Tuesday 20th December
- Two -
The hangover only lasted a day, but alcohol related embarrassment was a whole other ailment that Rose still found herself working through. It seemed like the more she thought over her interaction with Malfoy—her memory of which was spotty at best—she only remembered another thing to be embarrassed about. It became a physical sensation; a sort of curled in cringing that made Rose's face twist up, to the point where her friends were starting to give her sympathetic looks.
"I'm sure it wasn't that bad, Rose." Tessie had said, with a comforting part on the arm.
"Oh well," Magda had shrugged, "You've got to get drunk and do something embarrassing at least once. That's how you learn your limits. We all do it."
"At least you didn't fuck him." Georgette had pointed out, which—oddly enough—made her feel the most relieved.
But the sensations of the weekend were nothing on how she felt now, walking to detention. She'd been replaying the scene over and over in her head, different scenarios on facing him, dealing with whatever he'd say to her. The worst part was, she knew, her levels of embarrassment far outweighed her actions—she'd heard enough stories of Magda's drunken escapades to know far worse could've happen. But logic was nothing on the rising wave of her anxiety, which had spent the whole weekend picking apart every word she'd said to him, ridiculing herself over things all things, implied and implicit, that had passed between them.
She hated herself for it, she hated herself for caring what he thought of her. It wasn't something she could pinpoint either—somewhere between corrosive sludge across her workbench, and her current walk to detention, her feelings had mutated into something she didn't recognizing. Gone was teeth-grinding; foot-stomping; fist flinging rage, replaced by something lighter than oxygen filling her lungs when they spoke, threatening to lift her from her feet and send her floating for the nearest ceiling. It was unidentifiable, because she refused to identify it, on a matter of principle.
But then the cold metal of the door handle was against her palm, and she twisted, the weight of the door all but swinging itself open.
He turned when she entered, and Rose could pinpoint when that new feeling came in—the funny, undiagnosed one. She felt an urge to drift suitably to his side, but the feeling was deflated a little by a wave of shame and embarrassment, keeping her feet grounded on the stone floor as she made her way across the room, to their usual workbench. Nothing was different, but that was a lie.
"Hello." She dipped a toe.
"Hey." He replied—the water was warm, "You alright after Friday?"
Rose tried not to let herself blush, but failed, "Yeah, uh, bit of a hangover but I was fine by Sunday."
"Ah, that's good."
Rose knew what to say next, because she'd only revised it in her mind a thousand times, but forcing the words out seemed to be a whole different thing, "Listen," because she'd found her mind on Selwyn, and all the ways it could've gone, "I wanted to thank you. For," the words were sticking in her throat, "for not, you know. Taking advantage. For taking me back to my friends. For making me feel safe. Not that I'm saying you seem like the type to take advantage," she was babbling, "but I just know, with Selwyn and all, how vulnerable I was so I wanted to—"
"Don't."
She found herself temporarily stumped, surprised, because this wasn't a path she'd envisaged the conversation taking when she'd mapped it out in her mind, "What? I'm just trying to be polite, I wasn't—" she sounded hurt despite herself, dropping eye contact and then he was ducking his head a little, so she'd be forced to meet his eyes again,
"No, I phrased that wrong—Rose, look at me?—I was trying to say you shouldn't have to thank me. You shouldn't be thanking me for doing a basic, decent thing. You shouldn't have to thank me for not taking advantage. You shouldn't have to thank me for not being a rapist, Rose, Merlin. Do you see what I mean? I don't need to be applauded for not being despicable." His voice was so soft, it barely filled her ears over the sounds of her own shallows breaths.
"I—yeah. I know what you mean." He was right, of course, not attacking her. Why was she so eager to find insult in anything he said?
There was a pause, and Rose watched him carefully, and he watched her in return, quiet but cautious, looking for something within her. She watched as his face slipped from a pensive place, to somewhere between morbid curiosity and mischievousness—a look that meant trouble. He was resting his fingers on their wooden table top, and the drummed them decisively before speaking,
"You know we're ahead on our work, right?"
