on, Scorpius. Sun shining, blue water, some fresh air, what could be better? You’ve always liked the beach near Iolanthe House. Come to think of it, I can’t believe we haven’t taken you out on the sailboat before” Lily adds, “Albus is the best sailor of the three of us. You should come down one weekend. See my brother in action.”

“Well, I have always had a weakness for seamen,” Scorpius says wryly.

Albus promptly chokes on his drink, the firewhiskey, the liquid burning the back of his throat and eyes.

Lily laughs and claps her older brother on the back.  

Scorpius suddenly feels embarrassed about his joke and quickly changes the subject, “Auggie is Teddy Lupin’s son right? I think he’s something like my third cousin or second cousin once removed. I’m never sure how that works. Does that still count as related?

“Aren’t all you British purebloods cousins? You British wizards should really read more muggle history. Haven’t you heard of the Hapsburgs?” Noah asks cheekily, gesturing to his chin.

“Which is why I went and snagged myself an American,” Lucy says, tapping Noah lightly on the nose.

“Noah may have been born in Los Angeles, but that Mayfair accent of his is purely the Queen’s English,” Albus teases.

“I distinctly remember a summer in Nice where you nearly got punched by a waiter after ordering the duck for dinner. Le canard ou le connard . That’s what you get for speaking French with a West Country accent.”

“Well, speaking of new business ventures. I’ve picked up a little more information about Sebastien Perrot,” Lucy says.

“Tell! He’s made the summer social season so much more interesting,” Lily says, leaning in close and causing Albus's drink to slosh and dribble onto Scorpius’s sleeve. She mouths an apology. 

“Apparently, he’s hosting a soiree at his townhouse in a couple of weeks. Very exclusive invite list, so of course everyone is going to pretend they were there. But more than that, I heard he had originally planned for next Tuesday except one of us has a state banquet and he moved the date to ensure one of us would be available,” Lucy says, looking at Albus pointedly.

Albus blushes and Noah is looking at him, eyes filled with curiosity and amusement. 

Now it is Scorpius’s turn to choke on his drink. “He can’t really be interested in you, can he?” Scorpius asks bluntly.

Albus looks away from Scorpius, face growing even redder. “Is that so hard to believe?” 

“Oh gods no, I- , I didn’t mean it like that,” Scorpius replies quickly, “No, I just meant, it’s- , well it’s hardly appropriate. I mean, just look at you. Obviously, he’s attracted to you. But he’s nearly twice your age. And Perrot has the worst sort of reputation. Shady business dealings and even shadier relationships.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Everyone knows that. Besides, I have absolutely no reason to not see him again, do I?” Albus says defensively. 

Scorpus feels properly chastened. “I’m going to get this cleaned up,” he says, raising his shirtsleeve.

Scorpius walks towards the loo, but instead makes his way through the lobby and outside. Perhaps some fresh air will help him figure out why being around Albus Potter turns him into an absolutely prize idiot. 

He had grown up with his parents and grandparents at Malfoy Manor, three generations of pureblood pretension and the most formal of manners. Yet something about Albus’s presence made him blathering and clumsy and, really it could not be understated- a first-class, champion idiot. 

He takes a deep breath and sighs. He’d been back in London for almost two years after not being able to get away fast enough when he was sixteen. He knew of course that when Lily told him that Albus was coming back that they would end up seeing each other more often than made either of them comfortable. 

Except uncomfortable isn’t quite the word for it. Being around Albus is like the best and worst of adolescence. The giddiness of a first crush, the desire to impress. The insecurity and embarrassment that every word, every gesture, might be the wrong one.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a man exit the gleaming hotel doors. The high cheekbones, dark hair and lean, graceful figure are unmistakably Albus.

Albus is using his wand to type a message into his two-way mirror. He looks up to see Scorpius, and they make eye contact for a beat too long to pretend that they didn’t see each other.

Albus shoves his two-way mirror into his trouser pocket and gives Scorpius a small half-smile.

“I thought you were cleaning yourself up,” Albus says, gesturing to Scorpius’s sleeve.

Scorpius shrugs, “You think as a chef I would know how to clean up food and drink spills, but I’m actually rubbish at laundry spells.”

“Allow me,” Albus gently takes Scorpius's wrist and turns up the cuff of his blue shirt sleeve, his skin soft and warm beneath Albus’s thumb.

Scorpius is desperately hoping that Albus can’t feel his pulse quicken beneath his pale skin. Albus mutters an incantation and the amber spot tingles then fades to the faintest outline of a stain.

“Thank you, you’re quite good at that,” Scorpius says, letting his wrist linger in Albus’s hand.

Albus draws his hand back and shakes it gently, a gesture that Scorpius tries and fails not to be offended by. 

“The rest should come out in the wash. During my first summer apprenticeship in law school I was working in New York. I spent about half my time researching for depositions and the other half on the domestic duties of the senior partners. My granny is quite proud.”

“If you ever want a reprieve from politics, you’ll make a lovely house husband one day,” Scorpius teases, then regrets it. He’s not sure that their tenuous re-acquaintance can handle teasing.

Albus clears his throat, but doesn’t respond. Albus steps back and turns away as if to leave.

“I saw you once,” Scorpius blurts before Albus can walk away, “In Tokyo, I mean.”

Albus frowns slightly, “How come you didn’t say anything? I didn’t even know you lived there.”

“It was outside the ICW office with a small group of people and you were at the center of it. You looked so professional in your work robes. So confident and ready to take on the world, so very- happy. Like I always imagined you would be,” Scorpius says, a slightly wistful look in his eyes. 

Albus swallows hard and looks down at his shoes. He doesn’t know why Scorpius is telling him this. He doesn’t know what Scorpius hopes to gain by saying such things.

“Scorpius, what happened? Why- “

The two-way mirror in Albus’s pocket chimes, a sharp ding-ding-ding indicating that it is his boss, Susan. 

Secretly, Albus is relieved. He’s not ready for the conversation that he was about to initiate. He might never be. And so he pulls out his two-way mirror, mutters an excuse, and answers the call. 

Chapter Text

“Thank you for coming in early. We know you have lots of work to do at your regular jobs. It is a special honor to be here today because we are going to orient you to your role on the Diagon Alley Expansion Review Committee, that we are affectionately referring to as D.A.E.R or ‘dare’,” the plucky woman announces to the ministry employees assembled in the conference room of Department of Urban Magical Planning. 

Albus always thought it was rather unfortunate that the ministry department created after the Second War to rebuild a decimated Wizarding Britain was abbreviated to DUMP. 

Albus sips his tea and thinks back to the conversation with Susan the previous evening. The one that had fatefully interrupted that far more uncomfortable conversation with Scorpius.

“Madam Bones, this seems like a wonderful opportunity, but can I ask, why me? Casimir has more experience. He worked on the Hogsmeade historical preservation project right out of Hogwarts.”

“You sound as if you’re fishing for compliments, Albus,” Susan said, a smile in her voice, “Your work is impeccable and you will be excellent in this role. I know it won’t make things easier around the office with Casimir. But you have the right experience. You were part of the ICW committee that worked on the reconstruction effort in the magical community of South Sudan and the restoration of sovereign magical Inuit communities of Canada.”

“Isn’t this a bit of a conflict of interest? You know I’m best mates with Noah Pearlsteen and Pearlsteen International is planning to bid quite aggressively for the Diagon Alley expansion project. And the Potter Family Foundation is also involved. My mum mentioned that they are providing small business grants for squib and non-human magical beings in several of the properties.”

“Exactly, Albus, your family’s foundation won’t be involved for months. And there’s simply another reason Casimir could never be on the committee. You’re a Potter. Your name on this committee is a symbol of progress, of a future that means great things for the British magical community. Casimir Nott’s grandfather is in Azkaban. Casimir is a good kid, but no one wants a descendant of a Death Eater and all that pureblood ‘magic is might’ bollocks getting involved. It’s not his fault. But the ministry needs this project to be a success and you know as well as I do, that in politics perception is everything.”

The assembled group of ministry employees from various departments sit around the conference table with lukewarm tea and stale pastries. At the end of the table, Albus’s Uncle Percy waves to him enthusiastically and gestures to the empty chair next to him.

Percy pushes up the bridge of his horn-rimmed glasses and looks seriously at Albus, “Thank you for sitting here. For some completely incomprehensible reason that Marcus Belby fellow from the Goblin Liaison Office has it in that doxy-filled brain of his that we’re friends. Mind you serving on this committee is a sign that we are highly valued by the ministry, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be engaging with Belby before I’ve had my first cuppa.” 

Albus looks over at Belby speaking with a woman Albus recognizes from the Department of Magical Accidents and gesticulating wildly with his pastry, sending crumbs flying.

“Alright, let’s get started. For those who don’t know me, I’m Malandra Millstone and I’ll be serving as the DAER Committee chair! So my darling ‘DAER-ers’, our mission is clear! We are responsible for reviewing the proposals and selecting the developers for the brand new Diagon Alley expansion. This is the largest real estate project that the ministry and Wizarding Britain has ever undertaken with the property valued at over 200 million galleons. This is London after all.  We expect developers to apply for the project from all over the world, though of course we are hoping for the Brits to triumph.”

She waves her wand and a thick file is distributed to each of the committee members, “The Request for Proposals was just officially released this morning and we will begin the proposal reviews in two weeks. Each of the companies will also be audited by Gringotts to ensure that they have the appropriate financial means to carry out and finish the project successfully. The reviews will be scored anonymously to prevent bias and avoid the conflicts of interest that are inevitable in a small magical community like ours. Today, we will be discussing the scoring rubric for the upcoming reviews. But first, I’ll turn it over to Marcus Belby to provide details about the Gringotts audit.”

Each element of the rubric is poured over in exhaustive detail. Though truthfully it’s the sort of minutiae Albus enjoys. Through the review, the committee opts to award more points for proposals including small business ownership by non-human magical creatures, and for proposals with a strong emphasis on historical preservation of the few existing pre-war buildings. 

Walking through the ministry’s lobby on the way back to their offices, Albus and Percy are forced to circumvent a group of enthusiastic protestors with picket signs. The incomprehensible shouting echoes around the slick surfaces of the lobby clashing with the ding of the lifts and usual chatter. Still their message is quite clear, if not particularly clever as Albus reads several signs that say ‘No Wand, No Vote’.

“They’ve been here everyday this week. Just imagine disliking the idea of house-elf representation on the Wizengamot so much that you would spend hours standing in this cold and drafty lobby when you could be doing quite literally anything else,” Percy grumbles.

Albus nods in agreement, “It’s just an obnoxious minority too. The same crowd that’s probably still pro house-elf enslavement. Not that they’d admit as much. Could you even imagine saying so out loud? With Aunt Hermione as minister? It’s only a regulatory policy anyway, it could easily be overturned in the next election.”

Percy leads the way into the lift, Albus following behind. Albus had always felt a special kinship with his Uncle Percy. He was much too serious and easily flustered by his more exuberant, naturally charming siblings. But Albus had come to appreciate his mum’s older brother. He could relate to his flaws. A middle child lost in the shuffle; a desperate desire to make their mark on their world and collect the accolades that signified him as the best of the bunch; a dry wit often overlooked by a prim and proper demeanor. 

To his credit, Percy had always been honest with Albus about his shortcomings and how he had spent so much of his early years at the ministry clouded with ambition that he had completely lost sight of himself and what he believed. Now working as the Head of Magical Transportation and as the father-in-law of Albus’s best mate Noah, Percy and Albus had ample reasons to spend time together.

Percy shakes his head, “This is Magical Britain, you are free to protest whatever you want, of course. But the disappointing bit is that I can’t even imagine these protests gathering support a couple years ago.”

“Susan thinks that it has to do with sovereignty. The centaurs and merpeople have their own colonies. The elves don’t and they’ve long been incorporated into normal wizarding society as second-class citizens,” Albus says.

“I think she’s partially right. But I also think the Diagon Alley expansion project is making people barmy. All that money to be made and the truth is there are some people that aren’t in favor of awarding property to non-human magical beings. I think it will get worse before it gets better. It’s appalling, and it’s antiquated but it’s true. Your generation is better than us.” 

The lift dings their arrival to the DIMC offices.

Albus smiles thoughtfully as he steps out, “I hope that’s true.”

By the time Albus arrives back at his desk there are dozens of memos shaped like little paper cranes flying, tweeting and fighting for his attention. Albus swoops his wand around the cranes and they assemble themselves neatly into a pile on his desk.

Susan steps out of her office and into the shared workspace dropping a heavy stack of parchment on Casimir’s desk. 

“Casimir, good work on those updates for the non-human magical refugee policy. I think Liechtenstein and Austria will be amenable to the mountain-troll proposal. I left a few edits and then you can have Weatherby send it on to the minister’s office,” she says kindly.

“Thank you, madam,” Casimir says with a nod.

Susan turns to Albus, “In my office.”

Albus follows Susan, as she sits behind her desk and gestures for Albus to sit opposite.

“How did it go this morning?”

“It was great, madam. Seems like a wonderful opportunity, thank you for the nomination,” Albus replies.

“Good to hear. Weatherby said you wanted to speak to me.”

Albus nods, “Yes, I don’t think we- , the ministry, is going far enough with the elfin representation regulation.”

“That’s a domestic issue, and it’s being led by the minister’s executive office. We’re not involved.”

“I know, but any member of Minister Granger-Weasley’s cabinet can bring forth legislation to be approved by the full Wizengamot. Legislation on elf representation in parliamentary bodies has already been passed in eleven countries and counting. The UK is behind the times and I think that it will make a strong statement about the minister’s positions. I can work with the Department of Magical Creature Welfare, gather the international literature, and develop the bill to put forth.”

“Albus, a legislative campaign is a massive undertaking. Unfortunately, the political climate is tense. There is a small, albeit loathsome, group that wants to put the popular Minister Granger-Weasley in her place. You will want to make sure you have the votes. It will reflect poorly on her administration if you fail. Are you ready for this sort of fight? And are you sure you even have time for this? ”

“I’ll make time. You know I will. And you may not know this about me yet, Madam Bones, but I never back down from a fight.”

Susan smiles, “I went to school with your parents, I don’t doubt it. If you want to work on this then you have my support.”

Albus and Susan make their way back into the anterior office.

“Don’t forget we have the meeting on Class II potion patents with the Joint European Ministries of Magic tomorrow. I need my talking points before you leave this evening,” she says brightly as she walks out the door and heads off to a meeting, followed by Weatherby.

In the couple of months that Albus had been working with the DIMC as lead counsel, he had noticed that Susan was a whirlwind of positive productivity. She was unlike any other high-ranking ministry official or diplomat that Albus had ever worked with; tough when she needed to be, but mostly a rare combination of intelligent, straightforward, but still highly empathetic. She rarely disliked anyone, so it certainly said something about you if she did.

“I heard you got put on the Diagon Alley project,” Casimir says without looking up from reviewing Susan’s notes.

Albus hesitates, unsure if he should confess to suggesting that the role should have gone to Casimir.

“Yes,” he replies finally, without offering more detail. After all, the committee members had all been asked to sign extensive confidentiality agreements.

“You’ll do well. It’s great exposure to the minister’s office,” Casimir says.

He walks over until he’s standing close to Albus’s desk then adds, “Of course I suppose you and the minister are related so- “

“Thank you, Casimir,” Albus says with a wry smile.

Casimir continues to hover until Albus finally looks up from the notes on simultaneous Class II UK and Joint European Ministries submission of potion patents.

“Out with it then,” Albus finally says irritably.

“I need to talk to you,” Casimir replies, his tone nervous.

“Obviously.”

“So I had a date last night.”

“How unfortunate for her.” 

“She’s a squib.”

“Oh, Mummy and Daddy won’t like that.” 

“Do you think you could stop being an insufferable prick for one whole minute?”

“Probably not. But, so what? She’s a squib. There are certainly worse things to be. I won’t tell anyone. I didn’t even want to know this much,” Albus replies, brows raised as he waits for this conversation to be over. Albus and Casimir are a lot of things, but friends is not one of them.

“She’s a squib and she’s- ,” Casimir hesitates, “she’s a, you know- , a party girl.”

Albus stares at Casimir blankly.

Casimir grimaces then says, “Like professionally.”

Albus’s jaw drops in understanding as he nearly falls out of his chair, “She’s a hooker?”

“I don’t think that’s her preferred term.”

“An escort, a call girl, a prostitute, a lady of the night,” Albus exclaims.

“Bloody hell, will you shut up?” Casimir replies through gritted teeth.

“How much did she charge you? Casimir, what were you thinking?”

“That’s the thing. We didn’t meet because I hired her, we just met at the grocery.”

“And your eyes met over the perfect organic aubergine?

Casimir ignores Albus, “It was last weekend. And then I asked her to dinner last night and it went well and I told her that I work as a general counsel at the ministry and she told me that she, you know...”

 “I actually don’t, but why are you telling me this?”

“I’m trying to ask you what I should do.”

“I think I saw a muggle movie like this once. I’m sure she’s a hooker with a heart of gold- “

“You are such a bloody arsehole!”

“If you want my advice, you could start by not insulting me.”

“Potter!”

“What can you do? You tell no one. Are you going to see her again?” 

“I um, well- “

“Let me rephrase. You’re not going to see her again. Not unless you want a career as general counsel of Knockturn Alley.”

“That’s hardly a progressive attitude. Her parents died when she was just fifteen. She wanted to stay close to the magical world because her younger siblings were not yet school age and they were already clearly showing their magic. They had no other family, she had to provide and needed flexible hours to take care of- “

Albus snorts, “I’m not judging her. This isn’t about her. But you know what I’m going to say, Nott. Do you think she’ll tell anyone? Or go to the press?”

“No, no she has more to lose than I do.”

“You wouldn’t be telling me this at all if you thought you could keep seeing her without risking scandal.”

Casimir sighs heavily, “I- , yes, I know. I know you’re right. It’s fine. It’s over. Just a one night thing.”

He begins to walk away and then turns back, “Uh, thanks.” 

Albus rolls his eyes and mutters, “Anytime. At least one of us is getting shagged.”

Scorpius tastes the seasoning of the dashi for his celeriac and Welsh lamb ramen, rolling the warm silky broth across his tongue. He makes a note to adjust the mirin, writing in the notebook laying on the black marble countertop of Malfoy Manor’s expansive kitchen. 

Of course, he knows that many of the chefs he had apprenticed with over the years would laugh at him for veering from traditional Japanese ingredients. But Scorpius is quite proud of the many recipes he has developed over the past year, all of which use locally and sustainably-sourced ingredients from the British Isles.

“That smell is rather enticing,” a graceful middle-aged blonde woman says, swanning into the kitchen with a soft smile.

“Aunt Daphne, thank you for coming. After years of working in restaurants I have a hard time making dinner portions for just my father and I,” Scorpius says, hugging his aunt warmly.

Casimir already has a finger in the pudding, tasting the Earl Grey jelly and cream. “Looks a bit dodgy, but that’s quite good,” he says, picking up another small amber-colored square and popping it into his mouth.

“Manners, Casimir. Were you raised by werewolves?” His father Theodore huffs while spinning a silver signet ring on his right hand.

“You’re the one fidgeting dear,” Daphne says in her son’s defense, “We’re among family anyway, and currently in the kitchen no less.”

“Yes, Uncle, this is your fault for barging into the kitchen before I’m ready to serve,” Scorpius says, teasing his uptight Uncle Theodore.

“Well, I know when I’m not wanted,” Theodore replies. He and Daphne make their way to the dining room.

Scorpius busies himself arranging pickled lotus roots, shaved carrots and cucumbers on porcelain plates to serve alongside the main course.

He notices his cousin Casimir, frighteningly undomestic, absently shifting a small container of furikake back and forth in his hands.

“Guess your father isn’t the only one who fidgets.”

“Hmm,” Casimir says absently, looking at the jar in his hands and setting it down, “Oh, just thinking about work.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, not really. I just didn’t get placed on a project that I really wanted. Susan Bones chose Albus Potter instead. I’ve been working for her for four years now, I really thought she’d put my name forward.”

Scorpius stills at hearing Albus’s name. How could he have forgotten that his cousin and Albus worked together?

“I’m sorry, that’s never a good feeling. How is that going?” Scorpius asks, hoping he sounds interested in Casimir’s work and not for any tidbit about Albus.

“What? Working with Albus? Fine, I suppose. We were something of rivals back at school and I’m afraid that the ministry is rather like Hogwarts. The popular kids are still popular and there aren’t many people that can compete with a Potter for popularity.”

“But, is he nice?”

Casimir rolls his eyes. “Hufflepuffs. Considering I’m as close to an enemy as he’s ever had, yes, he’s nice. He’s a smug bastard, but he is rather nice to everyone. He knows the names of the maintenance staff and remembers everyone’s birthdays. Always asks after their kids and their dogs. I think he genuinely cares about their responses too,” Casimir says, his tone revealing a bitter admiration.

Scorpius smiles. “That sounds like Albus,” he says before he can stop himself.

“How would you know?” Casimir asks, before answering his own question, “Oh that’s right, I always forget you and Astra are friends with Lily. Have you seen him around?”

Scorpius’s face flushes and he desperately hopes Casimir chalks it up to the steaming pot of rice he just opened, “A bit. Like you said, he’s nice enough.”

Before Casimir can ask any further questions, Scorpius calls their house-elf Trixie to begin service.

“I’m just going to get cleaned up. I’ll meet you in the dining room?”

Casimir nods and Scorpius runs upstairs to change clothes and wash up.

Once in the dining room, he sees his aunt, uncle, and cousin waiting for him. He sighs as he takes his seat and their house-elf Trixie hands him a note.

“Are we expecting Draco?” Theodore asks, looking at the note in Scorpius’s hand.

Scorpius shakes his head and uses his wand to vanish the note, “No, he sends his regrets.”

“Well, how courteous of him to send a note,” Theodore says sarcastically.

Scorpius furrows his brow and his eyes flicker to his Aunt Daphne.

“I’m sure he’s just busy tinkering away with those rare magical objects. I’ve heard the clients at Bonaccord Antiquities can be the demanding sort.”

Theodore rolls his eyes, but takes his wife’s cue to change the subject, “How are the restaurant plans going?”

“Good, the menu is coming together. Please offer any critiques on tonight’s food. Aunt Daphne, I know you have impeccable taste.”

“Everything is wonderful thus far,” she says kindly.

“And how about the new restaurant space? Any clue on the developers bidding on the project?” Theodore asks, “I read in The Daily Prophet this morning that the ministry is now accepting proposals.”

Scorpius nods, “Yes, but that’s all I know too. Of course, I hope whoever is awarded the project will lease me the restaurant space. Either way, Noah Pearlsteen offered to invest in a restaurant at their Hogsmeade hotel.”

“Hogsmeade is not London,” Theodore replies, “The finest chefs in the world are in London. But, we’ll have an inside track once Casimir is on the Diagon Alley project.”

“I’m not,” Casimir says bluntly.

“Not what, love?” Daphne asks.

“I’m not on the committee. Susan Bones nominated Potter.”

“That’s absurd! You have the experience and you’ve been working for Bones for years. What could she have been thinking?” Theodore responds, his tone irate.

“It’s a very public project. It’s unlike anything the ministry has done before. They need it to be well-received and that means no controversy,” Casimir says matter-of-factly.

Scorpius notices his cousin’s tone is quite different than it had been during their discussion in the kitchen. Casimir may have agreed with his father, but he’d rather be on the receiving end of a hippogriff hoof to the face than admit it.

“These bloody self-righteous ministry officials and their grandstanding. Pretending they are the epitome of tolerance when it’s clear they’re just trying to shut out the old wizarding families. As if we weren’t the ones who kept Wizarding Britain thriving for centuries,” Theodore says bitterly.

Daphne sighs as if it’s a sentiment that she has heard many times over in her nearly thirty years of marriage. “Darling, you know as well as I do that Minister Granger and Secretary Bones don’t make these decisions lightly. They have to protect the office of the minister. Don’t make it out to be some sort of conspiracy.”

Theodore opens his mouth to say more, but the stern look in Daphne’s eyes stops and he begins to stab his ramen with his chopsticks, a look of resignation on his face.

Scorpius laughs softly, “My father used to call that the godforsaken Greengrass gaze.”

Daphne smiles at Scorpius, “He’s not wrong. Your mum would have loved these recipes, Scorpius. She would be very proud.”

Scorpius gives his aunt a grateful smile, “Thank you, Aunt Daphne.”

Chapter Text

“George, be a dear and make the tent a bit bigger, I’m worried about those clouds coming in and ruining our pudding,” Molly says as she levitates a tray of berry crumbles toward the tables set in the Burrow’s garden. “Ron, love, grab the ice cream.”

She loves the monthly Sunday roast she hosts for her ever abundant family and friends. Back when the war had ended and the extended Weasley clan started post-graduate studies, new jobs and families, she had hosted every week.  But she’d reluctantly ceded the role a few years ago as she was starting to feel her age. 

Albus smiles watching his Granny Molly corral the family chaos into a raucous meal the way only she could manage.

“Uncle Albus!” Amelie, Teddy and Victoire’s youngest child, is the first to spot Albus.

“Howdy partner,” his cousin Freddie says in a terrible approximation of a twangy American accent.

“Mighty fine of y’all to show up.” His brother James’s accent is even worse.

“Hi Amelie,” he says, greeting the little girl first, “And what exactly is happening to the two of you? Finally get hit in the head with one too many bludgers.”

Behind them Teddy snorts, “Auggie and Amelie are in an American cowboy phase. Freddie and James are kind enough to indulge them.”

“Rootin’ tootin’” James replies, tipping a faux hat.

Albus laughs, “You’re just making things up.”

“Why don’t ya sit right down pretty little lady and I’ll round up some grub for ya,” Freddie says, clapping the back of one of the mismatched dining tables that the Weasleys have set up in the Burrow garden. Even with a couple more gravity-defying additions, the house wasn’t big enough to seat the multi-generational family.

“You have to stop this,” Albus says, shaking his head goodnaturedly. 

James looks at Freddie, furrows his brow and then looks back at Albus, “Well that’s a darn shame, because I’m not sure I can now.”

Further down the table, his wife Sophie groans, “Do we think this is a permanent affliction? Should I have one of my colleagues study him?”

James mimes shooting finger guns at the table and Freddie calls “Yeehaw!” They run off chasing after Amelie and Auggie who are galloping across the garden like wild horses.

Albus greets the rest of his family members in turn. “I’m starved,” he says, finding an empty chair at the table next to Lucy and Noah.

“That’s because lunch started over an hour ago,” Harry says with an expression of impatience from across the table.

“I was at work, Dad. I sent a two-way message saying I was held up.”

“You missed last month’s lunch too.”

“I’m here now,” he says, helping himself to beef and roast potatoes.

“Eat your pudding, love,” Ginny says, tapping her husband on the nose, “And don’t be so hard on him. I showed up to many a Sunday lunch alone when you were an auror. As did you when I had a match on.”

“That’s different, we couldn’t control our own schedules. It’s not as though crime only happens during a weekday. Surely, legal documents and speeches are something you could resume working on after lunch.”

Down the table Hermione scoffs, “Harry, are you honestly saying you’d prefer your son to be fighting in a war? Or at the very least fending off curses from dark wizards? Did it ever occur to you that maybe us ministry drones are so very good at our jobs that we actually need fewer aurors than ever?

“That can’t possibly be true Hermione, and anyway you were here on time.”

“Oy, maybe that is why Albus wasn’t,” Ron adds.

“Alright, I can see when I’m beat,” Harry says, raising his hands and walking away from the table.

Albus quietly looks down at his plate, then takes a deep breath and resumes eating. He’s not surprised by his father’s remarks, but he is grateful to his family for rising to his defense all the same.  

“He’s missed you. I think it gives him great pleasure to give you grief about being late to lunch,” Ginny says gently, “And he worries about you. We both do, we know how hard you work.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Albus says.

“So stubborn he walked away from his pudding,” Ron says, grabbing the half full plate from Harry’s spot at the table.

Hermione shakes her head, “In Harry’s favor though, I’d do some very dark things to have your metabolism.”

Ron flexes his bicep while winking at his wife. She just rolls her eyes at him affectionately.

“Sorry about that! What did we miss?” Lily calls from behind Albus.

Albus turns to find out who ‘We’ might be. He’s unsurprised to see Delilah Longbottom. He’d said hello to her parents Neville and Hannah already. But he huffs quietly to himself when he notices Scorpius with them.

Reluctantly, Albus notices he looks quite fit when dressed casually in slim-fitting khaki trousers, and a henley shirt pushed to his elbows showing off a tattoo of a hawk holding a chef’s knife in its talons. It’s like the man was allergic to covering his forearms. His muscular, golden hair dusted, rather appealing forearms.

For Godric’s sake, nights out with his friends, society balls, and now Sunday lunch at the Burrow. He’s been back home for just a few months and suddenly Albus cannot remember a time he walked into a room and Scorpius wasn't there. 

“Hey, Albus,” Lily says, hugging him in greeting, “Did you just get here? Astra just called on the two-way. Apparently, she’s having a fabulous time with rehabilitating a rare Andalucian acromantula of some sort. ”

“You’re burying the lead, Lily, you forgot she told us all about Señor Guapo ,” Delilah adds, “Maybe we should join her for the rest of the summer to find our own Spanish lovers.”

“Someone needs to start having babies again, you’ve all grown so old,” Arthur says as he walks around the table, ambling slowly with his cane and handing out ice lolly sticks. The rule being whoever drew the two shortest sticks had to do the washing up.  

“Don’t look at me, Grandad,” Lily says cheekily, “Noah and Lucy are married. Rosie and Lena are married. Louis is engaged. Molly has been with her lad forever. I’ve still got wild oats to sow.”

“All over the cover of every gossip rag in town,” Ginny adds.

“Mum, you gave me this face. It’s hardly my fault it sells magazines,” Lily replies, flipping her famous auburn hair over her shoulder, “Besides, this family is so very nosy and thanks to the paps you and dad know exactly what I’m doing at all times.”

“Merlin help me,” Ginny mutters. She brandishes her lolly stick, “Ah, but, not the short stick!” 

When Arthur comes around to Albus, the old man squeezes his grandson affectionately on the shoulder, “I’m so glad you’re back home.”

“Me too, Grandad,” Realizing he has in fact grabbed the short, broken lolly stick. He shrugs, not minding the washing up.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” Scorpius says, holding up his matching short stick.

Albus smiles cautiously. 

Holding his wand aloft Albus floats a stack of dirty dishes into the kitchen, “This is the last of it.” 

He looks around the crowded counters and old table for a free space to place the dishes.  The ceramic starts to clatter and shake. “Uh- “

“Here,” Scorpius laughs, taking the plates out of the air. “This is daunting” he says, dropping the plates directly in the sink, “Despite being rubbish at laundry, I do have a superior knowledge of kitchen cleaning charms.”

He turns on the tap, adds a dash of Mrs. Scower’s Magical Mess Remover and the sink fills with suds.  He mutters a spell and the sponge and brush get to work scrubbing at the various food stains.

“Good, because I can’t remember the last time I even used a kitchen,” Albus replies, “Tell me where you want me.”

He turns to look at Albus, a faint blush creeping up his neck. There are a lot of ways Scorpius would like to answer that question. 

Albus is a bit rumpled, his tie hanging loosely, having come to the Burrow straight from work. However, it does nothing to distract from how handsome he is; thick, black hair and dark lashes framing emerald green eyes. Scorpius wants to tell him to just sit pretty.

Scorpius clears his throat, “Right, I can dry the dishes if you want to put them away. I’m afraid I still get a bit turned around in here.”

They set to work in silence, a rhythm of passing freshly washed dishes which Scorpius wipes with a towel and taps with a drying spell before handing to Albus.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” Scorpius asks. “It’s your family after all. My father isn’t the type to put on a Sunday lunch.”

“Of course, it is. You don’t need my permission. You’re friends with Lily and Delilah. And you’re going into business with Noah, for that matter. I’m sure this lot have all grown fond of you,” Albus pauses in his dish drying, “You’re rather hard not to like.”

Scorpius feels his chest tighten, a little bud of fondness resting there that he already knows he’ll be hard pressed to keep from growing.

They work in companionable silence for a while, a rhythmic clink of plates and running water.

“Albus, would you like to get a coffee sometime?” 

“It’s a good idea. Although, it seems like we’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other.”

Scorpius dries his hands on a kitchen towel. He’s confused. Was that a yes? Or a polite dismissal? 

Albus puts the last dish away. He places his hands on the counter, his brow furrowing, “You should know, my priority is my work. I’ve always known exactly what I want. I’ve spent almost every day of the last decade, nights and weekends- .”

Scorpius shakes his head, “Of course, I understand.”

“Up for a game,” Ron says, gesturing to Albus with a chess set. Scorpius nods to Ron and walks out.

Albus and Ron sit at a table in the mostly quiet living room. His grandad has wandered in with a book, but he is fast asleep and softly snoring within seconds of sitting in his old armchair. 

Albus takes down a lowly pawn, and Ron responds in kind. Albus sighs. He was an absolute knob to Scorpius in the kitchen and he knows it. 

“You don’t have to choose, you know,” Ron says.

“What do you mean?”

“Between your work and a relationship. Even if it is the Malfoy boy you’re so interested in.”

“No one’s offering a relationship to me. Besides, I’m so busy. I’m always showing up late and leaving early. It feels like I can’t win and I hate being bad at things. I hate to disappoint.”

“We had Hermione’s ministerial election earlier this year. Weasleys’s Wizard Wheezes is opening its fourteenth store in Rome in a couple months. We’ve raised two clever, interesting, kind children. Commitment doesn’t have to be the opposite of ambition.”

“I’m going to tell Rose you called her interesting. I don’t think she’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Yes, but Hugo will.”

“It’s different with you and Aunt Hermione. You have so much history. You knew you’d support each other through anything.”

“Sure, now we have that. But relationships like ours, or your parents, don’t just happen. And they’re not a game you can win.”

Albus raises his brows as if to say ‘Then what’s the point’.

“Your Aunt Hermione and I, we make each other better. We balance each other out. Yes, sometimes in the middle of cooking meals, raising children, prepping until the early morning hours for meetings- it can feel a bit like having an invasive roommate.”

“This is a good sales pitch-”

Ron advances his bishop, “Check.”

“I think you’re trying to distract me.”

“Success isn’t a straight line.” His uncle smiles fondly thinking of his partner of over twenty years, “You can do it on your own. But it’s nice to have someone there for all the peaks and valleys.” 

“The cars have been waiting ten minutes,” yells Noah from the third floor corridor of the Pearlsteens townhouse. 

Lucy, Lily and Delilah shriek with laughter and run around Lucy’s dressing room trying to find their stilettos and pack lipsticks into tiny, sparkly bags.

It is to be the usual sort of routine. Drinks served and socializing followed by a formal dinner with too many forks and then dancing. 

“What are the chances the girls will be ready on time?” Albus asks from the foyer as Noah walks down the stairs.

“Considering the invite says the party started half an hour ago…” Noah replies loudly, glancing at his watch.

“It’s called being fashionably late, dear husband of mine” Lucy trills, the first to make her entrance in a sleek black silk gown.

“Gorgeous as always,” says Noah, ever the doting husband extending his hand towards Lucy and pulling her in close. 

Lily walks down next, her caped gown making a dramatic entrance befitting the statuesque redhead. 

“Scorpius just sent a message, he’s on his way,” Lily says, slipping her two-way mirror into her diamante clutch.

“I didn’t know he was your date- “ Albus replies, but is interrupted by the sound of the floo roaring to life. 

Scorpius steps out dusting his trousers and shaking his wrists, “These bloody cufflinks! I’m a disgrace.” 

Whatever Albus had been expecting to see when he turned at the sound of his voice, he certainly wasn’t prepared for Scorpius to arrive like a slightly dusty Adonis, so handsome it makes Albus’s breath catch in his throat.

The blond hair swept back, shiny and touchably soft. The sharp line of his dress robes emphasizing his broad shoulders. The silver trim along the collar that shimmers with every step. The sensuous lips that Albus wants to trace with his fingertip and see if they are as pillowy as he remembers.

“Here,“ Albus clears his throat, “Let- , let me.”

Scorpius extends his and Albus gets to work on the dainty silver and pearl cufflinks.

“How did I manage before you came back?” Scorpius asks softly, his pulse quickening beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt. 

Albus doesn’t say anything, but he can feel the heat radiating from Scorpius’s smooth skin and smell the soft woodsy scent of his soap. Scorpius takes his breath away, and after all these years that is certainly not something he expected.

When they arrive at Perrot House, it is immediately apparent why the invite specified a dress code of black and white as it suits the Knightsbridge mansion’s existing decor. Dizzying black and white marble floors grace the foyer and adjacent ballroom. The walls are paneled in white and the ornate window frames painted a high-gloss black. 

“Trés chic,” remarks Lily. 

Across the dance floor, Noah spots his older brother Jonah sipping a cocktail with Tabitha Whitehorn, Freddie Weasley and Luella Biltmore-Fawley. 

“There you are,” Jonah says as he greets his younger brother and their friends.

“You girls look incredible,” Tabitha remarks.

“Can you believe Delilah designed these?” Lily says.

“Truly? Can you design something for me for the foundation festival?” Luella asks.

“Oh me too!” Tabitha adds.

“Of course,” Delilah says excitedly. Always artistic, she’d been designing gowns part-time while also designing the branding for her family company Longbottom Botanicals and an array of other wizarding-owned companies.

“Where are Colin and Brigitte?” Lily asks. James and Sophie had opted out of tonight’s event, but Lily notices a couple missing from James’s close knit group.

Freddie waves vaguely up the stairs, “Probably making baby number five.”

“Perrot certainly knows how to throw a party and he’s not afraid to bring out the good scotch either, “ Jonah says, holding up his glass.

“I’m surprised Perrot will be walking away from the dissolution of the Vogel-Perrot Group with enough liquidity to start up such aggressive business here,” Noah says, “I was hoping he’d be too tied up to bid on the Diagon Alley expansion altogether.”

“Yes, it’s strange because I expect it will take about a year to settle the separation. But his continental assets are vast. I’m sure he has large investments outside of his own company that he could use for startup money,” Jonah says, “though it does seem fast, even for a wealthy man like Perrot.”

While Jonah, an auror, may not have been part of the family business, he had been raised as the heir apparent until he was fifteen and declared he had no intention of joining Pearlsteen International. The Pearlsteen family had arrived in England from the States shortly after the Second War, flush with cash from their stateside hotel chain that spanned from Shanghai to New York and ready to expand their empire to European wizarding communities. Twenty years later, they were the largest property holders in Magical Britain.

Suddenly, the lighting in the room dims followed by the chatter in the ballroom. From the dining room a string quartet plays beckoning them to the table for dinner. The massive room has an impossibly long antique white oak table laden with a black silk table runner and elaborate place settings of silver to match the chandeliers. 

Albus laughs softly at the drama of it all. Though he has yet to see their illustrious host for the evening, clearly Sebastien Perrot turns every aspect of his life into a production.

As the crowd of party guests mill around the room looking for their places at the table, Albus feels a slight tug on his elbow.

“Mr. Potter, you’ve been seated next to Mr. Perrot,” says the high-pitched voice of a house-elf. 

Albus nods and says his thanks to the elf before taking his seat to the right of Perrot at the table. He has been a part of enough society dinners and diplomatic missions to know that this is the seat of honor.

Further down the table Lily and Scorpius are seated next to each other. Lily whispers something to Scorpius that makes him laugh. Unintentionally, he catches Albus’s eye. His expression immediately changes to something inscrutable, but there is no time for Albus to overanalyze because the music fades and Sebastien Perrot finally graces his guests with his presence.

He steps forward, the candlelight of the chandelier catches on his amber eyes and the slightly silvering temples that only make him more handsome. 

“Thank you all for coming tonight. I am immensely happy to be back in my hometown of London to celebrate the opening of The Perrot Company. Much has been said about my business practices and me, and I have no doubt that much more will be said. But tonight, I invite you into my home because I believe that the people in this room share my visions of a modern British magical community with more of the luxuries and comforts of the muggle world and the prosperity to resist the darkness of the generations before us. Now enough of that. Please eat, drink and be merry.”

With a flick of his wand the plates begin to fill with fresh Isle of Mull scallops in a creamy lemon sauce, chateaubriand and braised summer vegetables.

As Sebastien takes his seat next to Albus he leans quietly and says, “Thank you for being my dinner companion.”

Albus smiles, “I have the feeling you have no shortage of men and women willing to be by your side tonight.”

“My reputation precedes me then. Don’t you think that makes my selection all the more worthy?”

Albus ignores Sebastien’s arrogant comment, but he can feel every witch and wizard at the table watching them.

“You’re causing quite a stir and I have a feeling you like it that way.”

Sebastien laughs and Albus feels a thrill of pleasure for being the reason, “You know as well as I that people like something to talk about, and new blood is always welcome in the famously small world of wizarding society.”

“You’re not so much new blood…”

“Are you calling me old? Let’s call it experienced, shall we?” Sebastien replies, eyes dancing with amusement,

“I’m sure you could show me a thing or two,” Albus says with slightly more confidence than he feels.

