Chapter 3
I solemnly swear I will never refer to Albus Potter as Al. I swear it. Flame me if I do.
Chapter 3! OMFG! Who'd d'thunk it possible?! lawls
Nobody has just elements from one house in them. Mr. Potter has quite a bit of cunning from Slytherin; Rosie and Hugo's dad, though a pure Gryffendor in many ways has the loyalty of a Hufflepuff; even my father, 99.9 Slytherin, has some Ravenclaw ways about him. We've all got a few elements from each of them and it's our most dominant traits that decide which house we belong in. That's my theory anyway.
Hagrid is what I would classify as a Gryffendor/Hufflepuff cusp. He was like (and I say this knowing I'm going to hear about it later) the Potter family dog. Or better yet, the family dragon: Bigger, more dangerous, and older than the Grand Gryffendor Clan, but as loyal as if they'd brought him up from a pup. Dumbledore I can understand. Hagrid owed a lot to Dumbledore. The place to live, the job, and the whole anti-discrimination thing, means that there were plenty of reasons for Hagrid to keep dear ol' Dumbles happy.
The Potters, however, owe a lot to Hagrid and he owes very little to them, which is why I cannot understand the loyalty. I don't know the whole story very well, but from what I know of it, Harry Potter was carted around like a precious package by Hagrid and the lot until The-Boy-Who-Lived decided to become The-Boy-Who-Got-A-Life and took off with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on their own. When it comes right down to it, quite a lot of people have saved Albus' dad's life, Hagrid at quite a little forefront of his own.
At any rate, for the forty-five minutes that Albus, Rose, and I were privileged to his company, all Hagrid did was talk about how great Albus and Rosie's parents were and how much I looked like my dad.
"He was being nice," Albus informed me later, green orbs twinkling with mirth, "He didn't have anything nice to say about your dad except his looks."
Incidentally, the idea that Hagrid liked my dad's looks haunted me like calling him a spoiled brat/tattletale would never have managed.
On the way back to the school proper, we could see the Quidditch pitch where the Slytherin team was practicing. Some of them were wearing their scarves too keep warm in the hastily approaching winter, and damn the risks of strangulation and all that crap Madame Hooch barked at us. I watched them enviously, wishing I'd gotten over my distracting depression long enough to think of going to try-outs. Rosie watched them too, no doubt in an attempt to pass along any information she could to her maroon-and-gold comrades, though they were no where near close enough to attain any real idea of what they were doing. Albus only just barely glanced, before turning away dramatically and staring at the front doors to the castle as though they were the only thing he could see. Heights. I'd almost forgotten.
--
I must admit I found a certain perverse delight in the horrified way everyone was reacting to our relationship. And in spite of myself I confided this to Albus, to which he immediately decided that we must milk this hilarity for all it was worth. Our depression-fueled study habits during the first couple of months, jumpstarted our academia until classes were a breeze, meaning that there was more than enough room to goof off a little.
We sat together in every class, talked animatedly about nothing whenever others were near, and began synchronizing our movements like we were twins or something. When we walked, we stepped in time, strutting right down the middle of the hallway, so all could see. If we opened out text books in class we did so simultaneously, and with a sort of rhythm. Every class period became like that: sit – open – read – grin. We were absolutely equals in smarts, which only added to our twin persona, as we almost always raised our hand at the same time.
By Friday of that week we were getting a bit tired of it, but I was no longer the miserable waif I had once been and being ostracized was more fun than ever. Halloween was drawing near, and so we happily chatted about what our first Hogwarts holiday would be like on the way back to the dormitories from Charms, completely disregarding the troubled glances we were getting. But one of those looks was coming from none other than James.
"Are you just trying to get disowned, or something?" James Potter was popular, or at least I deduced as much, seeing the large group of Gryffindor behind him. "I mean, first Slytherin and now this?" he gestured to me, obviously disgusted.
Albus narrowed his eyes in anger for a few moments, but this washed from his face as he turned to me.
"Scorpius, I don't believe you've been formally introduced to my brother." He said jovially, "Scorpius, Prick. Prick, Scorpius."
I know I shouldn't have laughed. There were at least five of them, all athletic looking Gryffindors, and only two of us puny bookish lads. But laugh I did, and six sets of eyes flew to me, only one set amused.
