December
Teddy
i.
December comes all at once. Too soon, in Teddy's opinion. One second, he's helping Harry get Avery and those teenagers out of Hogwarts. (Well, he likes to think he helped, anyway. Harry reassures him that he did, and he chooses to take him at his word.) And the next second, all of the nasty business with the Death Eaters and Dementors is done with, it's December, and he's got to think about other things. Like Christmas shopping for one.
And another thing that he's been putting off for far too long. It's only been a couple of weeks since he first started thinking about it, but. It feels like it's been overdue for a while. A long while. Ever since he was twelve and he saw eleven-year-old Victoire at Hogwarts and thought, suddenly, Oh, I hope she'll be in my House. (She wasn't, which meant Teddy, very quickly, got acquainted with ways to sneak into the Ravenclaw common room, undetected, which became increasingly hard as he became Prefect and then Head Boy.)
And now, at twenty-one, he's as sure as he ever was. He can't put it off anymore.
Which is why he's at the entrance to Hogwarts on Sunday morning. It's the first Sunday of December, and Hogwarts seems eerily peaceful. There's a bitter wind blowing through the grounds, and Teddy knows that it won't be long before snow starts to stick to the ground.
It's hard to imagine that less than a week ago, there had been a Death Eater in the castle. It's impossible to believe that here, where it looks so serene, is where Avery, his daughter, Nigel Goyle, and the others who had a hand in it – who they haven't managed to apprehend yet – had Ginny, Jamie, Albus, Lily, and Scorpius restrained and Wandless in the Room of Requirement.
Then again, maybe it's not so hard to imagine. Teddy looks through the gates and imagines, as he has countless times before, the scene of the Battle of Hogwarts. He's talked about it before, with his grandmother, and with Harry. He's read so many books about it. He can picture where it happened. Where Harry finally succeeded in taking down Voldemort, but not before the Death Eaters managed to get to his parents.
He takes a moment and thinks about his parents. He's been told so much about them, by Harry and his grandmother and Kingsley and the Weasleys, that he feels as if he knows them. They've always been a part of his life in some way or another. He's done his best to keep their memory alive in his actions. He's fought for werewolf rights, he's taken pride in showing off his Metamorphmagus abilities, he's done his best to treat everyone around him with as much kindness as he likes to imagine his parents did.
There's a tradition he has with himself. It's something he hasn't told anyone except Victoire about. Every time he enters Hogwarts, he pauses at the gates and he talks to his parents. Here, where they died, where they gave up their lives fighting for a better world for him, their son, he likes to imagine he feels the closest to them.
It's almost time, Mum and Dad, he thinks now. I'm going to do it. You would have loved her, you know. She's amazing. The coolest person in the universe. And if I'm lucky, she'll say yes. And then, if I'm very lucky, we might give you grandkids, too. Wait and watch.
He opens his eyes after a moment, pushes the gates open, and walks in. It's time.
ii.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" is the first thing Harry tells him when he opens the door to his and Ginny's quarters.
Teddy checks his watch – a gift from his grandmother, Ted Tonks' old watch – and says, brightly, "Eight in the morning."
"The one day I could sleep in," Harry says, but he steps aside to let Teddy in without any further protest. "Do you want some tea?" he adds, because he's grumpy, but he's still Teddy's godfather and he's never been able to be angry with him for too long.
"Sure," Teddy says. He's bouncing on his feet in excitement. He can't seem to stand still. This always happens to him when he's nervous. He felt like this before Prefect meetings, before Quidditch matches, before important meetings at work, when he first thought about joining the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, when Vic first told him that she thought she was pregnant…
"You alright?" Harry asks him in that mild way of his. Teddy sometimes has the feeling that Harry can look right into him and see what he's thinking about. It's uncanny.
"Yeah. Yeah, fine," Teddy says.