She nodded, watching the roll of his shoulders, "It was inevitable, with two of us doing the work." His shoulders weren't just that anymore, they belonged to Quidditch nights and a drunk fireman's carry.
"Slughorn left his Potions storage cupboard open." Scorpius nodded to the door, which sat on the left-hand side of Slughorn's desk, looking guilty as a door could. Almost always it was locked tightly, protecting its contents from teens chasing highs, or those with a dangerous combination of carelessness and curiosity.
"I'm sure those two, seemingly random comments will tie together, right?"
He winked—another dangerous face to pull, "Would you like to try something?"
"Slughorn might notice a bottle of 'something' going missing." She pointed out.
"Not if we skim a few drops off the top." He countered.
"If we get caught high, stumbling around?"
"Unlikely, with the potion I have in mind. And we'll only dose for the hour."
Rose bit her lip, so many things could go wrong, her anxiety would have a joy tallying them all up but she knew she shouldn't let it take the reins, it already controlled too much of her— "Alright."
Scorpius raised a silvery eyebrow, "I haven't even told you the potion I have in mind yet."
"Well," Rose shot him a smile, "I have decided to take this opportunity to trust you. Use it wisely."
His smirk burst into a grin, and it was a sight to behold, "Oh, Roza, I intend to."
There was something shameless erotic about poking her tongue out for Malfoy, as he carefully measured one and a half drops of clear liquid onto it. It was tasteless, Rose could only tell she'd been dosed by the feeling of wetness on her tongue, slightly cooler than her own spit. He'd done his own moments before, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stood far too close for comfort. Then, slipping back into Slughorn's cupboard, he returned the bottle, ensuring the door was left in the same position they'd found it in.
Rose had never had Veritaserum before, everyone knew it was heavily restricted, but she could feel it settling in. Her tongue awaited a question—all her secrets bubbling dangerously close to the surface, right at the back of her throat, threatening to spill if she opened her mouth. It wasn't comfortable, like a mouthful of water, and Rose had to concentrate to keep her lips sealed shut, her tongue clamped between her teeth.
"It's taking effect." Scorpius said, the words so fast it sounded like they were falling out of his mouth, "What's your name?"
It didn't even let Rose consider her answer, the words were toneless, pulled from her as opposed to spoken, "Rose Tisa Weasley-Granger." Once she'd spoken there was a brief, temporary relief, as though holding the truth had been a physical strain. But then the pressure started to build again, and Rose found herself fidgeting to relieve it, shuffling on her stool, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
"Tisa? Where did that come from?"
"Tisamenus, son of Hermione and Orestes. They tried to feminize it. My mother reads a lot of books."
Scorpius laughed, "She does. I think it's pretty. Suits you." The last words were short, as though Scorpius was trying to end them before they'd been spoken.
"What's your name?" she tried, finding that questions didn't come out with the same urgency, she could control herself a little better—as questions were neither true or false, she supposed.
"Scorpius Regulus Malfoy." Scorpius' voice was dead too, but from the way he tightened infinitesimally, it was obvious the truth was being pulled from him too.
"Regulus? After Regulus Black?"
"Yes."
"Isn't it traditional for pureblood sons to carry their father's names as middle names?"
"Yes."
Rose could see that closed questions only got her yes' and no's, so she tried a more open ended question,
"Why didn't your father give you his name?"
Scorpius gritted his teeth, twisting a little in his seat, "He—he didn't want me to carry the burden of his name. He didn't believe he was worth having his name carried—he always said our last name was enough of an obstacle. My grandfather hates him for breaking tradition, it's still a bone of contention between the two of them."
"And Regulus Black was worth it?"
"He did what my father couldn't."
Rose hadn't realized how closed off Scorpius was, not until it had all come pouring out of him. She was caught in a strange trance of morbid curiosity, she hadn't noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the line of tension in his jaw,
"I hate talking about my family." He blurted, and Rose stepped back from him, not even realizing she'd left her seat.
