Characters not mine, le duh.

Albus had liked boys for about as long as he could remember. Whether it was the various crushes he had had on players of the Chudley Cannons, or on his brother Jamie's friends, or the neighbor's son on their quiet street in Godric's Hollow, truth be told Albus could not remember a time when these thoughts were not simmering somewhere in the back of his mind. Of course, as the son of a Potter, the Potter, and better yet as the stark image of his father, Albus had had a hard time accepting that he could be so fundamentally different than 'The Boy Who Lived'. Hogwarts had helped; it was here that he had begun the painful yet necessary separation between the Albus people thought he ought to be and the one he actually was.

It was at Hogwarts he had been sorted into Slytherin, a shock to not only everyone in his family, but to most of the wizarding world. A Potter in Slytherin? But they are the most Gryffindor since Godric himself! He had gotten used to the murmurs and stares that had begun to subside after his first few years at school. He was, after all, a Slytherin through and through. He had grown to love his house, the way they would rather be honest, and sometimes cruel, at the expense of being sunny and fake. The fact that his housemates were witty, sarcastic, and not afraid to voice their ambitions. The fact that so many Slytherins had come into their time at Hogwarts judged to be the next generation of Death Eaters, that they too had arrived with the baggage of their parents, and learned to out live that somehow. And ultimately it was here, in the Great Hall the night of the Sorting Ceremony, that Albus did the most un-Potter like thing possible: he befriended a Malfoy. After reeling from the hat's clear cry of Slytherin, he had stumbled to sit at his new house's table beside a blonde boy who nervously introduced himself as Scorpius much to the shock of those around him.

Perhaps Albus had loved Scorpius since that very first year. He couldn't be sure, but what he did know was that they became fast friends. Their fathers' looming larger-than-life legacies, the way people cleared tables for them or stared at them, created a shared experience that often transcended words. They got each other, and it lead to a fast friendship that was strong and intimate. They talked about their families, their fears, and futures they could build outside of the shadow of their fathers. Scorpius was quick-witted, up front, and loyal. He was not exceptionally talented at any particular subject, much like Albus himself, but instead got caught up in long discussions in the Slytherin common room about the future of the wizarding world, about the history of magic in the Americas, or about new potential potions yet to be brewed. He even had an interest in the current affairs of muggles, something he only shared with Albus. He would wave his slender arms, a look in his grey eyes that was passionate as they discussed current affairs of the day. Albus felt warmest and most content in these moments by the fire with his best friend. They shared most everything. And it had been Albus who had consoled his friend on the nights Scorpius got letters from his father about his grandfather's health in Azkaban, where Lucius Malfoy would remain until his eventual death.

Coming into their sixth year at Hogwarts, Albus had slowly come to terms with the sort of love he had for Scorpius. It had somehow behind his back slipped from a love borne of deep friendship into something entirely different. A love that Albus did not know what to do with, and a love that his Slytherin sensibilities were more than a little bit afraid of. He could never admit to his friend these feelings. He could not even admit his same-sex attractions to his family. He had struggled to find examples of such relationships even in the restricted section of the Hogwart's library. It wasn't that people thought these attractions disgusting, they were just a mystery to a magical world that liked to think it understood the nature of everything around it.

/

Albus clutched his quill tightly as he tried to convince himself that this potions essay was worth finishing. Somehow he had gotten into 6th year potions with simply an Exceeds Exceptions on his OWLs, in no due part to the ancient Professor Slughorn, who had a framed portrait of his father on his desk. Albus sighed loudly, plopping his head on the table.

"No luck yet, Al?" Scorpius's teasing voice came from behind him. Albus looked up and sighed again.

"No, no chance. Remind me why I am taking this class? Remind me why I am taking any classes?"

Scorpius sat down beside him, resting his arm on the back of his friend's chair in a way that made Albus feel warm inside. Even at night he was wearing a set of expensive robes that contrasted starkly to Albus's Molly Weasley-made sweater and worn blue jeans. Some things reminded Albus that Scorpius was indeed a Malfoy. Like his pale blonde hair that fell past his shoulders, and which he sometimes put into a sloppy bun when concentrating on something in the privacy of their room.

Scorpius dug a Daily Prophet from his bag and threw it on the table. "Have you seen this, yet? Again, another tragedy," he ended, his gray eyes looking to Albus's.

Albus looked at the headline: "50 Muggles Killed In Bombing, Kings Cross." He shook his head, "It looks like we aren't the only ones with Dark Lords in our world." Scorpius nodded silently, running his hand through his hair. They hadn't always talked about Voldemort, and the War. But as their friendship had deepened, Scorpius had begun to talk more freely about this history, a sort of subdued sadness in his eyes.

