Happy Thanksgiving to Americans about to eat turkey :)
Thank you all so much for your patience and continued interest in this story!
Huge shout out to my wonderful beta, Maloreiy!
Enjoy!
Scorpius Malfoy did not enjoy the taste of crow, but here he was, gobbling down a whopping heap of it just to help his best friend enjoy a taste of escapism for one night. "Can you help me or not, Potter?"
James Potter pulled a face at the young Malfoy. "Why the ever-loving fuck would you ask me, Malfoy? Why not one of the older Slytherins?"
"You think I would be here if I thought any of them could swing it on such short notice? Look, you have a reputation, Potter. And if it helps, I'm asking for Albus."
It did not help. Not one bit. James leaned back in his chair and allowed an obscenely self-indulgent pregnant pause to fester between them. He enjoyed his moment of power before speaking. "Well, isn't that romantic?"
"You know what? Forget it. I'll find another way."
"Hold on a second, Malfoy. I didn't say I wouldn't do it. I just want to know why Teacher's Pet and Wunderfreak all of a sudden have a hankering for some Firewhisky."
"Good Firewhisky. Don't forget that part."
"Whatever. Why does my brother need it?"
Scorpius hesitated. The glimmer in James's eyes looked a tad too unhealthy to be born out of sheer curiosity. On the other hand, he needed his help. "Girl problems."
James snorted. "As if I should be fucking surprised. He'll probably die a virgin."
"Thank you very much for your assessment, arsehole. If you'll excuse me." He turned to leave but James stopped him.
"I'll help you. For a price."
"We've already established I can pay you whatever you want, Potter."
"Not money. Well…not just money. You're throwing a little pity party for my brother, yeah?"
"Yes?"
"I want in."
Scorpius snorted. "You want to hang out and get drunk with me, Simon and your brother; none of whom you like, all of whom you have bullied?"
"Correct. Although I do resent the term 'bully.'"
Scorpius ignored the urge to point out that absolutely no other word would suffice. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Brotherly concern. It's moments like these we should be there for each other." That, and he probably figured he couldn't pass up an opportunity to collect potential blackmail on his younger brother.
Scorpius didn't buy the concerned brother act for a second. But his need for James's advanced age and sleazy connections won out. "Fine. Whatever. I don't care."
"Super. That'll be one hundred and fifty Galleons, please."
"What?"
Albus fell gracelessly on his arse, luckily without spilling a drop of Firewhisky. He brought the bottle to his lips. "Everyone. I've come to a very important desh-ision." He was at that special level of intoxication where he struggled with certain consonants. "Life…is hard."
Simon snorted. "Compared to what?"
"No, no, no, no, you don't get it," Albus sputtered. "It's love. Why is it so important when all it does is make shit harder? Why do we do it?"
"Digging a little deep there, Al," Scorpius said, grimacing at the burn of the Firewhisky. The superior quality of the liquor was utterly wasted on the fourteen-year-olds who hadn't the foggiest idea of what good liquor was supposed to taste like.
Albus continued. "Love is blind. And deaf. And dumb. And just like, fucking…stupid. You know?"
"Did you love Mon, then?" Simon asked.
"Pssshew. I did not. D'I look like Scorpius t'you?" He took another swig from the bottle, wiping the excess off his mouth. "I did like her though. Least I think I did." He shrugged. "S'not my fucking problem now."
"Whad'you bet we can climb that greenhouzz?" James asked. Being somewhat more used to the taste of Firewhisky than his younger companions, it was not lost on him that this was the good stuff. He had eagerly tucked into the Baby Malfoy's splendid stash. "Looks big. I'll bet we can do it."
"You know, James," Scorpius said, clapping his hand on his shoulder. "You're alright. I mean, I alwayzz thought you were a twat becuz you were twatty and you terribleized the Slytherinzz."
James chuckled, throwing an empty bottle of Firewhisky at the greenhouse wall before throwing his arm around Scorpius. "I alwayzz thought you were hot."
Scorpius pulled a face at this unexpected information. "What?"
"What?" James asked, apparently unaware he had said anything revealing.
"I've got a great idea," Simon exclaimed. "We should get brooms. I'll bet we could play a wicked game of Quidditch right now."
Scorpius seemed confused at the odd suggestion. "How drunk are you right now?"
"Yes," Simon responded.
Albus snorted. "Do any of us even like Quidditch?"
"No," Scorpius said.
"Not really," Simon said, shrugging.
James cackled. "It drives Dad crazy that neither of us really took to it."
"You did," Albus exclaimed, drunkenly. "You always play at Gran and Grandpa's house."
