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"I’m telling you: Oliver–freakin’–Wood!"
Lily was adamant. She jabbed her fork in the air like a wand. "Best Quidditch player of the age. Hands down."
"You—" James said, brandishing his ploughman’s lunch like a weapon, "—are an absolute tosser."
The alfresco lunch had been Lily and Scorpius’s tradition ever since she'd started Hogwarts—just the two of them, no brothers, no cousins, just peace. A sacred time, free from the chaotic whirlwind that was the Weasley-Potter clan.
At least, it had been.
This year, Albus had invited himself along, which meant his best mate Tim McAlister had to come as well. The balance had already shifted dangerously close to a full family gathering.
Then James caught wind of the lunch.
James, who—despite being fully seventeen and allegedly an adult—proceeded to plead, bargain, and, when that failed, employ theatrics. "It's my last year," he lamented to Scorpius, with an expression so exaggeratedly woeful it could have won him a role in a Celestina Warbeck music drama. "My final Hogwarts Autumnal Break." He pressed a hand against his chest. Sniffed once. Twice. "My last chance to experience this beloved tradition—with the people I love the most—before I am cruelly exiled into the real world!"
Scorpius had remained unmoved.
"Please," James had tried again, blinking dramatically, as if willing tears to appear. "Please."
Then James played his trump card: "Fine. I'll bring a vintage bottle of Elfish Cidyr."
And just like that, he was in.
Unfortunately, gathering all three Potter siblings in one place was like herding Cornish Pixies—chaotic, noisy, and prone to disaster. One might assume the cider was to blame, but really, it was just safer (and far more accurate) to blame the Potter-Weasley gene.
James took an enormous bite of his sandwich. "Krum is still the best," he declared, attempting—and failing—to speak around the mouthful of food.
Lily scowled. "You’re a filthy pig, you know that?"
James retaliated by opening his mouth wider.
Albus groaned, laughing despite himself. "Disgusting!"
"Says the twit who can stomach Marmite," James shot back.
And indeed, Albus was mid-spread, his knife gliding over toast, slathering it in dark, pungent extract. He caught Tim’s expression—rightfully horrified—and smirked. "Food for the gods, this is." He winked, just to be obnoxious.
"Oh, sorry it’s not brie and baguette," Lily teased. "A bit too low-class for posh James’ prim taste, is it?"
James flicked his hand in her direction. "Ahh, go have it away with your Brummie girlfriend, ya’ lemon!"
"There is nothing wrong with Birmingham!" Lily screeched, voice climbing several octaves. "And he’s not a girl, for the love of—"
"He is sort of girly, though," Albus added helpfully.
Lily whirled on him. "Who—" Her eyes flicked to Scorpius, then back to Albus, expression caught between bewilderment and betrayal. "—are you to talk?"
"Fair point," Albus conceded, returning to his toast.
Lily sighed dramatically and lifted her cup of cider. "Okay. So not Wood. Not Krum. Who, then?"
Albus took a thoughtful bite, wearing the expression of a man unlocking the great mysteries of the universe. Finally, he swallowed and announced: "Tallywacker."
James nearly choked. "Tallywacker?" he bellowed. "Rubbish! Utter bollocks, that."
Lily nodded along. "On that, we agree."
"What say you two, then?" James asked, turning to Tim and Scorpius.
The three Potters turned their attention to the two non-Potters in their circle. Scorpius’ mouth opened, but nothing came out. His mouth snapped shut. Tim’s opened. Then his closed. Scorpius tried again.
Tim scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Don’t try and convert them to your wicked ways, James," Lily rolled her eyes. "Tim’s American anyway—"
"They have Quidditch in America, you nit," James said.
"Oh, it’s hardly the same, is it? Different rules and all that."
Albus stole a glance at Scorpius and winked when their eyes met. Scorpius' dazed expression didn’t waver. He looked at Tim, whose scowl also hadn't wavered for some time.
"I think you should stop insulting Tim’s home country, Lils," Albus said lightly. "He’s looking quite upset, I think."
Lily drained her cup of cider. She hiccupped as she looked at Tim. "Sorry, Tim."
Tim did not look impressed.
"I’m telling you—Tallywacker," Albus continued. "Even as a Beater, he's managed to block goals when his Keeper couldn't."
From the corner of his eye, Albus saw Scorpius following the conversation like a spectator at a tennis match, that little crease appearing between his eyebrows—the one that always showed up when he was thoroughly confused.
James snorted. Clearly, such feats meant little to him.
"Crikey, what does a bloke have to do to impress you lot?" Albus laughed.
From his periphery, he saw Lily mouth 'crikey?' to James, who snickered.
"Tallywacker's brilliant in two positions, while Krum's just a Seeker—"
James' eyebrows shot up. "Just a Seeker!?"
"—and Oliver, while a good Keeper and well fit"—Albus shot a look at Scorpius—"he still doesn’t compare."
"You’re a complete tosser," James said, shaking his head. He poured himself another cup of cider before topping off Lily’s. She hiccupped again and covered her mouth, giggling, eyes shifting between James and Albus like a girl caught in naughty deeds.
"Oliver is all right," James admitted. "But Krum is standard. End of."
Albus shook his head. He turned to Scorpius and Tim. "Well, Scorpius, Tim... who do you think is the best professional Quidditch player at the moment?"
They did not answer straight away. In fact, they did not seem to register the question at all. Tim and Scorpius, locked in some silent war of attrition, continued staring at each other.
A breeze whipped by, carrying the briny scent of the Great Lake. The sounds of other students laughing and frolicking echoed from the castle.
Slowly—like a man making a very important decision—Tim turned to the Potters. His face was flushed, making the freckles stand out even more on his whey-faced skin. He glared at Lily (she pulled back a little)... then James (he did, too)... and finally, at Albus, where his attention lingered.
He chewed once. Twice. Thrice.
Or maybe he was just grinding his teeth.
Finally, after what felt like an aeon, Tim spoke:
"You know you bitches have been hissing at each other for the past twenty minutes?"
Silence.
"Hissing?" Albus echoed, blinking. He had the decency to look abashed. His eyes snapped to Scorpius.
Scorpius nodded solemnly. "Parseltongue."
The three Potter siblings exchanged horrified looks.
Then, as if making the most logical decision in the world, Scorpius casually tipped his cup toward James.
"I think I will have a bit of that Elfish Cidyr now, if you don’t mind."