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“Albus!” Scorpius chirps happily, pouncing on to the bed and eliciting a pained groan from his best friend.
“You’re breaking my legs, Scorpius.”
“Don’t be dramatic, your legs are fine. Didn’t you call me a skinny stick insect yesterday?”
“Yes but you weren’t sat on me then.” Albus shoves at Scorpius, who rolls right to the edge of the bed but doesn’t get off.
“Albus, aren’t you excited?”
Albus sighs and turns toward him. “It’s still dark outside, Scorpius. What is there to be this excited about?”
“Have you forgotten, Albus? Today we’re making lurve potions.” He stretches out the word love, making it sound utterly ridiculous.
Albus groans again and buries his face in his pillow.
“Specifically,” Scorpius continues, “the most powerful love potion in the world. Did you know it’s supposed to smell like the person you’re most attracted to? I’m sure mine will smell of…” Scorpius pretends to smell the air, inhaling heavily through his nose. “Mmm… Fresh flowers, and fresh bread.”
“Rose will be delighted,” Albus mumbles into his pillow.
“I know! And maybe we can try to steal you some, so you can finally get a girlfriend.”
Albus’ pillow hits Scorpius right in the face, and he rolls off the bed and onto the floor with a loud, painful thump. “Ow.”
“Serves you right for being an enormous geek so early in the morning.”
Scorpius sits up, rubbing his left knee. “You’re going to have to get up soon. It’s nearly breakfast time.”
“Since you’re all bright eyed and bushy tailed maybe you should go to the Great Hall and bring me back breakfast in bed,” Albus says as he drags himself upright and rubs his eyes.
Scorpius picks himself up off the floor. “No no. You’re coming with me. If I leave you here you’ll just fall asleep again and we’ll be late for class. I’ve made that mistake before.” He pats Albus on the knee. “Up you get. We can sit and study our copies of Advanced Potion Making while we eat. Did you know your dad-”
“Had Severus Snape’s old copy while he was at school. Yes, he told me.”
“Imagine,” Scorpius says, misty eyed, “being able to read the notes of the great potion master himself…”
“Dad told me it had some pretty awful things in it.”
Scorpius sighs. “Well yes… It’s a shame really. We could have learned so much from it. But I suppose in the end it’s better we work these things out for ourselves. Speaking of which, will you show me how you did that amazing stir-y thing with the Draught of Living Death the other day? It was like magic.”
Albus gets up and stretches. “I’m a wizard, Scorpius. It was magic."
"Ha ha,” Scorpius says sarcastically. “Seriously, Albus?”
Albus strips his pyjama top off and sweeps it under his bed cover, then turns back to Scorpius. “I will give you potions tips if you stop bouncing off the ceiling for five minutes. I’m still asleep, Scorpius.”
Scorpius takes in the sight of Albus, bleary eyed, hair a mess, not even half dressed yet. For a long moment he can’t look away. “Yes I can see that. Well I’ll be down in the common room, waiting for you to grace me with your presence.” He gives a slightly mocking bow and backs out of the room.
“You’re completely ridiculous, did you know that?”
“Very well aware. Don’t go back to sleep again."
"I won’t.”
“Good.” Scorpius snaps the door shut behind him as he hurries from the dormitory.
The potions dungeon is sweltering hot and thick with swirling fumes, the way it always is even before they’ve started making anything. Right now the room is quiet, apart from a gentle bubbling and the hiss of steam as everyone starts getting their cauldrons warmed up. While they wait, the potions professor is pacing around at the front of the class, dispensing some last minute pearls of wisdom.
Scorpius, in his usual seat beside Albus right in the front row, is paying rapt attention until a screwed up piece of parchment hits him in the side of the head and pings neatly onto his copy of Advanced Potion Making. Even before he opens it he knows it’s from Rose; no one else has such impeccable aim.
Quickly he scoops the note off the desk and unfurls it.
“Lunch today, bread boy? -R x”
Immediately Scorpius turns round in his seat and gives her an enthusiastic grin and a thumbs up. Rose rolls her eyes.
“Scorpius,” Albus mutters, digging a sharp elbow into his ribs.
“Ow. Albus that-”
“Mister Malfoy."
Scorpius turns round quickly to find their potions professor leaning against the desk, glaring down at him.
"Oh hello, Professor.”
“If you would kindly stop communicating with your classmates and pay attention that would be very much appreciated."
Scorpius looks suitably chastised. "Yes, Professor.”