Albus looked down at his unfinished potions essay. "This is going to have to wait. I'm not getting anywhere."

"Wait, hold on, I think I have something that could help." He pulled out a worn Advanced Potions textbook with a flourish. Scorpius had a look in his eyes that was equal parts mischievous and smug. "I found it last night."

"Gee thank. I do have my own books you know. A since when do you buy used books?" The book's cover was practically falling off.

"No, no. It's not just a used book," he said, rolling his eyes with a smirk. "Look." He flipped to a random page of the book. Albus looked at the page, where someone had meticulously annotated a recipe for Draught of Living Death, providing suggestions and revisions in the margin. "Wow." Albus flipped to the next page, where there were doodles of various ingredients and a title of a book on the history of the Cruciatus curse scribbled at the bottom of the page. "What on Earth is this?" He flipped through the book with awe and more than a little bit of fear.

"I'm –uh not really sure what it is or whose exactly. But I found it about a week ago in the–the library. Says it belongs to some Half-blood Prince guy." Albus looked up from the book and stared at his friend with curiosity, knowing that Scorpius was lying about where he had found the book, but also knowing he would be less likely to tell Albus if he pressed the question. He would have to wait and see where this mysterious book had come from.

"It's a miracle worker." Scorpius pushed the artifact towards Albus. "Use it for the night. You'll see what I mean." Albus usually was weary of random magical objects that seemed to know more than he did. But he was in desperate straights; his pride was on the line and his potions grade. "Ok, thanks."

They worked in relative silence for the next hour. Scorpius was reading The Daily Prophet, every once and a while stopping to practice transfiguring a button into a pansy. Albus had made serious headway on his essay with the help of the book's annotations on cutting sopophorous pods. "I'm going to call it a night, Scor."

"But its early," Scorpius remarked, looking up at his friend with a slightly amused gaze in his grey eyes.

"Quidditch tomorrow," Albus explained. He had been seeker for Slytherin's team since his second year. Even after being sorted in Slytherin, and befriending a Malfoy much to the chagrin of his parents, Quidditch had been the one thing that he and his father could always talk about. His dad even snuck to some of his games, hiding in the stands so as not to draw attention to himself. He never told Albus he was there afterwards, but Albus knew, having glimpsed him from up high once or twice. Albus was not the star seeker his father had been, but he was good and loved the feeling of flying and the connection he felt to his teammates when they worked through a particular tough match. Scorpius was not much of a Quidditch fan, but he liked the idea of Slytherin, and his best friend, coming out on top, so he cheered the team on.

Heading upstairs to his room, he pocketed the strange Potions textbook. This book would be the only thing allowing him to pass Advanced Potions with a decent grade, he thought with a wry smile.

As he set his bag down and got ready for bed, Albus could not help but feel a pang of loneliness. It was usually at night, when his wits were at an end and when the stress of the day had chipped away at him that he entertained his favorite fantasy: Scorpius beside him, his slender tall body intertwined against Albus's. He knew it was sort of silly. He was a teenage boy, so he probably should be thinking about snogging his best friend wildly in a broom cupboard. And while he did think about that often, it was this fantasy—Scorpius sleeping beside him—that seemed to bubble up within him most frequently. It was with this image that Albus slowly slipped into sleep.

/

The next day rushed along as Albus headed to early morning practice, and then classes, and then somehow slipped in time to study with Rose, his cousin and other best friend. He loved hanging out with Rose because she knew him in a way others could not, seeing as they had been friends since birth. With Rose he could joke about finding a guy cute, and she would respond with her trademark all-knowing smile. And that was that; no explanation required. Because Albus was pretty sure she knew everything already. Except for maybe the Scorpius part.

"Hey, Al," Rose commented mildly, shutting her book for a moment, "I was reading and I came across something rather interesting."

Albus snickered slightly, "Reading? Shocking."

Rose rolled her eyes and continued, "Well, I was reading a book, a biography really, on Albus Dumbledore…" she dug through her bag, pulling out the heavy tome and pushing it onto the table. Sure enough there on the cover was the wizened face of one of the most famous wizards of the past century, his father's mentor, and Albus's namesake. He was proud to be named after such a man, but it sure was a burden at times to even entertain livening up to those standards.

"See, look," Rose pointed to a small paragraph on the page she had flipped to. Albus tried to read the small print for a moment.

He looked up at Rose. "So his patronus is a phoenix? What of it?" Albus could not for the life of him figure out what his cousin was trying to get at.

Rose took a deep breath. " Don't you remember what we read in Defense Against The Dark Arts last week?" Honestly, Albus could not remember for the life of him. He had been exhausted last week from a particularly brutal batch of practices.

