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Scorpius is, Albus thinks, the most beautiful person in the entire world. It’s not necessarily a new thought, but it’s never been as concrete as it is now, going into their fifth year. The train ride is going to be quite agonizing, Albus doesn’t know how he’s ever been able to stand being so close to Scorpius, who has always been beautiful. So, the fact of him being beautiful isn’t new either.
It’s just harder to bear now, and they’ve only been together for four minutes. Scorpius hugged him, because that is something they do, and he smelled so good that Albus nearly fainted. Mr. Malfoy (“Call me Draco”) shook Mum’s hand, and Dad and Mr. Malfoy stared stonily at each other for a few seconds. James ruffled Scorpius’ (long, shiny, gorgeous) hair and Lily blushed at him when he greeted her. Albus can’t blame her; Scorpius has this habit of calling people “darling” and “love” and giving them his full, undivided attention. Apparently, he gets both of those habits from his mother.
His full attention, like it normally is, is focused solely on Albus right now. Which used to be fine! It was fine before Albus was slapped in the face with just how pretty he is. Albus never realized how close he stands, either, or how he ducks his head to look at Albus through his eyelashes, or how – for Merlin’s sake – how good he smells.
James snickers from somewhere behind him. Albus throws an elbow and James catches it with his ribs. The retaliating slap to the back of the head is sharp, and righteous fury rises in Albus’ chest before –
“Oh, are you alright?” Scorpius presses his fingers to the spot that James hit.
“Uh – um,” Albus says intelligently.
James snickers again. Someone had to have hexed Albus, because his face genuinely feels like it’s on fire.
“Yeah!” He says, too loudly, when Scorpius gets that concerned wrinkle in his nose. “Yes. I’m fine, thank you.”
“You look warm,” he says, and presses the back of his hand to Albus’ forehead.
His hands are blessedly cold due to his horrible blood circulation (it gets pretty bad in the winter, when the Slytherin dorms drop in temperature and they never see the sun. Sometimes the tips of his fingers go angry red and then purple and then white, and Albus gets to – has to hold them until they’re warmer again. Sometimes that doesn’t work and they have to run Scorpius’ hands under scalding water until he can move them again) and Albus tries not to lean into the touch. Based on the mildly disgusted look Lily gives him, he’s not the most successful.
“I’m okay,” he says softly.
Scorpius’s concerned nose wrinkle doesn’t go away, but he does stop touching Albus. Simultaneous win and loss for Albus. The train whistle blows, and Scorpius steps away from him to say goodbye to Mr. Malfoy, who hugs his son tightly. Albus watches Scorpius’ feet dangle off the ground, and tries to ignore the way he hides his face in his father’s shoulder, tucked away from the chaos and noise of the platform for just a second.
Mum’s hand on his shoulder is a welcome anchor in the sea of emotions that just crashed into him. He turns to face her, realizes he’s taller than her, and tears up very suddenly. She reaches up to pull him to her, and normally he hates when people hug him without asking, but it’s his mum, and she knows him better than anyone else in the world – even Scorpius. He hides his face in the crook of her neck and his tears don’t fall.
“I love you,” she says as she pulls back to cup his face. “My sweet boy,” she whispers, then, at a regular volume. “Have fun, be safe, make better choices.”
His face flushes. She winks at him. He rolls his eyes, but allows it, because she’s right. Dad claps a hand onto his shoulder. They’re still awkward, the two of them. They still don’t really know how to talk to each other, but at least they do talk to each other now. Dad’s weird and annoying, but he’s still Albus’ dad, and, despite everything, Albus is really gonna miss him.
He hugs his dad, who still looks shocked when they separate. Dad opens his mouth, but before he can speak –
“Don’t.” Albus says.
Dad puts his hands up in surrender.
“Love you, see you at Christmas,” Albus says quickly.
He lets Scorpius take his arm and lets James throw an arm around his shoulder, mirroring Lily on James’ other side, and the four of them rush to the train.
“I love you, too!” His dad yells, and Albus sends a brief grin over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Dad before the sea of Hogwarts robes obscures him.
James ruffles their hair and pats Scorpius’ cheek – they’re both casually touchy in a way Albus doesn’t understand and will never be – and kisses Lily’s head before he splits to find his friends. Lily hugs Albus and gives Scorpius a weird side-hug that Albus will certainly give her shit for later before she leaves as well.
Then it’s just Scorpius and Albus. Like it usually is. Albus swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. They find their compartment and settle in for the long ride. Scorpius has a muggle novel, something thick with a simple cover, and Albus has his sketchbook. The pages are filled with animals, mostly, but also some people. He’s not great at portraits, but he likes to practice when he can.
