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[ one ]
The Hogwarts express chugged along, bringing students to another year of school, and up and down the train people were talking, playing games, with the occasional fight breaking out between students.
If Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy were aware of this, however, they didn’t show it, as they were currently eating their way through Scorpius’s collection of sweets. Until now, Albus had only been allowed sweets on special occasions, and he’d bought some of whatever Scorpius didn’t have off the trolley when it had come.
“It’s good being eleven,” Albus told Scorpius, his mouth half full with a Pumpkin Pasty. “I can’t believe your mum actually lets you have sweets.”
“She doesn’t usually.” Scorpius was picking his way though a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, removing the ones that looked suspicious. “She said it’s not every day someone goes to Hogwarts.”
“Mum told me not to buy too much off the trolley.”
“Well, you didn’t,” said Scorpius, smiling at Albus. “I brought them along.”
He was right; Albus hadn’t actually broken his mother’s rules. Albus grinned back, and then picked up a chocolate frog. “These are the only ones Mum allows us to have, usually. I have loads of chocolate frog cards—” and he opened one to see Neville Longbottom smiling up at him, and frowned. “Oh, it’s Neville again.”
“Neville? Neville Longbottom?” Scorpius craned his neck to see. “I don’t have any of him!”
“Well, you can take it—he’s a friend of my dad’s and I have loads of him, he sent some to us because he got a bunch in the post when they first came out. You could probably ask him for some at Hogwarts.” Albus handed the card over to Scorpius, and Scorpius took it, beaming.
“Thank you so much, Albus! I could kiss you right now—” And then he blushed a deep scarlet. “No—I mean—not really, that would be weird, I’ve only just met you—it’s something my mum says whenever she’s had a nice surprise—”
“No, it’s okay!” Albus said, and Scorpius slumped in relief.
“Sorry, I’m a little bit—” he waved his hand around, sitting up a bit— “awkward; I read books, okay? I haven’t properly talked to anyone my own age in a long time. It’s just Grandfather, Grandmother, and my Mum and Dad.”
“That sounds nice,” Albus said. “You saw Rose back there—I have a huge family, and half of them are at Hogwarts. You’ll meet James—he’s my brother, but there’s Dominique, Louis, Lucy, Fred, and Roxane.” He counted them off on his fingers as he went.
“I’ve always wanted a big family,” said Scorpius, looking forlorn.
“Christmases are a nightmare, though.”
“Christmases are lonely at Malfoy Manor.”
He looked out the window, and Scorpius looked so miserable that Albus offered him the rest of his chocolate frogs and a Pumpkin Pasty. That seemed to cheer Scorpius up a bit more.
“So what House do you think you’ll be in?” Scorpius asked.
“Gryffindor, probably,” said Albus, ripping open the packet of a Sugar Quill. “My whole family’s been in Gryffindor - all my cousins, all my aunts and uncles and my grandparents too. But…” And he trailed off as the worry that had seized him on the platform came back. He opened his mouth to voice it to Scorpius, remembered that the Malfoy family was Slytherin as much as the Weasleys were Gryffindor, and decided to ask, “What about you?”
“Slytherin, I s’pose,” Scorpius said noncommittally. “My whole family’s been in Slytherin.”
“Maybe you’ll be the exception!” Albus said brightly. “Or maybe I will—but I dunno—my dad says that the Hat almost put him in Slytherin—”
At this, Scorpius’s eyebrows shot up. “Harry Potter was almost put into Slytherin?”
“He told me that on the platform,” Albus admitted, before remembering that it was a fact he probably wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. “But the Sorting Hat takes your choice into account. You can tell it to put you in Gryffindor.”
But Scorpius was thinking. “Well, I’ve always thought that Ravenclaw would be an interesting house, but I dunno … Dad tells me Slytherins stick together… ”
“Well,” said Albus cautiously, “if you’re in Slytherin, it can’t be all that bad, can it?”
He smiled at Scorpius, who smiled brightly back, and he thought that as long as he was in Slytherin with Scorpius, it would be all right.
