2 - How Do You Like Me Now?

August 27th, 2032

Albus closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He could hear the roar of the crowd in the distance, the fireworks and the festivities. His team sat around him, and they all tried to focus. It was the Quidditch World Cup finals, England had beaten Japan 372 to 249 the previous game, landing them against America for the title. They were in England for this match, for which Albus was thankful. He didn't want to travel anymore - he had been out of town since the 13th, with a match every other day. His and his team's hard work came down to this.

Their coach was going on about something, but none of the team was listening. Al, being the captain, had said a few words earlier. An official peeked his head in, letting them know it was time. They stood up, grabbing their brooms and headed towards the entrance of their locker room. Albus stood at the front of the team, his two other chasers flanked him. His beaters were directly behind, and following them, his keeper and seeker. The official held up one finger. "Mount!" He called, the team mounting their brooms. The official held up a second finger. "Let's play hard," Al grinned, as the official pointed at them, signifying game time.

The team took off into the air, Albus flying out first, all of their brooms reaching top speeds. Their red and white checkered robes trailing behind them as they dove down into the pitch. The pitch was set into the ground, with tarps covering the top of it. Stands were packed with both English and American fans, flags of both countries hung over the barrier sides. Al sped out in front of his team to cheers, pushing his broom out in front of him before catching it again in some sort of a stunt. They sped by the Minister's box and he could briefly see his family. He knew the Malfoys would be close by as well.

They swung to a stop, facing the sky as the Americans shot down, their brooms trailing red, white, and blue smoke and flew around the pitch before they stopped, facing the English. The referee flew up, with the quaffle under her arm.

"Let's make this a clean match!" She called, throwing the ball in the air, and the teams clashed.

England won. England won the cup. Al had beaten his personal best, the team was on a high, they had landed on the pitch, the cheers and roars were deafening. They crowded around each other, hoisting the gold cup into the sky. They left the pitch, heading down into the locker rooms. Fans cheered behind barriers, trying to see their team. Al gave his broom over to a kid no more than ten, posed for a quick picture, and headed on his way. Cameras were still flashing in the winning team's face. They took a team photo, popped and drank some champagne, before everyone dispersed.

He was shuffled off towards a healer's tent, and someone was pressing a rag to his nose and cheek. He didn't even realize he hurt until he was sat down on an exam table in a private room and suddenly everything hurt. He had taken a bludger to the ribs, and almost fell off his broom. The pain had been so bad, a time-out had to be called so Albus could puke. Reporters were being blocked from coming in, and someone dropped a change of clothes next to him. He tried to take off his pads, but it was useless with one hand that wouldn't work, so he gave up.

"Need help?" A voice asked, and Al looked up. Nora Nott was standing in front of him with a smirk. She wore a black shirt with a wand crossed over a bone, her hair was pulled back into a bun. She came in, grabbing latex gloves and pulled them on.

They hadn't seen each other in a long time, despite her brother being one of Albus' best friends. He held out his hands for her, and she undid his padding and helped him get his robes and the rest of his padding off. He managed to get his boots and pants off himself, until he was standing in front of her in his underwear. He was trying hard not to blush as she squatted down in front of him, her hands going to his side. He shied away, sucking air through his teeth.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I know it's tender," she pulled her wand from the holster on her belt and wordlessly moved it over his side, setting the bones. She waved her wand again, and gauze began to wrap itself around his torso. He got off the table, and pulled his team shirt and jeans with some difficulty.

"I should be apologizing," he eventually said as she set his hand with a splint. "For 7th year."

"You cheated on me," she said, bluntly. Her tone suggested that she had forgiven him, at least until he brought it up again.

"So, I heard you're getting married to a fucking Finch?" Albus knew just the words to make every situation better. "Of all the people to…"

"Yes, and I love him," she snapped, cutting him off. "I should leave your nose broken!"

"Okay, okay. Sorry, please don't leave my nose broken." Her nostrils flared and she flicked her wand, setting it back into place, a little more violently than she intended. "Merlin, Nora!" He snapped, finding his robes to put under his now bleeding nose.

"I knew you wouldn't change, you piece of shit. Look at me," She snapped, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at her. She siphoned off the blood from his face with the tip of her wand, and reached behind her and grabbed a butterfly bandage from behind the counter, using it to close the cut on his cheek.

"Wow, eloquent," Albus retorted, which seemed to send her over the edge.

