Chapter 7
Al was dragged out of his slumber by an annoying, persistent banging sound. He clutched the pillow tight to his head, hoping whatever was making the infernal racket would just go away and he could return to resting in the loving warmth of Scorp's arms.
"Al!" Rose's soft mezzo voice called out. "Al, get up."
"Ungh," he groaned sleepily. "G'way," he muttered, burrowing his head back into Scorp's shoulder.
"For Merlin's sake," Rose muttered. There were a few moments of silence, during which Al deduced that Rose must have given up and buggered off. He smiled, clutching his covers tighter to him and prepared to drift back into his dreams when he heard a series of tell-tale clicks signaling the unlocking of his wards.
"Oh fuck!" he cried, glancing over at the naked angelic god sleeping peacefully next to him. He tossed the covers off of himself and leapt out of bed, turning to throw the covers over Scorp's head. Then he began frantically searching for his pants. "Where the hell did they-"
"Merlin's beard, Al!" Rose exclaimed in horror, covering her eyes with her hand to block the full view of her cousin's naked arse as he bent down to look under the bed. "Put on some pants before I go blind!"
"I'm trying," he snapped back, finally finding the boxers in question peeking out from the bottom of the bed. He snatched them and shuffled quickly into them. "Alright, I'm decent."
"Thank Merlin," the redhead breathed.
"Well if you hadn't broken into my room you wouldn't have been subjected to the horror of my naked arse!" he grumbled angrily. "How did you get past my wards anyway?"
"True, but if I hadn't broken in here now then it could have been your mum or dad subjected to it. And I taught you most of those ward spells."
"Damn," he swore under his breath, realizing she was right. "As for my Mum or Dad walking in? So? They're my parents. They diapered this arse," Albus retorted smugly.
"Yes, but I sincerely doubt they diapered Scorp's as well," Rose parried back with a smirk.
Al's eyes widened and he flinched with the effort of trying not to turn around to see if Scorp had rolled free of the covers in the last few minutes. "Wh-what are you talking about?" he asked, trying to sound derisive rather than terrified.
"Come on, Al," Rose replied with a mixture of censure and sympathy. "I've known that you and Scorp share more than just friendship since I was twelve years old. It doesn't bother me in the slightest. In fact, I'm glad you found someone who loves you for who you are, not just your last name. There's really no reason to hide it."
"Twelve?! We didn't even start dating until we were fourteen!" Al scoffed, then immediately clapped his hand over his mouth. "I shouldn't have said that," he muttered as Rose chuckled.
"Come on out, Scorp," Rose commanded laughingly. "Both literally and figuratively," she added smartly.
Scorp tossed the covers off of his head sharply. "You're a regular Master of Deception, Al," he grumbled, giving his boyfriend an annoyed glare. "How you ever got into Slytherin is beyond me."
Rose burst out laughing, perplexing both of the boys.
"What?" Scorpius asked in confusion.
"Your hair!" she spat out, pointing at his fine silvery blonde locks, which were standing on end, strongly resembling a fuzzy dandelion. "I knew it couldn't be perfect all the time!" she boasted.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Medusa. At least my hair only looks like a bunch of angry snakes when I first wake up. Yours resembles it in perpetuity," he shot back.
Rose simply smirked, enjoying their traditional trading of teasing insults. "As much as I'd like to engage in our usual witty repartee, if you two don't get dressed and downstairs before the adults, say in the next twenty minutes or so, Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny are probably going to start asking some uncomfortable questions about what exactly you're doing sharing a bed."
"Fuck, good point," Al conceded. "Thanks Rosie, I owe you one."
"No you don't," she assured him as she turned to leave, pausing by the door and turning to look back at them. "You both owe me one." With a smug smile and a wink she headed out and re-warded the door.
"Sorry, Scorp," Al apologized sheepishly as he turned back towards his boyfriend.
"I know, Love," Scorp sighed. "You didn't mean to out us, it's just early and you haven't had your coffee yet."
"True," Al agreed, accepting the comforting embrace that the blonde was now offering him. They hugged briefly, knowing anything more in such a state of undress would lead to a delay they just didn't have time for right now.