Well, maybe two, Mars Thompson does enjoy a good joke.
"That's it, Albus." James spat "I'm not looking out for you any longer. You're on your own."
"When was I not?!" Albus shot right back "Good riddance to you and your prejudice!"
"Hey now, we're not the ones who've got it out for muggleborns." Mars defended, brushing a dreadlock out of his face.
"Next thing you'll be accusing him of opening the Chamber of Secrets!" Albus threw his hands in the air.
"James, lay off. You're being ridiculous." The feminine voice took us all off guard. Turning toward the stairs, we found Rosie bounding down them looking annoyed.
"You're not seriously taking his side." James stated, eyes narrowing as if trying to see something of her reasoning as a physical presence.
"Is there a side to take?" Rosie inquired shrewdly, moving to stand between James and us "All I'm saying is Albus isn't your dad, and Scorpius isn't his father, so who the…hell cares if they hang out?" (Ooo, Rosie cussed!)
"I do!" James answered rather stupidly.
"Well, I don't, so buzz off!" Her pigtails swished dramatically as she turned her back on him, "Come on, lads. Let's go sit by the lake."
We followed her away from the confrontation in silence, but after a while I couldn't help myself any longer.
"Er, Rosie?" I asked, bounding onto the grounds right along side her, "Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?"
She smiled so genuinely I almost gasped.
"Hagrid likes you."
Years later, I happened to ask her why exactly she came to our defense that day. Her reply was so Rosie-like, I had to smile. She said: "It was like I suddenly realized you weren't the bad guy." She meant, of course, that I wasn't the bully she expected me to be, but I liked the way that comment just ever-so-vaguely hinted that the bad guy was James.
Rose fit right in with us. Our schedules were similar (why they always put Slytherin and Gryffindors together in doubles classes, I'll never know), and I was surprised to find her an equal, academically speaking. It didn't exactly come easy to her the way it did with me, and she wasn't information hungry the way Albus was (and still is), but she was good at work. When she decides to get something done, it gets done. End of story.
Albus seemed completely bewildered by our friendship, not that he minded it. He kept looking at me sideways when he knew I could see him but Rose couldn't. It wasn't until after the eighth day of sitting by the lake doing nothing, and a completely retarded Moaning Myrtle joke, while we all laughed and Rosie shoved my arm slightly and Albus grinned at me, that I realized what those sideways glances meant.
Albus thought I fancied Rosie.
"Oh, Rosie?" I voiced as though I had just remembered a question I'd been meaning to ask for quite some time, "Do you know Becky?"
"Mars's sister?" she asked back, eye brow raised.
"Yeah." I cleared my throat in a nervous sort of way, "Are you friends with her… I mean, you do talk to her and stuff, don't you?"
"Uh, no." she said softly, a small frown drawing down the ends of her mouth.
Rosie took special interest in a blade of grass, picking at it and progressively tearing it to shreds. She shook her head as if clearing her mind, then turned back to me.
"I mean, she's a Hufflepuff, and a year older, and sort of shy, and…" she paused, turning back to the demolished piece of lawn near her knee, "I don't really hang out with the other Gryffindors that much, so its not as if Mars would have introduced her."
"You're a loaner like us." I offered pleasantly, completely forgetting my plot to make them both think I fancied Becky Thompson.
"There's an oxymoron for you." Albus said with a light chuckle and a grin, "'Loaners like us.' I like it."
"Loan wolves, each of us." I consented happily.
"Loan wolves with a pack" Rosie corrected.
Albus stood up slowly, brushing wet grass from his backside lazily, and we stood up with him.
"It's getting late. And cold," He said.
"Yeah," I replied easily.
We walked in silence back through the huge doors, and along the short way to where we would part ways.
"See you in herbology tomorrow, I guess." Rosie walked almost backward to wave goodbye as she went up the stairs, seeming quite sad to go back to her dorm.
I would be too if I didn't have Albus to sleep next to each night.
--
"I don't fancy Rosie."
"Sure. Whatever."
"I don't!"
"I believe you. Go to sleep."
"No! You don't believe me! I don't believe you believe me!"
"Scorpius…" I could hear the eyeroll in his voice, even with his back to me the way he was laying on his side.
"I don't like her. Not like that."
"You're denying it too much" he reasoned.
"No, I'm denying it just enough. I don't fancy her."
