PLEASE NOTE: this fic contains sort of kink and smut and... if you don't like it, please don't read it.
Tags: Albus/Scorpius, Established Relationship, Crossdressing, Unwanted Birthday Gifts
Disclaimer: This story is based on the wonderful work of JK Rowling's original Harry Potter series, exclusive of The Cursed Child. I make no profit from this but for the enjoyment of writing and all thanks and appreciation go to the original author of the series herself. Thank you!
Chapter 1: Be Afraid
~Albus~
With a groan at the abuse of the midday sunlight, I stepped out of the little Thai restaurant. My hand immediately rose to shade my eyes and I squinted accusingly up at the early summer sadist.
"And this is why you need to get yourself a pair of sunglasses."
Glancing to my side, I rolled my eyes at Scor's smirk as he followed me through the door, sliding a pair of sleek shades onto his own eyes. No one would pick that not even ten years ago he would have been scandalised at the thought of he, scion of the Malfoy family, wearing something so commonplace as Muggle shades. Damn him for wearing them so well, too.
"Well, pardon me for not being the paragon of practicality," I said, resisting his attempt to loop an arm around my shoulder only for a moment before allowing it. I never could say no to Scor for long. Even if, after all these years, I still didn't really feel comfortable with displays of affection in public. "We can't all be as forward thinking as you, Scor."
"No, of course not," Scor smirked. He raised a hand and held it above my eyes in a mimicking shade of my own lowered fingers. "But your poor abused eyes shouldn't have to suffer for it. Allow me."
"What, so you'll be my permanent sun-shade now, will you?"
"Anything for you, dear."
"Oh dear god, I think I may vomit."
Scor and I turned in synchrony to Rhali as she too stepped from the restaurant, squinting in a glare at the sudden abuse of the sun. Or maybe that was just a glare towards us. We'd been together for over eight years now and Rhali still couldn't quite accept PDAs. Not even the sight of them, even if they were exaggerated to tease, to jest, to make a point.
"If you can manage, please make sure you aim for the gutter rather than the sidewalk," Scor said without missing a beat. Rhali poked her tongue out at him but fell into step beside me anyway, hands slipping into the pockets of her oversized, patchy jacket and making room for Mary as she too ducked out of the door. Rhali proceeded to scathingly condescend Scor's behaviour as we made our way from the Thai restaurant.
Shaking my head at the banter that ensued – because when Rhali and Scor got going, rebounding off one another in their verbal sparring, it was nigh impossible to interrupt - I glanced over my shoulder towards Mary following a step behind us as she distractedly adjusted her satchel on her shoulder. Mary – quiet, unobtrusive Mary who looked like nothing if not a little mouse with her big brown eyes and crease of perpetual worry upon her brow that it had taken me months to deduce was actually just her resting face and not real worry – offered me a amused little smile upon noticing my attention and fell into step at Scor's other side. She tucked her chin to hide that smile in the folds of her scarf because, naturally, Mary was wearing a scarf even in summer. It was sort of her thing.
It had been two years since I'd finished uni, one since Mary had done so, and yet we'd still remained friends. It said something of how well she slotted into our little friendship group, even more of how she got along instantly with Ozzy despite seeing him only sporadically, and hadn't simply drifted away after we'd all graduated. It probably helped that the research facility I was associated with, growing medicinal magical and non-magical plants with many tailored for pharmaceuticals, was affiliated with the nursery she'd taken up residence in. Whenever a phone call was needed, my boss Kelly always directed me to be the one to do it. Connections always stretched pretty far in my books.
I'd been working at Asphodel Research Facility pretty much since I'd gotten out of uni. Surprisingly, too, because I honestly hadn't expected to fall on my feet in a job with any semblance of speed. Mary had a harder time of it, the poor thing. I didn't want to brag or anything but it's true that by keeping my ear to the ground I'd managed to hear word of a suitable opening for her at Spikes and Sprouts Nursery. She loved it there, too, so was I pleased with myself? Damn right I was.