There are a few quick sketches of professors and peers from the last school year, and there are probably hundreds of Scorpius. Him lounging on his bed in the dorm, him at a table at the library, him at the Great Hall, side profiles and head-ons and sketches of his hands. It’s embarrassing, sickeningly so, and Albus is about to fill another page with him.
Honestly, Albus can’t be blamed! He’s right there and so pretty and so expressive – Albus plays a guessing game when he watches Scorpius read: based on Scorpius’ face, what’s happening in the novel? – so it’d be worse if Albus didn’t draw him. He settles in to sketch, folding his knees up to hide the pages from Scorpius, who remains entirely oblivious, caught up entirely in the book he’s reading.
They sketch and read in a warm, comfortable silence, and Albus is allowed to stare openly at Scorpius because he isn’t paying any attention to Albus, completely enraptured in his book. Albus watches the way he chews on the skin around his thumb, and the way his posture slowly sinks into something more casual, then something more intimate. He hunches down, nose truly stuck into his book, as he gets more and more invested, totally in his own world.
Albus likes watching Scorpius when no one else is around, and he’s not worried about what people think of him or how he’s being perceived. Albus likes that he doesn’t count as other people around Scorpius.
Their reverie is interrupted with James’ arrival.
“Merlin’s sake, James!” Albus groans, with all the self-important anger of a younger brother. “We just spent the whole summer together.”
“Untrue,” James says, kicking his feet up onto Albus’ lap and slinging his arm across Scorpius’ shoulders. “You spent way more time with Scorpius than you did with me.”
Albus, who has no defense to this, flushes a furious red and opens his mouth to retaliate, likely with a low blow about James’ horrible pre-school year haircut or his general unkempt appearance, but Scorpius cuts him off.
“Not that we don’t love to hang out with you,” he starts, dog-earing his page and closing his book. “But we did just say goodbye and such.”
“That was ages ago!”
It was not ages ago, it was approximately an hour and a half ago. Albus informs James of this and receives a stuck-out-tongue in response. Childish.
“Anyways, I’m bored,” James says. “My mates are boring the shit out of me and I needed to stretch my legs.”
Albus narrows his eyes.
“Honest!” James cries, leaning forward and pulling Scorpius with him. “I thought I was about to lose it!”
Albus rolls his eyes and opens his sketchbook back up. As annoying as James is, he makes for very good life-drawing practice. He’s very dynamic. Plus, James clearly wants to say more, and Albus, as James’ younger brother, is especially knowledgeable about what makes James tick. James, who can’t stay still and falls frequent victim to understimulation, hates silence.
“Plus –” Scorpius jumps and politely closes his book again. “– I never get to actually see you at school, so, when you think about it, this is the last time we’ll get to hang out for a while!”
Albus hums, noncommittal, and frowns at page-James’ hand. It looks all funny.
“You’re my friends, you know.”
At this, Albus looks up, face suddenly warm. Scorpius is beaming, and James is staring at Albus. He fiddles with the collar of Scorpius’ jumper.
“Okay,” Albus says. “Whatever.”
James smiles, and Scorpius’ own smile softens, a little proud, and Albus feels like he’s done something right.
-
James doesn’t end up leaving them alone on the train ride. Lily pops by a couple of times, to say hello, to tease James and Albus for something or another, to steal sweets from Scorpius (though, “It’s not stealing,” Scorpius is quick to remind him, “I get them to share”).
The carriage ride is fine. The thestrals are weird, and Albus thinks really hard about not thinking about them. Scorpius holds his hand, cold fingers tangled with his, and Albus is reminded that Scorpius has been able to see them for a while now.
“They are quite pretty,” Albus mutters to him as they walk up the path to the Great Hall.
“Aren’t they?” Scorpius says, still holding onto Albus’ hand. “I always thought so.”
“I remember.”
Scorpius looks at him, nose-wrinkle back and a crooked smile on his face. Albus raises an eyebrow, ignores a near elbow to the face from a stranger that seemed genuinely accidental. Scorpius shakes his head, that pleased, crooked little grin on his face, and hums a bit.
They sing and eat and sort, and Albus realizes, slowly and comfortably over dessert, that he is in love with Scorpius. Naturally, he plans to owl his mum. He isn’t panicked like he was when he realized that Scorpius is unreasonably and unnaturally beautiful. Instead, it’s like clarity – like everything suddenly makes sense. All the pieces – love being his weakness, the longing, the gaping hole in his chest when Scorpius wasn’t around, everything – come together like a symphony.
