Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Forum (Challenges and Assignments): Assignment #7
Arts and Crafts: The Fives Types of Crafts
Task #1: Include a scene of a character knitting.
Author's Note: No Warnings! Just fluff and sleepy softness!
Disclaimer: I own nothing from the franchise itself.
Morning came far too early. Albus hunched over his project, working through cramped fingers. By the time he was done, he was absolutely exhausted. The birds were waking up outside, and the early light of dawn unspooled over the desk.
Scorpius came stumbling out of the bedroom when the clock hit five, messy-haired and blinking wildly. He yawned, huge and unconstricted. Albus turned in the desk chair to watch him shuffle down the hallway, taking in the soft, unconcerned lines of his body, the way he moved and scrunched up his face when nobody was around, completely unselfconscious.
There was an intimacy in this, in looking at something so unguarded, and knowing you were allowed to look.
"Morning," Albus whispered.
Scorpius jerked a little. He blinked, rapid-fire, squinting across the semi-dark room until he spotted Albus under the nest of blankets. He'd dragged them over his shoulders last night while his knitting needles clicked ceaselessly, and now he burrowed further inside them, warm and exhausted.
"Al," Scorpius whispered back. "Have you been up all night? What are you doing?"
"Mm. Knitting you a spell."
It was too early to explain himself. He curled up further, tucking the blankets under his chin. His back was going to ache something fierce, but he didn't mind. It was worth it if it kept Scorpius safe.
Scorpius did a little more blinking, apparently confused, and then cursed when his watch beeped at him. He hurried into the kitchen to put the kettle on, vanishing behind the wall. Albus watched through half-mast eyes as clothes came zipping down the hall. There was a thick thump as they must have collided with Scorpius's back. He came strolling out of the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed in his button-up and odd socks. Two cups of hot coffee steamed gently in the air behind him.
"You better not have left your pyjamas on the kitchen floor again," Albus muttered.
Scorpius pushed the star-patterned mug towards him, smiling sheepishly. "I'll pick them up before I leave."
"Sure you will. Take your socks off."
Scorpius whined a bit about it being 'a cruel and unusual punishment, subjecting him to the cold hardwood floor,' but he sat obediently on the arm of the couch and stripped off his socks. Albus sipped his coffee, not minding that it burned his tongue.
"Okay, you have me at your mercy," Scorpius said, wiggling his bare toes. "Please be gentle."
"Oh Merlin! Just put these on, will you?"
Scorpius laughed, a hushed, light sound that complimented the dawn light.
The socks were bulky and warm, made from dark, forest-green wool. He might have dropped a stitch or two, and he might have considered throwing them out of the window at several points during the night, but the end result was something to be proud of. Scorpius held them up to his eyes and turned them over, admiring the fabric and running his fingers over the softness.
"They go on your feet, not your hands," Albus said, cradling the coffee mug close. "If you want gloves, you'll have to put in a request way earlier than you did this time. I'm not staying up all night ever again."
"I didn't ask you to stay up all night this time!"
"But I did it anyway, and I developed a spell while I was at it. It's nothing fancy, but it should keep you safe. You need to be light on your feet, right? So this'll make you light on your feet." Albus yawned. "So be grateful."
When he came out on the other side of his yawn, Scorpius was staring at him with open fondness, a touch of awe.
"You developed a whole spell? A spell that you knit into things? A wandless spell?"
"Mmm." Faced with that awe, Albus suddenly didn't feel so casual about it all. "I've been… worried. About this job. You're gonna be gone a while. So I want you to be safe."
"You're incredible," Scorpius murmured. "Truly."
"You're embarrassing. Very."
Albus sunk down into the blankets reproachfully while Scorpius chuckled. It was still so hard to say what he meant, and take his compliments when requested, and not close up in the face of all those emotions that Scorpius wore so easily on his sleeve. Even after a million years together, he found it hard. But not impossible. Not anymore.
"Put your socks on," Albus said, glancing away.
Scorpius endured his avoidant nature, like he always did, with a smile. He pulled his socks on and marvelled at the warmth. He said he could feel the spell wrapping all around him, like restless, soothing energy.
"Restless and soothing don't go together," Albus said, eyeing the socks dubiously. "Maybe I should re-work them. They're just supposed to make you faster and safer, not…"
But he trailed off when Scorpius flung one of the old, odd socks at him. He picked it up with distaste and set it on the desk. Then he turned and said, with infinite patience, "Give them back. I need to fix them."
"I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid you can't have these," Scorpius said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "My husband made them for me, you see, and I'm afraid I love them too much to part with them."
"It's too early for you to be this ridiculous."
"Could you, for once, believe that you've done something incredible, and leave it at that?"
There was no censure in Scorpius's voice; only undying affection, as though he knew every self-deprecating thought in Albus's mind, every doubting bone in his body. And he likely did. There wasn't much they didn't know about each other. Years of exposure had chipped away at their defences, and now Albus was open and bare, and the only way it was bearable was because Scorpius was just as vulnerable.
"You really don't mind them?" Albus muttered, tracing the constellations on the mug with his finger.
"How could I not love them?" Scorpius came close enough to kiss, and then did just that. His lips were warm, a little chapped from the brittle weather, and soothed the ache in Albus's tired bones. "You made them, so of course I love them."
"Only them?"
"Well, you too, of course. How could I not love someone who stays up all night, thinking about my feet?"
Albus groaned and pulled away, meeting Scorpius's wild, laughing eyes. "You're awful, you know that? Go to work."
"But I still have three minutes before I have to leave. I wouldn't want to rip you away from my toes too soon."
"I can always un-marry you, you know."
"You can," Scorpius said, kissing his forehead. "But you wouldn't."
Albus closed his eyes and let himself be kissed. He wouldn't. They both knew he wouldn't. He would stay up for the rest of his life, knitting magic socks and gloves and blankets until Scorpius was as safe as it was possible for him to be.
"Go to work," Albus murmured, but it sounded like I love you, and I want you safe, and Scorpius must have heard it, because he stayed for four minutes instead of three, and kissed him for a little longer.
Thank you for reading!
[Word Count: 1194]