[ two ]
A year into his time at Hogwarts, Albus thought he knew the gist of things. Keep your head down, keep quiet, and hopefully people will avoid you.
His first year hadn’t been the dream he’d thought it would be. What with Jenkins and Chapman taunting him everywhere he and Scorpius went, by Christmas he was ready to leave and going back had felt like he was stepping into a zoo where he and Scorpius were the main attraction.
The Slytherin Potter and Son of Voldemort—an unusual duo.
Even Scorpius’s excited energy from the train on their first day had been beaten down into a sort of nervousness as they moved through the halls. And now it was Halloween; the feast was coming up, but Albus wasn’t excited.
“Can’t we just stay in the dorms?” Albus pleaded with Professor Zabini, the Transfiguration teacher and head of Slytherin house.
Unfortunately, Professor Zabini was firm in his stance that missing the feast was prohibited. “Your fathers,” Professor Zabini said, looking sternly at both of them, “had a propensity for trouble-making. Not only that, Professor McGonagall agrees that all students should attend the feasts— you boys need to eat, anyways!”
And with that, he left the Slytherin common room for the piles of food waiting in the Great Hall.
Scorpius slumped against one of the couches. “Well, as long as we don’t run into Chapman and Jenkins,” he said miserably, as his stomach gave a great growl.
“They’re probably waiting to ambush us,” said Albus. “I say we hex them before they can hex us.” Scorpius and Albus had been on the receiving end of a variety of hexes, some of which worked better than others, but it was a nuisance and caused undue stress to the two of them.
Scorpius looked unsure, but Albus pulled his wand out, and Scorpius trailed after him, saying, “Well, I’m just going to disarm them, then.”
“Your fathers got into a lot of trouble—” Albus mimicked in Professor Zabini’s deep voice. “We’re not the same people as our fathers! Look at me! I’m a Slytherin, I can’t fly, I’m rubbish at Defence Against the Dark Arts—”
“And the two of us are best friends,” said Scorpius quietly.
“Exactly!” Albus burst out. “We are the opposite of our dads, Scorpius! So why should we be blamed for what our fathers—”
He broke off as Chapman and Jenkins stepped out from behind the staircase, both jeering. Albus would have thought that a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor would have had the brains and the chivalry to avoid bullying, but either he or the Sorting Hat had been wrong.
“Of course you’re not like your fathers,” jeered Chapman. Her nasally voice grated on Albus’s nerves. “For one, your fathers were actually good wizards, unlike you two. Hey, Potter? Can’t live up to your dad, being the one to defeat Voldemort.”
Albus said nothing, but glared, his hand clenched around his wand.
“Speaking of Voldemort—” Jenkins nodded at Scorpius, who seemed on the verge of escaping. “How did the son of the worst Dark Wizard—”
And then Albus felt a rush of anger so strong that he hadn’t realized he’d pulled his wand out and yelled a hex until Jenkins fell on his knees, retching. The three of them watched in horror as a black slug wormed its way out of Jenkins’s mouth and fell on the floor, oozing slime.
“Come on!” Scorpius yelled. He grabbed Albus’s hand and ran into the Great Hall before Chapman could react; she had turned a sickly shade of green at the sight of the slug. They took their seats among their fellow Slytherins, hiding themselves between a group of fifth-years and seventh-years.
“I can’t believe you did that, Albus!” said Scorpius. “I could kiss you right now, the look on Chapman’s face—” And then, like the last time, he blushed, but Albus’s heart was racing too fast to care.
Fear was mixing with excitement in Albus’s stomach; he couldn’t believe he’d done it, either. He knew that he was about to get detentions for the next month, but Albus didn’t care; the satisfaction of seeing a bit of payback for what he and Scorpius had endured would carry him through.
[ three ]
Albus and Scorpius had been given clearance, on the first weekend of the new school year, to leave Hogwarts for Astoria’s funeral. Harry had sent dress robes (“Mum wouldn’t want that, they’re too dark,” Scorpius had said upon seeing them), Scorpius had had homework waived for the time being, and even Jenkins and Chapman had ceased mocking him for the time being.
