A/N: This chapter was brought to you by the letter P for patience, which is what my reviewers and readers really need with me lately. Sorry guys. I'm working on another short story too, we'll see how it goes. It's a rare pair, just for fun, with a twist. I'll probably post it after I finish the Art of . . . series, which I am halfway done with the last chapter on. I also have the next chapter for this story done as well, so I'll try to post a bit quicker.

Part Five:

"What would you like to drink?" Scorpius asked, pushing up the sleeves of his warm looking grey jumper. It was a jumper that also stretched rather interestingly across his chest as he moved."I've got pumpkin juice, tea, coffee, water, firewhiskey, cider . . ."

"Whatever you're having is fine," Albus tried to smile back, though the grin felt pasted on. He couldn't quite believe yet that he was in Scorpius Malfoy's home, after all the years of desiring this single event to come true. Though, in his imaginings, it wasn't quite like this- Scorpius had still been a student at Hogwarts, and Albus had always envisioned slipping into the Manor; into his bedroom filled with Quidditch memorabilia-or to a lonely wing of a drafty castle.

But now, Scorpius lived on a small cottage, on his parent's estate. The cottage was on a solitary little patch of land, framed by a copse of trees on one side, and a frozen-over brook on the other end. Albus supposed that he had lost the perfection of his childhood dream without even noticing the fact that he had missed it slip away. Even if Albus had been too shy to make any sort of overture at Hogwarts, there still had been all the years in between, during which Scorpius was Lily's best mate. Perhaps Albus had thought that the delay would make him more confident. But instead, sitting here in Scorpius' kitchen, all Albus could think of was how much procrastination made people more anxious in the end.

"I got you a can of cider," Scorpius stopped short, as though he wasn't sure what to do with the two drinks now that they were out of the cooling cabinet. "But now that I look at them, I can tell you are clearly not a cider wizard-"

"Never had it," Albus muttered, wondering what James had told Scorpius. Then Albus winced to himself. Albus was twenty-two years old and Scorpius should be capable of forming his own opinion about what sort of people he wanted to let into his life. But was Albus afraid that Scorpius was easily led? Or was he afraid that Scorpius was going to think for himself, and still not want him?

"Anyway," Scorpius smiled, with a bit more confidence. "I'll get you a glass for some water, just in case. You can go in to the sitting room alone, you know. I don't keep any spiders in there."

Albus felt a shiver of distaste creep over his shoulders, as if a spider was going to land on him from the oak beams above. But then Albus smiled to himself- Scorpius still remembered what frightened him. It wasn't the most pleasant memory to have about a person, but it meant that Scorpius still had some memories of him.

Anyway.

The cottage was small, much smaller than Godric's Hollow, really only meant for one person. It was decorated in the style that had been favored before the wars with Tom Riddle, which was again becoming popular. The sitting room itself was pretty sparse space, excepting a cozy fireplace, a brown modular sofa, and walls with tiny alcove shelving. Where there was no shelving, there was a plain white wall. And on the wall, there was graffiti. Loads of graffiti, taking up almost the entirety of the wall.

Snitch Malfoy has a tiny little wand that he doesn't know how to use, Albus knew that script to be James'. Roar like a Gryffindor, Someone else had written in purple, sparkling script. Someone had circled a corner of the wall in dark ink. Tap your wand against this spot twice and Lily Luna will be forced to snog you topless. In Lily's hand there was a bit of scratching beside it- I will rip you into shreds if this works!

I wish that Louis Weasley would charm me to sleep each night, someone had written in anonymous block letters. Steal one of the hairs off of the Glamour Girls and I just might, Louis had responded. Some of the notes were just names. Hugo. Molly. Vic. Mummy.

And in the corner, nearer the bottom. Harry Potter, Head Auror and miscreant.

"Will you sign it?" Scorpius asked, and Albus nearly jumped out of his robes and into the Floo flames. Scorpius was holding a glass, pattered with violets which opened and closed in the candlelight. "It doesn't have to be right now. It can be before you go."

"Sure," Albus responded and Scorpius beamed, setting the glass down by the cans of cider. "You've had a lot of people over here. It's almost the entire wizard world, I think. The Daily Prophet would commit AK for a photograph of this."

"Do you reckon?" Scorpius laughed, opening his can with a tap of his wand. "It started with me and Jamie when we were still trainees. It was just out of boredom, really; to break up the revising. Then we just tried to see how many people we could get over to sign it. You'd be surprised what people will write once you ply them with enough alcohol."

"Is that what you're doing to me?" Albus asked, and then his mind froze. He was nearly flirting with Scorpius Malfoy- as though he was anybody worth chatting up at a club. And Scorpius was not like that, and Albus did not want to make it seem as though he thought Scorpius was that type.

But then Scorpius' dark eyes flashed interestingly. He slid a barely-perceptible inch closer to Albus, as though they were in a crowded room, and Scorpius had to whisper in order to get his point heard through the cacophony of sounds. Albus felt himself leaning back, and the moment intensified.