"I'm sorry. Shit, I'm really sorry—" Rose realized guiltily she'd unknowingly taken advantage of him, continuing to ask questions he didn't have the power to resist.
"No, it's ok." He cut her off, and he looked a little more relaxed now, wiping his forehead on the back of his sleeve, "I had no idea the compulsion would be so strong, it's like you're pulling the truth from me, it physically hurts to try hold it back."
"Shit, I'm sorry—you can ask me whatever you want, I'm so sorry!" she found herself blurting, sounding just as ashamed as she wished she didn't feel.
"How about we go one for one?" he suggested, massaging the tension out of his jaw with his fingers, "I think it's my turn to ask."
Even though she'd eagerly taken the truth from him, she grew nervous at the idea of giving him the same power. He could, in this moment, pull any truth he wanted from her, even her darkest secrets, and she would be powerless to hold them in. For someone who was supposed to be guarded around Scorpius, this wasn't a well calculated move.
"Alright." She wasn't confident in his suggestion, but it seemed the Veritaserum was letting her keep that to herself, seeing as Scorpius hadn't asked a direct question.
"Ok…" Scorpius' sheepish expression got more sheepish, only because it was joined by a shifty smile, and a hand that almost ran through his hair before dropping again, "Do you find me attractive?"
The prat! She tried to fight it—she really did—she could feel every vein in her neck popping from effort, her teeth clamped on her tongue so hard it was practically bleeding,
"Yes!" she snapped finally, her teeth snapping together to finish the word, lest more information slip out. But it seemed she'd satisfied the potion, as the pressure eased a little, and she was left to ignore the dark red her face had flushed, and the triumphant noise Scorpius had made.
"Ok, but in what ways do you find—"
"Stop!" Rose cut him off quickly, before he finished the question, and she was compelled to answer, "You had your question—and don't be vain!"
Scorpius was biting back a smile now, smug enough that Rose was angrily fighting off her own,
"Alright, what's your question then?"
Rose's question had been rolling around in the back of her brain for a while now, she'd just never expected the opportunity to receive an honest answer,
"Why did go after Selwyn for me?"
Scorpius frowned, "Because he'd a creep, obviously. There needs to be a punishment for people like that. Albus thought you'd go to McGonagall, but you didn't, so I knew I had to do something. And Albus is so lawful good he wouldn't even consider breaking school rules."
"Right." Why did she feel disappointed at his answer? "Your turn then."
She could tell by his mischievous expression exactly what he was going to ask, and she braced herself,
"What exactly is it you find attractive about me?"
Rose grit her teeth, "Fuck's sake—your baby hairs, when you stand in front of a light, they make a little halo around your heard—prat—and your vowels and so posh and controlled that everything you say sounds like the evening news—wanker—and you have really nice pianist hands and I like how big they are—also you're too bloody pretty for your own good, and you know it!" she finished angrily, hoping her forced cursing of him took the kindness out of the praises taken unwillingly from her. But judging the way he was beaming like a kid on Christmas, his ego had picked out the nice bits.
"Rose, I had no idea you felt that way!" he teased, showing his teeth in a smile he couldn't squash.
"Oh, fuck off, you narcissist."
"Easy, Roza," he tutted, "it's your turn."
Rose didn't have to think—he'd already presented her with her next question.
"Why exactly do you call me 'Roza'?" at least her blush was almost fading, shifting the attention off herself.
She was worried she'd crossed another line—Scorpius seemed to be struggled as she had, fighting the words that initially rose to the surface. But it only made her curious—what could he possibly have in response to such a benign question?
"I had a governess," he managed finally, "when I was very young. She had won a scholarship to Durmstrang and was very well-educated—she also spoke French fluently. It's traditional for Malfoy sons to be fluent in two or more languages, it's a status symbol. That's why my parents chose her, I suppose. But even though she'd earned top grades at Durmstrang, she originally grew up in a very rural community in Russia, which was extremely superstitious.