“I will if you let me,” Sebastien says. Under the table he places a hand gently on Albus’s knee and leans in close, whispering, “the choice is entirely up to you.”

Albus feels a pleasant shiver run down his spine. Sebastien releases his hand and turns to the woman on his left.

Food is one of Scorpius’s greatest pleasures in life. Truly there is nothing better than being transported away by the fresh, buttery texture of perfectly cooked scallops or the plump, juicy tomatoes and grilled courgette with fat flakes of sea salt. And Scorpius wants nothing more than to be transported far, far away from this present moment as he stabs at his plate.

“Scorpius, love, you know that poor scallop is already dead. No need for mutilation,” Lily says, placing her hand lightly on Scorpius’s wrist.

Scorpius looks up and gives a small shake of his head, “I’m sorry, what?”

Lily takes his knife and rests it on the edge of his plate, “You know it’s been months since he last went on a date. Even longer since he’s been in anything resembling a relationship.”

“Who?”

“Albus, of course.”

“Lily- “

“That is the reason you’re acting all homicidal, isn't it?”

“I’ve just been distracted.”

“Yes, by my brother.”

“That’s not- I- Do you think he’s really interested in Sebastien Perrot?” Scorpius asks, glancing at Albus and Perrot talking and laughing at the end of the large dining table.

“I think Albus is having fun with Perrot’s attention. Merlin knows I’d be enjoying it too. Do you think I should be offended that Perrot chose Albus over me?”

Scorpius rolls his eyes. As much as he adores the youngest member of the Potter family and has been friends with her for years, he also knows that Lily’s world revolves around Lily. 

“I think it’s amazing you’ve never tried to steal one of Albus’s boyfriends before now,” Scorpius replies.

Lily laughs, “We made a pact during his fourth year because we were both desperately in love with the lead singer of that American band The Red Wicked. Then again, I’m fairly certain we would have both reneged on that pact if either of us had actually met Charlemagne Cortez.”

As dinner ends, Lily and Scorpius find their friends again.

“That was quite a statement Perrot just made,” Delilah says.

“You know Perrot’s ambitions may affect your restaurants too, Scorpius. There’s little guarantee he won’t be inserting his own friends and associates into the properties he buys up,” Noah says, gesturing to where Perrot is talking to an older witch, a well-known chef. 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Scorpius says. If Perrot won the Diagon Alley expansion project, his plans for multiple London restaurants and a gourmet market over the next year may be seriously impeded. 

“Hadn’t thought of what?” Albus says, rejoining his friends.

“These two are worried Perrot is going to be taking Wizarding London right out from under them,” Lucy explains.

“It’s not ours yet and that’s kind of the point,” Noah says.

“Let me help,” Albus exclaims.

“What? How?” Scorpius asks, his voice full of alarm.

“He already said he wants to spend more time with me. Let me find out about his plans.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” says Noah thoughtfully.

“No, absolutely not, it’s- can’t you get in trouble for that sort of thing? You work for the ministry. And besides he’s so old, it’s practically predatory,” Scorpius interjects.

“First of all, you’re overreacting. I’m not going to be doing anything for him on behalf of the ministry. And secondly, he would be the prey,” Albus explains.

“How will you even get him to tell you anything?”

“Scorpius, you don’t really need me to provide details, do you?” Albus’s tone is stubborn and dripping with a double entendre that Scorpius really does not want to explore.

“Don’t do this, Albus,” Scorpius says, his expression earnest.

Albus looks away, “Let me see what I can find out. If he does tell me something, then great. If not, well no harm done.”

“You don't know that. There may very well be harm. I told you, I think Perrot is dangerous. Or he’s probably too smart for that. But he has some dangerous friends. I’ve heard stories about his business tactics- “

“Look, I’m going to be spending time with him anyway, so it can either help you or you can live in ignorance,” Albus says sharply before stalking away.

“Scorpius, you do have a unique talent for bringing out Albus’s temper,” Noah says, brows raised.

Scorpius sighs and feels a sharp pang in his chest watching Albus walk up the stairs away from the party. 

Albus meanwhile is striding out of the ballroom, trying to get outside for some fresh air. Bloody mansions and their bloody corridors of identical doors with seemingly no end in sight.

Why did being close to Scorpius Malfoy still make Albus Potter feel as jumpy as a cage of cornish pixies? It had been years since their ill-fated summer fling and they had been stupid teenagers at that. Surely, Scorpius shouldn’t give a flying fwooper about whether Albus engages in an ill-advised affair with Sebastien Perrot.

He tries two locked doors, then a third behind which he does indeed find James’s friends Colin and Brigitte mid-shag and quickly closes the door. Those two were well on their way to giving the Weasley clan a run for their money.

Finally, behind a fourth door, he storms out to find a balcony and his father Harry alone with a drink in his hand. 

“Good Godric, Albus you look like you’re ready to duel at dawn,” Harry remarks.

“Do we still have duels? We should have more duels,” Albus huffs.

“I’ve had quite enough fighting for one lifetime,” Harry replies placidly.

Albus flushes and then with a great sigh bends over the balcony and sets his head in his hands.

“You know it’s about this time of night that Hugo usually joins me out here to escape the crowds,” says Harry. 

“He snuck off to Perrot’s library right after dinner,” Albus says. Most of his family was in attendance tonight. It would have been foolish of Perrot to try to make a splash on British wizarding society without the Weasley and Potter families’ support.

“He has always enjoyed a quality first edition,” Harry replies.

The two stand in silence for a while. Albus knows his father is not really a high-society type at heart. He is a natural leader, but Harry had grown reluctantly into his charisma as befit his role in the wizarding world post-war. 

Everyone wanted a piece of him and he knew he had a responsibility to play the hero and boost morale. Harry, Ron and Neville had continued their post-war heroism, capturing dark wizards and providing a sense of reform and true safety for the magical communities of the UK for the first time in decades. Harry had become Head Auror and then, rather unexpectedly, retired early to play grandfather to his godson Teddy’s first child Auggie. He still participated in the ministry as a consultant on occasion, but mostly he helped Albus’s mum Ginny, a retired quidditch player with the Potter Family Foundation. 

“You know of all my children you are the one who is least prone to dramatics,” Harry says.

“That’s what people tell me. But lately…” 

Harry doesn’t say anything, waiting for Albus to elaborate in his own time. He knows Albus is used to choosing his words carefully, always playing the diplomat.

“Scorpius, he just, he gets under my skin. I don’t know why he makes me so barmy,” Albus continues.

Harry smiles at Albus, “Yes, well, the problem with someone getting under your skin is that sometimes they take up residence there. Speaking of which, I better find your mother before she comes for my skin.” 

Albus stands to follow his father back to the ballroom. Harry immediately finds Ginny with that secret tracing charm that couples seemed to possess, and whispers something in her ear that makes her throw her head back and laugh brightly. Their love and partnership sometimes seemed untouchable to Albus. So much strength and history. So much trust and affection. What would it be like to be in a relationship like that, full of looks exchanged and secret smiles in crowded rooms? 

He can’t quite keep himself from scanning the room for Scorpius subconsciously. 

“He’s dancing with Lily,” says Lucy’s familiar voice from behind.

Albus turns, “Oh I wasn’t- “, but he gives up and laughs slightly embarrassed.

Lucy nods towards the center of the room and sure enough there is Scorpius twirling Lily around the dancefloor and she is smiling brightly. 

“Let’s dance,” Albus says, recovering what remained of his composure and leading Lucy to the center of the room. 

Chapter Text

Scorpius stretches his arms languidly and looks at his watch sitting on the bedside table. It takes him a minute to realize he is in one of the guestrooms at the Pearlsteen’s London home. Nearly ten in the morning after another late night out with Lily. Whenever the pretty young socialite is between boyfriends, she asks him to accompany her. 

These days being a Malfoy is not an invitation to much of anything, not after the second war destroyed the last shreds of the family’s reputation. Scorpius doesn’t think the Malfoy legacy is worth protecting anyway. He only hopes that his last name won’t be a barrier to the new future he is trying to build for himself. 

He sighs as he thinks about the rest of the night, proceeding more or less as it always did. Beautiful people dancing and drinking champagne. Delilah had left a bit early saying she wasn’t going to be staying with the Pearlsteens after all, though that wasn’t entirely unusual this season. Lily suspected she had a lover she had yet to disclose. Meanwhile, Lily had danced the night away with a handful of admirers she’d forget the name of in the morning. Lucy and Noah had gossiped and networked with the best of them. 

The only unusual presence was, of course, Albus Potter. He’d been back in England for just over a month and had proceeded to turn Scorpius’s world upside down. Scorpius couldn’t help being aware of his every movement in every ballroom. He couldn’t keep his heart from speeding up with every smile in his direction.

He walks into the adjoining bathroom to splash water on his face. Still in his gray pajama bottoms and ancient navy jumper, he makes his way downstairs where Lily is already seated with Noah and Lucy. 

“So then she poured half the bottle of firewhiskey all over his bespoke dress robes, of course she’d already drunk the other half, and stormed out! Poor woman immediately hired me as her estate agent to divvy up the property once the divorce is finalized.” Lucy says, regaling Noah and Lily with what was surely an opportune moment of gossip that Lucy just happened to have witnessed. 

Scorpius couldn’t help but admire the gregarious Weasley cousin turned London socialite’s unique talent for using the latest gossip to further her career. Since marrying Noah, she hardly needed the income, but working as an estate agent allowed her a good excuse to peek inside the homes of other people and get to know absolutely everyone. Basically, she managed to be one of the top estate agents in Magical Britain simply by being herself.

"Morning,” Scorpius says, sitting down at the table. A cup of tea miraculously appears in his hand and the carafe of milk begins self-pouring until he waves his hand to tell it to stop.

Albus walks in then in plaid pajama bottoms and a well-worn Holyhead Harpies tee. He smiles a little shyly at Scorpius. 

Scorpius pats the spot next to him at the table trying to convey that their spat the previous night is forgotten. When Albus sits, he nods at Scorpius, and reaches out under the table as though to touch his knee, but pulls his hand back quickly.

“Morning post is here,” the Pearlsteens house-elf says, carrying in a silver platter with a stack of letters.

“Thank you, Linus,” Lucy says brightly, rifling through the stack of letters. It was the usual assemblage of magazines, a financial newspaper, social invitations, a letter from her younger sister Molly, another from her mum.  

“Al, one here for you,” Lucy says, brandishing a silver envelope to her cousin, “and one for you, Scorpius.”

The silver envelope is thick and the black wax seal has an elaborate V pressed into it. Albus slides his finger under the envelope flap and reads the message:

Thursday, 7pm Crown Royale bar

The choice is entirely up to you .

Albus blushes a bit and quickly stuffs the envelope into the pocket of his pajamas, grateful that everyone else at the table is currently buttering toast and flipping through the newspaper.

All except Scorpius, who is reading through a letter from his cousin Astra, a magizoologist like her late parents. For the last couple of years, she had split her time between Malfoy Manor and her travels. He assumes she is simply writing to notify him of her latest travel plans, but his eyes grow wide as he finishes the letter.

Lily notices his alarmed expression from across the table, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes um, I better get home. I have to speak with my father at once,” Scorpius says, rising abruptly.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Lily asks, face etched with concern.

“Um, er, yes, actually that’s a good idea.”

And with that both Lily and Scorpius dash up the stairs to dress for the day.

“What’s going on?” she asks as soon as they are out of earshot.

“It’s Astra. She eloped. She eloped yesterday!” 

“What?” Lily exclaims, her full lips parted wide in surprise, “That’s barmy! Is it that muggle man she’d been dating recently?”

Scorpius nods, “But that’s not even the surprising bit. His mother saw Astra do magic and is going completely mental and wants to report her to the authorities.”

“Well, that happens right? That’s the whole point of the accidental magic team at the ministry,” Lily says reassuringly, “Listen, we need Albus. He’ll know what to do.”

“Lily-,“ Scorpius says hesitantly.

She cuts him off, “We need Albus. Does your father even know yet?” 

“I don’t think so. Right now, Astra just needs to get herself and her husband out of Spain as soon as possible.”

“Okay, I’m going to change and then tell Albus to meet us at Malfoy Manor,” Lily says.

Within twenty minutes Lily has provided Albus with a quick overview of what has transpired and just like she knew he would, her brother immediately has a plan of action.

“We can have our ministry contact theirs. This can’t be the first time something like this has happened,” Albus says calmly, looking at the concern on Scorpius and Lily's faces.

“I think it’s bad. Astra made it sound like the entire muggle village that they’re staying in is after her,” Scorpius says, face crumpled in distress.

Albus takes a deep breath and places his hands on Scorpius’s shoulder, his deep green eyes meeting the other boy’s worried gaze. 

“It’ll be okay, I promise. I don't have a lot of experience in muggle/magical marriage law, but I’m going to contact the Muggle Liaison Office and see if someone can meet us at Malfoy Manor,” Albus says, squeezing Scorpius’s shoulders gently. And while it is completely the wrong thought at the wrong time, Albus can’t help but notice the defined muscles beneath Scorpius’s jumper. 

They say their goodbyes to Noah and Lucy and floo to Malfoy Manor. 

“Dad! Dad, are you here?” Scorpius calls from the massive living room of his childhood home. The room with its three-story ceilings echoes ominously. 

Scorpius’s cocker spaniel, Honey, comes bounding into the room joyfully hearing his owner arrive home. Scorpius scoops up the dog and hugs her tightly. 

“Mister Scorpius,” greets their house-elf Trixie.

“Please, I need my father immediately,” Scorpius tells the elf. Trixie apparates away with a pop and within seconds his father joins his son and the Potters.

“Scorpius? What’s wrong?” Draco asks, eyes wide with concern. He looks at Lily and Albus suspiciously. In his experience, few good things happened when the Potters showed up unannounced. 

“You should sit down,” Scorpius says, gesturing to the silver brocade and carved wood settee.

“Scorpius, tell me now before I think the worst,” Draco commands.

“Okay, okay, everyone is okay for now,” Scorpius says, trying to placate his father’s alarm, “I had a letter from Astra this morning. She’s eloped with a Spanish muggle boy. His parents are furious about the marriage and his mother saw Astra doing magic and now she’s, I don’t know- they’ve called the local muggle authorities. Astra and her new husband want to come here, but there are issues with immigration and violating the Statute of Secrecy and I don’t know all the legal bits, but apparently, it’s a mess.”

“Bloody hell! Why didn’t she tell me immediately?” Draco says, standing as if ready for action.

“I don’t know, I don’t! But I’m telling you now, “ Scorpius replies earnestly, “Albus contacted the Muggle Liaison Office and someone is going to call soon.”

“Hello?”  A voice calls out from the floo. 

Albus steps forward, “Maggie, thanks for getting back to us so quickly. Everyone, this is Maggie Holmsby from the Muggle Liaison Office.”

“Alright, everyone up to date?” Maggies asks and as they nod, she proceeds, “First things first, we need to alert the ministry that the Statute of Secrecy has been violated before they find out about it themselves. Someone needs to contact the Accidental Magic and Obliviator Headquarters emergency line”

“I can do that,” Lily nods and quickly pulls out her two-way mirror. 

Maggie continues, “Albus, we need to inform Susan and see if your department can help with negotiating Astra’s immigration. It’s not unprecedented for us to work with a foreign ministry to quickly extradite a wizard, but muggles are less common. This can become a tricky diplomatic situation very quickly.”

“Where are they now? Are they safe?” Draco asks.

“Yes,” Scorpius says, reading through the letter again quickly, “They’re in Calle Mandragora, it’s a magical neighborhood of Madrid so his muggle family can’t reach them.”

“But, I don’t understand. Why can’t we just send them a portkey? I have several in my garden shed,” Draco asks.

Maggie shakes her head, “Please don’t tell me these things, you know that’s illegal, Mr. Malfoy. It’s also illegal and unsafe for muggles to travel via portkey unauthorized, especially internationally. But, Albus, if Susan is agreeable we can have her work with your Uncle Percy to expedite a portkey with Minister Granger’s authorization.”

Lily walks back in briskly, “The Improper Use of Magic office said they’ll call their Spanish counterparts right away. Al, I think we should tell Dad.” 

Albus nods, ‘I agree.”

Lily looks at Scorpius who looks inquiringly at his father. 

Draco nods curtly, “Alright, I’m not sure what help he’ll be, but fine. Gods forbid a single drama unfold without Harry Potter getting involved.”

“I’ll go talk to my dad now,” Lily says, rising from the velvet wingback chair.

“I’ll go with- ,“ Albus says, starting to stand as well, but next to him Scorpius places a hand on his knee and presses back down. Albus just looks at Scorpius’s pleading eyes and nods, settling back into the settee.

“I think you’ve done all that you can for now. This is now likely above my pay grade, so to speak. But, Albus call me if you need anything else. I’m sure it will move swiftly once the portkey is granted,” Maggie says and she walks towards the massive marble hearth to floo back home.

Albus and Scorpius are sitting on the settee rubbing Honey's soft ears somewhat absentmindedly. The spaniel oblivious to the entire situation simply leans into their affections and rolls onto her back in hopes of a belly rub.

The adrenaline of the last few hours was finally starting to dissipate. Scorpius can finally feel the tension in his shoulders and neck releasing since receiving Astra’s letter that morning. Now there is nothing that can be done except hope that their plan will be successful.

“I should call Susan and Percy to get working on the portkey,” Albus says, taking his two-way mirror from his trouser pocket.

“Right, well sitting here panicking can’t be good for us. Tea?” Scorpius asks. 

As if on cue, Trixie the house-elf is back and looking at them inquiringly, but Scorpius declines her help. He desperately needs to do something with his hands so he walks quickly to the kitchen and turns on the kettle. Draco joins him in the kitchen.

“You did a good thing. Getting the Potters involved, I mean,” Draco says, his tone softer now that his initial panic has worn off, “I just can’t help but wonder why she reached out to you first. Have I really been so distant that she felt like I wouldn't help her?”

Scorpius shrugs awkwardly, “Maybe she just thought since I already knew she was dating the muggle boy that it would be easier for me to help her out.”

Draco is silent while he watches Scorpius measure out tea leaves into a porcelain teapot.

“You know that you and Astra are the only good things in my life, don’t you? I know that I’m a first-class curmudgeon, but I’d do anything for both of you,” Draco says finally. 

Scorpius looks at his father and notices how tired he seems. He is still handsome with high cheekbones and a bit of scruff along his jaw, fine lines around his eyes and brows, though fortunately his platinum blond hair disguises any graying.

“I know, Dad. Astra does too.”

“Malfoy!” 

Draco and Scorpius exchange a look as they hear the inimitable Harry Potter calling from their living room. 

“For Salazar’s sake, you didn’t need to come here, Potters,” Draco says irritably when he walks into his living room to find Harry and Ginny accompanying Lily with Amelie in tow.

“You involve two of my children, of course, I’m coming,” Harry says defensively.

“Well, to be clear I might have called James too, but I didn’t see how a quidditch player would be of much use,” Scorpius replies dryly.

Ginny and Lily snicker as both Harry and Draco stare at Scorpius, who has the decency to blush at his ill-timed joke.

“Tea?” Scorpius asks finally to break the silence.

“Please,” Ginny says graciously, making herself comfortable on the Malfoys’s stodgy Victorian-era furniture.

“Do you have any biscuits?” Amelie asks hopefully from where she is petting Honey on the rug, shoes already off and making herself at home.

Scorpius laughs, “Yes, I’m sure we do.”

“Chocolate chip? No, ginger!” Amelie declares victoriously.

“Are you running a daycare? Or perhaps a zoo?” Draco asks Ginny and Harry while gesturing to Amelie.

“We were watching Amelie because Teddy and Victoire took Auggie school shopping in Diagon Alley. And then Lily called because a Malfoy was in trouble- again,” Harry shoots back.

“And don’t think I won’t bat-bogey hex you in front of her either if you get a smart mouth,” Ginny adds.

“Can you? Uncle George and Uncle Ron have always said it's so good and I’ve never seen it!” Amelie says excitedly. 

“I think I’m going to need something stronger than tea,” Draco mumbles.

Hearing his family and the Malfoys in one room, Albus rushes back into the living room to greet his parents. Everyone turns to stare at him expectantly.

“Right, well it’s good news. Everything is going to be fine. I talked to Susan and she is working with Percy now to get an emergency portkey arranged. Once that’s done, they just need Aunt Hermione to sign off. Susan made contact with the DMLE and our DIMC counterparts in Spain. It seems that Astra and her husband, Cosmo Fernandez, were able to get to wizarding Spain without issue and the muggle police in Cordoba have determined that whatever happened with Astra, they haven't identified her as dangerous. Not to mention, his family has no proof that Astra has done anything wrong. They are both adults and the muggle authorities have determined that this is simply a case of a family who disapproves of their son’s new wife.” 

Draco shakes his head, “Thank Merlin! So what now? Will Astra and did you say his name is Cosmo? Bloody hell, what kind of name is that? Are the Spanish allowing them to leave and come here?”

“Yes, I think so. Susan and I will be working on it. The ministry there needs to decide what will be done to selectively obliviate Cosmo’s parents and possibly the muggle police. Then the case will go for review to determine if Astra will face improper use of magic charges in Spain. We won’t know that today. It’s unlikely there will be any criminal charges filed by the muggle authorities. The Spanish ministry appears to be cooperating on their immigration to the UK and will comply with the portkey request. Cosmo may have further immigration issues on the muggle side of things, but we can worry about that later and our department can assist along with the DMLE.”

“Good work, Albus. I’ll get in touch with Hermione and see if there is anything I can do to hurry the Spanish ministry along,” Harry says, excusing himself.

Draco scoffs but says nothing.

“His name has massive influence whether you like it or not. Besides, I think he’d save anybody from having to repeat his experience with the improper use of magic hearing. Now, have a biscuit, Draco,” Ginny remarks archly, helping herself and Amelie to a gingersnap.

Scorpius can’t help himself as he hugs Albus tightly in relief and murmurs a thank you softly against his neck that sends a shiver down Albus’s spine. Albus squeezes Scorpius tightly back, but stops himself just short of running his hands through his white blond hair. 

A few hours later, Harry, Albus and Hermione have a short floo meeting with the Spanish Minister for Magic. The Spanish minister is effusive, apparently he is quite the fan of the Golden Trio.  He ensures them that the young lovers will be back home in England by the evening. 

As per usual when Scorpius doesn't know what to do, he cooks. He decides to welcome home Astra and her mystery man with her favorite meal, carbonara with hand-cut pappardelle and smoked shiitake “bacon” in place of the pancetta. Astra is a vegetarian, after all. Plus a salad of baby gem lettuce and fresh herbs with juicy tomatoes from the verdant garden that Scorpius had started when he moved back into his family’s ancestral home.

Lily and Albus, along with Honey, of course, had decided to join Scorpius in the kitchen.

“Right, so do either of you actually cook?”

Albus and Lily exchange a look that tells Scorpius all he needs to know.

“How about you slice up the mushrooms?” Scorpius says, setting out a bin of fresh shiitakes, a cutting board and a chef’s knife in front of Lily.

“Mm, see we never actually learned the spells for this and well, do you really trust her with a knife that big?“ Albus asks, eyeing Lily warily.

“I’ll have you know, that I’m less than a year away from my potions mastery, and cookery and potions are basically the same things,” Lily says, dramatically waving around the knife in a way that does nothing to assuage Albus’s fears.

“Right, well I’m going out to the greenhouse for tomatoes and herbs. Try not to burn down the manor while I’m gone,” Scorpius says, raising his brows as he takes a set of gloves and some kitchen shears from a drawer near the kitchen door. 

“We promise to only burn down the kitchen,” Lily calls after him. 

As the door shuts, Lily turns back to Albus, “Do you want to help?”

“Any chance you need me to turn on the kettle?” Albus asks, offering up his only kitchen skill.

“You might actually be worse than mum,” Lily replies, rolling her eyes.

“What do you think he’ll be like? Astra’s new amante ?”

“Tall, dark and handsome by the sounds of it. I think Astra had the right idea running away to elope with a muggle. Magical Britain is so bloody incestuous. We should really start looking for men abroad,” Lily says with faux ennui, “Then again you have Sebastien Perrot throwing parties just so he can see you again.”

Albus flushes crimson, a holdover from his Weasley genes, “In all the excitement today I forgot to tell you. Perrot owled me this morning. He wants to meet him at the Crown Royale on Thursday.”

“Oh, good for you Al! One of us should have a proper summer fling.”

“You’re so dramatic. You act like you don’t get stopped for dates just walking down the street. And you snogged that Cattermole boy last night.”

“Is it bad that I’ve already forgotten? Seriously it was so deeply uninteresting and entirely too much tongue,” Lily shudders.

The kitchen door opens and Scorpius walks in carrying a basket of plump red tomatoes and freshly picked basil leaves as big as Albus’s hand.  Albus jumps up to help Scorpius set all the ingredients on the butcher block island in the middle of the kitchen. 

“Think you can handle a kitchen task that doesn’t involve fire or sharp blades?” Scorpius asks as he sets the tomatoes in a strainer in the sink 

“If I find a way to screw this up, you only have yourself to blame,” Albus says with a sardonic smile that makes Scorpius’s knees go weak.

Scorpius clears his throat and gets to work weighing out the flour for pasta.

“All done,” Lily says proudly from where she is slicing the mushrooms.

“Very impressive,” Scorpius says, as he uses his hands to make a small well in the mound of flour and adds eggs, cracking them deftly with one hand.

Albus watches Scorpius’s hands as he mixes the ingredients into a supple dough. The movements are mesmerizing, his flour-dusted hands strong and purposeful as he kneads. The kitchen is suddenly feeling quite warm to Albus and he unbuttons the collar of his shirt. 

Lily has to bite her lip from making a smart remark as she watches Albus get increasingly flustered. 

“The two of you are welcome to go back to the living room while I finish up,” Scorpius says as he cuts the pasta into pappardelle noodles. He washes his hands and flicks his wand at the stove so the water in the stockpot begins boiling rapidly.   

“It’s probably a good idea so poor Astra and this Cosmo fellow don’t portkey into a room with dad and Draco,” Lily says, washing her hands, “And I suppose we’re not being much help.

Back in the living room, Draco is pacing and tapping his toes incessantly, “They should be here now.” 

As if on cue, they hear the front door open and Draco rushes towards the foyer.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Draco rushes at his niece, pulling Astra into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Ow, it’s fine. We’re here now, it’s okay,” Astra says, comforting her uncle.

Draco releases Astra and then hesitates as he sizes up her new husband.

“Señor Malfoy,” Cosmo says with a nod as he extends his hand towards Draco. 

“Right, uh- pleasure,” Draco says hesitantly, shaking his hand. 

Lily hugs Astra and they jump up and down excitedly. Scorpius too, hugs his cousin tightly and also pulls Cosmo into a hug making the Spanish man laugh. He is as tall, dark and handsome as Lily surmised.

Greetings made, the couple is ushered into the dining room.

“Oh you have no idea how happy I am to be home,” Astra says gratefully sitting down with Cosmo at her side, “And Scorpius I can’t believe you made my favorite meal.”

Trixie apparates into the dining room with a bottle of wine and Cosmo jumps out of his seat with a yelp first at the pop and then again when he spots the large ears and tennis ball-sized eyes of the elf.

“ Calma, mi amor ,” Astra says, squeezing his hand affectionately, “Um, maybe no apparating around Cosmo yet. I only told him I was magical two weeks ago and I’m trying to ease him into it. 

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m trying, but it is muy, muy surprising,” Cosmo says in heavily accented English. He smiles brilliantly at Astra and kisses her forehead softly.  

“What happened, Astra? How did you find yourself at the center of all this? And when did you find the time to elope?” Draco asks, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice. But his brows are so tightly furrowed, Scorpius is a bit concerned they’ll be stuck that way.

Astra groans, running her hands through her chin-length blonde hair, “I was at Cosmo’s flat yesterday and working on a manuscript. I was sitting on the terrace and used a summoning charm to grab my field notes from my bag inside. His mother walked in at that moment for a morning cafe con leche with her only son and saw the notes flying through the air and landing perfectly in front of me and I was just sitting there like an idiot with my wand in hand. She started screaming ‘ magica negra, magica negra!’ and a few other choice phrases that probably shouldn’t be the first Spanish words that you learn,” Astra continues, “She called the police and it just all got out of hand quite quickly.”

“ Sí, mi mama , she wanted to have Astra arrested,” Cosmo adds, dark eyes wide with concern.

“I knew for Cosmo and I to make it back to England it would be easier if we were married. We left the flat immediately and went straight to the ministry in Madrid. Cosmo had to side-along apparate with me. We were able to get a marriage license yesterday afternoon with a promise of a few extra galleons for the licensing office. Honestly, we’ve been talking about getting married all summer. We just had to speed it up a bit.” 

Astra looks at Cosmo again like he invented sunshine and leans in to kiss him softly. Despite all the rash decision-making, they are clearly smitten with each other.

“Well, why did you owl Scorpius first?” Draco asks, face softening, but still full of concern.

“I don’t know, don’t read anything into it. It was just the first thing that popped into my mind. I thought Scorpius might be able to reach Lily and see if the Potters could help.”

Astra looks at Albus and Harry and smiles, “Thank you again by the way. I don’t know when we would have made it home without your help.”

Harry nods, “It was mostly Albus. But of course, anything we can do to help.”

“We will likely have to prepare to meet with the immigration officer and possibly go before the Wizengamot, but I can help you with that,” Albus adds. 

“How did the two of you meet?” Ginny asks.

“At a beach in Barcelona, I was there for a little mini-break after camping all over the countryside,” Astra starts.

“I saw her sitting on the sand, under a large sunhat and she looked so beautiful, like una angel maravillosa ,” Cosmo lifts Astra’s hand to her lips and kisses her palm softly.

“He came up to me and asked me my name. I said it was Astra and he told me his was Cosmo, and our names are so ridiculous that it seemed- “

“- written in the stars,” Cosmo finishes.

Harry laughs, but turns into a polite cough at Ginny’s glare, though her tight lips are barely concealing a snicker.

“And now here you are,” Draco says, raising his glass in a toast to the happy couple. 

The rest of dinner passes as pleasantly as possible with Draco and Harry making polite, if curt, conversation. 

Meanwhile, Scorpius watches his cousin and her new husband. Astra is feeding Cosmo small bites of her pasta and he beams at her as if this is a true talent. It is disgustingly, tooth-rottingly sweet. 

She is as light as he is dark and they are striking together with her silver blonde hair and icy blue eyes and his rich brown skin and thick, wavy black hair. It is as natural as her ocean meeting his earth and Scorpius wonders how love can seem so completely easy. For all Astra has lost in her young life, she doesn’t shy away from love, rather jumping in wholeheartedly, unafraid that love will hurt her. 

He looks over at Albus who is also watching them and as their eyes meet he wonders if they are both thinking of that summer all those years ago when love felt as easy, breezy for them too.

Chapter Text

There are a million reasons why Albus shouldn’t be here right now, walking into the bar at the Crown Royale hotel, starting with Albus’s position with the ministry and ending with knowing that all Perrot can offer him is a meaningless summer affair. But these reasons are easy to dismiss when he spots Sebastien Perrot holding court amongst a cadre of beautiful people. 

His high cheekbones and square jaw are even sharper in the warm light and shadows of the glitzy hotel and clearly captivating the group as they nod along, smiling and laughing in all the right places. His natural charisma is astounding. Sebastien looks up and spots Albus hovering near the entrance. When they make eye contact, everyone turns to see who has captured Sebastien Perrot’s attention. Albus feels himself blush and runs a hand through his thick, black hair, hoping the gesture comes off as flirtatious rather than nervous. 

Sebastien makes his way towards him , though not without getting stopped by people shaking his hand, waving and attempting conversation. Albus watches him move through the room. He has spent his entire life around wealthy, famous, powerful people and is far from a stranger to the spotlight.

But it is different watching Perrot. His parents, Harry and Ginny, had always reluctantly acquiesced to peoples' demands of them, always saying hello and being polite, and only using their influence when necessary. Whereas Perrot seems to relish the attention. He knows his power and he isn't shy about lording it over others. After a decade amongst lawyers and politicians, Albus recognizes his type. The type of person who you would follow in jumping off a bridge all the while making it seem like it was your idea.

Albus feels his heartbeat speed up as Perrot approaches. He places one hand on his lower back and leans in to kiss him on the cheek in greeting before leading Albus to a table.

"I'm glad you came," Perrot says, "But I knew that you would."

Albus laughs, "Despite most of my friends and family warning me off."

"And yet here you are, devastating in all your glory."

"You are entirely too charming, for your own good.  Or maybe it’s my own good."

"You insist on thinking I'm a bad influence."

"Oh, I know you are. I'm just not sure that I mind it."

Albus leans back in his chair, his elbow propped up against the plush gray velvet of the chair. He tilts his chin down and looks up at Sebastien beneath thick dark lashes. He is vain enough to know from the photos of himself in the press that this is a particularly good angle for him. 

"What do you want from me?" Albus asks.

"What do you want from me?”

"Oh, very cute."

"I told you. You devastate me."

"That's not a good thing."

"It is the way you do it."

He knows this conversation is going around in circles and amounting to absolutely nothing. Sebastien may be a powerful man, but the look he is giving Albus tells him that he has all the power here. And to be honest, Albus is enjoying himself and the effect of his youth and good looks to make a handsome older man say and do ridiculous things.

"Tell me something I don't already know about you."

"I'm an only child and my parents died when I was seven. I was raised in Switzerland by my grandfather who was Minister for Magic."

"Everybody knows that. It's in every article written about you."

"I'm a Chudley Cannons fan."

"Everyone is a fan since my mum finished her career as a League Cup winner with them."

"I'll have you know it was my father's team well before Ginny Potter appeared on the scene. And you? The Pearlsteens, for example?"

"I grew up with them. I've spent nearly as much time with Noah and Jonah as I have my own family."

"Noah is your best mate?"

"Yes and married to my cousin. Is that what this is about? You want insider information on the Pearlsteens? Because unless you’re wondering about who turned the Charms classroom floor into a solid block of ice for three days that couldn’t be unfrozen by any of the Hogwarts professors, then I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed."

"And Scorpius Malfoy?"

"Is friends with my sister."

"And nothing else?"

"Once upon a time, I suppose. Are you jealous?"

"If I say yes…"

"Then I'd say I'm surprised. Mostly, because you seem like the type of person who always gets what they want."

"I'm back in London for the exact reason that I didn't."

"No, you're back in London because you got caught."

"Touché."

"En garde."

They look at each other. Albus doesn’t know what the older man is thinking behind those amber eyes, but he is just curious enough to keep talking. Sebastien’s gaze slowly roams over Albus’s face, lingering on his lips just a second too long.

"Why did you sleep with Vogel’s wife and blow up your whole life?" Albus asks, "I mean you moved across Europe and now you’re losing your business."

"As usual, the rumors only hold half-truths. Vogel didn't love Katerina enough to dissolve our company over our affair. That had been a long time coming. But, I suppose I did it because I wanted to."

"And you always do exactly what you want? Eat ice cream for breakfast and seduce married women?"

"Do you really find those to be equivalent?" Perrot asks amused, "Besides, I don't believe I'd have ever successfully seduced Katerina if she didn't want to be seduced."

Albus wonders if that is true. Seduction implies that you have no choice, you’re led astray by forces beyond your control. But is love a choice or do you fall? And what does it mean to fall unexpectedly? Is it bruising and banging on the way down or is it a gentle and graceful descension? 

Sebastien notices his inattention. He reaches forward and softly brushes Albus’s knee. Albus feels his skin heat up underneath his touch.

"What's wrong?" 

"Just thinking- ", Albus hesitates. He isn’t sure if he trusts Sebastien enough to disclose personal feelings. But Sebastien seemed like a man who could keep secrets, or at least had enough of them.

“My last partner and I ended things because he cheated on me. I didn’t care much. I’d been planning to end it. We weren’t together long and it wasn’t serious. Sometimes I think I don’t fully understand how falling in love even happens. By contrast, you have my sister's best friend eloping after just a couple months, madly, stupidly in love. Her husband left behind his family, his country, his whole muggle life to run off with her. Isn't it strange, how love can make people do things you never thought they'd do? And yet sometimes love doesn't matter at all. Sometimes, it's just- " Albus trails off.

"Just what?" Sebastien prods.

"Well, just sex."

Sebastien takes a sharp breath and crosses then uncrosses his legs. Clearly, whatever he had imagined Albus was going to say, that wasn't it.

Albus can't help but let out a small laugh. He didn't know what to expect spending time with Sebastien outside of a crowded ballroom, distractions aplenty. But he is nice enough, clever and much too handsome for his own good. Sebastien is going to be trouble, and as he reaches forward and takes Albus’s hand, Albus decides he doesn't care.

"Come on, I want to show you something."

He follows him to the lift, Sebastien’s hand on Albus’s lower back as they make room for more people. With each stop, on each floor, he feels himself move a little closer to Sebastien and grow a little more anxious. Up they travel to the rooftop of the hotel. The rooftop has a bar and seating around small fire pits. Being summertime, it is crowded with hotel guests enjoying the late sunset and relatively mild English weather.

Sebastien grabs his hand again and leads him towards the roof's edge to take in the view. He steps closely behind him, and leans forward so his face is just inches from Albus’s own. Albus desperately hopes he can't hear his heartbeat.

"Do you see that building there?" Sebastien says, pointing to a tall building on the corner of Knockturn and Diagon Alley with a tall gothic spire.

“It’s my first acquisition under The Perrot Company. It’s the expanded campus of a herbology research company owned by friends of mine. The lower floors will be research chambers. The upper floors will be business and operations staff. At the bottom will be an interactive museum of sorts so you can learn about the company’s work.” 

Albus sighs softly. Apparently Noah’s concerns were right, Sebastien Perrot is planning on moving his friends and associates into his buildings. It is not unexpected. Perrot probably has mutually beneficial investments in these companies.

“Do you have other properties in the works?” Albus asks, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Indeed,” he says. He describes his plans ranging from the small magical villages in southwest England like Godric’s Hollow and Ottery St. Catchpole to the northern neighborhoods like Hogsmeade. The scope of his plans makes Albus’s head spin.

“Why do you do this? Do you just want to look out and say that you own things?” Albus asks. 

“Wizarding London is growing quickly. People are moving here from all over the magical world and people like me, or your friends the Pearlsteens, we get to decide its destiny.”

“So it's about control?”

“Only partially, it's about shaping our community. The Diagon Alley expansion is the biggest project, but it's just the tip of the iceberg. There is room for everyone here in Magical Britain and the country is better, stronger for it when people have safe and interesting places to gather and do things that they enjoy, to shop and share skills and knowledge.”

“I’m surprised.”

“By what?”

“You sound like you’re running for minister?”

“I have no altruistic intentions. Wizards and witches and magical creatures of all kinds will pay me handsomely for all this.”

“No- I guess, I’m surprised that you don’t want a specific kind of community,” Albus says carefully. He only knows Perrot by reputation after all, one that is shrouded in a bit of darkness that Albus always associated with the pureblood politics of the past.

“I told you that infidelity only told half the story about my split with Vogel.”

“It’s impressive. You seemed to have moved rather quickly,” Albus says, gesturing vaguely towards the wizarding city below them.

“I know enough of the right people,” Sebastien says.

But the way he says it, as he reaches a hand forward and cups Albus’s face gently implies that he is done talking business.

Albus’s toes curl in anticipation as Sebastien looks directly in his emerald eyes, his desire obvious. He takes a half step forward and that is all the encouragement that Sebastien needs as he closes the gap between them and kisses him deeply.

“Practically nauseating,” Draco mumbles to Scorpius over a game of wizarding chess.

On the settee behind Scorpius, Astra is casting a charm to enchant the flowers on the curved wood end table to dance in their vase while Cosmo laughs and kisses her as if the charm is the height of magic.

“I caught them going at it on the kitchen counter this morning,” Scorpius says, shaking his head, “I suggest announcing yourself very loudly if you want a cup of tea.”

“They certainly seem happy, though,” Draco concedes with a small smile, “Is it my move?”

Scorpius nods. The fact is that both Draco and Scorpius are quite hopeless at chess and so their games are lengthy and involved until one of them stumbles across a checkmate.

A memory flashes of lazy afternoons with Albus, “Piss poor performance! This must be why you were sorted into Hufflepuff, absolutely no strategic Slytherin instincts, Malfoy!” Albus playfully admonished Scorpius during that summer when they emerged from Scorpius’s bedroom, or the gardens, or the swimming pool and finally put on some clothes, ate lunch and played chess. It was always much easier to come by privacy at Malfoy Manor compared to Albus’s childhood home, Iolanthe House, which had any number of Weasley-Potters and assorted farm animals running around at all hours. 

“Look, the Daily Prophet says there is going to be a meteor shower in a few hours. We should go lay out in the conservatory. The ceiling disappears so we can watch the meteor shower, but the floor is charmed so we can lay down on the rug and stay warm,” Astra says to Cosmo, showing him the newspaper’s astronomy forecast. 