So it was with heavy hearts that Scorpius and Albus used the Floo Network from McGonagall’s office to Malfoy Manor that Saturday. Harry was there to make sure Albus got there okay, and as having Harry Potter at Astoria’s funeral would attract undue attention, he was to leave immediately after.
Harry and Draco met, briefly, and it was about as awkward and tense as Albus had feared - neither man truly trusted the other, though both were overly polite. It was clear that Astoria’s illness had taken a toll on Draco. He was slightly slumped over and restless, with none of the arrogant pride Albus had seen the previous years at the station. In fact, he looked like Scorpius. When Harry left and guests began to file in, Albus made for a chair somewhere in the back, but Draco said, “Albus,” and he turned.
“You’re my son’s best friend,” Draco said. “You should sit with him.”
It was the first time Draco Malfoy had spoken to Albus, and he felt a surge of gratitude for the man, despite the stories he had heard from his father and extended family.
Albus had never been to a funeral before. Draco spoke; a woman Albus assumed to be Scorpius’s grandmother spoke, and so did a distant Greengrass relative—but Scorpius stayed in his seat the whole time, stiff in his cornflower blue dress robes, occasionally wiping tears from his eyes, sometimes letting them fall into his lap.
It seemed to drag on. Albus reached over a few times to pat Scorpius awkwardly on the knee, he didn’t know what else to do to comfort him. He listened to the tales of Scorpius’s mother. She had not gone to Hogwarts due to her illness, and she had grown up to be a powerful, yet never a Dark witch, and she had been caring and adventurous; intelligent and loving.
Afterwards, Albus stuck to Scorpius; he didn’t know anyone else and Scorpius and he were the only underage wizards in attendance. Scorpius didn’t seem to want to talk to anyone, so they found themselves retreating to the library of Malfoy Manor.
“This is her favorite room,” Scorpius said, as he closed the door. “And my favorite, too. She’d buy any books I thought were interesting—even Muggle ones. Grandfather didn’t approve of that at first—him and Mum had a row, and Mum won.”
The Malfoys’s library was larger than Albus’s living room. Shelves lined the room, books stacked to the very tip, and in the center sat ornate couches and an oil lamp on a table that looked like it was charmed to burn permanently. It cast a warm yet bright glow across the shelves, illuminating the titles. Albus could make out Hogwarts textbooks, wizarding novels, Muggle novels, magical theory books, biographies, and a few Muggle science books. He even saw three books of the seven-volume biography someone had published of his father (without his permission, of course).
“Wow,” he said. “Your mum liked reading, then?”
“She loves reading. Mum taught me when I was young and we would talk about the books we read—” He swallowed thickly, and indicated the book on the table. “That was the last book she was working on. She never got to finish it.”
He looked on the verge of tears, so Albus stepped forwards and put his hand on Scorpius’s shoulder; he was an inch or two taller than Scorpius.
“I would have liked to meet your mum,” he said. “She sounds like a wonderful person.”
“I’d have wanted you to meet her, too,” Scorpius said. He stared at the wooden floor. “I really miss her. I was holding her hand when she—you know.”
This was said in almost a whisper, Scorpius’s voice cracking halfway, and Albus wanted to step forwards and hug his best friend, but he wasn’t sure—did they hug?
Instead, he said, “I’m really, really sorry.”
Scorpius smiled weakly before dropping his gaze to the floor. “You know,” he said, in a mumble, “I thought—when it got really bad and I didn’t know how long we had left—that I’d have to do this alone—that I would be alone through all of this. But you’re here. Thank you.” He raised his eyes, though he still couldn’t meet Albus’s, and joked weakly, “I could kiss you right now, huh? Mum would say that.”
“I’ll be there for you, all right?” Albus said, rubbing Scorpius’s shoulder. “I’ll even do your homework if you want.”
Scorpius laughed. “Well, maybe not that,” he said. “C’mon, Dad won’t be happy if we’re gone too long.”
Albus cast one last look at the library as he closed the door. He felt as if he’d seen some part of Scorpius no one had ever seen before, and he was grateful that Scorpius trusted him enough to show him.