Albus sighed heavily and rolled over, so our noses were almost touching, and our breath mingled above the pillow we shared.
"I kind of wish you did."
"Why?!"
"Because…" he rolled onto his back this time, staring at the canopy above us without really seeing it, "she needs to have someone to like her. All the Gryffindors are being mean to her since she's started hanging out with us, and when we were little she always used to say she was going to get a boyfriend practically the second we came to Hogwarts."
"Fecking Gryffindors."
"Tell me about it."
"I'm sorry I don't fancy her," I laid my head near his and let our bare feet touch in a way I hoped seemed natural, "I sort of wish I did now."
"'sokay" Albus said sleepily, "Herbology's tomorrow."
"I know. I can't wait." And I meant it.
--
I woke up the way you always hope to wake up when you sleep in the same bed with someone you fancy: both of you on your side, their back to your front, all curled around. The truth is, most of the time you wake up either crushing or being crushed, or barely touching at all. Waking up in the perfect definition of spooning gives you a happy feeling that little else can.
However, when you're eleven and the person you're spooning is your best mate, the general consensus is usually to freak out. And freak out I did. I sprung from the comfortable warmth of my bed and made a dash for the bathroom. Thankful I'd thought to bring my robe with me, so I went ahead and took a shower before leaving again.
When I got out, Albus was already dressed and getting his books together.
"Did you have to shake the bed so much when you got up?" he asked grumpily. Jonathan, our fellow first year whose bed was right next to mine, made a surprised sound, his eyes widening ever so slightly. I didn't buy it.
TO ALL THOSE NON-SLYTHERINS OUT THERE: Slytherins are sneaky (duh). Any Slytherin worth his weight in salt does not let it be known that he (or she -happy now Rose?-) has a hold of potential blackmail information unless they want it to be known.
I glared at John until he turned around, pretending it was because he was changing rather than through the sheer power of my gaze.
"Needed to pee." I told Albus bluntly.
I expected him to just roll his eyes, but he didn't. Instead, he smirked. Fuck. He knew why. He had probably been awake, the jerk.
I went over to my small dresser and started taking out the same old uniform shirt and pants as always. Someday I would show the world my absotively fantabulous fashion sense, but not today. I pulled my plain white shirt over my head, only bothering to undo the top three buttons, did the quick down-up of changing one's pants and trousers in front of others, then turned around to alert Albus to my readiness.
Albus was leaning against one of the bedposts of his own, un-slept-in, bed, staring at his feet. He looked more than a little morose. I took a few steps toward him, stopping just short of our respective personal spaces.
"I wouldn't…you know," he shrugged, still not looking me in the eye, "molest you or anything."
"What?" I asked, legitimately surprised.
"I mean," he turned the full power of his gaze on me (and let me tell you, that is quite a heavy lot of green intensity), "if you don't want me sleeping in your bed, just tell me. I don't want you to think I'm…using you for…something dirty…and because of the life-debt…you can't tell me to…go…go to hell, or whatever."
He took a deep breath.
"Like I said, I won't molest you or anything." He finished, looking away once more.
I stared at him. He was feeling…rejected?
"I had a woody." I said, a sort of unreal sound in my voice, like I wasn't really speaking.
"What?" it was his turn to be surprised, eyes whipping back to me so fast his hair moved slightly around his face.
"I woke up, curled around you, with a morning-woody." I told him completely truthfully, "So I got fecking out of there as quickly as I could and took care of it in the shower.
"Heh." He said lightly, "Heh…hehehe…heeheehee!"
The way Albus laughed was like one of those older models of broom. You jump up with 'em and they take to the air sluggishly at first, then with a sudden jolt, they take off full speed.
Albus had to hold himself up, clutching to his bedpost in a desperate attempt to not fall to the floor. The laughter came in peals, one rolling over the other, in-between gusts of frantic gasps for air. Unable to resist any longer, I began laughing too. We fell back onto Albus' bed laughing till our sides hurt. I pretended not to see John sneak past us to leave.
There you have it. Tell the truth now, is the "morning woody" moment a bit too much? Well, its too late now, i guess.
A huge part of this chapter was from some of my original notes when I got the idea for a Albus/Scorpius story. I battled with myself trying not to put the confrontation with James in there, but lost spectacularly, so the whole thing went in.
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