"Doesn't mean I like it," James said, opening another bottle. "If I'm passably good at sports, maybe no one will think…" he trailed off, never to finish that thought.
Albus felt a pang of guilt. He knew exactly what James was thinking. Boys who were good at sports were less likely to be poofs, at least in the eyes of the ignorant public. No matter how drunk and Slytherin he was, he would not betray James's big secret now. "You know, I think I like James's suggestion. Let's climb the fuckin' greenhouse."
"Alright!" Simon said in agreement.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Scorpius said. Despite his intoxication, he thought he'd give level-headedness one last push before giving up completely.
Simon chuckled. "You're a huuuuge pussy, Scorp."
Scorpius scoffed. "I didn't say I wouldn't do it. I just said it's not a good idea. And it's not, by the way. You fucking chode."
"You guys are fun! Who knew Slytherins were actually a good time?" James asked no one in particular.
Again. Albus would not point out that James knew better than anyone how good of a time Slytherins could be, seeing as he was secretly dating one. Merlin, morality was hard.
"Kind of hard to recognize it when you're hexing our shoelaces together, isn't it, Potter?" Simon asked, grunting as he climbed the wall."
Once all four boys were safely on the greenhouse roof, they looked out over the mildly impressive view. Much more impressive than the slightly elevated view of the lake, was the fact that they all managed to climb that high without killing themselves.
"This is nice," Simon offered.
"Yeah," Albus said, releasing a long breath. "Am I going to die alone?"
"Yes," all three boys said simultaneously.
"No offense," James said. "It's just that you're a total wank and I honestly can't imagine how Monica Flint was ever into you to begin with."
Albus scoffed. "Merlin, James. I wish you wouldn't hold back."
"Just being honest," he said, as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his robe pocket.
"Since when did you start smoking?" Albus asked.
James lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "I think it was around the time Dad started painting images of Aunt Hermione's tits."
"To be fair, they are glorious tits," Simon said.
Scorpius grumbled. "Please don't. She's going to be my stepmother. Please, don't talk about her tits."
Simon totally ignored him. "I'll bet your dad likes to motorboat them. That's what I'd do if I was lucky enough to have a go at them."
Scorpius took a long pull out of a bottle to drown out the image Simon had painted. "You're a rubbish friend."
"So, your dad's really marrying Aunt Hermione?" James asked.
"You going to make your usual Death Eater quips? They're getting a bit old," Scorpius said.
James shrugged. "Yeah, sorry about that. I don't know why I did that. I don't even know your dad. All I know about him is that he's..." James had to stop himself. He almost said the words, 'dead sexy.'
"Give us one of those," Simon said to James, signaling to the cigarettes. To everyone's surprise, James immediately handed one over and Simon lit it up with a level of comfort and proficiency that suggested this wasn't his first rodeo.
"You want one Albus? Malfoy?"
"No, thanks," Scorpius said.
"Don't be a vag, Scorp," Albus said, taking one.
"I'm not a vag," Scorpius protested. "I just don't fancy the smell."
"Of vag?" Simon asked, chuckling.
Scorpius rolled his eyes. "No, you fucking toss pot. The smell of...that is fine." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away. "I assume."
"Having a girlfriend's made you soft," Simon said.
Scorpius scoffed. "What are you, insane? I've always been like this."
"It's true," Albus said, attempting to inhale, but inevitably coughing a bit. "He's always been a bit of a ponce. Being in love hasn't changed that."
"You love Rose?" Simon asked.
Scorpius chuckled into his bottle. "Couldn't keep a secret, could you mate?"
"I don't know if I'd call it a secret," Albus said. "Bloody obvious, the way you two look at each other."
Scorpius couldn't fight the smile on his face. "You know what? You're right. It shouldn't be a secret." The alcohol surged through his veins, making him feel invincible as he moved closer to the edge of the roof and screamed into the abyss. "I LOVE ROSE WEASLEY AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!"
James sighed, empathetically, feeling a surge of alcohol and Gryffindor-based courage rise to the surface. "Good for you, Malfoy. You know what?" He walked over to join him and screamed into the air. "I'M GAY!"
Simon and Scorpius jumped at the unexpected confession, not knowing whether they should admire James's courage, or gape in disbelief at it. Albus observed the scene with quiet, fraternal pride.
Scorpius nodded. "Congratulations, Potter. This feels good." He inhaled deeply, preparing for Confession Number Two. "I CAME IN MY PANTS WHEN I TOUCHED ROSE THROUGH HER KNICKERS AND NOW I'M WORRIED I WON'T BE GOOD AT SEX!"