“This house is amazing,” Cosmo says, eyes wide.

Draco waves his hand dismissively, “It’s a decaying monument to a dangerous ideology and a self-serving family legacy.”

Cosmo looks sheepish for a moment at saying something wrong.

“I take it you haven’t quite explained the family history,” Draco says to Astra, brows raised.

Astra shakes her head, “It’s never been important to me. I knew you would never care if I married a muggle.”

Astra had the benefit of being the daughter, of a second son, of a second son, Lucius Malfoy’s much younger brother who had spent the war years far away from England and its pureblood politics.

“I’m happy if you’re happy,” Draco says sincerely, “though I’d advise against taking Cosmo into the gallery. Some of our ancestors with the permanent sticking charms on their portraits will have colorful language for your husband.”

“Husband!” Astra squeals happily, falling into Cosmo’s lap, “I don’t think I’ll ever be tired of that word.”

And as they gaze into each other’s eyes with a look that says they are just seconds from snogging ferociously again, Scorpius stands and stretches, “Anyone for pudding?” 

“Do you want help?” Cosmo asks, extricating himself from Astra. For an accountant, he had proved to be fairly skilled in the kitchen.

Scorpius opens the refrigerator and pulls out a ginger cake he’d baked earlier in the day.

“I think we need chocolate sauce. Can you chop the chocolate? I’ll prep the double boiler.”

Cosmo takes the large block of Honeyduke’s finest dark chocolate and begins cutting it into smaller chunks for melting.

“How are you finding things?” Scorpius asks, “Are you doing okay?”

“ Mas o menos , at least I can help with cooking,” the affable man says with a smile. He really is handsome, Scorpius notices, and he is adjusting as well as could be expected.

“Cosmo, can I ask you something?”

“ Sí , of course.”

“It’s terribly romantic, you and my cousin. But what makes you so sure it will work long-term? Isn’t it scary to be married so quickly to someone that you only met three months ago?”

“I think we had a connection as soon as we met. It was like a chispa, like a spark. Our first date lasted three days because we didn’t want to say goodbye. We saw each other almost everyday, as often we could. Everytime we talked, it was like I could see our whole future. I could see Astra being a part of my life everyday, forever. Now it’s not just the spark, it’s also that she is mi mejor amiga, my best friend. I forget what it was like before I met her, you know?”

Scorpius nods, but he isn’t sure that he does know. He had friends. He’d had lovers he’d never consider friends. But there was only person he thinks could have ever been both. 

“You know in the magical world, we actually have people who can see the future,” Scorpius says, with a smile.

“ Verdad? Tell me about these people. Can you do it?” Cosmo asks, face full of amazement.

“We’ve never had a full-service restaurant, only the tea room.  The space won’t look like much today, just four blank walls. But you have a solid restaurant concept and Luella can make any vision come to life,” Noah says as he walks Scorpius into the sunny breakfast nook. 

Scorpius has joined Noah and Lucy for breakfast at their London townhome before meeting socialite turned interior designer Luella Biltmore-Fawley at the Sovereign hotel. The property had been one of Pearlsteen International’s first investments in the UK, part of the post-war Reconstruction era in the early aughts.

Scorpius nods, “I’ve been thinking about it and I like the idea of opening in Hogsmeade first. We can keep it to a simple menu and perhaps build some momentum for a London opening.”

Their house-elf Linus snaps his long fingers and the teapot on table begins filling teacups while the elf moves onto setting out trays of croissants, bowls of fruit and pots of jam.

“Thank you Linus,” Lucy says, opening the window to let in their owl with the morning post.

Sorting through the pile, she sets aside the uninteresting bits looking expectantly for Witch Weekly. She diligently read her copy over breakfast each Friday morning. Although it was rare they had a scoop that Lucy didn’t already know. 

Flipping through the tabloid she comments, “These tabloids are so subpar. Lily and that Swedish quidditch player stopped shagging a month ago.”

She shows Noah and Scorpius a picture of Lily leaving a restaurant, the arms around her waist belonging to a tall, muscular blond fellow whose name seemed to have too many ‘s’s and ‘o’s for Scorpius to even attempt to pronounce.

She keeps flipping the pages before letting out an audible squeal, “Albus Severus Potter, that little minx. Noah, did you know about this?”

Once again, she turns the magazine over to show them a photo. This time though it is Sebastien Perrot with his fingers tangling in Albus’s thick black hair and kissing him passionately on a rooftop in the middle of Diagon Alley.

Noah shakes his head, “All I knew is that they were meeting for a late night drink.”

Scorpius falls into a violent coughing fit choking on his croissant.

Noah pounds him on the back, "Alright there, mate?"

Scorpius, trying to recover both his airways and his dignity, nods his head. He finds himself unable to stop staring at the picture now discarded on the table as Lucy finishes her breakfast.

"So you think he's learned anything from Perrot?" Noah asks no one in particular.

"You see Albus snogging Europe's most eligible bachelor and that's what you want to know? Who cares about your corporate espionage scheme?" Lucy says, rolling up the magazine and swatting Noah playfully on the nose.

Noah rolls his eyes, "Darling, if you really want to buy that winter chateau in St. Moritz, I suggest you care."

Lucy ignores him, "Brilliant idea! Let's host a dinner. I've wanted to have Astra and her new husband over and we can invite Albus too. Scorpius, you’ll come, right?”

Not waiting for his answer, she continues mostly to herself, "Hmm, actually that's an unbalanced table- we’ll invite Lily and Delilah too".

"I'm not going to point out that you just want Astra, Cosmo and Albus to come over because you're nosy. Instead, I'm just going to say ‘tell me when it is and what to wear’," Noah stands and gives Lucy a quick kiss before heading out with Scorpius.

"I always do," she says, giving him a squeeze on his bum as he walks away.

“Good, you’re both here,” Luella says, ushering Noah and Scorpius from the lobby to the construction zone that will be Scorpius’s first restaurant, “We have a million decisions to make and only hundreds of seconds to do it.” 

When she wasn't serving as a muse for rockstars, Luella had dabbled in modeling and as an assistant art director for her family's publication house that owned most of the wizarding magazines and newspapers in Europe.

Eventually, she combined her passion for art and her transfiguration and charms skills in her career. She had spent a couple years as an apprentice at a wizarding design firm that was famous for high profile projects like being hired by Ginny Weasley-Potter to remodel 12 Grimmauld Place into the Potter Family Foundation offices, as well as a handful of other Pearlsteen International properties. This was to be Luella's first individual project, which might make a young restaurateur like Scorpius nervous, except for the fact that Luella Biltmore-Fawley had been a wizarding society tastemaker since she was sixteen years old.

Scorpius finds himself swept along in a cloud of long blonde hair and expensive perfume. The restaurant called Kaiyo, an anglicized spelling of the word for ocean in Japanese, is to be a refined, coastal-inspired fish and vegetable forward menu. There were dining tables and banquette fabrics to choose (a dove grey velvet, but only if they could get the stain-proofing charms resistant to red wine); lighting to select (sconces along the wall, a chandelier for the waiting area but otherwise absolutely nothing overhead), a selection of dishware (crisp white porcelain with a silver stripe, and hand-painted bamboo chargers) and glassware to order (self-refilling for water and fizzy drinks, but never for cocktails).

“Alright boys, in six weeks, Scorpius Malfoy will be Executive Chef of this restaurant,” Luella declares as they wrap up their design meeting.

Noah and Luella leave, but Scorpius stands in the middle of the space and smiles softly. “This is really happening,” he whispers to himself excitedly, “This is going to work.”

As he takes in the sparse room, soon to be transformed into his first ever restaurant he has a sudden overwhelming desire to share this moment with Albus.

Albus yawns and stretches before settling down at his desk. It had been a long week of early morning meetings with the DAER committee, days spent on all his normal work duties, and long evenings writing then rewriting the elfin representation legislation. On top of all that he was prepping for Astra and Cosmo’s meeting with the Improper Use of Magic office and Cosmo’s immigration to magical Britain. Normally, that sort of case was below Albus’s pay grade, but he’d always liked Astra and he knew that if the situation had been reversed Scorpius would have done anything he could for Lily. 

After corralling the paper crane memos, and sorting his to-do list, he opens the large yellow envelope at the bottom of his inbox. The envelope was completely blank, but the ministry mail was extensively screened and Albus didn’t see or feel any signs that its contents could be dangerous.

He quickly discovers that he couldn’t have been more wrong. His jaw drops so far it actually hurts because inside the envelope is a picture of the Minister of Magic, one third of the Golden Trio, Order of Merlin, First Class awardee, the beloved Hermione Granger-Weasley and the former Bulgarian national team quidditch player, the world-renowned Viktor Krum hugging tightly outside of a hotel in the capital city of Sofia. 

The photo is time stamped for 2100 hours and they hug and she smiles and he presses his nose into her voluminous dark brown waves over and over again in a loop that makes Albus nauseous. The next photo is time stamped for the following day, the “morning after” and Hermione is seen walking in the park with Viktor, the two of them standing close, looking at each other, but no obvious signs of touching. The date on the back of the photo indicates it was two months before the British election. The election his aunt won in a landslide. 

Albus remembers the day well. The day before the Granger-Weasleys had completed a photo shoot for Bewitched magazine. Albus remembered seeing the photos, set in their home library, when they appeared in the next month’s issue. 

His Aunt Hermione, confident in navy dress robes posing in her home study, his Uncle Ron dressed in denim and a striped jumper, holding their cat Minnie and gazing at her adoringly. 

His cousin Hugo, the acclaimed historian, leaning against a bookshelf, his revised edition of Hogwarts: A History in hand. 

His cousin Rose gazing out the window, broomstick in hand, the first female coach on the England National quidditch team’s staff in a century. They looked beautiful, successful, powerful, and perfect. 

Susan Bones had orchestrated the photo shoot. She had been instrumental in Hermione’s campaign. Albus had been so proud to begin working for Susan after his Aunt Hermione’s election. And now Albus had a stack of photos that showed Hermione Granger-Weasley just a day after those family photos were taken with an “ex-lover” and gossip rag favorite, Viktor Krum. 

“Morning,” Casimir mumbles, making his way to his desk, cup of tea in hand. 

 Albus ignores him, still in shock.

“Weatherby?” Albus asks, doing his best to keep his voice level, “Where did this envelope come from?”

The assistant looks up from where he is updating Susan’s schedule, “Oh I don’t know, I was coming off the lift and a fellow wearing a mailroom badge handed it to me. It had your name on it. Do you need to re-route it or something?”

Albus shakes his head, “No, thank you.” 

“Alright, I’m taking notes for Susan at a transportation meeting. I should be back in a couple of hours.”

Albus nods, but doesn’t look up.  For once he’s lost for words, not sure what he should say.

“Albus,” Casimir says.

“Not now, Casimir.”

“Albus!” Casimir exclaims.

Finally, Albus looks up and it’s then he notices Casimir has his own yellow envelope. He’s holding it, eyes wide.

“What’s in your envelope, Casimir? Does it concern the minister?”

“Yes, and Susan too.”

“Susan? But that’s not possible- ”

Casimir walks towards Albus, “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?”

His tone is attempting to be facetious, but Casimir’s expression is as nervous and jumpy as Albus’s. 

Albus nods anxiously, “Fine, fine. Uh, ready?”

He keeps a tight grip on the envelope until he’s sure he has Casimir’s in hand. He quickly snaps up the other envelope and Casimir rolls his eyes as he tugs at Albus’s tight grip.

“You really are an insufferable prick,” Casimir says, eyes narrowed.

“That’ll be the slogan for my ministerial campaign one day,” Albus mutters opening the envelope.

Inside is a memo and if Albus thought photos implying an affair between his aunt and Viktor Krum on the eve of the campaign were bad, this is so much worse.

“Minister for Magic Granger-Weasley and an affair with Viktor Krum,” Casimir whispers. 

“Minister for Magic Granger-Weasley, Foreign Secretary Bones and international election fraud,” Albus whispers back, as if they speak softly then it can’t be true.

They both look up, eyes meeting in twin expressions of pure panic.

Chapter Text

The memo and the photos are spread out on Albus’s desk. Albus and Casimir had spent the entire day keeping busy and waiting for Susan and Weatherby to leave for the night so they could discuss their next steps. 

“Do you think it’s true?” Casimir asks.

“The affair? Not a chance. The memo? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter though, does it? Someone obviously wants us to believe it's true. And that will be enough for most people to cast doubt and recall the minister,” Albus says, his tone determined and deliberate. “The important thing is that we don’t do anything rash. Someone wanted us to know that they know all of this. And as far as we can tell, they’ve specifically targeted us.”

Casimir and Albus had spent all day doing their best to discreetly find out if any other mysterious envelopes had been delivered. The river of ministry gossip was fast moving and full of leaks, but neither Albus nor Casimir had heard a peep all day. 

 “Someone wants to take down Minister Granger-Weasley and Susan too. But what could their motivation be? They’re both wildly popular,” Casimir says thoughtfully, “Why involve us? What do they think we would do with this information?”

“That’s what doesn’t make sense. Our jobs are entirely focused on making Susan successful, and to protect the minister. Do you think we should just ask Susan about the memo?”

“Do you think you should just ask your aunt if she had an affair with a married international quidditch star?”

“Point taken, but honestly- yes. My aunt wouldn’t lie to me. She wouldn’t, she’s not like that.”

“She wasn’t the minister before. You know as well as I do that the job is privy to information beyond our security clearance.”

“Someone is after her, Casimir. I’m not going to let that happen,” Albus says defiantly.

Casimir rolls his eyes, “For Salazar’s sake, Albus neither am I.”

“I know, I know,” Albus places his palms over his eyes and takes a deep breath, “Okay, let’s go through what we know.”

“Right, well Weatherby said that a man handed him these envelopes with our names,” Casimir starts, pacing slowly back and forth across the office.

“Mine had these pictures taken a couple months before the election. Yours had the memo dated for just after she took office,” Albus says, sitting on the desk.

“The photos are speculative at best, just meant to make the minister look bad. But the memo-” Casimir sighs, trailing off. 

“The memo implies that Foreign Secretary Bones and Minister Granger-Weasley knew that the Romanian Ministry of Magic was interfering in the Bulgarian ministerial election and that they did nothing. Romania wanted Sergei Dobrev to win and so they helped Dobrev’s supporters stuff the ballot boxes in the northern areas along the border. But why? Dobrev is a narcissistic buffoon. He’s been a terrible minister. And the British ministry hardly cares what is happening in either Romania or Bulgaria. They’re not an important trading partner or national security interest.”

Casimir quickly scans through the copies of the JEMM agendas from March when the photos were taken, “Someone wants us to look into this further though. There are too many specific details: times, dates, meeting locations. Maybe the gypsies? That’s the biggest issue along the border, and the only issue the DIMC has been involved in. The British-French-German coalition in the Joint European Ministries of Magic has been battling with the Romanian ministry over human rights violations of the magical Romani populations, in particular regulating against the practice of their native magical techniques in schools and in workplaces.”

“You’re right, but is that really an issue the British ministry wants to involve itself in?” Albus asks, “It’s important, of course, for the Joint European Ministries of Magic, but not for the Brits.”

“Minister Granger-Weasley might think it’s important, though. But no, no,” Casimir says, still looking.  Albus follows his lead, pulling the notes and the agendas from the open ICW forums.

Several cups of tea later, Albus exclaims, “I got it. This has to be it! The ICW had an open seat that spring. The eligible countries for the extra seat were the UK and Bulgaria. The seats are nominated by the minister for a seven-year rotation and approved by the rest of the ICW.

“So Minister Granger-Weasley nominated the open seat and of course she was approved. There is absolutely no way that the ICW would take Dobrev’s nomination over hers. That has to be why Susan and the minister ignored the intelligence about Romanian interference in the Bulgarian election.”

 “Someone knows about this and wants to use it to embarrass her and cause a scandal. We have to figure out who and why. Any ideas?” Casimir asks.

“One, well two-” Albus says, looking pointedly at Casimir.

“Well what are they?” Casimir asks impatiently.

“The first is we simply confront Susan and the Minister and get all our joint staff working on this, but the more people that know about this- 

“The more we risk leaks,” Casimir finishes, “Okay, and the second?”

“Your friend.”

“Who?” Comprehension slowly dawns across Casimir’s face, “No, absolutely not.” 

“I didn’t even say anything.” 

“You were going to bring up Eva.” 

“I didn’t even know her name was Eva. But you have to admit if she is as successful as you say she might have heard something- from a client,” Albus says, brows raised.

“Can we please reserve that as a last resort?” Casimir’s pained expression says it all.

“Fine, yes you’re right, I’m sorry,” Albus sits back down and sighs. He is absolutely exhausted, he needs a stiff drink or a jump in the ocean. 

“Nott, why did you show me the memo? I mean you didn’t have to, I doubt whoever sent it to you expected us to work together. You could have used it for your own political gain. You could have- ”

Casimir narrows his eyes and shakes his head, “Look, Potter, I’m going to have my career and I’m going to fix as many problems in this country as I can, and I’m going to work hard every fucking day at it. I’m not above playing politics, but I’m not going to blackmail my way to the top.”

Albus looks at him apologetically, “You’re a really decent bloke.”

“Yes, well you’re still an insufferable prick.”

Albus apparates outside Malfoy Manor and knocks on the imposing doors. It was getting late, but he was buzzing with anxiety after leaving the office and he couldn’t make himself go home yet.

“Albus?” Scorpius asks in greeting, “What are you doing here?”

“Tea with your dear old dad?”

Scorpius snorts. He’s wearing black track shorts and a soft, long-sleeve gray shirt. Honey, Scorpius’s cocker spaniel, is at his heels, wagging her golden tail happily, eager for a pet from their guest.

“No, actually I came by to drop off some notes for Astra and Cosmo’s case. Just some prep before their interview with the immigration office next week,” Albus says, loosening the collar of his stiff black work robes.

“Oh, did they know you were coming? They actually just left for dinner in Diagon Alley. Cosmo is obsessed with the place and it is Friday night after all.”

“Right- , well I’ll just leave these then- ,“ Albus says, pulling a stack of parchment, neatly color-coded and tabbed from his leather satchel bag.

“You can come in if you like,” Scorpius says quickly, “have a drink?”

“No, that’s okay. ” Albus makes no move to leave. 

“Are you okay?” Scorpius asks, his gray eyes soft. He notices that Albus seems jumpy, almost unsure of himself.

“Um yea- yes. I’ll go. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“I was just about to take Honey out for a jog actually. And I should get going so I can be back before it’s dark.” Honey wiggles excitedly as if to confirm their schedule. 

“Oh, well- actually, do you mind if I come along? I have a kit in my bag.”

“Sure- , yes, I’d like that,” Scorpius replies. Now he seems nervous. Like a fourth year being asked to the Halloween ball back at school.

Albus dashes into the closest bathroom and quickly changes into track shorts, a Puddlemere sweatshirt, and trainers.

The boys set out from the Malfoys’ garden, Honey bounding ahead of them.

“I usually just run a few kilometers up the path through the woods and back to the garden,” Scorpius says gesturing to the hillside trail that leads to the unmanicured section of the expansive property.

They start running at a leisurely pace up the trail. Scorpius talks about Astra and Cosmo and how the couple has enlivened the manor with Cosmo’s optimistic energy and wonder at all things magic. Albus tells Scorpius about the elfin legislation, and working with Casimir. They talk about all of their favorite places from their travels. 

When they have less than a kilometer between them and the garden gate, Scorpius looks at Albus with a wicked gleam, “Race you to the end?”

“Let’s go- “ but before the words are even out of Albus’s mouth, Scorpius is off, sprinting at a punishing pace. Honey quickly catches up with him, running along proudly with a stick in her mouth.

Albus has no choice but to chase him down the hill. He finds he doesn’t mind chasing Scorpius however. 

From this angle, Albus has a wonderful view of Scorpius’s muscular calves flexing with each step, his arms moving powerfully at his sides. Even the sweat dripping down the back of his neck is stupidly seductive. He wants to reach out and follow the bead of sweat down into the hollow of his collarbone with his tongue. He wants to feel the slick heat of Scorpius’s- he shakes his head slightly to clear his mind but he can’t help it as he watches Scorpius running wild and free, his pale blond hair glows in the last of the setting sun, like he's an angel outrunning his halo.

They collapse at the gate. Honey, spent from her sprints chasing bunnies along the trail, flops along the grass and rolls over to scratch her back. Scorpius and Albus join the dog on the grass watching the last of the orange and pink-tinged clouds slipping into the velvety purple and black of night. 

“I won,” Scorpius gasps through a satisfied smirk, flinging his arms overhead.

“You cheated. Some fair and loyal Hufflepuff you are,” Albus teases, his heart rate starting to slow.

“You are four inches taller than me. I was just making up for the unfair advantage.”

Albus turns his head to look at Scorpius lying next to him. He turns too, and they look at each other, breathing hard. Somehow their arms lie next to each other, their fingertips barely touching. Neither makes a move. With every ounce of self-control he possesses, Albus tries to root himself to the spot so he can keep himself from rolling over on top of Scorpius and snogging him silly. He practically wishes for some Devil’s Snare to sprout out of the earth beneath him.

Albus breaks eye contact first and Scorpius sighs, a noise that Albus hopes reflects his own disappointment. 

“Hey Scorpius?”

“Hey Albus?”

“When did you decide to become a chef? I don’t remember you ever liking cooking? You grew up with elves and never needed to.”

“It was my mum’s doing. Not that she was ever much of a cook herself, but she’s the one who took Astra, my dad and me to this sushi omakase in London. It was remarkable. We spent the rest of that summer trying as many of the Japanese restaurants as we could in London. Two weeks before we went back to school for fifth year, my dad surprised us with a trip to Tokyo. It was the last big trip we took before she- she got sick. And then summer before sixth year, er, after we- ,well, I- , I spent a lot of time in the kitchens back at school after she died. I didn’t want to be around anyone, anymore. I just wanted to do something that made sense. It brought me comfort, made me as happy as I thought I could be at that time. I basically worked part-time in those kitchens alongside the Hogwarts elves. My dad knew I wasn’t doing well. He wasn’t doing any better. So he let me take that spring term abroad at Mahoutokoro . Afterwards, I wasn’t ready to come home. I never even took my N.E.W.T.s. It seemed like a good excuse to stay in Japan, go to culinary school, and just travel.” 

Scorpius, Albus notices, skips over all the messy bits of the two of them in his timeline. But he supposed that Scorpius answered his question all the same.

“You’re brilliant. It’s really amazing that you found cooking,” Albus says sincerely.

“Thank you. I love it. I love bringing together people with food. All the best and worst things in life seem to happen with food, you know? After my mum’s funeral my dad’s old school friends sent trays of food. Of course we didn’t eat any of it, but it was a comforting gesture all the same. Think of a lovely meal to celebrate an anniversary or even Sunday lunches at the Burrow. I look forward to it every month.”

Albus smiles at Scorpius, taking him in. He’d always been the sort of person whose loveliness radiates from within.

“It’s sort of funny. Sebastien says the same thing about property development. He likes to create community. I never really thought of it that way.”

“Are you in love with him?” 

Albus scoffs, “Of course not. Anyway, Sebastien Perrot is only capable of loving himself.”

Scorpius breathes a sigh of relief. “And you? You seem like you’re getting everything you’ve wanted. Making a name for yourself in politics, changing the world.”

“It never seems like enough, though. I just- I want to make every wizard, or squib regardless of their blood status or their last name to feel like the ministry is here for them to make their lives better. I want to work with goblins, and trolls, and giants, and centaurs, and whatever else is out there to share our magical knowledge and strengthen our communities. And I want other countries to look at Magical Britain and say they know how to do it right. 

I know it all sounds like lofty goals, but if you’re not willing to be a little idealistic then nothing changes, right? I really think that I can help make magical Britain a better place. It’s why I spent so many years away, learning from other countries and working on difficult cases; trying to prove that I have what it takes to help lead our community regardless of my last name. I really believe that things can change for the better. They already are so much better and getting better everyday with my Aunt Hermione as minister. At the end of the day, I just want to be a part of it. I just- I want to matter.” 

Finally Albus takes a breath. He hadn’t meant to ramble. He looks over at Scorpius, his green eyes earnest and vulnerable.

“You know that’s stupid right,” Scorpius shakes his head and looks at him again with a soft smile. “I mean-, that didn’t come out right. I just mean even if you do all those things or even if you never do. You already matter, because you’re you.” 

Albus says nothing, but he reaches forward and squeezes Scorpius’s hand. 

“Tell me something I can use,” Sebastien says against his torso.

Albus clenches at the bed sheets beneath him, breathless as Sebastien runs his tongue and teeth along his hip bones then lower to his inner thighs. His mouth is everywhere except where Albus needs him the most.

Four days ago, Albus had kissed Sebastien on the rooftop of the Crown Royale hotel. When Sebastien invited Albus to his home that night it had been a matter of minutes before the two of them were half undressed in the foyer of Perrot House with Albus’s back pressed roughly against the wainscoting as Sebastien devoured his lips, neck and chest. The lust filled encounter had been surprisingly easy for Albus to lose himself in. Afterwards, still breathless, Sebastien had whispered in his ear, “Just think of the things we could do.”   

He knew exactly what Sebastien had meant by his comment- a mutually beneficial relationship with no strings attached. Except something about their encounters over the past week leaves Albus feeling breathless, but like he is running a race that he can’t win. 

Albus sighs with pleasure as Sebastien’s mouth slides around him and then he yanks Sebastien’s face up to meet him, “What do I get in return?”

He nips at the older man’s bottom lip, his hand reaching down between his legs and stroking him slowly. 

“You need the Wizengamot votes for the elfin representation legislation.”

“I know the voting records of each councilor inside and out, their strengths and weaknesses. I can get the votes. I don’t need you for that.”

Sebastien grabs his chin so they are staring at each other, eyes dark with arousal, “No, but you will be setting up gridlock. Not a single measure of the minister’s agenda will pass if you don’t get rid of Selwyn. You know he controls a small coalition of Wizengamot members. No one will be thanking you for that. No matter how noble your intentions.”

Albus rolls on top grinding his hips against Sebastien’s and making the older man gasp, “And you can do that? Selwyn has been a councilor longer than I've been alive. If supporting Voldemort’s regime and being the uncle of a Death Eater didn’t get him expunged, then what could you possibly know?”

“Since when is being a Death Eater the worst a person could do. Don’t be a fool, you don’t want to know the details. You only need the result.”

“Fine, get Selwyn expunged.”

“And?” Sebastien asks as he reaches again between Albus’s legs.

“You already know that you’ve been audited by Gringotts. They need to make sure each of the developers applying for the Diagon Alley expansion are financially viable.”

Sebastien stops, hands on Albus’s hips, waiting for the younger man to continue.

“They’ve released the financial records to the DAER committee. You want to know your competition don’t you?”

He runs his hands down Albus’s torso, before pulling his hips towards his mouth. Albus thinks at that moment he might actually hate Sebastien, or maybe himself. But the thought is fleeting as Sebastien’s mouth envelops him.

Albus wakes with a start at the sound of breaking glass. He glances down at his watch, it’s nearly three in the morning. Groggily, he notices that he’s alone in Sebastien Perrot’s bed.

He steps out of bed and pulls on a shirt previously discarded on the bedroom floor. As he steps into the corridor he can hear voices echoing from the foyer below.

“How dare you come here to my home? Who do you think you are?” Perrot’s voice is angry.

Albus creeps towards the staircase. He doesn’t dare get any closer. The Georgian era home was full of creaks. 

“You said that I could have the loan. You said that I would be safe until- “ Albus doesn’t recognize the other voice, nervous and timid.

“I said I would take care of this. If you misinterpreted that as me caring at all for your life then that’s on you,” Perrot interrupts nastily.

“I know things!” Comes the other voice again indignant, “I could tell the press- “

“ Silencio” The other man quiets at Perrot’s silencing charm. “Let me be very clear about this. You threaten my reputation and I will threaten your life.”

The door slams and Perrot starts making his way back upstairs. By the time he enters the bedroom, Albus is pretending to sleep and hoping that Perrot cannot hear his pounding heart.

Chapter Text

Scorpius has barely seen his father in days, though that’s not entirely unusual. Draco’s position as a freelance antiquities expert for the Bonaccord Antiquities auction house suited his tendency to become single-mindedly absorbed into his projects. While the Malfoy fortune remained mostly intact after the second war even after reparations were paid, Draco had sought employment that allowed him to retreat from society. He had become even more isolated since Scorpius’s mum Astoria died nearly a decade ago. 

So Scorpius does what he does best in response. He cooks. Currently, Scorpius is balancing a tray of roasted tomato soup and a bacon sandwich with homemade brown sauce. He uses his wand to levitate the tray while he knocks on the door of his father’s study, but he hesitates when he hears voices. 

“Draco, I’m asking for your help. We build some support behind Vogel, get our existing contacts to support him. If we can get him the Diagon Alley project then he will guarantee that our kind will regain what we lost in the wars. We can get Scorpius as many properties as he wants, an entire restaurant empire.”

Scorpius recognizes the voice as belonging to his Uncle Theodore. 

“I told you that I have no interest in getting involved in whatever neo-pureblood politics you’re playing at,” Draco replies coldly.

“This isn’t about blood purity, it’s about power. And you know as well as I that our families held power in wizarding Britain for more than five hundred years. We have the opportunity- “

“Theo, do you know why we still speak when I don’t engage with anyone else from our school days? I thought that Scorpius deserved to grow up knowing his family. Our wives were sisters and Casimir is Scorpius’s cousin and that is it. That is the only reason!”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Draco! We’re family. It’s about family, about preserving the power- “

“Bloody hell, Theo I don’t care about power! I don’t care about the Sacred Twenty-Eight or any of that bollocks. All I want is for you to leave Scorpius out of this, and if you knew what was good for your family, you would leave Casimir out of it too!”

‘I’ve lost everything to these people, to the Weasleys and Potters. To these foreigners like the Pearlsteens who came in while Britain was decimated and bought up our land. They took over our businesses, gave them to any creature who’d pay them. I’m not going lose the one opportunity we have to rectify this situation, to restore my family’s name.”

There is a tinge of desperation to Theodore’s voice that Scorpius has never heard before as he pleads with Draco.

“You have no idea how much more you have to lose. You’re going to lose everything, Theo. I hope you have thought about whether it will be worth it.”

There is a shuffle and Scorpius swiftly steps out of the way as the study door clatters open. Scorpius steps back into a dark recess in the corridor. His Uncle Theodore exits and storms off briskly down the corridor failing to notice Scorpius.

Scorpius takes a deep breath unsure of the meaning of all that he has overheard. He knocks on the door, “Dad?”

“Scorpius? What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the restaurant with just a couple weeks until opening.”

“I was there all morning. I came home to have a shower and some lunch.”

“No food at the restaurant, then? That’s an auspicious start.”

“Fine, I came home because I haven’t seen you much this week and I rather thought since I haven’t been feeding you that you haven’t been eating.”

Draco waves his hand dismissively, “Trixie brings biscuits with tea.”

Nevertheless, Draco takes the tray gratefully and places it on his desk.

“Was that Uncle Theodore I saw leaving?” Scorpius asks, feigning innocence.

“Hmm, oh yes, well he just stopped by to see if I might be able to help him with restoring a family heirloom.”

His father lies so easily sometimes that Scorpius knows he must have been lied to many times over as a child. 

“Really? He seemed upset.”

“I rather think that’s just his facial expression.”

“Dad, is there something going on? Uncle Theodore has seemed a bit off lately.”

Scorpius sits opposite of Draco, trying to make it clear that he has no intention of accepting his father’s evasive answers.

Draco sighs seeing the resoluteness on his son’s face, “Financial troubles, I expect. They’ve been living off the Greengrass fortune for some time. Daphne doesn’t bring in much writing for The Daily Prophet and Theodore frankly needs to get an actual job and stop making dodgy investments.”

“But surely if the Notts need money we could offer- “

“Mm, if only that was all they wanted. It’s not worth worrying about. Your aunt and uncle are just fine and Casimir has his own life now and his own career.”

Draco turns back to his desk, setting the second half of his sandwich aside, “Just be cautious, Scorpius. If suddenly Theo shows interest in your business or if you need help, just remember, I’m here for you.”

Scorpius sighs looking at his father turned away from him, the conversation clearly over, “Okay. I better get back to the restaurant.”

Lucy Weasley-Pearlsteen swings open her front door to greet her guests with a bit of fanfare. She is wearing a silky blue slipdress, a rope of long pearls and no shoes, looking every bit the hostess with the mostest.

"Well, if it isn't the most interesting family this side of the Atlantic. And for once I don't mean the Potters" the lanky redhead says, pulling first Scorpius and then Astra and Cosmo in for a tight hug.

Soon after Albus, Lily, and Delilah arrived and the Pearlsteens house-elf Linus announced dinner was served.

Scorpius immediately notices that seating is assigned and Lucy, always the trusty wing-woman, had ensured that the little ivory nameplates at each setting placed Albus right next to him.

Albus knew tonight he was going to get interrogated about Perrot, but at the moment he is more concerned with how he is going to get through an entire dinner next to Scorpius while trying to act like they hadn't almost kissed for the umpteenth time that summer.

Everyone helps themselves to the platters of summer fare, crab and asparagus salad, fresh tomato bruschetta and courgette risotto, talking all the while about the latest news concerning Astra and Cosmo’s transcontinental elopement.

"Good news is that the Spanish Department of Magical Law Enforcement has decided not to press charges for the accidental magic in front of Cosmo’s mother. We do have to go before our Wizengamot in two weeks. Apparently, they need to make sure I didn't slip Cosmo a love potion or anything of that sort to coerce him into eloping with me," Astra explains.

"Given what we know about Tom Riddle's background I suppose there is some precedent, but I can't even imagine a Voldemort-esque character that takes after Astra," Noah says with a smile.

"Oh no, she’s fierce, but it would be much more of a hippie commune as she bullies people into being vegetarian" Delilah adds, making the table laugh.

 "But the Wizengamot won't be an issue, because you two are the sappiest lovers I've ever seen," Scorpius rolls his eyes at the two newlyweds.

Astra looks like she is about to retort, but instead Cosmo lifts her hand to his lips and presses a kiss against her skin. She blushes prettily, her pale skin glowing in the soft light of the chandelier.

"Merlin, what have you and Albus been drinking? Both of you have had the most romantic summers ever and I could not be more envious" Lily cries, clutching her hands to her heart dramatically and feigning falling into Scorpius’s shoulder.

Scorpius playfully shoves her off. 

The conversation is interrupted by Linus, "Mr. Potter, this just arrived for you"

Albus immediately recognizes Sebastien's black wax seal engraved with a P. It was a short note reading:

Join me at home? Half past ten

“Sebastien Perrot's official booty call?" Lily asks mischievously.

Albus just blushes, slipping the note into his pocket.

"Great segue, miss Potter"  Lucy says gleefully, "Now that I know the two of you are all about the wedded bliss, we can move on to the more scandalous romance between Albus and Perrot."

"I don't kiss and tell,” Albus says, sipping his champagne.

"No, because Witch Weekly is doing it for you," Noah interjects.

Albus ignores him, "He is interesting though. He's as ambitious as they come. His moral compass is not exactly true north. His motives are- greed, but also maybe more noble than initially perceived."

"And is he a good shag?" Lucy asks cheekily.

Scorpius could not think of a single question that he would like to know the answer to less.

Astra, noticing her cousin’s discomfort quickly changes the subject, "If we’re getting to the tawdry bits can we at least wait until dessert?"

"Oh fine, but you better believe we are discussing absolutely everything later, and I will get you completely sloshed if need be," Lucy says waving her hand to levitate one of the many wine bottles on the sideboard and refill glasses.

"But is it true, he's purchased some of the Diagon Alley properties already?" Delilah asks, "I saw an article in the Prophet last week.”

"Yes" Albus nods, "He thinks he'll be able to secure about two city blocks worth of property that abuts the new expansion." He certainly is not going to add that he had noticed the documents while sitting on the edge of Perrot's desk with Perrot kneeling between his legs.

"He's got to be bribing somebody at the ministry. There is no way his business can be developing properties of that size so quickly. There are environmental and transportation impact reports to be completed, permits to be obtained, it’s preposterous," Noah says passionately, “Perhaps I should be polishing some ministry broomsticks of my own.”

Albus snorts, "That did not at all sound as clever as you think it did. And anyway, I do work at the ministry. You really should not be saying this in front of me." 

"Come on, Al you’re off the clock. And where is your Gryffindor sense of justice?"

"In the court of law where it belongs."

"But this isn't fair" Noah pouts, "He can't just pop back to town one day and monopolize all of London, hell all of the UK."

"Noah, you're not exactly Robin Hood. You know the muggle story: steal from the rich, give to the poor," Albus says wryly, gesturing around the opulent dining room with its hand hewn mahogany table and its goblin-made gold chandelier. Noah sits back and crosses his arms.

"Love, don't furrow your brow, it’ll get stuck that way," Lucy says ruffling her husband's hair.

Noah sighs, "I'm sorry, I'm just stressed about it. Perrot is just a real-"

"Bee in your bonnet" Scorpius finishes.

Albus laughs and Scorpius feels a frisson of pleasure at making him smile. He really did have the most handsome smile and he loves the way his eyes crinkled just a bit at the corners.

"Alright, well let's move out to the garden shall we? No more business talk, even from me. It is supposed to be a party," Noah says, picking up his wine glass.

The rest of the group follows his lead. Scorpius walks behind Albus, wondering all the while if he knew the effect he had on him. He looked perfect tonight wearing a slim fitting pair of jeans and Scorpius clenches his fists by his sides resisting the urge to touch him. He’s never been so envious of fabric.

They grab soft cashmere blankets laid out by Linus ahead of time and gather on the lounge chairs around the fireplace. The Pearlsteens small city garden is perfect for summer gatherings, with an outdoor fireplace, large beds of flowers and decorated with fairy lights.

"Now, I believe I was promised story time, Albus," Lucy says, sitting next to Delilah.

"And don't leave a single detail out," Delilah says with a giggle.

Scorpius takes his glass of wine and walks to the edge of the garden happy to decamp from the conversation.

"There are only so many details I need to know about my brother’s love life," Lily remarks, joining Scorpius.

Scorpius grumbles "I don't know why we agreed to this whole scheme."

"To be fair, I don't think you really did."

Again, Scorpius just grumbles. He turns to look at Albus, green eyes sparkling with laughter as he gossips with Noah, Lucy, Delilah, Astra and Cosmo around the fire.

"Though, it probably would bother me more if Perrot was shagging my man," Lily says following Scorpius’s gaze.

"He’s not my man and who said anything about shagging," Scorpius says irritably, draining the rest of his wine glass.

"Come on, admitting you have a problem is the first step to overcoming it."

Scorpius and Lily were close, they had been friends for years because of Astra and they’d only grown closer since he’d moved back home. She had seen Scorpius involved with a handful of different guys over the years, and none of them seemed to have quite this effect.

"Fine," Scorpius finally confesses, "but what can I possibly be thinking- falling for him just as he gets involved with magical Britain's most eligible bachelor."

"Can you believe my brother cracked the top five on that Bewitched magazine list?"

Scorpius gives her a look that very much indicates Lily isn’t helping.

"You get his appeal. Sebastien is exciting. He's older and he is quite charming"

"Am I going to lose you to Perrot too?"

Lily laughs, "I'm just saying credit where credit is due. And you haven't lost Albus. That would imply you tried to go after him. You're certainly going to lose if you don't even try."

They walk back towards the group, Scorpius determined to enjoy himself.

“Noah! Linus is off duty, can you get a few more bottles from the cellar?" Lucy says, shaking the empty wine bottle in her hand.

"Cosmo, be careful around this lot, bad influences!"

Cosmo laughs, "I think you British might even fiesta harder than us."

"And I've never felt more patriotic," Scorpius says, smiling, "Noah, I'll go, if only to make sure you don't bring up the cheap stuff."

"To be clear, this lot wouldn't know the difference at this point," Noah says gesturing to the inebriated dinner party convened around the outdoor fireplace.

"I'll go too," Albus says, jumping up from the bench, "I have to send an owl."

To Scorpius's surprise, Albus loops his arm through Scorpius’s elbow. He must be drunker than he thought.

"Do you want to send your owl first?" Scorpius asks, opening the rear door.

"Oh no, I'll do it on the way up from the cellar," Albus says.

"You don't have to go down with me."

"Yes, but who will protect you from the ghost?" 

"Their ghost Heatherford is a sommelier. The scariest thing he'll do is yell at you for choosing the wrong wine pairing with dessert," Scorpius says, opening the pantry door from the kitchen and walking down the dark stairwell to the wine cellar.

On instinct he reaches back to help a slightly tipsy Albus over the last step. He smiles at Scorpius and takes his hand gratefully as the stairs are quite steep.

They walked into the small room with shelves of bottles. Scorpius seems to know what he is looking for, but he takes a deep breath and turns to look at Albus, his conversation with Lily playing in his head.