Harry prods the kettle with his wand, and then says, "Accio cups. Teddy, if something's wrong…"
"Is Ginny awake?" Teddy asks. He doesn't mean to. It bursts out of him before he can think better of it.
"I think so, yeah," Harry says. He seems to take the interruption in stride, thankfully. "Think you woke the both of us up with your knock."
Teddy shrugs, unapologetic. "I was hoping I could talk to her," he says.
Harry surveys Teddy for a long moment. And then, unexpectedly, his face lights up and all traces of grumpiness completely vanish. "Is this about… the chat we had the other day?" he asks.
Teddy suddenly feels bashful. He nods slowly. "I, er. I wanted to know if she'd come into Hogsmeade with me. There's a jewellery shop there, and I thought maybe, you know. She could help me pick out a ring."
"Of course she'd want to," Harry says.
"Do you want to come, too?" Teddy asks, suddenly eager to get Harry's advice on the ring, too. Ginny loves her ring – or at least she wears it every day, which means she can't hate it. And Harry picked it out, which means he can't be all bad at jewellery selection.
Harry's face falls. "I'd love to, Teddy. Really, I would, but. I'm meeting Padma and Hermione at the Ministry later today."
"Oh. Oh, right, yeah," Teddy says. "About the Death Eaters?"
"Yeah," Harry says, and sighs. "Avery's still not letting the names of his accomplices slip. We've got a list of suspects, of course, but we've got to narrow it down… Hermione says that as I'm not technically an Auror anymore, I shouldn't worry myself about it too much—"
"But since you're you, you're obviously going to disregard that advice and worry yourself grey," says Ginny as she walks out of the bedroom, wearing an old dressing gown. "Hi, Teddy. Early start today?" she adds, muffling a yawn against the back of her hand.
"Eight isn't that early, really," Teddy says.
"For a Sunday morning? It's very early," Ginny says, and ruffles Teddy's hair on her way to the kettle. His hair's blue today, but a darker blue than he usually goes for, almost black.
"He had something to do today," Harry says with a grin.
"Oh? What's that?" Ginny asks, turning to fix Teddy with a look.
"I want you to help me buy a ring so I can propose to Vic," Teddy says, all at once.
Ginny blinks, and then says, "What? Edward Remus Lupin, you're going to propose?!" she says, and then rounds on Harry. She seems surprised to see how calm Harry looks. "Did you know about this?" she demands.
Harry shrugs and then says, "I'll make the tea, shall I?"
"I can't believe you didn't tell me," Ginny says, but she's already starting to look more amused than disbelieving or shocked.
"I was busy apprehending a Death Eater, wasn't I?" Harry reasons.
"But surely you should be able to do that in your sleep by now, shouldn't you?" Ginny teases, and grins at Teddy. "Course I'll help you pick out a ring. Have you figured out how you're going to propose yet?"
"Oh. Oh, shit," Teddy says. He knew he'd been forgetting something. "How did you propose?" he asks Harry. "Was it a huge surprise? Should I be planning a huge surprise?"
"Well… to be honest, Gin kind of figured out that I was proposing before I could do it," Harry admits sheepishly.
"For an Auror, you're quite shit at keeping secrets," Ginny says fondly, and then leans in, tugging Teddy into a hug. "Don't worry about that, you'll figure something out, Teddy. And we'll pick out the perfect ring, wait and watch."
They only leave an hour or so later, after a lazy breakfast at the Great Hall and after Teddy finishes checking in on Jamie, Al, and Lily – he's still worried about them, even though they seem to be okay, or to be dealing with it as best as they can.
"They're still a bit traumatised, I think," Ginny tells him, as they walk down to Hogsmeade.
Teddy glances at her. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Ginny says. Her forehead is knit with worry, and her eyes aren't as bright as usual. "I suppose I can't blame them. They're acting like everything's fine, though. But… I can tell. Al's been so quiet, the last week. Lily's been a bit jumpier than usual."