Rose continued on, "It was the chapter on Grindelwald. His patronus…"

Albus suddenly remembered. "…Was a phoenix too. But what of it? It's a cool bird. And they were both wildly talented wizards."

"People don't just have the exact same patronus. Especially people who know each other so well. It's rare. And it usually only indicates one thing," she paused for emphasis, as if hoping she would not have to spell it out, "they were in love, Albus! I'm positive."

Albus tried to hide his shock. Usually Rose did not bring this sort of stuff up unless he did first. And Dumbledore? There was no way. People would have known. "Merlin, Rose, don't you think that is a little farfetched?"

"Why? They were best friends. They even practically lived together for a time. And Dumbledore was heartbroken when they finally dueled and Grindelwald was imprisoned. Everyone knows that." Rose pointed to the biography as if for proof.

Albus snorted, "Ok, Rose. Auror in training and now detective?"

Rose rolled her eyes again, "Whatever," she paused, looking at him pointedly, "I thought you would like to know."

Albus looked down at his books and decided not to respond.

/

After making his prefect rounds, Albus stumbled into his room, exhausted and confused from his discussion with Rose, which had been whirling inside his brain since then. There was Scorpius lying on his bed on the other side of the room. He was wearing his pajama shirt and pants that were tight and leaved little to the imagination. His hair was in a sloppy bun as he read. Albus usually tried not to look at Scorpius too long when he was wearing that ensemble. He was worried his body might give away what he had been trying to hide for years.

"Hey, Al, what's up? You look annoyed," Scorpius murmured, looking up at his best friend.

Al sat down on his own bed with a slump. "I just had a weird conversation with Rose, that's all." He shrugged. Scorpius look at his friend thoughtfully, "What did she say?"

Albus debated whether or not he should tell Scorpius the nature of her remarks. Would it expose him? Would it make Scorpius uncomfortable? Honestly, they had never really talked about attraction, let alone same-sex attraction. They were both pretty private with that. But maybe this would be a good way to test the waters?

He took a deep breath. "She was under the impression Dumbledore was gay, and that he and Grindelwald were…a thing."

Scorpius looked up at Albus, his face inscrutable for a moment. "That's because they were."

"Merlin, not you too. Am I going crazy here? Is this common knowledge to everyone but me?"

Scorpius just shrugged. "It was mostly gossip, I guess. My grandfather mentioned it once, but I don't think it was supposed to be a complement to Dumbledore." He continued, "It makes sense. The man never married."

"Plenty of people don't get married," Albus quipped.

Scorpius just looked at him silently for a moment. "Why does this bother you again?"

"It—It doesn't," Albus muttered. "I just thought she was being ridiculous, but I guess not."

And with that the discussion was over.

A couple minutes later Scorpius looked up from his reading, "Al, can I borrow the special potions text book tonight? Need it for my essay."

Albus shrugged, "Yeah, it's in my trunk."

/

The next day Albus could not get his and Scorpius's conversation out of his head, so he headed to the Astronomy Tower, his favorite spot to just think. Was he the only one who was out of the loop on Dumbledore's love life? He was named after the man after all, and he liked guys too! Shouldn't he have known? He was not even sure why he cared so much. He just wanted answers, none of this confusing speculation.

As he passed a corner on the fifth floor, he suddenly heard a strange cracking sound from the wall to his right. It was as if the stones were rearranging themselves into a…door? The Room of Requirement! Rose had told him this place existed, and that their parents had used it to organize against a corrupt Hogwarts professor decades ago. But why was it appearing now?

Usually he didn't open random doors that appeared in the ancient castle. Who knew what dangerous thing could be on the other side. But the part of him that was thoroughly Potter, and therefore Gryffindor, came out on top this time. He opened the door with a sharp push before he could regret it.

Inside was completely dark except for a soft white glow that was being emitted from a stone structure in the center of the room. Albus walked closer to it with his wand raised, his feet moving with a mind of their own. Curiosity had overcome common sense. In front of him was a large water-filled bowl with limestone pillars coming from its sides that raised above the water like cathedral arches, creating a sort of cabinet for what appeared to be hundreds of small glass vials. It was a pensive. Although it looked quite different from the small one his father kept in his study. This one had many memories; whoever's pensive this was must have lived a long and memorable life.

Albus picked up a vial, reading the tag. "Godric's Hollow, summer after 7th year." Godric's Hollow? That was where he lived, and where his father's parents had lived before their murder. Without thinking, he poured the memory into the pensive, watching as it swirled around gently in the water. Suddenly, the silver wisp picked up its pace, and before Albus could back away, his head fell forward into the pensive's depths, as if he was being pulled in by two invisible hands.

First fic I have ever written so please R&R to inspire me to continue and maybe even make this a full length story (I have ideas in mind)!