For Haley - As requested, Albus/Scorpius with fluff. I tried to leave out the angst, partly failed XD. Also don't question the little subtitle-header things before each section.
i. i think i'm in love
"How'd you do on that exam?" Scorpius asks, falling into step beside Albus, his rucksack slung on one shoulder and a grimace on his face. "McGonagall's most likely going to write home to my parents…there's always next time, I suppose."
Albus, who'd inherited his grandfather's talent for Transfiguration (apparently it skipped a generation), merely chuckles. "I think I did okay," he says modestly, mostly to make Scorpius feel better.
Scorpius lightly shoves his shoulder. "Bollocks. You aced that exam. I could tell by the looks on your face during the exam."
Albus raises an eyebrow and shoots his friend a quizzical look. "Why were you watching me during the exam?"
"Impulse." Scorpius doesn't miss a beat. "And curiosity. You know, your eyebrows scrunch together when you're concentrating. It's kind of cute."
Albus stops in his tracks, his mind trying to register his words, but before he can say anything, Scorpius waves and jogs away.
For some odd reason, that gesture makes Albus's heart beat just a little bit faster.
ii. the night we can't forget
Clandestine meetings are not really what Albus had envisioned for their relationship, but anything else would've put Scorpius's neck on the line. Harry Potter is a forgiving man, father, and king, but having a secret relationship with his rival's son is pushing it.
Their meetings are held at night, under cover of darkness, in the woods between their two kingdoms. This is where Albus lets himself go, indulges himself in freedom to do whatever he desires, doesn't have to appear regal or princely, hold his head high — he can just be himself and forget for a few hours that he is not supposed to be out, let alone with Draco Malfoy's son.
Together, they lay in a clearing, bathed in moonlight. It bleaches Scorpius's hair white and wreathes around their intertwined fingers.
"I missed you." The words slip out of Scorpius's mouth wistfully. "How long has it been since we last met? One month? Two?"
"Five weeks." Albus says, squeezing his hand. "Far too long."
"We need to resolve that." Scorpius rolls over so that he's facing Albus, his eyes glowing.
"Our families are feuding. There's no way to resolve this without a fight breaking out, or even worse, a war."
"But we can't keep meeting like this," Scorpius argues, sitting up, his face still turned in Albus's direction and their fingers still laced together. "Someone will find out and we'll start a war anyway. I'd wager you anything that someone has already noticed my absence."
Albus sits up, untangling their hands, and cupping his around Scorpius's face. "But you're still here, and that's what matters. Let's not worry about this until the next time we meet."
He kisses Scorpius and his eyelids fall shut, letting the sweet bliss course through his veins, but his mind is still wrapped around two words, two false words.
Next time.
iii. do you dare speak aloud?
"Albus?"
Albus looks up from the register and his breath hitches as his eyes take in an unexpected but glorious sight. "Sc-Scorpius?"
Scorpius Malfoy, lo and behold, stands before him, beaming and somehow, more handsome than ever.
"Hey." He plops on a barstool and smiles winningly at Albus, who feels his heart rate pick up. "How've you been?"
"G-Great," Albus manages, looking anywhere but at Scorpius's eyes — it's like looking into the sun — which means his eyes roam over other (ahem) aspects of him, like how he's grown taller over the years or how attractive his windswept blonde hair looks.
He hasn't been this attracted to him since during their relationship. They had been separated for years, with Albus in the UK and Scorpius overseas in the States. But Albus hadn't felt this way since they had said goodbye at the airport, and since then, his feelings had ceased to exist.
Until now.
Now, they were resurfacing, like a volcano erupting in his chest — all the pent-up years of longing, of late-night phone calls and the sleepless nights spent wondering if he had made the right decision to let him go — spilling out of his heart, engulfing his lungs until he almost couldn't breathe —
"— was great and all, but I really missed you," Scorpius concludes and Albus snaps back to attention as another radiant smile is sent his way.
Albus struggles to get his breathing under control. "I missed you too," he says, feeling like something is constricting his lungs.
"Well, it was nice seeing you," he says, standing up, and Albus blinks — where was he going? And then, he sees the queue of customers, all of whom look varied degrees of annoyed, and his ears burn.
Scorpius is halfway to the door when Albus gets his voice back (what is this, The Little Mermaid?) and calls, "Wait!"
Scorpius pauses and turns. "Yes?"
Albus swallows back the lump in his throat. "Maybe — maybe we could catch up over supper or something?" he offers hesitantly. "I'm free after six."
His face lights up. "Of course," he says, grinning, and Albus's stomach rolls (pleasantly). "Our favorite place?"
Albus nods. Someone clears their throat.
"I'll see you then," Scorpius says cheerily and walks out the door.