[ four ]
This was a stupid idea.
Albus had suggested it himself, but it was a stupid idea. They’d failed once already and it had kept Scorpius and Albus apart from each other longer than anything had before; even summer vacations had failed to stop them from writing to each other nearly every day.
For Merlin’s sake, Albus was now a Gryffindor - and though he remembered being terrified of being Sorted into Slytherin, he couldn’t imagine himself as anything but a Slytherin. The rest of his family did daring, brave, and chivalrous things; what Albus was doing was completely, utterly, reckless, and he knew it.
But he had to get back to his own timeline - he had to get back to Slytherin, to the world where Ron and Hermione were married, to the world where his father wouldn’t keep him from Scorpius.
At least he had reconciled with Scorpius, who was listening to his plans with growing trepidation.
“So let me get this right,” Scorpius said, “the plan is Engorgement…”
“Yes,” said Albus. He spotted a bar of soap in the sink behind Scorpius. “Scorpius, that soap, if you may.”
Scorpius turned around and gingerly picked it up, setting it on the floor with a confused expression.
Albus pointed his wand at it. “ Engorgio ,” he said, and the soap grew until it was four times the size it had originally been. Albus grinned.
“Nice,” Scorpius said, flashing Albus a thumbs-up. “Consider me ... engorgimpressed .”
Inwardly, Albus groaned; Scorpius had gotten into making truly awful jokes towards the end of last year. “Do you have to, right now—”
“Sorry,” said Scorpius, though he didn’t seem very sorry; he was fighting to keep the grin off his face. “Anyways, back to the plan?”
“Right,” Albus said, a little miffed. He started pacing again. “The second task was the lake task. They had to retrieve something which was stolen from them, which turned out to be—”
“People they loved.” Albus looked up, surprised Scorpius had spoken; he was looking at Albus with curiosity, like he was wondering who Albus’s person would be. Albus put that out of his mind for now; there was a task to be done—and he groaned silently again, for Scorpius’s jokes seemed to be rubbing off on him.
“Cedric used a Bubble-Head Charm to swim through the lake. All we do is follow him in there and use Engorgement to turn him into something rather larger.” Scorpius had lost that distant look and was now nodding, so Albus continued. “We know the Time-Turner won’t give us long, so we’re going to be quick. Get to him and engorgio his head and watch him float out the lake … away from the task—away from the competition…”
Scorpius frowned. “But - you still haven’t told me how we’re going to actually get to the lake…”
Albus opened his mouth to explain, but he was interrupted by Moaning Myrtle, who (to his annoyance) took over the job for him, albeit better than his current plan. He decided to pretend that had been his plan all along as he took his cloak off and climbed into the sink, pulling the Gillyweed he had stolen out of his pocket.
“Some for me,” he said, and he handed some over to Scorpius, “and some for you.”
Scorpius looked down at the green, seaweed-like plant in his hand. “ Gillyweed ?” he said, incredulously. “We’re using gillyweed? To breathe underwater?”
“Just like my Dad did,” said Albus. “Now, are you ready?”
But Scorpius still looked unsure. “Remember, this time we can’t be caught out by the clock.”
“Five minutes, that’s all we allow for - before we get pulled back into the present.”
Scorpius took a deep breath. “Tell me this is all going to be okay.”
Albus put a hand on Scorpius’s shoulder and grinned; it was easy now, to touch Scorpius, after he had hugged him tightly twice in the past month. “It’s all going to be entirely okay,” he said, with a confidence he wasn’t quite feeling—but this plan would work. “Are you ready?”
And without waiting for Scorpius’s answer—before he could lose his nerve—he swallowed the gillyweed and disappeared into the pipes. He could hear Scorpius yelling after him, but pain lanced through him - his fingers were elongating, webs growing between them, and two sharp pains pierced his neck, and he knew there were gills now—and Albus, for a few seconds, couldn’t breathe, but then he hit water and gulped in a breath and everything was fine.
