Title: until I feel your touch
Summary: Albus Severus Potter hates all of it. The attention. The whispers. The serpentine crest that sits on his robes and the emerald blocks on his scarf and tie. What he's not expecting though, is to like the one person he's destined to hate: Scorpius Malfoy.
Or, the story that Cursed Child could have been if it was written about a pair of Cursed Children instead. A Scorbus Soulmate AU
Disclaimer: I am not associated with JK Rowling and make no profit from any of what I am posting.
Inspired by: a video and tweet about "reverse fanfiction tropes" that made me think of "the world turns grey when sworn enemies touch each other for the first time" the reverse of "you start seeing in colour after you touch your soulmate". Except, it's a bit more complicated than that. [Linked on my Tumblr and ao3]
until I feel your touch
Chapter 2
Albus doesn't make any friends. Not in the way Rose does, at least. She immediately gets along with a girl called Jess, and Albus sits next to them, trying to join in on the conversation but desperately failing at doing so. He wonders if they can see the nervousness written across his face. If the beating of his heart is too loud, or the expressions of reaction he's forcing himself to make are too exaggerated.
He's never been good at this — at making friends. Dad had insisted they all start their schooling at the local Muggle school and it had been the same then too. Rose has always been good at talking to people. Al simply isn't.
It bothers him to no end; it always has, but there's a voice in his head that tells him it won't matter as long as he's in Gryffindor. That way, he could just tag along with Rose and anyone else she befriends, just like he always has.
Though, that only makes him dread the Sorting all the more.
The hat lets you choose, Dad had said, and at that moment, it had made him feel alright about the whole Hogwarts thing. The uncomfortable knot that had sat in Al's stomach all morning, preventing him from eating the massive breakfast Mum had made, had faded away. He'd almost felt okay.
But it's back now. The knot. The deafening lub-dub of his heart as he waits for his name to be called; the Sorting only moments away. There's an Olsen and then a Patil-Brown and, all at once:
"Potter, Albus."
Al takes a shaky step towards the stool. The whispering is back. Students crane their necks to get a better look at him and James, standing up at Gryffindor table just like he had done for Rose, gives him an encouraging thumbs-up. Then Professor Davis drops the hat on Al's head and the world disappears from view.
"Ah," a voice says in his head. You have a choice, Al thinks, and he breathes in, ready to speak up but, before he gets a chance: "SLYTHERIN!" the hat calls out for everyone to hear, and Albus goes still. He doesn't move.
He can't move.
Davis plucks the hat off his head. Nobody's clapping. Not the Slytherins who, only moments ago, had burst into applause for Malfoy. Not his cousins, who had whistled and sang for Rose. James is still standing, staring at Albus with an unreadable expression.
Davis nudges him forward, towards the Slytherin table, and Albus takes a hesitant step forward.
"Potter," he hears someone whisper, their voice cutting through the silence.
"Are you sure?"
He can't seem to breathe.
Albus slides into the spot next to a senior. Malfoy's sitting two people across from him, his eyes fixed on Al and an odd expression etched on his face.
Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin.
The hat lets you choose . Lies, Albus thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. It didn't. It doesn't. It didn't even to Al, it didn't hesitate. The hat just knew. Like there was nowhere else that Al could possibly belong; like this is who he was always supposed to be.
Evil, a voice whispers in his head.
Lonely, Albus thinks, daring a glance at the Gryffindor table, all the way across the hall. His eyes find James'. He's sat down again, his head bent. Molly, sitting next to him, is saying something Al desperately wishes he could make out. James looks up, suddenly, spotting Albus with surprising swiftness. He raises his hand like he's going to wave, but Al turns away quickly.
He wants to cry.
"Potter?" someone says. "Potter?" Again, louder this time.
He looks up, expecting the worst. Instead, the senior sitting next to him smiles. She's wearing a purple prefect's badge — the same Vic had gotten when she'd gone into fifth year.
"You're Dom's cousin, right?"