"She tucked me in on nights that my parents were attending functions, or were busy with work, and she'd tell me the most wonderful bedtime stories—many of which were folk tales and stories from the place she hailed from. One tale in particular stuck with me, and I remember asking her to repeat it time and time again, until I knew the story word for word.
"In essence, it was about a lake her community was famous for. It was vast, and deathly deep. In the middle stood a tiny little island, no more than a few feet across each way, completely uninhabited, bar a single tree. Though the village had originally been based around the resources the lake offered, no one dared swim in it, fish in it, or even go near it. Locals claimed that at dusk, when the first few stars were visible, and the lake had calmed to black, a spirit could be seen on the island, peeking out from behind the tree. The spirit—or ghost, or demon, whatever word described it—would call out to men on the shore, crying, begging for help.
"Young men were drawn in by her call, entranced by it, and would throw themselves into the freezing lake. Inevitably, they'd drown, simply unable to swim, or die later of hypothermia. One of the boys that was reluctantly rescued, to later die of the cold, had described the spirit as having pale white skin, flowing red hair—dark as blood—and lips like rose petals. He'd said the spirit was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"So the locals called the spirit Roza, and the superstition and fear of the lake carried down, the tale passed from Elisabet to me."
His explanation had been hurried, encouraged along by the Veritaserum, and when he finished he took a gulping breath of air.
Rose mind raced as she attempted to process the information she'd been given, the answer so different to whatever she'd been expecting from him. However, one clear thought emerged,
"I can't believe you nicknamed me after a demon!" she cried in outrage, and Scorpius pulled a face,
"That's seriously what you took from that whole thing?"
"Yes!"
"You're ridiculous."
Rose huffed, "Whatever." But her curiosity inspired her to ask another question, though she knew it wasn't her turn, "Was Elisabet your only governess?"
Scorpius shook his head, "No, when I was five, she was replaced by an educator, a stern old woman I didn't like as much. I haven't heard anything of Elisabet since then."
"Oh Scorpius, I'm so sorry—"
But he wasn't interested in her pity, "Hey, that wasn't your turn! I get two now!"
"Fine. Try not to ask anything too narcissistic."
Scorpius thought for a moment, "Just to clear something up—did you intentionally hit me with the Quaffle in that Quidditch game?"
"No! I tried to tell you this—it was an accident, I was trying a feint, and you were in the wrong spot!"
There was a silence, Scorpius seemed to be mulling it over, before finally accepting her explanation, "Alright. Okay. Well, I guess, I'm sorry for sabotaging your potion."
There was a significant pause in the conversation; Rose was shocked she'd received and apology from Scorpius bloody Malfoy, and Malfoy seemed to be pretty surprised by his own apology too.
"Sh-should I mark this day in history?" Rose asked, and Scorpius rolled his eyes so hard Rose was surprised they didn't get stuck,
"No." the Veritaserum forced him to answer, even though the question was sarcastic, "I've still got one more question."
"Get on with it then."
Scorpius hmmed, "Are you a virgin?"
Seriously?, "Yes," the Veritaserum drew out, "you're wasting your questions—you could've asked Albus that." She added quickly, trying to brush over her reply.
"You really are?"
Did she have to keep repeating it? "Yes! Just because I don't lower my standards to awkward fumblings in broom closets with Neanderthal teenage boys, doesn't mean I should be ranked differently than anyone else." Rose snapped, "And just because you're the biggest slut in Hogwarts!"
Scorpius cleared his throat, "Actually, under the traditional definition, I'm also a virgin, so pot kettle black on that one."
That threw Rose for a loop, she fumbled for an answer, "But—you—you weren't having sex with Avery?"
Scorpius went pink, "Oral sex, yes," he cleared his throat again, looking uncomfortable, "sorry, that was the Veritaserum. But we haven't had classic proper 'sex', as it's defined."
"But, everyone thought you two were—"
"I think everyone assumed, didn't they?"