Scorpius holds onto his arm as they begin their winding descent to the Slytherin dorms, and Albus leans into the touch. They walk in an amicable silence. Albus usually has to be the one to start conversations even though Scorpius always has a lot to say, he rarely says it without prompt. He writes a lot. That’s probably where he puts all his thoughts.
Their roommates are already in their dorm when they get there, and Scorpius greets them. They’re kind, moreso to Scorpius than Albus, but they’re not mean. Mostly, they’re kind to Scorpius and polite to Albus. He wouldn’t say that any of them are friends, but that’s perfectly fine with him.
They go to bed without much preamble, exhausted by the train ride and the festivities of the night. Scorpius’ eyes shine as he says good night, that soft, contented, crooked grin on his face. Albus loves him. He doesn’t say it, but he certainly feels it. Once Scorpius’ breathing has evened out, Albus grabs some parchment to write to his mum. He doesn’t necessarily need to hide the letter writing itself, but Scorpius might ask what he’s writing about so early, and he does not want to explain any of this.
Mum,
I know I just got here, but I have news. I am in love with Scorpius, and probably have been since I’ve known him.
What the hell do I do about it?
Much love,
Albus
That’ll do. It’s sent the next morning, before he has time to worry about it. His mum probably knows he’s gay. Probably. Knowing his mum, neither aspect (the being gay thing or the Scorpius Malfoy of it all) will come as a surprise to her. She has this horrible habit of knowing things about him before he knows them about himself. His dad probably won’t be surprised at the gay thing either, but he’ll definitely have strong feelings about the Malfoy-ness of the situation. Albus will cross that bridge when he gets there, though, because, as of right now, Dad doesn’t need to know.
Not until Mum responds and tells him what to do. Albus knows what James and Lily would say – to tell Scorpius as soon as possible. Lily would probably tell him to do some grand romantic gesture (it’d be misguided advice; Scorpius hates to be the center of attention for any reason), and James would probably tell him to just plant one on Scorpius (also a bad idea; Scorpius is clumsy as the Devil and does not react well to surprises). Telling Scorpius is advice he’s willing to take – if, and only if, Mum agrees.
Until Mum responds, Albus will be normal. He will be so normal that Scorpius will remain entirely unaware until Albus makes his next move. Albus is – and he’s convincing himself here – so capable of being normal. Luckily for him, normal is a lot touchier and a lot more tender than it used to be. Not that he and Scorpius were ever particularly bro-y, but, semantics. Point being: everything is going to be fine! Albus is so normal.
-
Everything is not fine, and Albus is extremely abnormal. He comes to this realization over post-dinner study time with Scorpius, who is curled up in an armchair, looking particularly soft and beautiful in the firelight. Albus wants to be brave – stupidly so, Merlin, he feels like how James must feel – and confess everything that’s on his mind right here, right now, sprawled on his stomach on the rug in the common room. He’s not as stupid or impulsive as James, though, so he does manage to bite his tongue.
Instead, he sketches Scorpius some more. Albus tries to capture the slim line of Scorpius’ shoulders, the curve of his legs where they’re leant on the arm and tucked to the side, the ridge in his nose, and the slope of his cheeks. It seems to Albus that he’s only decent at portraiture when he cares about the subject. He scribbles out the wonky faces of his professors and his peers, but never James or Lily or Mum or Scorpius.
When he looks up from the page in his sketchbook, Scorpius is looking at him. Scorpius’ cheeks go pink, but he doesn’t look away. He grins, and Albus flushes and raises an eyebrow. Scorpius shakes his head again, that one dimple making a valiant effort to consume Albus’ brain.
“What are you reading?” Albus knows that Scorpius wants to talk about it; he’s nearly through with the novel at this point.
Just as Albus expected, Scorpius’ face lights up. He shifts so his legs are tucked under him, sitting on his calves.
“It’s called Pride and Prejudice ,” he says, and heavens above, he’s gorgeous. “It’s by Jane Austen –”
“Like Emma ,” Albus doesn’t mean to interrupt, but he remembers the name from a conversation years ago. “Sorry.” He tacks on, a little awkwardly.
Scorpius has gone that lovely pink color again, and his grin is tender and crooked and sweet, and his eyes are shining.
“You remembered,” he says, softly and a little awed.
“Yeah,” Albus feels like there’s a spotlight on him. For some reason, this conversation suddenly feels like a showcase. Or a confession.
He swallows nervously. Mum would probably tell him to tell Scorpius, right? She knows best, and that’s probably what she’d say to do, so he should tell Scorpius, right? He scans Scorpius’ face and thinks he finds a little bit of love in Scorpius’ eyes, in the pleased curve of his mouth, in the dimple winking from his left cheek.