"Are you going to go? I mean, with Perrot?"

Albus steps towards him and places a hand on his chest. He could feel his heart beat quickly beneath the soft cotton of his button down shirt.

He looks up at him beneath long lashes, a slight smirk on his lips, "Can you give me a reason to stay?"

Scorpius reaches his hand towards the one Albus had placed on his chest, "Albus, I can't-, I can't play these games with you anymore."

He is handsome, beautiful even, and over the last couple months they had something sort of like friendship, but he wanted more than teetering on flirtation. The innuendos and light touches were no longer fun and meaningless, just torturous.

"Who says I'm playing? And now it’s too late," Albus turns away from him feeling indignant. There is too much that Scorpius doesn’t know. There is too much that Albus has done. He should reject him.

But as soon as Scorpius reaches for his waist Albus feels his resolve weakening. He turns Albus towards him with all the grace and ease of a past lover.

He looks at Albus, his gray eyes soft and pleading, "Why would you say that? What do you mean it's too late? Have you fallen in love with Perrot after all?"

Albus looks down at his feet feeling the weight of their history, his secrets, his longing, "Oh, don't be ridiculous. But trust me, you deserve so much more than me." 

Scorpius pulls Albus towards him until their hips are touching. Albus isn’t expecting it and he reaches for Scorpius, his right hand splaying across Scorpius’s back at first for steadiness and then grounding himself in Scorpius’s presence. Their faces are mere centimeters from each other and he can feel their hearts beating rapidly together, the soft perspiration on Scorpius’s lower back. He bites his lip and then reaches forward with his free hand softly tracing the top of Scorpius’s shapely lips.

“Okay, okay this is the set. Wait for this wave to go past and then when I tell you, paddle and then straighten your arms like this,” Albus says, reaching his lanky arms overhead, biceps close to his ears. 

Scorpius nods, “I’m ready.”

“Right, ready, steady, go!” 

Scorpius kicks and paddles as hard as he can before feeling the wave lift and push him from behind. He feels like he is flying across the water, the salt spraying across his face. 

As the wave slows he realizes how close he is to shore and as gracefully as he can manage, he sets his feet in the sand and stumbles to standing.

He smiles elated with adrenaline and sees Albus arms cheering, “That was bloody brilliant, Scor!”

Albus swims in to join Scorpius, smiling wide, “That was amazing.”

“I feel amazing,” Scorpius says, still breathing hard, “Thanks for teaching me.”

“Yes of course, mate.” 

As their breathing returns to normal they watch Lily, Astra and Delilah practicing cartwheels and handstands along the water's edge.

“Are you hungry?” Albus asks, “I think my dad packed us lunch.”

“Sure, yea.” Scorpius follows Albus over to their pile of beach chairs, towels and a large insulated lunch box.  

Scorpius had been a bit nervous when he agreed to go over to the Potters’ coastal home Iolanthe House with Astra. But Lily had invited them both and his mum had encouraged her shy only child to get out his shell. Scorpius hadn’t expected fellow incoming sixth year Albus to also be there. But, Albus, always so very serious about his future, had been interning at the ministry that summer while most of his friends were on vacation in faraway places. 

“Hmm, looks like ham and cheese, coronation chicken, a caprese. That must be for Astra.”

“That was nice of your dad.”

“He loves Astra. Thinks she’s a riot. And apparently the she’s an orphan thing cancels out that she’s a Malfoy thing.”

Scorpius laughs, “I suppose I’ll take the ham- 

They’re both startled as the Potter’s labrador sprints over to them and steals the parchment wrapped sandwich out of Albus’s hand.

“Oy! Barnacle!” Albus shouts. But the dog has already sprinted off, the sandwich proudly in his mouth.

The boys take off after the dog, following him into a small cave on the beach. 

Albus sighs and squats down picking up the remnants of the parchment while Barnacle lays down in the sand and rolls over onto his back in contrition.

“You’re a cheeky boy, aren’t you?” Albus says indulgently as the dog looks at him with soulful brown eyes.

“Will he be alright?” Scorpius squats down next to Albus on the sand and rubs the dog’s tummy.

“Old Barnacle, here? Yea, he’ll be fine. Last Christmas he managed to eat half a bowl of mash and a bar of Honeyduke’s baking chocolate and he was a bit sick on the carpets but he was fine. This is nothing for a lab,” Albus says, patting the dog’s haunches.

“I’ve always wanted a dog. My dad isn’t into pets. He says animals don’t belong in the home. Of course it’s just a matter of time until Astra brings home a stray. And she’ll likely get away with it.”

Albus shakes his head in agreement as if to say ‘little sisters’.

In the moment of silence that follows Scorpius finds himself staring at Albus. He’d never spent much time with Lily’s older brother. They ran in different circles at school and the Potters had always seemed to exist in a cloud of glamor. It wasn’t until Astra arrived and became friends with Lily that the Potters started to seem just as normal as anyone else- certainly more beautiful and well connected, but normal nonetheless.

Albus bites the corner of his lip adorably, “What is it?”

“It’s just- Everyone probably says you look like your dad, right? With your eyes and your hair?” Scorpius asks shyly. Albus tuts in agreement.

Tentatively, Scorpius reaches forward tracing Albus’s face, “But your nose, the shape of your lips- you actually look like your mum.”

The pad of his thumb lingers on Albus’s lower lip and before either of them quite knows what is happening, Albus has closed the gap between them and then they are horizontal on the sand, lost in their kiss and a tangle of sun-warmed limbs.  

“If you’re looking for a wine appropriate for a summer romance, may I suggest the sparkling veuve du vernay rosé.”

Albus steps back from Scorpius and laughs in disbelief when he feels the cold phantasm of Heatherford pass through the cellar wine racks.

He places his hands on his forehead, the icy presence of the ghost clearing some of the wine fog, “Merlin, Scorpius, I’m sorry, I- “

Scorpius recoils with rejection, “Right yea- no, no.”

“No, no that’s not what I meant it’s just- bloody hell, I’m cocking this up- “

“It’s fine, really. Don’t say anything at all. Too much wine.” Scorpius grabs a couple bottles of wine and quickly dashes back up the stairs.

“He took a Sonoma Cabernet and an Italian Barolo. Entirely the wrong choices for a garden party,” Heatherford remarks dryly before floating away through the cellar wall.

Albus rubs his face in shame and decides to sneak out of the party, quickly messaging Noah his goodbyes on his two-way.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Albus asks again, standing near the Peter Pan statue in Hyde Park.

“Stop asking me that. No, but I think we’re running out of options,” Casimir replies with a shrug. It had been Casimir’s idea to meet in muggle London, away from prying eyes and the photographers that seemed to follow the Potters everywhere. 

“Have you told her why I’m here?”

“There really wasn’t time,” Casimir replies. It was just that morning that he decided they needed to talk to Eva, and he had messaged her to see if she could meet with him on his way into the office. Time was of the essence and he didn’t want to lose his nerve.

“Don’t you think she’s going to be angry with you when she realizes this isn’t a social visit?”

“I didn’t want her to say no. And anyway who has a date at seven in the morning. Merlin, you really are bad at romance, aren’t you, Potter?”

Albus flushes with embarrassment thinking back to his disaster of an almost kiss with Scorpius the previous night. Before Albus has the chance to respond, Casimir gestures to a woman in a black dress with long, dark hair cascading in soft waves down her shoulders. She smiles prettily when she sees Casimir, but stops short when she spots Albus.

“Hi,” Casimir says.

“Hi,” she replies hesitantly.

“Albus, this is Eva Hancock. Eva, this is- “

“I know who he is,” Eva says curtly, “What’s going on Casimir?”

“Someone we know, someone we work for, is in trouble,” Albus steps forward, speaking softly.

Casimir nods and holds his hand up, gesturing to Albus that he’ll take over, “We were hoping that we could see if you had information or if you’ve heard anything about someone trying to take on the minister from one of your clients or one of your friends’ clients.”

“This is quite the second date, Casimir,” Eva says, her voice tense.

“Look, I’m sorry, I- “

“How dare you? I let you off easy, didn’t I? When you told me about your position at the ministry, I said we shouldn’t see each other again,” she’s indignant now and Albus can’t blame her, “And now you come here and ask me to disclose the one thing that my clients trust me not to?”

Albus steps forward, “It wasn’t his choice, okay? We’ve tried other options. Casimir says you’re good at this job of yours and if that’s the case then I’m sure men- they tell you things.”

“Yes, you’re right. I know a lot of things I shouldn’t. It’s amazing how spineless men become once you’ve sucked them off,” she replies vehemently.

“We can pay you, if that’s what you want,” Albus retorts.

“If I do this for you now, who's to say I won’t do the same when the opposition is in power,” Eva says, narrowing her eyes at Albus, “Do you really think it’s only your opposition that hires escorts?”

Albus sighs heavily, “Of course not, we’re sorry. This wasn’t Casimir’s idea. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“Eva,” Casimir starts again, “I’m sorry, we wouldn’t be here if we thought- ,”

“If you were sorry, you’d walk away right now and we could pretend this never happened,” Eva says, shaking her head. She’s silent for a moment as they all avoid looking at one another, “This is about Sofia, right?”

“Who?” Albus asks, brows furrowed.

“Not who- where. This is about the pictures and the meeting in Sofia. In Bulgaria,” she says slowly, still not meeting their eyes.

Casimir nods, “Yes, it is. We care about the minister and Susan too. Not only are they good people, but we care about what they can do for our country.”

“Save the speeches, Casimir,” Eva says, rolling her eyes, “I’ll tell you this much. The people who have the Sofia documents, they didn’t just send them to you.”

She turns and storms away.

When they arrive at the ministry Albus detours to the dining hall for a coffee. He catches his Uncle Percy’s eye and joins him at his table.

A discarded copy of The Daily Prophet is laid out before them. It had only been a couple weeks since Albus had surreptitiously shared confidential information with Sebastien that he’d clearly wasted no time acting on. Albus bites his llp, a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

The top story is about a salacious court case in which the wealthy Parkinson family heirs are suing each other over their inheritance. 

At the bottom of the front page however, is a story that Albus had known was coming, “The Perrot Company acquires Kapoor Property Investments and Wormwood Holdings in a surprise weekend deal.”

He jiggles his knee nervously as he reads the article. Of course, he’d known this would happen, but not for the first time Albus wonders about the consequences of his actions. He wasn’t stupid enough to think there wouldn’t be repercussions, but he rationalizes one grandiose millionaire taking over the companies of slightly lesser millionaires wasn’t exactly a social justice issue.

“You alright?” Percy asks, peering down at the article from across the table. He pushes his spectacles back up the bridge of his nose. “Did you know that was coming?”

“Would you think I am a terrible person if I did?”

“It compromises your role on the DAER committee.”

“Yes, it does.”

“But Perrot seems the persuasive sort. He’s managed to get the DUMP to overlook the transportation impact report for that Diagon Alley property he’s already purchased.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You know as well as I that running a government is all about compromises,” Percy sips his tea, “Let us not forget that the problem with making compromises is that once you make one, it becomes easier to make another, until you have no idea what you stand for anymore.” 

They finish their coffees and walk back through the atrium. They find the usual chaos dialed up even higher. Cameras flash and reporters are stacked several rows deep while DMLE patrol officers keep them in check.

“What in Godric’s name is going on?” Percy asks no one in particular.

Weatherby sees them carrying Susan’s breakfast in hand, “You haven’t heard? Selwyn is being ejected from the Wizengamot.”

“What did they finally get him on?” Percy asks.

“Corruption. Apparently he was having an affair with a friend of his daughter. That’s not the problem so much as he was diverting funds from his constituency to pay for child support and lavish gifts and hiding them in municipal projects that never got done.”

“Can’t pretend I’m sorry to see him go,” Percy says, “Well, have a good day boys.”

“Can you believe it? Thirty-seven years in the Wizengamot and he’s finally gone.” Weatherby says excitedly as he and Albus make their way to the DIMC offices.

When they get to the office, Casimir is already there. “Did you see all the commotion about Selwyn?” Casimir asks. Weatherby nods enthusiastically before walking into Susan’s office.

Albus waits for the office door to close, “So, you got anything?”

“Sort of, yes. Process of elimination says that this isn’t an attack by a political opponent. She’s too popular, attacking her this boldly would be political suicide. I think it’s related to all this protesting on magical creature rights. The group calls itself Wizarding United, like they’re a bloody cauldron manufacturing union or the world’s dumbest sounding quidditch club.”

Albus scoffs and raises his brows, “Indeed. We’re pretty sure that the minister and Susan didn’t get involved in the Bulgarian election scandal because they wanted to secure the ICW nomination. Two months ago, the Wizengamot confirmed her nomination, Representative Orla Coughlin, as the open ICW seat. I pulled Coughlin’s voting record, and obviously it’s what we’d expect. She’s voted in favor of harsher sanctions for ministries with magical creatures rights violations and increased protections of squibs that want to remain in magical society. But the Romanian ministry has violated the rights of Romani magical populations again and again, and now they have the Bulgarian minister as their puppet, he’s doing the same. I just find it hard to believe that my aunt- , I mean Minister Granger-Weasley, would knowingly allow that to happen.”

“There’s only so much she can do as the British minister. But she and Susan must have decided to play the international game. It could be someone from Wizarding United in protest of the elf voting rights legislation. But it could also be someone from the ICW, another conservative seat like Iceland or the Russians,” Casimir replies thoughtfully.

“Whoever sent us the photos and the memo is obviously waiting for us to do something with them. I’d like to be sure of who sent us this, and why, before we go to the minister. But it’s been two days, they won’t wait forever. It’s only a matter of time until this memo ends up on the front page of the Daily Prophet . The good news is with Selwyn’s expulsion from the Wizengamot we may have bought ourselves some time after all.”

“Alright, I think we can get Gupta, Lapinski and Hardwick,” Albus says, circling their names on the enchanted blackboard in the DIMC office that evening. 

The names of the Wizengamot members move to the ‘Yay’ column from ‘Undetermined.’ Albus and his colleague Lahiri Castlerock from the Department of Magical Creature Welfare are reviewing the projected voting outcomes for the elfin representation bill.

“No, Lapinski is out,” Lahiri says, using her wand to strike through the name, “We met with her assistant yesterday. She has concerns about the house-elf union gathering too much influence and affecting economic growth.”

Albus shakes his head, “That’s hippogriff shite. The house-elf union only represents well- the house elves . It doesn’t represent elves working outside of domestic positions. Even if the minimum wage for every house-elf in the country was doubled that still would only affect maybe four hundred elves. Hogwarts already pays above minimum and they are their largest employer in the country.”

“We’ve shown her the numbers, but Lapinski’s mind can’t be changed. Her seat’s up for re-compete next year. She’s shoring up her base as ‘pro-business’.”

“Fine, we don’t have time to fight with stupid. I still think Gupta and Hardwick are affirmative votes. They just like to let anything that may further the minister’s agenda stew until the last moment as a power trip.”

“Agreed, so that leaves us with?”

“McLaggen, Burke and Blazer. Burke will never,” Albus says.

“I think McLaggen is our man,” Lahiri replies.

“Ugh, that’s not a sentence I ever thought I’d hear,” Albus shudders, “The man is detestable, always chatting up the papers about how he once dated my Aunt Hermione. That she must have dumped him for my uncle because if they got married then he’d be the minister.”

“It must be nice to live with that level of delusion,” Lahiri scoffs, “But, you know I’m right. Whatever may have happened back in school, he likes to feign favorability with the minister and I can’t imagine he has a good reason to be against the bill.” 

Albus concedes, “Fine, fine. I’ll take him for a drink tonight and once he feels adequately wooed, he will likely confirm his vote. Actually, you could come along. He’ll like you.”

“You mean cause I have tits,” Lahiri retorts, “I’m sure you’re right, but you better not message me at quarter to eight saying that you’ve been ‘caught up’ and make me go alone.”

“Lahiri, I wouldn’t leave McLaggen alone with a particularly shapely topiary.”

Lahiri laughs as they are interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Albus?” 

Albus opens the office door to find Jonah Pearlsteen, Noah’s older brother, dressed in his gray auror robes.

“Jonah, what are you doing here?”

“Do you have a moment?” Jonah says, looking over Albus’s shoulder at Lahiri.

Lahiri nods, “Yes, we’re done here, I think.”

She gathers her wand and papers and tosses her long, black hair over her shoulder, looking pointedly at Albus on her way out the door, “If you don’t show tonight, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to McLaggen.”

“Are you actually threatening a member of the Wizengamot in front of an auror?” Albus asks with a smirk.

Jonah snorts, “You’d be doing me a favor, Castlerock.”

Lahiri waves goodbye as Albus and Jonah step into the office. With his deep-set brown eyes and olive skin, he looks so much like Noah. But his chestnut brown hair is long enough to curl over his ears and he always has the perfect amount of light beard. His chosen accessories of studded dragon hide boots and copious tattoos combine for an edgy look that is vastly different from Noah’s slick, high-society demeanor. 

Albus always thought that somehow their generation of Pearlsteens and Potters got it wrong. The oldest siblings were supposed to be the responsible ones, afraid of stepping a toe out of line. Instead, Jonah threw away his family legacy and a sizeable portion of his trust fund leaving Noah to fulfill his role. Perhaps that is why Noah constantly seeks bigger and bigger projects, chasing more and more success, trying to be better than his older brother ever could have been. 

Albus is much the same. James had been arrogant and frivolous as a teenager, and even now always chooses to do exactly what he wants whenever he wants, though he was so charming and earnest that no one seemed to mind. Professional quidditch was James’s only goal, the only thing he ever deemed worthy of his time and effort. Despite the fact that Albus is a decent flyer, he didn’t bother to try out for the quidditch team back at school, knowing that he could never compete with his older brother’s prowess on the pitch. Albus hated being bad at things, and if he couldn’t do them perfectly then he often felt as though they weren’t worth trying at all.

“Anyone else here?” Jonah asks, sitting opposite of Albus’s desk.

“No, they’re all at the state banquet.”

“Okay, good. Listen, I need to talk to you about Nott.”

“Casimir? I don’t understand. Is he in trouble?”

“Maybe, that’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“What do you want to ask? Do I need a lawyer present?” Albus asks, immediately thinking of Casimir and his ‘friend’.

“You’re a lawyer.”

“I know, but I’m not-, is this about- , Albus takes a deep breath, “Alright, just ask what you want to ask.”

Jonah raises his brows, but ignores Albus’s discomfort, “Is Casimir close with his family?”

“Oh,” Albus hadn’t been expecting that question, “Um, you know we’re not really friends. We don’t talk much about anything outside of work. He sees Scorpius now and then I think. But I honestly think Noah and Scorpius are closer friends.”

“He’s never mentioned his father?”

“Only in passing, but I don’t think they get on. I get the impression that his father thinks he’s wasting his time as a bureaucrat when he could be making more money at a private law firm.”

“Right, well I can empathize with him on that,” Jonah replies, “What do you know about the Notts?”

“Not much. His grandfather was a Death Eater and died recently in Azkaban. I don’t think Casimir attended any sort of funeral, though. Why are you asking me these questions here? It must be related to the DIMC if you’re in my office. There are visitor logs. People will know you’ve been here.”

“It’s an open investigation. I can’t say much. But, yes we’re documenting everything just in case this is a lead that sticks. We think that the Notts have associations with the protestors from Wizarding United.”

“No, no that’s not possible. Casimir and I were just speaking about the absolute absurdity of Wizarding United earlier today,” Albus says, running his hands through his hair, “Even if his father is involved, Casimir wouldn’t be. Like I said, we’re not friends. But, I respect him. He’s good at his job. He believes in helping people. The whole reason he works for the DIMC is because he believes in improving the diversity and growth of our magical community.”

Albus sits back in his chair, thinking of all the work he and Casimir had done the past three months together, and before that back at school. They knew each other. They had spent years competing as they chased similar careers. The Notts were a proud, old guard family, but Casimir didn’t have any of their old-school prejudices. At least not openly. And if they were involved in Wizarding United, why would Casimir imply that that the group was behind the attack on the minister? 

Unless, it was a threat of some sort. Casimir had been so quick to point out that the envelopes could have been sent by a member of the ICW. And then he’d asked Albus to go along with him to meet Eva. He had suggested muggle London, but it could have been a setup. Had there been a photographer? How could Albus have been so naive?

“Listen, Al, this legislation you’re pushing forth- are you ready for the protests at the Wizengamot session?”

The elfin representation bill has been more time-consuming than he had anticipated. He thought surely with his aunt as minister, Wizengamot members would jump at the opportunity to pass legislation on elfin rights. 

But two days ago the protesters gathered in the ministry lobby had become violent for the first time. It was nothing that the DMLE patrol officers couldn’t easily handle, but one of the protestors had cast Incarcerous spells at one of the centaur members of the Wizengamot. The patrol officers from the DMLE had stepped in with their wands drawn to free the centaur. A couple stunners and disarming spells later the entire scuffle was over. But, Albus had been shocked when the lockdown alarm sounded whilst he was meeting with the Department of Magical Creature Welfare. 

“We have patrol officers scheduled for the vote. I think your office increased the amount after the attack on Councilor Theseus. I have a memo about it somewhere,” Albus says, gesturing to his crowded desk.

“Yes, that’s true, but I’d put in a request for more if you think it’s needed. Al, has Casimir seemed angry or secretive in any way?”

“Just the opposite, actually. We’ve had a lot of big projects this summer and we’ve been working quite closely.”

“But you’re on the DAER committee, right? Susan passed on Casimir and nominated you.”

“You really have been investigating. Yes, Casimir wanted to be on the DAER committee, but he didn’t seem to hold it against me. No more resentful than usual anyway. He understood. His family- , they were all shunned after the war and it was bad optics for the ministry on a project like the Diagon Alley expansion.”

“It’s more than that. Families like the Notts are angry. They didn’t just lose their family to Azkaban. They lost their businesses, their livelihoods. The Notts owned nearly a third of Diagon Alley before the second war. During Voldemort’s initial reign, the Notts seized businesses owned by muggleborns and so-called blood traitors. They took over their properties and installed pureblood families. It’s one of those things we often overlook during Voldemort’s second rise, but it was also one of the reasons why it was easy for the Death Eaters to gain influence at the ministry by the time the second war was building. I want to be wrong, I really do. But keep your guard up,” Jonah says solemnly. 

The Gemini and Giant is an upscale dining club on Diagon Alley’s South End. It is full of dark corners and known for catering to a diverse clientele that had a tendency to turn the other cheek.

Albus wishes he was surprised by McLaggen’s choice of venue, but he knows better. He spots Lahiri sitting at a corner booth, cocktail in hand.

“McLaggen isn’t here yet?” 

Lahiri shakes her head, “Not quite. You alright? Nervous?”

Albus flags down a waitress and orders a martini, “Not about McLaggen. But the vote? Sure. We’ve only got,” He checks his watch, “sixteen hours.”

“Well, having Selwyn out of the picture is a massive help. Thank the gods for that impeccable timing.”

Albus sips his drink in agreement, as if the gods or fate had anything to do with it.

From over his shoulder he hears a soft laugh, a flirty voice saying, “Cormac, save it for later.”

“Castlerock and Potter,” Cormac McLaggen booms, ”Hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Not at all,” Albus says standing to greet McLaggen. They shake hands and it’s only when he turns to McLaggen’s date that he briefly hesitates and his eyes widen for just a moment, “You’ve brought a date.”

A date that is definitely not his wife and mother of his children, but Albus knows better than to think McLaggen is the faithful sort.

“Yes, this isn’t a confidential sort of meeting is it? It’s after hours and I think I know what you want after all. This is- “

“Eva,” the woman says confidently, “Nice to meet you.” 

With introductions made they all sit, McLaggen pulling Eva into his side so she’s practically sitting in his lap. They order drinks and McLaggen’s conversation is typically boorish.

“So Castlerock, I’ve been trying to convince you to go out for a drink for ages now. Why the sudden request?” He says, looking her up and down, eyes lingering too long for comfort on her long brown legs.

“Councilor, you know as well as I that we need you,” Lahiri says leaning forward, “We all want the same thing, don’t we?” 

“Fundamentally, yes. But I’m going to need more than that.”

Eva interrupts before Lahiri can respond, “Love, do you mind if I just slip to the loo?”

McLaggen shifts back so Eva can step around him, his hand sliding across her arse as she does so. She rolls her eyes in response though McLaggen can’t see. As she steps around the table, she kicks Albus’s shoe before walking away.

Albus can take a hint, “Why don’t I get us a second round of drinks before we get into negotiations? It’s crowded here, so I'll go up to the bar.”

“Good man, Potter. Make sure it’s Ogden’s Black Label Reserve,” McLaggen says, draining his glass of firewhiskey.

Albus places the drinks order and then finds Eva lingering in the corridor to the loos. She quickly grabs him by his tie and pulls him close. 

For a second, Albus thinks she might kiss him, but then she whispers urgently in his ear, “He knows. McLaggen knows about the pictures. I don’t know who gave them to him, but he knows.”

“Does he have any intention of taking down the minister?“

“No, not that he has said, but he wants in on whatever deal you have with Belby.”

“Belby? Marcus Belby? Eva, I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Think, Potter! Perrot and Belby!”

She releases Albus’s tie quickly at the sound of footsteps coming up the corridor and makes her way back towards their table.

Albus meanwhile takes a deep breath, trying to make the connection between Belby, Perrot and however McLaggen could possibly benefit. He returns to the bar levitating their drinks onto the table noticing that McLaggen sits alone.

“Where are Lahiri and Eva?”

“Loo probably. Something about Eva needing help with a broken button on her dress. Not that I really mind,” Cormac says with a lascivious wink. 

Eva should consider a career as ministry informant, Albus thinks. He sits down and with false confidence says, “Right, McLaggen tell me what you really want.”

“We both know that you’re on the DAER committee and that Perrot’s company will be a finalist for the Diagon Alley expansion.”

“I’m not really supposed to- “

“Bollocks! Now is not the time for pretense when I know you need my vote tomorrow afternoon.”

He nods, his fingertips tapping against his thigh as he grows increasingly nervous about whatever McLaggen is about to say.

“This deal you’ve got going with Belby. I want in.”

“I promise you I’m not being coy. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

McLaggen sits back and scans Albus as if weighing whether the younger man is telling the truth. 

He leans forward and smirks, “Let me get this straight. You’re shagging Perrot and you’re not benefiting financially from that arrangement. Merlin, you’re missing out, Potter. Only so much sullying of the golden boy’s robes?”

“The girls will be back soon,” Albus says, ignoring the jibe.

“Why should I tell you anything? You don’t know what you don’t know. And so now you can’t offer me anything.” 

The councilor is taking immense pleasure in having the upper hand and Albus knows it. He needs something to rebalance this conversation and quickly. He thinks back through everything he knows about McLaggen.

“Your constituency wants expanded floo network access, right? Connectivity for Cumbria has been on the back burner for ages and just last month your transportation budget was raided again so they could add more apparition points to Hogsmeade Hills.”

McLaggen nods, waiting for the part where he gets what he wants.

“Lahiri needs to set aside training funds for the newly elected elf in the Wizengamot out of the DMCW budget. I’ll make sure she and Percy include the floo connectivity for Cumbria. It makes sense, Cumbria has the largest community of elves that are not represented by the house elf union. They are bakers, tailors, potioneers. If they want to open their small businesses in the new Diagon Alley expansion, they need transportation. It’s too far for apparition on a daily basis.”  

He can see McLaggen thinking over his proposition. The man drains his drink and says, 

“Okay, okay. Belby is a fool and a gambler which is as horrid combination as they come. I heard it was that card game run by the goblins. Perrot paid his debts. In exchange, because of Belby’s position on the DAER committee, Perrot included some sort of code or phrase on his bid.” 

“Something to make sure that The Perrot Company is a finalist and ultimately an awardee of the Diagon Alley expansion? But how-”

“Belby is shagging that frizzy haired spinster Millstone.”

“And you want to become an investor in The Perrot Company? Just in time for the development.”

“It’s not illegal for a member of the Wizengamot to make a well-timed investment in a privately held company.”

Albus raises his brows and sighs, “It probably should be. But one legal loophole at a time.”

“With you and Belby making sure Perrot gets the expansion, I stand to make millions,” McLaggen smiles, his teeth too square and white to be natural.

Chapter Text

Scorpius and Lily take their seats in the court chambers of the Wizengamot after fighting their way through a crowd of protestors in the ministry atrium, and then the press outside the chambers. The crowds were a surprise to Scorpius. Who knew that Magical Britain was so politically active? Perhaps it was just Scorpius who never paid much attention to Wizengamot sessions.

Their arrival had been slowed when the press stopped Lily to ask her to pose for photos, dressed in a court side outfit consisting of a short navy wool shift dress with layered strands of what she called ‘daytime diamonds’ around her neck. The designer of her dress well noted, a reporter from The Daily Prophet then asked Lily what she thought of the protestors to which she had rolled her eyes and offered the sound bite, “Some people need to get hobbies, preferably ones that aren’t so hateful.” 

Scorpius knows it’s exactly the sort of flippant comment that Albus would cringe at, but also secretly adores his younger sister for making. 

The Chief Councilor stands at the podium in the center of the chamber and speaks in a firm, commanding tone, “The final piece of legislation for the current session of the Wizengamot is marked 4952.A.7 Permanent Elfin Representation on Wizengamot.  This legislation is put forth by the Lead Counsels of the Department of Magical Creature Welfare, Lahiri Castlerock, and the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Albus Potter. The bill makes permanent the current regulation signed by Minister Granger-Weasley upon taking office. In summary, this legislation amends the current membership of the Wizengamot and creates a permanent seat for an elf to be nominated at the recommendation of other Wizengamot members or the minister’s office. Have all representatives read the bill or shall we recite in full today? All in favor of skipping the recitation of the legislative text, say aye.”

There is a chorus of ayes and then the Chief Councilor speaks again, “Very well. Will any of the representatives present here today like to speak either in favor of, or against the bill before we vote?”

In turn, Councilor Burke takes the podium and launches into a tirade against magical creature representatives as a slippery slope to ‘voting rights for everything from dragons to pygmy puffs’.

Of course, Burke’s points are summarily dismissed by a rousing counter argument from the centaur, Councilor Theseus, and several others. Even Councilor McLaggen stood and voiced his support, looking pointedly at Albus as he spoke. Albus nodded at him as he resumed his seat, acknowledging their negotiation.

Finally, the Chief Councilor stands again before the podium to call for the vote. Scorpius watches Albus with bated breath as each of the councilors uses their wands to tap in their votes, the count tallying on the voting scoreboard displayed overhead of the terraced seating.

The scoreboard ticks upwards. First ten, then twenty and finally the majority of votes are in and the elfin representation legislation is passed, thirty-six to fourteen.

Down below on the Wizengamot floor, Albus can’t help himself from standing and turning to Lahiri in celebration. They hug and rejoice as the chamber bursts into applause, and just a few disgruntled jeers.

Albus turns looking at the room full of Wizengamot councilors and public attendees proudly, his eye catching on his family. He sees his parents, his brother James, his sister Lily, and shockingly, Scorpius.

Scorpius catches Albus’s eye and beams at him. For just a moment it feels completely natural for Scorpius to be here supporting him. That they could support each other. Albus wonders if maybe Scorpius could possibly want all of this- with him.

As everyone begins to file out of the chambers, Scorpius and the Potters mill about doing their best to be inconspicuous as Albus and Lahiri answer questions for the press. In reality, they’re not inconspicuous at all, but there is a small team of patrol officers making sure that no one drifts too close to the Potters.

“It’s good to see you, Scorpius. I didn’t know you were going to be here” Ginny says kindly, though she has a curious gleam in her warm brown eyes.

“You as well, Ginny. Albus has been so supportive of my new restaurant and done so much for Astra, that I wanted to be here for him,” Scorpius replies shyly, eyes cast down as he readjusts his rolled shirt sleeves.

Harry exchanges a look with his wife, “Albus will be glad you are here to witness his very first piece of legislation to be passed.” 

Lily slips her arm into the crook of Scorpius’s elbow and smiles at him, “Yes, doesn’t our Albus make the most dashing politician, just so clever and professional.”

James laughs, rolling his eyes, “And the only one with a bit of subtlety between us.”

Albus joins his family and is greeted with hugs and offers of congratulations, but it’s clear he only has eyes for Scorpius, his gaze soft as he loosens his tie, exposing the hollow of his throat. Scorpius feels himself grow warm and swallows hard just watching him.

“We better get going, we have some meetings on the Diagon Alley expansion this afternoon back at the foundation,” Ginny says.

“Don’t forget, dinner tonight to celebrate,” Harry says, “Scorpius, you must come too if you have the time, though I know your restaurant opens soon. I can’t promise my cooking is anywhere near as good as yours, but it will be edible.”

“I’d love to, thank you,” Scorpius says with a nod. 

“We have to go too,” Lily declares, “James is helping me with a very important project in my potions chamber.”

“I am?” James asks, confusion clear on his face. Then he catches Lily’s eye and smiles, snapping his fingers in understanding.

“Right, yes, we must go. You’re not the only one doing important stuff, Al. I’m even working in my off-season.”

“As subtle as a band of harpies, those Potters,” Albus says once he and Scorpius are alone. The soft smirk on his face and gleaming emerald eyes is enough to send Scorpius’s pulse soaring again.

“James says you’re the only one who's capable of subtlety,” Scorpius says, his tone teasing.

But something about his words make Albus sigh heavily, “Cunning is a more apt description.” 

When he looks up again, Scorpius can see purple shadows beneath his eyes, noticing for the first time how tired Albus appears.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I- , I still have a lot of work to do. I should get back to the DIMC office. Um, let me walk you out,” Albus says, brows furrowed, his voice tight with stress.

“There’s no need, I can find- “

“At least back to the floos in the atrium,” Albus says, “Please I insist.”

Scorpius nods and they walk through the corridors to the lift, “Are you sure that you’re alright?”

Albus nods and smiles at Scorpius in a way that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “Yes, well, I will be.”

He looks down and shakes his head. This time when he looks up, his gaze is soft and happy again. He reaches forward to take Scorpius’s hand, “Scor, thank you for coming. It really means a lot and- “

“There’s Potter!” Someone shouts across the lobby.

In a rush of movement, Albus and Scorpius suddenly find themselves surrounded by a crowd that must be protestors as the shouts come rapidly.

“Power to magical creatures is stealing from Wizards!”

“No wands, no rights!”

“Magic is might!”

Albus reaches for his wand to throw up a shield to keep the crowd from getting too close, but it’s too late, a strong disarming spell catches his shoulder and his wand flies from his grasp.

“Albus!” Scorpius yells as Albus falls back against the cold marble floor. 

Patrol officers from the DMLE run towards the protestors, their wands streaming forth curses and spells in red, blue and yellow light. 

Scorpius runs towards Albus, wand held aloft. A hex hits the backs of his legs causing his knees to buckle. Scorpius shoots his arms out to break his fall, but he feels another sharp, blazing hot sting as a hex catches him at the base of the neck and he falls, Albus’s alarmed expression the last thing that he sees before his head hits the ground and the darkness takes over.

Scorpius blinks slowly, but the light is too bright and his eyelids are too heavy to keep open and holy hippogriffs, he’s fairly certain he’s been stepped on by a giant because his head is throbbing with pain.

Somewhere in the room someone is saying his name, but they sound far away or maybe they’re just underwater?

“Mr. Malfoy, can you hear me?”

He tries to nod his head because his throat feels like he’s swallowed sand, except that also turns out to be a big mistake. Now he’s been stepped on by a giant and possibly spun around like a gnome in the Weasley’s garden. He’s not sure that metaphor made sense, but thinking is a tad bit more difficult than usual.

“Mr. Malfoy, don’t move. My name is Healer Davies, I’m the Head of Spell Damage here at St. Mungo’s. I’m going to sit you up in the bed, okay?”

Scorpius feels himself being lifted underneath his armpits and then an arm comes around his back to settle him against the pillows.

“Drink this slowly. It’s a pain potion to help the headache.”

He takes the small vial from the healer and drinks the pain potion. As the pain finally starts to dissipate, he looks around the hospital room and realizes he has absolutely no recollection of how he got there and why.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Draco says, coming to his son’s side. 

There is a dull ache in the back of his head, but Scorpius feels plenty well enough to smile softly at his father.

“I’m okay, Dad. I’m just fine,” Scorpius says. 

Healer Davies steps forward again, “Mr. Malfoy, do you know why you’re here?”

“I hit my head?” He replies unsurely because that seems like the obvious answer, “No, I don’t. 

The last thing that I remember was being at the Wizengamot to watch Albus’s elf bill vote thing.”

“Scor, do you remember what happened after the vote?” Albus says, coming to the side of the bed next to Draco.

“You’re here,” Scorpius replies. He reaches forward, but Healer Davies presses his shoulder back gently.

“Of course I am,” Albus’s voice is shaky, his green eyes wide with worry, “This wouldn’t even have happened if you left with Lily. I should have, I don’t know, I could have- “

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” Scorpius says, then he turns to the healer, “I am okay, right?”

Healer Davies performs a few tests, checking Scorpius’s reflexes and poking and prodding him every which way. Finally he nods, “Yes, you’re okay. You have a concussion after being hit with a stinging hex in the back of the neck. That is why you are experiencing some short-term memory loss. You are going to have to take it easy for a week or so, but we don’t expect that there will be any long term effects. You’ll likely have some nausea over the first few days, but we’ll give you a potion to help with that. And we’re going to make sure that you aren’t left alone just in case you have other symptoms, but you should be able to go home in a few hours.”

“Thank you, Roger,” Albus says gratefully, shaking the older man’s hand, “I’ll see you at the Foundation Festival in a few weeks.”

Scorpius remembers Lily saying that Roger Davies is related to the Potters by marriage. He happens to be James’s father-in-law and oversees a fellowship at the Healing Institute that James had set up in his wife Sophie’s name. After Healer Davies leaves promising a mediwitch will come by with discharge notes and his potions, Scorpius asks Albus to tell him what happened.

“Scorpius, yesterday after the vote we were walking in the ministry atrium and the protestors attacked us. I got knocked back against the wall with a disarming spell and you were trying to help me up when you were hexed,” Albus says, his voice heavy with emotion, “It happened so fast and you fell hard. The patrol officers came quickly and stopped the protestors. They arrested everyone. But, this is all my fault, Scor. This is all my bloody fault. Jonah told me that I should have requested increased security and I was so busy with prepping for the vote and dealing with other work stuff I just didn’t. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Bloody hell, Al, you were treated for bruises and burns just yesterday. Stop being such a martyr,” Lily says, walking into the room with Astra and Cosmo. 

“No one blames you, Albus. Frankly, everyone of those protestors deserves to be stuck in a cage fight with a Hungarian Horntail. Anti-apparition charms on the cage, of course,” Astra adds, smiling and handing Albus a paper cup of tea. Despite her appearance as a tiny blonde fairy who slept tucked up in a rosebud, Astra always did scare Albus just a little bit. 

“Still, I’m- “ Albus starts. He looks guiltily over at Draco, who is stonily silent. 

“No, no they’re right,” Scorpius says, looking between Albus and his father, “It wasn’t your fault, you can’t prevent people from acting like lunatics. If everyone behaved themselves you’d probably be out of a job.”

Albus reaches forward and places his hand on the back of Scorpius’s, “Typical you, comforting me while you’re in hospital.”

Albus looks like he wants to say more, his lips parted and his eyes soft and apologetic, but the small hospital room is crowded and neither Scorpius nor Albus have the words to say what they really want to say. So Scorpius simply turns his hand over and squeezes Albus’s gently. 

Scorpius takes a deep breath, trying to process everything he’s heard, “Wait, you said the vote was yesterday. I’ve been out for an entire day? But that means,” he looks at Albus, “Oh we missed dinner with your parents. And I think I missed a delivery at the restaurant?”

Albus smiles at Scorpius, “Oh Scor, that is the exact wrong thing to be worrying about now. 

But yes, the restaurant- Noah called on the two-way and he accepted your delivery.”

“Right, okay. I should probably talk to Noah. We were supposed to interview staff this week.”

“Yes, but not now. You’re to keep your stress levels low, which means no work. Trixie is prepping one of the rooms downstairs for you and as soon as you get your discharge papers, Albus is going to drive us home. Healer Davies says you shouldn’t apparate or floo with a concussion,” Draco says firmly.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have Cosmo drive?” Astra suggests one last time as Albus and Draco get Scorpius seated in the back of Albus’s car. Draco and Lily get in the car as well, Draco sitting shotgun.

“If Cosmo gets stopped for a traffic violation between here and Wiltshire without identification of any kind that could be problematic. And before anyone suggests it, I cannot in good conscience obliviate any coppers,” Albus says, as he gets himself situated in the front of his classic 1966 Mini Cooper, the color British racing green, of course.

“Right, no, I know. But you said you haven’t driven in a while,” Astra replies. 

“What’s that muggle phrase? It’s like riding a bike,” Albus replies as he adjusts his mirrors.