"But she called you out on it—"
"She was trying to use that assumption to her advantage, trying to force me into dating her. She'd been trying to get me to shag her for ages—there are traditions and expectations once you engage officially with someone. Lauren knew if we had proper sex, she'd pretty much secured a marriage vow from me."
"Oh."
"Oh, indeed."
"But all the other girls? Flint, Parkinson?"
Scorpius blushed, "Just snogging. The rest of whatever happened is entirely gossip. And I can promise you, as of right now, that's the truth. And our hour is nearly up."
Rose leaned down, grabbing her bag from the floor, "Well. This has been illuminating."
Scorpius laughed, "If Slughorn leaves his cupboard open again, I'd do this again with you, Roza."
It was weird hearing the nickname again, post-revelation, as it had shades more meaning, "Well."
"Pleasure as always." Scorpius nodded, one strap of his bag over his shoulder. Usually they'd be packing down at this time, but there was none to do as they hadn't even set up.
"Right. Well." Rose could feel the Veritaserum wearing off—it felt like all her thoughts and secrets were sinking back to the private place where they usually skulked.
"See you next time." Scorpius was at the door, Rose was still a little shell-shocked by the revelations of their lesson that she hadn't even noticed him move, it was like he'd Apparated to the exit.
"Alright. Ok. Bye, then."
She was still standing at the desk, and he was out of the door, as though the surrealism of the lesson had had no impact on him what-so-ever. Maybe he was used to having honest revelation times with his mortal enemies? But, if it were a day for revelations, Rose wasn't sure she could call him that anymore.
Wednesday 21st December
A little thrill had gone through Albus when he'd checked his calendar. A lucky match-up, he presumed, but a perfect coincidence for what he had in mind.
He arranged to meet Taki by owl—there was something special about writing a formal invitation out with quill ink, even if said invitation was sneaking out of the castle and breaking school rules.
The flutter of excitement that had been threatening all week finally erupted into full-blown butterflies the hour before they were due to meet, as Albus stood before the mirror in his dorm, looking at himself with a critical eye he only reserved for his worst days.
In an out of body experience, he'd considered that this was the face Taki had caught from across the greenhouse, the face he'd decided to ask on a 'date', the face he'd pressed a chaste kiss too. Maybe there was something appealing about it, even if Albus himself struggled to see it himself.
"Scorp?"
The boy in question was lying on the bed, and Albus was caught by a strange wave of déjà vu,
"Hmm?" Scorpius replied, lazily flicking through the copy of 'Keeping Tactics for Dummies', last Christmas' present from Al,
"Am I—I mean—do you think I'm… you know…?"
Scorpius' eyes lifted from the page, "What on earth are you talking about?"
Al knew it was a ridiculous question—when would anyone as pretty and arrogant as Malfoy suffer from anything close to insecurity?
"I just… I'm good-looking, aren't I? Or at least, average? I mean, my face will do, right? People don't cringe at it when I'm not looking?"
Scorpius looked mildly confused, as though he hadn't ever considered anything that was spilling from Al's mouth, "I have no idea what you mean, Albus. You know if I had to pick a guy, it'd be you. In fact, a few more curves, a dark room, and a few Firewhiskeys, and I'd happily—"
"Jesus, alright. Forget I asked." Albus snorted, turning back to the mirror. Merlin, why couldn't his hair stay down?!
Scorpius was sitting up now, apparently concerned enough to move from his lounging position, "Why, did the girl say something? Because I try to avoid violence, but I have other, nastier tactics for anyone who dares to—"
"No, no. Nobody said anything at all. I'm just… being silly I suppose. Don't worry about it." Al shrugged.
"Damn right you're being silly. You're a tall dark glass of handsome, and any girl is lucky to have you."
Albus was smiling despite himself, because behind Scorpius' terrible attempts at humour, he knew a genuine—though misguided—sentiment lay under it.
"Thanks, Scorp."
