An Old Rage
"Stupid imbecile of a Mudblood! How dare you touch my wand?!"
From around the corner of the Castle, Scorpius' voice sounded like the hollow echo of a deeper, much older voice. Al moved quickly to get to the open yard in front of Hogwarts' Great Doors. He would stay in the shadows, making certain not to be seen. Scorpius – all Gryffindor foolhardiness – had apparently embroiled himself in another mess of a fight, against the entire House of Hufflepuff, judging from the commotion coming from the yard.
And sure enough, there he was, wand drawn, facing Clara MacMillan, surrounded by a ring of students. She had her blonde curls thrown back, eyes burning with an anger that Al had rarely seen in the Hufflepuff Prefect. From the corner of his eye, Al noticed James running down the stairs from the Castle's doors, robes billowing, the Head Boy badge flashing in the bright winter sun. Al immediately inched back towards the wall. His brother mustn't see him. Bad enough that it had to be James, who was now going for Scorpius.
Davy Murphy was lying on the ground in a Leg-Locker Curse, screaming, but no sound was coming from his lips. One of Scorpius' specialties, combining curses so that his opponents never knew what hit them. Not that Murphy stood a chance against Scorpius, anyway. The magic of the tall, lanky boy, coming from a Muggle family without a drop of wizard blood in their ancestry, was average at best. He was something of a Divination genius, Al had to admit. But why in all hells then didn't Murphy know better and stay out of Scorpius' way?
During the last few months, Murphy had quickly advanced to the favourite recipient of Scorpius' insults and hexes. It had all started on platform nine and three-quarters, when a laughing Davy Murphy had come running for the train, his Muggle parents in tow. Scorpius' grandfather had stood beside his grandson, leaning heavily on his silver cane. Al was a bit afraid of the old man with the dull white hair and the oddly smooth, blue-veined hands. He had stepped closer to Scorpius, a silly move, really, because it brought him even nearer to Lucius Malfoy. But he had seen the haughty sneer on his stern face, immediately mirrored by a similar sneer on Scorpius' face.
"And what are the likes of those doing at Hogwarts?" the old Malfoy muttered, placing a hand on his grandson's shoulder.
Scorpius' father, who'd been talking to Al's father, turned at once. "I agreed to bring you along, because Scorpius wanted it." A quick look of concern towards his son, then Scorpius' father turned towards his own father, barely veiled hatred in his eyes. "But you will Apparate back to the Manor if you say another word. Do we understand each other, Father?"
Lucius Malfoy pressed his lips closed and shrugged. Only Al saw the knuckles of his hand on Scorpius' shoulder turn white, the bones visible through the skin. He knew right there and then that, as far as Scorpius was concerned, Murphy's fate was sealed.
Al saw his father's face, too, after Scorpius' father had apologised to him with a barely audible, "I'm sorry." They both turned towards Al then, ever so slightly, and they looked away again quickly. But Al knew. The expectant hope in Scorpius' father's eyes had been clear enough, much like the irritation in his own father's face. Not that long ago, they had had a talk about Scorpius, about Al using his influence on the other boy. But he'd be damned if he had anything to do with this age-old shit. What did he care about Murphy?
Watching the angry Hufflepuffs draw closer, Al thought that maybe he should have talked to Scorpius. Merlin, the git needed some Slytherin advice badly. Al couldn't understand what they were saying, just heard the furious tone of James' baritone, sounding so much like their father, and Scorpius' smooth, teasing voice. The next thing he knew, Scorpius was down on the ground, blood gushing from his nose. James bent down to him, whispered something in his ear. Then Al heard the loud snap of a wand, immediately followed by a wild gush of magic set lose in the yard. Al gasped. Fuck, James must have broken Scorpius' wand. That was a first. No one in Hogwarts was allowed to break a student's wand. The Wizengamot was the only institution in the wizarding world that could inflict such punishment. Really, James was such a Gryffindor. No self-control. He had just got himself into a hell-hole of trouble. Al heard Scorpius' light laugh amidst the startled screams of the Hufflepuffs, and then it hit him. This was exactly what Scorpius had planned all along. Scheming bastard. Al allowed himself a small smile.
He waited in the shadows until the crowd had dispersed. When he dared a peek, all were gone but Clara MacMillan and Murphy who was trying to help Scorpius up from the ground. Scorpius wouldn't even touch his hand but spat another insult at him.
When the heavy doors of the Castle had closed behind the two, Al dared step into the yard. He glanced around to see if anyone was near, but there was only Scorpius lying on the ground. He didn't move, one half of his wand clutched to his breast. His eyes were shut tight, he was awfully pale, with blood all over his face. Fucking James, the bastard! Al picked up the snapped-off piece of Scorpius' wand. He quietly sat down beside him and took the other half from his hands. Scorpius gave it up easily. He didn't open his eyes when he said, "Did you see that, Potter? Smacked me right in the face and he fucking broke my wand. McGonagall will have his arse on a platter for that." He opened his eyes then and grinned up at Al.
"Yeah, I saw it. You're unbelievable, Malfoy. Looks like James broke your nose, too."
That earned him another grin. "Hurts like hell", Scorpius said lightly, his eyes sparking with amusement. There were no tears. Scorpius never cried, but he moaned with pain when he raised himself onto his elbows.
"Come here." Al pulled his wand from his sleeve. Scorpius held very still while Al cast an Episkey. A soft squishing noise could be heard, and the swelling around Scorpius' nose subsided.
"Thanks", Scorpius said, then looked at his broken wand. He seemed startled, as if the reality of what had happened only now sunk in. "Too bad there's no Episkey for wands." He sounded tired and sad all of a sudden, and the skin around his eyes tightened.
"There may be a spell", Al said, helping him up. "One of the professors will know." Scorpius' face was still all bloody, and Al reached for his handkerchief and gave it to him. Scorpius made a mess of it, smearing red all over his face so that it looked pink rather than its usual pale colour. Al leaned towards him, kissed him lightly on those bloodied lips, trying to take some of that constant rage away. If he could, he would make things right for Scorpius. But he had no idea how. So he kissed him harder, because that was the only thing that helped, and Scorpius kissed him back, wrapping his arms around Al's waist.
"Was that really worth it?" Al whispered. "Having your wand broken for Murphy?"
Scorpius pulled him closer. He was still trembling, from the rage, the pain, the sheer high of getting James fucking Potter all riled up.
"Was worth every second of it, Al." Scorpius' grip tightened, and a shiver ran through his body. Al was getting hard just from the feel of him, and he couldn't help loving Scorpius, although he knew and feared and still would not let himself believe that Scorpius was fucking him for one reason alone: to get back at someone.
Al pushed the thought away like he always did, forcing himself to trust Scorpius' body more than his words. He cradled the broken wand in his hands as they walked, Scorpius' arm still around his waist, towards the Great Doors.
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