A/N: Hey everyone! This update came a little bit faster than the last one, so I hope that's a bit better, lol. This have calmed down on the personal front, so the last 2-3 or 3-4 chapters of this mini-story should come out pretty quickly. I was asked in a review about any other relationships that Scorpius might have had. That will come out by the end. Or to put it better, there will be a showdown. Albus finds out more second hand information in the next chapter and by the final confrontation he thinks that he knows it all. Hmm. There's also a little interaction with Albus and his father, which goes a long way in explaining Al's feelings toward his father. That's next chapter. I hope that you all what's going on, and please review.

Part Eight:

Albus was sitting on the sofa, crossed-legged, no shoes. It had taken another four days after their snog, and three more snogging sessions after that, before Al had felt free enough to take off his shoes in Scorpius' cottage. Scorpius smiled at that. It was anarchy, probably, for a Slytherin to act as free as Albus was doing now. Scorpius had never seen his father barefoot, and they were a very close family. In fact, Scorpius had only ever seen his mum in her house robes when she was very sick, or if when they were on holiday in Greece.

Perhaps Albus was making some sort of declaration.

Scorpius wasn't quite sure how to react to that. Commitment was something that Scorpius had always felt a bit horrified by, especially considering the fact that his family married young and stayed married- despite everything, including affairs, imprisonments, and Dark Lords. Maybe he was more like a Black, in that sense. Something about him was a little too wild, a little too badly put together; a little too rebellious. Scorpius had always reasoned that he had enough commitments in his life between his work, his family, and his friends. Love, or the idea of love, could wait.

But was that just a line Scorpius fed himself? It was so hard to know, truly. Scorpius had made such a fool of himself in the past over people. He winced now, thinking about it. Everyone must have known, everyone must have whispered and gossiped, and laughed at him. Or was it the other way around? Had Scorpius been right? Had the signs he imagined to be there, actually been there? Sometimes it was all so hard to know. All Scorpius had known was how he felt, and how he acted. And how he had made himself look. How he still looked, possibly.

Either way, it didn't matter. Scorpius was a Gryffindor, but the vaulted courage had failed him at the final flight. When it had came time to speak to him, Scorpius couldn't do it. He knew, deep down, that there was a massive chance he was nothing to him. Just a child to be teased, and laughed at, and admired.

So Scorpius left to Salem like a good little boy. Like a good little crup to have his tail docked.

The bitterness still stung. Scorpius had let down some old post-war, Malfoy defense and he had been hurt. The first thing an Auror learned was never to let down their guard. And Scorpius had done that, stupidly. And he kept at it, idiotically.

Like a child. So if he thought that, then he was right.

"Are you done in there?" Albus drawled, and Scorpius smiled to himself, mixing the last bit of firewhiskey into their drinks like an expert Apothecary.

"Nearly done," Scorpius called back. He nearly charmed the cork into the last bottle of liquor, but then he paused, wand in hand. Scorpius grinned to himself, adding just a dash more into one of the glasses. Al was adorable with a flush on his cheeks; the red of the alcohol making the freckles stand out brilliantly.

Scorpius walked back into the room, carefully balancing the tray. He hadn't bothered to put a charm on it to protect it from spillage, either. If a bit of a drink splashed down his shirt, or his trousers . . . Scorpius smothered a grin to himself, staring at Albus' bare feet. He wasn't sure if either of them knew exactly what game they were playing at, but both of them were trying to up the stakes. Scorpius had made the first move, though. It was Albus' turn now to make the next leap. Maybe by the time they were thirty they'd get beyond snogging.

"It looks vile," Albus said by way of a thank you. Scorpius pretended not to notice the way Al's eyes lingered on his thighs as he sat down, or Scorpius' arms as he stretched one around Albus' cozy form.

"It's not for you to admire," Scorpius rolled his eyes. "It's for getting pissed when it's cold outside. It's an old tradition, passed down though the generations."

"In Gryffindor," Albus said doubtfully, and Scorpius once again pretended not to notice that Albus was shifting closer to him. Albus smelled good. Like parchment left in the sun, or like a set of Sugar Quills- sticky and sweet, melted together because they had been left in a robe pocket for too long. Scorpius shifted a bit closer, and Albus turned to look at him, some warmth melting the doubt.