"I don't know," Scorpius pressed his lips together and let his delicately full mouth hang open for one tantalizing moment. He had very straight teeth, Albus noted, his entire body reacting rapidly. Very white. Could teeth be a kink? "Is it working?"

"No," Albus lied, and then suddenly they were back in the sitting room of Scorpius' cottage; the crackling of the Floo fire heating the small space in a merry winter scene. Albus could feel his face heat. He was an adult, and as a British wizard he should be more proficient in banter. But everything about Scorpius knocked his broom off balance.

"Great," Scorpius exclaimed, bounding over to the sofa. "You're such a Slytherin! Come on- don't think I'm going to let you get out of trying the cider, now."

Albus had completely forgotten about the cider, actually. He sat down on the long brown sofa, which was actually much more uncomfortable that it appeared from a distance. Albus tapped the can with his wand in the same manner that Scorpius had, trying to look convincing. Then he took a sip. It was carbonated, and tasted vaguely of rancid fruit.

"It's not bad," Albus took another sip. "I've had worse."

"You hate it," Scorpius said, his dark eyes dancing. He looked a bit wicked, and yet somehow a bit empathetic. It was in the conflict that he was beautiful. "I can drink both cans you know." "And get pissed, Malfoy," Albus said, surprised at his daring. Scorpius, however, wasn't. He just laughed.

"I wouldn't mind after this week," a shadow passed over Scorpius' face, but it was gone as soon as it arrived. For a moment Albus thought of pressing the issue, but he wasn't sure how to approach it since they were really just acquaintances. "Are you sure you don't want firewhiskey instead? Or pumpkin juice?"

"It's alright, really," Albus took another sip. It was better than bilderberry tea, to be sure. Besides, it was nice that Scorpius was being such a good host, but Albus didn't want to put him to any trouble. He was here, really, for one reason. To impress Scorpius.

"So," Scorpius said, taking a long sip and placing the can back on the table with a loud click against the glass. "Have you got any ideas, or are you using me as a font of knowledge?"

"A font of knowledge?" Albus spluttered, imaging bathing naked with Scorpius in one of those elaborate fountains just outside the estate- with the marble gods and goddess watching them frolic in the foam bubbles.

"What?" Scorpius frowned in mock frustration. "It was my attempt at prose. Fine. You using me as a sounding board, is that better?"

"Sorry," Albus smiled. "I shall try to use my skills as an author and an orator to assist you." Scorpius was so-so-appealing when he was frustrated. Albus couldn't help but imagine him rounding up criminals, pouting and scowling all the while. But then the feeling vanished, and replacing it was the insidious sense of frustration, distance and thwarted desire. Albus looked over at Scorpius' signature-graffiti wall again, and his eyes settled on a name. Harry Potter, Head Auror and miscreant.

"Does my father come over here often?" Albus asked, setting down his can of cider. It took some getting used to, but Albus was almost sure that he liked the drink now. He traced the circumference of the can lazily.

"Not often," Scorpius' made a face and shook his head dismissively. "That would be favoritism. I think your dad's been to everyone's home once for dinner. Or to their birthday parties. It's all very democratic, you see."

"Ah," Albus replied, trying to sound as though he wasn't fishing for information. Albus looked at the wall again. An editor for a magazine that had rejected him had left Scorpius a very pleasant message. "You do know a lot of people." "My grandmother does," Scorpius shrugged. "Narcissa Malfoy knows everyone, doesn't she, bless her. I've inherited a lot of hand shaking and wand inspecting."

Albus couldn't help but laugh. "How is your grandmother?"

"Amazing," Scorpius' smile could have been by a Seer in Salem. He stood up and accio'd the empty cans of cider. "She refuses to sign my wall, the old crone. I'm going to have to cast duplicato on one of her documents when she's sleeping."

"That's very Slytherin of you," Albus remarked, delighted.

"Yes, well, you live with crups and you'll get fleas," Scorpius huffed. "I'm getting another drink, do you want one?"

"Yeah, sure," Albus said, feeling more relaxed by degrees- whether it was the combination of alcohol or the conversation going well, Albus really couldn't say. "Have you spoken to Lily lately?"

"Define lately," Scorpius came back, holding a can of cider in one hand and levitating another can and two bag of crisps. "Here take one- I hope you like cheese and onion because that's all I've got."

"I do, thanks," Albus nodded reaching up for one of the floating bags and a can. "So what about my sister?"

Scorpius fell back against the sofa boyishly, in that bloke sort of way that Albus had never managed to acquire. As he flopped into the hard brown cushions, the scent of his cologne wafted into the air and brushed past Albus in a literally perceptible haze. For a brief moment Albus could smell and sense Scorpius around him, in a proper embrace. It was like something Albus could recognize in the darkness- a glimpse of his future and his past. For an author, the impossible had happened. He could not put the experience into words. He could never write this down.