"And Jamie?" Teddy asks.
"Well, you know what he's like," Ginny says. "Acts like everything's fine, all the time. He and Freddie have been practising duelling almost every night, though." She sighs and shakes her head.
Teddy's grown so used to thinking of Ginny and Harry as invincible. Some small part of him, a part of him that hasn't grown up quite yet, can't reconcile his idea of them with Ginny now, who looks uncertain and worried.
Ginny shakes her head again, pushing her hair off her face. "Anyway. Enough about that," she says, and she's back to the Ginny Teddy's grown up with, the Ginny who doesn't let anything get to her, who never backs down from a fight, who isn't scared of anything at all.
"Right," Teddy says, feeling a bit uncertain. Maybe it's too soon to be thinking about proposals. They've all been through something huge – it's not like encounters with Death Eaters happen every day. Maybe he should have waited, instead of dragging Ginny with him.
Ginny seems to cotton on to what he's thinking, because she smiles at him.
"It's fine. It'll take time, but we'll be fine. Now, we've got some time before the shops open. Should we get a hot chocolate?" she says. "You can tell me all about your plan to propose, and I'll tell you all about how Harry proposed to me. It's a hilarious story." She links her arm through his and tugs him through the village to the Three Broomsticks, and Teddy finds himself cheering up a bit.
iii.
Here's the plan:
Vic's coming over to Grimmauld Place for Christmas Eve. Just them, his grandmother, and the Potters. And then on Christmas Day, they're all going to the Burrow to spend Christmas.
He's going to cook them dinner, a fancy dinner, the sort that Vic likes. And after dinner, either Harry or his grandmother – he hasn't spoken to either of them about it yet, but he knows they'll probably end up arguing over the opportunity – will distract the rest of the Potters, and he'll be able to slip away with Vic.
He'll take Vic to the rooftop, which will be specially decorated and everything –Ginny's promised to take care of that bit. He's going to pour them glasses of mulled wine, Rosmerta's finest. And then he's going to get down on one knee and tell Vic how he feels about her. He'll tell her how much she means to him, how he can't imagine getting through any of this without her, how she makes everything better all the time, how he wants to be with her forever and maybe have kids of their own. How she makes him happier than he ever thought possible, how he wants to spend the rest of his life trying to make her happy, too.
And then he'll show her the ring he and Ginny picked out – gold, little diamond, pretty but discreet, the kind Vic can still wear even when she's doing her Healer rounds – and ask her the question.
That's the plan. He's spent the last few days formulating it, and Ginny agrees with him that it's a good one.
Unfortunately, that's not how it happens at all.
Here's what happens:
The Thursday after he buys the ring with Ginny, he goes to pick Vic up from St. Mungo's at the end of her shift. It's seven in the morning, and she's stumbling with sleep as she meets him downstairs by the entrance.
"Hey," he says, catching her before she can fall.
Her hair's in a messy knot at the top of her head. She's changed out of her robes, into a Holyhead Harpies jumper and baggy joggers that Teddy recognises from his own wardrobe. She seems to have forgotten to take her Eyesight Potion, since she's wearing her glasses, but even through them, Teddy can see the dark shadows etched under her eyes. She smiles up at him and Teddy thinks she's the most beautiful human being that's ever existed.
"Hi," she says, and leans up, presses a soft kiss to his cheek. "I'm so fucking glad you're here. Merlin, I hate night shifts. I can't wait until my training's officially done and I can delegate some of the cases."
"Bad shift today, then?" Teddy asks sympathetically.
"The absolute worst. And I got the worst of the lot, too," Vic says, and leans into his side.
"Want to vent about it?" Teddy offers, leading Vic to the fireplace of Mungo's and fetching the Floo Powder. He knows her well enough to know that she won't be up to Apparition right now.
"Yes," Vic says, accepting a handful of Floo Powder and dropping it into the fireplace. "At home, though. I might pass out if I don't sit down soon. Grimmauld Place," she adds, stepping into the now-green fireplace.