Scor had similarly finished his apprenticeship in Potioneering, at about the same time that I had my own studies. He was, naturally, a prodigy in his field and so had professors and brewers clamouring at his metaphorical gates in a bid for his attention. The lucky prat got the pick of the litter, I always remind him fondly. Credit where credit is due and all, though, because he worked his arse off those five years to push himself so high, to become as distinguished as he was. He had his name to half a dozen published papers by the end of his second year – show off that he was – and could practically choose wherever the hell he wanted to go when he finished up his thesis.
I was so proud of him, the genius bastard.
That was Rhali's name for him, anyway, alongside her continued and largely considered to be overused title of 'Mr Prefect'. She clung to that name like shit to the sole of a boot, despite Scor's long-suffering sighs and pleas to "Move on, you petty juvenile". He'd even come up with his own range of names to counteract hers, from Miss Hacker in deference to her pursuit of the cryptography route in mathematics to my personal favourite 'Pi-Bald'. He'd been so chuffed with his play on words with that one that I couldn't help loving it despite its cringeful use of a pun.
And Ozzy… well, no one quite knew what Ozzy did. He was around occasionally, resurfacing every so often with a knock to mine and Scor's door or – less frequently Rhali's – to crash on a couch for anywhere between a couple of days to a month. Which was actually weird because he had his own flat; I guessed he probably got a bit lonely all by himself though, and mostly just used it as a dumping ground for all of the knick-knacks he'd collected and would continue to collect on his travels. He had some great stories, though, and I did still love spending time with him even after all these years of temporary disappearance in which I was never entirely certain he was still actually alive throughout. I'd built a wall of postcards in my dining room that he'd sent me, each detailing his travels and the adventures he'd undertaken.
For the most part he sounded like he was having a blast, with the only difficulty being that he had to try and juggle expenses. But, always the free spirit, Ozzy pretty much took up anything that he could find – I meant quite literally anything. He'd been the typical bartender, the barista, the check-out chick and the usher, but he'd also been a ski instructor, a dog groomer, a tour guide – in Italy, of all things; he couldn't even speak Italian, or at least he hadn't at first – and a florist. He'd even taken a short stint as a field environmentalist, which I felt so proud for, especially when he said that he could hardly pass up the opportunity with myself as his friend. God bless his little cotton socks.
Hopefully, all things going to plan and with the hopes that he would actually stick to his word this time, Ozzy would be coming back to London within the week. Hopefully. It had been far too long that he'd been away and his interruption of the increasingly aggressive – but always good-natured, supposedly – argumentativeness between Scor and Rhali was always appreciated. He was like a fire blanket smothering a happily and dangerously burning flame.
"… all over your patent leather shoes," Rhali was saying, the customary sarcastic ring to her tone drawing my attention once more. She was half leaning into me as we walked, which had the unfortunate domino effect of pushing me to lean into Scor and he into Mary. Poor Mary nearly slipped off the edge of the gutter, rolling her eyes at me as I glanced around Scor once more to offer an apologetic wince. It wasn't like she could have gotten run over, not in the street we wandered down, but still.
"Don't be ridiculous, Rhali," Scor sniffed, straightening his back further in its already perfect posture. He looked and sounded the right pompous arse with his perfectly groomed hair, his tailored suit and the glossy blackness of his glasses. "I don't were leather."
"Pleather?"
"Of course."
Rhali snorted. "Cheap-skate."
In an almost exact mimic of that Rhali had just given, Scor snorted too. "Cheap? Me?" He gestured to himself in such an assuming manner that I couldn't help rolling my own eyes and sharing a smirk with Mary over Scor's shoulder. "Have you met me, Rhali?"
"He has a point there," I said, and Scor flashed me a smile as though I'd given him a compliment.
"Probably shits gold into his marble toilet seat," Mary muttered, almost too quietly to be heard, which set Rhali to snickering. Mary – sweet, quiet little Mary – had what I had once found a surprisingly dirty mouth upon her.