“Now, would anyone be so kind as to tell us all the qualities of a successful Amortentia potion? Yes, Miss Chapman.”
As the class continues another note bounces onto the desk between Albus and Scorpius. Albus reaches for it instinctively but Scorpius gets there first.
“I was expecting a more subtle response but your enthusiasm has, as always, been noted. -R x”
“It’s still pity then,” Albus says, glancing over Scorpius’ shoulder at the note.
Scorpius folds it up and tucks it inside his notebook. “Yes, but we’re growing beyond that. Pity is blossoming into understanding, and acceptance.”
“More like resignation to the fact you’re never going to give up?”
“She appreciates my tenacity,” Scorpius says, giving Albus a nudge.
“She appreciates how you never shut up,” Albus replies, nudging back.
“Mister Potter."
They both jump and look up as the shadow of the potions professor falls on their desk once more.
"Did you not hear what I just said to Mister Malfoy? Five points from Slytherin for being unable to keep your mouth shut. Now, for your sins, perhaps you’d like to remind the class of the most common mistake made when brewing this potion?”
“Temperature,” Albus says quickly. “If it’s too hot, when you add the ingredients it’ll explode.”
“And do irreparable damage to this dungeon and to yourselves. Very good. At least you pay attention to your reading, if not to me.” She sweeps away again, and once she’s out of earshot Scorpius leans across and hisses in Albus’ ear.
“Rose and I, it may be a slightly tenuous relationship, but I like her. And by some miracle she likes me too. So-”
They’re interrupted again, this time by a swell of noise and activity as their classmates start rushing around gathering potion ingredients, and chattering about the task in hand. Albus gets to his feet.
“You don’t need to justify your love life to me, Scorpius. It’s not really my problem, is it?”
“No, I suppose not.” Scorpius gives a high pitched little laugh and tucks a strand of blond hair behind his ear. “Let’s get potioning then.”
Sometimes it’s difficult to enjoy potion making. It’s a hot, sweaty business, and there’s the constant threat of being suffocated by acrid fumes, or of the potion melting through the cauldron and dissolving your shoes if you don’t get out of the way in time. Scorpius has no idea how Albus manages to always have a smile on his face whenever he’s in front of a cauldron. It’s as if he relishes the impending disaster of it all.
Right now he’s grinning as he sprinkles Pearl Dust into the pale blue liquid in the cauldron in front of him. It shimmers through the air as it falls, then glitters on the surface for a moment before dissipating out into a textbook mother-of-pearl rainbow sheen. There’s still pink dust coating Albus’ fingers, his face is a bit red and there’s a trickle of sweat trailing down his temple. He’s smeared something brown across one of his cheeks, and his hair has gone even fluffier than usual from all the humidity in the air. The sight is a rather pleasant one, possibly thanks to all the love potion fumes Scorpius has been inhaling for the last couple of hours.
“Scorpius, you’re staring at me,” Albus says, glancing up from his book for a moment. “Are you okay? Have I done something wrong? I’m sure the Pearl Dust goes in before-”
“No no,” Scorpius shakes himself. “You’re doing it right. It’s just a little hot in here.”
“Maybe you should sit down.”
“I’m okay. We’re nearly done anyway, aren’t we?” Scorpius keeps a careful distance between himself and Albus as he leans over to peer at the book.
Albus nods. “We have to add the other half of the rose thorns and then… stir it seven times clockwise, then seven times counter-clockwise. After that it should be done, but we have to let it simmer for five minutes before bottling it.”
“Do you remember in first year,” Scorpius says, glancing sideways at him, “when all our potions exploded? And now look at us. It’s almost as if we know what we’re doing.”
Albus looks down at the potion and nods. “Funny that. I always hated potion making. Now it’s one of my favourite subjects."
Scorpius grins. "Just like your namesake. Now, are you going to put the rest of the rose thorns in, or shall I?”
“You do the thorns,” Albus says, moving out of his way. “I don’t want to get extra Pearl Dust in there by accident. Then I can do the stirring.”
“Yes, sir."
Scorpius gives him a little salute, then starts gently sprinkling the rose thorns onto the surface of the potion, exactly as the textbook describes. When Albus gets back from washing the Pearl Dust from his hands they both stand over the potion and gaze down at the gently bubbling, opalescent surface.
"Shall we do this?” Albus asks.
Scorpius nods, and Albus starts stirring. Seven times one way (and an extra quarter stir that makes the potion turn a slightly more vivid rainbow colour), seven times the other (plus an extra half so the surface shimmers beautifully and soft silver steam starts rising in spirals).