"Just try it," Scorpius nudged his shoulder. "Don't you want to swallow what I've been brewing?"

Al flushed at that. "Do you have to?"

"Always," Scorpius waggled his fair eyebrows, feeling a supreme sense of satisfaction as Albus lifted the glass nearest him. But it was quickly dashed as Al switched the glasses, so that the glass nearest Scorpius was replaced with the one nearest Albus. And so that Scorpius now had the drink with the greatest amount of alcohol.

"Don't trust me?" Scorpius pouted, a bit mockingly.

"With my life," Albus said, so seriously-so deathly seriously- that Scorpius suddenly felt a bit ashamed, and a bit annoyed. Didn't Al ever laugh at himself? Didn't he flirt? Take the piss? Banter? Now it was Scorpius' turn to flush. Dear Gods. Scorpius hadn't felt so misshapen since he was a little boy, and his two grandfathers had been alive. Back then, he had been caught pretending to be ill- taking potions from his mother's Apothecary cabinet; all so that he could miss Greek lessons. His father hadn't cared much one way or another, but his grandfathers had thought it showed a defect in character-

"Gahh," Albus had taken a sip. His voice was hoarse. "It burns on the way down. My chest aches as well. Is that normal?"

"Yes," Scorpius smiled vaguely. "There's a spell to help with that, the girls used do it. It made icicles form on their tongues. They used to do it and then snog the blokes- melt water into their mouths."

"Attractive," Albus snorted, but then he paused tentatively. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"When I was younger I used to skip Greek lessons," Scorpius muttered, staring into Al's eyes. Merlin he had lovely eyes- a very sharp green; a color that was actually like moss, instead of the lyrical hoops and Portkey twists that wizards sang about in love songs.

Scorpius was almost positive that with their help, Albus was recording everything that was being said between them, and storing it away in some massive mental Pensieve.

"Shocking," It was Albus' turn to taunt him, and this time Albus moved a bit closer, daring to stroke the edge of his robes, right by his shoulder. Scorpius grinned back in encouragement; thanking the gods that Al was on the side of his good joint.

"A naughty Gryffindor," Albus huffed out sarcastically, though his face was pink with pleasure. "You're clearly the first."

"Obviously," Scorpius turned, lightening fast, and pressed a quick series of kisses to Albus' mouth. There was something so endearing about Al. Something about the way he pretended to bluster, and scowl; and judge everyone and everything. Had this been the way his mother had felt when she had turned down all her suitors for Scorpius' father? Had it been the feeling that she could do more for him than those nameless wizards could do for her?

Albus stared up at him, his mouth cherry red and bruised from kisses, quirked into annoyance. Even his freckles seemed to sulk away into corners. Scorpius couldn't help but grin.

"Merlin," Albus muttered, pushing his shirt down awkwardly. "You ought to grow your hair out."

Scorpius made a face. He hated his hair. It was curly like his mum's, but fair, like his father's. It was hair that was meant for a witch, and an impediment for dueling, since he could easily be dragged about by it. "What, like at Hogwarts?"

Albus sat up suddenly, tangling his knees with Scorpius'. Scorpius shifted slightly.

"I want you to," Albus grinned, tangling his fingers in the crown of Scorpius' shorn head. "Be a good Gryffindor, Malfoy, and blindly follow where better wizards lead."

That annoyed him. Scorpius shook off the fingers in irritation.

"And what will you do for me?" He scowled, shifting his body to take a sip of the stronger drink.

There was a long silence. Great, Scorpius thought to himself. He had annoyed Al, Al had annoyed him, and now Scorpius would have to figure out how to rectify the situation. And judging by the way his parents had reacted the few times Scorpius had upset them during his childhood, Slytherins held grudges. Scorpius sighed. He wanted to at least be friendly with Al.

As friendly as two people who had snogged could ever be, anyway . . .

"Scorpius," Albus said evenly, and Scorpius turned around, dreading the atmosphere.