She pushed him off the table. "Hey!" He snapped, and she picked up his shoes.

"Get out of my tent."

"Come on, Nora. I'm sorry."

"OUT!" She pushed him out of the tent flaps and threw his shoes at him.

He stumbled, briefly, before looking up at the tent.

"Fuck," Al snapped, scooping up his shoes and sitting down on a bench outside the tent to pull them on.

"I am his mother, and you will let me through." Ginny stood with her fists on her hips, glaring at the security wizard who had stopped her from making her way to him.

"It's fine," Al called, standing up. She gave the security wizard a curt nod and ducked under the ropes.

She grinned, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you, Albus," she told him, stepping back and putting her hands on his cheeks and pulling him down to her height so she could kiss his forehead.

"Thanks, Mum," he smiled, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked back to the family tent.

"It's a party over there," she informed him.

"Wouldn't expect anything less from this family."

They came upon their camp site, which was just over a small hill. Fireworks were being set off, music was being played, laughter and singing filled the air. There was nothing quite like a Weasley party.

"Albus!" Lily cried, jogging up the hill and tackling her brother. He grunted and wrapped his arms around her in a hug anyways. She pulled him down and into the tent.

They all turned and looked at Albus, silent. Like they had been expecting him to say a speech.

"How do you like that, motherfuckers?" He asked, and the room erupted in cheers. Someone popped champagne and shook it as it exploded all over him.

Albus was on top of the world.

3 - Way Down We Go

September 15th, 2032

Albus was hung over; a bottle of firewhiskey and good times with friends had left him pulling his dark blankets over his head to try and go back to sleep – and he was just about there too, when there was a tapping at the window in the kitchen. He lay back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away.

"For fuck's sake," he finally groaned after the tapping had gotten louder. It wasn't going away.

Albus got out of bed, finding pajama pants in a drawer and padded towards the kitchen where he opened the window. A ministry bird appeared, settling down on the back of Al's kitchen table chair and stuck out it's leg. Al pulled the letter from it, breaking the navy blue wax.

Al,

Don't worry about meeting me for lunch – We'll be meeting at your flat tonight. 9:30.

Dad

Wonderful. Al shooed the owl from his kitchen and closed the window. He moved towards his bedroom, took off his pants, and crawled back under the covers.

The knock on the door brought Al from his daze, he had been sitting on the couch with his notebook open in front of him, but he wasn't paying attention to it. The bottle of beer went untouched, the cigarette he pulled from the carton an hour ago still rested behind his ear. A 'save-the-date' laid open in front of him, Nora Nott and Caleb Finch's wedding. Why he was invited was beyond him. Most likely it was a plea from Rhys, especially after what went down at the Quidditch World Cup.

He grabbed the save-the-date, throwing it into the fire he had started earlier in the evening and opened the door. His father stood on the other side with a tote bag of something, but what drew Albus' attention was the hooded figure behind him. He stood aside, letting them in. He closed and locked the door behind him, pulling his wand from the waistband of his pants and casting a few spells over his flat, making sure no eavesdroppers were able to hear.

"Your mother cooked you some food," Harry announced, going to his son's kitchen and dropping the food on the counter. Albus didn't notice, more preoccupied with the woman standing in his living room.

"Minister," he offered, crossing his arms.

Hermione pulled the hood down from off of her head. "Al," she responded warmly.

"The whole fucking family is going to know, aren't they? Want anything to drink?" He asked, as his aunt hung her cloak up by the door and took his apartment in. She had never been here; Harry had only been once before to look at his Hellhound armor and mask.

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and nodded. "Fire whiskey, if you've got any. From what your father told me, it's going to be a long night."

Albus raised an eye and looked back at Harry, who was busying himself with fixing plates of shepherd's pie in the kitchen. "Did he now?" Al nodded, "Yeah, I got some." He joined his father in the kitchen to fix drinks.

Hermione busied herself getting her own materials out, spreading them out on the table, moving Al's beer and carton of cigarettes - she didn't know he smoked. She looked around the flat, taking in how it was decorated. A few bookshelves lined the walls, filled with souvenirs from his travels around the world. Behind her, mounted on the wall were two broomsticks, both no doubt expensive, probably worth more than she made in a month. An owl cage sat in the corner empty; the Great Horned Owl that usually occupied it was out. She took a seat in the armchair next to the couch.

Albus set a glass and a plate down in front of her. Even though she was his aunt, it was still weird to have the Minister of Magic sitting in his living room eating off his IKEA plates.