"She was unexpectedly supportive, though, wasn't she?" Scorpius asked as he breathed in the musky vanilla tinted scent of Albus Potter.
"Yeah, she really was. Maybe it won't be as bad as we imagined when we finally come out to the rest of our families." Al proposed.
"Perhaps, though something tells me my Father won't be quite so lackadaisical about his only son and heir being a shirtlifter," Scorpius replied, trying to sound insouciant, but failing to suppress a worried waiver in his voice.
"Well, he'll just have to learn to accept it, because neither angry Antipodean Opaleye nor mad Manticore could keep me away from you, my angel," Al swore.
Scorpius smiled one of his closely guarded genuine smiles and kissed Al softly. "Thank you, mon couer. I'd face down every Dementor in Azkaban to be with you."
They shared one more passion-filled kiss before breaking apart and quickly getting ready for the match. By the time the adults had come downstairs at 6:30 am, they were both seated at the table digging into bowls of Treacle Treats cereal.
"Scorpius!" Ginny exclaimed as she saw his bright blonde head bent over the Culture section of the Daily Prophet. "I didn't know you were here already. I thought you were meeting us at 7:30 for the Portkey."
"Good morning Mrs. Potter," Scorpius replied politely. "I'm sorry if my early arrival is problematic-" he began contritely.
"Oh, don't be silly, sweetheart, you're always welcome here," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'm just amazed that anyone was up to greet you; especially this lazy sod," she mocked with a gesture towards her youngest son.
"Mum!" Al protested, spilling some of his milk onto the book he was reading.
"I'm just teasing, Allie, you know that," she explained, ruffling his hair, much to his chagrin.
"Allie?" Scorp asked with a barely restrained smile.
"Shut it," Al growled, evoking a laugh form the other boy before he turned back to his sugary cereal.
"Good Morning Aunt Ginny," Rose greeted as she breezed into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fruit tray and breaking out her Arithmancy textbook.
"Did I make a wrong turn?" Ron's groggy voice boomed from the doorway. "I was looking for the kitchen but apparently I've stumbled into the library."
"Ha-ha Dad, very funny," Rose deadpanned as she rolled her eyes at him. His only response was to place a kiss on her temple and reach over her to grab one of the cinnamon rolls Ginny had just pulled out of the magically modified oven, which cooked food in Muggle appliances in 1/10th of the time it would usually take. Yet another of his son's brilliant inventions. He popped the entire bun into his mouth, only to gasp and spit it out immediately. It bounced past his daughter and came to a rolling stop on top of Scorp's paper, finally breaking the boy's immersion in the article he was reading.
Rose and Al burst out laughing as Ron stuck out his singed tongue and tried to wave air on it to cool it down. Scorpius knew it was in poor manners to laugh at the head of someone else's household when you were a guest, so he restrained his own urge to laugh, but he couldn't help smiling in amusement.
"Ron!" Ginny admonished as she eyed the expelled bun. "You just wasted a perfectly good cinnamon roll."
"It uz 'ot," he whined, still fanning his tender tongue.
"Well of course it was hot, you dolt, it just came out of the oven!" Ginny retorted, shaking her head.
"What did I miss?" Hermione asked as she entered the room and took in the chuckling children and annoyed sister-in-law.
"Ron being a berk," Ginny tossed out.
"Ey!" he tried to protest.
"What did you do now, Ron?" Hermione needled fondly.
"I ied oo ee a oll," he began to explain, only to be met with a confused look from his wife.
"He tried to eat one of the rolls before they had cooled, Mrs. Weasley," Scorpius answered for him.
"Oh, that explains it," she replied, pulling out her wand to perform a healing charm on her husband's mouth. "Thank you for clarifying, Scorpius."
"You're welcome."
Harry and the rest of the kids had filtered into the kitchen by the time 7:15 rolled around and then the kitchen started filling with other Weasleys until it was a bustling center of activity. James departed first, already clad in his Cannons uniform, to a chorus of well wishes and Ron's enthusiastic cheers. The rest of the kids donned their varied supportive gear, from Cannons jerseys to hats and even, in Lily's case, Cannons socks, bright orange hair, and a hat with a functioning mini cannon that was charmed to shoot every time the team scored. At 8 am exactly, they all crowded around two partially crushed pop bottles, being swept away to the site of the match.