He nods, and the Prefect's smile brightens. "She's in my year," she says quickly. "I'm Cecilia, one of the Slytherin Prefects. She tilts her head towards the burly boy sitting across her who looks like he's on the verge of falling asleep. "That's Andrew."
Albus doesn't know how to respond. He tries to utter a simple: "Oh" but the sound gets lost in his throat.
"Slytherin isn't all that bad, you know," Cecilia goes on. "Gilbert's Head Boy—" she points at the boy sitting next to Andrew, "— Ol' Davis, up front's Head of Slytherin and Deputy Headmistress and, I mean, there's probably no point in telling you about Merlin, is there?"
Albus knows what she's doing. The Sorting's ended and all around him, the students have started talking to one another. His future classmates, Albus thinks. His future housemates.
What had Davis just said about housemates being like family? Albus tries to swallow. He doesn't want to be their family — not when his actual family is sitting three tables away.
"What about Voldemort?" he asks.
Cecilia frowns. "We've had our fair share of dark wizards," she says slowly, "but so have Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. And trust me, I'd rather be Slytherin than Hufflepuff—"
But Albus shakes his head. "Not me," he says.
Nobody in his family's ever been a Slytherin. James calls them evil. Uncle Ron doesn't bother to hide his dislike of the serpentine house. Mum — what's he going to tell Mum? — refuses to show any kind of bias but he's heard the way she's talked about her Slytherin classmates. Why would Dad lie to him, and give him hope? Albus had been so sure when he'd gotten on the train that morning that he'd tell the hat to put him in Gryffindor. He'd have never let himself lower his guard if he'd known the truth.
Tears pool in his eyes and, staring down at his still-empty plate, Albus blinks them back furiously. That last thing he wants is to be caught crying.
Someone slides into the space between him and the Prefect, Cecilia, but Al doesn't look up. All around him, his classmates are eating, but Al's lost his appetite again; in the morning, the fear of getting into Slytherin had kept him from eating, and now, sitting at the table, he feels even more nauseous than he had before.
"You're going to be killed," Cecilia's saying.
"Don't care," a familiar voice responds. "Alright Al?"
He looks up, more out of surprise than in response to the greeting. It's Dom. She's grinning at him, the scarlet of her Gryffindor robes standing out against the sea of green Al's sitting in.
"Slytherin isn't bad," Dom says at once. She's never been one to beat around the bush, and Al has always loved that about her. But, right now, he'd give anything to have Vic pull him into a warm hug, or have James spell his robes red and pull him away from here.
"I've got friends in Slytherin, and they're brilliant," Dom says. "Your Severus Snape was in Slytherin, though I haven't heard anything good about him, and Lia here does not know how to shut up about Merlin." At this, Cecilia grins.
"If you want to hate it and be mopey about it, you're going to be unhappy about it for the next seven years. Your house doesn't change who you are. You're still the same kid you've always been; Slytherin or not. So look up, give James a wave and deal with it."
"Can't I swap?" Albus asks in a small voice and Dom sighs.
"It doesn't matter that much. You're going to be fine. I swear." She pulls him into an awkward sideways hug, and because she's his favourite cousin, Al knows that hugs from Dom are rare. That they mean something.
He knows she's being nice, but there's a part of Al that can't help but wonder if it's pity. If Dom really meant that he's always been cunning and ambitious and everything else Slytherin. That he's never been good enough for the others. The thought leaves him feeling hollow inside.
Al doesn't get much time to brood.
The moment dinner ends, Cecilia and Andrew gather the first years around them and, though Albus makes a point of staying away from Malfoy, he's quickly sandwiched between two boys he doesn't know.
They introduce themselves as Callum — the slightly taller, freckled boy with a toothy grin — and David — the shorter one, with neatly combed dark hair that gives off an air Al tends to associate with haughty purebloods at Ministry parties — and they quickly engage him in a conversation about Quidditch that definitely feels like an attempt at finding out more about his Mom and the Harpies.
Roxanne, who catches Al's eye as he's walking out of the Great Hall, grins at him, giving Albus the thumbs up and he's torn between telling her that no, he is not making friends, and begging her to take him to Gryffindor. They move on before Albus gets to choose either way.