Teddy pauses. Home, she said. Which means she just referred to Grimmauld Place as home. He doesn't want to move out of Grimmauld Place, doesn't want to leave his grandmother alone, not with how her health is getting now that she's a bit older – although she would never admit it, of course –so he and Vic haven't moved into their own flat. Vic's been staying with them the last few months, since it's closer to Mungo's than the old flat she shared with her friends from Hogwarts, but she hasn't called it home until this exact moment.
He doesn't know why it hits him then, but he just knows that he can't wait another second.
He feels a bit disoriented, even as he steps into the Floo at Mungo's and steps out at home, and he knows it's not just from the travel.
"Are you alright?" Vic asks him.
He brushes the soot off his jeans, nodding. She looks concerned, and soft in the light from the early morning.
"Marry me," he blurts out.
Vic's eyes widen. "What?" she says, very slowly.
"Marry me," he repeats. "Vic… fuck. I love you. So much."
"I love you, too," she whispers. Her eyes are starting to fill with tears, and Teddy hopes that they're good tears.
On the off chance that they're not, though, and that she's crying at how shit he is at proposing, he needs to do this properly. He rummages around in his jeans, retrieves his wand, and says, "Accio ring." He catches the ring when it flies towards him from its place in the bedside drawer in his room, but he doesn't look away from Vic as he does.
He takes a small step back, and kneels on the carpet, right then and there, in front of the fireplace in the living room of Grimmauld Place. "Vic," he says.
"Teddy," she responds, sounding choked up.
"Will you marry me?" he asks, starting to feel a little teary-eyed himself. He forgets every word of the speech he had planned, the endless drafts he had in his mind. It takes everything he has to even get the words out.
"Yes," she whispers, and then she's kneeling too, and leaning her forehead against his.
"Yes?" he repeats.
"Of course, you idiot," Vic says, and leans in and kisses him, and Teddy closes his eyes, lets out a small sob of relief, and kisses her back.
"Well," says his grandmother's voice, and Teddy turns to see none other than the woman herself, Andromeda Tonks, sitting in the armchair and looking amused, "That certainly wasn't the most romantic proposal, was it? Could've checked the room to see if you were alone, for one."
Teddy doesn't know whether to feel mortified or delighted.
"Still," Gran continues, "I have to say, I'm very happy, Teddy. Good job. Welcome to the family, Victoire."
Teddy grins. Delighted, he decides. That's how he feels right now.
Scorpius
i.
"Do you have all your things?" Father asks.
"You're holding my trunk," Scorpius says. "What else would I have?"
"Your owl, for one," Al puts in, and Scorpius turns around to Albus Potter, his favourite person in the world, standing behind him on the platform.
"I thought you'd left already!" he says delightedly. He said his goodbyes to Al and Rose on the train. It was more emotional than strictly necessary, he'll admit, especially given the fact that he'll see him in a week. Al's coming over with Rose, two days before Christmas, for the Malfoy Christmas Party (it's always capitalised, in Scorpius's mind, because of the way his mum and father – and grandmum – talk about it), and he's spending Christmas with the Potters and the Weasleys, which he couldn't be more excited for.
"I did leave. We made it to the end of the platform before I realised that I was holding Bertie," Al says, gesturing to the cage he's holding, inside which Scorpius's owl is hooting indignantly at him, as if rebuking him for getting about him. His green eyes look light, and amused; Scorpius suddenly realises that it's been a little while since he's seen his eyes look like that.
Scorpius doesn't like to think about what happened. They're recovering from it, all of them, even if it's slower than he likes.
He doesn't like to think about what happened, but it's all he thinks about. It's all he pictures when he closes his eyes. There are three things on repeat in his head, in his nightmares.