"It's not marble, it's porcelain," Scor sighed, as though that was the only issue he had with the statement. "Ask Al, he shares the toilet. We share everything, don't we, dear?"
"Don't want to hear it!" Rhali exclaimed, reaching around me to swat at Scor's shoulder as I laughed and elbowed Scor for his baiting. "Honestly, Ally, talk some sense into your boyfriend. He's got his head in the clouds, he does."
"Me?" I asked innocently. "I hardly see what I have to do with the situation."
"Well, I don't wear leather because it would upset you," Scor pointed out. He made it sound like the effort was physically burdensome.
"Aw, darl," I drawled, stroking his arm simperingly. "You do that all for me? I'm touched. Truly."
"Ally, you're killing me," Rhali muttered. Scor and I exchanged a glance and dissolved into chuckles of our own.
It was always that way with Rhali. She always bemoaned any – and I meant any – sort of intimate relationship, any sort of romance, and wasn't ashamed to show it. But that didn't mean she begrudged the relationship itself. I knew for a fact that if anything she very much approved of it. It was just that any display of pampering fluff or lustful tendencies seemed to trigger her gagging reflex.
The streets of London should have been more packed than they were at midday lunch rush hour. Luckily for us, however, the thick congestion of the Muggle city was thinned markedly in the Wizarding backstreets. Veiled from Muggle access unless they had an understanding of Wizarding reality like Mary, it was a welcome respite from the thickly hastening crowds. Not to mention the fact that the Wizarding world tended to use cars far less that Muggles – why wouldn't we, when we could just Apparate everywhere? – so the roads packet bumper-to-bumper in Muggle London were all but empty except for the occasional passing bus or, even more occasionally, a car. Most pedestrians actually walked on the road, and God help anyone who dared to drive through them; the nerve, for a car to drive on the road!
We rounded a corner on our way towards the nearest Apparation point and for the first time were actually waylaid in our passage. Scor drew me to a halt as we waited upon the indecisiveness of a pack of fluttering butterflies, the girls likely barely out of school and all clustered around the windowed shop front of… ah, of course. Alexander McQueen. The name wouldn't have meant anything to me in my teenage years but, well… I had Scor to keep me updated with the finer things in life. I'd always been sort of detachedly aware of his appreciation of fashion but it hadn't fully bloomed until after we'd left Hogwarts. Certainly not the flamboyant kind, and he expressed open exasperation for anything more outrageous than the minimalistic fineness and subtlety. Now, anyone could tell even at a glance that he could write a speech on the difference between Cashmere, Alpaca and Vicuña. I hadn't even known there was more than one type of wool until he had sighed heavily and sat me down to explain it in slow, deliberate words. It was probably the most boring conversation I've ever had in my life.
I didn't like to make assumptions, but from the bubbly excitement and nattering exchange of the group of girls before us I would lay money on the fact that if I were to align their understanding of the fashion world with either Scor or myself then they would most likely lean more towards my end of the spectrum. They were each dolled up to the nines, dressed in an array of brightly coloured skirts and shirts and blouses and shorts, handbags a spray of colour in an already bouquet-like range of brightness. There was much pointing and many pining sighs as they gestured towards the precious few items on display in the window. Seriously, there were only about three headless, limbless mannequins to show off the wares. I guessed such a high-end designer didn't need to pose for the masses.
"Like they could even afford them," Scor muttered at my side. There wasn't as much condescension behind his words as I might have expected, actually, and it only took a glance towards him to deduce why. My boyfriend was staring at the displays with single-minded focus and even though I couldn't see behind his shades I would guess that he barely blinked. I shook my head and failed to withhold a smirk; Scor's sunglasses didn't do much to hide the direction of his attention.
"Oh, and you'd know all about how much a dress at Alexander McQueen's would cost, hm?" Rhali asked, glaring at the chattering girls as they gradually dispersed with longing glances over their shoulders. We started off in the direction we were headed once more.