Lily scoffs, “When was the last time you rode a bike?”

Albus ignores her and fastens his seatbelt. Albus loves to drive, he’d asked his father to teach him as soon as he could get his provisional driver’s permit the Christmas after he turned fifteen. He loves to roll the windows down, turn on music that Lily affectionately describes as ‘sad boy roams the moors with a guitar’ and drive around the countryside near his family home in Godric’s Hollow. He doesn’t have the opportunity to drive due to spending all his time in London and while he wishes the circumstances are better, he is excited to get behind the wheel. 

He adjusts his mirrors and turns out onto the busy London road. As he stops at the first traffic light, there is a metallic squeak of the brakes. 

“What was that?” Draco asks nervously. 

“Could be the carburetor,” Lily offers from the backseat.

“She has no idea. It’s just the brakes groaning because I haven’t driven in a while,” Albus replies, spotting Draco’s alarmed expression. 

The brakes grind again at the traffic light and Draco looks down at his feet like the floor is on fire.

“Might be the spark plugs,” Lily says, leaning forward in between Draco and Albus. The car is small enough that she can poke her head right between their forearms. Albus resists the urge to gently nudge back her nose with his elbow.

“Lily, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” Scorpius confirms, his face covered in oversized, gold framed sunglasses that Lily had dug out from the bottom of her handbag. Albus smiles at him in his rear view mirror. He looks like a muggle movie star on holiday in the South of France.

“Excuse me, but I’ll have you both know I dated a muggle auto mechanic for three very fun, very flirty, and slightly greasy months a couple summers ago and I learned a lot. And honestly, what I’m really gathering from this situation is that this backseat is way too small to have any real fun. Al, how far does your seat recline? Because you could probably make that work.”

Albus rolls his eyes at his younger sister, “Don’t worry about it, Lily, I’m never, ever going to let you borrow my car.”

Draco turns back to check on Scorpius and then resigns himself to leaning against the passenger side door to pass the journey in silence while Albus and Lily bicker over her dating life, catch up on work gossip, talk about the endless comings and goings of the extended Weasley family and generally make Draco wonder how exactly he ended up in a muggle car with two of Harry Potter’s extraordinarily well-intentioned, but endlessly bothersome children. 

Once they arrive at the manor, Draco, Albus and Cosmo get Scorpius into bed and Lily and Astra hover and offer helpful comments like, ‘mind the door’ and ‘perhaps one more pillow’. 

Adequately fussed over, Scorpius falls asleep while the others convene in the living room to work out a schedule for Scorpius’s care during the week he is to remain on bedrest. 

“Evening post, sir,” Trixie says, carrying in a small stack of letters. 

“Astra, here from the ministry,” Draco says, handing her a thick white envelope.

“Oh, bloody finally! It’s the letter offering Cosmo and I permanent UK residency! The ministry has worked it out with the muggle Home Office as well. We are officially no longer potential fugitives,” Astra says, throwing her arms around Cosmo’s neck. He kisses her, twirling her around in a circle. 

Lily hugs Astra and Cosmo tightly and then claps her hands together excitedly, her rings clinking together, “Brilliant idea! You must let me throw you both a proper wedding party. We could do a lovely English garden party theme to celebrate Cosmo’s new homeland? Or perhaps a sort of celestial theme for your names? That could be quite pretty with some twinkly star candles suspended in air and we could have your tables named after constellations.”

Astra eyes light up, “Uncle Draco, what do you think? Could we have it here at the manor?”

Draco has a pained expression on his face as though he’s certainly had enough of the Potters coming in and telling him how to do things in his own home. But then he looks at the newlyweds, holding hands tightly, Astra’s hopeful expression on her face and finds himself nodding.

Lily beams at Draco and claps again, “Fab! Okay, we have so much to do. I’m thinking romance, lush, sparkle. We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s go see about dusting off some of those old, antique-y things you love so much for decor. And I need to contact Uncle Neville about the flowers. Oh and Astra, I’m sure Delilah will definitely design your dress. We don’t need to talk about the budget first, do we?”

Lily hooks one arm in Draco’s elbow and the other in Astra’s. He looks at her suspiciously, but Lily is always incredibly charming in the way she flirtatiously bosses everyone around that Albus is certain it is only a matter of time until she has Draco Malfoy doing her bidding.  

Albus clicks his tongue as he reviews the morning briefing from the DIMC, making notes in the margins, “Request for British assistance on grindiva virus outbreak in the Caribbean. That’s new.”

“You still do that thing, then,” Scorpius says, opening his eyes as he hears Albus’s voice.

Albus looks up. Scorpius’s hair is mussed from sleep, the cool blond catching in the afternoon light. The color in his cheeks is finally coming back after days of recovery. He’s peaches and cream and Albus wants to sink into his soft sweetness.

Instead he asks, “What thing?”

“Talking to yourself when you read,” Scorpius says with a small smile.

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, but even if you did, I'm positively tired of sleeping.”

“Is that possible?”

Scorpius shrugs, “What time is it?”

“Half past three.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Just got here a bit ago. Casimir was nice enough to take some of my meetings this afternoon, though he said he might drop by later.”

Truthfully, Albus has been hiding out at Malfoy Manor. Avoiding his nearly empty flat he barely sees in the best of times and dodging Perrot’s two-way calls and letters.

“And my dad?” Scorpius asks, surprised his father isn’t hovering.

“He’s out taking Honey for a walk.”

“Good, that’s good of him to get some fresh air. No reason for you all to be shut in with me this week.”

“Do you want a walk? We should probably stay inside since it’s surprisingly sunny out today and the healer said to stay away from bright light. But we could always walk in the corridor.”

“Sure, sure,” Scorpius says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand. Albus immediately rushes over to help him up.

“I can stand, I promise.” Though once fully upright, Scorpius feels a massive bout of vertigo and sways slightly. 

Albus quickly catches Scorpius under the armpits, “Would you stop being so stubborn, please?”

“Well, only because you said please.”

Albus makes a face at Scorpius and steadies Scorpius on his feet. 

“Thanks for being here, Albus.”

“Of course, I’m just sorry I can’t be here more often. I still feel badly about all this. I’m so sorry this happened and you’ve been working so hard on your restaurant. ”

“It’s only a couple weeks and I’m just glad that my primary investor is Noah. It takes some of the pressure off to be a success right away.”

“You will, though. Be a success, I mean. It’s going to be incredible.”

“Thanks, I hope so. It still seems like a dream sometimes. Are Astra and Cosmo wedding planning again?”

“Yes, Lily has christened herself wedding captain and says it’s ‘all hands on deck’. Merlin knows where she learned military terms.”

They walk further down the corridor that leads into a small parlor room, the soft pink walls covered in lush landscape paintings mostly painted by Scorpius’s late mum, Astoria.

In the corner of the room is a grand piano, the glossy black shining in the late afternoon sun. Albus feels himself flush as he remembers the last time he and Scorpius were in this room.

Watching Scorpius’s fingers slide over the ivory keys of the piano, the curve of his graceful neck as the melody plays on makes Albus’s chest swell with emotion. He’s so beautiful and it’s just too much that he can also make beautiful music come to life with each movement of those hands that Albus has spent the summer getting to know all too well. 

Albus sits on the piano bench next to Scorpius, close enough for their narrow hips to touch. They’re too lanky after a summer spent outgrowing their jeans and trainers. 

Albus is certain he knows Scorpius’s body as well as his own. The freckle above his left knee, the soft porcelain skin of his inner thigh, the spot beneath his jaw that can elicit a whole body shiver, the curve of his lip beneath his tongue. Albus lays his head on Scorpius’s shoulder and sighs watching Scorpius play. Scorpius nudges his side gently with elbows, “You’re in my way, Al.”

“Guess you’ll have to learn to play around me.”

“Typical, thinking the world revolves around you.”

“Well, yours should at least, don’t you think?” Albus teases.

“Mm, right now it revolves around my piano.”

Albus slips a hand between Scorpius thighs, inching up the hem of his khaki shorts, “I think I 

can find a way to remedy that.”

Albus slides down to his knees beneath the bench and the piano and slowly pulls the zipper down the front of his shorts. Albus touches him, slow ministrations over the soft, warm skin. 

Scorpius continues to play on, awkwardly as his arms reach over the top of Albus’s head. But then Albus’s lips slide over him and it’s a cacophony of wrong notes as Scorpius moans at the sensation.

Their lovemaking is still the jerky, adolescent movements of inexperience, but it doesn’t matter as Albus’s mouth sends Scorpius chasing his release in no time at all  Afterwards, Scorpius lays heavy and sated on his back across the piano bench, his too long limbs hanging over the edge. Albus is still kneeling on the floor, his head on Scorpius’s stomach.  

Scorpius hasn’t been keeping count of the many, many times they’ve ended up just like this over the summer. Well, the piano parlor is a first, but the rest of it is more or less the same. 

Less awkward and bumbling now in August than it had been in June, now that they reached for each other with confidence. And he curses at the way he craves Albus’s touch, his tongue, his everything. 

It can’t be normal the way they are always a hair’s breadth from needing each other. It must be that Scorpius has just turned sixteen and his body rages with hormones out of his control. Except, it’s only ever Albus that he wants when he’s alone, only ever Albus in his dreams and in the shower. Only ever Albus.

As their breathing returns to normal, Albus traces small circles across his stomach that cause Scorpius, tickling and sensitive to laugh softly. Albus takes a deep, slow breath, the air ghosting over Scorpius’s skin. 

“I can’t believe we go back to school next week,” Albus murmurs as Scorpius reaches down and runs his hands through his thick, black hair.

“I know, this might be the best summer of my life.”

“Might be?”

“That wasn’t a personal challenge, Albus. You’re so bloody competitive.”

“You like that about me, don’t you?”

“I like a lot of things about you.”

“That didn’t answer the question.”

“I know.”

Albus grabs Scorpius by the waist and pulls him down, their bodies splayed on the floor and Scorpius laying on top of him. 

“Ouch, that hurt,” Scorpius says, shaking his arm out after his elbow crashed into floorboards

“It did,” Albus concedes, “Sorry, it was more romantic in my mind.”

Scorpius places small kisses along Albus’s hairline, “It’s the thought that counts.”

They’re so close that Albus is going cross-eyed trying to look at Scorpius, but this is important. He needs to look at Scorpius as he says, “I love you.”

Scorpius smiles at him brightly, “Of course you do, you sod. I love you too.”

They stare at each other with matching lopsided grins, only looking up when there is a soft knock on the door. 

“Scorpius, your parents are back from St. Mungo’s,” says the squeaky voice of the Malfoy’s house-elf, her tiny face peeking around the doorframe, doing her best to avoid looking at the boys.

“Right, yes, be right there,” Scorpius says, scrambling to stand and quickly dressing. Albus says goodbye, dressing so he can floo home. 

Scorpius stands at the room’s threshold, he looks back and smiles at Albus. He mouths silently, ‘I love you’.

Albus sighs happily, his heart fit to burst out of his chest with sheer, overwhelming in its fullness kind of love. He has no idea that that’s the last time they’ll speak for nine years. 

Next to him, Scorpius shifts his weight uncomfortably, the room’s memories like a weight on his shoulders.

Finally, Albus sighs and leads Scorpius into the parlor to sit on a stodgy, chinoiserie silk settee. Now it’s Albus’s turn to fidget, wringing his hands. 

They’re quiet for a moment until Albus finally works up the courage to ask, “What happened that summer, Scorpius?”

Scorpius shakes his head, smiling sadly, “Are we finally doing this? No rude interruptions from work or family?”

“No guarantees on my family, but I think we owe it to each other, don’t we?”

“Albus- ,” Scorpius sighs, exhaling in anticipation.

“Just tell me what I did wrong,” Albus’s tone is desperate, “Why you ignored my letters and calls? Why you never came over any more with Astra? Why you never even spoke to me back at school?”

“Al, it’s just that- ,” Scorpius rubs his hands over his face, “Oh Merlin, I don’t even know where to start. I’m not like you, okay. I never say the right thing and I know I cocked it all up back then and I’ll probably do it again. I’ve been practicing this conversation for nine years, and now I can’t find any of the words.”

“Please, Scor, please just tell me. It was so long ago, but can we really even be friends now if we never talk about it?”

“Are we friends? Is that what this is?” 

Albus doesn’t answer, he just looks at Scorpius, his emerald eyes pleading.

“Do you remember that day, here in this room?”

Albus sighs, of course he does. It’s only every other memory. It’s only a singular moment of joy and love that he compares all others to, even without realizing. 

“When my parents came home, they told Astra and me that my mum’s treatments stopped working. We didn’t know how much time she had left, but she was dying,” his voice breaks as the breath catches in his throat, “She died a couple weeks after the start of term.”

Albus takes Scorpius hands in his and squeezes them tightly, “I remember Lily telling me when Draco came to Hogwarts to inform you and Astra.”

“Albus, I’m sorry I pushed you away, I’m sorry, I- I don’t know how to explain it, but my mum had been sick for years at that point and I guess I was, oh this sounds horrid, but used to it somehow. But when she came home that day, I just conflated her dying with you and me, and the two of us falling in love. And I felt so fucking guilty that I was so happy, happier than I ever thought possible and I was losing my mum. How could I do that? How could it be that I was spending all my time with you and she was dying.”

He’s breathing fast now, rapid, short movements from his chest and Albus comes to him, his hands on his shoulders, steadying him. 

“It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. We didn’t-” Albus can’t finish. 

“Astra had just lost her parents a few years before and now she was losing my mum too. My dad fell apart. I knew he would, but it was even worse than expected. He barely got out of bed for a month and I- , I needed you. I know that now, but at the time I felt like I couldn’t have any happiness. Like I didn’t deserve it.”

“I hope you know that’s not true. I hope you know that all I wanted was to be there for you. I lo- I was in love with you, Scor,” Albus says sadly.

“I know. I know that now,” Scorpius rests his forehead on Albus’s shoulder, his eyes downcast.

Albus wraps his arms around Scorpius, sitting in the parlor, being there for each other, even if it feels like a decade too late.

“Come in,” Scorpius says at the knock on his door. The following day he's still in bed, but at least Albus and the others have agreed to let him review the initial inventory orders for the restaurant.

Albus meanwhile is sitting nearby composing remarks for Susan’s speech at the JEMM conference in Berlin.  

Casimir walks into the room, “Scorpius, you’re looking good, healthy. Or as healthy as you can when your natural complexion is somewhere between ghost and porcelain.”

“Thanks, I think,” Scorpius replies.

“Now I know you’re my cousin and I’m sorry about those Wizarding United pricks, but believe it or not I came to see Potter.”

“Thanks again, I think.”

“That’s starting to sound rather insincere. But that’s the problem with Potter.  When he’s around you’re not even the most popular person in your own house.”

Albus scoffs, “You’re looking a bit green about the gills there, Nott. Jealous, are we?”

Casimir rolls his eyes and jerks his head towards the corridor.

“I should have the speech ready for reviews in a couple of hours.”

“And I’ll make my revisions as always, but that’s not why I’m here,” Casimir says, reaching into his satchel.

“I’m getting quite tired of large, yellow envelopes,” Albus says. Casimir huffs in agreements. 

Albus reads through the memo. It’s a barely veiled threat. In the back of his mind, he thinks of his last conversation with Jonah, about having to be careful with Casimir, his allegiances unknown.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” 

Albus nods slowly, “It’s time for Minister Granger-Weasley to go public on Sofia.”

Chapter Text

“As you all know, we are seeking both impartiality and transparency in this process. We don’t want DUMP or the minister to be accused of any political favoritism,” Malandra announces as she begins the last DAER committee meeting.

Albus cringes inwardly, his stomach tied in knots. Backroom deals and bribery was more like it. He’d never imagined he’d be on the wrong side of it. 

“Alright, DAER-ers are we ready to announce our three awardees? Here we go,” Malandra says, shimmying her shoulders as she gathers the three envelopes with the highest-scored bids. 

Percy sits next to him and exchanges a look with Albus, brows raised over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses. Malandra Millstone clearly thought she was announcing the winner of some glamorous theatre award rather than a city planning project.

“We have in order of award size: Pearlsteen International, The Perrot Company and Vogel Capital.”

The room interrupts into polite applause as Malandra looks at them all expectantly. 

“Wonderful, wonderful! Mark my words, everyone in this room has determined the future of Magical Britain today,” Malandra says, concluding the meeting with arms thrown in the air.

“Have time for a cuppa?” Percy asks Albus as they conclude the meeting.

“Unfortunately not, I must meet with your best mate Belby actually,” Albus says with feigned disdain.

Percy makes a matching expression of dissatisfaction, “Well, I better dash then. Take care of yourself, Albus. If I’m being quite honest, you look a bit shit.” Albus laughs and waves away his uncle.

Across the room, Belby is clearly flirting with Millstone who laughs and tosses her messy curls over her shoulder. 

Albus sighs. He rubs his temples, closing his green eyes tightly and opening them again.

“Belby, might I have a word?” Albus asks, his tone light and professional, “I could use your consultation on a matter with the French goblins.”

Belby preens at Albus’s attention while Millstone looks impressed that he would be asked to advise on diplomatic matters.

“Of course, Potter, of course.”

“Right, well I’m afraid I don’t have much time. Mind walking and talking?” Albus glances at his watch and marches out of the conference room knowing that Belby will follow.

As soon as he is able, he pulls Belby into an office, using his wand to quickly cast an Imperturbable charm.

Wand still in hand he turns to Belby and then calmly asks, “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the one sending Nott and I the envelopes? The photos and the memos?”

Belby glances toward the door behind Albus as if to determine ease of escape, “I don’t know what you mean?”

Albus flicks his wand at the door to lock it, “I know you’re not stupid enough to pretend otherwise, but I also know you’re not nearly clever enough to pull this off by yourself. So tell me who's putting you up to this?”

This time Belby’s voice is increasingly shaky, “Why should I? Maybe for once you’re not as powerful and successful as you like to think you are? Consider this as a lesson in humility.”

“Pfft, trust me, I’m confronting that reality more and more everyday. But you’re well in it now. We both know you can’t keep this going. So who is it? Wizarding United? The goblins?”

“Ha,” Belby spats and narrows his eyes, “You should start looking a bit closer to home, Potter. Perhaps the bedroom?”

“You mean to say-” The realization dawns on Albus cold and clear. He couldn’t be more of a bloody idiot. “That was you a couple weeks ago. You came to Perrot’s in the middle of the night.”

Belby says nothing, though the perspiration on his forehead and labored breathing is giving him away.

“Where did all this start? With you or with Perrot?”

“Neither. I had gambling debts. Josef Vogel gave me the photos and the memo from the Sofia meetings. He paid my debts in exchange for setting up Perrot.”

“So your grand plan is to double cross Perrot?”

He shrugs, “It’s not my plan. It was Vogel’s. Fact is I ran up more debts and I borrowed money from Perrot so I am indebted to him.”

“Belby, you’re going to get yourself killed,” Albus sighs, despite his frustration he finds himself feeling sorry now for the gambling addict, “It’s not going to stop with Perrot just because you get him this development. You must realize that.”

Belby stares down at the scuffed leather of his shoes, “I’m just a messenger.”

“That just makes you an easy target.”

“This is the one. This my favorite,” Astra declares, holding up her spoon victoriously. Cosmo leans over and kisses her sweetly, celebrating another wedding decision made.

“Alright, lemon drizzle cake with elderflower buttercream it is,” Scorpius says, taking the charcoal pencil tucked behind his ear and making a note on the wedding menu plans. 

Astra, Cosmo, Lily and Scorpius are in the expansive dining room of Malfoy Manor, having commandeered the space for wedding planning, the room showing off Lily’s meticulous organization of everything from seating charts to a timeline with annotations of the exact charms required for transforming the garden into the perfect celestial-themed post-elopement party.  

Scorpius had been cleared by the healers after a full week in bed and he’d been eager to offer his services for his cousin’s wedding celebration. With less than two days until the wedding, he is happily busy with preparing the menu for the party of thirty close friends and family, an easy feat for Scorpius who regularly catered events for several hundred people.

“Perhaps for decoration, we could have some gold leaf moons and stars. What do you think?” Lily asks, using her wand to transfigure a napkin into shapes to place on the cake slices.

“Love that!” Astra smiles and hugs her best friend tightly. 

“Okay, I must go. I have quite a bit of work to get done in the potions chamber, but call me on the two-way if you need anything,” Lily says, gathering her handbag.

“Lily,” Cosmo says, though with his thick, Spanish accent it sounds more like ‘Lee Lee’, “Thank you for everything.”

“Keep Astra happy, and I’m happy to do it,” she says, blowing a kiss at them all before leaving.

Scorpius shakes his head, “It may not have seemed like it, but you were just threatened, Cosmo.”

Cosmo laughs and slides his arm around Astra’s waist, pulling her in close.

Not keen to witness the two of them snogging, again , Scorpius interrupts quickly, “So now that your immigration papers have been cleared, do the two of you have plans to stay here after the wedding? Or travel again?”

“We were thinking we’d stay actually,” Astra says, smiling contentedly, “I didn’t realize how much I missed being home with you and Draco, and how much I missed being able to see Lily and Delilah whenever I wanted. I reached out to the journal I’ve submitted articles to in the past, The Magizoologist Monthly , and they have an open position for a junior editor. I’d still be able to travel now and then, but I could spend more time here with Cosmo.”

“Astra, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy you’re going to stay. My father too will be ecstatic,” Scorpius says, squeezing his cousin’s hand affectionately.

“Oh but don’t say anything to him,” Astra says, “I don’t want to get his hopes up since I don’t have the job yet.”

“I promise.”

“Yes, well, Cosmo here is actually quite in demand as an accountant. Lots of fancy City jobs available for a fellow like him,” Astra says, turning the conversation to her husband, “But Maggie Holmsby from the Muggle Liaison office said they work with the squib placement agency to help find jobs for muggle spouses too.”

Scorpius nods thoughtfully, “That’s great. But, Cosmo, you’re quite the foodie. Do you think you might have an interest in working with the restaurant? If the Pearlsteens get any of the Diagon Alley expansion development, and I’m almost certain they will, we will likely open at least a couple more restaurants in the next year. To be frank, my eyes glaze over every time Noah tries to talk to me about the financials. Would you want to be my business manager?”

Cosmo looks shocked at Scorpius’s offer and quickly Scorpius says, “You don’t have to answer today. But think about it.”

The handsome Spanish man laughs, “ Por supuesto, Scorpius, your family is so generous and kind. Especially after the way my family treated Astra, it’s more than I deserve.”

From the kitchen door there is a bitter bark of laughter as they turn to see Draco standing there, “Cosmo, I can say with absolute certainty that is the very first time anyone has ever said that about the Malfoys.”

He walks in and takes up Astra’s fork to pick at her unfinished cake, “All about done with the wedding planning then?”

“Yes, I think so, Lily has got us well organized,” Astra replies, “Have you been home all day? 

This is the first we’ve seen of you. Don’t tell me you were hiding from Lily!”

“She’s- “ Draco hesitates, “A lot like her parents. Forceful, that one. On my nerves and my wallet.”

“Your nerves,” Astra scoffs, “What are you a Victorian spinster in a too-tight corset?”

Scorpius laughs as his father rolls his eyes, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. 

“Astra, there is a delivery for you from Delilah Longbottom and another for Cosmo from Twilfitt and Tattings,” Trixie says, carrying two large garment bags.

“Oh, it’s my dress! And Cosmo, your first set of dress robes,” Astra says, jumping up from the dining table. She grabs his hand and quickly gathers the bags from Trixie, “Mind helping me dress, Trix?”

Draco finishes off the abandoned cake and looks over the guest list on the dining table, “All the Potters are coming? These Potters will be the death of me, but she seems happy.”

“Astra and Cosmo wanted to invite them for all the support they provided earlier this summer. The Potters are good people, they really are just trying to help,” Scorpius isn’t quite sure why he feels the need to defend them.

“They could never stop themselves from being meddlesome,” Draco says, “You know, Albus stayed for hours at the hospital after you were attacked. He was sick with worry, bossing around the mediwitches to make sure you got a large private room. Using his connections to make sure Healer Davies was treating you.”

Scorpius feels a surge of affection for Albus, “He’s been a good friend since I’ve been back home.”

“Quite,” Draco says, his expression indicating he’d like to say more.

Scorpius had never talked about Albus with his father, but he remembers coming home after spending an afternoon with the Potters and talking to his mum. He made a pot of tea and carried it to the piano parlor where she was painting and told her all about his blossoming crush on Albus. 

 “Sometimes, well- all the time,” Draco says, “I think about the way it all went wrong. After your mum died, I know that I should have done more to- to take care of you both, to lighten the burden of your grief. But, this house, this place without your mum- I just-. You held us together. And I’m sorry you had to do that. I know it was hard for you and Astra, and I’m sure that’s why you both left as soon as you could. I guess I should be glad I raised, or at least had a hand in raising strong, independent children. But, it’s been nice to have you both home again this summer.”

Scorpius half-smiles at his father, “Wild hippogriffs couldn’t have stopped Astra. Don’t you remember her devouring those field notes from her parents' belongings? She and mum put little stickers all over the globe in the library of all the places her parents went and all the places she planned to go. She was adventurous. And I- well, you always said you felt stuck being the person you were at sixteen. After mum died, I guess I just was scared of that too. I didn’t want to get stuck as this grieving sixteen year old kid. I wanted to do the things that I thought mum would want me to do.”

Draco nods, “Scorpius, just remember there is a difference between seeking out adventure and running away.”

Scorpius doesn’t know how to respond to that and so they look at each other for a moment, the silence growing. It’s the dreaded quiet they’ve known before, but for once it’s not uncomfortable.

That night, for the first time in almost a week, when Sebastien Perrot calls, Albus answers.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Sebastien says, his tone measured and even.

“Yes,” Albus says, seeing no point in denying it.

“We need to talk.”

“What about, Sebastien? You should be pleased after today. Haven’t you gotten everything you wanted?” Albus shouldn’t sound as desperate as he is. It will only be seen as a weakness by Perrot. But it’s nearly midnight, he’s still at the office and he’s in the middle of a political quagmire he can’t find his way out of.

“Come to mine. There is something you should know.”

The anxiety builds as Albus exits the floo at Perrot House, the marble cold and echoing as he walks into Sebastien’s study.

Sebastien sits behind his desk, a gleaming mahogany and leather piece that is as imposing and handsome as the man himself. On the desk is a familiar sight, a blank manila envelope.

Albus skips the greetings. He looks at the envelope and then at Sebastien, “Don’t tell me there’s more.”

“Albus, you must know by now- there is always more. More secrets to uncover. More strings to pull.”

He sighs and places his hands on Perrot’s desk, suddenly reminded of the last time he was here, back when their coupling was exciting and fun and Albus had held tightly onto the desk as Perrot coaxed tremors of pleasure from his body. 

Perrot smirks, amber eyes flashing, also remembering that night. Could it really only have been just a month ago? Time seems stretched by the complications and stress of the last few weeks.

“Believe it or not, I want what you want, Albus.” Sebastien steps around the desk. He places a hand along Albus’s jaw, lifting his chin so their gazes meet, “There’s a saying in politics. I’m sure you have heard it. First, you win and then you do good. People are watching you. Powerful people. People who want to know how far you can go, and to see what you’re willing to do to get there. But none of it matters if you don’t win.”

“So what? Is all this just a game to you? To see if you could turn me into the champion racehorse?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know it’s a game, one you play quite well, in fact. But if you want to be Minister one day then you need me, or at least people like me.”

“My aunt is minister and she would never- “

Sebastien cuts him off, “Your aunt is an exceptional witch in every way. She’s one third of the Golden Trio, an Order of Merlin First Class winner, a minister who was elected unopposed. She is a great witch, but you’re not a great wizard, Albus. You’re the son of a great wizard and it’s not the same thing.”

He knew the reason the older man had shown an interest in him was for his own benefit. Naively, he just hadn’t expected Sebastien to take it this far.

“I thought you were different. I thought you were doing this the fair way, the right way.” 

“And who exactly is doing things the right way?” Sebastien retorts, “Your friends, the Pearlsteens? Why don’t you ask Noah about that landmark development in New York, around the turn of the century?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with Noah,” Albus snaps back.

“No, just his great-great grandfather who built the company that gave Noah everything.”

Albus shakes his head, “What more do you want?”

He hands Albus the envelope. Inside is a memo that is smudged, but not completely illegible. But Albus knows what he is looking at. A spell that hides ministry communications marked Confidential. He knows there is a blackmarket potion that reveals such letters. This memo confirms that Susan Bones ordered British intelligence officers stationed in Bulgaria and Romania to detract any reported activities on election tampering. Albus has seen this before. It’s the same letter that Casimir had shown him at Malfoy Manor just two days ago. This is simply confirming what Belby had already told him. Perrot and Vogel may be working against each other, but the only obvious victims were going to be the minister and Susan if all this became public.

“I’ve already seen this. You know that.”

“As I suspected, but it was no guarantee. Casimir Nott is nothing like his father after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I instructed Belby to deliver this communication to Nott. Not you.”

“What did you expect Casimir to do with it? Other than obviously to keep it from me.”

“Vogel is funding Wizarding United. He’s not some blood purist buffoon, he’s an opportunist. Vogel wants control of the Diagon Alley expansion and he’ll stop at nothing to do so. It’s a gateway to the rest of Magical Britain. You need to get me his share of the project or you might as well hand Vogel and by extension Wizarding United and their ilk control of this development, and in a year or so the government. You must realize the consequences.”

“Why not just tell me this? Why try to pit Casimir against me? And what do you care, anyway?”

“Don’t you get it! I’m on your side, Albus.”

“No, you’re on your side!”

“I won’t deny that, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about this country. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Malfoy boy. This won’t go well for him or his family.

“Are you threatening him? Because if you are- ”

“Vogel is! Wizarding United is! Theodore Nott is part of their leadership and they’ve made it clear that anyone who isn’t with them is against them.”

“And you just happen to come out on top? Why shouldn’t I eliminate both you and Vogel? Let the Pearlsteens take the entire development. I know enough. I could take you both down myself.”

“And destroy everything you’ve worked for in the process?”

“It’s no less than I deserve, enabling all of this from the start.”

“Don’t be so self-righteous. And anyway, that’s not good enough. They hate the Pearlsteens nearly as much as they hate your elfin legislation. The attack on Councilor Theseus and the Malfoy boy is only the start.”

They sit in silence for a moment. A million thoughts race through Albus’s head. A million ways he could have stopped this all from happening. A million ways he has already failed. But he only has one question for Sebastien.

“If I do this, can you protect Scorpius?”

“You mean, can I stop Wizarding United? I think so, yes,” Sebastien sighs and looks at Albus in a way that makes him feel so terribly young, “I won’t lie to you, Albus, we could accomplish great things together.”

Albus’s chest seizes in a panic. He knows what Sebastien is offering him. 

Albus knows what a future alongside Sebastien would be like. He can practically see the hardening of his heart, the sharpening of the ruthlessness he knows exists within him. He could be the Minister. He could do so much more. Beside Sebastien, it’s all but guaranteed. 

He closes his eyes, Scorpius’s face flashing before him. He could hold onto power. Or he could hold onto him. 

“Goodbye, Sebastian,” Albus rushes downstairs and out the door of the London mansion. 

“Do you have an appointment with the minister?” the secretary asks Albus. It’s barely seven in the morning when Albus arrives at the minister’s office.

“No, but it’s an urgent matter,” Albus replies patiently.

“Everyone thinks so, don’t they?” The older woman says, thin gray brows raised skeptically.

“We really do not have time for this. I said urgent and I meant it,” Albus says, more insistently now.

“Is this a personal matter, Mr. Potter?” 

“No, of course not! If I needed to ask the minister about family dinner plans, I wouldn’t say it was urgent.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, young man. I can assure you that your barometer for urgent and that of the minister’s office are entirely different.”

The minister strides in then, followed closely by a team of assistants, her Chief of Staff, and her auror guard. 

“Albus, how are you? Are you here to see me?” Minister Granger-Weasley asks upon noticing her nephew in the anteroom of her office.

“If that’s alright.”

She checks her watch brusquely, “I have ten minutes.”

Albus nods, “Okay, then.”

She looks at him curiously. Albus’s tone is solemn and serious, rather than the brash confidence that he usually has in the workplace.

“Are you well?” asks Hermione, as she sits at her large mahogany desk.

“Yes, mostly. I’m afraid this is about you.”

“Well, then, let’s talk. Am I acting as your aunt or am I your minister?” She asks, her hands clasped together on her desktop. With the sheer number of relatives she worked with at the ministry, she often felt it useful to make this distinction.

“This somehow falls into the category of both,” Albus replies hesitantly.

“Right, well let me remind you that as your aunt I’m going to be as honest with you as I can be. But as your minister, there may be things that I can’t fully disclose.”

Albus nods, he pulls the envelopes, all three, from his satchel, “These were sent to Casimir Nott and me.”

Hermione opens the envelopes, reviewing each of their contents in turn, inhaling sharply. 

She furrows her brow and rubs at her temples. She looks thinner, Albus thinks, her cheekbones sharper beneath her brown skin, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes more pronounced. She’s been minister for six months, but it’s clear the stress of the role is beginning to take its toll.

“Talk me through what I’m looking at, Albus.”

“The first two envelopes were sent to Casimir and I on the same day. And then the second memo to Casimir.”

“And you’ve been holding on to them for how long?”

“About a month. Though the second memo we only received four days ago.”

“Good Godric, why?”

“We wanted to do a bit of an investigation first. Casimir and I were trying to figure out where the envelopes were coming from, or from whom, rather. And also why of course.

“You should have brought this to me right away,” Hermione says seriously, “But, well, any leads?” 

“Yes, it’s quite complicated, but this started with Josef Vogel, the Austrian businessman. He sent them to Marcus Belby in the Goblin Liasion Office in who in turn wanted to guarantee that Sebastien Perrot gets a significant piece of the Diagon Alley expansion.”

“Why would Vogel want Perrot to win?”

“So then he could prove that Perrot was blackmailing you. It’s a win-win for Vogel. He’s supportive of Wizarding United, financially anyway. If he knocks Vogel out of the running he can get more of the Diagon Alley expansion and in the process he gets to humiliate Perrot, destroying his business before it even begins.”

“And Perrot is aware of this? He brought all of this to you?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“Attempted blackmail, I suppose.”

“Your first brush with it?”

“Yes.”

“Welcome to senior staff.”

Albus quirks his brow, “Uh, thanks, I think.”

“Does Susan know?”

“Yes. Casimir is informing her now.”

Hermione raises her brows, “Quite the team you and Nott make.”

Albus makes a noncommittal noise.

“Alright, so let’s get a few things sorted. I was in Sofia for one weekend two months before the election. Viktor Krum’s father had just died. I mentioned to him that I was going to be in Bulgaria for a meeting about the mermish colonies of the Black Sea and to meet with our intelligence services. Viktor asked me to attend his father’s funeral. The photos outside the hotel were taken the day of the funeral. The photos in the park were taken the following day when we met for a coffee. I don’t think I need to tell you that Ron is well aware that we saw each other that weekend. The release of these photos will needlessly be cruel and embarrassing.” She’s silent for a moment, a flash of sadness crosses her face.

“You’re right, it’s embarrassing, and the press will be sensational and relentless for a bit, but it will die down,” Albus says, “The memo on the other hand- “

“-Is an example of the worst bit of this job. Albus, every single day I make imperfect decisions. 

I make decisions that try to do the most good for the people I govern, the most good for our magical society. I’ve had to compromise politically and frankly ethically almost every day. 

Albus isn’t satisfied by her answer, “You’re letting the Romani magical populations be persecuted because you allowed the Romanian ministry to interfere in Bulgaria’s election.”

“Yes and it’s terrible. I already mentioned we have intelligence services working there and the ICW is overseeing a globally coordinated effort for sanctions and if necessary a peacekeeping mission.”

“But that could take months for the ICW to vote on, and in the meantime the Romani people are suffering and Bulgaria is stuck with an absolute oaf of a minister for the next four years.“

“And it was a calculated choice. The Romani diaspora, a large percentage of whom are magical, includes small communities here like the Wales Kale and the Romanichal.  The communities are extremely insular and they don’t follow the Statute of Secrecy. But because they are often bullied about by muggle regulations and parliament, they abide by keeping the statute in place when interacting outside of their community. Susan and I were concerned that without the UK backing a strong international position in favor of Romani protections that we were risking our national security. I know that by not interfering we allowed a puppet government to be installed and that has had consequences. You may disagree, but I’m not going to defend myself or Susan. We made a choice and I still believe that given the options, we made the best one.”

Albus is silent a moment thinking of how complicated the decision must have been. He inhales and exhales slowly, “I understand.”

“No you don’t, not really. But I expect you will one day,” Hermione says, looking at Albus seriously. 

His family knew of his political ambitions, and Hermione, along with Percy, had been amongst the most supportive. Though just one summer amongst the upper echelons of the ministry had proven to Albus that he had a lot to learn still. 

“So,” Albus’s tone is confident again, “What are we going to do about it?” 

Chapter Text

“Remember, stay on message,” Parvati Patil, the minister’s Chief of Staff says, “We’ve leaked the photos of you and Krum to Witch Weekly and we’ve made a statement. But that’s not why you’re here today, you’re here to talk about one thing and one thing only, protection of ethnic and linguistic minorities in magical education and practice. That is why you’ve asked Representative Orla Coughlin to lead the signing of the Zurich Accord.”

Minister Granger-Weasley nods following along with her talking points as Parvati continues, “We have agreed to an exclusive interview with Romilda Vane, both print and radio where you will address the photos with Krum directly.”

“And we’re hoping that’s enough for this all to go away?”

“No, we're hoping that the supposed salaciousness of your photos with Krum will be more important to the British magical community than election fraud. Burying the lead, so to speak.”

Albus looks over at Casimir consulting with their boss Susan. After the minister, Susan will make a brief statement in support of making prejudice against ethnic and linguistic minorities in magical communities punishable under international law. 

The week since the attack on Albus and Scorpius at the Wizengamot, and since his conversation with Jonah had left Albus feeling suspicious of Casimir. But he still couldn’t find it in him to believe that Casimir has any association with Wizarding United. Especially not after the two of them had spent the last twenty-fours hours preparing for this press conference.

Minister Granger-Weasley shakes her head, “This is atrocious, even if Viktor and Ron have agreed to it.”

“You’re right, Minister. Falsely accusing you of adultery as if it has any impact on your ability to be minister is atrocious. It is sick. It is misogynistic. It is embarrassing and emasculating. It is playing to the lowest common denominator,” Parvati says, looking seriously at Hermione, “But it’s also categorically untrue, which means that when you answer questions from the press today or when you sit down for your interview with Vane and you deny, deny, deny, you will not be lying.”

“And if Vane keeps digging, or another reporter? A real investigative reporter, rather than a gossip columnist, what do we do then?

“Then we confront it. But you know as well as I do that the vast majority of the British magical population cares much more about Minister Granger-Weasley’s alleged affair and a perceived moral failure than they do about you ignoring election fraud in a small, insignificant Eastern European country,” Parvati says firmly.

“Two minute warning,” says one of the press assistant’s from the ministry office briefing room. 

The room is buzzing with energy. Assistants run back and forth making sure the press is situated. Auror guards are stationed at every entrance after last week’s attack. The press in the next room tittered excitedly, because thus far Minister Granger-Weasley had not been the sort of minister to call many press conferences, especially on such short notice. Albus too is bouncing on the balls of feet, his brown leather brogues tapping softly against the tile floor. 

While he, like any politician, absolutely hates scandal, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pure adrenaline rush of the political game. He knows they're not going to avoid the election fraud scandal, but they’re buying time to figure out what to do next.

“Is Ron here?” Hermione asks, looking around the back office of the briefing room.

“Madam?” Asks a harried press assistant. 

“My husband is he- “

“I’m right here,” Ron says, stepping forward, dressed smartly in crisp blue dress robes.

“Hi,” she says, exhaling deeply. He hugs her tightly.

“Are you ready for this?” He asks, his blue eyes looking down at his petite wife kindly. 

“No, but we don’t have much of a choice,” she says, “I’m so nervous, I think I’m going to forget every talking point.”

“What year did the cockatrice get loose at the Triwizard Tournament and injure all three heads of school?

She looks up at him quizzically, “1792, of course.”

“See, you’re fine. Just fine.”

Hermione rolls her shoulder back and down, the picture of confidence. 

Then for just a second the facade slips again as her brows furrow, her dark brown eyes full of worry. Ron lifts her chin so her eyes meet his, “Hey, none of that now love.”

He kisses her softly on the temple and she nods, instantly emboldened by her husband’s affection. 

From across the room, Albus watches them, noticing the warmth and trust of a partnership that had spanned the decades. It seems impossible that anyone could doubt the state of their marriage from seeing them together. Or from the very fact that his Uncle Ron didn’t hesitate to support his aunt even though the photos were arguably much more embarrassing for Ron than anyone else. 

“Minister, it’s time.”