Ron and Hermione caught Harry before he could fall over on impact, still not being entirely comfortable with Portkeys, while Ginny reached out for Lily, who had unfortunately inherited her father's utter lack of grace during transport. Some rabid fans were already at the pitch, despite the fact that the match wouldn't begin for three hours, but the Weasley/Potter group was by far the largest one in attendance. They made their way to their private box, having to stop a few times to sign autographs and pose for pictures. Once they had settled in, the elders of the group took orders for snacks and went to the concession stands. Teddy and Victorie were charged with keeping an eye on the children; a daunting task to say the least.
Thankfully, though, five of them were preoccupied discussing something, rather intensely. Teddy instinctively knew hushed whispers amongst the Al, Lily, Hugo, Rose, and Scorpius would lead to trouble, but if he was lucky, whatever scheme they were planning wouldn't be executed until the other adults were back and it would be primarily their problem. After all, he had his hands full with Freddie, the legendary prankster, even at 20 years old, giving Domi, Roxie, Louis, Molly, and Lucy ideas on how to cause trouble. After he had stopped Lucy from slipping Babbling Butterscotches into the Assistant Minister for Magic's butterbeer when he stopped by to say hello and prevented Louis from using his Veela allure on the 25 year old cheerleader who had been chasing James for a year, he was almost ready to abdicate his honorary big brother status in the Potter family.
Thankfully the parents arrived back just before Victorie had to Stupify Domi to stop her from hexing a Tornados fan in the box next to them. The kids all settled down (somewhat) at that point, although that could have had more to do with the introduction of junk food to concentrate on than the presence of their guardians. Before long, the match began and James flew out onto the field to a deafening roar from the crowd. He gave his family a wink and a wave as he flew by them, noting the thinly veiled worry in his parents' eyes. Everyone was trying their best to be strong and present a positive front to the kids, but James knew that last night's discovery of the source of the curse had hit his parents hard.
He wanted to assuage their fears, to tell them they had a plan to get the blood needed for the cure, but he knew his parents would never let them go through with it. Aunt Hermione would insist on appealing to the Minister to get permission to use the time travel device, and they would all forbid the kids from doing the actual time travel. They would certainly all want to go themselves, and although they had all survived a major war and were now accomplished fighters, especially Dad and Uncle Ron who fought evil every day as Aurors, James didn't want any of them to have to risk their lives once again. He especially didn't want them to have to face Voldemort again. His Dad still had nightmares about that time in his life, and even his Mum woke up on occasion crying in fear from her time with Tom Riddle's diary in the Chamber of Secrets. He was sure the same could be said for Aunt Hermione, who wore a glamour to cover up the carving of "Mudblood" in her arm, and Uncle Ron, who still only wore short sleeves around immediate family thanks to the scarring from the brain attack in the Department of Mysteries. Which, of course, brought another point to light. Under no circumstances did James want his dad anywhere near the Department of Mysteries. To this day he still couldn't mention Sirius without a guilty look clouding his eyes, even when he was just full-naming James when he had gotten in trouble.
So, for the moment, James would have to keep quiet about the plan, even if it hurt his parents right now. In the long run, it would be the best thing for them. Sure, they'd be angry when they found out what he had done, but if he succeeded and came back with Voldemort's blood, he was certain their relief would outweigh their aggravation.
As he completed his final circle around the pitch, he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the game. He felt significantly weaker and more tired than he had before the curse set in, but Victorie had discretely given him doses of all of his potions before the game, and had brought extra modified Pepper-Up and Strengthening Solution if he needed it between the periods, so he figured he would be fine.
The game turned out to be grueling, lasting nearly six hours, and by the start of the fifth hour James had been ready to toss a broom and a jersey to his Dad and beg him to get in the air and find the snitch. He had needed two more doses of potions in the breaks and still nearly fell off his broom on his victory lap. For the first time in his career, he didn't go out to sign autographs for his fans after the game. Instead, he soaked in the hot tub, allowing the sports therapist to massage his aching muscles, and trying to stay awake long enough to get home. He managed to accomplish it, but just barely. He Flooed home and made it three steps out of the Floo before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.