"I want to see it," she said, as Albus sat down next to Harry on the couch.

"What, my cock or…?"

Harry stared at him. "Seriously?"

"Your arm, Albus," Hermione sighed, growing ever more annoyed with the situation.

Al was already rolling up the sleeve of his hoodie, and held it out towards her. She grabbed her glasses from her bag and put them on. She took his forearm and studied it. The wolf itself was in the tattoo style of his other one, she vaguely remembered him telling her it was American Traditional. But what struck her as she inspected it was how much of a man her nephew had become - he was almost 28. She always saw him as the meek eleven year old. Barely a wisp of hair on the boy besides his head. Now she was holding an arm covered in dark hair that crawled towards the back of his hand. He was grown up enough to make these decisions, to buy cigarettes.

He took his arm back and starting poking at his food.

"What's the initiation process?"

Albus looked up and stared ahead, annoyed. "I'm not talking about that - you don't want to know about it."

"Al, we need to know."

Albus dropped his plate on the table, and Hermione jumped. She watched her nephew get up, and stand in front of the table. "Fine, okay. You want to know? I've got two conditions." Typical Slytherin.

He held out his index finger. "First, I've got blood on my name. I've killed people. I've killed muggles. Innocent people." He began to pace. "I am not a good person. I am helping you, and sacrificing a lot to make sure my family and friends end up okay after this. I can't even cast a patronus anymore."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and shifted uncomfortably.

"Second, my self, Scorpius Malfoy and Rhys Nott will stay out of Azkaban. You can take us to trial. Do whatever. We will not go to prison. You understand?" He was a lot like Harry when he wanted something. He knew what to demand, Hermione would give him that.

"Okay. Deal," Hermione said. "Sit down, eat your dinner, and tell us."

Albus sighed and sat back down, picking up his plate and stabbing at his food. "Everyone is there, standing in a circle around a fire in a forest. Usually it's the Forest of Dean," he took a bite of food. "She calls the initiate forward, along with a sponsor. Cuts are made on both forearms, and blood is mixed when they hold hands."

Hermione gasped, "Blood magic!" She scribbled something down in her note book.

Albus licked his lips and continued. "The sponsor uses his wand, placed over their hands. Kind of like an unbreakable vow. When it's all said and done he has the mark." He nodded down to his forearm, he cleared his throat, and put a fist to his chest, letting out a low burp. Harry rolled his eyes. "Then you prove yourself by killing a muggle. Prove your strength."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances and then gave an uneasy look at Al's wand sitting on the table. It didn't go unnoticed.

"I warned you," Al pointed out.

It had been a long night, and it wasn't over. Harry was pouring over his notes inside while Al went out to his balcony and had a cigarette. His forearms rested on the brick wall, looking out at London. He brought the cigarette to his lips, taking a drag, savoring the taste and the way it burned his throat.

"I didn't know you smoked," Hermione appeared behind him, closing the balcony door. She leaned on the wall and looked over at him. He was always the most attractive between the Potter boys, deep set green eyes, dark hair and beard and strong jaw always made him popular with the girls.

Al kept the cigarette between two fingers as he rubbed a spot on his forehead. "Yeah, bad habit, picked it up from a muggleborn on my first Pro-Quidditch team," he said, taking another drag. It meant he was only 17 when he started smoking, barely the legal age to buy cigarettes.

"You know, Ron didn't even tell me that you were one of the good guys. He just came home, waving his arms saying you were one of the new Death Eaters. I was prepared to raid your house before Harry calmed me down and explained things."

Albus gave a snort and turned around leaning against the brick, he crossed his arms. "Well, I am glad I am not behind bars right now," he gave a low chuckle and took another drag from the cigarette. "My career would have been ruined."

She looked over at him, about to chastise him for not taking this as seriously as he should. He was looking down, at his feet. He wasn't smiling. He brought the cigarette up to his lips one more and took a long drag. He put it out on the wall and flicked it over the edge.

"Your dad said you don't kill," she started slowly, "but what you told us in there…"

"I typically don't." The smoke left his mouth as he spoke.

"So what do you do? Other than being a Potter and connected…?"

Albus looked over at her, half offended. She was insinuating he didn't have a use. "I am really good at the cruciatus curse."

Her eyes went wide and she looked back over at him. "I stand by my decision," he told her and went back inside to join his father.