He turned in the water and saw Scorpius swimming towards him, and they held the Time-Turner. Albus gave it a spin, and there was a great whoosh and it had worked.
Scorpius spotted Cedric first; obviously, he was eager to get out of there. Albus and Scorpius cast Engorgio on him at the same time. Their aim was true; his head began to grow, and Albus grinned at Scorpius (who wasn’t grinning much at all) and when Cedric had disappeared out of the water, out of their sight, Albus turned to high-five Scorpius, who was now grinning.
Ron loves Hermione, he mouthed gleefully at Albus, and began to swim upwards.
What? Albus said, but Scorpius wasn’t listening - and then Albus felt something catch on his foot, and he sunk down … down …
Relashio! he yelled, but it was no use: it was the ghastly green hand of a merman, scowling at him, his pointed teeth bared in a snarl.
You shouldn’t be here, the merman said in a booming voice.
Stupefy! Albus cried, pointing his wand at the merman. Stupefy!
And then the world went black—for a few seconds, or minutes even, and when he came to, the merman was gone and the effects of the gillyweed had run out. Albus couldn’t breathe.
In fact, Cedric was there again—and he was shrinking, and Scorpius had his wand out, near the surface - but that couldn’t be right, and he swam to the surface, with all his energy—
“Whoa!” he said, after air had entered his lungs yet again.
“Albus!” Scorpius cried. He looked different than he had only a few minutes ago, yet it was such a subtle difference that Albus couldn’t quite place it.
“That was close ,” Albus said, splashing towards Scorpius. “Did you see that Merman? The guy with the—and the thing with the—whoa, I’m not dead!”
“It’s you.” Scorpius had the widest grin on his face he’d seen in a long time.
“It was weird though,” Albus said, looking down towards the depths of the lake. “I thought I saw Cedric expand—and then he sort of started shrinking again—and I looked at you and you had your wand out—”
Scorpius, however, didn’t seem to be listening to a word Albus was saying—he was drunk with delight. “You have no idea how good it is to see you again! I could kiss you right now, I really could!”
And he threw his arms around Albus, even though the water was still too deep.
“You just saw me two minutes ago,” Albus said, into Scorpius’s shoulder.
“A lot has happened since then,” Scorpius said. He was hugging Albus so tightly it felt as if he was trying to fuse them together.
“You’re drowning me,” Albus complained, and with reluctance, Scorpius let go, swimming towards the shallower part of the lake. “What are you wearing?” he called after Scorpius; he wasn’t as good a swimmer.
“What am I wearing?” They could stand now with their heads and torsos above the water. Scorpius took off his cloak; his sweater was Slytherin green. “What are you wearing?” And Scorpius reached forwards and pulled off Albus’s cloak, to his confusion. He didn’t even notice the colors, but Scorpius cried, “Yes! You’re in Slytherin again!” and did a weird sort of dance. Despite himself, Albus couldn’t help but laugh.
And then Albus looked around. Everything looked much the same—in fact, too similar. “So?” he demanded. “Did it work? Did we do anything?”
“No,” said Scorpius, still grinning like an idiot. “And it’s brilliant.”
Albus’s heart sunk. All this—and for what? “We failed?”
“Yes. Yes, and it’s amazing !” Scorpius yelled, splashing loudly as he made his way to the shore. Albus couldn’t understand why he was so excited. Of course, Scorpius hadn’t wanted to do this in the first place, but he didn’t think that Scorpius would want them to fail.
After all, Cedric was still dead. Amos was still a lonely old man.
“Scorpius,” Albus said, dragging his soggy self onto the shore, “have you been eating too many sweets again?”
“There you go,” Scorpius said. He was staring at Albus like he couldn’t get enough of him. “All dry humor and ... Albus-y. I love it.”
“What does that mean? I’m starting to get worried,” Albus began, but before he could say anything further, he spotted his father out of the corner of his eye. “Actually—you’re fine. That’s what I’m worried about.”
Scorpius turned to see what Albus was looking at, and his face fell. “Oh no,” he said.
And Albus couldn’t do anything but agree.