"Of course I do," Scor replied, finally shaking himself loose from his attentiveness to the shop window as it disappeared behind them. "People know these sort of things."
"People? I highly doubt people know such things. You're the outlier, Scor."
"I am not. Mary knows what she's talking about when I mention a designer or a style. Don't you, Mary?"
As one, mine, Scor and Rhali's attention all turned towards Mary. The worry on her brow might have made me feel guilty for spearing her with attention, except there was exasperation in her gaze that I recognised as being her real response. She peered up at Scor for a moment before shrugging one shoulder and to my surprise shrugged with a nod. "Doesn't take a genius."
Huh. There you go. I wouldn't have picked it from her.
"You hear that, Rhali?" Scor glanced towards his debating opponent. "'Doesn't take a genius'."
"Oh, then Ally and I must be mentally challenged, then." Rhali narrowed her eyes, daring Scor to agree with her interpretation.
"I'm not denying that," I offered with a shrug. Scor, arm still resting around my shoulders, flicked a finger at my chin. "Ow."
"You're not 'mentally challenged'," Scor corrected. "You just don't take the time to learn."
"Because it's not useful to me in the slightest."
"It could be."
"It won't be. I have exactly zero inclination to spend more than minimal expenses upon my clothing. Why spend a couple of hundred dollars on a shirt when I can buy one for five pounds at Beyond Retro or Rokit or something?"
Scor sighed as though the thought of my shopping endeavours physically pained my. "Why don't you ever just splurge a little for yourself? Is it such a crime to want nice things?"
I shrugged again. "I like nice things. But clothes are…"
"Ally has a reputation to uphold," Rhali cut in. She swept a hand at my overall ensemble – admittedly overworn jeans and a simple shirt with my customary canvas shoes that had certainly seen better days – and raised a pointed eyebrow. "Besides, I would think the juxtaposition to you, Scor, would just make your head swell further. Make you look better and all."
"I honestly don't care what Al looks like. I care about his reasoning behind buying and wearing things which could very readily be replaced." Scor's tone still held a long-suffering ring to it, but I barely heard it. I was frowning at Rhali instead, my thoughts turned inwards. I knew for a fact that I didn't actually dress all that badly. Just that… next to Scor…
Well, anyone next to Scor would look like a pig that had just hauled itself from the slop. No, Scor wasn't flamboyant, and he disdained grandeur or pompousness in a way that had become fairly typical of the Malfoy family despite their wealth. But even so, anyone who looked at Scor and I would consider him way out of my league.
"… wish you would just let me dress you up a little sometimes. It's not like I don't have the money to do so," Scor was saying, his attention turned towards me. There was a note of request in his tone but it was entirely devoid of the discomfort that I would expect had the situation truly annoyed him. He didn't care. I knew that. Just that –
"Oh, that I'd pay to see," Rhali chimed in. A crooked grin spread across her face as we turned another corner. "If you should choose to torture Ally as such, please let me book a seat for the show."
"I'm not a circus freak, Rhali," I sighed.
"Perhaps you should look a little closer to home in terms of re-outfitting wardrobes before judging others?" Mary muttered, seemingly more to herself than to anyone in particular.
Scor barked in laughter as Rhali spared Mary a scowl. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"Seriously, though," Scor continued, speaking more to me than anyone else. I tilted my head to glance up at him as we paused at a crossing. "I'd actually probably prefer to buy you something than for you to actually get me a present for my birthday this year. Would you let me?"
I scrunched my nose. "That's hardly a birthday present for you."
"It is. It's what I'd want."
"No, it's –"
"What, you want to actually go out and buy Ally a new wardrobe?" Rhali chuckled like a parent condescending the exploits of their foolish child. "You might want to go somewhere other than a women's clothing store for that though."
"Actually, Alexander McQueen sells menswear as well as women's," Scor corrected. "I'm personally more appreciative of their women's attire, though. Not really for myself, but it has a certain appeal that is lacking in menswear."