“It’s looking good, Albus,” Scorpius says excitedly, bouncing on his toes and peering into the cauldron. As he gazes down at the gently simmering potion, the smell reaches him for the first time.
It isn’t what he expected. No flowers or baking bread. And somehow it’s even better than he imagined. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. The smell of crisp, clean linen, like pyjamas that have just been washed or the first time you slip between a new set of bed sheets. And that ever so slightly damp, but warm and mahogany smell of home, of the Slytherin common room. There’s more, too. The subtle scent of potion smoke clinging to the clothes, and beyond that a little something warm and peppery, and ever so slightly sugary.
“Mmm,” Albus says as he bends down to adjust the temperature of the flames beneath the cauldron. “I’ve got that musty old book smell. Clearly I’m attracted to avid readers.” He glances up at Scorpius and grins.
That grin in combination with the smell is so breath-taking that Scorpius sits down very hard on his stool and starts fanning himself. “I am very definitely overheating. I think I might be sick."
Albus straightens up, looking concerned. "Do you need to go to the hospital wing?”
Scorpius shakes his head. “No, no. Maybe some fresh air though. I-I might just go outside for a minute.”
“I can-”
“Honestly, Albus. I’ll be fine.” Scorpius gets up and stumbles across the room, only narrowly avoiding knocking over any of his classmates or their cauldrons.
The corridor, to his immense relief, is very cool. He sinks onto the floor because his legs are shaking, and puts his hands flat on the stones beneath him, letting the cold sink into his bones. There’s no smell out here, except for the distant scent of cooking that always seems to come from the direction of the kitchens wherever you go down here. After all the heady fumes, the purity of the air is an intense relief, and Scorpius closes his eyes and concentrates on dragging in deep lungfuls of it.
The smells in there, in combination they feel like some sort of devastating revelation. A devastating revelation named Albus Severus Potter, because who else smells of potions and pepper imps and clean sheets and the Slytherin dungeon? No one.
Scorpius buries his face in his hands and groans. This is a serious problem.
It’s twenty minutes before the rest of the class start pouring out of the room. A couple of people are unusually giggly but apart from that everyone else is chatting normally. None of them seem to notice the blond-haired figure curled up on the ground by the door. Someone even treads on Scorpius’ foot as they pass.
“Don’t mind me,” he mutters.
A bag drops onto the ground next to him, his own bag, and he jumps and looks up to see Albus. Of course. Quickly he looks back at the ground.
“Hello, Albus.”
“You left your things behind.” Albus crouches down and frowns at him. “Are you okay, Scorpius? You look very red.”
“Do I?” Scorpius asks. He puts his hands on his cheeks. They feel like they’re burning. “It was very hot in there, Albus. You’re dripping with sweat yourself. There’s nothing wrong with me.” He gets up, grabs his bag, and thankfully spots Rose up ahead.
“Scorpius,” Albus says. “Wait. I-”
“Thank you for concern, Albus, but excuse me. I believe I have a lunch date."
"But-”
“See you later,” Scorpius calls back. He escapes along the corridor, rushing to catch up with the unmistakable short, figure with coily black hair. “Rose Granger-Weasley.”
She turns to face him. “Scorpius Malfoy. Are we going to the Great Hall?”
“Where else?” He offers her his arm and to his surprise she takes it.
Her grip is strong, digging into his wrist slightly, and as they walk up the steps from the dungeons she pulls him in close.
“While we eat you’re going to tell me why you were being so odd back there in the classroom,” she mutters. “Yes?"
Scorpius nods quickly. He’s never dared argue with Rose. "Absolutely.” It comes out as a slightly frightened squeak.
Rose squeezes his arm. “Because my cousin is worried about you, and I don’t like seeing him worried.”
“Understood."
Rose releases her grip slightly and gives him a pleasant smile. "Good. That potion was exceptional by the way. Albus showed me after you left.”
“I think that was mostly him. He’s very good at potioning."
"It was perfect. The way it looked, the way it smelled. What did it smell of for you? Did it smell of bread?” She grins at Scorpius who glances over his shoulder. Albus is only a few feet behind them on the stairs. His head is down and he looks the way he does when he’s thinking very hard about something.
“Later,” Scorpius says. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
Rose looks back too, and nods. “Okay.”