The first: Nigel Goyle and his evil friends attacking him. Scorpius doesn't like to call people evil. Most people aren't entirely good or entirely evil; he thinks about ninety percent of them– ninety five percent, when he's in a generous mood – exist in an in-between grey area. But some people… some people are truly evil, rotten down to their cores.
Like Marcus Avery, who tied up him and Al and Mrs. Potter and Jamie and Freddie and Lily, and proceeded to torture him and then Al, and probably would've made his way around to the rest of them if Mr. Potter hadn't showed up in time. And Rita Avery, who helped him. (And Voldemort, of course. Definitely evil.)
And Nigel Goyle, who orchestrated the attack where Scorpius was hit with several Sectumsempras, the most severe of them from Nigel's wand himself.
He can still remember the burst of pain the Sectumsempra caused him. He can remember struggling to stay conscious. He's still got the scars, even after Mr. Potter and Madam Pomfrey healed them.
The second: Marcus Avery, using Crucio on him. It was pain, but a different sort of pain. Sectumsempra was cold, the sort of pain that bled and bled and bled and left scars all over his body.
But with the Cruciatus, he didn't have a single scar. And it wasn't cold pain. It was hot. It felt like his insides were being burned alive, and his thoughts didn't come out in coherent words, just pain pain pain. So much pain, and until the curse was lifted, he genuinely thought that that was it, he would just be there, feeling the pain for eternity…
The third: Marcus Avery, doing the exact same thing to Albus Severus Potter, his favourite person in the world.
"Scorp, you alright?" Al says, quietly, and it brings Scorpius back to the present moment.
He had drifted away, he realises, drifted into the bad memories and flashbacks that are ever-present these days, ready to surface at the slightest provocation. Scorpius blinks rapidly and digs the fingers of both hands into his palms, doing his best to ground himself here, to the moment, so he doesn't drift again. He doesn't like drifting, but he can't seem to help it.
Father clears his throat. "Thank you, Albus, for returning Bertie to Scorpius. Scorpius?" he says.
Scorpius realises rather belatedly that his father is waiting for him to take his owl back. "Right," he mumbles. He takes Bertie from Al, and then turns and looks at his father and waits.
After a moment of tense silence, his father seems to get the hint. "I will… allow you both to say goodbye. Try not to take too long, Scorpius," he says. He walks away – out of earshot, but not out of sight. Scorpius would never admit it, but the being able to see his father makes him feel reassured, less like everything is awful and terrifying.
He sets Bertie's cage down on top of his trunk, and then slips both his hands into Al's. Al's hands are warm and slightly calloused, and there's nothing more reassuring than that in the whole world.
"I'll see you soon," Al says softly.
"Yes," Scorpius agrees. "But not soon enough."
"Well. You can always write to me," Al says. He squeezes Scorpius's hands.
"You'll write to me, too, won't you?" Scorpius says.
"Course," Al says.
"Good. I've got to give Bertie something to do, or he'll start pecking me again. You know, I've never met an owl who likes his job more than Bertie," Scorpius says thoughtfully.
Al nods in agreement but doesn't say anything else for a moment. "One week," he says.
"One week," Scorpius repeats. He summons up all his courage, leans in, and presses a tiny kiss to Al's cheek. "See you soon, Al," he says.
He thinks about the blush on Al's cheeks the entire way home.
ii.
Al arrives one week later at nine am on the dot. Scorpius knows this because he's been sitting by the door with his eye on his watch since half past eight in the morning.
"I'll get it," he calls out and runs to the door. It's a very short run.
When he opens the door, he's delighted to see Al and Rose, standing there next to Mr. Potter. He's unable to hold in his excitement: he doesn't even try. "Hi!"
"Hey, Scorp," Al says, and gives Scorpius the secret smile he know he reserves just for him.
Scorpius feels his stomach warm up in a way that is the exact opposite of the Cruciatus Curse.
Rose clears her throat. "Hello, Scorpius," she says.