The posture is perfect, the chin proud, the lips in a closed mouth smile. It’s a face Albus remembers from the campaign, the image of the woman in command of one of the most powerful magical communities in the world. 

“It went as well as it could have,” Albus says as he and Casimir get ready to leave the press briefing room

“Yes, but it’s just deflecting the real problem. Perrot and Vogel won’t be satisfied by an alleged adultery scandal that will be over in the blink of a news cycle,” Casimir replies, shaking his head.

“At least the minister’s office knows about it now. We have more people looking out. Who knows, maybe the aurors will be able to connect all this to the Wizengamot attack or Wizarding United.”

“Maybe- “ Casimir starts.

But they are cut off by the roar of a crowd of paparazzi waiting for them in the corridor outside of the press briefing room, the flashbulbs blinding. Albus can just make out his name amongst the noise.

‘Mr. Potter, what do you think of the allegations against the minister?’

“Mr. Potter, did you know about the affair?’

“Mr. Potter, how does the family feel about the affair?’

“Albus, does this make Hermione Granger-Weasley the family slag?”

 Albus stops in his tracks, clenching his fist. Casimir notices Albus tense with anger. 

Casimir steps forward to stop Albus from reacting, a political move he’s bound to regret.

“Come on, let’s go through the back stairwell,” Casimir says, sharply tugging on Albus's sleeve.

Albus takes a deep breath as the cameras continue to flash. He turns away, but can’t resist looking back and saying, “She is your minister and you should refer to her as such.”

They quickly walk back to the DIMC office and sit at their desks.

Albus uses his thumb and forefinger to massage the bridge of his nose and breathes deeply.

“Casimir, thank you.”

Casimir waves him off, “Absolute vultures those paps, though I’m sure you’re used to it. Anyway, are you going to Scorpius’s dinner party at the restaurant?”

“Yes, hoping to get out of here in the next half hour,” Albus says, checking his watch. It’s already after six, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were invited.”

“I’m his only first cousin,” Casimir replies, rolling his eyes.

“What is this I heard about the two of you having a dinner party to attend?” Susan asks as she enters the office.

“Oh well we- ,“ Albus starts.

“No, I insist. There is nothing more for you both to do tonight. I have a feeling this may be one of your last opportunities for fun.”

Scorpius is busily ensconced in the kitchen getting ready for service while a handsome waiter welcomes the small party of Noah, Lucy, Lily, Delilah, Astra, Cosmo, Casimir and Albus into the restaurant and seats them at a white oak table with floating candles overhead. The space is warm and intimate with a coastal inspired color palette of cool blues, sandy beige, shell pink and white.

They sit and drink Japanese plum martinis and make pleasant conversation. Albus is in awe at all that Noah, Scorpius and Luella had achieved in six short weeks.

“How are you managing?” Noah asks, his brown eyes sympathetic.

“Fine, I suppose,” Albus shrugs, “None of this is ideal, but I have to do my job.”

“I thought Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron looked great.” Lily adds from further down the table, “They came off really well on camera,” 

Lucy nods, “My dad says he doesn’t expect the scandal to stick.”

“I hope not,” Albus shakes his head, “Anyway, this is about Scorpius.”

Noah, seated next to Albus, lowers his voice and leans in close, “I heard you were on the DAER committee so I guess I should say thank you. I’m positively chuffed about the new development.”

“Who told you? Lucy?” Albus replies, though truthfully he isn’t too surprised. The committee was bound to have a few leaks. He just hadn’t expected it to be his Uncle Percy.

Noah shakes his head, “She very purposefully didn’t know. Audrey let it slip when we had dinner with them last night. She didn’t mean to, but I think she feels a bit left out of conversation at times being the only muggle of the family.”

“You know I would have told you if I could have,” Albus says, “But it doesn’t matter, it will be in the papers in a couple days.”

“Al, you’re my best mate. I’m not going to ask you to tell me anything that you shouldn’t. But gossip is the true currency of Magical Britain. Be careful with what you tell Perrot. I’m not sure he won’t use you to his advantage.”

“He knew. And anyway, we’ve ended things. Truthfully, Noah there is so much you don’t know.” 

Noah’s face fills with concern at Albus’s exhausted tone, “Are you okay?”

“I want to tell you- when all of it is over,” Albus hesitates. 

Noah would understand the choices Albus had made. He’d had his own ambitions after all, his own goals poised to make Pearlsteen International the largest Wizarding real estate developer on two continents. And yet, had Noah really managed to keep his nose clean after all these years? Or is it as Sebastien had said, that there are always more secrets?

“I want you to be happy, Albus. As happy as Lucy and me.”

Noah looks fondly over at his wife at the other end of the table and smiles as she tells an animated story about one of her real estate clients. 

“I do too. But right now, this feels like it’s the best I can do,” Albus replies with a shrug. 

Albus watches Noah watching Lucy. He had never anticipated that Noah would fall in love with his cousin.

Lucy and Albus hadn’t been particularly close growing up. But Lucy had driven Percy to his wit’s end that summer before her sixth year and their seventh. Lucy had gone through a phase of classic teenage rebellion. Sneaking out of the house to smoke cigarettes with muggle boys in Ottery St. Catchpole. Dyeing her naturally copper red hair purple and then black. Wearing skirts short enough to qualify as a belt. 

Percy had turned to Ginny and she offered to bring Lucy along with them on their family vacation to Positano. The Potters usually had any number of friends tag along anyway. Lily brought Delilah and Astra, of course, the three of them easily absorbing their older cousin Lucy into their fold, and Noah tagged along with Albus. Noah didn’t know Lucy well. Albus had so many cousins after all, and at school they only ever hung out with Rose and Louis. 

The day after they arrived in Positano, the group of teenagers decided to charter a sailboat for the afternoon. They sailed out into a small cove so they could swim. Lily and her friends had taken turns practicing graceful, elegant dives off the boat’s edge. When it was Lucy’s turn, she stripped off her denim shorts and in a pale blue bikini she cannonballed into the water. When she resurfaced she had her hands over her bare chest and she was laughing hysterically as she had lost her swim top. And that was it, Noah was in love. By the end of the trip they were inseparable. Six years later they were married. 

Noah smiles at Albus, “We think Lucy is pregnant. We’re going to the healer to confirm in a couple of days. What do you say, Al? Are you ready to be a godfather?”

Albus laughs, “I was wondering why she was drinking tea. Sore throat, my arse. I’m not sure the world is ready for a Weasley-Pearlsteen, but I certainly am.”

Further down the table Casimir and Lily are sitting together, her manicured hand on his forearm. Casimir’s dark eyes are bright and he nods and laughs as she speaks.

Lily catches her brother’s eye and winks at him while Albus rolls his eyes. That could be trouble for Nott, flirting coming to Lily as easily as breathing. 

In the kitchen, Scorpius moves briskly, not a single plate served without his approval. Buttery, pink Scottish salmon with hijiki rice, juicy langoustines from Cornwall with a bright yuzu sauce, kabocha and welsh onion tempura, the batter light and perfectly golden brown. 

Scorpius feels confident in the kitchen, a clear distinction from his everyday life. He knows his purpose. He knows what comes next and all that is expected, the comforting exactness of recipes allow him the freedom to be creative and bold without straying too far out of bounds. 

“Pardon me,” Scorpius says absentmindedly as he bumps into Albus whilst stepping out of the walk-in freezer, “Oh, hi.”

“Sorry, I was looking for the loo.”

“Next door on the left. We’re going to put the signage up in the morning.”

“Right, well, uh, that should help with things,” Albus replies awkwardly.

“What do you think so far? Of the food, I mean.”

“I mean I’m not an expert, but I think it’s amazing, Scor. Really, the place looks fantastic, and the food has been sophisticated, but still very comforting somehow. Like it’s home cooking, maybe not the home I grew up in, but someone’s home,” Albus says sincerely. 

“Thank you. I was fishing for compliments, but that was more than I could have hoped for,” Scorpius says with a crooked smile, though internally he’s swelling with pride. There’s a beat of awkward silence as Scorpius tries to think of how he could possibly tell Albus how much it means for him to be at the restaurant tonight. 

Finally, Scorpius asks, “Do you remember when you were teaching me to drive?” 

Albus laughs, “You were so nervous, I thought I was going to give you a heart attack.” 

“I hadn’t been in many cars and it was so intimidating. You told me to trust myself, that I knew all the little things I had to do. Check my mirrors, press on the gas pedal, signal in anticipation, turn the wheel and the car would follow. You told me I had to trust that I knew how to do all these little things. That at the right moment, I could control what happened. That it would all come together for me.”

He shakes his head softly and smiles at Albus before continuing, “I thought about that when I was deciding if I could really leave my family to go to culinary school. I thought about it when I started working in these insanely busy kitchens all over the world for chefs who are the masters of their craft. I thought about it when I wanted to move home and start my own restaurant. Trust myself and it will come together.”

Scorpius takes a half-step forward so that they are mere inches apart, his heartbeat speeding up with their closeness, “Albus, I‘ve thought about you every day for the past ten years.”

Albus reaches his hand forward, touching Scorpius lightly on the back of the wrist, not quite holding hands. “It was real, wasn’t it? We were so young and it was just a summer, but it was real.”

Scorpius smiles softly. From the kitchen, a calamitous crash interrupts them.

“Chef!” A voice calls, full of alarm.

“I should go,” Scorpius says.

Albus steps back, “Yes, right, me too.”

Scorpius walks back towards the kitchen doors then turns to look at Albus with a wistful expression, “It was real.”

After the exquisite meal, Scorpius comes out and the dinner party applauds. Noah leads a toast to the chef turned restaurateur as they celebrate the restaurant’s pending success. More wine is poured and the group lingers and chats. Delilah left right away, of course, Astra and Lily giving her knowing looks.  

As the evening winds down, Casimir catches Albus’s eye “What did you think of dinner?”

“It was a triumph. The place looks great and Scorpius is so- “ Albus’s gaze goes to Scorpius across the room. He can’t keep a flush from rising in his cheeks.

“Alright, okay- I don’t need to hear about how much you fancy my cousin especially when you’re still shagging Perrot.”

“How did you- ”

“Please, like a Potter could blow their nose without it being in Witch Weekly ?”

“Well to be clear it’s over with him, but we do need to talk. I’ve learned some things from my last encounter with Sebastien.”

Casimir snorts. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Anyway, I’m not sure this is the place to have this discussion.”

“That sounds ominous. Why don’t we have a coffee tomorrow before we meet in the office? I’ll meet you at the cafe across the street from the Whitehall entrance at seven?”

“Hope you two aren’t talking business,” Lily says, sidling up to Casimir. He beams at her.

“I’m going to say my goodbyes to Scorpius. Can I grab your bag and coat?” Casimir asks Lily. She nods her thank you, squeezing his shoulder. 

Albus raises his brows, “Go easy on Casimir, Lilybug. He’s more vulnerable than he looks.”

“I’m your sister, shouldn’t you be warning him off me? And I thought you hated each other back at school. Are you friends now?”

“Colleagues. Beyond that I’m not sure there is a word for what we are. Besides, I think he knows he’s the one punching up here.”

“Well then, mind your business,” she says, tapping him on the nose.

“Yes, because our family is known for that.”

Lily ignores his comments and waves goodbye as she joins Casimir near the exit.

Scorpius yawns while reviewing his notes from that evening's service. He checks his watch, nearly two in the morning. His staff had gone home hours ago, but he needed to write down his thoughts on the night as soon as possible so he could be ready for the restaurant opening next week. 

All forty-five seats were booked, a mix of press aggregated from Noah and Luella’s industry contacts, Scorpius’s friends and family, and attendees from the Hogsmeade Chamber of Commerce. 

He closes up his notebook and takes one last look around the gleaming stainless steel kitchen before flicking his wand to turn off the lights and lock up, exiting through the back alley with the service entrances to the hotel and restaurant. 

As he closes the door behind him, a voice comes through the darkness, “Scorpius.” 

It takes a minute for Scorpius’s eyes to adjust to the darkness and make out the face of the man standing in the cobblestone alley.

“Uncle Theo? What are you doing here?” Scorpius knows his uncle has been acting more and more erratically lately. Casimir had told him earlier in the evening that his parents were finally separating. And then there had been his father’s warning about Theo-

Up close, his uncle’s eyes are bloodshot with dark circles. He looks thinner, a bit haggard. “Scorpius, how are you?”

“I’m fine. What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“That’s a good question. But how can anyone be alright these days?” Theo says bitterly, “With this country falling apart? Coming for people like us, the wizarding families that have kept our society going for centuries.”

“Uncle Theo, why don’t you go home?” Scorpius suggests gently, “Or if not home, we can go back to the manor.”

“You're lucky you still have the manor. It’s only a matter of time before they come for that too.”

“Who? What are you talking about?” Scorpius approaches his uncle slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“They’re coming and they’re going to destroy our way of life. The life we deserve!” He shrugs Scorpius off, growing increasingly agitated.

He waves his finger at Scorpius’s face, “You should come with me. Join me, Scorpius and we can build you an empire. I have an investor that can make it happen. We can have businesses and property and everything we deserve. Everything they took from us.”

Scorpius steps back, creating some distance. His uncle was starting to scare him. He reaches for his back pocket, placing a hand on his wand. He’s unsure of what Theo will do next. He’s never seen him like this.

“Join me. We can take back Wizarding Britain. You don’t need Pearlsteen. He doesn’t know who we are. He has no respect for those of us who built this country.“

A breeze blows causing the leaves and other detritus on the street to rustle and somewhere an owl hoots. His uncle is grimacing, eyes wild. Scorpius can see that he is beyond reason. 

“I need to go home now, okay?” He says gently, “I’ve been working all day. We can talk about this more, I promise. Perhaps at the wedding tomorrow night.”

But that is clearly the wrong thing to say. Theo charges towards Scorpius again, “The wedding- the wedding! I can’t believe Draco would allow such behavior. Letting your cousin marry the muggle boy. And it’s only going to get worse!”

Scorpius’s back is now up against the alley wall of the restaurant. But he finds that he isn’t as scared as he was. Theo’s behavior seems more pathetic now than it did just a moment ago. The ravings of a lunatic clinging to some former glory.

The back door of the hotel opens suddenly, a security guard holds their wand aloft, “Oy! What’s going on out here? Our hotel guests are sleeping.”

He turns towards the guard, but when Scorpius looks back, Theo is gone.

Chapter Text

Albus drums his fingers on the cafe table anxiously. Finally, the door opens and Casimir walks in, “Is this about Lily? Because we had a really nice time last night, but she left first thing this morning and I’d like to keep seeing her- .”

“Please stop talking,” Albus says, holding his hand up, “Okay, Casimir, I really don’t know how many times I need to say this, but for fuck’s sake I don’t need to know about your love life. And honestly, James and I know better than to try to tell Lily what to do.”

“Oh, right,” Casimir replies awkwardly, “Okay, then why did you summon me here?”

“We have to talk about Perrot.”

Casimir shakes his head, “I thought you said we weren’t going to talk about each other’s love lives.”

“Casimir, please.”

Casimir raises his eyebrows at Albus’s pleading tone, but says nothing as he waits for Albus to continue. Under the table, Albus discreetly pulls out his wand and whispers, “ Muffliato”.

Albus places his hands on the table, fingertips tapping nervously, “I never told you this, but Perrot told me that Josef Vogel is funding Wizarding United. He’s not a blood purist and he doesn't care about elfin rights. His only ideology is greed. He paid the debts of Marcus Belby from the GLO to send the Sofia documents to us, and then in exchange he got to be a finalist for the Diagon Alley expansion. Belby and Vogel also sent the Sofia documents to Perrot knowing that he would never pass up an opportunity to leverage them. And he did, which is why he’s also getting a substantial portion of the Diagon Alley expansion.”

Casimir is silent, he stretches his arms up over head thinking, “So Vogel could double cross Perrot, and embarrass the minister’s administration in the process. And then what? Why send them to us?”

Leave it to an experienced politician to guess through Vogel’s motives so quickly. Albus wonders what it would be like to be other people, those who think without scheming, who plan and not plot.

“Perrot knew I was on the DAER committee, so I offered him the financials from his competition. That’s why he was able to buy out Kapoor Property Investments and Wormwood Holdings before they even had the chance to compete for the Diagon Alley expansion.”

“And what did you get in exchange?”

“Perrot is the reason that Selwyn was expunged from the Wizengamot.” Albus chews at his bottom lip. Despite decades of accusations of manipulation and blackmail from Casimir going back to their school days, this was the first time they were substantiated. 

Casimir quirks his lip, “I didn’t think you had it in you, Albus. But, I would have taken that deal in a flap of a fairy’s wings. Selwyn was a parasite on our government for far too long. Why involve me? To see if you had the bollocks to follow through? You probably weren’t the only one he was trying to use his influence with. Isn’t that how men like Perrot work? Is that it? My grandfather, may he rest in hell, did more or less the same when our family owned property before the wars.”

“Actually, no. Perrot wanted to know if you were sympathetic to Vogel’s cause. And obviously that’s not the problem,” Albus adds hastily, seeing Casimir’s eyes widen, “Casimir, a couple weeks ago- Merlin, it feels like ages now, Jonah Pearlsteen came to see me to ask about you and your father. They think your father is one of the leaders of Wizarding United. He thought you were until I told them that there was no way that was possible.” 

Casimir’s dark eyes deepen in anger. He rubs his temples and takes a deep breath. Finally he whispers, “He’s probably right.”

Albus waits for Casimir to say more, the silence growing until it demands confrontation.

“My father and I- we don’t speak more than necessary. I’ve been living on my own since we finished Hogwarts so I haven’t seen how he is firsthand. But my mum says that he’s been different this last year or so. Angrier, distant, going out at all hours, ranting about politics. It’s been hard for her. They separated earlier this month.”

Albus leans forward and speaks softly, “Casimir, you know as well as I do that these extreme political groups like Wizarding United are good at riling up their members and making them believe in their version of reality as truth. Who knows what those lunatics have indoctrinated your father with?”

“But, so what are we to make of all this? That Wizarding United is going to buy up property and overthrow the government. If it comes out that they’ve been blackmailing the minister’s administration, with middling success, by the way, there’s not a single bloody Wizengamot member who will lend them their support. They’ll be written off- “

“Like what? Like the Death Eaters were? You and I both know that’s not true,” Albus says, throwing his hands up in the air, “You’re right that we have a chance to stop this before it even really starts. But that’s not all that I’m worried about.”

“What could be worse than my father being next, in a long line of Notts, to join a cult-y terrorist organization?” Casimir asks bitterly.

“Scorpius has already been attacked once because of his association with me. I can’t let that happen again. I won’t let that happen again. We both agree that our primary concern is protecting the minister, but I need to protect Scorpius too. Casimir, I know you’re caught in the middle of all this, but I need your help.”

Albus is late and in dire need of a drink when he finally arrives at Astra and Cosmo’s celestial-themed wedding party. He’d stopped home after the office first to shower, change and get his gift for the newly married couple. In the last couple of years, Albus’s friends and family members had seemed to start marrying en masse and he always bought the same gift, a personalized drawing of the couple from local wizarding artist Dean Thomas sold in his art supply shop in Diagon Alley.

He can’t help but be impressed by the fête his sister threw together in just a week. The tables are indeed named for constellations, Orion, Leo, Capricorn, each set with a gold and silver place setting while overhead is a floating ring of candles charmed to twinkle like stars. The entire garden is dotted with stars sparkling brightly against the inky, black of the night, while a band plays an orchestral version of a pop song that Albus can’t quite place and there are already any number of couples twirling around the makeshift dancefloor that is encapsulated in a soft gold and purple mist that Albus takes a moment to recognize as the Milky Way galaxy. Only Lily would think of such charms. On the buffet table is a generous spread with a glittering banner overtop inscribed with ‘ Our Love is Written in the Stars’ in elegant calligraphy. The combined effect is, in a word, enchanting. 

Albus takes a champagne flute from a passing waiter, and meets up with Noah and Lucy.

“It’s been quite the party already. Astra and Cosmo made Draco dance flamenco. I don’t think he’ll be attempting it again,” Noah says with a laugh.

Albus looks out over the dance floor, he spots Lily coaxing their father into a dance. She shakes her hips and rolls her shoulders along to the music while Harry does an offbeat “two-step” , the very definition of an awkward dad. Albus notices his mum nearby. She has her camera out and is taking pictures and laughing. 

Astra and Cosmo come by their table, her long champagne silk gown has an elaborate train of glittering silver stars on floaty chiffon.

“Albus, you’re here! I’m so glad you came, Merlin knows none of this would have happened without you.”

He kisses her on the cheek and greets Cosmo before stepping back, “Astra, you are a celestial goddess amongst us mere mortals.”

“It’s no wonder Scorpius likes you so much with a mouth like that,” Astra says, giggling happily. She’s clearly tipsy on a combination of champagne and wedded bliss.

It’s then that Albus spots Scorpius twirling Delilah Longbottom on the dancefloor. Delilah, like Astra and Lily, is a trained dancer. But he’s just as elegant in his movements, leading Delilah in a manner that is strong, but graceful, his hips moving in tempo. 

Albus often thinks that the darkness did him no favors, but the darkness of night simply makes Scorpius’s features glow. The silvery blond hair, the porcelain skin, the high cheekbones- he shines like the moon. 

Astra and Lily run over to Delilah and Scorpius, as the band begins to sing a pop song, an earworm that Albus remembers Lily playing incessantly during her early teens. Astra, Lily and Delilah jump into a choreographed routine, arms flourishing and hips swinging to the beat of the boy band singing out, ‘ Your love has got me flying higher than Felix, your lips on mine tasting so delish.’ 

Albus laughs at their antics. Scorpius chooses that moment to turn his head. Albus feels his heart speed up in his chest as Scorpius looks at him, his expression soft and happy, his full lips slightly parted.

Albus smiles again, the heat rising in his cheeks and a surge of longing shoots through his belly. He wants to be on the dance floor with Scorpius. He wants Scorpius to place his hands on his body and turn him into fluid graceful movement.

The longer they look at each other, the more their gazes transform into a smolder. Albus bites his lip, his teeth meeting the skin in the spot where he can almost feel Scorpius’s mouth on his. 

Scorpius nods his head to the left and Albus sees him gesture to the potting shed across the manicured garden. Albus takes a deep breath, following Scorpius quickly. 

Once inside, Albus closes the door softly, locking it shut behind him. He turns to see Scorpius leaning against a dusty, old wooden table, but his affected casualty can’t hide the desire plain on his face. His grey eyes are dark with lust. His hands grip the edge of the table as if restraining him in place.

Albus doesn’t know how to tell him that he doesn’t have to restrain himself, that the magnetic force that has been drawing them together is too strong to fight any longer. He takes a half step forward.

That is all the encouragement that Scorpius needs as he strides towards him, grabbing Albus by the waist of his trousers, their hips crashing together roughly.

Scorpius lets out a strangled half-laugh, his face inches from Albus’s own, so close that their breaths are mingling together, “Oh Albus, we’ve never just been friends.”

And finally, finally, their lips meet, moving against each other, Scorpius’s arms wrap tightly around his back.  Albus’s hands tangle in Scorpius’s hair. 

Their hands reach for the buttons of their shirts, fingers fighting to get at the skin beneath, until Albus manages to distract Scorpius with his tongue and his teeth nipping hungrily on the soft skin of Scorpius’s neck and he lets out a low groan that makes Albus light up with pleasure.

Scorpius reaches for his trousers, palming at Albus’s rock hard arousal in a way that makes Albus arch his back and lean into Scorpius’s hands desperate for more. 

Albus stumbles back against the old stone wall of the cottage as Scorpius comes to his knees before him and pulls down his trousers. Scorpius looks up at him, a wicked gleam in his eyes and Albus is shaking with anticipation. He’s dizzy with desire, drunk on the feel of Scorpius’s hands grasping at his thighs, his tongue warm and wet around him. It’s too much and also not nearly enough. He slides his fingers through Scorpius’s soft blond hair desperate to be holding onto him again, the moment finally fulfilling the aching desire he’s been suppressing since he saw Scorpius in the ballroom at the beginning of summer.

Albus reaches down and winds his hand through the collar of Scorpius’s dress robes, pulling him up to standing. He needs to look at him again. He needs his mouth on Scorpius’s lips.  He needs their hearts beating together, their bodies tangling together. He needs- more .

“Come home with me.”

Scorpius stirs slowly in that fuzzy dreamlike-state between sleep and waking. He’s warm and cozy and oh so reluctant to move, conscientious of waking up Albus whose arm is a pleasant weight around his waist. He takes a slow deep breath and realizes that this is in fact the very first time that he and Albus have spent the night together. 

He tries to savor the moment flashing back to hurried snogs and fumbling shags at the manor the summer he turned sixteen. How different it feels now to know there is no need for hurrying, no sneaking around, no parents popping in unexpectedly, just the two of them in Albus’s flat.

Next to him Albus sighs and rubs his face into the pillow, making Scorpius’s chest flutter with pleasure as he watches his sleeping figure. The square lines of his jaw, the thick, dark hair messy from sleep, the strong line of his shoulders and collarbone create an image Scorpius can happily stare at all day. 

Nevertheless, he feels as though he should be a good houseguest, so as quietly as he can he slips out from underneath Albus’s arm and makes his way to the kitchen. Looking around the sleek concrete counters, stainless steel appliances and lacquered white cabinets he thinks of how the ultra-modern Chelsea flat seems at odds with his personality. Though Scorpius knew that Albus had bought the flat sight unseen before he moved back from Tokyo, and it was really only a stopover between eighteen hour days at the office. 

He can see that Albus has begun adding small curios and vignettes on sleek birch wood end tables and fireplace mantles: a coffee table book with glossy photos of vintage Mini Coopers, a stack of political magazines both muggle and magical arranged alphabetically from The Economist to Wizarding World Affairs , Parisian candles that Scorpius knows retail for a small fortune, a collection of hand-painted chopsticks grandly displayed, and dozens of black and white photographs of the Potters and their friends in all stages of life in tastefully mismatched silver frames. The focal piece of the sleek and chic living room is the marble fireplace framed by floor to ceiling windows, and above the hearth is a large oil painting of the Potter’s family home Iolanthe House, a sprawling white stone farmhouse in Godric’s Hollow. The flat’s decor is just this side of pretentious with a dash of sentimental- exactly like Albus. 

The flames of the fireplace flash bright orange leaving behind the morning post. Lucy had told him that the wizarding flat buildings like these always had their owls drop the post in a central mailing room and then sent it up to their residents via floo to minimize the number of owls flying around the neighborhood. 

There is the latest edition of The Daily Prophet, a stack of letters, and a small bouquet of white roses with a note attached with neat rounded script that reads ‘ About Time. Love, Lily’ . Scorpius smiles, the Potters really are meddlesome, but in a sweet sort of way. He picks up the newspaper and throws it on the counter. The front page is hardly a surprise. A large photo of Minister Granger-Weasley standing at a podium, her husband Ron at her side. The headline flashes boldly: Minister’s Missteps the End of Her Marriage?.

Scorpius pokes around the cupboards for tea and breakfast provisions. It is slim pickings in the kitchen, but he eventually finds the ingredients to make crumpets amidst packets of maltesers and instant noodles, fizzing whizbees, chocolate frogs, and three unopened jars of marmalade because apparently political wunderkind Albus Potter had the diet of Paddington bear. Scorpius looks in his wallet tucked into the pocket of his hastily discarded dress robes in the foyer. Thankfully, he finds a packet of active dry yeast and doesn’t bother to ponder whether that’s normal or not.

He sets the kettle on the hob and gets to work weighing out flour, salt, baking powder and sugar. The dough comes together quickly and he uses his wand to cast a warming charm to speed up the dough’s rise.  

Just as Scorpius is using the rim of a drinking glass to cut out the dough into perfectly round crumpets, Albus wanders out of his bedroom wearing nothing but low-slung navy blue pajama bottoms. He runs his hand through his hair, making it impossibly messier. One side of his face has a pillow crease and his lips are slightly swollen and pulled into a sleepy half-smile. He’s utterly adorable. It’s a sight that Scorpius could definitely get used to in the morning.

“Wow, Scor, you make me wonder why I haven’t dated more chefs?” Albus says with a smile that crinkles his emerald green eyes.

“Is that what we’re doing then? Dating?” Scorpius asks cheekily as he flips the crumpets in the skillet.

Albus doesn’t answer. He just wraps his arms around Scorpius’s waist from behind and Scorpius sighs heavily because his touch is comforting and warm. He feels Albus’s lips on the top of his shoulder, soft, sweet kisses making their way along his neck and Scorpius laughs involuntarily as Albus’s morning stubble tickles him.

“It smells heavenly.”

Scorpius switches off the stove and turns around to face Albus. “It tastes heavenly too,” he says licking at Albus’s bottom lip suggestively.

Albus presses his hips into Scorpius’s and swivels just enough to make Scorpius gasp. Yes, Scorpius could definitely get used to a morning in the kitchen with Albus Potter.

Albus presses a quick kiss to Scorpius’s lips and then steps back and takes two teacups from the cupboard near the sink.

“You’re a tease,” Scorpius says, serving the crumpets onto a platter.

Albus pours out tea and adds two sugars and milk to his, then just milk to Scorpius’s. He pulls out the marmalade and uses his wand to set everything on the dining table. 

“I’m not just here for you to feed and fuck, you know,” Albus says, patting Scorpius’s bum before he sits, “I’m going to take you on a proper date today.”

“Can you do that?”

“It’s Sunday. The day of rest.”

“That’s not what I meant. Don’t you have to work with everything going on with your aunt?” Scorpius asks, gesturing to the newspaper.

Albus frowns, “Among other things, but I doubt I can be of any help today. My parents spoke to my Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron last night. They’re holed up at home in Ottery St. Catchpole and Hugo and Rose are with them. Parvati advised they lie low over the weekend and then my aunt will be back at work as usual on Monday. We all know how to reach her if we need to do so. And for that matter Susan knows how to reach me too.”

Albus grabs a crumpet and begins adding butter and marmalade. Scorpius gets the impression that Albus doesn’t want to, or perhaps can’t say more, and frankly, he’ll do anything to avoid spoiling their perfect morning so he’s happy to comply.

“So tell me more about this proper date?” 

“Well, believe it or not I don’t have anything specific in mind since I hadn’t planned on you seducing me last night.”

“I seduced you? That’s just bloody untrue Mr. ‘Come home with me’ ”

Albus leans forward, “You were the one dancing all suggestively and making eyes at me from across the dance floor.”

“That is- what’s that lawyer term? That is speculation!”

“I’m not that kind of lawyer, Scor.”

“I know better than to try and argue with you.”

Albus takes a bite of his crumpet, still warm and topped with a generous mound of marmalade, “Merlin’s pants, Scorpius this is delicious!”

Scorpius chews on his more modestly topped crumpet, “Yes, they came out nicely.”

“It’s better than sex.”

“It’s just a crumpet, Al.”

Albus ignores him and lets out an orgasmic sound as he takes another bite, “Good Godric!”

Scorpius likes this side of Albus, the slightly silly side he rarely showed in public lest he be perceived as anything other than an upstanding member of wizarding society, 

“You’re not actually having sex, you know that right?”

“Putting something this nice and warm in my mouth is practically the same thing.”

Scorpius laughs, “I’m cutting you off,” he says, taking the crumpet platter away from Albus.

“No, I need it! You’ve ruined me!” Albus cries dramatically.

Albus sinks back into the dining chair and throws his head back dramatically.

Scorpius watches Albus’s contented smile. The long line of his elegant neck, the expanse of soft skin calls to him, and in one fluid motion Scorpius steps towards Albus and captures his lips in a searing kiss. 

“I changed my mind. You can feed and fuck me as much as you want,” Albus whispers breathlessly, their lips still touching.

Had Albus planned to spend the day working? Yes. Should he technically have more important things to do than swoon over the way Scorpius’s blond hair fell perfectly across his forehead? Also yes. There is, after all, a fake sex scandal that they are currently using to cover up a much bigger scandal and the looming threat of Wizarding United. But instead, Albus chooses to ignore it all because he can’t think of anything more important than spending the entire day with Scorpius Malfoy.

When they finally manage to eat, shower, and dress for the day, in between copious amounts of kissing, Albus decides to take Scorpius on a day date in muggle London. Unlike the Malfoys, the Potters had spent quite a lot of weekends wandering about the city, a welcome respite from the press that followed them throughout magical neighborhoods like Diagon Alley. 

They start in Notting Hill, one of Albus’s favorite neighborhoods. Albus takes Scorpius to all of his favorite stalls at Portobello Road Market. He confesses to finding the Victorian-era furniture at Malfoy Manor elegant, but dreadfully uncomfortable.

Scorpius laughs, “The whole point of being a Malfoy is to appear beautifully superior, but be generally intolerable.”

Albus slips his hands around Scorpius’s waist and leans in close, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

He tells Scorpius that he actually knows nothing about antiques, but likes the idea of bringing home furniture and household objet d’arts that had witnessed history. 

“And that’s what you want, to be a part of history?” Scorpius asks as they examine mismatched silverware and glass.

“Honestly- yes,“ Albus shakes his head, reminded of how Scorpius always seemed to get right to the heart of him. “It's easy to oversimplify, but looking back now we can say that during the war there was a good and bad side, a clear light and dark. Wars make heroes and legends like my father, but what about peacetime? Frankly, we’re not doing our job if it comes to war, and yet in the meantime it can feel like all we ever do is meet and talk and maybe pass legislation that ultimately requires us to compromise until it seems like we’re choosing the lesser of two evils. But is that enough? Sometimes I feel like I can be so diplomatic I can forget what I’m trying to accomplish.”

“Do you remember when you found out that the non-human professors made less money than the other professors at Hogwarts? You petitioned the Hogwarts board of directors to release professor salaries for the previous decade. When the board initially told you they had no money for raises that year, you organized a walkout with forty students at the end of term feast and a good number of professors joining in with you. You’ve been changing the world since you were fifteen. You’ve made me believe it was possible.”

“My mum says I’m like my father, taking every injustice as a personal offense, thinking we can fix it all if only we’re indignant enough.”

Scorpius smiles kindly at him and Albus pulls him close, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He kisses Scorpius softly on the neck.

“Thank you,” Albus whispers, lips ghosting over Scorpius’s skin, and he can feel Scorpius smile against his hair. He’ll never deserve him. But he’ll hold him as long as he can.

Next they trek to Borough Market, and Scorpius takes over, his eyes wide with excitement as he darts from stall to stall tasting everything from blueberries and figs to olives and cheese, and Albus laughs watching Scorpius’s pure passion for food radiate to the shop workers who in turn proudly give Scorpius more and more to sample. 

They buy a small glass pot of silky yoghurt topped with a lush currant compote. Scorpius takes a spoon and dips it into the small pot to feed Albus, but as the spoon hovers close to his lips, Scorpius moves the spoon upwards and gently dabs Albus on the nose with yoghurt. 

“Oh very mature, Scor,” Albus says sarcastically as he reaches forward to tickle Scorpius on the side of his waist, a spot he remembers. 

Scorpius laughs and writhes away from Albus’s wandering hands. He takes a napkin to clean Albus’s nose and then kisses him, short, playful presses of the lips between smiles. Neither of them can remember being quite this happy.

When they are full to bursting, Albus suggests a walk in Hyde Park. They meander slowly, enjoying the late summer afternoon, watching dogs and children play, couples snogging on picnic blankets. 

“I should have brought Honey with me. She loves Hyde Park. She loves London actually, all these smells and new people to meet. She’s much more of an extrovert than I am,” Scorpius says.

“You always say you’re bad at finding the words, but I saw you charming the pants of those vendors at Borough Market.”

“But that’s different, I grew up speaking French and English and I honestly think food is the only language I speak fluently,” Scorpius says. 

He stops walking and takes Albus’s hands in his, “It’s like- okay, close your eyes and tell me about your favorite meal. Take your time and describe the taste of each course from beginning to end. Tell me how you feel when you each eat each dish.”

Albus raises his dark eyebrows at Scorpius, skeptical, but does as he is told.

“Fal oysters with champagne mignonette, briny and fresh and the perfect start to a late afternoon tea. And then my dad’s homemade fish pie. It’s usually cod and the perfect creamy sauce with fluffy mashed potatoes on top. My dad started taking Teddy on an annual summer fishing trip before I was born. Eventually James joined in and then me and Lily. We were always bloody cold and starving by the time we got back to the house, but having our father to ourselves where he could be completely disconnected from the ministry and everyone else’s demands of him was special. My dad’s pie was just the thing to dig into after a day out at sea. 

Of course we never caught more than one measly cod if we were lucky, but my dad would buy the oysters and cod from the market in Godric’s Hollow and pretend we caught it all,” Albus says, eyes still closed, but a warm, nostalgic smile on his face.

“And for pudding? I know you like sweets.”

“Strawberry and chocolate cream mille-feuille. I spent a term in Paris during law school and there was a patisserie two blocks from the law firm where I was apprenticing. I would walk by the shop window every day and see the perfect, neat layers of pastry, cream and berries. The hours were relentless. After one particularly awful day, I walked in and ordered the pastry, bought myself a cheap bottle of Cote de Provence rosé and had a delightful night on the balcony of the tiny flat I rented. At least it had a view of the Eiffel Tower. It was an excellent pity party, one of my very best.”

Scorpius laughs, “Okay, now open your eyes. Do you realize how much you just told me about yourself? If I didn’t know you I’d say you're close with your family, that you like comfort food and you’re proud of where you’re from, that you’re well-traveled, and a lawyer. You work hard and you expect a lot of yourself, and summer is your favorite season.”

Albus smiles again, wide enough that he can feel it pulling across his cheeks, “You’re extraordinary, Scorpius.”

Scorpius flushes at the compliment. Albus looks at him. He examines the contours of his face, the high cheekbones and soft grey eyes, the openness of his expression. 

Scorpius is beautifully generous, wanting to create happiness with warm dishes and show his love through food. He radiates kindness and softens all of Albus’s hard edges, the political shrewdness and ambition. He delves through the facade of charm. 

It comes to Albus suddenly then. He knows- he just knows deep down in his soul, that if he can be his best self, it will be because Scorpius is at his side. 

It’s late afternoon by the time they walk back to Albus’s flat. Standing by the fireplace, they kiss until they’re breathless before Scorpius finally floos home. Albus sighs and places his elbows on the fireplace mantel, leaning his head in his hands. A wave of emotion rises up through his belly and crashes somewhere near his heart. 

As teenagers their bodies had hummed with electric need for each other. They looked different, felt different. Nearly a decade later they were different, but their bodies came together like the reawakening of a memory. And after spending the day together Albus is reminded of the way they could unravel each other’s tangled layers and be wholly themselves.

A knock at the door makes Albus smile.

“Back already- ,“ Albus says, flinging the door open with a bright smile, though his face falls quickly, “Oh- Jonah.”

Noah’s brother, Jonah Pearlsteen is at the door in his grey and purple auror robes, another auror, a young woman, standing behind him.

“Albus, we need to talk.”

Albus leads the aurors into the living room and they sit on the caramel leather sofas.

“This is my trainee partner, Nora Cosgrove. She will be sitting in and taking notes.”

Albus shakes her hand in greeting, “What’s going on, Jonah?”

“Albus, where were you last night?”

“At Malfoy Manor, for Astra and Cosmo’s wedding party.”

“Right, and I’m assuming there were plenty of witnesses?”

“Yes, my parents, Lily, the Malfoys, and your brother and Lucy, of course,” Albus says, looking over at Nora. She’s searching the room, eyes scanning methodically.

“And when was the last time you saw Sebastien Perrot?”

“About a week ago.”

“What day exactly, Al?

Albus thinks back. So much had happened. The press conference, dinner at Kaiyo, the wedding. 

“It must have been two Mondays ago.”

“And you haven’t spoken since?”

“No, it, um, didn’t end well,” Albus says, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

“Albus,” Jonah says, his tone serious as he leans forward, “Sebastien Perrot is dead. His body was found this morning.”

Albus feels like the rug has been pulled out from under him, “He- I’m sorry, he’s dead? But he can’t be- ,” he clears his throat and runs his hands through his hair, “What happened?”

“We’re not sure yet. We likely won’t have the autopsy report until tomorrow. At this point, we do suspect foul play.”

“Like I said it’s been a few days since we saw each other.”

“And why did you end things?”

“Honestly, it was never serious. But he wanted things from our relationship that I wasn’t willing 

to give him.”

“Such as?”

“Favors based on my role at the ministry, insider information, the sort of thing you could probably guess at.”

“And did you do it?” 

“I- Yes. I gave him information about his competitors based on my role on the DAER committee. We saw each other off and on for about two months, but to be frank I’m not sure I ever really liked him.”

Jonah raises his brows, “I can understand that, I suppose. Can you think of anyone who would hurt him?”

Albus sighs. Of course he can. The list is longer than he probably knows. “I don’t know if he had enemies, but he had few true friends. Josef Vogel seems like the most obvious candidate-  the affair with his wife, the business dissolution. And Sebastien had a copy of the photos of Minister Granger-Weasley and Viktor Krum before they were made public. He blackmailed his way into the DAER expansion via Marcus Belby. I doubt it was the first time he tried something of that sort, but I suddenly feel like I can’t in good faith make accusations against a dead man.” 