The only good thing about being a Malfoy and sitting at the Gryffindor table is that everyone gives you a wide berth. No one sits in any of the seats at least five feet up and down the table from them, so Scorpius doesn’t have to worry about anyone listening in as he tells Rose everything. In the last few years he’s discovered she’s a very good listener, so he holds absolutely nothing back.
“It smelled like him, Rose,” he says with a groan, burying his face in his hands. “I suppose I should have known, but I didn’t, and it was just- He’s Albus Severus Potter. He’s my best friend. How can I be attracted to him, in love with him? I’m supposed to be in love with you!”
Rose laughs quietly. “That’s very flattering, Scorpius, but did you ever really think you were in love with me?”
Scorpius shrugs and hugs himself, bowing his head. “I don’t know. I like you. You’re very… Challenging. You’re an excellent Quidditch player; I didn’t really like Quidditch until I met you. You’re rather pretty. You’re very smart. You listen to me. You’re a good friend. In that world where you’d never been born it was horrible. I missed you.”
“And what about Albus?”
Scorpius looks in the direction of the Slytherin table. Albus is eating alone, hunched in his usual position at the end of the table nearest the doors. Scorpius can only see his back, but he can tell Albus’ hair is still a little wilder than usual from the potion steam and the humidity in the dungeon.
“I don’t know where to start,” Scorpius says quietly.
“Maybe you should start by talking to him,” Rose pats him reassuringly on the arm. “You never know, he might feel the same.”
“And what about you? How do you feel, you know, about me?”
Rose smiles. “I don’t think you’ve ever asked that before."
"I know.” He looks up at her. “But I’m asking now because I respect your feelings, even if I haven’t done a very good job of showing it in the past.”
“You’re my friend,” Rose says. “You’re very odd, deeply nerdy, and I never understand your jokes, but I still like you, Scorpius. And I want you to be happy.” She nods over his shoulder, in the direction of the Slytherin table. “No one makes you happy like Albus Potter."
Scorpius sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "How do you know me so well?”
“Because you wear your heart on your sleeve. Especially when it comes to my cousin."
Scorpius isn’t avoiding Albus. He isn’t trying to avoid talking to him about everything. It just so happens that he has an awful lot of work to do and spending the evening hiding in the library is the best way to get it all done. Except in the end he just stares at the candle light flickering shadows on his blank piece of parchment all night while his mind races far too fast.
If he is in love with Albus, which it looks like he probably is, and probably has been for a while, then there are suddenly an awful lots of things to worry about. What will his dad think? What will Albus’ dad think? Will he be banned from seeing Albus ever again? And more importantly, what about Albus himself? Losing Albus’ friendship seems far too big a price to pay. It would be easier to keep everything inside, never take the risk, no matter the amount of joy that could be gained from it. Scorpius has never been the sort to gamble, and this, where he could win big or lose absolutely everything, this is too much.
He leaves the library half an hour before curfew, having achieved absolutely nothing, and walks back to Slytherin House. There are very few people in the common room, most are still in the library or out with friends. Those that are there are dotted around the room like smudges of deep green shadow in the slightly murky, underwater light.
Slowly, reluctantly, Scorpius drags his feet up the creaky wooden staircase to the dormitory. He stands outside the door with his heart in his mouth, blood pounding far too fast through his veins. Quickly, with slightly shaky fingers, he tucks a bit of hair behind his ear. So much for Malfoy the Unanxious. Right now he feels about as terrified as he’s ever been. He’d almost rather face down Voldemort and a whole herd of Dementors than do this. Whatever this is going to be.
He still hasn’t decided what he’s going to say. If Albus is in there, especially if he’s in there alone, they’ll have to talk, and Scorpius never feels entirely under control of what’s coming out of his mouth when he’s under pressure.
Feet clatter up the stairs behind him and he presses his back against the door and flashes a very awkward smile at the fifth year boy passing by. He gets an odd look in return. Apparently his loitering is deeply suspicious. It’s probably time to just go inside and face whatever comes.
So he does. He twists the door knob, which is just slightly stiff, the way it always has been, and the door clicks open and swings smoothly inward. Scorpius draws in a very deep breath and finally takes the plunge.
Albus is sitting on his bed, back pressed against the pillows, knees pulled up to his chest. There’s a spell book open, perched on the bed beside him, and he’s holding his wand loosely by his side. He doesn’t seem to be practicing, though. Right now he’s staring off into space somewhere, a slightly miserable frown on his face. He must have showered earlier because he’s already wearing his pyjamas and his hair is somewhere between bedraggled and delightfully soft and fluffy.