He zones out before they reach Slytherin Common Room, slipping in a " Yeah" and an " Oh" whenever the conversation with David and Callum seems to demand it. They choose beds on either side of Albus though, and it's not until they pass out from exhaustion that Albus finally gets to squeeze his eyes shut, the weight of what's happened finally settling onto him.
He's in Slytherin.
He's the first Potter and the first Weasley to have ever ended up in the serpentine house and the thought of it makes his heart ache. Silent tears that have been on the verge of spilling all evening finally pool in his eyes, rolling down his face and dampening his pillow. Albus sniffs loudly, then rolls over, burying his face in his pillow and praying that nobody hears him. A second sob escapes his throats and, though Al tries, he can't hold it back.
If he'd been listening though, Albus would have realised that he wasn't the only one who couldn't fall asleep.
Callum and David wake him up for breakfast. They sit at the edge of his bed, watching Al hurry through his morning routine. In class, they sit together, Al squeezed between the two boys.
If it had been in Gryffindor, Albus would have appreciated it. He's dimly aware of the fact that they're trying to befriend him and he knows that he should be glad for it. He's not capable of going out of his way to make friends on his own and this might be his only chance to ensure that he isn't lonely for the next seven years.
And yet, Albus is reluctant to laugh when they joke or reply when they ask him questions. His robes and tie — a plain black last night — had magically turned emerald this morning with the Slytherin crest embroidered to the front of his robes. He'd been hoping — praying against all odds — that it had all been a bad dream. That he'd wake up at home and set off for Hogwarts for the first time all over again, but it was real. All of it. Albus hates that.
And though he hates himself for it, it's easiest to take it out on Callum and David.
Until James finds him at least.
James catches up with Al at lunch, successfully dragging Al to the side of the corridor before he manages to run away.
"I'm not telling Mum and Dad," he says.
"What?"
Al spots Molly and Fred standing together, and he's immediately convinced that they're talking about him. That James has been preparing for this conversation all night.
"I want you to be the one who tells them. About the Sorting," James says, and he glances back again. He's nervous, Albus realises.
"Fine."
"Today."
"I'll think about it."
James groans, arching his back backwards and dragging his hands through his hair. He's nervous and frustrated, and Al knows that he's at the root of it.
"You're making a big deal out of nothing," James goes on, and he puts a hand on Al's shoulder, grip uncomfortably tight, like he's somehow convinced that it'll help drive the message in.
"I am?"
"Yeah. It's just your house, for Merlin's sake. It's not the end of the world. Rose says you ignored her in Charms. Vic says you ran away from her. You're being a baby, and you really need to stop."
Albus frowns. "I'm not being a baby," he says, and it comes out louder than he'd intended, earning them a few curious looks from all around. He falters, the familiar panic at being watched welling up inside him. "You're the one who told me that everyone in Slytherin was evil," he adds, voice lowered.
"I was kidding," James shoots back, not missing a beat. "Lia's like the coolest person I know and — and what about Merlin?"
"I will literally punch the next person who talks about Merlin or Snape or anyone else," Albus snaps, and he shoves past James.
He hears James call out for him. Feels Fred's gaze bore into his back as Albus brushes past him. Every eye in the corridor seems to be on Al, the whispers already starting.
Familiar tears sting the back of his eyes, and Albus blinks them back, sidestepping to avoid Malfoy who is gaping at him from the end of the corridor. He's never felt this distant from his family, nor has he ever felt this alone.
A Potter in Slytherin, Al thinks bitterly. Nothing could be worse.
A/N: I'm still setting the scene in this chapter (and introducing some of the main characters) but Scorpius will be there in the next chapter and, according to my plan, in every chapter after! So please bear with me till next week! I swear it'll be worth it
That said, I do have everything until chapter 6 written, so if you want a spoiler snippet or some Scorpius, please bother me on Tumblr: FanfictioningFangirl! And, if you're looking for chapter 3 it's already up on my ao3!
As always, thanks for reading!