Albus had unbuttoned his shirt to the last three buttons on the very bottom, exposing his chest to the edge of his navel. Scorpius sucked in a breath. Al had an amazing chest, except the word amazing was so overused nowadays- to the point where it meant nothing at all, really. And now Scorpius was thinking all this just to stall for time. Just to cover for the fact that he couldn't speak. In front of him stretched acres of soft, freckled skin, unmarred by any scars or blemishes.

"You're lovely," Scorpius muttered, oddly touched at the way Al was letting down his wards. But as soon as Scorpius said those words, a slow slide of guilt burned through him. Even if Scorpius was good for Albus, was Albus good for him? Were they right for each other in any true sense of the word? Scorpius swallowed again and the moment of guilt and self-loathing passed, quicker than he had anticipated. But it left Scorpius feeling hollow, and foolish.

"I look like an idiot," Albus said blandly, a flush breaking out against his collarbones and traveling toward his chest. Thankfully, though, that broke up the last of Scorpius' thoughts. "Are you ever going to take off yours, or am I meant to suffer?"

"All Slytherins are meant to suffer," Scorpius grinned, reaching for his wand so that he could tease out the reveal of his own body.

But then-

"My coin's gone off," Scorpius whispered, feeling in his pocket for the raised lettering of the charmed device. Scorpius would never admit it, not even to himself, but he felt a wash of relief overtake the sickly guilt in the pit of his stomach.

"What?" Albus asked- and then added in a low hiss, "What?"

"My coin," Scorpius repeated, feeling awful at facing Albus, and yet sensation of relief wouldn't go away.

Scorpius held up the coin as proof, so Albus could see it; as if that would resolve his emotions, one way or another.

"Brilliant," Al muttered, taking his watered-down drink and downing it in one shot. "I'd almost forgotten you were an Auror for a night."

Scorpius felt his back tense at that. He really longed to tell Al off for that last parting shot, but Scorpius didn't have time to spark a duel to appease Albus' insecurities. And Scorpius had to think- and ending the night on a row was only going to cloud his emotions more than they were already.

"I've got to go," Scorpius muttered, patting his hair down in haste. "You can Floo yourself out, Al."

Scorpius rushed down the hall, trying to pretend he was wearing an invisibility cloak. When Scorpius had been little, he had played this very game when his conscience had been triggered by doing something awful: avoid eye contact, walk through the Manor quickly, and it became as though the incident had never happened. But these days, Scorpius was older, and could easily reason to himself that what he had done was nothing, and that he wasn't hurting anyone. He hadn't dueled anyone. He hadn't committed any crime, or lied to anyone regarding anything. And yet . . .

"Malfoy," It was Auror Weasley. Scorpius winced. Clearly, Scorpius was being castigated by the gods. Albus' face flashed into Scorpius' mind, but he pushed it aside, determined to focus on work for the moment.

"Hello sir," Scorpius smiled thinly. And, because he was his father's son, he added- "You've got a stain on your collar."

"And you're wearing a pair of trainers and jeans," Ron Weasley looked as though he was desperate to make Scorpius run the length of the bullpen. "Has the paperwork made you forget you are an Auror? Where are your robes, Malfoy?"

"In my office," Scorpius groaned. He could feels his thighs burning, and Auror Weasley hadn't even doled out the punishment yet. "I'm going to go get changed, give me two seconds and I'll fly there."

"Never mind that," Auror Weasley huffed. "The Head Auror wants you in his office. And tidy up your parchment, Malfoy. Or you'll become petrified and spellotaped to that desk!"

Scorpius winced as he walked away. Apparently tonight was the night of Weasley parting shots. But Auror Weasley was right, unlike Al's tossed-out barb. Scorpius was becoming a fixture in his office, and that was not good. If he was becoming a fixture that meant that he was becoming forgettable, and that all the better cases were being given away to others. And forgettable Aurors did not advance in their careers, no matter how close friends they were with the boss' son.

Scorpius rapped on the door of the Head Auror's office, two quick raps of his knuckles against the hard wood.

"If that's Malfoy then you're late," The Head Auror shouted through the door. "I'm putting you on an administrative leave."

"Shall I go away, then, sir?" Scorpius shouted back with a smothered grin. Harry Potter recognized Scorpius' knock. "Or shall I Floo down to the canteen and pop right back with tea?"

