Disclaimer: not mine.

Prerequisite Generational Precursor

"You just don't know when to give up, do you, Potter?" he says, words a breath of scorn through his teeth.

He's got him beaten and bloody, body pressed all elbows and spine against the back alley wall. "I've told you, Malfoy," he says as if he has all the calm and time in the world. "I'm not going to let you alone, not here, not ever."

Malfoy's mouth twists dark and livid across his face. "You just don't get it do you? Now's not the time for this. This is it; it's the end. And you ha--"

"You're my responsibility!" Potter's pale eyes flicker. "It's not like you're just another Death Eater! You're my boyfriend and I --"

"Cut!" Professor Flynworthy scurries onto the stage in a surprisingly quick storm of purple robes and too much hair. "No, no, no, Potter! How many times do I have to say this? The play is called 'Harry Potter and the Last of the Death Eaters' not 'Albus Potter and His Frequent and Fairly Disruptive Declarations of Love!'" High pitched giggles erupt from behind the drapery.

Albus pointedly ignores them as he flushes pink around the ears. "Sorry, Professor. I'll get it right this time."

"As you should!" Flynworthy sniffs as he delicately drips a fresh dribble of fake blood down Scorpius' face. "Honestly, Mr. Potter, I sometimes wonder at the casting decision that put you in this role! As I was just saying to Professor Wiggums the other day, I said, 'Wiggums, my dear chap, I know he looks like his father but can he act like him,' and Wiggums, of course, he just tells me --"

"I'm sure Potter will get it right this time, Professor, won't you Albus?" Scorpius drapes a casual arm around Albus' waist and pulls him in just a little too close for propriety. "I'll even coach him this time, while we're on break. Pound a little sense into that brain of his. Just really nail those lines in." Scorpius' smile is pleasant, polite even, though the way he curls the corners of his lips around his teeth makes Albus fidget in the loop of his arm and makes his ears go just a little pinker.

Flynworthy blanches -- and he calls himself the tolerant, liberal type -- but recovers himself. "Yes, well." He coughs behind a fist. "That's a rather good idea, Mr. Malfoy. Why don't we all take ten, everyone?" The hush and hiss of whispering stage hands and players drops immediately to a roaring bustle as section leaders begin calling out directions, resetting the stage.

Albus looks down at his feet, fake dust and grime sprayed white around the strategic tearing of his trouser leg. "Oh cheer up, Albus," Scorpius says, unwinding his arm but still somehow managing to lead Albus off the stage and back into the dressing rooms.

"I'm sorry, really," Albus blurts when the door is shut securely behind him. "I don't know what it is, but every time I get to that line --"

Scorpius cards his fingers through his dark gold hair and sighs. "Look, Albus, it's alright. It's not like you've gone and announced something everyone hasn't known for, what, two years now?"

"Two and a half," Albus mutters, but carefully trains his eyes to the side when Scorpius turns around and vaguely asks if he's said anything.

"We've still got a week until opening night," Scorpius says. "You've got plenty of time to get the line right. Hey, maybe you should write home, ask your dad about how --"

"You don't think this is at all weird?" Albus asks suddenly. Scorpius blinks, bemused. "I mean, us, dating, playing our dads. It's not just a little bit..." He makes a vague fluttery gesture with his hand. "Weird?"

Scorpius frowns a little at his sleeves, absently adjusts them over his wrists. "I thought we'd already gone over this. Father's fine with it, though I think Mother helped him come to that conclusion. Your dad's fine, from what you've told me -- glad, even. So no, I don't see what's so 'weird' about it."

Albus toys nervously with the corner of his robe. "It's just that." He pauses, blushes a good deal more. "I keep thinking about how if we're doing this now, then maybe, back in the day..."

"Ooh?" Scorpius asks, and Albus obstinately refuses to look up, recognizing that tone in his voice. "Ooh, is that what's got you so bothered. Well," Albus hears his boyfriend move across the room, can imagine the faultless glide and narrow feet, "if that's all that's got you so worked up," Albus feels him lean in, breathe against his neck, "I'm sure we can find some way to deal with it," Scorpius' voice pitches gently, and the high, sibilant tones of Draco Malfoy, Antagonist slide softly against his ear, "Potter."

Albus squirms away, an uncomfortable squeak just clamped behind his teeth. "Scorpius!" he exclaims. "That's my dad you're perving over there! And yours too! Really, just think --" as Scorpius laughs.