Rhali smirked, half-turning to sidle in a crab-like walk as we passed along the next block and rows of shopfronts. There was a significant spread, a mixture of Wizarding and Muggle brands that had mingled more and more profoundly over the years. I actually recognised some of them.
"You got a thing for skirts we don't know about, Scor?" Rhali asked, her eyebrow quivering suggestively.
"Obviously," Mary muttered, which earned her a shaded frown from Scor.
"I do not have a 'thing for skirts'," Scor said, his fingers beginning an agitated tapping on my shoulder. I knew the feeling, being attacked from both sides by Rhali and Mary; Mary hardly seemed an active participant most of the time but when she was she could slide in some very choice remarks. "I can just appreciate a piece of beauty when I see it."
"Shame you haven't got a girlfriend to shower trinkets and lacy frills onto," Rhali said, false sympathy in her tone. I didn't think Rhali'd ever been truly sympathetic. She probably didn't know how to be.
"No," Scor shook his head sharply before raising his chin. His arm tightened deliberately around my shoulders. "I have a boyfriend and that's far better."
I saw it. The very second the thought occurred to Rhali I saw it. It was almost a manic gleam in her eye, like the obsessive fixation of an eagle sighting its prey. A different and entirely terrifying smile spread slowly across her face. I felt myself draw unconsciously into Scor's side; anything to avoid the pulsing, sadistic aura emanating from her. I don't think Scor even noticed, pointedly ignoring Rhali as he was. "Oh, I have the best idea."
"You're not going to kill anyone, are you?" I asked warily, pausing in step as we rounded the last block to the outlined courtyard of the East End Apparation Point. Scor glanced towards Rhali worriedly and even Mary raised her eyebrows, curious as to her reply.
Rhali, with deliberate casualness, took a step backwards and leaned against the brick wall of behind her. Her lips quivered with the urge to spread further; it really was terrifying to witness. "No, not yet. I just have a thought for Scor's birthday present."
"Should I be worried about the 'not yet'?" Mary pondered aloud.
"What have you got planned?" Scor asked, his tone faintly nervous in a way that only Rhali could elicit. I couldn't blame him as I felt my own anxieties kick it up a notch as her restraint finally crumbled and her smile spread broadly. Not real anxieties – I'd had those largely under control for years – but certainly I was unnerved. Rhali was terrifying.
"All in good time, my friend. All in good time." Rhali made a shooing gesture towards Scor in a pointed dismissal. "Go on, tally ho. Off with the pair of you; I have a mission to accomplish."
"Weren't you going to your parents' this afternoon?" I asked.
Rhali shrugged. "More important things take precedence, Ally."
"Now I'm really worried."
"You should be," Rhali acknowledged with a sharp nod of her head. "Go on. Off with you. But you," she paused and pointed a finger at Mary. "You're coming with me."
"Must I?" Mary said with a heavy sigh.
"It's easier just to go with it," I offered, as though Mary didn't know that perfectly well herself. "Scor just hasn't realised when to lie low and take it yet." Scor's silence was very telling.
Rhali stepped forwards and latched her claw-like hand around Mary's wrist. "Come on, you. I'll even let you put in for the present if you don't kick up too much of a fuss. It's fantastic, believe me. It can make up for the fact that you're not coming out for Scor's actual birthday night next week."
"Help, I'm being abducted," Mary intoned in a bored voice, with none of the panicky intonation that the words would suggest should accompany it.
"We all need to make sacrifices, Mary," I called after her as Rhali rapidly drew her back the way they'd come.
"We appreciate your compliance," Scor added. Mary shot both of us a betrayed glare over her shoulder before Rhali dragged her around the corner. As they did, Scor slowly turned his attention towards me. "Should I be afraid?"
I nodded fervently. "We should be very afraid," I agreed. I hadn't missed the predatory glint in Rhali's eye as she flashed us a glance just before vanishing on her 'mission'. And not towards Scor, either, but to me.
I thought I should be very afraid.