When the door opens he looks up.
"Scorpius.”
Scorpius remains awkwardly in the doorway. “Hello Albus."
Albus eyes him with what looks like suspicion. "You’re being weird. What’s wrong with you today?”
“Me? Nothing! I am one hundred percent fine. In fact I couldn’t be finer if you put a fine spell on me.”
Albus shakes his head and looks down at the spell book. “You don’t have to talk to me about it. Whatever it is. Clearly you don’t want to. You’ve spent all day avoiding me and now you’re going to avoid my questions too. I’m your best friend, Scorpius, you can talk to me about anything. But you’re perfectly entitled to your secrets I suppose."
It sounds bitter, in a way that Scorpius hadn’t expected. "Albus…” He takes a step further into the room then stops again. “I don’t know what to say. What do you want me to say?”
Albus looks up again. “I don’t know. I saw you talking to Rose at lunchtime. You were telling her things you can’t tell me and I don’t understand. I know your potion smelled of fresh flowers and fresh bread, or at least some other girl you haven’t met yet. What’s weird about that? If anything it should be me who’s making this strange. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“I was talking to Rose because- wait. Why would it be you making this weird?” Curiously, Scorpius moves closer, perches on the edge of his bed.
Albus rakes his hands through his wet hair, making it stick up wildly, and groans. “It’s complicated. Although it’s not all that complicated really. It just feels complicated…” He shakes his head, then snaps his spell book shut and turns to face Scorpius. “I told you the potion smelled of musty old library books-”
“Because you’re attracted to avid readers. Congratulations, Albus. I’m sure your future wife will be a very intellectual beauty.”
“But that wasn’t all,” Albus continues, ignoring Scorpius entirely. “It was other things too. It was like silver polish on old candlesticks; and the Owlery. You know how the Owlery smells like- well it smells like owls really. All warm and musky. And the Great Hall. Like on the first day of term, when the feast is going on, and there’s all that food but you don’t know where to start? I used to hate that smell. Now it feels like coming home…"
"That’s all very poetic, Albus, but I’m still not getting what you’re trying to say.”
Albus groans again and plants both his hands flat on the bed, frustrated. “I tried to talk to you about it earlier, but you just ran away from me. And you’ve been hiding from me all day, like you already know what I’m going to say. Which I’m pretty sure you don’t-”
“No, you’re doing a really good job of keeping me in the dark here.”
“Because if you did you probably wouldn’t be here anymore.”
“Albus, could you maybe get to the point? If there is a point?”
Albus sighs and twists his fingers together in his lap. “Yes. The point is that… while you’ve been talking to Rose about how you’re so in love with her, I’ve been unable to tell my best friend I’m in love with him because he’s been avoiding me all day. And there was no one else I could talk to about it. It’s been a very frustrating day. Did you know I couldn’t even get my-”
Scorpius stares at him, barely taking in a word of what he’s saying anymore. “What did you just say?”
“I said it’s been a frustrating day and-”
“No no. The part before that. About best friends and love? Because I think I hallucinated for a second and I thought you said you were in love with me?"
"No,” Albus mutters. “That was exactly what I said.”
“Okay…” Scorpius can’t entirely breathe anymore. “Could we maybe unpack that for a minute?”
Albus picks at his blankets. He looks very small all of a sudden, even more than usual. “I don’t know what there is to say about it. I’m in love with you; you’re in love with Rose. I don’t want it be a problem, Scorpius. It doesn’t have to come between us. You’re still my best friend. I’m pretty sure it’s just a phase anyway. I’ve never been interested in boys before. I’ll grow out of it. And I think you should know I’m very happy for you and Rose. I’m not jealous. I’m just pretty happy to have you in my life at all really…”
Albus,“ Scorpius says quietly, reeling from far too much information, a faint golden glow of hope pulsing inside him. "Do you know how the potion smelled for me?”
Albus shakes his head and shrugs. “Fresh flowers and fresh bread? Just like you hoped?”
“No. It didn’t smell anything like Rose at all. I smelled the Slytherin dungeon, and potion smoke, and pepper imps, and the way my bed smells when I come to stay at your house and your mum’s just washed everything.” Scorpius pulls the sleeves of his jumper over his hands, and leans forward on the bed. “I-I smelled you, Albus. And I’ve been avoiding you all day because I didn’t want to tell you and lose you, because you’re too important to lose. But apparently that isn’t a problem anymore…"
Albus blinks at him, looking a little disbelieving. "No. I-I suppose it isn’t.”