“Okay, I think that’s all for now,” Jonah nods, “Be careful, Albus.”

Nora looks down at her notes and then says, “Mr. Potter, we will be following up on your alibi and please stay available should we need anything further from you.”

“Of course,” Albus sighs.

They take their leave and Albus closes the door behind them. He leans back against it and rubs his face with his hands.

Restless, he paces around the cold marble foyer, finally settling on rifling through the mail, untouched from that morning. He sets the newspaper and social invitations aside when he sees the small silver envelope with the black wax seal, the signature stationery of Sebastien Perrot. 

He slowly opens the envelope, his fingers shaking with the eeriness of opening a letter from a dead man. As he reads through his eyes widen and he drops the letter quickly fumbling for his two-way in his pocket. 

He uses the tip of his wand to scroll through his list of contacts and skips the social niceties he says, “Tomorrow at the state banquet. It’s time.”

Scorpius sighs happily and lays on his bed, a contented smile on his face as he thinks of the day he spent with Albus.

No more than a minute later Astra bursts through the room dragging Cosmo behind her, “Have you been with Albus all this time?” She asks in a decibel that sends Honey running into the room and joining them as well. 

He can’t keep the smile off his face as he says, “Yes.”

“And was it marvelous? Are you getting married?” Astra gasps excitedly, “Should we have kids at the same time? Holy hippogriffs, imagine Uncle Draco as a grandfather, especially to a little Potter child.” 

Cosmo laughs, “Perhaps not everyone is in the rush that we were.”

“Thank you, Cosmo,” Scorpius says sitting up, but he’s still smiling broadly. Astra looks at him expectantly.

“It was- wonderful. You know I thought maybe I had just been building it up in my mind all these years. I thought there was no way it could live up to all the times I’d imagined us together, but I was wrong. We’re just good together,” he says, voice cracking with emotion.

“Oh Scorpius,” Astra says, throwing her hands around her cousin’s neck in an enthusiastic hug, “I’m so happy for you both. You’ve been so solitary the last few years. I know you’ve dated, but you never let us meet them or even talked about them much. Certainly never like this.”

Scorpius shrugs and smiles shyly, “It never seemed worth it when I knew it wasn’t right. I guess I didn’t even realize how much it felt like something was missing until Albus walked back into my life.”

Astra feigns swooning and falls into Cosmo’s lap, “Merlin, Scorpius, who knew you were such a romantic.”

He blushes, “You know I’m hopeless at relationships. It’s still early days and I’m bound to bugger it up.”

“No. No way, there is no possible world where I’m letting you talk yourself out of this. He’s spent this entire summer supporting your restaurant. He moved heaven and earth to help Cosmo and me. He barely left your side when you came home from the hospital. Albus knows you, Scorpius, and he’s never given up on you, so don’t give up on yourself.”

Scorpius smiles gratefully. He sighs and stands, “I have to get to the restaurant. I can’t believe it opens in only five days.”

Chapter Text

The camera shutters click and flash in rapid succession, the din of the reporters in the ministry atrium is deafening. Albus had expected that the news of Sebastien Perrot’s death would be sensational, but he rather naively didn’t anticipate his name at the center of the firestorm.

“Mr. Potter, when was the last time you saw Sebastien Perrot?”

“Albus, did you and Perrot end on bad terms?”

“Mr. Potter, were you in a love triangle with Perrot and Scorpius Malfoy?”

A hand grabs Albus’s forearm and he looks up to see a DMLE uniformed patrol officer holding out his badge with his free hand, “Mr. Potter, we’re here to escort you to your office.”

Albus nods and lets the officer take the lead, another following behind him. 

“Oh good, you’re all here,” Susan says, greeting Albus and the patrol officers when they arrive in the DIMC office, “Albus, Officer Stetson and Officer Bakshi will be your security detail until the investigation into Sebastien Perrot’s death is completed.”

“I don’t need a security detail and didn’t the DMLE tell you that I’m basically a suspect.”

“You are not. Jonah Pearlsteen informed the minister himself that you’re not just this morning. They confirmed your alibi with half a dozen attendees of last night’s wedding party. We should have an update on the case soon, but apparently both you and Josef Vogel have been cleared. Now sign these papers so you can get on with preparing for tonight’s state banquet with Austria.”

Albus wants to protest further, but Susan arches a groomed brow in a manner that suggests he shouldn’t press the issue. He reluctantly signs the security papers. 

“Now, personally I’m of the opinion that every young person should have an affair with a wealthy older man at least once. Next time try to make sure that they’re not the sort to end up dead,” she says, collecting the papers together and handing them off to the DMLE patrol officers.

“Madam Bones, I’m sorry about this,” Albus sighs, embarrassed by the spectacle surrounding him and Perrot’s death. He still can’t quite believe the man is dead after all.

She waves her hands dismissively, “Make it up to me by getting the Austrians to agree to Germany and Lichtenstein’s conservation policies for mountain troll communities along their borders. I want this agreement signed before the next Joint European Ministries of Magic meeting.”

He stands, smoothing the fronts of his trousers, “Yes, madam.”

The day is relentlessly busy as Susan, Albus and Casimir run from one meeting to another, first with the Department of Magical Games and Sports to discuss support for a World Cup hosting bid. Next with the Chinese ambassador and delegates from the Chinese Wandmakers Association to discuss trade negotiations, followed by a briefing with the minister’s office. Finally, a Wizengamot vote on emergency foreign funding for the grindiva outbreak in the Caribbean that was accompanied by an impassioned speech from Albus’s sister in law and healer Sophie Harlow-Potter, who had developed the first grindiva virus inoculation the year prior. 

By the time the state banquet starts that evening, Albus is exhausted. In the mirror hanging in the DIMC office, he straightens his white bow tie. He takes a deep breath looking at his reflection, the faint shadow of bluish circles under his famous green eyes, the square jaw and thick, black hair. 

He’s not a stranger to attention. In fact, in his chosen profession, he seeks it out. He’s spent most of his life photographed with his family and friends whilst school shopping in Diagon Alley, on every vacation, or night on the town. But being pursued in the workplace makes his chest pound anxiously. He’s always worked the hardest, strived for the most, conscious to respect the sheer power of his family name and fortune, to try to do his family legacy justice. He can’t help but feel as though all that’s happened this summer is threatening everything he’s spent his career working towards and everyone he cares about.

“Mr. Potter?” Calls a voice outside the door.

Albus sighs. He’s spent one day with the patrol officers and he already regrets agreeing to their services earlier that morning in Bones’s office. He rolls his shoulders back and pushes the door open as he feels his two-way mirror chime in his trouser pocket.

He knows without looking that it’s Scorpius calling. He’s called four times already. But, he doesn’t have the time to talk and he doesn’t know how to discuss Perrot with Scorpius anyway. He desperately wants to be the person Scorpius thinks he is.

He follows his patrol officer escort to the sumptuous state dining room. The room is decorated in full splendor for the occasion. There are elaborate floral arrangements on the long dining table, gold trimmed place settings and sparkling chandeliers. It is all accompanied by the melodious tones of diplomacy as he spots Minister Granger-Weasley in conversation with Chancellor Wagner at one end of the room, and Casimir chatting with their counterparts from the Austrian foreign office.

“Albus, I’d like you to meet Viola Bruner. She’s from the Magical Land Use Department at the Austrian ministry,” says Susan, introducing a petite woman with shoulder-length pink hair.

Albus shakes her hand, “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Bruner.” 

“Call me Viola please, and the pleasure is mine. I must confess I was hoping to meet you tonight,” she says in lightly accented English. Susan takes her leave as they continue talking.

Albus smiles graciously, “I can say the same of you. Conservation of the mountains and forest are a priority for Susan and the minister. While we can agree that the mountain trolls can be disruptive to nearby communities, they are an important part of protecting the magical ecosystem. The benefits of their communities far outweigh the risks and the British ministry is prepared to take over Lichtenstein’s management on their side of the border. We can admit the Lichtenstein ministry hasn’t done enough.”

“Have you been to Lichtenstein, Albus? The ministry is practically two wizards, a pot of bad coffee and a conference room. Austria has been maintaining the mountain troll communities for nearly two hundred years while the Germans consider it of too little concern to do their part.”

“The British ministry is willing to sign a ten-year security agreement with potential for renewal at eight years.”

“And the terms of that agreement to be set by us? It’s a costly operation, this will be expensive for the British,” Viola asks suspiciously.

“As you said, Germany is unwilling to do their part and Lichtenstein is too small to have the resources. But we have a financial commitment from Germany to help support and sustain British resources, including trained magizoologists and forestry herbologists.”

Viola pursues her lips for a moment then says, “Well, then. You seem to have thought of everything. Let’s set up a meeting in Vienna with the Germans and Lichtenstein to work out the details before the JEMM conference next month.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. Madam Bones and the minister will be pleased.”

A bell dings calling everyone to their seats at the dining table. 

Albus offers his arm to Viola and she takes it leaning in close as she says, “I heard you were acquainted with Sebastien Perrot. I’m sorry to hear of his passing.”

“Thank you, though our relationship was brief and ended quickly,” Albus says, clearing his throat, “Did you know him?”

“Vienna is a small town compared to London.  Perrot and Josef Vogel made it their business to make sure we knew them. In fact, I consider them both friends. My office also handles community and urban planning projects.”  

“Like our Diagon Alley expansion, then? Everyone is quite excited about the growth of magical London.”

“Indeed, everyone in Europe is aware of the project. It will be quite a feat. I don’t mean to sound indelicate, but perhaps with Perrot’s death, Vogel’s firm can take over his awards. It only seems logical. Pearlsteen International will remain in control after all.”

Albus nearly stops in his tracks, “Viola, pardon me for asking, how do you know that? The proportion of awards wasn’t in the press about the project.”

“I told you, Vienna is a small town. Anyone who knew Perrot knew he could be boastful. You really think he wouldn’t take the opportunity to, how do you say, rub Josef Vogel’s nose in it? Besides, despite what you might think Vogel never wanted Perrot dead. He’s quite upset actually. Once upon a time they were quite good friends,” Viola remarks as she takes her seat. 

With dinner about to begin, there isn’t time for Albus to inquire further. So he politely nods and finds his seat at the elegantly set table.

The dinner passes interminably like so many diplomatic functions and state banquets before it. Speeches, overtures, glad-handing and subtext. Normally, Albus finds it much more enjoyable than he is tonight. 

Tonight he is inpatient and he signals to Casimir sitting further down the table. As soon as they are able they excuse themselves into the empty corridor outside the state dining room. Albus uses his wand to lock the door behind them

“Have you changed your mind about things?” Casimir asks, noticing Albus’s uneasy expression.

“No, not at all. If anything, I’m more sure after speaking with Viola Bruner,” Albus says adjusting the bow tie on his dress robes, “Even she doesn’t think Vogel is behind Sebastien’s death, just as Susan said. She knows them well and at least according to her, he’s quite upset.”

“He could have regrets?”

“No, no. If he wanted to humiliate Perrot then murdering him is hardly a satisfying way to do so. Think about it, winning is not nearly as satisfying if your opponent is dead. Besides, they were friends for decades.”

Casimir snorts, “So were all the worst of enemies.”

“True, but- last night, when I showed you the letter from Sebastien, he said that Wizarding United was planning something big, something dangerous. He was warning me because the last thing I asked of him was to help me protect Scorpius. You and I thought maybe the thing Wizarding United was planning was Sebastien’s murder. But Casimir, what if it’s not?”

Anxiety thrums in Albus’s body, his jaw clenched and heart racing. His two-way chimes again and he desperately wants to answer it and tell Scorpius that he’s coming over and could they please just be together away from the madness.

Instead he hangs behind as Casimir returns to the dining room, and he answers his two-way breathlessly, “Hi, Scor.”

“Albus, thank goodness you answered. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I’m so, so sorry about Sebastien Perrot.”

“I’m fine, really,” Albus replies, though he sounds shaky even to himself.

“Al, you know I’m here for you, okay? I’m sure you have complicated feelings about all this, but I’m here for you, always.” 

Scorpius’s sincerity causes Albus’s chest to tighten and he closes his eyes briefly, “I know, Scor. Thank you.”

“Can I come over tonight after you’re done with the state banquet?”

“It will be quite late. I may have to go back to the office afterwards”

“That’s okay,” Scorpius replies gently, “I don’t mind. I’m so stressed about the restaurant opening that I’ve not been sleeping anyway. Last night with you was the best sleep I’ve had in ages.”

Albus can hear the smile in Scorpius’s voice, but nevertheless he sighs and says,  “I’m sorry, Scorpius. I-,  I, um, can’t tonight and I’m sure you’re busy with the restaurant. Maybe we just need to take a few days. Once the restaurant opens and I’m not quite as busy we can- ,” he trails off.

“Oh- oh, right, okay.“ 

It cuts like a knife hearing the note of sadness in Scorpius’s voice, but there is nothing Albus can do for the moment, “Listen, I’ve got to go.”

“Right, yes, of course. So do I. As you said, we’re busy, busy this week.”

“Okay, okay- goodnight.” Albus taps the mirror to finish the call before he changes his mind and enters the dining room where the banquet is finally coming to its end. He lingers in the back of the room as the Austrian Minister for Magic exits first with his wife followed by the other high government officials in order of rank. 

Across the room Casimir has managed to capture Susan’s attention and now all they need is a minute with the minister before she and Ron depart for the evening.

“Mr. Potter, you are supposed to make us aware of when you leave the room,” Officer Bakshi says disapprovingly as she sees Albus again, having lost sight of him during his conversation with Casimir.

“Yes, but then what would be the point of having such a cracker security detail?” Albus mumbles as he sees Susan wave him over. He walks briskly towards where she is standing with Casimir and Minister Granger-Weasley.

Hermione slips her feet out of her patent leather heels and removes heavy gold and sapphire earrings, “What’s going on, Albus? Nott made it sound quite urgent.”

Albus sighs, “Right. Well, it is. The morning edition of The Daily Prophet will have a new headline and I’m afraid that it centers me. Minister, I sold out Kapoor Property Investments and Wormwood Holdings to Sebastien Perrot. I’ve had the story leaked to the press.”

Hermione presses her fingers to her brow and sighs, “Oh, Albus.”

“Why?” Susan asks urgently, “What did Perrot have on you?”

“Nothing, to be honest. It was a classic bit of quid pro quo. I used my DAER committee position and leaked classified information.” He feels his face flush with shame.

“I hope whatever you got was worth it-” Susan says, her expression full of disappointment.

Casimir rises to his defense, “Perrot got Selwyn expelled from the Wizengamot which will pave the way for the continued success of this administration. It was worth it. Kapoor and Wormwood likely would have been bought out by Perrot in the next few months anyway.”

Albus raises his hand to pause Casimir shooting him a grateful expression, “I know that justifying my actions does not make me beyond reproach. I’m submitting my resignation tonight. You’ll have it in writing by the top of the hour.”

“That’s going a bit far don’t you think,” Hermione says, “We’ve all done things the last few months that we’re not proud of, that we wish we could change.”

Albus shakes his head, “I had other options, Minister. I chose to do this. No one forced me. I take full responsibility.”

“He’s right,” Susan nods solemnly, “I’m afraid this is the best course of action. But what I don’t understand is, why now? Who is forcing your hand? With Perrot dead, this could have stayed buried for months, maybe forever.”

Albus glances towards the corner of the room where his Uncle Ron is having a final drink with the Austrian ambassador. The man lets out a booming laugh as he pats Ron on the shoulder. Ron was good at playing the role of First Gentleman, handsome, but not so much as to be intimidating, loyal, and with a good sense of humor.

Albus turns back to Hermione, Susan and Casimir. “Perrot sent me a letter shortly before his death. He believed Wizarding United was orchestrating some devastating event. They weren’t satisfied by you and Uncle Ron being embarrassed over an allegation of infidelity. They want to get rid of you and they’ll seemingly stop at nothing to do it. I told Jonah Pearlsteen about the letter last night and they’re going to be doing everything they can to figure out what Wizarding United is planning, but we need something to assuage them in the meantime.”

Hermione throws her hands up in exasperation, “I don’t agree, Albus. Perrot’s murder is not your fault. I know the investigation isn’t over, but all evidence is pointing to Wizarding United. Don’t do this. Don’t fall on your sword for those bastards.”

“With all due respect, Minister. It’s done.”

With one last hug and look of regret, Hermione and Ron said their goodbyes to Albus. After heading up to the DIMC offices to turn in his letter of resignation to Susan, he strides out of the offices back to the now empty ministry atrium. Casimir and Susan had stayed behind to strategize, a team that no longer included him. He enters the nearest toilets to freshen up before heading home. 

No longer a ministry employee, he had managed to ditch his security detail for good. Just a private citizen with a history of bad decisions. Albus splashes cool water on his face. He takes a deep breath and wonders if he looks suddenly as old as he feels, or if it’s just his imagination that his reflection seems years older than it did a few hours ago back in his office.

“Mr. Potter, right?” A gray-haired man asks entering the restroom while Albus washes his hands at the sink.

“Yes, please call me Albus.”

“Right, right, well forgive me I’m old-fashioned. I’m older than your father, truth be told. A few years ahead of him in school. I was hoping to meet you tonight.”

Albus smiles placidly, “Well, it is nice to meet you Mr.-  uh? Sorry I didn’t catch your name. There were so many new names and faces tonight.”

“My family name is Stevens. Let me give you my card. I operate a cauldron repair shop in Diagon Alley.”

Albus wonders what the owner of a small Diagon Alley business was doing at an exclusive and high-profile state banquet, but says nothing as the man reaches into his dress robes chest pocket and pulls out a small cologne bottle in addition to his business card. Albus recognizes the label, a cheap British knockoff of a French line of fragrances. Mr. Stevens takes his business card and hands it to Albus, “Mind if I?” He asks, holding up the cologne bottle.

“Not at all, I was just leaving. It was nice to meet you- ‘ Albus says, drying his hands and turning back towards the door.

“Not so fast, Mr. Potter,” the man says as he turns to Albus, holding the glass fragrance bottle like a weapon. It’s only then that Albus notices that the man is sweating at the temples and appears nervous. It is his final thought as the spritz of fragrance reaches his nose and his nearly instant reaction causes him to lose consciousness.

Scorpius runs from the visitor entrance towards the ministry atrium. His heart races as he is stopped by a team of aurors. The ministry is in complete lockdown with the floo entrances closed and no one allowed in or out without auror approval. 

“Lily!” He calls from the other side of the barricade when he spots her trademark auburn hair. He can tell from their tense jaws and furrowed brows that the Potters are clearly distressed, but  they wave to him nonetheless. After what seems like an impossibly long time, the aurors finish screening him. He surrenders his wand and is given a tonic that supposedly reveals polyjuice usage and then they finally let him through the barrier.

The head auror, Artemis Randall rushes towards them, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous atrium. It is disconcerting on many levels for Artemis to brief her former boss on the abduction of his son, but she does her best to keep her voice level.

She ushers them through the lifts and into the DMLE offices, “As you all are well aware, in cases like these, we’re learning as we go. But here’s what we know thus far. Albus was taken at approximately 21:35 from the loo in the southwest corridor adjacent to the ministry atrium. He had submitted his resignation to Madam Bones just ten minutes prior and as a result no longer had a ministry security detail.”

“It appears that an aerosolized potion with sedative qualities was used on Albus. Our forensics team found traces on the sink and tiled floors. We’re still confirming the substance, though in doing so we may be able to identify where it originated. We don’t know where Albus was taken or by whom yet. Nor do we know why. But our interviews with his colleagues Susan Bones and Casimir Nott lead us to believe that his abduction may have been orchestrated by Wizarding United, a group that the DMLE has officially classified as domestic terrorists. We also presume that there may be some link to the open investigation into the death, and possible homicide, of Sebastien Perrot.”

Ginny’s cheeks are flushed and Lily is grasping her by the elbow as if to hold her back; from doing what exactly Scorpius is unsure. Harry’s face is stoic, the demeanor of a practiced auror though Scorpius notices that he is clutching Ginny’s hand tightly enough that his knuckles are beginning to whiten.

Scorpius can’t help but admire his composure under duress. It reminds him of Albus, that professional manner of compartmentalizing emotions and shifting into action. Scorpius’s heart rate speeds up in panic. He can’t lose Albus now- not when he’s just gotten him back.

“You were with him yesterday, right?” Harry asks Scorpius who quickly nods in return, “Did he say anything to you? Did he mention that he received a threat or that anyone tried to hurt him? Anything at all?”

Scorpius furrows his brow and tries to think through the last twenty-four hours. He shakes his  head, “No, no, nothing of the sort. He was perfectly Albus all day. He was worried about Minister Granger-Weasley. He talked about work in a vague sort of way, but nothing that made me think that he was feeling threatened. Only- “

“What is it, Scorpius? Any small detail could be important?” Harry asks encouragingly, his voice remaining calm.

“I heard about Perrot’s death on the wireless this morning and I’d called Albus a few times to see how he was doing. He hadn’t answered and I figured he was just busy. When I finally did talk to him it was shortly before he was taken. He said he wouldn’t have time to see me for a few more days. Do you think he knew? But he couldn’t possibly- .”

“Mr. Malfoy, walk us through yesterday. There may have been someone you spoke to or somewhere you went that could be important,” Artemis says. She glances over his shoulder at the Potters, “If you’d like we can speak in private.”

“Um, no, it’s fine. I’m happy to speak here,” Scorpius says, sitting at the table in the middle of the DMLE conference room.

One of the dozens of DMLE staff milling about hands Scorpius a glass of water and he takes a sip absentmindedly before setting it down, “I went home with Albus on Saturday night after my cousin Astra’s wedding party at Malfoy Manor. On Sunday, we woke up around nine in the morning, had breakfast and then we spent the day in muggle London. If we encountered anyone who knew him or could identify him they didn’t say anything. We went back to Albus’s flat and I flooed home around half past four. Then I went to my restaurant in Hogsmeade and I was there until about midnight.”

“And you didn’t speak to him again?”

“No, not until tonight. Like I said I called him on the two-way shortly before he was taken. I wanted to call last night, but we only just started seeing each other and I didn’t want to seem overly eager- ” he trails off, pale cheeks flushing pink.

“So you don’t know what he was doing last night?” Artemis asks.

Scorpius shakes his head.

“I do.”

The Potters, Scorpius and Artemis turn to see Scorpius’s cousin Casimir standing at the threshold of the conference room. He’s flanked by two aurors and is still wearing his dress robes from the state banquet, his white bow tie loose around his neck.

He looks unsurely at them, his eyes lingering for a moment too long on Lily to be inconspicuous. He approaches the table slowly. 

“Albus received a letter from Sebastien Perrot postmarked just before his death. In it Perrot basically apologized to Albus for trying to blackmail him into- well it doesn’t matter really,” Casimir hastily adds, “But Perrot knew that Josef Vogel, the Austrian businessman, was funding Wizarding United and that Wizarding United had some big plan to take down both Perrot and Minister Granger-Weasley”

“Could this have been Perrot’s doing? Orchestrated somehow before his death?” Ginny asks, wringing her hands on the conference table.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but at this point anything is possible. Though thus far the investigation into Vogel’s role in Perrot’s death has been a dead end. We suspect it was Wizarding United acting alone,” Artemis replies.

“No, that’s not all,“ Casimir says quietly. He sighs sadly, and looks again at the stricken faces of the Potters and his cousin, Scorpius. “Albus seemed to think that Wizarding United was planning something. And that my father may be a leader of the group.”

“You’ve been interviewed by Pearlsteen and Cosgrove tonight haven’t you?” Artemis asks Casimir. He nods. 

“And you told them this?” He nods again.

Scorpius looks up at his cousin, “Casimir, where is your father? Have the aurors found him?”

“I don’t know. Pearlsteen and his partner were sent out after him about twenty minutes ago. But I don’t know where he could be,” his voice breaks, “I’m so sorry, Scorpius. Mr. and Mrs. Potter I will help find Albus any way that I can. Lily- “

Lily waves her hand dismissively. “He’s going to be fine,” Lily says firmly, “My brother is strong and he’s clever and he’s going to be just fine.”

The door to the conference room swings open again and Jonah Pearlsteen is there, stone faced and so serious that Scorpius has a hard time reconciling him with the society playboy persona.

Jonah nods at his boss Artemis and he looks as though he wants to hug the Potters as he usually would, but today isn’t quite a normal day and so he hesitates awkwardly until Harry reaches out and claps the young auror on the shoulder. 

Jonah clears his throat, “Theodore Nott wasn’t at home. Daphne Greengrass-Nott is there and my partner Nora will stay with her just in case Theodore does make contact. She doesn’t know where he’s been staying. The Leaky Cauldron, maybe, apparently he’s not in any condition to afford any of the luxury accommodations.”

“So you don’t have any idea where Albus might have been taken?” Ginny asks, “He’s been 

missing for nearly three hours now. He could be anywhere. I have half a mind to go search for him myself.”

“No, not yet, but given Albus’s high profile we have temporarily shut off all outgoing international portkeys and closed floo travel,” Artemis sighs, “There are lots of moving parts to this operation, but we have a couple of options. Thus far, we haven’t received any requests for ransom. It’s unlikely as we believe this is politically motivated. However, we can send you home with an auror escort in case communication is made. Option two, again because of Albus’s position, or former position, at the ministry, we think that the kidnappers’ demands may come to the minister’s office. Minister Granger-Weasley is here in lockdown under tight security in her chambers and you are welcome to join her. We are regularly updating her office.”

Harry looks at Ginny and with a determined expression she says, “We should stay. Lily, go home with the auror escort. See if Delilah can come over to keep you company. James and Sophie should be able to join you soon.”

Harry nods in agreement with his wife’s assessment, “Scorpius, you’re welcome to wait with us.”

Scorpius smiles gratefully, “Thank you.”

“Right, that’s sorted then,” Artemis says and immediately she orchestrates a few of the DMLE patrol officers to accompany Lily home.

Scorpius looks over at his cousin, whose dark eyes are clouded with emotion.

“I’m going to go back to work. I’m so sorry,” Casimir says, shaking his head, clearly distraught.

“It’s not your fault, Casimir. Not any more than it is Aunt Daphne’s or mine or- “ Scorpius pauses, his eyes widening.

“What is it?” Casimir asks.

“We need to talk to my father.”

“Dad!” Scorpius exclaims as his father is brought into the DMLE offices by an auror escort.

Draco jerks his elbow away from the auror and smooths his silvering blond hair, “What is going on? Why have aurors come into my home and summoned me here?”

“Dad, Albus is missing. He was kidnapped at a state banquet tonight from the ministry.” Scorpius’s voice is shaking as he tries to explain to his father, “They think Uncle Theo and Wizarding United might be behind it. Please, if you know anything?”

“Mr. Malfoy, in addition, we believe that Nott and the Wizarding United group may be linked to Sebastien Perrot’s murder.”

“And what does any of that have to do with me? With my family? Do you have probable cause to suspect my involvement in any way?” Draco’s tone is growing increasingly disdainful and cold, suddenly reminiscent of his late grandfather Lucius in a way that Scorpius has never seen before.

Jonah steps forward, “No, Mr. Malfoy, we don’t- “

“Actually, that’s not true,” Scorpius interrupts “Dad, I heard you a few weeks ago when Uncle Theo came to you and begged for your support for Vogel, and you turned him down. And then last week he turned up at my restaurant and asked me to join him in whatever this is, whatever Wizarding United has planned.”

Draco’s stony expression softens into concern, “Why didn’t you tell me? I told you to tell me if he approached you.”

Scorpius shakes his head, “I don’t know, he seemed so erratic. I thought maybe he was just drunk and I guess a bit emotional about the separation with Aunt Daphne.”

“Mr. Malfoy, if you know anything,” Jonah’s tone is softer now, “Any places where Nott might go? Any friends or even new acquaintances?”

“I rather think the investigation is your job,” Draco retorts. 

“Dad, please, you know Albus doesn’t deserve this.”

“Scorpius, I told you, I’m not getting involved in whatever political games are being played here. The Malfoys have- “

“This isn’t about being a bloody Malfoy! This is me, coming to you as your son hoping you will help me and the man I love! Don’t do it for the Malfoy name or because it involves the Potters. Do it for me!” Scorpius can feel hot tears rising and his entire body heats up with frustration and worry.

Ginny places her arms around Scorpius’s shoulders and looks at Draco with an expression of disappointment. 

Harry steps forward, his face crumpled with worry, “Draco, please, they have my son. What would you do if they had your son?”

Before Draco can reply, the chime of a half dozen two-ways rings and each of the aurors immediately reach for their devices. At the same time, the door to the DMLE offices bursts open with a distressed looking Hermione, Ron and their security detail. The patrol officers quickly push past whispering in Randall’s ear. 

Hermione freezes in the doorway her dark eyes landing on Harry and Ginny. Finally, Ron ushers her into the room and she says, “There’s been an attack, an explosion, in Diagon Alley.”

Chapter Text

Scorpius’s heart beats with the refrain Albus, Albus, Albus. 

He follows his father, the Potters, and a team of aurors into the dusty mess of Diagon Alley. Since news broke of the explosion they had waited with bated breath to be given clearance to go to Diagon Alley and see if whatever had happened in all of its shock and tragedy had anything to do with Albus. Or at least that is what Scorpius wants to know. 

Darkness has descended, but the street lamps illuminate the crowds of wizards, witches, goblins and elves, their faces filled with shock. Mediwitches and healers attend to those with injuries while more DMLE officers and aurors than Scorpius has ever seen in one place swarm the street. It is difficult at first to find where the explosion even originated. Scorpius can hear Jonah Pearlsteen talking with the other aurors, but the words don’t make sense through the fog of destruction. His father grabs his arm and pulls him along to keep up with the group. 

At some point they stop in front of a building with the top half completely blown apart, the usually gleaming white and grey stone collapsed into piles. It takes a few moments before Scorpius recognizes it as the Crown Royale hotel. A mist hangs over the rubble, the words ‘No wands, No rights’ spelled out in a scrawl of red light, signifying that this is, in fact, the work of Wizarding United.

He finally notices Noah and Lucy standing before the remains of the hotel, their faces solemn as they speak with the hotel’s security manager and a DMLE officer.

“Five dead, all hotel employees. The protective charms and alarms on the building were set off in time for the guests to be evacuated safely though some sustained injuries from the blast,” the hotel’s security manager says to them with a grave expression on his face. 

“We’ve rounded up anyone deemed suspicious at this point and will take them to the DMLE for questioning. Have you seen Albus Potter anywhere on the premises?” Jonah asks, holding up a picture for the security manager.

The security manager responds gruffly, “I know him of course, he’s mates with the boss. But no, I haven’t seen him.”

Scorpius gasps in relief, he cries out and his father grabs him by the shoulders to keep him from falling. There is still hope. If Albus isn’t here then he must be somewhere else - alive. 

“I don’t understand. Jonah, why are you asking about Albus?” Noah asks, eyes widening in alarm.

Harry responds before Jonah can. “Albus was taken earlier this evening. The aurors think it was Wizarding United.” 

Casimir shakes his head, “Albus and I were such fools. When Perrot told Albus that Wizarding United was planning something, we both thought it was Perrot’s murder, but this is-“

He trails off, but Scorpius knows what he means. Desperation is dangerous. Who could predict what Wizarding United would do next? 

Head Auror Artemis Randall approaches the Potters, Malfoys, and Pearlsteens, “We’ve found the origin of the blast. Auror Proudfoot believes it is a Remembrall that was enchanted with a Confrigo spell. It’s not even clever magic, all you have to do is remember what you need to explode. We’re waiting for the forensics chamber to confirm. Mr. and Mrs. Pearlsteen, I’m sorry for your losses. You’ve got an ace security team though. This would have been much worse without your protective wards and alarm spells in place.”  

Noah sniffs and rubs his nose, blinking back tears, “I doubt that will be of much comfort to the families of our staff. Ronan Wickstead had been with the hotel longer than I’ve been alive.”

Lucy rubs small circles on his back, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

“We need to do something. If Albus isn’t here we need to keep searching,” Ginny says, her face drained of color.

“We’ll find him,” Harry reassures her, placing his hands on her shoulders, “We’ll find him. You should go home to Lily-” 

She turns to her husband, “No. No, whatever this is, whoever has Albus, we’re handling this as a family.” Harry doesn’t protest. He knew asking her to leave was simply never going to happen. They’d fought and won too many battles alongside each other to stop fighting now. 

Head Auror Artemis Randall walks towards the Potters and Malfoys, “Ginny is right. I’m going to keep an auror unit here and continue the investigation. Pearlsteen, you’re on point for the Potters. Take a unit with you and let me know if you need back up. Keep me updated every hour.” 

Jonah nods, “I’m expecting reports in just a few minutes from each of the stationed patrol officers to see if they’ve heard anything in their precincts and we’re searching the homes of every known Wizarding United member, but with nearly two hundred homes I’m not sure we have the time.”

Harry presses his palms to his face, “We need to-” 

But whatever Harry is about to say is cut off by a shrill ringing. The ear piercing alarm causes everyone to duck and cover, the sound an all too familiar echo of the alarms shortly before the explosion. DMLE officers and aurors quickly throw up shield charms around as large of a portion of the street as they can, shading the entire area in filmy blue.

Scorpius crouches on the pavement, watching as his father pulls his two-way from his pocket. 

“It’s the wards!” Draco yells from where he huddles between Ginny and Casimir, “It’s the wards!”

Draco pulls his wand from robes and taps his two-way mirror, muttering an incantation that Scorpius cannot hear over the alarm.

“It’s the wards at Malfoy Manor, the caterwauling charms have been set off! We need to get there now!”

Albus rubs his wrists against the ropes binding him uselessly. Logically, he knows that if he can’t untie himself with magic it’s even less likely that he’ll be able to without magic, and yet it must be human instinct to keep trying to escape even as the rope chafes his skin raw. His shoulders ache from being stretched for too long, though of course that’s probably good for him with all the hunching does over his desk day and night. 

He sighs and looks over at Stevens sitting across from him in the dusty, abandoned dungeon. “What exactly is the purpose of my abduction? Are you going to kill me? Truthfully, that is your only viable option. Letting me go seems weak. Torturing me would seem unnecessary and cruel. Not to mention, if I survive then every journalist in the country will want to interview me and that’s going to make me look wonderful. Public opinion won’t be on your side. Now killing me might prove that you lot are crazier than a Kappa, but at least you're bold. Good on you managing to kill Harry Potter’s son and all that. That’s gotta mean something to psychotic terrorists- “

“Mr. Potter, stop talking before I make you,” Stevens says coldly. 

Albus still hasn’t learned his first name. “What’s the endgame though? You think you’re restoring power to wizards, but the logical fallacy is that nothing has been taken from you. There is nothing to be restored. Wizards, by that I mean also witches and gender non-binary magical people will always be the majority of magical Britain. Giving more elves, centaurs, and goblins more economic and political opportunities doesn’t mean you actually have fewer opportunities. If you’re so much better than a goblin and you can forge cauldrons of higher quality than goblins, it shouldn’t matter. They're just poor competition to an accomplished wizard like yourself. And who is your leader by the way? They don’t usually do their own dirty work. I mean I’m told Tom Riddle was a handsome and charismatic fellow, at least before the experimental self-mutilation anyway-”

“ Silencio”

Albus had been waiting for that. For good measure Stevens casts a hex that shoots the chair and by extension Albus skittering across the floor and slamming into the stone wall. 

Albus assumes he must be under strict orders not to injure him too drastically. He sighs and resorts to counting each drop of condensation that falls from the ceiling of the dungeon onto the stone floor. He remembers once taking the train to Hogwarts with his parents. 

Hagrid had wanted to celebrate Harry’s birthday with him and as a special treat had arranged for the Potters to take the Hogwarts Express much to the delight of Albus and his siblings. His mum made sure they ate breakfast before they left and his dad had packed sandwiches for the train ride given Hagrid’s culinary skills. 

The train was mostly empty and perhaps it hadn’t been the best idea to bring three children under seven on a four hour trip. By hour two they were positively feral. Lily, who had just started dance lessons was pirouetting across the aisles, but with all the grace of a cornish pixie. She managed to crash into compartment doors, cry and repeat for the last half hour despite Ginny’s rapid fire cushioning charms up and down the train corridor. James and Albus were alternating between playing a game of Exploding Snap with their father and being sidetracked by enthusiastically running through the train with a team of James’s tiny toy quidditch players in a series of loops, dead drops and soaring heights that caused the tiny players to scream and groan with added sound effects from the boys. Ginny and Harry finally wrangled their children and a number of tiny quidditch player escapees back into the train compartment and Ginny quickly locked the door with her wand. Harry was muttering something about what a shame it was that summoning charms didn’t work on children. 

Ginny sat exhausted, “Remember when we used to be worried about someone kidnapping them.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at her with a smirk, ‘It’s bad form for us to wish for it.”

“No, I was just going to say I’m almost certain they’d pay us to take them back.” Harry laughs and kisses Ginny softly on the forehead. 

Hopefully, he’d see Scorpius, and his meddlesome family again, soon.

When they apparate into the foyer of the manor Draco pleads again with his son, “Scorpius, please, you and Casimir need to go.”

But Scorpius’s unspoken protests are interrupted as a blood curdling scream rings out across the mansion.

“That’s not Albus,” Harry says as the group runs down the corridor towards the direction of the screaming.

“No, no it’s Trixie,” Draco says as they round the corner and find the elf flailing on the marble floor of the corridor scratching at her own skin. 

“She must have been hit with a hive-conjuring curse,” Jonah runs up to her and quickly applies the counter-curse.

“Th- th- they,” the tiny elf is gasping, barely able to breathe as the effects of the curse start to lessen.

“Breathe. You’ll be okay,” Jonah says, conjuring a star grass salve from his robes and beginning to apply gently to Trixie’s thin arms, “just breathe.”

“They’re here. Wizarding United is here,” Trixie says faintly.

“What do you mean, Trixie?” Draco asks, kneeling down next to her.

“I- I-,” She stammers, before taking a deep breath, “I tried to stop them, but there were too many. They have Albus Potter in the dungeons.”

“Trixie, you need to leave,” Draco says and the elf nods and makes her way to the entrance of the manor.

Draco walks further down the corridor and pushes open the nearest door that leads to his study, “There’s a passage to the dungeons. Pull on the red book on the second highest bookshelf to open it.”

Jonah looks at Harry, the only other trained, if decades-retired, auror of the bunch. Jonah leads the way, his wand aloft. He pulls on the book, waiting for the passage to open, but nothing happens.

“Mr. Malfoy, why- “ Jonah starts, but he’s quickly cut off by Draco.

“I don’t know, that’s odd. Damage to the house’s protective wards must be affecting access to the dungeons.”

Jonah mutters a spell that Scorpius doesn’t know and a soft mist of blue emerges from his wand then turns a deep amber.

Jonah holds up his hand to quiet Draco, “I’m calling this in to Randall. Jonah pulls out his two-way, tapping it twice with his wand, “Randall, requesting further backup auror units at Malfoy Manor. Reported sighting of Theodore Nott is on premises with Albus Potter, but currently unconfirmed.”

Scorpius’s eyes dart back and forth from Harry to Jonah to his father, “What’s going on? What do you think is happening?”

Harry ignores him, “We need to get anyone who shouldn’t be here out.”

“Please, somebody tell me something!” Scorpius yells, “I’ve lost Albus before, I’m not losing him again!”

“Scorpius, listen to Potter,” Draco says, voice shaking, “Take Astra and Cosmo and go back to their house. You should go too, Casimir.”

“No! No!” Scorpius yells again, “Not until someone starts telling me what is happening.”

“Okay, okay- “ Jonah steps in again, “your uncle is likely here somewhere on the grounds. But he, or someone, is tampering with the house’s magic. For all we know this could be planned, he could have accomplices here and-”

The candles in the sconces flicker and the group quiets looking around the room. Then a soft rumble rattles the bookshelves and a glass tumbler off the desk shattering onto the floor.

“How long until the unit arrives?” Harry asks Jonah quietly, wand at the ready.

“They should be apparating to the gates now.”

Ginny turns to Astra and Cosmo, “Go! Now to Iolanthe. You need to protect Cosmo. Lily is there.”

Astra’s fingers are tightly interwoven with her husband’s. She hugs Ginny tightly, but briefly, her blue eyes glancing worriedly from Draco to Scorpius. 

Draco nods at her, “It’s going to be okay.” 

Astra turns and runs down the corridor and out of the mansion, Scorpius’s cocker spaniel Honey in her arms, Cosmo running behind her.

 “Pearlsteen!’ A voice echoes around the hall followed by the call and response of many footsteps.

“In he-!” Jonah calls, but as the wall of study starts to rumble he raises his hands and shouts, “Out, out! Everyone out!” 

Within seconds, Harry, Ginny, Scorpius, Casimir, Draco and Jonah are shoved back into the corridor just as the wall of joinery collapses on itself and fills Draco’s study with dusty stone, books, and the clamor of the dozens of magical instruments some emitting small subsequent explosions.