Albus was first to arrive, just himself and the tremble in his hands. The grounds were well-lit, the moon was almost full, bathing exposed places in a half-light that was reflected back in the snow. In the almost-summers they caught the corners of at Hogwarts, the grounds were alive; grasshoppers calling to one another, birds and the rustling of leaves creating a cacophony that carried across the grounds.
But now, everything had settled or left for winter—even the creatures of the forest quieting in their growls and whinnies. Albus was sure he could hear his own breath echoing back to him off the treeline, interrupted by nothing but an unnerving quiet.
At least, here, he would catch the footsteps of someone keen to catch him, and he could try to hide behind the greenhouses he waited against. The light of the moon lacked in the corners, only making their darkness more enveloping, ensuring his protection in case of emergency.
Al didn't have to wait long, he soon heard the tell-tale crunch of frozen grass blades underfoot. Al paused, cautious, until Taki's voice called,
"Albus? Are you there?" in his accent which couldn't be easily mimicked, the warmth in his tone strange in the cold.
"Here." Albus indicated, stepping from the corner he'd been lingering in, allowing the silvery light to signpost his position, "Did you bring the keys for Greenhouse Three?"
There was a deliberate jingle from Taki's pocket, his grin accompanied by a gust of frosty breath, swirling in the air between them. Al thought he could see it mixing with his own—a ghost of a kiss they hadn't shared.
"You've kept this very mysterious—admittedly I'm intrigued."
Al shrugged, though his heart leapt a little, "Just thought I'd return the favour. Key?"
Taki obligingly handed the object over, and Albus jiggled it open, letting them into the dirt-floored space. The greenhouses were one of the only places in the castle that weren't accessible with a simple Alohomora, though Albus didn't trust his own Charm skills either way.
The heat inside was an uncomfortable contrast against outside, heavy and humid in ways that brought a sticky sweat out against Albus' upper lip, and both boys fought in a frenzy to discard their heavy winter cloaks and scarves, burning up under the weight of them.
Al was a little jealous, he'd rather be the one tearing of Taki's clothes, but the boy seemed to be managing fine on his own, and it seemed impolite to ask, so Albus instead focused on rapidly unknotting his scarf.
"Right then." Taki said, gathering the outerwear he'd shed, "What's next?"
"Through here." It felt nice to take charge, and Taki was following patiently, eager to see whatever Al had prepared. Al was a little annoyed, as Taki had set the bar so bloody high. How could he beat petting a mooncalf, feeling the baby calf's heartbeat? But he supposed, if Taki was someone he really wanted in his life, Taki would appreciate any gesture, no matter how small.
Al led them out of the student area, through to Neville's personal collection of rare plants. He'd been in here many times—it also seconded as Neville's office—and while it wasn't strictly out of bounds, he still felt a little dangerous entering it without Neville's explicit invitation.
"Down here." Albus encouraged, leading his willing follower right to the end of the gallery style room.
"So, uh," Albus checked his watch, "Now we wait." They'd been more efficient than Al had estimated for, arriving four minutes ahead of his extremely specific schedule.
Taki didn't seem bothered—he didn't seem bothered by anything—just giving Taki one of those smiles that made Albus melt in all the right ways,
"Have you thought anymore about what we talked about? What you'll do after school?"
And Albus had been, actually, when he wasn't thinking about Taki, or stressing about the well being of his extremely large brood,
"Honestly, I don't know if I'll get to 'after school' at all." Albus confessed, the first time he'd actually vocalized the idea since it had first struck him at a ridiculous hour, "I'm over this already—I dread every class that isn't Care of Magical Creatures, or Herbology. I put in double the effort in my classes, and I barely scrape by with passing grades. I doubt I'll get through this year, let alone make it to end of NEWT exams. There's a world of actual, physical knowledge out there, but this whole school acts as though books are the be all and end all of information. I want to find it out myself! I want to see things! I want to get out of this country, and I want to fill my own books!"
His outburst had shocked even him—these were ideas that had been lurking in his head for years now, and Albus had refused to acknowledge them. But his interaction with the mooncalves had reinvigorated feelings that Albus had had for a long time, bringing them to the light. Because the night with the mooncalves had lit him up in ways that school hadn't for a long time.