[ five ]
Albus couldn’t believe they’d been allowed to go to the end-of-year school ball. Banned from Hogsmeade, serving detentions twice a week since October (separately, of course) - he’d never imagined that Professor McGonagall would have granted them this privilege, but even old, strict professors had a heart sometimes, he supposed.
Albus’s date had ditched him after one dance, for he wasn’t a particularly good dancer, nor a good partner. He’d only gone because Scorpius had gone—and Scorpius was still on the dance floor. Every now and then, he sent Albus increasingly desperate glances; the last time they had met eyes, Scorpius had mouthed, Get me out of here .
But Scorpius had chosen to go with Rose, so Albus didn’t feel too bad about letting Scorpius endure his cousin for a little bit longer. He was rather enjoying the punch, anyways. Scorpius faced him again, and this time Scorpius mouthed, Please, Albus!
So Albus looked around. There was a fifth-year Ravenclaw who was watching them with a death glare and Albus figured he should probably save Scorpius from being hexed by some Rose admirer, so he said, “Oi! Go ask her, I think he needs a break.”
The Ravenclaw boy nodded and sprung up to separate the two, and there was relief in Scorpius’s entire body as he made his way towards Albus.
“For Merlin’s sake,” he groaned, as he collapsed beside Albus. “I could kiss you for saving me from that, that was almost an hour and a half we were dancing! And I can’t dance to save my life, I think you saved her poor bruised feet, too -”
“I guess pity dates don’t work too well,” Albus said teasingly.
“She’s great, but she’s so—so extraneous — ”
“Well, she is the daughter of Hermione Granger,” said Albus. “If there’s one person who’s like their mum or dad, it’s her.”
“She’ll be Gryffindor prefect,” mused Scorpius. “Albus, one of us probably could have gotten prefect if it wasn’t for your brilliant ideas. Zabini will never even think of it now, and even if he did, McGonagall’s still planning detentions through Christmas next year.”
“Well, you would have. I’m too much of a bad influence.” He grinned at Scorpius, who grinned back.” I’ve had more detentions than you, before this year you had, what, two?”
Scorpius shrugged. “Maybe three,” he said. “How’s the punch?”
Albus handed his to Scorpius and reached for another goblet; he had conveniently stationed himself right in front of the punch bowl. He heard Scorpius’s surprised cry of delight as his back was turned and smiled fondly. The punch was enchanted to taste like your favorite flavour.”
“It’s exactly like the peppermint ice cream in Diagon Alley!” he said, as Albus turned back. “Remember, last summer -”
“It’s the raspberry sherbet, for me,” said Albus. He held his goblet in the air. “A toast to all our detentions.”
“And to no more Time-Turners, ever again,” Scorpius said. They clinked glasses and sipped from them; and watched the celebrations. It was the end of the year and they had gotten through their fourth year - and for once in Albus’s life, he felt sad to be leaving Hogwarts.
The year had been the smoothest yet, despite the detentions, and the fright both boys had caused their parents earlier in the year. And Albus harboured a firm hope that it would get better next year, even though OWL year was approaching, and with it the mountains of work that Albus had heard it was from his older cousins and James. Chapman and Jenkins were more interested in snogging each other than bullying them nowadays, and with their escapade into the past, Scorpius and Albus had gained a certain amount of awe that shielded them from much of the hurt they had experienced in their previous years.
It wasn’t something they would forget—and sometimes, Albus felt resentment towards the peers that had congratulated them, the same students who had laughed at them countless times before. But today wasn’t a time to think about it. Today was the time to celebrate the end of another school year.
“Albus,” said Scorpius, looking around “I think I’ve had quite enough of this ball for now.”
“So have I,” Albus said. “Wizard’s chess in the common room, then?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Albus placed his goblet down, and Scorpius drained the last of his punch and set his on the table as well, and, arms around each other’s shoulders, they walked into the Entrance Hall, feeling as if they were soaring.
[ one ]
To Albus’s surprise, their fifth year had started out better than any other year so far. Draco and Harry had reconciled, somewhat, and they seemed to be almost friends as they stood together by the train, laughing with each other. Scorpius and Draco had even come over for Christmas—and once everyone got past the awkwardness of having two Malfoys in their midst, it had been the best Christmas that Albus had ever had.
