Title: A Helping Hand, or A Hogwarts Bathroom Ballad

Author: AristideCauquemaire

Pairing: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter (kind of...)

Rating: M for grown-up language and sexual situations and themes.

Warnings: slash, slightly non-consensual situations (later on), original characters (recycled because I like them)

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Welcome back again!

Thanks to Guest (you should make that your username, just to confuse people) and to toolazytologin (heh, logging in would have been simpler than typing that name out, wouldn't it?) and BKstories for reviews!
Guest: Glad you liked it! Your questions shall be answered forthwith!
toolazy: It doesn't show up? I just checked, it does for me, on the website (I don't have mobile). Shows up on my profile page, on the Updated Stories page, and in the search (even though you practically have to search for the whole name sans spelling errors before you find it). Weird...?! But hey, you found it, so I don't much care :3
BKstories: LOL Yes, I suppose it is awkward and confusing... But, as they say, a hard beginning maketh a good ending! (Pun not intended, but gleefully accepted.) Seriously, though, get your seatbelt on. This story is prone to swerving wildly.

Also, thanks to Vixenette for favving (and following), and- hello, buford12! Thanks for stalking this story ;)

Alright, ladies, gentlemen. We need to have The Talk. It's going to be so awkward.

~Chapter 3~

"How long is this going to last, dad?" he demanded to know as he stormed into his father's office, having decided last minute to say that, rather than 'Is this going to be like that forever?!' because he couldn't bear the thought. It made him feel too queasy to even voice out loud.

Milly had told him that his father was in his west wing workroom, a pleasant, airy little chamber located next to the master bedroom where he spent most of his time working. Scorpius would have looked for him there first even without the elf's hint, but he figured that for an entrance such as the one he was just making, he'd have to be sure. There was only one chance at surprising his father, possibly startling him into honesty in a candid moment.

Naturally, his father wasn't surprised in the least. He barely even looked up from his books. "Forty four days," he answered evenly, "which will be enough for Miss Weasley to pack her bags and remove herself from Hogwarts and England altogether. She's leaving for Beauxbatons on the morning of Friday, the 18th of February." He paused, then looked up. His lips formed a wry line, his eyebrows were wrinkled and his entire face spoke of displeasure, exasperation and general paternal discontentation. "Did it have to be a Weasley, Scorpius? Honestly now. The only thing worse would have been a Potter and I'm thanking the merciful Morgane daily that that girl is way too young for you."

Scorpius grimaced. "Can we please not talk about me dating Lily? She's in second year. She's practically still a toddler. God, Dad. Ew." He shuddered. "Also, don't change the subject."

"In my opinion, she'd be exactly as unfitting and unwise a choice as Miss Weasley, really," his father continued on the persistently changed subject. "You knew what her parents are like, what their entire clan is like-"

"I'm not interested in her parents or her clan, dad. I like her." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, feeling slightly childish but defiantly ignoring said feeling. "You don't even know her. You've never even seen her, I bet."

His father sighed again – he was prone to sighing these days – and murmured something about 'red hair', a 'stupid complexion' and 'seen one, seen 'em all'.

"So anyway, back to the original subject-matter. What's with this spell?" he demanded to know, keeping his arms crossed.

"I'm sure you have already discovered its main purpose," his father said as he turned back to his papers and books. "That's what it will be doing for the next forty four days." He cleared his throat. "To keep you from getting someone, anyone, pregnant." When he glanced up this time, there was a somewhat angry spark in his eyes, strangely reminding him of Mr Weasley.

Scorpius knew better than to argue, although a whole shitload of stuff to argue about came to mind immediately. Like, for example, that he didn't mean or plan to get Rose pregnant, or that he didn't mean to get anyone pregnant anytime soon, or that he had endlessly fantasized about but never realistically thought about ever being in the position of even potentially getting Rose or anyone pregnant, or that he really wasn't that goddamn popular at Hogwarts in general or with the girls in particular and that therefore, given that he also hadn't shifted into a parallel universe in which he was the protagonist of a porno, the likelihood of him getting anywhere near getting anyone pregnant was so, so, so very low, or that being punished for a crime that hadn't been committed yet was both morally and logically dubious, and even more so when the only "witness" to this crime was likely a common or garden charlatan.

But his father probably knew all that. And he was still angry. In a contained way, to account for the fact that the mistake he was angry about hadn't even been made yet. But angry nonetheless.

"Anything else I should know?" Scorpius asked instead of saying any of the above things, toning down the sharpness of his voice to mollify his father.

The chastening of his temper was immediately acknowledged with an almost imperceptible nod, and the spark subsided.

"The spell will not impede your normal bodily functions, although I suppose it might be more... comfortable for you, for the time being, to sit down when you, well, pass water." He cleared his throat, apparently glad that that was out. "Miss Weasley has been inflicted with the counterpart of this spell, her parents have assured me. The two spells will... Uh, it's fairly complicated. But, imagine magnets. Same poles repelling one another." He made a swishing hand gesture. "That's basically it. To keep you two in particular from- contact."