James told Albus something ages ago, before they went to Hogwarts and things got kind of weird, before they fixed the weirdness and became friends – not just brothers, but friends – and before they were even really cognizant of what bravery is. He said that you really only need to be brave sometimes, in fleeting moments, when it really counts.
“How will I know when it counts, though?” Albus, all of perhaps eight, had asked.
James had an answer, because his big brother always had an answer.
“You’ll know,” he’d said. It had sounded like a cop-out at the time. “You’re smart, Al. You’ll know when you’ve got to be brave.”
In their second year, when Albus was still full of angst about not being a Gryffindor, or maybe it was being a Slytherin, or a huge disappointment, or whatever, Scorpius had asked him what he wanted to be. Albus had said an auror or something or another (a total cop-out answer), and Scorpius had said:
“If I could be anything in the world, I’d like to be brave.”
“What?” Albus had laughed, at the time.
“I want to be brave,” he didn’t look at Albus. “For just five minutes. That’d be enough time.”
Albus, still self-absorbed and full of self-pity, hadn’t asked what he meant by enough time. Those conversations come to mind now. Now, as he’s looking at Scorpius, who is lighting up the dark common room and smiling at Albus like remembering the name of an author was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him, Albus gets it.
“I remember everything you tell me,” Albus says.
The bravery mounts in his chest as Scorpius blushes deeper.
“You’re sweet,” Scorpius whispers.
“No one else calls me sweet.”
“Well,” Scorpius says, leaning in a bit. “I don’t think anyone else knows you like I do.”
“Oh?” Albus doesn’t really know when he moved to kneel by the armchair, but suddenly he’s leaning over the arm of it.
Mum would say go for it. He knows she would. He was buying time by sending her a letter. He’s so close to Scorpius, he feels like he can’t breathe.
“Yeah,” Scorpius says, breathless.
His pupils are huge in the lowlight, and he’s scanning Albus’ face, looking and searching for something. Albus knows he’ll find what he’s looking for. He just can’t believe it took him this long to get it.
James said he’d know, and he knows. Scorpius said five minutes of bravery would be enough, and he gets it. He leans in until their noses almost touch, glances down just a bit. There’s the barest of nods from Scorpius and then Albus is being braver than he’s ever been.
He’s never kissed anyone before, so he just sort of presses their lips together. Scorpius’ eyes fall closed, and he’s kissing Scorpius. He’s kissing Scorpius. Like, on the mouth. It’s perfect! Again, he’s never kissed anyone before, so he doesn’t really have anything to compare it to, but he’s kissing Scorpius, so it’s more perfect than any other first kiss could ever be.
Albus doesn’t get the chance to close his eyes before Scorpius is pulling back. Scorpius presses his cold fingers to his mouth and sort of giggles, and Albus, still where Scorpius left him, wants to record the sound and play it back forever. Albus grins, dumb and wide and a little smug.
“Albus,” Scorpius says, a little shocked.
“That’s me,” Albus says. It’s lame, but Scorpius laughs, so who gives a shit?
“Albus,” Scorpius says again, emphatically.
“Yes?”
Scorpius takes his hand, tangles their fingers together. His other hand is still clutching his book to his chest.
“You kissed me,” he says.
Albus can’t help it, he gets a little more smug, preening a bit. It must show, because Scorpius scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling that smile, so he’s not actually mad.
“I did, yeah.” Albus runs his thumb across Scorpius’ knuckles. “That was okay, right?”
“Yes!” Scorpius says, a little too loud. “Sorry,” he says at Albus’ cringe. “I just – do you –”
“Take your time.”
“Shut up!” Scorpius laughs again. “I’m, like, a little shocked.”
“No shit,” Albus laughs. “Me too! You should be my boyfriend.”
He’s blushing furiously, and he’s praying to anything that will listen that he’s reading the situation right. Scorpius’ eyebrows raise, and his grin nearly splits his face in half.
“Alright,” he says, and giggles again.
Albus hisses out an involuntary and celebratory “yes!” that he’ll most certainly leave out when he tells people about this, but Scorpius lets out a full-chest laugh at it, and that’s such a rare and beautiful sound. He’s usually so polite about his amusement.
Scorpius kisses him goodnight before they actually enter their dorm and steals a jumper from him as soon as they do enter their dorm, and Albus very quickly adjusts to their new routine.
The next morning, he gets an owl at breakfast.
Albus,
I love you (so much!)
Go forth with faith and bravery.
Much love,
Mum
-
Mum,
I have a boyfriend (!!!!!!!!)
Thank you for believing in me.
Love,
Albus