Jonah coughs out dust, but quickly regains his composure to organize the team’s next steps, “Okay, well there’s our access point. Cosgrove and I will lead in. Ramirez and Hillstrop flank the group. Mattis and Singh follow behind. Suspect is likely to be combative and likely not alone. Proudfoot and Hornby, stay here and stay alert. We haven’t had time to search the property, who knows who else is here.” 

He takes a deep breath and looks at the assembled Potters and Malfoys, “I’m not going to tell you to leave, but I should. My job is to extract Albus Potter and take down any Wizarding United members as needed. If you follow the aurors into this dungeon we may not be able protect you. But I won’t stop you.”

Harry doesn’t need to confirm with Ginny to know that she will stay.  She grabs his hand in confirmation. Rather he exchanges looks with Draco and Scorpius, “Do you remember anything from your DADA classes?”

Draco scoffs, but Scorpius ignores his father and says, “Don’t tell Professor Shacklebolt, but you were always my favorite guest lecturer.”

Scorpius’s instincts are telling him to run, find Albus and don’t dare let anyone stop him. He’s not sure where this well of bravery stems from, but he takes a deep breath and slowly follows the aurors, wands aloft, down the steps and into the damp corridor of the manor’s dark underbelly. 

He’s never once been down here. His father had told him the stories when he was young about what had happened at the manor during the war. He’d wanted him to be prepared before he attended Hogwarts of all the dark and unsavory bits of their family history so he could sort out fact from fiction for himself.

Jonah holds his hand up gesturing the group to stop and then he and Nora step into the corridor and quickly, silently fling body-bind curses at the two men standing guard in the corridor. Scorpius hears the unceremonious thump of their bodies falling echo on the stone floor.

Jonah looks back over his shoulder as they approach the dungeon door, “Right. Let’s go.”

Nora steps forward and unlocks the dungeon door with a whispered, “ Alohomora” . 

She steps back allowing Jonah to push through the door and disarm and body-bind two men standing near the door, red light shooting from the tip of his wand.

“Well, now this is a party,” a voice drawls from the shadows of the dungeon that Scorpius quickly recognizes as his Uncle Theodore.

“Let Potter go, Nott. This could all be over quite quickly,” Jonah says, lowering his wand as Theodore steps towards him, eyes wild and shifty.

“You think I want this over quickly? That’s just plain wrong. I want this over justly.”

Draco flicks his wand towards the torches along the stone walls and the room alights. Scorpius glances around the room behind his uncle. There are a dozen men with the same indignant expression as his uncle, gazes cold and unforgiving. Finally, he sees Albus, hands and ankles bound. He looks exhausted and disheveled, his eyes barely open, but he manages to nod. 

Scorpius feels Ginny’s hand on the back of his arm, “He’s okay.”

He’s surprised when his father steps forward, pushing past Jonah at the front of the group, “You’ve played your cards poorly, Theo. Murdering Perrot. An explosion in Diagon Alley. Abducting Albus fucking Potter. As if the entire power of the ministry wasn’t going to come down on you?”

“Vogel went back on our deal. He said he wanted Wizarding United to help him overtake the influence of these people like the Pearlsteens and the Potters. But he wasn’t willing to do what it takes!”

“Vogel doesn’t care about you! All he wanted was to use you to eliminate his competition. Meanwhile, you are resorting to terrorist tactics because you want to believe in some alternate universe that doesn’t exist. That will never exist again! Do you understand how deluded you are?”

“All I want, all we want is what should be rightfully ours. Our lives were taken from us.”

Scorpius senses Harry and Ginny move forward behind him, but Draco steps in front of them.

“It’s over. What is the point of this? If you want Casimir to even have a chance at a future, at a life that means something then you need to stand down, Theo.”

Theodore focuses on his son standing behind the Potters, “Don’t you understand? I’m doing this for you, Casimir.”

Scorpius watches as he raises his wand. He’s not sure who casts the first spell, his father or his uncle, but within seconds the dungeon has devolved into a melee. Beams of orange, yellow, blue and red light stream from their wands, debris and bits of stone flying around the room as the spells bounce around the hard surfaces of the dungeon.

Scorpius throws himself to the ground as a Reducto spell flies over his head and he points his wand and screams “ Impedimenta!”

The attacker slows and Scorpius is able to scramble away and launch a disarming spell at the wizard, his wand flying across the dungeon.

“Cosgrove! Take Albus!” Jonah yells behind him and the young auror quickly runs towards the corner of the dungeon where Albus is being held. She manages to stun and bind the wizards standing guard over him and the rest of the Wizarding United members are too busy trying to fend off the aurors to notice.

Ginny grabs Scorpius off the floor and casts a shield charm around them, “Wizarding United is outmatched by the aurors. This will be over soon.”

They run towards Albus, doing their best to keep their shield charms in place. Albus’s breathing is labored and up close his left eye is swollen and bruised.

“It’s okay, Albus. You’re okay,” Ginny whispers, “Can you get him untied?”

“Not here, we need more time. We need to get him out.” Nora casts her eyes around the dungeon for the nearest exit. The door they came in on the other side of the dungeon is too far, but there is a small daylight window with iron bars above their heads.

“Stand back,” Nora says, “ Confringo! ”

The window blasts open just wide enough for them to shove a barely conscious Albus through.

“Ginny and Scorpius, you need to go too. Stay out there and protect him. I’m going to block the entrance behind us and then I’ll follow- “

But Nora trails off as the entire manor begins to shake, the tops of the spires falling several hundred meters and crashing into the gardens, leaded glass window panes shattering.

They cover their heads, Scorpius throwing himself across Albus’s body.

“I don’t understand, what’s going on?” Scorpius asks Nora.

“Old wizarding manors like this have strong protective charms that have been added to and compromised over generations. The homes start to absorb the magic, but when they get damaged it can be dangerous. The house will try to defend itself and expel whoever is jeopardizing it.”

“So the entire house will come down?” Scorpius asks, slightly in awe as he watches pieces of the only home he’s ever known crumble at random.

“Yes, we need to get everyone out before it does.”

Scorpius follows Nora back into the dungeon where it seems the aurors, Harry, Draco and Casimir have finally subdued the remaining members of Wizarding United. His Uncle Theo’s face is still full of hatred, but he and the others are sitting against the stone walls of the dungeon, arrested by the aurors. 

Harry runs to Scorpius as soon as he sees him, “Is Albus okay? And where is Ginny?”

“They’re together, they’re okay. Albus needs to see a healer, I think. But he’s okay.” 

From inside the dungeon, Scorpius can hear the faint crashes of the manor disintegrating outside. Nora runs to Draco where he is standing with Casimir and Jonah, “Jonah, Mr. Malfoy, the damage to the manor’s magical wards and protective charms are causing the house to crumble. We need to get out of here.”

“What do you mean-”  Draco asks. But there is no time to explain as the main entrance to the dungeon collapses and the aurors do their best to throw up shield charms against the falling chunks of stone and glass.

“Come on, we need to blast our way out of here,” Jonah says as he leads the auror unit towards the small opening that Nora had already created.

“Ginny! Albus! I need you to move further away!” he calls as the aurors line up and face the wall. He holds his hand up and waits to hear Ginny call back, “Okay!”

“On three,” Jonah says, “1, 2, 3!”

The blast sends Scorpius ricocheting back against his father who grabs him by the shoulders.

“Go, go!” The aurors usher Harry, Draco, Casimir and Scorpius through the opening first. 

Ginny has managed to finally untie Albus from his binds. He leans on his mum, sagging weakly against her. Harry runs over and hugs them tightly, “Thank Godric, I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you both.”

Draco approaches them slowly, “You’re all okay?”

Albus nods, his voice faint, “Yes, I think so.”

“We should get you to St. Mungo’s,” Scorpius says, reaching for Albus’s hand. Albus takes it gratefully and the Potters and Malfoys make their way across the lawn to outside of the manor’s wrought iron gates. 

From outside the gates it’s much easier to see how much damage has been done to the manor. The top floors have crumbled completely and it’s obvious to Scorpius that Malfoy Manor, the seat of the Malfoy family for centuries, is beyond repair.

“Come along,” Ginny says, “Stay with us. Astra and Cosmo are already at our place and there is plenty of room.”

Draco looks warily at Ginny and then Harry who gives an almost imperceptible nod, “Right, well, just until we figure out something more permanent tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Albus stirs slowly to the sound of furious whispering outside of his hospital room door. 

“I spoke to Roger this morning and he said Albus is fine, he’ll just likely be a bit sore for a couple of days.”

“There’s a crowd of press outside. We should ask Roger about letting us take the employee floo to get him home.”

“Do you think he’s hungry? I made scones, they’re a lovely cranberry orange. Hospital food is never good. Your kitchen was actually quite well stocked.”

“Well somebody other than my Dad and the elves should use the kitchen. Oh I brought him a change of clothes. Of course it was only what he had in his closet at Iolanthe. Did you know he has an iridescent three piece suit? Where on earth do you think Albus wore that? Certainly not to any courtroom.”

“He’s not that kind of lawyer, Lilybug. I don’t think we should all go in at once.”

“It’s nine, visiting hours have started. You’re welcome to go in now, but try not to wake him if he’s sleeping.”

Albus laughs softly to himself, but regrets it as he feels a sharp pain in his side. He pulls aside his robe to see a large bandage along his rib cage. Peeking beneath is a fresh, but healing gash as long as his hand. He vaguely remembers being hit with a stinging spell in the melee at Malfoy Manor.

He takes a deep breath. A ball of lead, heavy with the weight of his anxiety and failure sits in his stomach. He’d been away for nearly a decade, so desperate to prove himself and he managed to destroy it all in a matter of months. But now, at least, when everything has gone wrong he isn’t alone. 

The door opens and a crowd of faces peers in at him. James, Lily, his parents, and Scorpius, who is, as promised, carrying a basket of scones.

“How are you feeling?” Ginny asks, coming to his side. Scorpius sets the basket down on Albus’s bedside table and sits on Albus’s other side, reaching tentatively for him before setting his hands gently on Albus’s forearm. Albus smiles at him gratefully. 

“Been better, been worse,” Albus shrugs, “Are you all okay?”

His father holds up his bandaged hand, “The tip of my thumb had to be re-attached but that happened half a dozen times back in my auror days. Everyone else is okay. For all their terrorist ambitions, Wizarding United were poor duelers.”

James cocks his head taking in his younger brother, “You look a bit shit, but I’ve seen worse on the pitch. Apparently, being abducted by domestic terrorists still isn’t as dangerous as a League Cup match.”

Behind him, his wife Sophie walks in dressed in her healer robes and shakes her head, “Interesting measuring stick. Well, Roger said you should be able to go home today once your apothecary orders and discharge papers are ready. Just some various potions to counteract the after effects of any hexes. Though that scar across your ribcage is likely permanent.”

Ginny sits on the edge of his hospital bed and gently smooths an invisible wrinkle in the bedspread, “Al, it’s just occuring to me that you don’t even know what happened since you were given a dreamless sleep draught as soon as you were admitted. But there was an explosion in Diagon Alley. The Crown Royale hotel and a few other small shops were affected. Wizarding United has confessed to the attack.”

“Confessed,” Harry huffs, his brow furrowed deeply, “They were bragging about it. There were several casualties, it’s a bloody tragedy.”

Albus’s expression is stricken, “Lucy and Noah?”

“They’re okay,” Scorpius assures him, rubbing soft circles into the back of his hand.

“No, no. Casimir and I tried so hard-” Albus shakes his head, his voice breaking, “It’s all been for nothing.”

Albus’s guilt is palpable and Scorpius wants to reassure him somehow, but he can’t even think of where to begin.

“No, don’t do that. This was Wizarding United. There will be a full investigation, but they are the only ones to blame,” Harry places his hands on the edge of the bottom of the bed and presses firmly into the mattress as if to emphasize his point.

Albus presses his palms against his eyes, his breathing shallow. He wants to believe his father so very badly. But grief hangs over him heavily. Sebastien Perrot is dead, Malfoy Manor is nothing but rubble, and the Crown Royale too- how couldn’t he bear the blame?

“Come on, you need to eat something,” Ginny prods.

They pass around tea and scones and Albus does his best to chew and swallow. They are delicious, the crumb tender with a perfect balance of fragrant orange and tart cranberry. He can’t remember the last time he ate and he feels ashamed at daring to be hungry amidst this tragedy. 

Eventually James and Sophie head off to their quidditch pitch and hospital shift, respectively. Lily, Harry and Ginny head downstairs to the apothecary to pick up Albus’s potions leaving him and Scorpius alone.

Scorpius squeezes Albus’s hand, their fingers intertwined, “I wish I could stay with you. Maybe I should. But the restaurant opens in just two days. I should probably re-schedule-“

“No!” Albus interrupts him, “No, I’ve wrecked enough of your plans. Don’t delay because of me or any of this other bloody nonsense. Please.”

“It just seems so silly to have a restaurant opening when all of this has just happened.”

“No, Scor, we need it. We need your lovely restaurant and the happiness you bring to people now more than ever.”

Scorpius hesitates one last time and then kisses Albus softly on the forehead. He can see that Albus is overthinking, trying to plot his next move. 

“I’m so happy you’re safe.”

Albus reaches up, wincing as he does so, and pulls Scorpius’s face to his. He closes his eyes and kisses him, the soft, sweet pressure reminding Albus that perhaps he did one thing right this summer. 

When they arrive at Iolanthe House, the Potters' rambling farmhouse on the outskirts of Godric’s Hollow, his parents help settle him into his old bedroom. It is unchanged from his teenage years with walls of posters of rock bands and quidditch pennants, as well as bookshelves stuffed full of biographies, both magical and muggle, stories of the important people and the important things they had done. 

Albus sighs and stares at the ceiling grateful to the potion-induced drowsiness for calming his racing thoughts. 

Warm golden light streams in through his windows, it’s late afternoon when Albus wakes again and the entire farm is bathed in late summer sun. Despite it all he’s hungry and he pads into the kitchen not bothering to change his cashmere pajama pants or his old Gryffindor jumper he’d found in the bottom of his armoire. 

His father is bustling around the kitchen in tandem with their elf Marnie as they prepare tea. Albus swipes a few slices of capsicum off the cutting board, “What are we having?”

“Kadai chicken, seems a bit ambitious,” a familiar voice drawls behind him.

He turns and swallows thickly, when he sees Draco Malfoy sitting at the old battered kitchen table with Astra, Lily and his mum.

“Merlin, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. I thought you knew we were staying here,” Astra laughs.

Albus nods, “Right, I just hadn’t expected-” He trails off.

Draco sips his wine, “I promise you, literally no one has.”

Ginny snorts, but says nothing.

Albus sighs, “Draco, Astra, I’m- I’m sorry, I mean I never imagined-”

“That my brother-in-law Theodore would be a terrorist,” Draco says, pale brows raised. He swirls the wine in his glass and doesn’t look up, “Well, that makes one of us then.”

“We’re okay,” Astra reassures him with a soft smile.

“It’s just a house, just things,” Draco confirms.

“Where’s Cosmo?”

“At the restaurant with Scorpius. They’re both panicking about the opening, but I can’t imagine they could be any more prepared.”

“Come on, come down to the cellar with me,” Harry says, “I think we’ll need a couple more bottles of wine for dinner.”

Draco pointedly drains his glass and clinks it on the table. Ginny rolls her eyes and promptly refills their glasses from the open bottle on the table.

Albus follows his father down the narrow steps off the kitchen and into the cellar. Harry lights all the sconces on the wall with a wave of his hand.

“A chenin blanc perhaps? It doesn’t matter much, Malfoy will criticize whatever I choose,” Harry mumbles mostly to himself as he examines the shelves full of bottles of jewel-toned reds and crisp whites.

“I’m sorry for the unexpected houseguests. I know you don’t get on. For good reason, of course,” Albus replies sheepishly.

Harry sighs and rests his back against the shelves facing his son, “I wanted to bring you down here to tell you something I’ve only ever shared with your mum.”

Albus fidgets nervously, but leans against the sandstone wall opposite his father, his fingertips grounding him in the rough surface of the wall. 

“Shortly before Lily was born, I was on a mission in Scandinavia. I’d been working on a case, hunting down this magical creature breeder with a gruesome reputation. We heard rumors that he abused his wife as well. I’d finally tracked him near Gothenburg when he told me he’d had a deal gone sour with a serial murderer that had been on the DMLE’s Most Wanted List for nearly four years without many clues. Now he was a nasty fellow, his signature was pulling out the eyeballs of his victims by hand and then sending them to the DMLE. But the evidence was compelling. The breeder said he knew where to find the serial and that he was going to kill him. I don’t think he’d ever killed another person before, but it certainly wasn’t outside of his scope.”

He removes his glasses, massaging his brow bone and looks up at Albus again with tired eyes.

“So, I let him go. And he did it- he killed him. The murders stopped and women living in the magical communities in the North were finally safe for the first time in years. But three weeks later the breeder’s wife ended up at St. Mungo’s. She’s alright now, and we managed to bring him in on an array of charges. He’s been in Azkaban since. But, I don’t know what I would have done- I think about it sometimes wondering what would have happened if I made a different choice. I could have changed something, done something else.” 

Harry steps forward and places his hands on Albus’s shoulders, their matching green gazes and messy hair compelling Albus to see his future. “Albus, you and I are so alike. I know it hasn’t always seemed as though we see eye to eye. But I’m proud of you. I don’t say it often enough.  What happened in Diagon Alley, what happened at Malfoy Manor- that wasn’t you. That wasn’t your fault. I mean that. 

There is always going to be a greater good, there is always going to be a bigger cause. And you’re going to make the wrong choice sometimes even if you have the best of intentions. But you are not your mistakes. Not if you learn from them.”

Albus bites his lip, “I tried so hard. All I did was get Sebastien killed and hurt countless others.“

“All you can do is keep trying. We need people who believe they can make the world a better place. None of this matters if you give up.”

Scorpius tiptoes into Albus’s bedroom late that night, pausing in the doorway to watch Albus sleep. He knows Albus is feeling lost and anxious, and he can feel him withdrawing. A memory comes to him as he slips into the sheets beside him.

The tears fell on the page of his textbook hard and fast. Scorpius is discovering that his grief is like that. One moment it is background noise, the wireless playing an indistinct tune at the cafe, and the next moment it is cymbals crashing, raucous noise that demands attention. 

He had found an empty classroom where he is supposed to be memorizing Gamp’s Law for Elemental Transfiguration. The library is too crowded, too full of students with a mum at home. Or maybe not. He knows that he is certainly not the first Hogwarts student with a dead mum and perhaps it will be fine after all. Because he’s fine waking up in the morning, putting on his uniform, eating his porridge, going to class until he remembers that his mother is dead, gone, never to be seen or heard from again. 

What will he do when he goes home for Christmas in just four days and remembers the last time he was there was after his mum’s funeral. His cousin Astra had clung to him, pale and shaking like a leaf. His father had gone catatonic, retreated to bed and didn’t even say goodbye before they flooed back to school.

Three months of grief behind him, but it seemed like an endless spiraling tunnel of grief ahead of him. He runs his hands over his face and lets the tears fall, the sobs wracking his body. Will it ever be over?

The door creaks open softly, “Are you okay?” a familiar voice asks softly. Scorpius doesn’t look up.

“Oh, Scorpius, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” a hand reaches out tentatively and Scorpius would know Albus’s touch anywhere. How could he possibly forget?

“I’m sorry this has happened to you. I know it’s not fair. She was lovely, just like you,” Albus says gently. 

Scorpius wipes the tears and embarrassing snot from his face. He doesn’t deserve Albus’s kindness. He hasn’t spoken to him in months. He didn’t reply to any of Albus’s letters the last couple weeks of summer, he didn’t return his two-way calls. All term he’d been dodging him, which had been surprisingly difficult because Albus was popular, handsome, and beloved by his fellow students and professors. And yet he knows that Albus has been asking after him. Astra tells him that he begs her to tell him why Scorpius has cut him off.

He stands suddenly, gathers his books and shakes off Albus’s hand. Albus steps back, crestfallen, but he doesn’t look away from Scorpius as he says “I love you.”

That must be that Gryffindor courage everyone always talked about. Scorpius certainly didn’t have the bravery to say it back, the strength to say he was sorry, or ask for Albus not to leave him. Instead he pushes past Albus and hurries back to his dormitory.

Albus turns over and sleepily takes in Scorpius’s warm presence and tired eyes.

“I missed you,” Albus whispers against his cheek in the dark.

“I missed you too. I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“Some would argue it’s actually quite early. Things okay?”

“Yes, I just wanted to make sure I had time to think through every possible detail before I left.”

“You’re remarkable. You know that, right?”

Scorpius smiles, “You make me think so.”

Albus shakes his head, “No, you should know so.”

Scorpius kisses Albus’s forehead and Albus sighs heavily, curling his lankier body inwards to Scorpius’s warm solidness. 

“Are you alright?” Scorpius asks, mumbling into his thick, black hair.

Albus doesn’t answer while he traces small circles on Scorpius’s shoulder. 

Scorpius wants to ask again, but Albus whispers against his skin, “No, but I will be.”

The following evening, Scorpius and his staff move through the kitchen, a tightly choreographed dance of chopping, sautéing, frying, and steaming. His restaurant is now open and while he feels as though he hasn’t had a moment to stop and breathe or even think about all the ways his life has changed in the last week, he’s also more confident than he’s ever been.

The evening had a solemn start, with Noah and the rest of the Pearlsteen family thanking the guests for attending their restaurant, a bright spot amidst days of tragedy for Magical Britain.

Draco had tried to avoid attending the opening, but Ginny had convinced him that the Potters and Malfoys should present a united front for Scorpius, Cosmo, and the Pearlsteens too. 

And she had been right. When the Potters, Draco and Astra arrived, the crowd of reporters and onlookers outside the hotel was incongruously warm and compassionate. Noah spoke sincerely to the press about the emotional and physical toll of the past week on the safety of magical communities throughout the UK, the resilience of the Pearlsteen International employees and guests of their many properties around the world. 

Albus, Lily, James and their parents posed for pictures and reiterated their excitement for the evening and their hope that this highly anticipated restaurant opening would presage the opening of the Diagon Alley expansion later that year. 

With a politician’s aplomb, Albus answered questions about his abduction and the attack on Malfoy Manor without saying much of anything. The platitudes roll off his tongue. ‘Grateful to be alive’. ‘Happy to be supporting Scorpius and Noah tonight.’ ‘Confident in the ministry to apprehend those at fault.’ ‘Yes, I believe Magical Britain is safe.’ 

Once inside, his chest swells with pride as the restaurant critics, select press, socialites and tastemakers enjoy the evening. The food is as sumptuous as ever, the atmosphere calm and happy as if all of the patrons are breathing a collective sigh of relief to be doing something as normal as eating together at a new restaurant. In the end, he watches Scorpius accept his well-deserved accolades. 

He wants to see Scorpius achieve his dreams, every single last one of them. And he wants to be by his side when he does. But the grief is there again, and he has this sinking feeling in his stomach that maybe he doesn’t deserve to be.

The weekend passes quickly for Scorpius and unbearably slow for Albus. 

But there are things Albus remembers that he enjoys about being home, not just in England, or Godric’s Hollow, but here in Iolanthe House. Long walks through the orchard and down to the coastal bluff at the edge of their acreage. Helping the elves muck the stalls of the horses in the morning. His father’s cooking. His mum’s dancing with his Aunt Luna to the wireless after drinks on the terrace. His many cousins, aunts and uncles stopping by unannounced and uninvited to borrow that book, or have a chinwag about so-and-so’s love life, or pick up that potion ingredient. It is all so very mundane and lovely.   

And Albus misses Scorpius who is spending eighteen hour days at the restaurant, barely enough time to shower and pour himself into bed beside him at the end of the night. He’s envious of Scorpius’s purpose-filled life while his own future dwells in uncertainty. 

When the following Monday dawns upon them, Albus turns off the alarm and wakes a sleeping Scorpius as slowly as possible. He’s obsessed with the way the linen curtains cast wavy shadows across Scorpius’s back, tracing the shape with his tongue. He craves the feeling of Scorpius beneath his hands, the way his palms and fingers know how to grasp him, chasing his pleasure through the friction. And he knows they should slow down and he should tell Scorpius that they need to talk about all the ways that Albus has screwed up and that he won’t drag Scorpius down with him. But those moments of bliss quell his anxieties and he’ll do anything to stay in their haze of happiness. 

A few hours later Casimir storms through the foyer of Iolanthe House and into the parlor where Albus is having an afternoon cup of tea and plate of biscuits.

He looks over Albus, taking in his jeans and old jumper with a hole at the hem, “You smell like a barn. Is this what you do in your off time? Here I thought it was all studying up in legal libraries whilst wearing elbow patched jackets. Why weren’t you at work today?” Casimir demands.

Albus places his teacup back on its saucer with a soft clink, “Good morning to you as well. Because I resigned. I don’t work there anymore.”

Casimir waves him away, “It was the heat of the moment.”

Albus snorts, “That’s not the appropriate use of that phrase.”

Casimir looks impatiently at Albus, “Bones says she came by and that she and the minister want you to come back.”

“She did. But, I’m the last thing she or the minister needs.” 

“You’re being dramatic. It’s been a week and Magical Britain still stands.”

“I’ve ruined everything. My reputation. My family’s reputation.”

“Bollocks, the Potters are still the crème de la crème of magical society. Even you won’t manage to undo your family’s legacy, and despite everything, you’re more popular than ever. Besides,” Casimir says, throwing his hands up in the air, “my father is now a convicted domestic terrorist serving a life sentence in Azkaban and I still showed up at the office. You want to talk about a fucking legacy, Scorpius’s father is the youngest confirmed Death Eater, and he’s just opened the hottest restaurant in town.”

Casimir paces the length of the room and then pulls the newspaper from the pocket of his robes. The headlines on the front page are all about the Diagon Alley explosion, memorials to those who had died and Albus’s abduction. “Between the attack on Diagon Alley and your abduction, your so-called scandal hardly rates on the back pages of the papers.” 

He sits down in the chair opposite, looking seriously at Albus before reaching over and taking one of Albus’s biscuits, shaking it pointedly at Albus before taking a bite, “There is work to be done and as much as it pains me to say it, you’re good at it. For whatever it’s worth, Albus, our lives, our ambitions have been intertwined for the last fifteen years. I think I have all the right in the world to say that for once in your life, don’t be an insufferable, self-righteous prick.”

Despite himself, Albus nods, “Careful, Casimir, someone is going to suspect we’re friends.”

But Albus knows that Casimir, his father, Scorpius- they’re all right. He could never have predicted the summer unfolding as it had, but now is hardly the time to give up. 

Albus sighs, “I think I just need a bit more time. I need-, I need to figure out if I can do any of this and not hate myself at the end of the day.”

“Was that Casimir Nott leaving just now?” Ginny asks Albus, joining him in the kitchen with a stack of papers in hand, “I don’t think I’ve seen him since your Hogwarts Leaving Feast.”

“It was. He wants me to go back to work at the DIMC.”

“Oh? And is that what you want?”

Albus contemplates his mother’s question as he washes up his teacup, “I want to do what’s right.”

“Well, is that all then?” Ginny replies dryly as she ruffles her son’s thick black hair.

“I know,” Albus concedes, “And you and Dad have always carried on with things despite everything you’ve been through.”

“We’re not comparing misfortunes, that’s a miserable game your father will certainly win.”

Albus smiles wryly, “Can’t be The Chosen One without a tragic backstory.”

Ginny laughs, “I’ve got some meetings down at the foundation office. Why don’t you come with? I have a handful of contracts to finish up with the bands playing at the festival next week. I could use your eye.”

“Really?” Albus asks, brightening at the idea of getting back to work, any work.

Ginny smiles sardonically at her son, “You’re going to actually enjoy this bit.”

And Albus does enjoy it, as they spend the next few days hammering out the details with the bands’ representatives on their arrivals, set lists and dressing room demands. He helps his mum all with organizing the million little details from event staff coordination to finalizing the timings of deliveries and soundchecks. It is no small feat, the Potter Family Foundation Festival is their largest fundraising event of the year. 

“I can’t believe you got confirmation from all five members of The Weird Sisters’ management, we’ve been trying to firm up their travel arrangements for weeks,” one of the staffers remarks at the end of the week.

“I simply reminded their managers that their contractual obligation states that in no uncertain terms are they allowed to travel to Fawlcrest Hall less than two hours before the start of the event and in doing so would be forced to pay twice all labor and materials costs associated with their set directly to the foundation. Gabrielle is a genius by the way for adding that clause.”

Ginny pats her son on the shoulder as they make their way to the floo at the end of the day, “Yes, but I’ll have you know we’ve never had someone around to enforce these clauses before. Actually, we’re going to be supporting the reconstruction of the small businesses damaged last week in Diagon Alley, and we’re still working with Pearlsteen International on finalizing the application process for the properties that are part of the expansion. Not to mention James and Sophie want expand the Harlow fellowship at St. Mungo’s, but that always requires working with the hospital’s legal counsel.”

Albus shrugs, “I’d be happy to help any way I can.”

“What do you say about coming to work at the foundation? We’ve needed a proper Lead Counsel for years. Gabrielle doesn’t always have time to get away from the firm.”

His parents’ friend and lawyer Gabrielle Delacour-Wood is a partner at Delacour, Smythson, and Hardwick, one of the largest private law firms in Magical Britain. Albus had spent time at the busy firm as a summer clerk in the New York and Paris offices back in law school. She occasionally handled contracts for the Potter Family Foundation, but his mum was right that with the foundation continuing to grow they needed full-time legal counsel. But Albus had never considered it. The foundation did so much good for so many people. Maybe Albus could still make a difference without following the career path that he always thought he wanted.

Finally, Scorpius has his first day off in two weeks and he cannot wait to get Albus alone, in the daylight, where they can finally breathe and talk.

The two of them walk hand in hand following the paw prints of the Potters’ ancient labrador Barnacle, and Honey, Scorpius’s cocker spaniel. 

Scorpius smiles brilliantly at Albus, the late summer sun lending him a soft warm glow that Albus wants to sink himself into.

“So, how many days a week am I allowed to eat at the restaurant without taking a seat from an actual customer?”

“You’re allowed to eat anytime at the staff table in the kitchen. Of course it might be a bit odd if you went tonight on my day off.”

“Oh no, I think my dad is going to rope you into helping him experiment with a tagine. So perhaps not a night off, after all?”

“Least I could do given how generous your family has been, letting us all stay here.”

The Malfoys had not expected to be at Iolanthe House for more than a couple of days, but amidst the auror investigation and insurance claims process for Malfoy Manor, finding another home hadn’t been a priority. Noah had offered them a suite at the Sovereign Hotel in Hogsmeade, but with the public still clamoring for details about the tangled web of scandal engulfing the Potter, Malfoy, and Nott families, Draco had agreed that Iolanthe was a safer place to stay.

“I haven’t spent this much time around my family in a decade. I can’t even imagine how it must be for our fathers,” Albus sighs.

“Are you alright?”

“I am, of course I am. I just- I’m so proud of you, Scor.”

“I know. I hope you know all of this never would have happened without you.”

“Don’t say that, I didn’t do anything.”

“Albus, I told you. You’ve been inspiring me since we were fifteen years old. I know you feel lost right now, but Al, it doesn’t matter what you do next because I know you’re going to smash it.

“We were talking about you,” Albus says, pulling Scorpius in close and running his hands up and down his torso.

But Scorpius can see the moment when Albus’s green eyes darken again. As much as he’s gently prodded he can feel Albus sinking back into his guilt and grief.

Albus’s hands grip him tighter, “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking at all.”

“No,” Scorpius whispers against his lips and suddenly the heat is back between him and Scorpius cannot remember what he is supposed to be speaking to Albus about because words mean nothing when his hands are gripping Albus’s arse and Albus’s lips are trailing kisses along his neck that make his pulse soar and heart beat faster.

Scorpius grabs Albus’s hand pulling him back towards the house, and neither one of them can resist pausing against the garden house to kiss, and grasp, and want more along the way.

Somehow they stumble back inside and up the stairs to Albus’s bedroom without being seen and Scorpius wastes no time in pressing Albus’s back against the closed doors. He needs Albus now. He needs this raw desire to be fulfilled. He needs to be breathlessly consumed by him.

Scorpius’s hands slip under the hem of Albus’s shirt, fingertips sliding over his torso in a frenzied attempt to posses Albus’s entire body at once. Albus moans sweetly as Scorpius’s teeth graze his collarbones.

But it is just as Scorpius reaches for Albus’s trousers that Albus hesitates, pushing Scorpius gently away, “No, no. We can’t do this, Scorpius, not until you know all the things I’ve done.”

Scorpius’s thoughts are still clouded with lust and he has no idea what Albus is talking about, “Then tell me.”

Albus shakes his head, still breathing heavily, “You won’t want me once you know.”

“How could you say that?” Scorpius takes a deep breath to calm himself, “Tell me everything, and then let me decide whether or not I still want you. Don’t decide for me.”

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just- I’m trying to tell you that you should want more than this. More than me!” Albus is pleading now as if that will somehow change Scorpius’s mind. 

“I love you Albus, I’ve never stopped loving you. I don’t care about your job or politics, I don’t care about any of that.”

“That is me, Scor. That’s all that I am.”

“No! No, of course it’s not. You didn’t know any of this was going to happen, you had good intentions.”

“Yes it is! What good are intentions if these are the consequences? Nobody made me do the things that I’ve done. I know it wasn’t all my fault, but I did what I did because I wanted to win! Don’t you get it, I can’t promise I’ll never do it again. I should have done more to stop all of this and I didn’t. You should want more.”

Scorpius clenches his fists in frustration, “Stop telling me what I should want, when all I want is you! All I've ever wanted was you. I’ve walked away from you once and I’m not leaving again.

He takes a deep breath and looks up to the ceiling timbers and then back again at Albus, begging for the courage to finally say what he should have said a decade ago, “I know you, Albus. I know you are clever, and passionate, and ambitious, and funny. I know your flaws and I know your heart. I know you kiss me in a way that I haven’t stopped thinking about for the last ten years and I’ll never, ever forget. I don’t need to be convinced to love you. I’m already there. So stop trying to convince me otherwise. I always have and I always will. All I need to know is if you love me too.”

Finally, Albus looks at him, his expression soft and hopeful, and Scorpius steps forward closing the gap between them again, “I’m not going to beg you to choose me, but I’m not leaving until you tell me you don’t love me.”

Albus sighs pressing his hands to his chest, “Oh Scorpius, I’ll never be able to tell you that I don’t love you”

Scorpius presses his forehead against Albus’s. “That didn’t count. You’re going to have to say it,” he whispers, a soft smile dancing on his lips

Albus reaches forward, running his hands through Scorpius’s soft blond hair, feeling the comforting warmth of where their bodies are pressed together.

“I love you, Scorpius.”

He can’t stop himself from laughing as he leans into Scorpius’s body.

Scorpius holds him tight, laughing now as well, “I love you.”

A thump comes from the other side of the door and suddenly Scorpius and Albus are laughing hysterically, devolving into a puddle of happiness on the floor.

“You can open the door,” Albus calls.

Lily and Astra peak around the door first and shriek with happiness. Lily smiles brightly, “We can give you two some privacy.”

“Not bloody likely. I swear this family is nosy as a niffler,” Albus whispers against Scorpius’s lips.

Another season has come to an end. The Potter Family Foundation Festival held each year at Fawlcrest Hall, an old gothic manor owned by the illustrious Biltmore-Fawleys is underway. In addition to being an important event for the foundation, it is also the most coveted invitation of summer. The event is a strictly no press allowed music festival with some of the most famous bands of the wizarding world. The fashion is always a little cooler, the behavior a little wilder than the stuffy ballrooms of the early weeks of the season. The glittering attendees wear their most fanciful outfits, their most lavish jewels, and dance with abandon.

Lily, Casimir, Astra and Cosmo dance under the stars in shimmering silk and candy-colored chiffon while Scorpius and Albus sip their drinks watching from the edge of the dance floor. They laugh as Lily shakes her hips and twirls while Casimir frantically tries to keep up with a slightly stunned look on his face.

“She’s going to eat him alive,” Albus whispers to Scorpius over the top of his champagne coupe.

Scorpius cocks his head, “I think he wants to be eaten.”

Astra jumps with joy, looking behind Albus and Scorpius, “Oh my bloody bowtruckle, this is the mystery man? Delilah and Hugo, I can’t believe it!”

Scorpius and Albus turn to see Albus’s cousin Hugo Weasley holding hands with Delilah Longbottom and looking every bit the definition of a young couple in love.

Scorpius raises his glass to them and then exchanges a look with Albus who rolls his eyes. 

“What was that about?” Hugo asks.

Albus laughs while Scorpius says, “You’re just all so very heterosexual.”

“Hey!” Lily says indignantly, “I had a thing with a couple girls during fifth year.” 

James shrugs, “It was boarding school, everyone had a thing with a couple girls during fifth year.” 

 “In your case I think it was more than a couple,” Sophie teases.

Astra waves off the ridiculous Potters. “I don’t understand. Why all the secrecy? Please tell us everything.”

“We know you all would be over the moon for us. But with how close our families are, we just wanted to see if this was real without the pressure of making it work and disappointing you all.”

Hugo slips his hand around Delilah’s waist pulling her into his side and kissing her lightly before looking back at the others, “Don’t be cross with us.”

Lily shakes her head, “No, of course not. We’d never be.” She hugs them tightly. 

Taking a break from dancing they meet up with Noah, Lucy, and a reluctant Draco who are mid-conversation. 

“Apparently his last donation to the foundation bounced because his wife finally found out about the second family in Stockholm and drained their vault. Personally, I think she’s known for years, but she just didn’t care because it was basically four months of the year that it was guaranteed she didn’t have to shag him,” Lucy says conspiratorially, having just returned from the loo with a prime piece of gossip.

Noah kisses her on the forehead and places a hand on her still flat tummy, “This baby is going to come out spilling the tea to every healer at St. Mungo’s.”

Lucy smiles knowing that her husband is complimenting her, “But anyway, Draco, apparently he was quite the collector of antiquities and her lawyer is forcing him to sell it all. You might be able to replace what couldn’t be salvaged at the manor.”

As they approach their table Draco hesitates unsure of where to sit. Across the table, Rose looks at her father pointedly and gestures to the empty chair on his right.

“Um, this is free,” Ron mumbles into his beer. Draco sits awkwardly nodding in thanks.

Ron takes a sip and gestures to the stage, “These blokes aren’t bad, but I’m ready for the classics. Harry and Ginny have the Weird Sisters going on in an hour.”

Draco nods, “Impressive.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do? Rebuild at the manor?” Hermione asks from Ron’s other side.

Draco shakes his head, “No, I doubt it. I’m thinking of donating the land to the foundation. It’s time for the Malfoys to move on. Perhaps I’ll move to the coast. Astra and Cosmo found a place in Devon not too far from Godric’s Hollow.”

Scorpius smiles at his father, “I think that’s a good idea.”

“The coast? Really?” Ron asks, brows raised in surprise.

“Is that so surprising?” Scorpius can tell his father is trying to keep the defensiveness out of his tone.

Ron shrugs, “You just seem a bit more indoors-y is all.”

“Where are you moving to?” James asks from across the table, pulling out a chair for Sophie before sitting himself.

“Er, the Southern coast.”

“Brilliant! Come to Cornwall. The magical neighborhoods are booming. Our estate agent was great. He’s a true local. I’ll give him your information.”

Draco’s eyes widen in alarm, “Oh that’s not really necessary- “

“No bother at all! You’re practically family,” James says, raising his glass to Albus and Scorpius.

The color drains from Draco’s face. He really is not all sure how the Weasley-Potters became so thoroughly entrenched in his life. 

Scorpius snickers and squeezes Albus’s hand beneath the table. Albus leans in and kisses him softly on the cheek.

“Come on, I love this song,” Albus leads Scorpius to the middle of the dancefloor and attempts to move his hips along to the beat of an uptempo song from The Crucibles, feeling slightly ridiculous, but smiling widely.

“Are you having fun?” Scorpius laughs, sliding his arm around Albus’s back, his touch familiar and comforting. Albus cannot quite believe he lived for so long without it.

He nods, “It’s not fair that you’re so much better than me at dancing. All I can manage is some half decent ballroom routines for muddling through society functions without stepping on toes.”

“Dancing is more than just waltzing in the name of diplomacy. Maybe dance lessons are in your future.” 

Albus rakes his hand through Scorpius’s soft blond hair and Scorpius’s eyes flutter close with pleasure as Albus’s other hand moves to his hip, pulling him close.

Soon the leaves will change, the weather will cool and the days will shorten. And Albus Severus Potter will have to decide what he is going to do with the rest of his life. But tonight, he’ll dance with Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. 

He presses his lips to Scorpius’s, kissing him softly through his smile, “I don’t know what the future holds. All I know is that I want to spend it with you.”