Scorpius frowned, wondering whether this meant that he couldn't be in the same room as Rose without being pushed out the door by an invisible force and vice versa. Would he have to find a new Herbology partner? Also he wondered whether this effect was purely physical. He heaved a quiet sigh. He'd been so close.

As if sensing his distress, his father put the quill he had been writing with into the well, took off his thin reading glasses and gave him his full attention, and his best Father's Voice™.

"Look, Scorpius, I don't like to admit it and I swear if you tell anyone I ever said it I might personally drown you in the bathtub and make it look like an accident, but Granger has thought this thing through very well and... she's right. This was the best possible option to avoid the circumstances that need be avoided. If this oracle is to be believed-" He pointedly ignored Scorpius' grimace. "-then fate has really intended for you and Miss Weasley to become parents before mid-February. I do not think that you're in any way prepared for that, and neither is Miss Weasley with all of her lofty academic plans."

Scorpius pressed his lips together in admission. Fatherhood was a thing for the distant, distant future, and he had never even thought about it before today. He was just sixteen years old, for Merlin's sake.

His father made a 'there, see?'-gesture and patiently tilted his head, then continued.

"Thus, measures had to be taken to prevent you from getting her pregnant. But since fate is somewhat hard to persuade and doesn't readily change course, it had to be made sure that you wouldn't just go impregnate someone else instead, as a kind of... fate...ful compromise. This way, both bases have been covered and everyone can be happy."

Except for me, Scorpius thought grumpily. I can't feel my damn cock, dad.

As if he'd heard him, his father shrugged slightly as if to say 'Sacrifices had to be made, son. You are simply going to have to deal with it'.

When Scorpius didn't say anything in reply, he put his glasses back on. "And now we just hope that forty four days are actually enough to make destiny give up and change her mind about you and the subject of fatherhood," he said. "If not..." He trailed off. "Well, let's cross that bridge when we get there."

As usual, Scorpius heard the 'and now shoo, I'm trying to work here' that was always subtext when his father felt that there was nothing else to say about a certain matter. When he reached this state, there was no more talking to him.

It was Scorpius' turn to sigh, and he turned on his heel and walked out of the office, already resigning himself to this new "fate" which didn't sound much more appealing than unplanned fatherhood right now.

/

~43 to 42 days left~

The last two days of the winter holidays were the hardest days of Scorpius Malfoy's life so far, by far.

Seriously, the hardest days.

Being sixteen, Scorpius had never before realized exactly how big a role his penis played in his life, up until now that he couldn't use it any more. Literally everything seemed to revolve around it. Lying in bed sleeplessly that first night, staring up at the ceiling, he philosophised that, actually, a penis wasn't all that different from a baby. Rudimentary perhaps – no arms or legs or face oh sweet mother of Merlin better not think about that any more... - , smaller, and (thankfully) a lot quieter, and incidentally bodily attached to the rest of the person, but- really, when you had one, your one mission in life was paying attention to it, keeping it happy and clean and healthy and entertained at all times, and making sure it didn't get caught in or crushed by something because the pain would break your heart. In Scorpius' decidedly overworked and sleep-deprived brain, the parallels were pretty much glaringly obvious and the whole thing made sense.

As was to be expected, his dreams that night featured lots and lots of bare skin and limbs moving in an repetitive yet interesting – if sometimes anatomically dubious – manner.

That day, Scorpius realised what it really meant to be horny and unsatisfied. He had thought that he knew – but he hadn't known. He had thought that it had to do with waiting fifteen more minutes until the end of Herbology class, or with ignoring his chafing Quidditch pants, or with counting the seconds until Al finally fell asleep in the bed next to his so he could rub one out in peace- but no. No.

Actual, real horniness and un-satisfaction was floating weightlessly in a bathtub, enjoying the feeling of fragrant water that had just the right temperature, of massaging bubbles against one's skin, while having all manner of creatively sexy thoughts coursing through one's brain, feeling one's blood rush hotly through one's body, every vein and nerve vibrating and humming pleasantly like a plucked guitar string - and yet being unable to do anything about it.

Or rather, sabotaging himself by conveniently forgetting about the curse that had been put on him, grabbing himself – out of habit – and promptly feeling like dying a little inside from the waist upwards. Shrivelling like the puffapod in the Herbology textbook picture, the one with the time lapse. Bright, lush and green-white in one moment, pitiful, dry and brown and very, very dead in the next. The bathroom tiles vibrated with Scorpius' horrified yells.

Bouts of intense frustration notwithstanding, the aforementioned thoughts and thus the general state of hot- and bothered-ness persisted throughout the day. During his designated study times. During chill-out times he had intended to spend with Star Wars movies and popcorn. During lunch and dinner with his parents who took turns either not meeting his eyes or engaging him in lengthy and utterly uninteresting conversation.

By five thirty a.m. the next morning, Scorpius was twitchy and frustrated enough to scream and bite into his pillow. Which he did, and thoroughly, but which also didn't curb his arousal, inconspicuous and invisible as it now was.