"Oh, yes. Hi, Rosie. Hi, Mr. Potter," Scorpius adds.
Mr. Potter looks amused. "Hello, Scorpius."
"Do you want to come in?" Scorpius stands aside to let them in but stops to first lean over and hold Al's hand. He rather thinks he's getting used to holding his hand. It's a dangerous addiction. "You can come in too if you want, Mr. Potter," he adds.
"Yes, actually. I'd like to talk to your dad about the security arrangement for – er – the Malfoy Christmas party," Mr. Potter says. It looks as if the words Malfoy Christmas party pain him. Scorpius understands: he's never been too much of one for parties, anyway.
"He's just in there," Scorpius says, and points Mr. Potter to the kitchen. "I can show you, if you'd like."
"Oh, don't worry," Mr. Potter says, smiling at him. "I know my way around Malfoy Manor."
"I keep forgetting how big your house is," Rose says in awe as Scorpius leads them up the spiral staircase to his bedroom.
Scorpius wrinkles his nose and pushes open the door to his bedroom. It's done up in green and silver – Slytherin colours, sincde before he was Sorted. He knows he should change the colour of the curtains around the four-poster bed and the accents on the wall and everything like that to Ravenclaw colours, for House pride, but the green reminds him of Al's eyes, and the silver reminds him of the little silver earrings Rose always wears, so he's kept the room as it is. He quite likes it.
Scorpius walks in, tugging Al with him over to the sofa by the bed. Rose sits at his desk, instantly leaning over to start examining his bookshelf, which was, Scorpius realises, to be expected.
"It is big," Al agrees. "Huge."
Al and Rose have only visited this house twice, during the winter holidays of their first and second years when they came over to have a Christmas gifts exchange on Boxing Day. Usually Al visits for a few weeks in the summer holidays, and Scorpius's family stays in their summer house, the house that used to be his mum's parents' house. He loves the summer house: it's close to Hogwarts, and it's smaller and cozier than this manor. It feels warmer, too, and more welcoming.
But now, with Albus and Rose with him, and his parents downstairs, and his grandmother in her room, it fees just right.
"Mum's been trying to bake all day," he tells them. "She actually managed some really good gingerbread biscuits. Do you want some?"
"Ooh, yes, that sounds nice," Rose says. "Do you need help?"
"No, if Mum sees you both, she'll force you to try her chocolate biscuits, and those aren't very good. I'd rather save you both from that," Scorpius says.
"Hurry back," Al tells him softly.
Scorpius reluctantly lets go of Al's hand and makes his way downstairs.
"Just want to make sure," Mr. Potter's saying as Scorpius walks into the kitchen.
"For the last time, Potter, as I've already told you—" Father says.
"Hello, Scorpius," Mum says, slightly louder than usual.
Mr. Potter and Father both turn to look at him.
"Um, hi," Scorpius says. "Just needed some of the biscuits for Rosie and Al…" he fetches the tin. As he walks back upstairs, the distant sounds of Mr. Potter and his dad continuing their discussion – which sounds more like an argument – follow him. It feels oddly comforting.
iii.
By the time the party's halfway done, the only thing keeping Scorpius feeling sane is the presence of Rose and Al at his side.
It's beautiful, of course. The entire hall is decked up in green and silver, with mistletoe, and three huge trees, and sparkly lights. Al looks handsome in his green dress robes – they match his eyes perfectly – even if he does keep adjusting the collar self-consciously. The food is delicious. The hot chocolate is warm and perfect.
But it's also… a lot.
"Is it always so… loud?" Al asks Scorpius softly. He might be the only person in the world who likes loud noises less than Scorpius – yet another thing to add to the list of reasons why Albus Potter is his favourite.
"Yes," Scorpius answers. It comes out in a squeak.
Or it would be another thing to add to the list of reasons why Albus Potter is his favourite if it wasn't for the fact that it's so loud, he can't think straight, and definitely can't maintain mental lists right now.