It was as though Albus was having to trawl through his mind, breaking apart and sweeping away his deeply ingrained ideas of traditional 'life'. It wasn't his parents fault, it wasn't anybody's fault, but he'd been raised unintentionally to believe in a white-picket fantasy—the heterosexual, middle-class model—just because his family happened to fit what was 'normal'.
He was supposed to meet a girl at Hogwarts, and graduate year seven with an acceptable number of NEWTs. Then they'd get married, he'd take a job at the Ministry, and they'd half two point five children and work happily until retirement. It wasn't until Albus had begun to notice he was different that he'd questioned this way of life, but he'd always figured there was something wrong with him.
"Why don't you leave?" Taki didn't seem surprised in the slightest at Albus' unprompted outburst, and he was still standing there, which was a positive sign,
"Uh, what?"
"Leave school. You're right—what's within these walls isn't the be all and end all, this isn't your only opportunity for education. Why stay if you hate it? Fulfilling the expectations of others is no way to live your life, because at the end of the day, you're the one that has to bear the brunt of your decisions."
It was silly—for all the angsting and moping Albus had done over his current situation, the thought had never occurred to him. He wasn't legally bound to finish school, and no one could keep him anywhere he didn't want to be.
"I'd never thought about it like that before."
Taki didn't have opportunity to respond however, as the bush Albus had stood them beside gave an ominous rustle.
"It's beginning." Albus indicated, "We have to stand very still—it won't bloom if it senses movement."
Both boys were frozen—Al wishing he'd positioned himself a little better. Taki's hand was only inches away, but was tragically unheld by Al's own. But any movement would ruin the surprise, so he summoned all his willpower to keep the gap between their fingertips woefully empty.
The first bud of the flower opened gently, unfurling silk-soft white petals, that seemed to twinkle as though they were lit from the inside. Albus so still he dared not breathe, restricting the lift and fall of his belly, just in case. But as though the first flower had communicated safety to the others, dozens of other buds opened, filling Neville's office with a glow that was impossible to look away from, as though each contained its own mini moon.
"This is a Lumenhiem plant." Taki breathed, the awe in his voice doing something indescribable to Al's heart, "I've never seen one before—let alone during their annual blooming. I didn't realize today was—"
"Winter solstice." Albus finished, "Pretty lucky timing."
"Albus, this is incredible." Taki's voice was what pulled Al's eyes from the plant, and as soon as his eyes landed on the other boy's face, he was glad he'd shifted them.
The light lit Taki's face into something that reduced Al's lung capacity to barely a square inch combined. The shadows at the corners of his smile only made it wider, something between surprise and appreciation that felt like silent praise.
"Taki?"
"Hmm?"
"I want to kiss you so much right now."
Taki managed to pull his eyes from the blooming too, "You do?"
Albus didn't feel apprehensive in that moment. Maybe it would catch up with him later, when he was remembering this moment for the thousandth time. But he could feel now was the distance between his lips and Taki's, how the space begged to be filled, how it felt wrong for the distance to even exist in the first place. And almost as soon as he'd thought it, it was gone, his mouth on Taki's with something on the more enthusiastic side of romance, his hands sliding into Taki's hair, behind his neck.
Albus knew that this was it. It was not a spectator sport, it wasn't a role to be filled, it was something he was doing because he wanted to, not because he wasn't to please the people around him—just like everything else seemed to be.
The boy smelt earthy and incredible, reminding Al of all his best outdoors lessons rolled into one. The magic on him was palpable, crackling against Al's skin like static electricity, charging Al into a frenzy as the kiss grew hotter, tongues sliding against one another, and Al wanted to pull off Taki's remaining clothes, just to touch his skin, as though he needed as much contact as necessary because his whole head with filled with nothing but a pleasant white noise—
It was Albus that pulled away, heady with the heat of the kiss in such a temperate place, in such risky circumstances.