Looking back on the day at nine p.m. that evening, he couldn't even say how he survived the day without clawing someone's eyes out. Suddenly he could empathise with a tomcat in heat that had been locked up. He all but threw his clothes and things into his trunk like chasers throw Quaffles as he was packing up for tomorrow's return to Hogwarts.

He shuddered at the thought of living in constant company, with close to zero privacy, like a non-contagious leper walking the limelight. Al would probably notice right away that something was weird – if they hadn't told him already anyway. What if every Weasley, Potter and their friends had already been briefed? Just how many people in the castle would know that his dick was on forced holiday? He crumpled up one of his shirts and stuffed it unceremoniously into his bag. The coming forty two days would be a nightmare. More than that, this could potentially haunt him for the rest of his Hogwarts days, and maybe even after that, in his future. He couldn't even begin to imagine the nicknames.

"Scorpius."

He looked up, suddenly aware that he was throwing an internal tantrum, and sat back on his haunches. "Mum."

She stood in the doorway and smiled one of those apologetic smiles at him, the one where the lips were pressed together and wandered upwards toward the nose, the chin crinkled a little and the eyebrows went up in the middle. Normally, he hated this look, but today he felt like he could use a little sympathy.

His mother came into the room, crouched down on the opposite site of his wide-open baggage and started taking the crumpled up clothes out again, folding them neatly on her thigh or on the floor next to her, stacking them up by her side. "Ah, let me," she said mildly when he insisted that she didn't need to do that.

"You know, darling," she said after a while, when almost all the bag's contents had been transferred to the floor and then, in a very tidy fashion, back into the bag, "Your father and I did not mean to punish you."

"I know-" he started, but she interrupted, "Do you really?" and he bit his lip and said nothing. There was no winning against mums who knew their children all too well.

"We just didn't want to take chances when it comes to your happiness," his mother said. "Just like Rose's parents only want the best for her."

He nodded reluctantly and didn't know what to say to that. Something like Yes, yes, it all makes sense and it was the most reasonable course of action, but that doesn't make it seem less unfair to me came to mind. Of course, that sounded ungrateful, whiny and stupid, so he didn't say it out loud.

Judging by his mother's expression, she knew that he had thought it regardless.

"Look." His mother let herself flop down on the floor, sitting cross-legged as if she were doing one of her yoga exercises. "How about you use this situation for your own gain?"

"How?" He raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"As a test. A stress test. For your relationship." She glowed at him.

"Mum-" he started to object. There was no real relationship yet. The little relationship we had is dead. Like really, really dead. No budding romance would ever survive a parental intervention like that.

"I'm serious, dear." She held out a hand as if to make him stay put. "If the two of you somehow manage this, and then the long separation during Rose's exchange program, you can be sure that it's real. The real deal," she said as if that sounded very impressive.

And it did. A little.

True love. Scorpius pressed his lips together as something inside of him constricted with a twinge that wasn't exactly painful at all.

"And you could be sure that the two of you would make it together, in spite of the silly Malfoy versus Weasley issues that even William Shakespeare might have thought too histrionic and camp."

"Mum, I don't think I'm..." that into her, he wanted to finish but couldn't because right now, he kinda sorta was that into her. A great majority of his thoughts of the last 48 hours had been redheads. Faceless redheads, to be fair, but redheads nonetheless. That's what being into someone meant.

Didn't it?

"If she doesn't change her behaviour toward you in the coming forty odd days because the prospect of a future with you freaked her out, and if she comes back from France and then takes her super-special-genius N.E.W.T.s and goes to India for three months and then comes back to Hogwarts – and then still wants to be by your side, you're going to marry her." Her eyes sparkled a little at the last two words.

"Whoa, mum!" Scorpius exclaimed, holding up his hands. "Slow down there!"

"I'm still being serious here, Scorpius," she said, smiling.

"And I'm sure you are, but, really, that's..." He trailed off, trusting that she knew what he meant anyway.

"Listen, Scorpius." He did. She was very earnest. Mother's Voice™. "If you find someone who is willing to go through all these trials and tribulations... and to put up with all of this-" She made an all-encompassing hand movement, "and still ends up right next to you, you're going to hold on, and hold on tight, you hear me?"

Shrugging, she made a flippant hand gesture.

"And you're going to ignore your father and Rose's parents and their bickering. In fact, I declare that your father is absolutely not allowed to object against such a person. You hereby have the permission – actually, the duty – to be with someone who makes you happy, listens to you, is loyal and true, and understands you, and you're going to be with that someone regardless of her last name. Understood?"

He couldn't help laughing a little in spite of himself, and despite the fact that it suddenly seemed extremely unlikely that Rose Weasley would fit these steep requirements, or that he would ever find a girl who would meet such high criteria.

They finished packing talking about more trivial things – Quidditch, their long-since planned family vacation in Sweden, dinner – which, unexpectedly, was so relieving that Scorpius almost gave his mother a hug at the end. Almost, because being sixteen prevents such things. But she smiled at him on her way out so he had the feeling she knew he had wanted to anyway. He figured that that was what really counted.

/

/TBC (tomorrow)