"Lily Floo'd yesterday," Scorpius was talking, in between bites of crisps. "She said the shoot was going well, which is brilliant, which means she been distracted, and hasn't been planning her own party. She'll be home tomorrow, though-"

"What?" Albus winced. Albus usually kept up with Lily's exhausting lifestyle through Dominque, or his strained conversations with his father. It had been Albus' understanding that Lily was going to be away, working, for much longer than this. This was not good. If Lily was back tomorrow it meant that she was going to be constantly around Scorpius, and if Scorpius made excuses to miss their normal events, Albus could easily see Lily becoming suspicious.

"I can handle Lily," Scorpius looked as though he wasn't sure he could catch this snitch. "Don't worry, Al. We can do this."

We.

"I'm not worried," Albus huffed, to spite of his burst of confidence at the single word. "I'm just apprehensive."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Scorpius let out a small laugh-sigh. "Don't worry, even if everything goes wrong, we can just steal some crates of firewhiskey from my parents stores. If you can't remember a party, you'll always think that you've had the time of your life."

"That's borderline illegal," Albus laughed.

"Well, here's to treading the border carefully," Scorpius clinked his can against Albus'. "Do you want to hire someone? Or are we actually going to listen to Teddy and Jamie and Victoire and Dominique and Hu -"

"I know what you mean," Albus winced. Everyone was going to have an idea, and soon enough everyone was going to want their bit of input, especially the relatives that were closest to him, and closest to Scorpius. Albus could almost hear Jamie now-Albus is planning something. Ever since Albus had Sorted Slytherin, he had been planning something to Jamie- even though Jamie had always been the first to antagonize him. Planning a relationship with James' best mate would be the ultimate hex in the eye.

"Well," Scorpius bit the edge of his full mouth beautifully. "We could hire a party planner. Victoire had one once for the fancy dress do that she threw for Teddy's birthday."

"Eire Finnegan," Albus remembered her. She had been a Hufflepuff- peachy hair, with a high-pitched laugh. At the party she had been dressed as a chocolate frog wrapper. At the end of the night, Albus was sure that his brother had unwrapped her, despite Teddy's growls to prevent him.

"Yes," Scorpius looked uncomfortable, as if he knew that Albus could follow his thoughts. For some reason, Albus felt ashamed of himself for thinking so low of his brother. His face pinked slightly, and all at once he could feel the condensation of the can sliding through his hands.

"I think it would be helpful," Albus tried to sound encouraging through his dry throat. Fuck. He was destroying every chance that he had. Albus took a large swig of the cider, wishing it was firewhisky, or even Muggle vodka. Albus needed parchment, and a quill. He could never tell Scorpius what he felt without those familiar guides.

"She's very nice and more than that, she did a wonderful job," Scorpius tilted his head, and Albus could see his tumble of frizzy curls, even if they weren't there anymore. "I know that- well, anyway Jamie will be busy with work, now that he's got my-"

"Your what?" Albus asked, leaning forward.

"Nothing," Scorpius shrugged, and then winced. "He's got nothing. Just something that James deserves. We'll see. You must be so tired of hearing about Aurors anyway. Why don't you tell me about your story? You were writing, about traveling?"

"Yes," Albus smiled, pleased that Scorpius had remembered. "It's going really well. I'm doing a piece on a wizard who is stranded with the sister of his fiancée in a cave in France. And through circumstance their wands break-"

"And let me guess," Scorpius smirked. "He realized that he was in love with the second sister all of the time."

Albus nodded, sinking into the familiar comfort of telling a tale. "But it's more than that," Albus gestured with a slack hand. "While trying to gather up food by hand, the bloke in the story, Phillip, is injured, and nearly dies. So there is this tension that he has betrayed his fiancée, and he will never be able to tell her the truth. And also the added drama of survival."

"Betrayal," Scorpius laughed. "I suppose the older sister just forgives them both and they disappear into the sunset, holding hands on brooms."

"Pretty much, although she has an amazing speech," Albus shrugged. "Why would you want to hold onto something and be made a fool of? He didn't have any gold, anyway- she could do better."

"Spoken like a true son of Salazar. Will you send me an advance copy?" Scorpius slid an imperceptible inch closer. "I promise I won't pass it around."

"Of course," Albus' face was going to spontaneously combust. "Do you read a lot of romantic stories?"

"It sounded as though there was more than romance in the story you're writing," Scorpius shrugged. "Besides, I like your style."

Albus didn't take that obvious compliment as a chance to be side tracked. "Thanks," Albus shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "But I've got other pieces you can read, if you're not keen on a love stories. I know that a lot of blokes are not massive believers in romance."

"Romance," Scorpius mused, rising from the awkward brown sofa. He took a sip of his cider, and stood in front of the graffiti wall. "You're a romantic Slytherin, That's different- how did intra-House dating work for you?"

"Didn't do much of it," Albus admitted, feeling already on guard to be teased.

"Well I've never dated a Slytherin at all," Scorpius took another sip of his drink. His dark eyes gleamed teasingly. "House loyalty and all. Although I have to say, I do feel as though I am missing out."

Albus coughed out loud.