A moment later the door opened. "It would have also taken a sticky bun. Come in, Malfoy, and don't look so miserable. Did Auror Weasley find you?"

"You'd put me on leave, and he was going to have me running laps about the bullpen," Scorpius shrugged, and sighed. The ache in his shoulder was still there, but at least now it wasn't constantly throbbing. Perhaps he'd beg for rounds, now that he was in the main office.

The Head Auror sat down at his desk, adjusting his glasses. For a moment there was nothing but silence between them. Scorpius longed to ask him a thousand questions, but he feared the answers. Some were far too personal to ever ask anyone. Some had to do with the war. Some with his father. Some with himself. Some with their friendship. In the end, Scorpius went with the safest route, the route he always chose when he was unsure of himself. Scorpius leant forward, and asked, as suggestively as possible- "What can I do for you, sir?"

"I have an unusual case for you," The Head Auror leant back in his chair with a faint smile curving the edges of his mouth. In this position, the light from the candelabra directly across from his desk beamed a golden arc of illumination that buried itself in his dark, peppery hair. It was something so glorious and fine- something that looked as though it could only be recreated with the best of charms in a photography studio. At the same time, a shadow was cast along his forehead; erasing the Head Auror's fine lines of stress and worry.

Scorpius swallowed, biting his lip. The Head Auror looked up at him, and their eyes locked again. Neither of them moved, and neither of them looked away. The moment stretched until it became unbearable. Scorpius could feel his entire body tense, and the pit he had felt earlier in the evening with Albus returned again. This was the duel, in every sense of the word. Scorpius wanted to move, desperately; to leap out of his seat and leave, to cross the divide of the desk-

But instead he stared at his hands.

The Head Auror cleared his throat, staring at the wall to his left for a short moment, before returning to face Scorpius' gaze with perfect impartiality. "How is your shoulder?"

"It's fine," Scorpius looked up, surprised at the switch from the case to something actually, slightly personal. "It's much better, I should be able to go back to rounds in the new year."

"I don't doubt it," The Head Auror smiled fondly as he stood up, and as a reflex, Scorpius stood up as well. Something about dueling made Scorpius uncomfortable in sitting when a wizard advanced on him. Or maybe it was the fact that every Malfoy tried to meet Harry Potter head on.

There was another pause.

"The case," Scorpius tried, feeling as though he wanted very badly to shout something very stupid.

"Ah," the Head Auror nodded, adjusting his glasses again. Scorpius used to delight in counting the times the Head Auror adjusted his glasses in Scorpius' prescience. Now, it was just another item to store away, and never speak of. "Right. Corner was doing his rounds of upper Hogsmeade, and he found a crup puppy. I thought you might be able to take it, at least for a bit. Your parents' estate . . ."

Harry let the sentence hang there. Scorpius drummed his fingers on Harry's desk for a moment, idly; barely aware of the pretense he had dropped, and the furniture he was abusing.

"I can't," Scorpius said regretfully. "My mum left her crups with me last weekend, and they're pretty vicious buggers." I snogged Al last weekend. And tonight.

"Ah what a pity. We'll find another home for him, I reckon," Harry placed his hand over Scorpius', stopping his fingers and their mindless rhythm. Scorpius paused entirely at that- trying not to move, trying not to breathe as Harry traced a soft, almost imperceptible pattern across the top of his palm. For a moment they stood there, side by side - so close that not even a sheet of parchment could fit between Harry's red robes, and Scorpius' thick blue jumper. The only true link between their bodies was the faintest tips of Harry's fingers against Scorpius' hand.

"I-" Scorpius whispered softly, turning to face him slightly. They were breathing the same, most, warm air - If either of moved even the slightest bit forward-

The Head Auror lifted his fingers, and in a decisive motion, patted down the cuff of Scorpius' jumper, smoothing down the fabric in an absentminded fashion. The moment had passed. He stepped away from Scorpius, levitating a large stack of scrolls from one corner of the room to the other.

"Well, Malfoy I suppose that's all," the Head Auror said brusquely, and Scorpius knew that he'd been dismissed.