Warning: This chapter contains slash. :S I couldn't resist. Shut up. Lol
Character: Scorpius Malfoy
Prompt: Hunger
Scorpius is lucky enough that he's never experienced real, physical hunger. He probably won't ever comprehend how starvation feels or how scary it is to have to wonder where a next meal will come from. He was brought up in a mansion, given everything he would ever need; he goes to a school where the default form of celebration is a long, extravagant feast. He's used to tables groaning under the weight of dishes piled high with any kind of food a person could imagine, and he's spent enough holidays with the Weasleys to appreciate the value of a home cooked meal. So, no, he doesn't understand that type of hunger.
But there's another…one that feels like much more of a craving, one that he knows he'll probably never fully satisfy. It's a sort of burning itch that he just can't quite scratch. It's the flash of a smile, the urge to tangle his fingers in hair, the absolute need to get closer, closer, closer. He can feel it, deep down in his bones, all the way to the core of his body, and he wants to sink his teeth into it, never let go. The hunger is worst of all when he's at school, when he has to share a dormitory with Albus and watch him fumble around the room in the mornings, all sleep-warmed body and tousled hair. It's during these times that Scorpius thinks he may just go mad with it, with the urge to reach out and tug him, laughing, into a dark corner or an abandoned classroom.
The summer months, though…they aren't so bad. Al's parents don't know what goes on behind closed doors. They'd never even guess, and when Scorpius comes to stay for the holiday, well…
One morning, just before the start of their seventh year, they're lying in bed, all wrapped up in each other. The heady scent of summer hangs heavy in the air, everything smelling of warmth and sunshine and sex. Scorpius traces his fingers lazily over the skin of Albus's stomach, hand trailing slowly up to catch in his hair, pulling him in. He smiles into the easy, languid kiss, stretching his back and curling his toes as he feels the contentment of his afterglow settling in. He rolls to prop his chin on Al's chest, looking up at him through his lashes.
"That is my favourite way to wake up," he says emphatically, a grin spreading across his face.
And even though Al rolls his eyes and cuffs him around the head, Scorpius keeps smirking up at him. During the summer, his hunger isn't really all that unbearable