In fact, the workload was the worst part - with Scorpius’s Quidditch practises, and their continued detentions, they were struggling to keep up with the homework assigned to them—and so it was, that on a cold January’s night, they were still holed up in a library corner, huddled together under their cloaks to try to keep warm.
“I can’t believe I decided to do Arithmancy,” Scorpius said for what must have been the fiftieth time that night, staring down at his charts.
“Put it away then, and do your Charms homework, I need help,” said Albus absent-mindedly; he thought his Spell-Checking quill must be wearing out and was scanning through his essay, attempting to spot all the spelling mistakes.
Beside him, Scorpius yawned. “I’m so t-t-tired,” he said. “Wood had us out for six hours yesterday. Six hours! On a school day! I tell you, there’s one reason that man is in Slytherin and it’s because of Quidditch.”
Albus had practised all summer but was still hopeless when it came to Quidditch. He said, “Well, more of a chance to win the Quidditch Cup this year, right?”
Scorpius slumped over. “We’re not going to win if practise keeps beating us up,” he said grimly. “How are we supposed to play a game if we’re all bone-tired? I hope Rose goes easy on me, now that we’re friends, but she’s, you know, Rose. ” He stared down at his charts again, sighed deeply, and pushed it aside. “Forget Arithmancy. I’m doing Charms.”
Albus had come to the conclusion that his Spell-Checking quill was indeed broken and pulled out a regular one from his bag and began crossing out all the misspelled words. The pair fell quiet for a little while as the night wore on, and next time Albus looked up (after he’d finished fixing his essay) he realized that Scorpius was dozing next to him, excess ink from his quill blotting his essay.
“Hey,” Albus said, elbowing Scorpius in the side. “Wake up, you sleepy dolt.”
Scorpius jerked awake and immediately yawned again. “S-s-sorry, I’m just so tired,” he said. And then he looked down at his essay and frowned deeply. “Oh, no,” he said. “I think I used your broken quill, Albus.”
Albus craned his neck to peer at Scorpius’s parchment; he had indeed used the faulty quill, and his writing was riddled with misspellings. “Here,” Albus said, dragging Scorpius’s essay over. “It’s my quill, I’ll fix it.”
“Oh, Merlin, thank you,” Scorpius said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I could kiss you right now—”
And Albus looked up at that moment to lock eyes with Scorpius - his vividly bright grey eyes; the blond hair falling over his forehead, the lovely smile on his lips—
“I could kiss you too,” he said.
And Scorpius beamed, and that was the answer Albus needed—he surged forwards and crashed his mouth against Scorpius’s, pulling him close with the lapels of his robes; a second later he felt Scorpius’s hand cup his jaw and the renewed pressure of Scorpius’s lips on his.
When they broke apart after what could have been a minute or a day, Scorpius and Albus were both breathing raggedly, and a flush was spreading across Scorpius’s face, along with a smile of utter happiness.
“Wow,” he said.
“Wow,” agreed Albus, who felt impossibly giddy.
“That was …”
“Yeah,” said Albus, and both boys shared a laugh of nervousness and exhilaration.
Scorpius looked down, a grin still dancing across his face, and reached across to take Albus’s hand in his long, thin fingers. He leaned forward again and kissed Albus, and this time it was slower, softer, but fierce all the same—and this was good, too—but really, any kiss involving Scorpius Malfoy was going to be good. Albus could feel the calluses on Scorpius’s hands from Quidditch and the smile on Scorpius’s lips that refused to leave, and Albus was laughing against Scorpius’s mouth as well, and this was really happening—
It was with great reluctance that they broke apart this time. “We’re in the library,” Scorpius whispered, laughing.
“There’s no one here.”
“Except Madam Pince—oh, forget it. We’re not going to get any more work done tonight anyways,” said Scorpius.
There would be time for words later—but right now, this was all Albus needed - their shared laughter, and Scorpius’s hand in his.