Simon scoffed. "Bloody impossible, mate. Your dad is a stud. He pulled Professor Granger. I'd wager that shit's genetic or something."
"You think so?" Scorpius asked.
"I LOVE COCK!" James screamed, high on the revelation of drunken confessions.
Simon pulled a face. "Okay. I think we get the picture."
"I LOVE BRADY, I THINK, MAYBE!"
"Brady?" Simon asked.
"Fitch. Keep up," Albus said.
"You knew, Al?" Scorpius asked, impressed despite himself. "And you didn't say anything?"
Albus shrugged. "Personal growth, mate." Merlin, he was relieved James had spilled the beans because he wasn't sure how much longer he'd have been able to hold it in.
James sighed. "He's mad at me, though."
"Because you're a twat?" Scorpius asked.
James grimaced in confusion. "Kind of. How did you know?"
"Lucky guess."
"He says he's getting tired of me being so mean to him in public. But if I wasn't, then people would wonder. This way, nobody suspects."
"Why don't you two just come out?" Scorpius asked.
James sighed. "Fitch's parents would crucify him. And me…well…" He shrugged. "I guess I don't care if people know. I used to. But I'm getting so fucking tired of hiding all the time."
Scorpius could not believe the night he was having. He actually felt sorry for James Potter. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it…" He clapped James on the back. "That's what the school counselor is for."
James turned to Scorpius with a dumb little drunken smile. "You're alright, you know that, Malfoy?" He threw an arm around the blond boy.
"Uhhh…" Scorpius wasn't entirely sure how to respond to his former bully in this moment. "Thanks?"
"Bring it in, Malfoy." James said, drunkenly stumbling over.
"That's alright. There's been quite enough affection going around tonight as is, thanks."
"Just lay one on me, Malfoy. Right on my mouth," James said, ignoring him.
Scorpius fell back away from James. "That's alright. I'm good. Besides, I definitely like girls. Breasts, vaginas, those lovely girl legs of theirs…can't get enough of them. Specifically, my girlfriend's. I assume."
"Whom you love, right?" James said. He might have been drunk, but damn him, he had been paying the fuck attention.
"Yeah," Scorpius said, smiling. "Whom I love."
Simon stepped closer to the edge. "This confession thing looked pretty good." He cleared his throat. "THE SORTING HAT TRIED TO PUT ME IN HUFFLEPUFF BUT I TOLD IT TO BUGGER THE FUCK OFF!"
Scorpius guffawed at his friend's confession and resumed his own. "I LOVE ROSE WEASLEY!"
"I LOVE BRADY FITCH!" James screamed.
"I'M WASTED!" Albus said, trying the confession thing for himself.
"AND YOU ARE ALL IN A LOT OF TROUBLE RIGHT NOW!" A voice from below infiltrated their catharsis.
It was Professor Longbottom.
Oh. Bugger.
"GET THE HELL OFF MY GREENHOUSE ROOF, YOU LITTLE SHITS!"
Brunch. The most important meal of the day—so long as that day is a weekend and you have nothing to do for the rest of said day so you can have at least two cocktails with said meal.
It was a time-honored tradition that Hermione, Ginny, and Susan got together at least once a month to indulge in overpriced beignets, bellinis, and frittatas. During these almost ostentatiously girly appointments, Ginny and Susan would ply Hermione with drinks in mostly vain attempts to get her to indulge them with tales of how Draco Malfoy was in the sack. She mostly kept her trap shut, but would, every now and then, throw the two long-married women a bone.
Today, however, the subject was wedding planning; a subject which was, if possible, even more taboo in the World of Hermione. Although it was a safer topic, it was, in Hermione's opinion, a zillion times less interesting. And today she was in no mood.
Her stomach churned as she nibbled at her meal. It was a dish that she had ordered many times before and was one of her favorites at this particular Muggle establishment—beet-cured salmon on a caraway bagel, with house-made cream cheese, red onions, and capers, and a side of arugula in a honey-lemon vinaigrette. But today her body seemed to disagree with the entire concoction. The unwelcome gelatinous texture of the smoked salmon, combined with the stinging bitterness of the caraway seeds, the acid of the red onions, and the salt of the capers, made her question why she had ever found this dish appealing. Stir it all up in her stomach and tack on some dairy from the cream cheese and they might as well pay her to eat it.