“No,” Scorpius repeats.
For a moment they sit there in silence, not looking at each other. Scorpius is trying to digest the conversation that had just happened. It feels a bit like a dream.
“What do we do now?” Albus asks eventually.
“Well,” Scorpius says, smoothing the wrinkles out of his bed cover. “You like me. I like you. Maybe we should just make out.” It’s supposed to be a joke, really. The warm, happy knowledge slowly sinking in that Albus loves him, and the idea of actually kissing him or anything still feel like two very distinct and distant things. Except quite suddenly Albus has got up from his own bed and is sitting next to him. Very close beside him, so close their knees are pressed together and he can feel Albus’ soft warmth. And Albus is looking at him, those sharp, green Potter eyes bright and expectant.
“Okay,” Scorpius says with a high-pitched laugh. “I didn’t think you’d actually go for that.”
“We don’t have to,” Albus says quickly.
“No no no. I want to. If you want to.”
“Of course I want to. But I don’t know what I’m doing.” Albus is still looking at Scorpius with so much expectation, like he’s waiting for instructions or something.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Scorpius asks, utterly perplexed. “Do you think I know what I’m doing?"
"You’ve been with Rose for two years, Scorpius.”
“Yes but we never…” Scorpius waves his hands vaguely, “did anything.”
Albus frowns. “You never kissed her?”
“No!” Scorpius says in horror.
“So neither of us knows what we’re doing,” Albus sighs. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Everything we do together is a disaster, Albus. This was hardly going to be any different.”
“Well,” Albus says slowly, “I suppose if this is going to be terrible we should get it over with."
And quite suddenly Scorpius Malfoy is being kissed by Albus Severus Potter.
It’s a bit weird and wet, and Scorpius isn’t entirely sure where he’s allowed to put his hands, and his head is at a slightly odd angle which is making his neck hurt. When he tries to move his teeth crash into Albus’ and he pulls back.
"Sorry,” he murmurs.
“It’s okay,” Albus replies, and goes right back to kissing him.
Albus seems to be talented at this. He has a gentle tenacity, like he’s just going to keep going until he makes this work. Which it definitely is starting to. His hands crawl up to Scorpius’ jaw and hold him steady, and whatever this new position is, combined with the warm pressure of Albus’ fingertips, is really very nice. Scorpius shivers happily and runs his fingers into Albus’ cool, slightly damp hair.
He’s just begun to explore the reaction he can elicit with the gentle press of his tongue against Albus’ lips (a thoroughly pleasing thing where Albus holds onto him harder and gasps in a sudden breath) when the dormitory door bangs open and Albus shoves Scorpius away, hard enough that Scorpius sprawls and hits his elbow on the bedpost.
“Ow.”
“Sorry,” Albus says, glancing warily at their roommate, then crawling over to check on Scorpius. “Are you okay?”
“My elbow may be broken, but-” Scorpius lowers his voice, conscious that they’re now being watched. “But everything before that was thoroughly enjoyable.”
Albus grins and takes Scorpius’ hand, gently moving his arm so he can look at the growing bruise on his elbow.
“Shall I kiss it better for you?”
Scorpius blinks in surprise, then beams. “Yes. Later.”
Albus stops examining the bruise and just holds Scorpius’ fingers very lightly. “There will be a later?”
Scorpius nods. “I think that would be extremely pleasant."
Albus gives Scorpius’ hand a squeeze, then lets go and looks around at the bed they’re sitting on. "These beds have hangings. And we can do magic.” He shrugs. “Just a thought, for later.” He gets up, and Scorpius considers just grabbing his hand to stop him leaving, but he restrains himself.
Albus flops onto his own bed, bouncing a little. The grin on his face is big and really ridiculous, and his lips might be a little pinker than usual.
“Funny,” he says, staring up at the canopy above him. “I didn’t have to steal any love potion after all. I just had to pay attention and be honest. I really did think it would be harder.”
Scorpius nods. “There are still lots of difficult things about this, you know that? My dad. Your dad. People making fun of us."
"I’m not sure I care,” Albus says, smile not fading an inch. “Everything’s easy when I can do it with you.”
“And when they ask how we got together,” Scorpius says, “we have a good answer.”
“Do we?”
“We can tell them we spent a morning brewing up some lurve."
For the second time that day Albus’ pillow hits him squarely in the face. This time Scorpius just giggles and hugs it right where he is, breathing in the scent of Amortentia, of Albus Severus Potter, of love.