Maybe it's because of Avery. (It's almost definitely because of Avery.) He remembers the parties being overwhelming and intimidating, but not this bad. Now, it feels as if the walls are closing in on him. He's felt that way ever since Avery, whenever he's in a room with too many people, or when things get too loud. It's always bad. Sometimes he drifts.
He almost wishes he hadn't invited Rose and Al here, so that he could've spent the evening hiding up in his bedroom, where it's safe and quiet and no one bothers him by ruffing his hair bellowing into his ear.
Rose looks at both of them and seems to catch on to how upset they're both looking – Scorpius can only assume he looks as upset as Al, maybe even more so. "I have an idea," she says.
Five minutes later, they're outside in the garden. It's cold, but it's quiet and empty, and Scorpius thinks that he rather loves Rose.
"This is brilliant," Al says.
"No," says Rose. "This is. Accio blanket!"
Scorpius watches in awe as a blanket – his blanket, from his room! – flies out from the open window of his bedroom and lands on the grass of the garden. He can't stop himself from worrying, though.
"We probably can't stay here too long," he says, "because my parents will get worried and start looking for us."
"Won't hurt you both to stay for a bit, though," Rose says, and hands Scorpius the blanket. "I'll go inside and distract your mum and dad. I think I'll be able to buy you some time."
"You're the best," Scorpius says reverentially.
"Yeah – thanks, Rosie," Al says.
"Consider it a Christmas present," Rose says with a wink, and turns with a dramatic swish of her maroon dress robes to go back inside.
Al blinks. "Does that mean she's not giving us real Christmas presents?" he asks.
"Never mind that," Scorpius says, and lays the blanket down on the grass. He sits down, and tugs Al down next to him. Once Al is sitting, though, he doesn't let go of his hand. (Dangerous, dangerous addiction.)
Al smiles his special just-for-Scorpius smile, then looks up at the sky. "Wow. You can really get a good look at the stars here," he says.
Scorpius wants to lean in and rest his head on his shoulder. It's Christmas – or nearly Christmas, anyway – so he doesn't stop himself. Al doesn't stop him, either.
"You can," he agrees. "You can see so many constellations, it's really cool. There's Andromeda, look. Like Teddy's grandmum. It's especially visible during the winter."
"Can you see Scorpius?" Al says.
"Not at this time of year, no," Scorpius says, wrinkling his nose.
Al pulls back from him, just enough that Scorpius can see him properly. His eyes are bright green, illuminated only by the faint moonlight and the light from inside the house. "It's alright that I can't see Scorpius," he decides.
"Is it because you're a Virgo?" Scorpius asks.
Al's face splits open into a wide smile. "No," he says. "It's because I've got my Scorpius right here, and you're better than any constellation any day."
Scorpius blushes. He's changed his mind: he's glad he invited Rose and Al over, because he's so happy that his face feels like it's going to explode – or maybe that just might be from blushing. Can people explode from blushing? It feels like he can, anyways.
Al leans in, and then hesitates. "I, er. I wanna try something," he says.
"Okay," Scorpius says. He thinks he knows what Al's going to try, and he is not opposed. Whatever the opposite of opposed is: that's what he is. Definitely.
"Okay," Al echoes, and then leans in. His warm hand cups Scorpius's cheek, and Scorpius closes his eyes.
He's kissed Al before, of course: when they first went out to Hogsmeade together, when he was saying goodbye on the train (once Rose had left the compartment), in the Ravenclaw common room or dormitory when no one's looking. This time, though, is different. It's not a kiss. It's a snog. He's snogging Albus Potter under the stars, and it feels better than anything has ever felt before, ever.
When Albus pulls back, his cheeks are flushed, but Scorpius is sure that it's nothing compared to how he must look. "Happy Christmas," Al says.
Scorpius blinks, and then grins at Al. "Yes," he says. "I think it is, rather."