"Christ." Albus laughed, the euphoria filling and spilling over the edges.
"What?" Taki grinned, straightening his shirt into something more presentable.
"I am so gay."
Taki laughed at that, his lips a little flushed from the contact, hair a little mussed and Albus felt a strange prickle of pride in his chest at the sight.
The walk back from the greenhouses was much different to Al's lone walk there—Taki kept pulling Al to his side, planting kisses up neck, along his jaw, and across his temple. Albus realized he'd probably need to leap directly into a cold shower after this, if he had any chance of getting to sleep tonight. He hoped Scorpius would already be asleep—according to his watch, it was nearly one am—as the ridiculous smile he couldn't fight away would be decoded in a second.
Once again, they found themselves at the same back entrance to the castle where'd they'd lingered on their first outing, both hovering, not wishing to cut the evening off.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," Taki said after a considerable silence, "And our conversation tonight makes me think you'd consider it too."
Albus' curiosity was peaked at that, and Taki squeezed Al's hand tightly in his own,
"I'm leaving the country in June, to go travelling around the Equator—I'm writing a book on magical equatorial eco-systems around the world, and how the magic has affected animals and plants that have evolved there. I'm going to need someone to assist me, with collecting information, documenting it properly, editing my work. But I also want a travel buddy—someone to share my experiences with, someone who has as much appreciation for travel and the animals and plants we'll encounter. I know it's short notice, I know we've only known each other for a short amount of time. There'd be no expectations on you to fill a personal role you're not comfortable with, and you could leave if you didn't like it. I wouldn't want you to feel like you'd be obliged to stay or—Merlin, I'm rambling." Taki laughed, "Long story short, I'm inviting you. I want you to come with me."
Albus was rendered temporarily speechless, and briefly thoughtless too, as he scrambled to put the implications together, "You—you want me to travel the world with you? In six months?"
"It would be after your exams, obviously, and I wouldn't let the planning interrupt your school work. I'm not sure how long we'd be gone for, it would be at least a year. But my plan is to start in Gabon, cutting through equatorial countries in Africa—Congo, Uganda, Kenya—before going to the Maldives, Indonesia. Then Portkey to Ecuador, finish in Brazil. We wouldn't have to stick the equator though, I don't mind including mini trips to cities of interest."
"I—well—I—"
"You don't have to make a decision right now." Taki said quickly, "This is sudden; take all the time you need to think about it. Take a week, take a month. I don't want you to make this choice lightly. Again, we barely know each other, so there's no reason for you to rush into it."
"But if we barely know me, why are you inviting me? Surely there's a person out there who's actually qualified, or has finished school at least. I'd be useless to you—"
"Albus," Taki squeezed his hand again, brushing his thumbs along Al's knuckles, "Don't undersell yourself. You're brilliant in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, you have a natural touch with living things. That's what I want. And as for knowing each other… I'm just listening to my gut on this one. And my gut instinct is you, Albus."
It was so tender, so sure and steady in the way that only Taki could be. Albus envied that, his surety, his rock-like confidence on everything. Maybe some world experience was what it required—Taki had moved half-way around the world by himself—maybe that was what Albus needed. Some independence, away from family holidays with his parents, and the watchful eye of Hogwarts.
"Alright, I'll sleep on it." Albus agreed, pulling Taki closer for his goodnight kiss. If anything could've swayed his decision, it would've been Taki's lips, but Albus knew he needed to make this decision with no lovey chemicals in his system—a consult with Rose and Scorpius would be good. Lily would be good to talk to as well, she wasn't one for beating around the bush.
Taki breathed when they finally withdrew, his hand finding the door handle, "Night, Albus."
"Goodnight, Taki."
A/N: Writer's block really knocked me for a loop on this one. And I know I don't usually do music recommendations, but I wrote this chapter to Barricade by Yumi Zouma, Trouble by Cage the Elephant, and Best of Friends by Palma Violets. All quite different but (in my opinion) all excellent songs. A final note: Albus Potter is a cheesy romantic, pass it on.