Albus's knees feel weak. He pastes a charming smile on his face, turns to the woman before him and says, "Sorry, ma'am, I'll take your order now. Thank you for being patient."
It's then he realizes that Scorpius hadn't ordered anything, merely stopped by just to talk to him, and this time his knees really start to quake, threatening to buckle.
The next time he sees him — perhaps in a few hours — that charming git is going to receive an earful.
iv. i'm a planet in your cosmos
Albus's parents had very specifically warned him not to be wandering around at night. Or if he was, have someone accompany him.
But tonight, he'd been engrossed in his reading and lost track of time. He hadn't realized it was the library's closing time until the librarian on duty had to politely remind him. By then, it was pitch-black outside. And just his luck, he'd left his phone at home, so he couldn't call someone to come and pick him up. The library's phone was out of service.
So, out of solutions, Albus was forced to do the very thing his parents had advised him against: walk home. Alone. At night.
The bitter autumn wind bites at his bare skin — he also hadn't had the foresight to wear gloves or a hat — and fallen leaves crunch under his shoes, each crackle causing him to flinch. An uneasy feeling settles in his stomach. The streetlights are dim and flickering ominously. Nothing about this night screams safe.
Albus keeps his guard up, his eyes darting around warily and all of his other senses alert, but that still doesn't prepare him for hands covering his eyes and a low voice saying, "Peek-a-boo, we got you."
He stumbles as he's being pushed and falls on his backside, wincing as spots dance in his vision. A muffled, gravelly voice says, "We got him," and more hands start tugging his arms further into a mass of blackness, and a vision flashes before his eyes — his headstone, tendrils of ivy snaking around it, around the words carved into the smooth marble: Here lies Albus Severus Potter, loving son, brother, and friend…
He is on the cusp of total hopelessness when there's a whoosh, the grip on his right arm slackens, and he is able to wrestle it away. One of his assailants lays on the ground, frozen in a block of ice, a terrified expression also frozen on his face.
Another whoosh. A blast of cold air hits his skin and another one goes down. A series of whooshes and one by one, his attackers are felled.
Albus braces himself, but nothing comes. Instead, his savior steps forward and the moonlight glints on his blonde hair. Grey-green eyes framed by a red mask, boyishly rounded cheeks, and a look of triumph that quickly dissolves into concern.
"Are you okay?" the boy asks anxiously. "They didn't rough you up too bad, did they? 'Cause I'll gladly pummel them for you once they thaw —"
Albus finally finds his voice and it comes out raspy. "I'm fine," he replies, "just a little shaken up."
The boy's eyes dart over him. "Sure?"
"Yeah. Thanks for saving me, by the way."
"It's no problem. Do you need me to walk you home?"
"I think I'll take my chances," Albus decides after a beat of silence. "But thanks for offering."
The boy grins and turns, presumably to make a heroic exit, but Albus calls, "Wait! What's your name?"
The boy seems to ponder this. "I haven't really thought about it," he answers. "I'm kinda new to this whole superhero thing. But next time we meet, I'll tell you for sure." He winks and Albus's heart hums gloriously.
Albus grins. "'Next time?'"
"Next time."
v. next time
"Race you," Albus challenges, his eyes sparkling with determination, and Scorpius's heart flips.
"You're on," he agrees, but before either of them can take off, Scorpius grabs Albus's shirt collar and presses his lips to his. Bliss pours through his lips and blossoms in his chest, causing his heart rate to skyrocket and butterflies to erupt in his stomach.
The kiss lasts about five seconds and leaves Albus a spluttering, flustered wreck — fair payback, Scorpius supposes, for all the times Albus had left him like that. This is settling the score.
"See you," he shouts, breaking into a fast-paced sprint before Albus can regain his bearings and he's halfway to the end before Albus does just that.
"You filthy cheat!" he hollers after him. "You — you rule-breaker! That wasn't fair!"
Scorpius smirks. "All's fair in love and war!" he calls over his shoulder, his legs burning and sweat beading on his temple.
He arrives at the finish line and waits for Albus to catch up, bending over to regulate his breathing. "About time, slowpoke," he says.
"Hey," Albus puffs indignantly, "I would've won had you not cheated like that. What the hell was that?" He shoves Scorpius's shoulder lightly.
Scorpius smirks. "What, is there any rule against kissing my boyfriend whenever I feel like it?"
"When winning is involved." Albus glares. "Don't think I'll forget about this — I'll win next time."
His eyes are blazing fiercely and Scorpius allows a smile to surface.
"Next time."
1760 words
Written for Secret Santa - Al/Scor w/ fluff for Haley :)
AN: The next time mantra was completely and utterly unintentional.