She gazed longingly at the crabcake eggs Benedict with grilled asparagus that Susan had ordered. For a moment, she experienced the most intense order envy before her mind conjured vivid culinary imagery of how the dish would manifest in actuality. The runny egginess of those poached eggs, combined with the nauseating creaminess of the hollandaise sauce didn't sound so appetizing. Add to the mix a charred vegetable that would have made her urine smell intolerable…
Forget it. Might as well woman up and eat her salmon.
"Mmmm," Ginny hummed as she dug into her full English breakfast. "You guys have got to try this sage sausage."
Hermione instinctively raised her napkin to her lips in protest of the suggestion. Kill me fucking now if she brings that stuff near me.
Ginny forked a generous amount and neared it to Hermione's face. "You will love this."
And with that, Hermione immediately vomited all over her place setting.
"Okay," Ginny said, casting a discreet Scourgify and wrinkling her nose in disgust. "That is a gross overreaction to me trying to share something beautiful with you."
Susan cast an Air Freshening Charm and leaned in to examine Hermione's face. "At the risk of asking a stupid question, are you alright?"
"I'm fine. It's just…" Hermione took a moment to concentrate on breathing lest she blow her chips again. "It's just stress."
Ginny smirked as her eyes raked across Hermione's form. To a casual observer, it may seem she was checking out the curly-haired witch.
"What?" Hermione asked.
Ginny's eyes sparkled with mischief.
"What?" she repeated.
Ginny lunged at her and grabbed a handful of boob.
"Ow," Hermione yelped. "That bloody hurt."
Ginny had rarely looked so self-important as she did in that moment. "Hermione, darling. Have you been naughty?"
"No. But you have, you bint," Hermione said, nursing her bruised tit.
"Your breasts look amazing in that top, by the way."
"I appreciate the compliment, but that doesn't give you the right to cop a feel whenever you feel like it. I'm sure Draco and Harry would agree with me."
"No, they wouldn't," Susan said. "In fact, they'd be a bit stropped they didn't get to see it."
"Hermione," Ginny said, leaning in and whispering. "Have you gotten yourself knocked up with a baby ferret?"
The Brightest Witch of Her Age, Heroine of the Golden Trio and All-Around Classy Person, released an almighty snort into her mimosa. "Absolutely not. It's not possible. Draco and I are careful."
The moment she released those words into the world, Hermione knew that they were not entirely true. The night Draco proposed, they had had the wildest, hottest, sweatiest, most uninhibited sex they had ever had. There was no telling how many times they shagged that evening, but Hermione knew they had gone well into the wee hours of the morning. Collectively, they had probably had about a baker's dozen orgasms over the course of twenty-four hours, if not more. Probably more. Once they stumbled back to the house from the beach, Draco couldn't even wait to get her bikini off, much less pause to remember a contraceptive charm.
"I think we've lost her," Susan said, watching Hermione give herself over to the fog of the lurid memory.
"Wanna revisit that supposition, Hermione? Is it really impossible?" Ginny asked.
Hermione swallowed deeply and took a sip of her water. "Maybe not," she answered in a small voice.
Susan began looking around at the shops around them. "Is there a chemist's shop nearby?"
"I don't need to take a…" Hermione swallowed loudly, "…pregnancy test." She whispered the words as though uttering them any louder would tempt bad juju upon her.
"Fine." Ginny threw her napkin on the table and stood up, swinging her handbag on her arm. "Since you're in denial, I'll go and get one for you."
"No, Ginny, don't. I'm really feeling much better now. You really don't need to…"
And she was gone.
"Everything okay in there?" Susan asked from outside the bathroom stall.
"If you two could crawl out of my arsehole for a second, maybe I could actually wee."
Ginny released a low whistle. "Teaching those teenagers has destroyed your social skills. Listen to those colorful words."
"Shut it."
After several moments, a faint tinkling sound could be heard through the stall door.
"Good job, Hermione," Ginny urged.
"Ugh. Could you both please back off and give me a moment?"
"Are you pregnant or not?" Susan asked.
"It takes a minute. Seeing as I only just now was able to pee on the damn thing, I don't know yet."
"Woof. Either you're pregnant or you're making the slow, painful transition into a Bridezilla," Ginny said. "Either way, could you tone down the bitchiness?"
Hermione scoffed, her eyes firmly planted on the little bar that would, in about thirty seconds or so, reveal her fate. She was absolutely certain that she could not be pregnant. She wasn't even sure she was ovulating that night she and Draco might have gotten a tad carried away. There was no way she could be pregnant. Absolutely no way in…
Motherfucker.
You all basically called it. I wish it could have been more of a surprise, but hopefully it still landed alright.
How will Draco handle the news? Find out on the next (maybe) episode of "An Indefinite Amount of Forever."
