368, by google docs
Albus' head is pounding. He feels like Death itself. He's half naked and he knows he should put a shirt on, but he's instead staring at his arm, where there's some strange writing. It takes him a second to clear his brain enough to decipher the sloppy scrawl: it's a number with the words 'call me' below it.
He groans and sits up, grabbing his phone from his nightstand. Not bothering to put on a shirt, he heads to his kitchen; he needs coffee. Maybe it'll lessen his headache.
He puts water in the kettle and lazily lights his stovetop as his unlocks his phone and navigates to the call app. He taps in the number, double-checking his arm to make sure he gets it right.
It rings once.
Twice.
Three times.
Before the fourth ring, someone picks up.
"Hello?" someone says with a yawn. They sound as tired as Albus feels.
"Hi. This is Albus," he says. He doesn't know if the person would know his name, but the other person lets out a small 'oh'.
"It's you," they say, sounding more awake. "About last night—"
"What happened?" Albus asks, cutting them off. The last thing he remembers is going to the biggest house party of the year. He must've been drunk as hell.
"You don't remember?" they squeak.
"No. Who are you? I woke up with your number on my arm," Albus explains, moving while he talks; his water is boiled, so he pours some into a cup.
"I'm Scorpius Malfoy. You really don't remember?"
Albus sandwiches his phone between his shoulder and his ear as his spoons some coffee beans into the water. "'Fraid not."
"Oh." There's a silence as Albus stirs his coffee.
"What happened?" Albus repeats, unable to stand the deafening silence.
"We hooked up. I thought that maybe you wanted something more, but if you don't remember…"
Albus takes a long sip of his coffee, taking that in. "I mean, I'd love to meet you," he decides. "Sober this time, alright?"
"Sure!" Scorpius sounds perkier, now. "I'd really love that. You have my number."
Albus laughs. "I think I'll have it on my arm for the next week. Sharpie is a bitch."